Chapter Text
Cheating death sounds real nice as a concept, but Noctis has a first hand experience in it and, honestly? He thinks that it's a load of bullshit. The repercussions of it is something that he wished more people talked about. Like, sure, you get a second chance to carry out your duty, or to make your dreams come true, but what if you've already accomplished it all, and you don't really know what's beyond that?
It wasn't like he was un-familiar with rebirth, or at least the knowledge that yes, you can totally be brought back to life under the correct circumstances. He is familiar with the feeling of Phoenix Downs dangling from a string tied around his neck — his close encounter with that marilith as a kid wasn't exactly a good memory, and on the road trip it was somewhat necessary to always have one on hand. Little safety measures to prevent true loss of life, the soft down of the bird's tail feathers a guaranteed push to bring someone back from the brink.
But revival without that feather was different. On top of that, it felt significantly worse. Feathers never really felt excruciating painful, Noctis only ever felt the wounds that caused him to be on the brink of death in the first place.
His ascension, and the pain of forcefully being brought back right after? He doesn't remember ever feeling such agony. Plus, the moments where he woke up on that throne, his father's sword already gone into the ether, his lovers' looks of shock and trepidation on their faces when their dead king suddenly started breathing again, well, that felt bad too.
Okay, no, it didn't just feel bad. Noctis really thinks it's one of the worst prices he has ever had to pay.
Phoenix Downs only worked within those few minutes, precious magic trickling away with each wasted second. This? This latest 'rebirth'? It wasn't mere minutes, it wasn't just a few seconds.
He lost an entire decade of his life.
The time between his release from the crystal to fighting their way to Insomnia to then fighting Ifrit and then fighting Ardyn and then completing his ascension is honestly… Yeah, whatever, he did it. Done and dusted. No need to open that can of worms.
Noctis is talking about the time before that. The time that he truly sacrificed, that he had lost without his consent.
10 years.
120 months.
"3652 days," he says out loud, steady despite the weight of the emotions he carries inside of him. His voice echoes throughout the chamber, where their routine meeting for the rebuilding of Lucis had just concluded some 20 minutes ago.
Ever at his side, Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto are the only ones still in the room with him. Noctis stares off into nothing, turning the numbers around in his head. The other three look at him curiously. Since the meeting had ended, they hadn't said a word, each too absorbed into their own post-meeting thoughts. A random number didn't make sense to them.
Prompto, who's leaning against one of the pillars by the side of the chamber, playing some brain-dead game to decompress, pockets his phone, "Days of what dude?"
"That's how long 10 years is," Noct replies with a shrug.
There's a split second silence before Ignis coughs. "Point five," he says from his seat by Noctis' right, arranging documents in an order that only he can make sense of. Gladio, on Noctis' left, raises an eyebrow in question.
Honestly, Ignis can't even see that.
"Gladio just raised his eyebrow at you," Prompto dutifully informs Ignis.
Ignis smirks, turning to look in Gladio's general direction (and therefore Noct's too). "10 years is 3652 point five days," he supplies innocently, "Noct failed to calculate half a day. Give or take a leap year or two."
"Thanks specs," Noctis concedes, half aware of himself, "3652 point five days."
What's a little more to lose?
Gladio huffs, amused. "Does a point five matter?"
Ignis, for a blind man, manages to look at Gladio like he is stupid. "A point five would matter greatly."
"Alright, but that's nothing over the grand three thousand extra. It's way bigger than the point five here."
Yeah, what's half a day in the face of over three thousand of them? Noctis solemnly thinks, but doesn't say.
"You can achieve a great many things in half a day," Ignis starts, sorting the papers into a file and pushing it aside once he's done. "Paperwork, for example, something you lot neglect to complete before the deadlines are all but knocking on our doors." he snarks.
Noctis snorts, but Gladio looks scolded, and is really about to challenge him about it but Prompto is quick to interrupt.
"Buddy," he sighs, clearly addressing Noct, "I feel like you had a point to make." he pauses, then grins, "One that isn't a point five."
Ignis and Gladio both roll their eyes, and Noctis cracks a smile. But he knows — even with the light-hearted nature of their conversation, there is tension in the air. The usual tension that comes with anyone mentioning anything about the 10 years that they lived through.
Which is the problem, isn't it? They lived all of their 10 years. Noctis didn't.
His smile drops, he fixes his sight on a far off corner of the room. "Is it bad that I want it back?" Noctis whispers.
Prompto squints at him, "What, the 10 years of total darkness? Err, yeah dude, that's bad. No thanks."
