It hurts to see what's left of Insomnia. There's wreckage everywhere; abandoned cars, fallen street lamps, broken telephone poles. The buildings look bombed out. The worst part is it's clearly been like this for a long time. The wrecked cars are rusty, their windows cloudy and broken. The wood of the phone poles is rotting and riddled with wormholes. He'd say Nature is reclaiming the city, but it it can't. There's no sun. Even without the daemons popping up everywhere, the city is full of ghosts. None of them speak as they make their way toward the Citadel.

As predicted, Chancellor Sleazeball is there waiting for them. He doesn't bother monologuing this time, just sics a corrupted version of Ifrit on them. Happily, they have Shiva on their side and the fight isn't too bad. That's not to say they aren't all a little bit crispy around the edges. All that remains now is dealing with Ardyn himself, and he isn't likely to go down easy. He's also unlikely to play fair.

"Okay," Noct says, taking a moment to raise a shield around each of his Crownsguard. "We know he likes to screw with people, and that he cheats like hell. Don't let him get inside your head. Just stick to the mission. If it gets too hot, there is no shame in falling back to regroup.

"I'll go in first and keep his attention. Prompto will cover me. Ignis and Luna, Ravus and Gladio will get around him from another angle. I'll cast spell to signal you. Once Luna and I have him cornered, we'll take him down."

They nod to show they understand.

Right. Time to go.

They touch fists and disperse.

Noct does his best to march into the throne room with his head high. Ardyn is lounging in the throne as if he owns the place. The broken bodies of his friends dangle like forgotten marionettes, hopelessly tangled in their own strings: Ignis with his ruined eyes uncovered and staring at nothing, Ravus' remaining arm hanging at a sickening angle. Luna's face is streaked with tears, her legs with blood. Noctis' vision stains red. Astrals, if that bastard laid a hand on her… Wait. Noct shakes his head, squinting to see past what his eyes register as light and color.

They're illusions. Magic, nothing more. Well, Noct knows magic. He also happens to know his friends are safe and sneaking around to ambush the smug son of a bitch right now.

"Out of my chair, jester," Noct growls. "The King sits there."

Ardyn opens his mouth to offer a witty reply, but Noct doesn't give him the chance. A bolt of lightning flies from his hand to scorch the upholstery of the throne. Ardyn is now inches from his face, weapon in hand.

Yeah, no. They're not doing that again.

Rather than try to deflect or shove him away, Noct seizes him by the cravat and yanks him forward. Ardyn clearly wasn't expecting that and stumbles into him, the dagger going off to one side, nicking Noctis' arm. Noct drops the walking stick to grab Ardyn with his free hand. Magic arcs around them and they fall to the floor as two more bodies collide with them. Luna and Gladio have joined the fight. Together, they wrestle the Chancellor to the ground. Prompto, Ravus, and Ignis pile on to help.

It takes every particle of magic Noct has to keep Ardyn from warping away. Luna's sitting on his chest, both hands around his neck like she's trying to strangle him. The guys do their best to keep his arms and legs pinned. Indeed, Ardyn's jaw is working and he does appear to be choking. Greasy black tears streak down his cheeks, inky slaver from the corners of his mouth.

"Wretched brats!" Ardyn rasps, and a wave of sickly purple black explodes outward, throwing them back. The gunk stings and burns; making their clothing smoke. Noct hauls himself to his feet, hands slipping on the walking stick from the goo.

Ardyn's not doing much better. He's doubled over, one arm pressed against his middle. Black streaks down his face like he's wearing cheap makeup, he gags and vomits a cascade of purple-black onto the floor.

"Ew gross…" Prompto comments as Ardyn coughs. Noct hopes against hope that he'll back down, that he'll try to throw an attack and explode in a shower of goo and that'll be it. However, he knows too well that their luck just isn't that good. Noct has just enough time to raise and cross his wrists, forming a barrier over his friends as Ardyn lets loose a bolt of magic. Despite the shield, everyone winces and staggers with the impact, especially Noct.

Ardyn's summoned a scythe that looks like the Grim Reaper briefly went through a Magical Girl phase and then thought better of it. The fact that his daemon-fueled armiger shows up fuschia doesn't help. It would be funny if he wasn't swinging it with deadly force toward them. Gladio isn't having any of this and leaps forward to intercept the oversized piece of farming equipment with his mace. The blades collide with a an arm-shivering clang. Noct takes some satisfaction that the mace has left a sizeable chip in the middle of the scythe's long fang. Ardyn, however, is annoyed.

