#keep that shit to yourself niff

[corpusdiem-seizethedead]

Niffty: Alastor! There's a monster under my bed, and it's really ugly!

Husk: *from the bottom bunk* Honestly, fuck you.

[feathered-serpents]

The Trouble with Soulmates Chapter 2 - First Scene Preview

Hey! I do feel bad about being slow getting the update out despite what I promised. My time management has not been great this summer, admittedly, but I am making good progress finally!

I wanted to share one last preview scene to hold you guys over until the release. This is the first scene (sans prologue) of the story, taking place IMMEDIATELY after the end of the first chapter. It's unbeta'd and subject to change so please keep that in mind! Otherwise, enjoy! ----

Husk hadn’t slept in Anthony’s room long. Really, he didn’t sleep at all after Anthony left, though he did try. When he realized he wouldn’t be sleeping, he decided he had to go. He wasn’t the type to lounge naked in someone else’s bedroom, no matter the circumstances that led him to lounging naked in someone else’s bedroom. 

Now he stood, clothed, behind the bar counter, cleaning out two scotch glasses behind an empty counter like he would any other day. Only today, he hummed while he did it and maybe smiled in the right light. 

Husk didn’t consider himself “good” at much. 

There was bartending, but all you needed to be “good” at that was a half-decent memory and familiarity with your inventory. There was gambling, but “good” was never a word he used to describe him and gambling. He had an appetite for it, he was certainly skilled at it, but good? No. Not that.

But this thing he was doing… 

Honestly, he didn’t know exactly what he was doing. He knew he’d gone from rolling his eyes at an actor to drinking with an Angel Dust, to liking someone called Angel, to starting a thing with someone named Anthony.

And he wanted to be good at it.

“You’re making noise,” said a needle-shaped voice from somewhere around his knees. 

He looked down, and standing by his feet was Niffty, feather duster in hand, blinking up at him with her head tilted like a curious toy poodle. 

“It botherin’ you?” 

Niffty narrowed her eye, and brought her fingers to her chin with a long hmmm. She held the pose for a moment before she finally shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Let me know if that changes,” said Husk. He put the scotch glasses back in the cabinet, brims down, and grabbed this morning’s bottle of whiskey. “Don’t wanna be on your bad side today.” 

He brought the whiskey to his lips, lazily letting it fill his mouth. 

“Is it ‘cause you and Angel had sex?” 

And spit it back out. 

Niffty grinned sharply and climbed on top of the counter. She swapped her duster for a yellow rag Husk hadn’t seen on her and began to mop up the discarded whiskey drops. 

Husk wiped off his mouth after coughing out the burn between his nose and throat. “You don’t gotta go around sayin’ that, Niff.” 

“But you did!” 

“Yeah, but-” a sudden shock of horror- “How do you know about that?” 

“I chased a roach into a room and saw you guys in there.”

“You saw-” He growled. Pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. “Y’know what? Nevermind. Just don’t go spreadin’ shit that ain’t no one else’s business.”

“Okay!” 

Niffty crawled onto his shoulders to begin to dust the upper shelves while he went about his usual work, and it was not long after that Alastor appeared. As he always did when Niffty and Husk found themselves together on their own. 

He sat on the leftmost barstool, leaning his cane against his leg and his chin on his clasped hands. Husk turned his back to him. 

“And what are we discussing this fine morning?” he asked.

Niffty leapt off his shoulder and onto the bar in front of Alastor. “Angel and Husk had sex.”

Husk broke this morning's bottle of whiskey. Clenching it to bits in his fist.

“Oh-ho! Niffty! My dear, that was wholly too much information,” Alastor said with a polite pat on her head. “Still, I suppose that warrants congratulations, Husker.” 

Husk allotted Alastor one sour look over his shoulder before beginning to clean up the glass shards now on the back counter. “Yeah.” 

“I had hoped you would enjoy yourself here,” Alastor cheerfully continued. “I am glad to see you settle in after all this time.”

Husk dusted a few tiny shards off his palm. He may hate his body, but the pads it put there did keep him from getting cut. Maybe that’s why he thoughtlessly responds: “...thanks.” 

He hears the way Alastor tilts his head. 

“My, my, a sincere expression of gratitude! From you! Fornication can work wonders, it seems.”

Husk snarls. “You gotta fucking say it like that?” 

“There he is.” Alastor stands, taking his cane in hand and twirling it. “Come, Niffty, I do believe we are beginning to irritate him.” 

Husk catches them in the corner of his eye as they walk past him. Alastor’s grin grows larger, something that long stopped surprising Husk. He closes his eyes and nods at him in an exceptionally friendly way, with Niffty scuttering at his heels. 

Husk chooses another bottle from the shelves, and the day trickles on. 

Maybe he should get a phone. 

He’d never considered it before, he and boredom were on good terms. He could slip into a nice stupor and wave hours and hours away in a half-conscious haze, and if someone wasn’t in front of him, he had no desire to speak to them. He also had no desire to speak to someone who was in front of him. He didn’t need a phone.

But as he hummed through the hours today, consciously, he kept finding himself thinking about Anthony. Not anything specific about him, just him. And if he had a phone, he wouldn’t have to wait the day away for him to come home and have their nightly talk, drink, and, as of last night, perhaps some new nightly activities. 

Then again, maybe it wasn’t the best idea. Husk might not have kept up with technology, but he knew enough to know you can send photos with a phone, and while he hadn’t quite sussed out just how far apart Anthony and Angel were, he had a suspicion Anthony still wouldn’t be doing much talking. It was far more likely he’d just send Husk photos of himself. Nude. In obscene poses. All night. Then, spend the day sending him the ones he didn’t have time to send the night before. 

…

Maybe he should get a phone. 

“Husk!” 

He snaps back into himself, turning around to see Charlie running down the main staircase. Vaggie walked behind her, casually, her hand on the railing as she walked down the steps above the first landing when Charlie had already landed on the lobby floor. 

She ran—walked with purpose as she put it—up to the bar. As she got closer, Husk realized she was holding Anthony’s pig, its little ears flopping in time with her steps accompanied by giddy snorts. 

“Is Angel back yet?” Charlie said as she reached the counter. 

It’s already strange to hear others say that name like it’s his. Husk had only met Anthony yesterday, yet he felt like he knew him better than he would ever know Angel. 

Still, he doesn’t correct her, just like he didn’t correct Niffty. Not his place. 

“Nah, not yet.”

Charlie leaned down and was out of sight. When she stood back up, the pig was no longer in her arms. Husk heard the soft snuffling of a curious thing exploring the space around the bar. Her face had that furrowed brow between confusion and concern. She looked at the clock that sat by the bar wall, shook her head, and shrugged like she was telling herself to relax. 

Then she smiled back at Husk. 

“How’d it go?” she asked, hands on the bar, half rocking and half bouncing in place. 

“Ask Niffty.”

“What?”

“It was good,” said Husk.

“Just good?” 

Husk never much liked people prying into his business, especially since he wound up down here. But Charlie’s interest was so innocent and genuine as if she were giving him a gift. He couldn’t help but smile, well, make about three-quarters of a real smile. 

“Real good.” 

“C’mon, Husk,” said Charlie. A ragged exasperation on the O of the first word. “Give me something!” 

Husk completed his smile. “I ain’t gotta tell you nothing.” 

Vaggie finally reached them. She put a hand on her hip as she stood beside Charlie. 

“She is the princess of Hell.” 

“Sure is,” said Husk. “And I ain’t telling you shit, princess” 

Vaggie looks at him knowingly, Charlie pouts falsely, and Husk chuckles genuinely. 

Then, the front door opens.

The pig makes a sound. 

And something is wrong. 

Anthony walks in, and he looks fine. He’s standing at his full height; he’s walking steadily, but that’s the part that gives it away. He’s walking purposefully. Long determined strides, intent to get him from the door to the stairs as quickly as possible with as little notice as possible. 

If that wouldn’t have told Husk something was wrong, the next detail would: He isn’t looking at anything—not at Husk, not at Charlie, not even at the floor. His eyes are fixed on a single point of nothing. His lips loose around his mouth, his upper arms crossed over his chest, while the other two simply hang. 

And something is wrong.

Charlie doesn’t see it. As Anthony approaches, she says, “Angel! Husk said your date was ‘good,’ but that’s all he’ll tell me. I wanna know everything!”

Vaggie doesn’t see it. She says, “Maybe not everything-” 

Anthony walks right past them.

Right past him. 

That is when Husk moves. 

He’s following him, which he shouldn’t do. He doesn’t do. He does it now. He follows Anthony to the base of the stairs, and he calls out after him, “What’d he do?” 

Anthony is climbing the stairs without slowing or looking back. He mumbles, “Nothin’.” 

Husk is worried for Anthony. Of course, he’s worried. Why else would he be trailing after him like a limping puppy? But that response stings, and before he feels the pain, he feels the anger. 

“Ain’t we done with bullshit? I don’t like bullshit.” 

Anthony turns around. 

And Husk has made a mistake. 

“So I only do what you like now?”

There’s light in his eyes again, but this kind of light is violent. It’s sunlight streaming through a bullet hole. 

“What?”

“One night, and you start telling me what to fucking do?” 

There’s a bite in Anthony’s voice that Husk has heard before but never felt before. When he’d heard it last, he’d been ready, armored. Armored and ready the way he was for everyone, every day, thoughtlessly. But, just as thoughtlessly, he’d become unarmored and unready around Anthony months ago, and so he feels it now. He feels the pointed tooth in every word. 

“Antho-”

“Shut up!” 

He’d rather been shot than hear Anthony speak to him like that. 

“My name’s Angel Dust, got it? It ain’t- it ain’t that.”

And Husk understands. 

He understands what he looks like. He looks like an ugly old man chasing after a beautiful younger man who has told him no. He sees it in his mind's eye as clearly as if he were standing outside his body, judging it. 

He goes numb. 

“…yeah,” he says. “Got it. Have a good night, Angel Dust.”

He turns around.

He hears Antho- Angel Dust run away from him. Heavy heels on hard stairs. Husk is nearly thrown over when his pig darts past him, following Angel Dust away. Husk does not look back to see them disappear. 

He walks back to the bar, heavily, his wings and tail dragging. He knows the feathers there are picking up clumps of dust and dirt on the carpet like fine-toothed combs, but there is nothing in him that could lift them. 

“You said it went well…” Charlie says as Husk takes his place behind the bar. 

“Guess not.”

Husk’s heart wasn’t broken. He was too old for that. Too old, too bitter, too dead for heartbreak. 

“Husk-”

Husk chooses a bottle from the shelf. Thick, reddish brown, truly Hellborn stuff that would stop the heart of someone topside after one shot. 

“Husk, please don’t-”

He pops the cork.

“Go on. I don’t need no shoulder to cry on.”

He downs half the bottle in one swallow. 

“I’m sure he just-”

“Get the fuck away from me!”

He smashes the bottle on the counter. 

It’s an impossibly loud moment, but he still hears Charlie’s gasping scream as Vaggie pulls her into her chest. Arms wrapped around her, shielding her from the bullets of liquor and glass. She’d done it as quickly as the bottle broke. She looked at Husk with an eye wide with anger and disgust. 

He steps back. 

Charlie looks at him from the gaps in Vaggie’s arms. Her eyes terrified. Husk wished he were younger and dumber and couldn’t tell the kind of terror in Charlie’s eyes was not the terror of someone afraid of him. 

He needed no sympathy.

Wordlessly. Methodically. He reached for the bar rag on his shoulder and began to mop and sweep the counter clean. Vaggie and Charlie shuffled away, eyes on him until they were out of sight. 

He stayed there alone. Far into the night. Cleaning and sorting glasses without making a sound.

[firecrackerhh]

I HAVE THOUGHTS!!!

Ok not really a lot of this is just gonna be quotes I like. With a few sprinklings of original thought mixed in.

S1E1: “Come place your fate in her inexperienced hands as she tries to work through her daddy issues by fixing you!”

Damn Al so fucking savage.

“I like being forced!” “Keep that to yourself Niff.”

“I need a big strong daddy to put me in my place…on the path to redemption!”

“I ain’t no actor, I can’t memorize this shit!”

Uuuuuuh…is Niffty ok?

The angels obviously don’t like that one of their own has been killed…but like…wouldn’t they just…go back to heaven? I was under the impression you couldn’t kill an Angel unless I’m missing something. Tho I guess it’s only fair, if demons can be killed permanently, so can angels.

S1E2: Lmao I would watch a show called “I fucked your sister, so what?”

Ooooh Vox can teleport through electronics.

“Wrist ruffles, what is this, 1750? Burn it like the witches who wore it!”

“Take care of the pissbaby!”

OMG Val is such a pissbaby LMAO!! I see Vox wears the pants in the relationship.

“Killing Alastor is your kink.”

“He wanted me to join his team, I said no and now he’s pissy, that’s the tea!” Yooooo!!

“Not many people have been able to take off this much of me! It must mean a lot to you!” Fucking burns it Lmao.

“Now if you excuse me, I’m off to not have intercourse before marriage!”

Poor Angel.

“If they don’t kill you, go ahead and do it yourself, you miserable failure!” Lmao me internally when people make me angry.

Ok the song was cute ngl.

S1E3: “Oh hello purple female!”

Alastor: ‘says literally anything’ I love him.

Vaggie acting like a lil drill sergeant.

“I like sucking—popsicles you sicko! Get your mind out of the gutter!”

“Sometimes I kill mother bugs in front of their children as a warning to others!” Oh Niffty you sick bitch, no wonder Al keeps you around Lmao.

“YAY PAIN!!!”

I was not expecting her to keep doing it, so Niffty is a masochist, got it.

Zestial kinda hot ngl.

Loved the song! I love Velvette.

Mother!? Wait is Carmilla hellborn?? She has KIDS!?!

“Nothing requires more trust than BDSM baby!” I mean…he’s right.

Vaggie just taking them to a fucking turf war or some shit LMAOOO. I mean, there’s also no trust like between those fighting for a common cause so…it works.

So Carmilla killed that angel…can’t say I blame her.

S1E4 Husk calling out everyone Lmao. “And Niffty? You don’t wanna know what her deal is.”

“What the fuck makes you think you can treat him like that!?”

Oooooh I wanna see Charlie kick Val’s ass so baaaaaad!!! Angel can join in too of course.

So Husk was an overlord before Alastor came along…interesting.

Songs a mood.

Charlie must be protected at all costs, thank Satan she has Vaggie.

Also apparently Charlie hasn’t seen her mom in 7 years? And I think they said Alastor was gone for 7 years?

Ok there’s gotta be a third 7 coming up, it’s gotta mean something right?

Guess I gotta stay tuned.

[ruffianbc]

Bad day

Summary:

He met the morning with an unpleasant nausea and headache, which at first he wanted to put down to a normal hangover, but the severe migraine that followed made him regret that his thoughts seemed to have learned to move quite physically. It is a hell of a punishment for an alcoholic to be unable to drink even a sip of beer.

Big thank for @jadeile-writes for help in editing the english translation. I'm awfully grateful to you!

--------------------------------------------------------

It was a shitty day. It all started with the fact that he simply couldn't drink. More precisely – almost couldn't. Since the morning, he had felt strangely weak and sick, and what about alcohol? He could not even eat a piece of bread. And then there was the fucking migraine, the hammering in his head and the ringing in the back of his ears. God... Satan? Someone! Give him the strength to last until the evening, to finish the day and lock himself in his room, away from all the turmoil of the hotel and its flighty inhabitants. By the way, about them. Today was supposed to have some kind of a celebration. Naturally, Husk hadn't bothered to pay attention to what the Princess had said with gusto a week ago, but watching her fuss since the beginning of the day, his mind had led him to this idea. Still, he didn't care, as long as it didn't involve him.

It was at this moment that he heard a loud "Husk!" that made him wince. Goddamnit. He put away the glass he had been polishing for the past half an hour, adjusted his hat, and turned to face the smiling Niffty, who had perched on one of the bar stools and was leaning against the counter. She looked casual enough, except for a few bright flowers woven into her hair. The cat demon breathed a sigh of relief, trying to put on a restrained smile. The cyclops was one of those he was willing to tolerate almost at any time.

"Hi! Charlie asked me to bring some nice bottles of champagne, will you help me?"

The bartender just nodded curtly, muttered "No problem" and disappeared into the back room. Quickly navigating between the shelves, even with a sore head, Husk fished out three bottles of stashed Pol Roger and returned to the waiting Niffty, setting the champagne on the counter in front of her with a quizzical arch of an eyebrow: "Can you handle it yourself, or...?" he tried to ask, but received an answer almost immediately.

"Of course!" enthusiastically came from the direction of the cyclops, after which the bottles instantly disappeared from the tabletop. However, she still paused before going back to her business and again looked at the winged cat, slightly narrowing her eye in the aftermath. He cursed under his breath; he must have seemed more fucked up than he'd originally thought.

"Are you all right?" There was a note of concern in her voice.

"Just a headache. And you know I'm not getting any younger here, Niff."

"Maybe you should take a break. I'll let Charlie know, she won't-" but at the same moment she was interrupted by a slightly raised clawed paw. Husk shook his head, continuing instead.

"No, thank you. It's the evening, my shift will be over soon, so there's no point in taking a break now. Besides, it's pretty quiet here today and I haven't been accosted by the red-assed bastard in a day, so I'm fine."

"That's all because we are now organizing a festive dinner that will begin after the event with fireworks! By the way, be sure to come and see it, I’m already can't wait to start!"

The last words were already thrown on the run and, in a few moments, Niffty’s small figure vanished from the room, leaving the bartender once again in splendid isolation. Which he was still very happy about. And his head was glad of the silence.

