closure

[ klo - zher ]

noun

- a sense of resolution or conclusion at the end of an artistic work;

- a feeling that an emotional or traumatic experience has been resolved

The water was growing cold again. Ignis was hunched over the side of the tub, as relaxed as he could manage to be. He'd been stuck just shy of nine centimeters for nearly three hours. Were they in the crown city, he'd have been put out of his misery already. That is to say, they'd have given him a long-awaited cesarean and let him have his rest at last. But not here. Alas, there was no crown city, and Ignis didn't trust a single doctor, surgeon, or facility in these backwoods villages. Not with this pregnancy. Not with this baby. Not after everything he'd heard that these bumpkins like to do to male omegas.

Gladio seemed to feel the clench before he did. He'd been kneeling diligently behind him in the water, kneading into his back for the past thirty minutes, never once faltering in his role. Just as the pain of the next contraction started to climb, Ignis felt his alpha's arms slip around him and heard his soft voice whispering into his ear. The man had such a way with words, always finding a new way to praise him, a new way to keep him going until the pain stopped. Even when he didn't speak, his breaths were always steady and easy to follow.

Prompto came in just as the contraction was drawing to a close, carefully balancing a steaming kettle atop two folded towels. "I'm back!" he greeted them. "I've got the water. It's real hot this time, too."

Ignis hadn't caught his breath yet, but found comfort in the enthusiasm in Prompto's voice, and the optimism he carried with him every time he entered the room. When he wasn't running off to fetch things for Ignis or phoning the midwife, he stayed right beside the tub, mopping sweat off of Ignis's brow, showing off his camera roll and telling stories of his adventures. Anything to keep their minds busy. Distraction was where he excelled. But even then, he knew when to shut his mouth and let them breathe.

"Shh!" Gladio hissed at him before returning his attention to Ignis. "Almost done, Iggy. Few more seconds…"

"Don't yell at him…" Ignis croaked, the pressure finally releasing enough so that he could speak. "Thank you, Prompto, for bringing the water…"

"D-Don't mention it," Prompto stammered, sounding flustered. "Sorry for interrupting. Anyway, this should feel better."

The fresh water was poured into the tub, raising the temperature significantly. The warmth was soothing around Ignis's aching hips and back, and the steam enveloped him like a soft blanket of air itself. Prompto joined him in his usual place, combed some hair out of his eyes for him and gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. "How're you holdin' up?"

Ignis managed a weak smile for him. "I'm about to go completely mad."

He could hear the cringe in Prompto's voice. "You've made it this far. It'll be over soon. I know it."

Ignis barely had the strength to lift his head. He'd been at it for more than twenty hours, and that was only after they finally decided they'd call the midwife, an older Galahdian woman with a lifetime of experience and a fondness for traditional healthcare. She was a kind lady — one who specializes in male omegas, and the only physician he trusted to touch him for the duration of his pregnancy. She'd come and gone at least six times now, each time measuring his progress and then leaving with another "not yet." Ignis was at his wits' end. They'd followed all of her advice to the letter. He must have walked a mile. He'd changed positions dozens of times. He'd built nests all over the house and buried himself in each one. Needless to say, he was exhausted. The contractions were too intense and too frequent to allow him time to sleep in between them. What little energy he had, he spent holding back, maintaining his composure even as the pain became so unbearable that he could scarcely breathe. He wanted — no, needed this to be over.

"Prompto… the next photo," he rasped. "Tell me about it…"

Prompto jumped at the opportunity. "Oh! Right!" He quickly retrieved his camera. "This next one is a pretty cool rock formation I saw when we were in Taelpar. Vyv says it's just a coincidence, but I think it looks a whole lot like a—"

He didn't get to finish describing the photo. His words cut off the moment he noticed that Ignis was in distress. Right on cue, everyone shifted into their positions, always close enough that he didn't have to strain his ears to hear them. As one unit, their bodies rose and fell in unison with every breath. The practice had become fairly routine now, though Ignis struggled to keep up as the contractions squeezed the wind out of him. But his friends made a point to always tell him how well he did afterward, whether he followed their lead or not.

"You're doing great, Iggy," Prompto said with a smile. "We'll have this baby out in no time."

