#Ardyn Izuna

[adelacreations]

EEEEEEEEEE SO CUTE! Keychains from @royalclaws

[kaitouhime]

I found it!!!

Walking Forward (Through the Past) by SecretEnigma (Incomplete)

Tags Graphic Depictions Of Violence Noctis Lucis Caelum & Somnus Lucis Caelum Ardyn Izunia & Noctis Lucis Caelum Aera Mirus Fleuret/Ardyn Izunia Noctis Lucis Caelum/Original Female Character(s) Noctis Lucis Caelum/Original Ulric Character(s)Noctis Lucis Caelum Ardyn Izunia Somnus Lucis Caelum Aera Mirus Fleuret Original Ulric Character(s) (Final Fantasy XV) Original Ostium Character(s) (Final Fantasy XV) Original Male Character(s) Original Female Character(s) Gilgamesh (Final Fantasy XV) Astrals (Final Fantasy XV) Ramuh (Final Fantasy XV)Time Travel Fix-It Angst with a Happy Ending Worldbuilding So much worldbuilding Galahdian Culture (Final Fantasy XV) Galahd (Final Fantasy XV) POV Noctis Lucis Caelum BAMF Noctis Lucis Caelum OP Noctis Lucis Caelum So many OCs Background Relationships Eventual Romance And By Eventual I Mean When Deleantur Figures Out Women Other Than Luna Exist In a Romance Sense Accidental Relationship Matchmaker Astrals Tags Contain Spoilers Accidental Marriage Ramuh Ships Them Mentioned Nyx Ulric Ulric Clan Ostium Clan So Many Clans Angst and Hurt/Comfort Action/Adventure Coeurls Other Additional Tags to Be Added Don't copy to another site I Tried To Make This a One-Shot I failed Help

It has been six years since the Wave destroyed the Starscourge and Ardyn, Somnus, and Aera found a blue-eyed stranger in the wilderness. The future is bright for the House of Lucis Caelum and the House of Nox Fleuret, and the brothers are happy. But for Deleantur, it is still hard to settle down when all of his future exists in what was once his past, and the new developments among the kingdoms that might one day be only known as Lucis, are to him the old news of dusty history books and unwanted memories. So when a Messenger of the Astrals leads him to the wild, untamed shores of Galahd, Deleantur follows in hopes of something new to entertain himself with for a few months before going back to Somnus and Ardyn. He should have known better than to trust that the Astrals didn't have bigger plans in store for him there than that.

It's the second part of Deleantur-Verse, I'll include the first as well.

Deleantur (Erased but Not Forgotten) by SecretEnigma (Complete)

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Noctis Lucis Caelum & Somnus Lucis Caelum Ardyn Izunia & Noctis Lucis Caelum Somnus Lucis Caelum & Ardyn Izunia Aera Mirus Fleuret/Ardyn Izunia Gilgamesh (Final Fantasy XV) & Somnus Lucis Caelum Noctis Lucis Caelum & Gilgamesh (Final Fantasy XV)Noctis Lucis Caelum Ardyn Izunia Somnus Lucis Caelum Aera Mirus Fleuret Gilgamesh (Final Fantasy XV) Astrals (Final Fantasy XV) Bahamut (Final Fantasy XV) Ramuh (Final Fantasy XV) Shiva (Final Fantasy XV) Leviathan (Final Fantasy XV) Titan (Final Fantasy XV)Brotherly Affection Time Travel Fix-It Noctis Beholds His Destiny Decides to Yeet it Out The Window Brotherly Ardyn and Somnus Angst with a Happy Ending Ending Is Technically A Prequel? Because time travel Does It Count As an Ending When You Rewrite the Beginning via Time Travel probably BAMF Noctis Lucis Caelum Depressed Noctis Lucis Caelum He gets better Hugs OP Noctis Lucis Caelum Ardyn's and Somnus's Dad is a Jerk Background Relationships Minor Aera Mirus Fleuret/Ardyn Izunia Noctis is Adopted By His Ancestor and Technical Uncle brotherly adoption Don't copy to another site

It begins in the future with a king on a broken throne dying to save the world. It changes when a tired man listens to the tears of his brothers and the echoes of his own promise to a fallen Healer-King and decides to say No. It ends in the past, two thousand years before it began, with two Prince-Brothers and an Oracle finding a blue-eyed stranger in the wilderness.

