Chapter Text
We’ll be waiting in Hammerhead.
The shred of paper was quite small and with frayed edges, as if torn from a book. There was nothing else written on the parchment, much to his confusion and dismay, though there was definitely something familiar about it. He studied the writing, his chest fluttering with anticipation all the while. The message, short as it was, was etched in clean, black ink. The penmanship was an elegant script with precise and uniform loops and sweeping tails on the ends of each letter. He’d seen this font before, recognizing instantly who must have written it, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to get his hopes up. Not yet. Not until he saw his face. Their faces. With no time to waste, Noctis pocketed the tiny scrap and made his way across the rocky surface of the island toward the shore.
In a way, he’d felt every passing second of the time he spent inside the Crystal. But when he awakened at last, returned to his home of Lucis, it was as if he’d simply been roused from a dream. Groggy and sore, he’d kept his head low at first, lacking the strength to lift it for more than a few seconds at a time. His hair was hanging limply in his face, much longer than he’d remembered. He brought a hand to his cheek, quickly pulling it back when his fingers met with rough, stubble-coated skin. The curvature of his jaw was sharper, his chin more prominent than it had been. He could even feel the toll that time had taken on his joints as he followed Umbra to the water’s edge and climbed onto the Royal Vessel that inexplicably waited there for him. There was no question that he’d aged by more than a few years, an unsettling thought that he pushed from his mind. He dared not peek into a mirror or any other reflective surface along the journey, wary of the stranger he might see staring back at him from behind the glass.
Seeing his homeland drenched in darkness was worse than any nightmare he’d ever had. He walked along the worn wooden dock in silence, taking it all in. He was sickened by the grave sight of what used to be Galdin Quay. What was once a lovely tropical resort now lay in ruins, debris scattered everywhere under a thick layer of dust. All that remained of the people who once lived there were their clothing and personal effects. The blackness overhead stretched for miles. Noctis nearly fell to his knees in grief. The entire world — the only one he’d ever known — had fallen, and he could do nothing to stop it. It pained him to contemplate the loss of life, the senseless destruction, the suffering. How many years had passed? How long had this night gone on?
Guess I’ve got my work cut out for me, he thought as he pressed on, letting the Quay rest in silence behind him. Though he’d had plenty long to come to terms with his fate, it still turned his stomach to think of the daunting mission set before him. His citizens, those few that were left, were depending on their king to liberate them from this endless darkness. Perhaps he couldn’t stop the fall, but he was called to come to their rescue. He clenched his fist, determined and ready. There was no time for his guilty conscience now while the world still needed him. Whatever the cost, light would return to this land. Noctis would make sure of it.
As he continued along the empty highway, bound for Hammerhead to where his friends awaited him, his thought was only for them. His faithful companions — the three men who gave his life, and his journey, meaning. How long had it been since he’d seen them, and since they’d seen him? He wondered if he would even recognize them now after so many years had come and gone. Perhaps they’d be angry that he disappeared without so much as a ‘farewell.’ He wouldn’t blame them. Maybe they were just waiting for the opportunity to chastise him for abandoning all of Lucis. If Noctis were honest with himself, he’d admit that he deserved at least that much.
He smiled fondly as he thought of Prompto, the sunshine that lit up his cloudiest days. As cheerful as his best friend could be, Prompto was much more than just a good laugh when Noctis was feeling low. Prompto had found strength in weakness — in admitting his shortcomings, his personal insecurities, and sharing them with someone he trusted. He took a risk by requesting Noctis’s ear, but in doing so, he allowed their bond to deepen until he was strong enough to offer his own ear in return. They created for themselves a space that was safe, where they could talk about anything and everything. Those talks were much too few, but precious all the same. Noctis would always be grateful for the comfort of Prompto’s shoulder, and wished he could have said as much back then.