Noctis doesn't even laugh, or roll his eyes, and he feels bad because he knows Prompto is trying to get him to lighten up, but he's too busy drowning under the weight of dread he's been carrying. "Not the darkness. Not the scourge. But the… the time. I guess." he sighs, refusing to look at any of their faces. "I just wish I could've had that. There was so much I wanted to do, so much I wanted to learn. So much to experience, so much to live for. Instead, I lost an entire decade."
He lets his words hang there, taking notice of the moment where they all start to realise where the conversation is heading. Noctis breathes out heavily through his nose. "Is it bad? Is it selfish? That I want those 10 years back?"
If it was tense before, the atmosphere is downright depressing now.
"Noct," Ignis reaches for Noctis' hand, "you can not blame yourself for lost time. You had no control over it."
Noctis churns the words in his head, pushing them together and taking them apart. He knows that Ignis means well, but the should-be comforting words aren't comforting at all. Control was exactly it. He had no control over his time, his loss. As his frustration grows, his mouth opens before his brain could properly connect to it.
"I should've stayed dead."
The immediate reaction is shock, which rather swiftly dissolves into disbelief. How could Noctis say that? How could he wish that he was dead? The silence is chilling, and Noctis… blinks. He watches as Prompto pushes himself off the wall, stalking towards him like he's about to jump him. Ignis has gone very, very still. Gladio speaks first, his face twisted and his voice asking in a tone that makes him shudder, "Say that again so I know you're joking."
"I'm not," Noctis angrily responds, "Why would I joke about that?"
Their faces twist even more, a flurry of emotions passing so quickly that Noct just knows he fucked up. Eos help me, he thinks, maybe I shouldn't have said anything.
He didn't quite realise the full implications behind his words until he said it. He looks at the heavy double doors of their meeting chamber, and quietly thanks the last glaive that left for having the foresight to close it. For now, Noctis lowers his head, cowering from his friends' reactions. He only remembers that he's still holding Ignis' hands when he feels it clutching at him in a death grip.
Ignis' grip is so tight Noctis is stunned by how quickly his skin pales from the lack of blood flow. Listening as the leather of Ignis' glove makes a soft squeak against his bare palm, Noctis tries to squeeze back, only to find himself being squeezed even tighter. It was as if Ignis feared that Noctis would up and disappear right there and then.
Prompto practically vaults the table just to try and look Noct in the eye. He gingerly shifts so that he's sitting cross legged on the polished marble table — like it hadn't just sat a dozen of his councilmen and representatives from different territories. Gladio, on the other hand, goes straight to demanding answers.
"The hell are you talking about?" Gladio hisses, the anger in his eyes just a film for the barely concealed panic that rests right beneath it. "You can't just say shit like that. What if—,"
"What if what, Gladio?" Noctis snaps. "What, you think the gods are suddenly gonna retract their… their blessing?" he spits, the words like ash on his tongue. "Take back the gift of life they so graciously gave back to me? Well, they should! I don't need it anymore, anyway!"
Noctis doesn't realise his voice had risen to a shout until Prompto flinches away. He swallows, and looks away from the heartbreak in Prompto's eyes.
Both of Ignis' hands are on his now, while the advisor himself looks like he's been run through. "Why would you say something like that?" Ignis questions, a tremble in his grip as he tries to keep Noctis close.
"Why not?" Noctis demands. "Haven't I accomplished my duty? I've already done everything. Heck, I've done more than what I'm supposed to do. So why am I still here?"
When no one answers him, Noctis feels the anger morphing into desperation, feeling it bleed into his voice. "I've already had an extra 5 years, alright? I've put systems in place, which, if you all remember, includes dismantling the entire Lucis monarchy as soon as I kick it. Repair works are going great, schools have reopened, most radio stations are up and running, and the internet is not as speedy as it used to be but it sure is a hella lot better than the first year. There really isn't any reason for me to still be here, right?"
Noctis takes a deep breath before he's pulling his hand away from Ignis' and pressing both palms into his eyes until spots start dancing in vision. "I was gone for a whole decade. But I came back. I came back! I fulfilled my duty! My calling! Which apparently was the very point of my entire existence. Then suddenly, just when I thought oh that's it, I'm done. I can.. I can rest now. I open my eyes and I see that I'm still alive, and I—," he stutters, fighting down the tears that suddenly threatens to spill. He bites his lip until it bleeds, presses his palms in deeper.
"Majesty—," Ignis starts, trying to reach back.
"Don't call me that!" Noctis shouts, his voice so loud it echoes around the chamber, rattling their ears and filling up the empty spaces of the room. "Please," he begs, "Please, Iggy. Don't call me that. Not right now."
Stunned, Ignis drops his hand.
