Get in time traveller

[warmgaze]

[Altissia. The ring, burning into his finger, burning into his skull, and he knows the price without asking, knows before it's paid. The thing you value most, isn't that always how this works in fairytales?

Ravus. Noctis. Ardyn, and that little revelation barely enters his mind at the time, the familiar glowing signature of a warp in an unfamiliar color. The prophecy, the visions that hang in his mind, a last wish from a woman who spent her life to ensure it, Lunafreya's final message to ensure that Noctis would survive.

The last clear words he can remember clearly, You've a calling to fulfill, and then Prompto and Gladio's voices, concerned, in a blur...

And then nothing. Just the feeling of a ring's power, setting him alight from fingertips to crown -

It's still in him, that power. The ring of the Lucii binds to its wearers for life, knotting strands of light into their souls, be they kings or anyone else.

(He had expected to die. Living is harder.)

And in the depths of his unconsciousness, in the place where he knows the things that he hasn't had time to consider, Noctis and Ardyn and prophecy and all of that terrible weight -

From there, from the connection of the fire in his soul that will never go out, that can only be smothered and locked away in the dark, a voice says, what would you give to change fate?

And, of course, he answers, Anything.

----

In another world, Ignis Scientia wakes in Altissia, his face scarred, his vision burned away, and continues on.

In this one, Prompto Argentum enters the room just in time to see a flare of purple flame lick along his friend's body and leave nothing behind, not even a char mark on the wrinkled sheets.

And Ignis?

Ignis wakes, with a groan and a hand pressed to his face, in the back of a cart that trundles to a stop to pick up another passenger, a young healer with cheeks not yet sunken by pain and eyes not yet yellowed by plague. He wakes bereft, on some fundamental level, of the touch of magic that bound him to Noctis, the hum of energy that bound retainer to prince...

He wakes with the imprint of a ring on his finger, the memory of agreeing, and not the damnedest idea where he is.]

Comments

[founderinglight]

[And Izunia is no fool. He freezes for a moment, and then pulls back enough to see -

Ardyn's wrist. The Scourge shows up there first, in the veins at the pulse point going black. He's spent enough time in the sick houses, with Ardyn and for his own research to try to ease his brother's burden, to know that.]

...You're not...

[burninglight]

Wh-

[Ardyn pulled back quickly, adjusting his gloves and clutching his arm to his chest with a look like an anak in headlights.]

...I...I-

[founderinglight]

...Ardyn. There is nothing I could see that would make me love you any less.

[Izunia is not the sort of fool who would claim that a daemonified relative was still themselves, wasn't a danger to others. But he is the sort of person who would refuse to isolate an infected person until the very last moment.]

Please. Let me see. I just - I need to know how much time.

[burninglight]

No. You don't-...you don't understand. I'm not contagious and I'm not...exactly sick. Yet.

[He glanced out of the corner of his eyes--still hazel--at Ignis, then looked as if he very much wanted to warp out the nearest window.]

[founderinglight]

Do you think I would turn you out if you were? You're my brother, for gods' sake, and even if you weren't, I'm not some panicky mother of three who thinks the Scourge is spread by proximity alone. I can handle it.

[He reaches towards Ardyn, but doesn't try to seize his brother's hand. Please, let him see. It's clear that at least one twin has forgotten that there's anyone else in the room.

Ignis, for his part, gives Ardyn a very small smile and a nod. It's okay. You were going to tell him everything, remember?]

[burninglight]

No, just...just listen, Izunia. [Ardyn didn't hold out his arm just yet, still clutching it to his chest.]

I'm not...going to turn. Not like you think I will. I know it sounds utterly mad, but you have to trust me.

[founderinglight]

...Then talk to me, Ardyn. Please. Tell me what has you so distressed.

[His hands are still reaching out. If anyone didn't trust, here, it was arguably Ardyn - but now is not the time to point that out, by any means.]

[burninglight]

[Hesitantly, he took off one of his gloves and pulled his sleeve back. Amidst the scattered scars was a small mark of black at his wrist--but it fluctuated as Ardyn gradually began to calm down from his restrained panic, disappearing entirely only a moment or two after Izunia took his hand.]

[founderinglight]

[Izunia takes Ardyn's hand with as much gentleness as he can... And then swears quietly as the black mark shifts and vanishes.]

I've never seen it do that before. Gods, Ardyn...

[burninglight]

I know. It's...not normal, for me. With how much I've taken, I should be dead ten times over.

But if this continues--if everything Ignis has said is true, I'm going to turn into something worse than a daemon.

[founderinglight]

[...Nope, time to hold the brother close again. Just. Holding on, that's a thing we're doing.

But at least the mention of the man's name reminds Izunia that, oh yeah, Ignis is here, and he glances at the man over Ardyn's shoulder.]

You - you've seen this before?

In a manner of speaking.

[burninglight]

This is...kind of the part where it gets unbelievable.

[But he'd cling to his brother all the same.]

The Astrals don't...mean for me to cure the plague. I'm not the real Chosen--I'm just the vessel for the true King of Light to get rid of.

[founderinglight]

You're - what?

[His grip on Ardyn tightens.]

But you're...

[Probably for the better if Ignis steps in now, but his expression makes it clear that he's not particularly looking forward to it.]

The truth is, I'm not from this time at all. I was born two thousand years in the future - a future where a man calling himself 'Ardyn Izunia' serves as the apparent incarnation of the Starscourge itself.

What? Oh - oh, gods...

[burninglight]

...

[Ardyn hid his face in Izunia's shoulder again, clinging tightly.]

I think he's telling the truth. It...it's too damned ridiculous to be a lie. So I-...if I keep going like this, I'm going to turn into a monster.

And you're going to turn on me. You and Gilgamesh both.

[founderinglight]

I - I would never -

[He pulls Ardyn close, fiercely, as though to protect him from Ignis with his eyes alone.]

I would never. There must be some mistake.

[burninglight]

No...that's what I said, too. Don't be angry with him, just...hear us out.

If I became something else--if I turned into a monster, if I ceased to even be human...what would you do?

[founderinglight]

...I don't know. I...

[He squeezes Ardyn's shoulder and looks away.]

I was always prepared for the possibility that you'd catch the Scourge yourself. In a normal way, not... this. I knew it was possible, and if you did become a daemon, I was prepared to take care of it.

[The finality of the statement makes it clear exactly what he means.]

[burninglight]

I think that's...probably what happened. In some measure--I can't really grasp the possible details. I know you and Gil would never hurt me, but I-...I--

[founderinglight]

Shhh, Ardyn, it's alright. I'm here. I'm not going to leave you. No matter what darkness comes, you will always be my brother.

[burninglight]

...I'm scared. I don't know what to do. I don't want to hurt anyone, but I--how can I just stop trying to help people?

[founderinglight]

I don't know, either. I don't...

[I don't want this.]

...Why did it have to be us? Our family?

[burninglight]

...don't know.

[But he at least seemed to be relaxing a little at a time, curling up against his brother like the last anchor to sanity.]

[founderinglight]

Rhetorical, dear brother.

[There's none of the gentle teasing in it there might otherwise be. He's not in good enough shape for that, just clutching Ardyn against his side.]

[burninglight]

...sorry. This is all my fault.

[founderinglight]

It is not. How can it be your fault, when it was the gods who gave you such a flawed power?