Chapter 24

The Ties That Bind

He couldn't remember ever being truly afraid in his life entire, not even trekking into certain death at fifteen.

That adrenaline, that rush, that pang of his heart rushing, the twist of his stomach, the panic rising underneath and causing the hairs on his neck to stand up; had heard of such fear, had seen it in other men, knew of it well, but had not felt it personally.

But he did that day.

Potently. Fear, strong and present. Cor was terrified when he looked about the rubble of his home, looking for something he was actually more afraid of finding. Stumbling about, searching and hoping while at the same time trying to stay out of sight, because he was target number one. The fear of coming across it at last.

Chaos. Everything had been utter chaos.

Everything had gone to hell so quickly, and it had one of Cor's more horrifying moments, rushing up the stairwell at the border gate and staring aghast at the distance as explosions lit up the sky. The hair-raising, thrilling and horrifying sight of the wall shattering above.

Panic.

Never had he truly felt panic until that day.

Cor had fallen into a daze, ordering the emergency services into mobilization, organizing the evacuation of civilians, all the while calling Titus and Monica and never getting an answer. Until many hours later when night ended and dawn came, and Cor had long since taken cover with several men outside the wall when the Imperial soldiers had come calling. Cor saw Monica's name, picked up in a flash, and wished he hadn't.

Oh, never would he forget Monica's words then :

'I've found Lady Lunafreya. She's is safe. Sir—Ignis is inside the city. The last the Lady saw of him, he stayed behind to fight General Glauca. What do I do?'

Cor's hand had contracted on his phone so tightly that he was surprised he hadn't broken it.

All he had managed to utter then, horrified as he was, was a thin, weak, 'Find me a way inside the city.'

'Yes, sir! On it. But— One more thing, sir.'

'What?'

A long, awful hesitation.

'I cannot fully confirm, but it seems that... There are unconfirmed reports, sir, that Captain Drautos is...General Glauca.'

Cor had scoffed, at first, at the absurdity of it, and Monica surely found it just as absurd, for her constant uttering that it was 'unconfirmed'.

That couldn't be right.

All the same, Cor cast it momentarily aside, because his priority then was to extract Ignis from within Insomnia, as was his duty both to the Crownsguard and the King. And moreover, as his was his duty to Titus, for he had sworn to keep Ignis safe.

All that, yes...

In the end, Cor went after Ignis because Cor loved him, and when Monica found him a path shortly after, Cor wasted no time.

Monica led him here and there, and said, 'Ignis' phone is still on, sir. I'm sending you that way. A field surgeon, too, just in case. If you find him, they'll be ready to rendezvous.'

'Right. I'll be in contact.'

'Keep low, sir.'

He cut the call, and shook his head as he physically tried to shake that thought right out of his head. Absurd, utterly absurd, because Lady Lunafreya said that Ignis had fought against General Glauca, and so there was some mistake, for Titus would never...

Couldn't be.

When Cor slipped past the wall and inside the besieged city, he followed Monica's instructions and directions, creeping quietly and stealthily through what had once been his home. Just a ruined city, now, a ghost, a shell of its former glory, ash and rubble and destruction all around.

The sun was rising. The pink of dawn fading into bright blue.

Ignis' phone led Monica, and she in turn directed Cor, and Cor was ready for anything, he was, had prepared himself mentally for every possible outcome, for every sight.

Or so he had thought.

But actually seeing it—

Could never have explained that awful jolt of utter heartbreak that came over him when, in the pale light of dawn, he found at last what he sought.

He wasn't ready in the slightest.

A quiet and still Ignis, covered in blood, resting atop a quiet and still Titus, half in armor.

Neither of them moved, and Cor fell still too in a moment of helpless shock. Wasn't breathing, couldn't, couldn't move, couldn't think, and felt the world dissolve as his ears began ringing. Clarity and thought fled, all senses dulled beneath the wave of shock.

His only friend, and his only desire, both unmoving.

