Author's Note: I know. I'm sorry. I love them so much and my heart is in so much pain for this story and these people! I just need to heal my wounds by writing about my pain. I know that I don't need to have more stories to write but I couldn't just keep this to myself any longer! Don't hate me! Let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Warnings: A bit of gore, talk about death, OOCness and unbeta'd.

Word Count: 4,566

All his life, the little part in the back of Noctis's mind always thought that he was never going to be good enough to be King. It seemed like everything was always stacked against him, all of his life. He wasn't meant to be alive, the dark little voice in the back of his mind had always told him. He was weak as a small child, irresponsible as a teenager and set up to fail as a young man. He was never quite good enough. Quite smart enough. Quite strong enough. Quite brave enough. Of everything that he was, 'enough' wasn't it.

King Regis was a difficult man to live up to. He was both well beloved and well feared. Those that loved him, felt the veil of protection around them without a doubt, those that feared him, knew to because of the love and loyalty of the people around him. He knew people. He was good at dealing with people. People - around Noctis's age - would be intimidated by the Prince. Noctis doesn't know how it was when his father was a boy, but it was hard for Noctis. People knew who he was and what he would one day be, and so they would keep their distance. "Admire" him from a far, Ignis had said, to try and make him feel better.

It didn't. It just made him feel more lonely. More isolated.

But he had Ignis, and Gladio. They were his friends. His advisor and his shield. But mostly his friends. He was thankful to have them. But they were both older than him, so he had to go through school on his own.

People didn't ignore him. That just doesn't logically happen in real life. People are cordial, friendly enough. He would talk to his classmates, do work assignments with them or listen in on a conversation and join in. He had acquaintances. But no friends at school.

But the worries of school; how he looks, who he hangs with, what people think of him, studying for tests and quizzes, and trying not to sleep or daydream his day away. But his problems reside in what comes after school. Training to take his father's place. Learning how to be a King and protect himself and others. Learning about how to lead a country and it's people. How to be the man, and King, that his people need to be.

His father and he were never close. They spent time together when he was a kid. And they would speak a few times a week, but his father was always busy, always speaking to someone about something. It was only in the rare trips as a child that he was able to really spend time with his father. Those times were the best. Sure, he was sick all the time and was mostly confined to his wheelchair after the accident. Well, sick isn't a good word, but it helps curve the thoughts of what really happened that day.

Marilith. His attendant dying. His own injuries. The fear. The pain. His father fighting it off.

Carbuncle. His little friend. The one who looked out for him. Helped him be strong. Given, Carbuncle was only in his dreams - and sometimes in pictures that Prompto took during their journey? - but when he was down on his last leg, listening to his friends fighting the monsters around them. They would yell his name and go rushing to his side, immediately, to help him usually. But once in a blue moon, they are held up and before Noctis can completely black out, he would hear a sweet little cry of glee from Carbuncle in his mind, and he felt his strength return to him.

It was never something he could explain and Carbuncle was never there outside of his dreams, but he would see the little fox-like creature in pictures that Prompto takes, but no one else ever saw him.

Isolated and scared, as a child that was confined to a wheelchair after he awoke from his coma, there was always a restlessness to Noctis. He wanted to be able to make people proud of him. He wanted to live up to the expectation of his people and his father, but as he got older, he started to realize that maybe his father didn't really see a prince in him.

Sure, Noctis had advisors and duties, but he didn't really feel like his father expected much of him. He mostly let Noctis do whatever he liked. He let Noctis speak to him however he liked and walk about and represent himself however he liked. Noctis even convinced his father to let him live in an apartment away from the palace, by himself.

Noctis wanted freedom. He wanted individuality. But most of all, he wanted to get away from the eyes of people who didn't understand him. Who didn't think that he would be good enough. He just wanted to be able to be himself in his own space and not have to worry about someone walking in on him - well, except for maybe Ignis.

Loyal, faithful, wonderful Ignis would be there sometimes to clean up and make his meals for him. No one made meals as good as Ignis. No one knew Noctis's taste buds as well as Ignis. No one let him get away with nearly as much as Ignis. Except for his father, maybe.

