Get in time traveller
[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.]
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.]
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[Fixated as he was on the detail Ardyn seemed to have forgotten he was about to say anything, or even that one of his enemies had just pulled a knife on him.]
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He tosses the blade up, a casual gesture mixed with potential threat, and catches it again. The true purpose, of course, is to allow him to see the blade, what about it has Ardyn's attention so completely.
...Ah.]
Is there a problem?
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[The threat didn't concern him for obvious reasons, eyes never once leaving the blade as it moved. Why...why did he recognize it, where had he seen it before and why was that bothering him so much?]
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[That, at least, is the truth, which might be more than Ardyn Izunia deserves.]
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[Ardyn trailed off, like he’d encountered some kind of processing error.]
Where have I...seen that before...?
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It's only a matter of time before one of the others passes through this hallway. And his current position casually chatting with the architect of their misery would not be taken well, not well at all.
So he does the only sensible thing. The dagger vanishes from his grasp, and without a word, he grabs Ardyn by the front of his shirt and yanks him into the cabin, slamming the door closed behind them.]
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[‘Startled’ was an understatement, Ardyn dragged quite physically out of his thoughts and scowling.]
Just what do you think you’re doing?!
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[He lets go of the shirt, but doesn't draw a weapon again, at least, turning to have the door at his back instead. If one of them is going to need to escape, after all, it's going to be him, painfully mortal as he is.]
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[Ardyn smirked coldly, hair long since gone violet hanging in eyes blighted yellow-gold.]
[Looked like he’d need another push to trigger much more than faint nostalgia.]
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[Like this, they're very closer in each others' space. There's no real need to be, in this cabin, but here they are.
He can't smell the Scourge, the way you sometimes could at a sick bed when someone was near the end, or in the dissolving remains of a powerful daemon. But he can practically feel it, in the way Ardyn's eyes catch the light. A predator locked in a small space, but Ignis is certainly not prey.]
And you haven't even begun to see the mad things I'll do.
[Because for a moment there was that hesitation, that almost-remembering...]
If Ardyn Lucis Caelum is still in there, then I want to wake him up.
[And without giving Ardyn time to process those words, he moves, empty hand tangling in that violet hair, kissing Ardyn hard as though that alone could drive the Scourge away.]
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[—but suddenly there was no space between an adviser and the chilled walking corpse that had once been a healer, and a twisting ache where his heart should have been. Without warning, ancient memories burned in as though they had always been there.]
[I’m not strong enough for this.]
[Ardyn pushed Ignis off of him, recoiling with a hand pressed to his eye; black wisps of miasma rose like smoke between his fingers, a few drops falling to the floor like blood before evaporating as well]
You—you, how are you—you disappeared, you left, you promised you wouldn’t leave, you’re just like everyone else-
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(It's not the worst thing he's ever tasted, but it's up there.)
And it takes a moment to catch up with those words - ]
I didn't leave. I'm right here, aren't I?
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[Ardyn’s whole condescending act had shattered, giving way to frantic shock and anger. He didn’t know if he wanted to throw Ignis out the nearest train window or hug him and mever let go, but he was leaning towards the former.]
[When his hand dropped from his face, the plague had begun to recede—leaving behind familiar scarring.]
How dare you...think you can just come to me now as though you made some kind of difference, as though any of it mattered-!
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[Never. Not even for a moment. He takes in the reappearing scars, watches Ardyn like he itches to pounce and hold him close.]
I went to sleep at your side and woke up here, as though nothing had changed except for me. Ardyn, you - you know the depths of my loyalty, when I decide to give it.
[Down to the very ashes. This Ardyn, at least, knows in full the origin of those scars.]
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Not to me. Never to me, the pretender King of Light, but to he who would be shown the true favor of the cursed gods.
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[He won't pretend to choose one over the other.Neither will he pretend it isn't tearing him apart.
Noctis needs him. But Ardyn, who has no one else, needs him far more right now.]
For fuck's sake, do you think what we did is something I could just forget or turn my back on? What kind of a man do you think I am? You left your mark on my very soul, I'll not turn away from you. Now or ever, whatever you may have become in the meantime.
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[Malice given form shrieked and coiled in his head, all negative thoughts and doubts and hatred struggling to maintain hold on a human heart twisted by the corruption that had stained it through countless injuries.]
You don’t...you don’t care. No one does. All I am is a monster, there’s naught left of what you knew.
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[And when he says it like that, there's only one thing he can do. Step closer and take Ardyn into his arms, ignoring the part of his mind still screaming that this is a predator and wrong and something he needs to get away from.]
...I'm sorry.
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[It hurt. The twisting in his chest was matched by a very different one inhis mind, and for just a moment it felt like this was the single breath of air after drowning in an endless black ocean for millennia. Would this brief and uncertain clarity last? He didn’t know, and it was that which led him to put shaking arms around Ignis with a hesitant and half-whispered plea:]
...help me. Please. I don’t...I don’t want this, I can’t control it, it’s too much and too loud and I don’t know how long I can hold it back like this.
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It's okay. I've got you. We'll figure out something.
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[Clearly conflicted in every way imaginable, Ardyn shook his head and held Ignis a little more tightly even as he protested the concept.]
Just go, before I hurt you again. Go back to your king and...forget me. For your own safety.
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[With one hand, he reaches up to run his fingers through Ardyn's hair. His plea is just the opposite - ]
Stay. Stay here and let me be your safety a while longer. I'm not so foolish as to think that you're the same person this side of two thousand years, but you are still Ardyn, and these last weeks have been maddening without you.
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[Ardyn hurting him is out of the question.]
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