Ignis awoke at five in the morning on the day of Leviathan’s rite. It was a bit earlier than he needed to rise, but there was a lot at stake. He hoped to find a moment of stillness by himself on the balcony of their suite. Watch the sun rise over waters of Altissia as he drank his coffee.
Instead he found Noct in the sitting room, already awake. The suite featured a particularly luxurious sectional, but Noct sat forward with his elbows propped on his knees.
“You’re up early,” Ignis said.
Noct shrugged. “More like still up.”
“Ah,” Ignis said, as neutrally as he could. He circled the sofa at a nonthreatening pace and lowered himself down next to Noctis. Close enough that their hips brushed.
“You don’t need to tell me I needed the sleep,” Noct said defensively. “I get it. I just … couldn’t rest.”
“It’s all right,” Ignis said, his reflexive refrain when things were anything but. “In any case, berating yourself over it is hardly going to help.”
“The last two, I feel like I’ve been barely scraping by. Leviathan will be harder. I just. Everything depends on this. What if I don’t have what it takes?”
Ignis reached over and took one of Noct’s hands in his own. “You do. I know you do.”
Noct squeezed Ignis’ hand. “How?” he whispered.
“Because I love you,” Ignis said, pressing his mouth to Noct’s hand. “Because I know you. Because I have seen what you can do. This is within your power, Noct, I know it is. Simply trust me.”
Noct leaned into Ignis. “I always do,” he said, and his body trembled a little under Ignis’ hands, but his voice was firm.
They sat there for a while together. Then Ignis coaxed Noct to lie back with him on the sofa and try to get some rest. Noctis was reluctant, but he propped his head on Ignis’ chest as instructed and before long he drifted off.
Ignis held him as the sun rose. Slouched down against the sofa cushions as they were, he couldn’t see the windows, and he could hardly have risen to draw the curtains even if he could. But slowly the room grew golden around them, and Noct slept peacefully in the crook of his arm. That would be enough.
“Hey Ignis, you do remember this is an off road vehicle, right?”
“Of course.”
“So you could, you know, not stay between the lines all the time?”
“Where’s the challenge in that?”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I like driving this very big and very stupid car in the most affectedly civilised way possible.”
“Wow, you are serious.”
“Besides, the look on peoples’ faces when we pull up behind them is endlessly amusing.”
“Yeah OK, fair point.”
“Also, I don’t need to play leapfrog with a boulder to compensate for some deficiency in my knickers.”
“Oh my gods, Iggy, this is my dad’s car!”
“It most certainly is not! Your father’s car was a luxury sedan painted a stately Lucian black. This – monstrosity – is an obnoxious fire-spitting abomination, entirely too excessive in every measure, and you’ve painted it some kind of… sparkly… pink.”
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