#Ardyn will blame himself when he finds out

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Newly Separated: Noctis Caelum x Reader

Hollow.

Almost as if you yourself were actually hollow, that’s how bad it was.

You felt no emotion, mainly because you didn’t know how to process information like this. You didn’t know whether to be sad, to be angry, to be confused.

You sat there on your couch, staring at the television, eyes glued no longer to the live footage of the Citadel in all of its royal glory, but to the latest news headline.

You had just turned on the local news to see what the weather would be like tonight as Noctis had promised you that he would take you out as he had been busy with boring council meetings and pointless calls on complete bullshit. You didn’t blame him though, he was the prince, he would be taking up the throne soon, he was stressed and he would be shoved and pulled into calls and meetings all the time. You knew what you were signing up for when you agreed on dating Noctis.

You knew it even more when he had proposed to you nearly a year and a half ago.

Oh Gods.

You suddenly felt sick to your stomach. You felt your throat squeezing tightly, it was suddenly too hard to breathe. You felt like you were going to faint and… was it suddenly too hot in here?

With swaying vision, you kept rereading the headlines, the news broadcasters quickly rambling on what was happening on the live footage.

‘Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum to wed Lady Lunafreya Nox Fleuret.’

It was a peace treaty, something Regis himself couldn’t back his kingdom out of. You could see the look of pain on his face in the few shots of him the news had captured, Noctis looking even worse.

You couldn’t help but fiddle with the engagement ring still on your fing-

The ring.

You felt as though you were suddenly punched in the gut. You tore your eyes away from the television screen to look down at the ring on your finger.

Pure sparkling silver engraved with swirls and spirals with the brightest and clearest sapphires and diamonds you have ever seen. It was something out of a fairy tale, it was so beautiful.

You suddenly felt disgusting wearing it, like you weren’t worthy to wear it.

It’s because you’re not.

You felt like you were going to vomit from dizzying this whole situation was. Chills ran down your spine like icy fingers, a frozen ball sat deep in your gut. You couldn’t breathe. Your hand that adorned the engagement ring had suddenly grown too heavy as though your ring finger had suddenly turned to heavy lead.

Your breath had started to shudder, your vision started to blur with tears.

It was all starting to settle in now, the whole situation now starting to sink into your mind that now felt like shattering glass.

With trembling fingers, you slid the engagement ring off and set it on the coffee table in front of you where you watched it for maybe another few minutes, allowing tears to fall as you silently cried to yourself in your mind. No matter what you wanted to do, you couldn’t find any drive to open your mouth and sob and wail. Instead, tears were blinked away, they trailed down your cheeks and soaked into your bottoms before the television had suddenly distracted you once again.

“We’ve just received word that Prince Noctis was asked his opinion on the established peace treaty with Niflheim,” the male reporter stated in his usual monotone drawl.

Instead, the front steps of the Citadel remained empty. Noctis did not step foot outside to face the crowd.

What was he going to do? What would he say? He’ll give up the safety of his people for a commoner with no trace of royal blood?

Instead, the reporters stood in shock as Noctis never left the Citadel doors to address them. Not even Ignis nor Regis stepped outside.

Instead, an official from Niflheim had stepped out, a man with wine red hair and the creepiest grin on his aged face. You could feel horrible energy through your television just from looking at him, only to be revealed as the High Chancellor of Niflheim himself: Ardyn Izunia.

You didn’t listen to his cheshire voice spew out curdled words, instead opting to mute the television altogether.

And that was when you heard your phone blowing up from its spot on the charger in the kitchen. You didn’t have the energy to get up, but you had somehow willed your legs to push you up from the sofa and stumbled out into the kitchen, tossing the charger away and squinting at how bright your phone suddenly became with spams of text messages from multiple people; Gladio, Prompto, Ignis, Nyx and… Noctis…

You tore apart every text message.

Prompto was apologetic, offering comfort and fun times.

Gladio and Nyx were both offering help, offering to help you grieve with things to take your mind off this.

Ignis was level-headed and patient, promising you to help you heal and explain everything to you when the time was right.

And Noctis, you only got one message from him:

'Stay where you are. I’m coming.’

You suddenly looked back to the television with red and swollen eyes, mouth slacking as it clicked in your head.

Noctis didn’t come out the front, he snuck through the back like you both did when you first started dating to avoid detection from Gladio and Ignis as well as his father.

You went back to stand in front of the television, watching with a weird feeling in your gut as time ticked by faster than you expected.

You were suddenly startled out of your trance with the news station when the front door of your shared apartment swung open to reveal Noctis standing there.

He was out of breath, hair a complete mess from running his hands through it when stressed, eyes pink from crying and nose still a little red.

You both found yourselves embracing each other tightly as if the other would fade out of existence. Your legs had crumpled, knees collapsing to the floor as you both clawed at each others clothing. Noctis was trembling under your grasp, but you didn’t know if he was shaking with rage or out of grief.

“I’m so sorry,” he mourned into your shoulder. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop this.”

Your shoulder by this point was soaked with tears, your shirt now stretched out due to him grabbing two fistfuls and pulling.

“It’s okay,” you sniffled, scratching at the back of his neck gently. “It’s okay, we’ll figure something out,” you mumbled by his ear.

“Please,” he somehow tugged you closer despite there being no pocket of space between the two of you anymore, “I can’t lose you. I can’t (Y/n).”

“It’s all going to be okay,” you whimpered into his jacket.

But just like back in the good days where you would sneak through, Ignis would always be the one to catch you.

You saw his lean figure in the doorway, the advisor looking as though he had shed a few tears on his way to fetch the prince from the loss of your engagement to Noctis. But seeing how Noctis was clinging to you had Ignis back off, deciding it was best to wait as he couldn’t bear tearing him away from the one person that made him the happiest.

So you sat there in your shared apartment, Noctis’ dry sobs the only sound in your ear as you rocked him in your arms, fearing this would be the last time you would see your true love.

[savage-rhi]

If you’re wanting a request from the “trauma” prompt list, how about “Is there anything I can do to help?” For Ardyn x Reader

@blossom-adventures coming up! 💙

There was not a single day that passed that Ardyn didn't think about Aera. She was as much a part of him as air was to his lungs; a lifeforce that was needed to sustain what was left of him as a man. That didn't mean the memories of her weren't painful.

Most days Ardyn could handle the trauma of her death. He had no control over her actions, and therefore couldn't have spared Aera the blow of Somnus's sword. She chose to put herself in the line of fire. When Ardyn really thought hard about the day he lost everything, it dawned on him that if Somnus hadn't killed her, Ardyn himself would've. Both brothers were more than determined to rip the other in half. Gods be damned if anyone tried to stop it. Neither of them could be reasoned with once the last straw broke.

The what ifs of the circumstance plagued Ardyn more so than the memory. Accompanied by the 2,000 years worth of hallucinations, and Bahamut rubbing salt in the wound, Ardyn's usual tricks to remain present fell on deaf ears. He called out of work. His duties as chancellor could wait while he tried to regain control.

Ardyn paced around his chambers for most of the day. He would sit down every so often, carding his fingers through his hair. Muscles tensing as flashbacks and the smell of blood heavily lingered in his mind and heart. He was spinning away, unraveling the persona he had worked hard to maintain while working for Niflheim. Soon enough he was screaming at himself. Blaming his misfortunes on the Gods and his own shortcomings as a healer and a man. He had failed so many people who loved him.

Hours later, Ardyn was sitting at the edge of his bed. His amber eyes looked out the window to the city. The sun was setting upon Gralea. The night would come, and he'd be able to roam without feeling the burn of the rays upon the scourge that dwelled under his skin. He felt hollow.

"Ardyn?" Y/N's voice called out. His eyes widened for a split second before turning his head.

"Hm?"

"The food you ordered, it's ready."

"I see." Ardyn replied. He focused his eyes again on the sunset. Ignoring Y/N's footsteps as they approached him.

"I heard you didn't go to work," Y/N began while they stood close to the bed and minded his space. "The staff we're wondering if you were alright."

An unamused chuckle left him. "I'm sure the staff were very much delighted my presence was missing. I'm aware of my less than stellar reputation."

Y/N made a face. "I'm not lying. People were wondering if you were sick."

"Why do you work for me?" Ardyn changed the subject. Not wanting to hear he happened to be today's gossip in court. His eyes closed in on Y/N, gaze narrowing.

"You took a chance on me when the others wouldn't," Y/N was taken back by his sudden question, but answered honestly. "It's been an honor serving you. Helping around where I can, making sure you stay on task. It beats scavenging for food out of garbage on the street. You may have given me work, but I chose to work with you."

Chose. Ardyn thought to himself.

"And why would you do something so ridiculous?" Ardyn countered. His eyes continued to study Y/N, watching carefully as they stepped closer to him.

"Because I can tell beneath your bullshit you're miserable," Y/N said sarcastically "Misery loves company."

Ardyn smirked at the comment. He shook his head and sighed. "I could have you hanged for talking to me in such a manner."

"Well, good luck finding anyone else to do your laundry and secretary work. Word of mouth at Zegnautus Keep is you've outworn your welcome with personal retainers."

There was a long pause before Y/N furrowed their brows and decided to get to the heart of the issue, sensing Ardyn wasn't himself.

"I know you don't exactly care for people, but is there anything I can do to help?"

"Why would I need your help?"

"You're trembling."

Ardyn was puzzled at first, then looked down at his hands that were resting atop his knees. Sure enough, his fingertips were quaking.

"So it would seem."

"Ardyn--"

"Y/N, join me."

"What?"

"Sit by my side."

"Ok..." Y/N furrowed their brows. The request was an odd one, but they complied. There was some hesitance before they took a seat upon the mattress. Their right leg was pressed to Ardyn's left. Y/N turned their head, watching while Ardyn stared forward and blinked a few times.

"Do you know what loss is?"

Y/N didn't answer right away. Their mind combed through the many experiences they had regarding the subject.

"Yeah, yeah I do."

"How do you personally handle the nonsense that comes with it?"

"That's...not an easy thing to answer but," Y/N bit the inside of their lip while thinking it over. "I remind myself the feelings I have, are not permanent. I try to connect with others where I can, especially if I'm dealing with a passing. Not that it's my business, did someone close die today? Is that why you were absent?"

Ardyn glared, casting his gaze elsewhere. "You can say that."

"I'm sorry--"

"Don't be. I don't need the pity."

Y/N refrained from saying anything else, deciding to let Ardyn to take the wheel of the conversation. Given what little they understood regarding his predicament, the last thing he needed was someone telling him what to do. Y/N couldn't recall there being anyone Ardyn was close with in Gralea. Then again he had his secrets. There was a reason he was a man of a million rumors amongst Niflheim citizens.

"Y/N," Ardyn sighed and put his left hand upon Y/N's right knee. He nearly withdrew, feeling them tense from the touch but remained upon seeing they weren't afraid. "Would it be too much trouble to ask for a distraction?"

"No, it wouldn't be a problem." Y/N shook their head. Their eyes briefly glanced at his hand. "What did you have in mind?"

"It's a rather odd request but--" Gods, he was really going to do this. "Would it be alright if I embraced you?"

"You're asking me for a hug?" Y/N couldn't help but let out a small laugh. That was the last thing they ever expected a man such as himself to say.

"You're right, it's pathetic." Ardyn sighed.

"No, no it's not." Y/N grimaced, realizing how callous their tone must've come across. "I just--it was--unexpected, but I have no problem with that. Are you okay with this though?"

"Beg pardon?"

"I mean--you're the chancellor, and I'm kinda at the bottom of the food chain. Is this appropriate?"

Ardyn smiled a little, shaking his head. "It's only inappropriate if I deem it so. In public, it would be another matter entirely. Alas we don't have an audience therefore it's not an issue to begin with."

"Alright, well--" Y/N gestured out with their arms and shrugged before settling them. A small smile graced their mouth. "I'm ready when you are."

Ardyn rolled his eyes albeit in an amused manner. He let the awkward energy between himself and Y/N settle down before making his move. Slowly, and with consideration, Ardyn wrapped an arm around Y/N's waist. He pulled their body into his, leaning his head against theirs. A nervous swallow came and went. Realizing this was the first time in almost 2,000 years since he had hugged anyone. He wasn't sure what to make of it at first, until a feeling of calm began to tide over. He was grounding again, little by little.

Y/N hesitated before wrapping their arms around Ardyn's body, pressing their cheek more into his chest. He seemed to be emboldened by that for they could feel his other hand atop of their head. His fingertips carding against their scalp. This went on for a while. Both remaining still in each other's presence.

"What are you thinking about?" Y/N asked quietly.

"A million things," Ardyn admitted. "And how I used to hold her like this."

Y/N hummed in response. There was a lot they wanted to ask Ardyn regarding the person he had lost. From his cadence, it sounded like it had been years since he had spoken to her. An ex perhaps? It was difficult to be certain, but Y/N knew it wasn't their place to pry. Ardyn would tell them when he was ready, if he ever was.

"She was lucky to have someone powerful like you that cared," Y/N reassured. "And I'm sure she was lovely."

Powerful. Ardyn thought bitterly to himself. He didn't feel so strong recalling the glazed look Aera had while she died in his arms. Even with the scourge and his immortality, Ardyn felt weak like any other man. He was tired. Tired of playing a role in the Gods grand theater. It would be over soon. He had to have patience.

The thoughts drifted away the longer he held onto Y/N. They were alive. He was holding a living person right now, and not the corpse of his beloved. No harm had come to them. The creature comfort of the thought was enough to calm him considerably.

"Yes, she truly was." Ardyn replied softly, his chin resting atop of Y/N's head while his hand retreated from their scalp. The hand snaked around Y/N's body, meeting his other arm that had been embracing them.

"Are you alright with prolonging this?" He asked.

"I'm fine with it," Y/N smiled against him, chuckling for a moment. "At least you smell good. I'm not going to pass out anytime soon."

"Har-har," Ardyn muttered. He too smiled. Maybe. Maybe the last of his days before meeting fate didn't have to be so bad. Especially if he could enjoy something so miniscule like an embrace once more.

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[charlottedabookworm]

The Cruellest Cut - Part 1

I’m bored and my mum won’t be home for another half hour, so.

@hamelin-born @sparklecryptid @distressedherbalist @luxroyalty @snappysprinkledog @theotherguysride

You are all giant enablers and I am blaming all of you for this. The title comes from @hamelin-born , who suggested it and it fits far better than the previous title that I’d thought up (oh father, tell me, did we get what we deserved) so I rolled with it. 

Under the cut, have the Cor & Nyx reunion in a verse where Cor is actually immortal and was Ardyn’s Shield. I want to write more for this - and I will, I have explanations and Regis’ POV planned, and Cor meeting Ardyn for the first time back in Solheim, and so much more because this is fun - but this is what I have so far. Scream about this AU with me.

