A King's Wizard

By: Strange and Intoxicating -rsa-

Summary: Ignis deals with the Crown Prince's plans for a Halloween party, all the while dealing with his impending nuptials to the Countess Marilynn. Emotions bite more than gravel to the skin. If you listen closely enough, deep inside the little box where Ignis hides his feelings away from prying eyes, you can hear him screaming.

A story of love and dreams, but also of the frailty of hope.

Author Notes: Hi, guys! This is part of what I have labeled as "The Heaven of Cut Stars" universe. Basically, Ignoct and all the happy and sad moments of their lives. Sacramentum is also part of this universe, so check that one out as well.

Warning: In this particular section, be aware there is slight mentions of blood and injuries, as well as mentions of slight self-harm (no one is suicidal, mostly it is Ignis purposely making his injuries worse.)

"No, Noctis. I can't wear this."

Ignis pushed up his glasses sharply and glared at the clothing Noctis was holding. The colors were stark against his pale arms, the purple like a bruise across the top of his skin. The fabric looked soft, he could at least admit to that; Noctis, if nothing else, knew that when he ordered this from his father's tailor that it would be only the best products. He could even see that the fabric looked quite similar to his favorite purple shirt, the leopard printing faint but noticeable.

It was studded with flowers, little blackholes that sucked in all of the surrounding color. The detail of the stitching and embroidery was impeccable, with a sweetness that that would have made a woman weep. How many hours were spent on the pale gray border to be so perfectly measured? Even the hemming was stitched together by what must have been the love of a true professional.

And no, he was not going to wear it.

"It's my Halloween gala. Everyone will be wearing costumes, and I got my father to agree to let us do something different. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get him to let me do anything?" Ignis could hear Noctis's pleading, though the crown prince would never admit to daring to plead. It was plebeian and far below his station. "C'mon, Iggy. This is going to be hilarious."

"I already told Marilynn I would be attending the gala with her as my partner. We picked out our costumes yesterday."

Noctis's mouth pulled down into a frown. "Oh."

Ignis looked back at the fabric in Noctis's arms and then back at the black-haired prince. "I asked you last week if it would be acceptable."

And he had; Noctis had given the same look then as he sported now. It reminded Ignis of what Noctis looked like while sucking on a lemon when they were children, trying to figure out the perfect ingredients to making a Tenebrae tart.

"I figured she wouldn't really come." There was something missing from what Noctis said, and Ignis tried to fill in the hole. What exactly did he want to add? Noctis, as of late, left more words out than he put it. It was like filling in a white puzzle with half of the pieces missing. How was he supposed to read what the prince wanted to say?

"I'm sorry." Ignis did not know what he was apologizing for, but he knew that the answer would not assuage Noctis, not when he was in a mood like this. "Would you like me to cancel?"

Of course, Marilynn would be upset, but she would no doubt accept it as what it was. Marilynn and Noctis had only met on a few formal occasions, her arm tucked in Ignis's as they danced the expected dances and he twirled her around as she laughed. Noctis kissed her knuckles and she had frowned, because of course she knew. They had known each other for years, though she was only a casual acquaintance of the prince. It was perhaps that reason why Noctis was so blasé about Ignis's courting.

Marilynn was a sweet girl with a heart-shaped face and almond brown eyes, her body more plump than most, but it suited Ignis just fine. She was sweet and mild-tempered, and a Countess of her own right. And, most importantly, she understood him. Ignis was sure that sweet Marilynn understood part of him better than any person on Eos... even the prince.

Most certainly better than the prince.

"If you want to bring her, it's fine. I just forgot, that's all. Whatever, just forget it; Gladio and Prompto and I will figure something else out." Noctis smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. It was a good attempt, but Ignis knew every facet of his friend's behavior. There was something more to this silly little gala than Noctis wanted to admit to, something about the night that made Noctis seem so despondent.

