Day 41 - 43

Noctis slumped into the royal lounge. He seemed, to all appearances, to be in one piece still. That was a positive result, certainly. Then again, he had that distant shell-shocked quality about him, which suggested he may not have been altogether whole inside.

"Well?" Gladio asked. "How'd it go?"

"You know how dads do that thing," Noct said, "Where they're like 'I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed,' and it's way worse than when they're mad at you?"

Gladio and Ignis nodded. Prompto shrugged.

"Yeah, my dad doesn't do that," Noct said. "He's mad and disappointed. It's terrible. He never shouts, he just glares at you with this look like: you should have done better and I'm ashamed to call you my son so get out before I actually lose my temper. And basically at that point you better take the hint and run because no one wants to know what he looks like if that's not actually losing his temper. I swear, there was smoke coming from his ears."

"As well as expected then," Ignis said.

"Yeah, I guess so." Noctis dropped onto the couch next to him. "I really messed up. Should have told him first thing instead of sending Cor out."

"Hindsight is, as they say, twenty-twenty." Ignis adjusted his glasses. "Has he given you some task as recompense?"

"No. That's what makes it so shitty. He didn't tell me to do anything. Like he thinks I'll just mess that up too. Or else it's so far messed that nothing's going to fix it."

The sinking sensation that had been dragging at Ignis' stomach settled in. They were not going after her. At least not by the king's orders.

"What are we to do, then?" He asked.

"Dunno. Stay here, I guess. He said Cor is with Rei and that's that, I guess."

They were not going after her on Noctis' orders either. Ignis struggled to wrap his mind around it. When word had come through that Reina had left the Crown City, he had rather taken it for granted that they would be going after her—or with her—wherever that was.

It had never occurred to him before today what it might feel like to be pulled in two.

Officially, he was Noctis' retainer and Noctis' Royal Adviser. But seventeen years ago, no such lines had been drawn. He had been introduced to both twins at the same time and, while Reina had been rather more reticent than her brother, it had been understood: he was meant to take care of both of them.

No one had ever bothered to outline exactly what that meant. He had taken a myriad specialized classes beyond the usual child's curriculum in the hopes that somehow the steps to a waltz would help when he became the Royal Adviser. So he had carved for himself a niche. The twins had no mother? He would fill that role—among others—for the next seventeen years at least. For both of them. They were both his charges. His children, as it were.

All differences in growth aside, it had remained that way. Though he had always suspected that Reina regarded him less fondly than Noctis, for whatever reason, he still considered her his responsibility all the same.

Not once in those years had it crossed his mind that, at some point, the twins might go in opposite directions and force him to choose which one to follow.

"Hey." Noctis nudged him. "Sorry, Specs. I know you wanted to go after her, but Dad didn't send us and I don't want to cross him again. One catastrophic screw-up is enough for this week."

"I understand," Ignis said.

It was a lie. His heart was screaming to follow after her and would accept no excuses. Disobey the king's orders. Go against Reina's apparent wishes. Charge into the unknown when he had no notion where to even begin searching for her. Cor had done so. Why was Ignis still lingering behind?

"Right." Noct stood up. "Guess that's that. Better get some sleep."

They did, as that was the sensible thing to do. Ignis struggled against his two halves all night; he dreamed he was being pulled apart with ropes tied to his ankles and wrists.

"You look like shit," Noct told him first thing in the morning.

"I fear I slept rather poorly," Ignis said. And evidently it showed.

The day was little better. Few minutes passed where he did not think on where Reina might be, what she might be doing. Around mid morning word came through that Iris Amicitia had gone after Reina the previous day as well, and had been missing all night. Gladio was furious. Along with Noctis and Prompto, Ignis overhead half of a shouted argument between Gladio and his father. The result was much the same as the encounter between Noctis and the king: they were not going after Iris.

For all that Gladio fumed, Ignis could only think one thing: Iris, a fifteen-year-old and not yet a full member of the Crownsguard, had gone after Reina while Ignis remained behind.

