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[He meets her gaze as long as he can while he listens, fixed in place first by her hand, and then by the soft glimmer of her eyes. We can be in the present. Can it really be that simple? It's not a sentiment he's unfamiliar with, of course. He's heard it a few times here, even from Pyra herself already. Each time the words burrow a little deeper, digging at the instincts that have been so ingrained for years and years, the automatic snap-back of I'm fine, the shrugged dismissal of don't bother because duty has never waited for pain and insecurity to fade away. Because kings aren't allowed to be cowards. Because sharing that part of himself is on occasion terrifying when the trade-off is shame and disappointment.

Inwardly, he knows that she won't be like that, Prompto won't be like that. Even Ignis, with his high expectations and gentle scolding, hadn't wanted him to carry everything himself. He'd offered, in Altissia. "When he's ready," he'd told Gladio. And... he's not. He's not ready. Not here, not now, when he's still so tired, his knees buckling under the weight of everything.

His gaze lowers, focusing on the sheets between them, blinking rapidly.]

It... does. [His voice is faint at first, barely a whisper, the words still wrestling to come out.] It does hurt. [He swallows hard, taking a deep breath, and tries again.]

After Altissia... when everything started to go wrong. Ignis asked if maybe... we should stop. I didn't know it at the time, but he knew where I'd end up- he must've been trying to save me, give me a way out.

[He wishes he'd asked, back then. Pressed further, seen past his grief and truly listened. Maybe if he'd known the whole of it, he would have been better. He would have found a purpose beyond the dazed and broken path he'd walked between Luna's death and the Draconian's revelation.]

Ignis... he always believed in me the most, no matter what. I think he knew what I'd say, and I couldn't give up, but... he's the only one who gave me a choice.

[ Her head dips away as she sees how quickly he blinks, how he seems to draw into himself, his voice barely above a whisper. Still, she listens to him attentively, shifting closer for a small cuddle of her shoulder against his to let him know she's still here.

How did Ignis know, she wonders-- but the detail is unimportant. The choice Ignis presented him with is. That they could stop. Whether they truly could have stopped, or if Ignis' words were unintentionally a false hope, it's no wonder at the time Noctis dismissed him so soon after Luna's death, after everything he lost. Now, they risk losing so much more.

The pain she hears in his voice is palpable. It's not just Ignis that he's lost, it's the one who had voiced, in no uncertain terms, that he'd essentially throw away the entire world for him. It that isn't a powerful way to show he loves Noctis, then... truly, what is? It means so much to Noctis, that someone would fight for him, or give him that choice--

Which ultimately means, deeply, that Noctis must feel... helpless.

The realization causes her to draw in a sharp breath. ] Oh, oh Noct...

[ She dips her head to him, pulling him into an embrace. ] You'll keep that with you, won't you? His belief in you.

[He allows himself to be pulled, exhaling quietly against her shoulder - resigned, almost - before his arm lifts to wind around her waist in return. He doesn't want to always be this way, weak and sad and needing comfort, but so often something happens and here he is like this again. She says she doesn't mind, and even if that's true, how is it fair? He's supposed to be offering more than his grief in this. If he can't help feeling like this, what more can he do? Listen, perhaps... he can at least manage that much.]

I'm trying to. However else I might feel about it, he still chose me over... pretty much everything. Everyone. I want to live up to that, if I can.

...You want to be better for him. [ She assesses, quiet. Yes, that's a feeling she harbors as well, ironically, for Noctis. She's told him as such, just this very same day. ]

But, Noct, consider this: he chose you... [ Her hand finds its way over his back, careful not to touch any of where his scars might be as she strokes upward along his side, tender. ] even as you are. [ Technically, even "were". ]

The only one who is thinking you are not enough... is you.

[He purses his lips, saying nothing for a bit. He knows that's not true, he's had a few people express their feelings on his various shortcomings. But it's also true that they're not here, either- even Cor has eased off and softened up during his time in Havenwell. Without the looming threat of duty or the end of the world, maybe Gladio would be the same way.]