The world had ended, he was so sure of it.

Titus in the moonlight, looking over at Cor and saying, after thirty years, that he loved him.

He wasn't ready.

Cor staggered over more than walked, and he didn't remember collapsing onto his knees, but he was suddenly on the ground before them, vision bleary and chest aching. An actual physical pain in his breast, sharp and potent, and Cor was certain that his heart was literally breaking. Never had he felt such a thing. Could barely comprehend what he was looking at, even as it was right in front of him.

Ignis and Titus, sleeping together as they had every night for years.

They looked entirely peaceful, Ignis' limp hand atop Titus and Titus' head rolled in Ignis' direction. Even in death, they couldn't be parted. Had it not been for the blood soaking Ignis and the dagger sticking out of Titus' breast, nothing would have seemed so amiss.

That dagger; for a moment, Cor thought perhaps Ignis had plunged it there before Titus struck him down, taking each other out, in a horrifically romantic end for the both of them. But that dagger wasn't Ignis', and Titus' great sword would never have left Ignis entirely intact. Both fatally wounded by others, and then they had dragged themselves together at the very end by sheer will, because no one could have ever said they hadn't been desperately in love.

Ignis fought against Titus at the last breath, in the final act, and even after it was all said and done Ignis had still loved Titus so that dying apart from him was unacceptable.

Love like that; long had Cor sought it, and had never found it. Titus had, and yet still hadn't been able to call Insomnia home.

Time fell into a void, lost in the wind, as dazed Cor tried to comprehend it all.

The report then was confirmed. History would look back upon Cor's friend by another name, and wouldn't bother to ever delve much into the 'why' behind it.

Cor stared at them, and for just a moment, he didn't see the point in standing back up. Everything had gone, everything he cared about. Just empty space all around him.

Everyone he had loved was gone. Clarus and Regis. Titus and Ignis.

His city was gone.

His friend was...

It was somehow easier to accept that Titus was in fact General Glauca than it was to accept that Titus was dead. Didn't care if the man was Glauca or not; had Titus opened his eyes then, Cor would have absolutely done everything in his power to save him.

All these years, and Cor hadn't been able to see it. Never had he suspected such a thing, no one had.

For all it mattered now.

Titus' betrayal didn't even truly register to Cor then, because somehow it didn't matter to him. Titus was dead; why bother summoning up anger? Titus had been his friend, and Cor didn't doubt that Titus had meant those words that night. Titus had always said to Cor that he fought for his home, and would always place it above all else. Cor had just never realized how far Titus was actually willing to go for the sake of his homeland, and maybe Cor had never understood it because Cor had never been far away from home, had never felt homesickness, had never felt isolated and out of place.

All Titus had ever wanted, all these long years, was just to go home.

Cor rested there on his knees still, staring dazedly away.

Titus had wanted to go home, and Ignis had really only ever just wanted Titus, but served Noctis with that same fervor that Titus served his home.

Two men, desperately in love but with such passion for the thing they fought for that they had been willing to stand on opposite ends and fight each other. Titus had a ring on Ignis' finger, and still Ignis had drawn his daggers. Ignis had given Titus love for the first time in Titus' life, and still Titus had put his homeland above it all.

Both of them had been, in their own ways, two of the more remarkable people Cor had ever known.

And so Cor sat there dumbly on his knees and stared at them, because he didn't know what else to do.

Felt so heavy.

Probably would have keeled over there before long, from sheer misery, if he hadn't suddenly thought Ignis' chest was moving.

Couldn't be. ...could it?

He snapped out of his stupor with a vengeance, and practically crawled over. He hesitated all the same when his fingers were in the air above Ignis' neck, because he was so frightened of what he would feel, when it was so likely his mind had been playing tricks on him.

Had to know, though, had to, and so Cor had finally lowered his hand.

By the gods—!

Feeling a pulse in Ignis' neck, slow and lethargic as it had been, was honestly the most profound moment of Cor's life.