Nyx had heard of Cor the Immortal. Of course, he had. He might never have met the man, might never have even seen him, but the Marshall of the Crownsguard was practically a celebrity in Insomnia. Everyone knew his name, everyone knew his deeds, everyone knew who he was. And he’d heard all of the stories – you couldn’t help but do so when the Guard was so proud of their Marshall. But Nyx hadn’t really cared. Why would he? Why would he care about someone who carried the title Immortal, simply because of his deeds? Nyx had scoffed, the first time that one of the Glaives had brought up Marshall Leonis and his title, had had to fight back the urge to laugh. Because immortal? Yeah, right. Nyx knew immortality – knew it down to his bones, knew it with every breathe he took and every beat of his heart, knew the truth of it in a way that so few did – and no one who truly understood what immortality meant would dare claim the title. People spoke of Cor Leonis with awe, due to his supposed immortality, and Nyx had to fight back his rage at their sheer ignorance. (Because immortality wasn’t great. It wasn’t awesome, it wasn’t venerable, it wasn’t something to aspire to. It wasn’t life. Immortality was everyone else dying. Immortality was watching everyone else fade away. It was war and disease and old age and losing everyone that you had ever cared for. It was funeral after funeral after funeral, battle after battle after battle. It was watching the world change until you no longer recognise it, it was longing to hear the language of your birth again – just the once. It was watching everything that you loved fall to pieces. It was a curse, and Nyx wanted to sneer at everyone who thought otherwise. Because immortality was a battlefield. And it was empty. Because everyone else had fallen) Still, humans – mortals – were idiots who couldn’t see the forest for the trees, who looked at immortality and thought life instead of wondering why. And he couldn’t kill them for that. Nyx pushed back his rage and did his best to ignore the topic every time that it came up – and the Galahdians were nice enough not to discuss it in front of him, especially since they knew that the name brought up far too many memories for their Chosen. Outside of the almost instinctive offence that his title caused him, Nyx didn’t particularly care about Cor Leonis. But he wasn’t expecting the man who swept into the King’s office without a care in the world. --- Nyx had been pulling a lot of guard duty recently – had been ever since he’d doubled back against orders to save Linus Bellum, one of the baby glaives, from a daemon. It was Drautos’ idea of a punishment – take him out of the field temporarily and give him something boring to do all day while surrounded by Lucians – and Nyx would probably complain more about it, but he’s mostly been shadowing the King recently, instead of guarding the wall. And, as much as he hates the Citadel – as much as he hates what it reminds him of, as much as he hates what it stands for (a monument to the being who had cursed his father, built by his uncles line) – Regis is a good man, a good King, and Nyx doesn’t mind guarding him so much. (No matter how much it pisses him off to have to listen to the Lucian nobles talk about his people as though there were lesser) So, he puts up with it – no matter how boring standing by the King’s office door watching him do paperwork all day was. Occasionally he’ll have to step outside for meetings, or the King will want to walk somewhere with Nyx shadowing him, but mostly Nyx spent his days acting as a well-paid door opener. (He’s had worse jobs) However, when Cor Leonis stalked into the Kings office and tossed a pile of paperwork onto his desk, Nyx stopped breathing. There was no way that this was happening. This was impossible. It couldn’t be him – it had been two thousand years. The man who had carried him on his shoulders and taught him to use a katana and who had looked at his father like he was his salvation was gone. Had fallen trying to buy them enough time to escape from the betrayal. Had been executed just as Nyx’s father had. He was dead. (“Go.” He stumbled as Cor shoved his father into his arms, the added weight forcing the two of them passed the boundary of the doorway. Swinging one of his father’s arms over his shoulders – and damn it, Uncle, how could you, the Scourge was already killing him anyway, what was the point in this? – he glanced back when he didn’t hear the tread of familiar boots behind him. Cor was standing with his back to them, sword out and held at the ready to defend them. Nyx swallowed, suddenly feeling like a young child again, being told his mother was dying. “Faeder?” “Go, Your Highness. Take His Majesty and be safe. I’ll hold them off.” The man who had been a second father to him his entire life said steadily, only a thread of heartbreak in his voice as he faced near-certain death at the hands of their own people to protect his King and Prince. He hesitated, knowing that he should go – that his father was depending on him – but unwilling to leave Cor behind. “Nyx!” He barked, and Nyx was turning away, reaching for the furthest warp-beacon that he could manage with his father’s dead weight – conditioned since childhood to respond to the command in that tone, even as he cursed fate and Bahamut and his uncle and the drugs that they had used on his father that kept him out of it. Just before the magic of the land carried them away, Nyx glanced back over his shoulder. “Faeder!” The scream tore itself from his throat, heartbreak and betrayal and grief and loss and rage mixing together, blood splashing across his face as one of his worst nightmares played itself out in real life. The last image he saw of Solheim’s crown city was of his Uncle standing over the body of his faeder, blade stained red with his blood) But the man in front of him was a familiar profile, unchanged from Nyx’s faded memories. His hair was a little shorter, his eyes darker and more shuttered, the way that he carried himself a little stiffer – but the voice was the same. The voice of the man who had talked him through his nightmares and helped him prank his father. “F-Faeder?” The word slipped off his numb tongue without permission, and from the corner of his eye he could see the way that the King had turned to look at him in confusion, but Nyx’s entire focus was on the man who froze at the almost-foreign word. His heart stutters in the silence of the room as the image of his faeder stares at him in shock and he can feel horrible, painful, hope growing in his chest. Please. Anyone, just, please. Let me be right. Let me have this, please. Just, give me this. Please. “Nyx?” And Cor was reaching out, exactly like he had always done when Nyx had come to him for comfort, and he couldn’t handle this. He looks his home in his eyes and shakes, falling apart at the seams even as he throws himself into the man’s arms. Nyx breaks. --- Cor swept into office, a scowl on his face and paperwork in hand. “We need to do something about the western border.” He’s started saying before the door has even swung fully shut, sending an absent nod to the glaive on duty as he stalked up to Regis’ desk and tossed the files he’s collected onto it. They spread out as they hit the desk, showing hints of the data that he had spent the past week compiling. Regis glanced down, keeping an absent eye on him even as the King began to peruse the files. “Daemon attacks are increasing and we’re still haemorrhaging resources. If we don’t do something soon then they’ll break through-” “F-Faeder?” A quiet, stuttering voice interrupted him. The moment that he recognised the word, he froze. The word, one almost foreign to his ears after all this time, made his heart stop. It had been so long since he had last heard that word spoken, last heard the title given to him by a young boy with bright eyes and an even brighter smile. And he had never heard it spoken like this. He’d heard it squealed during tickle attacks and yelled during battles and murmured late at night and yelped after embarrassing moments – he’d heard it screamed as an expression of raw grief and pain and anger and betrayal and loss, as the child that he had helped to raise, the boy who was his son in all but blood, had watched him be cut down by a man that they had all trusted absolutely – but he had never heard it like this. Never heard it tentative and disbelieving and pained and so full of heartbreak and with a thread of new-born desperate hope that it made him want to weep. Cor spun on his heel desperately – needing a proper look at the glaive who had spoken that word with a faint Solheim accent, ignoring the way that Regis tensed and half-rose from his chair at the look on his face – and then he stopped. And he was staring. He knows that he was staring. But standing there, in the black uniform of the Kingsglaive, is a ghost. (A ghost who looked exactly like his long dead son. Who had Ardyn’s facial structure and nose, who had flecks of gold in blue-grey eyes. Who wore the beads of a Chosen of Ramuh and the tattoos of a Galahdian hunter. A ghost who called him faeder and looked at him as though he couldn’t believe that Cor existed. A ghost who looked exactly like he had when Cor had last seen him) He swallowed past a sudden lump in his throat. “Nyx?” He asked, voice rife with emotions that he had rarely allowed himself to show over the years – rife with surprise and pain and old, unhealed grief and a growing desperate hope that hurt far more than the grief did. This isn’t possible. He wanted to say. You died. But he had never seen a body, had just trusted Somnus – trusted the man who had betrayed them – at his word. It’s been two thousand years. And it had been so long since he had heard that voice – Galahdian accent now far stronger than the Solheim one that he had used to sport – so long since he had seen his son, but he hadn’t changed. Cor couldn’t help but reach out – couldn’t stop himself from reaching for his son, for proof that he wasn’t some sort of illusion – and then he stumbled back a step when Nyx slammed into him. How did I not know? He thought, even as he brought his arms up to wrap them around his son – and this was his son, he was certain of that and even if he wasn’t then the way that the magic of the land was singing faintly in joy would be proof enough. Eyes shut against the burn of tears, he felt as though his heart had been ripped from his chest as he clutched at his shaking son – holding him as he sobbed silently into his chest. Never in his life had he ever felt like more of a failure of a father than in this moment – not even when he had been told that his son had died, alone and on the run and in the middle of nowhere. Standing there with his son – his son, the son of his King, who he hadn’t known was alive, who he hadn’t even seen in two thousand years, who was shattering into pieces in his arms – Cor was reminded of just how much he had failed, and it made the breath catch in his chest. Because this was his fault. He had sworn to protect them – sworn the oaths of a Shield to his King, the oaths of a man to those that he loved – and he had failed. Had failed in his duty, had failed to protect them, and because of that his King (his lover) had lost his life – had been murdered by his own brother – and his Prince (their son) had spent so long alone and broken. And Cor hadn’t been able to do anything – he’d failed them and broken the oaths that he had sworn as a child. Almost as though he could hear his thoughts, Nyx looked up at him through teary eyes – loosening his hold just enough that Cor was able to slide to his knees in front of Solheim’s lost prince. Regis made a noise of shock in the background, knowing him well enough to be surprised by his actions, but he didn’t look over at his friend. “My Prince,” he said, head bowed as he glanced up at the man who held his life in his hands through lowered lashes. “I have failed in my duties, failed the oaths that I swore, and it cost you your father’s life. Any punishment that you decree worthy-” “No.” Cor started in surprise as Nyx cut him off with a snarl. “No.” He said, yanking him to his feet again. “You do not get to do this, Faeder. You, of all people, do not call me that. You do not get to ask for punishment. Not when I watched you cut down so that your King could escape, not when I heard tell of your execution at His hands – mere days after my father’s. You gave your life for your King – just as the oaths you swore demanded, just as any Shield should – and what came after that was not your fault. And I will not have you blame yourself for it. Is that understood?” The words were accompanied by a fierce glare and royal bearing and, despite the red eyes and drying tear tracks, Nyx looked so much like his father at that moment that it made something in Cor ache. Still, at the command from his son – from the man who had never looked and sounded more like the Crown Prince of Solheim that he had once been than now – Cor could do naught but bow his head in submission. “Yes, Your Highness.” He met his sons’ eyes and waited for the other man to nod before he pulled him back in for another hug. Over Nyx’s shoulder, he could see Regis looking at them in surprise and confusion and intrigue, and he knew that he – they – would have to explain all of this to the King at some point but. But that could wait. For the first time in two thousand years – for the first time since they had been betrayed, since he had told his family to go, since their betrayer had come with words of his son’s death on his lips, since his king had been murdered – Cor was home.

[berrydoodleoo]

spring is in the world

Title from ‘since feeling is first’. Chosen with Luna in mind, who in this AU has defied her fate and is no longer confined to parentheses. Read more about the art here, or have a short fic instead:

In hindsight, she shouldn’t have assumed things were going as well as they seemed. She had no great experience in taking lovers, after all, having devoted most of her thirty-odd years to fighting the Scourge in one form or another. She had lost so much time, first to her injuries after Altissa and the coma that had swallowed her for years, and then to the terrible fear and lethargy that gripped her once Ardyn was dead and her purpose in life (seemingly) fulfilled.

Not to mention that Noctis and Prompto were Lucian, whose upper-classes still ascribed to all sorts of prescriptive rules about romance and marriage. She should have been more vigilant -- Prompto in particular still regarded Noct and the sunlit world with nervousness bordering on dread, as if they might be ripped away from him at any moment. So what if she had danced with Noctis and Prompto at the ball held for the New Dawn’s first anniversary last week? So what if she had kissed Noctis outside her room, when he very courteously escorted her to her quarters? So what if Prompto had given her a gift of watercolor paints and cold-pressed paper at breakfast, asking with a flirty smirk if she had a model for her newest painting?

And most of all -- so what if they had made plans to celebrate Noctis’ birthday with a trip outside the city, where they would sleep (hopefully together) beneath the stars (her first test of her new resolve to walk in the dark without fear). So what? They hadn’t said anything out loud, hadn’t made any promises. She shouldn’t have assumed. She should never assume. It was such a terrible risk, forgetting to be afraid. She should have known….

It’s when she lays her hand over his, resting on Noctis’ chest, that she realizes they’ve been having two separate conversations. “He’s here to stay, Prompto,” she says, pressing gently. “I promise.”

“I know, I know.” Prompto clears his throat, forces a rough little laugh. “It’s not that.” He sniffs.

It gives her an ugly jolt to see him so distressed. They’d only been watching Noct sleep, praising his handsome features and planning how best to tease him when he awoke. Umbra is snoring cutely at Noctis’ side and Pryna is probably still in the field, chasing butterflies. Everything had seemed perfect.

Prompto glances skittishly at her frown and then begins to babble. “I just, uh -- got used to checking, you know? Making sure he hadn’t stopped breathing or started bleeding inside or something. It’ll, uh.” He shakes his head, tries to pull his hand away. “It’ll be weird not being able to check, you know, but I won’t -- I mean, I know you two -- I won’t get in the way, I won’t make things difficult, I promise--”

“Prompto,” Luna interrupts gently, struggling to follow. “I don’t understand what you’re--”

Prompto rakes his free hand over his eyes, smearing the hint of tears around. “You guys are gonna be great, you know?” He smiles bravely, props his head on his fist like they’re still chatting idly and he isn’t weeping openly. “You’ve waited for each other for so long. I guess destiny can be kind after all.” He tries to smile.

But he can’t keep the bleakness out of his eyes, and it’s clear that Prompto doesn’t believe any of this kindness has been reserved for him. “Prompto,” Luna bursts out, fumbling, confused, “are you -- breaking up with Noctis? Through me?”

Prompto recoils, or tries to; she still won’t let him get away. “O-of course not,” he stammers, “we weren’t -- I mean -- not really, we haven’t, not since -- he wouldn’t lie to you like that--”

Luna untangles this with some effort. “Do you mean you two aren’t together?” Confused, she reviews their interactions from the past few days, and then from the last time she saw them, after the final battle. “You haven’t been -- Prompto Argentum, you two haven’t been refraining because of me, have you?”

Prompto gapes at her. She gapes back.

“You have!” Astonished, Luna leans back to peer at the sky. “Why in the -- Prompto. Dear, dearest Prompto.” She checks on Noctis, in case their spirited conversation has woken him, but he sleeps on obliviously. She’ll have words with him later.

Prompto tries to sit up, retreat again, and this time Luna tugs him quite firmly back into place. “Don’t you dare,” she orders, and he freezes. “Prompto, you and Noctis love each other. You’ve been part of each other’s lives for so long, have supported and believed in one another through the worst of--” She finds she can’t find the words to continue, and tries again. “I would never, will never, seek to separate the two of you.”

Prompto’s lower lip is trembling. Luna starts to shift forward, cup his cheek, and then realizes such a gesture might be unwelcome. Dear gods, she has misread this. Such a fool she is. She’d thought--

“Quite the opposite,” she finally continues, quietly, despite the cold terror creeping through her veins. “So long as the two of you have one another, I may have peace in my heart, for I know that one good, true thing prevails.”

She blinks back a sudden flood of tears. Perhaps they don’t want her. Perhaps she doesn’t have a place with them after all. She wants her room, suddenly, her safe, prison-like room, where nothing joyful grows but nothing can hurt her, either.

“But you guys have been -- oh.” Prompto blinks rapidly, and then starts to redden. “Oh. Is this a, uh, Tenebrean thing? Like the triad thing? Oh man, is this what Iggy was trying to -- oh, man.”

Luna can’t help it; she bursts into damp, semi-hysterical giggles, despite the icy shake in her guts. Prompto smiles up at her blurrily, and then starts to laugh as well.

“Man,” he says again, suddenly beaming, eyes still tear-reddened. “He is gonna give me so much crap about this. I am literally never gonna live it down. Wow.” He takes a deep breath and squeezes her hand tenderly, overwhelmed. “Is this really -- you might have to -- I am really oblivious sometimes, but uh, I guess you know that now.” He laughs again, edged, at himself.

Luna starts to nod, changes to shaking her head, and then feels hot, wet tears dripping down her face. She’ll feel foolish later. Prompto sits up, and this time she lets him, because he’s moving to lean closer, cup her face and wipe her tears away.

“Luna,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I misunderstood.” She presses his rough, large hands to her cheeks and feels herself crumple a little more. “No,” he continues. “No, please don’t cry. I can’t -- I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Luna takes a deep breath. She isn’t been rejected. You aren’t being rejected, she reminds herself. “No, no,” she says wetly, “I shouldn’t have assumed--”

She stops herself. She’s making an effort to reprimand herself less these days. She is trying so hard to be better. And in a fight for blame, she suspects she and Prompto could go round and round until the sun went down and never came up again, but that isn’t what she wants. For either of them.

Luna takes a deep breath. She refuses to start their relationship in a spiral of apologies and self-blame. She doesn’t want that anymore. She wants to open the door to a rolling world of yellow suns and indigo skies and, eventually, gentle nights that fill her with wonder and comfort instead of fear. She wants to let go of the fear and her desperate need for control -- she wants to be free, a part of the world for the first time in her life.

So instead of berating herself, she grips his hands in hers and lets their combined grip rest against their (still sleeping, seriously, Noct?) king’s chest. Umbra is watching them with interest, she notes. And then she takes another breath.

