#...it's just also sad

It's a good dream.

He wakes up with tears trailing down his cheeks, getting a concerned look from Ignis, but he assures in a cracking voice, "It was... such a good dream."

Ignis doesn't look like he quite believes, but he doesn't press.  He allows Noctis to lay there as long as he likes to gather himself while breakfast is made.

The images continue to play in the back of his mind, and he can see it all so clearly when he closes his eyes.  In the dream, Noctis is king.  Standing strong and proud as he remembers his father used to, with Luna at his side; but they're not married.  Were never forced.  She has the right to choose for herself, to live her own life along with being the Oracle.  She chooses to stand beside the King of Lucis, as he chooses to stand by her side, honoring their childhood promise to one another.

Besides, he loves Luna dearly, and she loves him, but they never knew each other in that way.  Luna's had her eyes on a Glaive or three, besides, and it's a different kind of love.  A different kind of need and want and giving to one another than anything they had for each other, though no more powerful.  Nor less.  Noctis teases her about royalty being selfish and she laughs, every time.

Because he knows, deeply and dearly: he's selfish, too.  With his three loves, with the three men who mean the most to him in the entire world, those he would never surrender to any situation or ideal.  They each have their own rooms, their own individual places, but there is a reason that the king's bed is the largest of all. Beside him always are his three; his private, personal kingdom.  Ignis is his trusted adviser out of personal duty and desire, as he had been even before the official title of Adviser to the King of Lucis.  Gladiolus continues his family tradition of being Shield of the King of Lucis, not because of the duty of his blood but because of the call of his heart.  Prompto is the Royal Photographer, a good and proper title, and while the public might attempt to think less of him for that, he remains at their center.  He's the one who captures the private moments, helps everyone decide which shots the press gets and which they keep for themselves.  He documents private moments and proud history.

And yet, despite the titles, after some years of pulling Eos back together again, they collectively decide to end the reign of kings.  Noctis wants to do right by his father, by all the kings; but the only way to do that properly, he feels, is to change along with the rest of the world.  They no longer need sacrificial kings.  No more princes watching their fathers drained of life only to take on the mantle themselves when the former king wastes to nothing.  The magic handed to them should be returned, and the magic which comes naturally should be free.  The people themselves should have more say over who rules them and how.

In his dreams, the Gods agree, and return to slumber.  There is no divine curse or expectation.  The ring does not exist.  Borders between nations are arbitrary, the differences beyond and between them not hated or feared.

In his dreams, they are happy to live in prosperity and peace, aiding others in doing the same.  There is no Scourge.  There are no mysterious figures.  There is what they wish and what they want, finally blooming into achievement.

Opening his eyes to the present waking world again, he can almost hear the chirps of a small Astral, the one he knows well.  Trying to give him hope.