A rush of adrenaline, panic, joy, elation, terror, everything and all at once, as Cor sprung to life. He meant to scoop Ignis up and cart him away, and hesitated once more, turning his eyes to pale and still Titus. Cor swallowed, but he had to know. Had to, because he loved Titus even then, after it was all said and done.

He pressed his fingers into Titus' neck.

His friend.

And there was nothing.

Cor knelt there for far too long, fingers pressed into Titus' neck, and Cor might have lingered there because he was hoping for a miracle, was hoping that he hadn't waited long enough, hadn't checked right, and that if he sat patiently still there would suddenly be a pulse.

There never was, and Cor was forced to move, because Ignis still had a pulse but not a strong one.

Had to go.

Titus was gone, and that was all there was to it.

Cor bowed his head to his friend and brother and enemy, and uttered, "I swore it, and I'll see it done."

His vow would be fulfilled, in whatever manner was necessary, and for now that meant leaving still Titus behind and getting Ignis out of this city.

He called Monica, and said, with far too much panic, "That field surgeon—I need them. Now. Tell me where to go. Ignis is dying."

She did her job well, as she always did, and found a safe rendezvous point three blocks down the street in a fired out building, where no Imperial troops were patrolling. Cor scooped unconscious Ignis up, and darted through the rubble. He was astounded that he didn't trip and fall, as furiously as he sprinted, but desperation was a powerful aid in balance and reflexes.

Cor practically skidded into the building Monica had directed him to, still smoldering on one side and creaking every so often. Two men were waiting in the dark, and Cor passed Ignis off to them, glancing up at the ceiling and praying the entire goddamn building wouldn't just suddenly collapse atop them.

Cor was hardened, stoic, impervious, grizzled, but damn if he didn't have to turn his head aside and breathe through his mouth as nausea rose up, seeing those surgeons unpack Ignis' wound and dig right in. Gods—had never seen a man dig his fingers inside another and hold things together while another stitched and cauterized, and hoped to never see it again. Cor had packed up his own wounds with no hesitation, but seeing it on someone else was different.

Long hours those men worked, as best they could under the circumstances. War called for desperate measures, and Cor was fully aware that this was a shot in the dark.

Sure enough, one of the men said, as he stood wearily up, "This is as good as we can do. He needs blood, yesterday. If we don't get him to a hospital soon, he won't pull through. Honestly, Marshal, I just don't think—"

Cor held up a hand for silence, because he didn't want to hear the end of that sentence.

Couldn't stand to hear it.

Cor pulled his phone out, and called Monica.

"Is the crack I slipped in through still secure?"

"Yes, sir, for now. But the Empire knows Ignis is in the city, from the border records. They've put an alert out to all troops to capture him. Be careful returning, sir. Ignis is to be captured, but you're to be killed on sight. I'll be waiting."

"Have a car ready. I'll see you soon," Cor vowed, because he had come out of worse scrapes than this, and this was his city, his home, and no Niff knew this place better than he did.

Cor looked at the medics, at deathly pale Ignis, and barked, "Let's move!"

He was a man on a mission, and woe betide any Imperial soldier then that attempted to hinder him.

Perhaps Cor was too brazen, too confident, too angry and too vengeful, for he jacked the closest car he saw, threw the medics and Ignis right in, and just drove through the cluttered streets in plain daylight. Had any Niffs blocked his path, he very gladly would have ran them over, but that day Cor was lucky; his path was unimpeded.

By Niffs, anyway.

It was a collapsed apartment complex that finally stopped Cor short, but the car had served its purpose well in buying him precious minutes, when every single one counted.

The medics grabbed Ignis up and carted him along behind Cor, who led the way with katana in hand.

A shadow on the sky in the distance, a roar, and Cor glanced up to see a dreadnaught drifting along, heading towards downtown.

Fury, and nothing to do with it.

