Warning: Noctis is a little asshole in the beginning. Seriously, drunk and angry Noctis is a massive asshole; he knows it, and soon everyone will know it.
"Well, it's good you bothered to show up."
Noctis was drunk.
No, more than drunk, Noctis was plastered. It was that woozy point where Noctis knew he had crossed the edge and probably should have stopped after his fourth shot-or was it fifth? And did the two beers he had downed before really count? He was sure if he asked Prompto, the blond would just snicker and hand him a bucket to puke in, just in case.
He could still stand, which meant he wasn't that far gone, but just enough not to give a shit for decorum. Decorum was for idiots who congratulated the one they loved on their upcoming wedding. Decorum was for dumb chumps.
And Noctis knew he was a dumb chump. More than that, he was a liar.
Noctis looked down at his outfit, pulling at the green scarf wrapped around his neck. It was driving him nuts, but it wasn't like he could do anything about it... mostly because Prompto had pinned it in the back to his shirt, that way he had a barrier between his breath and whoever was in front of him.
Of course Prompto had tried to get him to go without the liquor, but when Noctis had deadpanned that Ignis was bringing his fiancée... well, Prom may as well have handed him the bottle himself.
So here he stood, reeking of alcohol, barely teetering on the edge of sanity and vomiting, with Ignis and his ugly bitch of a soon to be bride.
There was nothing special about her. She was fat and boring and ugly. It was bullshit. She was bullshit. Everything about her, from her downcast eyes to her pudgy cheeks to her pale blue dress that was cut like a damn oracle gown-since when was she a prude?- made Noctis want to scream.
Marilynn was the enemy, or so Drunk-Noctis surmised.
Drunk-Noctis was no one's friend. And, in particular, Drunk-Noctis was not Noctis's friend.
Noctis blinked at the slob and Ignis and then rolled his eyes. "You two look... stupid."
Marilynn sucked in a breath and quickly put on one of the fakest smiles Noctis had ever seen; who did she think she was fooling? There wasn't anything cute about it. "Your Highness, thank you for the invitation. The party looks wonderful." She curtsied and then placed her hand on Ignis's arm. Who did she think she was putting her hands all over him, right in front of Noctis?
"You weren't invited."
"Noctis; that is incredibly rude."
Noctis rolled his eyes. "Sure, Iggy." He turned his back to the couple, fighting the nausea back. He tried to remember the exact order of the drinks he had already downed, but things were a little bit fuzzy around the edges. "Food is over there. Try not to eat it all."
Noctis tried to turn but found that someone had grabbed him by the wrist and was pulling him across the party floor, past dozens of colorful guests who were all laughing and smiling and the colors were bleeding into one another to create a hideous monster in front of him.
"Noctis, what is wrong with you?" Oh, not a monster. Just Prom.
"Take off the... the... thing." Noctis motioned for the costume head. "You gunna eat me or sumthin'?"
Prompto' hair was slicked back and stuck to his forehead, but not even that could explain why he mouth was drawn in such a deep frown. "How drunk are you?"
"Dunno. A lot?"
Prompto pushed the monster head under his arm and swept his hand across his brow. "Obviously! You can't talk to Ignis's girlfriend like that! You invited her, remember?"
Noctis shrugged and adjusted his belt. "Not like I wanted to-"
But Prom shook his head. "Doesn't matter! You told me he even asked if it was okay! Twice!"
"Not like I could tell him no."
"Duh. That is the point of asking for permission-"
"It doesn't work like that, Prom. You know it, I know it, we all know it." Noctis found his voice raising and he didn't care who was listening. Who cared? It was his party and he could throw a fit if he wanted to. "He's gunna marry her no matter what I say."
Prom looked down at his monster head. "Yeah, but this is your party, Noct. Didn't we plan it all? Wasn't this supposed to be fun?"
Yes. It was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be time with his best friends, it was supposed to be a night they would all remember.
This was not how he planned that event. This was not what he wanted.
This was not right.
"I think I need to go somewhere for a while. I'll come back later." Noctis tried to pull off his scarf again but it stated firmly in place.
Prom nodded his head. "If anyone asks where you went, I'll tell them you-"
"Died. Just tell them I died."
It wasn't that far from the truth, either.
"He... I am sure it was just the alcohol."
"He... he shouldn't have."
"No, he shouldn't have. It was cruel and unnecessary. But, Ignis, he is a child."
