The prince must have fallen asleep in the wee hours of the night. Twitching and mumbling in his restless sleep, he dreamed dark dreams. Pained dreams.

The rising waters and clutter flew in the air around him as he ran towards two people. They were not far, not twenty yards from him, but no matter how fast he ran, he didn't seem to get any closer.

"Luna!"

In the ground, looking exhausted and disheveled laid his bride, her white dress dirtied and hair a mess. And by her side sat the man that made Noctis' insides crawl: the Imperial Chancellor, Ardyn Izunia. Noctis wanted to run faster, but they still seemed so far away. The closer he got, the further they went. He was getting desperate. 'Don't go.'

"Wait!"

Neither of them looked at him, as if he hadn't existed. Izunia said something to the woman, then reached to draw out something. The second when Noctis saw the dagger before it was sunk hilt-deep into the woman's gut was the longest second he would ever know.

"No!"

Desperately scrambling to get closer, he watched how Luna dropped to lean onto the Chancellor's arm, clutching her side, her face twisted in agony. From somewhere appeared a white dog – Pryna – and sniffed around them, then went to sit next to her – and howled. It was a mourning howl, dark and piercing, a sound from the next world.

"No! Luna!"

With deliberate slowness, the Chancellor turned to look at the young man. The smile that he held on his face was stomach-turning; it was every bit as satisfied as it was calculating and evil. Izunia rose to stand, letting Luna's already fading corpse drop to the ground like a rag doll. That smile never faded as he brought up the hand that had only just stabbed his beloved, and showed him the blood-stained palm. Drenched in Luna's blood.

There was so much of it. It dripped from his outstretched palm, and as Noctis' eyes descended, he recognized a third familiar form. In the ground, at the Chancellor's feet, laid the limp form of Ignis, his injured shoulder torn wide open, an unspeakable pain clouding those eyes – oh god, eyes! – that were fixed on him. The coppery droplets fell onto his sweat-sheened face and hair, painting a grim contrast of crimson and ashen pale.

"No- Noct…" Ignis' agonized voice was merely a whisper, but it seemed to fill up the entire world. The adviser extended a shaking arm to try to reach him. It seemed to take everything he had to do even that. The suffering and the fear of death was written all over his features. The droplets of dripping blood had turned into rivulets, cascading down onto his face. It spilled over his eyes, shutting them out under a crimson seal…

"Heaaugh! Noctis bolted up, panting heavily. He was covered in a cold sweat and shaking a little. It took a few of moments to reassess where he was and what was going on. As his eyes frantically went over their scattered belongings and bedclothes until finally settling onto Prompto's peacefully sleeping form, curled up under his blanket, his heart rate slowly came down and breathing evened. But it did nothing to shake off the uneasy feeling.

He took a few deep breaths to calm himself. The dream images faded quickly, leaving only vague glimpses and the confusion. 'It was just a dream,' he told himself firmly, trying to ignore the shivers running down his spine. 'Just a dream.'

Prompto made a mumbling sound in his sleep and nuzzled against his pillow. It brought Noctis' attention back to the present. In increasing awareness, the prince gazed at his friend; a small smile graced Prompto's lips as his breaths came in light puffs. Noctis snorted. 'Well, at least someone's sleeping well.' It briefly crossed his mind that maybe Prompto was dreaming about Cindy? Well, dreaming was about as close as he would ever get to the cute mechanic, so let him have his fun.

With a frustrated grunt, he kicked his bedding off him and got dressed as quietly as he could. Unheard of as that might have been, the morning had effectively rid him of any desire to sleep for the good of the day.

It was still dark when he stepped out of the tent. Sheesh, what time was it, anyway? It could have been anything, really; the day had gotten shorter, the sun didn't rise before nine nowadays.

Gladiolus was doing push-ups by the small fire. As he heard movement, he glanced at the younger one and didn't bother hiding his surprise. "You're early."

"Uah heim ih ih?" Noctis yawned.

"Half past five. Something up?"

Shaking his head a little the young man stretched. "Couldn't sleep."

Gladio smirked. "First time to everything."

"Can you can it?" He really wasn't in the mood for Gladio right now.

"Whatever, princess," the dark man grumbled. Noctis gave him a glare.

Hopping onto his feet, Gladio pointed his thumb at the ground he had just been. "Well, since you're up, how 'bout a few sets? You could use some workout."

"How 'bout you shut up?" the other replied in his usual monotone.

Dark brows furrowed. "Why? You think you're gonna hear something you won't like?"

Perking up, a dark expression flashed over Noctis' face. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he snarled, taking a few steps towards the other man, visibly tensing. Gladiolus sensed that the heat was peaking. He hadn't anticipated this but he refused to back down.

"You know what. When're you gonna get it that if you wanna get something done, you need to work for it? You're not putting up the effort."