* * *

Everything seemed to turn into a big, loud sound that made Husk twitch and open one eye. Apparently, it was the promised fireworks, and he had just managed to doze off. Eh, whatever. The cat demon settled his head more comfortably, slightly pushing aside an empty beer bottle that had somehow appeared on the counter, although he clearly remembered that he hadn’t touched alcohol today. Whatever once again. All his mind wanted to do now was sink back into sweet slumber. The noise outside began to sound like a distant, lulling hum, and the bartender didn't even hear the hotel's front door open.

A sudden tug on his shoulder. Husk's instincts kicked in immediately and he bristled, grabbing what was closest at hand – which was an empty bottle – and smashing it in an instant. He turned to the attacker and held him by the collar, putting the glass directly to his throat. Immediately, the sharp smell of alcohol hit his nose, making the cat's completely sober mind feel another wave of nausea, and he winced.

"Damn it, Husk, it's me! Easy."

Angel Dust appeared in front of him, raising one pair of hands in a soothing gesture, while the other slowly reached for the broken bottle to pull it away from his neck. Blinking a couple of times and finally realizing what was happening, the bartender growled and roughly pushed the negligent spider away from him, trying to relax again: "If you do that again, I'll definitely finish what I started. What the fuck were you thinking?"

Angel grunted pointedly, making a very displeased expression as he adjusted his suit and started to say something in response, when another volley of fireworks exploded over the roof of the establishment. Husk was deafened for a second, and then he felt pain coming from his right paw. When he looked down, he realized that he was still clutching the bottle, and a part of its glassy surface had already been stained with his blood. There was blood on the floor too, and it looked like he'd cut the pad of his paw. Another explosion occurred.

* * *

He turned at once at the scream. The guy who was a couple of meters away from him, had both of his legs torn off, and the other four were much less lucky than he is. His arm was grazed by a splinter, not seriously, but there was a lot of blood; it was worth making a bandage from improvised means. But first of all – to get out of the crossfire at all costs, they must get to the shelter. After assessing the condition of the rest of the squad, he ordered the survivors to keep directly behind him; they needed to get out of the open place as soon as possible, since here the enemy who had ambushed them had a clear advantage. The sound of machine-gun fire sent a chill down his spine.

* * *

Focus on that damned green spot. It was the only thought that Husk had time to pick up as he came to himself, and he repeated it over and over again. He stared at the bright green interior of the hotel until his eyes hurt, clutching the bar with both paws and trying to catch his breath. Not a fucking flashback. No, his day was already ruined, so there was this shitty "mind game". However, it was obvious that this was a fucking flashback and he urgently needed something to drink, preferably something stronger. Then he remembered Angel and turned his head in his supposed direction. The spider was gone, and so were everyone else, so the cat let out a sigh of relief. Less of a problem. Clumsily stepping over broken glass and bloodstains, the bartender took a couple of steps in the direction of the back room, closing the door behind him and casting a roving glance at the shelves of various bottles. Perhaps rum or vodka would help him in this situation. But as soon as the cat reached for one of those bottles, his mind reeled again, this time toppling him into a veritable abyss of screams of horror and pain, machine-gun fire, the whiteness of dead eyes and blood. Someone else's blood on the grass, on the ground, on his clothes and on his hands. An abyss of helpless despair.

He saw only images of something familiar, a cacophony of sounds mixed in his head with an inexplicable buzzing and ringing in his ears. He saw through drooping eyelids, he felt the heat from the fire, as if it burned through all his clothes, and the putrid smell soaked into his skin so thoroughly that it felt like the smell got right into it, and it came not from piles of corpses all around, this was Husk rotting alive.

The endless succession of images in his mind was interrupted by a sharp splash of something terribly cold right in his face. He took a reflexive breath, coughed and opened his eyes, trying to focus on something and realized that there was too much red.

"Breathe."

This was said almost in the face of the winged cat, who now looked more like a hunted animal, trying to regain his breath and running his eyes around the room. Finally, he stopped at the most distinct object directly in front of him and grunted hoarsely. Sounded like Italian. Sounded like another expletive. He regained more of his consciousness with every moment, and with every moment the bartender's face grew more haggard. He blinked again, finally coming to his senses, realizing where he was and that he was probably up to his ears in shit again.

"Alastor."

The tight grin on the face in front of him wavered slightly, and then its owner handed Husk a towel. He was about to take it, but abruptly stopped, hiding his right paw, which of course didn’t escape the attention of the Radio Demon. Without further ado, Alastor intercepted the bloody limb, and naturally the evil hiss directly in his face didn’t stop him in any way. Quickly figuring out what was wrong, Alastor took the towel back, wrapped it around the cat's cut palm and looked at him from under his brows, which caused another portion of the cat's defensive aggression to be unleashed: "I wouldn't have figured it out without you, maldito hijo de puta."

"Have you been drinking today?"

However, this question Husk hadn't expected.

"No. I've been fucked up since this morning and now it's just getting worse."

A snap of the fingers. A glass and a bottle of good whiskey materialized on the table next to them. After that, the deer demon got up from the couch and left the main room, and only now the bartender noticed that the man's coat was thrown over the back of a chair in the corner, and they were in the Radio Demon's room. Now it was clear why his first thought had been red.

Based on the noise coming from the room next to him, Alastor was washing his hands. The winged cat interrupted the thoughts of blood, and then leaned over the back of the couch and picked up the bottle, opened it, and immediately tipped it down, taking several large gulps. He naturally ignored the glass. The returning radio host watched the scene for a few moments, and then teleported back to his seat, causing Husk to almost choke on the last mouthful.

"Will you ever stop doing that?"

The deer demon didn't answer him again, just took the whiskey from his clawed paw and pulled him into a familiar side-hug, and the bartender, as luck would have it, was too weak to resist.

"My dear Husker. The only one who can take proper care of your condition is you. However! I hasten to say that sometimes you force me to take extreme measures." Alastor seemed to be speaking without his usual fervor, or else the cat demon was too tired to notice. He had already partially relaxed on the red shoulder, yielding to light scratching, but the last words made him twitch nevertheless and nudge the other in the side. The same man continued as if nothing had happened: "I've already told Charlie that you won't be at the bar for the next four days, and you'll have to spend that time here."

The hell I will - Husk wanted to protest, but his relaxed mind gave out something unintelligible. The radio host could care, but in his own way. Most of the time, the bartender wasn’t happy with the methods that the deer demon was employing, but he had to put up with it. If it wasn't intentional sadistic violence, the winged cat didn't care. Or he did, depending on the situation.

He closed his eyes, pushing the rest of his thoughts from his mind, and listened to Alastor's still-speaking voice with half an ear. The last thing he heard was a phrase that Husk agreed with one hundred percent: "And no more fireworks."

The response for the Radio Demon was a soft purr and a light half-hug from the dozing old man.

[ertrunkenerwassergeist]

Born Into the Wilds - Chapter 9

*slams hands on the table* This chapter is finally done! Sorry for the long wait, in compensation this is extra long. I'm prepared to get screamed at. Also a big thank you towards @noctanotherone for helping to get my thoughts in order on this one.

Here’s a Link to AO3.

In which a battle happens and General Glauca appears.

Featuring: the absence of Captain Drautos, confusing military stuff the author made up on the fly, Nyx' usual planlessnes, Crowe ex machina, lightning and awkward dialogue.

Warnings: blood, injuries, death (this is a battle)

Words in Hadnissa:

makti-oir = war chief, commander-in-chief, warlord; lit.: leading hunter Galahkari = people of Galahd Ohlro ar fahl Eohsas = Eos' light be on you; a formal greeting kohna = swearword; along the lines of shit ohtahi triantafe = a type of rose native to Galahd with black petals, it's highly poisonous and even the smell can cause hallucinations thuir = father makuwid = hunting group, squad mates zehstir = foreigner, enemy; very strong insult namakar = huntress; lit.: she-hunter

09. A Complication

The attack couldn't have happened at a more unfortunate time. Nyx had been back from his two week medical leave for a few days now and had been in the middle of planning the second set of training exercises for the newly structured Kingsglaive with Libertus and Luche.

It was still a right mess. The members of the Kingsglaive took to the change with an enthusiasm tinged with relief that had surprised Nyx. The troops he had interacted with regularly had been mostly stable, with the most extreme exception being Troop Rani.

Captain Drautos wasn't happy about any of this. He had stood at the edge of the training field at the first day of training, with a dark scowl on his face and hadn't said a word as everybody made their best attempt at working together within their new groupings. When the first exercises had resulted in people screaming at each other, Nyx had thought he had seen a gleam of grim satisfaction in the Captain's eyes. But that couldn't have been correct. Right?

In the end, it had taken Libertus yelling at them to behave like professional hunters, to calm everybody down. His best friend and hunting-brother may have a temper and grouch about things he didn't like in above average volume more often than not, it took quite a bit, however, to actually get him to yell on the top of his lungs – and what powerful lungs they were. Everybody knew that.

At the end of the day, those training exercises could have gone worse and no one had been permanently maimed or killed. That could definitely be considered a victory in some cases. Nyx could understand the hiccups, he really could. All members of the Glaive had found ways to work around the problems of each Unit and Troop over the years. Even Troop Rani with its two feuding members. And now they had to get used to new people hunting at their sides.

It was Pelna who burst through the door of the tiny office Nyx had commandeered, since he, to his utter consternation, actually needed one now, his face a grim mask that grabbed the attention of all in attendance at once.

“Border Patrol just sent the message: Niflheim is on the move again. They say Glauca was sighted with them. The King wants us out there as soon as possible.”

For half a second no one said anything. Nyx jumped up from where he had sat down not a minute ago, nearly knocked a pile of papers off the desk and cursed. Libertus' face looked caught halfway between a snarl and an expression as if he had just smelled something unpleasant, while Luche's face could have been made out of stone.

Nyx took a deep breath, suddenly deathly calm. The smell of ozone started to creep through the air. “Luche, get the others moving and call as many as you can out of their vacation. With Glauca there we need every hunter we can get. Pelna, make sure everybody gets what they need from the inventory and I don't care if some idiot says 'Crownsguard only'. Take it, I'll deal with it once we're back again. Libertus, round up the trucks and tell those damned drivers to be there on time or we'll drive ourselves. We can't let that son of a she-devil any further into Lucis. Also tell Sonitus to get in touch with the Border Patrol, I want to know exactly where the Niffs are. You all have an hour. I'll-”

“You'll get ready and calm down your magic, Nyx. If you fry the truck you're in because you can't control yourself, or worse, blow it up, you won't be getting anywhere,” stated Libertus rather forcefully.

For a moment they stared at each other, both willing the other to back down with their gazes alone. But his hunting-brother was right. He himself may be rather calm, but his magic was a torrent beneath his skin.

“All right,” he conceded. “All right.”

Libertus looked at him a moment longer to make sure he actually meant it, before he nodded and stormed out of the room after the others that had already left the moment they had received their orders.

An hour wasn't a lot of time to prepare, and they hadn't done any exercises for it – Nyx put them on his ever growing to-do list – but they really needed to hurry.

He stayed in the office a few minutes longer, minutes that felt like an eternity, until the animal-deep jungle-instinct raging beneath his skin was reduced to a distant echo thrumming in his mind. But instead of going towards the locker room to get ready, he left the tiny room to get to the Captain's office.

Nyx had tried to stay out of the older man's hair for the last few days as much as possible. But now, makti-oir or not, the Kingsglaive needed their Captain.

In the hallways it was like somebody had poked a beehive. People were everywhere, trying to do whatever they were doing as fast as possible without actually running in the halls. A crowd was assembling around the Glaive's armoury, voices clamouring over each other in a bit to get what they wanted, and fast. Through a gab Nyx could see Tredd trying to keep order with a grim face, and continued on his way. People should know better than to question Tredd within the armoury. The Furias may be traditionally artisans, but if Tredd understood one thing best, it was weapons.

“Captain?” Nyx half asked, half yelled as he knocked on the man's door.

No answer came.

Nyx frowned. Should he open the door anyway? He could feel the gazes of the passing Glaives in his back and decided he could deal with the consequences, should the Captain be in his office. Settling his shoulders and chin in a stubbornly determined expression, he opened to door with one last unanswered knock.

“Captain, I'm coming in.”

The office was empty.

Nyx closed the door behind him to keep curious gazes out and started to search the room for a clue to where Captain Drautos could be. There were no new messages or notes pinned to the walls, no file on the desk that could tell him anything, and he didn't quite dare to actually rummage through the cabinets or the desk.

With a displeased frown Nyx gaze wandered one last time around the relatively spacious room before he whirled around and left. He had better things to do right now than to look for the Captain.

There was a crowd forming outside the headquarters. People stopped and gawked as the Glaive assembled outside in their new groups, while non-fighting members loaded the trucks with field packs, half of which Pelna had managed to wrestle from the Crownsguard's clutches somehow.

Nyx ignored the Insomnians as best as he could and tried to decide how to divide the Troops into Companies. He hadn't had the time to really do that until now, which was coming back to bite him into the ass. He hissed like a disgruntled cat, displeased with himself and those damned onlookers. They had ten minutes left before wheels up and still more Glaives arrived, those having been called in from their vacation.

All in all, Nyx estimated that there were around 200 Glaives assembled, which was less than he liked and more than he had expected. Their numbers had been dwindling steadily for years now. They needed new recruits, but that was a problem for another time. Nothing he could do about it now.

He looked for Libertus. His hunting-brother had the loudest voice he knew and could probably make himself be heard over the noise the easiest. The man stood at the edge of the plaza where the noise wasn't as prevalent and talked into a clunky military phone with a fierce scowl on his face. He hung up before Nyx could reach him.

He gave a lazy salute in greeting and hung the phone that could probably be used as a murder weapon, onto his belt.

“Bad news: only half the usual drivers are there. The other half is 'indisposed' because the call was too short notice,” he sneered.

Nyx suppressed the urge to growl. “Then we won't ask for their services anymore,” he said.

“I have nothing against that,” Libertus shrugged. “We could probably hire a few Galahkari that could use the job, as soon as Crowe figures out our budget. But we need to somehow arrive at the battle before the Niffs stand in front of Insomnia.”

“We can do that,” agreed Nyx. It was a good idea. “Could you do me a favour, big guy?”

At once Libertus eyed him suspiciously. Nyx just rolled his eyes at his best friend's behaviour. He wasn't that bad.

“Hey, it's nothing bad. I just need you to help me with organizing the Troops and getting everybody into the trucks. Oh, and ask for volunteers to drive them.”

Libertus still looked sceptical but nodded and followed Nyx back in front of the crowd.

For a moment Libertus took in the group in front of him, all in the individualized uniforms of the Kingsglaive, and took a deep breath.

“Okay people, listen up!” he yelled so loudly Nyx was tempted to cover his left ear. “Into your Units and Troops! Don't fall asleep people! Troop leaders to the front!”

To Nyx' satisfaction, it didn't even take half a minute for the whole Kingsglaive to stand in front of him in orderly lines. There were eleven Troops in total, ranging from a total strength of ten to thirty-one people.

The two Troops specializing in stealth and hit-and-run tactics would be grouped into one Company, three Troops could be grouped under heavy hitters and assault, he supposed, and a further two fell under demolition. The last four were a bit trickier. One specialized in ranged fighting, one in magic, another was the supply squad and the last could be called a rearguard, he supposed. In the end the mages were stuck with the ranged fighters.

Under the curious eyes of the growing Insomnian crowd and camera flashes, they piled into the trucks as to Libertus' yelled instructions, and departed with only a ten minute delay. The streets were empty of any traffic as they made their way towards the wall and Nyx realized that somebody must have told the City Watch that they were coming through. He sent a quiet blessing to the person who had thought of doing so. Probably either Pelna or Sonitus.

Nyx had absolutely forgotten about it.

Their long convoy passed through the gate and over the huge bridge connecting Cavaugh with Leide without any interruption.

It was shortly after nightfall when they neared the latest known position of the Niflheimr army. They were very close to the Taelpar Crag now. Until now Niflheim had not managed to bridge it and take Duscae. They had gotten close more than once, though, and it showed in the many natural stone and crystalline arches spanning the Crag, that had been fortified or destroyed in the fighting.

Secullam Pass was chosen as their base of operations. Within minutes near blinding floodlights were set up to keep the daemons away, a watch was set up and Unit Kresch, under Sonitus, was sent out to stake out the enemy.

Waiting for a battle to begin had always been the worst for Nyx. It made him restless with pent up energy and broody. It reminded him too much of his time with the resistance in Galahd.

To keep himself from crawling up the rocky walls surrounding their camp, he hunted down Pelna, the newly baked leader of the Gebo Unit. It was a part of the Ulnen Troop which was responsible for their supplies. Right now they were responsible for keeping their floodlights running and distributing the field packs.

“Ohlro ar fahl Eohsas, makti-ori,” greeted Pelna when he saw Nyx coming and crossed his wrists in a formal greeting.

Nyx stared at him and very pointedly rose a hand to his collar bone. Pelna actually rolled his eyes at that, but didn't comment on it. Instead he stepped up to his friend and said: “How can I help you, Nyx?”

“I know it's kind of late to ask, but how did you manage to convince the Crownsguard to part with their stuff? The last time the Captain tried, I heard it nearly ended with somebody dead.”

Pelna stared at Nyx with a raised eyebrow as if to say and this is why you keep me from working? “It's pretty simple. I kept to the tried and true method of 'better ask for forgiveness than permission'. Don't look at me like that, I learned that from you, you know? Damn idiot that you are. I bribed Hephaistos into helping, and he was the distraction while I and some of my new Unit mates got the stuff out.”

It took Nyx a few seconds to actually understand what Pelna had just said, but when he did, he couldn't help himself. He laughed. It was a roaring full belly laugh that made more than one head turn, but Nyx didn't care. This was just too good. Pelna cast him a sour look.

