#letshareapapou

Noctis, blood oozing from between his fingers, pressed firmly on a wound caused by gunfire. His face was contorted with pain. Ignis quickly brought him to safety, formulating a plan that would get all of them to safety, anything from his experiences he could draw upon to reveal an opening in enemy assault. "I do hope our allies are finding cover as well. It would be a waste if they only served as target practice." Ignis hissed as he glanced out from the pillar they shared. Noctis dropped his hand from his bleeding bicep. "You and the others have to get out of here. They're aiming for innocents, too." The advisor cast a look of disdain at the proposal. "Do you honestly expect me to do that and leave you behind? You are sorely mistaken if you think that’s a sound plan,” he berated with a snarl. Noctis paid him little heed as he got to his feet. Though he haven't signed on for long, Ignis felt a suspicion creep up on him. "You're going to do something brazen, aren't you?" "Someone needs to keep them busy for a while." Noctis turned to Ignis, eying the katana he always had at his waist. "Let me borrow your—" Ignis didn't allow Noctis to finish, simply removing the weapon from its hilt, light gleaming off the blade. Noctis reached out to accept the weapon only to flinch back when Ignis pointed it at his nose. Back in Niflheim, a request to disarm oneself could be taken as an insult. Ignis understood that the prince wouldn't deliberately entrench in a foreign custom, knowingly infringing on the other man's autonomy. The brunet decided that the gesture was an establishment of trust. Being the only ally not relying on magic loaned by the future king, his blade was created by earthly materials, designed to slash through most impregnable metals. The strategist knew that his blade would increase the prince's chances of survival. Ignis flipped the sword professionally, offering the hilt to the prince. "Don't let us share a funeral..." The strategist stated firmly before turning on his heel without another word. Noctis watched the man return to the fray, twisting in battle with a flurry of kicks, foot slamming into a soldier that sent him flying. Sweat ran over his brow and face set in a feral sneer, Ignis looked spectacular and dangerous even unarmed. He certainly wasn’t happy about leaving the prince alone. Noctis turned, hand gripping the katana tight as he barreled into his own fight. He twirled around an enemy as he ran, spinning to position himself into a battle stance, elbows bent to bring the katana over his head. The telltale click of a gun had him perform a back handspring away from a hail of bullets. Noctis wanted to believe that this was buying enough time for Ignis to get to the others. He slashed the katana downward, blood splattered on the ground, but the look of approval Ignis had sent in his direction before he pushed onward filled the prince’s chest with pride before forcing it down. Ignis was not his friend. Noctis tried to convince himself of this, that he had spared Ignis because he would be useful, but honestly, there was more to it than that. He didn't want Ignis to leave his side even if he had to chain him there. Noctis reached the top of the tower. Aggressive gusts of wind slapped at him that he raised an arm to shield his face to search for his target. He ignored the screams of gunfire and the bodies littering the battlefield and focused. He found it easily. The machine was huge, crab-like legs dug into the ground as it ciphened the magic from the air, whirling loudly. Noctis took aim, stance tightening as he braced himself. He took a deep breath before launching himself into the air. Coming down fast, he extended the blade, his free hand held over it. He turned, using the momentum to slam the blade home. The machine screamed its vicious cry, sparks flying as it collapsed. Noctis felt a termor of power flow into him. Time slowed as he reached deep, an Astral's presence bubbling under the surface. He let go. He heard a familiar shout in that second, but it was too late, half-turning to see Ignis reaching for him. The strategist's fingers were iron as he seized the prince's shoulder and steered him away from the manifestation. There was no time to run. The power released with a clash of energy. Ignis sheltered the prince his own body. Then Noctis felt it, the backlash of power unleashed, inside a bubble that still contained it. There was a scream but it didn't come from him. Eos itself felt as it was torn in two. Tremors and a fierce gale separated the two men from each other, Noctis was shoved away from the worst of it. The blast could've consumed him as it obliterated the imperial army. When the dust settled, Noctis found Ignis. Ignis... Ignis didn't rise. - Ignis committed himself to his country entirely. For as long as he could remember, Ignis had honed his talents and received the highest honors of his class. He conquered the console's simulations of artificially intelligent armies and directed a complete override on its programming to achieve swift victories. He mastered subjects in linguistics, history, alstoronomy, and so forth to fortify that a citizen of a