If it was something I could just shrug off, I would. Is... [He hesitates, unsure.] Isn't this better than having too much of an ego about it? I took it for granted long enough.

That you have a too-big ego.... [ She smiles, shaking her head. ] I’d believe that more if we didn’t see you try to better yourself, even on your own.

Such as training almost every day.... Or teaching me how to use your magic, or any of the other things you do here to help others or improve yourself. [ The best thing about getting to know him this past year is that she’s seen him grow, but he didn’t grow just because. He worked for it, he pushed himself, and he overcame. That’s something to be proud of, she thinks, and he wouldn’t be himself if not for those qualities.

She’s been called naive before, and never observant. But she is observant. She is watching, she’s noting all of the wonderful qualities others have, how they change over time. Noctis is still himself, but he’s also become so much more in the short time he’s been in this world.

Perhaps Ignis saw that, too, those wonderful qualities of Noctis that made him great. As for the taking-things-for-granted part, that too she understands. But if Ignis loved Noctis like she loves him, then... it wouldn’t matter. Such is the nature of unconditional love, to be taken advantage of, to give more than one receives because it is endless and the one who loves does not make receipts. ]

So if you’re looking for balance... [ He already knows he’s not perfect, that there are some emotional areas he might have to improve on, so she doesn’t re-touch upon them here. ] I think you should believe in yourself a little more— that you can do what you want. That you are capable, or will be, including things like telling others how you feel.

[His arms tighten around her, burrowing closer against her body, his breath shaky and heated on her neck. Believe in himself… why is that always so much harder than it has any right to be? He knows he has some useful qualities, people wouldn't bother with him - or follow him - otherwise. After Lucis fell, they could have gone anywhere, done anything. His had been an empty crown, and the gods required only his cooperation and sacrifice, no one else's. Them supporting him meant that, at least to some extent, they had still seen some value in following his lead. To ignore that would be to disrespect anyone who ever believed in him, whatever their reasons for doing so. For them, at least, he should believe in himself. He should view himself as worthy of whatever was, and is, freely offered.

Like this, here and now. Her kind words, her arms around him as she comforts him.]

Don't you get tired of having to reassure me all the time?

[He should be more self-sufficient. And he's grateful - gods, is he - but surely she ought to ask more out of him.]

[ She looks at him with genuine surprise. What sort of upbringing has he had to think that she, who loves him— and who has been a friend to him even before— would ever grow tired of doing what it is that friends and family are supposed to do, unconditionally? ]

No... never.

[ “All the time” is an exaggeration anyway, but even if it was, she still wouldn’t be bothered to care and reassure him. To be sure, Noctis is not the only one she attempts to reassure whenever she hears another saddened, burdened, or otherwise looking down upon themselves. It hurts her (metaphorical) heart to know there are so many like that out there, and it’s a sobering reminder of how unforgiving the world can be to many, with many having never recovered or resolved their crushing sorrows, to say nothing of the debilitating struggles they go through should they even try. It pains her, truly....

She’s seen that with Noctis, who’s simply unlucky that he’s had a succession of unpleasant events fall into place one after the other in such a short time. ]

You are not a burden to care for...

[ More importantly to note: ]

And it is not your fault so much has happened to you.

[ A pause. She wonders if she is missing something. ]

Why do you ask?

[He... can't answer. He tries to, but his throat feels dry and his body reluctant to voice any thoughts her words bring to his mind, only a soft, unhappy noise escaping his lips. It would just be more whining, more senseless grief for her to console when she's already holding him. And he can't say something that would badmouth those who've done so much to support him for most of his life, when they aren't even here to defend themselves. It's his fault, anyway. For feeling this way, for failing them. He tries again, then just... shakes his head.]

It's nothing.

[It has to be nothing. The only one making it into anything is him.]

[ Months ago, she would have left it at that.

But just this very same day, he’s said that he loves her, and she, him. That means something, and she believes in it. She can inquire further, she can try to help him. She can listen. She’s listened so far—

”Isn't this better than having too much of an ego about it?”

“Don't you get tired of having to reassure me all the time?”

“It does. It does hurt.”

