
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9417782.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Final_Fantasy_XV
  Relationship:
      Noctis_Lucis_Caelum/Ignis_Scientia, Prompto_Argentum/Noctis_Lucis_Caelum,
      Gladiolus_Amicitia/Noctis_Lucis_Caelum, Gladio/Noctis/Ignis, Gladiolus
      Amicitia_&_Prompto_Argentum_&_Noctis_Lucis_Caelum_&_Ignis_Scientia
  Character:
      Noctis_Lucis_Caelum, Gladiolus_Amicitia, Ignis_Scientia, Regis_Lucis
      Caelum_CXIII, Cor_Leonis, Clarus_Amicitia, Titus_Drautos_|_Glauca, Nyx
      Ulric, Prompto_Argentum
  Additional Tags:
      Chocobros_-_Freeform, OT4, Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence, POV
      Alternating, Sex_Magic, Magic_training, Daddy_Issues, Angst, Action_&
      Romance, Friendship_is_Magic, Explicit_Language, Slow_Build, Implied/
      Referenced_Dubious_Consent, Porn_With_Plot, It's_mostly_plot, like_95
      percent_plot, Basically_the_fuck_or_die_trope_played_straight_and_taken
      seriously, Mutual_Pining, Blow_Jobs, Threesome_-_M/M/M, Power_Play,
      Political_Shenanigans, a_lot_of_discussion_about_consent, Magical_Bond
  Series:
      Part 1 of The_Cost_of_Magic_and_the_Price_of_Duty
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-01-22 Completed: 2017-11-10 Chapters: 13/13 Words: 101970
****** For Duty ******
by Allubttoa
Summary
     ---“I’m saying that forming a Covenant is an act of creation,” Gladio
     replied as he raised an eyebrow at Ignis. “And so the question is,
     how do you create something where there was only potential before?”--
     -
     Prince Noctis turns sixteen and begins his magical training.
     Unfortunately for him, his royal training involves a magical sex
     ritual that grants his retainers their powers. To this end, Noctis
     and his retainers must fulfill their duty to the Crown before it's
     too late, even if it means tearing their friendship apart. [Sex magic
     AU. A lot less porny than the description makes it seem. More of a
     coming of age angst fest.]
Notes
     There is a suggestion/discussion of dub/non con later in the story.
     If you would like a more detailed warning, it is in the end note.
***** Sweet Sixteen *****
Chapter Summary
     Noctis celebrates his birthday. Ignis tries not to strangle him.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                                 **Chapter 1**
                                  **Noctis**
Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum turned sixteen on August 30. He found the
celebration excruciating to suffer through. Most people celebrated their
sixteenth birthday with a party to acknowledge their coming of age, finally
leaving the realm of youth behind and shouldering the mantle of adulthood, a
thing both bittersweet and exciting. For Noctis it was something different,
something more, because for a Caelum, aging involved something far more
magical. A Caelum turned sixteen, and he began the process of fulfilling his
family’s covenant with the Crystal that powered and protected all of Lucis.
A Caelum turned sixteen, and he began to die.
It was a process that started with establishing his own magical
interdimensional weapons arsenal, but ended with giving up his health and life
to sustain the Crystal. A father to his son, and then to his son, and to his
son, and to his son.
To celebrate Noctis’s birthday, over a thousand people crowded the Citadel, all
of them congratulating him on having made it far enough in life to finally
start being useful. Here was the point at which Noctis finally began to earn
the life of luxury and privilege he had been born into.
The throne room glittered with lights, thousands of real, burning candles
hanging from the ceiling. Crystalline cups and punch bowls were scattered
across mahogany tables that had been pulled out of some gods forsaken attic and
polished until you could see your face mirrored on them if you so chose. The
whole thing was very high-class, suits and elegant cocktail dresses, and
basically everything Noctis hated in life. Of course, the extravagant candles
and crystalline cups were pointless, as the eerie light of the Crystal hanging
behind the throne outshone every other attempt at creating impressive,
glittering scenery.
Noctis had parked himself next to one of those glossy tables and proceeded to
avoid the gazes of everyone else around him, lest he be pulled into some pained
conversation. So far he had been moderately successful. He swirled the ice in
his punch and wondered idly how much hanging a thousand useless candles from
the twenty-foot high throne room ceiling even cost.
The people milling next to him were discussing Lucis’s recent withdrawal from
even more territory, including an important sea port to the south. They had as
of yet made no attempt to include him in the conversation, and Noct did his
best to support that decision with an air of unapproachability. Noctis’s
opinion of the issue was marred by the fact that the strain of keeping the wall
against that attack had left his father bed ridden for two weeks. Regis had
finally emerged with hair even paler, knuckles swollen and gnarled, and eyes
that could not hide the pain he was in.
“Well you’re just a ball of happy sunshine, aren’t you?”
Gladio sidled up to him, all prim and proper in his Crownsguard uniform, his
brand new tattoos hidden underneath heavy black sleeves.
“That obvious, huh?” Noctis drawled. If it was obvious to Gladio, then it was
probably obvious to others, including his father. He swirled his cup some more,
wondering if he could persuade Gladio to slip him some of the good stuff.
Probably not.
Gladio, he decided, did not look genuine in the borrowed, formal Crownsguard
uniform. The formal uniform was made of stiff leather adorned with far too many
ribbons and buttons, impractical for a group of people whose job description
involved violence. It was also a size too small, barely stretching out over his
bulging biceps.
“The biggest birthday celebration the Citadel’s ever seen, and you’re hiding
behind the punch bowl.”
At that, Noctis raised his gaze from his punch and just looked at Gladio, his
eyes open and lips a grim line. There were many things that Noctis was not very
good at expressing, but he found that both Gladio and Ignis were masterful at
reading what his verbal skills tended to leave lacking. Gladio met his gaze
searchingly, and then heaved a long suffering sigh with a shake of his head.
“Damn hopeless.”
Noctis had no response to that, so eventually he shrugged.
“Would it help,” Gladio asked, “if I snuck you some of the good stuff?”
Noctis blinked suspiciously. “Yes?”
“Yeah, well keep dreaming, princess.” Gladio’s laughter boomed loud and
boisterous, and it caused several people to turn their heads with scandalous
looks. Meanwhile, Noctis managed to catch his father staring directly at him
from the steps of the throne. He deliberately pretended he hadn’t noticed, but
then Gladiolus pushed him in the back with curled knuckles, whispering, “Don’t
you dare. Go.”
Noctis gave him his most sullen look, pointless because unlike Ignis, Gladio
was never the least bit intimidated by his moods. Still, he put his punch glass
down and proceeded to make the gallows walk up to the throne steps.
Perhaps he was being overly dramatic, but his father had been increasingly
brooding and short-tempered in the weeks leading up to Noctis’s birthday.
Whether that was due to the growing dire political situation with Niflheim or
the implication of Noct’s birthday itself, he had no idea. But Noctis had
recently spent as little time in the presence of his father as possible.
Out of self-preservation, he had surreptitiously watched King Regis closely all
evening, and while the King was outwardly his usual stoic and majestic self,
Noctis could not help but notice he was on his fourth wine glass.
He came to a rest before his father and bowed with his hand over his heart,
though he stopped infinitesimally above where was proper. A small defiance.
Noctis could not refuse this sham, drawn-out birthday celebration, no more than
he could refuse his duty to the crown. It was without a doubt a very childish
action, but Noctis had few avenues of self-expression when it had anything to
do with kingly business. He felt his father’s lips curl, but then perhaps the
King should have listened to Noctis when he said he didn’t want any of this
fanfare for his birthday. Perhaps he should not have pulled away from Noctis
these last few weeks, leaving him to sort through his fears and apprehension
alone.
Apparently having chosen the high road and ignoring Noct’s rebellion for now,
King Regis raised his head, his gaze roving over the crowded throne room.
Silence quickly followed, the throng of people as responsive as marionettes.
It was apparently time. They had finally gotten to the meat of the ceremony.
Both relief and terror warred within Noctis as his father began an imperious
speech, droning on and on about the momentousness of today, how Noctis was
finally taking his place. As his father spoke, he struggled to tamp down the
ratcheting anxiety, to condense it into tight ball and send it far away where
it could not control him. It was one thing to subtly challenge his father
through an unimportant protocol and another thing entirely to puke on his
shoes.
Noctis closed his eyes, though only for a moment because any longer and he’d
have to hear a speech about proper princely decorum from some self-important
advisor, but it was long enough. There was a place inside of himself where he
had learned to go in situations like these at an early age, a place where he
was untouchable, empty of desires and fear and need, and that was the place he
now sought and found.
Opening his eyes, he was finally able to allow the surface of his mind to
settle into something still and undisturbed, as glassy as a frozen pond. The
crowd was endless, their gazes’ infinite, but he floated above it. He felt
stripped bare.
His father finally finished speaking, gesturing for Noctis come with him, and
he numbly followed up the many steps of the throne, until they were standing
just before it. The Crystal pulsed warmly. Noctis could feel it, like an itch
under his skin, whispering in the back of his mind.
King Regis reached out and grasped Noctis’s hand, the black ring on his finger
gleaming. Its illustriousness was a startling contrast to the King’s own
gnarled skin. He spoke quietly, his head bowed toward Noctis. This at least was
for them, and not anyone else. “Are you ready, Noct?”
Noctis was not ready. He would never be ready.
“Yes.”
The King smiled at that, an empty smile, as though he had heard the true answer
underneath Noctis’s affirmation. He turned, and Cor handed him something long
and silver. Stepping back, his father held out a gleaming sword to Noctis.
Noctis fought admirably to remain in his disaffected state. But then he allowed
himself to truly look at the sword, and he could not help how his breath caught
in his throat. It was beautiful. Absolutely exquisite. Thinner and more
graceful than the hulking blades that Gladio preferred, yet obviously big
enough and sharp enough to do the damage it needed to. There was some kind of
mechanism on the hilt, although Noctis could not imagine what it was for. He
reached for it almost without thinking, only managing to abort his movement at
the last moment.
King Regis smiled indulgently as he laid the sword across Noct’s palm. Noctis
coiled his fingers around it, pulling it close. Then a whirl of sparks exploded
around the King, and his own sword appeared. He drew his blade above Noctis’s
arm, his hands trembling from the strain.
Noctis did not need to be told how this part of the ceremony was supposed to
go. He could not truly communicate with the Crystal until he took the Ring of
the Lucii. But this ceremony was an introduction of sorts. An Awakening. With a
swallow, he turned his free hand over so that it rested before his father, palm
up.
Regis moved quickly and efficiently, restrained in an otherwise ostentatious
ceremony. The sword slashed across Noctis’s palm. Noctis told himself he would
not flinch, and he mostly managed, even though the cut was deeper than he had
imagined. As he withdrew his hand from his father, the blood quickly welled up
and ran in rivulets down his arm.
The King’s eyes flickered down to the freely flowing blood, dripping from his
son’s arm. Noctis’s stomach twisted in on itself as he watched his father’s
face carve itself into a terrible mask, his expression savage and pained. Even
as he told himself it was baseless, he couldn’t help but fear that maybe his
father was worried Noctis would somehow fail this test and doom the kingdom,
shaming their family forever. But the King’s voice was steady and formal as he
said, “You who carry the blood of the Kings of Lucis. Go forth and make the
Covenant with the Crystal.”
With his father’s expression bearing down on him, there was nowhere to hide.
His blood was ice in his veins. Noctis held his bleeding hand out, pressing his
palm against the Crystal.
Immediately, the muscles in his hand clenched up. For a wild second he felt he
would be pulled into the Crystal itself, swallowed and consumed while his
father could only watch. He wrenched his hand back, only to find it was
practically fused to the gleaming Crystal.
Noct’s heart thudded, and he tried to jerk his head around to implead his
father. But the world around him swam and blurred until he was surrounded on
all sides by murky smoke and colors, his father and the rest of the observers
nowhere to be seen.
Then a figure stood before him, impossibly tall, its face hidden by armor.
“Who are you to call on the Kings of Lucis, protectors of the Crystal of
Light?”
Noctis could not breath. Though he did not understand what was happening, there
was no turning back now, and the answer to that question at least was easy,
unescapable. “It is I, Noctis Lucis Caelum.”
The figure was silent so Noctis continued hesitantly, “I am son of Regis
Caelum, son of Augustine Caelum....” Noctis trembled, but he managed to get
through all the names of his ancestors, down to the one who had first made the
covenant with the Gods. Ignis would be proud. He’d been drilling Noctis on it
for three months now.
Though when they had practiced, they had imagined the ceremony to go quite
differently. Noct was supposed to hold his hand on the Crystal and recite these
lines to his father, not a strange being in a dream world. Was this what lived
inside the Crystal? His father had not described anything like this dream world
to him, and he didn’t understand why this was happening. Had they done
something wrong, or was this supposed to be, and his father just hadn’t
bothered to warn him?
He beheld the strange figure as he finished his recitation, taking in the
intricate armor, the familiar crest on his breast.
The figure, the King, Noctis finally comprehended, took another long pause.
Then he said flatly, “You are unfinished.”
It was the way he said, unfinished. It dripped from his lips so that it sounded
more like unworthy. Noctis fought not to shrink into himself.
The figure snorted. “Still, blood calls to blood.” Noctis could not see the
ancient King’s eyes, but they bored into him nonetheless. His voice tore into
Noctis. “I name thee of the line Lucis Caelum, Protectors of the Crystal. The
Chosen King of Kings, I name thee, and Bringer of the Dawn. It is done.”
The pain that followed was incredible. He was being stabbed with a thousand
swords, gutted, organs ripped to shreds. His arm, blood still seeping, seized
on itself, and every nerve burned white hot, as if hooks were being twisted
into every part of him capable of sensation. His mouth was frozen, his scream
of agony trapped in his throat.
And then it was done. Noctis blinked, and the throne room came into focus
again.
King Regis spoke over the buzzing in Noctis’s ears, “It is done,” his words
eerily echoing the ancient Luciian King.
Noctis could not remember most of what happened next. His father grasped his
hand painfully tight. A blur of faces. The King spoke again, but Noctis found
he could not focus enough to understand it. Another sharp blast of pain.
Every muscle and bone in his body ached. He closed his eyes, and the throbbing
of his head seemed almost in time with the pulsing feeling of the Crystal
behind him. It wasn’t just the pain either; exhaustion like he had never known
pulled at him, sleep calling him demandingly into its warm embrace. He thought
he might actually faint right here in next to the King.
But then someone had their arm under his shoulder, and they pulled him
insistently. His feet struggled to keep him upright and walking. A familiar
scent of leather and sweat wafted over him, and he slurred, “Gladio?” He wasn’t
sure if was actually Gladio that answered, but Noctis murmured, his tongue
thick and useless, “I’m so tired, Gladio.”
Noctis fell into a deep and dreamless oblivion.
                                      ***
                                   **Ignis**
Ignis Scientia found Noctis’s sixteenth birthday party excruciating to live
through. In the weeks leading up to it, Noctis had been increasingly moody and
sullen, his bad temper only outdone by his father. Needless to say the Citadel
was a tense place to be at the moment.
At the party itself, his young charge flatly refused to engage in any useful
social behavior, thus leaving Ignis to pick up the slack. He wasn’t resentful
per se, but it was certainly frustrating. Noctis seemed to think that because
Ignis excelled at cozying up to dignitaries and remembering long lists of names
and interests that he must enjoy it. Noctis was wrong in that regard, but there
was no point in enlightening him otherwise.
So Ignis talked to a Duscaen Baron about the recent record flooding in that
region and its impact on potato crops. He commented on the price of Altissian
imports. He spoke to Gralian immigrant about Niflheim’s aggression and
reassured him that the King was committed to protecting that border. That was a
lie of course. Ignis happened to know that the council was just this morning
planning how far inward to pull the border wall. The King had admitted to his
closest advisors that at the current rate of bombardment, he would likely die
within three years. Absolutely no one had any illusions that Noctis would be
ready to hold the wall himself in three years. And so sacrifices had to be
somewhere.
He knew that many of the council members despised that Regis had insisted on
keeping the traditional age of the Ceremony of Awakening for his son, refusing
to even hear of moving it up, of preparing Noctis earlier. Ignis wasn’t sure
how he personally felt about it. On one hand, it was selfish to insist Noctis
have his childhood while so many suffered. On the other, Regis was the only
person in the world who had any idea how royal magic worked. If he said Noctis
wasn’t ready until he was at least sixteen, then who were they, mere mortal in
this tale of Gods and magic, to say anything to the contrary.
It wasn’t that Ignis ever forgot exactly what Noctis was. But the idea of
serving a royal Lucii certainly lost its sparkle when one was in the middle of
washing that royal’s underwear. That same person who couldn’t figure out how to
fry an egg without melting his pan, would soon be wielding the most potent
magic the world knew. No, Ignis had never truly forgotten, but there was
something warm in the pit of his stomach, something suspiciously like pride and
wonder, as he watched Noctis ascend the throne steps to stand beside the King.
