takingaim | And Then He Falls [for regalblaze]

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ten years later

And Then He Falls [for regalblaze]

Of everything that have ever been asked of him, of everything that the last thirty some odd years of his life has demanded of him, nothing has ever been harder than requiring him to stand there and watch his best friend start the long walk up those stairs into the Citadel, knowing that Noctis is going to his death. It's a thousand times harder than having to turn around and look to the massive Giants coming out of the ground, knowing all too well that they might be dying here in giving Noctis enough time to save the damn world. Whatever world might come out of this. What will it matter when Noctis is dead? Maybe this is just a final stand, enough time to live to see the dawn. Somehow, he's both the most afraid and the most determined he's ever been, leaving him in some horrible emotional flux that might almost come across as calm if it wasn't for the tears streaking down his cheeks.

But he holds his gun at the ready, looking solidly forward.

"Last one to kill their giant buys the first round," he calls out, a half-hearted joke as the ground finishes ripping open and the giants stand there.

"Deal," Gladio replies, bringing the massive great sword around in front of him, his eyes more determined than Prompto had ever seen him, but only the faint light shining gave away the tears.

Prompto looks over at Ignis, steeling himself, prepared to do everything to help protect Ignis and without a doubt that Gladio would do the same. He feared for Ignis, really for both of his friends, because with Noctis gone... he is, was, their lives. His, too.

Maybe it's just the death of all of them, no matter what outcome befalls them.

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With the breaking of the dawn, the rain starts to come to a stop. It's not fair, Prompto thinks as he stares up to the light he hasn't seen in almost ten years now. It's not fair that the world gets to stop crying and he doesn't. Slowly, he falls to his knees, everything crumbling and breaking inside as he curls his arms around his midsection, trying to keep it all inside.

It fails. Instead, it comes out through his eyes, through his mouth, as he hiccups, sobs like a child, but in the same silent way he's learned how to since the darkness began to take hold. There were daemons in the night, after all. Gladio says nothing, only leans back on bloody hands and stares upwards.

It's all over.

There's the metallic ring as Gladio's blade gets put down, then the slow sound of footsteps as the Shield-no-longer comes over to Ignis and sits down beside him. In the wake of the Giant's screams, there's only silence that fills Insomnia. A terrible, endless silence bathed in the light of a new day.

It's over.

Everything is over.

The good. The bad.

Breathing is a task Ignis can't remember how to do right now as his chest constricts in pain. He feels as if he will implode from inside out any second. He feels Gladio next to him, hears Prompto some steps away. It's not...

"...it's not fair," Ignis whispers more to himself than anyone else, forehead leaned against this knees.

It's not fair that the King of Kings doesn't get to witness the light he bargained his life for. This wound, this hollow space in his soul will never mend.

No, it's not. None of it's fair. It feels like a sickening dread in his stomach, a coldness spreading to his limbs. He wants to throw up, but knows it won't do any good.

Gladio's broad hand settles onto Ignis' shoulder, squeezing. What can he say? With his head tilted back, there's tears on his cheeks he won't admit to as he watches the brilliance of the dawn after so long in the dark. Someone needs to watch what Noctis fought for.

While Prompto just lets the gun drop to the side, so very used to it dissolving in a splash of blue sparks before it hits the ground, then jumps like a startled cat at the so very loud sound of metal hitting pavement. He stares down at his gun like it betrayed him somehow, not even comprehending the full truth.

But Gladio does. Slowly, he squeezes Ignis' shoulder again, then quietly turns and starts the longest walk of his life, up the stairs of the Citadels towards the doors they defended.

And the worst part is yet to come. Ignis doesn't know whether the Old Kings blessed or cursed him by taking his eyesight away. The images of prophecy still play in his dreams but seeing the aftermath of it must be a pure nightmare.

Ignis somehow wills his legs to move once Gladiolus' footsteps disappear behind him and he slowly makes his way over to Prompto. For the first time ever, he doesn't know how his friend will react. Will he lash out at him for stopping him? Or will he not respond at all? In any case, Ignis doesn't blame him.

Noctis was their anchor. And now it's gone, letting them to either swim or drown in this grief his death left behind.