It took me forever to find these, if you can give them a read I highly recommend it!

Final Fantasy XV Fic

Looking for a final fantasy fic with Noct and time-travel involved.

Details:

Noct somehow finds himself in the past

Noct is wearing Nix Ulrics beads to honor him ig?

He meats the Ulric clan and saves the elders and young that were being attacked at the time with the help of a Messenger GodCat???

Colors are a big thing I think

There is a huge miscommunication problem between him and the clan regarding the colors and the woman that he is staying with

The communication problems eventually get cleared up and the clan goes from resenting and hating him to the opposite

There is a big gathering of clans at one point

...I can't currently remember much else at the moment that makes sense

please help

[fallen-kingsglaive]

Niflheim ist das große Reich im Westen von Eos. Ein landschaftlicher Wechsel aus Wüsten und Eisfeldern, die paradoxerweise fast nebeneinander koexistieren. Der Einfluss des niflheimischen Imperiums erstreckt sich mittlerweile fast über ganz Eos. Die Bemühungen dieser Weltmacht, aus mehreren Reichen wieder ein Großes wie zur alten Zeit vor den Astralkriegen der Götter  zu erschaffen, scheinen fortwährend realistischer. Dabei an den Kristall der Lucis zu gelangen, um sich auch den Rest der Welt einzuverleiben ist hierbei unausgesprochenes Ziel des Imperiums Niflheim.  Nutzen tut hierfür der Imperator innerhalb seiner Armee nicht nur reguläre, normale, menschliche Soldaten, sondern hauptsächlich eine Infanterie aus Magitek-Soldaten. Durch Magie gespeiste Maschinen, die als Kanonenfutter ersetzbar sind und im Gegensatz zu Menschen kein eigenes Bewusstsein und somit keinen eigenen Willen besitzen. Auch wenn diese nach wie vor von den treuesten Offizieren des Imperators geführt und befehligt werden. Auch wenn gemunkelt wird, dass sich innerhalb der Armee Niflheims auch Spezialeinheiten befinden, die unerkannter Städte infiltrieren können. Neben diesen herkömmlicheren Methoden, eine Armee aufzubauen, ist Niflheim auch dafür bekannt, Söldner anzuheuern, sowie Siecher zu kontrollieren und gegen ihre Feinde einzusetzen. Diese haben nicht zuletzt in den Außenbezirken von Lucis für verheerenden Schaden und große Verluste gesorgt.  Die Farben Niflheims werden mit rot, gold und weiß assoziiert, wobei vor allem hochrangige Mitglieder deren Gesellschaft häufig weiß tragen. Geführt wird Niflheim seit jeher durch das Haus Aldercapt, gerade mit dem amtierenden Imperator Iedolas Aldercapt, unterstützt durch seine rechte Hand den Kanzler Ardyn Izuna. Oberbefehlshaber der Siecher- und Magitec-Armee Verstael Besithia, dem Iedolas Aldercapt vollstes Vertrauen schenkt, während General Glauca, Iedolas’ linke Hand Befehlshaber des Militärs an sich ist, unterstützt durch Ravus Nox Fleuret, Prinz von Tenebrae und großer Bruder des Orakels selbigen Landes. Der Besitz von Tenebrae brachte Niflheim die Chance, das Orakel Lunafrey Nox Fleuret unter Kontrolle und somit die ganze Welt zu haben. Hauptstadt von Niflheim ist Gralea, eine hoch entwickelte und technologisierte Stadt, die Zentrum der Macht Niflheims ist.

[dark6nika]

[moonwaif]

Ffxv Characters in sweatpants

Noctis: his natural state. Joggers; one ankle rolled up. No socks. Laying on his stomach playing on his phone and eating snacks.

Prompto: gray sweats. Way too loose and baggy. Hanging on his hips. Walking around the apt shirtless.

Gladio: after a big meal. Laid out in a recliner with a beer. Open book on his lap. Eyes closed with a smile one his face.