That pit in his stomach tightened into unpleasantness when Noctis purposely
fouled the bow to his father, though he doubted very many observers had caught
that. Ignis pursed his lips. Noctis had a reputation for arrogance and
aloofness, and one could certainly add stubbornness to that list of deficient
character traits. Even now, he stood stony faced and blank eyed as his father
gave his speech. But Ignis could see the tightness around his eyes, the
stiffness in his shoulders, how his breathing was just slightly unsteady.
At some point in his life Noct had learned to use apathy as a defense mechanism
against the things in his life he had no control over. That wasn’t the same
thing at all as arrogance, even if the distinction was difficult to see
sometimes.
His movement surprisingly assured, Noctis held his hand out, and the King
slashed his sword across his palm. Every King of Lucis had his own weapon,
given to him on the day he was fully bonded to the Crystal, and buried with him
the day he died. The one that rested in Noctis’s non bleeding hand had been
commissioned by King Regis months before, called the Engine Blade. It was
exquisite work. Ignis could see that even from his vantage point at the base of
the throne steps.
A hand suddenly grasped Ignis’s shoulder, jerking him back. But it was only
Gladiolus, somehow able to approach him entirely silently even though he was
the size of truck.
“Little man’s finally growing up,” he said, the gruffness in his voice doing
little to disguise the tenderness.
Ignis hummed his assent as he turned back around to watch the ceremony. Noctis
was reaching his bleeding hand out to the Crystal. The young advisor couldn’t
help the way his breath caught in his throat and the way his heart stuttered as
his charge firmly pressed his palm against the Crystal.
Ignis wasn’t sure what he expected to happen. He’d spent an embarrassingly
large amount of his time over the last few weeks in the royal library, studying
up on the royal magic. The accounts were rather unhelpful. He always found it
to be a terrible day when answers could not be found in a book.
What did happen was that there was a flash of light. It sparkled around the
prince, swirling around him in faster and faster circles like a whirlwind of
rose petals, and it was so very much other that it hurt to think about. The
magic churned and churned. Noctis was motionless, and since he was facing the
Crystal, Ignis could not see his face. Eventually, the magical energy seemed to
reach some kind of apex because it brightened impossibly further, and then it
rushed the prince in one swoop. It flew into him, disappearing under his pale
skin, leaving him gasping.
Ignis could feel Gladio start and tense next to him. Even though he understood
why, he still held out his hand, aborting the Shield’s movement before it had
begun. They had both heard in that gasp incredible agony, the kind that was not
ignorable to the two men who had devoted their lives to this youth. But it had
to be so, because this pain was expected, sought out even. Gladio snarled,
though he did not fight Ignis. In this they must be impotent.
The King, his own weapon swirling around himself in tight circles, took the
Engine Blade from Noctis’s limp grip and slammed it forcefully into the ground
next to his son. He said thunderously, “I name thee of the line Lucis Caelum,
Noctis Lucis Caelum, Protector of the Crystal.” As Noctis slowly and shakily
withdrew his hand from the Crystal, the King proclaimed, “It is done.”
With that the King’s weapon disappeared in a flurry of glittering magic, and
Noctis once again gasped loudly. Father and son both turned to face the crowd,
and that seemed to be the signal to start applauding.
It was obvious to Ignis that the prince was barely standing. He once again
wished desperately and uselessly that he knew more about how the royal magic
worked. Was it truly so taxing, even from the beginning? How did Regis stand
it?
He watched as they shuffled the prince, not down the steps, but towards the
side entrance by the throne. Turning to Gladio, he asked, “Do you--?” Ignis
wasn’t sure what he was asking, but Gladio answered immediately nevertheless.
“Yes.”
In unison, they pushed past crowds of people and slipped through a door on the
side of the throne room with quiet nods to the Crownsguard standing watch.
Another side corridor, and they came up the steps that led to back entrance
next to the seat of the throne. There they found the Marshall struggling to
keep Noctis upright. The prince’s eyes were half lidded and unfocused, like he
was falling asleep standing up. His face was pale even for him, the sweat dried
on his neck and forehead giving him a sickly sheen. Gladio immediately
leveraged himself under the prince’s other shoulder and proceeded to help Cor
half carry, half drag him down the hallway.
Noctis mumbled something that Ignis couldn’t hear, but Gladio grunted in
response, and then Noct said slightly louder, voice strained and plaintive,
“I’m so tired, Gladio.”
Gladio shifted so that he bore more of Noct’s weight, replying, “I know, kid. I
know.” To that Noct didn’t respond at all, but his weight became fully
boneless, and it was clear he had passed out. Gladio and Ignis exchanged a
look, then they and Cor proceeded to carry the Prince to his quarters.
As they gently laid him on his plush bed, Ignis turned and demanded of Cor,
“Should he be this tired? I thought today was just about introducing him to the
Crystal, so to speak?”
Cor shrugged, his eyes unreadable, entirely too dismissive for Ignis’s taste,
but it was the King’s voice that responded. “It is truly gratifying to see such
devotion in my son’s retainers, but you worry needlessly.” The King’s stride
was ponderous as he entered the prince’s room, his quivering hand leaning more
on his cane than he was willing to in public.
Both Ignis and Gladio shifted immediately with low bows. “Your Majesty.”
The King sat down next to the head of Noctis’s bed in a bony chair that the
Marshall had produced from somewhere. Meanwhile, Ignis and Gladio kept
themselves at attention, unsure if they were wanted or if they were supposed to
leave. It was clear that the King’s attention was entirely on his son.
“The Royal magic is taxing when one is not accustomed to it, and Noct has
awakened his quite suddenly. He will recover in due time,” the King said,
finally waving a hand at them to relax. He ran his hand over his son’s fringe,
smiling sadly as Noctis shivered and twitched restlessly. “When he’s like this,
he reminds me so much of his younger self,” he said softly. “He was such a
sickly child.”
Ignis murmured, “I remember.”
The King nodded, still watching his son sleep. Noctis had shifted so that he
was curled up on his side, hands tucked under his chin. The juxtaposition of
the prince as a powerful magical creature and his present youthful
vulnerability tore at Ignis as he beheld the scene. Somehow this child was
supposed to become as regal and masterful as the man who had sired him.
King Regis’s thoughts must have traveled along a similar path. “I told myself
that my burden would not become my son’s. I swore it on all the Gods,” the King
said with a bitter laugh. “A father’s folly.”
Ignis swallowed, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. Even though he had more
interactions with the King than most people in the Citadel, the majority of it
involved reports on Noctis. King Regis usually kept his thoughts close to his
heart, even among his closest retainers, and that Ignis and Gladio, who
belonged so clearly to Noct, were not. Why he was opening up to them now, Ignis
had no idea.
“Duty comes for us all eventually, your majesty,” Ignis said quietly. Gladio
remained silent behind him.
“For some of us too soon.”
That didn’t seem to require an answer. The King, ignoring them, brought his
hand up to support his chin and bowed his head. The room settled into a potent
silence again. Ignis’s discomfort grew astronomically as he realized that a fat
tear was sliding down the King’s cheek. He looked at Gladio, but the bodyguard
might as well have been a statue. No help on that front.
When the King spoke next, his voice had become roughened and thick. “Do you
know what they called him?”
Ignis was bewildered. “They, your majesty?”
“Of course,” sighed the King. “That vision is my burden to bear as well, I
suppose.”
Ignis felt like a failure, and he had no idea why.
“Bringer of Dawn, the Kings of Old named Noctis. Chosen King of Kings.”
Ignis still had no idea what King Regis was talking about, but he did his best.
“Is that not a good thing, your majesty?”
Ignis felt he was not the best person to be having this conversation. His mind
was nimble-footed enough, but comforting others wasn’t exactly his strong suit.
There were so many layers to this ceremony, Noctis finally taking up the mantle
of his family’s magic, the implication of its future drain on his life. But
Ignis didn’t think this was what the King was mourning right now. That Noct
would eventually bond with the Crystal and take his father’s place had been set
in stone from the moment of his conception. Regis had had plenty of time to
grow accustomed to that fact of life, as had they all.
The King did not answer. Instead, he turned back to the sleeping Noctis and
asked, “Do you love my son, Ignis Scientia?”
Ignis did not need to think that answer through, though he wasn’t sure why the
King would ask such a thing. Wasn’t it obvious? Hadn’t the King just commented
on it?
“Of course. I’d die for Noctis.”
The King’s tone grew harsher, though his eyes remained on his son, and not on
the man he was conversing with, as if he could not bear it. “It is your duty to
die for my son if need be. That is not the same as love,” he said fiercely.
“To me it is.” Now when the King turned around, Ignis held his gaze.
“I see.”
This time it was Gladio who answered the unasked question. Ignis had almost
forgotten he was still standing behind them. “No one could question your love
for Noct, your majesty.” He paused and then added, “Or ours.”
They waited as the King stared unblinkingly at his son. He eventually spoke,
all emotion gone from his voice, crisp and perfunctory. “Prince Noctis will be
often tired and in pain over the next few weeks, as he grows accustomed to the
Crystal’s magic. He will particularly vulnerable during that time. I expect you
both to adjust accordingly.”
Both Gladio and Ignis bowed, and said in unison, “Of course, your majesty.”
With that the King left. Neither Gladio nor Ignis really felt like discussing
what had just happened, at least not yet. Instead, they both exchanged a silent
look and waited for Noct to wake up.
                                      ***
Chapter End Notes
     **Warning for those who need it. This fic is basically a long coming
     of age story/angst fest about consent that ends in a porn scene. All
     the sex that happens is safe and consensual, but there is a lot of
     discussion before hand about what it means to choose, what counts as
     rape, and so on. You know your comfort levels, not me, but I will
     always do my best to warn appropriately.
***** Painful Lessons *****
Chapter Summary
     Noctis begins his magical lessons. It doesn't go very well.
                                 **Chapter 2**
                                  **Noctis**
Noctis Lucis Caelum had a long history of illness, beginning right from his
birth, a difficult thirteen-hour affair which had produced one severely
underweight baby and one dead mother. The Citadel doctors had warned his father
not to become too attached, but of course that was like telling the wind not to
blow or the sun not to rise in the East.
First was the chicken pox; that nearly killed him when he was just eight months
old. Then it was several back to back bouts of the flu, his lungs weakening and
failing like clockwork every few months. And so that underweight baby became a
delicate boned, underweight child. His father, rather than learning from his
mistakes, let each near death experience make his love for Noctis fiercer and
more desperate.
When Noct’s sickness prevented him from leaving his room, his father would come
read him. Fair game was the Cosmology, stories of the Gods and their exploits
with early humans, ancient wars and battles. But Noct’s favorite stories were
always those of young, swashbuckling heroes who must journey across perilous
lands and fight terrible daemons to rescue their true loves.
Eventually Noctis gained some much needed strength, and bedtime stories became
ball games in the courtyard. His father taught him how to fish on the cliff
side that formed the eastern city border. In particular, Noctis loved going on
afternoon car rides through the city or to new fishing spots. It was one of the
only times they could be truly alone together, and something about the act of
driving seemed to loosen Regis’s ever present tension. He would talk to Noctis
then, man to man, an unstated expectation that even at age six Noctis was
capable of adult ideas and conversations.
That changed at age eight, when the Marilith Daemon severed Noctis’s spine.
This was not the weakness of Noct’s own body threatening to take him away; it
was sabotage. Not that anyone could prove it of course. But the attack once
again left Noct bedridden, his legs as useless as nipples on battle armor. And
this time it was worse, because now Noct knew what he was missing, knew what it
was like to play outside, to explore, to live beyond the narrow walls of the
Citadel.
At first it was the shock of the attack, the bloody memories of his nurse’s
life seeping away, that kept Noctis quiet and withdrawn. The doctors called it
PTSD. He would recover in due time they said, except that he didn’t. The
dragging of days, the sense of death that could never quite leave him, bleached
the world of its color. Noctis had never been the most social or active child,
but something in him withered away, something that didn’t truly heal until he
was much older.
Regis once again came at night to read him stories, though at that point Noctis
was no longer the same bright-eyed child, and the stories felt less magical, if
not less appreciated. Tensions with Niflheim were high, leaving Regis to
constantly cancel even that much, as the needs of the Kingdom reluctantly drew
him further and further away from his son.
A few months after the attack, Noctis, with the capricious logic of an eight-
year-old, decided that the best course of action in response to hearing his
father was too busy for him was to tantrum until he got his way. His nurses
begged him to let them read to him. No it wouldn’t be the same, but it was the
best they could offer. Did he perhaps want to play a game? Cards did not
require working legs. In response, he screamed and threw his toys across the
room, threatening to have them all fired, saying he didn’t want anything now,
that he hated his father.
Then King Regis entered his room, face devoid of emotion. Noctis saw him and
screeched again that he hated his father, that he should leave and never come
back. Noct had at that point run out of things to throw. Impassive to the
tantruming, Regis paused at the foot of the bed in which Noctis was trapped,
and one word escaped his lips, barely audible under his child’s raging.
“Noct.”
Noctis stopped, and they stared at each other, both still as the grave. To
young Noctis, Regis’s gaze had seemed vast and alien, and it was Noct that
caved first, eyes falling in shame. The prince cried then, great heaving sobs,
as he begged his father for forgiveness, told him he had not meant it, that he
could never hate him.
Regis shushed him. “Noctis, my child,” he said, “Your words could never hurt
me. They don’t have that power.”
Noctis took several heaving gulps, yet eventually the sobbing slowed.
When Noctis seemed sufficiently calmed, Regis added gravely, “But, you have
mistreated your caretakers, Noctis.”
With his head hung, Noctis whispered, “I’m sorry.”
His father shook his head. “That’s not good enough,” King Regis replied. His
eyes held Noctis. “You are a prince. You can never forget what you are. Your
words are weapons, and all weapons can be deployed unwisely.”
He waited for Noctis to nod to show he understood, and then he continued,
“Every single person in this country is bound by your commands. If you tell
your subjects to do something they do not wish to, they must regardless. Even
if you command something immoral, it must still be obeyed. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
Now his mouth curled, and his gaze bit into his son accusingly. “If you
threaten to take away their livelihoods on a capricious whim, someday that too
must be obeyed. Do you understand that?”
“Yes,” Noctis repeated, staring up at his father through his lashes.
“Good.” King Regis nodded. “Now apologize.”
And so the next night King Regis canceled after promising to visit and read to
Noct in those terrible months after the daemon attack, the nurses quite wisely
did not offer to read to Noct instead. Noct certainly didn’t ask them to. He
was angry and sullen, but he had taken his father’s words to heart. Noctis did
not have the liberty, even at eight, to show his displeasure in the consequence
free way of other children. Instead, he was apathetic and withdrawn, refusing
to engage with his caretakers, but also refusing to go to sleep on his own,
until a young boy entered his room.
Ignis was new to the palace. Sent by his parents to study at the royal academy,
he was supposed to be a certified genius. At twelve he had already graduated
and was studying under various important council members. His parents, old
money from the far outskirts of the kingdom, were hoping to land him a royal
assignment. Hence, the acceptance of every fetch mission and minor job that
brought him within the circle of influence of the prince. Ignis seemed to find
this as distasteful as Noctis. Even now, delivering whatever it was he held
under his arm, he appeared impatient and disinterested. Noctis found this
refreshing.
“Here, it’s from your father, the King.” Ignis said curtly, holding out
whatever was in his hand.
Noctis blinked at him. “I know who my father is.”
Ignis seemed taken aback. “What?”
It was strange to see such a young looking child standing so seriously, already
constantly pushing up the rims of his glasses. Noctis did not take the thing
from his hand. “You don’t have to announce him, you know. He’s just my father.”
Ignis stared at him for a long moment before replying, “I will take that under
advisement.” He thrust his package out expectantly, and Noctis finally took it.
Unwrapping it, he discovered it was a glossy illustrated book. The covered
featured a sword wielding youth battling a giant Daemon, the likes of which
Noctis had never seen before. Frowning, Noctis opened the cover to discover
that someone had written a note in thick pen-strokes on the inside cover. He
recognized his father’s rolling cursive, but at eight still struggled to read
it.
“Wait,” he called to the retreating Ignis. “Can you read it to me?”
There were two nurses assigned at all times to Noct’s bedroom, tasked with
performing any and all responsibilities needed for his comfort, and one of them
scuttled forward. “Master Scientia is supposed to be shadowing Councilman
Amicitia, your highness. He doesn’t have time for that.”
Even though he had had no reason to, Noctis felt something inside of himself
shrink at her hurried words. Turning his head away, Noctis listlessly held out
the book. He wasn’t watching, so when it was a young man’s voice that began to
quietly and competently read the note on the inside cover, Noctis was
pleasantly startled.
     My dearest son,
     I know it is difficult now, but someday far too soon you will
     understand the choices I’ve made. Being a Caelum means that we do not
     have the same freedom that others so easily take for granted. But
     know this, in my heart there was never a choice other than you, and
     in my dreams every night I have all the opportunities to be the
     father to you that our lives do not allow. So sleep well, my dearest
     Noctis, and together we shall dream of the greatest adventures yet to
     be written.
     Love,
     Your father
“Would you like me to read the comic to you as well?” Ignis asked neutrally.
