[ At first, Noctis says nothing. Yet, the hand tightening on Ignis's jacket--the Kingsglaive jacket that fits him so well--says so much more than Noctis ever could. Ignis knew... he's known the whole time. Even without his eyes (bright green, always so clear, looking forward and finding the right path), he saw what would happen.

It hurts.

Noctis focuses on breathing, once the ringing in his ears stops. Ignis is hurting, and Noctis feels it like his own. A knife in his heart, more poignant and painful than the royal arms of his ancestors. And Noctis isn't sure, for once, how to heal it.

But he brings Ignis close, into his arms. He holds him, secure and more than a touch protective. ]

That's why you tried to stop me. That day in Altissia, when I woke up. That's why you...

[ The words get all choked up in his throat, and his head pounds. ]

Ignis, don't blame yourself. Please. [ He's still holding him, and he has no intention of letting go. ] It's not your fault. It was no one's fault.

[ But that's not true, is it? Noctis thinks, bitterly. ]

... The vision, is that-- Is that what blinded you?