Chapter Text
Noctis woke up in the infirmary wing of the Citadel, where many guards and glaives came to be treated after training there. If it was not filled with injured trainees, it was occupied by a chronically pained King Regis and an obstinate and worried Prince. This time, Noctis laid on a bed, surrounded by silence save for his own breathing.
As the Prince tried to sit up and gain his bearings, a firm hand held him down. “Please, no sudden movements, Your Highness.” It was Ignis. “Allow me to assist you.”
Though he wasn’t fond of the overly formal tone, he silently agreed, allowing Ignis to help him sit up. It took more time than he hoped, but the grating pain in his side prevented him from bending in certain ways, and it hurt more than he was willing to bear right after waking up. Ignis held a cup of water out to Noctis, in which he tried to grab but his hand could only hover half way up battling gravity. Ignis tipped the cup to the Prince’s lips without hesitation and the Prince drank, slow yet desperate.
“You okay?” Noct managed to ask, swallowing hard and catching his breath.
Ignis smiled, heart filled with warmth and relief. “I am. Though I should be asking you the same thing.”
“‘m fine,” he responded simply, though Ignis’ disbelieving frown caused him to elaborate. “Just groggy.”
Ignis wished Noctis wasn’t always so dismissive of his own feelings and always tried to make Noctis elaborate on them. Mental, emotional, and physical. But somehow the one word answer satisfied him and he didn’t press further.
Ignis gave a defeated yet fond sigh. “You’ll be resting in your rooms for a few days until you regain your strength.”
Noctis hummed, moving to sink back comfortably into the bed, until a painful pull at his side hit him and he groaned. Ignis repositioned the pillows around him.
“Everyone else is good, too?” Noctis asked, finally finding a position to settle in.
“The suspects were apprehended quickly. Few suffered minor wounds and even fewer need be treated. You’re the only one who-...” Almost died. Ignis cleared his throat. “It seems that the plot involved poisoning during dinner, but your connection to the Crystal had other ideas and fought off the toxins, which explains why you felt so uneasy afterwards.”
“Oh… How’d you know?” Noctis spoke slowly, trying to process the information.
“Gladio gave his reports," Ignis’ smile weakened. “When the poison didn’t take effect, it appeared that their plan B was to separate you from His Majesty and deal with you both then. Impersonating Crownsguards went under our radar. I’m so sorry, Noct.”
“Don’t. Ignis,” Noctis huffed a warning. “This was not your fault. This stuff just... happens.”
That failed to ease Ignis’ feelings on the matter and instead his heart ached for his Prince and friend.
Silence hung in the air.
“Where’s Gladio anyways?” Noct asked, tugging at his blankets.
Ignis pushed up the frame of his glasses. “I’m afraid he followed his guilty conscience out of the Citadel.”
“Man, he always does this,” Noctis snorted. “Did you tell him it's not his fault?”
Ignis remained silent.
“Iiignis!” Noct reprimanded and was cut off when he felt the painful tug on his side.
“Highness…”
“Knock it off, Igs. It’s just us,” Noct let Ignis readjust his pillows. “Why do you two gotta do that? Every bad thing that happens isn’t because of you. It’s because of me. And that’s just the facts.”
“Noctis, don’t say-” Ignis’ hands hovered over Noctis, wanting to pull him into an embrace to ease the burden of his birthright.
“Prince’s orders: tell Gladio to come back so I can yell at the both of you at the same time.”
Ignis opened his mouth, then closed it again.
“I’m serious! Call him!” Noct taunted, his voice low and serious, but his face brighter than Ignis had seen in the past couple of days.
Ignis fished for his cell phone and dialed the Shield as his Prince commanded.
It was picked up on the first ring.
Noctis could only hear the muffled sound of Gladio’s voice on the other side, but couldn’t make out the words. It only sounded loud, quick, and angry.
"He's fine. Yes, I’m certain. In fact, he's pulling rank right now. His highness would like for you to return immediately." A few of-courses and absolutely-nots later, Ignis finally hung up with a “We’ll be here.”
He let out an exhausted sigh and gave a pointed look to Noctis. The Prince laughed softly.
Noctis didn’t realize he had fallen asleep until he woke up to the sound of Gladio nearly barreling through the door, ignoring the disapproving sounds of the medical team outside.
"Noct!" he breathed, trying to sound like he didn't sprint all the way there.
“You seek an audience with the Prince?” Noctis feigned an accent that mimicked their fathers, rubbing his eyes.
“Shut the hell up. How are you feeling?” Gladio approached the bed angrily, though his face was awashed with relief. He gave a single nod to Ignis, who returned the gesture.
“Fine,” Noctis replied. Ignis cleared his throat. “Sore,” Noctis amended.
Gladio let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing.
“I said this to Specs, but you need to hear it too.” Noctis cleared his throat. Gladio crossed his arms already not wanting to hear his Prince dismiss them of their failures. “You two are going to wear me out if I have to keep repeating this.”
The air around them grew heavy and they became stiff. Gladio and Ignis listened to Noctis’ voice, though stern, it quavered-- with weakness or emotion, neither Ignis nor Gladio could say, but they let him have his piece.
“Every time something like this happens, I wonder what I’m doing wrong and what I should be doing differently. Luna was the first one, actually, to tell me that this stuff isn’t my fault.” He looked at their faces. “I worked really hard to try to believe her.”
Noctis spoke slowly, tasting each sentence in his mouth. Careful and fearful, he continued. “So, when I say none of this is your fault, you two really need to believe it. Stop beating yourself up when shit like this happens, or else...” Noctis hesitated, then gave a sigh of commitment. “Or else I’m going to start thinking it’s all my fault again.”
Noctis hid his face behind a hand. The lights started to feel too bright for his stinging eyes, and he was afraid his face was growing pink. “It’s cuz of you guys that I’m not dead right now.”
Gladio stood stunned at the bluntness of his words and he bit his lip at how vague “right now” seemed, hoping Noctis didn’t mean to suggest something else beside assassination attempts.
Ignis, who had a better understanding of Noctis in general, moved to hold Noctis’ other hand. Gladio was always jealous of how easy that was for him.
"Okay," Ignis affirmed. "Okay."
Gladio stayed silent.
This ended up wearing Noctis out and he slipped into slumber. Gladio and Ignis exchanged pained smiles, a silent agreement of their Prince’s demands: they were not to blame themselves. Instead, they’d work harder to be there for him.
“Take a break, Ig? I got this,” Gladio moved to sit in place of Ignis. It was less of a command and more of a plea, so Ignis conceded.
Gladio leaned over the bed, to catch a glimpse of his Prince sound asleep. He relished in the rise and fall of his chest, the soft breaths that escaped his lips, and just how peaceful and safe he looked compared to the beaten, battered, and bloody mess from before.
Gladio had no idea how much time had passed before a medic entered the room, quietly explaining that the Prince should get some rest, and that Gladio could return in the morning if he wished. Gladio rose slowly, nodding to the medic, but halted wide-eyed as frail and familiar fingers brushed his arms purposefully, hooking them on Gladio’s own muscular fingers.
Gladio stilled at Noct's sleepy plea.
"Don't go."