A deep breath later, but still not willing to make eye contact, he cups his hands around his face to hide himself away. "Sorry. I didn't mean to yell. It's just…" he exhales raggedly, "I just don't understand why I'm back." his voice cracks. "At first I thought I was just here for the fallout, y'know? But I've solved almost every issue that popped up because of the scourge, got things back on track, so why? Why am I still here?"
The quickest out of four of them, Prompto moves first. His arms steady as he pries Noctis' hands away, he leans down to knock their foreheads together. "Noct," he says, his fingers shaking and his eyes filling with unshed tears, "how long have you felt that way? How long have you been thinking like this?"
Noctis chokes back the whimper trying to make its way out his throat. How do you tell the people that love you that you've been threading through an endless black ocean? That it's been that way from the moment kisses were pressed into your skin in nothing but relief, gratitude spilling from their lips as they sobbed in your arms?From the moment they celebrated the New Dawn while he felt forsaken by everything he thought he knew?
Noctis should be grateful he is still alive, that the gods decided to be merciful and granted him an extra shot by taking on some of the burden — as if that specific burden wasn't their fault in the first place. Noctis spent 10 years in a crystal that spat him out to die, only to bring him back into a new world, a world he didn't think he'd get to have.
The silence goes on for too long, and it takes Prompto knocking their foreheads together to get him to refocus. "How long, Noct?" Prompto asks again, albeit louder and firmer this time, needing to know the answer.
Noctis sniffs, his nose stuffy and his throat tight. "I don't remember when it started," he lies.
Ignis twitches, catching the obvious bluff but knowing better than to call him out on it. The other two know better too. So while Prompto starts to cry, Gladio pulls their chairs together, reaching out to grab Ignis' too. Ignis startles a little bit, but otherwise remains still.
Noctis closes his eyes, leaning away from Prompto to slump back into the backrest of his seat. Prompto lets him go, but not without hesitation.
Gladio throws an arm over Noct's shoulder, kisses his temple, and breathes in the smell of soap and shampoo just to help him remember that Noct is still there with them, that he is not just a ghost that's been haunting them this whole time. He doesn't know what to do, he can't shield Noct from this, there is nothing to attack, nothing physical to protect him from.
Tired and bruised, Noctis says, "I am not worth bringing back."
Ignis, shaken by the mere idea of Noctis no longer existing in this new world, makes an audible noise of distress. "No, that isn't true."
He swallows down the lump in his throat so he can speak more clearly, "Noct," he begins softly, voice full of barely contained sorrow, "There is no scale to measure someone's worth. I believe I speak for all of us when I say that you mean more than what we can ever describe. Please, don't measure your worth and think it unacceptable. You... You're everything to us,"Ignis tries.
Noctis looks away. "But it's not enough."
Prompto whispers, "Aren't we enough for you?"
Noctis jerks his head up so fast so he may as well have gotten whiplash. "You've always been enough." he answers immediately, pushing away that line of thought before it could properly develop. "All of you, you've all always been enough, so don't say that."
"Then why can't you be enough for us too?" Gladio asks.
Noctis sputters, "It's different!"
"How is it different?" Prompto snaps.
Gritting his teeth, he doesn't answer.
Ignis releases his grip on Noctis' hand and starts to remove his gloves. His bare fingers reach up, and from touch alone, navigates his way to Noctis' face, brushing messy bangs away and rubbing a thumb across his cheek until a single tears falls onto it. "Noctis, is your life so meaningless to you now that you've brought back the Dawn?"
Noctis feels his breath hitch, denial on the tip of his tongue, but Ignis is quicker.
"My love," he breathes, brushing more tears away, "You've forgotten the version of yourself that existed long before your calling. "
Noctis takes a second to really understand Ignis' words, but the grief that accompanies it when he does consumes him. It's something he didn't even think about. "Well, when you put it like that," Noctis sniffs, voice wet with emotion and a fresh wave of tears in his eyes. "You could have just said I lost myself though," he attempts lightheartedly.
"You've lost none of that sort," Ignis denies.
The confusion must visibly show on his face, because Gladio ruffles his hair. "I know I was rough on you before, telling you to do your duty and all that. And maybe I contributed to the burden of it all, and I'm sorry—,"
Noctis protests, "you don't have to apologise for—"
"Let me finish," Gladio scolds.
He looks pained, as if Noctis doubting himself was a personal slight. "Noct, you are many things. Yes, you are the King of Light, the Chosen King, but you're also just… Noctis. You can't sacrifice who you are just to reach some grand image you've built based on worth."
"Gladio's got a point," Prompto continues, "Trust me, I've been there. I never want to be there again. Besides, at the end of the day, it's not that grand image of you that we love, we just… love you."