Noctis swallowed and nodded. Without further comment, Ignis read the comic.
The reason that Noctis liked Ignis, even at age eight, wasn’t that Ignis didn’t
pity him, though he didn’t; rather, it was that even when Noctis was wheelchair
bound and useless, Ignis had still treated him exactly the same. That is to say
as a real person, who should have real expectations placed upon him, and not a
delicate object or a strange, foreign entity like so many of Noctis’s other
nurses, bodyguards, and tutors. And Ignis was the most likely to notice
Noctis’s actual needs and desires, unlike the others.
That started a long tradition of Ignis bringing Noct comic books and other
trinkets when he was sick. It was a sort of truce. Ignis, especially after
being assigned to be Noct’s tutor, normally hammered him to study harder, to
try harder, but when he was sick, Ignis instead dropped all of that without
making an embarrassingly big deal about it.
To outsiders it might seem strange or paradoxical, the way Ignis’s and Noct’s
relationship often worked, but to them it made sense. And in Noctis’s humble
opinion, the rest of the world could go screw itself.
                                      ***
For Noctis, at age sixteen, being a fully awakened and blooded heir to the
throne turned out to be exactly like not being a fully awakened one, except
that it involved more flu-like symptoms. His father had warned him that he
would feel ill for a few days after the ceremony, but even though it was a
chance to be temporarily lazy and ignore his responsibilities, Noct still
managed to spend most of his time trapped in bed in an inescapably sour mood.
It wasn’t because Noctis couldn’t stand being an invalid. He was actually very
good at it, considering he had been practicing his entire life. He knew all the
mental games and tricks to make the time go faster, knew how to exist in the
space between dozing and awareness, but that didn’t help his swirling mind not
endlessly think about his father, the Crystal, and all his other worries.
Sometime in the first night after the ceremony the crown prince awoke to the
sound of soft snores. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw Gladio slumped in a chair
that had been pulled up next to the head of the bed. Noct couldn’t help but
smile at the sight of his tank of a bodyguard with his head drooped and drool
pooling gently on his shirt collar.
He took a deep breath and winced. Even that ached. His entire body felt like
Gladio had systematically wacked him with the flat of his blade until he was
one giant bruise. Gritting his teeth, Noct gingerly curled up on himself,
pulling his torso up into some semblance of sitting. After he managed that, he
opened his eyes to see Gladio blinking at him, not having moved from the chair,
but presumably woken by Noctis’s movement.
“How’ya feeling?” Gladio’s voice was thick with sleep.
Noctis scowled, but it was without any real malice. “Like fucking shit.”
“Language.” The admonition too, was without force.
“What are you, Iggy?”
Gladio stood and stretched, his eyes twinkling. “Oh the horror.”
Noct laughed, and the movement made him realize something else. “I gotta piss,”
he whined as he contemplated the difficulty of making it across the room like
this. Just sitting up had taken a gargantuan effort with his leaden limbs and
cottony, aching head.
Gladio snorted, though he didn’t complain as he helped Noctis stumble to the
bathroom. His limbs responded to him like his nerves signals were moving
through heavy molasses. Noctis almost tipped over right into the toilet, but
Gladio jerked him back at the last minute.
“This sucks.”
Gladio was not sympathetic. Noctis hadn’t really expected him to be. That
wasn’t how they fit together. “If you need someone to hold your dick for you,
I’m sure there’s some foxy maid I could recruit for the job,” he drawled.
Noctis flipped him off. “Or a butler. No judgment.”
“Gladio.”
“Yep.”
“Shut up.”
Even though Gladio’s ribbing was unending, it was doing work to loosen the knot
in Noctis’s stomach. It was gratifying in a strange way, that no matter what he
did or became, Gladio would forever remain unimpressed by him.
“Where’s Ignis?” Noct asked as he came out of the bathroom. In the end, he had
not required any help in holding his dick. Gladio grasped his forearm, leading
him back to bed.
“Was here earlier. Your dad too. Wanted to wait on you to wake up, but there
was an emergency council meeting or something.”
“Oh.” He wanted to protest being practically pushed back into bed, but Noctis
could already feel sleep drawing him back in. His eyes fluttered closed of
their own accord as he rolled over on his side.
“Sweet dreams, Noct.”
Noctis was once again out instantly.
                                      ***
On day two, sitting in his bed during one of his more wakeful spells, bored out
of his mind, he tried to summon his magic, tried to feel it crawling across his
skin like it had during the ceremony; however, nothing happened. He didn’t feel
anything different at all, just tired and sick.
Ignis, having come to check up on him, was very practical about it. “Of course
you would not feel this drained, if the magic were doing nothing, Noct. Have a
bit more faith than that.”
“But it is doing nothing!” Noct waved his hands, trying in vain to make
something happen. “This is literally nothing!”
Ignis quite impressively managed to roll his eyes without actually rolling his
eyes. “I brought you a distraction,” he said primly, drawing a glossy magazine
from under his jacket. He slid it across the bed to Noct.
“Is that--?”
“--The September issue of your favorite comic? Yes, actually.”
Noct grinned and snatched it up. “Thanks, Iggy!” Ignis did actually roll his
eyes this time. Noct stuck out his tongue, but he eagerly thumbed the pages.
Ignis and Gladio both visited often, as did his father, though those visits
were shorter and more awkward. He wished Prompto would as well, but dreaded it
at the same time. Ignis and Gladio had their places, but Prompto had never
visited Noctis at the Citadel; they kept that part of their lives separate. In
fact, Noct had yet to see where Prompto lived, and Prompto had never shown any
inclination towards inviting Noct. They always hung out at the arcade or Noct’s
penthouse apartment.
Noctis wasn’t stupid. He could imagine Prompto’s apartment wasn’t as nice as
his penthouse, and even though he didn’t care, it was obvious Prompto did.
Plus, Noct would only be a hypocrite because something about his life of luxury
at the Citadel embarrassed him when he thought of exposing it to Prompto. So
Prompto knew that that Noct was holed up at the Citadel, not feeling well, but
he did not offer to visit, and Noct did not invite him either. Instead, they
texted back and forth, and made plans for when Noct was healed up.
In total, it took about three days for Noct to feel mostly normal. He slowly
went from barely being able to stand without being overcome by a dizzy spell,
to the level of having a minor cold. And so he was summoned before his father
in the throne room to begin his magical training in earnest.
It had been such a long time since Noctis and his father had anything in
common, since they had been able to reach across the boundaries of duty and the
myriad other reasons they no longer fit together as father and son. Perhaps it
was naïve, but somewhere Noctis believed this would be once again like when he
was a child and his father had been seemingly flawless and so easy to worship.
It started a lot like the ceremony of Awakening. Noctis stood before the King
and the Crystal. Various servants and guards milled about the large room. While
his father gave another big speech about responsibility and the needs of the
kingdom, Noctis found his attention drawn to the Crystal humming behind them.
It was the first time he had been close to the Crystal since sealing his
familial bond with it.
He had always been vaguely aware of the Crystal an important background to many
of his childhood experiences. How many times before today had he stood beneath
it, just like he was doing now? Was it different now? Could Noctis feel its
power in a way he couldn’t before?
He wasn’t sure. He’d always been able to sense it was something more, had never
questioned that it was as powerful as everyone said it was. Even so, he wished
he had been able to ask his father about his vision of the Crystal and the
ancient King, but whenever his father had visited him, there were always other
people around, and Noctis had felt pulled to keep it private. And now it was
too late, because here they stood before the Crystal again. Staring at it, he
decided that it did feel different now. More alive. His skin prickled
uncomfortably.
Noct was so distracted that it took him a moment to realize that Regis was
stepping off the throne, lowering himself to the floor painfully.
“Dad, what are you doing?”
Regis motioned to his son. “Sit with me, Noct.” The prince narrowed his eyes,
but he complied, dropping himself cross-legged in front of his father. What a
strange pair they made, two royals sitting like school children.
“How am I supposed to learn warp magic by sitting on the floor?” Noctis asked
when Regis did not immediately speak.
“The house that is built with a poor foundation is the first to fall to the
storm,” Regis said. “You must first learn to consistently find and call your
magic forth before you can successfully use it.” The King pointed a finger at
Noctis’s chest. “Your magic has always been there, thrumming under your skin,
even though you only recently gained the ability to feel it too. It’s waiting
now, waiting on you to reach for it. So first you must meditate and find that
well of power within.”
So that was why they were sitting on the floor. Noctis dutifully closed his
eyes. The Crystal pulsed above the throne. Maybe that was on purpose. Maybe his
father believed being close to their source of power would help jog something
within Noctis. He could certainly feel that sense of sleeping power emanating
from the Crystal, especially with his eyes closed to other stimulus, but he
still wasn’t sure how it translated to finding his own magic.
He was not exactly sure what was supposed to happen. Still, he tried. He
really, really tried. He closed his eyes and felt exactly the same as he has
his entire young life, the same as he had in his bedroom talking to Ignis two
days ago. It occurred to him that he was supposed to be finding essentially an
entirely new sense. A deaf person trying to understand what it was to hear.
Thoughtlessly, he had assumed that new sense would simply be there, assault him
with sensations, but instead he seemed to be getting absolutely nothing.
When he thought of his magic, he thought of something like his Elemancy,
something he had been capable of since he was a small child. Elemancy had not
required any sort of seeking, nor did it really feel like something that was a
part of him, like what his father was describing. Elemental energy was like
static electricity that clung to him and built on his skin without any input
from him until he let it all out into small glass magic flasks. Discharging
that energy was as routine as clipping his toenails.
And since normally that powerful magical energy needed to be drawn from the
environment with the use of slow, inefficient, and expensive machines, putting
that energy into usable flasks was Noct’s one and only contribution to the war
effort. He kept a couple of flasks on him at all times, filling them up slowly,
and then Ignis came around and collected them once a week or so. They were then
given to Kingsglaive members, supplementing their other borrowed powers.
Somehow the ability to throw a fireball did not translate to storing objects in
other dimensions. Go figure.
Noctis squirmed. It was hard not to be distracted by the room around them. He
heard someone shuffling and cracked an eye open. It wasn’t some stranger, but
rather Gladio on watch duty rotation. But that was almost worse because Noctis
could sense his boredom far easier than any of the other Crownsguard.
After twenty minutes of silence, Noctis huffed with frustration, “Nothing’s
happening. I don’t think I’m getting it.”
“You will.”
Noctis thought his father’s faith in his meditative abilities was likely
misplaced. They sat for nearly an hour, during which a cramp started in
Noctis’s left leg, but not much else changed. At one point his father began
describing the feeling of energy running through his veins, a well of it
brimming at his core, waiting to be called on. Since that was basically the
same description Noctis had already gotten, it wasn’t as helpful as King Regis
seemed to think it was. Noctis did not feel any kind of energy underneath his
skin other than the usual. His skin felt like his skin.
They finally had to stop when King Regis was called to a council meeting, but
before he left, he told Noctis to let go of his frustration and to keep
meditating whenever he could.
That night Noctis sat on the floor of his apartment, a knife laid flat across
his lap. To be able to summon and warp a weapon, one must first be able to
banish it to whatever realm those weapons went. Only then did the weapon obtain
the quality needed for that magic. Of course, before even that much, Noctis
needed to be able to activate his magic in the first place. Baby steps.
He tried to imagine the sparkles of light swirling around himself like he had
seen the Kingsglaive and his father do so many times before. He pictured it in
the air around himself and willed. Nothing happened. Focusing instead on his
body, he searched for that elusive well of power that his father had spoken of.
Starting from the top of his head, he put all of his energy into concentrating
on his body part by part. Nothing. Staring at the knife, he willed it into
nonexistence. Nothing.
Finally, with a moan of frustration he threw the stupid thing across the room,
where it buried itself into kitchen doorjamb. Needless to say his body did not
follow it in any sort of explosion of magic.
Elemancy had not been this hard. The harder part had been not doing it,
learning to let the power back out safely and not in fiery balls of death.
Sighing, he retrieved the knife and proceeded to put it away. Maybe after some
sleep he would have a moment of sudden comprehension. A person could dream.
                                      ***
The next day Prompto came over after school since Noct was now back in his own
apartment rather than the Citadel. The first thing Prompto asked was if he
could see what Noct had received from his father on his birthday. He didn’t
mean the long thin scar now present on Noct’s left palm.
“It’s called the Engine Blade.” Noctis laid his present from his father on the
kitchen table so that Prompto could get a closer look.
“What’s that stuff on the hilt?”
“It’s supposed to absorb elemental energy from the environment.”
“Like for your Elemancy magic?” Prompto had been hanging out with Noctis long
enough now to notice his quiet habit of drawing off the excess magical energy
into those tiny flasks.
“I guess.”
“Dude, that’s so cool,” Prompto exclaimed enthusiastically.
Noctis felt the heat creep up his neck, and he shrugged.
Prompto glanced at him, punching him lightly on the shoulder. “You’re such a
dork sometimes,” he said happily. He raided Noctis’s fridge for a soda, and
asked with a casual change of the subject, “Wanna play Zombie Death Battle?”
“That sounds great,” Noctis responded gratefully. That was why he loved
Prompto. Ignis and Gladio were both capable of seeing Noct as a person rather
than a prince, true enough. But they could never see past theirs and his duty.
Whereas, Prompto had no duty to let go of in the first place.
Moving out of the kitchen, Prompto asked, “Uh, what happened to the door?”
Noctis had nearly forgotten that. “I was practicing my knife juggling,” he said
deadpan.
“…Right”
They killed pixelated zombies for hours, until Prompto announced that he had to
go now, or he would miss the last train. As he was leaving, Prompto leaned
against the door and asked, “So your dad’s like giving you royal magic lessons
now, right?”
Noctis stiffened. “Yeah.” His voice came out harsher than he intended. The
embarrassment of his failure was still sitting heavily in his stomach, even
though he knew there was no way Prompto could know about it unless Noct told
him.
Prompto didn’t seem to notice, however. He cocked his head and said, “Well,
call me if you need a break from all that, yeah?”
Noctis blinked at him. “Sure.”
Prompto nodded. “See ya then.” He held out his fist, and they bumped knuckles.
Noctis watched him walk away until there was nothing to see, and then he walked
back inside and climbed into his bed, not bothering to change.
                                      ***
One week into Noctis’s magic lessons, Ignis brought to his apartment a stack of
reports and a vegetable stew monstrosity in which he had stealthily hidden the
tomatoes with the use of a blender. Noctis knew that he had done this, and
Ignis knew that he knew, but Noct ate it anyway. At least most of it. As a
reward Ignis revealed the ingredients for a flat-pan cake recipe. He laughed at
Noctis’s unguarded excitement and began the process of measuring flour and
cracking eggs.
“I’ve been meaning to ask. How are the lessons going?”
Ignis would not ask about lessons with Gladio or other tutors. With hunched
shoulders, he shrugged, not meeting Ignis’ eyes.
“That badly?”
Noctis did not reply to this. Instead he chose to focus on the progress of the
cake. The cake was by far more interesting, as Ignis must surely know exactly
how the lessons were progressing down to a minute by minute recap simply by
virtue of being Ignis.
“Perhaps you should train with the Kingsglaive like Gladio does? They might
have some tips on using warp magic.”
Ignis casually smacked the young prince’s hand away from the half-finished cake
on the kitchen counter. Noctis frowned at him.
“No.”
The thought of standing there impotent as near strangers flaunted their use of
his father’s power was almost more than he could bear; watching them succeed at
a magic that supposedly was imprinted in Noctis’s very blood, as he tried to
desperately to reach inside of himself and find something…anything was too
much.
“It could help you overcome this block you’re having.”
“I said NO, Iggy.”
It was bad enough to see the badly hidden disappointment on his father’s face
at the end of every magic lesson. They had sat on the floor of the throne room
and various other places together in near silence several fruitless times this
past week.
Plus, the thought of his father sharing his power in the first place squicked
him out. Noctis tended to avoid going places where he had to see the
Kingsglaive in action. Whereas Noctis had come by his powers naturally, the
Kingsglaive and anyone not of the royal line had to be gifted their powers, had
to form a covenant with the King, and he was reminded of the process every time
he observed one of the Kingsglaive wielding that power. It was one of those
open secrets that Noctis preferred to ignore for the sake of his own sanity.
He supposed he was being childish. He could tell Ignis thought so by the way
the other man’s lip pursed, and how he heavily exhaled out his nose. Ignis
rarely told him outright when he disapproved, but he had other ways of
expressing himself that were as clear.
Still the thought of just how a king shared his hereditary power twisted around
in Noctis’s mind, and he said, leaning his elbows on the counter, “I guess I’ll
be expected to support the Kingsglaive the same way as my father, eventually.”
Noctis couldn’t really remember the first time he had realized what people
meant by forming a covenant with the king, just like he couldn’t have pointed
to specific moment when he had realized what death meant or what sex was. No
one had ever sat him down and explained it to him, though the thought of
someone like Ignis trying to explain the birds and the bees and how it related
to royal magic was both mortifying and hilarious.
Noctis watched Ignis’s face carefully, but the older man was too clever to
reveal his thoughts lightly.