He stops few steps away from him, "Prompto?"

Edited (grammar) 2018-01-31 15:35 (UTC)

"..." There's silence out of Prompto, a very uncharateristic silence. He's drowning. There is no swimming, not in the dark, dark depths of the water pouring over him as his heart finishes breaking as it started all those years before when they lost Noctis to the Crystal. Then, he manages to whisper, "we killed him."

They let him take it all. All that time they fought against the odds, against everything thrown against them, and when Noctis needed them the most, at the very end, they let him do it alone. There isn't even anything left him in to sob and instead, all he can do is kneel there, arms wrapped around to hold himself together. He needs something to reignite the hope he's held onto for the last ten years because the dawn has put out that flame instead of fueling it.

They killed him.

Ignis, Gladio, Prompto first. Then the rest of the world. And Noctis wouldn't have let them come with him even if they tried. This didn't feel like a prophecy coming to its conclusion. It felt as if they raised and brought a lamb to a slaughter. It makes Ignis' throat close up and really, he has nothing to say. There is nothing to say that can make this pain more bearable. And no amount of 'logical' thinking can explain this loss.

He crouches next to him, hand a bit shaky as it rests on Prompto's shoulder. He has been such wall of support during the years Ignis was getting used to his blind state. And yet, now, he doesn't know how to do a simple thing like consoling him, when words are failing him.

Gladio had known. He'd known nearly all of his damn life what he was actually guarding Noctis for. The Prophesy. The Chosen King. He could remember every moment vividly of the day his father took him aside and showed him the Crystal and explained what it would truly mean to be Noctis' Shield. He'd been young. Thirteen, no more. Clarus had seen the growing change in their relationship from a Shield who didn't believe in the bratty prince to actual friends... and knew it had been time.

Gladio wasn't sure he could ever have been old enough to take that news well. He'd sworn to be Noctis' Shield knowing that in the end, he couldn't protect him from the final danger that awaited him.

Prompto... Prompto hadn't known until so very, very much later. Call him blind. Call him innocent. Call him naive. He'd once been all of those things. He wanted to go back to it, to the not knowing, to days of video games and pizza, campfires and chocobos, to getting caught in the rain and dealing with sunburns. To the days before.

He turns all at once and wraps his arms around Ignis, burying his head in against the other's shoulder. Suddenly, he isn't thirty something anymore but the idiot of a teenager who can't handle his own emotions. There's no one else in the world that could understand like Gladio and Ignis can, and handle he's being an asshole for taking comfort right now when he knows Ignis has to be hurting as much as he is, maybe even more.

But he needs it so he can take his next breath.

If there was one thing Ignis was glad about- it was that neither Gladio, and especially not Prompto, saw how it all transpired. Ignis had known his purpose, the title of a Royal advisor meaning very little when it came to what Noctis was actually trained for.

But he never... he never expected it to turn out this way. It was one thing to protect him for the Crystal so he can use it and purge the darkness. It was entirely something else to sacrifice his own life to save them all. They weren't even offered a chance to find a different solution to this. Everything was already set in stone.

Ignis' hands come tightly around Prompto's shoulders, chin resting on top of his head as his fingers dig into blonde's jacket. His own body was shaking- not from cold, but from the suppressed sobs. Breathing was a task too hard for him to handle right now.

He was trained to protect the One Chosen King until he ascends- he wasn't taught what to do with all this suffering afterward.

"...I--...I'm sorry Prompto..."

I'm sorry I couldn't do anything...

"Why?!" His voice cracked despite himself, his fingers gripping so tightly into Ignis' clothing that later he'd realize his joints would ache from it. "Why didn't you let me go back for him?!" Spoken into Ignis' shoulder, tears falling unheeded. "We let him die alone in there!" It hurt, with a guilt pouring through him as he held onto Ignis with all of his remaining strength.

And Gladio was the one going in there to check, to find their friend and King who, unknowing to them, hadn't died completely alone. Not in a way. He'd looked into his father's eyes and died by his hand.

Prompto's sob sounded like the only sound in all of Insomnia in that moment, hollow and broken at the edges.