"I do wish he'd get on with it," Ignis grunted between breaths. "I've been dying for an Ebony."

"Don't distract him, Prompto," Gladio scolded him. "He's supposed to be breathing."

Ignis glared on Prompto's behalf, but it was hard to be angry at Gladio for his short temper this evening. After all, he'd been awake for just as long as Ignis, and though this labor was not a strain on his body, it was certainly a test of his emotional resolve. He didn't have the light-hearted nature that Prompto boasted, and he couldn't shrug off contractions with a series of jokes. He couldn't watch Ignis suffer in pain and babble on about chocobos like nothing was happening. There was much more at stake for him. Ignis was his omega, and this was his baby, too.

The contraction wound down and Ignis collapsed against the edge of the tub again, drinking in all the praise his companions could offer, even if it was the same sentiment he'd heard repeated all night. A chorus of 'well done's and 'not much longer's — he'd never really tire of hearing them.

"Another one bites the dust!" Prompto cheered, totally unfazed. "Good job, Igs!"

Gladio's arms closed tightly around him. Ignis could sense the change in his demeanor from stern to apologetic. A new, sweeter aroma seeped into his scent as his gentleness overtook the rough edges of his mood. Ignis knew what he wanted to say without hearing a word of it, but looked forward to hearing that same softness in Gladio's voice.

"Hey, Prompto," he said, much more softly than he had before. "There's a shirt somewhere in the bedroom nest. The gray one without the sleeves. Could you grab it for us?"

Prompto hopped off the floor immediately. "Yeah, of course."

Gladio called out just as he was leaving. "It might take you a minute to find it."

There was a pause at that, as Prompto took a moment to catch Gladio's meaning. He soon nodded and sauntered casually toward the door, now taking his sweet time as he moved. "Gotcha. Be back in a sec."

The very instant they were alone, Ignis turned over to lie in Gladio's lap. His arms were a comfortable balance between strong and tender, holding him close, just tightly enough to make him feel safe. His protective alpha nature was kicked into high gear and had probably been there for some time. Ignis could sense his composure faltering, probably right in line with his own. They both were tired, both eager to meet their child, both scared out of their wits. Ignis didn't know where he found the energy to spare, but he released a calming scent into the atmosphere — one which perfectly complemented that of his alpha and settled his nerves a bit.

"I'm as impatient as you are, Gladio," he said wearily. "But Prompto is helping. Reserve your frustration."

Gladio sighed as his muscles began to relax. "I know. I'm sorry. Just want to do this right."

Ignis could already feel another contraction starting, and hurried to finish what he wanted to say before he couldn't speak anymore. "I assure you… I'm much better off with both of you here. Your support has been invaluable. How could any of that be wrong?"

The question was rhetorical, as Ignis was quickly incapacitated by the next contraction. The pain shot to its peak at record speed and he spat a string of curses before Gladio was able to get him under control. Breathing was not helping, but listening to Gladio's voice made all the difference. The man was quite poetic when he wanted to be, reciting professions of love as beautifully as what could be published in those romance novels he read. It was that hidden eloquence that had drawn Ignis to him. That thoughtful romanticism that could give him chills. That sweet silver tongue that melted him into a puddle. Ignis couldn't resist him. He was the perfect alpha, and to carry his children was an honor.

Ignis very nearly forgot the pain when Gladio began to flood him with kisses. Over and over he pressed his lips to his scalp, his forehead, his temple, his neck — anyplace he could reach. He whispered praise between every peck, all the while grounding him with his sturdy arms. Even after the contraction had ended, they stayed perfectly still, arms entwined, absorbing each other's scents and mumbling their love for each other and for their child. The air around them was peaceful and warm, and Ignis could have bathed in it all night, so wrapped up in affection that he might never notice the arrival of the baby.

Sadly, their tender moment could not last. The door opened, cutting it short as Prompto had returned, his arms full with laundry.

"Gladio," he announced somewhat indignantly. "There were six gray shirts with no sleeves, and that's just the ones of this shade. I found two darker ones, and four that were kind of in the middle and had patterns on them."

