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promptis-imagines · 5 years ago

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For some reason I think that the first time they went into battle together .Noct spent half the fight trying to protect Prom and almost wiped out because of it. Causing Prom to feel like Noct doesnt trust him enough to protect Noct

I can absolutely see things happening along that line.

Prom joined the crownsguard so he could be by Noct’s side and protect him, show him that he’s all in and he wants his best friend to be okay. He went through all that just so he could do his part and show that he cares.

So it hurts when they start their journey and go into action just for all of his actions to be stifled by Noct’s reckless abandon. At first he thinks that Noct is simply trying to go a little too hard in the battle, trying to prove himself or whatnot, but it becomes apparent pretty quickly that every hit he takes is to bar Prompto from the same fate. And it really isn’t fair that the one he’s trying to protect so much is refusing to let him do the job he’s worked so hard to do.

Actually you know what lemme just—

It hadn’t been long since their first encounter with a daemon. They were travelling at night, pushing forward in the Regalia on the prince’s insistence that they find a more suitable shelter for the night than a tent, when the huge beast had reared its ugly head to effectively block their path.

The ensuing battle was somewhat of a rude awakening for most of the group. Prompto, however, was geared up and ready for his first real shot at proving that he could protect the prince, that he wasn’t just dead weight on this trip; he wanted to prove that he was useful.

But that opportunity was continually snatched away from him. Every time Prompto took aim, Noctis warped forward and plunged a sword into the target. Every time he stood his ground to parry an attack, Noctis was right there to knock him aside and deal with it himself.

At first, Prompto assumed that Noctis was feeling the same way as him; he probably just wanted to show his skills in the real event. The thing was, his method was way too reckless, which Prompto thought would earn them a lecture from Ignis and Gladio about team dynamics. That thought helped to stifle Prompto’s frustration in the beginning. He didn’t want to believe that his best friend would intentionally bar him from playing his part.

It was when Noctis collapsed from a nasty hit that Prompto began to have other ideas.

Immediately after the beast fell, the other three were beside him, pulling out curatives and tending to the fallen prince. Prompto had shoved himself between Noctis and the ground, holding him partway in his lap while Ignis broke a potion over him.

Prompto thanked the gods that it seemed to do the trick. Even still, Noctis appeared ready to collapse again at any given moment. He supposed curatives could only do so much.

“Let’s continue to our destination. He’ll be better after a good night’s rest,” Ignis stated, already beginning to direct everyone back to the Regalia.

Gladio helped Noctis to his feet with not as much care as Prompto would’ve hoped. Noctis made a soft groan in response, and Prompto bit his lip before rushing back to his side. “I got you, buddy,” he whispered, one arm anchored firmly around his best friend’s back.

The rest of the car ride hadn’t been nearly as eventful. Prompto rode in the back with Noctis nearly asleep against him, Ignis and Gladio took up the front seats, and there was virtually no talking. It made Prompto very aware of the lump in his throat.

Now they were finally checked into a small motel, and still, few words had been exchanged. Everyone looked tired, especially Noctis.

All the while, Prompto’s mind had been racing with thoughts of what to say about the events that had just transpired. He knew that it hadn’t been an accident—Noctis had intentionally taken that hit in his place. Why? Sure, he was okay in the end, but what if he hadn’t been? This wasn’t the way things were supposed to go.

Ignis and Gladio took one room while Prompto and Noctis took the other. Prompto trudged inside, ready to fall straight into bed, but Noctis beat him to it. He sighed, opting to sit on the edge instead. They would probably take a bit to relax before showering.

The itchy fabric of the blanket under him had a few snagged threads near Prompto’s thigh. They felt like a good place to steer his attention, so he busied himself toying with them.

That is, until he was finally called out.

He hadn’t even noticed the shift on the bed until Noctis was sitting beside and a little behind him. Prompto was hoping they could brush off this conversation this time and go to bed, but Noctis was already prodding at his shoulder.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asked. The usual impartial tone he sported was gone, replaced with the gentle concern he only really used when the two of them were alone.

Prompto bit his lip and stopped fiddling with the threads. After a brief debate about how he should answer, he spoke up quietly. “It’s...what happened earlier.”

A familiar warmth pressed close to his back, and soon Noctis’ head was on Prompto’s shoulder. He tried not to think about how they shouldn't be this close. “I’m fine, now. Promise. You don’t need to worry about me,” Noctis said.

It was supposed to sound reassuring, but Prompto’s irritation only began to bubble up. “That’s not what I’m trying to say. I mean, of course I’m glad you’re okay, but I just...” The tension in his shoulders wasn’t going away. “I’m upset,” he hissed.

Noctis lifted his head, though he didn’t move away. “Oh. I think I get what you’re saying.” A long sigh fell from his lips, his hand rubbing along Prompto’s arm.

“You know, nobody is gonna fault you for going back home. It’s okay if you changed your mind about all this.”

Prompto all but fell off the bed. "What?" he exclaimed, whipping around to face Noctis with wide eyes. "You're joking, right?"

There was nothing but seriousness in Noctis' expression. "No, I'm not. I'm telling you right now that you still have an out. We can turn back around and drop you off at the wall. Hell, I'd even be up for renting chocobos if you want to ride back together. One last fun thing before…everything else." The way he spoke…he really was being serious.

Despite himself, Prompto felt his chest begin to constrict with short, mirthless laughs. "Oh, gods," he mumbled, burying his face in his palm for a few long moments. "So that's it. I was right. You see me as some kind of weak joke. That's really great news." He turned away. The lump in his throat was almost unbearable now.

"What are you talking about?" A hand fell on his shoulder, dragging his attention back to Noctis, whose eyes had narrowed.

Prompto shrugged off the touch. "What do you mean, 'what am I talking about?' You took every hit for me out there. You wouldn't let me do my job, and you got hurt in the process. That's not okay, Noct! You're too important for that," he stressed.

Irritation that had been building up since the fight was rushing through Prompto's head, making him want to pull his hair out. Instead, he got to his feet and began pacing at the foot of the bed. Noctis had started to stumble for words, but Prompto cut him off. "I'm not done," he stated firmly. "Before we left for this trip, I took a vow to protect you. I trained, and I worked so stupid hard to get here, to stay by your side when you needed it. And I know you had some reservations about that. But this is what I wanted, so you eventually let it go. But…" His shoes scuffed the ground as he stopped pacing. "But you didn't let it go, did you? You're still trying to get rid of me."

"That's really not what's going on here," Noctis countered. By now he was standing, too.

"No? Then why wouldn't you let me protect you today? Why is it that every time I try to help you out, you feel the need to stop me? Why did you jump at the chance to tell me I should leave?" Feeling the pressure build up behind his eyes, Prompto gripped the end of the bed until his knuckles went white. "You don't have to answer. I know why." He finally met Noctis' eyes again, and that's when the tears began to fall. "You don't trust me," he said quietly.

Finally, Noctis had his chance to speak, but he didn't right away. He looked shocked, and he obviously didn't know what to say. Prompto sniffled a bit and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. This was so pathetic. After giving that whole speech about not wanting to be perceived as a weakling, he was crying. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm too weak for this and I'll just slow you guys down. Is that why you're doing this?" he murmured.

Noctis took a tentative step forward. When Prompto didn't react, he took another. "It…it's not that I don't trust you. I don't want you to think that," he choked out. He sounded as pathetic as Prompto felt.

It took a moment, but Prompto pressed forward again. "Then why are you doing things that make me feel that way?" His words were less irritated before, but just as hurt. "I know we had to break things off because of you and Luna, and I won't pretend it doesn't still hurt. Do you think I'm gonna try and sabotage the wedding or something? B-Because I made a promise, Noct, that even if I couldn't be with you, I would do everything in my power to keep you safe and happy because—"

"Prom."

The stern tone of Noctis' words shut him up. The prince's hands were on his burning cheeks before he could process, forcing him to keep eye contact. He didn't want to admit it, but this direct connection, the first they'd shared in a while, was sending Prompto's poor heart into a frenzy.

Once he'd visually calmed down, Noctis went on. "Okay, you got me. Yes, I did all of that today to keep you out of it as much as possible," he admitted. Teeth scraped his bottom lip briefly before he spoke again. "But it's not because I don't trust you to protect me; I've seen your skills in action, and I know you're capable. It's that I don't want you to."

This time it was Prompto who wore the confusion. "Wh…what? Why?" His question was tinged with hurt.

The thumb on Prompto's cheek gently brushed along his skin. It felt nice. "Really? You can't tell what's going on here?" Noctis asked. Prompto was just glad he didn't sound accusatory.

When he didn't receive an answer, Noctis sighed. "Prom, I trust you. I value you more than anything, and I know you'll do whatever it takes to get this done. That's the reason I was trying to make you go home. You're too damn determined to protect me."

��Prompto's brow furrowed. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"In theory, yeah," Noctis said, "but we can't predict this situation. If you see me as more important, then you're going to put your life on the line for me if something happens. When I saw that daemon lunge for you, all I could see were images of you dying in my place, and it scared me so much. I just…I can't have that. I'm not worth more than you." His hands were still on Prompto's cheeks. Neither of them made a move to stop it yet.

"But you kind of are," Prompto whispered. "You're important to the whole world. You have so much you're going to do. That's more than I'm destined for, for sure."