Ignis said, “You should first worry about what’s in front of you.”
Noctis snorted. He wasn’t sure exactly what he had wanted Ignis to say, but it
wasn’t that. “You’re not the one who’s supposed to fuck half your guard
someday.”
Noct thought gloomily that perhaps he would be the first Luciian King in
history who failed to master his hereditary arsenal and warp magic. Though in
reality it was unlikely that his ancestors would choose to further lend him
their power through the ring if he could not even master his own magic. After
all, the ceremony of Awakening had only been the first step. A Luciian King
must also face his ancestors though the ring to be considered legitimate, and
so if he was not fully recognized by his ancestors, then he would not become a
king at all.
At least then he wouldn’t have to worry about fucking anyone he didn’t want to.
He knew that many believed that Prince Noctis would never ascend to become King
Noctis, mostly because of his sickly nature as a child. And then of course
there had been that minor issue of the Marilith severing his spine.
There was no such thing as a Luciian King who could not fight for his people,
who could not even lift himself out of his chair.
Apparently one council member at the time had been stupid enough to suggest to
Noctis’s father, that in light of the dire circumstances of their country, it
would be remit of Regis not remarry and produce a backup heir as quickly as
possible. Regis had looked that council member in the eye and told him that he
was lucky that he himself had two daughters because it was the only reason he
still had his head, and that if he wanted it to remain that way, he would leave
the Citadel and never return.
Of course, many months later Noctis had been healed in Tenebrae, and such talk
had gone underground, but he still heard the whispers sometimes, still felt the
anxiety of the people around him.
Maybe he really had lost something fundamental to himself during that fateful
attack, and they were all just kidding themselves trying force him into the
role future king.
“You’ll be fine. You know that, right?” Ignis did not look at him as he said
this. Instead his entire attention was focused on rolling the dough back and
forth.
“Of course I will,” Noctis replied, not bothering to reign in his irritation.
“Will you set the oven?”
Noctis set the oven.
“Hmn.” Ignis put his hand on his hips after carefully placing the pan in the
oven. “Now we wait.
                                      ***
Two weeks into the lessons, they had decided that perhaps Noctis was a more
active learner, and so he, his father, and several retainers stood in the
Kingsglaive training hall. They were having him throw various weapons like the
ones the Kingsglaive possessed in the hopes that this would be the thing that
jogged his abilities. It wasn’t. And somehow it was worse than merely sitting
and hoping for a miracle because every failed throw and move was right there in
his face.
“Try feeling for the magic before you throw it, Noctis.” His father’s voice was
kind and patient, and it made Noct want to punch someone. The King was finally
spending more time with Noctis than he had in years, and Noctis somehow managed
to dread and despise every second.
It had turned out that learning from the Kingsglaive was less than helpful.
Their magic came from Noctis’s father, and so their abilities were based
directly on him. They each possessed a weapon that came from the King, and when
they threw it, they warped, plain and simple. Noctis was not bound to his
father’s power, thank the Gods because that would be disgusting and
traumatizing, and so he could not use weapons from his father’s arsenal. He had
to find his magic on his own.
Noctis threw another knife. Nothing happened, other than the sound of someone
tittering.
It was frankly too much. If he stayed any longer he was going to cry, and the
only thing worse than failure was being caught crying about it. He’d never live
that down, and he didn’t even want to think about how his father would look at
him, pitying, but still demanding. He growled and began to stalk toward the
door.
“Where are you going?” That was Drautus, on guard duty with the King.
Noctis whirled around. “I have homework,” he said crisply. His eyes met his
father’s. Once upon time there had been no trick to reading his father’s eyes.
It was always something like affection, love, maybe minor disappointment, but
now Noctis could not say what his father was thinking. A long pause, and then
King Regis nodded.
And so Noctis left. Another disappointing lesson.
                                      ***
The next afternoon was his free one. No combat lessons, magic lessons, or
lectures on which fork to use first during a state dinner; his only
responsibility was making it though the school day. Noctis took advantage to
spend some much needed quality time with Prompto. Unfortunately, Prompto was
observant enough to realize that Noctis had been struggling these past two
weeks without having to be told.
“Well how did your dad learn?” Prompto asked Noctis as they crowded together in
a café booth after school, both nursing a milkshake. At least that was what
Noctis thought Prompto said. He spoke around the straw in his mouth so it was
difficult to be sure.
“Do we have to talk about this? That’s all anyone wants to talk about lately,”
Noctis complained. He glared down at his milkshake. It had a weird taste.
Watermelon, maybe? Whatever it was left a chalky after taste in his mouth.
Prompto reached over and swapped their milkshakes without comment. Noctis
raised his eyebrow wryly, but Prompto ignored him in favor of taking a sip of
his newly acquired milkshake.
“I’m just saying, if I were having trouble doing something, I’d wanna know how
the person who came before me learned, you know?” He made a face and then asked
Noctis, “Why did you order watermelon?”
Noctis shrugged. “It was called ‘Summer Sunrise Surprise,’ not nasty-ass
watermelon sludge.” With a sigh, he sipped on Prompto’s milkshake. “Apparently,
he was standing in the throne room staring at the Crystal, thinking deep
thoughts or meditating or whatever, and it just came to him.”
Prompto had been smarter than him. His shake seemed to be plain chocolate.
Boring, but at least it was good.
Prompto frowned, “Just like that?”
“Just like that,” Noct confirmed with a shrug. “Here.” He pushed the shake back
to Prompto.
“Well I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
Noctis wished he had that confidence. The worst part wasn't that he was
failing, it was that he wasn't progressing at all. There was nothing to
progress with. His father kept telling him that the magic was there, that he
could feel it in Noctis. The Kingsglaive told him that it wasn't a matter of
reaching out, of searching; the magic was just there. He'd asked several how
they had learned after bonding with his father, and the answers had been vague
and unhelpful. Hearing someone tell him that they simply felt for the same
energy they had felt when his father had cum inside of them was a sentence he
wanted to burn out of his memory, chisel out with a scalpel if possible . And
still entirely useless for his purposes.
Noctis pushed his milkshake away in silence, and together they headed to the
arcade.
                                      ***
Three weeks into the lessons, and Noctis had not only failed to master the
magic, but he had yet to produce anything remotely magical at all. One late
afternoon, Noctis met Gladio for his weapons practice. Gladio took one look at
him and shook his head.
Thus, proceeded one of the most grueling practice bouts they’d ever had.
Noctis’s form was terrible. He was practically a disgrace to swordsmanship, but
Gladio made no move to correct him. He simply allowed Noctis to batter at him
until something finally broke inside the young man, and he let out a primal
scream, throwing his weapon across the grass of Gladio’s backyard.
“Why can’t I get it?” Noctis demanded with an anguished cry, sides heaving and
hands trembling.
Gladio was silent.
Noctis growled and stalked over to pick his sword back up. “I know, okay. I
know this is bigger than me. It’s not just about me and what I want.”
“I didn’t say that,” Gladio replied placidly.
Noctis did not acknowledge him. “It’s not just about me, the entire fucking
country needs me to learn this, my father, and I—just—can’t.” At that, Noctis
dropped down in the grass, drawing one of his knees up to support his chin.
Gladio sat beside him, crossed his legs, and laid his weapon across his knees.
“You done?”
Noctis sighed. “Yeah.”
They both rested in silence for a moment and then Noct said, “And I know what
people are saying. That I’m never going to—.”
“Well there’s your first problem,” Gladio interrupted. “Why are you listening
to what the fuck anyone else has to say about it?” He nudged Noctis when he
didn’t reply and continued, “I didn’t realize we had so many experts on royal
magic running around the Citadel.” He gave Noctis a measured look.
“It’s not that easy to just ignore—,” Noctis protested.
“You’re right,” Gladio agreed. “It’s never that easy.”
“But—.”
“No.” Gladio growled. “Listen to me. You do you, and fuck what everyone else
thinks. You want to become King, right?
Noctis had no desire to become the King. Becoming King meant his father was
dead, and Noctis was truly alone. “I want to make my dad proud,” Noctis finally
admitted instead.
Gladio did not acknowledge Noctis’s not so neat sidestep. “Then you’re going to
do whatever it takes to make that happen. If that means learning warp magic,
then that’s what you’ll do. It’s that simple.”
With Noctis and his father, it was never that simple, but he didn’t argue.
They rested together a bit longer and then Gladio said sternly, punching Noctis
in the shoulder, “And don’t you ever throw your weapon away like that again,
you hear?!”
                                      ***
Several days after Noct’s bout with Gladio, he and his father sat together once
again in the throne room, though the King no longer bothered with the floor.
They had decided that lack of noise and distraction had yet to have any sort of
effect on Noctis’s performance one way or the other, so the King might as well
get some work done while Noctis meditated, or threw knives, or whatever bright
idea they had come up with that day to finally break though to him. The lessons
were often canceled or ended early anyway. Noctis tried not to let it bother
him. After all, the King did have more important things to do than inanely
sitting on the throne room floor, waiting for Noctis to have an epiphany.
Today, Noctis sat cross-legged next to his father as he discussed some tax
issue with one of his advisors. Noctis was bored. Bored. His father seemed
entirely engrossed, and so after he felt he had sat for a reasonable amount of
time, he stretched and began to leave. It was still early enough that he could
meet Prompto at the apartment and hang out for a bit. Hanging with Prompto was
only real escape he had, as his friend was the only person who lacked any
expectations of him, beyond things like listen to me when I’m complaining about
school, and play videogames with me.
“Sit.” His father didn’t actually look at him, though it was obvious who he was
speaking to. Noctis scowled, but he declined to argue.
There was an unspoken agreement between his father and him, that they never
truly quarrel in public, and not even Noctis could disobey such a direct order
from his King. The undertone of disagreement was often there in their
interactions, sure, such as the silent acts of rebellion on Noct’s part. But
Noctis could count on one hand the amount of times he had been chastised by his
father in front of more than their closest servants, and all but the rarest of
Noctis’s bouts of teenage drama had so far happened behind closed doors.
“Focus, Noct.” There was more than a hint of exasperation in the King’s voice.
Noctis glared at the back of King Regis’s head, as the King has yet to actually
look at him while he spoke. After not receiving any sort of acknowledgement,
Noctis sighed, dutifully closed his eyes, and focused for the umpteenth time on
finding something within himself that he had begun to doubt existed.
With his eyes closed, the noises around him were flung into prominence. Two
servants behind him were immersed in a whispered conversation they undoubtedly
had no idea he could hear.
     “—Just sitting there. I heard the King is at his wits end. I mean,
     can you even imagine how disappointing it is?”
     “What happens if he has to disinherit his own son? Can he even do
     that?”
     “Well, it’s not like there’s anyone else to take up the mantle.
     They’re the last two of the line.”
     “It makes you wonder who’s going to hold the wall when the King
     dies.”
Noctis cast his eyes open. It shouldn’t matter. It didn’t matter. He tried to
employ Gladio’s sage advice, he really did. None of them had any clue about
anything, but still, his emotions had been building up for three awful weeks
with no outlet. Noctis’s vision swam, and somehow he was off the floor and
several steps toward the door.
“Noctis!”
Noctis’s body stopped unwillingly at the commanding tone in his father’s voice.
He twisted himself around. “What?!”
He was aware in a sideways kind of way that his tone was all wrong. It was too
challenging, too raw. It left very few paths of negotiation open, and he saw
his father narrow his eyes, saw the struggle, the snapping of patience as it
worked its way across his father’s face. Noctis’s pulse was thudding now, and
some destructive part of him was excited by this turn of events, by the
knowledge that this careful dance he and father were engaged in had come to a
stuttering and potentially explosive halt.
The King’s tone was an attack. “Sometimes I think you’re not even trying, that
you’re being stubborn on purpose.”
In some other place, at some other time, Noctis was composed enough to grasp
that this was his father losing his battle with his frustration, that he didn’t
mean it, but this was not that place or that time. Instead there was a buzzing
in Noctis’s head, muzzling his ability to process critically.
“What?” Noctis was struggling to find that place inside of himself where
everything washed over him in a faraway, detached kind of way. What he really
wanted was to scream, to lash out, but he couldn’t. Even like this, his father
was the one person whose disappointment had real power over him. As he had
learned when he was eight, princes and kings did not lash out in a flash of
anger. Except when they did.
Noctis’s voice was acid. “Maybe I can’t. Did you ever think of that?”
“You can and you will.”
Noctis was aware that what was spilling out of his mouth wasn’t exactly fair,
but the buzz of poisonous rage had finally and fully overcome him.
“What, so I can die just like you?!”
At those words, the entire throne room came to a halt, save for Clarus, whose
jaw clenched in way so reminiscent of Gladio it would have been funny in any
other circumstance. For the one of the longest moments of Noctis’s life, King
Regis did nothing. His expression was frozen, his grip on the arm rest of the
throne a vice.
Now it was panic that caused Noctis’s adrenalin to spill out of control. There
were just some things they did not speak of. Some things were just too cruel to
expose in the open, to make real and painful. That the Crystal killed its
protectors. That Regis had brought a child into this world knowing that child
would someday sell his life force to the Crystal too. The implications of the
best method for bonding non royals to the Crystal’s power. Things no one could
change.
Noctis was a coward. The worst sort, because this was when he chose to run
away.
Clarus descended the throne steps, eyes blazing, while the rest of the room was
motionless with bated breath. As Noctis shifted away, Clarus lunged in an
attempt to grab him. King Regis still had not moved. Something wrenched in
Noctis’s gut, and he dodged to the side. He vaguely felt that he didn’t move
fast enough, that his flight would be aborted before it had even begun, but
miraculously Clarus’s hand slid past him. Picking up speed, he pushed blindly
past several people and out the door.
                                      ***
What happened in the throne room joined a growing list of things that were not
spoken of. Except apparently, when they were. Noctis slinked into the dining
room at the appointed dinner time that night. Regis was already seated at the
table, and the meal passed in strained, painful silence.
As he left, his father stopped him. “Noctis.”
Noct paused, tension thrumming under his skin. He faced the door, and found he
could not turn back towards his father.
“Goodnight, Noctis.”
Noctis left, his stomach in a sick, twisted knot.
When he got home that night, Ignis was there, but he must have heard about what
happened in the throne room because he refused to speak to Noctis. Rather than
engage with him, Noctis chose instead to hide in his bedroom. It was not
exactly princely behavior, but one, his behavior hadn’t been princely all day,
and two, he didn’t have the energy to fight with Ignis too. Ignis performed the
bare minimum of his tasks and left without saying goodbye.
Noctis was inordinately tired that night, and he slept until almost noon,
missing school. No one called him out on that. Later, he didn’t show up for the
next ‘magic lesson,’ and wasn’t reprimanded for that either. He tried to do the
same to Gladio, but the sword master found him and dragged him back to his
house. Noctis thought Gladio would have probably acted the same as Ignis if you
could get through a sword lesson without speaking, but as it stood, Gladio kept
the conversation entirely focused on the training.
Prompto was the only one not inundated in the Citadel gossip chain, but somehow
that was worse. It was impossible to laugh and act like nothing was wrong when
so much of his life was going to shit, and it was all his fault. He spent the
entire time with Prompto short tempered and curt, and when Prompto made up some
excuse to leave, Noctis practically threw him out the door.
What he needed to do was apologize to his dad, but that would mean
acknowledging what he had said, and pathetic as that was, he couldn’t work up
the balls to do so. Some noble and impressive future king he was. And of
course, he still hadn’t figured out how to activate his magic. Thus, it was
officially the shittiest week he had lived through since he was eight years old
and crippled.
                                      ***
***** The Breaking Point *****
Chapter Summary
     Things happen. There is angst. There is saccharine fluff. Noctis is a
     little shit. The usual.
Chapter Notes
     Thank you for the comments and kudos. They made my day.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                 **Chapter 3**
                                  **Noctis**
When Noctis was fourteen, he and Gladio had a major fight, one of the worst
they’d ever had. Afterwards they did not speak to each other for a month, and
it was only thanks to the intervention of both Iris and Ignis that their
relationship recovered at all.
Noctis was just entering high school, and he had decided that this was the year
that he would finally venture forth from his shell and actually make some
friends.
This devolved very quickly into getting plastered at a house party hosted by
one of the more popular girls the Friday of the first week of school. He had
known that he would never be allowed to attend such a thing, so he didn’t ask.
This was before he had moved into the penthouse, and thus, it involved sneaking
out of the Citadel, something he had perfected at twelve.
The first drink was shoved into his hand by the host at the door.
Overpoweringly sweet, he drank it in big gulps, mostly to have something to do
with his hands. He wandered from room to room, not really talking to anyone and
regretting that he had come at all. But as the alcohol settled in his blood, he
relaxed marginally, smiling instead of scowling at the people around him. The
next drink was handed to him by a laughing girl who pranced merrily in a circle
around him. She kissed him on the cheek and whispered something that he
couldn’t hear over the pounding music.
Someone jumped up on the dining room table, and another person handed out
glasses of something vulgarly astringent to those of them watching. He
swallowed his down in one gulp. After that, the night blurred for Noctis into a
haze of faces, the scent of sweat and booze, and bassy music assaulting his
eardrums. Were he sober, he would have hated it. Drunk, he was more numb than
anything else. At some point he blacked out.