"No," he snarls, and flings what Noct at first thinks is magic at them. He isn't wrong. The guys give a shout and stagger where they stand. Prompto lets out an abbreviated shriek.

"What did you do to them?" Noct demands, risking a brief glance back. Iggy's clawing at purple-black goop completely covering his face. Prompto's lying face-down on the floor. Gladio's been sent sprawling on his back, and Ravus clutching his prosthetic arm, screaming like he's being tortured. A spike of panic shoots up Noct's spine as he realizes something: Luna is missing.

"No, your highness," Ardyn says mockingly, drawing his attention to the front again. "No royal retainers to help you this time. Let's keep it between the two of us, shall we? One Chosen King to another."

"Fine," Noct growls, knowing the sooner he gets this over with, the sooner he can help his friends. Ardyn pulls a sword from nowhere, the blade already looking bloody from the flicker of deep magenta energy as it manifests.

"Gonna attack the crippled guy with a sword?" Noct challenges, hoping to goad him. "Read you were the best mage of your time; a healer, a summoner, an Oracle blessed with the favor of the Astrals. You gonna try and stab me in the back again, or have you just lost your touch?"

Ardyn's honor may have eroded away after the first century or so, but there's nothing wrong with his pride. The sword vanishes. Noct knows better than to expect it to stay that way, but it's a start.

The first blast of magic is not unexpected, and Noct's ready for the impact of not the spell itself. Ardyn seems intent on flattening him in the first five minutes if he's prepared to burn this kind of MP. Meteors shatter over his shield, crash into the floor on either side somehow not smashing through the marble to leave craters the size of a small car. This a big spell; one that's difficult and expensive. Well, two can play at this game. Noct warps away from falling asteroids and lets Ardyn have a little taste of the planet's own power. A black hole opens beneath him, compressing his body into comically thin caricature of himself. Even Ardyn seems surprised by this. Gravity is difficult to use effectively, but Noct has mastered the trick. It makes running difficult and warping almost impossible. Still, Ardyn manages to escape the crushing force of the earth. His smile seems...amused, almost impressed. He probably figures kids today don't bother much with magic when they can have a gun or a sword.

"Well," he chuckles, "someone's done their homework."

After that the gloves come off. It's all Noct can do to brace for the next attack, to not just block, but reflect the spell back at him. Ardyn's expression says he wasn't expecting that, and he barely manages to dodge his own spell. Magic crackles and flashes, making the air fizz with energy. Noct can feel his hair standing on end with the charge of it; feels the heat where it burns through his clothing when he isn't able to get out of the way fast enough.

The Astrals have granted his wish for legs that work, but Noct realizes now that he never asked for legs that worked well. It's all he can do to stumble out of the line of fire. There is not even the suggestion of grace or technique as he lurches one direction and then the other, desperately stabbing at the ground with the walking stick to maintain his balance. There are so many times when he braces for impact, but Ardyn's magic sizzles past him. It's almost as if Noct is holding himself up by magic. Maybe he is? He doesn't have time to think about it as Ardyn launches another blast of white-hot plasma at him.

This isn't getting them anywhere. They're too evenly matched, but that won't be the case much longer. Ardyn has an entire world of darkness and daemon spawn to draw from. Noct has the Astrals and his ancestors, and he isn't keen to see who'll run out of batteries first. He feels it more than sees it, the subtle tug, and realizes with a start that Ardyn's reaching into the same space between: the Armiger. The bastard's summoning a weapon.

Noct doesn't think, just reacts. With a savage cry, he rips the hidden sword from the sheath of the cane and hurls it at Ardyn. He follows after it in a blur of blue energy, lurching to a sudden stop as the blade sinks deep into the larger man's body, and then the thick wood of the throne, pinning him in place. Ardyn just sits there, bemused and gasping, as if he cannot believe what just happened. A burst of silver-white light behind him is all the warning he gets. Noct lurches to one side as Luna drives the tines of her trident deep into Ardyn's chest. His eyes bulge and black pours down his chin. This time, Noct realizes, he's not going anywhere.

Ardyn's mouth moves, but only more daemon vomit pours out. The words are clear enough without sound: What? How?