Marilynn's words could have been a slap in the face coming from someone else, but from her they were of brevity and compassion. More than Noctis deserved at that very moment.
Ignis looked at Marilynn, at her frown, at the curl of brown hair she had been swatting at since they met at her front door, at the glittering ring on her finger. It was the finger most closely connected to the heart, or so it was said. Ignis knew it was tripe, because there was a little pendant one a cord of leather tied around her neck. Definitely not a flashy diamond worthy of her rank, but far more precious.
She was as much of a victim as he was, as much as Noctis was.
"He hurts and he lashed out. Maybe you forgot, but you did the same thing when you were younger."
He had known Marilynn for so long that the seasons and years bled into one another. Older than him by five years, she had been groomed for marriage since she was just a girl, long before they knew that he would be her suitor. She had known her role while Ignis had allowed himself to become infatuated with his future king.
When he had found out his father's plans so long ago, he had been furious. He had used his words like knives and left Marilynn-someone he had considered like his older sister-in the ruin. It had taken time to learn how to shove his feelings down, but before then he had been just as reckless as Noctis. And even now, knowing the false skin on his hands, he knew that it would only take a few well-aimed words to break him open and spill him across the marble floor.
Marilynn patted Ignis's arm, running her hand against his black cloak. "Ignis, you should let me go speak with him... maybe I could talk some sense...?"
Ignis shook his head as he eyed the party. There were costumes and live music played by the royal orchestra. He saw the Glaive sweeping the entrances, waiting for any moment where the peace would break. It would no doubt be someone drunk off some of the alcohol they snuck through the castle (King Regis no doubt turned his head with a slight shrug; the Glaive could handle a few drunken guests with no issue) who would begin the domino effect of the party.
Perhaps it was that Noctis disappeared the moment he greeted Ignis and Marilynn, or perhaps it had been destined to be dead in the water, Ignis was unsure. What he did know was that the collar of his costume bit into his neck and he was already prepared to leave.
"Ignis, I am going to go find Prince Noctis. Just let me see what I can do." Marilynn pressed her hands to her arms, and he could see that she was biting back a shiver.
"You know I can not stop you once you make your decision. But... Please be aware of his faults." It was true, he could have tried for a thousand years and Ignis knew that nothing would make her sway.
And yet when it came to her father, she was but a child nipping at his heels. She was her father's daughter, a daddy's girl who wanted to do nothing but please him... And Ignis would never dare to step out of his own father's will.
Marilynn tried to smile, but it looked far more like a grimace. She pulled at the lace blue shawl around her, and schooled her expression. "I think I will need as much luck as can be afforded. If you don't find me within a few hours, assume that I have been beheaded for treason." She did manage a small smile, but it only led to Ignis's frown deepening.
"He is good, Marilynn. But he hurts, very much in a way that we all understand."
Marilynn paused. "Did you tell him of your feelings?"
Ignis looked away, and that seemed to be as telling as words.
"I thought as much. Perhaps things would be better off if the two of you dared to speak up about it. Things may not be perfect in my own relationship, but at least there is trust. At least... at least we both know what is going to happen."
Ah, yes, the Glaive. Ignis tried to think of the man's face, and considering the thousand times he had seen it before, he still found it difficult to remember what he looked like. The man always preferred his hood up and gaze down, either way.
It was easier to think of a man with no face than the true and terrifying reality of what he faced at that moment. It was by far easier to simply assume that the man was simply a shadow... dealing with Ignis's own emotions was enough; his box was full, and it was becoming more and more difficult to handle each addition to the box. Yet, part of Ignis wanted to ask about her Glaive. It wasn't fair that she dealt with Noctis when he couldn't take some of the pressure from her own shoulders.
"How is he handling the situation?"
Marilynn gave an inelegant shrug and pulled her hair in front of her face. "As well as can be expected." She didn't look at Ignis. "He doesn't come from our background. It is... it is harder for him." She played with the ends of her curled hair, before letting out a slight huff. "He thinks we should run away and elope. I told him it was absolutely absurd and he watched far too many movies as a child."
Marilynn turned to Ignis. "Maybe I should."
Ignis pushed up his glasses. He did not dare to respond.
She gave a small laugh as she uncrossed her arms and gave a slight wave. "If you find him... be gentle."
"And you."
Ignis watched her leave, her dress shimmering in the dull light of the candelabras decorating the walls for the occasion. She looked like a ghost in the light, a sway of fabric and a reminder of pasts.
