Some of Noctis' Firsts

by DancingSkys

Summary:

As a prince, Noctis experiences quite a few things any other person probably wouldn't. Some of them were expected, some of them were not.

These are some of the firsts he experiences while growing up. His friends are there every single step of the way.

Notes:

Do I just suddenly appear after more than a year with a fic for a completely new fandom? Yes.
Don't mind me, I've been slightly obsessed with FF15 ever since I saw a trailer when the game was still called Final Fantasy Versus XIII and Luna was called Stella. So quite a while ago. I've been inhaling FF15 fics for months and this is the one I've actually stuck to regarding writing.

A lot of stuff has happened in my life, I'm kind of terrified no one will read this but hey, you never know until you try, I guess.

You can read this as either platonic or romantic. The Boys are always very, very close in my head but the exact type of relationship they share wasn't really the main focus of this. It's just a character study of Noctis and those around him. If Gladio gets more attention than others then my favoritism is showing, I apologize (I do not). He's just a character with so much potential, and I enjoy writing from his POV.

Chapter 1: Chapter One: The First Phoenix Down

 

A common cold should not be enough to knock someone out for several weeks. That's the sentiment Noctis could feel floating around the hallways, it happened every time he got sick. Mainly because his father seemingly never got sick, never took a day off and always gave one hundred fifty percent. Not that Noctis gave any less, most of the time, but his hundred percent looked a lot different from his father's and apparently that was a major problem.

His father never got knocked out by a cold or the flue or an ear infection or whatever else someone could get. Noctis, however, was more susceptible to those things, always had been. People knew this but that didn't mean they showed understanding. Some of them tried, like his father, his retainers, Ignis and sometimes even Gladio. The latter wasn't very good at it, but occasionally he appeared to remember and would let up a little. He was doing that tightrope walk of wanting to push him and trying to find the limit of when he should ease up. He wasn't always successful at finding it but then again, Noctis wasn't very good at helping with that either. 

Sure, he complained a lot about work and training, but he still always did it – mostly. If people were to go by his complaining, they'd never get anything done. So they didn't. If he wanted them to actually listens he'd have to say it clearly and seriously. Though them listening wasn't a given even then. Maybe that was his fault, cause they all obviously knew better than him. What did a fourteen-year-old know about responsibility? Right, nothing. So he had learned that keeping his mouth shut was the most peaceful option and apologizing for whatever he had seemingly done wrong helped smooth things over afterward.

 

 

--

 

 

Noctis gasped for breath, past the burn in his lungs and the fire in his chest. Something was not right. Pain radiated out from his heart, down into numb fingertips. They twitched and shook around the handle of his blade. A wet gasp left him as he tried to get his composure back, go back to his proper stance and face the enemy. Gladio stood opposite of him, broadsword held in his hands like it weighed nothing. Amusement played on his face, like it often did when he was pushing Noctis’ limits.

That’s what they were doing, pushing limits to get Noctis back into shape ever since he had picked up training again a couple of days ago. ‘To catch up’, someone had said. Noctis couldn’t remember who. He had a funny taste in his mouth. 

“Okay, one last time,” Gladio said and got in position. “Ready.”

Which was a start signal if anything. Noctis tried to swallow but his tongue wasn’t moving. His eye twitched. He moved on autopilot, lifting his sword that weighed tons. All air disappeared from his lungs. He swung his arm and hurtled the blade at Gladio. Fire unfurled in his chest, screaming pierced his ear. He warped after his blade and immediately felt the ice-cold, needle thin pain of WRONG. He slammed into a metaphorical wall – or a real one – and faded instantly. 

 

 

Gladio got into position and watched Noctis expectantly. The other was way more winded than he should be. Not too much of a surprise after weeks of no training but it still grated on his nerves a bit. They had done so much progress and now they were back to building it up again. A setback, honestly, but nothing he couldn’t work with. They’d take a break after this and do some other exercises, maybe some stretches to wind down. 

“Ready,” he said, which he shouldn’t need to, the enemy would hardly say they were ready, but Noctis refused to come at him without a signal first. He could appreciate the concern on some level, warping was somewhat unpredictable after all, but at some point they would have to abolish their little ritual. For now, he would stick with it though.  

Noctis moved sluggishly, the grip on his blade shaky. Gladio would normally nag at him but would hold his tongue for now, if the warp was passable. Noctis flung his sword and disappeared in a rush of blue sparks. Gladio followed the weapon, ready to deflect. With the telltale sound of glass splintering, Noctis reappeared, only he was still ways away from Gladio, maybe halfway there. His sword continued its flight, hurtling at Gladio’s face and he swung his blade to deflect it. There hadn’t been much strength behind it but he still needed to twist his body for a moment to redirect the movement. He turned back just in time to see Noctis drop to the floor, limp like a sack of flour. Gladio stared for a moment, confused and bewildered. He hadn’t seen Noctis mess up a warp in quite some time, he made it seem as easy as breathing.

He huffed. “Playing dead isn’t gonna get you out of this last round,” he said. He, more than anyone, was no stranger to Noctis’ tactics on getting out of things. Though still behind Ignis, perhaps. The poor guy was always the first test subject to any of Noctis’ antics but thanks to him, a lot of others were spared.

Usually he’d get a quip back right about now, an insult or sometimes even a middle finger. If things were not to the prince’s liking, he’d maybe even curl up and try to go to sleep, as if that would stop anyone from bothering him with demeaning tasks such as homework or classes. This time, he didn’t get anything back, not a move, not a sound.

Gladio waited, blinked – nothing. “Noct?” he asked, lowering his sword and watching closely for any sort of movement. 

No reaction.

Noctis remained on the floor, unnaturally still. He had fallen at an awkward angle, straight down with his face to the floor. He hadn’t even tried to catch himself. Something cold slithered through Gladio’s chest. “Noctis,” he said sternly as he dropped his sword and walked over. If this was another one of his ploys to get out of training… though something in the back of his head told him it wasn’t. 

He dropped to one knee next to Noctis and shook his shoulder. No resistance. Unconscious then? Barreled straight into stasis perhaps? Maybe he should have stopped earlier. They had been back to training for a little over a week now, but stamina had to be built, it didn’t just appear out of thin air. While he understood the concept and progression of stasis, he wasn’t the one with funky crystal magic at his disposal and wasn’t the best a judging its finite reservoir. That was, unfortunately, one thing he had to trust Noctis with.

Carefully, he turned him over so his face wasn’t against the floor – and froze.

Half-opened eyes stared into the distance unseeingly. A trail of blood than ran down a pale face from a black hairline.

Gladio’s hand clamped down onto a small shoulder. “Noctis?” he asked, urgently, slightly panicked. He didn’t get a reaction, shaking the prince again made his head loll but his eyes remained as they were. Gladio grabbed his wrist and pressed fingers against the side of his neck at the same time, waiting.

Nothing.

He readjusted a few times, searching for anything at his wrist or neck but couldn’t find it. No movement, no pulse, nothing. He gaped down at Noctis, air dissipating somewhere on the way to his lungs.

Noctis didn’t have a pulse, he…

Dead, he was dead. Dropped dead right in front of Gladio’s eyes. For a singular moment, time rushed past and froze all at once. He whirled around, eyes searching the vicinity for anything. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for. An attacker in the shadows perhaps, an intruder, a weapon. But there was nothing, they were alone. He whipped his head back around to Noctis who was still lying on the floor seemingly undisturbed. There was no sign of injury, no sign of meddling, no sign of anything. Gladio had been here the entire time, had focused and watched. They had been alone and yet, he had a dead body on his hands. 

Gladio forgot to breathe, his heart forgot to beat. Like Noctis’ – unmoving and still. But then, the dam broke and it all came rushing in. With one hand still clawing at Noctis’ shoulder, desperate for a reaction but nothing happened, he reached up to his earpiece with unsteady fingers. For a halting second only air left his mouth, the words clogged up his throat but he managed to rush them past his lips. Someone else must have taken over his body. 

“East bridge is down,” he said, voice uncomfortably loud and foreign, shrill almost in the otherwise silent training hall. Those were words he knew by heart, had to know, but never in his life had he expected to use them. If they had to be used, he would have had to be dead first. “Training hall in the northwest wing. I need a phoenix down, now!”

For two seconds, silence echoed, before a frantic voice reached his ear. “East bridge is down?! Confirm?!”  

“Confirmed!” Gladio barked back, the enormous wave of reality finally crashing over his head. His heart started hammering against his chest as if trying to escape. Heat and ice rushed up his body and into his head. His hands shook and turned sweaty in an instant. Gladio folded them on top of Noctis’ still chest and started doing compressions. He wasn’t sure how much it would help, maybe even not at all, but he couldn't just sit here and do nothing. Without a phoenix down, there wasn’t much else he could do except praying to the damned astrals. 

Unfortunately, both Noctis and his father had codenames and protocols for their passing. It was morbid but had to be done. Again, Gladio had never expected to need to voice these words. If Noctis were in mortal danger, he, as his shield, would give his life before he let anything happen to the prince. 

Now, the prince had dropped dead, right in front of him, and he had been clueless. 

How long had it been? For how long had Noctis been like this, already? There was only a short window of time, maybe five to ten minutes, where a phoenix down was sure to work to its full extent. The effect lessened immensely after that and no one could say if the resurrection would be carried out as expected. There were lists way too long with failed attempts and devastated families. 

The citadel remained eerily quiet for a bit. There was no alarm to sound, no overhead voices telling him what to do, but this – this could not be met with silence. There were no guards near the training halls. For what reason should there be? They weren’t anywhere near the medical wing or the offices where all the high ranking military personnel lurked about. They were down in a training hall, alone. Gladio was alone with a dead prince and he was terrified. Noctis’ empty eyes stared off into the distance, usually bright blues now dull and unseeing. He was so still, so small, his body sprawled out on the floor like someone had tossed him aside carelessly. 

Gladio hadn’t even noticed he had been staring at Noctis’ face the entire time, unconsciously waiting for any sort of reaction while he tried to get his heart beating again. It didn’t feel like he was touching an actual person, it felt like there was a puppet beneath his hands, a cheap imposter, something artificial. There was always movement to a chest, one way or another, but here there was none, except for the force he brought down upon a small rib cage. The panic bubbled just beneath the surface of his skin, oozing out of every pore and threatening to overtake him. 

The sound of glass shattering echoed in the hallway and Gladio whipped his head around, having half a mind to dive for his sword to defend but CPR was more important right now. A blue flash appeared in the entrance, something spun through the air. A dagger lodged itself into the ground next to Noctis and within a blink, a man appeared in a scattering of blue sparks. Gladio was rearing up to punch the stranger, the only thing on his mind to defend Noctis, but he recognized the uniform – Kingsglaive.

The man reached into his coat and pulled out a reddish glowing feather. He placed it onto Noctis’ chest, took one of the prince’s limp hands and pressed it over the feather. With both hands, he pushed down, not dissimilar to what Gladio had been doing, and crushed the phoenix down underneath Noctis’ hand. A burst of flames spread over his body, dancing across skin and clothes in a hellish dance before vanishing as quickly as they had appeared. Time stood still for a moment, Gladio didn’t dare to breathe, to blink, to move. For a long moment, he feared nothing would happen but then-

Noctis jerked and a strangled wheeze escaped him. 

A rush of air, accompanied by a strange sound, left Gladio’s mouth. His heart sagged down, pulling on his chest almost painfully. Relief flooded him, but the terror and panic didn’t dissolve quite as fast. The result was a disorientating mix of emotions and sensations. He still felt breathless but his hand, back to Noctis’ chest, felt jerky movement and a nervous pulse.

“Noct,” he stammered. He wanted to pick him up and squeeze him as tightly as he could, feel him breathe and move, but he halted when their eyes met. Bright purple stared back at him, blue nowhere to be seen. Gladio stared, hoping for a spark of something in those eyes but there was no even an ounce of recognition. Suddenly, Noctis disappeared in a flash of blue crystals and reappeared a few paces away, stance unsteady and breaths wheezing. He looked nothing like himself, shaky, pale with blood running down the side of his face and unfocused glowing eyes. It didn’t seem he knew where he was, much less what was going on.

“Shit,” the Kingsglaive hissed and stood up, dagger at the ready. 

“Wha-”

“Grab a weapon,” the man said without looking at Gladio.

“What?!” he asked but didn’t have time as movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. He barely managed to dodge before a sword came crashing down onto the shiny tiles, splintering them upon impact. One of Noctis’ swords. 

Purple eyes focused on him and Noctis swung his sword again. 

Gladio scrambled back. “Noct!” he shouted in shock but his words fell on deaf ears. Noctis whirled his sword back, more uncoordinated than usual but for that he made up with speed and strength. It was like he was possessed and Gladio, for one fleeting moment, did not know if he’d manage to dodge the next slash. 

In a burst of blue, the Kingsglaive appeared in front of him, clashing his dagger against Noctis’ sword and pushing him back. 

“Grab a weapon!” the man said again, more insistently. “He’ll keep going.”

Gladio did not know what was going on, one second everything was normal, then Noctis dropped dead, then he was resurrected and now he was apparently trying to kill him – them – he wasn’t sure. Against all logic, he scrambled for his sword just in time to deflect another one of Noctis’ attacks. 

There was a wild look to the prince’s face with his eyes blown wide and not looking at anything directly. The purple glow was concerning if anything. His breaths still came out as wheezes and he moved his limbs with a severe lack of coordination. His warping was choppy if anything, his attacks random and disorganized. It made for a dangerous recipe, concerning above all. 

Urgent footsteps and sounded from the hallway behind them. Gladio could only see from the corner of his eye how people rushed into the room  – because he had announced the prince’s death. The prince who was now on a magically induced rampage it seemed. Noctis was vibrating where he stood, Gladio wouldn’t be surprised if he’d get an electric shock if he tried to touch him. His blade shook in his hands. Blood was now also running down from his nose and Gladio was terrified. He was terrified Noctis would just drop dead again like before, that the next move would be his last and he’d actually lose him – fail him. He wasn’t sure if a person could be resurrected twice in such a short amount of time and he did not want to find out.

“Noctis!” a new voice shouted and Gladio dared to turn his head. King Regis rushed into the room as quickly as a man of his health could. He looked beyond frazzled, less composed than Gladio had ever seen him. He could only imagine what the news of your child’s death would do to a parent. Cor and Clarus followed him hurriedly, both weary and ready to attack but there was nothing to attack, no one. 

The king made his way over to his son briskly, not stopping once.

“Your majesty-” the glaive tried to warn but Noctis was already moving. 

He warped the short distance and tried to cut his own father in half. Regis didn’t even blink, merely raised a hand and a honeycomb shield flickered to life around him in a flash. Noctis sword couldn’t splinter through the magic and was forced to a stop above his father's head. He dropped to the floor in a stumble but was gearing up for another attempt. Wisps of blue tendrils floated around Noctis and he halted in his movements. 

“Noctis,” Regis said again, softer this time. His magic ever so carefully reached out for his son, brushing against him gently as if to wake him up. Gladio watched anxiously, stance full of tension. No one dared to move or say anything.

It took several long seconds. Noctis frowned, then blinked, once, twice, then several times as if to clear his vision. His head moved back and forth and when he slowly looked up, his eyes were back to blue. He released a wheezy breath. 

“Dad?” he gasped. Whatever stamina he had gotten from the phoenix down’s burst of magic evaporated. The large blade clattered to the floor and his knees buckled. Gladio rushed forward, heart up in his throat, but Regis had already caught his son and lowered him to the ground gently. 

“Did I get them?” Noctis wheezed, the words slurring together almost indistinctly. 

“Yes, you did,” Regis said without a flinch. “Good job, Noctis. Now rest, everything is alright.”

Noctis mumbled something else but his eyes trailed off and his lids fluttered close. Regis held him close, closing his own eyes for a few seconds and then glancing over at Cor and Clarus. They both stepped forward and helped lay Noctis down. Cor produced a handkerchief out of thin air and wiped the blood off his face. 

Gladio stared at what was happening unmovingly, eyes blown wide. Was he still breathing? Gladio wasn’t sure he even knew how to pull a breath into his lungs at this point. Was he still breathing – Noctis? He needed to check, to make sure his heart was still beating and that he was okay, that he wasn’t dead. For some reason, he couldn’t move, couldn’t think.

“Gladio.”

He snapped back to attention and looked at his father with wide eyes. The man stared back grimly, for a moment only looking at his own son. “Report.”

Gladio opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking back at Noctis who was still being checked over by Cor and another man in a medical uniform. None of them looked alarmed so he must be okay, right? It physically hurt to tear his gaze away, but he looked at his father again, helpless almost. He hadn’t felt like that in a long time. 

“He… he just dropped,” he whispered as if it wouldn’t be true if he said it quietly enough. 

His father frowned. “Dropped.”

Gladio swallowed, trying to find the words to explain. Whatever had happened was burned into the back of his eyelids though blurry, like a distant nightmare you couldn’t shake the feeling of. “He- we were training. He was pretty winded so I wanted to do just one last round. He warped and he just…” He made a motion with his hand that even he wasn’t sure what it was supposed to mean. “He only made it halfway and he just dropped to the floor.”

“And then?” Clarus insisted, voice steely. Gladio didn’t even register the tone of voice, usually he would have prepared to be reprimanded but now he didn’t hear anything but the words themselves.

“I thought he was joking for a moment,” he admitted, the shame of it burning deep. He has had no reason to think it would be anything other than Noctis playing around, but in hindsight he couldn’t believe he hadn’t acted immediately. “He didn’t get up, I shook him, his eyes were open…” He swallowed thickly. The image of unmoving blue eyes would haunt his nightmares. “I checked his pulse. He didn’t have one.”

Clarus watched him intently, waiting for anything else but there was nothing to add. No suspect, no suspicious activity, nothing out of the ordinary, really. “You called it in.”

Gladio nodded timidly. “I don’t have phoenix down on me,” he said quietly. Not many people did. High ranking officers would have them, the king and therefore his retinue would have access to them. They were stocked in the medical wards and in the safe rooms. But Gladio did not have one on him. He was the shield to the prince and he did not have a phoenix down on him.

“Did you see anyo-”

“Who revived my son?” King Regis asked, having stood up and looking at the gathered Crownsguard and staff. His voice was firm, but Gladio could hear the undertone of distress in it. He had never seen the king be anything but composed, even when he was stressed and in a bad condition due to the strain of the wall, but right now he looked like he’d lose that carefully constructed composure if he would not get an answer within the next three seconds.

Gladio turned to the Kingsglaive who had seemingly appeared out of thin air. The man knocked his fist over his heart and then bowed swiftly. “I heard the code, your majesty. I was close by.”

Regis just stared at the man, for once words apparently failing him. Clarus watched for a moment but he spoke up. “Ulric.” Regis was shaken out his momentary haze.

Gladio blinked, suddenly realizing that he knew the man. How he hadn’t realized before was beyond him.

“It was pure coincident, I’m afraid,” Nyx said. He sounded honest, like he himself was a bit shaken up as well. If he hadn’t been there, who knows how long it would have taken someone else to show up. Maybe it would have been too late. He straightened up again. “Warping makes me faster than most people.”

Than anyone, really.

Regis, having regained some semblance of composure, stepped closer and grasped his shoulder. If anyone saw the limb trembling slightly, they didn’t draw attention to it. “Thank you, Nyx,” he said, his tone conveying a lot more than just the words.

Nyx bowed his head again. “Doing my job, your Majesty. Just glad I was in time.” He glanced at the unconscious prince with a stricken expression.

Regis didn’t appear to be upset over the fact that Nyx and Gladio had both pulled their weapons on his son. He hadn’t seemed all that surprised over the state of him upon finding him either. Gladio didn’t know what any of this meant, his brain had refused to work these past few minutes. And that’s just it. It had only been a few minutes, probably not even ten in total, but they would likely affect him for the foreseeable future. 

“He is stable but I would like to run some tests,” the doctor said. “I’m not sure if I can get accurate results after…” he furrowed his brows, “and then with the magic… but still. We need to run a full diagnostic and make sure everything is in order.”

Regis turned to the man and nodded. “Run all the tests. I need to know what happened.”

The doctor bowed and within just a few moments, Noctis was whisked away to the medical ward.  

 

 

Cardiac arrest. 

That was the result. How someone could suffer from cardiac arrest at fourteen was beyond Gladio. He didn’t understand where this had come from and why it had happened. Thankfully, they would be getting some answers.

“I assume his Highness never completely recovered from the cold he had several weeks ago,” the doctor explained carefully. “There are no tests to determine if someone is fit for, well, work again, so we went by what his Highness told us about his condition. Based on that, we medically cleared him to resume training with caution.” The man cast his eyes down. “Your majesty, I must beg for your forgiveness. We should have-”

The king raised his hand and the doctor quietened immediately. “You have nothing to apologize for, doctor,” he said. He didn’t smile like he usually did when reassuring someone but he spoke the words nonetheless. “I know my son and how… selective he is with sharing anything, truly. He would have lied even if I had asked him. There is nothing you could have done.”

Deep down Gladio knew this to be true, but he still wanted to blame someone for not stopping Noctis. Blaming the doctors and nurses would be easy but he refrained from letting his emotions get the upper hand. He couldn’t imagine how much rationalizing was necessary for the king to not blame someone in this case, even with knowing his son’s tendencies for dishonesty in regard to his wellbeing. Especially when the perfect and plausible opportunity of medical neglect presented itself. But if Regis was able to acquit the medical staff of any blame for his son’s temporary death, Gladio should follow that example. Especially if he wanted to be offered that same grace and forgiveness.

