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[Such a simple response, but he feels like he's been kicked in the teeth. Which would be a crazy thing to claim, because he's definitely the one doing the kicking. He'd known this would be hard, but it feels worse than he'd even expected.

He's the coward in this; while she looks at him, he glances down, fingers curling anxiously around his fork.]

She's... really kind. Always wants to help people. Sometimes she gives too much, I've been trying to teach her to- [-be selfish, but she hadn't liked it being phrased that way, so he pauses and course-corrects.] ...To do stuff for herself, too.

[Which is familiar, all of it. Maybe he'd fallen for her in part through the echoes of Luna that he'd seen in her, the way she'd found Somnus in him, too. But even if that were the case, it's long done now. Pyra is Pyra, and he loves her as herself, never as Luna's replacement.

Love isn't always singular, though. If it was, this wouldn't be so hard.]

I... know she'd love to meet you, if you want to. [If. And when she's ready.]

It would be a great honor to meet her.

[She means it. Truly. There hasn't been a day since their separation at childhood that she's wanted to see all the parts of Noctis' life for herself, to witness and find her place in it amongst his precious people, instead of reading about them in their journal. The fact that he is no longer her betrothed does not change that desire.

But she had been— oh, traitorous heart, is it wrong to have wanted—

No. Not now. Her tongue sits heavy in her mouth and she schools her thoughts into a careful blank. There is time enough to think about herself later. Noctis will always, always come first.

Lunafreya reaches out to settle her fingers over his fidgeting hand, and tilts her head so she can meet his averted gaze, so that she might soothe the troubled look from it.]

Noctis. I would never, never begrudge you any happiness. Not even in this. Pyra is a lucky woman. And I am thankful you did not live long without love after I was gone.

[Cautiously he looks up, afraid not of her but the kindness he finds in her gaze, of which he feels entirely undeserving. He's not totally fooled - she must be hurting, because if she felt even a fraction of what he does, how could she not? and it does hurt - but she hides it so beautifully as a courtesy to him. She's comforting him again, saving him again. He wished it could make him feel any better.

He thinks quietly back to Pyra's words when they spoke of this, how she didn't want him to consider it selfish, how it shouldn't be selfishness to be with the one he loved. He'll cling to that, sharing that sentiment, as his fingers curl against Luna's. It isn't selfish of him to tell people he's made a choice, or that he won't back down from that decision. All he can hope for is that he's able to somehow minimize the degree to which he hurts people through those choices.

Being honest with Luna up front is the first step. The second... being here for her to whatever capacity he's able, as a friend, like they'd always been. Nothing can change that.]

I would've- [-married you. waited for you. But that's worse, surely. He closes he eyes, exhales. Here and there are different; he'd never have dreamed about finding someone else on Eos, even though (if the Crystal hadn't chosen him, if he wasn't destined for a different fate) he'd have been expected to marry and continue his line as his father had when Mors died. In this world... no one had any expectations of him. And if anything, Pyra had found him.

So... the "what if" shouldn't be his focus. The future's ahead of them, free and limitless. They can choose.]

You deserve better, [is what he settles on, finally. Better than the hand she'd been dealt. He doesn't linger on it, though, knowing how that sounds. Better than me. There's a slice of that truth in his words, too.] You deserve to be happy. If I can help you find it here, then... I'll do whatever I can.

[Later tonight, Lunafreya will sit at her desk and write and write and write. She writes to thank the Gods that she hadn't embarrassed both of them by acting too affectionately towards him before his confession today. She'll write that she prays she's done right by him, that she took the news as gracefully as she could, and even that all of this was surely, unquestionably inevitable. A year is a long time to mourn a dead woman, after all. She could not expect Noctis to spread his wings so beautifully in this new world without setting aside some of the things that pained him enough to be afraid to fly at all.

She'll write about how she walked her life parallel to his for so long, so it should not be any hardship to continue on as they had before. And she'll write that her journey has always been a solitary one, for all that it was done for him. It's enough that he wants to support her, will be there for her in a way she'd never been able to experience before. She will finally get the time she's always hoped to spend with him, the chance to laugh as they did as children, and it's all more than she could have dared to dream for.

It's enough.

But then, finally, throat aching, eyes burning without tears, she'll write to admit to herself that she'd wanted Noctis to be hers. Her path to happiness, in as much as she could imagine one before, had always included him in that way. To lose it after coming back alive...it makes her feel a bottomless, staggering loneliness only matched by her mother's death and her brother's betrayal.

It's the only allowance she'll give her heart before she closes that proverbial chapter of what-ifs with a heavy hand.

But all of that is later. Right now, she can only nod, slow and solemn, along with his words, squeezing his hand once before withdrawing her touch. She laces her fingers together in her lap to stop from reaching again.]

Thank you.

[She's the one who turns her face away now. An inhale to steady herself. If nothing else, she has the will to go on.]

I shan't fail, if you are— [at my side, but she takes a moment to reel the words back for fear of sounding too intimate.] —supporting me. Knowing you will be there is a great comfort.

[He winces subtly at her withdrawal, but he doesn't chase or begrudge her for it. He's done the royal stoneface response enough times growing up as a prince of Lucis to recognize the signs of someone holding back. He never wanted that to be a necessity between them, but he can't blame her for relying on it here and now. She's always done what she has to in order to protect him- even though all he'd wanted was to protect her, instead. Now she's trying to protect him from the guilt of destroying whatever hope she might have carried that something beyond friendship could exist between them, now that another has entered the picture while she wasn't here.

He can't protect her entirely from the pain he himself is inflicting upon her heart, but... he's going to try his best to mend the wound, in any way he's able. So he draws his own hand back, but he rests it on the table instead, a silent offer if she feels a desire to reach out. He never wants to be beyond her grasp again, not after failing to pull her back from death in Altissia.]

I will. I promise you that- as long as we're in this place together, I'm here for you. Whatever you need.

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