Gladio, with all his sharp edges, was nevertheless a sturdy rock that Noctis could always lean on. Dependable and stalwart, every bit as stern as he had to be. But alongside that rough exterior was a soft, thoughtful companion, just as fearless of one’s inner demons as the outer ones. Noctis had taken his sweet time, and perhaps it was far too late now, but he’d learned a valuable lesson in true courage from Gladio — a type of courage he was too young and inexperienced to understand and appreciate before. He looked forward to showing the man how he’d grown, how those lessons had stayed with him. If Noctis wanted anything of him, it was just one chance to make him proud. As proud as a big brother ought to be.
Before Prompto, and even before Gladio, there was Ignis. Ignis was there for him from the very beginning — almost as early as he could remember. Between them was a long history of what Noctis would describe as the most complicated relationship he’d developed with another person. Hired on as a surrogate caretaker, but growing up beside him as a cherished friend, Ignis was the man to which Noctis owed everything. He was as brave as Gladio, and ten times as strict. Just as sharp-witted as Prompto, equally caring and expertly patient. He was all that his royal duty demanded of him and more, and Noctis hadn’t realized just to what lengths the man would go to protect him until he’d seen it manifest.
His deepest regret of all, one which would haunt him for the rest of his time on Eos, was that he never acknowledged his old friend for that selfless act of heroism. Noctis was too immature, too wrapped up in his own grief to say anything then. It felt wrong to thank him, inadequate to apologise, and cowardly to remain silent. Ignis never voiced any resentment, and Noctis supposed that he never would. Still, he owed it to him to say something now. Now that he was old enough to make sense of his feelings. Now, while he still had some time left. Of all his friends, Noctis most looked forward to seeing Ignis again, to correcting the errors of his past self, and to making up for the lost time.
Noctis had gotten so wrapped up in his memories that he almost walked right into a nest of daemons. A handful of goblins noticed his approach before he could change course, and with his position given away, more began to appear. It was then that he noticed just how many of the vile creatures he could see in the distance, prowling about in the open like livestock out to pasture. He broke into a run, too weak and disoriented to fight the hordes of monsters he encountered along the way. The masses grew thicker the longer he ran, and it was getting harder and harder to lose them as he traversed the empty freeway. What finally halted him was the appearance of a red giant, clawing its way out of the pavement and shambling right toward him with its massive, glowing sword in tow.
Noctis had no choice but to try and escape. He turned and fled, hoping he’d find some other route back, only to be met by another collection of goblins. In no time, he was swarmed by at least a dozen daemons. He drew his sword, unsure if he had any strength left in him to ward them off. He shielded himself as the red giant reared back for an overhead swing. Just as the creature was about to bring its heavy weapon down on Noctis’s head, he saw a light in the distance, shining so brightly that he couldn’t quite make out its source. He squinted for a better look. It was getting bigger. No, closer. It was coming toward him. A car. He gaped in utter disbelief. Someone, in this hostile environment, was out for a drive, and headed right in his direction.
With no time to question it, Noctis used the distraction to make his quick escape, dodging the red giant’s sword and rolling to the side just in time for the vehicle to skid to a halt right beside him, blaring its horn at full blast. It was an old, worn-down pickup truck with a custom set of bright headlights and reinforced bumpers. The goblins were startled by the new arrival and scattered immediately. The driver’s side door opened and a young kid, not more than seventeen or so leaned out with a shotgun in hand. He fired off several rounds into the distance, flashing the truck’s high beams and hollering at the large beasts to stay back. When there was a spare moment, the stranger turned to Noctis and waved him toward the vehicle.
“Quick!” he shouted. “Get inside!”