Ignis: hung over. Irritable. Thirst for ebony is real. Dont talk to him until he's changed pants.

Luna: on her laptop at 5:23 am finishing up a business memo. The sun is rising behind the curtains.

Ravus: Red nose. Swollen eyes. Coughs and sniffles. Sprawled out in bed, topless. Probably hasn't moved in like, four hours.

Aranea: like Ignis but even meaner.

Nyx: breathless from a jog. Sweat on his forehead. Ear buds in. Lil bubble butt.

Ardyn: hasnt showered in a good minute. Phone on mute. Depression what depression.

Cindy: just walking around in her underwear, honestly

Sania: shooting straight out of bed at 3 am to jot down a spontaneous idea before she forgets. Old cozy sweats three sizes too big

[watcher-servant]

I put him in a support group, the cosmic plaything club. Leader is one Ardyn Izuna, vice president Kratos, we also have Axl Low, the madoka girls, Shinji Ikari, Constantine, Android 21, and Sena Yamada

When Jaune's Finally Had Enough "Character Building"

Jaune’s been hit with a lot of traumatic events character building. Over the course of the story, he’s had quite the arc. So, I’m liking the idea of him leaning back, throwing up this salute, and giving a nice yell to let off a little stress.

I’m really happy with this redraw. Starting to get a little bit familiar with photoshop again, playing around with harder outlines and less shading. I think it came out pretty good and thought you all might appreciate it as well.

You might recognize the pose; I took heavy inspiration (and the hands) from the Bronze Medal meme.

[xadoheandterra]

Title: Bitter Night Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI Characters: Noctis Lucis Caelum, Ardyn Izunia | Ardyn Lucis Caelum, Regis Lucis Caelum Tags: Time Travel, Fix-It Of Sorts, Angst, Hurt, Comfort Eventually, Ardyn and Noctis are both Assholes, Fuck the Gods Summary: He hadn't known what he was doing. All he knew was that he felt bitter in this endless night--bitter that the story needed to end like this. It felt like the Bad Ending and--well, Noctis hated getting Bad Endings in his games. He refused to.

So Noctis refused. 

None of the blows that tore into him from the Kings of Yore left behind a physical wound, much like each of the thirteen royal arms that he’d taken into his armiger had left behind little truth of their presence aside from a coldness in his breast and a pain that ached deeper than any sort of physical thing Noctis felt before. That didn’t mean the blows did not hurt—the pain of them was so profound that Noctis found himself in a struggle to breathe. He could barely lift his own head, let alone grasp at his father’s sword with fingers that felt fat and weak.

Somehow, and Noctis could never quite be certain how he succeeded at it, he dragged the sword over to where the ghost of his father stood—the first to respond to his summons, the last to strike the blow. Befitting, perhaps, that his father would be the one in the end. He couldn’t look at the man, just as he didn’t doubt his father couldn’t look at him. Noctis hadn’t anticipated this all those years ago, as he stood in front of the citadel with a smile on his lip and a bow to his King. He wondered if Regis knew.

Did you know, dad?

Noctis hand shook and he fought to get the breath in his lungs to speak, but eventually he got the words out even as the tears he fought so hard to hold off began to drip down his cheeks. “Dad.” The sword never felt so heavy in his grip. His palm was wet and struggled to keep a grip against the hilt. He could hear the blade tremble against the stone from where he dragged it.

Did you know that it would come to this?

He needed his father to finish it. Noctis needed all thirteen—and Regis was the last. He was his father first and foremost, his King second—but he was of the Lucii now. Neither of them wanted this, Noctis knew, but he was the only one left and he needed this. Noctis sucked in a breath through lungs that refused to work and weakly uttered, “Trust in me.” His throat wanted to close up and he wanted to sob himself sick.

Finish it, dad, please. I’m so tired. Just…

Noctis found the strength to pull back when the blade left his grip. He forced himself as upright as he could make it even as he felt the ghost of his father fade from his side. He raised his gaze up his father’s Lucii form and felt the last of his breath hitch in his throat. The man was formed of crystal fire, but it was so utterly his father there. The motion of the blade held aloft, to the design of the armor.

…finish it.