“Prompto,” she says, falling back on an old, formal proposal from a romantic show she used to watch, as a teenager confined within Fenestala Manor. “Will you grant me the honor of your affection and presence, and keep a place for me in your heart?”

Prompto’s lovely eyes widen, full of hope and delight. Pure sunlight. He’s grinning and she’s breathless. All further words fly from her mind.

His fingers squeeze hers as he leans forward for a kiss, and then another, tentative turning into playful, his smile slotting sweetly against hers again and again. Blindly, her hands work themselves free to touch his cheeks, his throat, the rasp of his short beard. He retreats for a quick breath, tracing her lips with hot, hooded eyes, and then devours her mouth in a kiss that raises her onto her knees, toes curled and body tingling. Oh, oh, oh--

“Hey,” Noctis grumbles, exactly like a grumpy cat awoken from a nap. “Uh, did I miss something? I thought we were waiting till my birthday.”

Prompto gasps, wrenching away. “That’s what that’s all about?” he demands shrilly, and Luna bursts into giggles. “The camping trip? Oh my gods, Gladio’s gonna kill me--”

Noctis pushes himself up his elbows, squinting and scowling with the sun in his eyes. “What? You seriously didn’t know?” He sits up, absently guiding Luna to sit at his side in a way that makes her heart warm. “Thought you were kidding about that.”

“--never gonna hear the end of this, crap--”

Noctis looks to Luna, about to ask something -- probably ‘what on Eos is happening right now, I was only asleep for thirty minutes’ -- but then his expression changes and he makes a wise choice of priorities. “Uh, Luna? Pryna’s after the cheese again.”

Luna yelps and Pryna yips, betrayed, and the dog knocks the picnic basket over in her haste to escape her mistress, wedge of cheese clamped firmly in her jaws. Prompto dives to catch her -- “I’ve got her!” -- but he doesn’t. Noct fails to catch him and he lands on their legs, trapping them. Umbra runs in circles and barks for the sheer, chaotic joy of it. Pryna devours her stolen prize. And in the sunlit field, with her loves bickering and playing at her side, Lunafreya laughs until she cries for the first time in her life.

[secret-engima]

Saw a bit with baby Sola braiding Ardyn's hair. A World in Grey's? Made me think, though- What if Ardyn was the one with the Galahdian mother? Except he remembers a bit more- not enough to feel like he's one of them (no one could, or would, claim him now, surely) but some. His mother disagrees strongly and is pitching the most unholy of fits in the afterlife. Ramuh sympathizes, really he does, but there's nothing that can be done at this point- wait just a little longer- (1/2)

talisward

said:

Come the time Ardyn is released from his hell, it's not by the Nifs. No, one very determined teenager Who Walked Twice snuck in ahead of the Nifs and stole him out from under their nose. They were more than a little miffed that they got the blame but none of the reward for the deed. Now Ardyn's getting mothered by someone maybe half his age, but with all the baby stories. All of them. And she's determined to teach him /properly/ this time.

Me: Okay so 1, yes Sola belongs to @a-world-in-grey  and 2, this is ... a wee bit out of my comfort zone for some reason? Maybe it’s because this idea kinda walked up behind me and decked me with a muse bat. But I’m not uncomfy enough to not do a really long ramble so here we go (also buckle up the angst gets going REAL FAST):

-Ardyn remembers his mother fondly, if .. vaguely. He was only 4 when she died after all, and by the time he was 5 his father had already remarried and had had Somnus.

-But he does remember her a little bit. He remembers her sound of her voice when she sang (but not when she spoke), he remembers that she always smelled like rain and wildflowers. He remembers the braids in her hair with glittering beads of purple and black, how she wouldn’t let her touch them, but would gently braid his hair so that he had the pretty beads too. He thinks he remembers her voice telling him that someday she would teach him to make this braid himself, that someday she would teach him everything. That he would see her home one day with his own eyes.

-He remembers her war scream, wild and feral and primal with fury, as she fought off the assassins that had come for them. He remembers cowering under the dining table as people screamed and guards fell bloody and unmoving to the floor and his mother surged to the battle with glittering knives in her hands. He remembers crying for his father, who usually spent dinners with them but just this once had been too busy, he remembers sobbing as his mother’s war scream turned wet and pained.

-He remembers the silence that had greeted him when he finally crawled out from under the table, moments before the doors burst open for his wild-eyed father and a host of more guards. He remembers, in those moments of silence, of staring around at the unmoving bodies of the assassins and the guards.

-And his mother, slumped near the dining table. Not moving. Not reacting when he pushed at her arm, or tried to clean the front of her dress with his hands because it was her FAVORITE and now it was covered in Red.

-His father was never the same after that. Nothing had ever been the same.

-He’d kept her beads, after the funeral. Kept them hidden away from his step-mother, who was nothing like HIS mother. He’d been afraid she would take them away, or try to wear them along with all of her other jewelry, and that would have been wrong on a level Ardyn couldn’t explain.

-Sometimes in the dark, in between screaming himself hoarse just to hear something and the hallucinations of Aera and Somnus that haunted him, he wondered what had happened to those beads. What his mother would think of him now if she could see him.

-Sometimes he laughed, rasping and broken, because of all the ghosts to come torment him, his mother was never one of them at least. Maybe her memories were too faint and blurred to come taunt him.

-He doesn’t know how long he’s been in the darkness (days, weeks, years, an eternity perhaps) when something in the air changes. He thinks it’s another hallucination at first. The shaking of his prison, the rumble of dust falling onto his numb skin, the loud crack of stone giving way in front of him. Something stabs his eyes with pain and he whimpers since he cannot scream (his voice gave out a long time ago). It takes a long, breathless moment of cringing away from the pain as much as his chains allow to remember that the thing hurting him is LIGHT. That this is what light looks like.

-He’d forgotten what it had looked like.

-Something enters into his prison and he wonders if this is some kind of new, even more vivid creation of his isolated, screaming mind. He cringes from the hands that touch his skin near the chains, sobs without sound as this new dream wrenches the chains free of his skin and curses in his ear over the blood that splashes to the stone floor as a result. The world gets blurry after that, fractured and strange. He hears someone talking (to him?) but he doesn’t know the voice. He feels something get poured over his wounds that burns and hears the cursing get worse and wonders if the pain was unintentional or a new kind of torment.

-He drifts away into the void of unconsciousness to the sound of someone shakily singing what might be his childhood lullaby.

-Ardyn wakes up and he is ... not free of pain, but in so much LESS pain that for a moment he is breathless with it. The Scourge still writhes under his skin and there is still the wordless screaming for blood and fury in the back of his mind, but for the first time in a long, long time, the noise is muted. There are other things to focus on.

-Like the strangely colored ceiling over his head, the blankets under his hands and the mattress so soft he feels he could sink into it and never emerge. Like the LIGHT creeping in through the window nearby that lets him SEE all of this. Light. There is light. There are WINDOWS and blankets and- and-

-Is he really out? Is he really free? Or is this some new nightmare that will break him beyond repair?

-He turns his head slowly, every part of him aching, and he sees-

-A living being. Another human. A teenager, no more than a girl really, huddled by his bed in a strange white chair that has a very odd shine to it (or maybe he’s just no longer used to how things look in the light). The chair is small and has no cushions and looks supremely uncomfortable even to a man who has been chained and strung up on great metal hooks for unknown ages, and the girl is somehow small enough (thin enough, too thin, his healer side whispers) to curl up in it with her legs to her chest and her head resting awkwardly on her knees.

-He doesn’t recognize her in the slightest.

-Surely ... surely if this was another nightmare, it would be Aera sitting there, or Somnus, or one of the servants, or even one of the common folk he had befriended in his travels. Not a stranger. Right?

-He tries to say hello and all that comes out is a pained croak. Her eyes snap open in an instant despite the deep bags beneath them from lack of sleep. She stares at him for a moment with eyes of bright amber, then she’s scrambling. Clattering around the very small, oddly shaped room they are in. She pulls a cup down from a cupboard and holds it under a metal rod. She turns something and from the rod comes ... water?

-Maybe he really is dreaming.

-But her hands feel real as she helps him sit up a little, and the water feels heavenly against his throat as she helps him drink, and even if this is a dream, Ardyn prays that for once it will not turn to ruin and pain. Let him keep dreaming of kind things. Just for a little while longer. Please.

-She talks to him only after he’s drunk. She pets his hair and tells him everything will be alright now, that she got him out of his prison and took him to the caravan in Galdin Quay (he does not know where that is, but he knows of a region of Galdin and thinks perhaps it is a village there), that he’s very weak and sick, but she will help him get better. That she’s so, so sorry it took her this long to come find him.

-Ardyn looks at this tiny girl who cannot be more than 16 and wonders why she was looking for him to begin with. Then his eyes catch on her hair. There are braids there. They are not like his mother’s braid, they are different in style, and the beads are purple and yellow rather than purple and black but they are SIMILAR and- and he wonders. He manages to ask for her name before sleep drags him away.

-She tells him, and he doesn't have the energy left to laugh and tell her that she shares a name with his long lost mother.

-It takes Ardyn a long time to be functional again, and when he is (when he is finally sort of convinced of reality) it is to find that everything has gone strange and alien. The world is 2 thousand years beyond his last known date, and technology is its own kind of magic that is confusing and exhausting by turns. Food tastes different, though perhaps that is just because he no longer needs it and has gone without for so long. The only anchor he has is Terra, and even she is an impossibility.

-He knew the legends of the Walked Twice, he had even met two of them on his travels, but to think that his own mother would fight her way out of the afterlife just to come find him-. To RESCUE him-.

-Sometimes he still wonders if this is all a dream. Because surely that is just a wishful fantasy.

-But the dream never wavers or changes, and the girl with his mother’s soul never leaves. She knows him, knows his childhood stories and songs and secrets, she knows how she died. Her knowledge of his life after that is patchy, but apparently she took note when he did not arrive in the afterlife well after he should have, and she had fought her way back to the lands of the living just to find out why, and that apparently the Fulgarian had taken pity on the soul of one of his island children trying so desperately to find her child and told her where he was and why.

-Ardyn struggles with believing, and with accepting, and with the waking nightmares that still try to haunt him with his brother’s face and voice. But Terra Khara (no longer Terra Ulric or Terra Lucis Caelum, yet still so very much both of those at the same time) refuses to leave or let them take him. She talks him down from his panic, and lifts him out of his depression when the world feels overwhelmingly strange. She leads him into the wilderness, away from modern people and their strange behaviors and the familiarity of walking through the wilds on the thin chocobo trails is soothing. They find Havens, and she tells him they were made by Oracles as safe places for the night (a novelty and a wonder, for there were none in his day save the handful Aera made) and Ardyn lies on them for an hour or two, vomiting black sludge and shivering in pain while Terra rubs his back and sings, but the periods of painful sickness HELP. It scrubs him raw on the inside, but each time he recovers from it he feels a little more stable and the screaming in his head is a little fainter. It makes him feel hopeful, tentatively, and it is the excuse Terra keeps bringing up when he begs her to leave him after another hallucination nearly made him hurt her AGAIN.

-She tells him about her culture, braids Khara beads into his hair and tells him the Songs and Stories. She drags him to civilization eventually, when he is stable enough to go entire days without a hallucination and is slowly starting to remember what hunger for food is rather than the hunger for human blood the Scourge breeds under his skin. They sail across the water to the islands of Galahd, to what she calls a little fishing village but to him is as robust as a respectable trading town, and there she introduces him to her (their) family.

-The Khara Clan welcome Ardyn with open arms. They have known for years that their little Terra was a Walked Twice looking for her son. They have known for years the story Ramuh told her, about a sickness and a curse that will not let him die until the new Chosen arrives to cure the Starscourge entirely, and a part of him would be so very bitter of that (a new Chosen King because he wasn’t good enough, born of the line of his brother who betrayed him), but ... it is hard to be angry when there is family HERE. When there are grandparents who pat his hands and press new, comfortable clothes into his hands to help him not burn in the sun. When his mother’s uncles and aunts and cousins flock to him to feed him and sing to him and weave a braid in his hair that is ornate and beautiful and then tell him that it is a Hero braid. A story of his perseverance, of how he tried so hard to protect his people at such great cost to himself. It is done up in a different style from his Khara braid, and his ... new grandmother (Terra’s mother, who is older than him physically but not by much) tells him that it is an Ulric style braid, to acknowledge that he was born of Ulric blood first before his mother became a Khara.

-There are only the barest handful of Havens on Galahd, and all of them are on the coast. The Oracles rarely came here even over two thousand years of history. The nearest Haven is still outside Khara territory, and Ardyn cries from gratitude when the Khara Chief (his chief now he supposes) goes to negotiate with their neighbor Clan for access to the Haven.

-The islands may be modern and all the Clans on good terms, but apparently even now the Bellum are a wary, prickly neighbor to have. He has no real knowledge of the Clans save what he is learning at the feet of the Elders and what his mother whispers in his ear, but according to them the Bellum have always been ... temperamental. Still, they agree to the Khara’s request to set up a little Clan outpost near the Haven for medical purposes so long as a Bellum stays to monitor them and make sure they’re not doing anything too strange on Clan lands.

-Ardyn meets Kassandra Bellum and is immediately charmed. His mother laughs her head off when he says as much to her after the meeting, even though he has no intentions of acting on the surprise attraction to the woman who is built like a Coeurl, is a head taller than him, and who’s reaction to seeing him writhing and vomiting Starscourge on the Haven was merely to raise her eyebrows and offer him some strong whiskey afterwards. It has been two thousand years, but Aera’s death is still a weeping wound and he is not, and probably will never, be ready to move on romantically.

-Ardyn lives there for years. Surrounded by a Clan that cherishes him, and a mother who still acts like it even though she is far, far younger than him physically, and by the prickly Bellum neighbors who hear about him from Kassandra and instead of being horrified are in Awe that he is apparently stubborn enough to out fight the Starscourge itself (Kassandra starts bringing him dead things and weapons, Ardyn is not so blind as to not recognize the courting attempt, but for all there is a physical attraction, he gently refuses. He is still mourning Aera. Kassandra eyes him thoughtfully, then nods and lets the matter drop. He isn’t sure when exactly she goes from being a former attempted lover to his Shield, but one day he wakes up and realizes she is).

-The Ulric Clan gets involved eventually because rumors spread through the islands of the Khara’s Sick Member who has kept his human form despite being sick enough to Turn and who uses a Haven to slowly burn it from out of his veins and who wears an Ulric hero braid.

-The nearest Ulric branch comes to visit and the Khara tell their story only after the Ulric have sworn not to tell the Mainland. Ever. The Khara know how Ardyn got locked away, they’ve heard the legends of Adagium. They will not let some Mainlander king and his troops come to steal away their lost child if they can help it. The Ulric listen to the story and glom onto both Ardyn and Terra with a ferocity that matches the Bellum in intensity but is a lot more open (the Bellum just tend to give him shiny things and threaten to fight anything that looks at him wrong, the Ulric are HUGGERS and the children are not afraid drag him into cuddle piles). Ardyn meets one Nyx Ulric, who is maybe 13 and utterly, adorably reckless and he isn’t sure when this boy becomes his Heart, but he does and by extension his best friend Libertus sighs as he slots into the roll of Hand without hesitation.

-Then one day- the Empire he's heard complaints and dire warnings about comes to take the islands, and as the ships approach, Ardyn sees blood in his mind’s eye and hears the dying war scream of his mother from a lifetime ago and when he Rages, the Scourge in his veins, thinned and mutated and almost tamed by repeated exposure to the Haven, Rages with him in perfect unity.

-The initial invasion force shatters under the might of a Lucis Caelum two thousand years matured into his power and when night falls, the daemons that lurk on the beaches and in the trees do not so much as look at the Galahdians, but instead pick through the wreckage, tearing apart any MT unit or soldier they find (btw MT units are still a thing, but are not Starscourge infected clones, they’re straight robots that Besithia invented based on Solheim tech).

-Niflheim tries again, and Ardyn repels them again, this time with the help of the Clans to whom he gives his magic freely (he is a monster in his own mind, but he is also still a healer, a KING, and these are his people now. Any weapon he can give them to help them survive he WILL).