“What's so funny?” asked Libertus as he marched towards them along with Crowe.

Nyx wheezed as he tried to get his laughter under control, only for it to start up again as he opened his mouth to explain.

“It would be so embarrassing, if you died of laughter and took us with you because you guided the Niffs towards our base,” stated Crowe in that typical deadpan of hers, when she found something hilarious but refused to laugh herself for whatever reason.

“I- I'm sorry,” Nyx gasped, fighting to keep the laughter down. He pressed a hand over his mouth. His eyes started to tear up with the effort it took.

“Our dearest First Hunter seems to find it hilarious how I got us the supplies we desperately need,” grumbled Pelna, and got a sage nod from Libertus and an amused huff from Crowe as an answer.

“Don't get me wrong, this is funny and all, but Luche is looking for you. He wants to go over the attack plan with the rest of the lead hunters. Which you should actually organize since it's your job, Nyx,” said Crowe.

“Alright, alright. I'm coming,” Nyx answered as soon as his breathing was steady enough and he didn't fear to burst into laughter again.

They attacked at daybreak. As soon as the sun was high enough in the sky to ward the daemons away. As far as they had been able to tell this was the time the Niffs were most vulnerable since they couldn't depend on their growing mass of daemons. Until now, when it had come to open battle, the Captain had always insisted to wait for the Niffs to attack and defend from a stronger position.

Nyx had decided to do something different.

Units Kresch and Roh, who now belonged to the Tahrolin Troop, and were their stealth specialists, were to circle around the enemy force with a demolition Unit and attack the pens where they kept the beasts they used as an attack force. Hours ago, Luche had taken Roh Unit and had gone to join Sonitus to give him his orders. Simultaneously the heavy hitters would stage a full on frontal attack along with Senehrin Company to give them cover fire.

As soon as Luche's voice came over the comms, reporting that they were in position, Nyx gave the order to march over the wide stone arch spanning Tealpar Crag. Not far behind it, on the other side, was a wall the Niffs had hastily erected, and span their whole compound. It was barely more than a few slaps of concrete stacked onto each other.

A slight breeze ruffled Nyx' hair before the world grew still. Not even the distant calls of the birds could be heard. There was only the warmth of the early morning light, the sound of his own breathing and the feeling of animal-deep jungle-instinct crackling close beneath his skin. A rumbling growl resonated through his chest as his field of vision widened and narrowed down at the same time. Only the wall and what lay behind it were important now. New colours joined the old and some grew muted as his eyes grew more sensitive to light.

Then the crudely erected wall exploded as a combination of old Galahdian seal traps and Lucian fire spells crashed into it.

Nyx stood close enough to feel the hot air lick across his skin. His lips twisted into a snarl that could have been a bloodthirsty smile, as the sound of screeching metal and yelling voices reached him over the roaring fire and falling rubble.

All nervousness was gone as anticipation curled in his gut, and sparks of lightning travelled up and down his arms.

As soon as the rubble had settled, Nyx bounded into the thick oily smoke churning in the air and blocking out the light. Formless shapes tumbled through the thick smoke, and all within the reach of his kukri fell in gurgling screams and burbling whimpers.

The smell of burning metal and rubber, oil and blood clogged his nose, but still he found his way to the other side of the burning hell. Nyx jumped onto the nearest MA Veles and toppled it with a volley of lightning until nothing but a smoking husk of useless metal was left.

A roar echoed between that walls of this area in the base, as he wedged his blades free of the machine he had driven them into. It travelled over the twisted metal and MT and MA units attempting to form a defensive line. It made the air quiver and the hairs on his neck raise in anticipation. It took him a moment to realize that it was him who made that sound. A challenge and announcement of an assured victory at the same time.

Nyx clamped his mouth shut behind his face guard and shook his head. He needed to keep a clear mind. A shot cracked through the air, missing Nyx, who was still crouching on top of the smoking MA Veles, by a hair. Only years of training suppressed his initial instinct to flinch. Instead he threw one kukri into he direction the shot had some from.

The world around him dissolved into a nauseating display of shards of Lucian magic and then he was on top of an MT. His chest slammed into its front and made him groan as the air was knocked out of him. Even through his clothes and armour he could feel the icy cold the MT emitted. The thing couldn't react fast enough and fell lifeless to the floor as Nyx rammed a blade into the masked forehead.

He now stood on a metal catwalk spanning the Niflheimr compound overhead. His new vantage point let him see the Glaives who were now pouring through the opening that had been blown into the wall. A large part of the magitek had blown up along with it. Their fault for storing their shit along the outer wall. Nyx snorted and watched for a moment as the Glaive practically descended upon everything that was still able to move.

Satisfied, he turned away and looked where still a series of explosions shook the air, along with the resounding roars and snarls of furious behemoths and sabertusks. He couldn't really see anything that was going on over the other walls between him and the other Units, but he trusted in their ability to get the job done.

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw movement. It was a pair of MT, both of them snipers, aiming at the Glaives below. They hadn't seen him until now. Within seconds he was on them, tackling the first as he aimed a shot and drove a kukri into the knee of the second, who toppled over, off the catwalk and into the fray below. Snarling and eyes blazing, he slammed his now empty hand against the MT's face and sent lightning through it until its mask was nothing more than a warped mass of metal and its limbs stopped twitching uncontrollably.

Again he looked towards the closest inner wall which prevented them from getting further into the strangely improvised base. He had an idea. But as he reached up to activate the communication device, he ripped it off his ear with a foul curse as it fried with a painful pop-spark.

Shit. So much for that, he thought with a twist of his lips. I really should have practised more.

Nyx warped down towards the kukri still lodged into the now dead MT's leg and grabbed the nearest Glaive by the shoulder. It was Axis.

“I need you to relay some orders for me!” he yelled over the cacophony of screeching metal, gun shots, the dying roar of a furious behemoth and the sounds of discharging magic, as people cried and fought and died.

Thankfully Axis didn't bother to ask what had happened to his device and just raised his hand.

“Attention, all Glaives. I'm about to relay orders of the makti-oir in his stead.”

“The most talented warpers are to gather near the wall leading further into the base. We need to get past the gate to prevent the Niffs from organizing a counter attack, so we'll warp over the wall and open it from the inside. Luche is to do the same on his end as soon as those damn behemoths are dead. Oresch Unit is to secure the breached wall as soon as we're finished here.”

Nyx took a deep breath. His magic was pressing against his mind, urging him to hunt, to kill and feast on his prey. Another breath. Not now. Pack came first. Their safety was paramount, and to keep them safe he needed to be able to think.

Dutifully, Axis repeated every word.

With a thankful nod Nyx turned away and made his way towards the targeted wall. It wasn't very high, five metres at most, which was below average for a Niff base, but like in all bases, this one had an opening which was blocked by a series of red lasers that could melt flesh from bones, if someone was stupid enough to touch it.

Axis followed him. The man may specialize in magic based close combat, but his warping skills were above average. Not far from him, Nyx could see Libertus decapitate a MT with a kukri that looked more like a traditional Ostium battle axe than anything else.

Three others met them by the wall. Nyx grinned. Five. Five people for this was a good omen.

“Axis, you're to concentrate on shutting down those lasers, the rest of us will cover your ass. On my mark, we warp. Ready- go!”

In unison they threw their blades. Lucian magic burned like acid on Nyx' tongue as he appeared above the wall for a second before he warped down on the other side, the others following him in a protective formation around Axis in which Nyx was taking point.

His feet barely touched the ground, before he was swarmed by MT. They were those guys with the heavy serrated swords. Nyx cursed and dove out of the way. A sword whizzed past where his head had been not a second ago. Nyx managed to kick the thing in the hip as he evaded another horizontal swing of the sword. The kick caused the upper body of the MT to rotate just enough that it buried its blade into the machine next to it, caving its breastplate in with a high pitched metallic shriek and a sickening crunch.

Before his target could wedge its blade free, he severed the sword arm at the elbow and drove the other blade into its neck. His weight caused it to fall backwards and take another two MT with it. He made short work of them.

“I've got it!” cried Axis and with a hiss the lasers deactivated.

Suddenly the air was filled with the electric whirr of MA units activating. There were eight of them. Kohna. So they hadn't been fast enough.

With a snarl Nyx hurled himself over the last two MT in front of him, twisting the right one's neck and clipping the other in the shoulder. He knew his blades couldn't do much against the MA units, so he sheathed one and used his now free hand to fry the nearest one with a powerful bolt of lightning.

Not far from him Axis was doing something similar, attacking a machine's weak spots with calculated shots of lightning. They needed more mages here. Again Nyx cursed himself for frying his comm. He couldn't distract the other four with him now, so he had no other choice but to retreat.

And nearly run into another Glaive right as he stepped through the gate. Blinking sweat from his eyes, he recognized Libertus. His facecloth had slipped off and revealed a bloody nose.

“Libs! I need you to comm Lesan Unit! Our blades won't do anything against those MA units!”

Without further ado, the man did just that. His voice was drowned out as something further into the base crumbled with a deafening blast. The ground shook.

It was only due to the fact that Nyx stood so close to the wall, that he didn't fall. Libertus didn't fare as well. He fell heavily onto his side and had to quickly roll away as a magitek spear buried itself into the ground where he had just lain. Nyx killed the thing with another blast of lightning.

“Come on, big guy. No time for a nap,” he said as he helped his hunting-brother to stand back up.

The fighting continued in that vein, until they met Luche's Troop in the heart of the base. It was here the officers were housed as well as logistics and communication. Or there should have been.

Instead there was nothing here but a large empty space.

Something was very, very wrong.

He could see the same thought echoed back at him from Luche's face. The man had discarded his hood and facecloth sometime during the fight. His normally slicked back blond hair hung into his forehead and was covered in soot and ash. Other than a few scrapes and a nasty bruise forming over his cheek bone, he seemed to be fine.

The sun beat down upon them, signalling the nearing midday. The air was hot and sticky and stank of ozone and molten metal and rubber. It left an oily film at the back of his throat with each breath Nyx took and made him wish he hadn't already used up all of his meagre water rations.

His muscles ached from the continued fighting and he could feel a stasis nearing. He had simply used up too much of his magic. He couldn't bring himself to regret it, however, as it had saved more than one life.

“Keep your eyes peeled,” he ordered. “This stinks of a trap.”

Next to him Libertus shifted his weight in anxiousness. “I've got a bad feeling about this,” he muttered just loud enough for Nyx to hear.

Suddenly Luche raised a hand and the growing mutterings between the Glaives stopped at once. He activated his comm, clearly listening to something. The longer he did so the paler his already fair complexion grew and a raw look of fear flittered through his eyes. It made Nyx' stomach plummet in dread. Luche looked him in the eye and suddenly Nyx knew.

Glauca.

Ruthlessly, Nyx shoved down the urge to order a full retreat. It had never been stated directly during the planning of this attack, but they would take this chance to kill the monster in the armour, one of the main reasons they had had to flee Galahd seven years ago.

With a resolute nod towards Luche, Nyx opened his mouth to issue new orders, but was interrupted by the sudden cry of “Dropships incoming!”.

“So this really is a trap,” someone behind him mumbled, despair lining the voice.

Nyx gritted his teeth. He knew the sensible thing to do was to order a retreat. At once. Before the trap napped shut.

“Libs, contact Crowe.”

“What? Nyx, we need to fucking go, right now!” his best friend hissed into his ear.

“No!” Nyx half yelled, half growled.

He refused. He refused to let Glauca slip through his fingers again. That man had collapsed the tunnels he, his sister and his mahir had been in, killing the last of his immediate family. He bared his teeth in a snarl.

All eyes were on him.

The high pitched whine of the air ships' engine ground against his sensitive ears.

“Contact Crowe,” he repeated, his voice a harsh rasp. “Ask her if she and her Unit managed to master that storm field spell they have been practising.”

Realization crossed Libertus' face like a ray of sunlight in a dark, cloudy sky and the tense atmosphere eased the tiniest bit.

“This plan is madness,” growled Luche as he came closer.

“I won't let Glauca slip through my fingers this time, if I don't have to, Luche,” Nyx growled back.

The blond man stared at him with hard eyes. Exhaustion was edged into his face, a testament to the overall state of the Glaives present. Damn it, he shouldn't have let all of their main attack force fight from the beginning. It must have been hours now that they had fought without much of a break, safe for a few moments they had been able to steal here and there.

MT didn't grow tired. Humans did.

“She says yes,” interrupted Libertus before Luche could respond.

“Good. Tell her to blast as many ships out of the sky as she can. Units Arl and Sevah, trap this place to Pitioss and back. Those tin cans aren't to take a single step without something going off. The rest of you, regain as much strength as you can before one of the ships make it through. Share any elixirs you might still have left over. I'll go after Glauca.”

“Have the ohtahi triantafe finally cooked your brain? This is madness, Nyx. No one has gone up against that man in a direct confrontation and lived,” Libertus practically yelled.

“Libertus is right. They say not even the Royal House dared to do it, back when Regis still deigned to leave Insomnia,” Luche cut in.

“I won't go alone,” defended Nyx.

“Oh, and who exactly will help you? Our strongest fighters will be here because of your hair brained scheme,” his hunting-brother growled.

“Oresch Unit,” answered Nyx before he could stop to think about what he was doing. “They are by the breached wall. Luche, where is Glauca now?”

Luche was clearly unwilling to answer, but after a few seconds he sighed. “Fine, you win. The Fathers must have blessed you, for your stupid ideas to work so often. He was seen outside the base, close to the Crag and to the north. Don't lose, Nyx. If you do, the whole Glaive is done for.”

Nyx nodded, eyes flashing in a silent promise, and ran out of the base as fast as he could, as the sky darkened with roiling clouds and lightning flashed.

Oresch Unit had not been idle during the fighting. Nyx' experienced eye could see the signs of traps half hidden in the rubble. Discreet lines were drawn into the dust and dirt, and he wondered who had sacrificed their water to make these. Most of them were old Galahdian scourge wardings that had been modified to work against Niflheimr magitek. Their presence read dangerously close to that of a daemon.

Their leader was a petite woman with shoulder length dark, brown hair that, at the right side of her head, was braided close to her head in a series of small braids forming a wave pattern. Her name was Ladone Najad, Tethys' aunt, and was approaching her fiftieth year. She had somehow mastered the art of startling even a behemoth with her presence alone, if she so desired, or she could make herself be completely overlooked.

That was exactly what he needed in this situation. Should he not be able to do it, she could use her talent to catch Glauca unawares and kill him.

Probably.

Hopefully.

Ladone listened to his plan with the gravitas of a person who had seen it all. She didn't say a word until he had ended and looked at her expectantly. One of her thin eyebrows rose the tiniest bit, as she thoughtfully chewed on one of those fireleaves she carried around everywhere.

“You're worse than your thuir ever was,” she drawled and spit a reddish blob onto the ground. “My ancestors and the serpents in the water help me, I'll do it. But I want my makuwid to stay here, makti-oir. I won't let this wall be undefended should something happen, and if I've learned one thing with those zehstiris, it's that there's always something going on with them. I'll follow you, to death, if need be, but be aware that, if I get the chance, I'll take it. This isn't your kill alone.”

Her eyes were piercing and hard as flintstone as she looked at him. He nodded respectfully. Ladone Najad wasn't somebody he wanted mad at him. Ever.

“Of course, namakar,” he answered.

“Good. Then we shouldn't waste any more time. Iase, you're in charge until I get back,” she barked.

A woman in her late thirties and hair cut so short it was nothing more than fuzz on her head, gave a salute. Ladone nodded and turned her attention back towards Nyx.

“Before I forget, here.” She threw a flask at him. It contained a yellowish liquid flecked with blue. “My son-in-law made this. It's better than the dishwater the Lucians try to sell us as an ether. Take it. You look like shit.”

Nyx' only answer was a tired glare, but he emptied the small flask without another word. It tasted kind of like he imagined a swamp to taste like. The thick liquid travelled down into his stomach, leaving a warm and revitalizing trail in its wake. At the very least it worked gentler than the punch in the gut that was a Lucian ether.

“Well?” she said, her head cocked in a way that clearly communicated they should go now.

Without another word Nyx started walking north. They stepped into the shadows of the trees growing close to the edge of Tealpar Crag, and from one moment to the next Ladone seemed to vanish into thin air. Nyx breathed an exasperated huff that just covered how anxious he really was.

Around him nature was unnaturally still. The animals had probably all fled when the fighting had begun this morning. Storm clouds swallowed nearly all of the daylight and lightning shrieked in the sky as it hit a dropship. The combined magic of nine mages weaving the field spell, was a growing weight prickling against his senses. Wind howled through the trees and across naked rock. It reminded him uncomfortably of the first hints of a Galahdian autumn storm.

He snarled to chase away the dread pooling in his gut, making his hands slippery with sweat and his senses going haywire at the sensation of being watched. Which he was. By Ladone. An alley, he reminded himself firmly and stepped out of the thinning trees and into the open. The ground was bare rock with a few stubborn bushels of grass growing here and there, and behind him the enemy base loomed, smoking and wreathed in lightning.

Suddenly, there he was.

General Glauca.

He emerged from the shadows of an erratic boulder like he was a daemon himself.

Each step the mountain of a man took sounded with a dull thud over the lighting roaring in the sky, his very presence filled the air with dread. Nyx crouched down, muscles suddenly too tense as his instincts screamed at him to run, and bared his teeth in a warning snarl.

“Your attack on the base was surprisingly effective, Glaive. You have my compliments,” Glauca snarled in a warped voice that set Nyx' teeth on edge and made his hair stand on end. The decidedly mocking tone didn't make it any better. “But now you are exactly where I want you to be.”