The doctor didn’t look happy but nodded his head. “We assume that the stress from resuming his activities put pressure on his heart. It developed into myocarditis, an inflammation of the heart if you will. It is rare, but sometimes it can lead to a heart attack or cardiac arrest with seemingly no warnings. Unfortunately, his highness experienced the latter.”

“Can this happen again?” Regis asked immediately.

“It is not a chronic condition,” the doctor said. “However, it is imperative that we make sure his Highness is fully healed before taking up any activity again. That could potentially take months and even something like taking a flight of stairs could put a strain on his heart. In his current condition it is a possibility, afterward not so much. If he is sick, we must give him more time to recover.”

Regis allowed himself a small sigh of relief and then nodded solemnly. “If he takes it slow, he should be alright?”

“Yes, your Majesty. I do believe this was an isolated incident.” The doctor turned to look at Noctis. “I am concerned with his Highness’ reluctance to share his symptoms though. We need to rely on his judgment at some point. We can restrict his physical activity for a while, but clear communication about what he is experiencing and how his body is reacting is crucial for us to give him the best care and let him resume his responsibilities at an appropriate time.”

“I will talk to him,” Regis said. “And I believe we will all be keeping a close eye on him.” He glanced at Gladio who nodded his head sharply. 

“Thank you, your Majesty. We will be checking on his Highness regularly and send someone to inform you of his condition.” The doctor bowed and left once he was dismissed.

Gladio’s thoughts were racing. If the doctor’s assumptions were true, then he had played a rather big role in this result. While he had waited for the official clearance to come through, Noctis knew he had been impatient to get back to training. He hadn’t been the only one, Ignis had shared similar thoughts and he knew the council was especially unhappy when Noctis’ schedule deviated in any way. 

Still, Gladio should have paid better attention, should have noticed something was up. He was the one instructing Noctis’ physical training, if he didn’t notice something was off, then how should anyone else? The prince may be able to talk his way out of most situations but Gladio had seen how winded he had been, had seen the difference in precision and stamina. He had chalked it up to weeks of missed workouts, to Noctis just not putting enough thought into it. Now he knew better though unfortunately too late, way too late.

He glanced over at Noctis. An oxygen mask was strapped to his face, mostly as a precaution, and an IV went into the crook of his elbow. All in all, he looked okay, but Gladio couldn’t get the haunting image of his soulless eyes out of his head. The heart monitor assured him Noctis was still breathing.

A hand came down onto his shoulder and he looked back at Regis. They were the same height. “Gladio, child, are you alright?” he asked and a sudden feeling of shame overcame him. He had dreaded the moment Regis would have the mind to speak to him. Not to mention he, at seventeen, hardly counted as a child anymore and shouldn’t receive the forgiveness a child might have.

He ducked his head, unable to look Noctis’ father in the eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, for once not knowing what else to say.

Regis squeezed his shoulder. “I believe you will carry this with you for a while, but please know that I do not blame you. Nor does anyone else. You did as advised and judged the situation with the information you had. You did everything right. I have to thank you for acting so quickly.”

Gladio both wanted to and despised feeling relieved. The words did not immediately settle the nausea and anxiety crawling through his bones and yet they at least soothed the hurricane of emotions. It felt self-centered and inappropriate to hang onto this reassurance so he didn’t allow himself to ease up.

He shook his head. “It was Nyx who revived him. I couldn’t do anything.”

“Ideally you wouldn’t need to. I knew this day would come sooner or later. I had hoped it would be a long while before it ever became necessary.” Regis said and removed his hand from his shoulder. He turned to his son as he continued speaking. “I was 25 when I received my first phoenix down and it was under very different circumstances.”

Only two years after he had ascended the throne. Noctis’ grandfather had passed quite early and Regis had needed to take up the mantel earlier than most, even with the shortened life expectancy of the royal bloodline. Gladio swallowed as he imagined the king lying dead somewhere and someone, maybe even his own father, having to revive him. It shattered his perception somewhat, to know the man next to him had once been dead. Perhaps even multiple times if his phrasing was anything to go by. 

Of course he knew, as the prince’s shield, that there were situations where things could end deadly. He may have foolishly believed that he’d be able to prevent them if he trained hard enough, if he was strong enough. He had never imagined it would happen without warning, in a place he and everyone else considered safe. He hadn’t been able to do anything, hadn’t even seen it coming and when it had happened, he had been helpless. No training could have prepared him for that feeling of dread and terror. 

Death wasn’t an everyday occurrence and while Gladio has had many talks about death, it had always been about his mother’s death, his father’s possible death or his own. He knew a shield was expected to lay down their life for their protégé, so he had always assumed he’d be dead before Noctis would ever encounter that fate. Clearly that wasn’t the case and it had rattled several things into a rather bleak perspective. 

“I pray it will not be necessary again, but…” Regis trailed off and looked at his son silently for a few long moments before turning back to Gladio. “If it does, I must place the burden on you again. You and Ignis. I know you are all far too young to carry this responsibility and I wish I could shield you kids more.”

“I want to be prepared,” Gladio said without hesitation, something that had been on his mind ever since he had been able to grasp a coherent thought again. “If- if it happens again. I need to be able to help.”

Regis’ smile had a sad aura to it. “Thank you, Gladio. Even before this, I have always trusted you and Ignis with my son’s life. I know he is safe with you and you care about him.”

Gladio hoped the heat crawling up his neck wasn’t visible. He just nodded. “Of course.” He had failed today and yet the king still had faith in him. While he wanted to wallow in his misery, he couldn’t allow himself such a dishonorable excuse to not continue doing his job.

“I will see that you receive the necessary training.”

“Thank you, your Majesty.”

Regis patted his shoulder again and moved towards the door. His hand was already on the handle when he turned around once more. 

“And Gladio?”

“Yes?”

“The reaction Noctis had to the phoenix down, it is not uncommon.”

Gladio blinked, remembering the purple glow and the frenzied attacks. He hasn’t had time to think about it more deeply.

“Glaive Ulric has seen it many times, it is not uncommon on the battlefield. For us-” Regis put a hand on his chest- “a phoenix down is powerful magic. Two different types of magic often clash. I would not like to use the term possessed, but it feels like something else is overtaking your body and you need to fight it. It is nothing you could have prevented and is likely to repeat if it were to happen again.”

Gladio opened and closed his mouth a few times. “So, it’s- he’s…” He didn’t know what he wanted to say but it seemed Regis understood the sentiment nonetheless. 

He gave a firm nod and a reassuring smile. “Noctis will be fine. His magic may feel foreign to him while it settles, but he will be fine.”

A bit of weight lifted off Gladio’s shoulders. He allowed himself to breathe out and relax just slightly. “Okay.”

Regis sent him a soft smile. “Take care of him, please.”

Gladio bowed. “Your Majesty.” It wasn’t even a question.

 

 

--

 

 

Noctis slept until about 4am that night. Gladio had only left very reluctantly to get showered, changed and to eat something. Ignis had all but banished him from the room until he did those things. ‘In that order, preferably,’ he had said with a pointed look and a wrinkle of his nose, ever subtle in the delivery. 

So, Gladio had showered, changed into hist post-workout clothes and had grabbed a sandwich from the cafeteria. Ignis had never specified he was to sit down and have a full meal. The disapproval was clear on his face once he returned but he refrained from saying anything else. He had to leave for a while in the late evening but entered the room again at 10pm on the dot. In the meantime, a nurse had removed the IV, oxygen mask and heart monitor from Noctis. It made Gladio a bit anxious, but the nurse assured him he was stable and if anything were to happen, she was only a few doors down and he could get her anytime. 

Gladio tried not to think about how anxious not having a phoenix down on him now made him feel. He had never thought about it before but now it was a constant echo in the back of his head. He tried reassuring himself that the medical wing was more than capable of a swift response were anything to happen. Afterward, he’d have to complete the required training as quickly as possible and he’d be prepared, just in case.

Several guards came by, saying they would keep an eye on the prince so they could get some rest, but they both declined every time. There was no place more important for them to be right now than here. 

It was 4:08 am when Noctis’ eyes fluttered and a grunt escaped him. Gladio couldn’t put into words how much relief seeing movement and hearing sounds from him brought him. As ridiculous as it sounded, he needed the reassurance. 

“Careful,” Ignis said, moving to help as Noctis struggled to sit up and got a somewhat confused look from the prince, who then rubbed a hand across his face to chase his drowsiness away. It took a few moments for him to adjust and get his bearings. He took deliberately slow breaths and pressed a hand against his heart as if to hold it in place, seemingly subconsciously. Gladio watched like an anxious hawk. 

“What time ‘s it?” Noctis asked, looking around for any clue with furrowed brows and sleep-squinted eyes. 

“Four in the morning,” Ignis said, sitting back down in his chair. 

Noctis frowned even harder, especially at the white sheets pooling in his lap. He looked at his arm which might still hurt a bit from the IV that had been there a few hours ago. There was a small blueish spot in the crook of his elbow.

“Medical wing?”

“Indeed,” came the affirmation from Ignis.

Noctis turned to Gladio with a confused look, eyeing him up and down as if to find the puzzle pieces himself – unsuccessfully. “What happened? You knock me out or something?”

For some reason, Gladio could feel anger rush through him. Not at the accusation, he knew how to take that and would usually joke about it, but for the complete lack of… anything. Noctis didn’t know or realize what had happened, the severity of it. Gladio didn’t know what he had expected, maybe some sort of recollection, though it would have surprised him. 

Still, Noctis was acting as usual and that was something he could not deal with right now. He had been dead half a day ago and now he was living and breathing, moving around and speaking like nothing had ever happened. Gladio didn’t know what would come out of his mouth if he opened it and Ignis seemed to realize that as well. He was quick to intervene before Gladio said something he would regret.

“You experienced cardiac arrest, Noctis.”

Noctis turned his head around to Ignis, studying his face. “What?”

Ignis pushed up his glasses. “You had to be revived.” The words were spoken neutrally, Ignis not letting his own feelings influence the delivery. It was a skill Gladio had never acquired and refused to be jealous over. 

Noctis stared for several seconds. “... what?”

The straining hold Gladio had managed to keep on his emotions snapped. “You fucking dropped dead and we had to use a phoenix down to revive you!” he shouted, pushing his chair back with a screech as he stood up. His hands clenched into fists and he didn’t know what to do with the sudden burst of emotions and energy thrumming inside his body. He at least managed to reign himself back under control before he said anything else but the damage had already been done.

Noctis looked at him with big eyes, for once stunned into silence. He didn’t look like this very often, especially since someone raising their voice at him was an incredibly rare occurrence. Sometimes Gladio suspected he was the only one. Noctis’ hand that had been pressed against his chest lowered to curl into his shirt. He dropped his head, eyes flickering as he tried to remember.

At least his eyes were actually seeing things again.

The silence surrounding them was deafening. Gladio didn’t know what to do with it. He clenched and unclenched his hands, his jaw hurt from how hard he was grinding his teeth. Ignis watched both of them carefully but remained quiet as well. 

“My heart stopped?” Noctis asked after an eternity. The question was quiet, hesitant, in a tone of voice neither of his retinue got to hear often. Usually only when Noctis admitted he had done something wrong and wanted to apologize – sincerely. It was a rather rare occurrence.

“It did,” Ignis said, taking on a softer tone as well. 

He and Gladio exchanged a glance. Gladio was suddenly glad for Ignis’ presence. With how he was feeling right now, he probably would have completely fucked this up otherwise. Ignis and him were at complete opposite ends of several spectrums and sometimes Gladio felt bad that Noctis got two extremes instead of two normal people. But they just had to make it work and at least Ignis and Gladio had learned how to fill in the blanks for their counterpart.

“How are you feeling?” Ignis asked. “The doctors ran all possible tests but said there was nothing out of order, medically at least.”

Noctis hunched in on himself, his hand coming back up to rub across his heart. It didn’t look like he wanted to have this conversation. “I… I feel weird.”

Gladio took a deep breath to make sure he sounded calmer when he spoke. His insides were still boiling with something, but even he could recognize this was the completely wrong moment for shouting. He had already slipped once, he couldn’t allow himself to do so again. “Your father said your magic doesn’t mesh well with a phoenix down. He said it can feel like… like you’re possessed.”

Noctis turned his head and raised an eyebrow at him. “He said that?” For a moment his normal tone of voice came back, obviously not believing him. It did sound rather ridiculous to imagine the king calling someone possessed. 

Gladio rolled his eyes, grasping at a sense of normality. “More eloquent than that but yes, essentially.”

“Huh.” Noctis stared at one of his hands somewhat fascinated. “I don’t really feel possessed, just, wrong.”

“Wrong how?” Ignis asked, inching closer to the edge of his chair anxiously. 

Noctis gave him a wry smile. “Magically wrong, Specks, not- not physically.”

Ignis pursed his lips because there was nothing he could do about magic-related issues. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t fix everything.

“Well, my chest hurts, but I guess that’s normal.”

Gladio winced, any sense of normality destroyed once again. It was normal, indeed, but it could have several different reasons. Either because Noctis’ heart had literally stopped, or because of whatever effect the phoenix down had left him with – the list of side effects was pages long after all – or because Gladio had given him CPR and had not exactly been careful with the pressure. Though he had been glad to hear there had been no lasting damage according to the doctors. 

Gladio shifted, letting his eyes wander over Noctis for anything else out of place. He couldn’t find anything, but he had learned today that didn’t have to mean anything. The use of Ignis nickname had calmed him down a little bit for some reason. Whatever had “possessed” Noctis before didn’t seem to be affecting him now. Neither the king nor Nyx had appeared particularly worried, so it must have really been an in-the-moment thing. Still, Gladio was glad to see Noctis was himself again, even if a bit subdued.

“Dad was here?” Noctis then asked softly, not looking at either of them, but rather at his lap again. 

“He was there,” Gladio said, “and here.” He should have probably stopped there, but whatever was boiling away on the inside just could not be contained anymore. The words came out of his mouth before he even knew what he was going to say. “I- you collapsed in the middle of a warp and you just- you were just gone .” He took a deep breath before he started shouting or cursing again. “No pulse, nothing. I had to… call it in.” He turned to look somewhere else. “I don’t carry phoenix down, didn’t. A glaive was close by and revived you. Your father arrived shortly after that.” He didn’t mention anything else, didn’t think it was necessary. At least not at this time. 

“Nyx,” Noctis said with slow realization. 

Ignis tilted his head. “How did you know?”

Noctis waved his hand dismissively. “The glaives use my dad’s magic but they all have unique signatures. I know Nyx’s, from warp training.” He moved to get out of bed but Gladio put his hands on his shoulders to stop him from slipping out of the room like a wet eel. Sometimes Noctis was rather bold and did just that, standing up and leaving without announcing his departure, and people around him were too perplexed to actually say anything about it.

“Not so fast.”

“I feel fine-”

“Sit down!” Gladio had tried not to let any panic bleed into those words but it still came out harsh and on edge. Noctis didn’t want to argue when Gladio used that tone of voice so he sat down reluctantly, eyes on the floor and shoulders pulled up. Gladio peered down at him, a million different thoughts rushing through his head. He really had to tread carefully, this was a delicate situation. He wanted to shout and curse and blame someone, but there was no one to blame. Well, there was – himself, and he did – but he also needed an outlet for the whirlwind of feelings clogging up his chest. However, it should not be Noctis at the receiving end of this. They were only in this situation precisely because he had been at the receiving end of pressure and scrutiny. From the people closest to him especially. 

Ignis watched but remained silent. 

“You died,” Gladio said, as much as the words haunted him. Actually saying it made it a lot more real despite having experienced it first-hand. “You died because your heart stopped, because you were not fine .”

Noctis bit the side of his cheek. 

Gladio watched, waited, but there was no response. “You told the doctors you were fine.” He couldn’t really understand. He could, because it was Noctis and that is what he did, but he still could not understand. 

Noctis remained silent for a long while, long enough for Gladio to assume he wouldn’t say anything at all before he mumbled quietly. “I should have been fine.”

“Excuse me?”

Blue eyes settled on him with something akin to a glare. “I said I should have been fine. No one gets knocked out by a cold for weeks. I know that, everyone else knows that.” Noctis gestured off to the side in a vague arch. “Everyone was all anxious for me to go back to normal. They just think I’m trying to slack off if I’m still not okay after weeks.”

So it is exactly as the doctor had said, as Gladio had feared. Noctis had known he hadn’t been fine, hadn’t been ready. Yet he had pretended to be, had lied to the medical staff about his condition and had picked up training again. All of this was the reason why they were now in this situation. Noctis’ ridiculous stubbornness and desire to prove himself.

Gladio’s eye twitched, the anger crawling back to the surface again. “That is no excu-”

“You thought the same thing!”

Gladio snapped his mouth shut. Noctis turned from him to glance at Ignis and then finally at a random point on the floor. His brows were still furrowed but he didn’t look angry. He looked disappointed and upset if anything and that made Gladio’s chest constrict way more. For a fleeting moment, he remembered how young Noctis actually was. He may only be three years older than him, but in this span of their lives, three years was an eternity. He was almost an adult now, for the astrals’ sake, Noctis was still a teen, a child.

“Both of you. I’m not stupid. Even my dad, everyone. I should have been fine so I just did it.” Noctis stated it as a fact, like his health didn’t take priority above anything else. He knew people had expected him to be fine so he had pretended to be. 

With drastic consequences. 

Gladio wanted to come up with a brilliant argument, but he couldn’t, because it was true. He had believed Noctis was dragging it out just to get out of training. He hadn’t said so, at least not anywhere where anyone could hear him, but it appeared he hadn’t been as subtle as he had believed to be. It was like a slap in the face, being told that Noctis knew they didn’t fully believe him, that he didn’t fully believe him. Spelled out like this, it replaced the anger with guilt and shame. They were no more pleasant to experience, maybe even less so, because those emotions were only directed towards himself. He could have pretended for a while longer, but Noctis putting everything into words so easily, knowing he had been aware this entire time and hadn’t even questioned it… It hurt. 

He only spelled out what Gladio had already been aware of, consciously or subconsciously, but he had falsely assumed his private feelings had never spilled over to be picked up by Noctis. He had convinced himself Noctis was aloof enough to not notice people around him questioning and scrutinizing him. He had obviously been very wrong.

“It’s fine, whatever,” Noctis said, trying to get this discussion to end. “I’m sorry.” He waited for something else to be said but neither Ignis nor Gladio knew that to say. Gladio was still trying to process and it didn’t help that Noctis felt like an apology from him would smooth the situation over. It made it even worse. 

Unaware of his shield’s inner turmoil, Noctis tried to stand up again to finally escape, but Gladio grabbed his shoulders out of reflex and pushed him back down to sit on the bed a second time.

“I’m hungry,” Noctis whined. “And this place sucks.”

For a second Gladio wanted to grin at the usual antics, but he couldn’t. He peered down at Noctis which made him curl into himself. Gladio sighed and eased up his grip. Noctis clearly expected more lecturing and the reaction only served to make Gladio feel even more guilty.

Noctis had put his life on the line and he still expected to be lectured about something. Because that is all Gladio and people around him did, apparently. It was eye-opening in a sense and Gladio would need quite some time to sort through all of this, but not tonight and especially not now. Noctis needed him, but he didn’t need a lecture. For once, he needed some reassurance and Gladio would be damned if he didn’t get it even if it didn’t come easy for him.

“Be honest with us, please?” he asked, softer than he usually would. Noctis’ eyes flickered to him in surprise before he looked away again. “I’m sorry that you feel like we don’t believe you, that we don’t-” he took a deep breath and forced himself to actually put it into words and not dance around it. “That we sometimes do not believe you. I’m sorry, I’ll do better. Just please be honest with us. If not with us – then at least with the doctors. They said it may take months for you to recover-”

“What?!”

“Take the time. I know everyone is impatient, I was impatient. It pressured you to go back sooner than you should have and…” He didn’t want to finish that sentence. “I’m sorry. It was terrifying. I don’t want it to happen again. I won’t let it happen again.”

Noctis continued to burn a hole into the ground so Gladio went down onto one knee which put him just below the prince’s eye level. Noctis glanced at him, still chewing on his lip. They didn’t do this sort of thing very often. He may talk with Ignis about the more emotional topics, but it was important to Gladio that Noctis knew he wanted to do better, that he saw himself at fault and acknowledged that. He wanted to make sure Noctis knew he could talk to him.

“Okay,” Noctis mumbled.

Whether he actually would, would remain to be seen but Gladio nodded and patted his knee. That’s all he could ask for right now. “Okay.” he stood up again and looked at Ignis. They shared a wordless conversation and then put a pin in it. They would have to talk about it, but not today.

“I believe the kitchens would be in order,” Ignis said and stood up. “What does his Highness fancy as this early hour?”

Noctis looked up, eyes flicking back between the two to gauge if the emotional talk was actually over. When he figured there were no more lectures to be had, he relaxed a bit and thought about the question. 

“Pancakes?” he asked carefully after a moment.

Gladio snorted.

“Pancakes it is,” Ignis said without argument and dropped a pair of black slippers at Noctis’ feet. 

Gladio itched to tuck him back into bed when Noctis finally stood up, but suppressed the urge. He followed the two of them out of the room. Ignis quickly informed the nurse so they wouldn’t get a kidnapping code in twenty minutes. They’ve had enough excitement for 24 hours. 