Noctis' hold finally relaxed, and his hands dropped to Prompto's shoulders. That sad, serious look never left him. "Not to me. You're everything to me," he muttered. "You've been so focused on making sure I'm happy, you aren't letting me do the same for you. I know you want things, there's no way you can—"

"I want you, Noct," Prompto interrupted. "But I can't have you. And I have to accept that. So please, don't make this harder than it already is. I can hardly bear it." Another tear trailed down his cheek. He placed a hand over Noctis'. "Let me protect you until I can't. That's the next best thing for me. Please, Noct," he finished. He wanted this to be final. He wanted so much, but right now, he wanted Noctis to settle for this option.

He heard Noctis' breath hitch, saw the hesitation in the twitch of his lips. This wasn't easy for either of them. "I don't want to lose you," he finally said with a tremble in his voice.

The tiniest smile touched Prompto's lips. "I'm right here, aren't I? But I don't want to lose you, either. That means no more throwing yourself in front of me like you kept doing today," he warned.

Noctis' shoulders sagged. "You can't tell me that if you plan on doing the same thing later."

"Well…" He wanted to argue, but that had sort of been his plan from the beginning. "We could go back and forth on this all night. I have my stance, and you have yours," he stated. It didn't matter what Noctis thought; one of their lives was more valuable in the grand scheme of things.

The grip on his shoulder tightened slightly. "So I should just settle for yours?" Noctis returned.

Prompto nodded. "I think you should. Because just this once, I'm taking a stand. I'm not settling for yours."

There was another tense pause. Noctis seemed to physically deflate as his hands fell to his sides once more. "I'm sorry. I still don't think I should be putting you through this. Not after you already gave up so much." A short huff passed his lips. "Why did you have to be so damn stubborn?"

Somehow, Prompto managed another quiet laugh. "Guess you chose a terrible best friend," he commented with a slight wave of his hand.

With a slight shake of his head, Noctis cast his gaze to the floor. "No, I chose the most amazing one. And I let go of the best boyfriend," he murmured.

Prompto bit the inside of his cheek, the fun moment fading. "Noct…we talked about this before the trip. It's okay," he spoke softly, though he couldn't contain the slight crack in his voice as he said it. None of this way okay. It was necessary. The situation was out of their hands; just a bad hand that was dealt to them.

They probably shouldn't have shared a room, after all, but they had been too tired to think that through. Because when Noctis took Prompto's hand right there, standing in this dingy motel, Prompto felt the pain in his heart cry out.

"Can we sit back down?" Noctis asked.

After a silent nod from Prompto, the pair returned to the edge of the bed. They sat side by side, still holding onto each other's hand like a lifeline between them. Both of them had their heads down.

"I'm just gonna say it. I don't think I can go through with this."

It was Prompto who looked to Noctis first. "What?"

Noctis rubbed his thumb along the other's hand. "My marriage with Luna. I can't do it," he reiterated.

Prompto's mouth fell dumbly open for a few moments before he shook it off. "B-But…don't you have to? You can't just throw all of that away, can you?" Of course, with the drastic change of plans that were seemingly everywhere, maybe that wasn't the case anymore.

"I can try," Noctis continued. "We were supposed to be married for the sake of peace, but the Niffs already don't seem to be treating that pact seriously. If I just stop this mess, get through to the end." He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. "Our countries can find some other way to bridge the gap and mend all of this. But I have to call off the wedding," he stated.

"Wait a second," Prompto interjected. "Don't go that far until you've thought it through. What about all the good that could come from being with her? There's all those political advantages, and-and she's really pretty, and I'll bet she likes you a lot."

His heart was racing all the way up in his throat. Noctis couldn't possibly be considering giving up everything for him. He hated to admit it, but Prompto had known since they first started dating that he was eventually going to lose Noctis to someone of actual importance. Especially now, with the world in the state that it was in, that was what the country needed. Someone smart and capable to stand by the king and rule alongside him. Not Prompto Argentum. He couldn't bring himself to admit those feelings, though, so maybe he could convince Noctis to make the right choice in other ways.

He only now realized that Noctis had gone quiet again. Prompto squeezed his hand. "Please don't throw away what's important," he said, just above a whisper.

Noctis looked up. There was the faintest hint of tears brimming in his eyes. "I'm trying not to. That's what I'm doing right now. Don't treat me like they do, Prom, like I'm some pawn that can be tossed around for political reasons. If you're really so concerned about my happiness, then give me this," he practically begged. "Let me fight for us. You're what keeps me going through everything, and I don't want that to stop."

A beat later, he went on. "I shouldn't have tried to keep you away. I'm sorry. But if you want it, then I'm asking for you to stay with me through this, and forever after that. Please." He lifted Prompto's hand, and he felt his genuine longing in the way his lips pressed to his knuckles. "Let me try. These last few weeks have been shit. I know I couldn't handle more of not being with you," he murmured.

Prompto was near trembling. Noctis' cool eyes bore into his widened ones, waiting for an answer from the stricken man. Finally, after swallowing the lump in his throat, he spoke. "It's gonna be hard."

"I know."

"And being with me is gonna make so many people unhappy."

"I know."

"Noct, are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

The conviction in his voice sent a shiver down Prompto's spine. For a moment, everything was going to be okay. He let that fantasy take hold of his thoughts.

When Prompto didn't speak right away, Noctis took it upon himself and brought his other hand up to hold. "You and I can do this. You protect me, and I'll protect you. That's what I'm suggesting. And I trust you to make it there with me," he said.

Fresh tears spilled down Prompto's cheeks, and he nodded with a sniffle. "Okay. I can deal with that," he murmured.

Once again, Prompto found a warm hand on his cheek, only this time he leaned into it instantly. Then they were so close that their foreheads touched. "Great. Now you're stuck with me. Probably for life," Noctis gently teased.

Prompto laughed a little more outright. "Gods, and you called me stubborn? Moron."

"I guess I won't deny that." Noctis closed the distance and pressed their lips together, making Prompto's cheeks flare up with heat as if they were on their first date again. "And you're still a flustered mess. Nice to know."

That earned Noctis a shove, and Prompto covered his red cheeks with a pout. "Watch it," he warned. Moments later, they were both laughing.

He'd missed this, and he knew Noctis did as well. If that stubborn dork could really fight for this, and they could pull through together…well, Prompto wouldn't call that a bad deal. For the first time in a while, he felt a tinge of hope blooming in his chest.

"Noct?"

"Hm?"

Prompto cupped the other's cheek and leaned in for another kiss. He let it linger, pulling back slowly and staying close even after. "I love you. Thanks for letting me come along," he whispered.

Noctis gave a tiny nod. "I love you, too. Thanks for always protecting me."

A genuine smile tugged at Prompto's lips. "Anytime. Now, I think we both need a shower," he pointed out. They were still a bit gross, and tomorrow would probably prove to be a long day as well. They needed this while they could have it.

Noctis stood up and stretched. "Good idea. But I think a better idea would be showering together," he argued.

That got a snort in response. "Did I suggest anything else?"

They shared another laugh and began to get undressed. There was a long road ahead for them, both in the near and distant future, but that was okay. Prompto felt confident that they could get through it all. But for now, they had this night to enjoy being in each other's arms with the hope that they could spend every other night in the same way. And he was okay with that, too.

So sorry this took so long! I also added a few extra little plot points, but I hope you like it :)

#this took me entirely too long to answer I am So sorry #but I kinda like how it turned out?#I promised myself I would finish it today before sleeping and now it's past 2 am #I'm so tired lmao I hope I didn't make any mistakes #bc I wrote half of this in one sitting #promptis #fanfiction #ask #nananasonatra #answered #mine

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jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets · 4 years ago

Text

Final Fantasy: At Lucis End - CH 3

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV, Final Fantasy

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Original Female Character(s)

AO3

Masterlist

Summary:

A treaty. A light at the end of the tunnel that King Regis had been staring down for years. A proposal. A wedding that stands to save the lands. A betrayal. That could tear it all down. And a love. So strong yet so torn.

The war between Lucis and Niflheim could come to an end, but much will have to be sacrificed along the way. And in the end, would it even be enough? Would the loss of life, love, and family be enough to save the people of Lucis? Or will it all come crumbling down in the end?

*** MY WORK IS NOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER SITE WITHOUT MY EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION. THOUGH REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE SUPER LOVED AND APPRECIATED! THANKS FAM!***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 3

“What did you do to her?!”

Noctis was standing off to the side of the Regalia at the rest stop, Ignis filling up the car while Gladio and Ara remained inside, and Prompto paced circles around him while he yelled.

“She won't talk to me, she won't look at me,” he named off as he counted on his hands, then flailed them wildly as he came to stop in front of him, “and I asked her three times to play Dungeons and Daemons with me, and everytime she said no. She always plays Dungeons and Daemons with me! What did you do?! You broke her!"

Noct crossed his arms over his chest and brought a hand up to pinch his nose, “It's… Nothing, I did nothing.”

“Obviously something,” he raised his brows, “this is not her, she's not like this, I've never seen her like this. Are you guys fighting? You never fight, is that it?”

“I…” he waved a hand, “Yeah, I guess so, kind of, not that it's my choice.”

“Why? What are you fighting about?”

“We-”

“This is ridiculous,” Prompto shook his head, “I mean, you guys don't fight, you just don't, so why can't you just get over whatever it is and move on already-”

“We’re fighting over the wedding!” Prompto stopped dead, completely frozen, staring at Noctis with wide eyes. “This stupid wedding is what's driven a wedge between us. That's why she's mad."

