Ignis looked terrible, Noctis thought. He was even paler than usual, and he was doing that thing with his hands, that twisting, fidgeting thing that the prince remembered from when they were children and were in trouble. Noct hadn't seen him do that for years. The blind man sat silently as Noctis stood before the Narnian Kings and Queens and a few advisers, once again explaining the circumstances surrounding Ignis' first encounter with Narnians. Queen Susan was the only one who hadn't already heard it firsthand, and she listened intently.
In truth, Noctis wasn't too worried. Kings Peter and Edmund wore expressions of calm and interest, but Queen Lucy hadn't stopped grinning ever since she'd lobbed that magic flask at Gladio. The shield had stood in the center of the audience chamber, arms outstretched, as she shattered the glass bottle at his feet. In a burst of cold and snow, ice had coated the ground, creeping up Gladio's boots as frost formed in his hair and clothing. The man had shivered violently, and after a brief pause to make sure that the Kings and Queens had seen everything they wanted, he brushed himself free and vigorously rubbed his arms to bring warmth back into them. A thoughtful servant had discreetly brought him a steaming cup of tea, which the bodyguard had gratefully accepted.
Noctis bowed respectfully as he finished his remarks. It was perhaps deeper than he should, since he technically was a king himself, even if he wasn't crowned yet. But he figured it couldn't hurt, what with Ignis' fate on the line.
"Your Majesties, have we heard all that we desire?" asked King Peter. Although he addressed the group, his eyes were on his eldest sister. She nodded. "Let us deliberate." They stood as one; the men escorted their sisters off the dias, away from their four thrones, and into a side hall. Noctis rejoined his friends standing off to the side. Gladio was quietly eyeing the guards posted at regular intervals around the room, no doubt planning his potential attack, should the verdict come back guilty. They weren't about to allow Ignis to be sentenced to death. It would be rough, since they were armed only with King Regis' royal arm and two borrowed swords, but what other choice would there be?
The kings and queens returned after less than a minute. Noctis placed an arm around Ignis as he guided his friend forward to stand before them again. Resuming their seats, King Edmund cleared his throat. "King Noctis, my royal brother and sisters and I have sat in Judgement over your retainer Ignis Scientia, who stands accused of treason, of aiding and following the witch Jadis, and of wielding her power against Our soldiers. Of these things, we find your retainer innocent. Regarding the charge of attacking Our soldiers, we find him guilty. However," he continued smoothly, "As Judgment is my domain, it was my decision that clemency be extended due to the exigent circumstances surrounding your arrival and his physical illnesses at the time. I therefore decree Ignis Scientia is to be freed at once upon time served. This is Our united decision."
"Thank you," murmured Noctis, his throat suddenly tight. He bowed again, Ignis deeply, and King Edmund bowed back.
"You're welcome," he said. "Perhaps you would care to join us for lunch in an hour? We have a few more state matters to attend to at present."
"We would be pleased to accept, Your Majesties," said Noctis.
"Until then, please feel free to stroll about the castle and its grounds," said Queen Susan kindly. The four men made their way out and into the antechamber, where a servant presented them with a basket containing everything that had been confiscated from Ignis. They quickly filled their pockets.
"Whoo hoo!" cheered Prompto under his breath. "We did it!"
"Nice, Iggy!" said Gladio, slapping him on the back. But Noctis could see that Ignis was still just as pale, just as tense, as he had been before the trial. He was even sweating now.
"Let's head outside," he said, a knot forming in his gut. They followed close behind him, Ignis not even bothering to use his cane. Instead, he kept a careful grip on his Prince's shoulder. When they reached the gardens, they were mostly hidden from casual observation.
"What is it, Specs?" he asked quietly.
"May I speak to you alone, Noct?" The prince exchanged glances with Prompto and Gladio, who by now had realized that something was definitely wrong.
"We'll go see the stables," said Prompto cheerfully. "I want to take another look at those chocobo horse things." Gladio seemed reluctant to leave, but Noctis gave a jerk of his head, and he relented. They hurried off, and the Prince drew his oldest friend deeper into the gardens.