Nyx crouched even lower, nearly on all fours now. The handles of his kukri dug into his palms and he readjusted his grip.

A bone-grinding laugh travelled through the air and suddenly Nyx realized that this... person in front of him couldn't be human. It radiated an energy uncomfortably close to a powerful daemon and through the crevices and seams of the armour shone a dark light that betrayed its true nature. That of absolute malice for malices sake.

Unbidden, an old adage of protection and warding tumbled from his lips.

Another unholy laugh.

“You think this will help you, little Glaive? Words for beings that are nothing more than hot air themselves? Let me tell you one thing: there are no Gods. There are only those strong enough to lord their power over those too weak to do anything about it.”

“I'm not interested in what you have to say, zehstir,” Nyx hissed.

His field of vision widened, and he could now hear the near silent whirr Glauca's armour emitted as he dragged the tip of his huge sword in an arch across the dirt in a mock salute.

“Ah, how long has it been since somebody called me that?” Glauca drawled each word, rolling them around his tongue as if they were a fine wine. “That name brings back memories.”

With a roar of sudden fury, Nyx threw the kukri in his right hand and pounced.

The warp was quick and instinctive. For a split second, he saw nothing but magical particles glowing a near blinding blue. His fingers closed around the grip of his kukri without hesitation as he twisted in the air to strike his prey where his neck met the shoulder.

An ice cold hand clamped around his wrist in an iron grip and tossed him away. Nyx rolled across the dirt, using the momentum to twist into a crouching position again. His breath came in quick bursts and his lungs burned. Damn it. He was too tired for this fight. It had made him a second too slow.

“How pathetic. I expected more of a challenge from an esteemed warrior like you,” mocked the thing masquerading as human.

Thundering steps drew slowly nearer, but this time Nyx wouldn't let himself be goaded into attacking too early.

He stayed still.

Waited.

Magic, free and wild and powerful like the coeurls of his home, thrummed beneath his skin, giving his tiring muscles the opportunity to react fast enough.

Glauca's blade rose and Nyx darted beneath his arm and behind him. He jumped onto the General's back as the man took a jerky step forward, his blade cutting nothing but air where he had without a doubt expected Nyx' head to be.

This tiny mistake gave him enough time to find a grip on the armour as he slammed one of his kukri into the left shoulder guard. Lightning shrieked, bright and deafening, as it travelled from his hand into the blade and then into the magitek armour.

Glauca roared. More in fury than in pain, but it was still loud enough to make Nyx' ears ring and his vision blur. The inhuman sound sent goosebumps up and down his spine.

The armour started to glow as too much energy travelled through it and began to melt away. With a triumphant growl, Nyx challenged even more lightning. Slowly, oh so slowly, he could feel the armour give away. But it wasn't fast enough.

His prey started to struggle, trying to get him off.

In response Nyx slung one arm around the helmet and watched as it started to light up as it was assaulted by bolts of lightning. With another roar of fury his prey stumble backwards. One step. Then another. Farther and farther until Nyx' back hit the erratic boulder. Hard.

Dark spots danced across his vision and the air was pressed out of his lungs. His grip slacked and the lightning stopped as his concentration broke.

Something hit him hard in the face. He could taste blood on his tongue and blinding pain exploded behind his eyes as the back of his head collided with the boulder at his back. Again he was thrown through the air. Only this time he landed painfully on his side.

He lay there as he struggled to pull air back into his lungs. Only luck had allowed him to not lose his grip on both kukri. Shit, he hoped he hadn't broken any ribs.

Harsh laboured breaths echoed mechanically through the magically charged air. It stank nauseatingly of ozone, hot metal and something putrid that made Nyx retch.

“Do you... really think that... something like this... will kill me, Glaive?”

I hoped it would, Nyx wanted to say but couldn't, too busy with just breathing and dragging himself up onto his feet again. He couldn't allow himself to stay down. To stay down was to die. And he couldn't die now when things were finally changing.

Finally he managed to clear his swimming vision enough to be able to focus on Glauca again. The monster in human skin still stood by the bolder. He did not quite lean on it, but it was clear that the melted armour on his shoulder was giving him trouble. The destroyed parts on his helmet were already regenerating, giving Nyx only the most fleeting of glances at a patch of pale skin at the temple.

He cursed quietly inside. He had nearly had him.

His limbs trembled as he forced himself to stand upright. Stasis was looming dangerously close. He had put nearly all of his newly regained magical strength into that attack.

Movement on top of the boulder caught his eye. Barely a moment later Glauca howled. Still eerie and hair raising and mechanical. But this time in pain as a long and thin kukri found the weakest spot of his destroyed shoulder guard.

Ladone twisted  the blade with a thundering war cry before ripping it out again. She was gone again within the blink of an eye. As if she had never been there in the first place.

A sword slammed into the boulder and nearly cut it in half.

“I will make sure there is nothing left of both of you to bury once I'm finished with you,” hissed Glauca through clenched teeth.

Nyx barked a laugh. An idea started to take form in his mind. It was madness, but it could work. He hoped Ladone would catch onto it. Otherwise he was pretty much dead.

“For that you need to catch me first,” he rasped with sharp grin full of teeth and retreated back the way he had come between the trees.

As he had hoped Glauca followed him, each step a tiny earthquake.

Wood splintered as his huge blade hit the trees Nyx duck behind, just dancing behind its reach like a cat playing keep-away.

A gust of wind that shouldn't have been. Metal rang against metal as Ladone struck again and vanished just as quickly as she had before. As Glauca made to follow her Nyx charged in a half hearted attack that missed its mark by an embarrassingly huge margin, to keep the man's attention focused on him.

Further and further Nyx lured Glauca between the trees. Closer and closer to the edge of the Crag. To an arch close to the one the Glaive had used to cross it, but still far enough away from the others. Hopefully.

Nyx' movements started to get sluggish. The burning in his lungs had exceeded uncomfortable and passed into painful a while ago. Each new breath he took was a struggle between his need for oxygen, to just keep moving a little further – nearly there, nearly there nearlytherenearlythere – and the instinctive need to avoid the pain it caused to suck in each new gulp of air.

His concentration had shifted from avoiding the sword chasing him to just keep moving. He knew, if he stopped, it would be over.

Suddenly the trees were gone and the Crag gaped at his back, beckoning the unwary to a horrifying death. A death Glauca had a scheduled meeting with, if Nyx had anything to say about it.

Oh so carefully he started to inch his way over the arch, concentrating only on Glauca and what his prey was doing. His steps had grown uneven and his left arm hung uselessly by his side. There were obvious chinks in his armour now. Nyx grinned a bloody grin. Ladone had gotten the bastard good.

Voices sounded from his left and behind him, but he ignored them in favour of Glauca. They were so close. So close to killing the second nightmare of Galahd.

Suddenly the man stopped right at the edgy of the arch. Nyx tensed.

“Do you think this cheap trick will work on me?”

Too late Nyx realized what Glauca meant. He flung himself forward in a futile attempt to stop it, but he knew he wouldn't be fast enough. Exhaustion ate away at him, both magical and physical.

A dark shadow slammed into Glauca's back with a defiant cry as the sword was driven into the arch, crumbling it with a nauseating wave of something that was neither magic nor scourge.

Nyx stumbled. One step, then another.

Then the ground beneath him fell away.

[folightening]

"We really need to stop meeting like this"

Summary: 4+1. Four times Loqi was already stuck when Cor found him, and one time he got stuck after.

Pairing: Cor/Loqi

Rated Teen

Words: 2177

*****

-1-

It was absurd. Just... Not at all what Cor had expected to find when he came out here.

"Are you going to help me or stand there staring?"

Loqi's annoyed tone snapped Cor out of his musings and back to the situation.

The young Imperial general was tied to a pole like some kind of sacrifice. Or some kind of criminal in ancient times about to be burnt at the stake. Upon looking, Cor could see that his armor was behind him. How exactly this had happened, he wasn't sure.

"Some kind of obscure cult decide you were the perfect sacrifice?"

"Very funny Leonis." Loqi laughed, unamused and sarcastic. "My so-called comrades left me here. I have yet to figure out why."

Maybe it had something to do with his wonderful personality. Rather than state that opinion, Cor crossed his arms and kept the grin off his face. Neutrality was his best option for now.

"Why exactly should I not leave you here?"

If Cor untied him, Loqi was more likely than not to run off and continue doing Niflheim's bidding. Which made him an enemy better left where he was.

"Can you leave me here in good conscience, knowing that I am likely to be devoured alive by one of the many creatures living around here?"

The tone, the way he looked at Cor with wide eyes, lips parted in disbelief... Loqi knew what he was doing.

"You are far more heartless than the rumors say."

Cor closed his eyes and cursed the very fact that Loqi Tummelt was part of his life. A highly aggravating, persistent part that he couldn't seem to rid himself of.

"I'm not heartless," Cor argued. "I have no reason to release an enemy soldier from being tied to a pole."

He turned to leave, shoving aside his nagging conscience telling him not to leave Loqi there.

"If they're respectable people," he said, "your comrades will release you before anything happens."

"My comrades are the people who put me here!"

"I'm sure they'll be back." Cor stopped and turned to regard Loqi again. "Your comrades wouldn't leave you to die."

Loud laughter was not what he had expected to hear.

"You are Lucian; you wouldn't understand."

Cor stared at Loqi.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said. Trust me, they are not coming back for me."

It could be a lie. Or people from Niflheim were more cruel than Cor had thought. Either way, it was decided.

"I'm going to regret this."

-2-

"Mind telling me how you got into this?"

Loqi was stuck. Cor was staring at his backside. His very nice, shapely backside... But that was beside the point.

"What does it look like?" Loqi snapped. Cor could barely hear his muffled voice. "I was attempting to retrieve an item that fell down here, and got stuck."

As if to prove his point, Loqi pushed himself back and only succeeded in granting Cor an even better view of his ass and thighs. If he cared to look.

"I think something shifted and prevented me from going either direction."

"Have you tried-"

"Yes, Leonis," Loqi interrupted. "I have tried everything that makes any sense."

Cor studied the rock around Loqi, kneeling down beside him to get a better look.

"Don't you dare try anything," Loqi warned.

As tempted as he was to place his hand on Loqi's ass in retaliation for the partial insult, Cor refrained. Nothing worth the headache would come from following that particular urge. It was rude to touch people in such a manner without permission anyway.

After a few minutes of examining the stones around Loqi, Cor came to the conclusion that he could indeed safely move the rocks enough for Loqi to get free.

"If I move-"

"Don't you move anything!"

Cor huffed and crossed his arms despite Loqi's inability to see the motion. Moving the rocks was the only way to get him out.

"Do you want out or not?"

Unsurprisingly, there was a few moments of silence before Loqi responded. The choice between accepting help and retaining pride... Cor understood well how Loqi was feeling.

"Yes..."

"Then shut up and let me help."

-3-

There had been rumors of the Niffs sending someone out here to investigate some ruins. Cor had been uncertain, but it definitely looked as though a magitek engine had landed here earlier. Which meant he had to continue and see what he found.

Wary of the possible MTs in the area, Cor held his katana at the ready as he walked forward. There was no way of knowing how many of those robotic soldiers would be here or which officer he'd be dealing with.

If he was lucky, it would be Loqi.

The sight that greeted him ten minutes later made him stop in his tracks and simply stare.

He found General Loqi... tangled in vines... Cor evenly exhaled and tried not to think about the pose Loqi was in.

Loqi looked down, their gazes met, and Loqi's cheeks flushed.

"What are you staring at?" he yelled. "I can- dammit- get out of these myself! Then I'm going to defeat you!"

Watching Loqi's attempts at freeing himself only bind him more brought up feelings Cor deemed entirely inappropriate for the situation. He crossed his arms- a common occurrence when dealing with Loqi- and smirked.

"You're doing a fine job of it," Cor said. "How'd you get there?"

"None of your business!"

Typical Loqi.

"I doubt the vines grabbed you on their own."

There were some strange plants out there- usually native to Tenebrae- but he'd never heard of one that grabbed a person on its own.

Loqi's face flushed more and Cor willed himself not to look away from the sight. That would be admitting to those inappropriate thoughts and attraction.

"Fine," Loqi snarled. "I fell, landed in them, and somehow managed to get tangled up."

A reasonable explanation. Judging by how things looked, Cor doubted Loqi was going to be getting himself out of those vines. All he could do was wait for Loqi to realize that.

"Let me know when you want down."

"Fuck off Leonis."

It was another hour before Loqi finally slumped in the vines. Cor raised an eyebrow at him but didn't say anything.

"Why haven't you left yet?" Loqi panted at him, face flushed from his efforts at untangling himself.

"I'm not going to leave you here."

"You just enjoy seeing me like this."

"Night will be falling soon," Cor pointed out.

It wasn't as if he hadn't helped Loqi before. Or as if they didn't have some sort of relationship. Even if it was built on attraction, sex, and a promise that they wouldn't fall in love. Enemies with benefits, Loqi had called it.

"Fine," Loqi grumbled. "Get me down."

The vines broke under his blade, Loqi fell into his arms, and the ground beneath them crumbled.

-4-

The echo of Loqi's shout didn't provide any information where the general was. He'd run off much faster than Cor had been expecting the moment they'd recovered from the fall and Cor hadn't seen him since. It did, however, cause a fear that Cor hadn't felt since he saw the smoke rising from the Citadel as Lucis fell to grip him.

It took half an hour for Cor to find Loqi. Stuck again. Down in a hole that Cor assumed had opened up beneath him. These old ruins had a tendency to shift and change without warning.

Unsettling relief swirled in him and he ignored the evidence that what they had was something more than they'd said it would be.

"You have a knack for getting yourself stuck," Cor remarked.

"Shut up."

After how long he'd been down there and the time he'd been in the vines, Cor thought for sure that Loqi wouldn't be as stubbornly against his help this time.

"I can get myself out," Loqi announced.

Cor doubted that very much, but didn't say anything.

Instead, he sat down and watched as Loqi attempted to find a handhold in smooth stone. Eventually, the floor would lift again. Or close, whichever had happened. Cor couldn't just leave him and continue on with that uncertainty lingering over him.

"So what happened?"

"The floor just vanished," Loqi snapped. "Now be quiet so I can concentrate!"

For a few moments, Cor was.

"You're lucky there was something down there."

The look Loqi gave him definitely fell into the 'if looks could kill' category. Cor was immune to especially Loqi's by now.

"You know it'll close over you eventually."

"There is some trick to getting back out. They would build some way of getting out in the event that one of their own fell in."

Cor wasn't so sure of that, but he'd leave Loqi to his hoping. He stood again and looked around. In his experience, controls for traps weren't in reasonable locations and ancient ruins didn't have them to begin with. But it was worth looking around.

Maybe he'd find whatever the Niffs were looking for and could keep it out of their hands.

Or he could pull something out of Noctis' armiger. There would be something useful in there.

"Dammit!" Loqi shouted. "This is ridiculous!"

That settled it. Cor reached into Noctis' still unfamiliar armiger, digging around until he found a rope. Hopefully they weren't in need of it.

Once he had one end tied around a sturdy column, he tossed the other down and ignored Loqi's glare.

"You know we're going to have to go on a date after this," Loqi said.

"Sure."

+1

The battle had been going on longer than it usually did. With the rest of the base in the battle as well, Cor supposed that wasn't surprising. Nor was the fact that Loqi continued his attack even when it was clear he had already lost. Whatever else they did, in the end they remained on opposing sides of a war.

Barely dodging another missile, Cor resisted the urge to yell at Loqi. That wouldn't do him any good.

Instead, he avoided fire from the base itself and searched for a way to end this before they both died. Incapacitating his mech would force Loqi to eject and hopefully get out of the flaming ruins.

It took a few well-aimed swings of his katana for the pink mech to fall to the ground.

The top didn't open.

"Shit," he heard Loqi over the speakers. "Shit!"

"Loqi?"

It still wasn't opening. Loqi's mech wasn't responding the way it should have been.

Cor ran toward the fallen mech before he could stop to think about what he was doing. The fire was spreading fast, eagerly following the oil that he had foolishly caused to spread across the cement. In his experience, it wasn't too long before the mech exploded without any fire helping it along.

"Loqi, talk to me! What's going on?"

"It won't open! I can't- I'm-"

That sounded dangerously close to hysterics. Panicking was not going to help Loqi.

"Loqi. Stay calm, I-"

"I can't get out!" Loqi yelled at him. "You expect me to remain calm right now?"

"Panicking will just make it worse."

His katana could open it, in theory. It could cut through enough to force it down like this in the first place... Cor looked over the top, scanning his options and ignoring that he could hear something suspiciously like crying.

"Get down Loqi."

The last thing Cor wanted to do was hurt him in his efforts to get him out. He had no idea where exactly Loqi was in there. Just an estimate based off Loqi's stature and the size of the mech.

"You good?"

"Hurry up!"

Keeping as close to the top as reasonably possible, Cor stabbed through the metal on the side and sliced across. It didn't take long to get it open enough for Loqi to squeeze through.

"Come on."

Loqi scrambled out and the two of them ran out of the base as the mech exploded.

Just hearing Loqi's crying had been bad enough. Now he could actually see the tears and how much of a mess he was.

"You're alive and safe now."

"I- I almost..."

Loqi cried harder and Cor grimaced. He had never been terribly good at comforting people, even after helping look after Noctis. That and, despite the relationship, he didn't think Loqi would accept any.

"I'm not ready to-" Loqi choked on the word and Cor pulled him into a hug.

Petting Loqi's hair was the only thing he could think of to do. The armor prevented him from rubbing his back or holding him any tighter.

"No one is ever ready to die," Cor said. "Even when they think they are, when the time comes..."

Loqi looked up at him and Cor brushed a few tears from his cheek. Cor managed a smile.

