[A silence follows those words, broken only by Noctis' shaken breath. He's being so kind right now, so gentle, like Noct is made of glass. He feels a little bit that way, leaning on the other man, trembling against him. It's not him. They're family. Here, they have a family. He can't imagine that man ever sharing such a gentle sentiment. Izunia did everything he could to make Noctis hate him, so their confrontation would be in some way satisfying. Perhaps he wants to end the line of the Lucii personally. Perhaps he just wants to finally die.
...He... he doesn't want to die, though.
He does want it to be over. He wants their family to stop suffering, he wants the pain to end. He wants Lucis to exist in peace, real peace, not the false platitudes of the Wall that protected less and less of their continent until it was only Insomnia left. He wants to see his home shining again, lively and busy as it was before it was broken down and conquered. He wants to go camping with his friends, bitch about the tent and the bugs, wants to fish until a whole lake is empty. He doesn't want to be king, but he does want to see the country that his family built rise up again and not be lost to history like Solheim was, wants to be a part of that process somehow. He wants so many things. Twenty years isn't enough. Or twenty-one, or thirty, or fifty, or two thousand, even. A life committed only to duty is hardly a life lived.
He'd had a dream back in Altissia, before the rite, before he was finally going to be reunited with Luna and take her away from the empire, keep her safe at his side. He'd dreamed of what might have happened if it hadn't been a lie, if the treaty had been real. They'd have married properly in Insomnia, he'd see her in that dress with her hair all done up, walking with the kind of regal elegance he could never dare to emulate. He'd fumble through some ancient vows and she'd smile and humour him, take his arm, let him slip on her wedding ring. They'd figure out what the hell being married meant on the fly, and it would be okay, somehow, as long as they were together. The world would be lost to Niflheim, but it would be peaceful, finally. They'd learn to live in that world.
Izunia could even come to the wedding, as chancellor. Given them some petty gift, danced with the bride with no daggers involved, only his bizarre version of charm and wit. Noctis would go to the Crystal eventually. The darkness would be purged. The gods' will was an inevitability, the prophecy would come for them, but... for a little while, they'd be happy, and then they'd all be free.
"You'll be doing me a favor as much as anyone else."
It was a nice dream, and thinking about it now and all the things that had happened between then and the present, his instincts kick in and he throws his arms up around Ardyn, burying his face to the man's shoulder, and stops fighting those stupid coward's tears any longer. They're family. Let him be weak for a while.]
no subject
...He... he doesn't want to die, though.
He does want it to be over. He wants their family to stop suffering, he wants the pain to end. He wants Lucis to exist in peace, real peace, not the false platitudes of the Wall that protected less and less of their continent until it was only Insomnia left. He wants to see his home shining again, lively and busy as it was before it was broken down and conquered. He wants to go camping with his friends, bitch about the tent and the bugs, wants to fish until a whole lake is empty. He doesn't want to be king, but he does want to see the country that his family built rise up again and not be lost to history like Solheim was, wants to be a part of that process somehow. He wants so many things. Twenty years isn't enough. Or twenty-one, or thirty, or fifty, or two thousand, even. A life committed only to duty is hardly a life lived.
He'd had a dream back in Altissia, before the rite, before he was finally going to be reunited with Luna and take her away from the empire, keep her safe at his side. He'd dreamed of what might have happened if it hadn't been a lie, if the treaty had been real. They'd have married properly in Insomnia, he'd see her in that dress with her hair all done up, walking with the kind of regal elegance he could never dare to emulate. He'd fumble through some ancient vows and she'd smile and humour him, take his arm, let him slip on her wedding ring. They'd figure out what the hell being married meant on the fly, and it would be okay, somehow, as long as they were together. The world would be lost to Niflheim, but it would be peaceful, finally. They'd learn to live in that world.
Izunia could even come to the wedding, as chancellor. Given them some petty gift, danced with the bride with no daggers involved, only his bizarre version of charm and wit. Noctis would go to the Crystal eventually. The darkness would be purged. The gods' will was an inevitability, the prophecy would come for them, but... for a little while, they'd be happy, and then they'd all be free.
"You'll be doing me a favor as much as anyone else."
It was a nice dream, and thinking about it now and all the things that had happened between then and the present, his instincts kick in and he throws his arms up around Ardyn, burying his face to the man's shoulder, and stops fighting those stupid coward's tears any longer. They're family. Let him be weak for a while.]
I'm sorry... I didn't want this, I'm sorry...
[I don't want to kill you. I don't want to die.]