Noctis threw caution to the wind, yanked open the passenger door and jumped in as fast as he could, Umbra following closely behind. When all were safely locked and buckled, the boy slammed into reverse and peeled out of the danger zone with a screech of his tires. The daemon horde gave chase, and Noctis watched in horror out the front windshield as the gap between them rapidly shrank. The old truck, though apparently quite sturdy, wasn’t quite fast enough. The daemons were gaining on them, almost close enough to overtake. Noctis glanced toward his driver in time to catch a trickle of sweat falling down his temple as he concentrated out the back window, steering with only one arm, bearing all his weight into the gas pedal and never once letting up. It was a miracle that they didn’t hit anything as they sped backwards up the winding hill. The kid’s driving was so precise, even under the circumstances, that Noctis couldn’t help but fondly remember the only other person he knew who could drive so well.
Holding tightly to Umbra, who seemed largely unfazed by the wild ride from his perch in the middle seat, Noctis squeezed his eyes shut as one of the monsters outside took a flying leap toward the truck. He braced for impact, but the impact never came. With a roar of the engine, the truck swerved away at the last second, narrowly missing the assault by only a few inches. At last, the daemons seemed to lose interest and broke off their pursuit. Having reached a safe distance, the boy drifted shakily around until he could put the truck back in drive and floored it, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake as they sped down the highway at top speed.
Noctis took several moments to catch his breath after the scare, pressing his palm to his chest to soothe the rapid drumming of his heart. His gaze fell to his rescuer, the driver now pushing the beaten up old truck to its limits to carry him to his destination. His face was eerily familiar, but Noctis couldn’t place it. He glanced around the vehicle’s interior, searching for a clue. He found several, lined up in a neat row on the dashboard. Cactuar figures of every color. No, he thought. It couldn’t be. Was it really him?
“Boy, it’s a good thing I found you, Your Majesty,” the stranger said with a relieved smile across his lips. “That Red Giant thing might have beaten you to a pulp!”
“Th-Thanks…” Noctis stammered, still recovering from the shock. “Um…?”
“Oh, uh… It’s me, Talcott,” he said, looking a little sheepish. “Talcott Hester. Do you… remember me?”
“Talcott…” Noctis whispered. “Of course I remember you.”
Noctis had already guessed just how much time had passed from the boy’s appearance. Once a child of seven or eight, now a teen on the very cusp of adulthood, Talcott had matured into a fine young man over the ten years that went by. But as he listened to his stories about the long night, Noctis gathered that the kid hadn’t really changed much. He was bright as ever, with a warm kindness to his smile and eyes full of wonder and curiosity and hope. Noble, but always so modest, he spoke meekly, with a hint of uncertainty in his voice as he tried to recall every detail of the last decade. He rambled on at length about Cid, Cindy, Iris… and then, the three that he’d anticipated most of all. The tales brought clear images to Noctis’s mind, memories that hadn’t been lost to time. Every story came with its own surprises, and yet they were exactly what he’d expected to hear. In their own ways, his friends were still fighting the good fight. The long night hadn’t broken them, hadn’t changed them in the slightest. They were still themselves, as he would always remember them. His heart could have overflowed any moment, and he wished there would be no end to Talcott’s thrilling reports. He could have listened to the boy talk for hours.
He stared out the window as they drove, watching as dead foliage and piles of debris zoomed by in a blur. He saw destruction and ruin everywhere his eyes fell. The land was completely devastated. There was no wildlife, no greenery, and not a single inhabitant. All he saw were colonies of daemons, roaming the barren ground in an almost leisurely manner, far too comfortable with their safety for Noctis’s liking. He couldn’t help the twinge of anger he felt at the mere sight of them, but after hearing Talcott’s explanation of how the creatures had come to be, that anger was now laced with strands of pity. Those monsters could easily have been any one of his friends, a thought which sent a shudder down his spine. No, that would never happen. He’d make damn sure of it.
He knew they were close by the lights in the distance. Hammerhead was just around the corner, and Noctis began to shake. His friends were just inside that building. The three most important people in his life, waiting for him just on the other side of that glass door. It felt like a lifetime since he’d seen them, yet at the same time it seemed to have been only yesterday. Talcott pulled into the lot and parked right in front of what used to be Takka’s diner. Noctis’s heart was thumping again, hard and fast, and he thought he might keel over before he could even get out of the truck. He opened the door slowly, keeping his head bowed as he climbed out. When he closed it behind him, there they were.
Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis stood in a row, watching hesitantly as their long lost companion approached. Not a soul breathed when they all locked eyes, examining each other carefully. They looked almost entirely the same. Gladio was still tall and burly, Ignis still lean and graceful, Prompto still short and light on his feet. Longer hair, and perhaps a few extra creases on their faces, but there was no mistaking his team, his family. For as long as Noctis stood there studying them, they studied him as well, and by the ever growing smiles on their lips, it seemed that they’d come to the same conclusion about him. Separated by fate, kept apart for ten long years, the royal retinue had been reunited at last.
Noctis must have only had the chance to blink once before Prompto’s arms were around his neck, the man squealing excitedly in his ear as he bounced up and down. One embrace became two, then three, as all four men locked themselves together for the first time in much, much too long. Glorious laughter filled the parking lot. Hearty, genuine laughter, and probably more than a few tears. Words could never describe the pure joy of this moment, at last reunited with the friends that meant more to him than he had ever told them. In his lifetime, he hadn’t hugged them enough. He hadn’t laughed with them enough or cried with them enough. He hadn’t reminded them enough how deeply he appreciated them. But if this blissful embrace would make up for all those years of neglect, then he swore he’d never let go.
When their laughter and tears had died down, they finally parted and walked inside together to enjoy each other’s company. They shared a meal made entirely by Ignis, they scrolled through Prompto’s most recent photos, and they admired all of Gladio’s new scars, talking and laughing as if no time had passed at all. Stories were brief, the ends of which always leaving Noctis on the edge of his seat and wanting for more. He found himself staring at them as they talked, finally seeing them up close and under the harsh fluorescents of the old diner. Their eyes had grown tired and weary, their skin more pale than he recalled. The night had been long, and he supposed he probably looked just as gaunt. But as dark as it was, it seemed nothing could blot out their spirit. Their voices were a bit more ragged with age, but displayed no less enthusiasm and animation than they had a decade prior. Gladio’s belly laugh hadn’t lost an ounce of its might, and Prompto’s shrill tenor was melodious as ever.
Some hours later, when they’d had their fill of food and stories, Prompto and Gladio were off chatting with Talcott, undoubtedly about women, given the beet-red hue of the poor kid’s cheeks. Noctis was resting at the table outside the caravan, basking in the flurry of emotions he’d endured over the course of the evening when he heard footsteps approach him. It was Ignis who had come, extending a small, black can toward him and smiling warmly.
“An Ebony, for nostalgia’s sake?”
Noct smiled back, accepting the coffee graciously. “Sure. Sounds great.”
The can was cold enough that beads of condensation coated the outside. Much of the outer label had worn away with time. The pair tapped them together jovially before cracking them open with a hiss. Even from just the polite sip he took, Noctis thought the coffee inside tasted quite fresh, as if it hadn’t expired years ago. It was strong and bitter, just like it always was, and just as Ignis always preferred.
“Ah,” Ignis took a long swig and released a satisfied sigh. “The taste does take me back.”
“Is it hard to come by now?”
The man’s shoulders slumped a bit. “Sadly, yes. I think I claim the largest stock of it these days, and I wouldn’t part with it for anything.”
Another story Noctis couldn’t wait to hear. “We’re drinking from your private stash?”
“I only dip into it for special occasions, of course.”
Special occasions? His cheeks began to flush. “Well, I’m flattered.”
Ignis took another slow gulp from his can, grinning as he swallowed it down. “So flattered that you’re not drinking it?”
Noctis froze. How did he know that? He stared down at his can, nearly full except for the one sip he forced himself to take. His cheeks grew warm, but rather than feel sheepish, he couldn’t help but smile at having been caught. “Nothing gets past you, does it?” he chuckled, setting the can down on the table. “I guess I never really liked the stuff.”