-King Regis, young and only married, hears rumors and reports of Galahd being protected by a Lucis Caelum with blood red magic and comes to see for himself, and once he finally gets past the frantic interference of the Clans (who cannot hurt him because he is still Ardyn’s Kin no matter that his ancestor was a Kinslayer, who know he is their king of Lucis and to whom they swore oaths of loyalty), Regis comes face to face with a red-haired man who has one blue eye and one eerie gold eye. The man smiles and tips his battered, ugly hat, “King Regis Lucis Caelum, descendent of Somnus, I was wondering if you would ever come pay me a visit.”

-Regis narrows his eyes, but he has manners, and this man has protected citizens of Lucis, and is quite possibly a ... half-brother maybe, or a distant cousin of some sort, “It is a pleasure to meet you...?”

-The man grins and the expression is almost childish, “Ardyn Khara. Though once I was known as Ardyn Lucis Caelum, but you would not know that name.” Regis can feel the nearby Galahdians circle closer and the hairs on the back of his neck rise as he instinctively knows that if a fight breaks out in the next five minutes, these people will NOT be on his side and there are a LOT of them and he only has Clarus and Cor and a handful of Crownsguard at his side. The man’s smile shifts into something predatory and all teeth, “But perhaps you might know the name my dear, late brother gave me.” He tilts his head and his white of his golden eye almost looks black for a split second, “Adagium.”

-Regis tries to remember how to breathe.

-(so yea there you go. Things happen and once Regis calms down from his heart attack over meeting the Adagium he gloms onto having another relative with draconic fervor. Ardyn saves Aulea from dying with his Healer magic and he gets to be Noctis’s Weird Galahdian Uncle. Also Terra is Pelna’s big sister so Pelna grows up gleefully calling Ardyn “nephew” and Ardyn finds it kinda hysterical).

-Also also the Oracles get involved somehow and the Prophecy goes sideways because of course it does I like my happy endings. This one involves Regis not dying to the Ring, Galahd not burning, and Noctis and Ardyn both living happy lives once Noctis goes into Science and figures out a new magical remedy that can cure/vaccinate people to the Starscourge.

-Also Prompto still exists but he’s Besithia’s illegitimate kid who’s mother ran away to Lucis with Cor’s help (he was in Niflheim on another mission but he couldn’t help but aid the woman and her tiny blond baby) and ended up marrying Cor. Because Dad!Cor is my jam.)

[shadowlink06]

Prompto Meta/Thoughts:

Some thoughts about Prompto. This is just meta/drabble/headcanon material that I wanted to write down concerning him since I’ll be participating in a Big Bang and would like to use him as the protagonist to the story. He does have some inconsistency to his “origins” and I’d like to put my thoughts in order to make writing him more believable. Some of the HC/ideas I’m using is based on the “Scientific Discoveries'' fic I did for Verstael and inspiration from the “Parting Ways” novella. 

The basis for Prompto’s existence was to be used as an energy source to power MTs. It is not clear that if infecting a baby with the starscourge would have a better result when they are harvested in a core, or if Prompto was given an injection to make the miasma either stronger prior to the extraction process or easier to manage. In any case, he was created to be destroyed in masse. 

Verstael seems to have made several batches of clones in his first/early MT labs and Prompto was likely one of the first generations. Since it was still an unrefined practice, this may explain why Prompto is not viewed as a “perfect” clone to Verstael and why they have different attributes. 

As MTs were being replaced/add to the Niflheim army during war campaigns, the Lucian government recognized that Verstael was the main player responsible and sought to kill him to turn the tide of battle in their favor. 

A Lucian Kingsglaive unit tracked down Verstael’s lab and managed to find the nursery the babies were kept in. Although they realized that the babies were very clearly children, it was not obvious that they were clones. Confused by the sheer amount of children, one of the Kingsglaive decided to take one of the children (Prompto) back to headquarters for examination. 

When they realized that Prompto was just an ordinary child, there was concern as to what to do with him. As he had no ties to anyone of importance and he was in the nursery that had many other babies, they spared him although there was insistence on covering up his origins. Prompto was given to a prominent Lucian family that had just lost a child due to birthing complications. When he was adopted, the military commander (maybe Titus/Cor) mentioned to always have him cover up the barcode saying that it was not a detail that was worth sharing. 

While Prompto’s parents did love Prompto as their own, business within Insomnia’s court kept both of them busy and away from home. As a result, Prompto turned to food as a coping mechanism to offset the loneliness of his parents not being around and he felt isolated not understanding why he had a barcode brand by the other children around him didn’t. He couldn’t speak to his peers since he was always warned that it would cause him further issues if that topic got brought up so he could not speak to anyone about it. This is the beginnings of his self doubt and fear that he had about himself and the need to want friends but being afraid to open up to them.   

One issue that gets overlooked with Prompto’s relationship with Noctis is that it wouldn’t have really happened if Prompto hadn’t saved Pryna. Had he not done this, it is doubtful that Prompto would have mustered up enough nerve to not only speak to someone else but the Prince of Lucis. In essence, Luna led Prompto to Noctis. 

In his quest to be Nocts friend, it led him into getting into shape and taking on a more light hearted personality towards others. This change had Noctis notice Prompto as they continued to see each other in school and strike up an eventual friendship. 

When Prompto inquired about seeking an officer position within the Crownsguard, there is little doubt that someone recognized his name and knew who he was. No doubt he would have been survaled from time to time just to make sure that he wasn’t behaving suspiciously. When it was clear that Prompto wasn’t a threat, he was allowed within the Crownsguard ranks. 

Ardyn would have recognized Prompto as a clone to Verstael. Since he has a vastly different personality than his father Ardyn would have been amused if not intrigued by seeing a functioning clone next to the Prince. Further proof would have been him seeing the barcode - a feature that Verstael used on all of his clones for experimental data. 

Verstael would have been resentful to see what became of Prompto as he thought all of his clones only had one purpose and the Lucians had “corrupted” Prompto into being something that he wasn’t supposed to. That alone would make Verstael want to kill him. 

If Ardyn was saddened at Verstael’s passing, a part of him would have blamed Prompto for his death and taken it out on him during his imprisonment in Zegnautus Keep. 

Some Unknowns:

What traits define a Lucian, Tenebraen, Niflheimian, or Altissian resident? Are there specific traits that are associated with the regions or is it a cultural identity? Is it a physical appearance? Or perhaps way of speaking? How would anyone have known if Prompto was an outsider? 

The question as to when Prompto realized he was a Niflheim resident rather than a Lucian is hard to say. The timing of this event is critical in understanding why Prompto behaves the way he does around Noct and the others. His Brotherhood episode seems to imply he realized it when he was younger - well before he thought about entering the Crownsguard or even met Noct. Who told him? How did he feel being in Lucis knowing this truth? How did he feel about Nilfheim? Did he wonder about his real parents? Did he ever try to look for them to know the truth? 

If Prompto was examined and was deemed to not to be a threat, why was he so insistent with covering up his barcode? The game seemed to hint that he had always known he had been from Niflheim (or suspected it) even before he saw Verstael. 

The tattoo/barcode that he had from a child should have been warped/altered as he grew older. The skin that he had as a baby would have been stretched as he grew so the computer at the old lab being able to ‘recognize’ him after all of those years is suspect. 

Prompto could have some interesting side effects if Verstael made it so he was able to take the starscourge within his body. This can leave a lot to play around with with a Divergence piece especially if Ardyn is added into the mix.  

I don’t think it was ever implied that Aranea had completely destroyed the lab that housed all of the remaining Verstael clones. If that was the case, what would have happened to them given that they were harmless and a fully functioning human being? If Aranea did destroy the lab, what would have been Prompto’s response to seeing innocent beings killed given how sensitive he is? 

A small detail, but Prompto wore glasses when he was young but doesn’t now. Does that mean that he had corrective surgery or wears contacts?

[sparklecryptid]

lightstruck

or i found this hidden in my drafts folder without a name so i named it and might continue it if enabled enough

also i can’t remember if i shared this before or not whoop. here you are anyway.

-

It is slow, it is agonizing in a way that only surgeons slicing through flesh can understand. It is slow in the way wax drips from a candle and with each chain Sol pulls from the man he does his best to make it as painless as possible. And with the gift of Earth under his skin he slides the chains outs from the man one by one and when he is done he does not mind the black ichor and merely pulls the man into his arms.

Sol leaves the cave, the cage, he had found the man in and takes him to the camp he had set up near a cave facing the sea. Sol sets the other man down and sets to cleaning the other man up lest he die of sickness.

Ardyn wakes. He wakes as he has countless times before. Ardyn wakes expecting the chains wrapped around his bones to pull at him. To hold him up as they had centuries before this and as they will continue to do for centuries after.

Ardyn wakes to a stiffness in his joints, to the feeling of sand under his feet and the crashing of waves against the rugged shore. He wakes to the sound of gulls in the air and the taste of sea salt on his tongue.

Ardyn wakes, and for the first time he is free of the pressure built up around his ribs. He is free of the chains digging through his skin to latch onto bone and for once he can move.

He can move. He wiggles his feet and twitches his fingers and a sob gets caught in his throat as he opens his eyes to see light for the first time in ages. And oh how the sun burns him. How it feels as though it digs under his skin to scorch the Scourge that lingers within his tainted body. Ardyn can feel tears gathering in his eyes, can feel each painful breath as he struggles not to break down at the mere sight of sunlight.

But how long as it been since he’s seen the sun? How long as it been since he saw the bright blue of the sky? He doesn’t know, had no way to tell the passage of time inside his prison chamber. Ardyn does not know how long it’s been since he’s seen the sun or the sky. Since he’s felt the rough edge of sand under the palms of his hands and he’s joyful for a moment before it comes crashing down.

He is a monster, he is the reason the Scourge litters the planet still. He is a blight on the very Star he vowed to protect. He does not deserve this mercy, if that is what this is, he does not deserve it.

And yet a part of him relishes in it, relishes in the warm of the sun even as it scorches the darkest parts of him. He relishes in the soft touch of the wind as it dances across the rough clothing, someone had dressed him in more than rags and how thoughtful that was of them, that Ardyn now wears. And Ardyn could sob at the unfairness of this, of the sheer cruelty of this freedom.

He does not deserve it. He will never deserve it. And now, to have it, to feel himself free of chains and to have his magic dance and soar through the air once again Ardyn knows that returning to the chamber of his torment will be even worse.

Ardyn’s breath catches as he hears footsteps approach. Is it Somnus? Ardyn wonders, is it his brother coming to drag him back to the dark and dank prison that had been his cage?

A figure steps into Ardyn’s sightline, the sunlight blurs the sight of him. Making the man a silhouette against the light he’s in front of.

“Oh.” A voice, softer than Ardyn expect. A voice that does not belong Somnus. The voice is almost melodic in it’s tenor and Ardyn has the brief thought that his companion, that his jailer (for what else could this person be?) is a singer. “You’re awake. I was getting worried about you, you know?”

Ardyn almost scoffs, worried? About him? Unlikely. Ardyn is a monster, it matters not what he started out as. A part of him cannot help but wonder though, if he still has supporters out there. If the lies that Somnus had spun had reached the ears of those he had saved and if even they had believed them.

It matters little in the end, if they believed what tale Somnus had spun or not. Ardyn’s fate was still written in blood.

“Who are you?” Ardyn’s voice should be raw, should be grating at the edge of his throat but instead he finds the words coming easily. Flowing from his lips like water off a stone. It’s easy to forget at times, that the Scourge could be blessing were it not such a curse.

The man moves and the light shifts offering more details to the silhouette Ardyn had seen before. The man is frowning, full lips down turned and brilliant green eyes narrowed. The man’s skin is dark, a deep brown that brings to mind spring, and his hair is long and loose in tangled mess of curls.

Ardyn thinks the man might be beautiful, and the tears that had dried in his eyes spring to live again at the sight of another human.

The man’s eyes widen, bright and startled and alive and he starts to move toward Ardyn before thinking better of it. Not that Ardyn could blame him, Ardyn is a blight on the land. A walking nightmare, the man would do well to keep his distance.

A part of Ardyn wants to move to close the gap between them, to feel the breath leaving and entering the lungs buried beneath ribs and sinew. He wants to know that the man in front of him is alive and not a fiction conjured of his imagination. Yet Ardyn does not move for fear of breaking the moment.

For fear of being alone again.

The man looks at Ardyn and there is no pity Ardyn can find in his gaze. There is a sorrow rather, an ache in the man’s face that makes Ardyn think that the man is in as much pain as Ardyn is.

The man approaches then, slowly as if not to startle Ardyn. “Hey,” the man says, a sad smile filling his lips, “My name is Sol. Can I see if your wounds reopened?” Can I touch you? Is what Sol is asking. Ardyn knows this. Ardyn knows that the man is being kind and it brings another ache to Ardyn’s chest.

“My wounds are healed.” Ardyn says because its true. He does not say that he’s fine, does not say that he’s either dead or dreaming because he doesn’t want this to end. This is a luxury, Ardyn thinks, even if it’s a pleasure conjured up by his own mind, the sheer nature of having someone near him is a luxury Ardyn hasn’t had in ages.

He does not say that Sol can touch him, for he is certain that if the other man did Ardyn would weep.

Sol blinks, and Ardyn is reminded of a cat by the way Sol tilts his head to the side. The other man is curious, Ardyn notes, he doesn’t quite believe Ardyn. Which is a mystery in itself, something born from Ardyn’s own mind should know better than to doubt him.

“Alright,” Sol says at last, “I have some makeshift bandages over there on the rack if you need them. I- I’m glad you’re doing better.”

[promptis-imagines]

so i've been thinking abt this au idea where prompto comes out of zegnautus keep as some kind of magitek cyborg. like, just ardyn fucking with him and the others a bit more, pushing the whole "prompto's an mt" thing to the max. thoughts?

okay okay it’s been 8000 years since you sent this but let’s gooooo

We all know that the whole section from Zegnautus is wild and did a number on Prompto. One thing that I believe defines the growth in his character is when they’re all together again and Prompto confesses that he’s one of them, that he was supposed to be an MT. That’s him taking charge of his own self and putting it out there that he is who he is, and he’s hoping that the rest of the group will accept it, even though he’s terrified during the process.

But...he still looks like himself. The fact that his appearance didn’t change meant he had the opportunity to decide for himself whether he was going to admit it or continue hiding that part of him. In this case, if Ardyn and/or Verstael had physically modified him in a cyborg-like manner, that would take out that choice factor pretty significantly. There’s not much to confess after the three (well...two) of them rescue a Prompto that now looks half magitek. Hell, he’d probably feel awful about it, and deciding to go back to them would have been that much harder for him in that discussion with Aranea. 

And then there’s Noctis. Boy already feels so guilty about the events of the train. He’s gonna blame himself for the torture that Prompto endured all alone out here, from the second he shoved him off the train onward. He literally cast him out, albeit accidentally. But Prompto doesn’t know that. The discoveries about himself and the modifications he goes through in this au hit hard, and he would feel much more deserving of that fate of being outcast. When Noctis is confronted with this, he feels like he’s to blame for Prompto’s hurt, even if he wasn’t the one that directly caused most of it. He’d work twice as hard to make up for it, giving him all the reassurances that he is Prompto and they all care about him so, so much. 

It might take a while longer (not that there’s a whole lot of time between the keep and Noct being monched on by the crystal), but Prompto wants to believe that he’s sincere. The fact that he’s going through so much effort to make him feel better about himself doesn’t go unnoticed. 

And hey, depending on the level of mechanical additives that Prompto has now, he could figure out how to get them removed. If not, he can and will find a way to work it to his advantage in battle.

As always, if anyone has anything to add on, please do!!

[tarotdeckshuffle]

The bros + ravus who's s/o is the one to get stuck in the crystal instead of noct.

I’ve been wanting to get something out for everyone, but I’ve gotten so behind with some of my zine pieces that it’s been hectic! I’m part of a Mini Bang that should be out in December and a writer’s centric zine that will be out around the same time too! Those pieces should be awesome! 

Also, I’m back in Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic hell. So I’m on like my millionth play through of that? Carth Onasi? More like Carth O’Yassssy. 

Ok. I’m sorry. I’ll shut up and write now. 

Taglist: @idiotflowerex, @laststory1013, @sayaoqueen, @jophinabean, @mysme-already

If you like what you read, please consider supporting me on Patreon or buying me a Ko-fi!