Ignis looked around the small anti-chamber, noting the cold that blew through the open window. He wondered how far his voice could possibly travel through the open air, and fought back the desire to scream until something screamed back.
Noctis was... Noctis. It was unfair and cold, but it was the way Noctis hid his feelings since they were children. And Ignis knew that he would never take any piece away from him. He would never dare to change any single thing about the crown prince, for doing so would be a disservice.
Yet, in times like this, Ignis wished that there was a magical button he could push to make things right, to change the future and the past, to make it so that they were not put into the uncomfortable position they currently faced... or, if nothing, that they could exist in an alternate reality that would allow freedom. A reality where Ignis could feel the skin of his palms and know the reality from the fantasy.
Ignis took a few steps and rested his hand against the window sill, leaning out to take in a breath of the garden air. He could see nothing but flowers and lush green.
"Hey!"
And of course it would be Prompto to break the silence. It was always Prompto.
Ignis turned to look at the teenager, and sighed at the ridiculous monster costume. Of course it looked well-tailored and even the mask held a realistic gleam that set the hair on Ignis's arms standing on end, but it was the sheer panic on his face that truly worried Ignis.
"What did he do?"
"Oh, man! I tried to stop him-I swear if I knew how much he drank I swear I never would have left him alone. I figured he needed some alone time since he got so pissed off when he saw you and Countess Marilynn. I mean, I knew he was drunk-anyone could tell that!-but now he is hanging there and no one can get him to come down and I think the King disappeared and Cor is having a fit and Gladio-Gladio is gunna kill me! If he dies this is totally my fault!"
Ignis snapped around. "Dies?"
Prompto gulped.
"Explain your choice in words. 'Dies?'"
"It... it's nothing, just a mishap..."
Ignis turned and swiftly walked to the blond and grabbed Prompto by the front of his costume. He then threw the teenager against the wall, listening to his head hit the marble with a sickening crack.
"Ow, fuck! Iggy, that hurt!"
But Ignis was not in a forgiving mood-not with the word death so casually thrown around. "Explain yourself, now."
"He... he was upset, you know. So I told him to chill out and take a breather. But when I got back with some water he was gone! And then there were some Glaives screaming that Noctis had started warping himself up the walls, and now he's at the top of the Citadel and no one can get him to come down." Prompto reached up and patted at the back of his head, wincing. "That hurt. A lot." There was a streak of blood on stones behind his head.
Ignis did not let the younger man go. "Where is Gladio?"
Prompto looked down. "Trying to talk to him... It's kinda hard with him hanging so high up. No one can get up there."
Ignis finally let Prompto down and quickly reached into his pocket and smashed a potion onto Prompto's costume, watching as the magic quickly made its way across the boy's skin. He hadn't meant to hit his head as hard as he had.
But Prompto didn't have enough time to thank him as Ignis took off in a sprint through the Citadel. He followed the sounds of loud yelling, and it became only more and more obvious that something was not right the closer he got to the front corridor.
There was a small crowd at the base of the Citadel, an army of Glaives with their Kukri poised at the ready, prepared to use their weapons to scale up the side of the building to protect the crown prince.
And yes, there he was- propped up and sitting on a greatsword a hundred meters above the ground. Ignis knew that he was practicing his warping with Gladio but never had he gone so high. It was dangerous, and the King had on no uncertain terms banned the use of warping up until Noctis learned how to properly warp himself down. While he was born with the innate ability for warping, as any from the bloodline of Lucis, it did not mean he was any good at it.
Ignis looked at the panicked party goers, eyes glancing over until he found Gladio located where Noctis would land, should the teenager lose his grip or whenever his magical ability ran thin.
Gladio looked worried. It was not a comforting sight, particularly since Gladio did not show emotions other than hunger and annoyance, occasionally allowing his joyful nature to shine through. Yet, there he stood with his mouth drawn in a deep frown- deep enough to cause lines against his skin.
"What in Etro was he thinking?" Ignis asked as he pushed past one particularly obnoxious partygoer. Why hadn't the Glaive sent the people home? There was no way that the King would be happy with them come morning. This was their fault.
No.
This was his fault.
"Noctis!" Ignis yelled, but he knew there was no way his voice would reach up so high. "Come down here!"
"He can't hear you, Iggy. Shit."
Ignis looked to Gladio. "I know that." Ignis took a deep breath in. "Where is Cor? He may be the only one able to get him down."