Ignis' hold tightened on Prompto as if he was afraid that the man in his hands will fall completely fall apart. He doesn't even know how is he still thinking clearly after all of this. The complete heaviness of the situation and loss will hit him later, as all things always do.

"He- he wasn't alone. He knew we were there for him and with him, always, he knows." Ignis couldn't let him, them, witness that. They've been through enough already to see their King being speared with the sword of his father, by his hand, on the throne.

Ignis doesn't care how much time he spent holding Prompto like this. He just wishes Gladio wasn't all by himself in the Throne Room.

Prompto very well might, so it isn't entirely an unrealistic thought. It certainly feels like he's falling apart as he holds onto Ignis, ignoring his own blood, ignoring their blood, ignoring... everything except the feeling of Ignis' arms holding him together because he no longer could. Maybe, just maybe, they could manage to hold each other together when they're unable to do it for themselves. He trembles from a mix of adrenaline, anger, sorrow, and pain but he doesn't loosen his grip.

"...and now?" he whispers, only barely able to be heard by Ignis because his mouth is close to the other's ear. "Now what do we do?" It hasn't even fully reached his mind that Gladio's gone, or where he went. They need to go and find their King and give him his rest.

What now is a good question. And Ignis doesn't know an answer to it. His head feels numb from pain and sadness and thinking about any kind of future is impossible right now. It is as if his own life has finished with Noctis dying on the throne. The future is out there somewhere, buried under the debris of the pain and sorrow.

"Now we... honor our King's last wish." Wish for them to live. Ignis' voice is trembling as he speaks, showing that even he doesn't believe completely in the words he's uttering. But he knows that on some rational level and from other people's perspective he could be right.

"It's- it's going to be hard. Impossible even. For months, years." Ignis' fingers bury deeper into Prompto's clothes. The thought of 'moving on' without Noctis tearing him up. "...but we'll do it. Alright?"

Prompto isn't even thinking that far ahead. He can't even think beyond the next minute, beyond the next breath, never mind months or years. There's a faint shake of his head, ever so slightly, before he whispers, "I don't want to." But slowly, almost utterly numb, he turns his face towards Ignis' neck and just leaves himself there where it's warm, the pulse of life, as his tears trickle down.

Noctis' last wish. Even though he saw Noctis aged, the handsome beard, so much like his father, his mind still gives him images of Noct at twenty, that lazy smirk. Some things will never change, not when he's had ten years of those memories to hold onto when Noctis had been nothing more than twenty in all of them. "I want to wake up."

It's the plea of a child because right now, he feels like a scared child waking up from a nightmare. But this nightmare won't end.

Neither can Ignis. He was just repeating stuff he was telling himself for the last few hours, weeks, months. Years. Thinking about living and future simply hurts right now and nothing he can say can help.
Ignis doesn't want to live either. But he can't say that. Not to Prompto. Because if he loses either Prompto or Gladio, he really might do something--

His own sobs are quieter, but his body can't hide them, shaking as they come, muffled from the way he buried his face in Prompto's hair. Oh, if only this was a dream. A horrible, terrible nightmare. But it wasn't - it was a living one.

He doesn't know how long they were sitting like that, just holding onto Prompto, letting and crying with him. The sound of footsteps, even though they were in the distance, makes Ignis lift his head up.

...is it stupid to hope for an additional pair of footsteps next to Gladio's?

There's something bracing about hearing Ignis cry, in a way. Maybe it's messed up, but to hear someone he believes in so strongly, that he respects, that he cares for so damned much sound as broken as he feels, it gives something Prompto to focus on. His arms stay tight around Ignis, giving some comfort and getting it in return. His one hand comes up and sinks to the back of Ignis' neck, the faint strands of hair there. He doesn't even pick up the sounds of footsteps, lost as he is in the space between them.

A figure comes through the dawn, picked out first as a moving shadow that slowly becomes a man, and of anyone that might be there, maybe it's the least surprising that it's Cor, a naked blade out at his side, clearly uncertain what he would find in the city with the coming back of the light. When he only sees Ignis and Prompto there, clearly broken and fallen, his eyes narrow. Two scenarios come to mind, both of them leaving a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach but showing none of it across his face.