Noctis wasn't perfect, sure, but his father would stare at him sadly, as if he simply wasn't able to do anything to his father's satisfaction. King Regis always looked at him sadly. It weighed heavily on Noctis. He was never going to be good enough. Noctis was too ashamed to ask him exactly what it was about himself that displeased his father, but it was always settled on his shoulders. Every time he saw his father, he would feel that weight return to his shoulders. Then he began to avoid his father.

Noctis regrets that now. Years later.

He sits upon the throne that his father once occupied, staring at the brightly lit forms of the Lucien kings of the past. He closes his eyes for a moment and imagines his precious people. The people that he met along the way of his journey, those that he met earlier in his life and lost. Those that stuck with him to the end. Those that were only cliff notes in his life, but were precious to him nonetheless.

His three best friends. Ignis, Prompto and even Gladio.

Ignis, his advisor, his ally, his caretaker.

Prompto, his best friend, his confidant, his rock.

And Gladio, his shield, his teacher, his moral compass.

But even people like Tabolt, Iris, Lunafreya, Jarred.

He was twenty years old. So what if she slept for ten years, his mind and soul were only twenty years old. And at twenty, he was ready to die. Not in some melodramatic, couldn't take the pain or didn't know where to turn, sort of thing. He was ready to die because he needed to die. If his death brought peace to his kingdom, then maybe he would be a terrible King like he always feared that he would be. His first and last act as King would be to save everyone. Even if he would never be beloved by his people, nor would people sing his praises, but at least they would live.

He may be the last of his bloodline, but maybe that was okay. Maybe the time for Lucis and it's Kings was to come to an end. Why else would the Crystal demand his death and the end of his bloodline if it wasn't because they served their purpose?

At least, Noctis didn't have to worry about ruining everything his father built. The Empire did that, but at least the people would be able to build it up from the ashes. Noctis had faith in his friends and his people. He may not always know what's best, but he seemed to have always surrounded himself by the people that did. It was his saving grace all these years.

In his final moments, as each strike from the Kings before him became more to bear than the one that proceeded it, his father's visage - a ghostly imagine that stood by his side - couldn't bear to look at him. Young, teenage, ignorant Noctis would have thought it was shame in Noctis that turned the Kings eyes away from him, but in this moment, Noctis understood.

It was his father's shame in himself and his pain, that makes him unable to look at Noctis. He can't see his son die like this. He can't bear to look at Noctis.

As silly as it was, after all of these years, Noctis is still trying to live up to image of his father. He knew he had to be strong. He knew what he had to do, and if he was weak, his father wouldn't help him complete his one and only reason for living: dying for his people. His father wouldn't be able to deliver the final blow that would end Noctis's life.

For once in his life, if Noctis wasn't strong, his father wouldn't be.

"Dad," Noctis winces, looking over at the wrath-like visage of his father, "trust me." Trust me to not mess up. Trust me not to fail. Trust me to do what I was meant to. Trust me to die.

Noctis has never seen his father appear to be in so much pain.

Noctis was ready to die, because he had to be. He couldn't screw up the only real thing he's going to do as King. It's the easiest thing in the world for him to be able to do as King. Was to die.

His father's sword being plunged into his chest threw him into blackness. All the agony of his heart, spirit and body faded away slowly at first, then all at once.

It was a cruel joke.

The cruelest of all jokes. There he sit, like the pompous, privileged prince he always was. His face was loose and peaceful, not showing any of the pain that his body had to of endured before the final sword - the one that belong to his father - rests now sticking out of his chest. All of the color has drained from his face as his lap and the floor around the throne is coated in his blood.

It's still fresh and shimmering in the growing light as the sun finally peaks through the dark clouds. The rays dance around his head like a halo, and King Regis's sword glitters.

Somehow, the horrible, painful scene was beautiful.

He spent the last ten years sleeping yet the bags and dark circles under his eyes showed it was not restful. His death seems to have brought him a degree of peace to him. His face looks rested, even though his eyes will never open again. Even his eyelids were loosing the purple painted across them from lack of proper rest, and the lines of a tough life smoothed out.

"Noct..." Prompto whispers, feeling his heart be pulled from his chest. Excluding the sword protruding from his chest, Noctis just looks like he's sleeping.