—and has concluded that now is not the time to leave him, to let him stew in thought with the notion that “it’s nothing”. Everything he is saying is troubling, not in the sense that it disturbs her, but because she feels as if she’s only now realizing the extent of his wounds, and that perhaps him “overcoming” himself, moving forward, comes so at a cost in this manner he pushes on. ]

Noct....

[ She turns on her side, a hand going to his chest. ]

Talk to me.

[Her words do get his attention, forcing him to listen not just to his own misgivings but her soft persistence. He's not used to being challenged on this, and it's a credit to how close he's allowed her with regards to his feelings that he does, after a long, pained pause, actually consider answering. Talk to me, she says, but say what? How the words of his Shield and his mortal enemy cut deeper than any soothing balm she's offered? There's no way to say something like that without it coming across as dismissive, like their opinion of him has more value than hers. And it's not that. Not at all. Just... maybe they were merely echoing things he'd already felt, and his own voice is louder than anyone else's. Still, he can't just deny her either. It's obvious that she doesn't believe the answer he'd given, and he doesn't want to fight against that truth, with how his resolve is already floundering.

He exhales, eyes shifting down between them, feeling her hand against him, and really tries.]

After Altissia... [Already his breath hitches, but- he tries again, he makes himself say it, finally-] After Luna... died... for a while, I fell apart. Ignis was recovering so we had some time, but even after we left the city, I... it's like I was on autopilot. We had to keep moving, and I didn't want to. I didn't want to talk to anyone or think about what happened, I figured as long as I was still working, it'd be enough even if my heart wasn't in it. Gladio... he got tired of it. I'm not as strong as him, and I- I know I'm not the king he wanted. I wasn't like Dad, I couldn't just pretend like the world hadn't ended...

[His fingers curl against her back. He'd never forgot those words. How could he? He knew Gladio meant them, knew what his Shield had been trying to do, and all his effort was wasted on one who refused to hear and accept it. He'd kept going, kept fighting, but he hadn't supported them when Ignis struggled, hadn't put the ring on and walked tall like his father had told him to, hadn't even fought back to prove the criticism wrong.]

I... was a coward, and he knew it. I'm sure he must've hated me for acting like a kid no one would coddle, instead of the king I was supposed to be. I don't- I don't want it to happen again. I don't want to make the people I love hate me by being this way.

[Better to tough it out and stay silent, isn't it? Even just the illusion of strength is better than not having it at all. He's not much good at faking it, but if he hides it, they won't have to know, they won't have to be disappointed by him.

Except... now she does. She knows how weak he really is.]

[ Pyra remains quiet and attentive throughout, not interrupting him as he speaks, only placing her hands soothingly, carefully upon the safe spots of his back, reassuring him to continue. She ears his breath hitch, she feels his chest tremble with a weakened-- ashamed? guilted?-- voice, and she feels his own hand tighten upon her. Pyra remains steady throughout.

To her, it sounds as if the time after Altissa had been far more stressful than anything he had encountered before. Emotions were high, all were vulnerable. Perhaps Gladio had been effected too, in however way he must have addressed Noctis to effect him so. She doubts that Gladio hates Noctis, and perhaps because of the need to push further, his method to push Noctis did help to their purpose. But it doesn't make it right. Now that Noctis has actually stopped, everything which he's pushed away has caught up with him, and the caveats of Gladio's hard-hitting encouragement are revealed to have left wounds. ] So... this is how...

[ She could cry for him. ] This is how you've been pushing on. [ Already her eyes are misting as he tumbles over his words, feeling the bite of disappointment or being called a coward all too keenly, the want to not have that happen again, the want to please others, to live up to their expectations even if it means straining oneself. While she can't relate to everything, the hurt in is voice is enough that it's all too easy to empathize.

Why does it feel as if he hasn't been truly able to mourn Luna or his father, even while here? Was he pushing that away, too? ]

If you being this way [ Sad, in her arms, confessing how he feels, ] makes you think you are weak... or is a reason for others to look down upon you....

I want to undo all of that.

