Chapter Text
Noctis lay bundled in her blanket, stubbornly refusing to leave the comfort of sleep. The early morning air was crisp, but her blanket was her sanctuary, and she was far from ready to emerge from it.
“Nghh.”
“Well, that’s an attractive sound for a princess,” Gladio teased, a smirk pulling at his lips as he loomed over her sleeping form.
“You know how she is, Gladio,” came Prompto’s familiar, lighter voice, paired with a chuckle.
A hand landed gently on her shoulder, nudging her awake. “Come now, Highness, it’s time to get up,” said Ignis, his tone both patient and amused.
With a reluctant sigh, Noctis cracked open her eyes just enough to glare at her advisor, hoping he’d let her get away with just a little longer under her blanket. “I said ten more minutes…” she mumbled, still half-buried and clutching her pillow tightly, not even bothering to meet Ignis’s gaze directly.
“Yes, that was twenty minutes ago, Noct,” Ignis replied in a calm but resolute tone that offered no room for negotiation.
With a groan of defeat, Noctis finally threw her blanket off, though her tired eyes were still reluctant to leave her. They were back on the road, camping under the stars after a long stretch of travel. Yesterday, Prompto had begged for another night in town, but Ignis had firmly rejected the notion. There was too much distance left to cover and too little time to waste.
She was annoyed as she often was in the morning and Ignis only doing what he always did made sure she stayed on track.
Ignis liked to maintain the image of being all about rules and protocols, but when it came to the princess, he was far too lenient – and Noctis, of course, was more than willing to take advantage of it. She could be selfish, moody, irrational, and stubborn, yet beneath that was a heart which had borne so much for someone so young. She cared deeply for those around her and somehow, she and Ignis always managed to overcome their challenges, even when the biggest challenge was her.
The princess had lost her mother at a young age, leaving Ignis—her soon-to-be royal adviser—to step in as a parental figure. At every turn he took on her mother’s role as much as possible, guiding her with quiet patience. Noctis, though, did her best to live as any teenager would, pretending her destiny as heir to the throne didn’t always haunt her. She fought to ignore the shadow it cast over her, but it clung tightly. Some days, she thought her rebellion against Ignis was rooted in that shadow. She couldn’t let out her anger at the gods, at fate , or whatever forces were so cruelly beyond her control, but Ignis? He was right there.
She lived in a penthouse under strict guard in the bustling city of Insomnia. At her father’s order, Ignis kept watch, but over time she grew indifferent to his presence. She even found their small arguments strangely comforting, like an unspoken form of therapy.
She knew Ignis didn’t deserve her defiance and wondered if he truly understood her reasons. She barely understood them herself. The world felt too stifling, too unfair and she needed somewhere to channel her frustration.
“Noctis, welcome home. I trust school went well?” Ignis’s familiar voice greeted her from the kitchen. He wore an apron with his sleeves rolled up, soap suds halfway up his forearms—cleaning up after her, again.
Noctis was a junk food fanatic. Keeping snacks and drinks scattered within arm’s reach of her comics and manga. She called it “organized chaos.” Ignis however called it a mess. She glanced around noting her comics were neatly stacked on a shelf. Her open chip bags were thrown out and her beloved stack of soda bottles were gone. She huffed, irritated to find her things relocated.
"Eh, where—?"
“It’s on the bookshelf next to your comics, Highness,” he replied, drying his hands. “Also, I would urge you to consider a healthier diet. Your current eating habits won’t sustain you in the long run.” He’d said it a hundred times, maybe more.
“Sure Ignis,” she muttered, throwing herself onto the couch without a care. Ignis sighed, a gentle shake of his head as he watched her.
“What’s for dinner?” she asked lazily, stretching out over the sofa like she didn’t have a care in the world.
“Steak and onions with scalloped potatoes,” he stated proudly.
Ignis shook his head. Noctis had always been a bit of a tomboy, running wild despite her father’s efforts to instill some form of poise in her. Even as a young girl she returned from her adventures outside covered in mud and scrapes. But despite his frustration her father never scolded her for it. She rarely smiled, and he clung to any moment of happiness she could find.