Noctis stepped right in front of him, looking furious. "Care to say that again?!"

"You heard me. You wanna end this? Then quit your bitching, and start acting the part."

Noctis snorted incredulously. "I know, alright?!"

"You don't know shit! All you've been doing for these past two weeks is feeling sorry for yourself," Gladio spat.

"Well, newsflash, big guy: I've had a pretty shitty two weeks so give me a break, will you?"

Gladiolus snorted, now warming up, too. "And it's all about you, isn't it? Tell me something, Noct: how much longer is your pity party going to take?"

"You know what, I'm getting sick and tired of your shit, Gladio!" Noctis snarled, eyes blazing.

"Then get yours together! We're on a schedule here!"

"You think I don't know that?! You think this is funny?! You just try–!"

"The Empire might be sending troops to Caem as we speak, who knows if they haven't already–!"

"—to watch how it's taken from you–!"

"—look around you and see that you're not the only one hurting here, so get it together!"

"—see how you like it!"

Gladiolus had grabbed Noctis by his collar, they were face to face, both furious, both unraveling. "If you were half the man your father was–!" Gladiolus was cut short at the look at the young man's face, twisted by anger, daring him to finish it. But in those stormy eyes the older man also saw the spark of vengeance that knew no boundaries. Noct might have lacked the ability, but never again could Gladio claim he lacked the will. It was there, burning like a wildfire, waiting to be unleashed. The rest of the sentence stuck to his throat. With a grunt, he pushed the other off him.

He had crossed the line. Looking at Noctis, he understood that he had gone too far. Bringing up His Majesty had been uncalled for, a low blow, and Gladio knew it. Shit, it hadn't been his intention to start like this again! Stroking a hand through his mane of hair, the shield visibly yielded.

Noctis looked like a wild animal. Snarling, fists clenched and shaking of rage, he hissed, "Well excuse me for not being my father." The hurt was evident in his voice. A disarming voice that drained Gladiolus of his rage. He stroked his hair back, feeling awkward and embarrassed.

"Forget it." He went to push past Noctis, to the tent. "I'm gonna take a nap. Keep the fire going and see to Iggy–" He was interrupted by a firm grip on his bicep, spinning him around to face the furious man.

"You think that's it?!" Noctis hissed, demanding, but the grip lost its strength as soon as he saw the expression on the dark man's face. It was a look of unspoken regret and empathy.

"Sorry." Gladiolus' tone was humble, sincere. Guilty. The clipped utterance did no justice to the meaning behind it, but it was there, and it threw Noctis off. It wasn't what he had expected. He was left with surprised silence when Gladio pulled himself off rather gently and escaped into the tent. His rage dulled into confusion. He didn't know what to think about him. He was mad, yes, but he couldn't find it in himself to harbor a grudge.

Resentment and understanding waged a battle in him as he went to check on Ignis. The adviser laid close to the fire, seemingly unconscious or in deep sleep. Checking his vitals, Noctis found a pulse less strong than he would have liked. His argument with the bodyguard was forgotten as guilt stung his heart. "I'm sorry, Specs," he muttered to himself.

Said man must have sensed the presence, since he stirred and grunted as he came to. "Gl- dio?" It was exhausted and it was small.

"It's me," Noctis said quietly.

"Noct?"

"Uh-hmm."

Ignis made a move to rise. "Is it… morning already?" he tried and failed to hide his anguish.

"Don't push it. You should stay down," he went to push the stubborn man back down. Ignis put up a resistance before succumbing to the pain and reluctantly relaxed himself again, panting a little.

"A- apologies," he started, hissing at a jolt of pain. "It appears my… condition is… causing us a mighty delay." Noctis rolled his eyes.

"Save it. It wasn't your fault." 'If anything, it was mine,' he added in his mind. As if reading his thoughts, the adviser said sternly,

"You must not blame yourself, Noct. What… what you did was…"

"Stupid?" the other offered, with a dark chuckle. The brunet flashed a tight smile.

"I would think... 'brave' to be… more appropriate."

Noctis shook his head. Where did Ignis' compassion stem from, he couldn't understand. He didn't deserve it. "Gladio told you?"

"He did," the other grunted as he shifted.

"Then he also must have told you I left you open," he huffed, the tone betraying his guilt. "I'm sorry, Specs."

The man listened with a serious expression. Then, an inkling of a smile rose to his lips again. "But I presume that... you acted in the… the best intention of… protecting everyone, am I correct?"

Noctis blinked. "Well, yeah. But it's not gonna make up–"

With a grimace of pain, Ignis raised a hand to interrupt him – his injured hand. "You made… a choice, Your Highness. Now you… live with that choice and… don't look back."

Noctis felt like his heart was strangling him. How could Ignis say these things? He was torn into bits and in agony, because of him, and here he was telling him to accept it and move on. He opened his mouth a few times to say something, but nothing came out. What could he possibly say?