The sword pierced home with the groan of metal in a way that hurt unlike each of the other blows. This one was physical, Noctis knew—the sacrifice demanded of him to end the blight upon the Star. He understood that even as he felt his breath tear from his lungs with a wet sort of gasp, as he felt his father’s soul nestle back into the ring and take with it the light that had tried to burn his eyes out. Noctis felt the magic slip from him then, through his grasp and his fingers even as he slumped over with a second, wheezed breath of pain.

Death hurt, Noctis knew it would. He knew it would hurt the minute he held that very ring in his hand after Leviathan—after Luna—and he knew it the first moment he placed it home upon his finger. He could feel the way the Lucii dragged their tenterhooks into his very soul and Light. To be a King of Lucis was to be a sacrifice; it was all the Kings were, no matter their choices in the end. They were sacrifices and tools—and so when the power of the ring Called, Noctis stood at its epicenter freed from the mortal coil, but not freed from the pain of death.

The blade still dug itself into his chest, he could feel it, even as Noctis stared down into the gaping chasm of darkness within the depths of the ring. He made a promise to Ardyn; Noctis could remember it clearly as the man lay upon the ground with his own form slowly breaking into bits of miasma. He could remember all that Bahamut showed him—and the promise, as Ardyn died at his knees, even as he knew without a doubt that they were nothing more than pawns in a bitter feud between the Gods and Mortal Men. Ardyn didn’t deserve this. Noctis didn’t deserve this. The world didn’t deserve this.

It felt like the Bad Ending in a long, drawn out story—and Noctis wanted to laugh at it all even if it hurt.

Noctis closed his eyes, let these thoughts suffuse him, and raised his hand up; he could feel his Ultima shift into place above him, and with a voice choked by his own blood Noctis uttered, “I’m sorry,” and threw the blade down.

If it was one thing no one expected, it was to have the walls of Angelgard suddenly tear open with the force of an Alterna as Ardyn lay entangled in his own chains. The force of the magic as it ripped through the ancient prison knocked Ardyn through the hair lightly, enough to feel each jagged edge of the blades through his skin tear something fresh and force him into wakefulness. He blinked into the darkness with a faint moan of pain even as the sudden pull of the magic cut off with the sound of a warp and the clatter of a blade upon the stone.

Ardyn could feel the body brush up against the chains that dug into his feet; he could fee the touch of fabric against his toes and fought to contain the hiss of breath at the gesture even as he tried to catch sight of whomever had been added to his prison now. Perhaps Somnus decided to give him a bedmate? Hah, wouldn’t that be a thought—his brother doing anything kind to him for once. It took a moment longer for Ardyn to readjust to the world in darkness after the bright lightshow of crystalline magic, but when he could—well.

The shape and form at his feet was familiar. Ardyn couldn’t see much, but he could hear the way the other man hissed and struggled for breath. He could hear hands scrapped against stone as the other man shifted and pulled away, as he brushed against Ardyn’s chains and pushed Ardyn to sway the faintest bit. Ardyn bit back another groan of pain and tried to focus on the dark head of hair of the man who fumbled backward and coughed—it sounded far wetter than anything rightly should, followed by fluid hitting the ground at Ardyn’s feet.

Blood, perhaps? Wouldn’t that be his luck. Some fool thrust in, only to die at Ardyn’s feet. A fool with dark hair, with magic—with a blade so familiar tossed to the wayside. Ardyn shuttered his eyes and tried to breath through the ragged thought that at his feet lay Somnus—

His little Somnus.

Somnus hadn’t always been such a shit; once he’d been a kind, if lazy thing. Before the Kingdom in its early stages came between them, before plague struck their lands—when they were children and it was only them. Ardyn and Somnus.

Ardyn missed Somnus.

The form at his feet choked on pain and hissed through teeth as they tried to move themselves from being collapsed, to at least upon their hands and knees. Ardyn fought down the urge to start to whisper Somnus’ name—he got as far as, “S-Som,” before he clamped his voice behind his lips and closed his eyes.

Instead Ardyn listened as the other man’s breath hitched, a choked off, “I’m sorry,” reached his ears even as whomever it was at his feet—Somnus—struggled until they leaned against the stone that blockaded Ardyn in with chains. He could hear the sound of fingers that dug into the dirt and grime as the body leaned heavily against the ancient ruin. He could feel wet puffs of breath against his bare calves and a hand weakly reached out and grasped at his ankles.