"Great reminder that you're human."

Loqi buried his face in Cor's shirt again and Cor ignored the way he could feel Loqi's armor pressing uncomfortably into him.

[merlevum]

Dormiens rex De Aurora

Chapters: 2/?

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum Characters: Gladiolus Amicitia, Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum, Noctis Lucis Caelum, Nyx Ulric Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, cyrofreeze, cryovat Summary: Gladio comes out of the cryovat and learns just how long he's been asleep.

It was strange. Gladio couldn’t make heads or tails of why he couldn’t open his damn eyes. His body was numb, slow, and he couldn’t feel it like he was supposed to, how he knew he was supposed to. If he moved, he didn’t know, but the cold was there again.

Pain.

Right, his lungs felt like they were on fire with every breath he took.

In.

Out.

He needed to breathe. He needed to live if he was going to do what he was trained to do.

Static buzzed in his arms first and then his legs. Finally, forcing his eyes open, Gladio tried to discern where he was. What was going on? What happened?

Dad.

Where was dad?

Green eyes came into view. Heat flared, burning him. Hands held him? Was he falling? Gladio couldn’t tell, but the world spun, so he focused on those green eyes behind panes of glass instead. Without his consent, his body shivered and slowly the aching from the cold grew till it burned and he could finally hear his own ragged breathing. Too fast. He needed to slow it down, to calm his racing heart.

Why was it racing? Where was his--

“D-Dad?” Gladio didn’t recognize his own voice. It sounded hoarse and broken. Trying to speak gave him a coughing fit that only hurt.

The one with green eyes was saying something, but it was so far away, muffled. Did he have ice in his ears too? Wait, what was he saying? It didn’t sound right? It wasn’t Lucian. What was he saying? He didn’t know what to do with the sound. He needed to get to his dad, to help him fight off the Niffs. Wait, the ring, where was Noct? If his vat was open, Noct would be woken too? Had it not worked? Or had he woken to help his dad?

Gladio looked for his father’s body, but there was nothing in the corner it had fallen to right before Gladio was frozen. Had they managed to overpower the Niffs and this was the future? Gladio couldn’t be sure, but those hands were a boon to his cold body. But fucking Six, what was the guy saying?

“I-I....I can’t understand.” Gladio managed to croak out. “N-Noct, Is he-”

“Noct?”

It’s a question? Does he not know about Noct? Glancing around, the room had cracks, and layers of dust and rubble. No, it wasn’t like it was when he had gone in. There were no technicians running around, just him and the man with green eyes. Wait, no there are more, but they are nothing like the rebels who had put him under ice. How long was he asleep?

Gladio’s body grew heavy. Why couldn’t he move when he needed to? Why couldn’t he have the strength to do what he needed to do? Why were the people he loved always in fucking danger because he couldn’t do his job?

The world slowly faded as concerned green eyes watched over him, words were formed, but Gladio couldn’t hear them.

Beep.

Beep. Beep.

Beep.

Astrals give him patience, Gladio thought as he groaned. Was that his alarm? No, it sounded off and his body was sore all over. Had he overdone it at training? No that didn’t sound right either. He had fallen asleep with Iris after they hugged. Wait, there was more. Right, he had been escorted to the cryovat. Was this what it felt like to wake up?

Fuck.

Slowly he tested out his muscles. Wiggling his feet a little. Clenching his fists. Focusing on his breath to make sure everything was in check, but there was still that steady beeping. A few moments went by before he realised the sound had a rhythm to it. Opening his eyes, it was easier to focus them this time. First, on the machine next to him, wires sticking out and connecting to his own body, and then to screen that was making that horrible noise. He watched a green line move up and down until he realised it was a heart monitor.

How long had he been under? Opening his eyes more, to take in his surroundings, a gentle hand pushed him back down on the bed he was laying in. He hadn’t realised he was trying to get up.

“Steady there. You’re alright.”

Gladio shuddered at the touch, it was warm. Six, he was still fucking cold. He needed to have a word with whoever took over the cryovat science. Maybe there was no way to really fix the way his body felt so cold, but hell it was worth a shot. Noct was probably having a much harder time, never liking the cold. Wait, shit where was Noct?

“N-No-” Gladio cursed himself as he started coughing. His throat was still hoarse and barely there.

“Noct or Noctis I presume?” the man asked, his green eyes gentle. The guy from before when he first woke up sat there. Gladio nods. “He’s stable. Look to your left.”

Gladio does so and breathes a sigh of relief seeing Noct laying there in a bed next to him. Thank the gods he was fine. His dad would have had his head if Noct was killed after everything they had gone through. Dad....Gladio closed his eyes. He couldn’t grieve for his dad or anyone for that matter. Not yet. Not when there was still so much to do. While he was certainly thankful to the guy sitting next to his bed, Gladio didn’t know who this guy was or if this was still even part of King Regis’s plan anymore. Everything was starting to fall apart.

“Gladiolus? Is that your name?”

Gladio needed a name for the stranger. Seeing the glasses, he decided Specs would be fine for now. At least until he knew the guys real name. He nodded his head.

“Good. At least we understand that much of the lost tongue.” Specs relaxed a little as he sits straight in the chair. “Can you understand me alright, Gladiolus?”

“Gl-Gladio’s fine.”

“Then I presume you can.” Specs smiled, but Gladio didn't know why.

“Great! At least we know the chip is working.”

Gladio whips his head back to the left, glaring at the new voice. A blonde kid, probably around Noct’s age, sat down in a chair. The kid smiled, not wavering at Gladio’s look. Chip? What were they talking about? What had they done? Shit, Gladio tried to get up.

“W-Wait, please. You’ll only hurt yourself. Prompto, please be gentle. They’ve been asleep for quite some time. We don’t want to stress them.”

Gladio can hear the heart monitor now. The steady beating is no longer his, it’s Noct's. His own was pounding much faster and harder. Specs was right about one thing, he was stressed and for good reason. Would the Amiger still work with Noct unconscious? He hoped so because if he had to, he’d pull out his sword and show them a thing to two, but there was no shimmer and no sound to indicate it.

“S-Sorry, Igs...” Prompto shifted in his chair uncomfortably, his hands resting on the seat between his legs, heels hooked into the bars.

“Listen Gladio, we put a chip in both you and Noctis. It’s standard for everyone here to get them when they are little. The chip translates languages for you to understand and in return when you speak you are able to speak the same language. We meant to ask you both first, but seeing as there seemed to be a bit of a language barrier when we brought you both out, we presumed--”

“W-What?”

He can’t help but wince as he body protests to him sitting up. They put a chip in him without even checking if it was okay? What the hell? And they did that to Noct too. Shit. His dad really was going to come and kill now. Some shield he was being.

“Gladio, please. You’ll only make your recovery longer.” Those hands were on him, gently guiding him back down. If Gladio didn’t have to worry about his arms giving way, he might have actually fought against the guy. “That’s all we did. It’s just a translation chip. I promise, at least to you.”

He glared at Specs, or he supposed Igs, wanting to know what the hell that meant. Seeing where those green eyes were suddenly trained, Gladio tried to sit up once more before falling onto his arm with a cut of cry of pain.

“Gladio!” Igs sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. Prompto hid a grin behind a hand until Gladio glared at him. “Your friend, Noct. He has- or rather- had something called the Starscourge coursing through him. The remedy for that disease was found hundreds of years ago, so we cured him of it. Now he should be able to use whatever power he normally couldn’t. He’ll just need to learn to control it.”

Gladio looked at his prince. Noctis had the Starscourge and no one told him? Did Noctis even know? This was all kinds of fucked up. Prompto sat in the chair, quiet. Perhaps Igs was the better of the two to explain things, but dammit all. He wanted more than just reassurance that they were going to be okay. Dawning on him, Gladio reached into his pocket only to find it empty. Panic settled in once more, the monitor raising in bleeps alerted both Prompto and Igs as they glanced at each other. Shit, where the hell was it?

“Are you looking for this?” Igs held out the Lucii ring. “Thought you might. It fell from your pocket when we were taking you out of the cryovat. I kept it safe.”

Gladio shifts so he holds out a hand. “Give it back.”

There, that sounds more like him. Strong and confident and definitely more like the Shield he was meant to be. Still, he wished he could have had some water or something. He was damned parched and his throat was itchy, dry, and hoarse.

“Here.”

Gladio half suspected Igs to keep it or try and put it on himself, but instead, those lithe hands place the ring gingerly in Gladio’s plam. Thank the Six. If Igs had put it on or even knew a fraction of what he held, things could have gone very differently. Everything was so out of place, but at least he hadn’t lost the fucking thing. Leaning back into bed, Gladio felt tired again.

“You should get some more rest. I’ll be here when you wake to answer any questions,” Igs said, eyes gentle.

“W-Water?” Gladio asked, not caring if this was the enemy and if they drugged the water fine. He would probably just fall asleep anyway after he drank a bit.

“Ice chips for you and Noct,” Prompto said, handing Igs a cup full of the stuff. Great, more ice. “Doc says you won’t be on solid food for another week either. So just take easy.”

Gladio nods. For now, he’ll accept their reassurance if only to bide his time. When he has his voice back he’ll ask a few more questions, but for now, he is satisfied with Igs putting an ice chip to his lips.

Gladio woke again, this time there’s more weight on top of him, but he is finally warm. Opening his eyes, he sees the white walls of the room, but the beeping has finally gone away. Did they not need heart monitors anymore? Where they okay now? Gods, he hoped so. Taking stock of his body once more, he’s relieved to see that he can move a little better than before and his body is no longer as sore. To his left Noct was still sleeping with Prompto dosing in the chair he occupied the last time. Gladio wasn’t surprised to see Igs sitting in the chair by his own bed either, but rather bemused at Igs’ glasses practically hanging at the edge of his nose and head slumped forward.

How long had he slept this time? He couldn’t be sure. There were no windows here. Which should have concerned him, but at the moment he was thankful. It meant no one could see him and that meant privacy. Maybe they didn’t know Noct was royalty and then again, maybe they did and this was a precaution. But with everyone asleep, Gladio had no one to stop him from thinking. No one to distract him from his thoughts.

Dad.

Iris.

Crownsguard.

Kingsglaive.

Every one of the rebels who had survived since then.

He doubted any of them still existed. Not even Cor the Immortal could have survived. Right? Astrals take him, he could feel the stinging in his eyes before the tears finally fell. He’d never see any of them again. A gentle hand is on his, making him flinch as he took a shuddering breath. Glancing at the hand, he can tell it’s Igs despite his blurred vision. Some shield he was, crying in front of a stranger. Gritting his teeth, Gladio willed the tears to stop.

“Gladio....” Igs spoke softly, if only to comfort him, or keep Prompto or Noct from hearing, Gladio doesn’t know. “It’s okay. You’ve been through a lot it seems and holding it in will only worsen matters.”

Gladio swallowed past the lump in his throat.

“H-How--” he cleared his throat before trying again. “How long have we been asleep?”

“I’m afraid a thousand years, Gladio.”

He choked back another sob. That long? No, it couldn’t be. Why had they stayed asleep for so long? Was that really the plan?

“I....I don’t know exactly how to tell you this, Gladio, but Lucian, the language you tried to talk to me in first, that language has long since died. Niflheim has made sure of that. I work as an assistant to a scientist, who is very intrigued by history and past sciences. Prompto is a friend of mine, who documents her findings and so generally goes along with me when I do research. We happened upon your cyrovat first. It took years to decipher what the words on the screen said.”

Igs repositioned his glasses, but the hand on Gladio’s never wavered.

“When he found out there was another, we immediately searched for Noct. Only when we were certain you two could be brought out of your status without harming you or the structures, we finally started the process.”

“Structures?” Gladio said, interrupting Igs. “What do you mean the structures? And why doesn’t this place have windows?”

The hand on top of Gladio’s squeezed his. “Insomnia as you know it is no longer here, Gladio. Insomnia is now just ruins and I’m sorry, but there is an outpost that was built on top of it. What you might have considered your home is now what we consider the catacombs. When we found your cryovat, the building was sound enough. But Noct, his cryovat was not exactly in the same condition. Some of the building was coming down and there apparently was something wrong with his console. When I read that if one of you was woken the other would as well, we had to take precautions.”

Gladio breathed deep, trying to take in what Igs was telling him. If it wasn’t for the two cryovats connected, it meant that Noct might not have ever been able to wake up. Shit.

“It took another week before you started to --defrost? I suppose that would be the easiest of terms to put it. We monitored your vitals the entire time and ensured you were both stable. But as I dug into the files more and more, I’ve found it rather difficult to decipher some of what was written. Please, why were you put into the cryovat in the first place, you and his highness?”

So they knew. They knew Noct was royalty. The last of his line. The last prince of Insomnia, or what was left of it.

“....Noct and I....we were...” Gladio bit his lip trying to find the words. Igs had given him the answers he had sought, the right thing would be to give him the same answers in return. “King Regis decided it was best to have us frozen. Something about a better future if we were. Dad agreed with him and volunteered me along with him. We were supposed to still have time.” He gripped the sheets tighter. “When I was being frozen, I saw my d-dad....he-...he was struck down and there was nothing I could do for him.”

Igs shifted to scoot his chair closer to the bed, green eyes gentle when Gladio looked at him. Neither spoke, but just having Igs there was enough. Gladio let the tears fall, his body curling towards the stranger, who didn’t judge him. There was no accusation of being weak or being told to buck up. He was allowed to be human. He was allowed to grieve what he had lost even if it didn’t feel like a thousand years had passed. When the tears finally subsided, Gladio relaxed in the bed. He hated this. All of it and he couldn’t even go work out to relieve some of the pressure he felt because he was stuck in the bed.

“--Gladiolus.”

Gladio blinked, focusing back on Igs.

“Ah, I’ve found you. You were far away. It’s best not to think too much right now. You and his highness have been through a lot and I assure you, no one knows of your actual status. When we told our scientist we had found something of interest, we told her the machines weren’t working. She works for Niflheim, you see. We technically all do, but some of us....well,” he shrugs.

Shit. Niflheim was still at large? Gladio made to move, to try and summon his weapon from the Amiger, but he was in no state to do so and Igs had his hands on his shoulder again. Nothing but gentle touches and concern in those green eyes. Was there still a resistance?

“Gladio, please. Stop trying to make your recovery longer. You are safe here.” Igs relaxed back into his seat, his hands folded in his lap. “The only ones who know you are awake, are Prompto, the medical team, one other person, and myself. But you have no fear there, they have no loyalties to Niflheim either. Finding them was rather difficult and obtaining their help was even more so, but we knew if we brought you out of your cryostasis, we would be dealing with something rather important.”

“Who’s the other person?” Gladio stiffened a little. He still needed to be a shield to Noct.

“A man by the name of Nyx Ulric. Fear not, he is a good man. You’ll meet him soon enough. He’s the one who provided us with the necessary information to create the Lucian translation we are using now. He wouldn’t let me have the necessary books without knowing why.” Igs sighed before going wide-eyed. “Oh dear. Forgive me, Gladio. It seems with everything happening, you know everyone’s name but mine. My name is Ignis Scientia.”

Ignis? So, Prompto was using a nickname, figures. They must really be close then.

“Nice to meet you....I guess,” Gladio said with a shrug of his shoulder. He’s tired again, but he doesn’t want to sleep. He’s afraid. He’s afraid, now that he was more aware, the nightmares would start. They always did. “So, what happens now?”

“Now? We help you two recover. After that, well....it’s up to you I suppose. I doubt you’ll want to turn yourselves over to the empire, but then again, there are other dangers out there now that I’m sure were not there when you were last in your crowned city, Gladio. Perhaps we had best wait until you can move about before talking about what happens next aside from rest and regaining your strength.”

There’s no need for Ignis to hold his hand. There was no reason for Ignis to show him any sort of compassion. Gladio knows that, but he misses the feeling of those lithe hands on his, now slightly colder than he remembered. Maybe now that he was more awake, he was starting to retain his usual body heat. Good signs. He was healing.

Gladio gave a non-committed grunt in response, not sure where else to take the conversation at this point. Watching Ignis fiddle with a watch on his wrist, Gladio couldn’t help but find himself closing his eyes again. Next time, he would keep them open longer. He needed to get stronger for both Noct and himself. Noct would want to take back what belonged to him, but the how would be the problem.

[autumn-maple13]

Lost to Time - Chapter 8

Child of Ardyn FFXV Fanfic

Chapter 8: Moving Fast

The days of fooling around with the guys seemed like decades ago as Amara stood alongside her fellow Glaive, listening to the Captain fill them in on their next mission. They were to be moved to a long forgotten Lucian fortress overlooking a section of the great rift that partially split the Lucian continent. Nifelheim was moving too close for the first time in years, and the King was desperate to force them back. The entire Glaive was being sent out to the location.

All except a select few that had been chosen to defend the capital in case shit hit the fan.

Amara was one of those selected, and she wasn’t the only one who showed clear disdain over the decision.

“Sir, with all due respect Solis is one of our best fighters!” Luche hadn’t often tried to defend her, but he was the first to do so now. “Leaving her behind-”

“Was an order of the King. Solis, you’re in command of the unit being left here.” Drautos cut through everyone else’s chatter, silencing the room with the weight of what he had said. “His Majesty personally ask you be spared from this fight, because he thinks the Empire may try to use this as a cover for something else. As one of our best fighters, he wants you here as a back-up. If things go South, you’re in charge of the entirety of Insomnia’s defenses as the leader of the first response unit alongside the Crownsguard.”

“Sir, I-”

“Have been promoted to Platoon Leader.” Drautos dipped his head. “You’re more than qualified for this assignment. The rest of you’re dismissed to get ready! We move out at 2200. Solis, report to Captain Amicitia for you assignment details at 1800.”