But as she grew older, she began to see how maintaining the city’s protective wall was wearing down her father, draining him more each day. She was terrified and felt helpless, knowing that her life was fated to these same obligations that grew closer with each passing year.
She wasn’t ready. She felt herself being forced out of the way, separated from the life of the palace and pushed into isolation in the penthouse—far from her father’s world, Ignis’s daily life, and the royal duties she had barely begun to understand. The reality left her simmering with frustration.
“Highness, dinner is ready,” Ignis called, breaking her thoughts. She joined him at the table, and they ate in relative quiet, each lost in their own world.
After dinner Ignis readied himself to leave for the castle. He visited her each day and oversaw her meals, studies, and overall readiness to one day assume the throne. His duty to guide her was clear, but beneath it all his true motivation was simpler: he cared for her as a friend. They had been close since childhood and Ignis had dedicated himself to his role with an unwavering resolve, learning all he could to make her feel supported and seen, especially when she seemed most lost.
Standing at the door, she watched him put on his coat. He paused and glanced back, seeming to sense something unspoken between them. “You didn’t tell me how school went today. Is everything alright?” He asked softly. “You know you can confide in me, Noctis…”
She shuffled her feet, slipping her hands into her pockets. “It’s nothing.”
He reached out to her, his fingertips just grazing a lock of her dark hair hoping to offer comfort. “Noctis—”
She swatted his hand away, a knee-jerk reaction to his tenderness. “I said it’s nothing. You don’t have to coddle me.”
“I see… Well, I bid you goodnight. Please study for tomorrow’s test and try to get to bed at a reasonable hour.” Ignis’s voice was steady though his eyes showed a glint of sadness. He waited, hoping she’d let down her walls, but when she didn’t, he gave a short bow and left. The door closed leaving silence to fill the void.
Noctis clenched her fists, anger burning. She hated the way she lashed out; the dull ache in her hand couldn’t match the sharp sting of regret that twisted in her chest.
Three days passed before Ignis returned. During that time, she’d passed her test and kept to herself, the weight of her earlier outburst lingering. She spent her free hours at the arcade with Prompto, her closest friend, just to avoid going home and sulking. But when she returned that night Ignis was there, gathering the debris of junk food wrappers and soda bottles she’d purposely left scattered.
“Ah, you decided to come home tonight,” Ignis remarked as she stepped through the door.
“It would seem so,” she shot back, sarcastic and biting. She’d hoped her mess would irritate him. The thought of his reaction had given her a petty sense of satisfaction. Yet Ignis, stoic as ever, showed no irritation at her mess.
Without a word he went to the kitchen, pulling out ingredients he’d bought that afternoon. Rather than reprimand her whipped up a dessert parfait, layering angel food cake, cream, and chocolate ice cream in a tall glass with chocolate syrup spiraling around the inside. He finished with wafer sticks and a cookie, each touch deliberate and thoughtful.
“Whoa…” she murmured, watching him work with a newfound awe.
"Here you are, a chocolate parfait. If you'd like more, just let me know, Highness."
Noctis felt a surprising warmth in her cheeks. Ignis always seemed to know exactly what she needed, and this time, he’d gone out of his way to bring her a sense of comfort.
"Thank you, Ignis... but why—?"
Ignis met her gaze, his expression compassionate. "Noctis, I apologize if I’ve come across as insensitive recently. I may have... overstepped."
She shook her head. "Iggy, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. If anything, I’m the one with the attitude problem. I’m sorry for that... and, well, for the mess." She gestured around the now spotless apartment.
He just nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Ah, yes, about that... And forgive me for mentioning it, but that may have been my first clue to a... change in your demeanor. "
Noctis’s eyes went wide. “Wait—what...?” He... he went through my trash? Her face turned a fierce shade of red as she imagined what he must have seen, and in a flustered haze, she demanded, “What were you doing going through my trash?!”
Ignis sighed, realizing he’d unintentionally triggered yet another minefield. “I would hardly call it ‘going through’ anything when it was in plain view, Highness,” he replied, keeping his tone neutral. “I merely tidied up as usual and discarded what was left behind. That’s all,” he replied reassuringly.
