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Chapter Text

The sun rose in tandem with the sinking of Ignis’ heart.

He could feel the warmth of the light upon his skin, like a blessed kiss after so long of darkness.  The hisses of the daemons were a melodious sound after years of suffering under their torment.  His daggers sliced through daemons as if they were made of smoke as their flesh gave away to the misty miasma of the scourge.

The end of the end had begun. The end of the scourge, of the Long Night, and the World of Ruin. 

And that meant… It meant that the moment that Ignis had been both eagerly anticipatingly and anxiously dreading with equal intensity for the last ten years had finally come to pass: Noctis was dead.

He had hoped for another way, but the gods’ wills and fate were not something easily avoided.  What was happening now had been ordained by the Astrals since time immemorial. 

“IGNIS!” Gladio’s shouted warning came too late.  The lapse in attention was all it took for one of the dying daemons to take the opportunity presented.  The sound of Gladio fighting to reach him echoed in his ears like the echo of Prompto’s gunfire. His hands found the weapon lodged in his chest, and he laughed weakly, wetness spilling from his mouth.

A sword to the chest…

How fitting that he mirrored the state of his King when he had just been thinking of that.  He heard in crystal clarity the slick sick noise his body made when the blade slid out and he fell to his knees.  He already knew he would not live without Noctis.  This was merely a means to an end, a way to ensure Noctis could complete his duty in peace.  And now that the sun had begun its ascent, he could join his King. 

He wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t the only in the Retinue to follow.  Prompto had promised to ever be at Noctis’ side, and it was Gladio’s sworn duty to follow Noctis.

He blinked, a tear sliding down his face and falling to the tile of the throne room.  He blinked again, and then again before staring bewildered at the tile.  “How?” He murmured, raising his head once he was certain the wound that had killed him was no more. 

He looked up to the throne hesitantly, suddenly fearful that the image that had been burned into his brain would be there.  But no. 

There was no slumped body impaled by his father’s sword.  No fallen King for him to mourn.  Just a small mint colored fox with a red crystal horn that looked at him with eyes too intelligent to belong to any animal.

“Oh dear.” The creature’s voice was a quiet squeak in the chamber, echoed by the high ceilings and hard surfaces.  “Not again.”

Not… again?

The creature jumped down from the throne and took the stairs a few at a time, leaping down with an ease that told of how often the creature navigated the citadel despite Ignis never having seen it before. It was before him in a few seconds and looked up at him with luminescent eyes.  As he stared back down at it, he realized that he had seen a likeness of the creature somewhere before.

One of Noctis’ bobbers, maybe.  A toy?  A decal on the Regalia? 

It was hard to place exactly, but it was definitely tied to Noctis.

“You’ve made a deal with the Lucii too.” The creature complained, wrinkling it’s nose in what could have been dismay.  “A different deal.”

“This one never received our full light.”  Ignis’ spine automatically straightened at the not unfamiliar voice of one of the Lucii.  He had only heard their voice once, but it had echoed in his dreams since that meeting.  “The price paid, power given and taken.  There is no toll due on this soul.”

What?

“He shalt not be free to roam as he pleases.” A voice like thunder boomed.  The small creature before Ignis bowed its head and laid its ears flat before bouncing back up to the throne.  A laugh he recognized as belonging to Shiva echoed in the chamber, as soft and quiet as newly fallen snow.

“Tis my right to claim this one.” It was not Shiva who spoke, but someone else.  The voice sounded old and frail, but there was a strength in it that shook Ignis to the bones.  He had been wrong to assume the first voice was like thunder.  The rumble of this new one sounded more of rolling thunder than the first voice ever could have.

“He will be in my city.”  Unlike the other voices, this one sounded like nothing Ignis had ever heard before.  It brought to mind the sea pounding on the shore during a storm, of a thousand sailors singing a shanty, of the graceful feminine wiles of the fabled sirens styled after the Messenger of the same name.  “He will be mine.”

Unease prickled at the back of Ignis’ neck.  He had a feeling he knew who these voices were, who they belonged to.  What they wanted, however, was lost on him.  He was not of the Oracle’s blood.  He was never meant to hear the words of the Astrals as he did now. 

“Leviathan.”  The first unknown voice – Bahamut, he assumed – growled.  “Thou has not cared for mortals since time immemorial.”

“The one with Storm in his blood and born in my name was not mine!  Why should this one, who is only in your city, be yours?” The rolling thunder – Ramuh, most likely – argued. Was he talking about a Galahdan?  Were there others like Ignis who had experienced death only to end up here?

If it were a Galahdan, did that mean there had been a Glaive who had stood where Ignis still kneeled, listening to the judgement of the Astrals?

“I care less for a storm not of my own within my walls.”  Leviathan’s response was probably meant to be a growl, but it came out like roar.   “If he is to be placed, he will be Bonded to me.”

“You have never cared for a Bonding before.” Shiva replied, her comment still soft like drifting snow.  It was spoken carefully, slowly, like she was considering something or perhaps concerned about the Tidemother’s wrath. “Might I offer a solution to this conundrum?”

The Astrals, even Bahamut were quiet.  Ignis assumed they were waiting for Shiva to elaborate.  He blinked and she was suddenly beside the throne, smiling down at him.  She pet the small fox creature – which flattened it’s ears further. 

“Oh no.” The creature’s whisper did little to put Ignis at ease.

Shiva ignored the creature.  “There is another,”

“Another?” Bahamut interrupted.

“Who is unclaimed.” Shiva continued as if Bahamut had not said anything at all.  “His presence was required to ensure my latest’s survival.  Since there are now two who lack the Bond, you both may have one.”

“Show me him.” Both Leviathan and Ramuh announced together.  Shiva smiled – a sharp icy smile – and vanished in a flurry of snowflakes.

Ignis did not fidget as silence descended down upon the throne room despite the sudden itch to.  Nor did he speak up to ask what exactly was going on.  He would learn more by listening, and he doubted the Astrals would answer him even if he did decide to ask.

“Very well.”  Ignis couldn’t help the jump as Bahamut’s voice echoed in the chamber.  “If that is what is decided, then he will be placed and Bonded.”

To who?  What did they mean? Ignis wanted to ask, and the fear that he would never know drove him to open his mouth in preparation for the questions.  Yet before he could voice his concerns, the ground beneath him caved and he fell into darkness. 

~

 “Blessed Stars of Life and Light…”

The first thing that Ignis realized was that he was laying on the ground.   He blinked up at the slightly obscured evening sky in mild wonder.  Tall buildings – Altissian architecture, he noted – blocked most of the view. 

Vaguely, Ignis recalled Leviathan’s scathing comment about him being in her city.  Which, to his knowledge, wasn’t possible unless he had been sent back in time or something equally crazy had happened. 

“…deliver us from darkness' blight." 

No.  He couldn’t have been sent to the past.  The past would have Prompto and Noctis kneeling beside him, looking down at him with the shattered remains of an elixir or potion in one of their hands; and Gladio looking down at him from above them with his mouth set in a scowl that Ignis knew meant he was worried. 

He couldn’t have been in the past because the only time he had met with Ravus in Altissia was after everything had gone to – for lack of a better term – shit.  He hadn’t been with Ravus while the city was still whole. 

The Tenebraen prince was kneeling beside him, whispering the Oracle’s prayer like a life depended on it.  Ignis’ hand was clasped firmly between Ravus’ and held up to the prince’s bowed head.  “Blessed Stars…” Ravus froze and looked up. 

The first thing Ignis noted was the streak of something on Ravus’ face.  The second thing was the wave of horror, terror, relief that washed through Ravus’ mismatched eyes as his gaze met Ignis’.   The third thing he noticed was that Ravus’ hands were coated in blood.  “Hold on Ignis; help is coming.”

Ignis blinked.

The cacophony of hospital noises seemed to assault him all at once.  The steady beeping of machines, the squeaking of wheels from the carts and gurneys, the sounds of people arguing.

… Well, the people arguing where actually in the room with him.  He blinked a few more times until the blurry room came into focus and he could successfully identify the two arguing at the end of his bed.

Ravus was the first person Ignis identified.  The prince was sitting on the only available chair, his hands clasped, and head bowed.  It was hard to tell, but Ignis thought that the prince might have been cleaned up some – it appeared that streak and bloody hands were gone. 

“What were the two of you thinking?”  Weskham stood a little off to the side of Ravus, one hand on his hip and the other gesturing in the air.  “Did you even consider what might have happened if Ignis hadn’t taken that blade, and you were the one laying on this bed instead?  Do you even think about your mother?”

“Leave my mother out of this.”

“I can’t.  Not when she would bring Shiva’s wrath upon me if anything happened to you.”  Weskham replied, shaking his head.  “Not to mention the scandal this could cause.  You’re old enough I shouldn’t have to babysit either of you.”

Ravus fidgeted and looked up at Weskham for less than a second before cutting his gaze away towards the nearest wall. 

Neither of them had realized that Ignis had woken.  Part of him wanted to inform them immediately, but another part of him whispered to keep his silence.  Information tended to slip during arguments, and he very desperately wanted any information he could get.

Weskham was apparently not done with his scolding for his continued with, “You are not the Oracle, Ravus.  No amount of prayer could save you or Ignis.”

“But it did!” Ravus argued back immediately.  His gaze snapped back to Weskham, and unlike before, Ravus held it.  Despite the meek appearance he had shown only moments before, the sharpness of his tone fit much easier with Ignis’ memory of Ravus.

Weskham did not apparently have a response.  Which seemed to be fine by Ravus as he continued.  “I may not have the powers, but the blood runs through me all the same.  It was apparently enough for them to hear and grant my prayers.” 

Ignis was obviously missing some bit of key information.  A bit of key information that he hoped would make things magically start to make sense.

The best guess he had was time travel, but that didn’t make any sense at all.  The alternative guess was that he had been thrown into some sort of alternative reality.   One where he was in Altissia with Ravus, and Ravus was suddenly devote to the Astrals. 

Or at least didn’t hate them as much as the Ravus Ignis remembered did.

“Did his heart stop?”  Weskham asked, gesturing with both hands to where Ignis was.  He closed his eyes and hoped that neither of them had noticed he was awake.

The responding silence was torturous, and part of him feared that he had been caught before Ravus replied, “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Weskham scoffed.  “You know exactly what it means.  You’ve saved his life only to curse it.”

“It doesn’t mean anything!” Ravus repeated.  “He’s not Bonded!”

Bonded.  Bahamut had said something similar.  There was a thought to break his façade of still being out and ask, but he had found during his decade in darkness that most questions tended to answer themselves if one just waited and listened.

“How can you be so sure?  Which Astral answered the prayer, Ravus?”

“It’s just a story.” Ravus didn’t exactly whisper, but his voice was significantly quieter. 

“I wish it were.”  Weskham sighed, sounding entirely too old for his actual age.  “Trust me, it’s not just a story.”

“…You know someone Bonded this way.”  It wasn’t a question so much as an affirmation of a fact.  Weskham must have nodded for Ravus continued.  “Those raised by the whims of the Astrals can not always become Messengers.  If they did, then how many Messengers would Bahamut or Shiva have from the blessing of Phoenix Downs or Havens alone?”

“This miracle was not from a Phoenix Down or Haven.”  Weskham pointed out.  “The Bonded I know is to the Archaeon.” 

The arguing of the Astrals that Ignis had been privy to, and the conversation occurring now between Ravus and Weskham was painting a very unflattering picture about the nature of ‘Bonding’. 

When he was little, he had asked his uncle how the Messengers were made.  According to Cosmogony, there were only twenty-four, which to him had seemed like a very small number to have.  His uncle had rapt his knuckles for blasphemy and sent him on his way.  Ignis hadn’t thought about the creation of Messengers again.  Until this exact moment.

He had a sinking suspicion that he was going to find out how Messengers were made in a very personal intimate way. 

The question was, which of the arguing Astrals had he been Bonded to? 

Was he a Messenger of the wise and wizened Fulgurian and Stormsender, Ramuh?   Was he Bonded to the unpredictable winds and lightning, to the storms of chaos and the small pocket of peace that laid in the eye? 

Or was he Bonded to the powerful and dangerous Hydraeon and Tidemother, Leviathan?  Did he owe allegiance now to the dangerous dark depths and tides?  