He kept a close eye on Noctis, watching for anything out of order or any discomfort. He appeared to be doing fine, but after taking the stairs up to the next floor, he rubbed across his chest. 

“You okay?” Gladio asked. 

Noctis waved his concern away. “I’m f-” Gladio’s raised eyebrows stopped him and he huffed in frustration. “It’s just… rushing.”

“Your heart?” Ignis asked, concern barely masked.

Noctis nodded. “Hurts,” he added faintly.

Gladio wished he could turn back time, tell Noctis to take it easy, maybe slap himself in the face a few times, but here they were. “Okay, come here.” He lowered down and offered his back.

Noctis stared. “Are you serious?” he deadpanned.

“The doc said you should take it easy, so take it easy.”

“I’m too old for piggyback rides.”

“Should I carry you like a princess?” Gladio challenged with a look over his shoulder. “Cause I will.”

Noctis pulled a face, he had enough experience to know he wasn’t kidding. He grumbled something under his breath but moved closer to climb onto his shield’s back. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered as Gladio stood up.

“This brings back memories,” Ignis mused with a smile. “I recall Iris beating you in a sword fight like this.”

Noctis sent him a withering look. “That’s because she cheated and took the bigger horse.”

“I believe I made for a wonderful royal steed.”

“Six above,” Noctis muttered. “Can we just get pancakes.”

“Right away, princess,” Gladio said and started slowly galloping forward.

Noctis groaned. “Someone get me a different horse!”

 

 

If Gladio got anxious jitters the next fife-hundred time he witnessed Noctis warping in any capacity, no one had to know. 

At least now he carried the assurance – and burden – of a phoenix down at all times.

 

 

Chapter 2: Chapter Two: The First Time Wearing His Crown

Notes:

A chapter from Ignis' pov.
I also can't decide if I want to capitalize 'highness' or not. Guess we will freestyle it every chapter.

 

Usually people got more expensive presents for their sixteenth birthday. Maybe electronics, maybe a luxurious handbag, maybe a trip. Noctis honestly wasn’t too sure what people usually got on their sixteenth birthday, he hardly had any normal reference, but he was sure most people didn’t get – this.

“What is that?” he asked although he already knew. He didn’t know what to make of it so asking gave him a bit more time, maybe. 

His father smiled softly. “Your crown.”

Noctis’ head snapped up to look at him, eyes wide. Although he had known, hearing the words spoken out loud put a lot more weigh behind it, made it more real. He knew from his lessons that a lot of kingdoms had one crown. Or at least one main crown that was passed from monarch to monarch. Lucis had always been a bit different in that aspect. Each monarch received their own crown, typically from their parents. Each one was unique and the crowns of previous monarchs were on display in museums or stored away safely at the citadel. 

His father had received his own crown from his father, also on his sixteenth birthday. It was a less traditional one and Noctis remembered playing with it as a child because it had funny shapes and had been perfect for grabbing onto. It had sharp angles that twirled out of his hair a little bit like antlers. Child Noctis had believed his dad had antlers, sometimes and on one side at least, and had apparently cried the first time he had plucked the delicate piece right out of his fathers' hair. It settled around his ear so it wasn’t exactly hard to pull out. It was a miracle he had never poked his eye out with it, actually. 

Regis liked to remind him of that time while Noctis pretended it had never happened. Unfortunately for him, there were pictures of him as a baby, holding his dad’s crown and chewing on it while being carried around. Thankfully, it hadn’t sustained any permanent bite marks, though his father would have probably still worn it proudly. 

The similarities to the crown in front of him, nestled upon a black velvet cushion, were unmistakable. It had similar tendrils, or antlers, that would curve out of his hair. The same intricate design with intertwining shapes and engravings on the individual pieces. Noctis recognized something else as well though. He knew the design of his mother’s crown by heart. It had been inspired by his father’s but hers had warped around the back of her head with broader shapes. He had always liked to think of the shapes as wing-like, feathered out to curve around her head delicately. It curved forward from her ear, not going all the way around like a traditional crown. Attached to the ends at the front were a few jewels, that would sway ever so slightly. 

Noctis had never seen it on her in person, not that he could remember anyway, but there was a portrait of them from shortly after his birth where she had worn it. 

The crown presented to him combined both of his parents’. It wasn’t an exact replica of either, but he could see where the inspiration had come from. It would also wrap around his head, but the back would mostly disappear underneath his hair. Most of the design was focused on the ears and the side of the face. The crown had antlers on both sides, curling up from behind the ears similar to his father’s, but in a different pattern. It reached a bit further and would probably trail across his forehead a bit. 

Underneath the antlers, the band of the crown widened to fan out into a similar feather-like shape as his mothers’. The antlers were connected to the ends of the feathers with delicate silver jewelry which was inset with light blue gemstones.

“Those are blue calcite,” his father said. “They are meant to calm and absorb negative energy to turn it into positive.”

Noctis gave him a look. “You believe the stone stuff?” he asked, but Regis just smiled. 

“Whether or not they are capable of it, I believe there is no harm in letting them be there.”

Noctis shook his head but had to smile nevertheless. 

“Besides,” his father said. “They reminded me of your eyes. Of your mother’s eyes.”

Oh. They were indeed in a similar shade of blue. Noctis didn’t know what to say to that. “Thank you,” he said instead. He hadn’t expected to be gifted his crown today. The coronation had never been dependent on a crown, it had always been the Ring of Lucis that has been used to crown the next monarch. Maybe that is why they were allowed so much freedom with the actual crown.

“I may have acted a bit in self-interest, but would you do me the favor of wearing it to your birthday party?”

“The one at the citadel?” Noctis asked. 

“Yes, though you are welcome to wear it to the party with your friends as well,” his father said with an amused glint in his eyes. 

Noctis scoffed. “I will not. I mean- yes, to the party. The citadel one. Not the other one.”

The amused look on Regis’ face broadened. “Very well, I shall look forward to it.”

“Why now though?” Noctis asked. “I mean, thank you, but…”

“I thought it would be time,” Regis said. “When you were born, your mother and I had a few late-night discussions about your eventual crown. Aulea brought up gifting it to you when you turned sixteen. I felt it was appropriate to honor that.”

“You were already talking about my crown when I couldn’t even crawl?” Noctis asked with a suppressed laugh. 

His father’s expression softened, a hint of sadness coming through. “Indeed. We imagined a lot of what your future would look like,” he said. His hand brush Noctis’ fringe aside. “She'd be very proud of you. I am very proud of you, Noctis.”

Noctis could feel the heat crawling up his neck and he ducked his head. They rarely talked about this, about his mother or the more emotional aspects of their father-son relationship. Noctis never knew what to do with this, especially when his mother was brought up. It meant a lot that she would have approved of him and that his father was still here to voice his approval. He didn’t do it often, but often enough to remind his son that he supported him. 

He nodded his head faintly. 

“I believe you will make for a dashing young man at your party,” Regis said. 

Noctis tried not to grimace because it meant the full royal getup. Like, the royal -royal getup, not just a suit but everything . He always felt like he was wearing a costume and now with the crown, it would probably be even worse. Not that he disliked the crown. It was a beautiful piece of art and he couldn’t find any part of it that he disliked, he just didn’t feel worthy of actually wearing it. 

Regis closed the lid of the box and handed it to Noctis. “Feel free to wear it as you wish, it is your birthright after all.” He wouldn’t, but sure. He was about to leave when Regis called out to him again. “Wear it with pride, son. Your mother and I both believe in you.”

The lump in Noctis’ throat prevented his from saying anything so he just nodded, hoping to convey any unspoken words with that. 

 

 

--

 

 

“Do you think he will actually wear it?” Clarus asked once Noctis had left.

Regis smiled softly. “To the party, yes, after that- I’m not sure. Maybe, once he realizes it is only a symbol, not an additional burden.”

Clarus hummed. “It is a beautiful design. It will suit him well.”

“Thank you, friend.”

 

 

--

 

 

“Noct.”

Noctis whirled around to him like Ignis had caught him with his hand in the metaphorical cookie jar. Ignis crooked his head slightly. “Are you alright?”

Noctis stared at him before deflating and turning back to his bed. Ignis stepped closer and peered over his shoulder. Laid out on the mattress were a lot of black clothing pieces, different fabrics and a few belts. Heavy golden accessories were laid out and Ignis spotted a suspiciously embellished casing at the head of the bed. It didn’t take him long to figure out what was going on. 

“The party isn’t until a few hours,” he said. 

He didn’t receive an answer except for a withering look. 

“Would you perhaps like some help getting dressed later on?” Ignis offered and if the slump of the prince’s shoulders was anything to go by, he had hit the nail on the head. 

“It’s so much,” Noctis mumbled in lieu of giving an actual answer.

Ignis took it for what it was though. “Indeed, royal affairs require quite the amount of layers.” Noctis just pursed his lips unhappily. “Perhaps you’d like to try my latest attempt at those pastries? I’ve uncovered a rather intriguing herb combination from a Tenabraen vendor and I believe it might come close to the original.”

It had the desired effect. Noctis perked up a bit. “Do we have time for that?” he asked reluctantly, eyes shifting to the pile of clothing. 

Ignis waved his hand. “It is quite alright. We will get you changed in a breeze.”

Noctis shoulders relaxed a big. “Okay, thanks Iggy.”

“My pleasure. Now come, the dough is not going to stir itself.”

 

 

 

It took them no longer than an hour to get the pastries done and while it took Noctis’ mind off of things for a while, he was right back to worrying once it was time to get changed. Ignis had brought his own formal wear in a clothing bag, freshly ironed and perfectly crisp. He did not need to concern himself with his own outfit change, he would have that done in a couple minutes. Noctis’, however, might take a while longer. 

“Alright,” Ignis said. “Get changed into the undergarments and I will assist you with everything else.”

Noctis just hummed, the juxtaposition of his jeans and washed out T-shirt quite stark against what was laid out in front of him. Ignis let him be for a few minutes before he knocked onto the door and poked his head in. Noctis was just fastening the belt of his pants, already wearing those, socks and a tightly fitted tank top. Ignis smiled as he let himself inside. 

Noctis just huffed and rolled his eyes. “I know how to put on a belt,” he grumbled.

“Indeed,” Ignis said with a chuckle. “Gladio and Prompto should be over in a bit. Let’s put on the rest so we do not keep them waiting, shall we?”

All he got in return was a nod so he spent the next twenty minutes helping Noctis put on the different garments, tying hidden strings securely, adjusting this and that. Gladio and Prompto had already announced their arrival in the meantime, Ignis had told them to make themselves comfortable in the living room, they would be a while. 

After the suit jacket, it was mostly adjusting different pauldrons in the correct order, the cape in between and fastening the belt across Noctis’ chest. He brushed the high collar into shape before reaching for the sets of golden jewelry that would be draped on the outside. It was fastened seamlessly and surprisingly, Noctis held still for Ignis to tug on this and that until everything was in its rightful place. He gave an approving nod and Noctis dropped his outstretched arms. He shifted with a wrinkle of his nose but resigned himself to his fate. His eyes fell onto the dark box still remaining on the bed and Ignis’ curiosity got the better of him.

“What might this be?” he asked. 

Noctis released a heavy breath and steered him towards the door of his room with hands on his shoulders. “You should get ready. I’ll be out in a bit and we can go.”

It was a clear dismissal and Ignis did not protest. He retrieved his clothing bag and headed into the guestroom to get changed. It took him no more than ten minutes since he had done majority of the work before leaving his own apartment. Another minute was spent on brushing his hair back in to shape and checking that his glasses were spotless. He moved into the living room and nodded in approval upon finding both Gladio and Prompto in their proper outfits. 

Gladio must have helped Prompto with his since the poor high schooler had never worn anything more formal than his required school uniform. However, there was an apparent lack of one particularly important person. Before Ignis could open his mouth, Gladio had already done so. 

“Noct!”

“Coming,” came the muffled reply. It still took a few moments for the door to open and for steps to echo down the hallway. Noctis stepped into the living room and Ignis immediately knew what had been in that black box. 

“Dude, holy shit!” Prompto said, never having seen Noctis in his rather princely outfit, and took quite long to take it all in. It was a lot, after all. 

Ignis shared a quick look with Gladio who had also spotted the new addition immediately. They had not expected this. It seemed it was a rather new development as Noctis looked even more deflated than he usually did when he wore his official royal robes. 

“It very much suits you,” Ignis said softly. There was no need for clarification, Noctis hesitant look told him he had understood. 

“All princely, princess,” Gladio added with a toothy grin.

Prompto looked a bit confused and then squinted at Noctis. His eyes widened once he noticed and he stood up to stalk closer. “Wait,” he said slowly. “Wait. Are you- You’re wearing a crown?” he gushed like a grandma sending her grandchild off to a school dance. “Oh Astrals, I’ve never seen this before. Dude, this looks so cool!”

“It was dad’s birthday present,” Noctis mumbled and ah- that made much sense. While it wasn’t an official tradition, many heirs to the Lucian throne had received their crown on their sixteenth birthday.

Prompto gasped. “It has antlers!”

Gladio snorted and Ignis had a school his features to not openly scowl. It tickled a snicker out of Noctis though so he wouldn’t say anything about calling a royal crown ‘antlers’. For now.

“Right?” Noctis said lightly as if that was a normal way to describe a crown.

Prompto leaned back and forth to get a glimpse from all side. “How does it even stay on? Is it floating? Magic?”

This time Noctis almost laughed. He gently lifted the crown from his head, a few pieces of hair curling around the different parts before slipping away to reveal its shape. Prompto ogled the intricate design. “It looks like it’s just floating on your head. Like your dad’s.”

Noctis hummed softly. “It’s modeled after my mom’s and dad’s crowns.”

Ignis quickly realized why the shapes were somewhat familiar to him and he couldn’t hide a soft smile. Noctis settled the delicate piece back onto his head and Prompto adjusted his hair without hesitation. Within a moment, the seemingly floating crown was back in its rightful place. 

Noctis heaved a heavy sigh. “Onwards and upwards,” he murmured as he brushed his hands down his impeccable robes. “Alright, let’s get going boys.”

“Can’t have the birthday boy be late to his own party,” Prompto gushed and ushered his royal birthdayness out of the apartment. 

“I can just hide in a bathroom until it’s over, right?” Noctis muttered.

“Take off the crown if you’re gonna be a brat,” Gladio said. 

“No can do,” Noctis said with a flippant wave. “Dad said it was my birthright to wear it, so suck it.” He stuck his tongue out at his shield. 

“Oh damn, wish I could have been born with a birthright to antlers,” Prompto lamented as they stepped into the polished elevator. The comment once again earned him a snort from Gladio and a snicker from Noctis which seemed to please him above anything else. 

“Please refrain from referring to the heir’s crown as antlers,” Ignis said, barely managing to keep the bewilderment out of his voice. He sort of knew it was a fruitless endeavor but he could try nonetheless.

“But Iggy, it looks like antlers!” Prompto gestured to the crown as if that would prove his point.

“It certainly does not.”

“It kinda does.”

Ignis stared down – up – at Gladio, the traitor, who just mimicked some sort of misshapen antlers with his fingers, like the overgrown child he was. 

“It does,” Noctis said and Ignis could hardly declare his prince a traitor so he just gave him a withering expression as well. Noctis grinned, completely undeterred by his advisor’s misery. “I thought my dad had antlers as a kid. I think I freaked out when I pulled the crown off his ear for the first time.”

Prompto wheezed in an attempt to suppress his laugh. “You never saw him without it or what?”

“No, I did, I just never connected the dots. It was either on or off, I never got to see the transition between that. I think in my head I did the equivalent of pulling someone’s arm off when I pulled on it. So kid-me freaked out.”

This time Prompto wasn’t as successful hiding his laughter. He wanted to slap Noctis shoulder but the outfit was a bit too elaborate for that so he settled on swiping at his side a few times. 

Noctis too seemed please with his accomplishment.

 

 

 

The closer they got to the citadel, the more Noctis’ expression morphed into a carefully constructed mask. Ignis had always wished for him to grow out of his difficulties with social settings. Unfortunately, he never had and Ignis doubted he would at this point. It made gatherings, especially occasions where he was the center focus, all the more challenging and draining on him. There was only so much Ignis could do from the spot at his side.

They had, however, come up with a neat little system of subtle signals when Noctis needed a break. While Ignis didn’t flourish in social settings in the same way Gladio did, it was still jarring sometimes to see Noctis all but deflating and sometimes even collapsing onto any available surface the moment they snuck him away from the chaos to give him a second to breathe. It would look like he’d just leave their plane of existence for as long as he could until he had to pull himself back into his body. 

When Noctis had been younger, he hadn’t been able to communicate his need for a break as reliably so there had been a few gatherings where he had dissociated, a term Ignis hadn’t even know existed. Or he’d been skirting around something like a panic attack until finally someone had realized he hadn’t just been quiet on purpose. Unfortunately a lot of people preferred a quiet prince over a child’s chatter and curiosity.

Now they worked better as a team and even Gladio, how had no trouble chatting up people for five hours straight, would whisk Noctis away with a convenient excuse and give him a much-needed two-minute break. Or he’d take over the conversation for a moment, but neither he nor Ignis, or now Prompto, could talk for Noctis. They could add a bit, but people wanted to talk to the crown prince, not his retainers and it would be impolite to ignore this.

Noctis couldn’t hide the wrinkle of his nose as they turned onto the main street leading up to the citadel. “When I give you the signal, please shoot me,” Noctis said with a straight face, aiming the instruction at Gladio, without turning his head, who in turn gave him a funny look.

“Sure, I’ll hit you with a tranquilizer when you try to escape. I’ve actually just restocked them.” Gladio patted an imaginary pocket on his uniform.

“I’ll warp from the top of the Citadel, you can’t stop me.”

“I’ll make you empty out the Armiger.”

“I’m gonna throw the crown.”

“Now that I wanna see.”

“Gentlemen,” Ignis sighed. Prompto, who had followed the exchange with big eyes, was the first to look at him. “May I remind you that we are going to a birthday party , not an execution.”

“Same thing,” Noctis muttered. “Torture.”

“If you need a break-”

“I know,” came the quick response. Noctis deflated in his seat. No one should look this defeated on their birthday. Well, almost birthday as technically it had been two days ago. “I just hate this and I hate that I’m not good at it.”

“We can’t all be charming,” Gladio said with a teasing smile but underneath they all knew he was just trying to cheer him up. At least they had one unarguably extroverted person present. 

“We are arriving in thirty seconds, your highness,” the driver said, of course acting like he hadn’t heard a thing from their conversation just now. 

“I’m going to sacrifice you,” Noctis muttered towards Gladio, who just smiled bemusedly. He once again brushed his hands down his robes and fiddled with the crown on his head without actually moving it. His eyes flickered to Ignis’ out of habit, the question remaining unsaid. Ignis dutifully checked if everything was in place and gave an approving nod. The crown really did suit him. It was subtle enough to not draw all eyes to it, but unique and elegant so once people noticed, they would study it for a moment. And while Ignis would continue to refuse calling it antlers, it did have a somewhat otherworldly appearance, like it had been taken out of a fairy tale book. 

Noctis closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath. He then held out his hand and turned to Prompto who grabbed it without having to think about it. “If you get freaked out, you have royal permission to flee the premises,” Noctis said seriously.

Prompto’s eyebrows did a funny dance as he tried to follow the instructions. “Uh- sure, dude.”

“Just take me with you.”

“I think the guards will be on my ass before we can even make it out the door.”

Noctis grumbled something about ‘disloyal people’ but squeezed Prompto’s hand for both their sakes before letting go. “Seriously though, just- it’ll be fine.”

Prompto patted his knee sympathetically. Ignis wasn’t too worried about him. He might get nervous and jittery, but he was charming in his own way and polite without having to try. They all wordlessly agreed to try and make this night as easy as possible on Noct.

Which started immediately as their car pulled up to the steps of the Citadel. Journalists and photographers were buzzing around, Crownsguard keeping them in check and directing attendees towards the entrance. 

“Oh damn,” Prompto said.

“I’m dead, I’m fine, I’ll die. Goodbye,” Noctis mumbled at no one in particular. 

“That’s the spirit,” Gladio said easily and moved to open the door. He was the first to step out with Ignis and Prompto following up. Immediately all heads and cameras turned towards them. Noctis’ retainers were no state secret and the press meanwhile knew the prince wouldn’t be far once they showed up. 

On cue, the prince stepped out of the car with far more grace than he usually managed. Gladio immediately hovered behind his back, expression serious as he focused on his job. As much as he joked around and appeared laid-back, he turned into a protective bodyguard in an instant and always had at least one eye on their surroundings. 

“Prince Noctis!”

“A word please!”

“How did you spend your birthday?”

“Your highness!”

Noctis slapped on his unofficially dubbed Prince-Smile and headed up the stairs without stopping to answer any questions. If he stopped for one reporter, he’d had to stop for many – and he’d rather not, so he stuck to smiling and waving. He made his way up without looking rushed, though Ignis knew he’d warp all the way to the entrance in a single breath if he could. 

Thankfully, perhaps due to Gladio’s imposing figure, they weren’t stopped by any overambitious journalists and managed to get to the entrance just fine. 

“I think my retinas were burned off,” Prompto whined as he pressed hands against his eyes. “That were way too many cameras.”

“It was quite the usual amount,” Ignis said lightly and Prompto made a horrified face. 