He later learned that he had collapsed in corner of the trashed living room,
that he had puked, that he might have been choking on it. He also learned that
it was Prompto, still nearly a stranger at that point, who had found him, had
grasped the severity of the situation, and had called an ambulance.
They had to pump Noctis’s stomach. At first, the hospital wasn’t clear on who
exactly they were treating, though after a nurse finally recognized him, it was
a race to see who would arrive first: the paparazzi or officials from the
Citadel.
When he awoke it was only Gladio sitting with him, perched on a wooden chair
that was far too tiny for his enormous body. He was entirely still, arms
crossed, gaze fully on Noctis even though the prince was asleep. When Noctis
blinked his eyes open, Gladio did not move for a long moment. He waited until
Noctis seemed fully cognizant, and then he deliberately stood up. He walked the
two steps towards Noctis’s bed. When he got there, he stopped, seemed to
collect himself, and then he back-handed Noctis across the cheek.
As Noctis hissed and curled in on himself, Gladio asked, voice
uncharacteristically quiet and slow, “How Dare You?”
Noctis swung his head back around. “How dare you hit me?” he crowed, “You have
no right to--,”
Gladio interrupted him with another powerful swing of the back of his hand.
Noctis choked and then leaned over to puke on himself, though it was more dry
heaving than anything else. This seemed to enrage Gladio further.
He raised his hand again, but before he could do anything else, he was grabbed
by Ignis, who pulled him back away from Noctis’s bed. “That’s enough
Gladiolus!”
“Get off me.” Gladio shoved the suddenly appeared Ignis away from himself. He
jerked back towards Noctis, who had finished heaving and was glaring at him
with wet, shining eyes. The future Shield shook his head and spat, “I knew you
were a selfish brat, but this takes the cake, even for you.” With that he
stalked out.
Noctis’s empty bed in the Citadel had been discovered by happenstance, but
since he normally took Ignis or Gladio with him when he snuck out, the Citadel
had been sent into a frenzy trying to find him. Gladio, in particular, had
apparently been driven mad with worry, desperately trying to discover where he
had gone and if he was safe.
However, in the days after Noctis was released from the hospital, every time
they saw each other, it became an ugly, hateful screaming match until they
refused to speak to one another at all.
After a month fraught with unbearable tenseness, Ignis sat Noctis down. Noct
later learned that Ignis had done the same to Gladio, as had Iris, but at the
time he was unaware.
“You will cease this pointless bickering,” Ignis said to him over dinner,
looking down at Noct through his glasses.
Noctis snarled, “That asshole thinks he’s so much better than everyone--,”
“That’s enough!” Ignis interrupted him, “Frankly, I don’t care.” He held Noct’s
gaze, “You know Gladio looked for you for hours. He didn’t say it, but he was
terrified that something had happened to you, that you were in danger or lying
hurt somewhere.”
Neither one mentioned that that was exactly what had happened, but Noctis
looked away in discomfort. After a moment, Ignis sighed and asked, “Do you
truly value your friendship so little, that you would end it over this?”
“We are not friends.”
Ignis did not react to that. “Is that so?” he asked, staring at his charge
until Noctis looked ashamed at his own words.
“Shall I begin the search for another Shield of the King then? Because it
certainly cannot continue this way,” he said. “Is that what you want? To remove
Gladio from your life permanently?” When Noctis did not answer, he said, “It’s
up to you Noctis, but what I shall no longer tolerate is this immature, back
and forth retaliation thing you two have going on. I frankly cannot stand to be
around it any longer. So choose, Prince Noctis. ---”
                                      ***
                                  **Noctis**
Two days after his fight with his father, Noctis slept at the Citadel, instead
of his apartment. He sometimes did this when he had obligations there that kept
him late or had him up in the early hours of the morning. It was easier, and he
didn’t feel guilty about making some poor guard drive him around in the dead of
night or the crack of dawn. As part of his royal duties, he was supposed to
observe an early war meeting the next morning.
However, tonight he regretted his choice. After having slept excessively the
night before, he found that he was constantly rolling over restlessly in his
bed, skin prickling and feverish. He was sweaty and altogether uncomfortable.
Finally, with a frustrated swear he gave in and sat up, blinking in the pale
moonlight.
Noctis slid out of bed, his bare toes curling on the plush carpet. He wasn’t
sure what he wanted other than to not be in his bed anymore. He padded softly
out into the hallway, passing a drowsy guard at his door.
“Prince Noctis?”
“Hey, Jay,” Noctis whispered. “I just need to take a little walk.” At the
guard’s skeptical look, he added, “It’s different now. There’s no point in
sneaking out of a place I’m not forbidden from leaving.”
“Don’t get me in trouble, Prince Noctis.”
“I won’t. I’ll be back before you know it.”
The guard snorted. Noctis ignored it.
He wandered the empty halls aimlessly. It felt better to be moving than
fruitlessly seeking sleep, even if he had no destination in mind. The Citadel
could rarely be described as loud per se, but here in the dead hours of night,
the silence took on a life of its own. Without shoes, his feet were noiseless
on the polished floors, the silent portraits of his dead ancestors his only
witnesses.
He wasn’t really paying attention, so when he found himself coming to a halt,
he was puzzled more than anything. Somehow he had walked himself to the throne
room. Of all the places to go, he had walked straight to the bane of his
existence. He glared at the Crystal as it threw its pale light across the
marble pillars and intricate woodwork.
At this point, he was used to the way goosebumps blossomed across his arms as
he stood before it, the feeling that someone was whispering to him just outside
of his reach. He stared at it, rooted to the ground, mind hazy with lack of
sleep. How many of his ancestors had stood exactly where he was now, had felt
the same things he was feeling now, an endless cycle? It was a strange thought.
He shivered, but he didn’t move, just kept staring at the gently glowing
Crystal.
It’s why I couldn’t sleep, some distant part of him realized. It was calling to
him, interrupting his sleeping self as well his waking. The thought passed over
him, distant and foreign.
What do you want?
There was something there, just beyond his consciousness, just behind his
ability to understand, but he suddenly felt that if he stood here for long
enough in this moment, if he were open enough, it would reveal itself to him.
The Crystal hummed as if in agreement.
“What are you doing?!”
With that, the strange hold over Noctis’s thoughts shattered. Like a dream, it
faded away, until even the memories of what had just occurred dulled and broke
apart.
Noctis whirled around. At the throne room entrance stood a man dressed in
Kingsglaive garb. The man strode decisively towards Noctis, and as he came into
view of the light of the Crystal, Noctis realized that he recognized him,
although he didn’t know his name. The Kingsglaive member was new, and he
sparred with Gladio sometimes. He was younger, strong boned, with thick black
hair and the beginning of a scruff across his cheeks.
“Prince Noctis?”
Noctis nodded and shrugged his hands into his pajama pockets, trying to dismiss
the niggling guilt at being caught standing barefoot and clearly purposeless in
the throne room in the dead of night.
The man put one hand on his hip, his eyes narrowed and suspicious. “What are
you doing, your highness? It’s two in the morning.”
Was it? Noctis frowned. “I couldn’t sleep,” he offered sheepishly.
“And so you just decided to take a midnight stroll halfway across the Citadel?”
Noctis shrugged. “Yes?”
The man stared at him searchingly, and then he seemed to deliberately relax,
raising his gaze towards the Crystal. The movement bothered Noctis, until he
realized that it was because the motion had been just shy of irreverent. They
both stood at the head of the throne room, gazing at the Crystal in silence,
though the Kingsglaive kept stealing glances towards Noctis, which Noct did his
best to ignore. He knew this was probably his signal to go back to bed, but the
inner restlessness had yet to leave him, and he didn’t fancy going back to
staring at the ceiling. He had a feeling that if he left here and went anywhere
other than back to bed, he would be followed.
The strange Kingsglaive was the first to break the silence. “I’m always so
fascinated by it, you know? All this power we have comes from that, and it’s
just sitting there.”
Noctis didn’t say anything. He couldn’t say he was fascinated by it, exactly,
but the Kingsglaive was looking at him expectantly, and so he finally said, “I
don’t know. I haven’t exactly been having a good experience with the Crystal
lately.” He wasn’t sure how much the man knew about Noctis’s past month of
failure, but it didn’t seem to take long for any juicy details to make their
way through the Citadel gossip chain.
The Kingsglaive shrugged dismissively. “Can’t say I’m an expert myself. Name’s
Nyx, by the way. Just got my blacks a month ago.”
“Noctis. Though I guess you already know that.” They shook hands. It was just
Noctis’s luck that he would run into a Kingsglaive, even though guarding the
Citadel was clearly within the prerogative of the Crownsguard.
Nyx gave him a sideways look, and then said a little too casually, “Even though
I’m the last person to judge, I have to say it does baffle me that you’re
struggling at all.” Seeing Noctis’s defensive frown, he quickly added, “I mean,
you were born with magic powers, weren’t you?”
Noctis sighed. “Not exactly.” Even on a midnight stroll, he couldn’t get away
from this topic. “Don’t you already know all this?”
With a shrug, Nyx replied, “Was raised outside Insomnia. We didn’t grow up
listening to all these fairy tales about the Crystal the way you guys did.”
“But you’re in the Kingsglaive.”
“I’m in the Kingsglaive because I’m very good killing things and because I made
a promise to myself. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. I just
figured you’d be the person to ask.”
Noctis shot him a suspicious look, but Nyx’s face was bland. “I was born with
the potential to wield the Crystal’s magic,” Noctis told him. “The Crystal
doesn’t recognize the blood of every single person born to the Lucis Caelum
bloodline. You have to, I guess, affirm the Covenant.”
“That’s what the Ceremony of Awakening was about.” Nyx offered when Noctis
faltered.
“Yeah.”
“I suppose I never understood why it had to be your family in particular. Don’t
get me wrong, your dad is an amazing man, but it seems strange to put so much
on bloodline. One bad apple and we’re all fucked.”
Noctis blinked at him in astonishment. “You really didn’t grow up with the
stories, did you?”
Nyx shrugged. “Told you.”
Noctis wasn’t sure why he was still talking to this Kingsglaive, except that
there was something about his manner, something refreshingly unpretentious.
Like Prompto if Prompto had an ounce of suave.
“Well, I guess I’m as good person to tell you the story as any.” He met Nyx’s
eyes, and the Kingsglaive quirked his brow at him, giving him his full
attention.
“Hmn, continue to guard an empty hallway, or listen to the prince of Lucis tell
fairy tales. What a choice. By all means, educate me.” He laughed at Noct’s
affronted look.
“Fine. It goes like this: Two thousand years ago the world was beset by a
plague of daemons and darkness,” Noctis began. The words he spoke had the worn
and rolling quality of a story he had obviously heard countless times before,
unlike Nyx. As Noctis spoke, he felt a little pang. This ancient story always
reminded him of Luna.
“During that time a wise King lived in what would come to be called Insomnia.
He saw the suffering of his people, and he decided that he was willing to do
anything if it meant ending the scourge. He traveled to see a wise oracle, and
she told him to pray to the Gods for six days and six nights, and at the end of
that period his prayers would be answered.”
“Wait he did nothing but pray for six days? How is that possible? Or was he
allowed to take, like, piss breaks?”
“I don’t know,” Noctis replied in exasperation. “Do you want to hear the story
or not?”
The Kingsglaive rolled his eyes. “Sorry. Please, continue.”
With a huff, Noctis did just that. “Anyway, the King, seeing her wisdom, did as
she instructed. And lo and behold, at the end of the six days, the magnificent
God, Bahamut, appeared before him in all of his glory. ‘Oh wondrous one,’ said
the King, ‘I beg you. Please grant me the power to save my people from the
darkness.’ Hearing the sincerity in the King’s plea, the God, with his great
mercy--,”
“If he were really merciful, he’d have stopped all that shit before it got that
bad.”
“—Shut up. In his great mercy, Bahamut said, ‘You have been judged and found
worthy. I will grant you this power. However,’ said Bahamut, ‘this power is not
without cost. Are you willing to pay it?’ The King didn’t hesitate. He had long
since made his decision. ‘Anything,’ he said. ‘Anything.’
The God nodded, and before him a Crystal, brimming with untold power, arose
from the ground. ‘This Crystal has the power to vanquish the darkness. I charge
you with its protection,’ he said. The King being the humble man that he was,
replied despairingly, “Oh Great One, I am but a mere man. How shall I protect
such a thing?” Hearing the truth in this, Bahamut held out his hand to the wise
King. In his palm was a gleaming black ring. ‘This Ring will form the Covenant
between you and the Crystal. In exchange for this power, I will take your life
and in death your soul. You must protect the Crystal. Forever.’ The
Magnanimous--”
“How many epithets does he have?”
“The MAGNANIMOUS Bahamut said to the King, ‘As long as the Crystal continues to
exist in the mortal realm, your seed will continue the Covenant, as we have
spoken it.’ At that the King took pause. ‘You ask that my children make this
same promise. And their children, and their children’s children?’ The exalted
Bahamut was implacable. ‘The Crystal must always have a protector, the Ring
always a chosen.’” Pausing, Noctis swallowed.
Nyx meanwhile, murmured, half to himself, “Thus born the line of Lucis Caelum,
Protectors of the Crystal.”
With a nod, Noctis continued, “The wise King knew he had promised anything and
everything to the God. He very much loved his son, but if he refused this
Covenant, then he knew that he doomed the world to darkness. And so, the King
held out his hand and repeated, ‘Anything.’
With that the magnificent God stood tall. Countless swords lifted around him.
One rose above the others and then fell across the outstretched hand of the
King. The King slipped the Ring on his finger, and pressed his bleeding palm to
the Crystal. With that he formed the Covenant of the line of Lucis. ‘It is
done,’ said the God.”
Noctis’s eyes met Nyx’s, and he said, “That’s it. That’s the story of how the
Lucis Caelum’s became the protectors’ of the Crystal. The King died and his
soul went into the ring, and then his son was the first to rule Lucis with the
Crystal. So, we’re the only ones who can make the Covenant with the Crystal
because my great, great, great something’th grandfather basically sold his soul
to a God.”
Nyx had long since lost his jovial expression. “That’s really fucking heavy.”
“Yeah.” For Noctis, the story had been told so many times in so many ways, that
it had lost all potential sting. He glanced at Nyx thoughtfully, still stuck on
their earlier conversation. “They didn’t make sure you knew your basic royal
history before you joined an organization that completely revolves around royal
magic?”
Nyx shrugged again. “It isn’t like they have a line of people itching to join.
None of the noble history of the Crownsguard, and all of the danger and shit
pay of the military,” he replied. “Surprisingly, there aren’t a lot of people
so desperate for magic powers that they’re willing take it up the ass, even
from the King.” The Kingsglaive said it so matter of fact, but Noct still felt
his face burn red at the crass remark. Some things only worked because no one
acknowledged them out loud.
“Gods, this is why I hate talking to Kingsglaive,” he muttered, trying to hide
his blush by jerking his head away from the other man.
Nyx snorted. “Don’t tell me the future King of Lucis is a prude,” he teased.
“It’s just,—It’s my dad—.”
“And one day it’ll be you.”
Noctis managed to force himself to meet Nyx’s eyes again, only to find the
other man’s gaze far too intense. His eyes swept over Noctis just once, but it
was enough to make Noctis wonder if the man was comparing him to his father.
“I’m going back to bed,” he announced snappishly.
This time there was no question that Nyx’s tone was far too impertinent. “After
you, your highness,” he drawled.
Noctis was far to classy to glare at that.
Back in bed he struggled enormously to fall back asleep, and when he did, he
was plagued by dreams. He dreamed his father stood bleeding before him, but the
blood was black. It oozed from his mouth and eyes, and when he opened his maw,
rows of razor sharp teeth glistened. He reached a hand towards Noctis, the one
that held the Ring, but the young prince scrambled back. As Noctis twisted
around, the vision changed. A Figure towered over him, its power radiating
outwards, dozens of swords at its back.
“What will you give me?” the Being asked, voice inhumanly severe.
“Anything,” Noctis whispered. “Anything.”
The Figure spat, “Lies.” He reached forward, his fingers curling around
Noctis’s neck and lifting him high in the air.
“You are unfinished,” He said, and the words sank into Noctis’s bones, drowning
him.
Noctis woke up, drenched in sweat. It was a long night.
                                      ***
                                  **Gladio**
Gladio loved the Kingsglaive training hall in the morning. The clean smell of
smoothly sanded wood mixing with sweat and blood, his heavy breathing echoing
in the expansive silence, the occasional tinkling of the practice dummies
hanging from the vaulted ceiling. At the ripe time of six in the morning he had
the place to himself, and he preferred it that way. It might be clichéd as
hell, but there was nothing that cleared his head better than an intense
workout before the rest of the world had begun to stir.
Floor to ceiling mirrors lined the walls, and he stood before one as he
adjusted his stance. Taking a deep breath, Gladio threw himself forward in a
twisting, complicated move that one of the Kingsglaive had shown him last week.