By nightfall he had succeeded in doing little more than running his nerves ragged.

Noctis gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder when they parted that evening. He felt much the same, doubtless: inclined to follow after his twin as he had done for his whole life, but bound by his father's wishes. And indeed, it was a poor time to cross the king. Each time they had seen him that day he had looked drawn.

Her absence weighed on them all.

The night passed with little improvement, save that sheer exhaustion dragged him under the restless blanket of sleep more rapidly than it had done before. Still he was tied and pulled in two directions. Tonight he could see the other ends of the ropes. One was tied to Noctis, the other to Reina. They did not pull. Not actively. But they did walk apart from each other, leaving him in the middle.

He woke with a start when he was physically torn in two. He ran his hands subconsciously over his middle, half expecting to find his legs not attached at all. He found no tear. But he did find himself covered in cold sweat.

He swiped his arm across his forehead. It was the small hours of morning, not yet dawn. Early enough that he might have gone back to sleep and scrounged another hour or two before his alarm woke him. If he had had any inclination to try sleeping again.

He did not.

This indecision was killing him. Even no choice was a choice; if he did nothing he would have already chosen to stay. Noctis was tied to Insomnia. He had taken on roles and responsibilities he hadn't thought to hold for years yet—things he had been actively avoiding throughout his whole life. He needed Ignis' guidance and expertise. Gladio and Prompto may have been company, but they did not have Ignis' education or understanding of the inner-workings of Lucis' government. If he left, he would be leaving Noctis to fend for himself in this new political climate.

If he didn't, he was leaving Reina to fend for herself against Gods knew what. Or the Gods did know. If King Regis' words were correct, she had gone to face the Draconian himself. She meant to fight a god to the death. Not even she was so powerful. She would need allies. She would need reliable companions at her sides and back, people she could trust. Perhaps she did have two of those already. But was that truly sufficient? Against a god?

He sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands. It was not a choice he should ever have needed to make. Noctis was his prince. Ignis was sworn to him. But by the same token, Reina was his princess. No one had ever expected them to turn and run in opposite directions, both dragging him after.

Reina's situation was life-threatening. And temporary. He could join her, see this task through to the end, and then return to Insomnia where both she and Noctis would—hopefully—remain thereafter.

And perhaps what Noctis really needed right now was to stand on his own.

Ignis rose and dressed rapidly. Someone would look for him eventually—they would start here in his room, so this was where he left the note.

"Forgive me, Noctis."

He glanced around his room once more before switching off the lights and shutting the door. He had sufficient provisions to last for a reasonable excursion beyond the Wall: a few changes of clothes and so on, along with the most portable set of cookware he owned. He doubted his ability to fit the entire camp kitchen in a bag he could still carry over one shoulder. But the cookware was necessary. Just in case.

As for transportation: his car was in good working condition and it would carry him as far as he needed to go. Hopefully. Gate security was substantially more lax, these days, and he would no longer require royal permission to pass through. It would do.

This was the correct choice. The best path he could take in the circumstances. So why did he feel like he was betraying Noctis by sneaking out of the Citadel before the sun had even risen? Why had he left a note instead of simply admitting what he meant to do? Would Noct really have tried to stop him? Not a question he intended to learn the answer to.

He stopped at the Citadel gates and looked back. Half of him was still left behind in the Citadel, sleeping in. He would probably sleep late without Ignis present to wake him on time. And when he discovered Ignis was not going to wake him in time for his morning meetings in the foreseeable future?

Ignis sighed, straightened his glasses, and hit the gas. This was the right choice. But it was never going to feel better than this. If he had thought going after Reina would make him feel more whole, he had been sorely mistaken. Still, he had no intention of turning back.

He assured himself of that multiple times on the drive out of the city. He told himself when he paused just inside the city gates before being waved on. He told himself when he took to the road, driving on his own what he had last driven with four others in the Regalia.

He wasn't abandoning them. He was going to stand at Reina's side and the two were not synonymous.