Ignis hums his agreement, "I would take Noctis over the Chosen King any day, without hesitation."
Gladio turns Noctis' face around to place a light kiss on his lips, "and for all three thousand six hundred and fifty two point five days," he jabs a finger into Noct's chest with each number, "We're still here, aren't we? And so are you. You haven't lost yourself, not one bit."
"All you need is a little help," Prompto says, his smile full of assurance.
Noctis takes a very long moment to stare at them, their words like knives in his heart. His eyes burn, and his throat closes up so tightly it hurts to breathe past it. As much as he tries to stop it, the floodgates start to open. Noct whimpers, his chest heaving with his next words, "When did you guys get so good at being therapists? I should fire mine," he sniffles. He takes a deep breath, takes several more, listens to his lovers' breathing, feels their hands on his body, their affection and unwavering faith in him. Jeez, I'm terrible at calming down, he thinks, before collapsing into himself to start crying in earnest.
"Fuck!" he yells suddenly, startling all of them.
It's there now, clawing its way out of the ocean. All his thoughts, his feelings, they bubble up to the surface and pulls Noct right up with them.
"I should've… I should've died!" he sobs, "I mean I… I did die! But then I didn't. I didn't and I'm so… I lost so much time. I lost so much time!" he wails, "And you guys still… and you guys still want me around? After 10 whole years? What if I'm not me anymore? What if I…" he gasps for a breath, the thoughts swimming in his head while he fights for air. It's so hard to speak through the grief, the doubt, the fear.
In a single breath, Noctis manages to ask: "What if all I'm known for is the King of Light?"
"Aw babe, c'mon..." Prompto pleads, "don't cry… you're okay," he soothes, trying to wipe away the tears streaking down Noct's face. It is then that Noctis realises that all three of them are crying too, but they're holding it together — for Noct's sake.
Not knowing it was possible, Noctis only cries harder, nuzzling into Prompto's hands as he starts to truly comprehend why he has felt so off since being brought back by the gods themselves. "I'm scared," he admits, sniffling into Prompto's open palm, "I'm so fucking terrified. What if I was brought back as the Chosen King and I'm nothing more than that? There's nothing left there!"
With Noctis' words, Prompto chooses to jump off the table completely, settling quickly just to sit in Noctis' lap, cradling him close as Noct's body shakes with the effort of his crying. Pent up emotions finally spilling over into waves of grief and uncertainty.
"Didn't you hear Gladio?" Ignis says gently, moving closer to join Prompto in a hug, "You're so much more than your title. Besides, as you have said, you've already fulfilled your calling, and if there's nothing left, then from this moment on, you just have more to live for. The possibilities are endless."
Gladio throws his arms around all three of them, and not so inconspicuously hides his tears by rocking them all together like a mother hen and her chicks. "I don't know if you know this, Noct. But I'm not just protecting some king of light, I'm protecting you. And sorry, I know you said you're not worth living, but I'm not letting you die that easily. Not ever."
Noctis doesn't know how to respond, so he doesn't. He struggles to quiet his sobs, but fails so spectacularly at it that it turns into hiccups instead. So he gives up, slumping into the arms around him to cry and sob like he had always wanted to for the past 5 years of his new life (but was always too afraid to do so).
While Prompto remains in Noct's lap, Ignis removes his gloves just so he can thread a hand into his hair, bumping wrists with Gladio's warm hand, rubbing soothing motions into Noctis' back. For a long while, they do nothing but sit and listen, comforting Noctis gently, patiently, until his loud cries finally subside into quiet snivelling.
"Sorry," Noctis mutters, his voice thick.
"There is nothing you need to apologise for." Ignis replies.
"You're going to be alright," Gladio continues, "You've got us, don't you?"
Noctis breathes a shaky breath and manages a small nod. He spends a few minutes to collect himself until the hitches in his breath start coming in short intervals, until all that is left are the occasional sniffle. He nuzzles into Prompto's neck, breathing in the smell of gunpowder and sunlight and reminds himself that despite everything, at least he still has the three people he loves most.
"I think," Noctis sighs, voice hoarse, "That it'll… take me a while."
"For what?"
A shrug. "To want to live again."
Prompto huffs a breath and pulls Noctis away from his neck so he can press kisses all over his face. "That's okay. We've got all the time in the world now."
Ignis nods his agreement, scratching Noct's scalp until he shivers at the sensation. "You can take as much time as you need. Certainly more than the 3652.5 days you're so fixated on," he teases.
The comment manages to startle a laugh out of him, so he turns his head to kiss Ignis' cheek, who in return smiles in accomplishment. Noct takes stock of how he feels; all cried out and exhausted from the release of his emotions, held back for years now. He leans back into Gladio's arms and sighs loudly.