They crept through the streets, off the road and down into the rocks and brush, and slipped through the crack out into the world, where Monica was waiting in the shadow of the scarce trees.

Monica rushed forward, and her stoic mask broke for just a moment when she saw Ignis, who was both her protégé and friend, and also her charge. Cor had trained Gladiolus in physical combat, and Monica had trained Ignis in tactical combat. As Cor, she must have felt at some level that she had failed. Her face fell as she rested a hand on Ignis' chest, as if she needed to prove to herself that he was in fact still alive, and Cor averted his eyes and tried not to despair.

Wouldn't be the end. He had sworn to see Ignis through whatever night.

When Monica felt Ignis' slow and weak heartbeat, she lifted her eyes to Cor, and said, with the slightest of tremors, "The Empire has blockaded all three major highways. The road to Lestallum is not passable. There are no other hospitals between here and there. What shall we do?"

Cor turned his eyes to burning Insomnia, and brainstormed.

Wouldn't lose Ignis, come what may, and would have risked open assault on an Imperial blockade if it came to that.

"We'll call the hunters," Cor finally murmured, watching the smoke rising. "He needs blood immediately. They're always ready for medical emergencies. They'll find a way. If we can get him to pull through for another few days, then we can find a way around the blockades."

Monica pulled out her phone, and together she and Cor called whoever the hell they could think of to call, all while hoping an Imperial sniper didn't come along, or a dreadnaught didn't appear right above them. And the entire while, Cor's eyes rested on Ignis' neck, and he prayed above all else that he wouldn't suddenly realize there was no longer a pulse.

Their persistence and resources paid off, as they sometimes did, and Monica got a hold of Cid, who called a hunter who called another, and one hour later Cor and Monica were in a dingy van in a dusty outpost, as a hunter handed them a cooled box full of blood bags.

This was the less pleasant part of being in the Crownsguard.

Monica clasped her hands in front of her chest as she watched over Ignis, and Cor called Noctis, then, and was relieved when he immediately answered.

"Cor! What's happening? Where are you? I can't get anyone else to pick up!"

"I'm nearby," Cor assured, glancing endlessly at Ignis, and he didn't have the heart then to tell Noctis what was truly happening. Ignis was Noctis' brother as Titus had been Cor's. Couldn't say it to him, because he needed Noctis as clearheaded as possible. Instead, Cor demanded, "Meet me in Hammerhead. We have an Imperial blockade to wreck."

"What about my dad—"

An awful pang in his chest.

A scared and worried Noctis was a liability; an angry one could be beneficial.

So Cor was honest on that end, and uttered, "It's true. Gone. Meet me. I can't speak for much longer. We have to move fast."

"But where's Ig—"

Cor hung up, because if Noctis kept pressing, Cor would crack. Cor couldn't crack, not then, because he needed to get Ignis to a hospital in Lestallum before he lost the King, the Shield, and the Hand all in one day. Before he failed on all ends to do his duty and protect those he was sworn to.

Hours passed in a dull lurch, hazy and bleary.

Like walking in some nightmare.

Ignis miraculously hadn't slipped away yet, was stubbornly clinging to life, and Cor walked aimlessly about back and forth in front of the van until he saw the Regalia roaring up.

Cor braced himself, kept his face utterly blank, and prepared himself for Noctis' wrath. Of that, there was plenty, for Noctis got out of the car and stalked right up to Cor, marching so hard and fast that he nearly crashed into Cor's chest.

"What the hell is happening? Talk to me. What about Ignis and Luna?"

Ever calm, composed, stoic, even though his heart was breaking, Cor just lifted his chin and very coolly replied, in his persistent monotone, "The Oracle is safe. She made it outside the city with no harm."

When Cor fell silent, it was Gladiolus who walked forward, brow low and clearly attempting to steel himself when he asked, "And Ignis?"

Cor hesitated.

Noctis' face fell, Gladiolus swallowed, and Prompto turned his back to them all to save face.