Noctis

Feels overwhelmingly guilty.

Knows that should have been him.

Crushed at first,

Doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

Tears, hopelessness, darkness.

That’s all there is now.

You left him behind.

You’re...gone.

It takes the other Bros to try to knock some sense into him.

He has to have hope. He has to believe you’ll come back.

If not, then what is there?

Thinks he won’t leave Gralea until you return. 

Ends up going to Lestallum with the others to try to help refugees.

It’s what you would have wanted.

Works to better himself and all of Eos.

There will be a world for you to return to.

And when you return, he’ll be here waiting. 

Prompto

Also crushed at first,

But tries his hardest to work through the pain. 

There WILL be a world for you to come back to.

Likely stands and stares at the crystal for hours.

Simply...waiting,

Like a dog at the door.

Stubbornly holds onto hope that you’ll return.

Talks about everything you’ll do together “when you get back”. 

Like you’ve gone for a weekend trip.

Ignis has to sit with him and discuss the possibilities.

He knows that his hope may be futile,

But it’s all he has left.

He’s barely holding himself together,

And the thought of you being gone for good…

Well, he’s just not sure if would be able to go on without you.

So he waits.

Hope is all he has, until he can hold you again.

Ignis

Stunned at first.

He promised to protect Noctis, but…

It was you he should have been worried about.

Devastated. 

He doesn’t know what to do to begin with. 

Wants to hope that you’ll return…

But hope tends to lead to disappointment in this world.

And he’s just not sure he can.

But everyday, he waits.

At first, he leaves a flower at the crystal for you,

Staring at it, hoping it’ll somehow tell him what to do,

But flowers become scarce with the lack of sunlight.

So he starts making paper flowers.

And leaves a trail of them from Gralea to Lestallum,

So that one day, maybe

You’ll find your way home.

Gladio

Is in a battle with himself.

His heart wants to have hope,

Wants to believe that you’ll be back in his arms soon.

But his head is far darker.

It tells him that you’re gone,

And never coming back. 

He stands and stares at the crystal,

Wishing he could fight it to give you up,

Wishing he could rescue you.

But it’s all pointless.

Eventually the men return to Lestallum,

Where he and Iris speak about you.

She convinces him that hope...well…

It can’t hurt.

So Gladio leaves a light on in the window each day.

That maybe his star will find their way home. 

Ravus

So many emotions run through him.

Despair, anger, dread, grief.

Has he lost you? 

Will you return?

Was it you who were to join with the crystal all along?

If not, what shall become of you?

He’s angry at Noctis and Ardyn all over again,

This is all their fault.

At first, he lashes out at everything.

But he also wants to believe in you.

You are the strongest force he has ever known.

Stays in Gralea for as long as he can,

Guarding the crystal until the rock grows dark. 

Then is convinced to wait for you in Lestallum. 

Carries a trinket of yours with him wherever he goes. 

For now, you are gone.

And Ravus remains. 

Hope is painful, but he will endure it for you. 

Luna

This?!

This is what all of her work has been for?!

That was meant to be Noctis, the King of Light,

Who joined with the Crystal.

Not you.

Here she is now,

More alone than she’s ever felt in her life. 

She wants to hope, 

To believe that you will come back to her.

But she is so very tired. 

She worries she’ll forget about you.

So she comes up with an idea.

For every thought of you she has,

She makes a paper star. 

Her pockets are filled with small scraps of paper

And she can practically fold them one handed now.

And like magic, paper becomes stares in a matter of minutes,

Without her even realizing it anymore. 

Soon, her home is filled with jar upon jar of paper stars. 

She starts to release them for the children to admire.

Paper stars float on the wind across this dark world,

And fill her home to the brim. 

Because her heart is filled with thoughts of you,

And she won’t let this world forget you. 

Cor

Waits in Gralea and guards the Crystal.

Makes this his new duty. 

Either he will be here when you return,

Or he shall fall at your feet. 

Nyx

Doesn’t wait around for you,

Tends to move on from the place of grief,

But holds your memory close.

He becomes far more rash,

Throwing himself into any dangerous situation.

Other’s tell him to have faith that you’ll return,

And he wants to.

Oh, he wants to.

But he just can’t bring himself to.

Everyone he’s lost is gone.

There was no waiting around for his family to come back,

No waiting around for King Regis to come back,

So now...now what is there?

Crowe makes him promise that he’ll stick around,

That he’ll at least pretend that you’ll come back.

And he tries.

If you come back,

He’ll be here.

But he isn’t sure he has the strength for hope right now. 

Ardyn

Doesn’t wait around this accursed Crystal for your return.

For all he knows, the gods have taken you from him,

The only true light of his life,

And the gods stole it away. 

Evil Ardyn will strike down the Bros then and there,

Blaming them for this and being done with EVERYTHING.

Good Ardyn will still blame them, but may team up with them to end all of this,

And by that I mean kill Bahamut. 

He will bring this whole world down,

To lay it at your feet.

A gift to you, for your inevitable and glorious return.

[dusky-dancing]

Noctluna and 23 pretty please :D

Thank you for the ask, anon! And thank you for your patience. It’s been too long since I wrote some Noctluna, so I was really excited to write this!

See this post for the full list!

Without further ado, here’s #23, A Kiss in Relief

—————————————————————————————–

Waking up in the middle of the night was hard enough, but waking up ten years in the past was a whole other experience. Noctis shot up in his bed, ignoring the pounding in his skull and the sweat covering his body. The thoughts racing through his mind shouted louder than any pain his nerves were trying to alert him to.

Where am I?

Once his eyes adjusted to the dark, a quick glance around told him he was in the high-end suite of the Leville Hotel in Altissia. It wasn’t flooded and ruined, which meant he’d made it before the Leviathan ceremony.

Umbra nudged his leg from the side of the bed, reassuring him further.

It worked.

I made it back.

But did he remember everything?

“Noctis?” Ignis’ familiar voice spoke softly from another bed. “Are you alright?”

Noctis sat up further, and his friend followed. The sight of Ignis nearly sent the prince into a flurry of tears already.

“Ignis,” Noctis choked, “your eyes.”

Ignis sighed, “Must you make fun of my glasses at every opportunity? I don’t look that strange without them.”

“No, you-” Noctis stopped himself. There was too much going through his head to articulate any important details. “Nevermind.”

All he knew was that it had worked. He’d travelled back in time with Umbra. He quickly scanned his memories from the future, like they were a dream that would slip away within seconds of waking up.

I became the last King of Lucis.

I had to defeat Ardyn and end the Starscourge at a great cost, but it could’ve gone differently.

I can make up for the sins of my forefather, Somnus.

I can prevent Ignis from going blind for me.

I can prevent Luna from-

“Luna!” he shot onto his feet. If the room hadn’t been awake before, it was now.

Prompto startled out of bed and landed on the floor. Gladio was up on his feet in an instant, weapon drawn out of instinct.

Noctis ignored all of their following grumbles and questions. Without a single word, he made his way over to the room’s balcony. From there, the Secretary’s estate was clearly visible in the night air.

If he had truly travelled back in time, then the Empire was keeping her there under watch, and he wanted nothing more than to see for himself if she’d gone back too. He had Umbra, she had Pryna, and she’d wanted to take this second chance with him. He just prayed that it had worked for them both.

Deciding to ask for forgiveness from his friends rather than permission, he summoned the Engine Blade and threw it to the nearest street lamp. He blinked into a streak of blue, and a moment later, he was dangling from the very same lamp. Umbra already sat on the cobble street a few feet away, waiting for him.

As soon as his feet hit the ground, he ran.

He made his way down the dark, empty street. His body felt lighter than he remembered, less strong but also much less broken. He couldn’t remember how to get to the estate, or where Luna was even being kept, but she was finally within reach again. That alone was enough to drive him forward.

Down the street, he thought he spotted a stray dog. That was, until she emerged under a street lamp, and Pryna’s white fur reflected off of the glowing amber light.

She did it, he thought.

Before he could order his legs to move faster towards Umbra’s companion, however, a heavenly voice called out to him amidst the sleeping city.

“Noctis?”

It was her voice, and Noctis’ heart nearly leapt out of his chest. Suddenly, the waterfronts and buildings were flying by him twice as quickly.

“Luna!” he answered in the direction of Pryna.

“Noctis?!” She called back more desperately.

Around the same corner that her dog had run from, she appeared, and their eyes met not a moment later. Her hair was down, and she was dressed in nothing but a tattered sleeping gown. But none of that mattered as the distance between them vanished. He could do nothing but wrap himself around her as tightly as possible and lift her into the air. He cherished every sensation under his hands, memorized the feeling of her own touch all over him, and buried his face into her undone golden hair.

His younger self had missed out on all of this, and he suddenly despised the man for not running to her the moment he’d seen her speaking at the podium.

After a moment, he willed himself to pull back and take in her face. She was just as beautiful as when he’d last seen her.

Relief flooded over him as the realization hit that she was truly here, neither as a ghost nor returned under the strings of The Draconian. He touched her face and combed his fingers through her hair, ignoring the tears and tangles as he leaned in to kiss her. They technically weren’t married yet, but he didn’t care. He cherished their second first kiss all the same. She pulled him closer and kissed him just as deeply until he knew she was drowning just as much in relief.

Gone were the awkward betrothed nobles separated for too much of their lives, replaced by two fate-twisted lovers who knew the truth and were determined to change destiny.

A joyous giggle escaped from her lips while she kissed him. He pulled back and smiled, before realizing they’d yet to share any words besides their own names.

He planted a kiss on her forehead and asked, “What’s so funny, my wife?”

She laughed again and glanced up to meet his eyes. She peppered her own kisses along his cheek, down to his jaw then all the way to his ear. “I was just thinking, husband, about how I missed the tickle of your beard.”

He laughed. “Lucky for you, it should only take ten years or so to grow back in.” He leaned back to take her in again, but couldn’t bring himself to be away from her warmth for long. “We made it.”

“We did,” she muttered into his shirt. “Feels strange to be back so far.”

“Hey,” he pushed away again, “how’d you get out here? Aren’t you supposed to be under watch?”

She giggled lightly. “I may have jumped out a window.”

Noctis’ jaw hung open for a moment. For him, jumping out of a window was as easy as throwing his sword at the right place. For her, she actually had to land on her feet, and he highly doubted they were keeping her in a ground floor room.

She sensed his shock. “Worry not, the hedges broke my fall,” she said as she stroked his cheek. That explained her ruined nightwear. “I just needed to see you.”

He hummed under her touch. “I can’t blame you there.”

The swift footsteps of his brothers approached, then abruptly stopped as soon as they realized what was happening. They probably had many questions. Questions which Noctis would be more than happy to answer fully and truthfully. They could change fate, save lives, prevent a ten-year scourge, and maybe even find Ardyn and convince him to change his plan.

They could do this.

But right now, they just wanted each other.

—————————————————————————-

A/N: Thank you for reading!

I don’t know about you, but after reading the proposed story of Luna and Noctis’s cancelled DLCs, I couldn’t help but feel like we missed out on a great alternate ending to the game. Alas, it shall never be playable, but the concept art and inspiration are there all the same:) In the original game, the player has the chance to travel back to Altissia with Umbra after the timeskip, and I couldn’t help but imagine how Noctis and Luna would react to being given a second chance to change Fate.

[fallintosanity]

young gladio’s turn to have a freak-out. but gladio at any age doesn’t do things by halves.

have a little angst for the holidays? 

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18

“Good,” Ignis said. He nudged Prompto gently. “Then go sit with him. I’ll handle the dishes.” 

“You sure?” Prompto said. “I don’t mind—” 

“Neither do I,” Ignis said. “Please.” 

Prompto studied him for a second. He suspected that as much as anything, Ignis wanted a few minutes to focus on a task away from the others, to compose himself and maybe try to not be so snappish. So he nodded and flashed a smile. “Thanks.” 

Ignis smiled back, then busied himself with finding a cloth to wash the skewers. Prompto left him to it and retreated to Noctis’s chair, settling onto the ground and leaning back against Noct’s legs. Noct bumped him lightly with a knee, a question: you okay? Prompto nudged back with his elbow: I’m fine. 

His neck prickled, and he looked up to see Future Noctis watching him with an odd expression on his face. If Prompto hadn’t known better he would almost have thought it was jealousy - but why would Future Noctis be jealous of Prompto? 

Future Noctis looked away abruptly, shifting in his seat in a way all too familiar to Prompto from years of being in the same classes as the prince: he was uncomfortable, and was about to change the subject. Sure enough, Future Noctis said, “Ignis, Gladio. Any news from the Crown City?” 

“Yeah,” Future Gladio said. “I sat on the radio in the van while they were out hunting.” He jerked his head at the Ignises. 

“We decided not to risk turning on our younger counterparts’ cell phones, in case the Crownsguard is trying to track them,” Future Ignis explained. “But the Kingsglaive van’s radio has some access to Crownsguard encrypted communications channels, and as far as we can tell they’re not yet aware we have it.” 

“News on the Crownsguard channels ain’t good, though,” Future Gladio said. 

Noctis twitched, his leg bumping Prompto again, but this time it was tension. “Is my dad okay?” 

Future Gladio waved a hand absently. “Regis is fine. They got him to a safe house last night.” 

“Then—” 

“It’s the rest of the Citadel,” Future Gladio said. “It’s still crawling with daemons.” 

Prompto glanced up at the brilliant blue sky - the brilliant blue sunlit sky - on reflex, peripherally aware of his future self doing the same thing. “But it’s daylight,” he protested. “I thought daemons didn’t come out during the day.” 

“That’s the problem,” Future Gladio said. “From the sound of it, it ain’t daylight at the Citadel.” 

“Ardyn,” Future Prompto muttered bitterly. Future Gladio jostled him on his knee, then when Future Prompto threw out his arms for balance, wrapped a massive hand around Future Prompto’s right wrist. Prompto scratched at his own gauze-wrapped wrist, his skin crawling. He hated people touching his right wrist, yet his adult self didn’t seem to mind Future Gladio doing it. Seemed to be glad about it, actually, if the way he relaxed was any indication. 

Then he realized Future Noctis was watching them with the same weirdly jealous expression he’d had watching Prompto and Noctis. 

Prompto leaned harder into Noctis’s legs. He remembered Noct saying last night that his future self had spent ten years locked away inside the Crystal while everyone else kept living in the real world. Was that what had happened? Watching Noctis interact with Ignis and Gladio always made Prompto feel like an outsider - they’d known each other for years and years longer than Prompto had, and it showed in the way they spoke to each other, the way they moved around one another. Had Future Noctis spent so long in the Crystal that he’d lost that, and instead Future Prompto had it? The thought was bizarre, and more than a little unsettling. 

“I’m not sure it’s Ardyn,” Future Ignis said, interrupting Prompto’s musings. “Noct, you said last night Ardyn seemed surprised by the daemons at the Citadel.”

Future Noctis nodded, the moment of jealousy vanishing behind a serious expression that made him look like King Regis. “He was definitely surprised.”

“Surprised you knew about them, maybe,” Future Gladio said.

“I don’t think so,” Future Noctis said. “He knew we were at the Citadel. He doesn’t have any reason to send them, anyway. He needs me to claim the throne and the Crystal, and I can’t see how a daemon infestation at the Citadel would make that happen.” 

“I think you’re right,” Future Ignis said. “Whatever’s causing the disturbance at the Citadel, it’s not Ardyn Izunia.” 

Future Gladio grunted disagreement. “You guys said that last night, but you still haven’t said who else it could be. That didn’t happen in our past, which means it’s something that changed as a result of us being here. But we didn’t do it, so it has to be Ardyn.” 

“Just because we don’t know what’s causing it, doesn’t mean it must be Ardyn,” Future Ignis said, irritation in his tone. He gestured at his own younger self, still washing dishes; then at Prompto and Noctis and Gladio. “Obviously they aren’t us as such, else we’d remember it. Therefore—”

“A branched timeline,” Future Gladio said. “But we’re still the branching point.” 

“That doesn’t—” Future Ignis began heatedly.