"Is... he...?" Ignis asks, stepping up next to Prompto, his eyes unseeing. "I... can feel... heat. The sun? I faintly... see a light." And he could. Through the thick haze of darkness, there was a dim light, turning the black of his vision, gray.

"You will never hear me say this again," Gladio says, voice rough with unspoken emotion. "But I'm envious of your blindness, Ignis. What I wouldn't give to never see this image again."

Ignis swallows. He's not so sure about that. Seeing has to be better than imagining it.

Then again, Ignis isn't sure he wouldn't break down at the sight of his beloved Prince and friend, lifeless, dead-eyed and gone.

Something hits the ground next to Ignis and soft whimpering. Shoes scuff behind him. "Prompto..." Gladio groans. "Don't be like that." He forces his voice to be strong, but Ignis can hear it wavering. Even strong, unshakable Gladiolous can deny the pain that losing Noctis brought all of them. Ignis is having a tough time breathing, horrible imagines in his mind's eye because his own eyes cannot see it.

"Why did he have to chose the picture of all of us?" Prompto asks, voice pitching in pain.

"Which one did he pick?" Ignis asks, realizing he never asked.

"It was with everyone, before we left for Altissa," Gladio says. "It's on the throne next to him, his left hand is resting on it, I think..."

Ignis feels his lips tremble a bit as Prompto lets out a moan of agony, trying not to imagine the scene before him, but he has to ask, "Does he look like he's in pain?" He wants something else to pull away the pained, dead look that is on Noctis's face. He doesn't know what older Noctis looks like. All he can see in his mind's eye is young, nineteen year old Noctis.

"No," Gladio says, before roughly clearing his throat. "No. He looks... peaceful..."

That doesn't exactly make him feel any better. He doesn't know what peaceful Noctis looks like. It seems like there was always something that was troubling him. Ignis can't really remember if he's ever seen a peaceful looking Noctis. He's known Noctis since he was just a little boy, yet there always appeared to be something that was bothering him. Why can't he imagine a peaceful looking Noctis? Why can't the last image of Noctis, while his beloved Prince is in the room with him, be of the peaceful image that Gladio can see, yet is somehow so terrible he wished he couldn't?

"How?" Ignis asks, his voice thick with emotion. "How can he look peaceful? How does he look peaceful? What does that look like?"

"Iggy..." Gladio says softly, reaching out to put a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Iggy, I-"

"Do you remember..." Prompto says slowly, sniffling loudly. "Do you remember when the Regalia broke down, and we had to push it all the way to Cid's shop? Do you remember after we cooled down and finally piled back into the car? Noctis laid his head back and closed his eyes with this look on his face. He was tired, exhausted from the hard work, but seemed... okay? Not happy. Not relieved. But... okay?"

Yes. Ignis does remember that. The image appears in his mind's eye and this tiny sense of relief washes over him. He can see Noctis, tired, freshly showered thanks to Cindy and Cid's generosity, in the seat behind him. He wasn't happy. He was certainly tired, but he was okay. He was relaxed and the lines that were slowly forming around his eyebrows were smooth. His eyes were closed and his face was smooth. The sun was shining off his dark hair, turning his somewhat pale skin a nice golden color. The gentle breeze pulling a bit at the long strands of his hair. He had stopped moving around, already falling asleep.

A peaceful, somewhat easy time.

At the moment, Ignis hated that the Regalia broke down, because they were having to push it in the smoldering heat. It was a pain, and Ignis hated it, but looking back on that moment, Ignis loved it, and missed it. He was trying to get the car started while Prompto, Gladio and Noctis pushed the car down the street. They were laughing and joking and groaning about their plight, but it was okay. It wasn't anything terrible, or horrible, or gut-wrenching. It was annoying, and a pain. But that's it.

"Do you... remember that... Iggy?" Prompto asks, his voice hoarse.

"I do," Ignis says softly, feeling tears slide down his face. "I remember."

"Oh man," Gladio says. "Don't cry, Ignis. Shit, Prompto. Stop, both of you. He wouldn't want this. Didn't we cry enough? Didn't we know this was coming?"

"So?" Prompto moans. "So what! He's gone, Gladio! So. What. We just got him back and he's gone! What else are we suppose to do? What else, Gladio? Tell me, and I'll do it!"