"And yet you are clearly disappointed." Ignis could read it on the planes of Noctis's cheeks, the manner in which he clicked his tongue, how the syllables seemed to conjoin in an amalgamation of sound without meaning. It was the same way Noctis spoke when his father broke a promise.

Noctis laughed, the sound just a little too high. "Nah, nah. Iggy, it's fine. I'm sure she wants to see the place decorated. Dad said we could use the West Wing of the Citadel..."

Ignis smiled, the whisper of happiness running its hands over his mouth. He knew how important the silly party was to Noctis; they had spoken of it for weeks, creating the plans to go over with the Kingsglaive as well as the king himself. It had been a chore on top of school and his extracurriculars, one in which he had done with very little additional help. Of course, Gladio would chime in about safety precautions while Prompto reined in Noctis whenever he tried to go overboard with the funding... which happened quite often. It was a miracle that Prompto had shown more maturity with money than Noctis, but not too surprising.

The entire kingdom would be his, one day... what were a few gil?

"You did a job well done here, your Highness," Ignis said, letting the words drift over the prince's bedroom.

Noctis balled up the costume and threw it in the original box on his bed. The papers as well as the fabric were sticking out, but he didn't seem to be phased, instead shoving the sleeve and some of the leather back into the box before slamming the cover down just a little harder than Ignis thought necessary. "What're you gunna come as?" He asked as he picked up the box and tossed it unceremoniously under his bed. He then threw himself down on the messy sheets and stared up at the ceiling, folding his hands over his forehead.

Ignis looked at the corner of the purple satin sticking out from under the bed and cross his arms before leaning on the doorframe. "She wants us to go as Leviathan and Bahamut."

Noctis snorted but tried to cover up the sound by turning his head. "Sounds like a real love story right there."

Ignis knew it was best not to fight with his friend. It was beginning to wear on him more than he admitted, knowing that whatever was going on in Noctis's head was causing the more caustic side to emerge like an angry behemoth. The last thing Ignis wanted was to set him off; Noctis was brash and impulsive and would no doubt regret the words as they rolled off his tongue. But that was Noctis, and it was better to avoid the vitriol in the first place.

"Noctis, if you want to talk about anything, please let me know. You are my closest friend, and I don't like seeing you so..." Ignis could not think of a word that really described what Noctis looked like at that moment. Righteous fury and childish petulance and an unbounding sadness that squirmed inside of Ignis's gut, deep in the box where he put all of his secret thoughts.

"Dude, I am fine. Just bring your girlfriend and wear your cute little costume-"

"Fiancée." Ignis swallowed hard and Noctis seemed to freeze on the bed before bolting up, snapping his head to the side.

"Say what."

Ignis purses his lips and uncrossed his arms before putting them in his pockets, then back across his chest. "I proposed yesterday; we are thinking of a spring wedding. Marilynn loves the flowers-" Ignis knew, in that secret box where he hid his feelings exactly what this was. Quick and precise, like a surgical tool. Cut out the tumor before it had the chance to grow. Pull the weed out by the root and make sure to salt the earth when he was done.

"Oh." Ignis wasn't sure if it was a word, a curse, a sigh or even just the faint blow of the wind.

"Our fathers agreed it would be best, since I graduated from my intensive courses over the summer. Your father... he approves of the match. We believe it better to finish the nuptials before your graduation. In that case, we will be able to enjoy a brief honeymoon before you begin your university studies."

"Yeah. Honeymoon. University. Yeah." Ignis could hear the words from Noct's mouth, but it was like listening to a robot. The color left prince's face the same way it left his words. "Uh, I think I need to take a shower. You know where the door is." Noctis scrambled off his bed and toward the door, his hands tight at his sides. Ignis could see the skin on the sides of his hands turn purple, the same shade of the fabric he had been holding and laughing about just a few minutes before... now it was thrown in a box, hidden away from sight.