“Enough,” Future Noctis broke in, raising one hand. Behind Prompto, Noctis twitched, and Prompto wondered just how much Future Noctis had sounded like King Regis. Prompto had only ever seen the king at a distance, on television and once up on a stage at a festival for Bahamut which Prompto had attended mostly as moral support for Noctis. King Regis was known for being quiet and thoughtful in public, but Noctis had mentioned that his dad could be stern when his councilors started bickering.

Future Noctis was clearly channeling that sternness now as he continued, “We can keep working on the why of it. But we need to decide what we’re going to do in the meantime.” 

“Going back to the Citadel’s out,” Future Gladio said, and Future Prompto nodded agreement. 

“And I’m not going back until we’ve fixed things, anyway,” Noctis broke in. “Daemons or no daemons.” All of the adults turned to look at him as though they’d forgotten he was there; he scowled and folded his arms. “I said last night, I’m gonna change the future. I’m not letting Luna and Dad die.” 

“Okay,” Future Noctis said. “Then here’s what we’re going to do. Prompto.” 

Prompto snapped to attention, nerves twisting his gut, but Future Noctis was talking to Prompto’s own adult self. He continued, “You and I will take Kid Ignis and Kid Gladio to Hammerhead. If they’re going to be running around out here, they need to know Cid and Cindy. We can show them how hunts work, too, and pick up supplies while we’re there, maybe get some more information about what’s going on in the Crown City.” 

“What about Noct?” Gladio spoke up from behind Noct’s chair, his voice startlingly high after Future Gladio’s diesel rumble. 

“He stays here,” Future Noctis said. He glanced at Noct. “You remember how to add someone to the armory, right? You need to get your Prompto added.” He paused, then met Prompto’s eyes. “Assuming you want to be. If you don’t—”

“No,” Prompto interrupted. The nerves spiked all the way into fear, almost choking him, but he managed to get out, “No, I mean, yes, I want to be.” He looked up at his own Noctis, his heart skipping a beat. “If you want me to be, I mean.” 

“‘Course I do,” Noctis said, and nudged Prompto with his knee again. Prompto bumped him back with a shoulder. Noct was trying to put on a brave face, but Prompto knew him well enough by now to recognize how nervous he was. Prompto couldn’t blame him - he was planning to try to stop an entire invasion, to change the course of a bad future. 

Prompto wasn’t about to let him do that alone. 

“Good,” Prompto said. He wasn’t sure if he was trying more to reassure Noctis or himself, but he grinned at Noct and added, “‘Cause you’re stuck with me.” Noct grinned back, and Prompto thought he looked relieved. 

Then Gladio said, “If Noct is staying here, then so am I.” 

Everyone turned to look at him where he stood behind Noctis. His chin lifted under the scrutiny, but he nodded at Noct and said, “I’m your Shield. We’re gonna run around outside the Wall, fine. But I’m staying right beside you.” 

Noctis opened his mouth to speak, but Future Noctis beat him to it. “You can’t. You guys need to get familiar with Hammerhead, and your Prompto needs to get added to the armory—”

“So we do that later,” Gladio said, an edge to his voice. 

“He can’t go to Hammerhead,” Future Noctis said. “Most people didn’t recognize me before, but Cid will, and this time he isn’t helping my dad get me - him - us - whatever, out of Insomnia ahead of the invasion. He’ll tip off the Crownsguard, and then you’ll have the ‘Guard chasing you all over. You guys need to keep a low profile out here.” 

“Fine,” Gladio snapped. “Then I’m staying at the haven with him. Ignis can go to Hammerhead with you.” 

“It’s unwise to rely on a single person for knowledge of how things work beyond the Crown City,” Future Ignis said, his voice studiously neutral. “It would be best if two of you went.” 

“Then send Prompto.” 

“I’m gonna be adding him to the armory,” Noctis said, clearly exasperated. “Future-me is right - you and Iggy need to go do this. I’ll be fine here.” 

“I’ll be with him,” Future Gladio added. “Are you saying you don’t trust your future self?” 

“Not really.” Gladio’s voice was grim and angry. “From the sound of it, you were planning to just let your Noctis die.” 

A razor-sharp silence dropped over the haven. Future Ignis’s hands flexed as though he wished he held a weapon, while his younger counterpart had frozen in place by the camp stove. Future Prompto’s face was eerily blank, and though he still perched on Future Gladio’s knee, he shifted like he was getting ready to dive out of the way. Future Gladio himself didn’t move, but something in the way he held himself, in the lines of his face, had gone dark and dangerous. In a very low, very level voice, he said, “Want to try that again?”

Gladio seemed to realize he’d crossed a line. His eyes flicked to Noctis, clearly looking for help, but Noctis sat silent, his jaw tight. Gladio glanced at Future Noctis next, but he, too, said nothing, sitting straight-backed in his camp chair as regally as though it was the throne of Lucis. Finally Gladio said, in a voice tight with frustration, “I don’t trust anyone other than me to do my job. And my job is to protect him.” He jerked his chin at Noct. 

Another beat of that awful silence. Prompto held himself perfectly still, not even daring to breathe. Through the touch of Noctis’s leg against his shoulder, he could feel Noct shaking, whether from tension or anger, Prompto couldn’t tell. He saw his future self move one hand, very slightly, to squeeze Future Gladio’s knee. 

Then Future Gladio let out a slow breath. A crackle of energy seemed to flow out and away from the haven with it, all of them relaxing as it became clear nobody was going to start a fight. 

“We’ll talk later,” Future Gladio said to his younger self, still in that deadly level voice, grim enough that Prompto shivered. “You wanna protect your Noct, the best way you do that right now’s by going to Hammerhead and getting the intel you’ll need.”

“I’m not—”

“Shield Amicitia,” Future Noctis said sharply. “You’re going to Hammerhead. That’s an order.”

If Prompto had thought he’d sounded stern before, he sounded downright severe now. His stormy grey eyes were cold, his expression forbidding as he held Gladio’s gaze. Gladio’s mouth snapped closed, the muscles of his jaw standing out as though it was taking an effort of will not to say anything. He inclined his upper body in a stiff bow to Future Noctis, and Prompto didn’t know anything about royal etiquette but he would have bet his entire bank account that that bow was court-perfect to the millimeter. Then Gladio turned on one heel, still with that courtly precision, and stalked away toward the ramp down the side of the haven and the Kingsglaive van parked there. 

Another silence settled over the haven, this one swollen and aching like a bruise. Future Noctis breathed out a sigh, his shoulders slumping as though in pain, and Future Ignis turned away, his hands moving to pack up the dishes his younger self had washed, though his sightless gaze was fixed on the distant horizon. Prompto’s adult self was watching Future Gladio with a worried expression; after a moment Future Gladio looked up at him. His expression didn’t change, but he wrapped a hand around Future Prompto’s right wrist and squeezed. 

Prompto looked up at his own Noctis, who was still shaking, his already-pale skin several shades whiter than usual. The mood hadn’t exactly been light before, what with Ignis having his own freak-out earlier, but it was dark enough now that even the brilliant sunlight overhead felt unpleasantly dim. He wanted to say something, to break the awful tension like he had before, but this silence was too heavy for him to lift. Gladio had clearly touched a nerve with the adults, and honestly Prompto wasn’t even sure he disagreed. He’d been too busy worrying about the barcode and Ardyn Izunia and being outside the Crown City last night, but he remembered the tremor in Noct’s voice as he told Prompto about the true destiny of the Chosen King. 

I get two years before I die, Noct had said in the van. Two years, and a decade of solitude inside the Crystal that was supposed to be their savior. Then he was supposed to just let himself die, and there wasn’t anything anyone could do about it. Including Gladio, whose entire purpose - whose whole family’s entire purpose - was to not let that happen. 

No wonder both Gladios were upset. 

Prompto didn’t realize he was staring at Future Gladio until Future Gladio turned to look at him. His amber eyes were sad, exhausted in a way that made Prompto’s soul ache. He didn’t know what was on his own face, but whatever Future Gladio saw there, it made him heave out another sigh and shake himself. Future Prompto and Future Noctis both looked at him in surprise, and he said gruffly, “You guys had better get moving.” 

“Yeah,” Future Noctis agreed. He stood and headed for the tent. “C’mon, Prompto, let’s get changed. If we’re trying to be incognito we can’t show up in palace clothes.” 

Future Prompto snorted and hopped off Future Gladio’s knee, following Future Noctis to the tent. “Please tell me you’re not gonna wear that stupid puffy vest.” 

“It’s a million degrees out here, of course not!” Future Noctis said. Whatever Future Prompto’s retort was, it was too muffled by the tent flap to be heard. 

Prompto looked up at Noctis again. Noct was still pale, staring at nothing, and Prompto bumped him in the knee with his shoulder. When Noct looked down at him, Prompto said, “We’re not gonna let that happen, y’know. Like you said, we’re going to save everyone and change it.” 

Noctis nodded once, sharply, but his attempt at a smile came out more a grimace, and he didn’t say anything. Prompto frowned, because Noct had been pretty vocal about changing everything last night, and just a few minutes ago when talking to his future self— 

Wait a minute. 

All the air suddenly seemed to evaporate from Prompto’s lungs. Noctis had said he wasn’t going to let the Lady Lunafreya or King Regis die. He hadn’t said anything about himself. 

Prompto bit down on his tongue hard enough that he tasted blood. He wanted to yell at Noctis, to make him promise that he would try to save himself as much as the king and the Oracle - but not right now. Not with their future selves in earshot, with Ignis and Gladio likewise wound tight about Noct’s destiny. And he knew it wouldn’t do much good anyway. Noctis was stubborn as hell, and if he’d made up his mind that his death was necessary to save the world, nothing Prompto could say would change it. 

Any doubts about joining Noctis on this insane journey evaporated from Prompto’s mind. Terror still roiled in his gut like a live thing, but he’d survived terrifying things before. Introducing himself to the Crown Prince three years ago, for one, and being kidnapped by daemons and grabbed by Ardyn Izunia last night. He could do this. He would do this.

He had to.

[ifritini]

So the prompt was from a conversation that basically went “wait video games are real in FFXV that means I can play my favourite games haha nice” which devolved “haha the lads reacting to you falling for vidy game characters” and going with it. Basically I took a shitpost prompt and ran with it. 

Noctis Lucis Caelum

He is OFFENDED the moment you either say it casually or let it slip. After all he's the one who suggested playing the game together to spend time together, only for you to proclaim your love for one of the characters. To think you'd fall for someone that's not him and admit to it just like that? Preposterous. 

In his mind he knows it's all fictional and you truly love him. His heart however? It knows a thing or two about jealousy from even one offhand comment about your new fave video game spouse. There are of course doubts here and there over just how much you truly love him but he tries to ignore them. Success varies depending on his current peace of mind. As best as he tries to keep this jealousy up under wraps, it's hard for Noctis to not subconsciously pout over it. 

He knows you love him more than that person on the television screen but sometimes knowing for himself isn't enough and you telling him that your love for him is far greater if not entirely incomparable to that of a fictional character. He knows it's petty and childish, but he will be smug about it. Perhaps even a "Take that!" directed at them. 

Takes up to teasing you over it. "Oh look, there's your Prince not as charming as me." whenever they appear on screen. No, the pillow to the face won't shut him up no matter how many times you throw it at him. 

Prompto Argentum

He is distraught. Shaken. His own chocobae betraying him like this, in his own home no less. He is quickly reduced into a mess faster than you can add onto your passing comment; "Man I think I'm falling for this character.". He believes his entire love life career has ended then and there. Prompto has been trying to play the game of love and he just got a fatality. 

He's known jealousy towards characters before, wishing he was as cool or as smart as them in the past but now he's found a new type: your affection for them. He puffs out his chest and attempts to be ten times cooler ten times braver and ten times more badass than his newfound rival and it's hard for him to be subtle about it. 

Prompto does need to be told that it's only a passing fictional crush and your love for him outshines the crush for this character, and always will. Sure they're neat but he's the whole cake with a cherry on top.

Apologises weeks later for his crisis because he progressed further in the game and fell in love with a separate character and understands precisely how you feel. You two bond over your fictional crushes and holding their hands while lounging on Prompto's couch holding each other's hands. 

Gladiolus Amicitia

He is indifferent. Partially indifferent. The other part is mildly offended he now has competition he can't square up with face to face. Can this character hold you in their arms? Give you kisses? Take you on long hikes? No? Then what's the point of loving them when he's right there ready to do all that and more. 

He can't say much though. He plays a ton of fighting games (and mostly got good at them to wipe the floor with Noctis whenever they played against each other) and Astrals know how many times he's felt a little swoon over either lady or man who could snap his spine in half with no effort. Not to count the same crushes with the same standards from the plethora of books he's read. To protest your crush would make him a hypocrite and Gladiolus most certainly isn't one. 

Not to say he doesn't slip in "Bet they can't love you as much as I do." and bringing you closer without a warning and smothering you with all the love only he can give. Nope, not jealousy. Not one bit. "You realise I love you more right?" you ask and he just beams like he heard it for the first time again. 

Much like Noctis he will relentlessly tease you over this. No you can't shut him up. No he won't stop. No shoving a pillow in his face won't work like with Noctis and he'll dodge it. But Astrals forbid you find out about his own pile of fictional crushes because it works wonders as a counterattack. 

Ignis Scientia 

Mostly confused over literal pixels managing to get your affection. Not that he blames you considering his schedule offers little free time but he can't help but find himself… Thinking. The day he admits this "thinking" is his cover up for sulking is the day he will die. A small, horrible little thought wonders if you're finally falling out of love with him. Again, he won't blame you due to his work. 

As silly as it is Ignis admits he feels jealousy. To himself only of course. He would rather die than let anyone else know that some fictional person has his heart in a twist over you. Him being so in control over his emotions is his triumph, but after it's been eating away at him after a while it becomes his downfall. 

"Did you really think I'd legitimately choose anyone over you?" comes your response after he finally decides to open up what's causing his most recent fowl mood. He knows it's silly. He assumes you know he knows it's silly. Yet hearing those words has him beaming. Hiding the self assured smug smile becomes harder with each passing second. 

Won't tease you as bad as Noctis and Gladio, but does make a passing comment every now and then. Though instead of teasing you over your crush, it's more in the ilk of "A shame they're not there to hold you like I am." 

Lunafreya Nox Fleuret 

She is FLOORED. What do you mean you love them? And what is she? A worm to you? She will be pouting about this and she will be miffed you can't take her seriously when she looks cute doing anything, including pouting. A shame she is very much so guilty of the same thing. You distinctly remember her talking about some muscle bound sword wielding girl in a television show a day before and how dreamy she was, and a week before about some ditzy male character in a book she found cute. She won't win this. 

Jealous? Absolutely. Does she try to hide it? Yes and the keyword is try. You easily tell what's up when she's frowning at the television and that character appears. She'll have her few attempts at denying anything but finally caves in and admits that she does in fact envy your feelings for a bunch of pixels no matter how small the affection. 

Knows she shouldn't need reassuring that you love her most but that doesn't stop her from revelling it when you confess your undying love. You can tell by the slight puffing up of her chest that she feels a GREAT sense of victory over this. 

It's just back and forth teasing and both your fictional crushes turn into a battlefield. It's all a game who can get the other flustered worse and sadly there are no winners when you both end up a mess. It's all good, and the scores are always settled by cuddles right after the battle is fought. 

Ravus Nox Fleuret 

Frankly he is offended. Granted you cannot tell by his disgruntled look that seems to be ever prevalent no matter his current internal turmoil. He is right there in the flesh and you're fawning over pixels? He just doesn't get it and refuses to. Immediately takes the leap to conclusions and assumes you truly don't love this mess of a man anymore. Laments over his continuous loss and begins coming to terms with his fate of being unloved. 

Tries not to be passive aggressive over it but it turns out it’s something easier said than done. Somehow he manages to perfectly convey it without any words - just glaring an impressive amount of daggers at the television screen. Hasn’t felt this jealous since that time before he could even muster up the courage to confess to you and he found out some random Niflheim soldier was chatting you up. At least then his competition was tangible. How was he to prove himself over some funky colours on the screen? 

The cat’s finally out of the bag and your suspicions are confirmed when he makes his first ever direct remark: “What’s so great about them anyways.”. His tone absolutely takes you aback; he sounds like a sibling who received a second less worth of attention from a parent. Ravus has to get affirmation that you do in fact love him a whole lot more. Ravus will revel in this little fun fact - or would smug be a better word? 

