Allow me to answer that, if you would. The short explanation is 'everything'. The longer version is...well, bear with me a moment.
[Ardyn sighed, running his free hand briefly through Ignis' hair before gesturing vaguely as he spoke.]
As the Astral War neared its ending, a pair of brothers emerged at the forefront of those who fought for humanity's survival, and earned the favor of the gods once Ifrit had at last been defeated. To the world of mortals was a Crystal granted, this you already know. But there was more to it; as the Infernian's plague ran rampant across the star, so did the divine grant the elder brother the power to save the people he would someday rule.
...So he traveled far and wide, revered as a saint and sage by those who he liberated from the otherwise incurable scourge. But magic...comes at a price. It always has.
[He squeezed Ignis' hand slightly, trying to will away the tension that had started to present itself in his shoulders.]
For the elder brother's magic was no true cure; naught but transferral. The plague took root in his body rather than that of his subjects, half-dormant with fewer of the debilitating symptoms one finds in late-stage Starscourge victims.
But it was enough. For when the man destined for the throne at last returned to what would become grand Insomnia, the Crystal's light itself rejected him. The very gods he had fought for declared him 'Accursed', 'Usurper', and his brother was shown the Crystal's favor to become Founder King, Somnus Lucis Caelum.
[Ardyn took a slow breath he didn't need, grateful that the desert kept the shrieking murderous fury in his mind to a distant haze of white noise.]
...I was denied ascension, for whatever remains of my soul was deemed too corrupted to allow the Crystal's light to touch. In other words, I was made unable to die even throughout execution. Condemned to Angelgard with only the company of the daemons in my head, I swore vengeance--in turn becoming no more than a moving piece in the grand prophecy. In the light of the gods, sword-sworn at his side, against the dark the King's battle is fought. I can not die until Noctis fulfills the prophecy and banishes the scourge as I once thought myself chosen to.
[His hand shook faintly in Ignis' grip, words beginning to lose some of their train of thought but forced to sound calm.]
I have heard the voice of the divine, and it speaks naught but manipulation and deception. Bahamut lied to me, to Somnus and every single one of his descendants right up until Noctis himself. He let the darkness take a willing vessel so that the Chosen King could be made sacrifice to eradicate it. For if darkness should die, so shall he who sought to bring the light. And there is not a doubt in my mind that not a single person or Astral told him as much until he slept within the Crystal to surely commune with the Draconian himself.
Gods can't be trusted. The Astrals swore only to protect the star, caring nothing for those who live upon it.
no subject
[Ardyn sighed, running his free hand briefly through Ignis' hair before gesturing vaguely as he spoke.]
As the Astral War neared its ending, a pair of brothers emerged at the forefront of those who fought for humanity's survival, and earned the favor of the gods once Ifrit had at last been defeated. To the world of mortals was a Crystal granted, this you already know. But there was more to it; as the Infernian's plague ran rampant across the star, so did the divine grant the elder brother the power to save the people he would someday rule.
...So he traveled far and wide, revered as a saint and sage by those who he liberated from the otherwise incurable scourge. But magic...comes at a price. It always has.
[He squeezed Ignis' hand slightly, trying to will away the tension that had started to present itself in his shoulders.]
For the elder brother's magic was no true cure; naught but transferral. The plague took root in his body rather than that of his subjects, half-dormant with fewer of the debilitating symptoms one finds in late-stage Starscourge victims.
But it was enough. For when the man destined for the throne at last returned to what would become grand Insomnia, the Crystal's light itself rejected him. The very gods he had fought for declared him 'Accursed', 'Usurper', and his brother was shown the Crystal's favor to become Founder King, Somnus Lucis Caelum.
[Ardyn took a slow breath he didn't need, grateful that the desert kept the shrieking murderous fury in his mind to a distant haze of white noise.]
...I was denied ascension, for whatever remains of my soul was deemed too corrupted to allow the Crystal's light to touch. In other words, I was made unable to die even throughout execution. Condemned to Angelgard with only the company of the daemons in my head, I swore vengeance--in turn becoming no more than a moving piece in the grand prophecy. In the light of the gods, sword-sworn at his side, against the dark the King's battle is fought. I can not die until Noctis fulfills the prophecy and banishes the scourge as I once thought myself chosen to.
[His hand shook faintly in Ignis' grip, words beginning to lose some of their train of thought but forced to sound calm.]
I have heard the voice of the divine, and it speaks naught but manipulation and deception. Bahamut lied to me, to Somnus and every single one of his descendants right up until Noctis himself. He let the darkness take a willing vessel so that the Chosen King could be made sacrifice to eradicate it. For if darkness should die, so shall he who sought to bring the light. And there is not a doubt in my mind that not a single person or Astral told him as much until he slept within the Crystal to surely commune with the Draconian himself.
Gods can't be trusted. The Astrals swore only to protect the star, caring nothing for those who live upon it.