#dream sequence?

He has no idea where he is.

Well, that's not quite true; he's in the Citadel.  Suddenly, with no memory of how or why, but it's not destroyed.  It's like it used to be, clean and proper and reasonably-lit in most places.

Noctis is still trying to get his heart to calm down when he hears running footsteps, looks up as if to pull from the Armiger and prepare himself, but it's...

It's.  Him.  No, it's him as a child, it's--

A child.  Who happens to be him.  In the past.

Wide blue eyes focus on him as the child stops and looks.  As if he's a puzzle to unlock.  Unconcerned, unafraid.

You're an idiot, he wants to say to the child.  You're a useless idiot who can't protect anyone you love in the end.  Pawn of Gods who never cared.

But he doesn't.  He can't.  Whether it's himself or not, what stands before him is an innocent, curious child, and he could never bring himself to be so cruel.  Even if it's cruelty in order to be kind.

He's not sure he's ever actually believed that was a thing, anyway.

"Who are you?"  The child asks with impossibly blue eyes.  In a voice he distantly remembers.

The elder smiles despite feeling like something is irrevocably shattering inside of him.  "I... know your family.  A little.  I'm just passing through."  It’s not enough.

"Oh.”  A beat of silence and a head tilt, the youth doesn’t offer a smile.  Though he’s still unafraid.  “Should I get Dad?"

The thought of seeing Regis again--  He shouldn't.  He doesn't know what this is, if it's even real, but his gut tells him it's a bad idea, so he has to go with that.  "No, that's okay.  Just... looking at the place.  I ought to be going."  He should.  He knows he should.

Then the elder surprises them both by kneeling, gently taking little Noct's hands.  "I just--  You're never alone.  Okay?  No matter what you might feel.  I promise you, there are people who love you, Noctis.  They love you so much."

It's weird.  And it's creepy, and he sees the wealth of emotions crossing his own younger face.  He lets go and stands.  "I’m--  Sorry about that.  I... remember feeling so alone.  When I was about your age."  That doesn't make it better.  That probably makes it more weird, but--

"Take care of yourself, and them.”  He needs to say.  Needs to, because suddenly he’s got the feeling that there’s no time left, like he’s racing against something, everything, against the rhythm of his own heartbeat.  “Let them take care of you."

It's like the ground gives way beneath him in one violent motion, like the marble floor shatters from an impact he doesn’t feel.  He reaches out even as he's already falling backward, fallen too far for his younger self to help, but he sees the small hand reach out anyway--

There's a chirp.  A familiar sound.  Carbuncle.

A dream, then?  Maybe.

Maybe.

He tries to control his breathing and keep his eyes closed, taking in the world around him with his other senses.  There's more breathing.  Some shifting.  A sleepy, half-mumbled word and a shift of the body right beside him.  All good.  All familiar.

“Okay. You win.” He holds his arms up in mock surrender. One hand is closed.

“What have you got there?” You nod at the closed hand.

“Nothing gets past you.” He opens his hand to reveal a ring.

He has loved you for a long time. You knew long before he told you. You had guessed he would do this eventually.

“Robert, you know I don’t have that kind of interest in you.”

“And you know that’s not why I’m doing this. I’ve got plenty of money that you’ll get part of, plenty of space for you to do whatever you want with. And in trade for that I get to see my beloved best friend daily.” He takes a sip of the cider. “We’ll sleep in separate rooms like good Christians.”

“You haven’t gone to church of your own accord in ten years.” You laugh. “No one’s going to take that excuse. And I don’t think sleeping in separate rooms has been common practice among Christians for at least a hundred years—if it ever was.”

“My parents did.” He shrugs.

“You parents are also far from normal.”

He laughs. “Touché.”

“I’ll consider it—if only because it can get my parents to stop hounding me about getting married.”

“And because of the money.”

“And the money.” You admit. “Can’t say it wouldn’t be nice. And I don’t mind your company.”

“No kids, only sex if you want it.”

“Not gonna happen.”

Robert laughs at how quickly you brushed him off. “I expected that, but I wanted to put the offer out there.” He drained the glass and put it in the grass besides him and closes his eyes as he gets into a more comfortable position against the tree. “My parents would be on our asses about getting grandkids for a bit, but they’d give up eventually.”

You’ll have to talk this over with Shirly. It’s a good cover.

You are both silent for a bit. With his eyes closed and steady breathing, you wonder if Robert has fallen asleep.

“I’m glad to see how close you and Shirly have gotten, though I didn’t expect you to get this close, this fast.” He says. “She seems nice. I would love to see her again another time—as long as she doesn’t take my spot as your best friend.” He shoots you a crooked smile with a single eye open. You give him a playful shove as response, and he let himself fall on the grass.

“You’re right she has quickly become a dear friend. You know I love you as a friend, but with her…” Like so many times before you consider telling him you’re lesbian. You’re almost entirely sure he’s one of the few who won’t mind, but that small uncertainty makes you hesitate. ”You know, you’re my best friend who’s a man. She has become my best friend who’s a woman.” You don’t want to risk your friendship. You have kept it a secret from him for thirteen years. At this point taking another couple of months to be sure won’t feel like a lot—you hope it’ll only be a few months. “She has become very important to me.”

Robert nods. “It’s good you have gotten another friend.”

“I’m glad too.” You desperately want to add: ‘I love her so much.’

Silence settles between you, and you once again return to your book. You need to find some way to save him—to bring him back—but your search has been for naught. No matter where you look, it is always a dead end. You have learned dozens of the names the Mistress has to different cultures, found rituals to ward your mind against Her messengers, and powerful spells to drive them from one’s mind, but nothing about saving someone who’s been transformed.

“What are you reading?” He asks.

"I'm looking for a way to save you."

“I appreciate your concern, but I am happy.” You look up at him. He is calm, but there is a hint of sadness in his eyes. “I wish you could see the Mistress world like we do.”