“Ar—dyn,” Somnus gasped out, weak with the sound, fluid most-probably in his lungs with the way his breathing rasped and rattled loud in the darkness. Ardyn’s eyes snapped open again and stared down—down at impressionable, grey-blues and he felt bitterness choke upon him, in his throat—and the hand gripped at his ankles tightly.

Strongly.

Those grey-blue eyes turned a bright and deadly pink and with a puffed breath and a snarled face with far more stubble than Ardyn could remember Somnus ever deciding to wear, Somnus ground out as if his throat were coated in glass, “Shatter.”

The chains shattered into light; the sudden loss of them dragged into his weight, pulled upon his muscle and through bone, left Ardyn with a cry of surprise. He crumbled to the ground and had half-a-second to hear Somnus utter, “Shit!” before his head struck stone brick.

[mabwee]

So I reached this milestone number today and it's 99% @maty-yami 's fault

[sunbunnyyy]

Thanks for coming to my tedtalk.

[darkspellmaster]

Final Fantasy XV Theory: The large statue in Keycatrich maybe depicting the priests that crucified Ardyn

Okay so, while doing research for my longer theory, I stumbled upon something that I found really really interesting. A while back on tumblr someone pointed out that in the background of Keycatrich, you can see this giant statue of a man with his arms outstretched, screaming. Now the weird thing about this statue is that it seems to have a hood and intricately designed patterns on the sleeves. 

So as you can see, there’s designs there for a hood and you know who else wore a hood like that...other than Ardyn himself? 

These guys...

Could it be that the Statue there was something that was put up either depicting a priest doing some sort of ritual before the time of Ardyn and Somnus, or was this a depiction by him of what he did to the priests that put him up like this. 

Also...on another note...what are they doing to his back? It seems like the guy behind him is either carving, scaring or branding something onto him. I’m not sure. But if that was part of his punishment, I would not put it past him to go after this group before he went after anyone else, as they were hands on with his punishment. 

[freckledbastard]

EPISODE ARDYN PROLOGUE NOW OUT

[dark6nika]

[enide-s-dear]

Ravus: How desperate do you think I am? You buy me take out, flutter your eyes and I will just get on my knees like some sad twink

Ardyn: You are too old to be a twink

[georginoschkavincenart]

Him

[scientiastudy]

Lay All Your Love On Me (Chapter XII)

Chapter I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI.

The gears begin turning...

Word Count: 2k

Rating: T?

Content: Manipulation, general creepiness, fluff and angst, reincarnation, (brief) graphic depictions of violence

Author's note: Heyyyyy lol sorry for the late update and sorry for the lack of posts. I'm moving cross country soon so I'm busier than normal. Also I want to make it very clear that Ardyn and Reader are unreliable narrators! I figured I'd put that disclaimer because sometimes that's harder to figure out.

“I think I love you.”

The sweet words ring out in the room like a gunshot. It must have been, after all, with the way his heart clenches and soars in his chest as a grin grows on his face.

It’s different from the way she said it, full of hesitance and a raw innocence that nearly brings him to his knees. Your cheeks are dark, your teeth gnawing at your plush bottom lip while you try to resist fidgeting. The adoration that flows through him at the sight is hot and all-consuming like a rain of holy fire. He’s flooded with the need to feel you, to hold you in his hands and never let you go.

He surges forward on pure instinct, flipping your positions so he can fit his hand against your waist as he kisses you into the couch. You feel perfect underneath him, and for a moment he wonders if you were handcrafted just for him. 

It takes almost everything in him to pull away from your lips, now swollen and glossy.  “You have absolutely no idea how ecstatic that makes me darling,” He sighs. “I’ve loved you since the second I saw you.”

You visibly light up at the words. The way you preen under his touch has his heart soaring again. You let out a sweet giggle, and he’s shocked for a moment when you initiate, pressing a quick peck to his lips before flopping back onto the couch. 