Ignis finished off his coffee, his smile widening. “I know.”
Hearing Ignis laugh was a treat unlike any other. Noctis had heard it plenty of times throughout their lives, but never quite like this. Never this sincere, never this genuine. Never so free of tension. Never so unreserved. Of all three of his friends, it was Ignis’s speech which had shown the sharpest change with time, having risen slightly in pitch until it sounded somewhat light and feathery by comparison. Still whispery, still sophisticated, but not nearly so serious as it had been before. Where Ignis always spoke low, hushed, and masking any hint of emotion or instability, he now spoke like a man who had let go of his worries, triumphed over his hardships, and finally allowed himself a good, healthy rest. Like a man who had at last found peace. It was a welcome change to hear him sounding so casual, so relaxed. As far as Noctis was concerned, if anyone deserved such a transformation, it was Ignis Scientia.
“You’re in good spirits, Noct,” he said, still coming down from his sudden bout of laughter. “I hear the smile in your voice. It’s refreshing.”
As if the man had read his mind, Noctis could have said the exact same thing. “You’re pretty mellow yourself.”
Ignis tilted his head in thought. “Well… I’ve had a good long while to ‘re-evaluate my worldview,’ so to speak.”
He’d been turning his empty can about in his hands, his brows furrowed as if he were studying it intently. Noctis did not interrupt him, and he continued his explanation without lifting his gaze. “I was… troubled, at first. By necessity, I spent quite a lot of time on my own. I suppose I was lonesome,” he sighed softly. “Gladio and Prompto were with me for as long as they could be. But, when duty calls…”
It was clear that he was trying to be brief as he skimmed over the events of those first few weeks after leaving Gralea. Even as he began to ramble, he carefully stumbled over words like ‘after you disappeared’ or ‘while you were gone,’ as if they still stung to say. There was further melancholy in his voice as he described the circumstances of the group’s necessary parting, but he still spoke with pride about Gladio, who followed in his father’s footsteps and rose to be Captain of the Crownsguard, and Prompto, whose photography had aided scientists, hunters, and glaives alike.
“Some time after we separated, I visited Lestallum for a bit, and I was inspired by the fierce determination of a young glaive I met there. They’d been through hell and lost all of their memories. A tragedy… but they never stopped fighting for a second. They never gave up. I knew that if they could press on, then so could I.”
“Where are they now?”
His face fell, and he shook his head. “I’ve not heard from them in many years. I’m not sure if they’re even still alive.”
Noctis dropped his eyes. “I’m sorry…”
Ignis nodded, allowing for a moment of silence out of respect for the long lost glaive. After a few seconds he lifted his chin again, now speaking with more conviction. “Even so, I’m glad to have known them. They were very brave and very strong. I’m certain they wouldn’t have gone down easily… not without a fight.”
Noctis smiled, having expected no less from one of his father’s own glaives. “They must have been very wise to teach you such good lessons.”
Leaning back in his chair, Ignis let his head fall backward until he faced the dark sky above. There was neither a sun nor a moon among the clouds. Not a star in sight. Nothing to cut through the thick shroud of pitch blackness that enveloped the world. It had been only hours, and already Noctis had grown weary of it. Ignis, however, didn’t seem to mind at all. He was perfectly at peace with his surroundings, and there was likewise contentment in his voice as his fond musings carried on.
“It’s been an enlightening journey, learning how to get by without eyes. Trusting the permanence of the world beyond the darkness. Rediscovering the meaning of ‘beauty’ without being able to see it. Harrowing, to say the least, but rewarding. Over the years, I found a great many beautiful things, and not one of them required sight to behold.”
A smile crept slowly back into his face as he recounted each happy memory, one by one. “I climbed the Rock of Ravatogh. I swam in the Cygillan Sea. I traversed the entire countryside from Leide to Cleigne. I tasted the most wonderful dishes a man could ever dream of. I even took up a number of musical instruments. Mastered all but one of them.”