"Well… why?"

Noctis sighed, running his hand over his face before deciding it was best to just give in. "She doesn't want me to get married."

"... Why not?"

"Because she loves me."

"Oh…" He took a second then looked up to Noctis with impossibly wider eyes, "Oh!"

"And I love her too," Noctis nodded, waiting to see how his friend would react.

"So," he began, walking a bit closer, "were you two together before this?"

"No," he shook his head with a solemn look, "we should have been, but we were both too stupid to say anything, and now we're damned to be seperated forever."

"Why didn't you just say no?"

"To my father?" Noctis asked, dumbfounded, and Promoto nodded, "Say no to the King when he says our only option for peace is my marriage? I don't think so, Prom."

"Did you tell your father about Ara?" He tried, "About how you two feel about each other? He loves Ara like family, we all do, surely he would at least try to find a better way if you told him that you two wanted to get married instead. That is what you're telling me right? That you want to marry Ara and not Lunafreya?"

"I don't want anyone else, Prom," he closed his eyes then opened them to look over at the Regalia. Ara was still inside, still sitting in the back turned towards the side of the car. Noct couldn't see her face too clearly from where he was standing, but from what he could see it looked as if she were wiping a stray tear from her cheek as he turned back to Prompto. "But between my father's orders and her not wanting me to go against this treaty, I don't have many other options."

"So you two talked about this then," he too turned to look at her, then back to Noctis.

"Yes, and she doesn't want to go against my father's decision. She doesn't want to break the treaty apart so that we can be together," he rubbed his forehead, trying to stave off the headache he could feel coming, "she doesn't think that Iedolas would negotiate any other terms and she won't risk the continuation of the war. She thinks that my marrying the princess is what's best for the people of Lucis."

"Do you think there could be another way? Is she right about Iedolas?"

"I…" he sighed, "I want her to be wrong, but I don't know. Iedolas has all the power in this situation, he's got Lucis on it's last ropes, the old walls and new are going to fall and my father is not getting any better. Every day that he pulls magic from the crystal to keep the people safe, it drains his life more and more. Eventually it will drain him completely and then we will have no defence against Niflheim’s troops. Iedolas knows this, and knows that now is the time to make his demands, and he has. He knows my father is too weak to fight back, too tired to find another way because there isn't one. I don't know what else we could do."

"Have you talked to Ignis and Gladiolus?" He gestured towards the car, "They're close to your father, maybe they can talk to him."

"They won't try to change his mind," he shook his head, "at least not until they have solid proof of sabotage on Niflheim’s behalf or a way that won't end in war. But I'm afraid they won't be able to find either of those things before the wedding. We don't have much time here, Prom!"

"Okay," he raised his arms to try and calm Noctis, landing them on his shoulders with a squeeze, "okay, don't panic. I'm sure we can come up with something, or even a way to delay the wedding until we can. I'll talk to Ignis and Gladiolus and see where I can help."

"Thanks, Prom," Noctis sighed in relief, giving him a small smile, "thank you."

"I've always got your back, Noct."

"Noctis, Prompto!" Both boys turned at the sound of Gladio’s booming voice. "Get your butts in the car, we're leaving now."

They both nodded and walked together back to the Regalia, Prom’s arm around Noctis’s shoulders, and jumped back in.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Every second they were in the car was a second closer to Niflheim, to Noct’s wedding, to her last moments as a citizen of Lucis. And despite her conversation with Nyx before she left, she still couldn't shake the cloud that hung low over her head. She couldn't even look at Noctis let alone attempt to live in the moment, to be happy with Noctis while she had the chance and pretend to live in a world where she wasn't driving closer and closer to losing him for good.

And now it was nearing the end of their first day, already. They had pulled into Hammerhead not too long ago, and were now waiting as Ignis set up a motel room for the five of them. And still, no one had said a word since they left Insomnia.

"I've got us a room," Ignis announced as he walked back over to the car, "only one room for the five of us, but there's a pull out, you can have that if you'd like, Ara."

She just nodded her head and jumped out of the car, grabbing her bag from the back and passing Ignis.

The others followed slowly behind her, entering the room as she turned right back around and left again.

"Where are you going?" Gladio turned with his arms out in question.

"Take Noctis inside, I'm going on a patrol run," she answered, back turned as she pulled out her apocalypse blade, "I won't be long."

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Should someone maybe go after her?"

Promoto was now sitting on the edge of the bed, watching as Noctis silently paced by the door, occasionally looking out the window. Ara had been gone for hours. What was supposed to be a quick patrol had turned into almost three hours of Noctis about ready to barge out and go looking for her himself.

"She's fine, Prompto," Gladio spoke from where he was lounged back on the other bed. Shirt off, track pants on, and looking like he could pass out at any second, "she's a big girl, she can handle herself."

"But she's been gone for a while," Prompto tried again, "maybe I should just go out and make sure she's okay."

"What could possibly harm her in Hammerhead," Gladio answered, "She's fine. She can handle herself."

"She probably just needed some air," Ignis gave Prompto a look and he just nodded back, dropping the subject.

A few moments of silence passed between them all, before Noctis looked out the window once more then hastily moved towards the door. "I'm going after her."

"You most certainly are not."

"I can handle myself just as well as she can, Ignis, I'm not leaving her out there alone in the dark."

Ignis side stepped to block Noctis from the door, earning himself a deep glare. "If it means that much to you, I'll go look for her."

"No, I'll go," Gladio stood from the bed, stretching and reaching for his discarded shirt, "even though I know she's fine."

Noctis thought about it for a second, then resigned with a nod and stepped back to let Gladio leave. Just as he put on his shirt and was about to summon his blade, the front door opened, and Ara walked in.

"What's going on?" She asked as she looked around cautiously.

"Where were you?" Noctis asked, practically rushing at her, but she leaned back, shocking him to a stop.

"I told you, I went on patrol."

"I take it everything was fine?" Ignis asked, trying to diffuse the very obvious tension in the room.

"Fine, the town's quiet."

"So why were you gone so long then?" Noctis braved another step closer to her, and though she didn't recoil this time he could tell she was fighting it. "I was worried about you."

"You don't need to worry about me, Prince Noctis, I am here to worry about you."

Even Ignis scrunched his nose at the use of formalities from her. Though before it could be addressed any further, her phone rang and she excused herself.

"It's Nyx," she said, pulling the phone out of her pocket, "I'll take this outside."

She left the four boys behind without even a second glance back. She knew she was hurting Noctis, but if that was what could put some distance between them, then it would have to be done.

She pushed the thought out of her head for now, sitting in the chair outside the room, and answered her phone.

"Hey."

"Hey, baby girl, are you safe?"

She smiled at the sound of his voice, just hearing it was the comfort she needed right now. "Yeah we're safe. We're in Hammerhead, staying here for the night."

"That's a fairly quiet town," he agreed, she could hear the relief in his voice, "did you patrol?"

"All quiet on the front," she sighed as a silence fell over them, then she risked a curious, "Did… did you talk to Regis?"

"This morning after you left," he hummed, "he's not too keen on this treaty either. Something's up, we all know it and so does he, but he's right in the fact that Iedolas holds the power right now, and we have to let him keep it. Until we can figure out Niflheim’s next move, we have to just keep playing along, or else we could be back at war before we're ready."

"I should come back," she stated firmly, "if something goes wrong and war hits Insomnia again, I should be there."

"No, you have to stay with Noctis."

"Noctis is fine, and he has three other fully capable fighters by his side should something happen all the way out here," she nodded to herself, "I'm coming back."

"Ara, you are staying with Noctis." She could tell he was using his 'dad' voice now, firm and final, so she sat back in her chair. "Keep to the plan, stay with Noctis."

"But I'm one of Lucis' best fighters. Wouldn't it make more sense to have me closer to the fight?"

"Ara-"

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing," she cut him off, and he waited for her to continue, "if Insomnia and Niflheim do go back to war, it will be to the end this time. There will be no drawing it out for years like before. Both sides will throw everything they have at the other and someone will come out victorious. And you want me as far away from that as possible, which is why you're happy that Regis sent me with Noctis, despite the fact that I could help in the fight."

There was a second of quiet before Nyx let out a defeated chuckle, "Too smart for your own good, baby girl. And you're right, I am happy to have you far away from what could be the most intense fight any of us have ever seen. But…"

"But?" She urged.

"But," he continued, "Regis is right about one thing. No matter what, Noctis must be kept safe, and you're the best person for that. And if war does fall on Insomnia and the city falls, if Regis falls, those remaining will look to Noctis. He will be our light in the dark, Regis said. So I need you to just stick with him."

She closed her eyes and had to admit they were both right. If anything happened, Noctis would need to step up and lead. And no matter what was happening around them, she would give her last breath to protect him, Regis knew that. "Fine, I'll stay here. But if things get really bad, Nyx, I'm coming back."

"Let's play it by ear," he reasoned, "so far it's been quiet, but it feels like something’s building. So until I say so, don't you move."

"Yes, Sir," she mused in a playful tone.

"Your sass will be my end,” he laughed and it made her smile, “but I have to go, I have more meetings to attend. If I get any information, I'll call you.”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay, call me tomorrow if you can. Good night, baby girl.”

