The throne is empty, of course. The body it held, like the soul, ascended somewhere beyond them all. Gladiolus still kneels before it one final time and Prompto’s fingers linger on the arm, still warm from Noctis’ touch. He can’t tell what his body is trying to do, if he’s trying to cry or laugh or what. Ignis stands, fist over his heart and head bowed, just behind Gladio.
The stay there as the light warms the room around them, each lost in their own grief. Finally Ignis breaks the vigil, ever looking ahead.
“Who is to follow him?”
Prompto’s fingers clench, he never wanted to hear the question of succession. Never wanted to outlive his best friend, the man whose smile had been his life-blood for so long.
Gladio must feel the same as he growls, “Who could?”
There is no answer as they stand there. There weapons are scattered around them, the magic that once held them is gone, like it’s owner. It’s not a question they want to face, but as the only ones left to decide...they must.
Ignis knows this and he pushes forward, “There must be a king, at least until things settle. The people need someone to rally around...but the line of Lucis is ended. We need someone with magic, someone who can prove their claim and who is going to do what Noctis would’ve wanted. What Regis would’ve wanted....”
They stand, surrounded by the sheer enormity of their task, thinking. Gladio finally stands and the three of them are left staring at the empty chair. Who indeed, will wear the crown?
A noise makes them each jerk, on instinct, after years of doing it, they each reach for the pull of Noctis’ magic. Gladiolus’ shoulder drop as he stoops to retrieve his sword, Ignis too looks as though he’s been slapped. They knew it wouldn’t work and yet it’s so much worse, an empty chasm that’s pushed it’s way to the front.
Prompto doesn’t realize for a moment, too focused on aiming the weapon in his hand at the door that is slowly opening, that the gun is not his. The fizzle of blue is still dancing over his fingers when Gladio catches sight of it.
He doesn’t get the chance to say anything as Iris steps inside, Cor and Aranea with her. They freeze at the sight of only three companions and Prompto can see the realization in their faces.
The moment is short lived though as he finally understands what the weapon in his hand is. It’s a gun, sleek and black, with silver filigree that winds up the grip and creates the trigger guard, a silver sun is emblazoned on the side and it fits like a dream in Prompto’s hand. He’s never seen it before.
He ignores the others, as questions fly and the three newcomers approach the dias. His eyes are glued to the note, secured to the gun by a dangling charm, shaped like the king’s ring.
He pulls it free slowly, hardly daring to believe as he opens it.
“Prompto,
If you’re reading this, then we’ve done it. We’ve brought back the light to Eos and as much as I hope I’m there to see it, I know the price. I’m sorry Prom, I’m so sorry that I couldn’t give you all the things you deserve, sorry that now I will place another burden on you, when I have asked so much. I don’t...I hope this sounds alright, I’m not good at this sort of thing.
I asked Bahamut who would be king, after I was gone. He told me it was for me to choose and that if my choice was true, he would know. I suggested Iggy, he’s already so put together and so prepared, he’s got the know how...but in my heart, I guess, I choose you. Did you know, your names means “the ready man?” I did. I always wondered what it was you were supposed to be ready for, now I guess I know. Bahamut knew it too. He gave me this last gift, the time to write this to you. To tell you, one last time, that I love you. You will be the Sun King, look to Ignis and Gladio, look to our friends, they know more than I ever did. You have all the heart, all the fire, I never did.
I’m sorry, I love you.
Walk Tall, Prompto, my King.
~Noctis”
Prompto’s hand shook as he finished the note, at the last words a ripple of power drew the other’s attention. Noctis’ blue magic wrapping around him, slowly turning a warm gold color. It dissipated, leaving the gleaming crown of the Lucii on Prompto’s brow.
There were gasps from the new comers, but Gladio and Ignis simply placed their hands over their hearts again.
“All Hail the King.”