As wonderful and righteous that the love burning in his veins feels, there is an equally dark part of him that only seems to grow. He wants to possess you, to be your everything the same way you are his. The sick satisfaction that runs through him when the neckline of your dress drops just enough for him to see the lovebite he left on your skin is addicting. He wants everyone to know you are his, a queen to be coveted and admired from afar. 

He’ll drape you in the kingdom’s finest jewels and silks, anything you’ll ask for will be yours. He’ll bring every Lucian to their knees at your feet as you sit on the throne, its rightful rulers. He’ll give you a life of luxury and safety, you’ll want for nothing. 

Sometimes his thoughts take a darker turn. Part of him yearns to keep you inside forever, trapped away from prying eyes to only be coveted by him. Sometimes the image of you chained to the bed comes unbidden into his mind, and his fantasies run away with his mind before he can even think to stop them.

He’ll build you your own perfect room in the Citadel looking over your kingdom. He’ll bring you all the books and entertainment you want, and you’ll look after the home while he’s gone. Of course, only his key would be able to unlock the door. He’ll make you something more fashionable than that clunk chain, something dainty and beautiful against your skin. You’ll want for nothing.

Because all you’ll want is him. 

He connects your lips in another kiss and it takes everything in him not to give in to the urge to consume you, to be everything you’ll ever think about. His fingers dig into the plush of your hips as he fights to contain himself.

He knows he isn’t a good man, at least not anymore. But, something makes him want to try for you. 

But a good man doesn’t kidnap women, doesn’t lie, doesn’t kill, doesn’t keep women captive, doesn’t punish sons for the sins of their fathers.

But he isn’t a good man. 

And yet here you are, kissing him as your hands roam over his arms. You’ve chosen to love him despite his shortcomings, despite the vacuous hole in his heart. A good man would be patient with you and wait for you to be ready before taking you. 

He can play the part of a good man. For now.

It almost feels redeeming, the way your mouth moves against him. You hold him with a gentleness he’s never known, your every touch and kiss addictingly sweet. You treat him the way no human would. Your hands are gentle and adoring against his arms where you cling to his biceps, the warmth of your palms seeping through the fabric of his coat. You look at him with adoration and love he’d long become resigned to never seeing again on the face of another.

Despite everything, you’re here. 

He forces himself to pull away from your lips, holding back a smirk at your heavy breaths and flushed face.

“One day you will be the death of me, darling,” He mutters. He flips you again, not sure how much willpower he has left when you look so tempting under him. You take the change in stride, and he smiles as he feels you settle against him again. Your face is snuggled into the junction between his neck and shoulder, your hair tickling against his chin. 

(You’re half hiding your face from embarrassment and half because you’re not quite sure what to do, but he doesn’t need to know that. After all, it’s not every day you get kissed silly by the Imperial Chancellor. At least not yet.)

He almost freezes as he feels your fingers gently comb through his hair, your nails dragging against his scalp. It’s so tender, so intimate that he feels the urge to push you off him. To run, like he’s been doing for so long. 

Since Verstael found him in that cursed place so long ago he’s always been performing. Whether it was the role of scientist, socialite, confidant, or strategist he’d played every role to perfection. He’d fashioned masks to cover his darkness, never becoming too attached to anyone throughout his time with the Empire. 

Everyone was simply a tool to him. Verstael is merely a means to an end, a pest he continues to favor for his influence and resources. The Emperor is nothing more than a puppet he whispers honeyed words to. After all, royal politics has changed so little through the ages. He’d learned to never grow too attached to anyone by focusing only on his plans, becoming all work and no play. It was simply a game, and he was only playing to win.

Until you.

The amount of love he feels terrifies him, consuming him in a destabilizing flash of fear. The thought of you leaving, of someone taking you, rips his heart in two. It’s a frightening feeling, and he resists the urge to run that had been so deeply ingrained in him for so many years. But he refuses to let that happen, refuses to let you suffer the same fate as her.

And so instead he forces himself to relax into the touch of your fingers in his hair, your hands tentative as they explore. Your hands are gentle as they card through his long auburn locks. The faint scratch of your nails against his scalp has him preening like a cat as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

“I love you, darling, always and forever.”