“Your highness!” One of Regis’ secretaries came scurrying over in high heels and a fitted pencil dress. A black folder was in her hands and a pen tucked behind her ear, almost blending in with her artful hairstyle. “Good, good, you’re here. Happy belated birthday, your Highness.”

“Hi Camilla, thanks,” Noctis said. He was more than used to her rather frazzled way of organizing. Somehow she pulled it off, but she always looked slightly stressed out. 

She adjusted her glasses, glanced up at him and then did a double take, noticing the crown no doubt. “Oh…” she said softly, staring for a moment and then blinking out of her daze. “Oh, it’s- His majesty made a good choice, it is very fitting.”

Noctis managed a smile. “Thank you.”

Camilla focused back onto her folder. “Alright, his highness. One, two, three.” She pointed at Gladio, Ignis and Prompto and then scribbled into her folder. “Alright, all set. Please enjoy the evening, your highness.” She bowed and before they could say anything she was already rushing off towards another guest. Ignis would always marvel at her speed whilst wearing high heels.

He ushered them along, unwilling to already be stopped for small talk when they were not even in the grand hall yet. The two Crownsguard next to the opened double doors knocked their fists against their chests as they approached and bowed their heads. The hall was already filled with mingling people, servers walked around with trays of campaign, which neither Prompto nor Noctis could make use of. Someone appeared with two flutes of non-alcoholic champagne and soon they all had glasses in their hands. 

Prompto sniffed his suspiciously. “Smells bitter.”

“The real thing’s worse,” Noctis said. Not that he had ever tried actual champagne. What? No, Gladio would never let him take a sip from his own glass and then laugh at the face he’d make. ‘Like you just ate a lemon.’ Ignis didn’t know anything about that. The prince was still underage, of course he hadn’t consumed alcohol before.

Gladio swirled his champagne around. “Weakling.”

Noctis looked like he would like to summon a dagger and stab his shield in between the ribs. Thankfully he refrained from murder for now. It made Ignis’ job marginally easier. 

Their arrival did not go by unnoticed for long, a string of people all wanted to talk to Noctis. Members of the council, noblemen and women, a few established journalists who had been invited to the event. Most started off their conversation with more or less heartfelt birthday wishes. Ignis quietly relayed information and names into Noctis’ ear, as per usual, because Noctis was hopeless at names and could not keep track of all the people, their partners, positions and whatnot. 

It was very similar to what Clarus did for King Regis in rare moments. A single person could not retain all of this information and also run a country.

They had just successfully managed to redirect Mrs. Cotswall’s attention towards the unsuspecting members of the agriculture committee, when yet another person demanded their attention.

“Prince Noctis!”

The group turned towards an elderly man who hobbled in their direction. He was bent forward and leaning heavily onto an elaborately detailed walking stick. One leg dragged behind a bit more than the other but his outfit was impeccable, as always. Just a step behind him trailed a girl with a carefully neutral expression. Her coral-colored gown swept across the floor and her hair was done up with lots of glittering flower pins.

“Astrals,” Noctis murmured almost inaudibly, but his pleasantly positive expression didn’t change in the slightest. Both Ignis and Gladio made sure theirs didn’t slip into one of amusement either while Prompto was left in the dark regarding what was about to transpire. 

“Lord Chester,” Noctis said politely with an incline of his head. A prince never bowed, as was protocol, unless he met someone of similar standing, so this was the most respectful thing he could do. “I’m pleased to see you could join us this evening.”

The old man waved his free hand dismissively, the hand on his walking stick wobbled dangerously. “A party is a party. How old is it yer are again? It’s ya birthday, right?”

“Yes, sixteen, my lord.”

“Sixteen! Now, sixteens were always the wildest parties back in my days, if you know what I mean.” He managed a wink as if he were telling an unofficial secret and a gruff laugh that sounded more like an onslaught of coughing. Prompto’s eyebrows almost disappeared in his hairline and he sent a wide-eyed look at the others. Ignis remained professional as always but Gladio looked a bit too amused to pass off as normal. 

Lord Chester recovered from his coughing fit and carried on. “Enough of that. Your highness, I wanted to introduce my granddaughter Emilia to you.” He gestured towards the girl next to him and then continued with emphasis. “She is a very nice young lady, very pretty, very smart.”

“Grandpa,” Emilia said, soft but bordering on exasperated. He waved away her objection as if swatting away a fly. She turned to Noctis and did a small courtesy. “Your highness.”

Noctis inclined his head again and suppressed the grin that wanted to take over his face. Ignis sent him a sharp look that went ignored. “Lady Chester, it is a pleasure to met you.”

Her expression remained remarkably pleasant as she nodded. 

Lord Chester was already waiting with his next announcement. “Now, your highness, back in my day, birthday parties were a great way to get to know the ladies. Dance with them, get a feel for them.” He moved his body back and forth as if to imitate dancing, in a capacity his condition allowed him, though his free hand drifted quite a bit lower than the usual position in a circular motion.

Prompto barely succeeded muffling whatever sound was trying to escape him. Emilia shot daggers at her grandfather silently. Gladio pressed his lips into a thin line. Noctis and Ignis managed to keep their carefully constructed expressions intact, choosing to ignore the feigned groping. 

“I believe this is a wonderful opportunity for the youth,” Lord Chester continued, either oblivious or unbothered. He tapped his walking stick onto the polished floor a few times as if sealing whatever fate he had just decided. “I will leave you to it then. Emilia, tell them about that competition you won!”

“Of course, grandpa,” she said sweetly.

“Your highness.” Lord Chester hobbled away without further ado and Noctis didn’t even have time to bid a proper goodbye. He was surprisingly fast with a walking stick for a man of his age. Emilia’s expression dropped into a heated glare as soon as he was a few steps away but reeled it back towards deadpan as she turned to them.

“I am so sorry, he gets worse every time.”

Noctis’ smile morphed into something more genuine and familiar. “Honestly, I think this might be up there.”

She released an exasperated breath and covered her face with an immaculately manicured hand for a moment. “I won an art contest at school in fourth grade and he thinks I won a national competition last week.”

“Well, that’s more art contests than I’ve won, so count me impressed.”

Emilia sent him a long-suffering look before her eyes flickered up to the crown atop his head. “New accessory?” she asked with a genuine smile.

Noctis shrugged. “Gift from dad.”

“Looks nice.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m sorry,” Prompto cut in, utterly confused. “What just happened?”

“Ah.” Noctis turned to his friend. “Right. Emilia, this is Prompto. Prom, this is Emilia. We’re meeting for the first time every time we meet.”

The question mark on Prompto’s face was hard to miss.

“My grandfather’s memory is questionable at best,” Emilia sighed. “Amongst other things. He introduces me to Noctis every time we are invited to royal events. I must have happened around ten times by now and every time he has a new set of awkward things to say.” She brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “But I get to wear pretty dresses so it’s a burden I’m willing to carry. We can’t really let him out of the house unsupervised anymore.”

Prompto nodded slowly. “Understandable.”

“I can see your grandfather staring daggers at us,” Noctis said, trying hard not to turn his head and stare back. The old many was watching them like he had just planted the seeds for a scheme no one else knew about. All he needed was a cape and some smoke and he’d make for a perfectly sinister carton villain. “Care for a dance?”

“My shoes have rougher soles, so no slipping this time,” Emilia said proudly.

“Great, less acrobatics for me.” Noctis offered her his am and swept her away to the dance floor, leaving Gladio to hold two half-emptied flutes which he knocked back and placed on a passing waiter’s tray.

“They grow up so quickly,” he sniffled and wiped away an imaginary tear.

“This might be one of the sole reasons he has gotten better at dancing,” Ignis said somewhat proudly as he saw Noctis not even floundering as he and Emilia fell into step with proper posture and hand placements – no groping, obviously. The string orchestra had been playing a wonderful selection of ballroom pieces, a list surely curated by one of Regis’ assistants. Ignis could appreciate the care and attention to detail put into it even if Noctis couldn’t care less about the classical music selection.

“The first time he stepped on Emilia’s foot must have unlocked a new fear.”

“I didn’t know he actually knew how to dance,” Prompto said as he watched his best friend twirl around the dance floor between other pairs. Emilia’s dress moved beautifully and flared just the right amount whenever she turned. Her heels were the exact same shade of coral as her gown. 

“As a royal it would be a disgrace to not know at least the mere basics of standard Lucian ballroom,” Ignis said, much how he had tried to instill this onto his unwilling charge. “Though Noctis has never had a particular interest in dancing. He obliges when he must.”

“But Emilia’s actually a pretty good dancer,” Gladio said with a grin. “Makes him want to practice so he doesn’t get embarrassed.”

“So no dancing with every female member of nobility on every occasion?” Prompto asked. “To ‘get to know the ladies’?”

“I believe that is more Gladiolus’ field of expertise,” Ignis said dryly.

Gladio’s grin turned wolfish and he didn’t deny it. Prompto snorted and turned back to watching his friend dance. It actually looked surprisingly noble and fancy, dressed up to the nines with a crown on his head and an equally fancy dressed partner. A few people pointed and looked but it didn’t seem like Noctis was bothered for once. 

Ignis knew there was absolutely no romantic interest between the two, neither from Noctis nor Emilia, despite what her grandfather hoped for. She just happened to be around Noctis age and was very easy to talk to. She didn’t walk on tiptoes around Noctis and did not care too much about his position as the crown prince. Still, they made for a suitable pair on the dance floor and it was nice to see Noctis actually enjoying one part of these official gatherings.

They made it through three dances before Emilia bid her farewell for now and hurried off to one of her friends she had just spotted. A few other ladies were hoping to seize the opportunity but were, in the end, discouraged by Noctis utter lack of acknowledging anyone else and making a beeline towards his friends. At least he managed to make it look aloof rather than intentional.

“Welcome back, Prince Charming,” Prompto teased and Noctis rolled his eyes at him. 

“What, you want a dance too?”

Prompto blinked at him, instantly flustered. “Uh… I mean-”

“Come on.”

“Okay, yeah, sure,” Prompto babbled, barely managing to hand his flute to Ignis who handed it to Gladio who emptied that one as well.

He made a face. “Non-alcoholic just doesn’t taste right.”

“I will forward your complaint,” Ignis said passively, watching Noctis and Prompto with a barely concealed smile.

Noctis knew the steps for both the leading and following part, the latter mostly so he could better understand the dance. Prompto did not know either part so their dance consisted of Noctis very obviously trying to pull and twist an unknowing Prompto along while keeping them from bumping into other pairs. It was quite a task and they looked utterly stifled but both of them were grinning from one ear to the other and falling out of step every so often to snicker. 

Ignis wished they could spend the entire evening like this but unfortunately he had to subtly signal his prince to return after two dances. He could feel the stares of more awaiting people and while they often managed to fly somewhat under the radar at most royal functions, this was Noctis’ birthday party. He could hardly hide from that. Noctis faced dimmed just a tad when he noticed but he still looked cheerful enough when he dragged Prompto off the dance floor. 

“Dude, you made it look so easy, what the hell?” Prompto said. 

“I bet if you danced with Iggy or Gladio, you’d be doing much better,” Noctis said.

Gladio winked when Prompto looked at him and the poor boy actually turned a bit red. 

“Why does everyone know how to dance except for me?” he hissed conspiratorially. 

“Be glad you didn’t have to learn,” Noctis muttered. “I think there are more fun things to do than learning ballroom at seven.”

“Yeah, like eating bugs and uncovering toads in the sandbox.”

“I guess.”

“Your highness.”

Ignis was immediately a bit more alert, as was Gladio. Noctis’ face morphed into a carefully neutral expression, just enough to still be conceived as polite. He turned to the man who had just approached them. Ignis watched, as it was the only thing he could do.

“Lord Verant,” Noctis said, keeping his head still.

The man’s expression didn’t change in the slightest, he merely inclined his head. “I see the King has gifted you your crown.” Noctis didn’t grace him with an answer to that obvious observation, so he continued. “I do hope you shall wear it well. It is an awful burden placed on such young shoulders.”

Noctis sent him an emotionless smile. “Thank you for your concern, Lord Verant.”

Ignis was almost proud. He had often told Noctis that less was more. The less he said, the less he gave people to hold over him or undermine him with, the more frustrated and bored they would get. Noctis didn’t always manage to find the fragile balance between polite political talk with undeniable subtext and a stifled interaction, but he had gotten better. 

Lord Verant stared defiantly for a moment. The man had always had an agenda against Noctis, like many members of the council. It was veiled behind backhanded concern and seemingly well-meaning questions. What exactly their goal was, Ignis wasn't sure. It seemed they were convinced they could change the entirety of the person that was Noctis merely by complaining enough. Moving the prince out of the citadel had done wonders for his mental health, but the council had only grown more agitated.

“We shall hope this will not be a bad omen. After all, King Regis had to ascend the throne too soon as well. I remember he had been given his crown around the same time.”

Noctis stared at the man blankly. Ignis’ eye wanted to twitch and while he managed to not let it show, he saw Gladios’ eyes narrowing.

Lord Verant’s gaze shifted over to Prompto and looked him up and down critically. Ignis saw Noctis bristling. He could tolerate unnecessary and rude comments about himself, but he had never been able to let that slide once it concerned those close to him. Whatever the man had planned on saying, Ignis' took the chance to defuse the situation.

“Your highness, I believe your presence is required elsewhere. The Marshall would like a word.”

Cor was staring somewhat listlessly into the crowd, not assigned to guard duty, as his title demanded him to be present as a guest rather than a member of security. Not one for aimless chitchat, he was available and noticed Ignis' gaze rather quickly. It took him only a moment to assess the situation. He put two and two together and played his part immediately before Lord Verant turned to him to confirm Ignis’ claim.

“Please excuse me, Lord Verant,” Noctis said coldly, not sparing him another look.

The man just bowed his head – “Happy Birthday, your highness” – and left. To keep up appearances, Ignis led them over to Cor who looked as unamused as Noctis surely felt. Prompto just followed them wide-eyed.

“Having fun?” Cor asked in that deadpan voice of his.

Noctis sent him a glare which wrung something akin to a smile out of the man along with a change of topic. 

“Good to see it's made its way onto your head. Thought Regis would keep fretting over it instead of actually giving it to you.”

Noctis’ ruffled feathers smoothed out a bit. 

“You know, he told everyone about those stones.”

Noctis scoffed. “I knew he believed the stone stuff.”

Cor shrugged. “Perhaps it’s the proximity to a magic rock.” He turned to look at Prompto, his gaze not at all judging where Lord Verant’s had been. “Argentum,” he said and Prompto snapped to attention. He looked like he wanted to salute.

“Yes, sir?!” he squeaked. 

The flicker of amusement on Cor’s face was quickly suppressed. Couldn’t show he was having fun at a royal function – unthinkable. “Good to finally see your face. His highness blabs about you often enough.”

Prompto opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure what to say. 

“Just ignore him,” Noctis said. Prompto sent him a half-panicked look.

The influx of people wasn’t deterred for long, even with The Immortal’s presence. Cor slipped away at some point and let them fend for themselves. It was another hour before the buffet was opened up with the main courses and not just small snacks, and they finally got a bit of a breather. Noctis sent Ignis a rather prominent stare and he made sure to check all angles of their surroundings before deeming a small escape appropriate. 

They slipped out of the ballroom and into a well-hidden staircase for members of staff – or anyone who wanted to get from point A to point B quickly without being bothered. Noctis released an almost pained sound and moved to squat down in a corner. It was a rather unorthodox sight for the prince, in his royal garments, to loiter in a hidden staircase but alas, here they were and no one would say anything. Though it took only a few moments for Noctis to shift and actually sit down on the lowest step of the stairs instead. 

“Tell me when we need to move,” he murmured and then stared off into the distance blankly. 

“How upset you think my father will be if I’m hungover tomorrow?” Gladio mused at no one in particular after a small moment of silence. “I bet I could sneak a bottle of that wine out of here.” 

Ignis forced his eyes away from his dissociating charge. “I daresay – very. Though what he does not know, he shall not be upset about.” While Gladio had consumed some alcohol this evening, he only did it to keep up appearances and because he was well-aware of his limits – which were quite impressive. He’d never wager Noctis’ safety to get drunk, but there was nothing written against enjoying a drink once his shift was over. 

The corner of Gladio’s mouth twitched into a smirk. “Wise words, Scientia.”

“I’m sure if you plead for refuge, his highness will grant you shelter until the storm passes.”

“Is he okay?” Prompto asked in between their conversation, staring at Noctis with concern written all over his face. It was, after all, the first time he had come along to a royal function.

“As well as he can be, given the circumstances,” Ignis said regretfully. 

“I’m sure you’ve noticed, princess’ social battery is the size of a teaspoon,” Gladio said helpfully. “This is him trying to power charge that.”

“Damn,” Prompto mumbled. “He’s never been like that with me.”

“From what I understand,” Ignis said, “there are situations and people that are more draining than others. And apparently, we enjoy the privilege of causing significantly less drain.”

Prompto blinked in surprise. “Oh, that’s- that’s nice.”

Ignis smiled. “Indeed.”

They waited for a few minutes but as usual, Ignis was the bearer of unwanted news. “Noct?” The prince was still sitting on the steps and staring off into the void. “Noct?”

They couldn’t hide out for much longer and the king would be holding his speech soon where his son had to look like his consciousness was not floating in outer space. 

“Noctis?”

Noctis blinked as if trying to clear his vision, he needed several moments to find his bearings again. At least they didn’t have to tell him what was going on this time around. He sighed heavily and stood up. 

“Hey princess, can I crash at your place tonight?” Gladio asked and Noctis looked like a needed two, three seconds to compute the sounds as words and those as a question. 

He shook his head. “You are all crashing at my place tonight,” he said with some sort of finality. 

“Yay, sleepover!” Prompto cheered. 

Ignis furrow his brows. “Are you certain your father does not wish for you to-”

“Ignis, I will literally fling myself off the citadel if anyone tries to make me stay longer than I have to. Father or not.”

Ignis hid his amusement at the dramatic – but accurate – description behind his glasses. “Very well. We shall grasp the opportunity to evacuate the premises once it arises. Until then, I believe the King shall make his speech in about fifteen minutes.”

Noctis groaned but composed himself at the same time. He straightened out his clothes and pulled a proper facial expression back out of the depths. “Alright, let’s get back to it.”

 

 

 

Several hours later, just shy of three in the morning, three people stumbled into Noctis’ apartment, flailing to get their shoes off in the dark while Ignis brought up the rear and flicked the light switch for everyone’s convenience. 

Noctis started taking off things as he went and left a trail of royal pauldrons, jewelry, clothing and belts behind which Ignis frowned at. He picked them up as he followed Noctis to his room to at least place them somewhere properly. Gladio was helping Prompto out of his outfit in the living room. 

Ignis entered just as Noctis was pulling a shirt over his head, sweatpants already on. He looked at Ignis and then at the pile of clothing in his arms sheepishly. “I’d have picked them up,” he mumbled and ignored Ignis’ disbelievingly raised eyebrow.

“Of course,” Ignis said mildly and draped the clothes over a chair. He’d have to take them to the dry cleaner anyway, no need for neat folding. He changed out of his own outfit in the guest bedroom and went back to the living room where Prompto was lying in a heap on the couch and Gladio was enjoying a glass of wine. Or rather, Noctis was taking a sip from his glass of wine and made a face like he had just taken a bite out of lemon – once again.

“Wine tastes awful,” Prompto said into the cushion of the couch. 

Ignis sighed audibly and sent Gladio a look. The other just shrugged. “Prince ordered me to.”

Noctis frowned at him and placed the glass back onto the table. “Don’t throw me under the bus.” He scrunched up his nose and smacked his lips a few times. “This might be worse than vegetables.”

Ignis couldn’t help but snort. “Alas, the day has come.” 

“I just said might!” Noctis pointed out quickly. 

Gladio picked his glass back up and took a long sip without any grimacing. “You’re just weak, your weakness. B’sides, you gonna wear that to bed?” He nodded towards Noctis’ head where his crown was still nestled in his hair. 

Noctis apparently hadn’t realized, cause he tapped at his head to search for whatever Gladio had meant and blinked when he touched the crown. “Oh.”

“I mean,” Gladio shrugged, “you do you. Probably won’t be comfortable, though.”

“Lest you get a dent in it,” Ignis murmured mostly to himself. 

“But the antlers,” Prompto lamented into the couch, sounding more asleep by the second.

Noctis plucked the crown from his head and stared at it in his hands. He looked unsure about what to do with it, opening his mouth as if to ask but then closing it again. His eyebrows furrowed and his fingers flexed around the delicate piece. Ignis was sure they could just place it into its casing and find it a secure spot. He was about to suggest so when the crown disappeared in a flash of blue and splintering glass. 

“Noctis.” The scolding slipped out without him even realizing. Noctis just sent him a defiant look. 

“What?” he asked. 

“I’m sure we could have found a better place for your crown than in the armiger.”

“Why? It’s safe in there,” Noctis argued almost defensively. Ignis was about to object when he continued. “And I don’t wanna lose it.”

Which was a statement that made Ignis hold back any other objections. Noctis could not be described as a hoarder or a sentimental collector. He was not the most organized nor the most tidy, but he did not cling to each and everything in his possession with questionable justifications. However, he did have a somewhat difficult relationship with objects and possession he considered important. Largely because in his childhood, people around him have often decided whether to keep something or not, regardless of his opinion. It had happened regularly that a nurse maid had gotten rid of a toy because it had become unsightly or damaged. And sometimes just because it hadn’t seemed like Noctis had cared about it. The same had happened with clothing, books and other possessions. All of this had lead Noctis to be very particular about who was allowed to touch his things. 

