#pulcher

The Pulcher have an interesting relationship between the them and the Coral family. You see they arn't part of the Coral family, but there legend is intertwined with them. The Coral family believe that there ancestor was one of the Serpentes who tried to trick them and take there wealth, but the Pulcher tell the story differently. They claim that there ancestor was told from a young age that they were a Coral and was just trying to prove themselves. Although some Coral family members are hostile to any 'false corals' most will give the Pulcher a pass due to there low Nevoem status.

see more info in the Animalia Almanac.

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Ignis jerked awake with a gasp, the image of an older Noct he had never seen impaled on his father’s sword on the Royal Throne burned into his mind’s eye. It wasn’t a new nightmare, far from it. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Babe?” came Prompto’s somewhat groggy voice. And then there were arms wrapped around his shuddering form, gentle hands guiding his head to rest on one bony shoulder. Ignis gripped the bedsheets in tight fists and tried to force himself to take deep breaths. Despite all his efforts, however, he couldn’t seem to stop the fine trembling that seemed to be shaking his very bones apart.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Prompto murmured, sounding suddenly much more alert. “It was just a bad dream. I’m here. I’ve got you.” Try as he might, Ignis couldn’t seem to calm his racing heart. Instead, he curled into the warmth that Prompto’s smaller body offered, keeping his arms and legs drawn tight the same way Prompto had on so many nights where their positions were reversed.

But neither of them had suffered a true nightmare in ages. Not one that hurt like this.

“I knew,” Ignis croaked, surprising himself with the words. How many hundreds, no thousands, of times had he had the opportunity to tell Prompto this over the years? But he had remained silent. It was his burden to carry, his to suffer. And yet, suddenly, it was all too much to bear on his own anymore.

“About Noct. About the Dawn, and what it would cost. I knew.” Every word tasted like acid on his tongue and for a moment he was honestly concerned he might be sick.

“I know,” Prompto said immediately, cradling Ignis’ head with one hand while moving his other to rub along the blind man’s spine. “You told us, after going on all those research trips with Talcott, remember? I know.”

“No,” Ignis whispered, and it was the single hardest syllable he’d ever spoken, he was sure of it. Nothing had ever been harder than this. Prompto’s hand paused on his back for an instant before resuming its stroking.

“Iggy…what are you talking about?”

Ignis paused to wet his lips, but his tongue was dry as sandpaper. He forced himself to pull back and sit up again, his entire body growing tense. As though he was bracing for a blow. And, really, Prompto would be well within his rights to hit him, he thought.

“I knew before,” he whispered.

“How long before?” Prompto asked after only a moment’s consideration.

“Since Altissia.”

Silence.

Ignis sucked in a breath and forced himself to hold it, even as his lungs began to scream. The truth was, all of his efforts with Talcott had been to prevent what he had seen on that day in Altissia, when Lunafreya’s dog had stumbled into his path and somehow shown him exactly what fate was waiting for Noct. Ten years of desperately digging up any scrap of document he could on the Crystal and the Starscourge and the line of Lucii kings.

Ten years and he had still failed to find an alternative that would let Noct live.

“Whad’s wrong?” Pulcher’s high voice made Ignis’ heart jump into his throat. Beside him, he felt Prompto stiffen further as well at the unexpected intrusion.

“Nothing, buddy. Iggy just had a bad dream,” Prompto was saying, but Ignis was already crying. They were silent sobs, but they wracked his frame and sent a stream of saltwater trailing down his cheek beneath his good eye. Even a few droplets escaped his ruined eye, somehow, and soon Ignis had pulled his knees up to bury his face in them, shaking as he sobbed.

Noct had been his charge and he hadn’t been able to save him. What had ever possessed him to think he could care for a child after that?

Then he stiffened again as he felt small, warm arms worm their way around his middle, squeezing with all the might his tiny son possessed. Ignis sucked in a breath and shifted just enough to angle his face towards Pulcher, who had crawled onto the bed between them.

“I’s okay, Dad,” Pulcher said softly, hugging him again. Ignis, who had comforted Pulcher through countless of the child’s own nightmares, only began to shake again. Before he knew it, he had swept Pulcher into his arms and was hugging the boy to him like a lifeline, burying his face in his downy hair.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Pulcher was practically still a toddler. He shouldn’t be the one to comfort his parent. And yet, in that moment, Ignis wanted nothing more than to hold him and never let go.

This is my second chance, he thought desperately. My chance to do it right, and keep him safe.

And all the while, Pulcher kept muttering that it was okay, over and over, the way both Ignis and Prompto had always done for him, while Ignis wet his soft hair with his tears. At some point, Prompto’s arms had snaked around him again, as well, and Ignis found himself being coaxed into lying down with Pulcher still held fiercely to his chest.