How would he know?  What would he do as a Messenger?

Would the other Messengers of the specific Astral assist him, or would he be left to fumble his way?  He knew not all of the Messengers had survived the War of the Astrals.  And some, like Garuda, had been imprisoned or trapped. 

… He should probably see if he could help her out again.  She might be able to assist him with any new duties as a Messenger.  It would be difficult without the others, but it was still worth looking into.

The conversation seemed to have lulled, so it fell to Ignis to spark it back up by faking his awakening.  He groaned as he opened his eyes.  Weskham was at his bedside immediately as if he had used the Kings’ magic to warp. 

“Ignis,” There was a slight static shock when Weskham’s hands touched him, but nothing painful or terribly noticeable.  “How are you feeling?  What do you remember?”

Reasonable questions for someone waking in the hospital.  Alas, Ignis suspected that Weskham would not appreciate the answers Ignis would give if he were truthful. 

Very few, Ignis imagined, would appreciate him talking of the end of the world, the decade of night and darkness.  Even fewer would appreciate his tale of Noctis’ return and subsequent death to bring forth the dawn. 

He would likely be given a mental evaluation if he even so much as breathed a word of his own death, and the following conversation – if one could call it that – with the Astrals.

He licked his lips and ignored how dry his mouth felt at the action.  “The details are a bit foggy, I’m afraid.”  Ignis replied after a moment.  “What happened?” 

Weskham and Ravus exchanged a look before Ravus returned his gaze to Ignis.

“You saved my life.” Ravus answered him in a snappy ‘matter of fact’ way that was entirely in line with the Ravus that Ignis knew. 

“Don’t worry about not remembering.” Weskham assured him.  “The doctor said that memory loss was common in patients who had a Near Death Experience.  And you would have died had Ravus not pulled a miracle out of nowhere.”

Could Ravus’ prayers be the reason that he had been pulled into… whatever this was.  At this point, Ignis was willing to go with alternate reality, if only because nothing else made sense.   But why him?  If alternate realities was a thing, then out of all the other countless Ignises that there had to be, why him in particular?

Or was it random? 

He feared he would never know.

“Thank you.”  He said, instead of all the other questions and theories that wanted to bubble out. 

“Don’t thank me yet.” Ravus replied, an almost bitter tone to his voice.  “Weskham seems to think you’re Bonded.”

Well, there was no ‘thinking’ about it.  Ignis was.  Bahamut had said as much.   The question still remained, however: to who?

He closed his eyes, and turned his gaze mentally inward.  Ignis couldn’t say with any certainty how King Regis’ magic felt, but he knew the feeling of Noctis’.  The feeling of liquid sun under his skin, shining too bright and hot, yet actually using it felt crystalline and cool.  He had long associated it to his oaths of fealty to Noctis. 

That sensation was gone now.  Replaced by a feeling not to dissimilar to that of being near a live wire or metal in a thunderstorm.   Its attention had been elsewhere, but now that Ignis was staring as the churning abyss, the eye of the storm finally turned its gaze towards him.

“You’re awake.” The voice was rolling thunder, and the accompanying smile of the figure standing in the middle of the storm was akin to the dancing glow of a thousand lightning strikes.

It seemed whoever the unknown unbonded had been was enough for Leviathan to allow Ramuh within her walls.   He wished the unknown person the best of luck, and hoped that they wished the same of him.

He opened his eyes and considered Weskham and Ravus with equal intensity.   Weskham was right, but there was merit to the idea of siding with Ravus and pretending that he wasn’t.

“A tactician.” Ramuh’s words were the whisper of falling rain on a window.  “I knew you would be best suited to me.”   If Ravus or Weskham heard the Astral speak, they made no comment of it.

Then again, wasn’t the job of the Messengers to bring the Astrals words to the People, just as the Oracle’s was to bring the word of the People to the Astrals?  Or was he mistaken and had that backwards? 

It was hard to tell when the Oracle had been doing the job of both for centuries.

Still, if Ramuh could speak to him at any time, then it would be wise to inform Weskham and Ravus.  Who knew what other affects being an Astral’s Messenger would cause. 

“I believe Weskham to be correct.” Ignis informed them both with a slightly bowed head. 

Ravus’ face fell before it was hastily replaced with a straight poker face.  Weskham’s face fell, and remained fallen. “To who?” The old barkeeper asked, his voice a whisper like saying it aloud would only confirm the elder’s fears.

“The Fulgurian.” 

“’The Fulgurian’?” Ravus shook his head.  “No.  Altissia is the Hydraean’s territory.  She would not allow another within her walls.” 

“And yet she did.” Ignis replied.  “I can’t claim to speak for the Hydraean or her intentions in allowing Ramuh to claim me within her city.”  And he was most certainly not going to tell either of them about how Leviathan and Ramuh had fought over him before Shiva sacrificed some poor person to Leviathan.

“The Tidemother has seldom cared for the whims of man and Bonding.”  Weskham crossed his arms.  “But you are correct: It is pointless to try to guess the intentions and plans of the Astrals.  We can only work with what we have been given and the facts that we hold to be true, and the fact is that Ignis has been claimed by the Fulgurian.” 

“And what proof is there of this claim?” The look Ravus shot Ignis was one of apology, and had he not been inferring that Ignis was lying, then perhaps he would have accepted it. 

But the fact of the matter was that Ignis was not lying.  Not about being Bonded to an Astral, at any rate. 

He was Bonded to the Fulgurian;  Ramuh’s magic sitting where only Noctis’ should have.  He was presumably in some alternate reality where he was for some inexplicable reason in Altissia with Prince Ravus Nox Fleuret of Tenebrae; and NOT in Lucis with his true King.  His eyesight had been restored, all the struggles he had gone through during the last decade erased. 

And Ravus thought he was lying about being Bonded to Ramuh.

“I.” Ignis ground out, electricity sparking from him. “…am not lying.”  At the word ‘lying’ the machines near Ignis went out in a flurry of electric sparks and smoke that sent both Ravus and Weskham wheeling back.

At the word ‘lying’, the cloudy skies outside thundered, like a judge’s gravel coming down upon a decision; the sound loud enough to shake the building.   At once, the lights and electricity of the hospital went out.

All was dark and quiet for a single moment – the calm before the storm – before chaos erupted outside the doors.  There was a flurry of shouts, yells, and screams from staff and patients alike.  Ignis was bathed in shameful darkness for a few moments until the generators finally sputtered to life, returning light, power, and sanity to the building.

Weskham and Ravus were both staring at Ignis with equally wide eyes. 

Ignis immediately diverted his gaze, looking down at his clutched hands.  It took him a moment to work out releasing the bed spread, and then another to start smoothing out the wrinkles from his grip.  He swallowed thickly.  The gravity of the situation felt worse than getting smacked by a Red Giant’s blade. 

“There’s your proof.” Weskham’s words weren’t spoken in a whisper, but they were definitely of a lower volume.  “Shit, I haven’t seen anything like that since…”  Weskham cut himself off abruptly and cleared his throat.  “We should get you discharged since you’re physically fine now.”

He didn’t need to add ‘before you cause more trouble’ for Ignis to hear it.   He didn’t see Weskham leave, but he certainly heard the door open and close. 

Ignis continued to smooth out the bed spread, and only froze once a slim elegant hand was placed over his.   Ignis’ gaze traced the hand before following it to the wrist, the arm, the shoulder, the neck… before finally he was looking Ravus in his mismatched eyes.

Although Ravus squeezed his hand, he felt it like a physical hold on his heart and throat.  He swallowed thickly again.

“I’m sorry, Ignis, for the burden I have placed upon you.  It was never my intention to cause this.” Ravus’ words were uncharacteristically quiet, but the sincerity was louder than the rolling thunder that echoed outside.

It felt like the hand squeezing his heart and throat had tightened its grasp.  He was no longer certain his heart could beat with how tight it felt.

Ravus thought that he was the reason Ignis was now a Messenger. He thought that his prayer to save Ignis’ life was what had caused the Astrals to save him – thus making him a Messenger.  And maybe Ravus was right.  Maybe that was the reason that Ignis was a Messenger.

But Ravus had been praying for his Ignis.  The Ignis that had been here before.  And well, it was no one’s fault but the Astrals that Ignis was here instead. 

He wanted to say something to reassure Ravus.  To lift the guilt off the prince’s shoulders, but the words sounded like white snow in his head, and tasted like static in his mouth.  His tongue was numb, unwilling and unable to speak words, even if Ignis could think of something to say.

He doubted Ravus would want to hear them anyways.  Empty platitudes and reassurances would do little for either of them.

After what seemed like a millennia, the words, “I don’t blame you,” finally spilled out of Ignis’ mouth. 

Because he didn’t.  Not really.  It wasn’t Ravus’ fault that Ignis was here in this situation.  The Astrals were the ones who tore Ignis away from a possibly happy afterlife serving his King, and threw him here to force him to serve one of their own.

Ravus was only trying to save a friend; and were Ignis in the same position, he was sure he would have done the same.

Ignis could not fault him for that.

Given Ravus’ reaction to finding out that Ignis was a Messenger, he almost feared the response when he learned Ignis was from another reality.  IF Ravus found out at all.  After all, Ignis was in the hospital after a traumatic experience during which he died.  He would not blame anyone if they did not take his tale seriously.

If it was not for the vividness of his memories, he might have doubted them to be true himself.

But no.  He knew the feel of Noctis’ magic humming under his skin, and he knew that was no lie or fabricated memory.  He would not doubt his memories.  He would not doubt himself.

The door opened again as Weskham re-entered the room.  “It’s going to take some time for the discharge paperwork due to the outage, but… you’ll be going home soon.” 

The hand still squeezing Ignis’ heart threw it to the ground and an invisible foot stomped down upon it for Ignis suspected that home would not be Insomnia.

~

Home, Ignis discovered, was a townhome located a short canal ride away from Maagho.  He was apparently neighbored to both Weskham and Ravus; with Ravus’ townhome nestled between theirs. It was quaint and logical.  Had it ever come up that Noctis wanted a place in Altissia, it was a set up that Ignis would have suggested with Gladio and himself on either side of Noctis.

The only real surprise was how mundane and civilian it seemed.  The Ravus that Ignis knew would have never settled for something so… plebian. 

He marked it as yet another difference between the Ravus’, and attributed the change to the fact Ravus was living in Altissia in general.  He didn’t know much of the Ravus of his reality, in all honesty, but he assumed that his primary residence had either been with Niflheim or in Fenestala Manor in Tenebrae.

He couldn’t speak for the Imperial housing, but Ignis knew that Fenestala Manor was perhaps one of the only places that could rival the Citadel in its grandeur.

The townhome wasn’t large by any means.  It was a simple two bedroom, with the second bedroom presumably being set up as a guest room.  Based on the décor and furniture, Ignis should have felt right at home, standing in the modest living room.

Except, he wasn’t the Ignis who had lived here before despite their similar tastes.  He was a stranger in what was supposed to be his own home, and the feeling left him quite unsettled.

He hadn’t examined the bookcases yet, but he could already tell that a good majority of the books in the many cases mirrored those that had been in Ignis’ Insomnian apartment.  Similar art pieces – and some the same – that had been on his wall were here as well.  Even the furniture placement was similar to what Ignis would have chosen – even down to the rolled desk in the corner. 

It was like the world had been shifted two degrees left; everything was right, but entirely wrong at the same time.

He wondered if the other(s) who shared his predicament had similar situations of discomfort, or if they had just fallen into their ‘new’ lives without a hitch. 

It appeared that Ravus was a frequent guest as he had his own key – which gave Ignis pause as to the nature of their relationship – which had opened the way for the trio, before the prince had made himself at home on one of the couches.  The sprawl was somewhat reminiscent of Gladio in a way that made Ignis’ heart hurt.

If there was anyone he would truly miss – besides Noctis – from his own reality, it would be Gladio.

He had spent nearly a lifetime with the Shield.  Ignis had been assigned to Noctis at the tender age of four and had met Gladio, officially, not long after that.  It was true, they hadn’t exactly seen eye to eye in the beginning, but their cooperation was required if they wanted to best serve Noctis.

So they agreed to a friendship and the rest, as one would say, was history. 