It had been Iggy’s suggestion originally to train with the Kingsglaive. After
all, they had the same warping powers as Noctis, only theirs actually worked.
Gladio went through several more exercises until his arms trembled from the
strain, and sweat dripped from his brow. After he finally decided he’d had
enough, he walked over to the weapons rack, proceeded to wipe down his blade,
and then slide it into place. He was already making plans for what he was going
to do with Noct that afternoon. The kid needed to brush up on his leg work, he
decided. Twenty minutes of horse stance would probably do Noctis some good.
“Gladiolus!”
Gladio recognized the sound of his father’s voice behind him instantly, though
it was strange for him to be here and not at the King’s side at this time of
day. He turned around, only to have to hastily drop himself into a bow.
“Your majesty!”
Of course his father was with the King, he chided himself, watching the King
walk heavily and slowly towards him, his father a step behind. A traitorous
thought flitted through Gladio’s mind that the King truly seemed like an old,
weak man now. He squashed that thought with a quick mental shake.
“Training so early in the day?” the King asked pleasantly, as Clarus
acknowledged Gladio with a brisk nod.
Gladio found it hard to believe that the King had any care at all about when he
trained or did not train. This had to have something to do with Noctis, he just
didn’t yet know what. He answered somewhat stiffly, still a little flustered,
“I’ve been training with the Kingsglaive lately, your majesty. I like it in
here. It’s peaceful.”
King Regis probably had better things to do than listen about how he preferred
the quiet of the empty hall in the morning, or that he couldn’t train in the
afternoons because that time was dedicated to Noctis. With what had happened,
the King probably did not want to hear about anything that had to do with
Noctis and training.
Noctis. Sometimes he wanted to wring his little neck.
“How long have you been training Noct now, Gladiolus?”
“Almost eight years, your majesty.”
The King nodded. “I would like you to be honest with me.” He waited for Gladio
to nod, then asked, “How capable would you say Noct is of defending himself
against an attack?”
Gladio blinked. It wasn’t quite where he had expected this unexpected
conversation to go. After all the King had yet in these eight years deigned to
question Gladio’s tutoring methods in any way, shape, or form.
It was a responsibility, the thought of which colored Gladio’s day from the
time he awoke every morning, to when he collapsed in his bed at night. In his
youth he’d been resentful, even angry at the thought his life had be chosen for
him and given to that brat of child without his consent. But then he’d finally
seen beyond the surface, seen the potential that the prince so carefully and
infuriatingly hid behind his sulkiness.
Gladio understood the origin of the King’s question, how it stemmed from the
primal fear that only a parent, or in his case someone who has had the
privilege of watching a child slowly becoming a man, felt. No amount of petty
or hurtful words could ever change that. Forever branded across the surface of
his memory was the gash that started at the young prince’s hip and cut across
to his shoulder. He could only imagine it was even worse for the man who had
been powerless to keep it from happening in the first place.
The King wanted honest, so Gladio gave him honest. “Three years ago, I would
have told you he was average at best,” he said bluntly.
The King didn’t blink. “And now?”
“Now,” Gladio shrugged. “I’d say his growth in skill was unnatural if I didn’t
know who and what he was.”
Increasingly, Noct would pull moves and dodges out of his ass that amazed
Gladio. Any idiot could be taught a movement if they were drilled enough, but
Noct was finally growing beyond that. What was impossible to teach was raw
physical talent, and surprisingly, that was what puberty had managed to bestow
upon the wayward prince. It was part of what made watching him fail at this
magic thing so frustrating. The kid had the ability; of that, Gladio truly had
no doubt.
Gladio had seen the prince sitting for hours in front of the Crystal, and in
his opinion it was more than pointless. Noctis had never been one who could be
taught by words or theory. Gladio had learned the hard way that Noctis needed
to throw himself at task in order come away with anything useful.
“Is that all?”
In his blunt manner, Gladio said, “Sometimes his reflexes are supernatural.
When he finally stops thinking and just does it, Noct moves in ways that are
almost physically impossible. When he’s like that I’d say it would take at
least six or seven trained men to take him down. When he’s unfocused, three to
four.”
King Regis turned back to Clarus. “Well?”
Gladio’s father pursed his lips. “I saw what I saw, your majesty. I had his
arm, and then I didn’t.”
The King made an exasperated noise. “But we’ve tried simulating a fight. We’ve
tried frustrating him and working up his emotions. None of that helped.”
“Noct doesn’t work well when he’s frustrated though,” Gladio interrupted
thoughtlessly. Both the King and Clarus turned to give him their full
attention. He swallowed. “He does best when he’s pissed off, but not so pissed
off that he’s lost his head. When he’s desperate to win.”
Frustration definitely tended to shut Noctis down. Gladio had had plenty of
times where Noctis had needed the delicate push towards anger, taunting and
derision to get him to turn his overactive, useless brain off and just do,
rather than letting him mire in his frustration. Of course, Ignis would
probably have said the opposite, that Noctis needed a gentle guiding hand, and
positive support. To each his own.
Clarus exchanged a look with King Regis. “He was certainly desperate to run
away.”
They seemed to have a conversation with their eyebrows, and then Regis turned
back to Gladio. “Thank you, Gladiolus. You’ve been very helpful.”
“Your majesty.”
Later that day, back in the Citadel after a shift of guard duty and after
picking Iris up from school, Gladio shook the rain out of his hair and began
setting up his training session with Noct. Hearing the thud of the training
hall door, he turned, expecting to see Noctis even though there were still a
few minutes to go, and Noct was never early.
For the second time that day, he was surprised by the presence of the King.
As he bowed to his King, he sensed that this visit was very different. The King
smiled sadly at the young weapons master, leaning on his cane. “Unfortunately,
I’m not finished with you, Gladiolus. And for what I am about to ask you to do,
I am so, so very sorry.”
                                      ***
                                  **Noctis**
The morning after his midnight adventure, Ignis had to drag Noctis out of bed,
dress him, and shove him down the hallway to the conference chamber. Amazingly,
during the war meeting Noctis discovered a new power. He might not be able to
warp, but in that hour he perfected a far more useful skill, which was the
ability to doze with his eyes open.
Ignis was not amused.
One scolding and seven hours of school later, Noctis and Prompto were sitting
under a tree outside the school house, taking advantage of the late September
weather. They sprawled out on their backs, watching the towering, puffy clouds,
the kind that promised a storm later, but for now brought only a clean breeze
and gentle warmth.
“I’m going to ask her out.” Prompto declared decisively.
“Okay.”
“I’m really going to do it.”
“Okay.” Noctis had at some point tuned out, distracted by his own thoughts, and
had missed exactly who Prompto was talking about.
“Gods, she’s so hot,” Prompto groaned. “She’s got to be a C cup at least; don’t
you think?”
“Uh, yeah, totally,” Noctis agreed. This was starting to get a tad dangerous.
Any moment now, Prompto was going to realize Noctis was talking out of his ass.
Prompto rolled over to face Noctis. “What about you? You never talk about any
girls.” He laughed. “You got a burning crush somewhere in that princely heart?”
Noctis frowned. “No,” he said.
“Oh come on.” Prompto sighed dramatically and flopped back over on his back.
“You’re killing me, man. You could literally have any girl or guy you wanted,
and yet you can’t even tell me one person you think is hot?”
Noctis shrugged.
Prompto narrowed his eyes. “You’re not, like, asexual are you?”
At that, Noctis snorted.
“Well okay then,” Prompto insisted, “Don’t hold out on me, man. You know every
dirty thing about me.”
“Not by choice.”
“That’s cold,” Prompto pouted.
“Urg, fine,” Noctis scowled. “I really don’t know. The girls at this school are
all annoying and giggly.”
Noctis really wasn’t asexual. At least, he didn’t think so. He was a horny
sixteen-year-old guy just like any other. But his time was so consumed by duty
and obligation, that the idea of having the time to date was laughable. He
imagined the frivolous girls that hounded him at school, smiling and laughing
at his every word like it was the cleverest or most profound thing they’d ever
heard. It wasn’t sexy; it was just exhausting.
No, Noctis couldn’t imagine being with anyone that didn’t understand some
aspect of the burden that he and those close to him shared. How could he?
“That’s just girls, I think,” Prompto was saying. Noctis struggled to reign his
attention back in to his friend. “You really don’t know what you’re attracted
to?” Noctis didn’t answer, which Prompto took as an answer enough. “Well,
everyone’s attracted to someone,” he said thoughtfully. “What do you think
about when you, you know?”
Noctis raised his eyebrows questioningly. Cheeks blooming a fantastic shade of
red, Prompto spluttered, “You know?” He made a crude hand gesture, eyes
glancing sideways to make sure no one was around to see. Noctis still didn’t
answer, and Prompto finally spat out, “You, know, when you jerk off? What do
you think about?”
Noctis blinked. “Are you supposed to ask friends that?”
A flash of embarrassment flew across Prompto’s face, and Noctis immediately
felt like a shithead. Prompto hadn’t said anything about Noct’s antagonistic
behavior the other day, which was more than he deserved. “Um, I don’t really
think of any one person,” Noctis said quietly before Prompto could respond,
vulnerability bleeding into his voice. His own cheeks burned. “I usually just
think about the sensations more than anything,” he mumbled.
Noctis might not focus on any specific person, but his fantasies didn’t lack
detail because of that. He was very good at imagining callused hands on his
dick, picturing what it would be like to be enveloped in the wet heat of an
eager mouth, or the weight of another’s body spread out over his.
Prompto looked contemplative, unaware that Noctis’s thoughts had parked
themselves in the gutter. “Well, maybe you should try imagining someone next
time, you know? You need to know what it you’re attracted to so I help you find
a date. Gotta discover your deep sexual desires…” He wagged his eyebrows at
Noct.
“Because you’re such a sex guru yourself.”
“Hey I’m just trying to help a friend,” Prompto replied. “You’re the one with
the actual chance at something with all your princy-ness.”
Prompto’s face was still that cherry red, and he didn’t quite meet Noctis’s
eyes. “Me, I just wanna lose my virginity before I graduate high school,” he
muttered. “That’s not asking too much.”
Noctis didn’t have a lot to say to that. Assuming he managed to manifest his
magic before he graduated, it was all but guaranteed that he would at least
technically lose his virginity. Prompto didn’t know that though, and Noct had
no idea how to tell his friend that he would soon be expected to complete a
magical ritual with his retainers. Needless to say it was a bit hard to
sympathize, even though that wasn’t Prompto’s fault.
He was about to change the topic when he felt the first fat raindrop fall on
his nose. “Oh, shit.” Together they scrambled up from under the tree, running
for cover as the sky opened up.
Only slightly damp and standing under the overhang of the school entrance way,
Prompto pulled out his phone and said to Noctis, “It’s almost time for the
photography club meeting anyway. Want me to meet you at your place afterwards?”
“Nah, I’ve got weapons training with Gladio. I can’t skip out today; he’s
pissed enough as it is.”
“What did you do?”
Noctis shot him an affronted look. “Why is it automatically what I did?”
A teasing grin. “Because I know you.”
Noctis sighed and said, “Got in a fight with my dad.”
“What does that have to do with Gladio?”
With a shrug, Noctis answered, “Said some stuff that wasn’t okay, I guess.”
Meeting Prompto’s gaze, he found his friend’s entire attention was suddenly and
fully on him, the concern evident. “They don’t think I’m trying hard enough at
this magic thing.”
“Are you?”
Noctis shrugged.
With a heavy sigh, Prompto said, “Ya’sure you don’t need to skip today? The
photography club meeting isn’t mandatory.”
Noctis felt a wave gratitude for his friend. “No. He’d just come find me, and
then it’d be that much worse. Besides, I don’t have to meet him until 4:00.”
“You do know it’s 3:55, right?”
Noctis’s heart stopped. “Wait, what?!”
                                      ***
Noctis ran most of the way to the Citadel, slugging through the rain with his
backpack bouncing up and down. Panting, he waved to his mentor as he hastily
dropped his damp bags on the ground by the entranceway of the Citadel training
hall.
“You’re late.” Gladio’s voice was unusually cold, even considering their recent
tension.
“I know,” Noctis snapped back at him, meeting Gladio’s eyes as he straightened
himself back up. What he found there stopped him short. Gladio’s expression was
savage, as if the very sight of Noctis disgusted him. Noctis had never seen
such vitriol on his mentor’s face before, not even counting all the previous
times Noctis had pushed him close to the breaking point. Yesterday he had
seemed upset at Noct, probably understandably so, but not like this. So what
had changed between now and then?
“Is my training beneath you, your highness?” Gladio asked, his voice deathly
even.
Noctis was too dumbfounded to answer. He struggled to get his thoughts back on
even footing, desperately going over the past few days in his head. If this was
about the fight with his father, then wouldn’t Gladio have been just as angry
yesterday? Unless it had taken him a while to stoke his rage. One of the best
things about Gladio was that he was entirely predictable, but this left Noctis
flabbergasted.
Gladio was still talking, his voice still that even tone, incongruent with his
expression. “Because I can’t think of any other reason why you would waste my
time like this.”
Noctis hated how his voice came out hesitant, defensive. “I lost track of
time…”
“That’s not good enough,” Gladio thundered as Noctis flinched back from him.
“When are you going to grow the fuck up, Noctis?!”
Noctis’s hesitation snapped, even as part of him realized that those words had
been designed to set him off. Gladio wasn’t his father. He had no right to
judge Noctis, and if Gladio did have something to say, then he should just come
out and say it, rather than baiting a fight. Noct was done with being passively
aggressively punished for things that weren’t any of Gladio’s and Ignis’s
business.
“What the fuck is your problem?” Noctis roared back, advancing towards Gladio.
He finally entered the training hall proper, but before Gladio could answer
him, he stopped dead, stiffening in shock. Of all the people to see, King Regis
sat on a wooden bench at the far end of the room, having been hidden from
Noctis before by the corner of the entranceway. Clarus stood next to him.
Neither one acknowledged his arrival, except by the tightening around his
father’s mouth.
Noctis wondered if this was a public enough situation that he was supposed to
formally greet his father, but then he decided that that moment had passed long
ago, probably around the same time Noctis had shouted the word ‘Fuck’. “What
are they doing here?” he hissed at Gladio as he eyed his father sideways. Regis
did not respond to his look.
“Don’t worry about them,” Gladio growled. “Worry about what I’m about to do to
your late punk-ass.”
Noctis’s father had never once attended any training session of Noctis’s, and
it was alarming that he did not know what had catalyzed this change. Was it
because Noct had refused to show up to any more magic lessons? Had he finally
decided to confront Noctis? But then, how did that relate to Gladio, and why
would Gladio pick a fight in front of the King?
“He’s not watching us, is he?”
“I said, don’t worry about it, your highness.” Gladio tossed a sword at Noctis
suddenly, and he barely caught it. It looked almost identical to the Engine
Blade, except clearly dull. Noctis glared at Gladio, but the sword master just
looked icily back.
Noctis was about to tell him that if he thought Noctis was willing to spar with
him like this, then he was sorely mistaken. He was about to; however, Gladio
did not give him that chance.
Without warning, Gladio smashed into him with the full weight of his practice
weapon, a greatsword as tall as Noctis and seemingly nearly as heavy. Before he
had time to react, Noctis was flung several feet. He rolled like a ragdoll,
landing with his face plastered against the dusty wooden floor. The impact
reverberated through Noctis’s very bones, and he struggled to take a breath
afterwards.
“Gods dammit, Gladio,” Noctis hissed with a gasp. “The hell?”
“Get up.” Gladio’s voice was a snarl, tense but still controlled, and even
though Noct’s lungs still burned, he struggled to his feet regardless. Gladio’s
eyes pierced him pitilessly as he waggled his finger in a derisive, come-hither
motion. Noctis glared at him. Then he let his gaze wander to his father. King
Regis still had not stirred from his spot at the far end of the room. From what
Noctis could tell, he hadn’t so much as blinked as Gladio had treated Noct’s
ribs like the baseball to his bat. He shouldn’t feel betrayed by that. After
all, it wasn’t like that hit would leave any permanent damage, as much as it
had felt like it had splintered one of Noct’s bones. But still, Noctis’s
stomach twisted unpleasantly. Was this how angry his father truly was at him,
that he would enlist Gladio in some sort of fucked up physical punishment?
He tightened his grip on the replica Engine Blade and adjusted his stance into
something vaguely battle worthy. There were several feet between them as Gladio
adjusted his stance as well, left foot sliding back to widen his center of
gravity.
It was clear that Gladio wasn’t going to let him get away with refusing to
fight. At least not without a beating. Noctis kept his distance, not stupid
enough to rush Gladio when he was in such a murderous mood. Unlike Noctis,
Gladio became singularly focused and disciplined the more his wrath increased.
So instead of attacking, Noctis elected to stay on the defensive, at least for
now, keeping himself back and waiting for Gladio to make the first move.
Gladio seemed to find this decision pitiful. “You gonna fight back anytime this
century, your highness?” he asked, his voice curling mockingly around the ‘your
highness’ in a way he knew Noctis hated.