"Congrats, Iggy." Noctis looked up into his eyes, deep blue like the fathomless night sky. "I am sure it'll be a beautiful wedding." He leaned his head up to look deeper, and it was hard for Ignis to grab his emotions and pull down, further and further into the box. The box was as fathomless as Noctis's eyes.

"Thank you."

Noctis pulled back and nodded his head twice before pulling his top lip between his teeth. "Yeah."

He pushed by and quickly shut the door to the bathroom, Ignis hearing the tell-tale click of the lock.

He knew when he was no longer wanted.

Ignis spared one last look at the purple fabric on Noctis's floor before clicking off the light and closing the door.

He made quick work through the living room and kitchen, careful to avoid leaving any trace of himself where he knew he was not wanted. Ignis thought of the pastries on the kitchen table, but opted against moving them or hiding him. The last thing he wanted was Noctis to think he had forgotten; the fragility of that moment next to his bedroom door had set Ignis on edge.

By the time he made it out of the prince's apartment, his hands were sweaty and it took several passes on his pants to wipe away the feeling of treachery. Even his own damn body betrayed him, though this was nothing new to Ignis. He suffered a thousand nights, and he would suffer a hundred thousand more.

When he reached for his car door, his hand slipped and Ignis felt his body going down before his mind could catch up. His legs felt like jelly under him, and he could not keep himself up. He threw out his hands and felt the gravel dig in, feeling his knees pulling open and the sudden sting of air exiting his lungs. He could only let out half a laugh, half a cry as he pulled his hand from under him, staring down at the black dots and bloody reds mixing together. It reminded him of the pictures of the galaxies above, so far away.

His chest was tight and it was hard to breathe, and Ignis could not accept that; this was weakness that he could not take. Blood on his hands, on the ground, on his tongue.

Ignis reached out and grabbed the handle, using it to pull himself up. He didn't care that the pieces of the ground dug in deeper to his hands, that it would only make it more painful come sunrise. This pain, this pain centered him, ripped him out of vertigo. He was sure he would find the smear of blood on the door tomorrow and remember foolishness, absurdity, painful promises and the endless abyss.

This was not how he planned that event. This was not what he wanted.

This was not right.

Ignis sat in the front seat with his hands curled around the steering wheel until the blood made its way down his wrists and to his elbows. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, but he did know that when he finally managed to pull himself together long enough to wipe the blood from his thumb to press on his smartphone's button and call Gladio, he could feel the congealing mess in his jacket. This was not him, this was not Ignis.

"What?"

"I told Noctis of the upcoming nuptials." Ignis hissed as he hit speakerphone on his phone and laid it on his lap.

The other end went quiet, before there was the sound of a scratching of metal against metal. "Where are you?"

"Still in the garage."

"Panic attack? How bad off are you?"

Ignis looked down at his hands. "Perhaps it would be best if you drove me home. I could do it, but..." Yet that scratch of metal was louder than Gladio's voice, and the sheer existence of their phone call did the same for Ignis. This had far less to do with bloody hands.

"Gimme ten minutes. Don't do anything stupid."

Ignis wanted to snort, but he didn't feel like he had the energy in his body. It was as though all of it bled out on the floor in Noct's bedroom. But he pushed it down into his box and simply stared out the windshield. "I fell, it was an accident."

Gladio didn't say anything on the other end of the line but Ignis closed his eyes and listened to the sound of quick steps and then the revving of an engine. "So, I'm guessing he punched you in the face and you just let him do it?"

If his hands weren't bleeding, Ignis would have rubbed his temples. "No, Gladio. He... he just congratulated me."

The other end of the line went quiet and then a sharp, "Oh."

Ignis winced. "If you would, please don't say that. He said the same."

"This is bad, Iggy. You know that he is in love with yo-"

Ignis hit the 'End Call' button and rested his wrists on the steering wheel. It would be dangerous to speak with his friend while driving; Gladio knew better. He was tempted to call Marilynn, but knew that this would only upset her.