Time passed and his sobs began to fade and the next time Ignis found the strength to be aware of anything, he found that Pulcher had gone still and was breathing deep and even in his arms. He almost thought Prompto had fallen asleep again as well, until his lover spoke.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Prompto whispered. His voice was hot and humid against Ignis’ ear, his head cradled on the pillow directly beside Ignis’.

Ignis only resisted giving a dry bark of a laugh because it might have woken Pulcher.

“And when is the right time to divulge that you know your best friend is destined to die, exactly?” Ignis asked. He regretted the tone almost immediately, but forged on anyway. “Noct…was my world for so long, Prompto. For so many years. Once, just once, after Altissia I tried to suggest we stop, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Rightly so. He thought it was his duty to avenge…well…us, I suppose. And Luna, and his father. And all of Insomnia for that matter. Of all the times for him to suddenly start acting like a King…” Ignis did laugh now, hard and brittle. He waited a beat, but Pulcher slept on regardless.

“Do you know, I used to dream I had fixed it? I would dream that I had tricked Ardyn and used the Ring of the Lucii to best him and saved Noct in the process. But…” Ignis had to pause to swallow and shake his head. “I haven’t had that dream in a long time. Not since the Dawn, I think.”

“You should have told me,” Prompto said, squeezing his arms around Ignis’ middle. The former Advisor sighed.

“Why? So you could worry too?”

“That’s exactly why you should have told me” Prompto countered. “So you wouldn’t have to worry alone.” He sighed, one of his long dramatic sighs, and curled himself closer around Ignis. Ignis felt their knees knock together and felt his body relax a bit more at the familiar contact. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. You told me now.”

“I suppose I did…I…didn’t mean to,” Ignis admitted quietly. He could almost hear Prompto frown.

“When were you going to tell me? Wait, don’t answer that,” he muttered and settled his head on Ignis’ shoulder entirely. “Look, I know I never told you everything about Ardyn—”

“You don’t have to,” Ignis put in quickly but Prompto squeezed him again.

“I know, but I will. Soon. It was years ago now. It’s time. I’m over it.” Prompto sighed and shifted one of his hands to curl over Ignis’ resting on Pulcher’s back. “I just don’t want us to have any secrets. Not anymore. Not when this little guy’s already got so much he can’t even begin to tell us about.”

Ignis nodded and laced his fingers with Prompto’s, closing his good eye. After drawing in another long breath he found he felt better, lighter, having finally allowed himself to cry. In all the years he had suffered through reliving those images, he had never let himself cry over them before. But back then it had still felt like he could change things somehow.

“I wish Noct could meet him,” Prompto whispered. “He was never really into kids, but he’d love Pul. I know it.”

“He would,” Ignis agreed quietly. He turned his head, pressing his nose into the hair above Prompto’s ear. “Prompto?”

 “Hmmm?”

“I love you.”

Prompto shifted enough to press a chaste kiss to Ignis’ dry lips before settling back into his previous position.

“I love you too,” the gunner whispered. “Try and get back to sleep. And…maybe this weekend I’ll break out some of the old photos and we’ll tell the little guy all about Noct. He’s always eying that picture of the four of us. I know he’s curious.”

They had never broached the subject of their fallen friend with Pulcher before, but the prospect suddenly seemed like less of a burden than it might have when Pulcher had first come to live with them.

Here’s a little something I hope will help you feel better. :)

Prompto has picked out or made all the ornaments on their Christmas tree. Before they started dating Ignis didn’t even have a tree because he spent all his holidays with Noctis, so they had to start from scratch.

One of Prompto’s favorite traditions is going to craft fairs and local markets to find cool handmade ornaments. Ignis will let Prompto get anything he wants, even if it’s not something he would normally (or ever) choose for himself. They even have every possible color chocobo in some form or fashion. Ignis just loves anything that Prompto loves and he knows Prompto’s parents never let him pick anything out for their tree growing up.

Every year Prompto buys a photo frame ornament and puts in his favorite picture of them together from the year to commemorate it.

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(Again, this one was a submit, so above is @sayura21 and here starts me :P)

Awww this is so adorable! I imagine there are a few that he managed to rope Ignis into making with him as a “joint craft” thing. Mostly things he found online, like making a few of their chocobo “herd” with feathers and popsicle sticks and googly eyes.

Anytime he does find one that he thinks Ignis would object to he always asks before buying it, even though Ignis never says no. He still wants to make sure.

Here’s something I wrote to celebrate having 100 followers. You can consider this far in the future of the Kings of Nowhere universe since it mentions Freya. Written on my phone at lunch so excuse any grammar weirdness. Enjoy!

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Ignis sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the four-year-old shift under the covers until he was comfortable. If anyone has asked him ten years ago about his thoughts on having a family he would have dismissed the idea at once. But times changed and they had quite literally been to hell and back over the last decade.

