[Though Prompto's shoulder jumps a little under Ignis's hand, he doesn't make a sound--just shakes his head minutely and eventually speaks in the smallest voice.]

I knew you would. I-in the end. I knew you'd all come for me, but...

[It's audible this time, his shivering, uneven breath. Prompto dashes the moisture furiously from his eyes before he presses them into his fists.]

It's not worth it. Me for Noct, what--what kind of exchange is that, I'd fight all the daemons in Niflheim down there by myself if it meant he'd be safe, with you guys--it's not fair, I don't care if he's the king, he's my best friend and he came all that way for me and, Ignis, I couldn't--!

[For all he's the baby, for all he doesn't have to comport himself with the dignity of the court, the centuries of history balanced on his shoulders, Prompto doesn't actually cry all that much. Now, he breaks, sobbing into the heels of his hands right there in the middle of the street, because the reason he's made himself hold up--the reason Prompto Argentum, as he is, exists--slipped right through his fingers. After everything he braved out there in the snow, in there in the dark, the place he resolved to go is gone. And he was powerless to protect it.]