There are no more words to be said, so he settles even more into his seat and allows himself some rest, some peace, circling his arms around Prompto's waist and letting Iggy continue to pet his hair.
A long while later, when they're starting to edge towards a a really fat nap, Ignis breaks it by snorting in a rather undignified manner. It breaks them from their little dozing bubbles, all of them jerking from asleep to alert so hard that it prompts Gladio to raise a mildly peeved eyebrow at him.
Noctis peeks up at Gladio and smirks, "Gladio raised his eyebrow at you again," he reports, elbowing Ignis' side, who swats it away with a roll of his eyes.
"What's so funny, Igster?' Prompto asks sleepily, chin on Noct's shoulder.
"Therapists," Ignis answers with a scoff. To three sets of questioning hums, Ignis' lips press together in a thin line. "Noct says we would make 'good therapists', but he doesn't even have a good example of what constitutes a good one. Would that he actually went to see the one assigned to him."
Noctis blushes, raising his chin in defiance. "As if you go to yours!" he counters.
Ignis bristles, but doesn't respond because it's true. Prompto giggles, and Gladio barks a sharp laugh. Ignis immediately frowns, reaching out to pinch them both.
"Yeowch!!"
"Fuck!"
Ignis doesn't stop, his pinches turning into rather sharp pokes, "You both laugh as if you two don't also have dedicated therapists!" he scolds.
Noctis watches his lovers' antics and starts to laugh too, holding Prompto steady as he squirms around to escape Iggy's fingers, but Noct doesn't let him get too far.
A brief skirmish later, in which Noct also gets caught in the crossfire (Ignis' fingers to the side of this stomach are scarily accurate), he wheezes: "You know, I'm pretty sure we've all been assigned the same lady. Not exactly a lot of staff around."
They pause.
"Huh. Guess you can't fire her after all," Gladio says, finally getting a hold of Ignis' wrist and successfully putting a stop to anymore attacks.
"Fire her," Ignis mocks, yanking his hand back and putting his gloves back on. "Yes, whatever will the citadel do, losing the only therapist under our salary, a therapist which apparently no one deigns to visit." he mutters.
Pot, kettle, Ignis can scold them all he wants, but it's not like he plans to go either. From this fact alone, none of them manage to hide their snickers.
"Okay fellas, how about we all start going to our therapists," Prompto says, voice a little high pitched as he dodges another round of Ignis pokey hands. "In the mean time, can we go home? We've been here for hours and I'm starving."
"I'll make us dinner," Ignis relents, eager to take care of the ones he loves, especially after such a harrowing moment of existential crisis.
"As if there was any question if you would," Gladio comments cheekily.
They all stand; Prompto hops off his lap and playfully dusts his thighs. The moment Noctis tries to do the same, he stumbles a little and knocks into the table, still shaky from the effects of his impromptu breakdown. Gladio catches him quick, but Ignis and Prompto both turn to look in concern.
"I'm fine," Noct is quick to say, but Ignis has a disapproving look on his face so he sighs and corrects himself, "Sorry, yeah, my knee and back hurts again. I couldn't be brought back from the dead chronic-pain free, because nothing is easy I guess," Noctis comments humourlessly, still a little winded.
Ignis hums, "Just a sign of living, I'm afraid."
Noctis sighs, rubbing a hand across his tired face.
"Don't worry too much about it though," Prompto grins, "we're gonna be teaching you all the best parts about staying alive. Starting with Iggy's personal TLC—,"
Ignis sighs.
"—and then some more physiotherapy to help with your scrawny body." Gladio grins, taking out Noct's cane from the armiger, who accepts it with a small grumble.
"Hooray," Noctis responds blandly.
"Don't forget though, we have successfully survived yet another day," Prompto starts, a little spark in his eye, "So first thing we gotta do is celebrate by eating something dead."
Noctis blinks at him, his words so familiar to 15 years ago, a phrase so commonly spoken after all those hunts they completed around Leide and Duscae. It brings a smile to his face, and the next second he is full on laughing, truly realising now that despite the 10 years he has missed, and despite everything that has changed, some memories, some of the time, he can still be reminded of it and still hold dear to his heart.
"Alright then," Noctis chuckles, catching the smiles on all their faces, "I'm in your hands. Good luck, you've all got a long road ahead, pulling my head outta my ass."
Gladio grunts, "Wouldn't be the first time."
"Nor would it be the last," Ignis affirms.
Cheating death isn't some grand dream, but Noctis thinks he can dream of living instead.
"Alright, then let's get to work."