"He isn't here."
"Well, then someone should be finding him," Ignis snarled as he pulled off his cloak and threw it over his arm. "How is he still even up there? He should have already fallen... His magic still is precarious."
"His father gave him a Stamina Badge... There's a chance he's going to be stuck up there until he sobers up or he-"
"Falls," Ignis ended Gladio's thought. He stared up at the sword and the light blue tinge in the sky. "We cannot have that happen."
"Yeah, no shit," Gladio mumbled and grabbed at his head. "We need to get these people out of here."
Gladio was right. The last thing that Ignis needed was to have any further drama caused by drunk Noctis. They were going to have enough difficulty with keeping this all out of the newspapers in the morning. Yet, if he were honest with himself, Ignis did not care what happened in the morning as long as Noctis had his feet on the ground... preferably attached to the rest of his body.
"You do that, Gladio." Ignis looked up and slowly followed the line up, counting the windows. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen... "I will find a way to get him down."
Ignis felt Gladio's eyes on him, but he continued to count. There was not enough time to play about. Twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one...
Noctis wobbled on his sword and Ignis's stomach seemed to drop out of his stomach.
"Stay still, Noctis," Ignis murmured. It was fruitless to scream up to him, for Noctis was 54 floors up and it would take a God to reach his ears. Still, he hoped that Noctis would understand...
Ignis took off at a run, passing the dozen Glaives now quickly escorting people off the premises. He made his way down the corridors, finding people running toward the exit rather than following him. He managed well enough to the elevator, but the moment the doors closed Ignis found himself going slack. His entire body seemed to lose control and he found himself on the ground, his head slamming back against the wall.
The ascent up to the 54th floor of the East Tower was the longest crawl Ignis had ever experienced; the entire world could have flashed before his eyes faster than the time it took the elevator to climb up the citadel to where Noctis hung, suspended hundreds of feet above the ground. It was like the Gods themselves were mocking him; it was his fault, after all. He had been foolish and selfish with Noctis. He had tried to take more than what he deserved, tried to not break promises to himself or to his betrothed, yet only managed to hurt his prince in its stead.
He had known it would break him, yet he had done it anyway. What was loyal about breaking the one person on Eos he cared for?
Ignis pulled at his collar, feeling the tight black silk choking him. How was it possible that something so well-made, so soft and delicate, could feel like fire on his skin-a thousand ants crawling and biting.
Ignis slammed his eyes shut and clenched his fists, bringing one hand down against the marble below him.
He looked up at the slowly tickling numbers and found himself forcing his body up, nails digging against the marble, nails sliding in between the slabs giving him enough friction to catch on his nails, but nothing else.
He was not weak.
He wasn't.
This had nothing to do with weakness, this was giving himself over to emotions that he knew he had no right in feeling. This was selfishness, pure and simple.
And Ignis was nothing if not selfish.
He pushed the feeling down into his secret box of thoughts, the ones that the King would have him exiled for, the ones that would break both he and Noctis... It would break their kingdom.
The Kingdom. Lucis.
The empire of death, shrouded in black and hidden from the rest of the world... the only magic left in a world of machinery.
It was something drilled into their heads sine they were but children. The empire survived on the bones and blood of the Caelum royalty. For prosperity, a price had to be paid. It was different for each King and Queen of Lucis, but it was a tale that was told as myth but known as prophecy.
No one on the throne would have a happy reign. None. The Royal family was a doomed family, cursed with death and darkness, yet able to forge ahead through the misery and perpetual night.
King Regis had lost his wife to the Plague of the Stars. The King of the Katana, whose name had long been lost to history, also lost his young wife after the birth of their only son. The King of the Scepter, who led directly to the death of his Oracle and shuttered himself away, hiding from the world until the end of his days. The Queen of the Star, whose five daughters were slain at the hand of her husband, a Niflheim beast who had lost his mind and later his head, had been a story that Ignis had heard like other children listened to bedtime stories.
There were no happy stories that came from the line of Lucis.
And, Ignis knew, if it meant that he would give up their happiness to keep anything worse befalling his prince, then so be it. If he was forever bound to someone he could never truly love then he would do so happily as long as it meant that Noctis would live a long, fruitful life.
Was it worse to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all?
Ignis believed it was much worse to have loved and caused destruction than have bitten his tongue until it bled.
