Rebels Georg

Luna had looked startled—which he’d thought was weird. After all, she knew lots more than he did. Shouldn’t she understand soulmarks?

As if in answer to his confusion, she’d wordlessly turned over her own wrist, to show the matching mark. And then smiled, eyes knowing, like they always were.

At the time, Noctis hadn’t been able to think of anything better. Luna was amazing—why wouldn’t he want to be with her forever?

And then, everything fell apart. He and his dad barely escaped Tenebrae with their lives, and Luna? She was still there. Without him.

That wasn’t how soulmates were supposed to work.

Noctis had clung to the idea, fiercely, that this meant he’d see her again. That she would have to be okay, because they were supposed to be together forever. She couldn’t leave without him.

Knowing she was alive, thanks to Umbra, helped. As did the letters they exchanged. Noctis just had to wait until they could be together.

As he grew up and learned more about soulmates, he began to see the flaws in his logic. Some soulmates died far too soon after meeting. Rarely, if ever, did they die at the same time.

There would always be one left behind.

Night had fallen over Lucis. And there was no sign of the dawn.

It wouldn’t have been such a big deal if Gladio hadn’t also failed his only duty in the entire world along the way.

He was trying not to think about it. A solid default for situations like this. Except for all the ways it didn’t work, like how he kept glancing back, expecting to see Noct brooding out of the corner of his eye.

It had been his job to look out for Noct for almost ten years. It wasn’t a habit he’d shake easy. 

Instead, Gladio watched Ignis and Prompto. Someone had to look out for them—Prompto had barely spoken since Noctis had gotten sucked into the Crystal. Ignis was quiet, too, but less grief-stricken than Prompto. Could have been denial, could have been he knew something they didn’t, could have been typical Iggy. It was hard to know right now.

They’d reached the shores near Galdin, only to find the roads treacherous and nearly impassable. Several hours later, they’d managed to fight their way to Hammerhead, where Cid and Cindy were waiting to deliver the news that Lucis was on fire. Daemons were running rampant, the Hunters were overwhelmed, and city after city, outpost after outpost, they were losing people.

They’d failed.

Except, apparently, they hadn’t. No sooner had they made it to safety than their old pal Gentiana had shown up, and told them that Noct would be back. And then the Chosen King would do his job and stuff.

Which was all well and good when you were an immortal being with no concept of time. Gladio had more present things to worry about.

Iris was safe. That was a big one. But Lestallum was well fortified, and she was hiding out there with Monica, Dustin, and Talcott.

The rest of the country was a pretty big worry, too. But the Hunters and Cor were already organizing into groups dedicated to protecting the last bastions of safety out there. The plan for the three of them? Join up, kill daemons, and wait.