Except Ignis suspected that it wasn’t history here.  Because if it was, then why was he living in Altissia instead of an apartment down the block from Noctis’?  Why was he here with Weskham and Ravus instead of in Insomnia with Noctis and Gladio?

Ignis felt out of his depth in a way that he did not appreciate.

This was not even considering the whole ‘Messenger’ thing.   He could feel Ramuh just lurking around, invisible and intangible, but no less present like the pressure one usually felt before a storm.   He resolved to ask the Astral questions once he was alone. 

Surely the Astral would give his Messenger some sort of explanation for all of this.

Ravus watched him stand in the middle of the living room with too sharp eyes, leaving Ignis feeling shredded and torn.  There was an unspoken question there, and it bothered Ignis that he did not know Ravus well enough to guess it.   It bothered Ignis more that the Ignis who had been here before would have.

“We probably shouldn’t leave you alone—” Weskham started.

“It’s fine.” Ignis didn’t normally feel the need to interrupt people.  It was a terribly rude habit, one he sought to never have.  Yet the idea of others staying with him in the house that was supposed to be his rankled him. 

He wanted to be alone right now.  To think, to plan, to… mourn. 

…Yes.  He wanted a moment to mourn.  To mourn that he would never share his afterlife with Noctis, Gladio, or even Prompto.  To mourn the King that had died only moments prior to him.  To mourn the future that Ignis would never see.  To mourn everything that had been taken from him, and everything that he would have to endure again.

“I’ll stay.” Ravus suggested, like Ignis had not just spoken. 

Weskham made a face.  “I don’t think so, your highness.  It may not be safe—”

“Be safe?” Ravus repeated, sitting up and glaring over the couch at the barkeep. “A Messenger of the Astrals would not dare hurt one who carries the Blood of the Oracle.” 

Ah.  There was the haughty Ravus that Ignis knew.  If only he was right.

Ignis thought of Princess Lunafreya, how she had seemed in her later days; and bit the side of his cheek to keep from commenting.  Based on the sores, it was apparently a vice that Ignis shared with the one who had been here previously. 

Gladio would be disappointed if he could see him now.  It had taken him years to break Ignis of the habit.

The look Weskham levied at Ravus spoke enough of his belief in Ravus’ words.  “And what would you know?  You thought you knew better when you convinced Ignis to go out on the town, and when you raised him with the prayers of the Astrals and unwittingly made him a Messenger.” 

Ignis winced and tore his gaze away from the two and instead centered his attention on one of the paintings on the wall.  Metallic copper filled his mouth as he bit down hard enough on his cheek to bleed.

Ravus was uncharacteristically quiet in response.  A fact that Weskham seemed to take as a victory.  “Let’s give Ignis space today and tonight.  We’ll visit what needs to be done tomorrow.”

“Nothing needs to be done.” There was a tone of what could have been frustration in Ravus’ voice. 

“He’s a Messenger!” Weskham announced, like it wasn’t some terrible fact that the three of them were painfully aware of.  “ Specifically, the Fulgurian’s in the Hydraean’s territory!  If he doesn’t learn to control the gifts granted by the Stormsender, we’ll have a lot worse to deal with than a hospital losing power for a few minutes.”

Privately, Ignis thought that he might side with Weskham.  He was a danger to the city.  The Fulgurian was first and foremost, the Stormsender; and while Altissia could weather storms, the city wasn’t entirely built for them. 

The rains alone could – and likely would – cause catastrophic flooding.  Not to mention Ramuh’s favor over electricity.  He simply blacked out a Hospital this time, but what about the next?  What if he electrified the canals or actually caused someone’s death.  Accident or not, it wasn’t something Ignis thought he could ever forgive.

“So what?” Ravus challenged.  “You’ll send him back to Insomnia?  There’s nothing for him there, Weskham.  Nothing.”

…

Why was Ignis not surprised to find that this Ravus did not like Insomnia any more than the Ravus he had known?

Although, it was curious how he claimed that there was nothing for Ignis in Insomnia.  Surely there was something.  He had an uncle on the council, and…

…

No.  He shouldn’t take that for granted.  There was no telling if that was the case in this strangely similar world.  After all, he was living in Altissia instead of Insomnia. He was with Ravus instead of Noctis. He was a Messenger of the Astral Ramuh.

Things could not have been any more similarly different than they were.

He cleared his throat and turned back to the duo.  “I would like some time alone to think.”

Ravus’ glare cut across Weskham to fall on him, but Ignis held his ground even as mismatched eyes were narrowed further.  At some point during the exchange, Ravus had stood, and he huffed now before turning away and marching out the door. 

Weskham sighed.

It was a sigh that Ignis could certainly relate to.  How many times had he heaved his own sighs so similar to Weskham’s when dealing with Noctis, Prompto, or on the rare occasion, Gladio? 

“I best be after him.  Who knows what other mayhem he’ll cause.” The look Weskham gave him spoke that this might have been an inside joke of theirs.  Ignis shuffled uneasily and Weskham’s face fell marginally.  “I’ll check in on you in a few hours.  Don’t die on us, now.  I don’t fancy trying to explain to Regis the situation as it is already.” 

Ignis nodded mutely, and waited ten painstakingly long seconds after the door closed before heading up the stairs to change into something a little more comfortable.  The stairs creaked as he ascended, and it hit him that he should know which ones creaked.

He should know because he should have been the Ignis that lived here.  Yet here he was.  An imposture playing at himself.

He reached the upper landing and realized he didn’t even know which was his room and which was the guest’s.  It was a situation easily remedied, but… the fact it was a situation at all was distressing.

He took a guess, and was thankful that it appeared to have been correct.  If the pictures on the dressers and nightstand were anything to go by.

Most of the pictures were of Ignis and Ravus, showing that they both had been in Altissia since Ignis was at least a child of maybe eleven or twelve.  The taste of bile coated Ignis’ mouth as he recalled Ravus’ argument of Ignis having nothing left in Insomnia.

Why had he come to Altissia so young?  What about Noctis, or Gladio?  There was ONE picture which showed them all at some terribly young age with gap-toothed smiles; but beyond that: nothing.

He let out a wordless cry as he fell backwards onto the bed, his hand raised to his mouth like it could contain the sound he had just made.

What was this life that he had been dropped into?

What was he expected to do, beyond serving the Astral?  What did that even mean, to serve an Astral?

He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, and then another and another.  After a few seconds he opened them.

What were five things that he could see? He could see the photos, the pattern of the comforter on his bed, the grain of the laminate ‘wood’ flooring, and the window showing off a stellar view of the townhomes across the canal.

What were four things he could feel or touch?  He could touch the comforter (soft and slightly fuzzy), the picture frame on the nightstand (cold, hard, plastic), the laminate flooring (mostly smooth except the slight grit of some dirt), and the material of the clothes the hospital had given him (fake, synthetic cloth). 

Three things he could hear: the sounds of people outside the townhome walking around, the ticking of a clock that he knew would drive him crazy when he tried to sleep, the calls of the gondoliers in the canals.

He still needed two things he could smell, and one thing he could taste, but that would require him leaving the room.  He didn’t feel ready for that.  Yet he took another deep breath (it smelled like him in the room), and forced himself to walk over to the dresser to pick out clothes to wear.

He needed… he needed to get himself together.  To figure out what was going on, and how to survive in this reality.

For starters, he needed to jot down anything he could remember from his original reality before he could forget it.  There would be no way for him to obtain information from that reality once he forgot it; and while it might not be relevant here, it was still valuable to him.

Then he could scour over the books downstairs.  They had appeared upon first glance to be many of the same he had in Insomnia.  Once he had his list, then he could start trying to chart out the differences between the realities.

Once that was done… then he could assess what to do after.

He made his way back down the stairs and hesitated for a second before heading to the kitchen to fix himself a cup of coffee.  If he was going to be doing paperwork, then he knew he would need it.

That finished, (he could add the smell of coffee to his list.  Now he just needed one thing to taste), he took his cup to the kitchen table.  A loose stack of paper already awaited him, and he let out a quiet sigh of relief.

He took a sip of his coffee (and there was the last of his list), and started the long process of trying to write down as much history as he could possibly recall.

Of course, a couple hours later, he had quite a few sheets of paper.  There were question marks scattered about them, from where Ignis had been unsure of the exact dates; and rings from the coffee where Ignis had accidently put the mug down on the papers.  But, he felt confident enough in his timeline.

It was time now to move to the most tedious of the tasks.   The easiest thing to check first would hopefully be in the rolled desk that he noticed earlier.  He rummaged through it for a few minutes, relieved that ‘he’ had forgotten to lock it. 

 “Ah-ha!” Ignis cheered to himself as he pulled out a small agenda.  During his time in Insomnia, he had kept one just like it.  A written summary of his current life – and Noctis’ – all tied up into one neat little book that he had almost always kept on his person and was replaced yearly.

In his life, it had been the lifeline to surviving palace life.  The key to knowing when meetings were scheduled, what paperwork needed to be done, and other key details and events that Ignis needed to keep track of.

He turned to the last day that had not been folded over, and frowned.  “752?”  No.  No, that didn’t make sense.  Even if he hadn’t seen Gladio and Noctis since he was little, this was the year when he should have joined the Crownsguard.

He flipped back through pages, unfolding them randomly to look at the events.

Meetings with Weskham, shifts at Maagho, meetings with Ravus – some of them marked with stars for some bizarre reason, sit-ins with Weskham’s meetings with Camelia Claustra, his twentieth birthday on II – 7. 

…

“I was eighteen in 752.”  If he was twenty now, then he was now older than Gladio.   That was, of course, granted this Gladio wasn’t born earlier like he had.  And what of Noctis?  Was Noctis born earlier as well?  Later?  The same?

“How much is different?”

“It was a hope that you could tell me.” Ramuh’s voice echoed like thunder in the sky, even in Ignis’ small townhome.   Ignis was very proud of the fact that he showed no external response beyond a small jolt and a slow turn.

Ramuh sat on his couch like it was an everyday normal occurrence.  His hands were folded neatly in his lap, his staff rested against the side table.  The Astral blinked at Ignis in the picture of perfect innocence.

Ignis’ agenda slipped from his hands and fell on the floor. 

“Uh.” He said, intelligently.

Of course, he had seen Ramuh before.  Noctis had summoned him more than once on their journey.  He was the last Astral that Ignis had seen Noctis successfully form a convent with, unless one counted Leviathan. 

Ignis did not count her seeing as he never saw a successful summon, although he had certain heard and felt it. 

But even still, the few times that he had seen the Fulgurian, he had been… well, not small enough to fit inside Ignis’ small Livingroom.  He certainly hadn’t looked as placid as he did now either.  Ramuh titled his head in a way that reminded Ignis way too much of his grandfather before he passed.  

“I’m in a different reality.” Ignis said, perhaps stupidly, as his brain finally caught on to the confirmation in the Astral’s words.  Ramuh smiled at him.  Ignis could not decide if it was a kind smile or not. 

“As you have already discerned, yes.”

Ignis felt weak at the knees.  He supposed he best get used to the feeling of talking with an Astral.  Considering he was a Messenger now.  Right.  It was time to steel himself, and ask the important questions.  Starting with... “Why aren’t I with Noctis?”

Ramuh blinked at him again, and once more tilted his head – this time in the opposite direction.  “The King of Kings?”

Ignis did not fidget no matter how much he wanted to.  Since when was he this filled with energy? “Yes.  I should be adviser to Prince Noctis right now.”

“Ah,” Said the Astral like that explained everything.  “That is a fascinating difference.” 

Since the Astral had failed to answer Ignis’ question, he moved on to another.  Well, technically, it was the same just asked in a different way.

Ignis felt like no part of this experience was ‘fascinating’.  “Why am I in Altissia?”

“I would have preferred you in Insomnia.” Ramuh commented.  Ignis got the déjà vu feeling of having to deal with similar ‘circle’ conversations with various Lords and Ladies of Insomnia. A very large part of him wanted to scream. 

He wanted answers, not riddles or circling conversations, or tests or questions.  It felt like his frustration was pouring out of a leaky faucet, unable to be turned off; and he was a bottle that was getting fuller and fuller. 

“You would have been given to me without any preamble if it wasn’t for your location.” Ramuh continued. 