[ Her hands still upon his back, staying there to hold him. ] I want to undo all of that. Because... it's not right. It's not fair to you. You have all the right to feel what you feel and say how you feel, you should have that right to feel safe doing so.

[Not right, not fair... those words shouldn't apply to him the way they do to normal people. He's just a royal or a Chosen in name alone here, but there are still people who expect it of him, aren't there? Whether here or on his world, he should be doing right by them. The stronger he is, the less cause they'll have to worry about home and the future. Crying, feeling sorry for himself- those are luxuries that the world can ill afford. Here at least he can help the world by holding her and being held, but will forming bad habits like this make things worse for everyone later?

"A king pushes onward always-"

"-never looking back-"

"You need to grow up and get over it-"

"While you dawdle, people are dying."

Their worlds still resonate, colliding and conflicting with what she's trying to offer him, and he doesn't know what to say. He is glad she isn't disappointed, or at least saying so. ...No, no, he does believe her. She's done nothing but support him, so the problem lies with him, where it belongs.]

...Why? [is his returning whisper, soft and shaken.] Why would I have that right? With so much depending on me, I... have to learn how to be a weapon. If I slack off or let myself believe otherwise, what if it carries through to Eos, or to the Crystal? If I fail, the world's over. I'll let everyone down even more that way...

[ Here, he unravels his fear and distraught with a soft whisper, and at first she can only hold him for a long, few moments of silence afterwards, pulling away just enough so that she can look at him.

He has it backwards, she thinks. Being a weapon, making it so that he only pushes on and never addresses those feelings, that is what will make him fail saving anyone. ]

You won't fail, Noct. You won't.... because it's your love for others that will push you on. [ The one thing that will undo her, what pushes her onward, is what will push him onward, too, to that same end. As tragic as it is, she feels this is true. ] That's... how it works. That's how unconditional love works.

[ That is not to disregard the temptation to stay or remain, to cling to a hope to remain, but she firmly believes that love works in this way for those like them, for whom it is necessary to help the world and the people they love: to sacrifice everything for those one truly loves. ]

So you can have that-- you can have love. [ She says to him, breathless. Her eyes are shining with a new mist to them. How she hates thinks about his fate, that one day he will leave, that one day he will be gone (even if he might appear back in Alleyn after), but she abhors even more that he feels that he must conceal his pain for it, to struggle and remain alone in it. ] You can save your world or this one. You can also feel everything you want to, joy or sadness or pain or frustration, you can tell it to others, and... it won't hinder your strength.

Noct, it's the opposite. Feeling things, letting yourself feel things.... makes you stronger than you are.

[He blinks rapidly, gazing up at her, dropping his eyes, then back again to repeat as he thinks her words over, torn between that long-ingrained belief and a desire to follow her determined reassurance. You can have love. He does want it... quietly, desperately. He wants to love, and be loved, and find happiness in the time he has left, openly and without shame, to grieve his losses, share mutual pain and comfort. But does it make him stronger? In trying to find love, to free Luna, he'd lost her, and losing her had made him push his friends away. But... blind hate is what caused him to lose Prompto, too. Fear and uncertainty meant losing his chance to make Ignis happy before he vanished.

Maybe there really is no guaranteed happiness to be found in a particular emotion. What if the problem is just... he's not strong, no matter what he feels. Not what she was going for, perhaps, but a path to the same end: if it doesn't matter, could he let himself feel more freely...?]

...But... what if I let myself feel too much? If- if I lose my resolve?

[If he loves too strongly, how will he ever let it go? His friends, his family, the life that he loves... how is he supposed to abandon all of that to fulfill his final duty? It won't matter here, but if these feelings carry through to whenever he goes back... that sort of weakness can't be allowed, surely.]

[ This is where they differ. Pyra will forever choose the world above herself, even as she longs to remain. It has never occurred to her that she could ever support her to want to. And as much as she loves Noctis and others here, that same feeling only drives her further to an end. For Noctis, it appears that he fears he feels the opposite. That love and those feelings might tempt him to stay-- to abandon his duty. That-- is that what he is saying?

Her expression turns to worry--

.....What if, he asks. What if.