Ignis, while he kept stock on most of Noctis’ possession, never removed anything without his permission however minor it was. Noctis largely didn’t care about what was in the cupboards of his kitchen and would usually just shrug when Ignis inquired about the necessity for ten different baking dishes and whether he wanted to keep all of them. Fact was, Ignis had permission to go through Noctis’s cupboards and even his closet because he knew he would not remove any items without checking in with him first.

“Very well,” he said. “Just don’t mix it up with any weapons. And maybe put it in it’s casing regardless.”

Noctis subtly rolled his eyes, like the teenager he was, but agreed nonetheless. “Fine.”

Prompto lifted his head out of the couch cushion. His hair stuck up wildly, more wild than the usual organized mess, that was. “You think it’s treason if I wear the crown for Halloween?”

Noctis snorted. “You know what? I’ll get you a really nice antler crown for Halloween.”

Prompto looked delighted about the idea. “That’s the shit, dude. We’ll be matching.” He turned his head to look at them. “You should get Iggy and Gladio one as well.”

“Sure, one for each of you so everyone knows we belong together.”

For some reason, Ignis didn’t feel too horrible about wearing such antlers in the future.

 

 

Notes:

For anyone who wants to see what I looked at when trying to create Noctis' crown - Aulea Regis
Couldn't really find the official lookbook for Regis anymore so I guess this will have to do.

Chapter 3: Chapter Three: The First Warp

Notes:

Everyone, let's welcome Nyx into the story! I love Nyx and I hate we don't have any official interaction between him and Noctis, so we just have to make our own.
Also, I have no idea about what age Noctis would have started warp training, so you'll just have to roll with it.
I want to write another chapter with Nyx and the other glaives and them hanging out with Noctis. I have a few ideas but we'll see what and if I'll get to writing.

 

“Your highness.”

Noctis looked up in surprise at the unusual tone of casualness and came face to face with an unfamiliar person. Which in itself wasn’t unusual, the palace employed and housed many people, too many for Noctis to know or even recognize all of them. This man, however, looked quite out of place. He didn’t wear any of the staff nor the Crownsguard attire. It took him a moment to recognize the Kingsglaive uniform since he rarely got to see anyone in it. The glaives didn’t tend to stay around the Citadel much, at least not the areas where Noctis hung out. They had training rooms and other facilities, but they weren’t usually tasked with anything directly related to the royal family and their day-to-day business.

The man also had an interesting hairstyle, swept back and quite long down his neck. The sides were shaved unequal amounts with a multitude of braids outlining the patches. Small ribbons and beads were intertwined with the strands. Noctis had never seen a man wear his hair like this, he had only ever seen braids on girls. Not to mention the small tattoos on the man’s face, ears and neck. They looked a little random, dots and lines that didn’t seem to make much sense. 

Noctis had been staring for a while, as he noticed with a start. The man’s easygoing expression didn’t change though, apparently not bothered by his moment of awe. 

“I believe his Majesty may have mentioned something about warp training?”

Noctis snapped his mouth shut – when had he opened it? – and stood up straighter. Indeed, his father had told him about warp practice, specifically that his was to start soon with someone who was an expert on the topic. For a moment Noctis had dared to hoped his father would show him how to do it himself, since he was the most knowledgeable expert, obviously, but he had been informed rather promptly that that wouldn’t be the case. Actually, he had been told they would start on this day, at this time, in this place – one of the training halls for the Crownsguard.

And instead of his father, he would be having lessons with-

“Nyx Ulric,” Noctis recited, trying not to still sound dazed by the man’s unusual appearance. 

Nyx smiled. “Indeed, at your service, your highness.” He thumped his fist above his heart and bowed his head. 

“You’ll show me how to warp?” Noctis asked, unable to hide how excited he was, even if his teacher wasn’t his father. The whole warping thing has been on his mind for as long as he could remember, ever since he learned about it. He’s been asking his father to please teach him for years and while it had taken way too long, the king had finally relented. Noctis could be persistent if he wanted to be. Gladio would call it annoying but persistent sounded better.

“Sure thing,” Nyx said and Noctis didn’t even have time to be amazed by his casualness yet again. He had been told most of the glaives were not Insomnians, that they came from outlying territories, most of which had been conquered by the Empire. He wasn’t sure if that made them foreigners or not, if that meant they would be acting differently, but he didn’t care. He had never really cared about proper etiquette and how people addressed him. He liked it better when people acted somewhat normal around him even if he didn’t have much frame of reference about what normal actually was. 

“Dad said the glaives can warp as well.” He had never seen it in action though.

“We can. It’s a power on loan from his Majesty, but we can.”

“Show me?” Noctis rarely demanded things and even now it was a question, a request at best, but not a demand. He had learned at a young age that demanding things in his position was a very tricky thing and that he had to be mindful with it.

Nyx complied easily though and pulled out a strange weapon from beneath the flap of his coat. He threw the curved knife up, disappeared with a noise of shattering glass and reappeared up in the air. Noctis’ mouth dropped open again as he saw the man basically flying, but within the blink of an eye, the knife lodged itself into the ground in front of him and Nxy reappeared where he had been only three seconds ago. 

Noctis gaped at him. 

His father had mostly been too drained to do much warping. He couldn’t remember the last time he had actually seen him do it and not just phase through something. He had also never seen it used in combat or any fast-paced environment. Theoretically, he knew what it was used for and how it was an advantage, but knowing and seeing were two different things. A feeling of giddiness spread through him and he had to fight hard to keep it from showing. 

Nyx saw right through him though, an eleven-year-old wasn’t exactly subtle. “It’s cool, huh?”

Noctis nodded. “I’m not sure how to do that,” he admitted in a rare show of honesty but felt comfortable doing so in front of Nyx. He didn’t like confessing he did not know how to do something. Sometimes it felt like people expected him to just magically be able to do things or know things without any prior knowledge. Of course he wouldn’t know how to warp, but it seemed outsiders thought of it as something as ingrained to him as the birthright to the throne. Whatever that entailed.

“We’ll get there,” Nyx said easily. “It’s not exactly intuitive and can be a bit scary until you know how to do it properly. But for now- You have your armiger, right?”

Noctis stood up a bit straighter. “Uh- I- yes?”

Nyx crooked his head. “Show me what you got in there?”

Noctis blinked a few times, unsure why this was relevant. He’s had access to his own personal armiger for a while now. That was actually something his father had taught him early on – disappearing things into the void and pulling them back out like a magician with a silly party trick. It was a lot more than that, but that was mostly what Noctis had been using it for. He wasn’t allowed to keep anything even remotely weapon-related in there, so he didn’t have much else use for it at the moment, but it was still cool.

“Um…” He held out his hand, digging through the void that housed everything in his own personal space-wardrobe. In quick succession, several things appeared and disappeared from his hand; a notebook, an unopened can of soda, a pen, a pencil, a fancy fountain pen, some candy, several coins, a handkerchief, a book, a tennis ball, a plate? Noctis made it disappear and cleared his throat uncomfortably. He glanced at Nyx who looked amused. Noctis’ shoulders climbed up defensively. 

“Dad doesn’t let me keep weapons in there,” he grumbled as a half-hearted explanation for his severe lack of cool pointy things to show off. 

“Huh,” Nyx said with a crooked eyebrow but then nodded to himself. “I guess that isn’t unreasonable for a kid.”

“I’m eleven!” Noctis protested immediately. He managed to stop himself from stomping his foot but Nyx didn’t seem swayed by his argument. “And I’ll need a weapon to warp.” Finally, the time would come.

“You don’t, actually,” Nyx said, shattering all of his dreams. 

Noctis stared at him in shock. “What?”

“Warping isn’t dependent on a weapon. It’s useful and logical in combat, but it doesn’t have to be a weapon.” He took off one of his gloves and threw it to the side only to flicker across the distance and pick it up again.

Noctis watched with wide eyes. He had always been under the impression that warping was only done with weapons, could only be done with weapons. As Nyx had said, it made sense to do it with a weapon, but he hadn’t been aware that part wasn’t a requirement. It made sense, somehow. Why would the object being a weapon be a requirement? Then again, it was devastating news as Noctis had believed to finally be allowed to carry weapons. He should have known there was a catch when his father had agreed to this despite keeping all pointy things from him.

“The mechanics are the same,” Nyx continued as he put his glove back on. “But this is more advanced stuff. To put it very simply, warping is you using an object to pull yourself through space and time. The purpose of that object is unimportant, but the more familiar you are with it, the easier it is to let it pull you. So if I were to pick up a random stone and try to warp with that, it would be a lot harder than something I am familiar with.”

“Right,” Noctis mumbled, trying to wrap his head around all this new information. And the fact that he wouldn’t be allowed weapons, still. The disappointment was there, but quickly overshadowed by the fact he was about to learn how to warp. The weapons could wait just a little bit longer then.

“Which is why I asked,” Nyx said with a gesture of his hand. “It’s best to start with an object you are familiar with, something you know well. Something from your armiger is easier for you since your magic will recognize it.” He paused to think. “And it should be something that won’t easily break, we’ll drop it quite a lot.”

Noctis went back to his space-wardrobe to sort through his possessions. He dismissed a few candidates in fear of them breaking. They had been gifts after all and he did not want to throw them across the room. After a bit of searching he finally found something that seemed to tick all the boxes. He summoned it into his hand and sent a hesitant look towards Nyx whose lips curled up into a grin, but he gave an approving nod. 

“Good choice.”

Noctis looked back down at the small carbuncle plush in his hand. It fit perfectly into his palm and would have made for a bit of an oversized key charm. He had gotten it from Cor who had won it for him at a fair a few years ago. While it had been a gift and Noctis did not want to disrespect the gesture, it was the perfect choice since he was so familiar with it and there was no chance of it breaking or it breaking something else. 

“The glaives also start learning with plushies,” Nyx whispered with a wink as if anyone else could hear him. 

“Really?” Noctis couldn’t keep the snort out of his voice as he imagined battle-hardened soldiers throwing plushies across the room. 

Nyx moved next to him and crossed his hands behind his back. “They sure do. Alright then, first step: throw it.”

“But I don’t know how to do it yet.”

“You don’t have to for now. Just throw it.”

Noctis wasn’t sure what that would do but Gladio always told him not to be argumentative when they were learning something new and just trust his teacher sometimes. Not wanting to upset Nyx before they had been started, he followed that advice and took aim. The carbuncle plush sailed through the air and tumbled across the ground a few times before coming to a stop a good distance away. Noctis turned his head towards Nyx for his judgment. 

“Can you summon it back?” Nyx asked.

Noctis frowned, staring at the distant plush in concentration. Summoning things or putting them away from a distance was always harder than having them in his hands. It took him a couple of moments to will the plush to go back into the armiger and then have it reappear in his hand. 

“Good, throw it again.”

Noctis complied. They repeated this process several times, enough times for Noctis to feel impatience bubbling up inside of him. He was here to learn warping, not to throw a plushie across the room. Before he could complain and piss off his new teacher, Nyx allowed him to stop. 

“Alright, a few things.” He took out the curved knife again and held it out in front of him as if he was aiming. “Warping is very much about precision, especially in the beginning. You won’t have control during your warp, so you have to make sure that it will land beforehand. If I were to just chuck my kukri and not pay enough attention-” He did as he said and chucked his knife towards the other side of the room. The weapon spun out of control and when Nyx materialized in its place, he staggered and had to roll to find his footing “-you will need to overcompensate,” he finished his explanation. “So when you instead make a precise throw-” the weapon hurtled back towards where they had been standing and he reappeared next to Noctis standing still and upright. “-it’ll be a lot easier coming out of it.”

He looked down at Noctis, who could not keep the look of awe off his face. Warping was just such a cool ability and to see someone doing it as easily as walking was fascinating. Nyx just smiled softly, but didn’t comment on his student’s fascination. 

“Instead of just throwing, try to aim more, try to control your plushie’s flight. Make it land as precisely as you can.” He started walking forward and stopped halfway across the room. “Try to hit my chest.”

Noctis, who had already gotten into position for another attempt, hesitated. 

“Don’t worry your highness, I’ll survive a carbuncle assault,” Nyx called teasingly. It was familiar enough to how Gladio was around him that Noctis couldn’t help scoffing and threw carbuncle towards his target. It sailed over Nyx’s head with lots of room to spare. 

“And again.”

 

 

They didn’t do anything besides throwing during their first lesson- and the next. Noctis’ arm was quite sore and he was a pretty disappointed he hadn’t done any warping attempts whatsoever, but he didn’t complain. Nyx had shown and explained to him why it was important and he didn’t want to upset him by being difficult. Gladio got enough of that side of him during combat training and the glaive was actually really nice and patient, even when carbuncle hit him in the face on occasion.

He didn’t goad Noctis by telling him he should be better by now and he didn’t act like some of his tutors who had ‘a stick up their ass’ as Gladio liked to say. Ignis had bust a fuse the first time he had heard Noctis repeat it and Gladio had then told him only adults were allowed to say that. Which was bullshit, Gladio was only three years older and he was saying it, but whatever. 

Nyx was nice and he wasn’t uptight. He joked around and teased good-naturedly. As disappointed as Noctis still was that his father couldn’t teach him, he had probably gotten the next best teacher, so he followed Nyx’s advice and direction and at the start of their fourth lesson, they finally moved on to the next step. 

“This will probably be a bit frustrating and take a while, but we’ll try following carbuncle now, okay?” Nyx had taken to calling the plushy just carbuncle and it made for some amusing phrases. 

“Following how?” Noctis asked. 

Nyx took his knife, which Noctis now knew was called a kukri and a common weapon from Galahd – Nyx’s homeland. Whenever it made an appearance, Noctis perked up a bit because it meat he might get to see some warping. 

“When we warp, we follow carbuncle. We cross physical space, the distance between us and carbuncle, but we also cover time. It would take our body a certain amount of time to cross that distance, but from the moment we enter our warp to the moment we exit it, we alter the amount of time the distance would usually take us.”

Noctis tilted his head slowly. “So… time travel?”

Nyx huffed which sounded much like a laugh. “Sort of, I guess. I never thought about how time works exactly during a warp, but it’s different. It’s too short to really make a difference, but for a moment, your body exists outside the time everyone else follows.”

That sounded very much like time travel to Noctis so he would stick with that. 

“Essentially, we stop existing here and start existing there.” Nyx pointed his kukri to a random point across the room. “You have to allow yourself to be pulled there through space and time. I sort of imagine a tether between me and my kukri. When I throw it, it pulls me along.” He patted his chest. 

Those were all sort of complicated concepts to Noctis. Perhaps this is why people usually started learning warping a bit later, but he wanted to do this and he had been begging for years, so he wouldn’t back out now, not for anything. He took an intent look at carbuncle. The white fur had gotten a bit dirty from being tossed around so much but he was sure Ignis would know how to clean it. If not, he would probably be able to find out. Ignis always knew everything. 

“When you throw it, try to imagine yourself following it, or imagine yourself in its place,” Nyx said. “It won’t work immediately and everyone needs to figure out their own method, it’ll take some time.”

Noctis was not known for being patient, but he could try. He had managed to for the last few sessions, he’d manage a bit longer. 

At first, it felt like nothing at all had changed. Noctis threw carbuncle, with a lot more precision than before, and tried to ‘follow’. He still wasn’t sure what exactly that meant but he guessed it wasn’t something anyone could actually explain to him. Nyx had said it was different for everyone. The pulling-along method didn’t really feel right to Noctis. After a dozen throws be decided to change strategies. 

He imagined himself being in the place that carbuncle was in right now. As it sailed through the air, he fixated on the small plush and willed himself to be in that exact spot. Actually, no, not in the spot. He wanted to be where carbuncle was, regardless of where it was. Carbuncle was his mark, and he needed to be there. Like he was pulling himself towards it, similar to how he summoned it into his hand, he wanted carbuncle to summon him.

Willing the plush back into his hand after every attempt was second nature by now and good passive training for his summoning abilities. Noctis threw it again and again, completely focused on his objective. Though he must have been a bit too focused because he suddenly got lightheaded and the room tilted in a disorientating way around him, like someone had tried to zoom in with his eyes and then gave them a spin. 

Nyx caught his upper arm and held him steady before he could stumble or even fall. It gave him something to focus on and not lose his footing because for a moment, it felt like his head was trying to float away towards the ceiling. Or maybe the floor. He wasn’t sure which way was up or down. 

“Oh, something is working,” Nyx said. He put both hands on Noctis’ shoulders and gently pushed him down to sit. He squatted in front of him and kept a hand on his arm. “That’s normal, don’t worry. You feeling sick?”

Noctis swallowed but shook his head. He didn’t feel sick, not yet at least, just really dizzy and fuzzy. He couldn’t quite focus back to what was in front of him. It felt like he was constantly falling. “‘s weird,” he mumbled while trying to blink things back into focus. It didn’t work.

“It does feel weird,” Nyx said. “Kind of like you’re falling but not really.”

Noctis nodded miserably. It wasn’t a nice feeling. 

“It’ll get better with practice, promise.”

Great.

They tried a few more times, upon Noctis’ request, until Nyx stopped their session after he could barely even sit straight. “I think that’s enough for today.”

“But- I almost had it!” Noctis said, knowing fully well that was probably far from true. Right now all that happened was his eyes trying to turn into a kaleidoscope, not much actual warping – or time travel.

Nyx knew as well. “It’ll take time. Besides, next time I’ll teach you about the funny concept of stasis.”

“Stasis?”

“Yeah, it’s what you’re feeling right now, only twenty times worse if you overdo it.”

Noctis could feel the color drain from his face. Maybe he didn’t feel like continuing today anymore. Nyx chuckled and patted his shoulder. “I won’t let it get that far but it’s important to rest and refill your resources, okay?”

He was satisfied with the small nod he got in return and helped Noctis to his feet. “Wanna hold onto my arm?” he asked, offering his elbow like Noctis was taught to do for dancing. He made a face but didn't feel like his attempt at walking would be very successful right now. At least not without a close encounter to a wall or even the floor. He grabbed onto Nyx arm and the glaive escorted him back to his suite. Noctis still felt like his brain was spinning out of his body so he didn’t notice his two retainers having a chat over drinks on the couch upon the door opening.

“Is he alright?!” Ignis’ panicked voice reached him and Noctis once again tried the blinking tactic to clear his vision. It did not work, it only made his balance worse. 

“Perfectly fine, just very dizzy,” Nyx promised. 

Noctis squinted at the funny shapes in front of him. “How many people are there?” he grumbled. He hated when people populated his suite. It was his, not a public space. 

“Just us two,” came Gladio’s voice from further in the room. “You okay, squirt? Did you look into the void a bit too much?”

He had done so much throwing lately, Noctis didn’t even think as he pulled carbuncle out of his armiger and threw it in a direction where he hoped it would hit Gladio. Unfortunately, he had attempted to summon himself to carbuncle so many times, he did it again on accident. It was like someone had given the world a harsh shove and had it spin like a centrifuge on its axis. Noctis made a panicked sound and clutched onto Nyx with both arms, maybe even legs because otherwise he’d just fly away into the ether. Ignis made concerned noises from somewhere.

“Your highness, no more warping,” Nyx chided, sounding quite unbothered about the princeling clinging to him. “Or I’ll confiscate carbuncle.”

Noctis warbled something at the man. Colors and shapes had never been so abstract to him before. Something tried to pull him in another direction and he latched onto Nyx will all fours, scared of actually flying away. A snort reached him that sounded suspiciously like Gladio, closer than he had been before. 

“Princess, you gotta let the man leave. He isn’t your cat tree.”

Noctis wanted to hiss, maybe he did. He was plucked away from safety and immediately latched onto the next body, which was definitely Gladio. He could tell, even without the noise of surprise from him. And he hated it because it felt too much like a hug and he hated hugs but if he didn’t hold onto something, he’d go flying. At least Gladio wouldn’t go flying, he was way too big for that. He also elected to ignore the arm settling across his upper back and helping him to feel grounded. 

“Are you certain he is all right?” Ignis asked. He did not sound convinced.

“Yeah, he’s just very dizzy, happens to a lot of people. That or they get nauseous, but he doesn’t seem to have that for now, at least – might show up later, might not. It feels like constant falling but it’ll go away in a bit,” Nyx said with enough certainty that Ignis must have accepted it.

Someone left, probably him, and Ignis stepped up to them. Noctis tried to look at him but he only saw a morphing shape. 

“His eyes are shaking,” Ignis mumbled.

“Hey, boss man said he’d be fine, don’t worry,” Gladio said, sure as ever. 

Ignis sighed. “Alright. Noct, we should perhaps lay down.”

With we, he meant Noctis. He didn’t get much of a say, Gladio shuffled them over somewhere and sort of managed to pry Noctis off him to sit him on his bed. He immediately flailed for something to hold on to which probably looked much like a squabble from the outside. Gladio got him to lay down on his bed while Ignis masterfully plucked the shoes off his feet. 

“He’s like a monkey,” Gladio huffed. 

“Not!” Noctis squeaked which didn’t help his case. 

He felt like he was falling straight through the floor, like he was slowly turning in a vacuum and everything was spinning around him. Or he was spinning. He swallowed a few times as the hints of nausea started to crawl up his throat. Maybe laying down wasn’t such a good idea. He managed to struggle up into somewhat of a sitting position and huddled against the headboard and pillows. It was a bit of support but not nearly enough. A glance told him his retainers were still next to his bed, two wobbly morphing shapes that stood still, maybe. 