superpower was well-spoken and cultured of the world around him. Ignis was taught to despise and look down upon those who weren't from Niflheim, especially the Lucians. Despite records depicting key events of the bloody feud were either lost or brought to question of its accuracy, there was no refuting that Lucis and Niflheim had been at war for many years. All Niflheim subjects were to refer to the neutral and pacifistic Lucians as mongrels. They were unworthy of the Crystal bestowed upon them. There could never be any peace between Niflheim and Lucis. Niflheim saw to that end when the kingdom was burned. Lucians scattered to find places to call home or swore their allegiance to the new masters. That was Ignis was taught. But why... Why did this brilliant strategist who held such promise lose to a Lucian? To Noctis Lucis Caelum, the heir apparent and vile scion of the royal bloodline? Had his arrogance finally caught up to him? He was far more experienced than the younger man... Yet, here he was. The tip of the prince's blade nicked the tender flesh of the strategist's throat. Ignis was at the Lucis Caelum's mercy. Disarmed and tormented, he was to die a martyr for his country. The patriot defiantly met the wrathful fuchsia eyes glowering upon him. The sight of them, magnificent and hypotonic. He could almost see why he was considered a formidable combatant. Shaking out of the spell he was briefly held under, he had something to say. "You are weary. Where is this great unwavering resolve that struck me down, Your Highness? What exactly curbs your bloodlust now?" Ignis reined control over his distressed breathing. He wasn't afraid to die, his life was bound to the empire's ideals. He failed his mission in killing the heir apparent and that alone was punishable by death. "End my life. All I ask..." He swallowed hard, lifting his chin higher to meet the blade. "Do not let me suffer." Even a barbarian such as the prince surely grasped some scope of dueling etiquette. The victor was to execute the loser. The loser was entitled to the final request before being sent to Etro's Gates. Ignis was to close his eyes, but he planned to retain his murderer's face in his last moments until he expired. The Lucian prince held the imperial strategist captive in the now crystal cobalt hues of his eyes. It was a penetrating gaze that shattered anyone under it to the core. Ignis felt that the ceremony was being delayed much longer than necessary. The manners demonstrated were lacking. How long must he be humiliated like this? The blade lost its form, disintegrated into glass fragments. He had sent the blade away. "No," Noctis stated firmly. Gritting his teeth, he shook his head. "I won't kill a defenseless opponent." Ignis would have pushed himself onto the blade if the wielder hadn't commanded it gone. He yelled through gritted teeth, knees aching. "Fool." He hissed. "I was supposed to kill you. I could have. If only I hadn't waited.” Noctis stared him down, eyes wide but dark as he watched Ignis. “I could’ve done so much worse. You got no peace treaty to protect you.” Gladiolus moved forward, hand one dropping to Noctis' shoulder. The Shield watched Ignis' face tighten. "Noct, he's a loose cannon." The prince shook off his retainer, taking a knee beside the fallen strategist. “I'll make you a deal: You answer only to me and you get to live.” He smirked. Ignis had never hated anyone more than he had in that moment. "I want nothing of this deal, you cur!" Ignis didn't like that smug tone of his either. "I would rather die." "That can be arranged!" The Shield roared, but the prince held out a hand. It seemed Lucis Caelum had a kennel of hounds willing to serve him. Why would the strategist's servitude matter to a materialistic elitist? "Yeah? Too bad, I want you to live." "Uh, Noct," The prince's blond companion, Prompto, Ignis recalled from the intelligence unit’s data, spoke up. "You sure you wanna go there? What if it's a trap? You know, like what happened to Lucis? How do you know he wasn't the one behind the attack?" Ignis kept his lips sealed. Correcting the gunslinger wouldn't change the fact that he was a loyal subject of Niflheim and he cared little of their opinions on the matter. He wasn't present in the onslaught. It was the kingdom's failing that it couldn't save itself. "He wasn't there." Noctis answered, simply. "Up until this point, Niffs had us running in circles. Probably because of you, right?" The prince asked the strategist. Ignis refused to give him the satisfaction of an answer. He won battles by understanding the way his enemies thought and in turn, assumed they knew what he was planning in order to shape the battle accordingly. He instead smiled at the statement. Bound, bloodied, and face pressed in dirt, these hapless fools were beneath him. Gladiolus wanted to kick in his smug face, Ignis knew he did. He pulled Noctis around. "Watch him." He barked at Prompto and the blonde nodded, pistol summoned in his one of his hands with a flick of his wrist. - "You can't be serious, Noct. He's scum. He wants you dead." Gladiolus turned back to glance at the fallen imperial slowly roll to his side