“Which one was that?”
“The Tenebraean Horn,” he chortled. “I don’t understand how that damned thing works, and I don’t think my instructor did either.”
Noctis would never have pegged Ignis as the sort of man with patience enough to learn an instrument. Surely, he’d have had plenty of discipline and all the talent in the world, but what he must have always lacked, Noctis realized, was time. A pang of guilt struck him then upon wondering what other hobbies Ignis might have taken up in his leisure, had the man not been responsible for raising a prince . What small joys of life had he passed up, all for the sake of his job? How would the sad, empty halls of the citadel have felt to traverse, had they been echoing with the melodic sounds of music instead of silence and dread? Though his heart weighed heavily in his chest with regret, Noctis clung to a shred of hope that one day he could hear Ignis play. Even if it was only one song, he prayed that however far away he’d be, that melody might still reach him somehow.
“I’m really proud of you, Iggy,” he whispered through the tightening sensation in his throat. “You’ve done some amazing things since I last saw you…”
Ignis appeared to look him dead in the eye, wearing that same sentimental smile upon his face. “I don’t think any one of those experiences holds a candle to this one.”
The light banter across the way had transformed to uproarious laughter as Gladio and Prompto made their way back inside the diner to collect their belongings. Talcott retreated back into the truck, looking embarrassed as ever, but giggling no less than they were. As he watched them, Noctis couldn’t say how long he and Ignis had been sitting there at the table, chatting and sipping coffee. With all he’d lost, all he’d missed, and how little he had left, time no longer mattered to him. Ten years. Ten minutes. They could feel the same to him, but neither would ever be long enough.
Ignis heaved a long sigh as he glanced toward their friends, sounding resigned when he finally spoke again. “Suppose we’ll have to shove off soon.”
Noctis hung his head. “There’s still so much I want to talk about… If only there was more time.”
At first, Ignis didn’t say anything at all. A heavy beat passed. He turned to face him once more, his expression having softened. “We’ll have the chance to catch up,” he nodded sincerely as he made his vow. “Some day.”
It was welcome that Gladio and Prompto were moving slowly inside the diner, for neither Ignis nor Noctis could bring themselves to rise out of their chairs. They sat in silence, their eyes locked, or as much as they could be. Even though Noctis was aware that the man couldn’t see him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being studied. Examined. Admired, perhaps, if the expression on Ignis’s face was any indication. Though he wore dark shades over his eyes, there was no mistaking the fondness in his visage. A sentiment which Noctis mirrored almost perfectly. One that he couldn’t wipe away no matter how somber the moment became. He only hoped the man couldn’t tell that he was staring just as intently at him, and with affection just as deep and just as strong.
“Noct,” Ignis asked hesitantly after taking several seconds to summon the nerve. “I’ve an odd request. You’re free to refuse, of course.”
“What is it, Iggy?”
Another hesitation. Ignis averted his gaze in embarrassment. “I wonder if perhaps…” he swallowed hard. “Would you permit me to… to touch your face?”
“My face?”
“Yes. For just a moment.”
Noctis paused for too long. Though he hadn’t expected the request, he was by no means surprised by it. He supposed Ignis had touched many faces since losing his sight, assuming it to be his new way of ‘seeing’ those who were closest to him. It was only a matter of time before it was his turn, and though his answer was clear before the question was ever asked, words failed him when he tried to respond.
Ignis quickly brushed it off. “I suppose you’re uncomfortable. It’s no matter—“
“Sure, you can,” Noctis finally found his voice. “For as long as you want.”
“You’re quite certain?”
“Be my guest.”