"Oops," Gladio shrugged with a sly grin. "My bad."

They shared a laugh — the first one they'd had in hours. The next few contractions were by no means easy, but were smooth by comparison to the rest. The atmosphere had become almost meditative with how calmly Gladio and Prompto took to their stations and recited their mantras. Ignis didn't require any reminders on how to breathe, but the repetition was soothing in its own way. He valued structure and routine, and found relief in upholding that principle even now, when everything could fall to chaos at any moment. He'd meant it when he said that the support of his friends was invaluable. He trusted them implicitly, knowing that they would take good care of him when that chaos finally came.

Another hour had passed. The water was cold again. Barely a minute had gone by since the last contraction and already another one was beginning to build. The pain was indescribable. There were hands all over him and too many voices telling him what to do. When it peaked and he couldn't stand another second of it, Ignis cried out in frustration. "Enough of this! Prompto, call the midwife again!"

Prompto asked no questions, already dialing the number as he rushed out of the room. "Alright, I'm on it."

Ignis made no effort to stop the tears flowing once Prompto was out of the room. The contractions had run him ragged, the pain and pressure so fierce that he'd vomited more than once. Exhaustion hindered him, and even his temper was on the short side. Ignis had always considered himself a man of poise. Like any omega, he was more quiet than boisterous, but no less powerful where it counted. He'd dragged himself through twenty-three hours of labor by biting his lip and panting, refusing to cry, refusing to break. But now, after keeping up appearances for so long, his self-control was slipping, and he wasn't sure how much more punishment he could take.

"Gladio…" he whispered, his voice shaking. "Please…"

Gladio took him in his arms again, holding onto him for dear life. "The midwife will be here soon."

"And then what?!" Ignis shouted, his patience having worn thin. "I can't take much more of this, Gladio!"

"Hey," Gladio's tone had become stern, but no less sympathetic. "Think about the baby."

It was some miracle of the gods that Gladio was so calm now. Ignis leaned into him, ear to his chest, in awe of his slow and steady heartbeat. Gladio excelled in acts of strength, but it was in moments like these where that strength truly shone. To keep himself together for his omega's sake took more brawn than any battle he'd faced, and Ignis knew that all too well. He could sense the effort that was demanded of him, the strain required to keep his voice low and his scent mild. Ignis found deep peace in his embrace, just enough to keep him from collapsing entirely. How could he ever convey his gratitude? How could he ever repay him?

Of course, there was only one answer to such questions. Ignis's duty now was to give Gladio the healthy child he deserved. "I can't wait to meet him…"

"Me either," Gladio smiled against his temple. "He's gonna be beautiful. But we can't rush him, right? Gotta let him take his time."

"Of course…" Ignis agreed, taking another slow breath as the pain began to climb again. "You're right…"

Prompto burst through the door, just in time for the contraction to peak again. Released from Gladio's grasp, Ignis crawled back to the edge of the tub to meet him. Dark as his world was in blindness, Prompto was oftentimes exactly the ray of sunshine he needed. He'd been traveling for months, living out what bits of his dream he could while there was still light on Eos. Even after the sun had set for the last time, his photography was put to good use, for his sake and everyone's. But he put it all on hold as soon as he'd heard about Ignis's pregnancy. When Gladio couldn't be there — off on a hunt or some other mission — Prompto took his place. For the harder, uglier parts of this journey — morning sickness, midnight cravings, all the way to now — Prompto never missed a second, and his support never wavered.

"Hang in there, Iggy. She's on her way."

The midwife arrived around twenty minutes later, much to everyone's relief. She took her time with the examination, all the while muttering something about babies born during the night and how the seasons of birth and the weather affected their disposition, among other old wives tales and foreign superstitions. Gladio, silently fuming enough for Ignis to notice, refrained from scolding her for spouting off frightening statistics about how the long night would bring only restless and unhappy children. Ignis squeezed his hand, assuring him that he didn't believe a word of it, and that he knew the kindly old woman meant well, even if she was a bit careless with her words.

Once the examination was over, she shook her head. "Not yet," she tutted yet again in her thick Galahdian accent. "I think the baby is nervous."

"Nervous?" Ignis groaned. "What the bloody hell does that mean?"

