Chapter 2
Three Hearts
They were an odd entourage.
A pretty day in early November, bright and clear and cool. Windy, blowing Ignis' bangs into eyes. Just as well, perhaps, for the less he saw the better.
Funny; Noctis had just turned seventeen three weeks prior, and it should have been a time when he and Gladiolus and Ignis were having the time of their lives, teenagers that they were, Ignis still eighteen and Gladiolus nineteen for the next few months. They should have been sitting in a bar, celebrating Noctis' ascension into adulthood.
Instead, they were waiting in a line for their not-so-welcome guests.
A car came to halt in front of the Citadel, cameras flashing everywhere, police forming a line to keep the press back, and the council as well as Regis stood upon the steps. Ignis stood there, too, behind Regis and beside of Noctis and Gladiolus. Cor stood behind, and every so often Cor would reach out and place a hand on Ignis' back, for just a moment, and Ignis didn't know if Cor was trying to offer reassurance or if Ignis was so deathly pale that Cor was concerned he would faint.
The car was opened, and the Emperor stepped out, followed by his Chancellor. Ignis observed them, recognized them, but couldn't really put too much thought into them, because he was dreading seeing someone else.
Another car pulled up.
Noctis was about as pale as Ignis, and paled ever more when the car door was opened and a soldier extended a hand to Lady Lunafreya. Ignis' first time seeing her in person, and he would have cared more about how lovely she was if he wasn't a moment away from leaning over and vomiting. She was followed immediately by her brother, the Deputy High Commander, who by all rights was a King but was also not, for he was King in name only, subject yet to the Empire.
The Lady bowed to Regis, who bowed in turn, and he swept his hand and motioned her over to his side, her brother right beside her. Noctis glanced frequently at her, but didn't break attention.
Another car pulled up, and Ignis' heart hammered.
Not his soon-to-be spouse, however, for the door opened and a woman that Ignis did not recognize stepped out. Must have been the Commodore. Not what Ignis had expected, perhaps, but then it was impossible to determine what he had expected. She was in full military garb, from head to toe, despite the occasion. She certainly didn't exude that gentle, calm air of Lady Lunafreya. Actually, she looked as unhappy to be there as they were to have her there, and Gladiolus' nose crinkled with his obvious distaste. Her bow to Regis was much more curt, less elegant, and yet she dutifully fulfilled her role and settled in beside of the Lady.
Well, then.
That only left...
Once more, Cor's palm was against Ignis' back. Perhaps he had swayed.
The last car came pulling up, and Ignis' heart was pounding so quickly that he could actually feel it thudding against his ribs, he swore it, the blood rushing in his ears as his pupils dilated. His hearing seemed to go out, the edges of his vision darkening. On the verge of melting down, but no one would have ever known except for perhaps Cor, because Ignis' mask was always impeccable and never slipped.
The car came to a halt, and Ignis stopped breathing, waiting to see the man behind the armor. Didn't even know what his future spouse looked like, for it seemed no one had ever seen the General without his full armor.
And today, no one would yet, for when the door opened the steel instantly gleamed in the sunlight.
There he was, General Glauca, and still in his armor.
Supposed even a peace treaty couldn't get the General to remove it, and to be perfectly honest Ignis was actually relieved, for at some level he simply wasn't yet ready to see the man.
Glauca came out, stood to his full height, broad and tall and exceedingly frightening, not a single speck of him visible from beneath the metal, and his boots were heavy on the stone steps when he walked up. A low bow to Regis, somehow still more elegant than the Commodore's, despite it all, and then, far too soon, they were all there.
The lot of them, and the situation was suddenly very real.
An odd lot, alright. The old Emperor, his catty and smarmy Chancellor, the elegant Lady Lunafreya, the angry Commodore, and the silent and imposing General. Mismatched and out of place.
Regis looked them over, and swept one hand to the Citadel, saying at last, "Welcome to Insomnia."
The Emperor smiled, but it was the Chancellor who leeringly observed them all and merely replied, "Our many thanks for hosting us."
A very condescending tone of voice that grated Ignis' ears, though it was perhaps unintentional, and Cor's hand was still there on his back when Regis finally began the march up to the doors.
As they walked up the steps, the Chancellor uttered, very smoothly, "You'll forgive the lack of more casual garb. It is Imperial law that all military personnel must be in full uniform when greeting foreign diplomats or visiting foreign lands. A sign of utmost respect, you see."
