I don't. But you probably didn't want to hear how he twisted the lives of millions of people like silly putty and then trashed them when he was done, either.
[And Prompto hasn't even mentioned what Ardyn did to him personally.]
Not especially, but I can't really shy away from it, either.
[He pauses, then sighs.]
If I had spoken to him directly, perhaps things would have been different. I couldn't have taken that curse from him, but at least... At least he would have known that he was still loved.
Doesn't mean he's got a right to take it out on your great-great-great to the zillionth grandkids. ...Or totally unrelated people who just happened to live on this planet.
I can't argue with that. But... I doubt that Ardyn really has an understanding of what's 'right' after so long.
[He closes his eyes, briefly.]
And the people it would be 'right' for him to take it out on are beyond his reach. Everyone from our era who wronged him is dead, and the gods themselves - well, I suppose he did his best to use Niflheim to destroy them, anyway, if my understanding is correct.
The Tidemother has her own lightless depths full of monsters. In another world, it could have been her bearing the Scourge, I'm sure, instead of Ifrit.
[He sighs.]
And yet Bahamut escapes unscathed. The world truly is unfair to my brother.
You understand more than you give yourself credit for, I'm sure.
[The boy is sharp - or quick, perhaps, as his name would suggest.]
I assume I can summarize the broad strokes - twin brothers born at the end of the Astral War, one given the power to heal, which was actually part of a long gameplan to turn him into the vessel of the Scourge, whilst the other took the throne, founded a country, and started the line that would eventually stop him.
[He stops to sigh.]
The details... Probably, I am the last person Ardyn ever healed. Certainly the last he healed as 'Ardyn Lucis Caelum.' He came back to our home town in a panic when I fell ill, and even so, I was on my last legs by the time he got there. Feverish, delirious, spending most of my time unconscious - black marks everywhere.
[He reaches up and traces the veins running along his neck, visible over the top of his scarf, and then lets his hand fall.]
And then, suddenly, it was gone. I was healthy, whole - I woke up rather suddenly.
The first thing I saw was - well, if you've seen it, you know. My brother's face, with the gleaming eyes of a daemon, scourge pouring down his cheeks. A sight fit for nightmares.
[He flips his hand, and a dagger appears in a flash of light. If it were Noctis before him, he'd recognize it - a small blade, wielded by a very similar hand in Altissia.]
I didn't think. I just reacted.
[A sharp upward jerk, as though catching an attacker in the gut or under the ribs, and then the dagger vanishes.]
And that was the moment that he truly became the Accursed, refused by death itself.
[Prompto stops bouncing gradually as the story unfolds, just watching and listening with wide, blue eyes. He shivers at the jerk of the dagger, finally looks down at his hands. It takes him a moment to come up with something to say.]
...I did that to someone, too, once. Minus the dagger. I'm a gunner.
[He hasn't been treated to the full glory of Ardyn's fuckface. He was taken too early, didn't even get the pleasure of shooting him in the back. But he does remember one thing, one thing that gives him nightmares, still. That probably will forever.
'Never seen a man turn before?'
Prompto had never shot a person before that moment. MTs, daemons, beasts--but never someone who was still someone. Even if it hadn't lasted long.
He shudders again and rubs his shoulder where Verstael had grabbed him.]
Didn't stick for him, either. Not the first time, at least.
Unfortunately common where the Scourge is involved, but Ardyn is a level above and beyond.
[Izunia stares down at his hand, opening and closing his fingers as though the dagger's still there.]
He didn't simply die. He vanished in a cloud of black smoke, like any other daemon. I was... beyond distraught, and sought the council of the gods.
That was my mistake.
[There's a little buried anger, now, that makes his resemblance to Ardyn bleed through again.]
The Draconian told me that I had sealed his fate - destroyed what little remained of my brother and left his body for daemons to puppet around. And so I took out all my anger and my grief on that body, with never a thought that the gods might be lying to me.