The midwife shrugged, taking a moment to think, to translate the explanation in her head before speaking. "Nervous parent, nervous baby. If anything is holding you back, eh… occupying your mind…" she paused frequently, as if struggling to find the right words. "If you have things unresolved in your heart, the baby knows it. He won't come until you let it go."

Anything unresolved… Ignis racked his brain. There were plenty of things unresolved in his life, and the same could be said for anyone living in this world of darkness and ruin. Blindness was still somewhat new to him, something to which he hadn't entirely adjusted, even after a few years had passed. All through his pregnancy, he doubted whether he could care for the child in such a state — when he couldn't yet care for himself. He'd failed in that regard plenty already, and had likely spent the past several months bracing himself to fail again and again. Was that really all that was stopping him from ending this here and now?

The midwife, after ensuring that her patients were still in good health, took her leave of them once more. Ignis hadn't even heard the door close behind her when he felt the next contraction starting. He would be stuck like this. These endless spasms would continue until he reached some semblance of peace with himself. He hadn't the foggiest idea where to begin. Already the pain clouded his mind, and his will was rapidly fading as he succumbed to panic.

The pressure gripped him and he groaned in rage. It was preposterous. They'd gone to such lengths to maintain a calm environment. Ignis was as relaxed as a bowl of pudding for the vast majority of this labor. And now, that hack of a midwife had the audacity to suggest that it was his own emotions putting this entire birth on hold? He refused to accept it. He refused to wait any longer. When the peak arrived, he clenched the side of the tub, held his breath and bore down with all his strength.

Prompto and Gladio sprang into action as soon as they realized what was happening. "Whoa, Ignis, hold on! You're not ready!"

"The hell I'm not!"

"Please, Iggy, you're gonna hurt yourself!"

Ignis ignored their protests, pushing in defiance for the duration of the contraction and even after it was finished. No matter how they pleaded, he refused to stop. The pressure was too strong and the pain had crippled his sanity. Enough was enough. If the child wouldn't come out on his own, he would force him out.

"Breathe, Ignis," Gladio instructed him. "Breathe with me…"

"Remember to think about the baby!"

"Prompto, call the midwife back. And let's get him out of the tub."

His friends were positively frantic. Their overlapping voices shouting in desperation echoed loudly off the bathroom tile. The pressure ringing in his ears did little to drown them out. They pulled at his arms, trying to drag him out of the water, but he fought them off, kicking and flailing until they kept their distance.

"Come on, Iggy, we're going to lie down in the nest."

"We're doing no such thing!"

"The water's too cold. Don't you want the baby to be comfortable?"

Ignis was too deep into a forceful strain to answer. The pattern continued as another contraction came and went. Despite his efforts, he felt no change inside him, no progression whatsoever. Perhaps, he thought, the old bag was right. If his labor had truly stalled, it was hopeless. He and the child would both die. He couldn't let that happen. Not on his watch. He wasn't about to lose someone else under his care. He resolved to push harder on the next one. Even if it killed him, the baby still had a chance, as long as he made it out.

He was preparing himself to start again, catching his breath, when Gladio's arms embraced him tightly around the middle. He was taken by surprise, locked in a position where he couldn't really struggle to free himself. Still panicking, expelling a scent of distress as thick as he could, he cried out in vain for Gladio to release him.

"Put me down!"

"Shhh…"

"Unhand me, Gladio, or so help me I will—!"

"Just relax, Ignis," Gladio whispered, lifting him effortlessly out of the water and into his arms. "You're gonna be okay. I need you to trust me."

Gladio wrapped a towel around Ignis before vacating the tub and carrying him out of the bathroom altogether. Ignis caught the scents of their pack wafting in every room from the nests he'd built. The nests they'd built together. Ignis remembered how meticulously he'd placed each garment, creating a latticework of laundry and blankets so comfortable that he'd never want to leave. He remembered how patient Gladio would be, giving up shirt after shirt for the good of the cause, with no promise of ever getting them back. He remembered Prompto, donating old chocobo plush toys and blankets he'd knitted himself.