"Scientia." His tone is that of a commander, firmly demanding a report.

The voice that cuts the air surprises Ignis. He had expected Gladio, not Cor to show up. The first thing that goes through his mind is to up and greet him, somehow, but that would mean letting go of Prompto. It would mean lifting his scared and tear stained face up from where it is hiding in blond hair. And he doesn't even feel his legs.

Ignis' daggers, as well as Prompto's gun, are on the ground. More than telling that the magic is no longer storing them. And if the dawn is really slowly rising, Cor should know what it means.

His fingers dig into Prompto's back harder as he wills his head to lift up towards where the voice comes from. Cor will have to forgive him for not being able to stand, although honestly, Ignis doesn't even care. He opens his mouth to answer but there's a solid rock in his throat and no sound comes out. Ignis just slowly shakes his head and then rests it against Prompto's shoulder.

He can't say it. Part of him still wants to believe that things didn't end the way they did.

He knows. His expression is as it usually is, cool, calm, brows ever so slightly pinched together. The truth of what he realizes is something that he can't let show right now or ever, not when there is so much to do. Regis had given him a final task, and while, in a sense, the task has been complete, he knows it needs to continue. Insomnia, Lucis, needed to be rebuilt, from the ground up, not forgetting all that happened.

The pain the both of them feels is something he understands all too well. The moment Regis fell lies burned into his heart. When Ignis can't speak, he nods ever so slightly in acceptance. Right then. He looks towards the Citadel, his lips thin, before going to walk towards the front doors when suddenly Gladio comes out of them. He pointedly sheathes his blade at that point, seeing the tightness in Gladio's expression, the redness around his eyes as the Shield comes closer.

They share a look. Gladio nods. Confirmation.

Cor glances down and to the side as he hears a broken sound out of Prompt, who had seen the nod.

Ignis doesn't hear any conversation, despite knowing that Gladio is there. The sound Prompto makes sends a chill down Ignis' spine and his stomach lurches. His throat is so choked up he can't even make a proper sound. He wants to cry, to scream his lungs out, but the weight of reality is just crushing him to the point that he can't even properly breathe.

He should stand up. He should help Prompto on his feet too. With the iron force of will, he shifts, legs shaking as he crouches, still holding onto Prompto and trying to lift him on his feet with him.

"Prom..."

It's less like a weight and far more like a puppet being drawn up by the strings as Ignis stand and tries to get Prompto to do the same. He moves, but it's disjointed, like his mind really isn't connected to the motion. Prompto doesn't really cry pretty, always bright crimson splotches on his cheeks and around his eyes, and those very much remain as Ignis gets a look at eyes no longer overflowing but a face looking shattered. The light that might have dulled in the ten years of darkness, that had been reignited upon the first sight of Noctis, is no longer dull but blown out completely.

Broken.

Gladio, if he had ever let himself properly mourn the fall of Insomnia, had never done it where any other living soul had been able to see (only his chocobo would ever know). Even now, his chin is up, his expression flat, as he listens to Cor who is outlining what he saw coming in. If Prompto's listening, he shows no signs of it, just sort of staring down at nothing.

"We'll have to go back to Hammerhead before night falls," Cor wraps up. With nothing working here in Insomnia and no idea if daemons remain at all--

"No." Not even loud enough Cor could hear him, but it's Prompto whispering. "We can't leave him."

Ignis grips Prompto's shoulder tightly when he hears his words. Deamons? Danger? What is Cor talking about?! Requests like these at this time?

"We cannot go with you, Marshal," Ignis repeats what Prompto said, loud for Cor to hear. "The darkness... has been purged. There will be no more daemons. You don't have to worry about that." He steps closer to the Citadel stairs, head tilted a bit.

"Our duty is still not over. And it won't be until we see our King to his resting place. I apologize," Ignis bows briefly to him, "but we cannot follow you to Hammerhead."

He wishes he could seek Gladio's gaze for approval of this decision. Right now, he's doubting every thought that goes through his head.

From the look on Cor's face, Gladio can tell, he doesn't necessarily believe that to be true. It doesn't really surprise him, though, given that the Marshal was not the kind of man to take anything at face value. It had to be proven.