I... I knew it wouldn't even do anything. That only the Chosen King could actually destroy that daemon, and I was never chosen. Only a second choice, at best.
[Prompto won't have any idea what he's referencing, but there's a tinge of irony to the tone and a little pained smile.]
I'll spare you the details, but I'm sure you can imagine. All the while not realizing that it was truly my brother still who bore all that pain and suffering.
[Prompto may not know what he's referencing, but he can imagine the results all too well. Taking out anger and grief on something, with the Kings' power? In a much smaller, more familiar way, he's seen Noct do the same, after he Imperial army murdered Jared.
In a less comforting, more personal way, he can imagine Izunia's face and voice--Ardyn's face and voice--torturing someone over and over. It's almost too easy for him to imagine, really.
And then the wires cross, and in the most personal, most terrible way, he remembers Noct's voice, twisted in hatred and pain and fury, and the hard pressure of his forearm against his throat--and maybe Prompto can't imagine what it was like for Izunia, but it's even more horrifying to know, in some small part, he felt what it was like for Ardyn.]
...Sorry.
[He curls up, pulling his legs to his chest again, voice disappearing into his knees.]
It's also pretty hard to make yourself stop and think of questions when someone's face is like halfway melting off and they're way too close? Not exactly prime time for a pop quiz.
And who would doubt the word of the gods, after all?
[Hey he's so bitter about that.]
I didn't. Not until Ignis put on the ring and Ardyn warped in front of him. For two thousand years, I believed.
[That's why he told you to ask, Prompto, when you're unsure. Things worse than seeming needy for reassurance: dooming your twin brother to two thousand years as the world's enemy.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
[Still in that liminal space between funny and pain, over here.]
no subject
[And Prompto hasn't even mentioned what Ardyn did to him personally.]
no subject
[He pauses, then sighs.]
If I had spoken to him directly, perhaps things would have been different. I couldn't have taken that curse from him, but at least... At least he would have known that he was still loved.
no subject
[There... there?]
no subject
[Emotional content vs literal content.]
no subject
[Everything's subjective.]
But... yeah, I guess I can see why you, uh. Might have some baggage there. ...Sorry.
no subject
That's not even the half of it, really. He has every right to want for revenge and remember me with no fondness.
no subject
[Noct. Ignis. Niflheim, Insomnia. Altissia.]
They didn't deserve to suffer like that.
no subject
[He closes his eyes, briefly.]
And the people it would be 'right' for him to take it out on are beyond his reach. Everyone from our era who wronged him is dead, and the gods themselves - well, I suppose he did his best to use Niflheim to destroy them, anyway, if my understanding is correct.
no subject
[Who knew the Tidemother was so tetchy?]
Though I guess they had a lot to deal with at the time. I still don't really know what happened there.
no subject
[He sighs.]
And yet Bahamut escapes unscathed. The world truly is unfair to my brother.
no subject
[Raise your hand if you've been personally victimized by Ardyn Izuncis Caelum.]
no subject
Izunia reaches up and idly plays with the end of his scarf.]
You're quite right.
no subject
[He sits butterfly and bounces his knees idly, hands on his ankles.]
no subject
You understand more than you give yourself credit for, I'm sure.
[The boy is sharp - or quick, perhaps, as his name would suggest.]
I assume I can summarize the broad strokes - twin brothers born at the end of the Astral War, one given the power to heal, which was actually part of a long gameplan to turn him into the vessel of the Scourge, whilst the other took the throne, founded a country, and started the line that would eventually stop him.
[He stops to sigh.]
The details... Probably, I am the last person Ardyn ever healed. Certainly the last he healed as 'Ardyn Lucis Caelum.' He came back to our home town in a panic when I fell ill, and even so, I was on my last legs by the time he got there. Feverish, delirious, spending most of my time unconscious - black marks everywhere.