Most of all, Ignis remembered the night that he climbed into the completed nest, breathing in all of their scents and letting himself come to a state of peace. He felt the child inside him leap for joy, and he smiled as he hummed them to sleep. However, that sense of calm was short-lived, as he couldn't help but notice the glaring absence of one scent among the others. He began to cry, realizing that they couldn't just go back to the Crown City to retrieve more of Noct's clothes. They only had what was in his suitcase. It wasn't enough. It wouldn't ever be enough.

With Ignis in tow, Gladio crawled into that very nest, relaxing against the mound of pillows and pulling a thick woolen blanket over the top of them. Ignis squirmed in his grasp, resisting with his whole being as he was gently guided to rest against his alpha's chest. Again, his scent was prominent, but mild so as not to mask the ones laced through the nest. Ignis caught the distinct aromas of himself, of Gladio, of Prompto. And if he really focused, the faintest hint of Noct was still there, buried under the others. Distant, but not gone.

Gladio, always in perfect tune with his omega, was already well aware of what troubled Ignis. He spoke not a word as he reached for a plain black tee shirt that was laid out beside him and presented it to Ignis. The garment was wrinkled, and there were a few holes in it, but Ignis brought the soft fabric to his face and lost himself in the unique scent of Noct still lingering at the collar. Just like he had the night he finished constructing this nest, he began to cry again. So this, he gathered, was that which was unresolved. The anguish he carried in his heart, the grief over Noct that he'd not let go. The questions of whether or not this baby would ever see a world with light in it, of whether they'd get the chance to meet Noct, weighed so heavily on him that he'd inadvertently stressed the child. It was no wonder he wouldn't come.

Gladio raked his fingers through Ignis's hair, petting him with soothing motions on his scalp. "He's still here, Iggy," he said softly. "You can't see him, and neither can we. But he's still here with us."

A new scent joined with theirs as Prompto climbed into the nest beside them. "Noct wouldn't want you or the baby to get hurt. When he comes back, he's gonna want you to both be there to greet him."

When he comes back… How easy it was for Gladio and Prompto to carry such optimism, such confidence. There was no guarantee of Noct's return, only faith. Faith that, he recalled, Ignis held quite deeply at one point. He wondered where it had gone after all these years. Swallowed up by the darkness of the long night, perhaps? Hidden behind the shadows of his blindness? He couldn't really say.

He recalled the very day he'd found out he was with child. An accident. A mistake, perhaps. An oversight, if there ever was one. But he'd been happy then. Ecstatic, even. So were his pack — he remembered Prompto's high-pitched squeal and the smile in Gladio's voice. In that moment, he had wished to hear Noct's congratulations among them, just as he wished to hear him now. But he shared that same faith as his pack mates — the unwavering belief that the leader of their pack, their king and their friend, would return one day.

"Hey, Prompto," Gladio asked. "You still got that old camera? With the video on it?"

Prompto hesitated, a bit flustered, before stumbling back to his feet. "Y-Yeah. Of course. I'll get it."

There was a quiet shuffling across the room as Prompto rummaged through his bag, and he was soon back at the nest, scrolling rapidly through what had to be hundreds of old files in search of the one Gladio mentioned. He played it the moment he found it, and the video began with the cheerful voice of Noct, about to land one of the biggest fish he'd ever caught. Ignis remembered like it was yesterday — they were on the royal vessel, waiting for hours before it turned up. He'd been certain there was no way a mere fishing pole would be enough to reel in a hundred-pound bluefin tuna, but Noct persevered. In no time, the fish had given up on the fight. Ignis heard the splash that followed, the moment when the rest of them jumped into the water to retrieve it. Soaked and shivering as he climbed back onto the deck, he'd never forget the smile on the prince's face.

There was a cut, and the video reopened in the evening, with all of them lounging on the main deck. They'd just finished eating the sushi Ignis had prepared from Noct's fresh catch and were positively singing his praises. Ignis didn't show it then, and never mentioned it since, but he was elated in that moment. It had been so long since he'd last heard Noct so pleased, so delighted by a meal cooked by his faithful chamberlain. It was almost too much to hear that voice, thanking him so graciously for the experience.