--and her shoulders rise and fall with a quiet, solem breath. What if....? So be it. Noctis is not her, and this whole point is to let him feel how he feels, to think what he thinks, to come to his own conclusion, even should it be different from hers. ] --Then..... then let it. Let yourself feel anyways!

[ It comes out more emotional that she expects, desperate and pleading... blasphemous. The one thing she doesn't want for him is to lose that wonderful part of him that makes him him, his humanity, his feelings, his love, his care for others. Knowing how much he cares about the world and his family, she doubts he would choose ("choose") to save himself and sacrifice the world, if it came down to it, but that's beside the point.

She draws a breath to compose herself, unsteady and shaken at first, eyes wavering to the side and away from him, only to find their way back to meet his. They shine with her sorrow; illuminated by her crystal, they appear as starlight. When she speaks again, resolve grows within her voice. ] I.... I want you to follow your heart, more than any prophecy-- because I think your heart and the feelings there, rather than being a weapon, is the true power that can save everyone. Believe in that. [ Pyra's hands reach for his, clasping his between them. ] Believe that your heart and your feelings will save everyone.

[Let it. Let it? Feel it, feel this, this pain and longing that he's so full to bursting with, has very carefully managed ever since he woke up knowing his life is all but over. Feel the regret and resentment at all the borrowed time he's wasted not saying enough, not soon enough? The love churning beneath the surface, threatening to overthrow the blanket of duty and obligation that's kept him from sharing the parts of himself that feel unworthy of the crown he's meant to bear? Feel that, all of that?

It's... not the answer he'd expected, and for that reason above all others, the tears finally escape his stubborn eyes. With a shuddering gasp he ducks his head against her shoulder, his own trembling helplessly, fingers clutched around her like a lifeline.]

I don't want to die, [is the soft, choked whisper he utters, finally. Knowing it goes against the gods, the prophecy, the future of the world, all the expectations his family has had on him for his entire life. Feeling it, anyways.] I don't want it. I want to go back and wake up and fight alongside everyone, I want to see the dawn and rebuild the world, I want to stay with them...

[With Ignis, with Prompto, with Gladio. The people he loves. With Cor and the Crownsguard, with everyone at Caem and Hammerhead, Lestallum, all the people who've helped him and touched his life. Is the only way to thank them truly by dying? Is that the best gift he can offer the world? He'd be a lousy king, he knows, he knows, but he'd try, if he had the chance. He'd try so hard to make them proud.

And she's right, of course she's right. In that unspoken understanding, the belief she urges him to embrace, he too knows what choice he'd make, if it was him or them, if it was him or the world. There'd be no choice.

But it's not what he wants. And- if it's not pathetic, or whining, or running away- if he's allowed to feel it, here, where there are no expectations- if he's allowed to grieve for himself and everyone he's lost and will lose in the future... then, let him grieve.]

[ While one hand wraps about his back, the other raises and lifts up to the back of his head, fingers weaving through his fine hair to support his collapse into her, his forehead against her shoulder. She accepts this of him, both his warmth and his grief, his sorrow and his mourning for others... as well as himself.

And, solemnly, she can't help but smile as her own shoulders relax in some relief. It is relief that comes not at his fate, not at knowing how sad he is, how helpless he might feel in this moment, but that he's allowing himself to feel this way instead of thinking it must all be abandoned in the past, the perilous trail he's made thus far. ] ...I know. [ She whispers softly, tenderly patting his upper back right between his shoulder blades. ] I know...

[ She didn't know how much pain he had been in, but she knows how this feels. When they had first met, she had asked if he had never truly mourned for his father. He hadn't, for there was no time. So too had there been no time for him to mourn for himself, and it's taken her this long to realize that.

Her cheeks are wet, and her vision remains blurred with the same tears as before. ] I know... [ She repeats for a third time, closing her eyes slowly, her hold on him tightening as tears roll over her face, marking his shirt. She, too, wants him to live. To remain, to stay, to have all of those things, to love and be loved, to be with those he loves, for him to smile and see that dawn he wants to see, what he had called beautiful. Architect, if she could give all of that to him... ]

...And I'm glad you've said it.