Cor tried to figure out what to say, and how to say it in a manner that would spur Noctis and not put him out of sorts.

For whatever reason, Cor didn't tell them that Ignis was right there behind them in that van. Instead, he looked between Noctis and Gladiolus, and said, "Alive." A momentary rush of relief to Noctis' face as he sharply inhaled. "Barely." The relief faded, his face once more fell, and his eyes closed. "We need to clear a path to the hospital in Lestallum. The Empire has blockaded all highways. We're going to make a path. Right now."

Noctis hung his head for just a moment, gathering himself up, and then he inhaled, snapped his eyes open and up, and Cor was actually quite startled by how sharp and furious Noctis' gaze was then. Had never seen it before, and Cor would have been a little proud had the circumstances been different.

"Right," Noctis rumbled, in that very deep and guttural voice he sometimes used, "Let's go cut them down."

Good.

Gladiolus was still staring at Cor, and Cor could see that every so often, Gladiolus' eyes would lift up just above Cor's shoulder and to the van. Gladiolus was surprisingly astute, for the whole of him, and Cor stared him down quite coldly so that he knew better than to open his mouth. For Noctis actually seeing Ignis in that state would replace that rage with panic, and that would be a detriment. Seeing Ignis so pale and covered in blood would have stuck with them as they fought, and maybe not in a good way.

Gladiolus understood; just a small, barely perceivable nod.

Noctis jumped back in the car, took the wheel, and gruffly called, "Just tell me where to go."

"Follow me."

They set off very quickly, Noctis following the van far too closely as Monica guided them west. Cor was very ready for combat, ready to take out a little anger, but all the same he twisted at the waist in the front seat and stared back at Ignis and wished that Titus would have been there to hold both of their hands, as he had for so many years.

Maybe he should have checked longer. Left his fingers for just another minute. If he had waited a little more. Maybe Titus hadn't been—

"Here, sir."

Unlike Titus, Cor had never felt there was a point in dwelling on the past. One thing they had never agreed on, and so Cor let it go then because he had no choice.

Carry on, as always.

They stopped in the cover of the brush, and Noctis once more leapt out, arm ready at his side and all but bristling out as he waited for Cor to say 'charge'.

As they walked by, Gladiolus' eyes lingered on the van, he swallowed again, and Cor pitied him, he did, because Gladiolus had always felt that Ignis was his sibling, but they all needed to fight without that distraction. Cor's burden, not Gladio's, and they were quiet as they crept along the ledge and in the shadows.

Monica watched over Ignis, and waited.

The blockade wasn't as impressive as Cor had expected, just a handful of soldiers with one old Mechsuit, and no MTs.

Easily dealt with.

As Cor had suspected, a Noctis with a vendetta was quite useful, if not clumsy. Less than graceful, yes, but that rage worked well to fuel him against the Niffs, and Cor was actually rather surprised by how quickly they broke the blockade, in spite of how small it had been. Supposed it was only because it was still so soon, and proper reinforcements hadn't arrived yet. Maybe these were rookies, dispatched on what should have been an easy mission.

Their stars kept aligning.

Not even two hours later, the soldiers were dispatched, and the road was clear. For now—had to keep moving, always, because they were being ever hunted.

Now that the task was complete, the path made, the way clear, Cor walked them over to the van, and opened the door. Gladiolus leapt in immediately, for he had known someway that Ignis was inside, but Noctis just stood there below, staring ahead silently. Could see him breathing through his mouth as his fists clenched. Trying to hold himself together, as was expected of him.

In that end, Cor was sympathetic, for always had he been expected to remain impervious and unaffected, immortal in all senses, even when Cor had wanted nothing more than to break down and hang his head and cry. Couldn't, for others relied on him.

Long minutes of Noctis calming himself, and then he stepped inside. Prompto lingered back, and Cor dared a glance. Gladiolus was holding Ignis' pale hand within his own, running the other over Ignis' chest as Monica had. Whispering. Noctis knelt there above him, stared down, and didn't move or speak.