The swords master had yet to make any sort of further move either, so Noctis
sneered. Gladio snorted and began to circle him. Noctis knew this trick though,
to slowly move closer and closer into an opponent’s space without their
realizing it, and he circled too, keeping them on even ground.
“You’re too hesitant, your highness. Wait for your opponent to attack, and
you’ve already given up your first advantage.”
He was trying to get under Noctis’s skin, but Noct would not be so easily
baited. “I know what you’re doing.” Noctis hissed. He couldn’t help but feel
his father’s observing eyes boring into his back. What was he doing here?
“I ain’t exactly hiding it. I’m teaching you a lesson about the value of
punctuality.”
In front of Noctis’s father? By beating him without any sort of warning? Noctis
snarled under his breath, “Fuck you.”
Shifting his weapon, Gladio grinned humorlessly. “Well, alright then.” He
lunged at Noctis. The movement was barely telegraphed, but Noctis knew Gladio
well enough to predict that much. He dodged neatly and rolled himself out of
Gladio’s range, then attempted to dart behind him. It was a useless attempt;
Gladio was too good to let himself get flanked, especially against only one
opponent.
They exchanged several more blows, none which Noctis gained any sort of
advantage with. Gladio was extraordinarily fast for his size, and he had a huge
reach advantage over Noctis. He was also going all out in a way Noctis had
never before experienced. Within a few exchanges, Gladio managed with relative
ease to knock the legs out from under him. It was humiliating.
“Again.”
“I wasn’t giving up,” Noctis spat as he struggled to get his aching muscles to
obey him.
“Then get your ass off the floor.”
Noctis regarded Gladio again as he straightened up. Gladio was the better
swordsman. Of that there was no question. Noctis already knew that were Gladio
to ever attempt to annihilate him, see exhibit one, that there would be no
contest. Noctis knew this, and Gladio knew that Noctis knew this. Gladio was
supposed to be Noctis’s friend. He was a confidant, a mentor, and now it felt
like he was using that closeness to twist a knife in Noctis’s gut.
Just one more thing for Noctis to be a failure at.
Noctis let his weapon fall down to his side. “What would you do,” he asked, his
voice husky, “If I dropped this sword right now and walked away?”
“I’d call you a spineless coward and a disgrace to your father.” Gladio’s eyes
glinted.
For a moment there was nothing but the pattering of the September rain on the
roof. They stood across from each other in the same places they had been when
they had begun this fight.
Noctis imagined what would happen if he were to leave now. He was closer to the
door, but Gladio would never let him make a graceful retreat. He’d have to run,
face the humiliation of being chased like an errant child. Gladio would rip him
a new one, though he’d eventually let Noctis leave, and then tomorrow, he’d be
right here waiting for the next lesson. It didn’t matter what Noctis did to
him; even if Gladio despised him, he would work with Noctis for as long as he
felt Noctis needed the lessons, always prepared to fulfill his duty with
ceaseless determination. Noctis’s father would watch him leave silently. Unlike
Gladio, his face would be unreadable, emotionless. And then the next time he
saw Noct, he would act as if nothing had happened, as if that could somehow
erase the problem.
His father’s words washed over him. Sometimes I think you’re not even trying.
Why try? So that I can die like you?
Gladio had asked him, what do you want, Noctis?
I want to make my father proud.
What will you give me?
Anything.
Lies.
Noctis swallowed. His fists clenched. The truth pounded at him like Gladio’s
sword, and so he faced his mentor. “What exactly do you want from me, Gladio?”
The question came out hollow and tired.
“I want you to act like you remember what you are.”
Noctis was a prince of Lucis. “I’ve never forgotten,” he said.
Gladio did not argue, but his gaze was challenging and dismissive. Sword loose
and at the ready, he made it clear he was waiting on Noctis to come to a
decision.
Time seemed to slow as Noct took a deep breath. His pulse thrummed, and his
heartbeat echoed in his ears. Ba dum, Ba dum. He came to his decision. The
truth was, Noctis was tired of running. He was tired of fighting his self-
disgust and insecurity, tired of the frustration, tired of these feelings
building up with no outlet or release. Maybe he would never find that magical
well inside of himself. Maybe he was doomed to failure, doomed to face his
father in shame.
But he’d be damned if he let Gladio drive him into the dust like he was still
eight years old and helpless.
Gladio narrowed his eyes as Noctis twisted his blade around in his hands.
However, Noctis ignored him in favor of expelling the air from his lungs,
sliding his body sideways, and finding that precipice of perfect tenseness in
his aching muscles. Only then did he fully meet Gladio’s gaze. Gladio was the
better swordsman. And Noctis had already given up his greatest advantages, his
agility and maneuverability, by wasting his energy and allowing Gladio to smash
at his legs. Even now, his left knee ached, begging to be allowed to crumple,
and his lungs burned as they tried and failed to restore his breath.
“You finally decided to stop being a pussy?”
Noctis said, “Don’t talk to me like that.”
Gladio’s voice was dangerously low. “Make. Me.”
Noctis wasn’t going to win this fight, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. He
feinted, letting the greatsword follow him and clang against his smaller
weapon. Had he then tried to counter with his own weapon, Gladio would have
overpowered him. But Noctis had learned his lesson. Instead, he used the
momentum of their clashing swords as a springboard and jumped, curling his body
over the weapons and snapping a ringing kick at Gladio’s neck.
His hit connected with a painful crack. Gladio stumbled back, stunned. Noctis,
however, didn’t fully have his balance after he landed, and he wasn’t able to
press his advantage fast enough.
Gladio roared. He swung his sword in an overpowering motion. Noctis tried to
roll under it, but Gladio managed to block his hit with his forearm brace,
brushing it off.
Back and forth they went. However, for Noctis there was something different
now. His limbs ached and shook, but his head was the clearest it had been in
weeks. Everything was in hyper focus, the feeling of air rushing past him as he
barely swerved out of the way, the sweat flying off of Gladio’s neck as he
swung around, each breath in and out.
It still wasn’t enough. Every hit Gladio met. Every swing of Noctis’s sword he
seemed to foresee.
In the end it was Noctis’s knee that betrayed him. It finally twisted in on
itself, just as Gladio came in for full bodied hit of his greatsword. Noctis
had time to think, I’m going to be hit, and then, I can’t be hit. Even though
it was too late, his body still went through the motion of throwing himself out
of the way.
The sword passed through him.
As Noctis moved, he felt almost like a muscle cramp in his stomach, a jerk of
his heartbeat, like a flash of adrenalin, and then he was simply not there. It
all happened too fast. His mind fizzled with the whiplash of it. One moment he
was twisted, half crouched in front of Gladio’s incoming sword, and the next he
was on the other side of his mentor. He vaguely saw Gladio come to a stop and
rest his heavy blade across his back, but it was too much to process.
As Noctis’s heart thundered, he noticed with a sort of wild panic that blue-
white flashes of energy were pulsing up and down his arms. They were the same
crystalline texture as his father’s Armiger weapons and the Crystal that sat on
the other side of the Citadel, and it was as overwhelming as having been deaf
one’s entire life and then suddenly stepping into the middle of a symphony.
When he had imagined how the magic would feel, he had assumed it would be
something like electricity, similar to the tingling sensation that told him his
body was absorbing electrical elemental energy. This magic was nothing like the
feeling of absorbing elements. It was rawer, more consuming, sinking into him
and through him, lighting every nerve along the way. It was awareness, bleeding
sharpness, and the stopping of time. It was pure power in its most ancient and
incomprehensible form.
The strangest thing was how natural, how intrinsic the magic felt. It was as
much a part of him as the blood in his veins or the thoughts in his head. He
had been searching for an outside force working on him, had been seeking some
sign of the Crystal’s alien power inside of himself, but it wasn’t like that at
all. He had told Nyx that he had not been born with the magic, rather the
potential for it, but in that too he was completely wrong. This magic was made
for him, or maybe he had been made for the magic.
Noctis trembled. His magic was awake now, racing through him, and he had no
idea what to do. Then from behind him, an arm grasped the young prince’s
shoulder. Swinging around, he came face to face with his father, who must have
some point moved from the bench. King Regis stood tall, without his cane. With
one hand still on Noct’s shoulder, he cupped Noct’s chin, pulling the prince’s
face up towards his own. The King’s grip was both firm and gentle, but his eyes
trapped Noctis, boring into him, razing his defenses, and leaving him feeling
flayed and vulnerable.
Noctis had spent so much time and energy hiding from his father. But now,
standing here, encircled by his magic and held by his father’s pinning gaze, he
found he could not hide. A heartbeat of silence and stillness, and then his
father’s expression softened.
Once, when Noctis had been wheelchair bound, he had awoken in the middle of the
night to discover his father leaning over him, brushing Noctis’s hair back from
his eyes. Seeing that his son was awake, he had smiled. Neither had said a
word, but Regis had held Noctis’s gaze. The emotions on his face had been too
vast, too enormous, too powerful for the child to understand.
Eight years later, the look they shared was eerily similar.
“Throw the sword, Noct,” his father said as he released Noctis’s chin.
Noctis looked down and saw that whatever he had done to awaken his power had
also sent magic careening through his weapon. The sword shimmered with light.
As he lifted his weapon, his every sense was suffused with magic, and somehow,
he instinctively knew what to do. The magic caressed him, tickling the back of
his mind. Hello, it seemed to whisper. Hello there. Are you awake now?
He threw the sword with all the force he possessed. That feeling, like an
adrenaline rush but cleaner, overcame him. Every molecule squeezed together,
his ears popped, the world twisted in on itself, and then he was across the
room, dizzily gripping the sword, that, though dull, cleaved a practice dummy
nearly in two.
Noctis beheld the sword in amazement. It had been that easy, and even now, as
the magic faded from his skin, he could still feel the source deep inside
himself, endless and ancient. He turned back around. His father stood next to
Gladio. In a daze, Noct jerked the sword back out of the dummy and walked over
to them.
“You did well, Noct,” his father said in a gentle tone as Noctis approached.
With a quick nod to his father, Noctis challengingly met Gladio’s gaze.
“Bout time,” the larger man said gruffly after a moment of silent glaring.
Noctis supposed he should be furious. No matter what he had been trying to
accomplish, Gladio had been way out of line. Friends did not do that, pick at
each other’s most vulnerable emotional spots. But frankly, Noctis was too
overwhelmed to put the needed energy towards giving Gladio a piece of his mind.
Besides, Gladio thrived off conflict. Being dismissed, ignored, was far more
punishing.
“I believe that is enough for today,” the King said.
Noctis nodded. He recognized the state his body was quickly falling into now
that he had released the magic. It was the same exhaustion that had kept him in
bed for three days after the Ceremony of Awakening. His father seemed to
recognize the signs of impending collapse in Noct, because he gripped his
shoulder tightly, keeping Noct upright, and addressed Gladio, “See Noct to bed,
if you would.” With that, he squeezed Noct’s shoulder and said, “Rest now,
Noct. I know today was quite stressful, but you’ve really done well.”
Stressful was one way to put it. Noctis had no desire to spend the night in the
Citadel again, but there was no arguing with such a direct command. He allowed
Gladio to steer him away his father. Once they were in the hallway and away
from prying ears, Gladio turned to Noctis, “Look, Noct, I--.”
“—I don’t want to talk about it.”
Gladio took a deep breath and visibly bit back his aggravation. “Well, I do,
and--.”
“—I. Don’t. Want. To. Talk. About it.”
“Fine!”
“Fine.”
They walked to Noctis’s room silently, and Gladio helped him clamber into bed.
“I’ve got to tell Ignis I won’t be home today,” Noctis mumbled sleepily.
“I’ll let him know.” Gladio sighed. “Goodnight Noct.”
Noctis didn’t reply.
                                      ***
                                  **Gladio**
Afterwards, Gladio walked to Noct’s apartment. He could have easily driven or
even called Ignis, but he wanted the time to process. As he let himself into
the apartment, he heard Ignis’s voice, “Noctis, you’re back—early.” Ignis
halted as he saw that it was Gladio and not Noctis at the door. He took one
look at Gladio’s face and demanded, “What’s wrong?”
Gladio could only laugh. He strode past Ignis and plopped himself heavily down
on the couch. Ignis did not ask again what was wrong. That wasn’t his way.
Instead he crossed his arms over his chest, pursed his lips in a thin, grim
line, and waited in front of Gladio.
Gladio leaned back and sighed. “He finally activated his magic today.”
To Ignis’s credit, he did not make a stupid remark of congratulations or
excitement. He narrowed his eyes, obviously reading between the lines. “What
did you do?”
Closing his eyes, Gladio said, “The King came to me today. Said he suspected
that Noct had inadvertently used his phasing during their fight the other day.”
Ignis made a noise in the back of his throat at the mention of that already
infamous occurrence. Gladio continued, “Said that he thought the key to
breaking through to Noct lay in actually breaking him. Asked if I could do
that.”
“Oh, Gladio.”
Gladio did not want Ignis’s pity. “I’ve been by Noct’s side since the day he
was born. Of course, I know how to push his buttons.”
“What did you do?”
Gladio answered him matter of factly. “Beat him into a pulp in front of his
father. Did my best to make him look and feel like a fool. And when he’d
finally had enough, I called him a disgrace and a coward.”
Ignis silently absorbed this and then said, “But it worked.”
“It worked,” Gladio confirmed.
“I suppose Noctis is angry with you.”
“Doesn’t matter.” It did matter. But they both knew what he had meant. Gladio
would not and could not do anything other than the mission he had been born
with. Noctis’s feelings had no bearing on that.
Gladio made a noise of frustration. “It isn’t that I wouldn’t have done exactly
what I did. Sometimes Noct needs a good knock on the head, but that’s between
the two of us—private. I never would have had that fight in front of his
father.”
No, Gladio knew the difference between using hurt to an end, and hurting just
to hurt. But he’d seen Noct run into the training hall, late of course, and had
immediately known where it would have to go if he wanted King Regis’s results.
Noctis had had that look that told Gladio he was in a turbulent, intractable
mood, and Gladio had known in his guts that Noctis would not be coached today,
that he would have to be driven to water, rather than led. Normally when Gladio
sensed Noct was in one of his moods, he forwent actually teaching him anything
that day and usually just did his best to at least wear the prince out.
Noctis had been thoughtless with desperation and frustration when he had phased
through Clarus’s hand, and so he must be made that way again. To this end, the
King’s regret and sorrow had been obvious as he told Gladio what he wanted him
to do, yet he had commanded Gladio nevertheless. Duty and obligation over love.
And Gladio was nothing if not obedient to his King.
When he had thrown Noctis across the room, he had prayed to all the Six that
Noct would realize what he was trying to do. That being knocked on his ass in
front of his father would drive him towards focus without Gladio having to take
more drastic measures, but of course, it hadn’t. So Gladio had commenced with
working Noctis into a rage as quickly and efficiently as he could.
“You two have had fights before. You’ll have them again,” Ignis said, “He’ll
get over it.”
Gladio vividly remembered Noctis’s face as he had called him a disgrace to his
father, how dead his expression had gone. What do you want from me, Gladio? he
had asked.
I want you to not make me do this.
“I shouldn’t have done it,” Gladio said. It was one thing to be brutally honest
with Noctis, and another to slam him with half-truths designed to crawl under
his skin and tear him apart. What Gladio should have done was thank the King
and politely asked him to do this the next day or the day after. He should have
told him his knee was too injured or that he had a terribly important
obligation, anything to buy himself some more time. And then he should have
gone to have that argument with Noctis alone, before the King could bring them
all together. Even though it had been his turbulent feelings for his father
that had caused Noct’s condition in the throne room, and clearly Regis had
believed that his presence would be needed to recreate the same situation,
Gladio still felt it could have been done without that can of worms. Not
everything had to be gained with pain.
“I should have tried harder to help him before it got to this.”
“Gladio, I doubt you could have done anything that the others hadn’t already
tried, and we all have to obey our King. You didn’t have a choice.”
Gladio shook his head. “You’re wrong, Ignis,” he said, looking his friend
gravely in the eyes, “There’s always a choice. Sometimes we make our most
important choices when it doesn’t seem like there’s one at all. And I made
mine. For better or worse.”
Ignis was silent to that. Gladio looked away. “You’re right about one thing
though. He will get over it, eventually. We’ve been through too much shit
together at this point.”
“True enough,” Ignis replied.
With that Gladio stretched up to look over Ignis’s shoulder towards the
kitchen. “What’d you cook that ungrateful brat anyway?”
“I have prepared a rice pilaf and baked salmon for the prince tonight.” There
was a pregnant pause, and then Ignis asked with an indulgent sigh, “Since he
won’t be coming home tonight, would you like to share it with me?”
“Sure, if you insist,” Gladio said easily.
“Oh, I insist,” Ignis drawled.
                                      ***
---“So choose, Prince Noctis,” Ignis had said nearly two years ago.
Noctis had hesitated, saying finally, “I—I don’t know how to fix it.”
Ignis’s reaction had been gentle. “Then let me help you,” he’d replied.
Noctis had responded immediately and defensively, a child lashing out, “I don’t
need you to solve my problems for me, Ignis.”