She knew the crown prince would come before her-it was something that her father had both valued and detested, for it meant a closeness to the Caelum family that surpassed the council. The Future King of Lucis's most trusted advisor as a son-in-law was too much of a blessing, never mind the whispers of the curse of the Lucii. Count Jasius Kaldros was not an evil man; he loved his daughter and only wished the best for her. And in Insomnia, where blood was more important than happiness, it meant a soft girl in a Leviathan costume clinging to the arm of a fraud.

He was tired. It had been a long day, from the moment he woke at five thirty to prepare for the early morning of policy and political maneuvering. There were trade deals to be signed, notes to be taken, and he needed to understand the ins and outs of every paper on the king's desk. Those papers were Noct's future, their future.

At lunch, he spent a scant hour with Marilynn in the courtyard. She had made him a lunch of sandwiches and Ignis smiled despite chewing on a piece of egg shell that he found in his egg salad. He said nothing about it to the woman picking at her own sandwich, giving more of it to the birds than putting in her own mouth. It was worth something that she tried; it wasn't her fault that Ignis was more of a cook than she was. And there was always time to learn.

After, it was back to work, then baking more Tenebrae tarts, though he knew it would never be quite right for Noctis, but he was willing to try either way. It was not the tarts; it was never about the tarts.

It was about promises and bottomless abysses and desperation. It was loneliness and need.

It was about that box under Noctis's bed and the one inside of Ignis's soul, the one he locked up and hid away.

Thankfully, Gladio was faster than Ignis thought possible; he was tapping on the window and saving Ignis's mind from wrapping itself into knots.

Ignis raised his hand to pull open the latch, but when Gladio saw the blood, he pulled it open himself.

"Jeez, you sure did do a number on yourself," Gladio muttered as he held the door open for Ignis to climb out. "What the hell did you do, grab a knife and go to town?"

"I assure you, it looks far worse than it is. It was a simple fall." And it had been, but digging in the gravel to feel something other than the stabbing pain in parts of him that he didn't want to talk about... this was more Noctis's territory. "I think it is best to just drive me home."

"Iggy, it's fine, I get it." Gladio shut the door to the car and looked over to Ignis. "Keys?"

"My pocket," Ignis made a gesture with his left shoulder. "You can lock it. I'll have the Glaive pick it up in the morning."

Gladio leaned forward and ran his hand over the pocket before plunking out the keys, hitting the lock button before putting them back where they belonged. "Yeah, yeah, you can just sleep on my couch and I'll give you a ride back in the morning."

"You do remember what time I wake in the morning?"

The bulky man's nose twitched. "Yeah, you and your obsession with being up at the ass crack of dawn." Ignis would have smiled, but he couldn't even force his mouth into a frown. It was too much. "Here, lemme get the door for you."

Ignis looked at his friend and remembered the first time they met, when they were children so many years ago. Both were given the same task to the future king-the sword and shield, the promise of children who would bleed for their friend, die for their king. And both took their jobs so seriously, like toy soldiers prepared for war.

"I made a mistake, Gladio." Ignis closed his hands and dug his nails into his palms.

Gladio's face softened, and the stubble on his cheek stood out against his tan skin. "You didn't make a mistake. You can't control this kind of shit, Iggy, so don't mope. Let's just get you home and fix that pulp you call your hands. Get in." He held the door open and Ignis slid into the black Audi, taking care not to touch anything. Gladio loved his car just as much as King Regis loved the Regalia.

"Want me ta buckle you up, too?" Gladio laughed after getting in on the other side.

"Unless you prefer blood on your car," Ignis deadpanned as he looked at his longtime friend. "Your choice, Gladio."

The other man rolled his eyes and reached over, securely snapping the belt into place. "Just lean back. You want me to call Marilynn? She always seems to know how to calm you down best."