As the Captain left Amara found herself receiving compliments for her promotion, though it was clear that those who had been working alongside her since she joined were using it to cover their concern. The woman thanked them, but bowed out quickly. She had several hours before she would be made active, and she couldn’t spend it among the Glaive as they prepared for what could be the death of many of them.

Cor Leonis was the first person she ran into, and the moment he saw her he jumped in her way to keep her from leaving. It must’ve been the look on her face, because he turned around and tugged her along with him to one of the breakrooms the officers of the Crownsguard used. Clarus and Gladio were both found there, and jumped up from the table they were talking at when they saw her.

“Solis?”

“Amara what’s wrong?”

“I…” she choked. “I’ve been promoted. I’m a platoon leader now.”

“That’s great Amara!” Gladio seemed to hold the excitement she should have had, but the solemn look his father and the Marshall took on made him fall silent. “Isn’t it?”

“Amara, I’m sorry. I didn’t think his Majesty really intended… I didn’t think it’d actually be put in motion.” Clarus walked over to put a hand on the woman’s shoulder, making his son realize for the first time just how much she had grown since he first met her as children. “You do know you have the support of the Guard, correct?”

Cor nodded, leaning against the wall behind them. “Whatever you need, let us know.”

“What’s going on?” Gladiolus walked over, looking between the three officers. “Dad?”

“Gladio, this isn’t just a promotion for her.” Clarus didn’t try to keep the seriousness of the situation from seeping into his voice. “Amara’s been put in charge of the first and most important part of Insomnia’s defenses while the Kingsglaive is deployed on a major mission against the Empire.”

The youngest man took a step back in shock, looking at his friend who was on the verge of breaking. “Seriously?”

“Yes.” Amara barely had any strength in her voice as the weight settled on her. She wondered in vain why backs were made to carry burdens, feeling like she was going to collapse beneath herself any second. “If the Glaive is defeated, or this fight really is a ploy for the Empire to use to their advantage, I...”

Clarus looked grim. “She has to make the call to begin the defense of the city.”

“Why would King Regis put that kind of responsibility on you?” he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and her shaking her head in response only made him more confused.

“I better go get ready… I’m sorry for bothering you all during your break.” she managed to straighten enough to salute, but returned to her previous stature as se made to leave. The men offered her no words of comfort or encouragement, staying silent as they watched her leave.

Only a few, horribly uneventful days later, not long after her fellow Glaives had returned from the bloodbath of a fight they had barely survived, Amara was wishing she had opted to stay and help them instead of staying on active duty, following through with the King’s command until she was relieved. She now stood at the city’s West gate, staring in horror at the Empire vehicle that she had been sent to meet by the King himself. It was an envoy that had requested an audience, and being the only option on such short notice she had been sent immediately.

Amara watched as the red haired man got out of the car, and walked across the line that seperated the city from the land beyond. “Ah, a Glaive was sent to meet me? How nice of his Majesty to recognize the importance of this.”

His voice was so familiar, as was the very color of his hair and eyes. The smile he gave her should have been taken as a threat, but the shock on her features didn’t fade. As she got behind the wheel of the car she had driven out to retrieve him, he turned down the back seat to sit up front with her, taking off his hat to rest in his lap.

“Do you have a name, ma’am?” he waited until she had turned the car around to head back into the city. “I’d like to be able to thank you properly for your speed in getting here.”

Her throat felt dry. “I’m… I’m Amara.”

“Oh? A lovely name, child.” he must’ve have seen her tense, or the way her fingers twitched on the steering wheel. “Is everything alright?”

“I… Yes sir.” her voice was cracking. Why was his presence bugging her so much? Why was being near him making her so sad?

“Ah, you must be nervous. Oh how silly of me, I forgot to introduce myself!” he chuckled. “I’m Chancellor Izunia, Ardyn Izunia.”

“Ardyn?” the name struck a chord with her. “Forgive me, but… I feel like I recognize that name from somewhere other than the news.”

“Oh? Perhaps someone you used to know shared a similar name.” he mused, but the look on his face was a teasing one. He seemed to know much more than he was letting on, but the speed at which she was driving was making her approach the Citadel faster than she would have liked in the moment. She wanted to figure out where the feelings ripping her apart had come from before she handed him over to the King. But she couldn’t bring herself to say anything else, and he didn’t seem to mind the silence that settled over them, probably enjoying the almost charged atmosphere. When she pulled up to the Citadel she was quick to cut the engine and walk around to open the door for him, but found herself shocked further when he rested a large hand on her head for a moment, ruffling her hair slightly as he leaned down to her level.

“You may not remember yet Amara, but darling the darkness in me won’t allow me to forget.” his golden eyes seems to glow when he looked in her eyes. “If you want to know the truth, you’ll be the one to return me to the gate.”

“Yes sir.” the response was automatic, the shock made her too stiff to move immediately, but she managed to pull herself together to follow him up the stairs to properly hand him over to the castle guards who were to escort him to the throne room high above them. Captain Drautos arched a brow as he walked over to join her, looking at her curiously.

“I see why that rumor is going around now.”

“The one about how I look like the Chancellor? Yeah, I do too now.” she cringed, looking at her feet. “To be honest, I’ve never seen the man’s face before now so I always just brushed it off as just a side effect of having red hair, but when I saw him at the gate…”

“Hey Solis, just because you look kinda alike doesn’t mean anything. For all we know you could have a common ancestor or something.” Drautos put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a slight smile when she looked up at him. “Look, you’re still on duty and he’s going to need to be escorted back to the gate so just find out what you can from him.”

“Are you saying that as my Captain or as a friend?”

“Does the answer change anything?” he chuckled, giving her a slight nod before he left her there alone to await the Chancellor’s return. It wasn’t long before he was waltzing towards her again, whistling a little tune as he played with his hat. Setting it back atop his head, Ardyn Izunia winked at his escort, a motion she took as her cue. Running on ahead to start the car and get his door open for him, she took one hesitant look at the faces of the guards who walked with him down to her, ignoring their shock and narrowed eyes to help the Niff into the car. Once she was behind the wheel again, she was shocked to feel him set his hat on her head.

“Amara, you don’t remember anything before you awoke in Insomnia, do you? How long have you been here now?”

“No I don’t, and I’ve been here since I was five so fifteen years now… what do you mean ‘awoke’?”

He chuckled, ignoring her question and opting instead to watch the sights of the city flitting by. “That’s nothing you need concern yourself with at the moment, though I must admit I’d often wondered when you would end up...”

“Excuse me?”

“Child, surely you’ve realized by now that your control over Regis’s power is so easy for you.” he narrowed his eyes at her, a smirk on his lips. “That’s not something that anyone else can say, because they were never meant to hold it to the extent that it has been given.”

“How would you know anything about this?”

She gasped and hit the brakes when his hand suddenly held a flame, thankful that the road to the West Gate was abandoned for the moment. “You-?!”

“Hold Lucian power? Yes, and to a much greater extent than you realize.” he watched her confusion melt into curiosity. “And I want you to know for one very important reason.”

“Ardyn?”

“Darling, this meeting was to discuss the future of Lucis. I came to offer terms of peace.” he extinguished the flame in his hand, and motioned to the steering wheel. Checking for any oncoming traffic, Amara started driving for the gate once more. “Lucis will have no choice but to accept our ceasefire, lest the new weapon unleashed against your fellow Glaives in this last battle come here.”

She felt her blood chill - almost as soon as she had gotten one of her comrades to tell her what had happened during their deployment had she been met by stories of the fearsome new weapon of demonic proportions. “It was a test...”

“Yes, to see if the weapon would work as well as planned.”

“So why reveal your powers to me?”

“Simple, you will need to know who to reach out for when it all comes to a head.” his smirk returned. “Once you do, the truth will be fully revealed to you.”

Amara looked at him once more from the corner of her eye, still trying to figure out why he was so familiar, and now how he had the King’s magic. With the gate in sight he flicked the edge of his hat, still on her head, but made no move to retrieve it.

“Hang on to this for me. Think of it as a keepsake,” Ardyn gave her a smile as she came to a stop, and opened his door. “You’ll hear from me again soon enough.”

Giving her a smile and wave, the man returned to the awaiting Imperial vehicle, and was gone as quickly as he had arrived.

[burningfairytales]

Okay, so this fic is one I wanted to write ever since playing FFXV. It’s hard, right now, finding the time and motivation to continue - with my job, and school, I’m usually too drained to do anything other than exist when I get home, and I go to bed soon after.

I really want to though, and I will - it’s just a question of when. And until I do, I don’t wanna put it on AO3.  (There’s nothing worse than an unfinished work sitting there, making you feel guilty.)

But since I’m also a person who needs validation almost as much as air, I decided to just try uploading what I have so far to tumblr, see if anyone is even interested.

PROLOGUE

The truth, lodged between Prompto’s ribs, weighing down his heart and making it harder to breathe, is simple:

Noctis is gone.

Making light of something so heavy, he thinks, between Gladio and Ignis and Noct, has always been more Prompto’s thing, but after ten years of fighting just to make it a few more hours and then almost not making it on numerous occasions, he seems to have lost that ability; traded it for something more practical.

Like moving on when every bone in your body is aching, and picking yourself off of the ground when all you want to do is stay down and give up.

***

(When the first rays of light appeared between the derelict buildings that once made up Insomnia’s beautiful skyline, Prompto had dragged himself into the citadel and down the corridor; dragged himself up the last few steps to the throne on a probably one twisted ankle and a few broken bones, leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind him.

Once, he might have worried about stepping this close to the seat of the king, feeling like he was tainting hallowed ground with his presence alone. But that day, all he’d felt was the way his heart was beating an unsteady rhythm to the thought of Noctis’ name, which grew more frantic the closer he’d gotten.

Noctis, Noctis ,Noctis, NoctisNoctisNocisNoctisNoctis –

He’d found him sitting there, the king on his throne, head leaning to the side and eyes closed: he’d looked so tranquil, so much like he was merely resting, that Prompto had wanted to cry. Had wanted to reach out and wake him like he’d done so many times in the past.

And when he had reached out, his hand had hovered over the tear on Noctis’ sleeve, afraid.

Because if he’d touched him, it would have made things real, and Prompto had wanted so desperately for it not to be real.

Slowly then, he’d brushed trembling fingers against Noctis’ exposed arm; a fleeting contact of skin against skin – still warm, but lifeless in any other aspect.

He made a choked sound – heard it more than felt it, because Ignis and Gladio hadn’t been there yet, so it must have come from him – and his knees had given out. There had been no tears. There had been not much of anything at all; he’d only been able to hold onto the torn sleeve helplessly and stare at nothing.

The world had been saved, and Noctis had died. Outside, the rising sun had felt like it was mocking him.)

***

Over the past ten years, Prompto thought he’d learned better than to hope for a happy end. He’d never doubted that Noctis would return, but between the daemons and the darkness; the fighting and endless nights and all the blood, Prompto thought he’d know better than to hope for an end where everyone could be happy.

He’d expected casualties, and he’d been prepared to fight to the death – he’d just never thought that it was Noctis who would leave them. Not even after Noctis had told them about the prophecy.

Not even after that last night, sitting around the campfire.

He’d stupidly held onto the belief that there was another way. That, at the last minute, they’d figure out a way to save everyone.

So he’s a fool, so he had hope.

That shit gets people killed.

***

Here’s the morbid part of the story:

There used to be a royal tomb with the name Noctis Lucis Caelum on it, just north-west of Hammerhead, close to the cliffs overlooking Insomnia.

Prompto destroyed it when he’d found it, five years after the Crystal swallowed Noctis.

(“I’m gonna blow up a royal tomb,” He’d told Ignis over the radio that Cid had built from a bunch of salvaged Niff technology, back at Hammerhead. His voice had been resolute, even as his hands were shaking in anger.

“And whose tomb might that be?”

“Noctis’.”

“…I see,” Ignis had said, eventually. There had been silence, and Prompto had prepared himself to end any argument coming his way; had prepared to tell him, ‘I am here, and you are miles away, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.’

Ignis hadn’t tried to stop him. What he’d said instead, was, “I would strongly advise using some sort of fuse. I am certain Cid will be able to help come up with something relatively safe. But Prompto,” he’d paused, “please do exercise caution.”

And the anger that had been pressing down on his gut with a hot iron had given way to something bigger but no less painful: a fierce gratefulness and an equal intense guilt, because, for just a moment, he’d doubted Ignis.

They all cared for Noctis in their own way, and Ignis had known him the longest – had been a friend and an advisor and a brother to him. Ignis loved Noct, too.

For just a moment, he’d forgotten.

He’d swallowed past the lump in his throat and he’d nodded – a movement that had done as little good as it would have if Ignis had been present.

“You know me, Iggy. I’m always careful.”

They’d both pretended his voice wasn’t breaking.)

Noctis hated those tombs. He never said it out loud – he was raised with the knowledge that they existed, and tracked them down in a so-this-is-just-how-things-are kind of way, but Prompto knows he hated them. It was in the way his mouth had been drawn in a thin line; the way he’d eyed the narrow space whenever they entered one, and the hesitance with which he’d reached for whatever weapon they’d found.

He hated those tombs, and like hell was Prompto going to let him be buried in one. Not him. Not Noctis, who belonged to the air and the sky, to open spaces and to freedom.

***

(They all cared for Noctis in their own way. To Prompto, loving Noctis had come as easily as breathing.

Being in love with him – that had felt like coming home.)

***

They bury Noctis down at Alstor Slough, near his favourite fishing spot.

With him, they lay down one of Ultima Blade – it’s not a nod to tradition, but rather a testament to the fact that he had died fighting for everyone’s future; and the blade is something that Noctis, through countless battles, and with an upgrade here and there by Cid, had made entirely his – and the photo of them, in front of the Regalia, tugged into his breast pocket.

They bury him in soil and dirt; something real and true, and very much unlike the tombs that had always seemed removed from the rest of the world somehow.

It’s as much freedom as they can give him.

Prompto figures that there is no one who has the right to protest their actions. Noctis died and the line of Lucis with him. The ring is gone and so are the crystal and the royal arms, and there is no reason to lock him away now. Not when his entire presence had always been too beautiful - too ineffable -  for a cold room of stone to hold him.

They’d tried their best to bring flowers, but a decade without sun had left the flora regrettably, well – dead. But Prompto had insisted, and so they’d brought the prettiest weeds they could find; sturdy little plants that had refused to bow down to the darkness.

Kneeling, Prompto places the bundle down and regards it. He opens his mouth, wants to say something – anything.

“I-“ he tries. “You-” But no words come.

He reaches out, brushes against one of the blossoms, and there’s a hand on his shoulder that Prompto dimly recognises as Gladio’s.

“You were the best of all of us, Noct. We’re gonna miss you.”

“Truly,” Ignis agrees. He draws a deep breath. “The world owes you everything. May you find peace now, wherever you are.”

They wait for him, a moment, to say something, but they must realise that Prompto isn’t going to. He isn’t ready. All the words in the world seem insufficient, somehow.

Gladio squeezes his shoulder; a gesture that might have been meant as a comfort. “We’ll be at the haven,” he says. “Join us when you’re- y’know.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I just need – You know. Yeah. Give me a moment.”

“Of course. Take all the time you need.” Ignis, too, reaches for him; feels for his arm and squeezes. The gesture is short-lived – Prompto appreciates that – and then both Ignis and Gladio turn to leave. He doesn’t watch them go, but he hears their retreating footsteps –the rustling of their clothes, the twigs that break beneath their feet, the grass moving.

He sits there for a long while, until clouds block the sunlight and it begins to rain; and even then he doesn’t move. The weather, after all, has always been a fickle thing, out here in the Slough.

“Even the skies are crying for you, Noct.” He laughs, softly. “Isn’t that fitting? It’s like in the movies.”

The raindrops leave dark spots on his shirt and pants, only barely visible against the dark fabric, and soon, they disappear altogether - indistinguishable as the rest of his clothing becomes soaked.

“I wanted,” he begins.

He wanted Noctis alive and well. He wanted greasy diner food and nerve-wrecking hunts and racing Noctis to the nearest fork in the road on their chocobos. He wanted long nights in crappy motel rooms, and to keep fighting him for the blankets at 2 in the morning, half-asleep, when they camped somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

He wanted a chance to tell him, but there wasn’t time. That’s what it boils down to. That’s always what it boils down to.

“I wanted more,” he tells the bouquet of weeds, clumsily tied together with string, “We were gonna change the world, Noct. Remember? You and - me, ever at your side. We said that. I remember when we said that.”

The Slough stays quiet.

“I wanted more time,” he whispers. “This life wasn’t enough.”

Only barely does he register the pain in his wrist, and when he looks down, he sees his own fingernails digging in the skin beneath his leather wristband. They leave crescent shaped indents when he lets go, and he stares at them, numbly.

Once, he’d held a burning piece of wood to his own skin. It had hurt, horribly so. But back then, the pain had been, in a way, soothing. It hadn’t quite been the recovery of his own agency that he’d been aiming for, but it had been something - a proof that he was real, that he could still hurt.

Now, he feels nothing.

In the end, Prompto has no idea how long he sits there, before Ignis comes for him. He wonders if he offered to go – there’s no way Gladio would have made him walk down here again by himself, no matter how good he’s become at making up for his lack of sight.

“Prompto,” he begins, cautiously. He sounds like he’s soothing a wounded animal. Prompto knows. He’s used the same voice many times in the past; he just doesn’t understand why Ignis is using it on him now.

Blinking against his blurry vision, Prompto turns to look at him – the damn rain is making it hard to see.“Yeah. Over here – I’m sorry. You guys waiting for me?” His voice sounds weird even to his own ears, and he clears his throat.