Cor banged a fist on the van, and called, "We gotta go. Now." As an afterthought, Cor added, "Gladio—take the Regalia. His Highness will accompany me."

Ever obedient, Gladiolus nodded and hopped right out.

Noctis glanced up when Cor got in the front seat, and when they drove off towards salvation, Cor looked back. Noctis was ever lingering there silently above Ignis, and seemed at a loss as to what precisely he should do.

Well, Cor could only think of one thing Noctis really could do.

Cor lifted his head to Noctis, and said, wearily, "Talk to him. The only reason he is still alive is for you. Let him know you're here."

There was no doubt in Cor's mind that Ignis was truly only alive still because stubborn Ignis was determined to reunite with Noctis.

Noctis' face collapsed, his lips pursed and his brow crinkled, but all the same he reached out, took Ignis' hand within both of his own, leaned down, and began whispering.

Whatever Noctis said to Ignis, that long ride, was a mystery.

Cor rested his head, closed his eyes, and drifted.

Many things Cor had survived, many battles and daemons and foolish endeavors, but he could easily look back on it all and say that these were the worst days of his life.

Lestallum came upon them when the sun was setting, and Iris was waiting for them.

"I've got everything ready. The hospital is waiting. Let's go."

Endless moving, constant hurrying, rushing, and all of them were exhausted by the time they were in the very small hospital shortly after. Nowhere near the grandeur of Insomnia's hospitals, but a wondrous sight all the same after such strife.

Cor handed Ignis off to the doctors, and prayed to the Six that this wouldn't be the final set of doors that Ignis crossed through.

When Ignis was out of his hands, Cor turned to the others, and even though he really just wanted to go to sleep, he still said, "Come with me. I'll tell you what happened."

Owed them their explanation, and Cor took them to the hotel in which they would be staying and sat them down. He relayed events to the best of his knowledge, but still Cor stumbled over his words and then fell into a momentary silence when he came to Titus.

It was just so difficult to actually say aloud, 'The Captain was General Glauca.'

Because that wasn't really what he was saying, of course. What he was saying was, 'My best friend of thirty years turned and I didn't even know.' What he was saying was, 'Ignis' fiancé is the man who killed Noctis' father.' What he was saying was, 'He was amidst us the entire while, and none of us had the sense to see it.'

Noctis ran a hand over the bridge of his nose, and Gladiolus crossed his arms and stared off out of the window.

What could any of them ever say?

Better not to talk about it at all, because it would only be more awkward and hurtful when Ignis regained consciousness.

Bizarre, surreal, not yet total reality, hadn't sunk in, because Cor still had texts from Titus there on his phone, because he often kept them for months or years at a time before deleting them. Habit.

Hours dragged, and then Cor's phone buzzed.

Even then, even knowing it could never be, Cor still pulled his phone out and hoped to see Titus' name there, because if he could have just talked to him, if he could have asked his questions, gotten his closure, then he could have moved on far more easily from this dark mist.

It wasn't; Monica.

"Sir. Ignis is stable, for now. They'll allow visitors."

A surge of relief. A welcome distraction from this endless tide of misery, and all of them were damn glad to end that awful conversation and go back to the hospital, and that said so much, that anyone wanted to walk into a hospital.

Ignis would be unconscious for a long while, wasn't entirely out of the woods, but was good enough then for them to start getting their hopes us.

Noctis grabbed the railing of Ignis' bed, and stared down at him wordlessly.

Unpleasant, to see all those cords and needles, IVs, everything that made grown men shudder, and even though Cor knew he asked much, he also knew it had to be done.

Noctis wanted to mourn, and that was fair, but he would have to do it later.

"I have a task for you," Cor said, before anyone could even catch a breather.

Noctis hung over Ignis' bed, and wearily asked, "What?"