[He's not sure if he's glad, not yet. He can't tell what the ripples of this conversation will be, how it might affect her, affect him- affect them, as they are together. It's difficult to see beyond the next few minutes, as the future is a very frightful thing, particularly these past few months. He'd much rather focus on the now: the sound of her voice, the feel of her fingers sifting gently through his hair, the warmth of her body as he curls up against her, arms around her to hold her close. This is a luxury, one he's rarely permitted and even more rarely indulges in, but it occurs to him, crying here like this, with her kind comfort there to soothe his aching heart and his grief, that it's been Pyra doing this for him each time. She's been the one he turns to, who coaxed truths out of him when so few could, who pulled down his carefully constructed walls of dismissal and indifference and let him be himself, let him hurt and laugh and love and show it, encouraged it, even. She's been there, this whole time, to help him find himself.

He stays like that for a while, quiet and trembling, hating his own weakness but loving her all the more for allowing it. Finally, though, he lifts his head just enough to unmuffle his voice - and it's still weak and shaken, half-choked from a closed-up throat - and whispers,]

I don't want you to die, either.

[She, who's done so much for him. She, who knows and understands his fate, who accepts her own just as readily. She, who can't easily say what she wants, either. He can want this for her, too]

[ She holds onto him steadily, steadying, as he expresses his grief, not saying a word until most of his shudders have subsided. Her eyes crack open by a sliver as he addresses her, and her chest retracts with a exhaled breath. This again...?--

--Is what she's about to say, but she realizes that he's only saying it because he wants to say it. And because he wants it, he feels it, she supposes... she has to accept this, too, no matter how wrong it feels to have him shift his sorrow to her when he's obviously still in pain. It speaks to his selflessness that even at his most vulnerable he's thinking of others (of her of all people). She can't help but smile in disbelief, even as tears well anew. He truly is too... good.

It's not fair that the world must lose him. ]

Y-you know... this is supposed to be about you.

[He exhales a breath, balanced perfectly between a laugh and a sob.]

It isn't just me or you. Not anymore. That's how it's supposed to work, right?

[He's no expert on this sort of thing, but there's good reason for couples to be referred to as partners. To accept her support, he should be offering his own in return. Besides, it is still about him- what he wants, how he expresses those wants. She asked for it.]

[ He can want what he wants, he can say what he wants. She's already said the same to him before-- that she wants him to live-- but he had understood her thing, as he probably does now, that stating aloud what one wants is different from actually acting upon it, not when there is so much at risk.

Better to direct this focus back to the present, then. ]

We'll live together... for as long as we can, is that it?

...Yeah. As long as we can.

[It's all that he's allowed to ask for, he knows. All she is. There are no promises here, no guarantees. Any morning one of them could wake up alone again, could find an empty bed or even an empty house. That's how this place works. In many ways that's how life works. Just for a little while, though... he'd like to hold on to this, as long as he's able. No more taking this slice of happiness for granted.]

[ And this is what she adores about him, the quiet resolve to grasp at what he has, to hold it to him, all of it, as much as he can, no matter what or how many lights fall from his hold. If she is ever included among those lights, she'll count herself as blessed.

And, truly, she does feel incredibly fortunate, despite that she shouldn't be here. To fall for someone like him, to hold him, to be there for him, to have encouraged him to speak and express and cry what he feels about his fate (and her own)... she's wanted that for him. He doesn't need to hide his frustration any more or grief. He does not need to feel that it might make him seem weak. In her eyes, it's quite the opposite. Because he can do both, because he can state his wants and love others so freely, yet continue to be grateful for what he has and to move forward-- very few are able to do that. So very, very few. This is what makes him strong (among many other things).

Still.

It does not make it fair to him, that he must... ] Mm, Noct?

[He blinks up at her, quietly and cautiously curious, though he doesn't speak, asking only with his eyes. He's stopped trying to guess what she might say next when she says his name like that, and whatever it is, he'll accept it to some degree. He certainly owes her that much.]

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