He managed to get himself to his knees, then to his feet, before the elevator reached the 54th floor, and he quickly straightened his black shirt, though for what reason he was still not quite sure. It was a comforting gesture, one that reminded him of better times. Times where the Crown Prince wasn't hanging from a greatsword high above his city, simply because Ignis had brought his fiancee to a party.
Ignis quickly rushed to the eastern bank of windows, running down past a dozen of them until he came to an area of the wall with the cracked stone and the scream of the wind.
"Noctis!" Ignis yelled over the howling of the wind, feeling the cold October wind against his face. If a hole in the stone was able to pierce through... just how did Noctis feel? The wind would only pick up the darker it became...
Ignis quickly turned to the closest window and searched for a latch, despite knowing that the only windows able to open stopped at the fifteenth floor, where the King's Throne room.
Ignis knew he should have been more careful, but he only managed to cover his fist with the sleeve of his shirt before driving it through the glass.
He regretted the decision immediately as a few shards made their way into his knuckles, and he quickly pulled back, looking around the empty hallway for something to help. This far up, Ignis knew, was only rooms filled with shelves upon shelves of old books and papers that none were willing to read and sort through. Each floor was dedicated to a different topic, a different letter, sometimes by color or the size of the script-the Rulers of Old had some semblance of rudimentary humor in torturing their distant descendants.
Ignis looked back to the window, wincing as he felt his hand give a throb. "Noctis?"
He heard something on the other side, though he was unsure if it was a laugh or cry.
Giving the room one more cursory glance, Ignis reached down and pulled off his shoe-the better thought he should have tried before using his fist- and used his heel to smack into the glass left in the window pane. He knocked out enough of it to safely stick his head out to check and yes- there he was, shivering and staring out over the whole of Insomnia, his black hair whipping around his head like a hurricane.
"Your Highness-Noctis-" Ignis called out, waiting for the other to hear him.
Ignis did not make any sudden movements, knowing the precarious edge Noctis found himself on. The last thing he wanted to do was make the skittish, drink prince lose balance. Now when he was so close... Ignis could almost touch him.
"Noctis!" Ignis called one more time.
Ignis was not sure if his voice had carried over to Noctis or if it was something else-perhaps the light of the buttons on his shirt or the sound of the breaking glass, but he could see Noctis's shivering face staring at him, lips blue. He had his arms wrapped around himself, the thin cotton of his shirt no match for the wind. His green scarf somehow managed to not fly away from him, which Ignis was glad for- he wasn't sure just how much alcohol Noctis had drank at the party and whether or not the black-haired boy would try to catch it. The last thing he wanted was Noctis falling because he was drunk and foolish.
Noctis's eyes seemed a little more sober than before-no doubt hanging off the side of the Citadel had done that to him. He tried to yell something, but the howling wind was
Ignis threw down his shoe, hearing it hit the stone somewhere behind him, and then placed the black cloak over the side of the broken window. He leaned out and let his hand reach out for Noctis's. It was not the hand covered in blood, because the last thing Ignis wanted was a slickness between their skin. If he dropped Noctis... Ignis swallowed the lump in his throat.
"Highness-Noctis. Please." He hoped that his face was able to convey the desperation and the fear, because watching Noctis wobble on the greatsword was making him so, so nervous. Just sitting there...
Noctis said something that was eaten once again by the wind, but he tentatively reached out his hand for Ignis.
When he felt Noctis's hand against his, Ignis tightened his grip as much as he could and braced his legs. He wished that he could yell something to Noctis, but knew that it was a waste of the breath he needed to pull the Prince up.
And it was terrifying, feeling those cold fingers under his, knowing how far the drop down was. 54 floors... There would be nothing left of Noctis if he let go.
Noctis seemed to be sober enough to realize the predicament, and when Ignis nodded his head sharply to Noct, the prince was able to mostly throw himself through the window. The greatsword shimmered blue and Ignis wrapped his other arm around Noctis's back. His other hand was stuck between them, clasped so tightly around Noctis's that he was sure there would be bruises come morning. He couldn't find it in himself to worry about having man-handled the prince, because he could smell Noctis's cologne and the alcohol on his costume.
He was warm and whole.
"Iggy-fuck," Noctis whispered into his ear as Ignis helped pull Noctis through the window. The cloak that helped protect Noctis's stomach ended up being kicked over the side. They both ended up on the ground in a heap of costume and limbs. Ignis couldn't have cared less, because other than the shock of the cold, Noctis was fine.