Ignis seemed to sense the younger man's distress. He breathed a sigh and turned his unseeing eyes to the sky. "You know, Noct, I've… always considered fear… to be an asset."

"What's this now?" the said man gave a timid laugh.

"Most people are… hindered and drawn back… by their fears," he grunted, riding out a jolt of pain.

"Easy, Iggy. Save your strength," Noctis went to help him into a better position, but the adviser firmly pushed his hand aside. He seemed determined to finish what he wanted to say, and the prince didn't have the heart to stop him.

"Everyone fears something, Noct. But… all those greatest fears and… insecurities… Ultimately, they are the reflection of all your hopes and dreams, too. Learn to utilize them… let them motivate you… instead of working against you… and you shall never go without resolve again." He held a pause before adding, with a content smile on his face, "My greatest fear… has always been… letting you down, Your Highness."

The blue eyes widened. Noctis was struck with awe. "Specs…" He felt moved. There was the support he knew, the Ignis who had always been there for him. He knew that now. Come hell or high water – which, ironically, had come, both at the same time – Ignis would always be there for him.

"Thanks."

"My pleasure." Ignis settled shifted on the mattress, a smile on his lips.

"You should rest."

"A… capital idea… Noct," he sighed tiredly. He said nothing more and after a few moments his breath evened into that of sleep. Sighing Noctis watched his rib cage rise and fall in steady rhythm for a moment until he went to poke the fire and gazed at it until the first rays of dawn lightened the sky in the horizon.

He woke them up (Prompto with some effort) when it was light enough to see outside. When they all had done their morning routines and packed up their tent, everyone sat around the last embers of the dying bonfire. Even Ignis was awake, still laying on the mattress but nonetheless aware. Everyone looked serious, everyone avoided looking at each other.

"So…" Prompto started with an awkwardness to his tone.

"So," Gladio mirrored the tone, bringing his hands together under his chin. "What're we gonna do?"

No-one spoke for a moment. The silence that ensued was pressing and awkward. Apparently Noctis had suddenly discovered something truly fascinating about his glove, for he studied it with exaggerated interest. Gladiolus had his eyes cast to the sky, and Prompto kept reloading and reloading his gun. It was Ignis who couldn't stand it anymore.

"It would seem clear that… going on as planned is out of the question." He didn't need to see to know he had the others' attention. He could feel the eyes on himself. "You should… leave me here and proceed. I am… hindering you."

"No way! You're not staying behind," Gladiolus stated out-of-the-question-like.

"Ditto. We're not leavin' you here, man!"

Ignis looked displeased. "Staying put because of me would be a waste of time I cannot allow!"

The others fell silent, but Noct had watched the exchange keenly. After a moment, he said, his tone serious,

"We should return to the station. Get you fixed up, Specs."

Gladio shook his head in defeat. "We should already be closer to the damn tomb than the station. If we go back now, all this has been for nothing."

The fire-starter struggled to push himself into sitting position. His pain-distorted face told exactly at what cost. "I agree with Gladio. Let us remember that… nothing matters more than… retrieving the royal arm," he grunted in between his stinging pants. "My… condition included."

Noctis' eyes widened a little. He hated how Ignis downplayed the seriousness of his injury. "No way! We're not pushing it at your expense, Specs." To hell with the royal arm if it meant that.

Ignis seemed especially displeased at that. "Since you have just ever so adamantly refused the idea of leaving me behind, I see no other course of action. Staying put puts us into a far greater risk." The words hung above them like a lead haze.

Gladiolus sighed in frustration. "If we're gonna move, we'd better get going." He pointed at the huge machinery partly buried in the swampland at the bottom of the valley, not half-a-day's trek away. "It should be over by that pile somewhere. But getting there will be tough." He glanced at Ignis meaningfully. The others who could see the gesture nodded quietly.

"What about we split up?" Prompto suggested. "Two go to the tomb, two stay here?"

"Too dangerous. Let's face it, you guys aren't exactly suited for the wild, and if the beasts attack the camp, only one won't be enough. Sorry, Iggy, but in your condition…" the shield let the end of the sentence hang in the air. The lighter brunet's face withdrew into an ugly scowl but he said nothing.

"You've got a better idea?" Noctis' tone was challenging.

Gladiolus seemed to take a moment to consider. His eyes rested on Ignis for a long time, and a frown deepened on his forehead. "Iggy. Be honest. How bad is it? Can you make it?"

The adviser looked like he had just swallowed a lemon whole. "It seems necessary. Time is… of the essence, and I must agree that… dividing the party would be a foolish gamble."

"Don't push it, Specs."

"No, Noct, Gladio's…. Gladio is right. We… cannot waste any more time than we already have. I'll… I'll do my best."