Noctis clutched onto a pillow. “I- Iggy?” No matter how quietly he said it, Ignis always heard him. 

“Yes?”

Noctis opened and closed his mouth a few times, the hot flush not making his dizziness any better. “Can- can you…” He didn’t know what exactly he was asking. Well, no, he did, but he didn’t know how to say it. Instead, he just stared at the spot next to him on the bed pointedly. 

He couldn’t see but he heard some shuffling and a moment later a body climbed onto the bed next to him. He breathed a sigh of relief as Ignis settled at his side and he had something actually grounding him. It worked for a moment or two before the nagging at the back of his head became too much and he patted the spot on his other side wordlessly but quite insistently. 

No one else said anything, except for a heavy sigh, and soon Noctis had two of his most trusted people flanking either side of him and stopping him from flying away. He finally allowed himself to relax, sandwiched between Ignis and Gladio – a place where he felt disarmingly safe.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, embarrassed and a bit guilty. 

“It’s quite alright,” Ignis said. “I’m sure you’ll feel better in a bit.”

He managed a hum, suddenly overwhelmed by the effort it took to keep his eyes open. 

“Just go to sleep,” Gladio said but his voice lacked any of his usual sternness when he told Noctis to do something. 

“Stay?” he mumbled. 

“Sure” and “of course” reached him just before he was finally pulled under. 

 

 

The first time Noctis actually warped, he came out of it in an uncoordinated stumble, dropped onto all fours, heaved a few times and threw up. 

“That tracks,” Nyx commented from somewhere next to him, a comforting hand rubbing between Noctis shoulders as he tried to figure out if his body was done or not. All his limbs shook and he felt awful. For a moment, he really wished his dad had been there.

“Fuck,” he croaked and Nyx hummed in agreement. Anyone else would have scolded him but Nyx wasn’t like any of his other tutors. And Noctis believed he deserved a free pass for what he had just experienced.

They didn’t try again that day and Noctis was reluctant to continue training if it meant feeling like that. No one had been there to comfort him when he had gotten back to his suite and although he’d never dare to complain about that, it hadn’t been a nice feeling. Nyx didn’t pester him, just waited until he had made up his mind. 

“It’s cool,” was Noctis reasoning for wanting to try again which the glaive accepted with a grin. 

Thankfully he didn’t throw up a second time. Warping left him dizzy and nauseous for a while but it slowly got better. It truly was a strange feeling, not one a human body should experience. Noctis couldn’t put into words what exactly happened to his body, but it felt like someone ripped out his soul, moved his body, and squished him back into it in a matter of a millisecond. It was weird and disarming.

“The more control you gain, the better it gets,” Nyx had promised and while it was slow-going at first, Noctis could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Or at least a light, he was sure there were a lot more things to learn about warping.

The first time he came out of a warp, carbuncle in hand, legs still and stomach silent, he turned back to gape at Nyx with big eyes. The glaive wore a proud look on his face. 

“Good job, highness,” he called. “Now you just have to practice for the next sixteen years and you may turn out to be as good as me.”

It did wonders to fuel Noctis’ determination.

 

 

-

 

 

For a long time, no one else saw Noctis warping except for Nyx. Partially because they trained together and partially because Noctis didn't want anyone to see until he had perfected the skill – as much as he could perfect it at the time. He did start warping outside the training hall at some point because he wanted to practice more away from the dedicated space. Occasionally he’d warp from one end of his suite to the other and back several times in a row.

He had gotten familiar with the feeling of stasis approaching and while he was steadily increasing the amount of times he could warp before being drained of magic, he was still careful about pushing too much. He knew that at some point they would be pushing him into stasis just so he knew what to expect and what to do, but he wasn't quite willing to cross that threshold without any guidance. Ignis would be proud of him, surely. Gladio and his dad too, hopefully.

Also, he had gone from just throwing carbuncle across the room to using different objects. It had been hard at first, to follow something different, but as long as the objects were connected to his armiger, he could get the hang of it after a couple tries. He had snuck a letter opener out of Clarus' office at some point and while it wasn't a knife, it had a similar shape and weight to it. Nyx had just given him a curious albeit knowing look the first time he had seen it.

An unforeseen benefit of all this training was that Noctis now had immaculate aim and quite a lot more strength to throw objects around. The thrill of hurtling a knife – a letter opener that looked like a knife if you squinted – across a space and then warping after it through that space and subsequently time was undescribable.

He trained and trained and trained until warping became second nature. Nyx had been called away a while ago, back to business, as he had said. Noctis had been disappointed, but the glaive had told him there was only so much he could teach him, a lot of things he would have to figure out himself and to just continue practicing and exploring what he could do. Safely, of course. 

And the promise that he could show off the next time he was around.

 

 

-

 

 

The notification came when Noctis had been with Ignis and Gladio, on their way to grab some food from the cafeteria. Gladio stopped walking and frowned down at the floor. He turned his head to look out the window as if there was anything of importance there. He usually got like this whenever something came in over his earpiece. Noctis often forgot he was even wearing it because he rarely needed to use it, but while he was ‘on duty’ it was apparently a requirement.

“What is it?” Ignis asked, also coming to the same conclusion.

Gladio looked like he was debating whether to say something or not. He glanced at Noctis which immediately set him on edge. 

“What?” he asked, already gearing up for a fight to get the information.

Gladio released a heavy breath through his nose and deemed it not worth the effort to withhold said information. Or he thought it was something he should tell them anyway. “There was some commotion at the town hall.” He said. Noctis froze. “Some guy was making threats and he apparently had some knives with him.” Noctis opened his mouth but Gladio beat him to it. “The king’s fine. The first didn’t hit and he had his shield up for the second. They cut the visit short and should be back here in a few minutes. Wasn’t worth the risk.”

Noctis tried to absorb all the information but his frantic brain didn’t quite want to cooperate. The first didn’t hit? The second was deflected? So knives had been thrown?!

Logically he knew his dad wasn’t defenseless, but he had gotten older, aging quicker than any other man would due to the strain of the wall. He knew his dad could very well defend himself, even if passively with shields, and had an entourage of guards ready to throw themselves into the line of fire. If they managed to beat Clarus to that, of course. But Noctis struggled to see that and not just see his father being threatened and in danger. The Astrals themselves could tell him his father was fine and there was no problem, and he’d still worry and have to confirm it himself.

So he turned and raced down the hallway.

“Noctis!” Gladio barked immediately, like trying to call back a dog chasing after a squirrel.

Noctis knew he and Ignis would be running after him anyway, so he didn’t stop to turn and check. If he were a good prince, he’d hang back and wait, not cause more trouble by running off. Unfortunately, he had never been very good at being a good prince – a fact some people seemed to enjoy pointing out whenever the chance arose. 

“Noctis, your father is alright!” Ignis called but Noctis ignored him and threw open an inconspicuous door to get to one of the hundred staircases of the citadel. He almost lost his footing a few times on the steps but he didn’t stop. At least Gladio and Ignis weren’t actively trying to stop him anymore. They knew it was futile once he had set in motion and would rather save their breath.

The citadel was way too big, proven by that fact that even running as quickly as he could, Noctis still couldn’t get to the parking garage before his father had come back. He had only gotten to the private foyer when the elevator door all the way on the other side opened and Clarus and his dad stepped out. 

“Dad!” Noctis called and running just wasn’t cutting it anymore. He summoned the letter opener into his hand and hurtled it across the foyer. He blinked back into existence right in front of his father, one foot slipping slightly on the marble floor and arms flailing, but he remained standing. 

“Are you okay?” he asked panicked, already checking for any hidden injuries. 

His dad just looked at him wide-eyed, a little spooked almost. It took him two seconds longer to come up with a response than it usually would. “I am fine, Noctis. Nothing to worry about.” He patted his head and then- “Did you just warp?”

Noctis paused his frantic search and froze. Right, no one besides Nyx had seen him warp before. He wasn’t sure if the glaive had kept his father updated about his progress and if so, what exactly he had said. In any case, he knew for certain no one had seen him warp yet, intentionally so, and this isn’t how he had wanted to present his new skill.

“No, you’re just getting old!” he said defensively and took a step back. His warping should not be at the center of attention right now.

“He definitely warped,” Gladio said slightly out of breath as he and Ignis finally came to a stop. Noctis could be fast when he wanted to be.

“The Astrals shall have mercy,” Ignis murmured like a prayer. “Your majesty, are you in good health?”

The King smile. “I am, Ignis, thank you.”

“We got him before he could throw a third knife,” Clarus said. He sounded upset it had taken them that amount of time even if the reaction had surely been instantaneous.

“That aside,” Regis said flippantly as if getting knives thrown at him was trivial and turned back to his son. “You have already learned warping?”

Noctis floundered, torn between being upset about the question and keeping up the charade. He had wanted to show his dad when he was confident in his warping abilities, when the time was right and they had a moment to actually spend together. Not in the foyer after his dad had been attacked with knives. Still, the cat was out of the bag and he didn’t really want to keep this from his father, not when he sounded so intrigued and curious. Wordlessly, he summoned the letter opener again and chucked it to the side. He blinked after it, reappearing a few paces away. 

While usually one to retain a neutral expression, his father now looked downright delighted. “Noctis, I am very proud of you.”

Noctis scowled at the way his chest warmed up. He turned his head to look in a different direction. “Nyx said I need sixteen years to catch up to him.”

Clarus muffled a snort into a cough. Regis just smiled. “Glaive Ulric is known for his indisputable inkling to warping. I dare say even I with more than sixteen years of experience have not caught up to him.” He walked over to Noctis and put a hand on his shoulder. “It is a great accomplishment. Do not compare yourself to others. You are learning and you have mastered more than a few hurdles already.”

“I mastered the falling and the throwing up,” Noctis muttered with a shudder. 

“Oh Astrals, I remember that,” Clarus sighed. 

“May I remind you of your first warp, my friend?” Regis asked with false innocence.

Clarus made a face. “You may not, thank you.” He tilted his head slightly. “Your highness, if you needed a letter opener, you merely had to inquire about one.”

Noctis made it disappear. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Clarus raised an eyebrow. “Of course.”

“A letter opener?” Gladio asked.

“I don’t have a knife.” 

His father sighed. “And you shall not, for the foreseeable future.”

Noctis sulked.

 

 

Chapter 4: Chapter Four: The First Time Someone Got Hurt

Notes:

Last chapter! Maybe for now, maybe forever, we'll see if I return to this, but for now, I'll mark it as completed.
I think this is the longest chapter yet and I hope you'll enjoy~

 

 

Factually, Noctis knew that if push came to shove, people would step in front of him to protect him. It was a very much known fact that any member of staff employed by the Citadel or the crown had an undeniable duty to protect the royal line in whatever capacity necessary. 

Factually, Noctis knew that those closest to the crown would be more than willing to throw themselves in between danger and their charge and would be confronted with this more often than others. Factually, he knew this would happen and there was nothing he could do about it or should do about it. 

Still, knowing something to be a fact and actually experiencing it himself were two entirely different things. 

 

 

--

 

 

“You know, I’m all for giving you a curfew.”

“Oh yeah, are you gonna come and enforce that?”

“Arn’t I’m doing that now?”

“Are you?”

Gladio scoffed at the smug grin on Noctis’ face. It wasn’t exactly untrue, he would be walking him home after all. Maybe he should be glad that Noctis wasn’t experiencing late onset teenage rebellion at almost eighteen and trying to sneak off into the dark of the night. He had actually texted Gladio a riveting ‘just so u don’t have a hissy fit I’m gonna go home now’. So of course Gladio had snapped his book shut, downed the last of his matcha latte, and headed across the intersection where Noctis was lounging on a low brick wall.

Prompto was not at all surprised about Gladio appearing out of thin air with some sarcastic remark. He just stared for a moment and then patted his shoulder. “I will leave you to it.” He pointed at Noctis. “Highness, think about what I said, it’s of utmost importance!”

Noctis smiled lazily. “Sure, anything for my citizens.”

“Victory,” Prompto hissed and turned around with a flourish. “At last!” He waved with one hand and headed away. 

Gladio merely raised an eyebrow at Noctis who looked quite amused. “Petition to abolish exams.” He shrugged. “He had compelling arguments.”

Of course. Gladio rolled his eyes somewhat fondly and shoved at Noctis shoulder. “Prepared for all the paperwork that’s gonna be, princess? Heard the council’s in a mood lately.”

“When’s it not?” Noctis grumbled. He slid off the wall and deliberately bumped into Gladio’s side as he started walking. Not that it did much of anything. Noctis may have grown out of the awkward lanky teenager phase but he had not exactly turned into the biggest hunk of a man. Gladio easily stood almost a head taller than him, much to the prince’s displeasure. 

“You think Iggy’s gonna be on my side?”

Gladio easily fell into step beside him, hands shoved into the pockets of his black bomber jacket. “Iggy will be delighted. He loves his paperwork, especially when you create more for him.” He was pretty sure everyone in a five-mile radius had felt the sarcasm. 

“If it’d stop Prom from freaking out,” Noctis muttered. To anyone else it might have sounded like annoyance but Gladio knew Noctis absolutely hated seeing Prompto get stressed out over anything school related. It didn’t help that these were their most important exams and while they were still several months away, time was flying and the material wouldn’t get any easier. Ignis probably would have said something along the lines of ‘Perhaps more time spent studying than gaming might improve the chances of a good grade’ but Gladio wasn’t Ignis and didn’t have any wise wisdom to offer. His grades hadn’t exactly been top of the class either. Which was, surprisingly, one thing Noctis had over him in quite a few subjects.

“I’m sure that’s going to be the argument that sways the council.”

Noctis sighed. “You ever read ‘Troubles Of My Kin’?”

Gladio went through his mental library of books. It was quite extensive so it took him a bit until he finally landed on the conclusion that it must be one of those weird mandatory school books no one understood the meaning of. “S’ that the one with the orphan?”

Noctis hummed. “Prom’s having a hard time reading it. Maybe you have some notes flying around you might conveniently want to hand out.”

“You know I don’t,” Gladio said flatly. “When have I never taken notes in my life?”

“Point.”

“But if Prom’s conveniently hanging around your place next time I’m there, I might just so happen to want to talk about it.”

Noctis pursed his lips in an attempt to hide his smile. “What a coincidence.”

“What a coincidence indeed.” 

They crossed the street and Gladio glanced at Noctis who was tapping away on his phone, probably already texting with Prompto again with that stupid smile on his face. Gladio shook his head at that. The two of them, Prompto and him, had honestly been made for each other, he had no idea how two people could be so different and yet fit together this seamlessly. 

“Hey, you had dinner yet?” Gladio asked as he spotted a ramen place in the distance. His matcha latte had been a nice addition to his book, but it hadn’t been anything to eat and he was getting pretty hungry. Grabbing something on the go would be more convenient than heading home and then discussing dinner plans.

“Hm?” Noctis asked out of habit before looking up from his phone and computing the question. He looked ahead, probably also spotting the ramen place. “Iggy?”

“Staying late.”

Noctis huffed, seeing no use in commenting on the other’s work ethic. He was already back to tapping out another response to Prompto. “Yeah, fine, but you’re paying.”

Gladio rolled his eyes. “You’re a spoiled brat, you know that?”

“I’m a child,” Noctis said with a smug look. “I don’t have any money.” As if he didn’t have a shiny black credit card in his wallet. Not that he abused that, really, but he could very much afford to pay for a bowl of ramen.

Gladio felt his eye twitch. “Say that again, you little shit!”

Noctis yelped and ducked away as Gladio made a grab for his hair. “Dude, lay off, I’m underage!”

“Are you gonna use that as an excuse now for the next months?”

“I have to while I can!”

They scuffled for a moment until Gladio finally managed to ruffle through Noctis’ spiky hair and mess it up under offended squawking from the prince. His hands were slapped away as soon as Noctis saw an opening and he tried to save at least some of his hairstyle. He sent something between a glare and a pout towards Gladio who just smirked back at him. 

“Want me to pick out something with lots of veggies so you can grow some more, your underagedness?”

“That’s a crime against the crown,” Noctis hissed, smoothing the last strands of hair back into place – at least somewhat.

Gladio shrugged. “I’ve been known to commit treason from time to time.”

“I knew it.”

Gladio pushed open the door of the little shop and did an assessing sweep of the place. Noctis was already skirting around his side to park himself in a corner booth away from the window. At least that was something Gladio didn’t have to instill in him anymore. Not finding anything out of the ordinary, he sat down opposite of Noctis and picked up a menu. He didn’t need long to decide on something he was in the mood for, noodles of any kind were always up his alley.

They gave their order to a young guy who squinted at Noctis for a moment but didn’t make any comments. Gladio was sort of glad Noctis managed to blend in somewhat. People who were invested in politics or paid attention to whatever the crown was doing would recognize him. He did look a lot like his father, and perhaps it was the magic in his blood, since he did have a different aura about him. Though most of the general population would not expect the crown prince to eat dinner at a random ramen place or hang out at the mall, so he managed to fly under the radar often enough. Most would stare for a moment but then write it off as unlikely.

Noctis had also never been one to be interested in designer clothes or expensive accessories. His wardrobe did consist of some more expensive clothing, but that was mostly because he could buy whatever he liked and didn’t need to mind the price tag. He also got nagged at if his appearance wasn’t considered presentable enough. Though with growing age, Noctis cared less and less what he was nagged at about. He didn’t go out in sweatpants and shirts with holes, although he did possess both of these, but he didn’t care if the hem of his button down peeked out underneath his sweater asymmetrically or if his T-shirt wasn’t perfectly ironed or if his hair was messy.

Gladio was never included in these discussions, but his own humble opinion was that Noctis wasn’t king, he didn’t need to be picture-perfect all the time. He was a teen and going to school and hanging out with his friends. If anything, he hoped it would make people feel more connected to him because he was just like them. Having him run around in perfectly tailored suits and expensive clothing would only make him stand out. Not to mention it would make him an easier target and more noticeable. Having him not be that made Gladio’s job at least a fraction easier. 

Oh, and he’d also hiss like a cat and scratch anyone who tried to force him into a suit. Gladio had no idea how Ignis did it. Catnip perhaps?

Their food arrived and they ate in silence except for loud slurps from both of them. They spent so much time together, there was no need to speak for every single minute of it. Noctis tapped away on his phone several times, got a few drops of broth onto one of his sleeves and almost choked on a noddle. Gladio questioned how he was supposed to rule the country one day. Then again, he knew the side of Noctis that only came out in council meetings and during training. He could be cold and calculated when he wanted to be, which was an unusual look on him. Gladio still sometimes raised an eyebrow at the cutting words coming out of his mouth when addressing a council member. 

“My place?” Noctis asked while staring at his phone.

Gladio stopped contemplating whether he should get a second bowl of ramen. “Had other plans?”

“No, just making sure.” Noctis glanced up at him from below his fringe. “You pay already?”

Gladio rolled his eyes slowly and waved over the waiter from before. He handed the guy his card, the machine beeped and they got a monotone ‘have a nice day’ as he slipped off his stool with Noctis in tow who was still glued to his phone. 

“Didn’t you just hang out?”

“It’s about King’s Knight.”

“That doesn’t answer the question,” Gladio muttered mostly to himself. He let Noctis walk two steps in front of him in hopes of catching a glimpse at their discussion but the font was a tad too small for him to make sense of, unless you counted the multitude of emojis, stickers and gifs Prompto used to communicate. Perhaps he did need glasses? He was left wondering just how Noctis could walk straight while not looking where he was going. Maybe it was due to Gladio’s grueling training, surely. He may not have experienced late-onset teenage rebellion, but he sure was using his phone like it. 

At least the walk to Noctis’ apartment was fairly short. Gladio was looking forward to finishing the last chapters of his book. The heroine had just found out her friend had been feeding the enemy information in exchange for the safety of his brother. Tensions were high and shit was about to go down, he could just feel it. Perhaps he should practice walking with his nose buried in something, like Noctis was demonstration so professionally. Unfortunately, he had to keep his nose out of books while his attention could be required elsewhere. Not that anything unusual ever happened, but who knew when a little pooch might charge at his royal highness and bring misfortune upon the kingdom.

Gladio frowned at Noctis’ phone again but he still couldn’t read what the conversation was about. So no entertainment for his walk home.

“Ey!” someone shouted and Gladio glanced up, spotting a middle-aged man approaching them head on. His shoulders squared immediately as this sort of behavior rang several alarm bells. The man looked disheveled with greasy hair and wrinkled clothing. Gladio reached out for Noctis’ shoulder, who was just now looking up upon sensing the shift in the air.

The man quickened his pace, now only a few steps away when he moved his arm and Gladio saw something green reflecting the light in his hand. His eyes widened as the man raised his arm above his head, the bottle now clearly visible. He grabbed onto Noctis, missing his shoulder by a hair but snatching his collar instead and yanking him back to a hopefully safe distance. 

Noctis escaped a yelp as he stumbled over his feet due to the unexpected pull in a different direction. It sounded like his phone went flying and skidded across the ground. Gladio didn’t have time to check, he didn’t even have time to raise his other arm properly in defense before the man swung the bottle down. The sound of glass splintering and raining down across the pavement registered before anything else. Gladio was overcome by a sudden wave of dizziness and took a steadying step back as he tried to blink his eyes open to have their attacker in sight. 