"I am sending you out to the nearest royal tomb. You'll need all the help you can get now. A relic awaits you there. Each of those tombs will—"

Noctis heaved a spiteful scoff, and interrupted, "Can't this wait?"

A very pointed look at Ignis.

Cor knew what Noctis was feeling, he did, but all the same that anger rushed up, and Cor didn't really mean to snap at Noctis as harshly as he did when he barked, "Wake up!" Prompto jumped. "How much time do you think you can waste? Every minute you delay, more Imperial forces are arriving. They know of what you will attempt to do, and they'll be planning ways to stop you. You cannot delay, for doing so will lose us access to some of these relics. I am sorry, I am, but this cannot wait. Will you risk losing the world entire?"

Combative and angry Noctis grabbed the railing of Ignis' bed so tightly that his knuckles were white, and Cor could see the storm rising there within in.

He needed that anger, yes, but not here.

"Ignis has always waited for me, always, every time I needed him he was always there, and I'm not going anywhere until he's—"

Cor burst forward, reaching across the bed and grabbing Noctis' collar, though it was far out of line for him to do so, and hissed, "Ignis fought against the man he loved most for you! Not so you could sit here and let all be lost, but so that you could fulfill your duty and your calling! The men that die for you do so because they hope you'll be the one to bring an end to the war and the Scourge. Grow up! You're far too full of yourself. You think anyone has ever laid down their life just for you? No; it's for the greater good, for the notion of you. For what your line represents and what it could bring. Now. Take your keys and your map and your arms and get out of here. Fulfill your birthright, and then maybe Ignis won't feel that he broke one vow in favor of another for nothing. Get out."

Noctis was deathly silent, eyes blazing and lips pursed, and when Cor let go of his collar, he was actually surprised that Noctis didn't punch him from across the bed, angry as he looked.

Noctis, Ignis, Gladiolus—none of them had chosen this. It had been put upon them by birth. They hadn't had a choice as Cor had, but it was their duty all the same to follow through, and Noctis would have to learn as Cor had that becoming an immortal in whatever sense meant losing all semblance of a normal life.

They were martyrs, all of them, and that was all.

Noctis had to accept it.

With no further words, Noctis let go of the railing and stalked out of the room, Prompto on his heels. Gladiolus lingered, and came forward, as Cor lifted his very tired head to meet his eyes.

Gladiolus tried to smile, and just couldn't.

"Way to light a fire under him."

"Someone has to."

Regrettable, but necessary.

Gladiolus looked down at Ignis, his longtime second little 'sister', and looked heartbroken but very determined.

"Will you stay with him?"

Cor nodded, and only with that vow did Gladiolus finally walk out.

Cor was glad they were gone, for more reasons than one. There was no time to waste, that was true, but to be quite frank if Ignis was going to die in this room then it would be best that Noctis and Gladiolus weren't here when it happened.

When he was alone at last, Cor pulled the chair in the corner up to Ignis' bed, sat down, crossed his arms, tucked his head down, and fell instantly into merciful sleep.

Lulling hours.

Night passed fitfully, and when dawn began to break, Cor returned to some semblance of clarity.

Ignis yet slept, but was still alive. Cor stared at him as his brain revved back up, and thought back on his lecture to Noctis. Titus' words, long gone.

Martyrs.

Titus had made Cor swear that he wouldn't let Ignis become one, but very nearly by Titus' own hand had Ignis brushed so closely to that word. Men died for the line of Lucis, and the line of Lucis slowly died to uphold the wall. Whether Ignis had chosen to stay behind because Noctis was his brother or because Noctis was his King was anyone's guess, but from this point, if Ignis wanted to continue to throw himself into the fire, then he would do so only after Cor had already gone out in a blaze of glory.

What Titus did or didn't do was no longer of consequence; Cor would follow behind, and keep Ignis safe.

Ignis didn't wake up that day. Another long period of waiting, and night came again. Cor checked his phone; no word from Noctis. Iris came to visit after the sun had set, and sadly stared at still and pale Ignis.