"It's the little things, really, when it comes to casting a spell," Luna says calmly, as if commenting on the afternoon's blend of tea. "The fine details. You cursed the King's retainers, and exempted those chosen by the Astrals." She smiles serenely. Ardyn looks as if he's trying to find new and creative ways to arrange just four letters into words.

Reaching, she cups his jaw with one hand, places the other over his pierced breast.

"Poor man," she remarks, and her tone is sympathetic, almost kind. Noct half believes she really does feel for him. Noct...kinda does too. He knows how it feels to be screwed over by the Powers That Be for no readily apparent reason. But that doesn't give Ardyn the right to in turn screw over the rest of the world just because he's had a bad millennium. Noct does feel kind of sorry for him, but not enough that he isn't going to put an end to this here and now.

Noct mirrors Luna's positioning, and puts one hand against Ardyn's face and the other on his chest. The mage in him idly observes that their dominant hands are the ones holding him in place, Noct's left hand directly over Ardyn's heart. He can feel the starscourge broiling just beneath the surface. On impulse, he moves his hand so it's over Ardyn's sternum. Luna's hand is already there, and he places his hand overtop hers.

Blessed stars of Life and Light

Deliver us from Darkness' blight…

The words echo among them, his own voice and Luna's speaking the words into the Infinite though theirs mouths never move. Ardyn struggles, kicks, squirms, but as the darkness pours out of him, he loses all strength. The poison leeches out of him, trailing from his body in plumes of thick, oily smoke. It evaporates harmlessly into the air in a shower of gold and silver shimmer. Ardyn has a less glamorous transformation. As the toxin leaves him, his body begins to deteriorate. The lines in his face deepen, his skin becoming pale and papery. The flesh beneath his ostentatious suit retracts, leaving skeletal limbs too weak and fragile to lift even the weight of his garments. Before long, he's a white-haired corpse of his former self; a mummy wrapped in layers of archaic clothing. His lips move, but no sound comes out. Bizarrely, it looks like…

...thank you.

Only their weapons are holding him up, pinned in place like an insect preserved for study. Noct watches, repulsed yet fascinated as Ardyn dissolves into leather and bone, and finally dust. Even his coat is little more than moth-eaten fibers so delicate that the slightest shift in the currents of air sends them scattering into fine particles.

"So ends the reign of Ardyn Izunia Lucis-Caelum, last of his name," Luna says, inclining her head toward the pile of ancient dust. An indistinct groan makes Noct turn sharply, and the last of the remains swirls away into nothing. The guys have scraped themselves off the floor and are trying to shake off what Ardyn did to them. Now that he's dead, so is his power over them. That doesn't mean the pain doesn't linger.

"Everybody okay?" he calls down to them.

"More or less," Ravus grumbles, helping Ignis up.

"We're fine," Gladio assures him.

Noct looks around him; at the daemon goo still slowly dissolving into the air, at his friends and their ruined uniforms. Luna's scarf only has a few spots of white left on it, and not much of her bun is still in place. They've slain the dragon. They've won. All that's left now…

They look back at him, knowing what's got to happen, but hating it just the same. Prompto swallows hard. So does Luna. This is it. This is what he was born for. Noct's whole life has been leading up to this moment. He just… He just has to do it.

Pulling the stiletto out of the throne takes some effort, but he manages to jerk it free without falling on his ass. Resheathing it, he sets it aside and lowers himself onto the throne. Six, his father used to sit here all the time. Did it ever feel weird to him, Noct wonders? Was it hard to occupy this seat knowing it would one day claim his son's life? It occurs to Noctis how much his father gave up for him, and how much he misses him right now. Well. He'll be able to tell him all about it soon.

Summoning his father's sword is easy. Lifting it is downright impossible. Even with two hands, he can't do it. Well this is- as Iggy would say- a fine kettle of fish. He looks up at the guys who are already ascending the stairs to help him. Everyone, including Luna and Ravus- wraps a hand around the big, two-handed pommel. It seems to take everyone's combined strength to stab the sword into the pedestal as Noct mentally chants the spell to summon his ancestors.

The Armiger bursts from him in a thousand shards, leaving him gasping. Every weapon is pointed at him; his father's sword, Luna's trident, even the walking stick is poised to strike. Noct sits back on the throne and steels himself.

Do it.