“Not at all. We’ve got the time. But I thought you might be getting cold, out here. Will you  accompany me back to the haven?”

“Yeah, sure. Let me just – “ Prompto turns back towards the flowers. Hesitates. Shakes his head. “No. No, I’m done. Let’s go.”

They walk back to the haven in silence. Prompto stares straight ahead as they walk - he stops, once, because he thinks he sees something in the line of trees - a wolf, or maybe a dog, but when he looks again, there’s nothing there. Maybe he’s hallucinating. Something’s gotta give eventually, right?

Gladio waits for them, there on top of those familiar runes. He takes a look at him, and something flickers across his face – something pained and hesitating. It’s right there, but gone in the next moment.

“Shit, Prompto,” he says. It looks like he wants to go on, but doesn’t. He closes his mouth, jaw clenched and lips pressed in a thin line. It’s the kind of look someone has when they realise that there is nothing left to say.

Prompto doesn’t understand why it’s directed at him. Doesn’t know why Ignis looks and Gladio sounds like he’s something fragile; threatening to break with the next gust of wind.

***

They’d lasted two years, that time the crystal swallowed Noctis. Gladio left them first, worry for his sister bigger than the ties that bound the three of them together. Prompto never blamed him – he’d have done the same if there had been anyone other than the three of them he’d felt obligated to protect. Hell, he’s sure he’d have lasted less than the time it took Gladio.

Ignis stayed for longer. A few months, perhaps, maybe almost another year. Then he’d gone to Lestallum; feeling that his strengths were better used there.

So, two years. Three, if you count the two of them. That’s how long they’d stayed together the last time Noctis was away, but that was when all of them had been promised that their king and friend would return.

This time, they have no such thing holding them together. Prompto looks at Ignis; sees the wound on his temple and the grim set of his jaw, and feels, for the first time in a long time, that he’s failed him. He looks at Gladio, eyes straying to the distance, and feels like they don’t belong anymore, any of them.

What’s worse, however, in the quiet of the night, when he’s feeling tired and low enough to be honest at least with himself, he feels like he’s been failed, too.

Spending time with them reminds him of all the times they’d had in the past, when all of them had been part of a quartet, instead of what they are now: not a trio, but three pieces of a whole that broke and lost what connected them in the first place.

They’re hurting each other, just by being there.

So, two months into wandering aimlessly around the countryside, Prompto draws a line that he never thought he would.

It’s almost dawn when he gathers his things and sneaks out of the tent. He makes it as far as a few hundred feet down the path, away from the camp - he’s quiet, and the stars are his only witnesses, but the others find him, anyway.

It’s funny, how they feel like strangers to each other and still know each other so well. It’s funny how that works.

Gladio voice sounds across the distance. He speaks at normal volume, but the voice carries; cuts right through Prompto’s chest with the ease of a knife.

He may as well have been shouting.

“So. You’re leaving without even saying goodbye?”

“I’m going back to Hammerhead,” he tells them. The ‘alone’ isn’t explicitly stated, but by the silence that follows, he knows it’s been heard. “I have to.”

To go. Not to Hammerhead, in particular. Just – away.

Neither Ignis or Gladio disagree. It shouldn’t feel like a relief.

“I’d thought you might say that. I thought so since the beginning.” Ignis inclines his head. “Yet you’ve stayed.” There is a question in that, somewhere.

I stayed, because I thought I could, he wants to tell them. Because I wanted to be able to.

Because they were friends once. Because the guilt is gnawing at his insides every day, for even thinking that they no longer are. Because there will always be a part of Prompto that’s waiting for something in his life to stay.

But he looks at them and all he sees is what they lost; what they have no way of getting back, and he knows that they see the same in him, too.

This isn’t fair to any of them.

“I’m sorry,” he says instead, and means it more than anything he has in a long time.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Gladio says. And that, at least, feels genuine. Maybe they’re not completely beyond saving, but for now, they need time to heal. It’s for the best then, leaving. Before they begin to resent each other.

And besides – Prompto is tired of being the one that’s left. Is tired of losing, and hurting, and not feeling anything at all.

He’s just tired.

***

If there’s a word for feeling like you’re returning to something, Prompto doesn’t think it applies. He dumps his bag on the bed in his tiny room in Hammerhead, unceremoniously, as Cindy stands in the doorway behind him. She, too, had looked at him like he was seconds away from breaking. Had said “oh, honey,” in that voice of hers, not quite pitying but something too close to it for comfort. But in the end, she’d given him his key without any questions.

It’s too quiet. There’s a dog barking outside, but Prompto doesn’t register it as more than a distant sound; a faint echo of something he should remember but doesn’t. It hadn’t felt this quiet even in the years Noctis was gone the first time. For most of that time, Hammerhead had been his home – his life had revolved around killing nearby daemons and hunting and running errands for Cindy, or, on good days, helping her with the few cars that still came to the garage. She’d taught him the basics, and he could at least keep the old truck running smoothly.

Hammerhead had been the closest thing he’d had to a home, since the Regalia.

But now he’s standing in the middle of his small room, looking at the bed, and feels like it’s too small a space. He can’t even make himself take a step – forwards or backwards, he doesn’t know. Doesn’t know if it matters. He feels both restless and unable to move.

No one ever told Prompto that sometimes, coming back to something is the hardest part.

***

He has nightmares. That’s nothing new.

They used to be of daemons and monsters, of turning against his friends and them turning against him. Sometimes, they were of Ardyn. Of steel rooms and bound wrists and feeling trapped.

He still has those, sometimes, but mostly, he dreams of Noctis. Dying, about to die, or already dead.

***

He wakes up one night, sweat drenched and shivering. The room feels too suffocatingly small, the walls seem to be closing in on him, and all Prompto knows is that he desperately needs to get out.

Grabbing his shirt from where he’d tossed it on the floor the night before, Prompto heads for the door; the weight of his gun is still achingly unfamiliar even after all this time he’s had to get used to the it pressed against his side.

He walks and walks and walks, with no set destination in mind. Hammerhead grows smaller and smaller in the distance, until he looks back and can’t even see it anymore.

There’s light on the horizon where the sky becomes brighter; he’s been heading east, and the sun is already rising. He hasn’t noticed - not the time or the first rays of sunlight; not even just how close he’s gotten to the remains of Insomnia’s road blockade. Taking a shuddering breath, then two, he walks a few steps more. His legs are protesting the movement.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to have learned how to keep going when he aches all over.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees a shadow, and draws his weapon on instinct. Quiet, he thinks. Don’t give away your location.

He ducks behind a pile of rocks and rubble to the side of the road, readies his gun, but just as he’s raising it to shoot, he hears a whine.

And that’s – not right.

Leaning forward a little, he looks past the rocks, and the sight makes him stop.

Then he’s chuckling, and then laughing, and he’s dimly aware that that’s not a normal reaction, that maybe he’s going into hysterics, but he thinks he’s owed this, at least. Because right there, up ahead, is Umbra, sitting and looking at him as if he was waiting.

The gods must be having a field day with this.

Maybe he’s missed the memo. Maybe it’s Torture Prompto Day. What other explanation is there? For Umbra to appear in the middle of nowhere, when he’d been trying so hard to put distance between himself and everything that’s happened?

Hadn’t everyone assumed the dog had disappeared after everything was over?

The laughter subsides eventually, leaving him tired and numb and hollow. He sinks to his knees and presses his hand to his face.

Umbra, however, walks closer. Prompto hears him pad across the concrete, and then there’s a cold nose pressing against his hands. Or, it might be cold. He isn’t sure he’s a good judge. Prompto hasn’t felt warm in months now.

Because here’s the truth:

Noctis is gone.

It’s a simple truth; one that has been curling around Prompto’s heart like a python ready to kill, and he’s been doing his best to look, not to care. To deny its existence entirely.

But something had to give eventually.

Something had to give.

And Noctis is gone.

He’s dead and gone and buried, and he’s not coming back.

He’s dead and he took all the warmth with him, and the sun may be back, but Prompto’s world has never felt so cold.

“He’s gone, Umbra,” Prompto chokes out, letting his hands fall away. “He’s dead. I will never see him again. He was - Noctis, and now he’s not, and I don’t know what to do.”

Umbra whines, and pushes his head against his arm. And when Prompto reaches up to rub his eyes, his hand comes away wet.

It feels like something’s breaking - has been breaking for a while now, and it’s finally shattering to pieces in his heart. He’s in pain, and he doesn’t know how to make it stop, and even more so, he’s angry.

“Why?” he asks, head turned towards the sky. “Tell me this, why? You fucked up. You and your stupid crystal. You fucked up, and you made him pay the price. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve any of it. He would have been a great king, and you took that from him. You took him from me.”

Hand curled into a fist, he hits the ground. “Give him back to me,” he demands, voice cracking. And because once wasn’t enough, he repeats it. “Give him back!”

He says it again and again, until he’s out of breath and his voice is gone.

And if the gods hear, they do not answer.

(NEXT CHAPTER)

[stylishchocobutt]

Run Boy, Run (Niff!Prompto Fic)

Story Summary: At seventeen, Prompto has spent his entire life within the confines of Zegnautus Keep. He knows he's not supposed to dream about the outside world, but he can't help it. Luckily for him, Aranea isn't about to sit around and let him suffer within Niflheim's grasp. AU Where Prompto's grown up in Niflheim and escapes to Insomnia, before meeting a certain lazy prince who shows him life isn't just about weapons and orders.

“I want you to run, kid.”

 “What?” Prompto blinks, hugging the oversized scarf closer to his body as he stares up at her.

 “I said run, do I really need to say that twice?” She didn’t. Prompto ran. Ran faster than he’d ever run before, and not even the thick drifts of snow were going to stop him this time.

Story will be Promptis later on, but not heavily NSFW

Chapter One: Chocolate Bars and Photography

Excerpt:

“You going to just stare at it, kid?” She asks impatiently, a small cloud of condensation rising into the air as her breath meets the cold chill of the stairwell. Her emerald gaze is piercing though; and it almost feels as if it cuts right through him; a chilling enough sensation that has him grabbing for the offered drink with a sheepish grin.

He’s uncapping it before he remembers to mutter an appreciative, “thanks.” Tipping the drink back to his lips, it’s pure relief as it washes away the previous dry sensation that had overcome his throat. It doesn’t wash away the guilt of his failure, but it’s better than nothing.But it’s not just that; it tastes good. Like, real good. He’s seen these before, offered in machines around the Keep, but those machines require these round, circular pieces of metal that Prompto doesn’t have.

He doesn’t realise how fast and desperately he’s drinking it before it’s too late; and he’s coughing, spluttering as he catches his breath between gulps.The woman plucks the bottle from his grasp, and there’s a strange emptiness in its place as Prompto does his best to control those coughs.

“Shit, I didn’t tell you to drown yourself with it.” She rolls her eyes, moving to crouch------

READ MORE HERE!!!!

[wildcardwriting]

Live for the Night #2

[Final Fantasy XV]

Next Chapter |  Previous Chapter

Live for the Night on AO3

Tags: FF15 TIME TRAVEL. Prompto centered. BAMF Prompto No one dies (except for evil scientists and the Empire of bad people but that’s normal). Confused Kingsglaives, Crownsguards and a ton of people.

Summary: When Prompto wakes up the past with some magical additions, he sets out to change everything.

Things to keep in mind: I’ve seen only ff15 brotherhood, Episode Prompto and parts of the ff15 game so some of what I’ve written will obviously be off. Additionally, I will be throwing various parts of cannon in the trash.

Chapter Two

XXxxxXX

It took several buses and three hours before he was outside of Insomnia, and entering Liede. The area didn’t look any different from his memories, still dusty and covered in sand, and although there was a car here and there on the road, Prompto spent most of the time walking along the street. He didn’t bother to hitchhike, firstly because he knew how well that turned out. People in the borderlands were a cautious bunch and strange foreigners in the area meant trouble especially ones that looked like Niffs. So Prompto intended to walk the few miles to his destination even if it meant wasting some time. But walking through Leide was important for another reason.

He could get a general idea of the Imperial forces in the area.

So far he’d seen four airdrop ships and a number of suspicious vehicles on the road, and while that was considerably less than the amount that had consistently attacked the group in the future-that-wasn’t it was still a high number. It was little wonder why Insomnia had fallen the last time around if even in the past the Empire was this close to the walls.

Walking into Taka’s Diner Prompto walks up to the counter and waits for his turn in line. He knows he’s probably going to have to work his way up the hunter ranks if he wants to earn enough money to complete his mission, but he still hasn’t made up his mind about how much time he can devote to hunting. Ideally, he wants at least enough money for his travel and a couple dozen potions but he might have to do without depending on how long it takes. 

The person in front of him moves away and Prompto finds himself before Taka.

“What can I do for you?” He asks, accent nearly dropping vowels. He’s drying off some cutlery, presumably after he’d finished dishes

“I want to pick up a local hunt,” Prompto tells him, hand in his pockets. He knows he probably doesn’t look threatening enough, or even experienced enough like he did the first time around but at least he was in a group. This time around it might be a bit harder because he looks like a sheltered high school kid.

Taka raises an eyebrow, a frown on his face, looking at him pensively.

Already Prompto can tell this is going to be annoying.

“And how do I know that you aren’t just going to go out there and die, kid?” Taka retorts looking at him now, frowning deeply. He’s not drying cutlery anymore, his arms are crossed and he’s looking down at Prompto a hairs width between annoyed and frustrated himself like Prompto’s being the unreasonable one.

It’s a feeling that Prompto has seen many times, particularly on Ignis, but it’s ten times more annoying when he knows he’s right.

He’s tempted to reveal his armiger, to prove that he’s experienced in fighting enough to get access to the armiger of Lucis but he knows revealing magic like that in a crowded place like the Hammerhead Diner is just asking to get himself on the shit list of both Imperials and the locals and is decidedly stupid so he settles to prove Taka wrong in another way.

Taking out his camera from the folds of his jacket he flips through the film before turning the camera to Taka. He’d picked photos of himself and a monster in the same frame with as little of the rest of the gang as possible. He waits while Taka connects the dots before he speaks.

“I’m picking up hunts ‘cause I need the money not because I want to go off on a suicidal quest or I think I’m hot stuff.” He says watching as Taka raises an eyebrow at the photos but his whole expression changes as he realizes that he’s not talking to a runaway or a glory hunter looking to get some fame.

“Fine, if you think you can handle it.” He says sliding a slip of paper towards Prompto. “Bring me seven Saborclaws and you’ve got yourself some gil.”

Prompto thanks him and takes the paper before walking out. If he remembers correctly there are some Debased Coins in the area behind the diner he might be able to find and maybe use get some quick cash.

Stuffing the wanted poster into his pocket he makes his ways outside to the back of the Diner. Sure enough, there are the Debased Coins he remembered finding years ago. He doesn’t find as many as he remembers from the future but the two he finds is enough to get him a decent meal at the diner and an additional potion before he sets out on his hunt.

He eats by the only radio in the diner listening to news from Crown City taking note of the things that sound a little off. Like the fact that there’s been another protest by Outsiders or the fact that the Kingsglavie is asking for more recruits before he leaves the diner.

The fact that the Kingsglavie was asking for recruits was never a good thing.

XXxxxxXX

The desert around Hammerhead is still as annoying as he remembers but he manages to get the Saborclaws in two hours and stock up enough magic in his Elemacy jars that the trip wasn’t a total waste but it was still exasperating in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

As a long ranged fighter without a tank to distract the monster’s attention, he had to work twice as hard to get the job done because he kept getting ambushed.

Not just by Sabortusks but also Reapertails and it was annoying how much it happened. One minute he’d be gathering some fire magic by the Haven north of Hammerhead and the next he’d be fighting five Reapertails…and then four Sabortusks and then two Duohorns. It was ridiculous.

Still, he counted himself lucky with how quick he was able to manage the mission and returned to Taka’s Diner, tired but pleased with how fast the hunt was over. Thankfully he also managed to pick up some valuable vendor items to sell while he was out looking for Saborclaws that he could sell.

He made a small detour to the shop where he sold off the vendor junk, making sure to count the money he received in exchange. He refused to let himself be shortchanged because he was lazy. Counting the money up and adding it to the amount left in the armiger he had three thousand gil. Not a large amount by any means but it was a decent start. Trekking back to the Diner he returned the wanted poster and the Saborclaws he had picked up from his kills.

Taka raised an eyebrow at him but stamped the sheet anyway handing Prompto both his money and a hi-elixir. 

“Up for another hunt, kid?” He asked shifting through some papers on the breakfast bar.

Prompto smiles thinly. “Always.” A hint of something more behind his smile but Prompto does what he’s done all his life and pushes the memories down, and away from him. He tries not to think of another time and place where he’s been asked the same question but it’s hard because even though he doesn’t know Taka well enough for it to mean anything, the question still brings up memories.

Taka nods and slides another sheet of paper to Prompto. “I need this done as soon as possible and…”He trails off staring straight into Prompto’s eyes. “I’ve got something else for you if you feel up to the task…”

Prompto blinks. “Whatcha’ got?” He says glanced over the wanted poster ever so briefly. Kill five Mesmenir, nothing much. He more interested in what Taka wants for him to do.

“I need some ingredients for the Diner.” He starts. “Getting food out here is a pain and delivery isn’t always good so I need a hunter to find me some berries. Ulwaat berries. As many as you can find. Bring me some and I’ll give you some meals free.”

Prompto’s eyes light up at the last part.

Without Ignis to cook excellent meals Prompto thought he was going to have to live off of cup noodles until he got back to Lucis, but maybe he didn’t have to. Besides, even if he only got one meal on the house it was still a meal he didn’t have to pay for.

“Got it. I’ll be back.”