Ignis shook his head. No, he didn't want to look at Marilynn right now. And, of course, the Glaive with her would certainly not want to see him.

"I think he's with her tonight. I... I don't want to intrude. She's doing more than her share, it isn't fair to take away her scant amount of freedom."

"I guess I'm lucky my old man doesn't care who I marry as long as I don't knock them up before there's a ring on their finger." Gladio started the engine and slowly drove the car forward. They drove up through the garage, past the rows of what seemed to be the same car, and it was only when they reached the top that Ignis realized that he did not want to look into the sky.

Ignis felt the pull at his chest again; this was weakness that he couldn't accept. Why was this happening now?

"Hey, hey, Iggy. Just breathe. I know you are all for that "bottling up emotions" shtick but I don't wanna scrub a puddle of goo off my upholstery when you finally blow."

There was a hint of humor in his friend's tone, a hint that only made Ignis feel worse. Since when had the facade cracked and the scared little boy crawled out?

"Oh."

Yes, that moment when Ignis could no longer hide what he had known deep in his heart for years. He ignored the comments and jeers from Gladio, the soft inquisitive glances from Marilynn, even the occasional comment from the King himself, who sat upon his throne of skull and bone and blood.

Such a simple word with the grace of a sledge hammer.

Ignis stared at the curve of the road and up into the sky, frowning at the slight ripple of the new wall. It didn't entirely block out the stars, but it was much more difficult to see than it had been during their childhoods. In those days, before Noctis had fallen into a coma, they could see the brilliance of each galaxy and nebula with a clarity that would make even a goddess weep. Now, the sky was touched with a hint of hazy pink magic that reminded him of dawn. Most of the other inhabitants of Insomnia noticed no difference, but Ignis could. He spent far too much time cradled inside the walls of the Citadel, watching the glow from the crystal against marble floors and stone walls waiting until his most cherished friend woke. Perhaps the haze always had been there, but Ignis woke when Noctis did.

"Iggy... how long?"

Ignis was roused from his thoughts and turned to his longtime friend. He knew what the other was asking and part of him didn't want to answer. But he did anyway, because it was long past the point of hiding.

"You remember the trip to the seaside? It must have been... four years ago?"

If Gladio didn't remember, Ignis would have understood. It wasn't a particularly eventful trip; the king assigned Cor and Clarus to accompany the crown prince to the little hideaway between the wall and the barest stretch of golden sand. It was a place that was open to the public, but the King had a secluded swath of land that was just for Imperial use. Typically, the area was left with only the looming wall fifty meters above their heads and the birds of prey picking away at the fish littering the shoreline. What better place was there for celebrating the crown prince's birthday?

They spent the day in the sun and sand, one of the few times that Ignis could remember in his childhood of where there were no requirements or expectations. They wanted to camp under the stars that night, something that surprised Ignis at first. Noctis wasn't one for outdoors, and even less for a place which meant that he would be away from his bed, but that night he had smiled and ate his half-burned hot dogs with too much mustard and no vegetables. After, they had set up camp and while Cor, Clarus and Gladio did mock fights in the waning light of the sunset, Ignis taught Noctis of the stars.

It wasn't like Noctis hadn't already learned the information in his classes, yet... There was a big difference between learning from the textbooks and seeing.

It was hard to see the pinpricks against the skyline, but Ignis had glided his fingers across the heavens, one arm rested behind his head to help lift his head up as he explained.

Noctis's warm body was next to his, their bony hips clinking into one another every time they moved and adjusted or pointed into the sky. They stayed there even after the others had decided to call it a night, though Ignis was more and more aware of the way Cor and Clarus watched Noctis as the two teenagers tried to sleep.

There was nothing untoward about the night, but at one point Noctis starfished out and grabbed hold of Ignis's pajamas. The prince curled in on him, never once allowing his hand to relax. Ignis could not say if it was the way Noct's hair flared around his head like a halo of darkness, the little smile as he nestled closer into Ignis's side, or even the way that the stars above seemed to bless them with a meteor shower that seemed to take up the entire expanse of skyline. But it was then that Ignis looked down upon his closest friend, his king, and knew that this was the person he was destined to live for, to die for.