If he'd had the time, Ignis would have asked Prompto to rewind the video and play it again and again. To hear Noct's voice after so long was a moving experience unlike any he'd felt before. The prince sounded hopeful and optimistic, smiling audibly as he spoke directly to Ignis, with only the lens of the camera between them. Wrapped up in his scent, listening to his monologue, Ignis could truly sense his presence, could believe that Noct was truly there with him. In his elation, he'd almost forgotten the labor altogether. But it wasn't long after the video ended that he began to feel a stirring inside him — a very new sensation that he didn't recognize right away. His heart began to race and his breathing picked up in speed, but he was not afraid. He believed his friends' words. He believed that Noct was there — and by some miracle, he had broken the seal at last.

"Prompto," he whispered, taking his hand and squeezing it tightly. "It's happening."

"Wha— now? Are you sure?"

"I'm very positively sure," Ignis shifted his hips, trying to find some position that might relieve the pressure. "You must call the midwife, quickly."

"I'm on it!"

Prompto barreled out of the room, apparently knocking a few things over along the way. Ignis began to panic again, though not from fear but from surprise. After twenty-four grueling hours of labor that had stalled halfway through, he'd thought this moment would never come. Now, he could feel things moving, all of their own accord and rather quickly at that. At this rate, he questioned whether the midwife would even get there in time.

He reached behind him for his alpha, searching for something he could touch, something he could hold. Gladio's arms found him, closing gently around his shoulders and linking fingers with his. A kiss was pressed into his temple from soft lips outlined in rough stubble. A calming scent filled his nostrils, accompanied by a deep, soothing voice.

"It's about damn time, eh?"

There was enormous relief in laughter — in finally feeling relaxed enough to laugh. Even as the contraction peaked and the pressure completely overtook him, Ignis had never felt lighter. He leaned into Gladio and let everything go, trusting that things would progress smoothly from there. Trusting that he and his child were in the best of hands. Trusting that he was indeed as safe as he felt now, surrounded by his pack, his family, whether he could see them or not.

Noct… Wish me luck.

Their relative sense of calm dissolved into chaos when Prompto returned, announcing that the midwife was off delivering another baby and would likely be a while. Gladio chuckled at the news. "Looks like you're gonna have to take the reins."

"What?!" Prompto stammered. "M-Me?!"

There wasn't time to argue. The peak of the next contraction seemed to arrive before the last one had even finished, and Ignis gasped at the sudden forceful clench in his belly. Prompto hurriedly scrambled to the foot of the nest, fidgeting and biting his lip to keep hidden his panic. Gladio, serene as ever, calmly propped Ignis upright and settled into his place behind him.

"You ready, Iggy?"

His breath was warm on Ignis's ear, his calming scent now so pleasant as to be mesmerizing. Ignis smiled fondly at him. "As I'll ever be."

"Alright," Gladio planted one last kiss on his cheek. "Just like we practiced."

The birth itself required no real effort on his part. The child descended quickly and without any fuss or delays, and Ignis found it a relief that after so much time, his work was already done and he needn't lift a finger from that point onward. He listened carefully through Gladio's gentle words and Prompto's frantic instructions, catching the silent praises of Noct in between. At last, with minimal pain and negligible strain, the baby fell into Prompto's waiting hands in a mere fifteen minutes. Ignis collapsed against Gladio's chest — winded, spent. He'd done it. At last, he'd done it.

There was much noise in the room after that. Cheering, weeping, the highest of laudations. But absent was the one sound he'd been eagerly awaiting — the voice of his child, drawing its first breath and erupting in its first cry. He could hear Gladio and Prompto tensely muttering to the baby as they scrubbed him with towels, but not a peep from those tiny lungs. Ignis's heart dropped in his chest and he began to shake violently with just the thought of what could be happening just out of earshot.

"Gladio… why is he not crying…?"

Gladio didn't answer. His and Prompto's voices were eerily silent now. Ignis caught the sound of a bulb syringe and a few gurgles, but still no hint of breath, of life from the child.

"Come on…" Gladio murmured. "Don't quit on us now…"

"You can do it, buddy! Let's hear you roar!"