“Good night, Nyx.” And she hung up the phone.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Nyx stood before the doors to the throne room, took a calming breath, and pushed. The room was empty aside from Regis who was still sitting on his throne, elbow rested on the arm, and his head in his hand. But it was just him. No council members, no Glaive, no Kingscrown. It was eerily quiet as Nyx walked the long stretch towards the throne, his boots clanging unusually loud against the marble floors, almost sounding obnoxious.

Regis didn't look up, or even open his eyes, until Nyx stopped at the bottom of the steps. He gave a quick bow then bound up the stairs.

“Did you speak with Araceli?”

Nyx nodded as he reached the top.

“What did you tell her?”

“Nothing.” The king nodded, resting his chin on his hand.

“Is it wise to keep her in the dark?” He asked, rubbing his hand across his beard.

“She already wants to come back. If the fighting starts again she wants to be here,” Nyx shook his head, “she's right in saying that we could use her on the battlefield, but it's better that she stays with Noctis. If we tell her of our plan, she will return, whether I tell her to or not. Trust me, it's better this way.”

The king hummed, “Perhaps you're right. As much as I hate to hide this from her, I would rather them both be safe.”

“As would I.”

The king nodded slowly, thinking over everything that had happened over the past few days. Everything was happening so fast, too fast. A sudden peace treaty, his son being sent off to marry Niflheim royalty, the looming threat that this was only a ploy, a distraction of some sort to keep Regis in a state of ease, and he was getting weaker and weaker by the day. If he was honest, he wasn't sure he would even see the end of another war.

“If we are going to go through with this, your Highness, we are going to need more help.”

“At this point, Nyx, I'm not sure who I trust,” He rubbed his eyes then turned to face him. “Who do you suggest?”

Nyx smirked, “I have a few people in mind, people I would trust with my life.”

The king nodded, “Bring them in, we'll let them know the plan and discuss this with them immediately.”

“Yes, your Highness.” He bowed and quickly made his way back towards the door, “I'll let you know when we're ready in the briefing room.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“You want to do what?!”

Nyx was standing in Libertus’s living room. The Glaive member, and his best friend, was sitting on the couch staring up at him in complete disbelief while he remained completely calm.

“I can't believe that of all things, this is what you and the king have come up with!?” He yelled, “And you want me to, what? Fall in right behind you as always?! Gullible as always Libertus, following his best friend right into the mouth of death?! You do realize that if we get caught, we'll die, right!”

“Do you have any other ideas?” Was all he asked, still calm.

“I… no,” he shook his head and sat in the chair across from Nyx, “I don't have another idea, but that doesn't mean that this idea is a good one.”

“Trust me, Lib, I don't like it either,” he leaned forwards and rested his arms on his knees, “but right now it's our best option.”

“And what exactly do you want me to do?” He too leaned forwards on his knees. “Have your back like always, I guess.”

“Do you?” He asked, brow raised, “Have my back?”

“Of course I do,” Libertus answered without hesitation, leaning back against the couch, “you know I always do, no matter what. Even when the plan's as messed up as this one, I'll still be right by your side, as always. Just know, if we get caught and killed, I'll kill you.”

Nyx actually laughed, a little of the stress from the day lifting slightly.

“So what do we do now?”

Nyx stood, heading towards the door and Libertus followed right behind, “We have a few more people to talk to, then the rest is up to the king.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: More to come! <3 Getting closer and closer to the excitement!

TAGS: @wisteriayamashi @prettyprompto @tea-time-with-devil-traps @idiotflowerex

I know its been like, a hundred years since I last posted (My bad guys) but if anyone ones to be tagged or untagged then just shoot me a message! <3

0 notes

robininthelabyrinth · 6 years ago

Text

Fic: Nocturne (20/30) - Ao3 Link

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Pairings: Mostly Gen (variety later to come)

Summary: In which Cor Leonis loses his temper, accidentally acquires a kid, and tries to single-handedly dismantle the Lucian immigration system – and that’s before he and his lawyers find out about this Prophecy business. If the Astrals think Cor’s going to let his kid’s best friend die without a fight, they’ve gotten the wrong cheetah ‘taur.

(a young adult novel set in @kickingshoes’ ‘taur AU)

—————————————————————————————— ——————————————————————————————

Regis knows that his wife, and sometimes his friends, think that he can be too soft: too quick to forgive, too generous to his enemies. He doesn't take offense. It's probably true. His is not the way of the Fierce, or the Conqueror, or even the pitiless Warrior of his forefathers.

For Regis, it has always been more important to have hope.

Hope is all that sustains him, some days – the days when he dwells upon the loss of his kingdom to the encroaching Niflheim threat, when he sees how cruel his beloved city can be to the refugees that wash up upon their shores, when he thinks about what 'taurkind could truly do to fight the daemon scourge that plagues them all if only they worked all together.

Hope that for all the evil in world, there too is light – that the light within the souls of people would win out over the darkness.

Not every time, perhaps. But once in a while.

Enough.

It is for that reason he gave the Kingsglaive the chance to defend the Citadel alone: hoping, by this measure of trust, to show that he did value them, that their contributions were worthwhile, that there was still some peace yet to be had if only they all worked towards it.

That not all of the stories that Drautos – if indeed he were in fact Glauca – had fed them were true.

He knew, of course, that he was taking a risk in making the offer; Clarus and Cor had pointed that out to him at great length. Aulea had spoken briefly against the idea, but had subsided quickly enough; she knows him well enough to know when he has made his final decision, and the reasons behind that decision, and she knows how important it is that his reign be one of mercy as well as justice.

Yes, if he had known that Niflheim would reach out to parley and negotiate a treaty now, of all times, he would not have made the offer. He does not so easily gamble with the lives of his people, whatever Drautos says, whatever accusations he makes – accusations so pointed and searing that Regis cannot tell if they are complaints truthfully meant or merely barbs designed to hurt. But to take back the offer once made would do worse than destroy what he sought to achieve: it would crush those of the Kingsglaive who were yet loyal, knowing that despite his words their King did not trust them.

There would be nothing left of the Kingsglaive if he did that.

So he did not revoke the offer.

Next, he hoped that, at the very least, they would not act against him: their captain gone, their plans gone awry, forced to act within the very heart of Insomnia rather than whatever plan they originally had. He hoped they would see reason, if nothing else, and abandon their treason still-born in its crib.

They did not.

Lastly, he hoped that what measures he had put in place to defend against the possibility of treason would minimize whatever damage they might inflict, and in that he still had reason to hope.

And yet –

Somehow, he did not think that they would attack each other.

Their comrades-in-arms, their brothers and sisters, their friends.

That's why he assigned the most perilous tasks – guarding the Crystal, guarding his own person – to Kingsglaive that he trusted personally, or who were recommended to him by those in whom he had faith. He thought, he hoped, that that would be enough - enough to safeguard his city, to safeguard his person, to cause those who wished them all ill to take a moment of pause before they acted.

It is not.

The Kingsglaive – or at least, some traitorous portion – have turned upon Lucis, and they spare no one at all.

Several of them were engaged in some form of sabotage of the Crystal and, upon seeing Regis and Aulea enter, decide that the time for secrecy is over; they warp – using his power – behind their comrades, daggers coming down.

Regis is too weak to stop them outright, the Ring draining his life more swiftly each year, but he can at least divert their blows: he lifts his own hand in return, summoning the great Armiger of his ancestors, and he sends it against the traitors, knocking them back.

He was never much of a fighter, no, not like Clarus or Cor; he relies too much on his magic and his shields, and he always has, enough to make him wonder what name they would call him once he was dead –

– but poor fighter or no, he still has some tricks up his sleeves.

He casts forth his Armiger once more.

The traitors are battered down by his weapons and hastily retreat, calling for aid.

"Hemera!" Nyx screams, the shock that kept him frozen breaking. He darts forward – one of the two Kingsglaive that was stabbed is his sister.

She clutches at her shoulder, blood streaming down her back to stain her pale wolf hindquarters, making terrible sounds of pain, but she nods at Nyx, making some signal with her fingers – deaf, of course; Regis has nearly forgotten, since all of the Kingsglaive tend to be rather overawed and silent in his presence.

Regis never learned LSL, a fact which he's regretting now.

Aulea produces a gun. "There are more coming; I can hear them," she says. "Shields up, my dear."

Regis raises shields around them all – just in time, as the Kingsglaive stream out of the Crystal chamber to surround them.

"Where did you hide that gun?" he asks Aulea. He didn't feel her summon it. "You're still in your court dress."

She smirks. "Darling, the gun was also in my court dress."

He does so love her, his fierce lioness.

There is a terrible cracking sound, like glass breaking, and it fills the room.

"What's that?" Pelna, the other injured Kingsglaive, gasps. Nyx is focusing on bandaging him first – Pelna was injured worse than Hemera, a wound deep in his side rather than the shoulder, and Regis suspects Hemera, who hovers by her brother's side, insisted.

"That is the Crystal," Regis says, and raises his eyes to the sky. He can see from where he stands that the Wall is beginning to crack in the sky, falling in shards of beautiful magical glass that dissolves even as it falls. Without the Crystal to focus his power, there is nothing he can do to maintain the Wall. "They have knocked it from its plinth."

"But that would –" Nyx begins, then stops, horrified.

"Yes," Regis says heavily. "The Wall has fallen. I expect Niflheim has already summoned its airships and is attempting to launch an attack on Insomnia as we speak. I have already called upon the Crownsguard to defend the city."

He’d sent the message in the elevator. He had to offer trust to the Kingsglaive, yes, but even trust only goes so far.