Gladio didn't respond, instead continuing the drive down the narrowing city road. The sky was now dotted by sky scrapers, blocking out the pink-tinged sky.

Ignis tried to not move his hands, but it was easier said than done. His lungs felt like he breathed in a burning coal and his entire head swam with smoke. This all was too much for him. He shoved it down into the box to keep himself together.

The ride wasn't long, maybe only fifteen minutes, but Ignis felt ever twist and turn and little bump on the road. His body wanted him to feel it, to remember it.

Life was cruel.

They made it back to Gladio's apartment and his friend did not allow him to open the door then, either. It was like a never ending walk of shame, Ignis's hands a penance for his words, the sham of a life he was living. He could feel the doors staring down at him with their judgement, and he could not fault them.

Gladio's apartment was nowhere near as bad as Noctis's, thank Shiva. There was camping equipment sprawled out through the living room, a lamp on the kitchen table with its innards showing, a pair of muddy boots kicked off hidden behind the door. A scent wafted from the kitchen, a half-eaten sandwich on the counter with a full size bag of chips cracked open next to it, spilling greasy potato chips onto the wooden top. Still, there were no dirty dishes in the sink and Ignis knew that there were no insects crawling under piles of clothes. And, he allowed himself a little smile, no Cup of Noodles.

"Sit down somewhere, get comfy. This next part's gunna be a bitch."

Ignis did not remove his jacket, knowing that doing so would expose just how much blood he had spilled for such a selfish and pitiful reason, so he knocked off his shoes and held out his hands, slowly sitting down on the brown leather couch tucked into the corner of the room, a little wooden table in casual disarray right in front of it. Gladio disappeared into the bathroom but emerged soon enough with a towel slung over his shoulder, a bottle of potion in one hand and a set of tweezers in the other.

"Gotta clean those hands first," he apologized as he set the things on the kitchen table and went to the sink. Gladio grabbed a silver bowl from next to the sink and hit the tap's hot water, sticking two fingers under to check the temperature. When it was to his liking, he filled the bowl and turned off the tap. "Stick your hands in this for a few minutes."

Ignis held out his hands further. "Roll my sleeves, please. May as well not make a complete mess of myself." But he knew it was too late for that, though Gladio acquiesced.

"You fucked up your knee, too."

Ignis could feel it, but it was hardly a pressing matter in comparison to his hands. He only hummed in response and slipped his hands into the warm water. That hum became a hiss, and the water filled with blood and an assortment of gravel and grime.

"Too hot?" Gladio asked, but Ignis only shrugged a shoulder.

"It is fine."

Gladio frowned and then took off his own jacket, placing it on the leather couch next to Ignis. He then reached over the little table and fiddled for a moment before pulling out a small black lighter, passing over the tips of the tweezers a few times before dousing it in potion. It was peculiar to watch the sickly colored liquid spray onto the carpet.

Gladio sat down on the floor and then reached out his hand. "C'mon, give it here. Oh, don't look at me like that. I don't fall for that crap. You don't scare me."

Ignis scowled.

This only made Gladio laugh harder. "Gimme your hand, I promise I won't fuck it up any worse than you already have."

Ignis looked into the warm, bloody water and finally pulled it out; feeling the air hit his skin made the pain that much more real. He fought to not make a sound as Gladio flipped his hand over, exposing his palms.

Gladio whistled. "This is a mess."

Ignis looked down at his hand, unsurprised to see the fluffy pink and white of the fat and muscle exposed. He watched as Gladio lifted the tweezers to one of the pieces of gravel deeply imbedded in the tissue, and bit back a hiss as he pulled.