Ah, yes.  Ignis recalled that it was the fact he was in Altissia that had upset Leviathan.  “How is the Hydraean’s Bonded?”

Ignis still could not tell if Ramuh’s smile was kind or not.  Silence was apparently the Astral’s response to that particular question.

“What is going on?!” Electricity arched through the air, and Ignis realized a second too late what he had been done. 

Quick as a flash of lightning, Ramuh was off the couch and standing in the middle of the room, the lightning from Ignis caught between his hands, bouncing around like a captured cactuar.  Ramuh’s smile, Ignis decided, was distinctly unkind. 

“Ifrit would have let your house and any others burn.”  Ramuh’s words were a rumble of an approaching storm.  “Leviathan would have laughed as you drowned.  Bahamut would not have lifted a claw to even acknowledge your existence.”  The Astral closed his hands around the lightning and with a quiet sizzle, extinguished it.

“You.”  Ramuh pointed a finger at him.  “Are a tactician, an advisor, and now a Messenger.  You have the means to find the answers that which you seek.”

Ignis swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling very, very, very small.  Ignis understood quite well: Ramuh was not a source of those answers.  Except, perhaps, maybe one.   Yet Ignis did not dare ask it.  Not right now, in any case. 

The why and how of him coming here was probably not an answer Ramuh wanted to give.

Ignis took a deep shuddering breath, held it for a second and then released.  “Books.”  He decided.  The books he kept focused primarily on Lucis.  Specifically, the Royal family, history, and laws.  All he needed to do was find the differences.

Ramuh’s smile might have been considered kind before he vanished between one blink and another. Ignis decided that he hated being a Messenger, and held newfound respect for Princess Lunafreya for having to deal with the Astrals and their melodramatics.

Ignis sighed, and picked up his coffee cup on his way back into the kitchen.  It was time to start a new pot.

He hesitated once in the kitchen and his stomach let out a low growl.  He exhaled sharply and put the mug on the counter before taking stock of his kitchen’s inventory.  It would appear that he would need to go grocery shopping soon, but in the meantime, he had the ingredients to make a decent Chickatrice noodle soup.

Before he started, he turned on the television and raised the volume enough to hear it as he cooked.  It thankfully came on to a news channel, and Ignis hummed to himself as he listened to the news anchors talking about some tax cuts that First Secretary Camelia Claustra was proposing. 

It cut a few minutes later to a segment on some festival planned later this month. Ignis imagined that Prompto would have likely enjoyed it; it sounded to be about Chocobos.

It hit Ignis, not for the first time, that with the exception of the mystery one – or two – other people that might have come over from his reality, that he was alone.  Gladio, Prompto, Noctis… they were gone.  Sure, they were likely versions of them here – if Noctis had survived the attack – but, they weren’t the ones that he knew. 

“Hello?” Ignis thanked the Six at Weskham’s interruption before he could spiral like he had upstairs.

“In the kitchen.”  Ignis replied, although he doubted it was strictly needed.  One would be able to painfully tell that he wasn’t in the living room and all one needed to do was breath to smell the soup bubbling away on the stove.

Ignis took out a spoon and sampled some.  It was still missing something.  He considered the soup and then the line of herbs he had picked out.  Maybe some powdered aegir root or wild onion? 

“Since when did you cook?” 

Ignis’ movements stilled as Weskham’s question hit him and he blinked down at the ingredients.  Since when did he cook?  He had always cooked.  He took an interest in it after Noctis told him about the tarts he had in Tenebrae in 744.

…

He looked to be eleven or twelve in the photo with Ravus in Altissia.  What if… what if Noctis never went to Tenebrae?  He wouldn’t have told Ignis about the dessert, and Ignis wouldn’t have learned cooking and baking in order to recreate it. 

But why hadn’t Noctis gone?  Was he not attacked here?  Or was it that Noctis had gone, but hadn’t told him about the dessert?

Either way, Ignis never took an interest in cooking. He put down the container of powdered aegir root. 

You’ve been holding out on me, kid.” Weskham said, suddenly beside Ignis and trying some of the soup with a different spoon.  He licked his lips and hummed.  “You’re right.  Needs some aegir root.”

“I don’t know where I learned to cook.” The lie spilled easily – too easily – from his lips. 

“It’s not uncommon for people who have a near death experience to come back with some skill they didn’t have before.” Weskham explained as he gently nudged Ignis away from the stove.  Ignis wanted to laugh and scream at the same time.

He doubted other near death experience patients were transplanted from an alternative reality where they learned how to cook to make a childhood sweet of the prince they served who was likely dead in the new reality.

“I’ll take over here.  Maybe you should go take a seat.” 

“I’m fine.” Ignis shook his head.  He was not fine.  He would not be fine until he knew the answers to his questions.  Said questions were on the tip of his tongue, threatening to slip out and expose himself to Weskham. 

Was Noctis alive?  Why was he in Altissia?  Why was Ravus in Altissia?  Why was he here, in this reality?  He clamped down on them, biting on his tongue to physically keep himself from asking.

Weskham let out a disbelieving noise. 

Ignis took a deep breath in through his nose and released it out of his mouth. “How long will you be staying?” He asked instead of the multitude of other questions.

Weskham frowned at him.  “I’m just checking in on you.  I was going to ask if you were hungry, but it seems you have that covered already.”

“Quite.” Ignis nodded.  “I’m still adjusting, that’s all.”

“To being a Messenger?”

“Will you be staying for soup?”  Ignis maneuvered around him to return back to the stove.  He added a sprinkle of the powdered aegir root and stirred the soup.

He couldn’t see Weskham, but he could hear him as he shifted and moved.  “I think… that would be a splendid idea.” 

“Splendid.”  Simply splendid.  Exactly what he wanted and needed: a distraction to his research. 

“Did you want to talk about it?” Weskham asked, and Ignis nearly dropped the spoon.  His brain immediately jumped to everything else before he realized that it was far more likely for the former advisor to be talking about being a Messenger.

“Not particularly.”

“We will need to.”

Ignis knew that.  He was a Messenger to Ramuh in Leviathan’s city.  It was a big deal.  “Will I be sent back to Insomnia?” He asked after a long moment of hesitation. 

“It is most likely.  Especially as you were injured, and you were sent here to study under me by Regis.”  Weskham sighed.  “Camelia’s not too pleased about the situation.”

“Does she know?”

“About you being a Messenger?  Six, no.  She’d have you booted out of the city faster than you can say ‘chocobo’.  She doesn’t need the heat from the Empire.  Not while she’s hosting Ravus under their noses.”

Ah.  So Ravus was not supposed to be here.  Ignis supposed that answered why Ravus had seemed so young in the photos.  But it didn’t answer why Ravus was in Altissia instead of Tenebrae or Niflheim. 

Ignis nodded and didn’t release so much as a sigh as just a breath.  “So I will return to Insomnia.”

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On one hand, if he returned to Insomnia, then he could see for himself what Noctis’ fate was.   On the other hand… he didn’t know what to do with himself, even if he stayed in Altissia.

All his life he had a duty: serving as Noctis’ advisor.  That had taken on many forms in his other life, but in the end it all boiled down to being the same.  Here… what was he to do?  If there was no Noctis to support, then who would be the one to end the scourge?

Was the scourge not something that this world needed to worry about, despite the daemon attacks?  Or was it that Noctis just simply wasn’t meant to be King of Kings here? 

Too many questions.

“You will stay here.”  Ignis couldn’t help but to jump at Ramuh’s voice as it thundered through the house.  A quick glance at Weskham showed that the man had no response except to narrow his eyes at Ignis and take a step closer.

“Are you alright?”

“Why?” Ignis ignored Weskham.  He assumed the offense the Astral would take if ignored would be far more dangerous than Weskham’s.

“It is not your place to question.  Only to deliver the message that is asked of you.” 

“…Right.” Ignis frowned.  This was not what he wanted to do for the rest of his life.  He wanted to serve Noctis, not be a mouthpiece for an Astral.   He found it hard to believe that he had been stolen from an afterlife with his King to be a mouthpiece for an Astral in some weird alternative reality.

“Ignis?”

“Ramuh wants me to stay in Altissia.”  Ignis returned to his pot of soup and tried to pretend that he couldn’t feel Weskham’s heavy gaze on him.  

Silence reigned in the house for a good long couple of minutes before Weskham cleared his throat.  “I take it the Stormsender did not deign to share why?”

“I was told that it wasn’t my place to question why, only deliver the message.” 

“…I see.” Weskham cleared his throat.  “That… throws a kink in the plan for you to return to Insomnia.”

“Just a bit.”  Ignis headed to the cabinet that had the bowls he had found earlier and grabbed two.  “I don’t fancy finding out Ramuh’s response should we deny or ignore him.”

“Neither do I.  So I guess you stay.”

“So it would appear.”

The conversation dissolved into silence.  Ignis cleared off the table, taking care to hide his timeline behind blank papers before getting Weskham out a bowl and filling it. 

“It looks like you’ve been working on a project.”  Weskham commented, eyeing the stack of papers.  

Ignis, for what was probably the first time in his life, shrugged.  “Just trying to piece everything together.”

“Everything?” Weskham raised an eyebrow.  He accepted his bowl and took a seat at the table.  Ignis could tell he was itching to go through the stack, but had the restraint not to.  He made a mental note to ensure those notes were thoroughly secured if not with him.

“Everything.” Ignis confirmed, and took a sip of his soup. 

The conversation fell silent again; and although Ignis knew the soup tasted fantastic from the way Weskham devoured it, it tasted like bitter tar in Ignis’ mouth.

~

It had been fortunate that Ignis’ decision to break had corresponded with Weskham’s visit.   As far as he knew, that was the only one planned.  So he shouldn’t be interrupted again until the morning.

If he wished to keep up appearances as this reality’s Ignis, then it would be prudent for him to be as familiar with this reality’s history as his own.  

Thankfully, the first major difference was abundantly apparent from the moment he opened a book.  Apparently there existed an entity known simply as ‘The King’s Uncle’, or during the time in which a queen ruled, ‘The Queen’s Uncle’.  Ignis only needed to see one photo to recognize said entity as the Chancellor of Niflheim and Personification of the Star Scourge, Ardyn.

Unlike his reality, however, Ardyn was not – and had never been so far as Ignis could tell – the Chancellor of Niflheim or Lucis’ enemy.  Instead, he served as an ‘advisor’ to the ruling monarch of Lucis whenever he wasn’t pulling a disappearing act that lasted generations at a time. 

According to the book – and several others that Ignis cross checked – Ardyn had been last seen at the side of King Regis, appearing a scant day after King Regis’ coronation after three generations of being missing.

Ignis suspected that whatever caused the change in the Chancellor’s black heart was likely responsible for the ripple of other changes that he noticed in his skimming of the books.   Like how the Wall was NOT pulled back to Insomnia in 725, and so far as the books knew, had still not been pulled back.

While the news program on the television didn’t display much other than Imperial propaganda and local Altissian/Accordian news, nothing on there seemed to indicate the Wall having been pulled back either. 

Which was a Huge Difference – possibly as huge as the change of Ardyn’s heart.  Ignis was loath to admit it, but there was very little chance that the Wall remaining wasn’t due to this Ardyn’s presence on the Lucian side.  Ardyn hadn’t been advising the ruling monarch – Regis’ father, Mors – but it just made sense that he was related somehow.

Ardyn had the King’s magic even when he sided with Niflheim.  It was not too far of a stretch to believe that Ardyn could have either a) helped cause the wall’s need to be pulled back in Ignis’ reality or b) helped strength the wall in this reality to prevent it from needing to be pulled back.

In any case, the result was that the wall was not pulled back, and thus, Galahd and a lot of the other Lucian territory remained under the Lucian flag and protection.

Which of course led to a tangent of thought about what affects having those territories under the wall had on the relationships between said territories and Insomnia.  He knew in his own reality, the relationship had deteriorated steadily since the removal of the wall until it reached the powdered keg of trouble that lead to treason and betrayal.

Tensions had been high between the Kingsglaive and Crownsguard.  Heck, tensions had been high between the Kingsglaive and the Insomnians. 

But here, things were hopefully different.  Insomnia’s citizens wouldn’t have need to be so weary of ‘immigrants’ from beyond the wall – never mind that Lucian citizens shouldn’t be considered immigrants simply for existing beyond the wall – if they were all under the wall.