"Niflheim won't be able to bring too many MTs," Aulea says. "We would have spotted a full fleet. Our Crownsguard will likely be able to overwhelm them and repel their forces – there are procedures in place for an invasion. The only question is –"

She falls silent.

Regis turns.

Drautos is there.

He was supposed to be in the prison cells, guarded by Crownsguard – Regis almost hopes that they were bribed or corrupted, but he suspects they were not, and that they are now dead.

Perhaps that is why these Kingsglaive did not hesitate to raise their hands against their own, hands already stained with the blood of their fellow citizens.

Drautos is there, and stepping forward, his mighty sword at hand, his incredibly powerful hyena haunches flexing as he moves.

"Your Majesty," he drawls, and his voice is thick with sarcasm.

Nyx's head shoots up. "Captain," he says almost blankly. Then, to the donkey ‘taur at Drautos' right hand, "Luche." And to the coyote ‘taur on his left, almost a moan of pain, “Axis.”

They were his friends, these ‘taurs.

"You should've just listened to your orders, Nyx, instead of being a hero," Luche says with a heavy, disappointed sigh. "And maybe you would've made it."

"Sure," Nyx says, starting to get angry. "But Hemera, she would be dead, huh? And then you'd come and hunt me down like a trapped rat or something?"

"We would have given you both the chance to join us, instead," Drautos says, waving the one called Luche back. "You are from Galahd, which has not fallen, but you, too, know the agony of invasion – the pain of watching your family, your home, bear the brunt of the Empire and the daemons, while the King of Lucis sits safe and sound inside his precious wall, hoarding peace and tranquility for himself –"

Hemera stirs and makes another gesture with her hand.

This one requires no knowledge of LSL.

"Yeah," Nyx says savagely, agreeing. "Go fuck yourself. Traitors."

"We never betrayed what truly mattered," Drautos says. "We have always been loyal to our homes – to our home and hearth –"

Regis feels Aulea's tail wrap around his, a comforting gesture, and – very delicately – squeeze twice.

"– to the Empire?" Nyx is shouting. He's acting as a remarkably good distraction, even though Regis believes him to be entirely in earnest. "It was the Empire that took your homes, not Lucis!"

"I cannot fault them for taking what was given," Drautos sneers. "A weak kingdom, a weak king, sacrificing the homes and sons of outsiders so that his precious city alone would prosper – the Empire was drawn in by the weakness of Lucis –"

"What the hell are you even talking about? This war has been going on for generations!" Nyx shouts. "No one king can have caused anything!"

"They took away the Wall!" Drautos roars. "It once extended far across the land, but they abandoned our people to the dark and the daemons –"

Regis finishes counting to five and abruptly drops the shields.

Aulea, who was naturally expecting it, fires at once.

Five shots, all but emptying her gun, and then Regis pulls the shields back up.

He has never been much of a fighter himself, no, but his loved ones have always been fierce enough so that he never noticed the lack.

As hoped, the attack took the traitors by surprise, leaving them no time to respond in kind – Luche ducks with automatic instinct, Aulea's bullet searing through the meat of his shoulder instead of lodging within it; Axis staggers backwards, slower to react and not nearly so lucky, the bullet striking true in his chest; and Drautos –

Drautos, at whom three bullets were aimed, simply changes, silver metal snaking all along his flesh until he is fully covered, into –

“General Glauca,” Regis says, his voice heavy. He had dearly hoped that it wasn’t true. Scientia found evidence of treason, yes, of fomenting rebellion underneath the nose of the Citadel itself, and she thought that the evidence suggested that Drautos was Glauca – the timing of their appearances; analysis of their fighting styles; Glauca’s reluctance to fight Cor, who had beaten Drautos in a one-on-one – but Regis hoped…

“You - you - you fuckwad!” Nyx shouts. “You absolute dickhead!”

Aulea grins. “Well, that’s one way of putting it, I suppose,” she murmurs. “Perhaps slightly less than perfectly diplomatic – but understandable, given his tender age. And anyway, who needs diplomacy in battle?”

“I fight for my people,” Glauca says to Nyx, his echoing voice twisted enough to be unrecognizable as Drautos’ own. “You protect a weakened king and a dying kingdom – and for what?”

“It’s called ‘not wanting the Empire to take over the world, unleashing daemons left and right’,” Nyx snaps. “Every single crime you hold against Lucis was committed by Niflheim, by the people you are fighting to help, you – you plant!”

Aulea sniggers.

Everyone glances at her.

“What?” she says. “It’s funny. Plant as in vegetation, or plant as in undercover spy – okay, I’m ruining the joke.”

Hemera signs something Regis can’t understand, then gives a thumbs up. He assumes that means she agrees that the statement was funny.

Glauca shakes his helmeted head – just the way Drautos does when he doesn’t understand how someone could ruin the moment like that, though it's usually Cor who enjoys puncturing solemnity rather than Aulea.

Cor –

Cor is away now, unable to help; he is with the group seeking to obtain a Covenant with the Archean. Regis can only hope that they succeed.

At least Noctis is away, and safe.

Regis trusted Drautos with the information about his precious Noctis, about the Prophecy, about how important his mission was for the sake of all the world, and Drautos betrayed him regardless. Forewarned or no, that betrayal still stings sharp.

“Enough of this,” Glauca says. “You hide behind your shield, king, displaying your weakness once again – enough! Come out and face us.”

Nyx tenses into a fighting stance, pulling out his daggers; even Hemera staggers to her paws, though she’s listing very badly to one side. Pelna cannot rise at all, his hindquarters wet with blood, his tail hanging limp, and his face gone pale.

Regis looks at Glauca right where his eyes would be.

“No,” he says.

“What do you mean, no?” Luche demands.

“I refuse to fight you upon your chosen ground,” Regis says calmly. He lifts his hand and additional shields spring up, these ones lining the walls around the chamber of the Crystal. “My wife accurately analyzed the situation: Niflheim is far, and there are only so many ships they could bring close enough to be of service to them now, and in those ships, only so many MTs. We, on the other hand, have the full might of the Crownsguard with us to defend the city, a Crownsguard filled with many more ‘taurs than are in your corrupted Kingsglaive. They will succeed in repelling the Niflheim attack, in time. The only uncertain element that might have tipped the balance was where you were, General – and now that we know that, you are going nowhere.”

Regis cannot see Glauca’s expression, but he can see Luche’s – the smug sneer of superiority dropping off his face; the realization, perhaps belatedly, that shields are not only good for keeping attacks out, but also keeping people in.

“Wait, what?” Nyx says. “Our plan is just – what? To wait?”

“With the Wall itself down, I can keep these shields up for a very long time,” Regis confirms. “There are more Crownsguard and, I hope, loyal Kingsglaive such as yourself, than there are traitors. They will repel the Niflheim forces, and then they will come here and arrest these traitors, bringing them to justice.”

“The Crownsguard has detached a division to detain the Emperor of Niflheim as we speak,” Aulea says, looking at Glauca. “If all you care about is your home, Drautos, then surely you do not object to such a measure. Unless you are indeed loyal to Niflheim first and foremost..?”

“The Empire’s nothing more than our ticket out of this situation,” Luche snaps, though the whites of his eyes are showing. He’s afraid. He’s little more than a boy, and Regis pities him – but he’s made his choice. There’s no turning back now, not with murder on his conscience. “It means crap all to us.”

Glauca is silent for a long moment. Regis wonders what he’s thinking – wonders if Aulea’s jab flew true, wonder whether Glauca is truly loyal only to his homeland, thinking he is doing the right thing by allying with the empire, or whether Glauca is by now no more than Niflheim’s dog.

Sadly, Regis doubts he’ll ever get a satisfactory answer to that question.

“It does not matter,” Glauca finally says. “We will escape your little prison.”

He lifts his sword and brings it down hard on the shields, clearly seeking a weak point. They exist, of course, and as the captain of the Kingsglaive, trained in the use of the King's magic, he would know all about how to find it.

But they have made one mistake: they took down the Wall first. The greatest part of Regis’ magic, of his life and soul, was poured into that Wall, every day, and with that drain gone, it is his to wield once more.

These shields will not break.

Glauca continues to try, though, and Luche and several of the other Kingsglaive pull out their daggers, drawing their hands back to cast lighting or fire –

Nothing happens.

“What…?” a rabbit 'taur which Regis believes is named Tredd asks, staring at his hand in surprise. “But the King is still alive – we should still have magic!”

“The magic is my magic,” Regis says harshly. “And I, and I alone, choose to whom it is gifted – and it is a gift I can recall.”

“Again you hide,” Glauca sneers, “while others die.”

“It is by taking this action that I protect as many people as I can,” Regis says. “To the best of my ability. Even if it means I cannot fight in person. Say what you will, Glauca; it will not move me.”

Glauca spins and stalks away, going to confer with the other Kingsglaive.

“I’m not sure I like this plan,” Nyx says, dropping his fighting stance and returning his daggers to their sheaths.

“Not heroic enough for your taste?” Aulea asks, smiling a little. “These things rarely are, particularly when you have to worry about so many people. The perilous joys of being royalty, I'm sad to say; we have to think of the bigger picture. And, sadly, keeping Glauca and the others contained is more important that appeasing our own desire to smack him in his stupid face.”

Nyx barks out a laugh.

“Come,” she continues, “let us see what we can do for young Pelna.”

Hemera limps over to Regis and salutes.