Gladio is silent for a moment, before letting out a long, pained sigh. "I don't know! Sitting around and crying wouldn't be it! He... he wouldn't want us to just cry. He would want us to... to..." Another shuttering sigh. "He would want us to live on. Find happiness."

"Without him?" Ignis says softly. "I don't know how I can."

There is a small squeaking noise. Normally, Prompto wouldn't be able to hear it over his heavy breathing and soft crying, but he started to settle down a bit, listening to Ignis and Gladio talk. But he definitely heard something.

"What..?" Prompto jumps to his feet. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Gladio asks.

"There was a noise," Ignis says, straightening up, having heard it too. "It's in front of us."

A small white creature jumps up onto the handle of the sword, staring down the blade at Noctis, large ears pushed back tightly.

"Noctis!" Comes a soft, airy voice. "Oh, no, Noctis!"

"Who's there?" Ignis asks, eyebrows pulling together.

"Some sort of creature is in front of Noctis!" Prompto says.

Gladio starts walking toward the creature. "And... I think that it's talking..."

"A monster?" Ignis asks, confused. "Talking?"

"I don't know..." Prompto says, circling around to get a good angle on the little white fox-like creature, still staring down at the unmoving prince. "Where did he come from?"

"Noctis!" The fox cries, walking carefully down the blade to Noctis, putting his front paw on the Prince's chest. "This isn't right, Noctis, this isn't right! You have to wake up now, Noctis! You have to wake up! We need you, Noctis! We need you!"

"Who're you?" Prompto asks, climbing up beside Noctis's throne, trying not to look at his best friend's face. His skin is a sickly gray color and his chin is nearly touching his chest.

The fox looks over at Prompto with large, brownish red eyes turn to Prompto's face. A small, red horn on it's forehead, glittering in the sunlight. "Prompto!" The fox says, his voice not coming out of his lips, but the red stone began to shine as he speaks. "Noctis won't wake up. He has to wake up. This isn't what I wanted. This isn't what was suppose to happen."

"What are you talking about?" Gladio asks, stepping up beside Prompto, casting a quick look at Noctis's face before looking away again.

"Noctis has to wake up!" The fox shakes it's head, ears pressed against it's skull. "Noctis is the True King! It wasn't suppose to be like this! You were suppose to bring back the light! You did! Now you have to rule your kingdom! Ardyn is done! Your battle is in eternity, not for it! Noctis!" The fox moans in pain. The fox leans the tip of it's horn against Noctis's forehead.

"What is it talking about?" Ignis asks.

The fox closes it's eyes tightly, horn glowing bright red. "Bahamut doesn't speak for everyone. Godly as he is, my god, he is not. You have to come back, Noctis!" A large, radiating red energy begins to pulsate from the small horn, growing more in intensity as time passes, until the building is actually starting to shake with the force of it's power. But the fox appears to be in pain, summoning up more and more power.

"Noctis..." the fox says mournfully. "Noctis..."

"Is... is it crying...?" Prompto asks, down on one knee, holding onto Ignis's shoulder to keep them both in place.

Gladio has his hand against the wall, eyes wide. He watches as the small creature bows more until it's own strength, horn glowing brighter. It's eyes are squeezed tightly shut, it's front paw back onto the edge of the sword, barely keeping balance. It's back is bent in such a way that it's hindquarters are in the air, it's chest is at the edge of the blade but it's forehead it toward Noctis. It's small horn light a miniature sun in the room.

"What are you talking about?" Prompto asks the little fox. "What do you mean? What's all this about Noctis? What are you trying to do?" He holds a hand in front of his eyes to block out the pulsating light.

"Noctis," the fox says sadly. "Noctis..."

The light from it's horn grows brighter and brighter until everyone in the room is blinded by a bright, crimson explosion where Noctis and the small fox creature once were, throwing all three men back across the room. Ignis, who actually saw the blast of bright red, blacked out almost immediately after his back, neck and shoulders hit the wall on the opposite side of the room from the throne, next to the door.

Prompto's ears are ringing as he slowly pushes himself up onto his hands and knees, head pounding. There is a bright flashing red light in the center of the room. Prompto gives his head a little shake before looking over and seeing Noctis floating in the center of the room, his father's sword is still plunged into the center of his chest. His arms are outstretched at his sides, head thrown back with his eyes and mouth open and bright crimson light blazing in both and his legs dangling uselessly beneath him.