That was a query that neither books nor news programs would likely be able to answer. He wouldn’t know until he returned to Insomnia… whenever that may be.   He had no idea why Ramuh was insistent on him staying in Altissia, or even for how long he was expected to stay. 

The only real blip of Empire activity on Lucian soil was the successful break in the wall and attack on the Royal Family in 744 which corresponded perfectly with the attack on Noctis in his reality.  It seemed this reality’s Noctis was not as lucky to be healed by the Queen of Tenebrae, as there was no mention of it in the book.

Then again, there was no mention of it in Ignis’ original book either. The only reason he had known of it was because of his position as Noctis’ future advisor, and because of his friendship with Gladio. The whole visit had been kept secret specifically to avoid what ended up happening.

So Ignis was not surprised by the lack of information about the visit.  It was the lack of information after the visit should have occurred, however, that was worrisome. 

Especially since he now knew that the attack had indeed occurred as it had in his reality.  

But of course, this didn’t make sense because if the attack happened, then Noctis should have gone to Tenebrae to be healed.  The healing would be successful unless it wasn’t here and then Noctis would return to tell Ignis about the dessert.

But this Ignis didn’t know how to cook.  Which meant…

Which meant something Ignis was not sure he was prepared to theorize.  Because if Noctis had been attacked, but Ignis had not been informed about the treat and had instead been sent to Altissia, then well…

Ravus claimed that there was nothing left for Ignis in Insomnia.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.  There were only so many theories he could think of.  He could at least be assured of Noctis’ continued life as the death of the prince would have surely been in the books.

Yet that thought did little to comfort him.

Had the healing not taken as it had in his reality?  If so, why?  Was Ardyn the cause of that?  And also the cause of the Wall breaking to allow Niflheim troops through?  Was it possible that Noctis had not gone to Tenebrae at all?  Was Ardyn the cause of that change too?

Ignis sighed and leaned back in his chair, stretching until he heard his joints pop before getting up and renewing his cup of coffee.  Were Gladio here, he would have taken the coffee mix away by now. 

He groaned as he resumed his seat and reviewed over some of the other changes that he had noticed.  Perhaps the key to understanding what had happened to Noctis was hidden in other changes. 

Shiva’s awakening in 720 as opposed to 745 likely wasn’t related.   In his reality, Niflheim had invaded in 725 due to the Wall being pulled back.  That hadn’t happened here. 

…

Maybe the cause of what happened to Noctis for him not to be healed wasn’t with Lucian history but Tenebraen history.  After all Ravus had been in Altissia from at least 744.  Why was Ravus here?

Also, it had only been spoken of once, but Ignis was sure he had heard something that implied that Queen Sylva was alive still.   Which would imply that the 744 meeting between her and the Lucian Royalty hadn’t occurred.

In his reality, Noctis visited in 744 after being attacked.  Niflheim found out about the visit, killed Queen Sylva, annexed Tenebrae, and took Prince Ravus into their military service.  Here, it was becoming clear that Noctis had not visited after the attack.

So then… what had caused Queen Sylva to send Ravus to Altissia?  Why had Noctis not gone and visited her?

He didn’t have any books on Tenebraen history, and those that mentioned it did not go into much detail.  He would need to either a) find other literature on this matter or b) go straight to the source.

Going to the source – Ravus – was a faster option, however, it also a risky option.  It was unlikely that he would be able to gather the information needed without first revealing that he was from another reality – or at least had the mind and memories from another reality. 

He would need to wait to go to the bookstore or library.  If Ravus or Weskham did decide to drop by to check in on him, the last thing he needed was them finding his home empty.

The only other place he could think to find information was from Ramuh, but he doubted the Astral would answer him.  Since his brief visit to insist Ignis stay in Altissia, the Astral had felt… distant, for lack of better term.

The magic was still there, nestled in the spot that should have housed Noctis’.  He had no doubt that he could pull upon it should he need to.   Speaking of that magic… he should probably try to work with it so that he didn’t have another incident like with what happened at the hospital or while alone with Ramuh. 

He would finish up with some of his research, take another break for left over soup, and then work on some meditation before bed.  Then in the morning, he could see about going to the library or a bookstore.

Of course, a few hours later, Ignis found that sleep was not something easily found as he had assumed.

The bed, he quickly decided, was the problem.  During the decade of darkness, he had mostly slept on either the ground or a cot.  And then, of course, leading up to the decade, he had lived on the road; which meant a lot of hotels and camping. 

He refused to acknowledge that it might not have been the bed that was the problem so much as being alone.  Staying in Lestallum during the Long Night had often meant sharing a cot in a room full of people.  It was easier that way.

There was safety in numbers, after all.

That wasn’t to say that he had not slept in a bed at all during the Long Night.  But those times had been far and few in between.  And sleep had been easy to come then.  Perpetual tiredness was expected when one had to battle nearly ever moment of their life just to live.

Of course, it had always helped to have Gladio at his back.  The Shield’s arm warm and secure around Ignis’ waist; his breath on the nape of Ignis’ neck. 

There was also a certain lack of noise.  Within Lestallum’s walls, it was never quiet.  The lack of sunlight had made time obsolete in a way.  People worked around the clock a) to insure the safety of the city and b) to cull the daemons.

When out and about, one could always hear the daemons.  The shrieking giggles of imps and goblins, the groaning metal of the Giants, and so much more. 

Here, yes, there was some noise from outside, but compared to what Ignis had grown used it… it was quiet.  Quiet in a way that Ignis had long learned meant danger, because daemons were only ever quiet if they were trying to lure one into a trap.

Needless to say, Ignis had a long and tiresome night. 

He dragged himself downstairs when his alarm went off at 5, and attempted to drown his tiredness in a cup or three of coffee. 

Ravus was, perhaps unsurprisingly, his first visitor of the day.  He did not visit through the front door, as one would expect, but instead knocked on the back door leading out to the balcony that hung over the canal.

Ignis stared at him blankly from his spot at the kitchen table. 

It seemed Ravus took that as an invite for the door opened not even a moment later and the prince stepped inside. 

“I’d ask how you slept last night, but it hardly looks as if you got any.”   Was Ravus’ morning greeting.  Ignis grunted into his coffee.  “Lucky for you then that Weskham has seen fit to assign your shift at Maagho today to me.”

…

Prince Ravus worked at Weskham’s bar/restaurant.  That was… that was probably one of the most surprising things that Ignis had learned about this reality.  It was less surprising that Ignis himself worked there as well.

Ignis blinked at him and took a long sip of his coffee. 

“How many does that make?” Ravus asked, eyeing the coffee.  “Have you even had breakfast yet?” He paused.  “What am I asking, of course you haven’t.  You couldn’t boil water without setting it aflame first.”

Okay.  That was worth giving energy to respond to.  “Weskham quite enjoyed my soup last night.”

Ravus blinked, clearly “You made soup?”  He repeated, before adding on, “and you didn’t poison him?”

Ignis would have been more offended – not to say that he wasn’t, because he was – if it wasn’t for the fact that the Ignis of this reality did not cook.  It was in fact a surprise to Ravus that Ignis could successfully cook something.

“I still have some left over if you would like.” 

“No offense, but I’ll take my free meal at Maagho.”  Whelp, Ignis could hardly blame him there.  Maagho’s food was quite good.  Ignis had tried to replicate it a few times with mixed results.  The closest success had been Lasagna al Forno (known as Maagho Lasagna at the restaurant). 

“None taken.  Maagho’s food is some of the finest around here.” 

“Exactly.” Ravus tapped the table.  “It’s both a blessing and a curse they don’t serve breakfast.  Speaking of, I was thinking we could grab some before Weskham sends me off to work and absconds with you to speak of your Messenger status.” 

It was somewhat endearing how Ravus was trying to pretend that Ignis’ status as a Messenger didn’t bother him.  

Ignis sighed into his coffee and thought for a moment of turning down Ravus’ suggestion.  It was just a thought, however, as the majority of the kitchen’s stock was empty.  He tapped his fingers against the porcelain of the mug. 

“I would be amendable to this plan, so long as we may stop by a few stores on our way back.  I would like to make a trip to both grocer and a bookstore.”

Ravus raised an eyebrow.  “One success with soup and suddenly he thinks himself a chef.”  He scoffed.

“Actually.” Ignis began.  “Weskham was of the opinion that it was a blessing from surviving my near death experience.  He said it’s not uncommon for patients to come back proficient with skills they lacked before.”

“Is that so?”  Ravus asked.

“I’ll pardon your suspension of belief, if only because I know you’ll come to appreciate my newfound skill.”

“How will I?  Weskham will be sending you to Insomnia.”  Ravus waved his hand in the air as if batting away an annoying fly. 

“I suppose he hasn't had the chance to inform you yet, but Ramuh has decreed that I am to stay in Altissia.”  Ignis took another measured sip from his coffee to allow Ravus time to process the information.

“Why would Ramuh wish for you to stay here?”  Ravus’ eyebrows were pinched together in a way that tempted Ignis to tease that his face would stay that way if he kept making the face.  It was certainly easier to talk to this Ravus than the one he knew.

But then again, the Ravus he knew watched his mother be slaughter before his eyes and been forced into the Niflheim military.  It was only natural that this Ravus – who appeared to have grown up with Weskham – would be more at ease.

It was similar to how easy Noctis was to speak to due to his attending public school and living outside the citadel among the citizens.

“I could not say.”  Ignis replied.

Ravus’ expression shifted to one Noctis would often make anytime he ate some of those sour candies Prompto tended to carry around.  “Well, that’s…”  He paused.  “It’s good you’re staying here.”

That was probably as close to a ‘I would have missed you’ as Ignis would get.  He’d take it.  “Right then.”  Ignis put down his finished coffee.  He could always get more at wherever Ravus took him for breakfast.

At least, he hoped that Ravus would be the one to show him the way.  Ignis wasn’t entirely familiar with this part of Altissia as the sections he had explored with Noctis was only a small part of the city. 

“We best be off if we still want to have breakfast.”  Especially if Ignis wanted to do some shopping and he didn’t know when Ravus’ shift at Maagho started.

“Indeed.”

~

Weskham had quite the operation at Maagho.  It was more impressive than Ignis had originally thought.  The restaurant itself was already impressive, but the fact that it was just a cover, was far more.

Oh, of course it was an actual restaurant.  An accomplished one at that, and it needed to be for it to do its primary purpose of information gathering.  It was amazing what all people would talk about while thinking their words were lost and safe within the noise and chatter of the restaurant.

It was amazing how many people overlooked the waitstaff.  It was as if they forgot the waitstaff were human and had ears with which to listen.  It was as if they just assumed the waitstaff to be automations which took their order and delivered it and did nothing else.

Ignis could suddenly understand why exactly Weskham chose to set up a restaurant when he decided to stay in Altissia.  Within one week of working there, Ignis had the insider knowledge of at least three legal company mergers and two illegal ones. 

Within a month, He knew who was against Camelia’s newest tax cut plan and why. He found companies that profited from the war, and some that even went as far as to try to poke the sleeping giants to get more profits. 

He heard news from people visiting from Tenebrae, Niflheim or on the rarest of occasions, Lucis.  He even heard military plans whenever someone from the Niflheim military stopped in. 

It was honestly unreal how much of a jackpot of information the restaurant was.  He was a bit upset to have not noticed or thought of it before.

It went without saying that part of Ignis’ job was, naturally, to gather this information and report it to Weskham.   Of course, the other part of his job was actually waitstaff.  A position he shared with Ravus. Normally they alternated shifts, but during the busiest days – Fridays and Saturdays – they both worked the dinner rush.

Ignis passed by Ravus on his way to Weskham’s office.  Secretary Sidon Dorephan at table 10 wanted to speak to the owner, and it was near impossible to tell if the lord wanted to make a compliment, complaint, or just to chat with Weskham. 

Ignis reached out and grabbed him.  “Arista on table 8 wants to be waited by you.”  

Ignis still didn’t know most of the customer’s names like Ravus did, but he was quick to learn them.  He had to be if he wanted to not raise suspicions.  Thankfully, it seemed like a lot of patrons were regulars like Sidon and Arista.