"We'll go as slowly as you need. You need a break, we take a break," Gladio reassured the injured strategist. He didn't pay any heed to the shocked expressions around them. Were they seriously going to do this?!

"Wait a sec! If we take Iggy—!" Prompto exclaimed in shock.

"We're not leaving Iggy if that's what you're saying," Gladiolus interrupted.

"Of course, not! But who's gonna, you know…" Prompto let the ending go with the wind, but shrugged lightly towards the strategist.

Ignis seemed to sense what the gunslinger implied and snorted, "Don't insult me, Prompto! I am still capable of… handling myself." He made a move to get onto his feet, hissing in pain but pushing himself up. He wobbled a little, clutching his injured shoulder to steady himself. Prompto jumped up to support him, but the strategist soon pushed his hand aside.

Noctis watched them, feeling vexed. He really didn't like pushing Ignis, but he knew they couldn't stay here, either. And separating the group would be a far greater risk than having Ignis and going slow. And if they had to move, might as well go and find the damn tomb and be done with it. They were down here because of him, after all, his conscience reminded him, so the sooner they were done, the better. Then they could get back and get Ignis to a proper doctor. It was the sole choice they really had.

The sun had crept above the skyline by the time they put out the fire and started the descend towards the mysterious machinery. But their pace was slow, and they had to stop often to allow Ignis the time to rest. It wasn't easy. The strategist stumbled on every shaky step, hissed in pain at every jerk of his wounded shoulder, and despite Prompto jumping in and out of supporting him among the rubble, Ignis could barely go on for half a mile before they needed to stop. But when someone would ask if he was alright or if he wanted to turn back, Ignis would hear no more of it. He would assure them he was managing and that they shouldn't exaggerate, even though it was painfully obvious that for him, every step was torture. He was pale and panting in exhaustion and pain. The worry for the adviser was written on everyone's face but everyone pretended they didn't see it. So, they kept going like that, covering half a mile at a time before they had to pause again, wondering if the next pause would be permanent.

As they stopped for the umpteenth time to allow Ignis some relief, Noctis asked himself again why he had allowed this.

Hearing the adviser's agonized, labored gasps and breaths was a noose slowly tightening around Noctis' neck. The brunet had been leaning on him for support for the past two hours, and the prince knew that he had no strength left to support himself. Every ounce he had was wasted on just moving forward and not fainting. Ignis hadn't said a word, but the pained sounds slipping from him told him enough. He was at his limit. They had made less than half of the distance, and Ignis was waning. His face was sweat-sheened and pale, and the pants had grown more desperate.

"You OK, Specs?"

His reply was a small shake of his head. "I'm afraid… that I can't go further," he grunted, each word forced. His knees buckled and he slumped his weight against the other.

"Hey, Ignis?! Specs, let's get you down." Noctis secured his arm around him and went to lower. But without a warning Ignis' body went limp as awareness escaped him and the brunet's entire mass slumped against Noctis. The extra weight threw him off balance, and with a heavy collapse they stumbled into the ground, the stones scratching their faces and arms.

Noctis' head met the ground, stars exploded across his vision as pain surged through his skull. For a moment, he knew nothing but blackness. Then he heard voices, muffled voices calling out to him through his haze. As the pain subsided, Prompto's voice crystallized.

"Noct?! Can you hear me?"

"Ye- yeah," he grunted as he felt a weight being lifted off him. Gladiolus laid Ignis' limp form onto the ground as gently as he could before turning his attention to the prince. He took a firm hold of his shoulder and brought him to a sitting position.

"Noct, listen, I want you to follow this finger with your eyes, got it?" he said as he brought his index finger in front of his eyes. The prince blinked a few times before nodding and after a few more blinks his gaze moved with the finger, right to left and back across. Satisfied, Gladio nodded. "No concussion." Was Noct just imagining it, or was there a ghost of a smile behind that?

"Yeah, I'm fine," Noctis gestured him to let him up. "But something's wrong with Iggy."

"You got that right."

The strategist was out cold. He was feverish and sweaty and flushed all over, and the makeshift sleeve-bind over his wound was slowly seeping moist. Fear, raw and unfiltered, settled into their stomachs as it sunk.

Gladiolus' hands shook a little as he carefully peeled off the layers of fabric. As it came off and he saw the skin, a colorful cascade of curses spewed. Prompto audibly gulped. "It's bad, isn't it?"

"Yup."

Noctis' heart skipped a beat. "How bad?"

"About the worst possible."

Gladiolus moved to show them, and the others exchanged a worried look. The shoulder looked swollen and raw. Suppurating.

Infected.

AN: Yeah, I'm not gonna go easy on Iggy. So if you're really feeling for him, I'm gonna make you sad in the next chapters.

But lol, I love writing his lines! :D The way he talks, all "proper Oxford English" like, it's priceless coming up with that stuff.