Though Noctis braced himself in his chair, he could never have fully prepared for the experience he was about to have. Ignis removed his gloves very slowly, his hands obviously shaking. He lifted them carefully to Noctis’s face, taking a moment to release an exhale or two before finally laying them over his cheeks. A small gasp erupted from him, followed by a tense silence wherein neither man breathed. And then, to Noctis’s surprise, the tension dissolved instantly as the man broke into laughter.
“A beard?” he teased, beaming widely as he tried to stifle himself. “So, puberty has visited you at last?”
Noctis furrowed his brow. “Those are bold words coming from a guy with no hair on his face.”
Ignis only laughed harder. “Damn the bad luck.”
Noctis would have to thank the Astrals for granting him a second opportunity to hear Ignis laugh tonight. He couldn’t help but join, so endeared by the sight of the man’s cheerful grin and the sound of genuine happiness in his voice. After the spell died down, Ignis resumed his exploration, carefully dragging his fingertips across every feature on Noctis’s face. He started again with the cheeks, tracing under the bony structures and circling around to the eyes. He paused there, his thumbs bristling against his lashes before sliding away toward the bridge of his nose. His smile gradually faded to an expression of curiosity and intrigue as he examined the shape of his jaw, the point of his chin, and the arch of his brow. Altogether, it was a delightful experience. Ignis’s hands were warm, his skin soft and his touch gentle. His fingers dusted over Noctis’s flesh like brushes, painting a new image of his likeness in his own mind. As awkward as it might have felt at first, Noctis hoped it wouldn’t end.
When it seemed Ignis had covered the whole face several times over, his hands wandered around Noctis’s ears and into his hair, combing between matted, unwashed locks and tucking them out of the way. He leaned back, as if proofing the final draft of the picture he’d just painted. Noctis cleared his throat to break the silence. “So… what do you think?”
A short pause followed, wherein Ignis only shrugged. “I’m not sure what to think,” he admitted. “I’ve never done this before.”
Never…? Heat began to rise beneath Noctis’s skin, spreading from his neck and into his cheeks. Heat that he was certain Ignis could feel. “Think I look like my father?”
If he didn’t know better, he’d say Ignis’s cheeks were flushing as well. The man’s fingers dragged one last time down his jaw, light enough to be considered a caress, before cupping gently under his chin. “Without a doubt.”
They were sitting much closer than they were before, practically hovering on the edges of their chairs. Noct could smell the coffee on his breath, could just barely see the glassy eye behind his shades. Were he feeling bolder, he’d have leaned in and closed that gap once and for all, throwing all caution to the wind and without a care for who might have been watching. But Ignis deserved better than that. He deserved something special, something thoughtful, something that wasn’t rushed. Instead, Noct cautiously reached toward the man’s face, meeting no resistance as he pulled the reflective visor off his nose.
Even in the dim light, the sight of Ignis’s face in its entirety was wondrous. If he didn’t already know that ten years had passed, Noctis would never have believed it, looking at his old friend now. Though it was quite obvious that the man had aged, he lacked the eloquence to really explain just how. His hair was longer, of course, and a bit darker. His jaw had sharpened a tad. While still youthful, his appearance now had a rugged quality to it. But in every way that mattered, it was still Ignis Scientia. The same man who had been there from the very beginning. The same man who’d devoted his life to his prince, his king, his friend.
“You look pretty good, Ignis,” he murmured warmly. “The years were kind to you.”
Never so good at taking a compliment, Ignis began to blush noticeably. “Ah, you flatter me…”
Noctis tenderly padded his fingers on the man’s cheek. The texture of his skin was rough with stubble in some places, smooth as silk in others. The scars from his injury had faded considerably, leaving behind patches of rough flesh where his left eye used to be. The other — open and searching, though unable to see — was a cloudy teal, not far from the color it always was. In acquainting himself with his face now, Noctis remembered the first time he’d seen Ignis this way, marred by wounds he wouldn’t explain from a battle he refused to talk about. Noctis never learned the truth from him, but instead from the Kings of Lucis themselves. When he first donned his father’s ring, he was granted an image of his best friend doing the very same, offering up his life as payment for the chance to borrow their power. All for his own sake. All for a lowly prince, lying unconscious a dozen feet away. All for a man whose days were numbered either way.