“Again?” Ravus furrowed his eyebrows.  “That’s the fourth time this week.  Where is she getting the money to come here?”

“Her father most likely.  He’s the CEO of FM&A Pickled Olives.”  Ignis paused.  “I believe she may have a crush on you.”

“She’s sixteen.” Ravus replied, his tone flat. 

Ignis raised an eyebrow.  “So?  It was never said you had to reciprocate.” 

“Ugh.”  Ravus pulled away from Ignis and continued down the hall. 

Ignis watched him go for a second before continuing on himself.  Sidon tended to get antsy when left waiting.  And if Ravus was going to be waiting on table 8, Sidon would not hesitate to grab him if he thought Ignis was taking too long.

“I can’t return to Lucis, Clarus.  Not yet.  Not now.” Ignis paused by the door to the office of Maagho, his previous task of informing Weskham of Sidon’s request all but fleeing from his mind as Weskham’s muffled voice drifted through the cracked door. 

“Yes, yes.  I heard you, but it sounds as if you have a perfectly capable replacement for the Captain of the Kingsglaive—” Weskham made a noise as he was apparently cut off.  Ignis frowned.  A replacement for the Captain?  If it was the same captain from his reality, he couldn’t understand why.

The only thing that Ignis could think of was that the corruption in the Kingsglaive had reached the Captain, but no.  It couldn’t be.  It would have been noticed sooner if it reached that high.  Besides, there was no proof that there was any traitors in the Kingsglaive of this reality.

Not for the first time, Ignis cursed that Libertus had never shared the identity of any of the traitor glaives.   Electricity buzzed under his skin at the thought of the traitors, and Ignis had to take a deep breath to clear his mind and keep it from manifesting.

“Does Regis trust him? Then he’s fine, Clar- wait.  Weird in what way?  Have you spoken to Regis about this?  Of course you haven’t.  Have you spoken to Cor?  What do you mean Cor’s opinion doesn’t count!?”

Ignis related to the amount of incredibility in Weskham’s tone.  Marshal Cor, the Immortal, Leonis was one of the most soundly logical men that Ignis ever knew.  He was one of the few people that he, Gladio, Prompto, and even Noctis, all respected and held in high regard.

What kind of situation involving the Kingsglaive would make Cor’s opinion not count?

“Look.  I cannot with you right now, Clarus.  Speak with Cor or Cid, or Six, speak with Regis himself!  If this behavior is worrying you, it’s your job to check it out.  I have my own situation here in Altissia I’m trying to circumnavigate.”

Ah, that would be Ignis.  Weskham still had yet to tell Camelia about Ignis’ status as the Messenger of the Fulgurian as he was under the belief that she would have him tossed from the city out of fear of angering the Hydraean.  A fair concern, as Leviathan had threatened as much in the beginning.

He wondered, sometimes, what the Astral was doing, and who she had chosen as her Bonded.  He hoped they were having a better go at it than him. 

“If you must know, some girl is claiming to be Tenebrae’s lost princess.”

That was news to Ignis.

But, if it was true… then it was very, very good news to Ignis.

In his studying of the Tenebraen history books, he had come to the conclusion that his theory of them holding answers had been correct. Unfortunately, as with many things in this reality, the more answers he received, the more questions he had.

According to multiple books, Tenebrae was annexed not in 744, but in 735. 

Which had answered the question about why Noctis had not visited very nicely.  It did not, however, answer the question of why King Regis had sent Ignis to Altissia. 

The only thing that Ignis could assume was that Noctis was unavailable for whatever reason.  But why? 

He feared he wouldn’t like the answer to the question.  Yet surely Noctis was still alive.  If he was dead, it would be written down in the books – an excuse he had told himself multiple times now.  If Noctis was dead, then King Regis wouldn’t have sent Ignis to Altissia to study under Weskham.   If he was dead…

Then Ignis didn’t know what to do anymore.  His entire life he had dedicated it to Noctis.  Even the only thing that he could really claim to have taken for himself was related in some part to Noctis. 

In any case, all mention of Ravus abruptly stopped in 736, so Ignis assumed that was when the prince had been sent to Altissia.  Likely for his own protection.

Ignis theorized that Ravus had been threatened by the Empire before.  Like in 725 when the Lucian-Accordian alliance failed.  In his reality, it failed due to the invasion of Niflheim into Lucis.  In this reality, there was no listed reason. 

But Ravus had been born not in 728, but in 725.  The same year the treaty failed.  It was too much of a coincidence for Ignis to ignore. 

There was no mention in the books of when the princess was handed over to Niflheim, but her last known location had been in Gralea.  Ignis had been spending many sleepless nights trying to think of a way to rescue her.

While Queen Sylva was alive, it had been reported – even in Altissian newspapers and programs – about her failing health which forced her to remain in Fenestella manor instead of touring the countryside.

Should the queen’s health continue to decline, there would be none other to take up the mantle of Oracle besides Lunafreya.  And the Oracle was paramount to the people’s survival of the Star Scourge.

She could not be left in Imperial custody. 

Once she was out, she would need to undergo her training.  It shouldn’t be difficult for her, considering in his reality she had been made the youngest Oracle ever.

He had been at a loss at how to help her while stuck in Altissia with Ravus and Weskham… but perhaps this news was the reason that he was stuck in Altissia to begin with.

He had been doing some in depth reading of Cosmogony, and found that Messengers were not just voice puppets of the Astrals.  They were also used to act in an Astrals place when the Astral themselves could not. 

It was for that reason that they had been involved in the War of the Astrals to begin with.  Perhaps the reason Ramuh needed him in Altissia was to help the princess.

“It’s been a nightmare trying to find her before Prince Ravus hears of it.  It doesn’t help that the rumors are being kept very quiet.  I don’t think Camelia has even heard of them.  No!  I don’t think she really is.  How would she have escaped Niflheim?”

“Ignis?” Ravus’ voice had Ignis jumping.  He spun around to look at the prince with wide eyes. “Sidon said he’s been waiting for a while for you to get…”  He trailed off and gave Ignis a hard look.  “Were you eavesdropping on Weskham?!”

Ignis shushed him immediately and listened for any sign Weskham heard them.  “I don’t know, Clarus.”  It seemed he had not.

He made motions with his hands for Ravus to move and only once they were a decent amount away from Weskham’s office did he speak.  “Weskham’s not currently available.  I’ll talk to you about it later.”

Weskham didn’t want Ravus to know about this girl who claimed to be Lunafreya, but… she was Ravus’ sister, and Ignis would not be able to find her own his own. Not if even Weskham was having difficulty. 

Ravus opened his mouth for a second and then closed it.  After a moment, he said, “You’ll explain eavesdropping on Weskham?”  Ignis nodded.  “Fine.  But you’re telling Secretary Dorephan about Weskham.”

“Naturally.”  Ignis inclined his head.  He started off towards the dining area and paused when Ravus didn’t follow.  He looked back at the prince to see him looking down the hallway to Weskham’s office.   “Ravus.  I will tell you what I heard later; I promise.”

Ravus nodded, and after another moment of hesitation, followed after Ignis.  Ignis mentally sighed.  This shift was going to be a long one. 

As per usual, Ignis’ suspicion was a correct one.  All night long, Ravus kept glancing at Ignis.  It was almost enough to make him want to ask to be transferred to the market side bar that he had visited with Noctis and the others.  Ravus hated it down there, and wouldn’t likely follow.

Ignis didn’t.  Instead he politely informed the Secretary that Weskham had stepped out and was unavailable.  Sidon had been unhappy about it, but it turned out that he didn’t need Weskham for any particular reason at all.

A lucky break for Ignis, it seemed.

In any case, by the time the shift had ended, Ignis was dead tired, and just wanted to go home and either a) curl up on the couch with another history book or b) just go to bed.

Neither options were available if only because he knew the moment he got home, he’d have about ten minutes before Ravus jumped the gap between their balconies and bothered Ignis about what he had overheard.

That in mind, Ignis opened the balcony door and started to make a cup of coffee as soon as he got home.  Ten minutes later, on the dot, Ravus knocked on the door.  Ignis didn’t bother to look up before saying, “Come in”. 

 “Give me a good reason I shouldn’t tell Weskham you were listening in on him.”  Impatience was apparently something inherent in Ravus if it manifested in him in both realities.  Aggression too, although this Ravus’ was curbed some by living with Weskham instead of the military.

Ignis leaned against the abysmal excuse for a breakfast bar between the dining area and the kitchen, and tapped his fingers on the mug.  “I wasn’t intending to listen, just waiting for an opportunity to interrupt.  He was talking to Lord Amicitia.”

Ravus’ eyebrows knitted together. “The King’s Shield?  Whatever for?”

“Apparently the Kingsglaive needs a new captain, and he had concerns about the most likely replacement.”

Ravus snorted, and although he did not say it, Ignis could hear the snide ‘is that all?’.   “If the Shield has concerns on that person, then they should not be the replacement.”  Ravus waved his hand in the air in a dismissive move.  “End of story, why was Weskham involved?”

“Because Lord Amicitia wanted him to return to Insomnia.”

That had Ravus pausing.  Ignis continued to tap his fingers on the mug, and began to chew on his cheek in the silence.  Within one breath and the next, he could feel the hairs on his body stand as an electrified current ran through the air. 

Ramuh was watching this interaction.  Ignis was not sure how he felt about that.

“To visit?”

“It’s not clear.  I only heard Weskham’s half of the conversation, and only a small part of it.”  Ignis took a sip of his drink.  “Weskham declined him.  Said he had more pressing matters here.”

“Like you.”

The electric pressure seemed to bear down on Ignis, and although he could not claim to know for sure what the Astral thought, he assumed Ramuh was interested in which choice Ignis would make.  He could agree with Ravus.  He could say that Ignis was the reason Weskham gave for not being able to leave.

He could lie and then try to find Lunafreya on his own in a city he only barely knew.  After all, there had to be some reason that Weskham had not told Ravus about these rumors; that Weskham was trying to keep these rumors from Ravus.

Or he could stick to his plan to tell Ravus. 

The prince deserved to know about the possibility of his sister being here.  And if anyone had any idea where she could be, it would likely be Ravus.  He already knew that Ravus used his Balcony to escape out into the city at night with Weskham’s knowing. 

He had caught the prince coming back at some horrid hour of the morning.  Ignis hadn’t been able to sleep, and Ravus had snuck along the side of the building to climb up onto Ignis’ balcony, startling the both of them.  Ignis claimed to be awake due to a bad dream, and Ravus admitted that he had been out for most of the night.

Then Ravus had hopped up on the balcony railing – giving Ignis a heart attack – and lit up a cigarette before asking if Ignis wanted to talk about his bad dream.

The whole interaction had felt surreal and Ignis would have believed it for a dream if he hadn’t later found ash on the floor of his balcony between the railing and the edge where Ravus put out his cigarette.

Ignis exhaled sharply, and he could swear he could hear the rumbling whisper of Ramuh telling him to make his choice.  “No.” 

The electricity abated; the pressure lifted.  He made his choice, and Ramuh turned his gaze elsewhere.  Ignis wondered if he had made the right choice.

“No?” Ravus echoed.  “Is something else going on?”

“Maybe.  Weskham told Clarus of some rumors he heard… about your sister.”

Ravus’ entire body tensed.  “Lunafreya?” His voice was quiet, firm, and carried more than a little hurt hidden underneath.  “What about her?”

Perhaps it would have been better had Ignis not said anything.  He wondered that while eyeing the way Ravus’ hand clenched and unclenched repeatedly.  The prince was still tense, his whole body practically quivering with how uptight he was.

“Apparently she’s in the city.  Or at least, someone claiming to be her is.  Weskham didn’t want you to know.”

The sound that escaped from Ravus was akin to a snarl.  One Ignis had heard plenty of while fighting along side and against Ravus.  

“I was planning on looking for her.”  Ignis said when Ravus did not make any other response. 

“No need.” Ravus replied, his tone sharp and hard, and still carrying too much hurt. “I’ll find her myself.” Ignis’ ‘danger’ senses were going haywire and he put down his mug. 

“Hold on.  I want to help.”

“You’ve helped enough giving me this information.  I’ll find this imposture myself.”