[He reaches up and traces the veins running along his neck, visible over the top of his scarf, and then lets his hand fall.]
And then, suddenly, it was gone. I was healthy, whole - I woke up rather suddenly.
The first thing I saw was - well, if you've seen it, you know. My brother's face, with the gleaming eyes of a daemon, scourge pouring down his cheeks. A sight fit for nightmares.
[He flips his hand, and a dagger appears in a flash of light. If it were Noctis before him, he'd recognize it - a small blade, wielded by a very similar hand in Altissia.]
I didn't think. I just reacted.
[A sharp upward jerk, as though catching an attacker in the gut or under the ribs, and then the dagger vanishes.]
And that was the moment that he truly became the Accursed, refused by death itself.
no subject
...I did that to someone, too, once. Minus the dagger. I'm a gunner.
[He hasn't been treated to the full glory of Ardyn's fuckface. He was taken too early, didn't even get the pleasure of shooting him in the back. But he does remember one thing, one thing that gives him nightmares, still. That probably will forever.
'Never seen a man turn before?'
Prompto had never shot a person before that moment. MTs, daemons, beasts--but never someone who was still someone. Even if it hadn't lasted long.
He shudders again and rubs his shoulder where Verstael had grabbed him.]
Didn't stick for him, either. Not the first time, at least.
no subject
[Izunia stares down at his hand, opening and closing his fingers as though the dagger's still there.]
He didn't simply die. He vanished in a cloud of black smoke, like any other daemon. I was... beyond distraught, and sought the council of the gods.
That was my mistake.
[There's a little buried anger, now, that makes his resemblance to Ardyn bleed through again.]
The Draconian told me that I had sealed his fate - destroyed what little remained of my brother and left his body for daemons to puppet around. And so I took out all my anger and my grief on that body, with never a thought that the gods might be lying to me.
I... I knew it wouldn't even do anything. That only the Chosen King could actually destroy that daemon, and I was never chosen. Only a second choice, at best.
[Prompto won't have any idea what he's referencing, but there's a tinge of irony to the tone and a little pained smile.]
I'll spare you the details, but I'm sure you can imagine. All the while not realizing that it was truly my brother still who bore all that pain and suffering.
no subject
In a less comforting, more personal way, he can imagine Izunia's face and voice--Ardyn's face and voice--torturing someone over and over. It's almost too easy for him to imagine, really.
And then the wires cross, and in the most personal, most terrible way, he remembers Noct's voice, twisted in hatred and pain and fury, and the hard pressure of his forearm against his throat--and maybe Prompto can't imagine what it was like for Izunia, but it's even more horrifying to know, in some small part, he felt what it was like for Ardyn.]
...Sorry.
[He curls up, pulling his legs to his chest again, voice disappearing into his knees.]
Sorry. That's awful. ...I shouldn't have asked.
no subject
It would be easy to blame the gods entirely, but I know who did the damning deed.
[He's a coward in many other aspects of his life, but not this. Not when it comes to his family and his own hands on the weapon.]
And it was indeed damning, because unfortunately, the Ardyn you know is the result of it. Had I not been such a fool -
[He stops himself with a sigh.]
No use in what-ifs.
no subject
He wouldn't even exist.]
To be fair, it's. Pretty hard to argue with the gods. They're very big.
no subject
I suppose so. Still, it's not as though it was the gods I loved. I should have at least stopped to ask Ardyn, not them.
no subject
no subject
no subject
[o h.]
Yeah, that's... Sorry. I guess... sometimes, you're so sure of something, you just don't stop to ask questions no matter what else doesn't add up.
['Why wouldn't I?!']
no subject
[Hey he's so bitter about that.]
I didn't. Not until Ignis put on the ring and Ardyn warped in front of him. For two thousand years, I believed.
[That's why he told you to ask, Prompto, when you're unsure. Things worse than seeming needy for reassurance: dooming your twin brother to two thousand years as the world's enemy.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)