Cannot tease you without feeling jealousy creeping up and he absolutely hates himself for it. And so instead you get little offhand comments such as “Let them best me in a duel and we will see who wins your hand in marriage.” No varying levels of exasperation in your sigh will deter him, he will refuse to relent. 

Ardyn Lucis Caelum

For the most part he is confused. Didn’t really think someone could catch a bad case of the feelings for a fictional character but sometimes it’s best some questions go unanswered. Jealousy? In my Ardyn? It’s… less likely than you think. He knows for a FACT whoever this person is on the screen cannot even begin to compare to what he has. Perhaps their one redeeming factor is not being a walking talking daemon parade and being able to not sting in sunlight but that’s not enough to outshine this package. 

Doesn’t stop him from making a big show out of it all. He sees the chance to dramatically drape himself over your lap, lamenting how his one love has been snatched away by this stranger. The antics cannot and will not end. 

Doesn’t really need confirmation that you do in fact love him more, but appreciates it when you say it nonetheless. That’s simply proving him right and the only thing he loves more than being right is you. The second bonus is more smugness to throw around. “Oh I pity that poor soul, never knowing what true love feels like. Unlike me, of course.”. 

And a pity for you, because he’s found a new weaponised way to tease you with. A whole ten miles farther than Noctis or Gladio could ever wish for, you’d swear he’s writing you some sort of self insert fanfiction on the spot. The pros? He seems to be putting quite a lot of effort into it. The cons? He’s doing it specifically just to fluster you, alongside the things he decides to come up with to achieve that goal. 

Aranea Highwind 

Her confidence has not wavered since she found out. Or rather, it hasn’t wavered that much. Psh, of course you still love her. Right?  Right? Good thing that inner turmoil is kept under wraps. She’d much rather an Astral strike her down where she stands rather than have to admit she has beef with a fictional character you just so happened to take a liking to. 

Gets all in a little jealous twist wondering exactly what she’s missing. What does that pixelated rando have that she doesn’t? A physical body for one and that leaves her ever so slightly questioning her lover capabilities. Has she failed? Is this how it ends? You somehow ride off into the sunset with this character somehow materialised? What a life to live and this shall be her legacy. 

Her act gets thrown off and while normally concerning, this time you’re grateful so you can pinpoint just what’s on her mind. She may huff all she wants but there’s not much one can do caught red handed. Logically she knows she doesn’t need that affirmation but emotionally? By the Astrals does she wanna hear it. “You do realise… I love you more right…?” Damn right you do. Her confidence has reached astronomical new levels. 

There is no grandiose teasing but there is a few smug comments. Her goto is looking at the screen and tutting; “A shame they’ll never be me, huh babe?”. Absolutely takes is as a competition and knows she can win every battle by simply stating that she can do it ten times better, and will do it now given the chance. 

[alternatewarning]

Static Radio - Whumptober 2020 Fic

Entry number 13 and 21 for Whumptober 2020: Breathe In Breathe Out and I Don’t Feel So Well/Chronic Pain

Title: Static Radio Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Pairing: Prompto/Noctis Rating: T Trigger Warnings: Major character death, coughing up blood Summary: After Noctis defeated Ardyn and took the throne, Insonima has been working hard to build itself back up. There is always work to do for everyone, from citizen to Crownsguard. Trying to be the king of a kingdom in ruins was a hard task, a busy task, which is why Prompto couldn't really catch his best friend to talk to him in private. To tell the now-king that his best friend was dying.

Cross posted to Ao3

Prompto hunched over in a corner of the Citadel, covering his mouth with his elbow as he coughed loudly, the force causing his entire body to shake. He was already running late for the meeting he was supposed to attend and this wasn’t helping. After the second round of lung-scarring coughs wracked through his chest, he took a moment to try and compose himself. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, purposefully ignoring the dark red stain that was now setting into his jacket. His jacket was black so no one would notice. After forcing himself to breathe normally he straightened his clothes and went back to panicking about running late.

“When are you planning to tell Noctis?” Prompto was rudely awoken from his daydreaming by Ignis’s soft tone. He blinked, looking around the meeting room. Everyone was filling out already so clearly he’d checked out and missed the last half hour of the meeting. And now it was just him and the advisor leaning against the desk in front of him.

“Tell him...what? Exactly?” Prompto knew he was playing dumb and it would get him absolutely nowhere. If anyone could figure out what was going on with literally no information, it would be Ignis. The older man let the tension hang between them, a silent sigh.

“About your condition. This has already been going on for months. You’re on a strict timeline.” The blond wanted to frown. Some day, just once in his life, he wanted Ignis to be wrong about something. But, as always, he somehow put together all the pieces of a puzzle that no one else seemed to even notice was there just yet. How a blind man managed to figure out something was physically wrong with him was completely beyond his comprehension but he knew better than to try and figure it out. Ignis could do anything he wanted it by stubbornness alone.

“I’ll tell him. Just, the right time hasn’t come up yet. Don’t worry about it.”

“How could I not worry? It is none of my business but Prompto…”

“I know, I’ll tell Noct. Just, gimmie some time.” Prompto knew time was the one thing he didn’t have. And clearly, the advisor knew it as well but he said no more. With a small nod, Ignis excused himself, leaving behind enough doubt in his wake that it didn’t even seem like he left. He was right (he was always right). Time was running out if he was going to tell Noctis. But how did one tell their best friend they were dying?

Normally Prompto would spend his afternoon training, working, taking pictures, or maybe going out drinking. There was a lot left to do to rebuild Insomnia and even the rest of the continent beyond that. But today wasn’t one of those days. Instead, he just went home, half collapsing onto his bed, still in his jacket and shoes. His home was little more than an apartment with a bed, shower, and a fridge but he really didn’t need anything else. Especially not now. Not when every bone in his body felt like it was shattering to pieces under his skin.

By the time he hit the mattress he was so exhausted that he wasn’t sure if he could even shift into a better position. Every day was getting harder and harder. It hurt to walk, sit, stand, breathe, exist. He was good at hiding it, of course, hiding things was the one thing that Prompto had managed to completely master. Hiding his feelings, hiding his pain. He didn’t want anyone else to worry. But now the pain had transitioned into something a whole lot worse. Thinking of it seemed to remind his body that his lungs were still in his chest and he rolled onto his knees, a sudden string of coughs ripping through his lungs. Since no one was watching he didn’t bother to hide, Prompto just let the blood splatter onto his mattress.

Once the forceful need to cough had finally faded he ended up coughing more, blood clogging his throat. Ignis was right, he was running out of time. He’d already tried potions and magic, nothing made it any better, nothing took the pain away. Prompto even knew why, he just pretended that he didn’t. He wasn’t wounded or ill, he was breaking down. Magitek soldiers weren’t cloned to live long lives. They were supposed to be created and then demonized so quickly it didn’t matter how long their bodies could survive. He was just reaching the end of his shelf life.

Even for Prompto, who had retained best friend status even through ten years of separation, it was hard to get time with Noctis alone. There was always something. And no one could blame him for that. He was rebuilding an entire kingdom, one brick at a time. So when Noctis was running late he couldn’t really hold it against his friend. Instead, he just waited, watching. He’d chosen to meet at the fountain, a landmark for most people, but to them it was special. As teenagers they’d spent a lot of time here, goofing off, talking about school, talking about life. It was where Nocits told him about his marriage to Luna; it was where he told Noctis about how lonely he was sometimes, jealous, that Noctis had so many people who loved him. It seemed like a fitting place to talk.

While he was sitting there, just watching people walk by, a piece of trash was blown by the wind. It hit the gunman in the face who let out a huff, grabbing the plastic with a little more force than necessary. It was an empty chip bag. He almost yelled about people littering a city they were still putting back together when he noticed the bottom of the bag. It had a date stamped on it, the best by date. Prompto ‘hmmed’ under his breath. He was no different from a mass-produced bag of chips. Except he was sticking around way past his best by date.

“Sorry I’m late, what did you want to talk about? I hope it’s qu...Prompto? Are you okay?” Noctis hurried up to his friend, the tone of his voice trailing from rushed to worried. He’d know that whatever Prompto wanted to talk about was serious, he wouldn’t have suggested meeting at the fountain otherwise, but there was clearly something wrong. He looked pale, haggard, in a way that the king had never seen before. And he’d seen his friend chased by daemons, climbing a mountain, running for his life, and kidnapped and tortured by Ardyn.

The blond let out a heavy sigh before lifting his head and smiling at his friend, even if it didn’t meet his eyes. He tossed the empty bag over his shoulder, letting the wind carry it away.

“I’m fine.” The lie deflated before it even left his mouth. “Okay, I’m not exactly fine. But that’s why I wanted to talk. Um…” He bit down on his lip, trying to sort out of how to say this. He should have decided that ahead of time but good ideas were never his strong suit.

“Ya know how when stuff gets mass produced it’s not necessarily very high quality?” Prompto offered what seemed like a change of subject. Noctis slowly walked over and sat next to him on the edge of the fountain. Just like when they were in high school.

“Yeah. Prompto…”

“Well, if you remember, I um. I kinda…” Blue eyes looked up and met the king’s looking back at him. He wanted to just leave off there, let the rest stay unsaid. The look, the pity in Noctis’s eyes said that he knew where this was going, he understood. But he didn’t stop Prompto, he let him continue. He wanted him to continue. He needed to head the words.

“I’m dying, Noct. I’m breaking down. It’s been over a year and it’s just getting, well, bad. Like real bad. And I-” Prompto felt himself get cut off by a sensation against his mouth. It took his brain much too long to register that he was no longer talking because he was being kissed. It took even longer for his brain to catch up on why this was such a bad idea, but he ignored that part of his inner monologue and just kissed back.

“I’m not going to let you die.” Nocits spoke but Prompto barely heard it through the blood rushing by his ears. He could still feel the cool lips against his, the scratch of Noctis’s stumble against his cheek.

“We, you, um, what just happened?” The gunman looked around, almost expecting someone to jump out with a video camera. But nothing happened. A few passers-by were giving him an indecipherable look but that much was to be expected. The king had just kissed him. Suddenly. In public.

“Prompto.” Noctis took one of his hands, intertwining their fingers like lovesick teenagers. “I’m not going to let you die. I want to know why you didn’t tell me before but I’m sure you had your reasons. I’m going to fight tooth and nail for you, you know that. So come on. I’m sure we can figure something out.”

For a few short seconds Prompto just blinked. He’d thought about this conversation all night. He’d planned out what to say, not that he’d remembered any of his plans once he started talking, and he had tried to prepare himself for Noct’s response. He was prepared for sadness, anger, disappointment. Not for a kiss. Not for the king to look him in the eyes and promise to try and find a way to help him.

“Noct, I mean, um, thanks?” He couldn’t help but smile. It didn’t matter how much it hurt, how much he spent every day wanted nothing more than for it to end because then he could go back to bed, none of that mattered. Not compared to this. To Noct smiling at him, holding on just tight enough that it said ‘I’m not letting go’.

Just as Prompto stood up so they could walk back to the Citadel together he felt it. The familiar tickle. It started as nothing more than an annoyance but blossomed into a full-blown need in only a few seconds. He pulled his hand away from the king’s long enough to cover his mouth as he started to cough, hacking loudly as his entire body trembled with each breath. He felt droplets of blood splatter across his fingers as black dots started to appear in his vision. He couldn’t stop coughing.

“Come on Prom, you’re okay. Come on, breathe!” Noctis helped him kneel on the ground, his entire world out of focus. All he could pay attention to was the burn in his chest and the wet droplets against his hands. He had to hold on, just a little bit longer. He wasn’t going to let himself die, not after Noctis, not after he realized that he might actually have a chance.

“Come on, Prom, breathe. You’re okay just keep breathing. We need help, can someone get us help!” Noctis yelled to the people around them, a few of which were quickly running off. Hopefully to get someone. The king felt his friend fading in his arms. He was coughing less and less, but not because he didn’t need to, but because he was passing out.

“Prompto!” Noctis lifted the other man in his arms, just as he saw some of the new Crownsguard rushing over. Maybe they couldn’t save him just yet, but if they could just keep him alive then they would have time. They just needed more time.

[autumn-maple13]

Lost to Time - Chapter 31

Chapter 31: The Cape

It was late afternoon the next day when the group finally made it back to the Regalia and Amara's motorcycle, having decided to spend another night at the Haven in the Thicket for the woman to recover a bit more of her energy, as well as for them to come up with a plan. There were still a few too many loose ends for Ignis to be comfortable with by the time they eventually recovered, but even he had been unable to account for much outside the realm of the current knowledge now that Amara's secret had been revealed and left the already wildcard that was Ardyn Izunia an even more unpredictable piece.

As everyone returned their previous spots, Amara spared her cousin one more look before she turned over the engine of her bike and pulled away from the gravelly parking spot. The Regalia pulled out close behind her, and Noctis was actually attempting to keep up this time. A sharp right off the dirt road and back onto the freeway had them soon to be speeding around mountain curves until the sea came into view off to their right. She could hear a car horn behind her, so after a quick glance revealed Noctis to be signaling her, Amara pulled off into a parking spot she saw ahead.

"Noctis, what's up? We've hardly been on the road long enough-"

Prompto had run up and slung an arm around his former schoolmate before she could finish and leaned in close so he could whisper to her. "Iris is feeling a little iffy about jumping ship so soon. Noct thought a little more time for her to hang with all of us would help her feel a bit better about it."

"Ah, got it. In that case," the woman pulled out her map to glance over, soon finding where she thought they might be on a long winding road near the coast. "There's a Haven up ahead. I know we only just left the other one, but maybe we can camp out again, and do a little fishing?"

Ignis didn't seem upset at the idea. "It would be nice to restock some of our supplies."

"Alright, I'll go let Noct know!" Prompto grinned and ran back to the car, and after a quick glance back at them Amara stowed her map away and pulled her motorcycle back onto the road. It wasn't too long of a drive, with the ocean stretching out to their right providing a welcome distraction, right up until they started to cross a massive bridge, heading for one of the region's many tunnels. Amara could sense the Haven's power not far away and pulled to a stop close to a concrete staircase that led down to a sloping hill below. Noctis was careful to pull the Regalia up behind her.

"Where's this Haven at?"

"That way." Gladiolus didn't seem impressed but motioned for her to lead the way. With a nod, the redhead started down the steps, taking a moment at the bottom to look out to the mouth of the river that was feeding into the ocean whose salt was stinging her nose. The sea breeze wasn't very strong where they were, sheltered by a rocky outcrop, but she could see the trees rustling overhead. It was a fair slope downward toward the river, with rocks and boulders sticking up everywhere though it did start to clear up as they got closer to the riverbank. As they stepped out onto the open stone bank, she looked over at the cliff framed view of gentle waves, feeling the breeze pick up around them.

"Wow. I've never seen the ocean like this before."

"Really? You would have loved Galdin Quay then!" Prompto laughed, pulling out his camera to take a few photos. "Hey, maybe you should ask Iggy to take you back sometime."

"Sounds romantic," Gladiolus snickered, patting Amara's shoulder as he walked past her. "If you do go, try not to have too much fun."

The woman huffed, giving his sister a look. "I think he's jealous."

"Well he did have a crush on you way back when so-"

"Iris!"

"Wait what?!"

"Duude!"

Ignis, despite the quick adjustment of his glasses, didn't seem fazed by the implication, instead crossing his arms with a rather knowing look. "Come now Gladio, don't blame Iris for telling us something that quite frankly I'm surprised no one else noticed. However, you might want to work on that timing. I believe you're late? And by quite a few years, might I add."

Amara grimaced, turning her look on the elder Amicitia, who looked ready to die (though of what she couldn't tell). "Gladio, how about we agree to forget this happened and get back to what we actually came here to do?"

"Agreed." He nodded, glaring daggers at his smirking sister as she followed the Glaive across the grass covered rocks that lined the bottom of the cliff. It was fairly hazardous to walk across the area without paying attention to where you were stepping, so as Amara tried to focus on making sure she and the younger girl made it to what would be their camp for the night, she just hoped Noctis didn't stick his foot in a half-covered hole and hurt himself. Hearing the guys start to complain behind her as the wind picked up offered a bit of reassurance that they were at least marginally aware of the terrain around them.