“What if she’s not?” Ignis asked.  “What if she is—”

“Is my sister?  Not likely, Ignis.  Use your head.  She was taken at three.  THREE!  Do you know what the empire does to children that young?  Do you know what they could have been doing to her?  The last time she was seen was months ago.  MONTHS.  My sister is Dead.  She’s been dead since they took her!”

Part of Ignis’ gobbled up the information greedily, twisting it into facts for easier consumption.  Lunafreya was taken by the Empire at age three.  That meant either late 734 or early 735.  735… the year Noctis was born and the year that the Empire annexed Tenebrae.

In his reality, Tenebrae lost a queen when they were annexed.  In this reality, they lost a princess. Ignis felt sick. 

Queen Sylva had been known for her fierce protectiveness over her children.  Why had her three-year-old daughter being kidnapped by the Empire been allowed? 

He didn’t have time to ponder these questions.  Not now.  “But what if she’s alive, Ravus?  What if she’s here seeking asylum same as you?”

Ravus’ glare bore into Ignis.  “She’s been with the empire for seventeen years, Ignis.”  735 then.  The year Noctis was born.  Was that somehow tied into her kidnapping?  Into the reason that this Ravus still harbored anger at Lucis? 

No.  This still wasn’t the time for such thoughts.

“Then a reunion is long overdue.” Ignis said. 

Ravus glared at Ignis, and Ignis held his ground.  Too many times he had similar fights with Gladio.  To look away would be to admit defeat, and Ignis would not admit defeat on this.  He was going to help Ravus find Lunafreya – if she was in the city. 

If she wasn’t, well.  Then Ignis was going to make sure Ravus didn’t do something he’d later regret to whoever was impersonating his sister.

Ravus looked away.  “We both have tomorrow off.  We’ll start looking then.”

“Agreed.” Ignis nodded.  Ravus turned away and made it to the threshold of the doors before a thought occurred to Ignis.  “Ravus?” The prince turned around.  His gaze was still hard, his body still tense, but he was listening, and that was all Ignis could ask for now.  “Don’t go looking without me.”

Ravus’ hand clenched and unclenched.  “Fine.” He agreed, and then he was gone; hoisting himself up over the railing to over to his own townhome.  Ignis watched the balcony for a moment before getting a blanket off the couch and curling up in the chair outside. 

He didn’t trust Ravus.

~

“Are you sure this is the place?” Ravus’ voice was a low growl, as it tended to be anytime they were searching for the girl claiming to be sister.  Which was to say anytime that they weren’t with Weskham or working at Maagho. 

It had been a week, and yet all their attempts to find her thus far had ended in failure.  Ignis had faith in their current attempt, however.  Their previous attempts were like randomly digging through a haystack for a needle, but this attempt had some direction to it.

The rumors had been growing, enough that Ignis had overheard one of the patrons of Maagho, Ronso,  talking about ‘Lady Lunafreya’ performing miracles at Pacente Park.  Naturally, this was news that Ignis passed off to Ravus instead of Weskham. 

The prince had wanted to go immediately, but Ignis had convinced him to wait until a day they were both off from Maagho.  So, two days after hearing the rumor, there they were: in Pacente Park.

It was considerably different than the last time Ignis saw the place.  Last time it had been ruined by Leviathan’s anger and Niflheim forces.  This time, it was normal.

“Ronso said to look for the ice, it’ll lead the way.” Ignis answered Ravus. 

Ravus didn’t answer except to scowl.  When Ignis had first relayed the information, Ravus had argued that his sister had not been Bonded.  Shiva was weakened from her fight with Niflheim in 720, and had not the strength for a bonding.

Ignis privately disagreed.  She had ‘fallen’ in 745 in his reality, and by 756, she had plenty of strength still.

He ignored the prince and cast his gaze around the park, looking for anything ‘icy’ to lead the way.  There was a shaved ice vendor, but Ignis doubted very much that that was the clue. 

“You’d think it would be easier to find her if she’s offering mira…” The prince’s muttering trailed off, and Ignis looked over his shoulder to ensure he was alright.  Weskham would have his head if anything happened.  Especially because the only reason they were out and about was because of Ignis telling Ravus news that Weskham wanted kept secret.

Ravus was standing by a pillar holding up a balcony that overlooked the park.  He reached out and touched something on the pillar, and as Ignis approached, he realized it was ice.

To be more precise, it was actually a handprint made of frost.  There was a delicate pattern to it, as there was with most frost, but this pattern had Ignis pausing.  A snowflake fractal of a sylleblossom.  Tender vines of frost traced the pillar, spreading out from the handprint.

The frost should have been melting, but it wasn’t.  He reached out and touched it himself.  It was cold and slick under his fingers, but it did not change.  It did not melt. 

“This isn’t painted.” Ignis commented quietly before looking to the prince. 

Ravus looked… for lack of a better word, shattered.  He had yet to take his fingers off the palm of the handprint, his jaw slack, and eyes wide.  Ignis gave him a few minutes before gently nudging him.  Ravus came back with a slow blink and a thick swallow.  His hand fell from the ice slowly, like he was afraid it would vanish if he looked away.

“This doesn’t mean she’s my sister.” He whispered.  His voice was shaking, and Ignis hurt for him.  “This just means Shiva is involved.”

“The ice will lead the way.” Ignis repeated.  “There must be another around here that we need to find.”

There were several.  Each the same as before, a delicate handprint of frost, leading them down into the darker areas of the city.  The parts of the city one would only venture to if they had nothing to lose.  The parts of the city where one would best be able to hide.

Here, the frost handprints seemed to glow with a light all of their own.  A shining beacon in the darkness for them to follow.  Alleyway to alleyway, pillar to pillar, building to building.  The sun was already blocked by the buildings, but Ignis could tell that evening was setting in.

He was going to suggest stopping when they came to an alleyway that glowed.  It was coated in the frosted sylleblossoms; the walls covered; the ground coated.  A cold chill passed through Ignis, and was immediately replaced by the static shock of Ramuh as the Astrals acknowledged the shared presence of their Bonded. 

“She’s here.” Ignis whispered.  Ravus side eyed him and nodded. 

“Then let us go.”

There were bits of ice that formed actual flowers at the entrance, but as they proceeded down the alley, they sporadically showed up with increasing frequency. 

“Blessed Stars of Life and Light, deliver us from darkness’ blight.” The words were so soft spoken, Ignis wasn’t sure if he had imagined them.  The voice was as sweet as a bell, and one he had heard countless times over the radio as she made an address.

He hadn’t even seen her, and yet he knew.  This was Ravus’ sister.  This was the Princess of Tenebrae, future Oracle of the Astrals: Princess Lunafreya Nox Fleuret. 

They rounded the corner of the alleyway to see a small boxed area – not uncommon in Altissia.  What was uncommon was the field of icy sylleblossoms that swayed in a nonexistent wind.  What was uncommon was the light those blossoms made of ice gave off, illuminating two women: one at the edge of the field, and the other kneeling in the middle of it.

Lunafreya. 

A man kneeled before Lunafreya, and her hands were glowing brighter than the flowers as she took the mans’ face into her hands.  Before Ignis’ eyes, the scourge dripping off the man evaporated in dark smoke like it had never existed to begin with.  He looked up at Lunafreya with admiration. 

“Thank you.” He whispered.  The whisper echoed in this place, and Lunafreya smiled. 

“Do not thank me.”  She told him lightly.  “I only ask that you share my location with those who need it.” 

The man stood while Lunafreya remained kneeling, and exited using an alleyway by the other woman standing at the edge.  Her stance was familiar to Ignis, although he couldn’t think of why. 

“I think that’s the last one for today.” A woman’s voice echoed from the end of the alley.  It was stern, hard and entirely too familiar to Ignis: Aranea Highwind.  No wonder she had seemed familiar.  What was a mercenary of Niflheim doing here?

“No.” Lunafreya looked to them, standing in the corner of the entrance.  “I don’t believe so.”  The corner of her lips were slowly curving upwards into a smile. 

Ravus stepped into the field, and Aranea slipped into a defensive stance.  Ravus did not have any eyes for her, only his sister.

“Lunafreya.” He said as he dropped to his knees before her.  She reached up and cupped his face, just as she had with the previous man.  Her hands were not glowing, but her eyes might as well as been.

“I had hoped that you would find me, Ravus.”  At his name dropping from her lips, he pulled her into himself, wrapping his arms around her, like he was afraid she would disappear just as the scourge on that man had.  He rested his head on her crown, and Ignis thought he might have been crying. 

It felt like a personal moment that shouldn’t be interrupted.  Aranea, apparently, disagreed as she pulled out her weapon.  Ignis moved forward quickly with the intent to intercept the mercenary. 

“Nea.”  Lunafreya somehow pulled herself away from her brother and looked over her shoulder at the mercenary.  “I am safe.” 

Aranea stopped halfway between where she started and the two.  This close, Ignis could see her gaze darting between the siblings.  She bared her teeth.  “Are you sure?” Her gaze shifted to Ignis a moment later. 

The weapon she had, thankfully, wasn’t the Stross Spear, but a dagger.  Ignis only had a dagger himself, something he refused to leave home without after finding out he had been unarmed in the mugging that took the Ignis from this reality’s life. 

“I am.” Lunafreya stood up with some assistance from Ravus, and listed to the side against him. Ignis was immediately worried for her, but he doubted his worry could eclipse the amount Ravus was radiating.   “Ravus, this is Aranea Highwind.  She helped to rescue me.”

“How do you know that’s your brother?” Aranea demanded, “And not some spy to steal you back?”

“You’re just sour that I was right.”  Lunafreya responded.  Despite listing, she held her head up high. 

Aranea scowled.  Lunafreya ignored her to look over at Ignis, and he could see the exact moment she realized what he was.  “Oh.” She said.  “You’re a Messenger.  Thank you for bringing me my brother.”

“Ignis Scientia, at your service, your highness.”  Ignis stepped forward with a bow.  “It’s nearing night.  If you ladies would like, I would be more than happy to provide accommodations.”

“We’re not going anywhere until I know for sure that she’s safe.” Aranea all but snarled. 

“I would never do anything to put my sister in danger.” Ravus’ growled in response.  “Not now that I’ve found her.”  Lunafreya slipped away from him to Ignis, and he allowed the princess to lean against him as Ravus and Aranea met in the middle and stared each other down.  “And how do I know you’re not a Niflheim spy using her as bait?”

Lunafreya let out a very, very tired sounding sigh. 

“How do you know she’s your sister?”

“Because I just saw her use our family’s gift to heal a man and there’s ice everywhere!  Of course she’s my sister!  You still haven’t answered my questions!”

“And you haven’t answered mine!”

They were so much in each other’s face right now that Ignis mused that if he pushed one of them towards the other, they’d probably accidently kiss.  And wasn’t that a pairing to bring about a headache?  Ravus and Aranea. 

How on Eos had they survived fighting on the same side in his reality? 

 “Do you think they would notice if we slipped away now?” Lunafreya whispered.  Her voice did not have the same echoey quality as before, and Ignis noticed that the glow of the icy flowers was fading.  Whatever strength she had was failing.

Ravus and Aranea were still nose to nose; hissing, growling, and snarling like animals.  Ignis turned them out as he turned his attention to the princess.  Ravus could handle himself against her.  It wasn’t like she had her spear with her.

“I don’t believe Aranea would be happy with that.” Ignis replied.  Lunafreya hummed, and gave him a speculative look. 

“No.  Probably not.  She won’t admit it, but I think I’ve grown on her.”  She paused, and then called out, “Nea!” with a louder volume than Ignis thought her currently capable of.  Aranea abruptly broke off from staring at Ravus.  “We’re taking their accommodations.  If you don’t trust Ravus, then at least trust Ignis as a Messenger.”

If looks could kill, Ignis was certain he would be impaled on the end of the Stoss Spear.  “Fine.” It sounded like the word had been strangled before she could even speak it. 

“Lunafreya can stay with me.” Ravus immediately suggested.  Aranea might as well as been a cat for how her hackles rose. 

“She’ll stay with the Messenger.”  She hissed.  “I don’t trust you.”

“And I don’t trust you.” Ravus spat back.

“Then you can stay together.” Lunafreya suggested.  “You two will surely trust each other better after spending a night together.”

Both Ravus and Aranea wore equal expressions of surprise and outrage. Ignis pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled sharply.   Ravus and Aranea turned on each other again only a second later.