He smiles at her. "I'm sorry, my dear; I would call for medical assistance for the two of you, but..."

She shakes her head firmly and signs something.

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

She shrugs, clearly accustomed to that. She salutes again. He takes that to mean that she understands why he cannot put the shields down, and that she still supports him.

"Can you shield just them in?" Nyx asks, peering at the shield. "Then we move out?"

"Unfortunately, they would have to stay in one place for that," Regis says, watching the corrupt Kingsglaive mill around, hitting the shields with their weapons in a vain attempt to weaken them. "We also don't know what further forces they are in contact with. Putting shields up and down is more draining than keeping them up, and I don't know how long we will be required to keep them up. Far better to stay in our current position. Unless Pelna requires immediate medical attention...?"

"No, sir," Pelna says before anyone else can say anything. "I'll be okay, sir. Don't you put them down for my sake."

Regis accedes to his request, though he worries – the side is a very delicate area, near the intestines, and too much of a delay might lead to sepsis. But the plan is still valid, injury or no, and at least Pelna’s willful pretense of good health is enough to let Regis deceive himself into hoping that perhaps they will be able to avoid any more casualties.

"They're planning something," his sharp-eyed people-wise Aulea says, watching the traitors talking with each other. "Keep your guard up, all of you – if they find a way to break the shield, we will be vulnerable."

The three Kingsglaive all nod.

And so they wait, stuck at an impasse.

It is, sadly, a state Regis is very familiar with from this long and endless war.

After what must be nearly an hour, if not more, there's a sound in the hallway.

Regis and Aulea exchange looks of concern.

"Not Crownsguard?" Nyx asks in a low voice, catching it.

"The Crownsguard had orders to secure the city and to stop the Niflheim invasion first, should the Wall fall," Aulea replies, "and only after they finish that should they turn to restoring the Crystal. I find it unlikely that it is our forces coming up the stairs – more likely our enemy's companions, here to assist with the problem of the shield."

Nyx nods his understanding, murmuring something that sounds not unlike "they deserve the stairs", and goes back to watching the other Kingsglaive.

He's memorizing their faces, Regis thinks; he wants to know who betrayed him.

Regis would tell him that such exercises will only lead to heartache, but he knows well that words cannot help heal the wound of a betrayal such as this.

Sure enough, the sounds from the stairs resolve themselves into more Kingsglaive – not including Nyx and Hemera's good friend Libertus, Regis notes, and hopes that the honest bear 'taur yet lives – and with them, held in their grip, they have –

"Clarus!" Regis exclaims.

Clarus is hurt, and badly – his face is bruised, his eyes blackened; his striped orange hide wet with blood and the oily miasma characteristic of MTs. He is not walking, but being dragged.

He hears the others around him, reacting in their own way, but he only has eyes for his Shield.

His oldest friend.

There's no way the MTs managed this alone, for Regis knows that Clarus would have been surrounded by Crownsguard – and yet – if Clarus has fallen - then the city –

Clarus signals roughly with one of his dangling forepaws, not using his hands to avoid notice.

Stop. City. Safe.

The city is secure. Then how did they get to Clarus?

"You are very good at hiding behind your shields and walls while others die," Glauca says. "Let's see how well you do when it is your friends who are dying."

He lifts his sword and puts it to Clarus' neck.

Regis opens his mouth to say – he doesn't know what, for there is nothing he can say, nothing he can do -

There is a terrible sound, then, from just outside the windows, a sound familiar to anyone who has been beyond the Wall.

The sound of the terrors of the night.

Daemons.

"And those are the daemon carrier ships unleashing their weapons upon your city," Glauca says. He sounds satisfied, the monster; he does not care about the civilian lives that will be destroyed. "Even better. You will watch as your friend dies by my sword, King, even as the daemons come right into your city of tranquility, bringing death in their wake –"

Another sound.

Glauca frowns, clearly not recognizing it.

Regis can't entirely blame him. It sounds like – thunder?

But the sky was clear, last he checked.

"Holy crap," Pelna, who was lying slouched by the small window, suddenly says, his eyes wide. "Ramuh's fucking wings...!"

"What is it?" Aulea asks. She puts her forepaw on Regis' own, warning him against impulsive acts. She herself would use her hand for the gesture, but she has her now-reloaded gun aimed firmly at the enemy.

"Ulric," Regis croaks, gesturing with his head to the window, wanting a report. He can't take his eyes off of Clarus' steady gaze.

The one that says 'Let me go'. That says 'my life is not worth dropping your shield'.

That says – 'my life is your shield'.

But Clarus is his oldest friend, his friend from the crib, from when they were no more than kittens themselves. He was the only one who stayed by his side: when Cid decamped to Hammerhead after an argument, when old Weskham stayed on in Altissia, when Cor the kitten, their late arrival, grew up. He is the only one who understands Regis' mind the way no one else does, not even Aulea.

A King must make sacrifices. Regis knows that maxim far, far too well. It was to save as many people as possible that he retreated into Insomnia after his father's death and their terrible defeat, knowing that it was only that retreat that encouraged Niflheim to slow down its plans of conquest – that painful retreat and the withdrawing of the Wall some years later that brought about their tenuous ceasefire, however temporary, and gave a pause from the horrors of war to the lands of his people so that they could try to rebuild.

It was for his people that he stayed behind the Wall and did not start a fight he knew he would lose.

And it is for his people that he will stay behind his shields now.

As a king, Regis must love his people. As a 'taur, there are times he finds that he hates them.

"Ramuh's wings!" Nyx exclaims.

"What is it?" Aulea snaps.

"No – you don't understand – it really is Ramuh's wings. He's manifesting!"

"He's what?" Regis says, and many other people in the room exclaim something similar as well. They all move towards the window at once to go look, each on their own side of the magic shield wall; even Glauca goes, pulling his sword away from Clarus to do so – a moment's respite, nothing more, Regis knows.

They go to look and they see –

Noctis.

Noctis, standing in the open doorway of a Niflheim cruiser that hovers right above the center of his city, Gladio at one side, Ignis at the other, Luna and Prompto at his back, his hands thrown up into the air as if he were summoning the storm itself.

And above Noctis' hands, there is Ramuh himself, gathering in the air above them all, his thousands of birds coming together into his gigantic form.

And below him –

"Titan," Regis breathes, even as the others around him curse.

Titan himself manifesting his far-flung form, which he has not done in years, in generations, the mighty bull of the land rearing up and bringing his terrible hooves down, down –

Down upon the daemons unleashed by Niflheim.

Ramuh throws his great staff, thunder and lightning both, and he hits the daemons, too, a fiery blaze that blackens and consumes them even as the massive creatures of dust and darkness turn to flee.

And before the unstoppable might of the Astrals, the daemons fall. No matter their size, no matter their fearsomeness, this is one battle they cannot win.

Seeing this, the airships of Niflheim scatter and turn to flee.

"No!" Glauca roars, lifting his gauntleted hand in a fist of rage.

Noctis and his ship are moving now, turning and heading straight to the Crystal, Regis notes almost absently. Straight towards them.

"Betrayed again, Glauca?" Aulea asks, her voice poisonous. "It is almost as though the mighty Empire doesn't actually care about refugees fighting for their home, just the way you accuse us of doing."

Glauca strikes out at her in his fury, but for all the might of his sword, Regis' shield holds. His traitorous Kingsglaive mill around him like frightened geese, panic in their eyes, realizing, perhaps for the first time, that this is a battle they might lose – and that there is a price to be paid for treason.

"You may have won the day, cowards," he snarls, spitting mad. "But you have lost, too – I will see to it that you lose –"

He turns back to Clarus, whose calm has not been moved, and he lifts his sword up high.

"Regis!" Aulea shouts. "Drop the shields now!"

He doesn't know why she is suggesting this – it is contrary to their agreed-upon plan of remaining behind the shields – but Regis loves his wife and more than that: he trusts her.

He drops the shields.

And then, through the highest pane of the great window far up above them, there is the shattering of glass as someone leaps through it and down to them, landing right before Glauca.

Someone with sword drawn and teeth bared.

Someone whom Glauca has never faced in open battle – someone whom Drautos has never defeated –

Cor.

The Immortal.

“Hey there, Glauca,” the finest warrior of Lucis says with a smile. “I’m here to kick your ass.”

#final fantasy xv #ffxv #regis lucis caelum #nyx ulric #titus drautos #luche #tredd #axis #aulea lucis caelum #hemera ulric #clarus amicitia #cor leonis #noctis lucis caelum #my fic #nocturne

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destiny-islanders · 7 years ago

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FFXV x KH Headcanons That I Have But Probably Won’t Doodle Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You know how sometimes in FFXV when you’re out in the woods next to animals that won’t attack you, you end up hitting one by accident while you’re fending off MTs?

SORA DOES THIS AND IT RUINS HIS LIFE

HE HITS AN ANAK.

NOT JUST AN ANAK

AN ANAK CALF

He uses a Megalixir on it… Gladio is ready to End Him for wasting that on a stupid-looking giraffe cow!!!!

(Ignis: “Prompto, Noctis, go distract Sora while I take some of the mother’s meat to cook for dinner. I’ve come up with a new recipe, and the secret ingredient is ATTEMPTED INFANTICIDE.”)