Noctis folded her arms, fixing him with a glare that said she was anything but amused. She opened her mouth to protest further, but then Ignis calmly ducked below the counter and re-emerged holding a tall, elegant bottle.
She narrowed her eyes. “What’s that?”
“Chocolate wine. I hear it’s popular, and I thought it might be just the thing. May I?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Consider yourself forgiven.”
Ignis inclined his head with a grandeur bow, pouring just a small measure of the rich, dark liquid into a glass. Just enough to let her savor it—no more. It wasn’t about the drink itself; it was his way of showing her he understood.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” he said, his tone like honey, but laced with a hint of humor that warmed his gaze.
Noctis watched him, feeling a pang of appreciation mixed with a twinge of guilt. Despite her rudeness earlier, Ignis hadn’t once raised his voice, hadn’t let his patience falter. Even when she pushed the limits, he responded with nothing but kindness and understanding. In moments like this, she could feel the depth of their bond—a connection that ran far deeper than words.
Ignis poured a modest but satisfying amount of the rich, velvety wine into Noctis's glass, just enough to warm her senses and take in the delicate blend of chocolate and red wine. He had no intention of letting her overindulge—this was simply a small reprieve to ease her nerves and satisfy the craving she’d hinted at.
Playing the role of mother was never easy for Ignis, even if he performed it with a seamless grace that others might call flawless. Still, there were aspects of it that tested him. For all his preparation, he was often navigating unknown waters, researching topics that were far outside the typical advisor’s purview. Yet, as difficult as it was, he knew it was just as hard—if not harder—for Noctis. She had no female guidance, no confidante to talk about the profound changes in her life or her body. Her closest friends were Prompto, Gladiolus, and himself—her advisor, trained to be her guide and counselor. And so, he took on each of these roles, becoming not just her advisor but also her confidant, her friend, her caretaker, all in one.
Yes, it was difficult—but he knew it was much harder for her. Her life had been defined by a series of trials that began when she was just a fragile child in a wheelchair, and later, when her brother was taken by Niflheim. Fate hadn’t been fair to her, nor to any of them. But these were the cards they’d been dealt, and they had to play them with what dignity they could muster.
“Wow, this is amazing! Pour me another, Ignis!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up with a rare spark.
He found it difficult to tell her no, especially when she looked at him like that, her eyes bright and alive. It was moments like these that reminded him of the bond they shared, one he knew only he could truly understand. In times like this, she was breathtakingly beautiful.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to decline,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “I’m not looking to have you incapacitated when you have school in the morning. Besides, you still haven’t done your homework. This one small indulgence is a special exception, but responsibility must always come first.”
Noctis groaned, grumbling under her breath.
“Now, now,” he chuckled. “I believe I’ve been more than fair, Your Highness.” He sealed the wine bottle and began tidying up. “We can’t have anyone catching wind that your advisor is a pushover who lets the princess have her way all the time.”
Noctis snorted, and Ignis shook his head with a fond smile. How very ladylike.
Once he’d finished cleaning, Noctis reappeared from her room in a comfortable blue nightshirt adorned with a chocobo print, and loose black sleep pants. Even her loungewear felt like an expression of her—Noctis, the princess who wanted nothing more than to be herself, without pretense or pomp.
As Ignis laced up his shoes by the doorway, he saw her leaning against the wall, looking tired but at peace, a stark improvement from the frustration he’d seen three days ago. This time, he felt he’d truly reached her, managed to bring her some comfort, if only for tonight. Adorable, he found the word stark in his mind.
“Well,” he said, he cleared his throat. “Goodnight, Your Highness. Try to make it to school on time tomorrow, yes?” They shared a brief moment of silence, and he hesitated before stepping closer, gently tucking a lock of her dark hair behind her ear. “I am on your side, Noctis. Don’t ever forget that. I’m here for you.”
Noctis’s lips curved, her face relaxed. “Thank you, Iggy,” she said, feeling a pang of guilt over her earlier outbursts. She knew he didn’t deserve any of it, but he cared for her all the same. Unwavering, he was always by her side, loyal to her, not just because of his duty, but because of their bond. “Really… thank you.” Her voice wavered slightly, and she blinked back a sudden rush of emotion. Why was she so sentimental tonight?