-

You’re fast asleep on top of Ardyn, nestled into his many layers of clothing like a happy cat. He isn’t sure how long you’ve been together like this; Maybe minutes, maybe hours. He’s been basking in the warmth of your touch, running his hands gently over every dip and curve of your body reverently as your chest rises and falls. 

You’re different. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about it, about her in years. He still remembers watching her be cut down, blood staining her white gown as she’d collapsed and the life had been sucked from her veins. 

It’s undeniable that you’re different, both physically and mentally from your predecessor. You have a fire in you, a spirit sharpened and honed from a cold and hard life. You are a tempered blade, tested and true. 

When he had first seen you, he hadn’t known how to feel about your differences. He’d worried you’d be different, that this was all some cruel trick by the gods.

But he’d seen the cracks in your armor when you’d sneak out behind the barracks to feed a stray cat the scraps of your dinner, or when you helped a comrade to the infirmary. It was the same sweetness and love he had seen all those centuries ago, but something about it was so uniquely you. 

And after all, who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth?

-

“Are we seriously going to do nothing?” Prompto says incredulously, and Ignis sighs as Gladio shakes his head.

“Iggy and I have a duty to Noct first, Prompto,” Gladio points out, sizing up the younger man as his agitation grows.

“I know!” He whines, throwing up his hands in desperation. “But we can’t just leave her with that maniac! I mean seriously, who knows what that sicko is doing to her!” 

“She understood the risks when she agreed to accompany us, Prompto. She swore the same oath to the crown as all of us,” Ignis retorts tiredly, rubbing his uninjured temple with a gloved hand.

The blond balks at his words, sputtering frustratedly. “Yeah, but Noct would say the same! You both know this!”

“Yes,” Ignis sighs. “Which is why Gladiolus and I would not be able to allow it. We are intended to help the Chosen King fulfill his duties, not to be hired hands. Part of that duty is sacrifice.” 

Prompto knows they’re right, but it doesn’t make him feel any better. Sure, you hadn’t known each other long but he’d grown fond of you over the time you’d spent together. It goes against everything he knows to leave someone behind like this, but what choice do they have?

“I can ask the Marshall to look into it,” Gladio sighs, immediately soothing Prompto’s nerves. He trusts the Marshall, they all do. If they can’t look for you, he’s the next best thing. 

“Don’t you think that may be a tad too personal for the Marshall?” Ignis asks, and Prompto’s ears perk up. 

“He’s all we have. He’s a professional, he can get the job done,” Gladio replies, already standing up to call the Marshall. Seemingly sensing Prompto’s curiosity, Ignis shakes his head before speaking.

“I do not enjoy divulging the personal matters of my colleagues, but our comrade was raised within the crownsguard by the Marshall and other soldiers. I do not know how close they were if they were at all, but it is always a risk when working with family.” 

The revelation shocks Prompto. The Marshall never seemed like a very parental figure, emotionally distant and hardened by years of battle. He can barely imagine the man having a life outside of work, let alone raising a child. 

He thinks back to if there were any clues he may have missed. You were miles ahead of him in terms of training, so he’d never seen much of you until you’d been assigned to accompany them. You always seemed alone and standoffish, not like someone who was given preferential treatment. 

“Huh.” Is all he can think to reply.

Outside, Gladio grimaces as he asks his superior for help. The Marshall’s tone betrays nothing as he agrees to the request, hanging up before Gladio can get a word in edgewise. Though he knows Ignis is right, guilt eats away at his gut every day. He was supposed to be a protector, and yet he hadn’t been there when you and Noct needed him most. 

But he can’t dwell on that now, not when he has a duty to fulfill. He can’t fail now, not when so much is on the line. 

He never quite imagined the price of duty would be this steep.

[happy-orc]

I got some advice on how to use the pencil tool properly for sketching on the computer. The last time I tried it ended up looking like I was using charcoal instead of a pencil and though that’s fine that’s not actually what I was going for.  -------- Izunia for Chancellor 715! Ardyn is on the campaign trail and he is just done with this other candidate. His aides probably fixed his hair and shirt and tie before he went out on the debate stage but it’s been two hours and Ardyn will always naturally revert to his unkept raggedy self. (apparently competent Chancellor Ardyn is on the brain)