The small fox creature floating in front of him, eyes and mouth open as well, with the blazing red from both and it's horn.

There is a bright pulsating light coming from directly beneath him: the crystal.

"Wha..?" Prompto gasps, blue eyes wide as he looks around the room. How did the crystal..? What happened to the... now immaculate throne room? What? Did that hit kill him? Is he out cold? What is going on?

Prompto looks around, his eyes landing on Ignis, who was slowly sitting up, rubbing roughly at his head, groaning in pain, until he looks up, opening his blue eyes - to see the throne room that he was in dozens of times in his youth. It was exactly as Ignis remembered, and Prompto could tell because his eyes flittered around, taking in every single detail, drinking it in like he was a thirsty man traveling through the dessert.

His sight... Ignis could see! The scars on his eyes were gone! His hair is shorter and not styled up in the way that Prompto was used to seeing him with. It was very... odd.

"Ugh," Gladio groans, climbing to his feet in Prompto's peripheral. "What the hell was that?"

"Gladio?" Prompto gasps. Shorter hair, long on top, shaved on the sides. His scars... not there? Even the one he got over his left eye that he got protect Noctis from a drunken civilian. This entire thing is absolutely crazy! What in the world is going on?

"What is going on in here?"

Prompto almost broke his neck twisting it around to look at the source of that voice and sees King Regis, in all of his glory, along with Cor and two other Kingsglaive come running into the room.

"You're majesty?" Ignis gasps, before twisting around to look at the floating figure in the center of the room, eyes widening in absolute horror. "Noct!"

Regis looks up at the glowing figure in the sky, his own eyes widening. "Noctis?" He looks down at the glowing Crystal in the center of the room, pulsating in power. There is a glowing blue light around King Regis as he draws closer, his power reacting in proximity to the Crystal. He sees the sword - his sword - in Noctis's chest, and the horror draws all the color from his chest. "Noctis!" He whips around, eyes locking with one of the Kingsglaive, who were shielding their eyes from the bright light. "Get doctors!"

He nods and races from the room.

The pulsating from the fox's horn and the Crystal sync up and the fox leans forward, touching it's horn to the handle of Regis's sword and a red energy shoots up the hilt, into the blade and into Noctis's body, making every vein in his body turn bright crimson and bulge out against his skin.

The fox falls almost immediately afterward, the power dying away. It hits the ground hard, bouncing twice before falling completely still, it's horn turning clear white. The crimson light fades from Noctis's body and the Crystal directly beneath him, as he begins to lower slowly to the ground in front of his father. His feet touch the ground softly, then his knees and he sits on his legs, eyes and mouth closed, arms loose at his side. His skin in pale and gray, discolored and lifeless.

The lights fades from the room and everything grows completely silent.

Noctis looks haunting. He looks dead. Not peaceful or okay. He looks completely lifeless. Yet somehow he's sitting upright, even though he's not even breathing. Then, he sways, and falls over to the side, not making a single noise as his shoulder hits the ground, blood splashing around him, freshly bleeding once more as Noctis takes a gasping, wheezing breath, eyes fluttering open.

"Noct!" Ignis breaks into a sprint across the room.

"Noctis!" Prompto and Galdio run right after him as King Regis drops down next to his son, hands shaking as he reaches out and gently touches his son's face, looking around at the sword - his - still sticking from his chest.

"Gladio!" Cor snaps, making the younger man freeze. "We have to try and slow down the bleeding!"

Gladio stares down at the sword in his chest, with wide eyes, not sure that would do any good. Noctis was bleeding out quickly. He was going to die - again. How did he even come back in the first place.

"Gladiolus!" Cor snaps, making Gladio jump, looking up at the older man. "Do you want him to die?"

"No," Gladio says, eyebrows pulling together.

"Then help me save his life," Cor commands, nudging Prompto to the side and lowers down, pulling off his jacket to press around his wound. Gladio moves to help, pushing Ignis away. Prompto slowly picks up the small white fox creature, feeling it shaking terribly in his arms and hugs it to him. He doesn't know what's going on. How they got here. What's happening. But he did understand one thing: this little fox creature saved Noctis's life.

At least for now.