Well, he tried because a searing pain stabbed through his left eye and he couldn’t get it to respond. His right eye just so managed to open although it felt like it was rolling around in his head. He got a blurry view of the man with a broken bottle held in his grasp. He was gearing up for another swing but this time, incapacitated or not, Gladio reacted quickly and grabbed his wrist. He wanted to just haul him away, maybe put in a well-placed punch, but to his knowledge this was still a citizen of the crown city and he wouldn’t use lethal force unless absolutely necessary.

“Gladio!” came Noctis’ panicked voice from behind him but he didn’t have time to check right now. If he was shouting coherent things, then that was a good sign at least.

He twisted the man’s wrist which got him a warbled yell. The bottle dropped to the floor among dozens of green shards of glass. 

“Ey!” the man yelled again, more enraged this time, and from this close, Gladio could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Oi, yer fuckers!” He tried twisting and pulling but obviously his mind and movements were influenced by however many drinks he’s had. He was frustratingly easily to wrestle to the ground and get him to lie on his front while Gladio kept him down with a knee to his back. He managed to get one flailing wrist under control before he allowed himself a glance back. His left eye was still seemingly glued shut so he had to look over his right shoulder. He couldn’t get very far without loosening his hold. When he didn’t spot Noctis, he whipped his head around to the other side of him. 

He heard the scrambling before he saw Noctis dropping next to him in a way that had to make his knees scream. “Gladio!”

“Stay back,” Gladio grunted because even for someone this drunk, the man put up quite a fight, not to mention all the glass around them. “I need some backup right now,” he barked into his earpiece before allowing himself a second look at Noctis who looked surprisingly terrified. His eyes weren’t on the struggling man thought, they were on Gladio’s face. It was a strange look on him, there wasn’t much Noctis was actually scared of. His hands twitched like he wanted to hold something and his eyes shifted back and forth. 

Gladio spotted the dark red abrasions on the palms of his hands. He must have fallen when Gladio had pulled him back. “You okay?”

Noctis face did a weird thing. “Am- You’re hurt!”

Gladio grunted, focusing back onto the man. “Happens.” Something must be wrong with his eye. The stabbing pain didn’t let up and the area around it felt strange. His vision of his right eye was also a bit blurry and it felt like he was tilting to one side constantly. The man beneath him warbled some profanities and kicked his legs. 

Noctis made some noises and appeared to rifle through his Armiger. A few flashes popped up and Gladio glanced over to see different colored bottles and cans appear in his hands. Noctis muttered under his breath, frantically calling and dismissing objects. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“You hurt?” Gladio asked again more insistently because why else would Noctis search for something, a potion, probably.

“No!” Noctis said shrilly. “Fuck!” He looked around and then scrambled to his feet.

“Noct!” Gladio scolded immediately as soon as he moved in another direction. He could crane his neck just far enough to see him scoop up his phone which must have been horrible cracked and broken because he fiddled around for a couple seconds before cursing again. He scrambled back to Gladio’s side, dropping his phone without a care and leaning in. 

“Get back,” Gladio barked again in warning. He wasn’t worried the man was gonna slip out from under him but he really didn’t need any other surprises to happen right now. Noctis looked hurt and like he wanted to protest, but he bit the inside of his cheek and reluctantly shuffled back about a meter on his knees. Gladio would have preferred some more distance but he couldn’t fight two battles at once, he could be grateful there was some compliance at all. Noctis’ eyes were burning holes into him and if the stabbing in his head and face wasn’t so distracting, he would have been annoyed about it.

He scanned the area but it didn’t seem there were any more crazed, bottle-swinging alcoholics around for another attack. Some onlookers were staring but no one dared to come closer which worked in their favor. Gladio had neglected to listen to his earpiece for any updates or questions since he had been quite occupied, but he didn’t have to wonder when some help would arrive, as the first black SUV was already pulling up and several people piled out.

“Your highness!” someone called and boots appeared in Gladio’s peripheral. He checked to make sure it were the right people and yes, the uniform checked out and he actually knew one of the crowns guard.  

Noctis was ushered onto his feet among protests while two guards relieved Gladio of his position. Someone helped him up and guided him as he wavered and tried to find his balance.

“Gladio!” Noctis weaseled somewhere around him and he would have liked to pick him up by his scruff and keep him in place. Seventeen or not, he was acting like a kid right now.

“That needs some medical attention, sir,” someone said, and out of reflex Gladio looked at Noctis to make sure he really wasn’t hurt, regardless of the incorrect address. He thankfully found him pretty quickly, not even an arm’s length away from him. Noctis looked back with big eyes which turned heated a second later. 

“Not me!” he snapped. He was pushing away hands that were trying to lead him somewhere.

Someone pushed and pulled Gladio in a certain direction. He sent one last glance at the drunk man on the floor who was currently being restrained and no longer required his attention. Then he checked that Noctis wasn’t too far away from him before letting himself be led towards a black van that had appeared out of nowhere. The edges of his vision were a little fuzzy – very fuzzy, actually. 

Gladio was made to sit down on the step of the van. The woman in front of him in Crownsguard uniform leaned in close to inspect his face and pulled a grimace. “Supervisor’s gonna be here in a minute or two. We’ll then check on your eye.” She stared for a second longer before turning away.

Gladio grunted, no longer being able to resist the urge to feel for whatever was hurting so much. Surely there wasn’t anything stuck in his eye, right? He wasn’t quite stupid enough to touch the center of the pain, but he gingerly swept some fingers across his lower cheek and looked at the deep red coating they came back with. Well great.

“Gladio!” Noctis appeared in front of him again out of thin air.

“You alright?”

“Stop asking!” Noctis snapped. The fearful look was back on his face, accompanied by a deep frown as he studied Gladio’s face. He looked like he wanted to do something but didn’t know how. The internal struggle showed clear as day until he released a shaky breath and settled his hands around Gladio’s temples. He closed his eyes and breathed in slowly. 

“What are you doing?” Gladio asked suspiciously.

“Shut up.”

Noctis’ brows furrowed but his eyes stayed close as he concentrated. For several seconds nothing happened but then something icy cold started spreading throughout Gladio’s head. He startled, for a brief moment not knowing if this was pain due to a new injury or if the icy feeling was actually helping. It stayed blurred between good and bad for a long moment, before it started numbing the stabbing pain into more of a throbbing. The coldness spread towards his eye, taking root around the epicenter of the stabbing and slowly enveloping it. The pain was far, far from gone, but Gladio’s head cleared just slightly and the fuzziness of his vision got pushed back enough to where he could see mostly clearly again – from his right eye, that was.

It cleared up Noctis concentrated face which was considerably paler than it should be. It took Gladio’s muddled brain embarrassingly long to realize what was going on. When he did, he didn’t know what exactly to feel. 

“Noct, princess, stop,” he said. Noctis’ eyes remained closed but he shook his head. There was sweat at his temples and above his brow.

“Noctis,” Gladio said insistently while grabbing one of his wrists.

Noctis’ hands trembled and his breath came out shaky. He blinked his eyes open which Gladio had mind enough to acknowledge where somewhere between blue and purple. He first frowned and then glared at Gladio’s face, probably upset about the lack of improvement. Gladio could still very much feel the stabbing pain, but it was more bearable even if he still didn’t know what exactly was going on with the left side of his face. 

“Hey,” he said in attempt to catch Noctis’ eyes which thankfully worked. “You know you’re not supposed to do that.” He tried not to scold too hard, even when it still came out as such. Noctis hasn’t had much experience with direct healing apart from some training sessions Gladio wasn’t privy to. Though from what he understood, direct healing took a lot of stamina and magic, it basically burned through it like a hungry furnace. The only reason why Caelums even learned this skill was to be able to heal themselves as a last resort measure. As in a ‘I will die if I don’t do this’ sort of scenario.

This had very much not been a scenario where a last resort measure had been necessary. Yes, Gladio was injured and yes, it hurt like a bitch, but he was no stranger to pain and if he couldn’t stand this, how was he supposed to continue doing his job as a shield? He still, of course, appreciated the gesture and he didn’t have the headspace to properly scold Noctis for putting his own health at risk, so for now he’d just let it be. 

“Maybe it’ll just be a sick scar,” he said to lighten the mode and he really did not mind a scar, even one on his face. He could treat it as a badge of honor, a symbol that he was the embodiment of a shield and took that very seriously.

Noctis glared at him a bit more before he looked away to the side at the Crownsguard bustling around and tried to hide how strained his breath was. Gladio decided not to comment on it any further. His own gaze – eye – slipped to the spectacle and he saw the drunk guy being led away in handcuffs. At least that was one worry less. 

It didn’t strike Gladio as a targeted attack, or if it had been, not a very thought-out one. The man hadn’t exactly given any indication of wanting to harm the prince, though that wasn’t an alley they could leave unexplored. Perhaps it had been a wrong-place-wrong-time moment, a very unfortunately one for both parties involved, but it would put everyone at ease knowing that there wasn’t a gang of drunk people trying to hit royals with broken bottles. 

Gladio released a heavy breath, itching to get out of here. Even if there was no more apparent danger for Noctis, he didn’t like the thought of being incapacitated while there was even a chance of danger lurking around the corner. Thankfully, he could spy Monica approaching them and was hoping for at least some news. 

“Gladiolus,” she said with a nod towards him before bowing her head at Noctis. “Your highness. The medical staff at the Citadel are waiting for your arrival. We don’t suspect there to be any more danger, but you will have to remain at the Citadel until at least tomorrow.”

Pretty much what Gladio had expected. He was about to open his mouth to say something when Noctis cut him off. “Can’t you give him a potion?” he asked, very much on edge. Gladio wasn’t sure why he was behaving so strangely. Surely he wasn’t that shaken up about the attack. 

Monica took the question in stride and shook her head. “Unfortunately we need to make sure there are no glass shards embedded into Gladiolus skin or eye. Using a potion prematurely would only cause complications down the line.” 

Something which Noctis should know. He only glared at a random spot in the distance before nodding. “Okay, let's go then. Hurry up.” He clambered into the van while Monica and Gladio shared a look. There wasn’t much to be said though, so Gladio followed his charge’s example and off they were to the Citadel. 

He was very much hoping there wasn’t anything stuck in his eye. Eyes were a delicate organ and while he would have still one working eye left, he’d rather have both of them to perform his job well. While whatever magic Noctis had worked on his face had calmed the pain for the moment, it was still very much painful. The throbbing had developed back into an insistent stabbing, where he had no chance of figuring out what was actually wrong with it. He wished he could just look into a mirror. 

He noticed movement next to him and caught Noctis just before he could shove his hand into the pocket of his jacket. Gladio wanted to raise an eyebrow at that but his face was better left immobile as much as possible. 

“Lookin’ for something?” he asked instead. 

“Where is your phone?” Noctis asked, already moving on to the next pocket. 

Under normal circumstance Gladio would be annoyed about the question – he still was, on some level. Noctis had broken his phone maybe fifteen minutes ago and he was already looking for a replacement. Truly a teenager at heart. Though Gladio didn’t exactly have the energy to argue about something as trivial as this right now, so he just sighed and pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket opposite from Noctis to hand it to him. 

It was snatched away and unlocked immediately. He didn’t even have time to be affronted about that before Noctis was calling someone. He suspected Prompto, but was surprised when he heard Ignis’ voice from the other end of the line. 

“Gladio?”

“Specs.”

“Highness?” Ignis sounded even more confused about that. “Is everything all right? I heard what happened. Are you unharmed?”

“I’m fine!” Noctis grunted into the receiver. He pinched the bridge of his nose and pulled in a harsh breath. “Specs, I need you to pick up Prompto and bring him to the Citadel.”

Silence.

Out of all the things Gladio had expected, which hadn’t been that many, this truly hadn’t been one of them. Ignis seemed to think the same if his unexpected silence was anything to go of off. “I can’t, I’m on my way already. I have to be there when you arrive.”

Which was reasonable in Gladio’s eyes. Ignis was just as much responsible for Noctis as he was, of course he needed to be there. Especially with Gladio a little bit out of commission. Not that they expected anything to happen at the Citadel but it was just proper protocol. Ignis, more than anyone, would follow that and he obviously wanted to make sure Noctis was alright with his own two eyes. 

“That can wait, you have to go pick him up, he won’t get in otherwise.”

“I can’t, I’m sorry, Noct.”

“Ignis.”

“Noctis.”

Noctis needed a moment to get himself under control, Gladio could tell. It was very strange to see him like this. 

“Fine, get Nyx to pick him up.”

Gladio made a surprised face and immediately regretted it as the stabbing intensified. He turned his head a bit to give himself a second.

“Nyx?” Ignis asked in a similar state of confusion. “I’m not sure Glaive Ulric is-”

“He’s at the Citadel,” Noctis insisted. “He’ll do it.”

“Noctis, why is-”

“Please,” Noctis cut him off. “I- Please, Iggy.”

Ignis contemplated for several seconds before he sighed. It was rare that Noctis actually used ‘please’ to ask for a favor. “Alright, I’ll try to contact Glaive Ulric and give him directions. But my main concern is you right now.”

Noctis expression morphed through several complicated emotions, he chewed on his lip before hanging his head in defeat almost. “Okay, just please try.”

“Of course, I’ll see you in a couple of minutes.”

 

 

--

 

 

The time from arriving at the underground garage of the citadel to being swarmed by medical staff and then examined in the medial wing all happened in a blur. Gladio was glad to have spotted Ignis immediately and see him sticking to Noctis’ side while the doctors bustled around them. Gladio couldn’t exactly keep an eye on them while he was whisked away and then there were hands gently prodding at his face and around his eye. At this point he would have really liked to just have a potion to get this whole ordeal over with but alas, he was somewhat patient while they made sure his eye wasn’t damaged beyond saving. 

“That is most curious,” his doctor mumbled while shining a bright light into Gladio’s eye which did nothing except causing him intense pain and blinding him. 

Two nurses peered at his eye as well and everyone seemed quite astonished. “Did you use a potion, Lord Amicitia?” one nurse asked. 

“Nope,” Gladio said, trying not to sound annoyed about the torch blinding him into oblivion. It really didn’t help with the stabbing pain.

The doctor mumbled in confusion. “Based on the depth of the cut, it should have penetrated the eye as well. Do you see this, nurse Morris?” 

“It is noticeably more shallow.” The nurse frowned. “This shouldn’t have been possible without any healing.”

Well, that rang a bell. “I believe the prince did attempt to heal it,” Gladio said.

“With a potion,” the other nurse stated more than asked.

“No.”

The medical personnel exchanged a few surprised glances. 

“If that is the case, then I believe his Highness may have prevented you from losing your eye today, Lord Amicitia,” the doctor said as he leaned back and clicked off his flashlight. “I do not see any debris or shards in the wound, therefore we can safely administer a potion. With a high enough dose there should be barely any scarring. It should also help with your concussion.”

“Just give me a lower dose,” Gladio said. Everyone looked at him in confusion so he just grinned as much as he dared to with a cut across his face. “I wouldn’t mind the scar.”

The doctor had grace enough not to make a face at that proclamation. One of the nurses did but didn’t object in any other way. 

“Very well,” the doctor said. “It will be sore for a couple more days then. It’s advisable to refrain from strenuous activities or the cut might be prone to reopening. Your concussion should clear up as it was rather light.”

“Got it, doc.”

He was handed a potion, a lower dose at his request, but the relief was still imminent once he shattered it in his hand. The stabbing quieted down to a throb and then a low hum. The cold feeling settled around his eye and molded his skin back into an acceptable shape. It felt taut and tender, but there was no remainder from the flaming hot pain. His brain was also very happy about the cool sensation.

One of the nurses cleaned up the side of his face and his neck, discarding dozens of bloody gauzes on a steel tray. The sheer amount of them made Gladio sober up a little bit. Apparently losing his eye had been a very real threat, so real in fact, that it would have happened without Noctis forgoing protocol and attempting to heal him. Gladio didn’t like Noct putting himself in harm’s way like that, but he did owe him a big thank you and a lot of gratitude. 

Finally, after a mountain of bloody gauzes and some hesitant prodding from his own hand, he dared to blink his left eye open. His skin twitched and the lid fluttered annoyingly but he got it to respond. For a moment, everything looked a bit too white and blinding, but the colors settled as his neglected pupil adjusted to the light. Gladio blinked a few times, just to make sure all the mechanics were working as intended and indeed, he had full functionality back as well as his sight. Nothing seemed out of order, except the tenderness and itching of the freshly healed cut. 

The doctor performed a couple of tests himself before declaring him all ready to be discharged. No one needed to tell him twice and Gladio hastily made his way off the cot and out of the room to find Noctis and Ignis. He didn’t need to go far because they were right in front of the door with Ignis trying his hardest to keep his Royal Highness from storming the premises. 

“I need to make sure he’s okay!” Noctis protested as Ignis quite literally held him back by the shoulder of his hoodie.

“The doctors are making sure of that, Noct, just be patient.”

“But-” That was the exact moment he was spotted and Ignis released his hold just in time for Noctis to scurry over and scrutinize Gladio’s face. 

“Why didn’t they heal it properly?” was his first question, already summoning a potion into his hand – wherever he had gotten that from.

Gladio was quick enough to stop him with a hand on his wrist and a hopefully placating grin. “Relax, princess. I asked them not to. Where else am I gonna get a scar like that?”

He had hoped it would defuse the tension but Noctis’ eye twitched as he stared at his shield uncomprehendingly, he looked furious for a moment. The potion in his hand disappear with a spark and several others followed without anything being summoned from the Armiger. It looked like little sparklers going off in Noctis’ hand and usually Gladio would have made fun of his haywire magic but now he was more bewildered than anything. He let go of Noctis’ wrist and the last spark sizzled out. 

Gladio and Ignis shared a look, both of them not quite understanding here this behavior was coming from. Ignis raised an eyebrow subtly and Gladio tried to convey he had no idea. Ignis then studied his eye and scar with a calculating look. It probably still looked a little gnarly but that should fade over the next few days and just leave him with a nice scar. 

They were shaken out of the silent conversation when Noctis turned and started speed-walking off, probably in the direction of his quarters but who knew in his current mood. Especially when he started phasing in between his steps, just minimally, really, but it didn’t quite look intentional. 

“Noct,” Ignis said as both he and Gladio made haste to follow. 

An intricate dagger appeared in Noctis hand, disappeared, reappeared and disappeared again. Gladio wondered if he was planning on warping out of a window and how in Gaia’s name he was supposed to follow him then. 

“Where is Prompto?” Noctis asked. 

Ignis checked his phone briefly, not questioning the offhanded question. “I believe they are in the parking lot.”

“Send them up.” As if that wasn’t the normal progression of things.

The three of them walked all the way to Noctis’ quarters at a very brisk pace where he just told them to sit down while he paced up and down the length of the sitting room. It was a few tense minutes until a knock sounded on the door. Ignis went to answer while Noctis stared like a hawk. Nyx had the grace not to make any faces about both the peculiar request of fetching the prince’s best friend and the noticeable tension in the room. He just inclined his head and stepped aside to leave. Prompto, sort of oblivious to anything that had transpired before, slipped into the room with a bewildered and slightly amazed look on his face. 

“Geez, give a guy a warning next time, I thought I was getting arrested. Did you know this guy does magic tricks?” He wiggled his fingers. “Hella cool, man.”

“Glaive Ulric is one of the most experienced Kingsglaive,” Ignis said with a nod as he closed the door. 

“Hold up, that guy’s like an actual glaive?” Prompto asked with huge eyes. He looked over at Noctis to ask more questions but also spotted Gladio which caused him to scrunch up his entire face and squint at him. “Dude, what happened to your face?”

Gladio smirked, which still pulled a bit at his tender skin, but it didn’t exactly hurt. “Looked too deep into a bottle.”

Prompto frowned and opened his mouth for further questions when he was interrupted by the sound of crystals splintering and a dagger lodging itself into a wooden door frame somewhere off to the side. Noctis was tense like a live wire, shoulders hunched and obviously spending a lot of his energy on trying to breathe somewhat deeply. 

Prompto leaned toward Ignis and stage-whispered. “Okay, what exactly is going on here?”

“I would like to be enlightened myself,” was the exasperated reply he got.

“Princess,” Gladio tried but promptly shut up when Noctis glared at him with purple eyes. 

“Yikes,” Prompto muttered quietly but sounded quite concerned.

Everyone was sort of stumped about what to say so when Noctis grunted at them to sit down, they did just that. He started pacing again and Gladio watched with growing concern. He wanted to ask questions, lots of them, but Noctis had always been a bit of a nonchalant hothead and sometimes he needed a bit of space to sort out his shit. It felt like one of those instances, just dilated up to eleven and without a proper reason in Gladio’s eyes. 

It took several minutes for Noctis to come to a conclusion regarding whatever debate had been going on in his head. He stared at Gladio for a long moment, still with that glare in his eyes but thankfully back to the usual blue, before approaching his friends on the two couches. 

“I have never done this before,” he declared without context. “I don’t know how this shit works.”

Everyone had several question marks floating around their heads. Ignis immediately frowned in disapproval even when he didn’t know what this was about. 

Noctis’ head snapped around to Gladio. “You, first.” He crouched down in front of him and snatched up his wrist to put his thumbs onto the vein that ran into the center of his palm.