"Damn, this wind's strong!" Noctis was struggling to keep his overshirt from whipping up and hitting him in the face, finally reaching down and fastening a few of the buttons to keep it from lifting up too far.

Prompto had other problems though, wearing a heart broken look as he whined. "No! My perfectly groomed hair!"

"You think you got it bad? Check out Ignis!"

"Whoa, you're right!"

The advisor scoffed, trying to ignore the wind that was ruining what might have otherwise been a perfectly put away hairstyle. "It's rude to stare."

Honestly, when she looked back at the guys, none of them looked like they were well "groomed" anyway, but after sleeping at a camp for two nights she didn't know what else to expect. The complaining, though, seemed a bit overkill in light of that.

"You all look like hell anyway, why complain about the wind messing up your hair now?"

"Hey, you're one to talk!"

"Yeah your hair looks just as bad!"

Iris looked between the younger men and their friend before shrugging. "Actually, this whole wind-swept look looks pretty good on her, I'm a little jealous."

"I know, dammit," Prompto looked defeated, running his fingers through his hair. "It's not fair."

"Neither are a lot of things Prom." The woman rolled her eyes, leading everyone around a bend. "Hey, looks like the Haven's over there, but it's got a lot of tide pools around it."

"Wait, is that a dock I see?"

"Well we know where Noctis will be spending his time until we leave."

"In that case, why not try and catch us something for dinner while we set up camp? Like I said before, we should take a chance to replenish our supplies while we can."

"On it!"

His cousin laughed as the King warped ahead of everybody, obviously eager to get to the dock and cast a line. Iris and her brother followed as closely as they could, with a few shouts to mind the erosion on the rocks around them, while the other three split off to start setting up camp. Thankfully Noctis had started storing everything in the armiger and summoned it all out for them before he summoned his fishing rod. So, while the boys set up the chairs and camp kitchen, Amara got to work pitching the tent for them, hammering the anchors into the rock with a fair amount of effort before she set about getting the sleeping bags all set out and ready for the inevitable crash that would come after whatever dinner her boyfriend would whip up with Noct's 'catch of the day'. Once her part of the work was done, she decided to walk over to the edge of the Haven and take a seat to watch Noctis fish for a bit, wondering for a moment how he would have any luck fishing in such a small area beside the literal ocean, before another thought crossed her mind. Looking back at her friends, she was a little hesitant to ask.

"Did King Regis like to fish too?"

"As I recall his majesty did enjoy a few magazines on the topic from time to time, so possibly." Ignis looked at her from where he was preparing a kettle of some sort by the camp stove. "Unfortunately, we'll never know for sure."

The woman took a slow, deep breath, turning her attention back to her friends below.

"Yeah… even though I saw it happen, I keep finding myself forgetting he's really… gone. I saw the Fall, saw nearly everything that happened, and I still don't always think it was real."

"But being a long-lost member of the royal line sunk right in?" Prompto plopped down next to her. "C'mon Ams, with everything that's happened recently, I think your whole revelation the other night was the only thing I could 'forget' was real."

"Yeah, you have a point."

"Let us not forget that her family tree bears two branches of nobility." Ignis came to join them with cups of coffee for them. Taking a place on Amara's free side, he took a moment to sip his drink before looking down to where his king, and friend, was arguing with Gladiolus about being a "backseat fisher". "What light may Lady Lunafreya yet shine on the situation? If she really did convene with your mother, the first Oracle, for so many years until Noctis led her to you, what might have been told, one Oracle to another, that the Kings of Yore couldn't possibly tell you?"

"A great deal, honestly." For a brief moment, she felt her mother's presence, flowing freely in the magic of the Haven. "For all we know, Luna could have a whole other side of the story to tell me. And honestly, I'm kind of afraid of knowing if I'm right about that."

"Ams?"

"Amara, what on Eos could possibly be left to tell that could frighten you?"

"I don't know. That's the scary part. With the Kings, it was all related to my powers as a Lucis Caelum, my place in the family tree - my Lucian lineage and all the attachments, good and bad." Amara looked down at her cup, watching the liquid give off a little bit of steam that was being carried away by the now dying wind. "I don't really know anything about the Fleuret side of myself. Even when I've talked to mother in the dreamscape, she hasn't told me anything about it. Uncle Somnus has been trying to keep the focus of the Caelum side."

"Y'know, it's a little unnerving to hear you talk about them like that," Prompto looked a little nervous. "I mean, yeah, you and Noct have always been a little weird when it came to stuff like that, but he never talked about dead relatives like this."

The woman paused, biting her lip for a moment. "It's like… They're not fully dead to me, and I think that's due to the Fleuret side. They can enter my dreams, appear as visions, all kinds of things. I know from Pip, Noct's guardian messenger, that he is building connections to the past kings from the Arms like I am, but I don't think they can speak to him the way they do with me." Ignis looked thoughtful for a moment, but before he could speak, the trio found themselves distracted by a commotion from the dock below. Noctis had reeled in a massive fish and had apparently spotted another judging by his quick recast. The advisor sighed softly, getting up from the edge.

"I best begin preparing for supper."

[royalbratprince]

I mean I’d love to fully blame @inimiicus (and the Blank Slate verse) for this but this thing in particular is my own damn fault and not what I meant to write tonight.

This dives straight into happiest ending territory with a touch of “somehow reborn child Ardyn with no memory of his adult self” and Noctis has decided to adopt him and he’s even managing to be mostly calm in front of his three not-totally-official-fiances but he’s also calling Luna and trying not to have Eos’ Biggest Panic Attack.

...So.  Welp.

_________________________________________________

He almost breathed a sigh of relief when she actually answered her phone.  Noctis had no idea what he’d have done if it went to voicemail.  “Luna.  I need help.  It’s kind of serious, but you have to promise not to laugh.”

A wealth of silence greeted that request, and then shifting; footsteps and a door closing, the creak of a chair.  “Alright, Noctis.  Whatever you need.”

He took a deep breath, rubbing his palm over his face and trying to figure out how to explain.  But it was Luna.  She’d been through so much weird crap and they were both a little used to off the wall stuff, right?  Right?  “I, uh.  The Astrals have that awful sense of humor, right?”

Her voice radiated tension despite her best efforts to sound calm.  “Uh-huh.”

The response at the very least got a tense little laugh out of the king in turn.  “Yeah, okay.  So.  This kid showed up at the Citadel.”

“A... kid.”

“Yeah.”  He sighed, loud and long and still not sure how to say anything.  “It’s--  It’s Ardyn.  I know it’s Ardyn--  But he doesn’t have his memories.  Okay?  He’s a kid.  He’s just a kid, he’s not... Ardyn.”  He had no idea if he was giving her information in order or if the silence meant she’d already hung up and was on her way to wage war--

“Noctis.”  So very, very calm.  “What is the part that I’m not supposed to laugh at?”

Oh.  Right.  “I--  He’s alone.  He’s just a kid and he doesn’t even know where he is.  I think he thinks his mom and brother just got... misplaced somewhere, ‘swhat Iggy said.  I don’t know.  But he needs someone, doesn’t he?  Somewhere to stay and someone who’ll take care of him...”

More silence.  And then a very carefully muffled sound.

“Luna.“

“I am not laughing, Noctis.  At least I’m not laughing at you.”  She corrected herself before she could lead a perfect accidental lie.  “I’m... well.  Only you.”

Maybe he snorted a little in spite of himself with that sentiment.  Long expressed by damn near everyone he knew.  Some things could well and truly happen only to him, both literally and figuratively.  “I know.  I know, but...  Luna, you have to meet him.  Eventually.  He’s... I think nearly everyone in his life was afraid of him.”

She wasn’t sure how that could be both surprising and not at all, though she could hardly imagine what the man was like as a child.  “He has no... influence on him?”

“Not that I can tell.  Not that he’s aware of, anyway.”  Again he struggled to find words, explanations, but there were none.  “I just want... to make sure he’s okay.  You know?  He’s... smart and shy and I just... I have to make sure he’s free.“

Lunafreya swallowed reflexively.  He wanted her to make sure there was no Scourge.  No immediate ties to the Astrals that she could sense.  And while that was all doable--”

“And I think... he kind of wants to meet you, too.”  Noctis admitted.

That had her scrambling to keep up with the conversation.  “Pardon?”

“I mean--  He’s seen pictures.  He’s heard good things, I swear.”

Normally she’d have laughed then, but the quiet was simply... reflection.  There was a trick somewhere.  There had to be; the Astrals did not simply give gifts.  And yet, to hear Noctis talk... there was a fondness, a lightness to his voice even amidst the concern.  “So this means... everyone else has met him, correct?”

“Yeah.”  It was still a complicated mess in one way, but he spoke only the truth.  “He’s grown on all of them already.  We’re still... you know, careful, but.  You have to meet him.  You’ll get it.”

She did not doubt that.  “That means you’re all going to have custody?”  It really wasn’t possible to feel someone blushing over a phone line, but she was quite certain she came close.

“W-well.  Yeah, I mean...  I don’t really know... how to work that out yet.”

Luna finally laughed with ease, though she tried not to let it last too long.  With mixed success.  “Alright.  We’ll work out a trip for all of you soon, hm?  I’m sure that comes with political things--”

“Don’t remind me.”  Noctis groaned.  And that meant--

“But I must remind you that I am only partially responsible for anything Ravus may say publicly, and wholly without blame for everything he says privately--”

“I know.”

Laughing again, she finally eased into a soft sigh.  “He really must have won you all over.”

“Yeah.”  Noctis agreed quietly.  “I...  I just want him to have a fair chance.  What every kid deserves.”

“Except that he is going to get horribly spoiled by four fathers and an aunt, at the very least.”  Luna pointed out, smiling.

“And a godmother?”  He added, timid and hopeful  “Maybe?”

Her heart clenched, ever so softly.  What a... situation to be in.  It should be scandalous, offensive, it should be--  It shouldn’t even have been in the first place, she supposed.  But it was.  And if every one of those impressively protective gentlemen approved of this child...  “I would be honored, Noctis.  Send me pictures?”

“Yeah, I think Prompto will have that covered for you.”

[secret-engima]

Random HCs for Some of My Verses

Future’s Blurry (the Past is a Trap) verse:

-Glaucus has no idea how he wound up with a pet mad scientist. He WENT there intending to kill Besithia, he DID. Instead he found himself with a mad scientist on his heels, complaining about not having a fancy lab anymore and needing it if he’s going to prove Glaucus wrong.

-Oh yeah, Glaucus thinks with a squint, somewhere in the whole “somehow not killing the scientist” (not that he COULD, Prompto had come from that man and if there was a chance ... well, he loved Prompto more than he hated Besithia, it would be worth the annoyance) Glaucus had said that Besithia wasn’t smart enough or skilled enough to be Really All That™. Besithia had immediately taken offense, forgetting all about his life being in danger in favor of his pride, and demanded HOW DARE. OF COURSE HE WAS.

-Glaucus had snorted something to the order of how if he was REALLY all that he would be able to make a cure/vaccine for the Scourge, not just piddle around infecting things with it and claiming to have done something NEW (the scourge infected everything by nature, essentially infecting machinery wasn’t new, it was just calculated stupidity).

-Glaucus thinks that might have been what led to his acquisition of a scientist actually. Besithia so insulted he’d been willing to defect from the empire that they both knew would never condone a vaccine for their precious Scourge just to prove Glaucus WRONG.

-At one point he has to stop and laugh hysterically over the fact that he just took out Niflheim’s R&D division at the kneecaps. By doing a slightly (SLIGHTLY) more adult version of Double Dog Daring their head scientist.

-There’s also the fact that, to get proper funding, housing, and equipment for his new pet scientist, Glaucus could no longer just subsist on bounties from Hunts and dragging Ardyn from hotel to hotel. No, he needed money, manpower, resources that couldn’t be tracked.

-Lucky for him, he was once Cor the Immortal, the guy in charge of busting illegal butts and then later in charge of the surviving population of humanity in the Long Night. He knew a thing or two about discreet resources and acquisition of funds.

-The Insomnia Underworld had no idea what hit it. It feels like one minute their going about their days, discreetly infighting between the families, laundering their illegal items, the next minute everything is being taken over like dominos by an icy-eyed TEENAGER that can’t seem to DIE no matter what is thrown at him.

-By the end of the year post getting his scientist, Glaucus had (unwillingly) re-taken his title of The Immortal and was the shadow king of the entire freaking Underworld of Insomnia and a good chunk of Lucis. Anyone who didn’t like his new rules of conduct were killed or kicked out and those who were smart enough to swear loyalty found themselves magically bound by their word (Glaucus had no idea how he pulled off that trick, he blamed the KoL and their shenanigans during the time travel). Glaucus then put some of the less scummy and more intelligent ones in charge and calmly swanned off to go back to running around the wilds taking on Hunts and blowing up Nif bases.

-The new Lieutenants in charge of the underworld on behalf of their new Underworld King all just ... kinda blinked at each other and silently asked “What Just Happened?”

-And that is how Cor/Glaucus ended up the reigning king of the Lucian underworld and Besithia got to play mad scientist in a hidden laboratory all Right Under King Mors’ Nose thank you and good night.

...

Risk the Fall (We Have Felt It All) verse:

-The others in the main cast of the first game get reborn too, don’t @ me.

-As we all know, Lightning is the new Crown Princess of Lucis and Hope is the new Crown Prince of Tenebrae, the others are also their own characters so to speak except for Snow and Serah but we’ll get back to them in a sec.

-Sazh is an Armaugh. He’s Weskham’s nephew and his new name is Sors. He’s three years older than Lightning this time around, but he STILL gets teased as the “Old Man” of the group, which he bears with good humor. He ends up being her Hand, just like Ignis is for Noctis.

-Fang and Vanille are reborn as half-sisters who look nothing alike. Fang is the elder of the two and just as Throw Hands as ever. She’s like- three-ish years younger than Lightning. Vanille is five years younger than Lightning. They don’t have the same mom, and only stumbled on each other by happenstance. They started by recognizing each other from their past life and then started comparing their current one and talking about it was funny that they both came from a fling rather than a marriage. Then they start talking about their respective moms (At least Vanille’s is dead I think? Who knows, but this way Fang gets to adopt Vanille and drag her home) and from there they talked about what little they know of their respective dads.

-And find out their descriptions of appearance and temperament described by their mothers match.

-Eerily so.

-“We’re sisters!” Vanille (who needs a new latin name btw) squeals in joy, throwing her arms around Fang, who just snorts dryly and says,

-“I swore that if I ever met ‘im, I’d stab him where the sun don’t shine. But since he gave me you ... I guess I’ll just give him a black eye. Maybe break an arm.”

-Far, far away in Insomnia, Cor pauses and reaches for his sword on instinct, sure for a moment that someone was plotting bodily harm against him. There is no one in the study but him, Regis, and Clarus however, so he shrugs it off a moment later. Probably just the nifs cursing him out for his latest mission or something.

-Snow and Serah come back as canon characters. Because I Said So.

-Luna is 8 years old when she tentatively creeps up to Zagreus/Hope, tears in her eyes, and softly asks “Hope” if she can see her sister.

-Zagreus stares at her in shock, then slowly kneels down to be eye level and whispers, “Serah?”

-She nods, blue eyes so much older than they were just yesterday before something caused her to remember, and Hope kisses her forehead before hurrying off to find his computer. Over Skype, Lightning and Serah cry for joy and sadness.

-“We’re not sisters this time,” pouts Lightning just a little.

-Serah smiles, sugar sweet and innocent, “I guess you’ll just have to hurry up and marry Hope so we can be sisters-in-law.” Both of the elder reincarnates choke on their spit while Luna laughs.

-Meanwhile, somewhere deep in the jungles of Galahd, Libertus tiredly puts ointment on Nyx’s cuts and scrapes while the grinning Ulric holds an ice pack to his black eye, “Just had to pick a fight, didn’t you,” mutters Lib, “always gotta be the Hero.”

-Nyx smiles, and Lib notices it’s that strange, far-off sad one he gets sometimes, the one that makes him look way too old and weary for his years, “I promised,” he says simply, an apology and unknowable explanation all in one. Libertus doesn’t ask WHO he promised, he knows Nyx won’t tell him. “I promised” has been his excuse since they could barely walk. Libertus isn’t sure he wants an answer at this point. Some things just aren’t for mortal men to know.