The first weapon tears through him. He'd thought he was prepared, thought he had a reasonable idea of what to expect. His is wrong. He is so, so wrong. Noct's been wounded before. He's caught a ricocheted bullet through his thigh, been stabbed with a blade, been burned by heat and magic. Those were all flesh wounds; damage to his body alone. This… This cuts straight through his soul. He can feel his psyche shredding as weapon after weapon lances through him.

Distantly he hears a cry from Ignis, and another from Luna. He tries to find breath to tell them it's alright, that they don't have to stay. Although they are obviously distressed, it's not purely over him. Ignis' sleeve looks as if it's been torn, though the fabric is intact. He could swear Luna has a slice out of her cheek though there is no blood. Another weapon slams him and Prompto flinches, a fresh mark sliced into his shoulder though his skin remains unbroken.

The weapons are hitting them too.

"Get back!" Noct wheezes, but apparently it's Opposite Day because everyone decides he must not have meant what he said.

There are perhaps two-thirds of the weapons left and they're coming faster. Noct feels something important give with the next impact. It's suddenly very difficult to breathe. With a cry, Luna throws herself at him, latching her arms around his neck. Before he can open his mouth to at least go through the motions of protesting, another weapon hits. Luna can't help gasping with the impact.

"Princess!" That's Prompto, throwing himself over both Luna and Noct, who despite being unable to breathe, is getting increasingly annoyed with the heroics. Iggy and Ravus pile on next, with Gladio bracing them all from behind. The last few weapons slice through all six of them. Noct is caught somewhere between frustration and gratitude. It doesn't matter. The waking world has faded. This is goodbye. At least he got to die with his friends around him.

There is a moment of Nothing; time to lie there and just enjoy the feeling of not being in pain. It takes Noct a moment to realize there are strong arms around him; many arms, in fact. Wait. That can't be right. Panic and confusion jolt his eyes open and there's everyone dogpiled on top of him. A familiar ginormous suit of armor looms out of the nothing, looking at them with some confusion.

This was not foretold.'

'Yeah, we kinda went off script,' Noct admits. 'That's not gonna like...mess up the Return of the Dawn, is it?' Because if it is, he is going to be so fucking pissed.

'No…' Bahamut drawls. 'The Prophecy has been fulfilled. There will be but one exception.'

'And what's that?' Noct asks, dreading the answer.

Bahamut looks them over one more time, and Noct can swear there's a smile behind the giant visor.

'No one life has been sacrificed,' Bahamut intones. 'Six lives were given willingly, when only one was required. Return to your realm, my children, and restore your world.'

It's the first time Noctis has woken up not in pain. He's tired, sore, starving, but without the migraine that always made it so hard to take that first deep breath. The perpetual pins-and-needles feeling of nerves severed, healed, and damaged again is gone. His body no longer feels like a rusty machine with too many parts broken and replaced.

Noct inhales, feels the cobwebs clear. There's light lancing down, forcing him to squint if he wants to see what's going on.

Wait.

Light.

He opens his eyes all the way despite the brightness. There is sun- real, actual sun- streaming in through the stained glass, making the panes of color glow. He's still sitting on the throne- his throne. On his lap, Luna stirs and draws her own first breath.

"Look," he tells her softly, "we did it."

"We're still alive," she says, wondering. "All of us?"

"I think so."

Around them, the guys are coming to and picking themselves up off the floor. Prompto doesn't look so good. He pushes himself to hands and knees, but his arms are trembling. His whole body convulses and he heaves black onto the floor.

That's right. Prompto's half electronic; and that electronic half is powered by Darkness.

And now the Darkness is gone.

"Prom, no!" Noct cries, all but dumping Luna to the floor in his hurry to get to his friend. He falls more than drops to his knees and grabs Prompto by the shoulders.

"It's okay, Prom, it's okay," he murmurs, gathering the smaller man close. "It's okay."

He doesn't want this to be goodbye, not after everything. They've won. The Darkness is gone- except, apparently, what's still inside Prompto.

Please gods no…

The light intensifies, as if they're being scorched by a single sunbeam. Prompto screams and Noct holds him tighter. He's forced to loosen his grip as the lights die down and Prompto is wracked with a fit of coughing. He brings up one more wave of daemon goo and flops back in Noctis' arms, shivering.