“What exactly are we doing?” Gladio asked in confusion and slight apprehension. He didn’t like not knowing what was going on. Sometimes Noctis got some very silly ideas, especially when he wasn’t thinking rationally and Gladio would like to veto whatever this was. However, Noctis didn’t give any more information and instead stared at his wrist in concentration. Nothing happened for a long while and he was growing kind of restless as did the other two. Glances were exchanged between them Gladio was about to pull his hand away so they could have a talk among adults and not-exactly-adults-but-getting-there when his arm was seemingly dunked into cold water and something pulled on it, like a force field of lower pressure around him. He grew a little bit alarmed at that.

“Hey, I don’t mind the scar but I’d like to keep the arm.”

Ignis inched forward on the couch, itching to do something but keeping silent. Noctis ignored Gladio for once and continued doing whatever it was he was trying to achieve. It felt different from the healing from before and even when he feeling subsided slightly, he still had no idea what had just happened. Noctis pulled away from his wrist to stand back up and Gladio flexed his hand a couple times to make sure it was still worked as it should – which it did, thankfully. 

Noctis looked at his hand and then him somewhat expectantly but Gladio was stumped about what to do. On instinct, his eyes flickered to Ignis who looked similarly confused, just less obvious. 

“Try it,” Noctis prompted, when nothing happened.

“Try what, princess?”

Noctis frowned as if only now realizing he had never clarified what exactly his plan had been. He summoned a dagger into his hand and dismissed it again. Gladio was obviously a bit slow, a lot had happened today after all, but Ignis was on it in an instant. 

“Noctis,” he said, somewhere between in awe, confused and disappointed. “You are supposed to wait until you are eighteen.”

Noctis didn’t even turn to look at him, just kept staring at Gladio’s hand as if expecting any remarkable change. “It’s my Armiger, I’ll share it with whoever I want, whenever I want.” 

Gladio blinked dumbly but nobody bothered to file him in, Ignis just continued. “It is supposed to be a ceremony. There should be preparations done. Has His Majesty even shown you how?”

“No, which is why I want to see if it worked.”

Ignis looked visibly frustrated. “Noctis-”

“Ignis.” 

Ignis smoothed along his brows with two fingers as if to manually stop himself from frowning and changed tactics. “You do realized we will have some serious explaining to do. Gladio is not supposed to have access to your Armiger yet. People will be upset.”

Gladio wanted to interject but their conversation was moving too fast. Prompto, too, just followed the exchange with an apprehensive expression.

“I don’t care!” Noctis snapped, finally turning towards Ignis. “I don’t care what people think! This is the only thing I can give you.”

“At a later time, Noctis.”

“What good does ‘a later time’ do?” Noctis gestured towards Gladio as if his presence was proof for something. “This is the only thing I can give you. What good does it do if I have this but I can’t protect you?”

Wait, what?

“Hey, hey, princess, we’re supposed to do the protecting,” Gladio said with raised hands, finally finding his cue and slowly, very slowly, starting to figure out what exactly was going on. “Are you upset cause I got hurt?” Noctis’ face twitched without looking at him and Gladio huffed. This was not what he had expected. “Noct, that’s my job. I am your shield, occasionally someone will get a hit in. That’s just statistics.”

And nothing surprising, really. It wasn’t like this was some new revelation, Gladio has carried the title of a shield ever since the moment he has been born and has been introduced to Noctis as such once he had been old enough. Noctis has grown up with his father acting as the King’s shield and had always known the purpose of this position and what it could and would entail. 

“I don’t care! You’re not allowed to get hurt because of me!” Noctis yelled as he turned to glare at Gladio. “No one is allowed to hurt you.”

Gladio did not understand. “Noct, my entire reason for being here is to get hurt instead of you.”

Several sparks went off around them and after a hot second of intense seething, Noctis turned around and stormed off to his bedroom. The loud slam of the door was the final nail in the coffin.

Gladio stared at the closed door and wondered why this situation had gotten away from him so quickly. He and Noct butted heads all the time, they sometimes needed time to cool off but this time he really didn’t understand what was going through his head. Usually he had a vague idea, even if he couldn’t relate or follow Noctis’ thought process all the time, he at least knew where the pain point was. This time it felt like he was somehow at fault when he was just doing his job and talked about very much established and understood concepts. 

Ignis sighed. “Gladio, that was the opposite of helpful,” he said.

Gladio really didn’t understand why what he said was an issue. “Why? It’s true, he knows it.”

“That’s like the worst way you could have said that, man,” Prompto said. He looked a bit spooked about the verbal fight and display of magic. In contrast to Gladio’s and Noctis’ relationship, Prompto and Noct basically never fought.

“What’s the issue?” Gladio asked, very much confused and starting to get annoyed. Why was he suddenly at fault for whatever this was? “That’s literally my title. I’m the last line of defense, I die before he does.”

Prompto made a face at that. Ignis didn’t move a muscle but gave him an imploring stare. “Perhaps, but to equate your presence and purpose in Noctis’ life to nothing more than of a sacrificial lamb will hurt his feelings and make him question when he has ever given you the impression that he sees you as such.” 

Gladio mulled that over for a bit. He was proud of his title and his purpose. He was the 113th shield to the future 113th king of Lucis, what was there not to be proud of? Then again, he and Noctis may have started out on a rough patch but their relationship was more than just prince and shield. They were close friends and Gladio had never doubted that Noctis viewed him as someone important in his life. Noctis, to him, was more than just a charge he had sworn to protect. He couldn’t put into words what exactly those feeling were but he knew that whether something happened to Noctis or his sister Iris, he’d be feeling the same things. The protective instinct was there for both of them, just as strong.

Trust Ignis to be the most eloquent and shift things into perspective. While it was his title and his purpose, he didn’t believe for one second Noctis only saw him as that. They had been forced into this bond by the circumstances of their births and families, but it had developed into a lot more than just duty. If someone were to imply Gladio only stuck around because he was bound by duty, he’d get offended as well, especially if it came from Noctis himself. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he grumbled. Of course it was once again him who wouldn’t read the subtext of a conversation.

Ignis’ stare softened a little. “Which I believe all of us know, but Noctis is questioning a few things at the moment.”

“He knows this stuff,” Gladio said in his defense, though with noticeably less conviction behind his words than before. “It’s not news.”

Ignis shook his head. “The concept of sacrifice and the reality of it are two different things. He has always grown up with the concept of it, but was never confronted with the reality.” Ignis studied his expression but seemed to figure Gladio didn’t quite get it. “Do you remember what happened when Noctis was fourteen?”

No more context needed to be given. An icy shiver ran down Gladio’s spine, the shock of that day still sitting deep within him and resurfacing occasionally even years later. Sometimes he found himself staring at Noctis face, his eyes especially, just to see signs of life there. He would never forget that dead, lifeless stare in those young eyes.

He gave Ignis a sharp look. “I didn’t die.”

“What?” Prompto asked quietly, eyes wide with shock. 

“No,” Ignis said. “But Noctis realized you could.”

That statement made Gladio’s thoughts halt for a second.

“It may have been something small,” Ignis continued, “perhaps insignificant in the long term, but he realized you can be harmed by another’s hand. You may not have minded, but to him, that scar will be a reminder.”

Gladio was still reeling a bit and trying to find his footing. Of course he could die, that wasn’t even a question to him. He was very aware of his own mortality and worked hard to tip chances in his favor, to be strong and resilient, to be reliable. “It’s not like I’ve never been hurt before.”

“Not to protect him.”

Gladio ran a hand through his hair. He got it, but also not. Noctis had always known he would have a shield, his father had a shield and other people protecting him. It wasn’t anything new. Yet, it truly had been the first time he had stepped in to protect Noctis in earnest. The scar was a prize to him, he saw it as his first medal of honor. He hadn’t thought about how him stepping in front of Noctis to take a hit would affect him. If he thought back to the time when Noctis had just dropped dead on his watch and he had been unable to do anything – it did give him more perspective. He couldn’t relate entirely, but there was some understanding there. 

“I think if anyone got hurt because of me, I’d feel awful,” Prompto mumbled. “I know you have all this fancy protocol or whatever, but you know,” he shrugged, “just because you know something doesn’t make it easier to experience. I know spiders aren’t out to kill me, but I still freak out when I see one.”

Gladio smirked, taking the chance for more normal conversation. “I wouldn’t be so sure about the spiders.”

Prompto grimaced. “Thanks, man.”

“Prompto is right,” Ignis said and Prompto grinned triumphantly. “We may have come to terms with our duties, but I think it is quite natural to feel conflicted when a person dear to you experiences harm because of you.” 

Gladio could sign off on that. If they removed all titles and duties, which was impossible to do, but hypothetically, he would feel guilty if another person got hurt to protect him. It was logical even. Noctis was human, just like the rest of them. He may have an important lineage and royal blood and funky magic powers, but he was human – a hotheaded teenager with lots of big responsibilities and expectations on his plate, but still human. 

When Gladio thought back on what he had said, how he had acted, it did all make more sense. Noctis hadn’t been spooked about being attacked by a random stranger, he had been spooked about seeing Gladio willingly take a hit meant for him and getting his face sliced open. The entire time he had been focused on Gladio and helping him, healing him. He had been upset when the medical staff hadn’t healed him properly and he had been even more upset when Gladio had just brushed it off as part of his job. 

Everything he had said still held true, but he did have a bit more understanding for that not-even-adult-yet, who had just seen his friend get hurt, hadn’t even flinched at it and saw it as his job.

“I’m not getting rid of the scar though,” Gladio said with finality and pretended not to see Ignis’ subtle eye roll. That’s where he drew the line.

“It does look kinda cool,” Prompto said. “Also, I think I’ll go check on Noct. I’m not sure that he won’t set something on fire.”

Ignis gave a grave nod. “I believe that is for the best.”

Prompto was probably the best person for that job. He was furthest removed from all the royal protocol and truly the embodiment of a friend. He knocked on the door and poked his head in after a couple seconds. There were no sounds of raging lightning or daggers being thrown so he slid into the room and closed the door behind him.

Gladio leaned back against the couch to stare up at the ceiling for a moment and sighed all the tension out of his shoulders. “I’m not made to deal with teenagers, Iggy,” he said. 

“I’m not sure that is a skill ever truly mastered.”

“You seem to have got the hang of it.”

“We all have our strength and weaknesses.”

Yes, like delivering little teasing jabs with a straight face. 

Ignis’ eyes traveled from Gladio’s face down to his arm. “Did he really give you access to his Armiger?”

Gladio raised his head to stare at his hand, closing and opening his fist a few times. It didn’t feel any different, the cold feeling as subsided a while ago. “I have no clue. He sure did something.” He looked at the door for a moment. “He probably shouldn’t have-”

“Certainly not.”

“He’s already tried healing my eye.”

“I beg your pardon?” Ignis said sharply.

Gladio froze, briefly considering just staying quiet but one glance at Ignis made it apparent he would not take that as a suitable answer. He was starting to understand why he had such a good handle on Noct. “The bottle guy got me pretty good. Doc said I should have lost my eye with how deep the cut was. Noct was freaking out the entire time and he healed it once the Crownsguard was there.” He gave a little shrug. “Or as much as he could anyway. I told him to knock it off once I realized what he was doing.”

“He did not use a potion?”

“I think he didn’t have one.” Which would explain the frantic Armiger searching. “Plus, they had to make sure there wasn’t anything stuck in there. Thankfully there wasn’t. Dunno how that would have gone.”

Ignis pushed the bridge of his glasses up into his glabella and closed his eyes for what looked like a moment to count to ten. “Why is he constantly testing me?”

Gladio gave a wry smile. “Chin up Iggy, at least he’s still kicking.”

Ignis gave him a look but didn’t complain any further. They remained in silence for the next couple of minutes until the door to Noctis’ bedroom creaked open and him and Prompto shuffled back into the room, the latter giving a very not subtle thumbs-up over Noctis’ shoulder. 

It took a couple of moments until Noctis sighed heavily and turned to Gladio. “Can you still try, please?” he asked and didn’t have to elaborate on what he meant this time. 

“Noct, I have no idea how your fancy magic works,” Gladio said, trying not to react to the out-of-character use of ‘please’. If he drew attention to it, it would disappear forever.

Noctis huffed and scrubbed at his forehead. “I’ve never had to explain this to anyone. It’s…” He trailed off and stared into the distance. He summoned and dismissed several different objects into his hand – a pen, a tennis ball, an energy drink, a game controller, a book, a flashlight. He twirled it around in his hand before letting it disappear and focusing back onto Gladio.

“When I was first getting the hang of it, my dad told me to imagine it like a closet. You open the door and everything is in there. You just have to find the closet in your head.”

“That doesn’t seem very helpful,” Gladio deadpanned. “I don’t even really know what I’m supposed to be looking for.” He didn’t really feel like doing this right now but assumed Noctis would not be placated until he knew things were working. 

“Okay, here.” Noctis crouched down again put his hand underneath Gladio’s. “I’ll try to do it slowly, just let me know if you can feel anything.”

Gladio was about to ask for more information but shut up when something that he could only describe as a cold humming or vibration registered somewhere in his body. He wasn’t sure if it was in his head or in his hand or in his arm or in all places at once. It felt odd and foreign but not exactly threatening. He tried to concentrate on that feeling but it was evasive and slipped out of his grasp. Instead, something fell into his hand and he looked down to spot a plastic fork. He sent Noctis a look.

The other scrunched up his face. “Shut up, I needed something I actually had to look for.”

“How long’s been that in there?” Gladio asked but didn’t receive an answer. The fork looked clean at least but looks could be deceiving.

“Could you feel that?”

Gladio shrugged. “If you mean that my brain felt like it was vibrating, then yes.”

“That’s a sick mental image,” Prompto said with big eyes.

Noctis looked a bit confused about that description but thought about it for a moment. “I guess?” He made the fork disappear again and watched Gladio’s expression closely. “But you can feel something?”

“Yeah, princess, I can feel your freaky magic hocus-pocus.” Which he had never felt before and it was very, very strange to experience. He had always thought the magic was both amazing and weird but since he had grown up in proximity to it, he probably wasn’t as freaked out as some other people would be.

“Can you try to summon something?”

Before Gladio could answer, Ignis did. “Noct, I believe it took you a couple of weeks to properly and reliably summon anything from your Armiger. I am not dismissing Gladio’s prodigy, but I believe expecting results right this moment is a bit too ambitious, regardless of your fabulous teachings.”

Noctis pursed his lips in what could almost be described as a pout.

“What he said,” Gladio echoed. “Gimme some time, okay? You can teach me all about the closet in my head later.”

“At least now there’s something in there,” Noctis muttered as he stood up again. His gaze slowly wandered over to Prompto and they just stared until each other until a small smirk crawled onto Noctis’ face. “Next one.”

Prompto’s eyes grew even wider. “Dude.” He pulled his legs up onto the couch as if he was trying to escape backwards over the backrest. “Dude, Iggy said no more magic hocus-pocus.”

“I outrank him,” Noctis said with a triumphant smile. “Sucks to be you. Get over here.”

Prompto jumped over the couch and peeked over the edge. “If Big Man’s brain is vibrating, mine’s gonna explode.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“Noctis,” Ignis sighed but was ignored.

Prompto shrieked once Noctis jumped at him and a wild chase around the couch started.

“Iggy, help me!” Prompto yelled.

“I believe His Highness has elected to ignore my advice, you are unfortunately on your own, Prompto.”

“Damn straight!” Noctis called and phased in front of Prompto to tackle him to the ground. Prompto shrieked a few more times before slapping the ground in surrender. 

“Alrighty, okay, fine!”

Noctis waited a couple of moments before moving off his friend so he could sit up. 

“Urgh, why me? I’m not important enough for the hocus-pocus,” Prompto muttered as he brushed his hair out of his face. 

Noctis narrowed his eyes at him. “I am also electing to ignore that because otherwise I’d have to go on a pretty long rant.” He grabbed Prompto’s arm and pulled him a bit closer. “Besides, ‘because I want to’ is the only reason, there are no other qualifications necessary.”

Prompto opened his mouth to protest a bit more but stopped once he probably experienced the same sensation Gladio had. He watched the two carefully and tried not to snicker at the fifty different faces Prompto pulled. It didn’t take all that long and Prompto was left staring at his hand in wonder as if trying to telepathically summon something. He was unsuccessful.

Noctis stalked over to Ignis who look far from impressed. “Noctis, this really isn’t proper protocol.”

“I really don’t care, Iggy. Now gimme your hand.”

Ignis held it out reluctantly, a disapproving frown on his face that stayed there throughout the entire ordeal. He, too, stared at his hand in somewhat akin to wonder and curled his fingers into his palm only to stretch them out again once Noctis was done.

Noctis, at least, looked a bit more relaxed even if they weren’t magically able to summon anything from his mystical space closet yet. He looked at each of his friends and then held out his hand with his palm facing the floor. In the midst of blue flashes and glass splintering, heaps of weapons dropped onto the floor - a broadsword, a large shield, an intricately decorated pole arm, two twin daggers, two guns and a pistol.

“Oh woah, woah, woah,” Prompto said, inching back. “Chill with the artillery, man.”

“Those are yours,” Noctis said like he had just each given them a houseplant to take care of.

“Where did you even get all that?” Gladio asked flabbergasted, easily recognizing his preferred weapons of choice and not knowing how to feel about that. Of course he was aware Noctis was stocking weapons in his armiger. Once he had been allowed to, he had taken every opportunity to swipe weapons from anywhere he could on top of the ones he was given as gifts or tools. It was however, a bit of a surprise to see even a fraction of the amount of things he could store in there. It made Gladio a little worried he’d never find anything again once he dropped it into the newly created void in his head. 

Noctis shifted. “Had them made for you. I can give you access to my armiger and weapons, but that’s about it.” He looked down and shuffled one foot against the tiles. “It probably won’t be enough so I’ll try to be better about stocking potion and everything in there too.” His face scrunched up like he had just taken a bit out of a lemon, or simply an ordinary vegetable to be quite honest. “I just want you guys to stay safe.”

Gladio and Ignis shared a look, the latter raising his eyebrows. Gladio sighed, realizing he probably had to say something. There is a lot he could say and some things he really should say, but perhaps not all of that needed to happen right now. “Noct, listen, I know it’s not what you want to hear, but we will get hurt sometimes. That’s just how these things go. We’re here because we want to be here. It’s not your fault if we get hurt.”

Noctis shook his head. “If you’re getting hurt, you’re getting hurt because of me.”

Gladio opened his mouth to protest but Prompto was considerably faster. “Uh, not true?” he said. “In fact, just yesterday I actually slipped on the last step of the stairs. Saw my life flashing in front of my eyes. Don’t think that was your fault, buddy. Oh, and you remember that thumbtack I said I lost? Yeah, stepped in it two days later. I ascended to the ceiling.”

Prompto was good at a lot of things in Gladio’s eyes, but he was especially good at counteracting Noctis’ tendency to shoulder every little burden and to get stuck in pointless cycles of thoughts. He was an incredibly good counterweight without making light of all the things happening around them due to his friend’s position.

A little snort escaped Noctis though he did try to phrase a contra argument before Ignis interjected smoothly. 

“We do our best to protect you, just as you do your best to protect us.” He inclined his head towards the weapons on the ground. “This is not a one way street, Noct. We see everything you are trying to do and you know-” his eyebrows twitched up, “the best way to protect us is if you can protect yourself, which is why I think you should pay attention to what Gladio is trying to teach you during practice.”

Noctis threw his head back and groaned while Gladio just grinned in victory. Of course Ignis would turn this into a lecture. “Fine, whatever,” he said like the mature teen trying to avoid another lecture that he was. “But I will teach you how to use the armiger and you will learn that pronto. I won’t have you run around without access to weapons and whatnot like fools again.”

“We’ll learn to use the magic space closet, don’t worry,” Gladio promised. “But not today. Now, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m starving and I know there is a stack of cup noodles calling my name.”

“We literally ate like two hours ago,” Noctis said with befuddled expression. “What are you? A behemoth?”

Gladio smirked. “Yes, and a hungry one, so we better get a move on.”

“First, you have to clean up that mess,” Ignis said and waved at the scattered weapons on the ground. 

Noctis grumbled under his breath but dutifully released everything back into his armiger and really, it shouldn’t have been so funny to see the prince frantically pick up weapons of all sorts of size only to make them disappear into a shower of blue spark like a moody magician, but it was.

“Just think of how many cup noodles I can stash in there,” Gladio mused mostly to himself. 

Ignis still rolled his eyes at him. “As long as you keep an eye on the expiry dates and clean up your side of the closet, that is fine with me.”

“I’ll just keep everything school related in there and I won’t ever forget my stuff again.” Prompto’s eyes sparkled at the possibility. “I’ll be so on top of my game.”

“You will still have to actually do your homework,” Ignis reminded him. “And learn all of the material for your exams.”

Prompto’s smile dropped instantly. “Hey, I can put it in there and you can do it for me, Iggy.”

“I would think not.”

“Was worth a shot.”

“I’ve been trying for years,” Noctis said as he stood up after finally disappearing the last weapon. “He hasn’t cracked yet.”

“And I will not,” Ignis proclaimed. “School is important and it is ever more important to retain integrity and actually do the work that was assigned to you yourse-”

“Okay, who was hungry again?” Noctis asked loudly over him, clapping his hands together and stalking towards the door. Gladio and Prompto followed him with amused grins while Ignis huffed and brought up the rear.

 

 

Notes:

I hope the ending wasn't too choppy. This has been sitting almost done for two months now and I just wanted to get it ready for upload.
Thanks to everyone who read and commented, I really appreciate it <3

Notes:

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Hope you liked this one, see ya next time~