Ignis was praying. Praying to any Astral that could hear him. Praying to the Kings of Lucis. Praying to Noct. Praying that this sweet infant that he'd carried for so long, that he loved more than life itself, would open his eyes at last. Tears welled up in his own as he lay there, helplessly pleading, wishing to cradle him in his arms. Longing to hear him breathing from atop his chest as they slept. He was supposed to come out screaming, loudly and proudly as his parents. He was supposed to be a fighter, like Gladio. Highly opinionated, like Ignis. The deadly combination of an Amicitia and a Scientia. But, first and foremost, he was supposed to be the newest, highly-anticipated addition to their pack. They were supposed to be a family.

"Please…" he whispered in desperation, unable to articulate much else. "Please…"

The tiniest cough. So faint that Ignis thought it was only his imagination. More silence, more lost hope. Then, another almost minuscule cough. Another, and another. Ignis held his breath, listening to the child as it began to fuss. He was coughing. He was whimpering. He was breathing. He was alive.

After a few seconds, the infant erupted in a piercing cry, loud enough to take everyone by surprise. The sound was full and robust, from strong and healthy lungs. Just as one would expect from an Amicitia, and a Scientia.

"Welcome to the world, little guy!"

With Prompto's announcement, it was confirmed. It was finally real. Ignis was beside himself. The baby was carefully laid onto his chest and his composure shattered. Tears spilled down his face, hearing his child's voice for the first time, feeling him kick and squirm in his arms in protest of his own birth. He was so small, so fragile, but his tiny limbs were powerful. He was a fighter, from the very beginning.

But now wasn't his time to fight. He'd done his work, he'd made it into the world, and now it was time for him to rest. Ignis held him tightly, expelling a calming, paternal scent to envelop him, to console him. The gurgling cries persisted, and he shushed them as gently as he could. Gladio closed in, mixing his earthy scent into the air, pressing against them both with his warmth. Ignis could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke to their child for the first time.

"Sure knows how to make an entrance," he laughed softly. "Nice to meet you, kid."

Prompto scooted in beside them, peering over their shoulders at the baby's face. "He's gorgeous, Ignis," he said with admiration in his voice. "He's got dark hair like Gladio, chubby little cheeks…"

"And a real set of pipes," Gladio smirked. "Loud and proud, just like his dads."

Dads… Fatigue already setting in, Ignis could only manage a sniffle in response, overwhelmed by deep affection for his alpha. His eyes welled up again when he felt soft lips outlined in bristly hairs meet his temple, accompanied by a whisper of admiration, "I'm so proud of you, Iggy."

The next few hours were somewhat of a blur as he drifted in and out of his exhausted stupor. The midwife did eventually arrive, and shortly after, the child was washed and examined. The room was a frenzy of sound and movement, sensation and emotion. From the excited cooing of his pack mates to the indignant grunting of the baby, the shocking twinge of a mouth latching on and the burn of fingernails clawing desperately at his sternum, the frantic shutters of Prompto's camera and the crisp stroke of a pair of scissors, Ignis could hardly keep track of it all. Warm here, cold there, aching everywhere and numb all over, his head empty and his heart full to bursting.

The midwife eventually took her leave, and all the chaos went with her. It was quiet for some time after that, save for the sounds of suckling and sleepy moans. Eventually, the child grew heavy against him, and Ignis sensed that he'd fallen asleep. The peaceful scents of Prompto and Gladio beside him were muted as they too succumbed to fatigue. Ignis, more relaxed than he'd felt in weeks, let his weakened frame sink into the nest, soaking in the aromas of his pack. A cozy, wooded clearing to his right. White tea and warm sugar to his left. And laced between them all, the musky fragrance of freshly fallen rain. Those traces were all he needed. Even though he couldn't see them, he knew they were there. All of them. Their faces still fresh and clear in his mind, a smile glimpsed across his face as sleep began to take him at last.

It's a boy, Noct… We have a son.

Ignis beamed at the familiar figure approaching from the dark void of his imagination.

When you return, Clarus Rose will be eager to meet you.

Closure is what Ignis needed to get through this, and closure is what I needed to be able to post it. Hope you enjoyed; it means a lot to me.

Peace and Love,
Ostelan