There are filaments of light and color that run up Prompto's right side; fine lines that resemble the etchings on a computer chip. Previously, they had glowed deep purple, sometimes pink if Prompto's angry. Now, however, they're a brilliant blue-white. Unthinking, Noct tugs at the hem of Prompto's shirt, pulling it free. Prompto has a panel in his side that serves as a reservoir for the miasma that powers his electrical bits. It's now calm and blue as the Altisian sea on a clear day. The Darkness has been exchanged for Light. Noctis hugs him close, knowing that Prompto won't run out of batteries for a long, long time.

Prompto's eyelids flutter open; he looks around bemused.

"...am I sitting on your lap?"

Noct can't help a smile. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you passed out, genius. You're better now."

"Oh." Prompto nods slowly, sitting there a minute more before letting Noct pass him to Gladio.

"I feel better," he comments, but it's obvious he's still more than a little dazed. Noct imagines he's running some sort of internal diagnostic; recalibrating his new power source or something.

Ravus has Iggy similarly folded in his arms, flesh hand stroking his hair. Face hidden in Ravus' throat and both arms latched around him, Ignis' shoulders tremble. It almost looks as if he's crying.

"Iggy?" Noct asks gently. "You okay?"

It takes him a minute to lift his head and scrub the salt streaks from his face. When he does, Ignis looks him full in the eye and Noct blinks. Ignis' left eye is still dull and cloudy, the scar tissue a discolored patch around the socket. His right eye, however, is bright and sharp and zeroing in on him without any problems. The hazel-green that Noct remembers is as vivid and clear as if the damage had never occurred.

"I can see," Ignis gasps, more tears escaping. "I can see!"

There aren't words, so they all just fall on him, descending in a swarm of hugs. Ignis laughs, and it's so beautiful it hurts- but in a good way. They're all crying a little when they finally back off. They should really regroup; find some food, a place to rest, maybe head back to their vehicles for the return trip. Unless the Darkness is evaporating bit by bit, everyone's surely noticed the sun is out. Even after the sun sets, it will be a thousand times safer than it has been. Noct tries to get his feet under him, but his legs won't move.

What the crap?

He can feel them, sort of, but they're dead weight. Maybe it's just because he blew all his MP fighting Ardyn and then died and came back to life. That's a good reason for his legs not to work, right? Surely once he's had a chance to rest and recover, he'll be able to walk.

He hopes…

"Need a hand there, buddy?" Gladio asks, already hooking a hand under Noct's arm. Gladio can- and does- lift him with one hand. Even with the walking stick, Noct's legs won't hold him. The joy they'd all felt over Iggy regaining his sight suddenly doesn't feel so bright.

"I'm okay," Noct assures them as Gladio and Luna pull him up off the floor and sit him on the throne again. "I just need to rest, that's all." But Luna's already running her hands over him, searching for injuries.

"No, it's too cruel," he hears her murmur. "Not after all this…."

"Honestly, didn't any of you think to bring an elixir?" That's Ravus, digging in the pockets of his coat and producing several of the aforementioned items. Luna stretches to kiss his cheek and snatches an elixir from his hands. She holds it steady while Noctis gulps it down. The liquid magic sends electricity through Noctis' body; parts of his brain that he hadn't realized had shut down slowly coming back online. Luna takes one for herself, but makes Noct drink two more. He doesn't complain.

His legs respond when he tries to move them, but his knees buckle the moment he tries to stand up. That's fair, he thinks. He's asked a lot of his body and really, this is the best it can do right now. He owes it a victory feast and a thirty hour nap. He tries to summon the wheelchair from the Armiger, but even after three elixirs, he's too weak to even manage that.

"I got it," Prompto says, and pulls the item in question from thin air.

Gladio carries him down the dais stairs on his back, which is marginally more dignified than being carried in his arms. Noct sighs as he's set in the wheelchair. Luna comes up behind him to push.

"Allow me, Majesty," Prompto offers. "Let us do the heavy lifting."

They all laugh at that, and Luna moves to take Noctis' hand. Ignis is clutching Ravus' good arm, perhaps a bit disoriented after so long in the dark. Gladio has a protective hand on Prompto's shoulder. He removes it only long enough to step forward and push open the big double doors. Sunlight streams in, blinding at first. There's noise as well. It takes Noct a minute to figure out what it is: applause, cheers, whistling. When his eyes adjust he sees his ragged subjects standing in the street, crying for joy.

"Our people welcome their triumphant king," Luna says softly, squeezing his hand.

"And queen," he reminds her. "And cabinet. I couldn't have done it without you, all of you."

"No," Luna agrees, stooping to kiss him. "You couldn't."