with tremendous effort. "He'll kill us all the first chance he gets." "Not gonna happen. I won’t let him have it.” The Shield grunted in disbelief and Noctis had gripped his friend’s bicep, their eyes meeting, the prince's were hard. "I won't let him hurt any of us,” he vowed. Gladiolus made a low sound in the back of his throat. “You can't make that promise, you know. We don’t know him, but I bet that he knows everything he needs to about us. Just kill him and get it over with.” "He wants to live." Noctis whispered, his own eyes steady on the imperial now. "I know he wants to live more than anything, and I going to give him a chance to." "You're too soft." Gladiolus sighed, frustrated but conceding. Noctis smiled. “Yeah, maybe, but I’m not saying we lower our guard.” He jerked his chin to Ignis, crossing his arms, "He’s capable and obedient. Maybe he’ll change his mind about us.” - Ignis observed the prince and his bodyguard from afar. He didn't care for the secrecy. He barely managed to hear a couple choice words such as 'enemy', 'promise', and 'chance'. Nothing else. But he concluded that the prince had made a unbeatable argument. "So, uh," the gunslinger spoke suddenly, breaking the strategist out of his thoughts. "How long you've been a Niff anyway? Must be tough, you know?" He twirled his gun around his finger. "You probably don't get invited out to the good parties because of the bad rep." "No tougher than enduring your false sympathy while you're staring at my legs,” the strategist replied, wiggling his bound wrists for emphasis. "As you can see I'm quite incapacitated." "Right. But you sure suck at this small talk thing." Prompto sighed. "I can tell you're gonna be a blast to have around, Igster." Ignis tilted his head. Who was he to address him by such a crude butchery of a name? Before he could remark on it, Noctis and Gladiolus returned. "We don't have much time. We need to leave now so I'll cut to the chase. You're going to swear loyalty to Lucis and come with us to save the world." Ignis opened his mouth but Noctis injected, "Or I'll drag you to Graela and drop you off at the doors myself, gift-wrapped on arrival. We both know they won't be happy to see you." "You would be so careless as to head directly to capital? That would be suicide." Noctis cocked his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "My kingdom is in ruins, I've been dethroned, and the Crystal is who knows where. And everyone else? Dead or being blasted into oblivion. Dunno about you, but I'm a man with nothing to lose." "Fine!" Ignis spat. "Wait, really?" Prompto exclaimed, even Gladiolus looked a bit unnerved at how easy the man bared his teeth. Noctis crouched to meet with the strategist's eyes. "I want to hear you say it, Ignis." The strategist's grit his teeth in a feral grimace. "I swear loyalty to Lucis, and to you, Noctis Lucis Caelum, until the end of my days." "Good, I heard a lot of sincerity in that vow. We'll get along great." Noctis rolled his eyes. He looked up at his companions. "We still have a potion left?" "You're going to use it on him?" Gladiolus scowled as he handed the prince an emerald flask. "Who else?" The prince held out his hand. "Let's get you patched up." The magic was excruciatingly painful. Ignis refrained from screaming while the tears stung painfully at his eyes. Fractures and lacerations mended themselves, anew. He leaned forward on his hands and knees, dry heaving. Noctis witnessed the man's suffering without so much as batting an eye. "Remember that pain. We might not get a second chance at this talk. Get him up. We have to keep going." Was it all just a petty feud? A pointless bloodbath? Yesterday's enemy can easily shift to today's ally.

-

When Ignis came to, he found himself in a sterile and plain room resembling an infirmary and at this side, Noctis himself, almost like the first ray of light he had seen in years. "I thought I told you not to let us share a funeral..." Ignis muttered, his throat dry and raw. Noctis turned to the table and poured water into a plastic cup. After putting a straw in, he directed Ignis’ lips to it. “Sometimes I can’t decide if I want to kiss you or strangle you.” Ignis quickly drained the entire cup. “Why not both?” “Don’t tempt me,” he refilled the cup. “More water?” It hurt to nod but Noctis had the straw ready anyway. "Where's your Shield and marksman?" Ignis asked once he was done. "They’re with the civilians. Dunno how long it’ll take them, but I’ll check on them later.” “And my blade?” Noctis extended a finger to the katana propped against the bed within reach and Ignis’ muscles protested as he touched the knotted cords around the hilt, wrapping a finger around them. - Gladiolus and Prompto had been apprehensive ever since the prince welcomed the strategist in the fold. Ignis would been the same if he were in their shoes. But then again, imperials hardly took prisoners. When something rattled forebodingly in one of the pots in camp, they were the first to raise their weapons at the strategist. He couldn't believe that he had been forced to kitchen duty, him, the brightest and prestigious mind of his time, confined to menial labor.