"What the hell's wrong with you?" he asked urgently.
"I must beg your forgiveness," said Ignis. He actually dropped to his knees, sending a thrill of panic through the prince. "I am truly, truly sorry."
"Why?" said Noctis fearfully.
"In Altissia, on my way to the Tidemother's alter, I saw the Oracle's dog," choked Ignis. "She granted me a vision, and I heard the voice of Bahamut. I know what it will take to fulfill your destiny as King of Light."
"Tell me what he said," ordered Noctis. This was wrong, so terribly wrong.
"A power greater than even that of the Six, purifying all by the light of the Crystal and the glaives of rulers past. Only at the throne can the Chosen receive it," Ignis' voice cracked, "and only at the cost of a life," his voice hitched again, and tears began to leak steadily from the least-scarred eye (the other was too damaged to cry, Noctis knew), "his own. The King of Kings shall be granted the power to banish the darkness, but the blood price must be paid. To cast out the usurper and usher in dawn's light will cost the life of the Chosen. Many sacrificed all for the King, so must the King sacrifice himself for all." His voice broke a third time. "I saw you sit on the throne of Insomnia and call the kings of old to you. They stabbed you with the royal arms you've gathered, giving you their power. You died, and you defeated Ardyn in the beyond."
Noctis stood frozen, the words piercing his soul just as deeply as any Royal arm. A blood price must be paid? His own life? Ignis continued to kneel, weeping bitterly, as the young king tried to remember how to breathe. He took one gasping breath, and then another, and then his heart was pounding and tears were burning in his eyes and he was running along the garden, leaving his friend behind but unable to escape the echo of the words in his mind: Cost the life of the Chosen.
He was chosen to die? That was his great destiny? He reached a smaller garden with an enclosed pavilion and ducked inside, collapsing on a small bench as a throbbing pain began to shoot up his bad leg and into his back. He must've tweaked it in his desperate flight. The King must sacrifice himself.
WHY! he cried silently, praying to the Astrals. Why must I pay that price? Wasn't Luna enough? Wasn't Dad enough? How many people have died from the Scourge and from the war with Niflheim?
I don't want to die.
But it was almost scary how quickly his desperation bled away. His strength waned, and he slumped dully on the stone, the tears still dribbling silently down his face. He should've known, Noctis realized. Didn't the royal arms fly at him, stabbing him, every time he claimed one? Didn't they bleed away his strength, his life, every time he was desperate enough to wield one or to call on the full might of the royal weapons he'd collected? But as bad as they were, the ring was worse. It burned him, drawing from his magic and not stopping when he was trembling on the edge of stasis-no, it pulled and yanked his power from his body until he was collapsed, weak-kneed on the floor. He'd been injured and clawed by imps in Zegnautus Keep several times after using the Ring too much.
His sweet Luna was dead, dead because she'd protected him and healed him, dead by Ardyn's hand. But even beyond that, she was the Oracle. She was the last to wield the other half of Bahamut's power, and when she died, a void opened in his soul beyond that of an absent loved one. There was just an emptiness, an absence of warmth there that he hadn't recognized until it was gone. The power of the oracle was lost to Eos forever. Soon, the power of the Lucii would follow.
"Dad," Noctis whispered, rubbing the ring on his finger. "Dad, did you know? Why didn't you tell me?" Were he still on Eos, he might've gotten some sort of response; all kings of the Lucii were tied to the ring, and occasionally he'd felt impressions from the tiny shard of crystal. But in Narnia, cut off from all Eosian magic, it only glinted innocently in the light.
He had to do it, Noctis knew. The days were rapidly dimming, the scourge blocking out the sunlight except during the brightest hours. If the sun stopped shining, there would be no food, no animals, no reprieve from the constant onslaught of demons. All of Eos would die. When looking at it that way, the cost of one prince was a small one. One life to save the world.
What a waste it all was.