XXxxxxXX

He doesn’t immediately find many Ulwaat berries, but all the fighting he does is enough to bring in vendor items that almost makes up for the fact that he still hasn’t completed either of his new missions.

He’s killed three Mesmenir but the last two are proving to be more elusive than he thought and it was taking longer than he anticipated. Already the sun is starting to dip and he’s too far away to actually make it back to Hammerhead in time before darkness hits that he resigns himself to camping for the night.

Digging into the armiger for the world map he scans for a campsite. While he knows there are a number of campsites in the area, he needs the map if he wanted the exact locations. Getting his bearings took only a few minutes before he was setting off. There was a haven less than a mile away that he could make camp at if he hurried.

The desert was starting to pick up and the sand was getting everywhere even though there was still an hour before dark. He hadn’t seen any more monsters after the last set of Reapertails but the sounds he was starting to hear were making his fingers twitch. After living through the ten years of darkness the sound of demons had left its mark on him.

Spotting the haven, he spares a minute to collect some more of the Elemacy surrounding the flat stone. If he gets it before nightfall, he’ll be able to mine the elements again tomorrow when the element stores replenish and save him a trip later.

He moves back to the haven and starts setting up the camp for the night. He sets up the old worn green tent that was used on the original Road Trip in practiced motions that he knew would make Gladio proud. The tent has a few holes and there are several places where it’s brunt black either through a monster attack or a spell misfired but it’s familiar and reassuring in a way that Hammerhead wasn’t.

But even as he thinks that there’s still an emptiness that takes root when he suddenly realizes that the tent that was once too small for four grown men is far too large for one. He takes out his phone and turns the speaker on to music so he can have some noise, instead of a deafening silence but it’s a poor substitute for people. He snacks on his rather meager dinner of baby carrots and peanut butter feeling sad and happy all at once because there is just so much he misses and sees everywhere he looks.

But there’s hope. Because he’s here and that’s enough for now. Because his friends are alive. The thought of which is comforting.

As he gets into his sleeping bag he turns off his phone and hoping for good dreams drifts off to sleep.

XXxxxxxXX

Dearest child….

…You have my blessing…

Fly to your dreams…child of the sun…

As Prompto shifts in his sleep, a warm white light crystallizes above him, changing and transforming itself into a clear stone on a necklace that strings itself around his neck gently. He doesn’t notice in his sleep and won’t notice for a few more hours, but in the light of his little lantern, green magic swirls within it, humming patiently.

Waiting to be realized.

XXxxxxxXx

Author’s Note: So, I posted this chapter first on AO3 and thought I had already uploaded here, and apparently, I hadn’t….so oops…?

Next Chapter |  Previous Chapter

Live for the Night on AO3

[shianhygge-imagines]

REQUEST: Calling [Gladiolus/Fem!Reader]

^ This is because I needed the butt. Okay? Okay.

Luckily, I’ve never written a story for Gladio, which means, I’m fresh full of ideas for him! :3 This is meant for female readers mostly since the request was for Gladio’s Girlfriend... And my mistake, I made Gladio break up with Reader.

Almost done with requests. Holy shit. I’m putting up a limit next time, lol.

|Masterlist Link|

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

“Sorry, could you repeat that?” you asked, out of breath from just running in order to make it to the meet up with your boyfriend on time. You were made to stay after class at the university in order to speak with your professor about your end of the term essay, and perhaps you had stayed longer than you had intended, leaving you with only about twenty minutes to get to the spot outside the Citadel. Luckily, you hadn’t decided to wear uncomfortable shoes that morning, so you had not problems sprinting from “The University of Insomnia,” to Lucis Square just across the city.

And here you were now, stood bent over and panting in front of your boyfriend of four years, Gladiolus Amicitia. You’d literally just run a few kilometers to get to him, and he’d greeted you with the one phrase that you couldn’t believe that you were hearing.

“We need to break up with each other, Y/N.” There was no hesitation as he said this. Gladio’s posture was relaxed and his stare was firm, letting you know that he was serious, but that it really didn’t bother him all that much. You probably would have yelled at your boyfriend, no ex-boyfriend, if it had been a situation where he wasn’t calm and you hadn’t just run a quarter marathon. Instead, you found that you were surprisingly accepting of what Gladio wanted.

Still, you wanted to know why he’d suddenly wanted to end your relationship. The two of you butted head occasionally, what with Gladio being a stubborn hot-head at times, and you being one to emotionally respond to his anger. But your arguments were never those that demonstrated an incompatibility, rather, it showed how much the two of you cared about each other. So you were surprised that he’d suddenly want to leave you. “Why would you want that?” you asked, trying to catch your breath back as your body attempted to regulate your heart beat. “I thought we were great together.”

Gladio tilted his head back, staring up at the blue sky, “Honestly? It’s because our lifestyles don’t fit together.”

You face morphed to that of an unimpressed rock, lacking in any expression, “Are you serious, Gladio? You’re breaking up with me because of something that could be worked out in a simple way?” If it was a conflict in lifestyles, what with him being Prince Noctis’s protector and you being a student, it would be resolved within the year. “I graduate in less than a year, Gladio, so it’s not because of our lifestyles.”

“Fine!” Gladio snapped his head to glare at you, “I’m not feeling much in our relationship. There’s no spark between us anymore.” And then the brown eyed man scratched the back of his head sheepishly, “And I kind of had my eyes set on someone else, Y/N.”

“Oh.” It all made sense now.

“Yeah… oh.” Gladio sighed and slowly strolled towards you, stopping at a respectable distance of a foot. “No hard feelings, right? I mean, you stopped feeling anything more than obligation to me a long time ago.”

Your eyes shifted to the side and you unconsciously bit your lip, “True.” not true… you didn’t often feel much towards people, but you knew that your love for Gladiolus was deep rooted into the depths of your heart. But you couldn’t tell him this. So you smiled, inward it was bitter, outward, it was encouragingly bright. “Go after her, you big cuddly bear.” And he left you with a big, warm hug and a bright smile as you waved him off.

And when he was no longer in sight, your own smile fell and you turned to go back to the direction you came from.

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

A month later, Niflheim invaded Insomnia.

You had been watching the treaty signing ceremony in your university apartment with a disapproving frown on your face, cursing the Niflheim Empire for forcing your king into such a position. And then, you heard the explosion just as the channel went dead. When you turned your head to look out the apartment living room windows, you could see the smoke rising from the direction of the Citadel and the airships flying in the distance of the city. And when the Citadel exploded, accompanied by the firing of automatic weapons into the streets below, you were given a clear view of the destruction. Down below, shots rang out and people screamed, in the distance, more and more explosions were set off.

The safest thing for you to do at that moment was to avoid going outside, and so you found your feet taking yourself into your bedroom to crouch in your walk-in closet. But as soon as you were at the door to your closet, you briefly saw the sky flicker out of the corner of your eyes. And then, your mind brought up a memory from three years ago, when Gladiolus explained that the King was personally in charge of the safety of citizens within Insomnia because of the New Wall. Your eyes widened in horror, quickly drawing up a conclusion as to the phenomenon in the sky. “No…” One by one, cracks appeared in the sky until is all dissolved, the city’s protection gone. You were horrified as you backed into the closet wall and slid to the floor, your hand clutched your cell phone.

And then, on instinct, you scrolled through the contacts on your phone and dialed, pressing the smartphone to your ear and muttering, “Please pick up. Please pick up. Please, Gladio.”

“We are sorry, but number you dialed is not available. Please hang up or leave a message at the tone.”

At the sound of the mechanical voice, you allowed a terrified whimper to escape your lips. Beep. “Gladio… I know that I haven’t called you in a while… and I’m sorry that I’m such a terrible friend… but where are you?” Another explosion shook the city, this time closer to the University housing. “Wherever you are… I hope you’re safe. I hope you’re out of Insomnia. T-The Niffs… they attacked the city during the signing ceremony and the Wall is gone. GONE!” From outside you could hear screaming and more shooting, “Gladio, I’m scared. They released Magitek soldiers into the streets and they’re attacking civilians. I’m hiding in my apartment right now, but I don’t know how safe it’ll be in-“ Crash, Thud. A sound came from somewhere on your floor and there was screaming. You whimpered and sobbed, terrified, “S-something’s on my floor… Everyone’s screaming…” Slam. Crack. Boom. You could hear metal collide with wood and your apartment door was destroyed. “Something’s in my apartment.” You stood, shaking, and grabbed your metal bat, slipping your phone into the back pocket of your jeans.

Heavy thumps echoed in your apartment as you waited in silence, weapon up and at the ready though you were still shaking. What the hell am I doing? I’m not trained for this kind of shit. You thought to yourself as the thumps got progressively closer. Whatever it was made a mechanical screech as it stopped outside the closet door, and against your will, you yelped at the noise. The next thing you knew, the door to the closet was thrown open and a Niflheim soldier with glowing red eyes and an axe stood in front of you.

“Fuck!” You screamed, ducking out of the way of a descending axe head, and quickly scurried around the soldier, dragging your bat with you. And as you ran out of your apartment door, you were met with more soldiers sprinting down the right hallway. “Why won’t you leave me alone!” You exclaimed, before throwing your cell phone to distract them and bolting out of the hallway. From behind you heard the crack of your cellphone being destroyed and the heavy thumps as the soldiers gave chase, but you didn’t look back, making for the emergency exit and sitting on the railings to slide down each level faster.

You were thankful that you had the established habit of running every day in order to keep in shape. Otherwise, you were sure that the Magitek soldiers would have caught you in the stairwell. Once you escaped the apartment building, however, you paused in horror before sprinting towards the city’s gates. All around you was destruction and death, but you didn’t stop. No. At that moment, all you had to do was escape.

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

By the time Gladio listened to your message, news of the attack had reached Galdin Quay.

When the two of you broke up, Gladiolus had gone off to date other women, and you had gone back to life as a student in university. Though the two of you had parted on amiable terms, neither of you had bothered to contact each other. Perhaps the two of you were too busy for each other at the time, or perhaps speaking to one another would bring back memories of what could have been, and ignite the dwindling flames within your hearts. It had been a fear on both your parts that if your feelings rekindled, maybe he would get bored of you again. And while you loved Gladiolus, you didn’t want to experience those feelings again. And so, the two of you were happy not keeping in contact with one another.

And then you called him during the attack on Insomnia… but he hadn’t picked up. Perhaps he had been in a cave, exploring with his friends, or fighting daemons, or simply that he didn’t have cell reception, as was common outside of Insomnia. But it hadn’t been those cases at all. He’d received your call, had heard the ringtone and seen your caller ID. For a few moments, the Prince’s shield debated whether he should talk to you, whether he should pick up. And in the end, he decided to ignore your call, instead going back to reading in the back seat of the Regalia as Ignis drove the rest of the way to Galdin Quay.

It was a happy stay at Galdin Quay, laughing at Noctis’s inability to handle a massage, and the Prince’s love of fishing. But once they all woke the next day, news of the invasion had reached everyone, and Gladio paled when he remembered your call the day before. It was after he and Ignis broke the news to Noctis that Gladio took his cell phone out and went to listen to the message that you left him, glad that he hadn’t deleted it yesterday.

Gladiolus’s breathing quickened when he heard your trembling voice through the phone’s speaker, it was silent in the background, so he assumed that you were hiding somewhere. “Gladio… I know that I haven’t called you in a while… and I’m sorry that I’m such a terrible friend… but where are you?” No. You weren’t a terrible friend to him because you were both terrible to each other. There was a pause as an explosion could barely be heard in the background, and Gladio’s grip tightened on the phone. “Wherever you are… I hope you’re safe. I hope you’re out of Insomnia. T-The Niffs… they attacked the city during the signing ceremony and the Wall is gone. GONE! Gladio, I’m scared. They released Magitek soldiers into the streets and they’re attacking civilians. I’m hiding in my apartment right now, but I don’t know how safe it’ll be in-Crash, Thud!” Gladio swore when he heard the shattering of windows and screams, the Niffs might have specifically targeted the University. “S-something’s on my floor… Everyone’s screaming…Slam. Crack. Boom.” A dread filled Gladio’s stomach when he heard you whimper, “Something’s in my apartment.” You went silent, but the message played on, allowing Gladio to hear your struggle with the Magitek soldiers before he heard the phone break and the message ended.

Gladio stared blankly at the open water as he lowered his phone from his ear. His phone, now that the messaged had stopped playing, had reverted back to its home screen, where your picture remained as his wallpaper long after he had broken up with you. “Y/N.” The tall, gruff man whispered before quickly dialing your number and holding it up to his ear, hoping that you would pick up.

“We are sorry, but the number you’ve dialed is unavailable, please hang up and try again.”

And the man tried again and again, but the results were still the same. It was futile because you weren’t going to pick up your phone ever again, and Gladio knew that. The dread overcame Gladio at that point and he swore, falling to his knees, staring at his screensaver, a picture of your smiling face looking back at him. “Damn it! I should’ve picked up. Then I… maybe I could have told you.”

His unsaid words to you. Everything that Gladio wanted to say to you but couldn’t, so he ran from you. He’d made an excuse that he’d grown bored of you. When truthfully, he couldn’t get enough of you. But his life could end at any moment, and so, like a fool, he believed that leaving you would protect you from the pain of losing him. But now, this guilt and sadness gnawed on his heart, and it made him think that this was much worse.

The uncertainty stung because Gladio didn’t know if you were dead or alive. Should he be mourning, or should he be out there searching for you? Because after everything he’s done, all he wanted was to hold you in his arms and never let you go.

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

It didn’t take you long to get to get help after escaping from the burning city. You’d walked through Leide before stopping at Hammerhead a few nights until the Imperial blockade had been lifted and proceeded to catch a ride with a few Hunters northwest.

Of course, because they were hunters, your companions often stopped to do a few hunts, sometimes during the day and sometimes during the night, leaving you at the campsite to help prepare meals. Because, let’s face it, you could handle yourself against maybe one or two Magitek soldiers, but you lacked any fighting experience when it came to wildlife and daemons.

During those times, where you were left alone at a campsite, you would look up to the sky and wonder where Gladio was. If he had been in the city during the attack, it was likely that he was able to escape with the Prince to Altissia. And if that was the case, then you were glad that he was safe. Often, you found your eyes drifting to the sky as you spoke aloud to a man that wasn’t with you, “There’s a legend from some foreign land that there are strings that bind us to our fate.” You lifted your hand to the sky to look for a crimson string that you knew wouldn’t be there. “There’s another legend that so long as two people live under the same sky and see the same sky, they would always be reunited.”

“I kind of had my eyes set on someone else, Y/N… I mean, you stopped feeling anything more than obligation to me a long time ago.”

You grit your teeth and a tear slid silently from the corner of your eyes, “I lied. I didn’t want to let you go. So can you hear me calling, Gladio? From wherever you are… I hope that you can hear my heart calling for us to be together again.”

Elsewhere, Gladio laid under the same sky, his arms folded behind his head. He’d exchange his black leather jacket in favor of a grey-ish black tank top as he rested under the evening sky. Noctis and Prompto were off goofing around, and Ignis was busy cooking, so Gladio finally had time to think. At first his thoughts went towards Iris in Lestallum, eager to see is little sister again. But then, his thought drifted almost immediately to you. And something within him made him reach out towards the sky.

“Y/N.” Gladio whispered longingly, “I wish I knew where you are. You have to be safe. You just have to. And if you’re not…” the muscular teddy bear took in a sharp breath before releasing it. “Just send me a sign and I’ll make them pay for what they’ve done to you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

It took about a week before your companions were able to drop you off at Lestallum. And though it was fun being out on an adventure of sorts, you were more than happy to be in a place safe from daemons and wildlife. So you bid your Hunter friends farewell, seeing them off down the road to the Hunter HQ.

Humming, you pivoted in place and steadily strolled into the peaceful town, waving back bewilderedly when complete strangers greeted you with a cheerful wave. It was much more different than living in Insomnia, and you found it refreshing. Walking around town, you were quick to find the spot with the best view of the meteor. And you just stood there, admiring the view, the wind blowing your hair gently. Closing your eyes and humming, you thought to yourself, Hmmm I could relax here forever.

Ignis had only just parked the car in Lestallum’s parking lot when Gladio felt the urge to look out at the meteor, “I’ll meet you guys at The Leville.” the Prince’s shield commented as he quickly got out of the car, not waiting for a response.

A cool breeze hit the man as he quickly made his way towards the stairs and descended towards the observation platform, pausing at the railing to gaze out at the setting sun over the meteor. The first time he saw the view in Lestallum, Prompto had pestered them for a group picture before they were forced to move on. Now, without the urgency that came with traveling in a group, Gladio was able to take in the sight, closing his eyes to enjoy the warmth of the sun and the breeze.

Suddenly, the wind quickened, causing you and Gladio to jolt from your relaxed states and look around, you looking left, and Gladio looking right.

It was then, that the two of you noticed that you were standing literally two meters apart, right next to each other. Your eyes met his brown orbs and your breathing hitched, “Gladio.”

He was a surprised as you were, but instead of words leaving him, Gladio acted, swiftly crossing the distance between you two and taking you in his arms, pressing kisses to your head, “You’re here. You’re really here. Y/N. I take everything I said back. I wasn’t bored of you, I need you to know that.”

Closing your eyes, you relaxed in Gladio’s embrace. “And I need you to know that I lied. My feelings for you never ceased. I just wanted you to be happy.”

Your gruff teddy bear tightened his embrace, “I still love you, Y/N. I was being stupid, but will you take me back?”

Pulling back, you tip-toed to nuzzle Gladio’s lips with your own, “Always."

We both live under and see the same sky. Every day. Maybe I’ll see the night while you see the day, but it’s always the same sky either way. And so long as we are connected by this sky or the strings of fate, we will see each other again.

But until that day, can you hear me calling for you?

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

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