While we’re talking about Sora and killing things– he doesn’t like to kill bugs. That puts him at odds with Noct and Prom on multiple occasions. Those two are the embodiment of those Internet memes depicting people burning their houses down to kill a single crazy-looking insect. Meanwhile Sora is over there feeling guilty about accidentally stepping on a snail

A talking cricket capable of reading and writing lived in Sora’s hoodie for like two years okay HE HAS A SOFT SPOT

Yes Sora is that guy to catch a spider and let it outside

Yes Gladio has killed bugs that Sora wanted to save while he scrambled around trying to find a paper towel… because yeah. He doesn’t want to touch that creepy crawly with his bare hands, even if his motives are Pure

“BORIS THE SPIDER! NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

Sora is able to see Gentiana and Carbuncle without the use of a camera

Cue the bros using Sora’s Actual Sixth Sense to their advantage by having him guide them to make silly poses with the invisible deities

Noctis can’t believe Gentiana plays along. What a good sport.

Sora checking his phone during one of Carbuncle’s visits and beginning to giggle uncontrollably

THIS LITTLE FLUFF BALL HAS THE DIRT ON EMBARRASSING CHILD NOCT STORIES

Noct: “How tf did he get your number”

Since Sora is a couple of years younger than everyone else (I headcanon him as 17/18 when he first comes to Eos), Ignis and Gladio are Very Protective of him

Honestly it’s like Sora has four big brothers

Gladio is floored by the fact that Sora is more or less a self-taught swordsman

He still helps train Sora because technique is important

He swells up with So Much Pride when he catches Sora using a move he’d taught him during training on an MT

Gladio is so excited to take Sora to try his first meal of Cup Noodles

Sora ends up being a bit of a purist; he doesn’t like meat or veggies– just ramen and broth.

Ignis is baffled by nearly everything Sora does and how nonchalantly he does it

This kid can jump nine feet in the air and even executes a fussy little flip when he does it wtf

Oh, well. At least Sora can pick those fruit over there by jumping and reaching so no one has to climb the tree and risk a broken neck

(Noctis: “I didn’t break my neck, Specs– I sprained my wrist!!”

Ignis: “Which wouldn’t have happened if you’d been more careful.”)

Sora is dared (hmm by whom?? I wonder…….) to prank Ignis by putting a rogue ingredient into the stew one night.

He and his cohorts (you know who they are) watch Ignis do a taste-test nonchalantly

Who am I kidding they are totally obvious as they try to stop themselves from laughing

Dunno why you’re laughing, though, boys– that’s your dinner you’re sabotaging

Ignis is obviously disgusted by what he tastes. He stands there for a moment… and then he fumbles around in his pack for new ingredients

You bet your ass Ignis salvages the stew. In fact, it actually tastes better than before?? “I’ve come up with a new recipe, and the secret ingredient is ATTEMPTED SABOTAGE.”

Don’t ask Sora what the rogue ingredient was, Ignis. He’s not from around here and wouldn’t really know a Lieden pepper from a Duscaean potato

Prompto caves and tells him

The next day… how strange… it seems that Ignis only made enough dinner for himself and Gladio to enjoy… looks like it’s time for Toast for the Culinary Saboteurs

Ignis drags it out for a bit before giving the boys their share.

Noctis reminds Sora of Riku a lot.

Yes, by that I mean he tries to have a cool exterior but is actually a Giant Goober

Noct fishing while sitting at the end of the pier with Sora, long after the other bros have lost interest and wandered elsewhere

Long talks about friends and hopes for the future

Noctis feeling a little guilty because Sora seems so… comfortable with the burden of protecting not just one world, but a whole bunch.

Meanwhile, Noctis is reluctant to accept a king’s responsibility. He never asked for this. He just wants to be… normal.

Sora eventually admitting to having doubts about why the Keyblade stayed with him, and quietly wishing for the day to come that the worlds won’t need a single Keyblade master.

Turns out the two of them have more in common than Noct first thought.

Noctis trying to reel in the DEMON FISH from the VR game and Sora is in such a panic and so desperate to help that he PUNCHES THE MONSTER FISH IN THE FACE and BREAKS EVERY KNUCKLE IN HIS RIGHT HAND

Prompto and Sora are BEST FRIENDS and honestly IT HAPPENS SO FAST

Prom gives Sora some photography lessons and lets him loose in Galdin Quay

He ends up with a memory card full of cat photos of various angles and degrees of blurriness

Somehow a local reporter overhears Sora talking with Prompto about his intention to take a photo with every single Kenny Crow statue in Lucis and ends up having a little article published about him. Just seems like one of those slice-of-life stories that the media would eat up

They use one of Prompto’s photos of Sora and Kenny for the newspaper!!! It’s on like the 85th page nestled into a corner, but he’s!!! Officially!! A published photographer!!!

In the long night, there are several instances that find Prom and Sora on a hunt near a Crow’s Nest they never had a chance to visit during their road trip. Taking a photo is a matter of obligation at this point

Prompto scrolling through the Caw, Kids! It’s Sora Crow! folder and tearing up as he starts from the first photo and scrolls forward. By year seven of the long night, Sora’s smile as he stands under Kenny’s wing doesn’t reach his eyes

Starscourge!Sora headcanons that aren’t completely miserable??? Look at them, hanging out above the angst cut????

It eventually gets to the point that Sora’s left eye glows in the dark like a nightlight

Prompto finds himself using the glow of Sora’s fuckin’ daemon eye to try and read the map after his flashlight’s battery dies

omfg

It’s just so absurd that the two of them burst out laughing

It’s the first time either of them had laughed in a while. It felt… nice…

Gladio pressing a hand over Sora’s eye when they’re trying to sneak up on a daemon because it will give them away

Prompto’s response is to give Sora an eyepatch he swiped from the clinic for their next hunt

Sora: “I always wanted to be a pirate as a kid. Who says dreams don’t come true, even in this horrific post-apocalyptic hellscape”

Also Sora: “Srsly Gladio I can see better in the dark with this eye maybe don’t”

Head into the misery dojo if you dare under the cut

Uh-oh. It is.

Pls don’t think about Sora desperately trying to break into the Crystal after he discovers that it’s dragged Noctis inside of it.

The Keyblade’s strength depends on the heart of its wielder. He should be able to cut through this! He can cut through anything!!!!

It takes a very long time before Sora or any of the Chocobros leave that chamber.

Yes they stay there for days hoping beyond hope that Noct will come out

During the long night, Sora becomes a daemon hunter and a team leader for a group of search and rescue teams

His first retrieval mission ends… badly. The people who’d sent the distress signal were long gone by the time Sora and his team got there

One of the kids was in mid-transformation after being afflicted with the Starscourge…

Sora can’t land the fatal blow. He goes outside and throws up while Dave finishes the job

Search and rescue missions are a source of extreme anxiety for Sora after that… but he has to try and save as many people as he can

Sora tries not to think about Riku, Kairi, or any of his friends beyond Eos. It hurts too much. He tries to put his Wayfinder in a shoebox in his apartment to avoid its constant reminder of what he’s lost… but he just can’t bring himself to part with it

He wishes he did when he takes a nasty spill into a ravine during a solo mission two years into the long night. Smashes his Wayfinder into pieces.

He’s too injured to climb out of the ravine, too. He gives up after a couple of attempts and just gathers up the pieces of the good luck charm that he can. He just lay there in a heap and watches the stars

Prompto, Ignis, and Gladio hear about Sora’s disappearance and team up for the first time in almost a year to find him

They make it in time. Lots of potions and a piggyback ride to safety courtesy of Gladio see our dorkupine boy right

Prompto notices Sora throw something in the trash before leaving the clinic and finds the Wayfinder pieces. He knows what the charm represents and how devastated Sora must be that it’s been irreparably destroyed.

He gathers up the pieces, puts them in a pouch, and leaves it on the table in the kitchen of Sora’s tiny apartment. He leaves a note, too: I know they haven’t given up on you. So don’t give up on them.

A few days later, Sora gives Prompto, Ignis, and Gladio each a piece of the charm. So that all of us will find each other, in the end

Noctis takes a piece of the charm with him to the throne

#final fantasy xv #kingdom hearts #ffxv x kh #sora #noctis #prompto #ignis #gladio #ff #ffxv #destiny headcanons #text #headcanons #long post #starscourge sora

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philosworkbench · 4 years ago

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Solopreneurs: What’s your fastest Shower, Ship, Succeed story?

Maybe this term already exists. I have no idea. But here’s what I want to talk about: I had an idea for a new class while in the shower yesterday. I announced I was doing it today. It starts in two weeks. In six weeks, I’ll have a pretty clear picture of how successful it was. That seems like a turnaround that solopreneurs are uniquely positioned to create.

Backstory: My COVID vs. Career Crisis

Disclaimer: My family and I have been extremely lucky during COVID. No one has been sick and no one in my immediate family works in healthcare or has a job that requires going in-person work. So, I’m using the term “crisis” with a tremendous amount of privilege. Still, it decimated my industry and how I used to earn a living.

That all being said, when COVID hit, I lost four months of work in one week. It created a huge void in my life. My entire career was built on live: live training and facilitation using IMPROV. I curled up into a ball and started questioning everything I had done in my life. What did it mean? What was at the center of it. About 6 months and 100,000 words (written only to myself) later, and I had the conceptual model for the PLAY Polarities. It was exhilarating. I had an idea of value that I could share with the world. Something of mine that I could sell myself. Only one problem. I didn’t devise the product. Okay, cool. Here’s a model. Everybody has a model. No one pays for an idea. They pay for an application of an idea.