They shouldn’t even be alive. Or at least, that was what he thought whenever he felt the warmth of the newly returned sun on his face.

“Dad?” Pulcher said suddenly.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Ignis asked. It had been Prompto’s wish to start a family, of course. Prompto, whose heart could encapsulate the entire world. Ignis hadn’t been so sure, especially with his own heart fractured with the loss of his charge, his king, his friend. It had taken some convincing but in the end he trusted Prompto. Like always.

“Were you always blind?” his son asked. His high voice was serious and even though Ignis had never seen his face, he knew that Pulcher was staring up at him with the most earnest green eyes. Eyes that Prompto said looked just as Ignis’ once had.

“No, darling,” Ignis replied, reaching out to stroke the boy’s soft hair. He knew the boy’s height exactly and judged the distance perfectly. “I was…in an accident. A long time ago. And I lost my sight.”

“Won’t it ever come back?” the boy asked, and Ignis felt him tilt his head under his fingers.

“I’m afraid not.”

“What about a doctor? Or Grandma Freya? Can’t they bring it back?“ 

Ignis leaned down and kissed the boy’s head, inhaling the gentle scent of mango from the child’s shampoo.

"No, my love. But there’s no cause for sadness. I’m quite used to it.”

Pulcher was quiet for a moment and Ignis was about to suggest that the boy lie down when he felt small fingers on his cheek.

“If you can’t see anything, then why do you still wear glasses, Dad?” Ignis chuckled and reached up to grasp his son’s tiny fingers in his own.

“Out of habit, I suppose. I wore glasses for most of my life before the accident,” he explained gently. Recently, he had found that the shades were necessary for the first time in years, as the newly risen son sometimes blazed disorienting shadows across the ruined vision of his right eye. 

Of course, what he didn’t say was that the thick shades also served to hide the hideous scar that forever sealed his left eye. Prompto swore it wasn’t that bad, but Ignis still preferred to keep it hidden whenever possible. He had felt the rough, raised skin with his fingers many times over the years and even without sight he knew how ugly the damage must truly be. 

Pulcher himself had only seen Ignis without his glasses a few times in the six months they had been together, when the boy had wondered into their bedroom after a nightmare in the middle of the night. He had never commented on the scar, but Ignis suspected he’d been too distressed by his own imaginings on those occations to really notice before Ignis replaced his shades to help Prompto comfort the boy. 

Then again, perhaps the scars wouldn’t be so shocking to a child born into a world of monsters and darkness. Still, Ignis wasn’t ready to find out just yet.

“What about your good eye?” Pulcher asked next. “The one that opens sometimes. How come you still can’t see if it’s open?”

Ignis was quiet for a moment. He tried to keep his right eye closed most of the time simply to spare others the sight of the milky iris, but it did flutter opened at times. Apparently the difference was visible even through his reflective shades. He suddenly wished Prompto had told him that was the case.

“Close your eyes,” Ignis finally said. He waited a moment, knowing that the boy would obey without question. He was so eager to please them. Once, in their first weeks together, they had found him sobbing uncontrollably after knocking over one of Prompto’s pictures and breaking the frame. At first Ignis had worried the boy had hurt himself on the glass, but eventually Prompto managed to calm him down enough for Pulcher to choke out the reason for his distress.

He was terrified they would “send him back.” Even now, months later, that same fear drive Pulcher to jump to do whatever he was told. The behavior had actually brought Prompto to tears on a few nights and Ignis was far from unaffected himself. All they could do, however, was keep reassuring Pulcher and hope he would eventually feel safe.

When a few moments had passed, Ignis carefully slid his fingers across his son’s face and covered his eyes with his hand.

“Now open your eyes,” Ignis instructed. “What do you see?”

“Nothing!” Pulcher giggled. “Your hand is in the way!”

The squeal of laughter was infectious and Ignis grinned, slipping both arms around the child to pull him into a hug. 

“That’s what I see when my eye is opened,” he explained. Truthfully, there were some vague shadows now and then, but that was a good enough explanation for a four-year-old.

“Oh,” Pulcher said and hugged Ignis as tight as his little arms could. “I’m sorry.”

“No reason to be sorry, darling. As I said, I’m quite used to it. Now, I think it’s far past time that little boys were asleep, don’t you?”

Ignis let his fingers lightly tickle his son’s ribs, delighting in the shriek of laughter he drew from the boy even as Pulcher obediently laid down in the bed.

“Leave the light?” the boy asked when he had his breath back. 

“Of course,” Ignis promised. It was no surprise that the boy had a fear of the dark. Even Prompto sometimes left their bedside lamp on. He thought Ignis didn’t know, of course, but some nights he could hear the hum of the bulb. 

“Love you, Dad. G'night,” Pulcher murmured, his voice muffled by a yawn. Ignis leaned in and easily found the boy’s forehead, kissing it gently.