Regis tersely replied, "We are honored."
Honored.
Was that how Ignis should have felt?
Noctis and Gladiolus turned on their heels and stepped up, and Ignis tried to follow them but foundered. Seeing the General up ahead, a faceless mountain of metal, he faltered. The stir of panic beneath the surface.
Cor fell into step beside of him, once more placed his hand on Ignis' back, and gently pushed him onward.
No choice but to carry on, as he had always known he would have to.
The throne room was hardly a sanctuary. Out of the sun, away from the majority of the cameras, the press, the prying eyes, but so dismal. Quiet. Dim. Everyone was aloof, tense, so very careful with words and motions, and the Chancellor was the only one amongst them who actually looked quite happy to be there, as he gawked over the throne room, nodding his head approvingly.
Ignis stared off into the corner, as Glauca stood imposingly between the two women who had accompanied him. Guarding them, perhaps, as Gladiolus stood there and subconsciously guarded Ignis and Noctis.
Three hearts on either end who, perhaps, didn't want to be there.
Noctis was the only one of them who ever actually looked at his betrothed, for Gladiolus very obviously refused to acknowledge the Commodore and Ignis was too dumb with anxiety to even think about looking at anyone, Glauca least of all.
Regis and the Emperor spoke formally, as the Chancellor and the Deputy High Commander murmured to each other, and the others were left to stand in awful silence.
As the long hour passed, and then another, Ignis came out of his coma long enough to dare a glance over at the hosted betrothed trio.
Lady Lunafreya was so elegant, so calm, so serene, and fearless as well apparently, for she frequently turned to the side and murmured to Glauca as if she were speaking to any other man. The General didn't ever answer verbally, nodding here and there, and Ignis wished that he could have been more like her, because all he felt then was terror and hurt and misery. Glancing over and over again to that frightening heap of metal that he would soon call 'husband'.
Glauca was staring at him. Or, rather, Ignis thought that Glauca was staring at him, but who could ever really say, because of course not a single thing about the man was visible, even his eyes. Was likely staring off into absolute nothing as Ignis had, wondering what he had done wrong to ever deserve this punishment.
Regis and the Emperor sat down in front of gathered council, and signed together in show a paper that had already been signed in both lands. Just a formality for the cameras.
The peace treaty was signed. War ended, just like that, after nearly a century.
Two pens, with no waver, sealed six fates.
And then more papers came, and Regis' smile was forced, terse, tight, false, when he then signed the three documents handed him. Three marriage certificates. One of the more surreal moments in Ignis' life, seeing Noctis and Lady Lunafreya walk forward, take up their pens, and sign themselves to each other despite having never met. The Lady's hand was graceful, smooth, no falter. Noctis' was clumsy, nervous, as any seventeen-year-old forced into marriage would fumble.
And then Gladiolus walked up with the Commodore. Gladiolus gripped the pen so tightly Ignis was shocked that it didn't snap, and his movements as he signed were jerky, angry, brash and harsh. The Commodore's were smoother but no less irritated, as she merely seemed to scratch one straight line and then toss her pen down before her Emperor testily.
And then...
Cor gave Ignis' back one more gentle push for courage, and Ignis inhaled, steeled his will and face, and walked up to the desk. He didn't glance at Glauca next to him, as the General's metal boots thunked atop the marble so harshly, and took up his pen with no protest. Ignis' job was to be ever composed, and he was then, as he signed the parchment elegantly and with no tremor. Glauca's motions were stiffer, but very precise. Unwavering.
Ignis signed his life and future away.
Just like that, Ignis was married, before he had ever had his first kiss.
Sad.
Ignis returned to Noctis and Gladiolus, Cor once more hovered behind him, and the day faded into a blur. The 'honored' guests were whisked off into the Citadel into their various rooms, and Cor drove Ignis back to his flat, which of course would only be his for two more weeks.
Home.
He knew nothing else, and dreaded leaving it behind.
Even as he lied in bed alone, despite being now legally married, even as the room was utterly still and silent, Ignis could still hear the heavy, clunking sound of those metal boots, clinking along with every frightening step Glauca took.
His husband, the General.
He tried to swallow it, and choked every time.
No sleep that night. Couldn't. Kept awake by the sounds of metal in his mind.
Did Glauca ever sleep?