Prompto... doesn't know the whole truth of what's happened in the throne room at the end of the longest night. About what Noctis' last moments were, what bravery was faced other than just the last of his breath being stolen from him. In one way or another, he'll find out, even if it takes the ending of this future book for the words to be relayed to him. The pain is still too raw for him to even try to imagine what happened, only the concept that Noctis' life had been ended that is far, far too real.

"I don't know if he'd want something like the other tombs. They were... dark. Dead." Prompto's not entirely certain how to say what's swirling around in his head, trying and failing to take effect. "...he'd probably want a giant bed to sleep in for all eternity." A weak joke, but the idea of something different attempting to come across. "At least it'll be dark for him?"

But his hands fold together, still close enough to Ignis for the other to feel him shift back, looking up instead of down. "Is it wrong to celebrate his life instead of death?" Uncertain, because tombs are... dead. It hurts so badly to say it aloud, grinding the salt into the wound, but it feels like something right.