“Hush now, there’s no need for this,” he said, brushing a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb. “All is well, and that’s what matters.”
Somehow, things felt lighter between them afterward. No matter how many times they fought or found themselves at odds, it was these quiet moments that brought them closer, each one building on the last. She almost looked forward to their conflicts, knowing that whatever storm brewed, it would only deepen their understanding of each other.
She smiled up at him. “See you tomorrow, then?”
“Of course, Highness. Shall I bring sweets tomorrow? I’ve been meaning to test a new peach filling.”
Noctis nodded eagerly. “Yeah, that sounds good,” she replied, then paused, hoping to sound a bit more… polished. “And…H-hey have a safe drive home, okay?”
God, she sounded so butch in her head, failing miserably to mask herself as feminine.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” he said with a smirk. “After all, what would you do without me?”
“Drown in mountains of junk food and dirty laundry, I’d imagine,” he retorted with a glint of amusement in his eyes.
A laugh burst out of Noctis, bright and unrestrained, filling the room with warmth. Ignis joined in, his laughter rich and genuine, and for a moment, they both forgot the weight of their titles and responsibilities. They were simply two people who understood each other better than anyone else.
“Goodnight, Noctis,” he said, his laughter fading into a warm smile.
“Goodnight, Iggy. See you tomorrow,” she replied gently.
With one last nod, he left, and as she prepared for bed, she felt an inexplicable sense of peace. The tension of the past few days was gone, leaving her feeling light as a feather. And that night, she drifted off with a smile, knowing she could face whatever challenges tomorrow held, as long as he was there by her side.
They had finally reached the halfway point to Artissia and pulled into a small town, a stopover for travelers in the middle of nowhere. Ignis parked in front of a surprisingly well-kept hotel, its tidy appearance standing out in this isolated place.
“I’m going to check us in. Gladio, make sure Prompto behaves, will you?” Ignis said with a sigh. Noctis was asleep in the back seat, sparing him at least one potential troublemaker. The thought of managing both Noctis and Prompto’s antics at once was not one he relished.
“It was an accident! Can we please move past it?” Prompto protested, earning an eye roll from Gladio.
“Great. I’m the babysitter again?”
Ignoring them, Ignis headed to the main office. Inside, a neatly dressed man with short dark hair stood behind the counter. “Hello, I’d like a room for four, please,” Ignis requested, drumming his fingers lightly on the counter as the man went to fetch a key.
As he waited, Ignis took in the small office, filled with kitschy knick-knacks and trinkets for sale. His attention drifted to a mini fridge in the corner, stocked with sodas, water, and small bottles of wine. Among them, one in particular caught his eye.
“Ah, I see you noticed our newest item. It just arrived yesterday and has been quite the hit!” the man behind the counter remarked with a chuckle.
“I’ll take a bottle, thank you,” Ignis replied, retrieving the bottle from the fridge and placing it on the counter alongside his payment for the room. With a polite nod, he thanked the man, tucking the bottle into a paper bag, and headed back to the car.
“Alright, everyone, we’re just up the stairs,” Ignis announced as they entered the hotel. It was a small place, with rooms spread across two floors, and at least they wouldn’t have far to climb. “Here we are,” he said, unlocking the door.
As they settled in, the guys spread out to claim their spaces while Noctis sat on the edge of a bed, glancing around at the quaint decor.
“Noctis…” Ignis called to her from the small kitchenette, setting something on the table.
She looked over and found him holding the bottle of chocolate wine. “Care to join me in a glass?” he asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
She blinked, surprised by the familiar gesture. It wasn’t the same brand, but the memory was unmistakable. “You remembered,” she laughed ruefully. “I’d love to, Iggy. Thank you.” She had been thinking of that exact memory earlier that morning, and now here it was, coming back to life.
“Whoa, wine? Can I have some too?” Prompto blurted, wide-eyed as he wandered into the kitchenette.
And with that, the quiet moment between them was unceremoniously interrupted by Prompto’s oblivious enthusiasm.