"He's been moving," Cor offered, at her expression. "I think he'll wake up soon."

Ignis hadn't moved, not at all, and maybe Cor said it more for himself than for her, but she smiled anyway and Cor felt his duty done.

At least until the following dawn, at any rate, and then Ignis really did start moving a bit. Hands contracting and head tilting. Cor sat up straight and woke up, focused, paid attention, and when Ignis began making noises, Cor reached out to grab his hand. Offering companionship that Ignis may or may not have been entirely aware of.

A bit past noon, there was a very deep inhale, and Cor was astounded and elated when Ignis opened his eyes, just a bit. A squint in the light. Ignis was awake, and Cor stood up and leaned over the bed, ever clenching Ignis' hand.

Naturally, the first thing Ignis did when he came into the realm of consciousness, was to clench Cor's hand in return and utter, in a daze, "Titus?"

Hurt.

Ignis wasn't aware, wasn't really conscious, and so Cor just squeezed his hand and stayed silent, and let Ignis believe that it was really Titus there with him. No need to cause any undue duress.

Ignis fell shortly after back into unconsciousness without other words.

But hope was very high. Ignis waking up at all was a good damn sign, and Cor felt the first stirs of true optimism.

Ignis really was stubborn. When Cor had trained him to 'fight until you are very literally dead', he didn't think Ignis would take it so seriously.

That night, when the sun had set and the stars were bright, the air warm and muggy, Ignis stirred again. Cor once more stood up and leaned over the bed. A long minute of shifting, stirring, and then, as before, Ignis squinted open his eyes.

A long, bleary stare.

Cor thought that Ignis looked more aware, and leaned down a bit to whisper, "Hey. How are you feeling?"

Ignis' eyes ran over his face, and Cor's lips parted when Ignis lifted his right hand, shakily, and rested his palm on Cor's cheek.

Oh—

Everything he had ever wanted.

A grimace, a look of pain, but Ignis replied, with a bit of a slur, "I'm fine. Just fine. Knowing you are."

Could never have explained that surge of utter elation, hope, adoration, love.

A dumb, gruff mutter from Cor, "Me? You were...worried?"

Stupid. So stupid, and Cor was painfully reminded of exactly how stupid he was when Ignis snorted against the obvious pain he was in and added, "I always worry about you. I had an awful dream about you, Titus."

Should have known, really, but even though it was pitiful Cor still felt as if he had been kicked in the chest.

Ignis was without glasses, half-lucid, and Cor was fully aware of how similar he and Titus had always been. And Ignis was still on the ledge, could still have slipped away at any point, may have lingered here for days or weeks before succumbing, nothing was set in stone, so Cor as always did his duty :

He gripped Ignis' hand more tightly, tried his best to soften his voice (that didn't work), and uttered, "I'm fine, so don't worry. Rest."

A pale smile.

Dazed Ignis slipped shortly after into sleep once more, and Cor hung his head and ran a palm over the bridge of his nose as the headache roared up. So tired, so much work to be done, so many battles still to be fought, and now Cor had one more expectation put upon him.

Could never live up to it.

Sitting here pretending to be Titus to a dazed and near-dead Ignis was as close as Cor would ever get to being noticed. When Ignis was aware and clearheaded, Cor would have his hands full trying to obey Titus' command.

Daunting.

Cor stayed by Ignis every day and every night, pretending to be Titus. He had made a vow, and would see it done, however much it hurt. Cor kept every oath he made, without fail, and was tasked now with taking Titus' place. An impossible burden, but his.

Bound for eternity by his word and by Titus' iron will.

There had been two ships in the harbor just a few nights ago. Now, at the storm's dispersal, there was only one, but the lighthouse yet searched for the other hopefully.

Cor's ship clung to life, listing, as Titus' had vanished beneath the waves.

Cor stared at the ring on Ignis' finger, and mourned.

All of his brothers were gone.