So, simultaneously as I began telling people at PLAYdates (then TDCocoa) about the idea, I began thinking about ways to productize the insights I had assembled. What’s the coaching package? What’s the training program? Etc.

I think about monetization a lot. Between my cozy white male Gen X upbringing and my life in improv, I didn’t get a lot of good ideas about how to make money happen. As a kid I was told by parents and guidance counselors: “just get a general liberal arts degree and you can do anything.” I even once suggested to my stepdad that I might get a degree in public speaking (which turns out would have been hugely valuable as I spent a lot of time as a presentation skills coach). His reaction?

“Why would you get a degree in how to say something instead of getting a degree in what to say.”

Somehow he thought that was a bad idea but didn’t bat an eye as I selected my major in philosophy. PHILOSOPHY.

From there I went into improv where the general approach to everything is, “let’s just help each other out and everything will be fine.” That’s why the only financially successful improvisers are the ones you recognize on TV or the ones with good day jobs. “It’s a mug’s game.”

Don’t get me wrong: improvisation can help you immeasurably as an entrepreneur. I just didn’t know it and never applied it that way. So, consider it a “mod.” Improv doesn’t necessarily help “out of the box.”

So, I did what I always do and why I’ve devoted myself to facilitating transformational self-improvement -- I started reading books about it. How does one become an “entrepreneur?” How does one “monetize” their intellectual property into a service? How does one “productize” their services into clearly defined products?

That brings me to a nice hot shower.

SHOWER: Surprising Yourself with the Big Idea

I’ve been racking my brain about lightweight products to monetize the PLAY Polarities. I turns out that it’s not enough to say, “I do coaching, training, and consulting.” People don’t just start throwing money at you. You have to clearly identify problems and try solving them.

So you discovered a model that seems to organize individual, team, and organizational improvement priorities. Big deal! Who needs that? Do they know they need that? What are they going to do with that knowledge? How can it make or save them money? I.e. WHY SHOULD THEY PAY YOU?

I’ve been beating my head against the wall about this for weeks. And, without exception, each monetization strategy I come up with occurs to me in the shower. It just pops into my head.

“Eureka! I should do this!”

Disclaimer: My spouse and I are watching the TV show, Eureka, right now. That may be a factor.

So the idea for this new class hit me. I would lead a live, virtual class, reduce the rate in exchange for participants letting me record it and turn it into assets for an asynchronous eLearning.

Okay, but if I’m going to do that, before everyone gets too busy returning to the “real world,” I should do it QUICKLY.

“Like April?” says my Shower Daemon.

“Yes! April!” I reply. And then immediately face anxiety. How do I do that?

SHIP: Lessons from Volunteer Carpentry and Seth Godin

Something else I had to learn on my journey to unexpected entrepreneurship? Execution. Yes, my new company is as an assassin.... ON THE DANCE FLOOR! (Jumps up and down, shakes hips, trips, falls, farts.)

I had to learn what Charan and Bossidy talk about in their book, unsurprisingly called Execution. So you have great ideas? Great. What will you do about them? You plan to sell? How will you sell? How many dials? How many LinkedIn messages? When?

Execution is the lifeblood of business. It’s almost too simple to recognize it’s profundity. Yes, duh, to do something, you must, you know, do something. When I tell you that that simple truism has sabotaged most of my professional life, believe me.

As the Apostle Paul says, “The good that I would do, I do not. The evil that I would not do, I do.”

Or, in the Revised Matt Elwell version, “The work that I wish I would do, I procrastinate about. The desk that doesn’t need to be reorganized for the 80th time, I reorganize again. This is, in fact, the perfect day for it.”

As I said in a PLAYdate this afternoon:

Most people get to the starting line and GO! I get to the starting line and keep trying to redraw the perfect starting line. Job one for me is cultivating the habit of running imperfectly.

So, against every instinct, I announced my class on today’s PLAYdate using a slide I created while the participants were in their breakouts.

There are two places. The first was Habitat For Humanity. I was no carpenter, but my home church had a long history with HFH and I loved the few mission days I spent with them. I learned a lot about handling wood and framing out a house. I learned how to “talk to the nail,” making small adjustments to how you struck the nail to encourage it not bend as you encountered resistance. As someone who was pretty much written off in gym class as an irredeemable fat nerd, this was something physical that I felt competent about.

However, because I felt competent, I started wanting everything I did to be perfect. To garner the compliments and validation that meant so much to me as I started. But no. that positive reinforcement started waning, and people instead started looking at me with their heads cocked to one side. I was taking too long.

That’s when I learned a saying I’ve tried to remind myself of my whole life:

“You ain’t building a piano!”

(This was said to me in deep southern New Jersey, so it was more like, “Yuh-aint-buildin’-uh-pian-urr!” And then someone threw a piece of scrapple at me. True story.)

That simple sentence reminds me that I have made a habit, perhaps a compulsion, of fretting over details most people won’t notice. I’ve often excused this by telling myself that I’m an artist and therefore, I’m not just filling orders.

If you’re prone to excusing your own poor time management in favor of artistry, consider this. Are you making a statement about your art with what you are doing, or making a statement about your fear with what you’re not yet doing? Are you really saying something with the detail you’re burning hours on to get “just right” or are you allowing yourself to avoid something that really does present the greater artistic challenge.

As Stephen Covey observed, “avoid being ‘right in the thick’ of thin things.”

That’s my Habitat for Humanity story. My other influence, which is a much shorter story, is Seth Godin. You can still get his ShipIt Journal for free on his blog. And if you have something worth doing, I would suggest using his guide to help you do it. In Godin’s characteristic manner, he helped me realize how much of my failure to execute was motivated by fear.

If you’re terrified of failing at something, your brain will make sure you don’t, by making sure you never really try. Basically, you brain exists to keep you alive. We’ve evolved to not do things that can endanger our aliveness by experiencing and avoiding pain. So, if you’re afraid of failing, you are experiencing a kind of pain. Brains hate that noise. QED: you never quite get around to it.

So when I’m not channeling the kindly old South Jersey carpenter who said, “you ain’t building a piano,” I channel Seth Godin who calmly informs me through his immaculate demeanor and trademark spectacles, “just get it shipped.”

Telling people about my class today was me “throwing my cap over the wall” to make sure I did what I said. I’m already scared thinking about it. But now it’s a fear of not getting it shipped, not of not getting it perfect. That’s the fear I want.

SUCCEED: Coming Soon?

In improv we have a “rule of threes.” It’s integral to comedy:

Offer something

Add something else which, by its very following of 1, begins to create a possible connection/story

Add a third thing which, by association with the other two things, clarifies the connection and resolves it or launches us on a trajectory

Depending on that third offering, you either have a joke or a scene, but either way, you have a good chance a comedy.

Either way, the third thing is where we start seeing “the product.” The thing thing is the embodiment of “oh, I get it....” For example:

If Player A nods to Player B and says, “Cat” and Player B nods back and says “Dog.” Then a lot can happen.

Player A can say, in a business like manner. “Are any other animals joining us at this business meeting?” Immediately, a lot becomes clear. These people are playing animals. They’re doing some kind of animal business. Hilarious.

Player A can say, “Oh, I love dogs! Isn’t the vet here, great?” The two make small talk while their pets are getting treatment. Eventually, they fall in love. (Player A and Player B. Not the pets. Or Do ThEy!?)

Or, Player C can enter and offer a warm, “Hey, Dog!” to Player B and sit down next to them. Then, they can turn and nod in the direction of Player A with a curt, even cold, “Cat.”. Player B can respond happily, so grateful to be acknowledged. Player A can respond to the frosty greeting in a way that makes Player C visibly shiver: “Helloooooo, Mouse.”

No matter which of those scenes interests you, they would all interest someone. In an audience of 150, at least a few would walk out the door of the theater that night and say, “that one was my favorite. That group was so good. Let’s come back here soon!”

Three beats makes a product. Three beats is something people will buy, buy again, and tell their friends to buy. Three beats is success.

As I embark on this journey of Shower-Ship-Succeed, I think about what I need to get to my third beat. And what occurs to me is a clear picture of what success looks like and a practical understanding of what I need to do in myself, in my actions, in my systems, and in my relationships to make that success happen.

Some people might argue (and they might be right) that you shouldn’t get to ship without having a clear picture of success. And maybe they’re right. But don’t let that stop you from starting the creation or “shipping” process. In fact, I’m finding that all three of these states are iterative. You don’t so much go linearly from one to the other.

You have your “shower moment.” Hopefully, you listen to it and start to work on it. You start getting ready to “ship.” I call that whole process “shipping,” not just the putting-it-on-the-shelf-with-a-price-tag part. As you do that, I believe you get a vision for what this will be and who will like it and then you can start asking why they would pay for it, and that can start you on this cycle.

That might be a question that sends you back to the shower for more.

What about YOUR Shower, Ship, Succeed story?

I started this post with a question and then all this stuff just flowed out. (Hooray, my gift of making first drafts five times longer than they have to be!)

Here’s what I want to know: Have you ever, as a solopreneur, or just a creator of anything, noticed a rapid procession from initial idea (Shower) to making something (Ship) to having a desired result (Succeed)?

What was your fastest time?

What helped you get it done so fast?

What slowed it down?

What did you have to overcome -- in the project and in yourself -- to get it done?

Now that I’ve said all I could possibly say, I’d love to hear your stories!

#entrepreneurship #solopreneur #ship it #seth godin #improvisation #improv

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