A/N: Hello and welcome! This is a conversation I imagined between Ignis and Noctis in the hotel following the battle with Leviathan in Altissia. You could argue this is slightly IgNoct, but that was not the intention. Thank you for reading!
"You know, Noct, you used to be quite terrified of the dark."
Noctis chuckles humorlessly, his vocal cords vibrating against Ignis's shoulder, where he is currently leaning. "Is that so?"
The hotel room is silent, since Gladiolus and Prompto are out helping with reconstruction. Despite everyone's best efforts, the battle with Leviathan had done a number on Altissia.
And themselves.
At the thought, Noctis tightens his grip on the Ring of the Lucii, relishing the pain as it cuts into his hand. Physical pain distracts him from the emotional pain of losing the love of his life.
Luna.
Ignis sighs and continues with a slight grin in his voice, "Yes. When you couldn't sleep, or you'd had a nightmare, you'd always rush over to my room in the castle. I was told that several guards remembered hearing the small pitter-patter of feet as you ran over to my room."
Despite himself, Noctis smiles at the memory. "My teachers would always scold me when they couldn't find me in the morning."
"Always quite the troublemaker."
"Hey, it's a natural-born talent."
For a moment, the two share a soft laugh at the good old days, now long past.
Ignis shifts a little as he remembers further. "I suppose I was no better; I did the same when you were about eight."
Noctis's interest is piqued. "Oh? I don't remember that."
"That's to be expected. It was when you were injured by that demon."
Reflexively, Noctis's shoulders tense at the mention of that time.
That time he had been severely injured and his mother had died in front of his eyes.
Ignis notices but pretends not to. "The nurses had managed to coax me back into my own room to sleep, but I woke in the middle of the night after a nightmare. I dreamed that you had died, and I guess it was so real that I had to see you… well, breathing." Chuckling slightly, he continues, "So, half-asleep, I started racing through the halls of the castle, my feet guiding the way on instinct since I had been to your room so often since your return. I had completely forgotten that guards were stationed outside the door, so when I got there, they nearly arrested me. If it weren't for a nurse checking in one last time for the night, I suppose I would have been in for quite an uncomfortable night."
Noctis laughs, a fully sincere smile finally breaking out on his face. "Good to know I wasn't the only one making problems for others."
"Indeed. However, it was still you most of the time."
"...Thanks, Iggy." Noctis's expression and voice are solemn, and he is distinctly aware that Ignis can only perceive the change in one of those things. "Thank you for everything. And… I'm sorry."
Before Ignis can even respond, the dam breaks and tears stream from Noctis's eyes as he collapses into Ignis's ready arms, sobbing and repeating "I'm sorry" over and over again.
"Noct…"
They stay there for a few minutes, until Noctis's shoulders stop shaking and his tears dry up. Determined, Ignis makes his decision then and there.
"Noctis."
The use of his full name gets Noctis's attention, and he brings his eyes up to look Ignis in the face.
"I… I can't replace everyone you've lost. Not even back then, when your mother was killed. Indeed, I was there at your side, holding your hand in hopes of your quick recovery, but that didn't make me your mother… no matter how we may joke about it. But… even so… even so, I want to stand by your side until the bitter end. I want to help you however I can, whether that be cooking or cleaning, defending or attacking, or holding you upright when your knees give out."
Ignis pauses to take a deep, shuddering breath.
"But my vision is not going to improve."
Before Noctis can make a sound in protest, Ignis waves him off.
"We all know it, Noct. Denial won't change anything. And, well, the truth is… I'm afraid. Not of the dark, but of what that dark means. Without my eyesight, I… I can't support you anymore. I can't cook or fight or even check you for injuries. As I am now… I'm useless. I would only be a burden if I continued to stand by your side. I know that. I do. But… what's an advisor without a king? What else can I do? Where else can I go?"
His voice is rising in pitch, as if he is on the edge of hysterics.
For a moment, Noctis can only feel loathing for himself as he recalls all of the times he hasn't been there for someone he cared for, but he quickly berates himself for thinking only of himself.
"You won't go anywhere else, Ignis. I promise that to you. Until the very end, I want the three of you to stand by my side, to walk tall even if the whole world falls on our shoulders. I don't care if you can't cook or fight. Just by being here, you provide an incredible amount of support—to all of us."
Just as he takes a breath to continue, Noctis is interrupted by a chipper and very familiar voice:
"No homo, though."
Having heard the door open, Ignis, graceful as ever, greets, "Hello, Prompto. Reconstruction efforts went well, I hope?"
"Just fine."
After watching this exchange in stunned silence, Noctis snaps out of his daze to confront Prompto: "What the Six, man? I was in the middle of a decent emotional speech!"
Feigning innocence, Prompto counters, "Oh, were you? I must not have noticed. I'm terribly sorry, Noct."
"Oh, save it." Noctis smacks the back of his head. "The moment's gone now."
Ignis's lips twitch upwards in a smile as the two continue to banter.
"Come on, Noct, don't sulk…"
When he only earns a sullen glare in response, the blond changes tactics and pulls out a package from his pocket.
"After all, it'd be a shame if this tart I got for helping out went to waste…"
In an instant, Noctis snatches the package out of Prompto's hands and walks over to a nearby table, where he sets the package down and unwraps it. Summoning a knife from the Armiger and ignoring Ignis's noise of disapproval at his doing so, Noctis cuts the tart into four more-or-less even pieces.
As the three eat their shares, Ignis pulls out his notebook and hands it to Noctis, who quirks his eyebrow at the other, forgetting momentarily that Ignis cannot see it.
Nevertheless, sensing his confusion, Ignis explains, "I expect you to keep this notebook satisfactorily updated on new recipes and enemies. You'd best start with this tart."
For a moment, Noctis considers protesting and giving it back, but he understands Ignis's motives and chooses to respect them. Even so, he argues, sounding somewhat like a teenager complaining to his mother, "But Igniiiis, how am I supposed to tell what this is made of just by eating it?"
Ignis sighs and adjusts his glasses. "Fine. I'll help you with this one, but I expect you to try the next one on your own. So, first, tell me what you think are the ingredients."
"Uhh… sugar, flour, blueberries, raspberries, lemon—"
"No, that's quite obviously orange."
"What? They're both citrus, so how am I supposed to tell?"
Unnoticed, Prompto chuckles as he snaps a picture of the two, arguing like usual.
-10 years later-
As he settles into the throne, Noctis pulls out Ignis's notebook, worn but still intact. He smiles softly as he places it on the right-hand armrest, allowing his hand to linger as he murmurs:
"Mom… Dad… Luna… you'll never read the letters I've written to you in this notebook, but I hope my thoughts reach you all the same. Actually," he chuckles, "you'll probably tell me to say it to your faces when I see you again."
An image of three figures, clad in ebony Kingsglaive attire and standing tall against the demons of the endless night, flashes through Noctis's mind.
"Ignis, my trusted advisor… Gladiolus, my indomitable shield… Prompto, my closest friend… may these letters convey my sincere gratitude for standing by me all this time. The sun will provide light by which to read this journal and warmth to chase away the chill of night."
His hand slips off of the book and summons the Sword of the Father.
"Goodbye, my friends. Walk tall."
Thirteen strikes of blue lightning illuminate the notebook before the sun rises from the east to bathe the leather in its golden light.