They did this for several minutes until Gladio was pleased enough that both hands were as good as they were going to get, and then opened the potion bottle. "This is gunna sting," he apologized, but Ignis was well past the point of caring.

It was always a bizarre feeling, the way that the potion met skin and sizzled, then knitted the skin and muscles back together into a perfect imitation of what it once was. And it was an imitation-Ignis could no longer see the scar that was on his palm from a few months ago when had had grabbed a still-hot tray from the top of the kitchen table. It had burned right through, and yet now there wasn't so much as a blemish. Even the little beauty mark between his left thumb and forefinger were lost, gone to the magic.

"Lemme see your knee," Gladio said and reached for Ignis's belt. He pulled at the skull buckle and the leather fell lose from Ignis's hips.

"Stop it, Gladio."

Gladio looked up and frowned. "Iggy, I need to check your leg. I ain't gunna do anything to ya, we got over that a long time ago."

And it was true. It was barely even what Ignis would consider a fling, or even a short fire. It burned itself out before it could really begin, two friends trying to figure out sex and emotion that was meant for others. But in this state, with pushing all of his emotions into that little box hidden deep inside, Ignis did not want anyone, even one of his closest friends, to touch him. It didn't matter that they had sex before, that all of his intimate parts had been seen, that even his own hands had betrayed him and shown its weakness to Gladio in the form of mangled pink and white.

Ignis said nothing, but whatever Gladio saw on his face was enough for the other man to back off, letting go of the buckle. "Okay then. Let's not do that. Gotcha."

Ignis did not even notice that his back was as stiff as it was until Gladio sat up and patted him on the back. With those few hand movements, Ignis nearly curled in on himself. "You are a fucking mess, Iggy. You need ta figure this out or it's gunna eat you alive."

Ignis felt the pain in his knee and the feeling of too smooth skin on his hands. "It is easier to say things like that than actually do so."

Gladio shrugged and picked up the bowl of bloody water and empty potion, dropping both into the sink. "Yeah, maybe. Or maybe you and he will just get over it and fuck each other's brains out."

"It isn't simply carnal pleasure, Gladiolus," Ignis began, but Gladio cut him off.

"You don't need to tell me. You are getting married, he's gunna get married, everyone is going to be miserable. Well, except for me. I'm going to be stuck mopping the two of you dumbasses up every time you get into a fight. Yeah-you know what, we're all going to be fucking miserable." He hit the water and blasted the bowl and potion bottle. "Until the two of you get your shit together."

Ignis lifted one hand to his glasses and pushed them up. Now he could feel the jacket sticking to his skin, and it made his stomach churn. "My clothes-"

"Yeah, yeah, in the closet. It's not the only thing camping out in there."

Ignis ignored his friend, standing and then wincing when he looked down at his knee. There was a hole in his pants, but it wasn't too big. It would be fine.

"I got more potion you can have when you get out."

"Thank you."

Gladio shook his head. "Just go clean yourself up. You can sleep on the couch tonight, I'll drive you back to get your car in the morning."

Ignis could only nod, and only stopped when Gladio put his hand on his shoulder. "You'll get through this, Iggy. You always will."

Ignis did not respond to the comment, instead turning to look at the taller man. "What was Noctis wanting to dress up as?"

Gladio frowned. "He told you about that, eh?" Gladio reached up and patted his hair. "He had this crazy idea about dressing up as the characters from King's Knight, like we did when we were kids. We were going to sucker Prompto into a dragon suit, since we were pretty sure his dad wouldn't want to do it again this year. He got the tailors to make you some amazing robes for your costume... guess those aren't gunna get used this year."

Ignis remembered the purple fabric against Noctis's hand, the way it smoothly ran like tears on the floor. "Unfortunately, no."

And yet he would dress as Bahamut, and Noctis would dress as Toby, because they both needed to play their parts. He would not get to be Kaliva, not anymore.

Childhood was over, and with it foolish dreams.

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