That’s my commission, kids! And yeah, it turned out great. The lighting effect is just… <3 Definitely check out the detailed face view, so beautiful. I’m proud that this helped challenge the already extremely talented im-9 although I’m sorry if it put them through any undue trouble.
And you all definitely want to read the scrap of fic I wrote and then made poor @im-9 read to help inspire the work, right? Here it is. For extra feels, listen to ‘Roses of May’ ‘Stand by Me’ or the FF overture from FF XV.
They stood in the bottom of the castle chamber for a few moments. All of them were aware of what had happened; Gladio and Prompto had watched the sky pale out for the first time in years, knowing that dawn was finally on its way. They told Ignis, and he nodded though he could not see it happening.
They had walked back through Insomnia, back to the citadel. To the throne room.
Though they said farewell to Noctis, it was a farewell one gives to the living. And beginning now, now that he was actually gone, it was time to begin the farewell to the dead.
Gladio sighed heavily. None of them had known what to expect. But there he was, still sitting on the remains of the Lucian throne. His head was in his hand, and he looked like he might be asleep. Gladio knew he wasn’t, but the thought made him grunt, almost chuckle. Napping again, huh? He knew Noctis wasn’t sleeping, of course, and the slight smile faded from his face as he slowly ascended the stairs to the throne. His heart was tremendously heavy.
In cleaning up Eos, the first thing to be done was to bury the last king of Lucis. Prompto stayed at the foot of the stairs, tears afresh in his eyes now, unable to follow. He had thought that perhaps- perhaps Noct’s body would just disappear. Maybe he would just join the mists? All this magic, after all, and he could phase in and out of things, right? But no. There he was, his body a painful reminder of everything Prompto had lost and gained in knowing this man. The pain in him was reborn. He wiped at his eye with the back of his hand as the brightening morning light streamed in through the windows. He grimaced a little, trying keep his sobs from echoing too much in the chamber; even now, especially now, it was a place of solemnity.
Gladio heard a strange echo to his own footsteps in the chamber, and turned suddenly, only to see Ignis directly on the stairs behind him, nearly on top of him.
Hearing him halt, Ignis had, too. He looked up at Gladio, a questioning expression on his face. He was listening for an explanation, either from Gladio or the world around him.
Gladio gave a small, gruff, “What’re you-” then stopped himself. Where was his right to question him?
Continuing up the steps, Gladio didn’t say anything else as he followed him up.
They arrived at Noctis’ side, but all Gladio could do was stand there. He was finding he, too, had tears in his eyes and didn’t know what came next. How to remove his little brother from the role he’d been born to take- how to lift him and walk him away from there. He just wasn’t sure how.
Ignis reached out with a shaking hand, and touched the throne. Though he could not see, he knew where he was, and he knew what must be in that spot, although no one had said a single word.
He knew them well enough to know what Prompto’s gasp meant- what Gladio’s sad little chuckle was. They had said all they needed to.
With his other hand, also shaking, he reached out and touched Noctis’ chest. Still so slightly warm, but no breath. That’s when the tears bordered Ignis’ eyes, and burned. He pulled Noctis forward, into a gentle, cradling hold.
I’m here. Sorry, I kept you waiting, was all he could think.
He could almost hear Noct’s voice in reply, “After ten years, it’s nothing.”
Gladio found his eyes welling, watching Ignis cradling Noct’s head against his chest, half sitting, half kneeling on the space before the throne, the king’s body in his arms. He knew that wasn’t the king now, in Ignis’ mind though. Only a boy, the child they had taught to be what he had to be.
Once they had both been required to keep their composure here… but broken in more ways than one, they were mourning openly. Once the most composed of any of them, Gladio could hear Ignis weeping without restraint, could see the tears streaming out from beneath the visor. He was deaf to the world around him.
When he’d calmed down enough to think, but was not ready to let him go, he willed a tiny prayer, words not for the gods’ ears, but for Noctis, wherever he was.
The night came for me first, and when the land went dark, I tried to remain a light for you. I need not be afraid, as long as I know… Whenever I’m in trouble, please, just…
titsay
romaincrisis
yousharknotpass
snowghoul
kaledo-art