“Leaving without them is still an option.”  Lunafreya suggested. 

“And wake in the morning to the news of Ravus being gutted?  No, I think not.”   He shook his head.  “The princess grows more tired the longer you fight.” He called out to them.  “Let us at least bring this conversation back home where she can rest in relative peace.”

Lunafreya’s welfare was apparently the only thing that Ravus and Aranea could agree upon as that shut them both up.  Aranea took a couple steps back from Ravus and with one last cutting glare at him, turned away to the edge where she had been standing.  She turned seconds later with a shawl that she wrapped around Lunafreya.  

And then they were off.

Ignis imagined they might quite the procession as they made their way through Altissia’s darkened streets.  Ravus and Aranea both insisted on being next to Lunafreya, leading to the poor girl being sandwiched between them.  Ignis trailed behind at a more leisurely pace, keeping an eye out for any threats to the two royals.

After a few moments, another step of footsteps joined his.  “This reunion was long overdue.” Ramuh commented.

Ah.  Yet another suspicion proven correct.  “I was to stay in Altissia to ensure this meeting.” 

Ramuh’s gaze cut from the royals to Ignis and then back to the royals.  The Astral didn’t confirm or deny the claims, but Ignis knew he was right.  “What do you know of Messengers?”

“Only what the Book of Cosmogony could tell me.” Ignis admitted.  “There is little information about them, even less on being Bonded.”

Ramuh hummed.  “It may be prudent for you and the young Oracle to seek out Cait Sith.  You may find an answer to a question you did not know you had there.”

“Cait Sith?”  Ignis repeated.  Cosmogony only spoke of the Messengers briefly, but he thought the name might have been on the list of the original twenty-four.  “Is… he in the city?”

Like any other time Ignis had asked a question, it was answered in silence.  He glanced to the side, but Ramuh was already gone.  Ignis sighed.   Of course he was gone.  When did Ramuh ever answer anything Ignis asked? 

The Astral was a wholehearted believer of finding the answers on their own.  Perhaps Shiva would be more forthcoming with Lunafreya.  He continued behind them until they reached the street that they lived on.  Then he sped up to catch up with the group.

He was curious how they were going to approach their homes. 

Normally, If Ravus wanted to keep his arrival secret, he would use the docks under the balconies to reach the end where Ignis’ house was, climb up to the balcony and jump over.  But that wasn’t exactly an option here. 

He doubted Aranea would be receptive to the idea, and even if she was, he doubted further that Lunafreya was in any state to follow the route.

Ignis had never asked for the reason for this behavior, as he assumed that he should have already known.  True to Ignis’ prediction, it seemed that wasn’t the plan now.  The group walked past Weskham’s home like it wasn’t important and stopped at Ignis’ door. 

“I’ll collect you both for breakfast.” Ravus said, looking not at Ignis but at Lunafreya like he was afraid she would vanish in the morning.  Ignis couldn’t say that he blamed him.  The last time this Ravus had seen his sister in person, she had been just a toddler.  Now here she was, all grown up.

“I await the morn.” Lunafreya replied.  She bowed her head slightly before turning to Ignis and waiting for him to allow them in.  Ravus and Aranea backtracked the couple of feet to Ravus’ door. 

They must have hammered out sleeping arraignments on the walk here.  Ignis couldn’t say that he was sad to have missed them.  If anything, he pitied Lunafreya for having to hear them. 

He allowed her entry first, and she removed her boots – ones good for long travel – and left her shawl on a hook by the door before making her way into the home.  He headed into the kitchen while she poked around in the living room. 

“Did you want anything to drink or eat?” He asked, watching her from over the ‘breakfast bar’ as she examined pictures of him and Ravus on the bookcases.  She picked one up and bit her bottom lip before putting it back down tenderly like it was something special.

She was thinner than he thought she ought to be.  Nothing but skin and bones and clothes.  She wasn’t even wearing Tenebraen or Imperial white, but a hodgepodge of clothes that one would expect from a tourist.

She had not come to Altissia to make a statement or garner attention.  So why had she come here?  Was it for asylum as Ignis had suggested to Ravus?

“If it’s not any trouble.”  She said.  Ignis nodded to himself and after a second of thought, started pulling out the ingredients for a breaded cutlet with tomato.   “Noctis once told me the food you make is to die for.” Ignis stopped mid-movement.

The words echoed in his head, bouncing around like one of Prompto’s rubber balls that he used to bounce off the side of buildings when bored in Insomnia.  Noctis once told me the food you make is to die for. 

Lunafreya had been with the empire since she was three.  Noctis never traveled to Tenebrae.  Ignis never learned to cook.  The only way for that sentence to make sense was if…

“You’re not from this reality.”  He turned away from his ingredients to stare at her.  She was still looking at the photos, a different one this time; one with Weskham in it as well.

“No more than you.”  She replied, putting the photo back down.  She twisted around to look at him, and offered a very tired smile.  She still listed to the side occasionally.  “One moment I was helping Noctis at the end, and when it was over… I was in a research facility in Niflheim.”

Her body quivered as she finished, and she automatically wrapped her arms around herself when she mentioned the facility.  Ignis had been blessed to not see the horrors there, but he still knew. 

There was silence for a good moment.  Lunafreya stood still, or at least tried to.  She swayed like she was unsteady on her feet, and Ignis frowned. 

“The sun rose just shortly before I was felled.  Take a seat.  I’ll have some food for you shortly.” Perhaps breaded cutlets in tomato sauce would be too heavy for her.  Soup it was then.  Maybe some toast and jam as well, if she felt up to it.  He cleared his throat as he turned back to the kitchen and task at hand.  

“So Noctis succeeded.”  She mused. “That warms my heart to hear.”

He watched out of the corner of his eye as she took a seat on the couch, as gracefully as one would expect of a royal.  She sat there, poised and proper for all of a moment before leaning against the armrest and tucking her legs under her and her feet in the cushion.

Ignis did not call her out on the lack of decorum.  He would not.  If she took comfort in that, then he would allow it. 

“How did you know?” He asked as he cut up the meat – daggerquill this time – to put in the soup. 

“You knew Nea’s name, most of these books are on history, and you are not the first from our reality that I have met.”

That too gave Ignis pause.  He knew there were at least two others: Leviathan’s bonded, and the other who had made a deal with the Lucii.  He suspected the Lucii one to be the Glaive who had managed to wear the ring, although his name escaped Ignis. Lunafreya fit into neither of those slots.

“Oh?”

She hummed.  “Prompto was very upset he couldn’t come, especially as the Hydraean had claimed him.  It was because of that that we thought to come to Altissia to find Ravus.”

Ignis closed his eyes, breathed in, breathed out, and wordlessly wondered ‘what the fuck?’.  That sentence was a bombshell that he was not prepared to take.  And it was his job to predict bombshells.  To be able to accurate predict such things to be able to prepare Noctis for whatever may pass.

But this sentence Lunafreya just dropped on him? 

There were at least three things he could take from it: 1) His Prompto was here.  2) Prompto was the poor unlucky soul who Leviathan had chosen over him. 3) Lunafreya had come to Altissia looking for Ravus.

He worked through those thoughts in turn as he continued preparing and cooking the meal; starting with Prompto’s existence here.

Prompto and Ignis didn’t always have much in common, but the one thing they did was their devotion to Noctis.  Ignis thought he was crushed by whatever fate had befallen Noctis here, but he was sure it was nothing to what Prompto felt.  

Wait.

Lunafreya was in a Niflheim research facility.  She traveled with a Niflheim mercenary.  She just spoke about meeting with Prompto.  Prompto who had originally been created to be a Magitek Soldier.   Prompto who was apparently in Niflheim here.

Ignis felt like he was going to be sick.  He felt like he needed to take a seat.  He felt like the floor had just opened up beneath him because while he had been lamenting being in Altissia and away from Noctis… Prompto had been in Niflheim. 

“Six.” Ignis swore aloud. Nothing Ignis felt would be comparable to how Prompto would have felt upon waking in this reality. 

What kind of friend was he?  To have never even considered the Prompto of this reality?  He had been so caught up in Noctis and his own pity party of feelings over being in Altissia instead of by his prince’s side.

“He’s fine.” He didn’t know when she had moved, but Lunafreya stood before him in the kitchen, her cold hands on his face as she gazed intently into his eyes.  “Prompto is fine.”  She repeated, her voice was the soft tinkle of windchime bells.  “He’s… Aranea found him when he was young.  She took him and blew up the facility and has been a fugitive of the empire since.  But he’s fine.”

Ignis felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest.  He could breath again.  The microwave behind Lunafreya flashed, asking for the time.  The range underneath it as well.  He heard the clicks of various electronics come back to life.   

Something hit the wall that he shared with Ravus’ unit from Ravus’ side.  He thought he heard a shout as well.  Had he killed electricity for the entire block (again) or just his and Ravus’ units?  He desperately needed a way to control this.

It appeared he wasn’t the only one.  There was frosted footprints leading from the couch to where Lunafreya stood.  Her smile was sheepish when she noticed him looking at them.

He didn’t comment on them.  There were more pressing thoughts on his mind.

“Prompto’s safe?”

“Yes.  Quite.  If Aranea’s plan goes as it should, by the time 756 arrives, she’ll be seated as Empress of the Niflheim Empire.” 

“Can you… is it possible, for you to allow me time to process?”  Ignis asked.  “This is… a lot.”

“It is.” Lunafreya nodded.  “I thought the same when Prompto rescued me.”

“I thought Aranea did?”

“No.”  There was another sheepish smile from Lunafreya.  “She was involved, but Prompto was the one who entered the facility to get me out.  I might still be stuck there if not for him.” 

There was a knock on the door at the same time there was a knock on the balcony door.  Weskham and Ravus.  If Weskham was here, then Ignis had temporarily killed power for the entire block (again).  “Go to the balcony.  Explain things to Ravus.  I’ll handle the front door.”

There was no time to think.  No time to process.  He just needed to do what needed to do.  And that started with not allowing Weskham into his home without a good excuse for the white frosted footprints on the floor. 

He was in the kitchen.  There was an easy excuse no matter how loathe he was to do it.  He spilled flour on the floor and himself, and then quickly spread it so it even reached the living room and the balcony door.  Only once the rush job was done, did he open the door.

Weskham frowned at him.  Ignis plastered a clearly fake smile and with a not-as-fake nervous laugh, allowed him entry.  “What happened?  It’s been two weeks since your last… outburst.”

“I attempting to make some Fluffy Chiffon cake, and an animal startled me on the balcony.  I didn’t mean to… it was an accident.”  Weskham did not look convinced, but he eyed Ignis – or more accurately the flour on Ignis – and then the flour all over the kitchen. 

When he looked back to Ignis, there was a look of suspicion in his gaze.  He sighed, and Ignis tried his hardest not to cringe.

“I know you want to work in the kitchens, but don’t push yourself too hard.”  Weskham reached out like he was going to clasp Ignis’ shoulder, but aborted the action at the last moment.  “Be more careful, please.”

“I’ll try.”  Ignis’ cheeks were beginning to hurt from the fake smile.  Weskham sighed again, a smaller one this time before shaking his head and exiting.  Ignis counted to ten before he slumped against the door and let out his own sigh. 

They would need to inform Weskham about Lunafreya’s presence eventually.  Key word there: eventually.  Much like Ravus, Weskham didn’t believe the rumors to have actually been about Lunafreya.  How could they as they assumed it would take divine intervention for her to be out of Niflheim’s hands?

In a way… Ignis supposed it had taken divine intervention. And also, in a way, if Aranea had lofty aspirations to be empress, then technically, Lunafreya wasn’t out of Niflheim’s hands just yet.

This was a political nightmare.  Scratch that.  This was a nightmare in general.

He shook his head, attempted to pat off most of the flour, and then went to the balcony to join Luafreya and Ravus.  Well, Lunafreya, Ravus and Aranea, he amended when he saw that she was on Ravus’ balcony frowning at the royal siblings. 

Ignis eyed her.  Empress, huh?  He would have never guessed it.  But stranger things had happened.  She couldn’t be worse than Aldercapt. 

Still, it looked like things in this reality were shaping up to be quite a bit different than his own.  He only hoped it was a good different.