"Don't call me that," said Noctis tiredly. "I'm never going to be king. The next time I sit on the throne of the Citadel in Insomnia, it'll be my execution, not my coronation."
"Your Highness," said King Peter, starting again.
"Noctis is fine," interrupted the Lucian.
"Noctis," said King Peter patiently.
"You don't have to talk me into it," said the prince. "I've gotta do it, or everyone will die. You can't live without the sun. If we ever get back, I won't wait." He snorted humorlessly. "If we're stuck here too long, everyone might die anyways."
"I'm not here to talk you into it," said King Peter. He sat down on the bench across from Noctis, his frame almost too large for the tiny pavilion. They were practically knee to knee. "I already knew you were going to do it."
"Then why are you here?" Noctis knew he was being inexcusably rude, but he didn't care.
"Because you're not dead yet!" the High King interjected.
"Sure feels that way," retorted Noctis.
"But you're not," adjured His Majesty.
"You know, I'm sure my dad knew what the prophecy meant," the young man continued brokenly. "He never made me do king stuff, you know? I never had to go to council meetings; I never had to learn how to rule. I was almost killed by a demon as a kid, and so I just figured he was being overprotective, but I don't know the first thing about being king. Iggy's the one who had all the training. He'll be an amazing king once I'm...gone.
"Dad sent me away before Niflheim destroyed Insomnia," remembered Noctis. "I didn't understand why he would sacrifice an entire city to save me, but now everything makes sense. He kept me alive to die at the proper time." He clenched his fist, the ring of the Lucii glinting innocently on his finger. He glanced away rather than look at it. The silence stretched long.
"A king cares for his people," said King Peter eventually. "The cost of being a good king is everything you are, up to and including your life and everything you love."
"Well, then, I guess Dad was a good king," said Noctis bitterly. "He didn't even have the spine to tell me himself."
"Perhaps," agreed King Peter solemnly. "But I can also imagine a scenario where he loved his precious child and wanted him to live and love and thrive for as long as possible. How terrible to have to sit down with your only son and ask him to die for you and your kingdom and the whole world!" He took a deep breath. "I imagine that he loved you very much, and he made sure you knew it."
"Yeah, he loved me," said Noctis.
"Part of the power of sacrifice is the attitude behind it," said the High King. "A willing sacrifice, that resolve, that courage, lends more strength and power to a cause than an unwilling victim. The other part of the power comes from the value of what is given up. Health? Youth? Position?"
"I'm willing, aren't I?"
"'Do not go gentle into that dark night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light,'" said King Peter, clearly quoting something. "Don't just resign yourself to whatever fate you think your Gods might have in mind for you."
"I have to," said Noctis. His voice sounded flat, dull, like it was lacking some spark of life already.
"You are still here, among friends," said the man. "They are more than merely your retainers; they have followed you these many months, and they continue to stand by you. You have faced many terrible dangers, have you not?" Noctis didn't respond, but the king didn't wait to see if he would.
"Your companions have accompanied you throughout your journey, facing blindness and torture and the threat of death to support you, their Prince and their friend. They would die for you." King Peter fixed Noctis with a stern gaze. "Do you not think for one moment that your Mr Scientia would gladly take your place if it meant that you would be spared this fate? What about Mr Amicitia? Or Mr Argentum?"
"Iggy was blinded protecting me," said Noctis. "He called it 'a small sacrifice in the greater battle'--I can't count the number of times he's thrown himself in between me and a threat."
"Of course he has," said the High King. "And Mr Amicitia is your sworn shield. I can only imagine the responsibilities that accompany such a position."
"I never wanted any of them to die for me," Noctis said forcefully. King Peter smiled at the emotion creeping back into the prince's voice.
"And have you not risked death and danger yourself to protect your companions? Were there not times during battle that you have flung yourself forward upon the enemy to guard your friends from a lethal blow? Have you not sometimes chosen to expose yourself to some deadly foe rather than allow them to be wounded?"
"We watch each other's backs," Noctis defended himself.
"I know," the man said. "You love each other as dearly as I love my siblings. You are like brothers, and you would do anything for each other." He paused significantly. "You would die for each other."
"I would," said Noctis haltingly. "For them."
"Allow your brothers to support you," said King Peter. "They are your family. Let them cherish this time with you. Let joy and life and strength be your watchcry. You are greater than your fear and sorrow. You have led them this far. Lead them further, into the dawn." He smiled again, placing a solemn hand on Noctis' knee in a quiet gesture of support. "You are becoming a great king, Your Majesty." He slipped away into the gardens, and Noctis was alone again.
He could do this.
He didn't want to. The thought of dying on the throne of Insomnia still made his stomach churn and his ribs ache with phantom pain. He didn't want to die.
But he could do this.
He could die for Ignis and Gladio and Prompto. Hell, hadn't he risked his life for them every time they fought demons or beasts? He could do this, for them, and for Iris, and for Talcott and Jared and every person he'd met along their journey. He wanted them to have a future, and he was the only one who could give it to them.
He could do this for Luna, who had always believed in him so strongly, even as children, that when she was faced with the choice of saving herself or saving him, when stabbed by the embodiment of the scourge itself, she spent the last of her strength reviving him and passing on the Ring of the Lucii. Her love for him had melted the heart of the Goddess of ice, allowing him to receive Shiva's blessing without contest.
He would not die an unwilling offering backed into a corner by fate and the gods. He would not die a coward. He would die a protector, marching into a battle and paying the cost of victory with his eyes wide open. He would die a king.