So, with thin lips, Cor gives only a faint sigh. It's Gladio who speaks up, nodding. "We're not going, sorry." Not actually all that sorry in reality, if his tone suggests anything.

"...Alright." Blunt, but there's a hint of disapproval lingering somewhere behind his words. Not because of what they are planning, but the potential threat behind it. "Then I'll be keeping watch and looking throughout the city." A guard, forever through and through.

Hearing Gladio's voice reaffirm what he said made Ignis sigh. The disapproval is obvious in Marshal's tone but Ignis had stopped caring a long while ago. All he wants to do now is make sure that Prompto and Gladio are alright.

Ignis gives a short nod: "Thank you, Marshal." He wanted to say that they will join them eventually, but he's not sure if he could keep that promise. So he keeps his mouth shut.

His hand slips from Prompto's shoulder to his back, slowly ushering him towards the stairs. Ignis feels horrible for having Prompto help out with this but Gladio and Ignis can't do this by themselves.

Going. Going towards the stairs. Going to what lies beyond the stairs. It feels like some horrible movie, like he's nothing more than an actor watching his own body move under another's power, because absolutely none of it feels real. Really, a lot of the times, nothing had felt real in his life since he and Noctis had become friends fifteen some odd years ago. Everything he's done since then, everything he's learned, everything that's happened to him...

When do I wake up from it all?

Because even if waking up from that long dream meant to lose it all, he isn't sure if that notion is worse than the pain in his heart right now.

His feet carry him up the steps, with Gladio leading the way back into the Citadel. Back through the black marble and up the elevator. Everything in him feels simultaneously numb and utterly over sensitive until a vague thought comes into the back of their head - that he left his guns out there. Come to think of it, Ignis left his daggers, too. Gladio's sword is no where to be seen.

It's a thought that gets him up the elevator ride, but when the doors open, he freezes.

I can't do this. His mind is conjuring up what he imagined happened, leaving Noctis' body flat on the floor before the throne or perhaps slumped in it like he's sleeping, like all he'll have to do is go over there and shake him and call him princess and he'll wake up.

The reality is worse, but he can't manage to even come up with that horror in his mind.

Ignis keeps close to Prompto the entire time. Gladio currently has the most composure over them all. The only solace Ignis finds is that he won't be able to witness the scene itself. Flashes of the prophecy and visions are more than enough. There's no waking from this nightmare. No amount of light and freedom they gained will fill the hole that was left in its wake. The sacrifice they had to let happen.

But right now, Ignis had no time to be bitter. He didn't want to seem ungrateful to the King that gave his life to keep theirs safe. And Prompto... out of them all, he spent the least time with Noctis.

His hand never leaves Prompto's back as they climb the stairs, as they ride the elevator, as they step out in front of the throne room. The flash of vision and Noctis getting speared on the throne makes Ignis pause, gripping Prompto's jacket in order to have him stop walking.

"Gladio. Did you... move him?"

The sword from Noctis' chest. The body slumped over in the throne. Prompto didn't need to see that. And Ignis wished Gladio didn't have to see that.

If Ignis hadn't physically stopped him, Prompto wouldn't even have noticed. In preparing to meet whatever horror is within, whatever is about to be branded on his soul for the rest of whatever life is there to live, he is blind to nearly everything, like a chocobo with blinders on. He lifts his gaze, lips parted to ask what Ignis meant-

Then those words. ...Move him? Why? Prompto's brows come together, looking to Ignis with confusion before looking back to Gladio. It's difficult to read Gladio's face in that moment. Confusion? Surprise? Anger? He isn't sure what he sees in the momentary widening of Gladio's eyes, then how they closed, but it all ends in the vivid moment of pained sorrow that gets shut down behind a mask of emotionless. Prompto wishes, with everything in him, he could do that so easily.

"...I did."

Move him? "...Why?" Prompto barely recognizes his voice in the broken sound that is far too loud in the hall.

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Sorry I'm a little on the slow side this week! ;;

it's okay have no worries /ended up being slow too

Never a worry on my part if you need to take your time. <3~

❤

Question: ...did Ignis ever TELL Gladio about the vision?