He was fine.
"What were you thinking-what in the heavens were you thinking?" Ignis let go of Noctis's wrist and gripped the prince's face between his fingers, watching his blood paint red against Noctis's cheek. "You could have- you could have fallen."
You could have died.
But Ignis could barely think the words, let alone voice them.
"I- I ran into her. I was just... I was so angry," Noctis murmured, his voice shaking, though the adrenaline or cold Ignis wasn't sure. "I just wanted to get away from her."
Marilynn.
"It's my fault, Noctis. I allowed her to try to find you. I thought that she would be able to talk to you about..."
About the pain of obligation. The promise of their families.
The fate written in the stars.
But Noctis only stared at him, his blue eyes wide. "Iggy-Ignis. You're... you're..."
Oh, the blood. Of course Noctis would realize the blood on his hand that was now stained against his cheek. It was clumsy, foolish of Ignis to touch the prince so intimately, to allow his blood to touch the Prince's skin.
Yet that didn't seem to be the issue as Noctis leaned close and he tentatively ran his fingers across Ignis's cheeks.
He hadn't even realized the tears staining his own face.
Noctis leaned close and let his lips rest on his left cheek, then allowed his mouth to tickle against Ignis's skin, crossing the bridge of his nose and down his right cheek. Ignis should have stopped him; he knew that this was wrong, that this was going to far. If they went down this rabbit hole there would be no returning to what was... he had fought so much against it, yet...
When Noctis pressed his lips against Ignis's, he allowed himself to be selfish. All he could do was breathe in the scent of alcohol and the deep musk that Ignis knew as only Noctis.
Noctis was drunk, this was wrong. He needed to pull away.
He was getting married.
Yet Ignis found his hand reaching into the prince's midnight black hair. It hurt when some of his hair gel got into the cuts on his palm, but he couldn't care about pain of the blood on their faces when Noctis's mouth was pressed against his. He had dreamed of this moment for years, since he first noticed the way Noctis's hair seemed to frame his head like a halo, how the drop in his voice when he hit puberty made him sound so much more like a prince, more like a king. It was in the way he moved, in the way the air moved and bent to his will. Noctis was the stars shooting through the sky, and Ignis could not deny it.
He had loved the prince, loved him with every fiber of his being. He had loved Noctis since they were just children, and he loved Noctis even more, now.
Time had given him the Prince, and time would give him the king.
And in that moment, their mouths and tongues dancing against one another, Ignis could not mourn Noctis's fate, because he knew what it was. Ignis would marry Marilynn and Noctis would marry someone to bear him Lucian sons. And while the pain was great, he hadn never realized until that moment just how much of his spirit had been missing
When they broke for air, Ignis pulled Noctis's face into his shoulder, letting his nose rest against the prince's ear.
"I'm sorry. Please, Noctis, please forgive me."
And for the first time in what seemed to be an eternity, Ignis did not lock his feelings into his secret box.
"No... It's me, Iggy. I should apologize."
But Ignis did not want to hear Noctis's apology, and he found himself leaning forward again to kiss Noctis. It felt... it felt right.
King Regis had been furious after finding Noctis and Ignis later, after Ignis had cleaned most of the blood off the boy's face. He had hoped there would be enough time to sneak Noct into his old bedroom chambers before the King found them, but King Regis, Cor, and Clarus found them faster than Ignis would have preferred... and certainly more than Noctis would have preferred.
The King thanked Ignis, though for what Ignis was unsure... saving the Prince from falling to his death, no doubt. But Ignis wondered if the King could see the guilt written upon his face, branded into the skin on his forehead. He and Noctis, they had gone further than they should have. The feelings between them, it was not right for an advisor to fall in love with the Crown Prince... and it was worse that Noctis has... Noctis loved him, too.
And Ignis knew, Ignis had known, but having their lips meet in the frenzy of life and emotion... it had sealed his fate.
There was no way to back-peddle, to forget that feeling of warmth on him, and he wanted more. Like a blind man seeing colors for the first time, Ignis knew what he always had known-that accepting those feelings he had hidden away would change things. He would not be able to hide them again.
It was the worst thing they could have done, and Ignis knew that. He was reckless and destructive and he had cursed both of them, for loving and losing was worse than never having loved. The pain he knew would come in waves later, and he would have to live with the consequences of the night...
But he was willing to do it.
He was willing to try.
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