Whether they were so moved by his sacrifice or just being practical, Noctis was grateful that they’d spared him. At the time, he thought them cruel for taking his sight instead, even resented them for crippling an innocent man without cause. But he hadn’t given Ignis enough credit. He hadn’t considered the man’s strength of will, his courage and his determination. He hadn’t considered that his old friend, though hurt terribly, would heal. Heal, and then grow. Ignis had done just that and then some. He was here. He was alive. He was happy, and he was thriving. Truly, Noctis had never been more proud, or more relieved now that he could leave all his regrets behind at last.
He’d left his hand resting on Ignis’s cheek, having gotten carried away with his memories. As he let it drop, Ignis caught it in his own, smiling as he gave it a gentle squeeze. “I want you to have something.”
“What is it?”
He reached into the pocket of his jacket, draped over the chair behind him. He rummaged for a second before pulling out a small booklet and presenting it to Noctis. There was a brief moment of confusion as Noctis stared at it. It looked very much like the little book Ignis used to write his recipes in, he recalled, bound in leather and with pages marked by black ink. Upon opening the book, however, Noctis discovered that it was not his recipe book at all. The penmanship was a bit hard to decipher on the first page, but there was no mistaking the words written there.
“Letters… from Ignis? You can write?”
“I certainly can,” Ignis nodded. “Please… take them with you.”
His heart racing in his chest, Noctis carefully opened the journal, peering at the first entry, dated ten years prior. In the beginning, the writing was little more than sloppy scribbles. Simple vocabulary and short words must have been all the man could manage back then. But as he thumbed through the pages, taking a glance here and there, the writing sharpened until it looked much like Ignis’s old script, sophisticated and neat as ever. By the end of it, he’d never have guessed that a blind man had written the notes therein. From end to end, it was packed with letters that told the story of Ignis’s decade-long journey, each of them addressed to ‘Noct.’ Every so often there were occasional recipes, some poetry, a handful of sketches, and even little blurbs from Prompto, Gladio, Talcott, Iris, anyone else who happened to be around. There wasn’t time to read them all now, but that moment would come soon enough. Noctis was already looking forward to it.
Something in the first letter caught his eye, something which caused a slight tug inside himself as he read each word. There’s no sense rambling for too long if you can’t read it… It was like taking a step back in time. He remembered sending letters back and forth to Lunafreya in a journal much like this one. Umbra, his faithful canine companion, had never failed to deliver her notebook, traveling miles and miles across land and sea to reach him. Sadly, the distance between himself and Ignis would be far too great for him to send back a response in this manner, but he would treasure these messages, this decade’s worth of unspoken words, for an eternity. It was the greatest gift he could ever ask for — to carry a piece of Ignis with him.
Would that you were here with us…
The last page was torn out. Noctis reached into his pocket and found the scrap of paper Umbra had given him when he first came to. He tucked it into the back of the booklet before closing it tightly. His throat was constricting again, and it took all the discipline he had to lift his head and meet Ignis’s gaze.
“Thank you…” he said, his voice threatening to break any second. “Thank you, Ignis.”
A firm hand gripped his shoulder. Firm, but still gentle. Shaking like it did before. Those fingers then slid upward, finding their way back to his face, knuckles lingering on his cheek. Again, light enough to be a caress. Sturdy enough that Noctis could lean into its warm embrace. His voice, soft and trembling, was melodious as a song. His eyes — eyes which could see plenty well enough for him — brimmed with pure devotion as they gazed upon his beloved friend. More than he could ever hope to fit in that little book. Ten years worth of it. Thirty years worth of it. A lifetime’s worth of the deepest love one could ever feel.
“It’s good to see you, Noct.”
