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Somnus knew his brother best.
Even without all the dignity Ardyn carried himself with, he still somehow kept that air of regality about him. And the people loved him all the more for it. Broad shoulders held steady, back straight in confidence and poise, a fine chiseled jaw and a sculpted mouth both men and women swooned over. And of course, the unearthly smile that he sometimes graced the ailing with, when he fell on his knees onto the dirt to take their hands into his, to cure the Scourge that swelled in their veins. To absorb it, Somnus delightfully corrected.
Though Ardyn could make for a picturesque king, Somnus also knew the splendor of a crown and a throne would never do his brother justice. Because all the shining golds and fine silks in the world would fall blinded to the radiance of Ardyn’s soul. Because the only way one could truly fathom his brilliance, was to pin his little wings against a black canvas, to accentuate every spark and glimmer of his light.
Because Ardyn was the most beautiful little thing with pain scrawled across his fine face, with grief shining in those dear eyes, with pure anguish contorting those lips of his. Because it was then, that he looked so alive.
“Somnus.” Ardyn cried, voice barely a whisper through the throes of pain. “Somnus.”
“I’m here, Ardyn.” He crouched beside his dear older brother, who hunched over in agony with his hands clawing at the fabric against his chest. Somnus knew not what afflictions the Scourge was tainting Ardyn’s body with, and he could only guess how much pain he was in. He cupped his brother’s cheeks, gazed into those darling eyes shining with unshed tears. He couldn’t deny the the broken gasps falling from Ardyn’s mouth made their own wounds in Somnus’ heart. It hurt, truly it did. He wanted to shield this darling brother of his from the world, from the sharp edges that pointed its blades at him, and whisk him away to valleys of green and sweet waters.
But the aches were just as heavenly as they were terrible. And he did not push on just to stop now, when the best had yet to come.
“It hurts, Somnus, I can’t keep on. The gods — they ask too much of a mere man.”
Somnus ran a gentle finger across Ardyn’s cheek, felt the trace of a tear that had fallen. The lies came too easy. “Brother, I promise there will be respite for you yet. The gods will reward you for sacrifice and all will be well. They’ve crowned you their king, haven’t they? Soon, I promise, soon.”
Ardyn shook his head and let it fall. He looked so weary, so defeated, kneeling into the dust of the floor. And he looked so beautiful. His misery was so palpable, but Somnus knew he could fall so much farther. He wanted to know just how splendid his brother could be, would be.
“Tomorrow the Crystal awaits you, and it will all be done. Trust me, brother.” Somnus pressed a hand to the back of Ardyn’s neck, pulling him into his arms and cradling this poor wretched man against his chest.
Just a bit more, and he’d see the masterpiece of his efforts.
And oh, was he absolutely magnificent. So consumed with agony and passion, lashing out as the radiance of the Crystal burned him. He screamed with such fervor, fought and consumed as if hunger was all he had ever known. And Somnus knew, as their blades clashed and their blood pooled forth, he had made the most excellent choice in his entire life.
“Why? Did you want the throne so badly, enough to make a monster of your only brother?”
“No,” Somnus said, thrusting his sword into Ardyn’s chest. “I did it for you.”
Because the grandeur of a crown held nothing to the beauty of his brother’s suffering, to his skin stained with black viscose, to the anguish that lit the fire of life in those golden eyes.
Somnus thought he would be content. He had seen his brother at both his lowest and his highest, saw the culmination of his work bloom as the black Scourge that seeped from his skin, saw the utter look of betrayal and rage as they bound him in piercing chains, leaving him to rot in a hole of a deserted island. But as Somnus laid upon his bed, drawing his last breaths as the Crystal ate away at him, he wanted more. He wanted to see the splendor of Ardyn’s revival, see his once noble brother turn cruel with vengeance and vicious fangs. Somnus realized there was so much more to see, that he had yet beared true witness to what his brother would ultimately become.
So before the last light fell from his eyes, he struck a deal with Bahamut.
Somnus — no, Noctis. Noctis was a grand actor, knew how to feign the smallest of emotions, reign in the most powerful tremors and still the slightest of his expressions, but it had been a true test of skill when he at last laid eyes on Ardyn. But he played his role as the starry-eyed Prince, let his guard falter, winced back as Ardyn tossed the coin at him. A man of no consequence, Ardyn described himself, but Noctis knew him to be of anyone but.
He let Ardyn slip out of his grasp, only because their fates were irrevocably intertwined, because they would cross paths again and again until at last, they would both meet their due ends.
So when the boys fell asleep, he crept out onto the sandy shores and laughed into the night air, marvelled at what Ardyn had evolved into, wondered just how much two thousand years had done to cultivate such a wondrous creature.
And when they looked over the cliffs and saw the ruins of Insomnia, Noctis found his answer in the destruction of his kingdom. His companions tried to console him, when his legs trembled and he crumpled onto the hard stone. He tossed his head back, a laughter ripping through his throat as he fell into hysterics. They must have thought grief tore at his heart. What naive dears.
But he was never better, never felt more alive despite the death and destruction at the horizon. He couldn’t believe he had almost missed this glorious opportunity, that he had nearly let death steal him away from witnessing Ardyn’s final ascension — nay, their ascension. He was almost humbled, knowing he would have the precious task of ushering Ardyn into oblivion. Together.
As Noctis ascended the dais, toward the throne and to his dearest King, he realized just how wrong he had been. The crown most certainly suited Ardyn, when seared into his skin with such burning passion, with rage and thirst and death in his eyes.
“Ah, my dearest brother. How magnificent you are.”
And witnessing Ardyn’s face, the flash of memories and recognition and torment that cycled upon his darling features. That raw vulnerability tugged at Noctis’ heartstrings, and he wanted to sing to the gods in infinite gratitude for allowing him this honor. So he made Ardyn sing instead, his blood-curdling screams a symphony in his own ears. And oh, it was all so very
Exquisite.