𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋, 𝐄𝐌𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐒, ordained well before she understood the gravity of the position. When her fingers traced her mother's coffin and she felt well the rancor of her elder brother, all she knew was fear. Fear for him, for Noctis and for her people; fear for the things she could explain, and further still for the things she could not. "Wise beyond her years," were the words assigned to her, but it didn't feel like a privilege to know of one's power and yet feel so powerless for its existence.
Like he felt now, she was sure. It was why her hand squeezed tighter in its reassurance; why her words were strong and self-assured. ❝But you haven't failed, Noctis,❞ she told him firmly, cutting to the quick of the terror that so often gripped them both. ❝Failure is when good men stand by and do nothing; when they turn their eyes away from the atrocity because it's easier. It's painless.❞
Noctis hadn't failed her for her death, no more so than she had failed Nyx for his. Luna had accepted long ago that her body was failing her, even as Ravus endlessly tried to defy such a fate. But to sit in Altissia languishing in a chair, or to scrape a few years in Niflheim as Ardyn's, pet made her sicker than any scourge. It was no mistake in her eyes to be here in a timeless place; to be hearty, whole and here with him. She'd always dream of more, this was true, but she could content herself with the little blessings.
❝Can I tell you a secret?❞ Such words reminded her of when they were kids again, tip-toeing through the palace or complaining about their duties. It felt comforting to have a confidant; someone who understood her—understood their duties—who didn't speak in placations or outright ire. ❝I was... no. I guess I've always been a little afraid of the dark.❞
The admission prompted her to laugh, blue eyes casting themselves out to the hundreds of technicolour lights that drowned the luminance of the stars. ❝When you're told your duty is to banish it, I suppose it makes sense. I spent so many nights awake, watching the hours tick by over and over again—it didn't matter if it was Tenebrae, Altissia or Insomnia. As the night drifted on, the lights diminished. Smarter left their offices, went to bed, that kind of thing. But you know what I learned?❞
She didn't wait for him to answer. ❝It's always darkest before the dawn. But then that first light bleeds through the horizon—blue, then yellow and red—and I'm reminded the dark cannot go on forever.❞
Gentle hands lifted from his and clasped gently over her heart.
❝And it's warm. That hatred and apathy inside of him... it was a choice. The same way I chose my fate... and I do not regret it.❞
Then she laid it over his, palm pressed to the rhythmic thump of his heart quickened in his fear but no less strong to the drum of life. ❝I will always be here, dear Noctis—always. And I will lend you that strength. He is strong, but so are you... and you are never alone.❞
