FFXV Kinkmeme

Ardyn was familiar with the bitter sting of his own mistakes. He could still feel the ache of the first: Lying in a cold sweat in his rooms at the palace, hand gripped hard round the icy fingers of Shiva, begging for an ending.

Please, He'd wept, speaking through the inhuman snarls of the daemons threatening to consume him. I've done all you asked of me. Please, gods, let me rest.

And Shiva had looked upon him with her white, clear eyes, and said nothing.

Then, wretched and broken with the pain of being denied even the hope of death, Ardyn had run to his closest friend, his brother, the man who had watched him heal over the years with an awe that verged on hunger, and found him seated on the throne.

He should never have listened to the gods in the first place. He should have done what Noctis tried to do--run off, duty be damned, and let the world fall to the Scourge if it so wanted. It was what the Astrals deserved.

And so Ardyn had taken an interest in this second fallen son of Lucis, the man with the delicate touch and a bashful inelegance hidden beneath a mask of surly indifference. It had been so long since he'd felt the effects of uncorrupted healing magic that it almost quelled the daemons that lay within his blood. He could think clearly in the light of Noctis' magic, could draw back, back through the endless years to the man who had once bowed to the Astrals and thought himself blessed.

Again, it had been a mistake. Noctis' power was growing too strong: He should have seen it coming. The Scourge in his veins was too potent to remain undetected, and Noctis, for all his strengths, had too soft a heart.

The trunk of Ardyn's car held little more than a travel bag--Ardyn was not one who ever found himself wanting, when he could pinch the fabric of time and bend susceptible minds to his will. He locked the trunk securely and made his way to the front of the car. It would be easy to convince the Emperor that he was still loyal to the Empire (such as it was--a weak, trembling echo of the glory that had been the world before the Scourge). Their plans to overthrow Insomnia could go forward, and Ardyn would find a way to push the errant prince towards his duty as the chosen king. Noctis would become the sword that gave Ardyn what the Astrals had denied him, and Ardyn would not think of the warmth of his touch, or thehis self-deprecating wit, the careless way he drained his magic time after time for a pittance.

He would not make the same mistake again.

Beside him, the passenger's side door creaked open.

"Ardyn."


---------


Noctis clung to the door frame of Ardyn's hideous car, trying to hold in the nausea that had rocked him ever since he came within two blocks of the man.

If he is a man, he thought. He turned to Ardyn, who was gripping the steering wheel as though it were liable to fly loose, and tried to pull in his magical awareness.

"You can't," Ardyn growled. Noct winced as the car wheeled down a dirt road. "It's too late, dear prince. You unplugged the dam of your magic, now you live with the consequences."

"How do you..." Noct groaned and doubled over. Talking was not an option right now.

He wasn't sure how much longer he'd be alive to talk.

Noct had barely managed to get a word in to Ardyn before the man had, almost instinctively, slammed a foot on the gas and threw Noctis back into the leather seat. Noct had to close the car door on the road, and was dismayed to find that as they approached the unused exit from the city, Ardyn showed no sign of stopping.

"The wall," Noct shouted, to the silent, grim-faced madman at the wheel. "We'll hit the wall!"

Except... They hadn't. When Ardyn's car swerved through the gates, the wall opened for them, an empty space spreading out like fire on parchment, and they emerged into an oppressive heat and a cloud of dust that Noct was still scraping from his eyes.

Finally, after what felt like an hour of breathless, terrifying rattling, Ardyn brought the car to a sudden, screeching halt.

"Get out," he said, turning to Noctis.

Noct quavered against the door. "Wh-what?"

"Get out." Noctis curled his fingers around the edge of the seat, and Ardyn made a noise somewhere between a tch and a growl. "You want to be a selfless hero, your highness?" Ardyn's voice was thick with disgust. "Then start walking. The Disc of Cauthess is twenty miles north of here: I'm sure your ancestors' dear friend the Archaean will have plenty to tell. And when a dualhorn or an Iron Giant, or gods, even a hunter, takes the last breath from your body on the way, you'll know where useless sentimentality gets you."

"I just want to..." Noct held onto the door with one hand, the seat with another, as though Ardyn were about to eject him bodily from the nightmare car. "You're sick, Ardyn. You're going to throw me into the desert because I don't want you to die? And how the hell do you know I'm the--"

"Please," Ardyn said. "It was hardly a secret."

Noct had to concede that point, at least.

Ardyn set the car to park and turned off the ignition. "Noctis," he said. "Dear, foolish Noctis. You and I have two vastly different goals in mind."

"Whatever. Just let me try." Noct released the door and leaned forward. Ardyn grimaced and pulled away. "You don't think I can do it?"

"My dove," Ardyn said, with none of the fondness he'd infused in the words only hours before. "I know you can't."

"Then let me find out for myself," Noct said. He crawled across the seat, almost into Ardyn's lap. "If I fuck up, you can leave me here. Just..." He placed a hand on Ardyn's cheek, cupping his face in his palm. "Let me--"

Ardyn bared his teeth in a pained grin, and the hollows of his eyes grew dark with the viscous ooze of the Scourge. It crawled down his cheeks, dripping between Noctis' fingers, staining his nails black.

"Very well," Ardyn said, and Noct felt a cold hand at his neck, pressing painfully down on his throat. "You are certainly welcome to try."