“Noct,” Ignis had said, “You don’t understand. That’s what friends do.”
                                      ***
Chapter End Notes
     The comments I have received so far have literally left me squealing,
     so thank you for that kindness. :)
***** The Intersection of Magic and Politics: Part A. *****
Chapter Summary
     Ignis finds his inner Nancy Drew. Noctis masturbates. That is this
     chapter.
                                 **Chapter 4**
                                      ***
                                   **Ignis**
When Ignis was thirteen, about a year after he started working at the Citadel
and spending more time with Noctis and those associated with him, a rather
embarrassing chain of events took place.
At that time, he knew that there were two kinds of people working in the
Citadel: those that had the Covenant with the King and those that did not.
Those that did had certain privileges, an implicit trust given to them by the
Crown that existed for no other group of people. Even without knowing what
exactly the Covenant entailed, Ignis longed to belong to that group. Official
retainers of the King were allowed unrestricted access to official documents
and to the royal library. Their words were given more weight in the council,
and their ranks were higher in the military.
Retainers shared the Kings power, able to draw weapons from his arsenal. Now
that he was spending more and more time with Noctis, it was only right that
Ignis have the abilities needed to protect the Prince. Not only could fully
covenanted retainers draw on the King’s weapons magic, but it was said that
they drew on his strength in other ways, that they were stronger and faster,
with far keener reflexes that any normal man. Also, one could tell who was ‘in’
and who wasn’t simply by the way they acted around each other. There was a
closeness there, a camaraderie that Ignis, still separated by most of the
Citadel by his youth, desperately longed for.
So at thirteen, while in Clarus’s study with the King’s Shield, Ignis
announced, “I want to seal the Covenant with the King.”
Clarus, who had been busily reading some report or another, jerked his head up
with a choked laugh. “You want to what now?”
“I am aware that since last year you have been grooming me to become advisor to
the prince,” Ignis said, making his case. “My future belongs to the Line of
Lucis. I see no reason not to make it official.”
Clarus gave Ignis a long and hard look, which the young man fully returned.
Finally, the Shield said, “It’s out of the question. Once you do something like
that, there is no going back." He shook his head. "No, you will stay just the
way you are, and when you are much older you will seal the Covenant with Prince
Noctis, not the King.”
Ignis was not one to give in easily. “With all due respect sir, I do not see
the problem. My service to the Crown is not something I would ever wish undone.
I do not see why I could not form a Covenant with the King now, and then with
His Highness later.” If Ignis was going to have to wait for Noctis to be King
before making any kind of Covenant, then he would be waiting a long time
indeed.
Clarus tried to intimidate him with the harshness of his eyebrows, but Ignis
would not be so easily cowed, not now that he had decided his course of action.
Clarus said, “You have no idea what you’re asking for. You are far too young,
Ignis. The King will never seal the Covenant with a child, and that won’t
change no matter how you pester me, so give up on this notion. That’s an
order.” With that he deliberately turned back to his papers.
Ignis knew that had he any brain cells at all, he would drop this. But the
comment had stung, wormed its way into Ignis’s head in a way most things were
unable to. His youth was the one thing that he was still sensitive about, the
one thing that people always commented on. Oh look at that, a twelve-year-old
graduating from the academy, how strange, how quaint.
“So I am a child then? Too young to commit myself to the Line of Lucis,” Ignis
snapped with predatory snark in his voice, “but not too young to sit on the
council, not too young to take charge of the Prince’s education, not too young
to commit myself in all the other ways I already have?”
Clarus did not even look up from his papers. “Yes.”
Ignis was not Noctis. He did not storm out or even allow himself to show any
further anger. No, he had lost this battle, but there was still the war.
                                      ***
Ignis found his opportunity the next day, much sooner than he had expected.
Clarus was not with the King because that morning, his son, Gladiolus, had
managed to break his leg in a training accident. The Shield was now making
inquiries into what had happened and who had exactly had been responsible.
Therefore, the King held his daily council meeting without his closest advisor,
and afterwards Ignis hesitated, waiting until everyone but the King and his
current guard had left.
The King quirked his eyebrow at Ignis. “Did you need something, Master
Scientia?”
Ignis bowed low, his heart pounding at his own boldness. “Your majesty, I did
have a request,” he said. “I know I am young, but you have consistently shown
that you trust my abilities and discretion as much as any fully grown adult.
When you asked me to train, to prepare myself to eventually become Prince
Noctis’s advisor, I understood fully what I was committing to.”
The King’s face didn’t change, remaining completely impassive. It was rather
unnerving, but Ignis had committed to this too, so he soldiered on. “I have
chosen to pledge myself to serving the Line of Lucis, and to this end I believe
it would be beneficial were I to join the ranks of your fully bonded
retainers.”
The King blinked. “You want to seal the Covenant of the line of Lucis with me?”
The King’s tone had that same incredulous quality as Clarus’s when the Shield
had asked Ignis nearly the same question yesterday. That wasn’t a good sign.
Ignis nodded, repeating firmly, “I want to become a fully bonded retainer to
the Crown.” With that, Ignis laced his hands behind his back and waited. He had
now gone behind Clarus’s back, had done everything he could to achieve his
goal, and he could only wait to see if the King would grant his request.
“Oh, Ignis.”
Ignis jerked, startled at the sound of his given name coming from the King’s
lips. He met the King’s eyes and saw something like kindness there, but even
more of something like pity. King Regis said, “Your drive and ambition have
always been two of your most impressive qualities, Ignis.”
Ignis narrowed his eyes at his King’s tone. “But you won’t grant my request,”
he guessed, reading the signs.
“I won’t grant that request,” the King confirmed.
A heartbeat of silence. “May I ask why?” Ignis asked, strained, “Is there
something unsatisfactory--?”
“Your performance is, as always, perfectly satisfactory, Master Scientia.
However, when the time comes I expect you to pledge yourself to Noctis, not
myself. To belong only to him.”
When the time came? What did that even mean? “I see. Thank you, your majesty.”
Ignis did not see, nor did he understand. But he did see that there was nothing
more to be gained here. With eyes averted, he excused himself.
                                      ***
Clarus was furious. The next day when Ignis reported to him, he found the
Shield tight lipped and cold eyed. Before Ignis had a chance to speak, Clarus
said, “I should have you flogged. How dare you go against a direct order?!”
Ignis hung his head. He had no excuse. “Did you ever stop to think that I had
good reasons for forbidding you from asking him for such a thing? Hmn?”
“No.”
“No what?”
“No, I did not think, Master Amicitia.” Ignis looked up to see the Shield had
his hands over his eyes, obviously attempting to control his temper. Ignis
swallowed. “Will you?”
“Will I what?” Clarus snapped.
“Have me flogged?”
Clarus lowered his arm and looked at him for a long moment, then said, “No,
Ignis. I’m not going to have you flogged. Even though you deserve it. That
would only upset the King even more, and he was in enough of a mood as it was
after your little conversation.”
The King had been in a mood after their conversation? He had been upset? For
the first time, Ignis fully understood that he had missed something. There was
some aspect of this situation that he did not grasp, some puzzle piece he was
missing. He had miscalculated. “I apologize, Master Amicitia. I did not stop to
fully consider the ramifications of my actions. It was childish and
unforgivable for someone in my position.”
Clarus sighed. “Just listen to me next time when I tell you not to do
something, okay?”
Ignis nodded.
Later he went to the library, not the royal one, obviously, as only retainers
and those with special permission were allowed in there. But even the normal
library in the Citadel was expansive and therefore, a good place to start. He
asked the librarian, “I want to know more about what exactly is entailed by
forming a Covenant with the King.”
Her demeanor immediately changed from pleasant to clearly uncomfortable. “That
is not the business of someone as young as you.”
Ignis’s eyes grew hard. “I am adviser to Prince Noctis, and non-voting member
of the Crown Council.”
“I know who you are, Master Scientia.” She was looking at him consideringly.
“But that sort of thing is not appropriate for one as young as you, no matter
how mature you think you might be.”
Ignis’s rage was a quiet, cold thing. He was being deliberately kept from
information that if not now, would obviously eventually be very pertinent to
him. What they didn’t seem to realize was that as young as he was in body, his
mind was sharper than almost any other person at the Citadel. He had assumed
that forming a Covenant with the King involved some sort of magical ritual, but
had not thought beyond that. That had obviously been an oversight, but one he
would no longer allow to stand. He looked at the librarian calculatingly. “You
think by refusing me this, you can keep me ignorant?”
Her stiff silence told him plenty. “Thank you,” he said to her as he left.
There was the option of simply asking one of the retainers themselves, but the
Citadel’s strange reticence around the topic had made him wary. He also had no
wish to alert Clarus that he was still focused on this dangerous issue, and all
of the covenanted retainers were too close to one another to take the risk.
No, he would have to be cleverer than that. Part of him was rather excited.
Ignis had not been challenged in any real way in quite a while.
Even though he doubted that he would find a clear answer in a book, with no
other ideas for leads, the library was as good a place to start as any. Without
the help of the librarians, it would be more difficult, but Ignis lived for
challenge. Besides, it wasn’t like informing himself on the history of royal
magic could hurt him. He was still afraid of disappointing Clarus, however, so
he kept his inquiry discreet.
He did most of his reading in the library itself in order to avoid leaving a
paper trail of borrowed books. He listened to old radio programs from when the
Kingsglaive was first being created, hoping to hear some explanation of how
exactly they were given magic. He went through reams and reams of council
reports and other documents. When he was asked what he was doing, he told his
acquaintances in the Citadel that he was working on a project for Noctis. Being
well known for his incredible work ethic, it wasn’t like it was that much of a
stretch.
He also secretly attended Kingsglaive training sessions, hoping to gain some
more practical information about how the King’s power sharing actually worked.
He didn’t gain much ground there, other than a renewed desire to improve
himself physically as well as mentally.
Two weeks in, he found a couple of halfway decent references to something
called the Ritual of the Covenant, which was either the same thing as the
Ritual of Gifting Blood or something extremely similar. One spoke of seeding
power and the other of planting it. He was in the process of making copies of
the relevant pages at the library photocopier, when he heard a familiar voice.
“No, I’ve got it, thank you,” Gladiolus Amicitia was saying in a voice that
could curdle milk. Ignis turned to see the Shield in training standing at the
checkout desk awkwardly holding both his crutches and a stack of books. Even
hunched over on crutches, his figure was something to behold. Being the same
age as Ignis, he had that lanky, disproportional look of someone not fully
grown, but at already over six feet tall and corded with muscles, it was hard
to imagine how it was possible for him to fill out more.
Gladio swore, hobbling to an armchair as Ignis idly watched him. The youth had
a small mountain of paperback books, and as he settled himself into the chair,
he set his crutches aside, leaned back, and began to read. Ignis took note of
how carefully and neatly Gladio had placed his crutches down.
He only realized he was staring a bit too intently when after a few moments,
Gladio looked up from his reading, and growled, “See something interesting,
Ignis?”
Ignis shook his head mutely, and turned back around to finish the last of his
photocopying. He and Gladiolus knew each other out of necessity, being both
promised in one way or the other to the future King, but they never really
spent any time together outside of shared events. Actually, this might be one
of the first times he had seen Gladio outside of the training hall or some
mandatory function.
He was about to leave and think no more of it, when Gladio spoke to him again,
surprisingly friendly, a hint of apology underlying his tone, “What are you
studying?”
Ignis was too startled to think of a quick lie. “Hmn?”
“Well, you’re researching something right? Something about magic? I’ve seen you
in here a couple of times this week.” Gladio’s eyes were curious and guileless,
but Ignis still panicked. He certainly couldn’t remember seeing the large and
very noticeable youth at any time this past week.
“It’s a project for Noctis,” Ignis said quickly, “What about you?”
A strange expression crossed over Gladio’s eyes, and it took him a long moment
to answer. “Stuck on this bum leg for six weeks. Got nothing better to do.”
Ignis, still feeling uncomfortable, decided now was a good time to leave, but
as he walked past, Gladio reached up and grasped his sleeve. “Do you think you
could do me a favor before you go, Ignis?”
Ignis regarded him suspiciously. “What would that be?”
“That ass of a librarian. Told me I couldn’t carry all these books home.”
Ignis looked over the rather large stack of paperbacks, and considered telling
him off for his crude language. “She’s right. You can’t,” Ignis told him.
“I know.”
Ignis thought for a moment. “You want me to help you?”
Gladio seized the opportunity without hesitation. There was something
incongruent with how intense his eyes were compared to the easiness of his
mouth. “I knew you would,” he exclaimed. “Thanks, Iggy.”
“My name is Ignis, and I didn’t say--” Ignis started, but Gladio was already
struggling to stand with his crutches, completely ignoring him. Ignis sighed.
He had the pages he needed so it wasn’t like walking Gladio back home would be
that much of a detour. Besides, it turned out that Gladiolus, while young, was
extraordinarily well read in a variety of topics, and the conversation flowed
easily.
As Ignis dropped him off at his door, Gladio waved at him, “See you later,
Iggy.”
Ignis shot him a look, but he said, “If you like.”
Gladio grinned, and it transformed his face. “Oh, I insist.” With that he gave
Ignis a full-bodied bear hug that lasted entirely too long for Ignis’s taste.
It wasn’t until Ignis got home that he realized he didn’t have his pages.
                                      ***
Ignis could have pretended he didn’t know where the copied pages had gone, but
he didn’t see the point. Early the next morning, but after he knew Clarus would
have left the house, he knocked on the Amicitia household door. Gladio
answered. They regarded each other silently for a moment, and then Gladio,
leaning lazily against his door frame, said, “I know what you’ve been
researching.”
Ignis let himself into the house, shrugging past Gladio, until he came to the
kitchen counter. Sitting down, he looked at Gladio and asked point blank, “What
do you want?”
Gladio, having following him, shrugged. “At first I was just curious.” He
rested his weight on the counter, keeping off his bum leg. “You seemed so
intent. But then you said you were working on a project for Noctis, and I knew
you were lying. Noctis doesn’t have any projects that have to do with royal
magic. I thought, why the hell would someone lie about something like that?”
Ignis had underestimated Gladio greatly. He had seen what he wanted to see, he
realized, a hulking brute, when in fact Gladio’s most impressive feature was
rapidly becoming the mind hidden underneath. Gladio might have a blunt, easy
going nature, but he was clearly capable of great cunning. By way of answer,
Ignis said, “I asked the King to allow me to form the Covenant with him. He
refused. I realized that they were hiding something fundamental from me about
the process, and I was determined to discover the truth.” Ignis met his eyes
then, waiting.
Gladio looked much older than his thirteen years as he watched Ignis. “They
weren’t hiding it, not really.”
“You know what I don’t,” said Ignis after a moment’s hesitation. It wasn’t a
question, but Gladio answered calmly anyway.
“I do.”
“Your family has been at the side of the Luccian Kings for centuries. You’ve
always known, haven’t you?”
“I wouldn’t say that. But I’ve known for a while.”
Though Ignis raised his eyebrows, Gladio did not say anything further, not at
first. Eventually Gladio asked, “Do you know why I stole your papers, Ignis?”
“I assume you were worried I was a threat to Noctis,” Ignis replied. “That I
was researching a way to hurt or manipulate him.” He let a bit of bitterness
creep into his voice, “My family’s estate is close to the border. It is likely
that I have some sort of ties within the Empire.”
Gladio snorted. “You catch on quick. I like that about you. But if you think I
judged you just because you’re not originally from Insomnia, then you don’t
know me at all.”
Ignis had not been intelligent enough to see what Gladiolus was, so he didn’t
comment on that. Meanwhile, Gladio rubbed his head and then looked away. “It’s
not---it’s not like that. About bonding retainers, I mean. No one hides it,
there’s no point. But sometimes it’s hard to talk about. You know that the
ability to use the Crystal is passed down through the Luccian bloodline,
right?”
Even if Ignis had not known before, the last two weeks of research had
certainly informed him of at least that much. “Yes.”
“Well think about it.” Gladio was giving him that hard look again. “Bloodlines
aren’t actually passed through blood.”
Ignis blinked in confusion, trying to follow where Gladio was leading. “Are you
talking about genes? As in sperm and eggs, and chromosomes?” Sometimes Ignis
struggled with people his age, struggled to remember that they weren’t all as
informed as him. Did Gladio even know what chromosomes were? What did normal
thirteen-year-olds in school learn?
Gladio, however, nodded at Ignis, thus suggesting that this was exactly what he
had meant. “I’m saying that forming a Covenant is an act of creation,” Gladio
replied. “People say the Crystal’s magic is in the blood of the Lucii, but what
they mean is, it’s in their genetic makeup, in every cell, down to their damn
toenails.” Gladio raised an eyebrow at Ignis. “And so the question is, what’s
the best, the only, way to share genetic material, to create something where
there was only potential before?”
Ignis was honestly dumbfounded. Of all the depraved things he had imagined, it
had never in his mind turned—sexual. The books had referred to seeding power,
planting it. What a sanitary way to reference something so fundamentally
carnal. “Are you actually telling me that every single person in this Citadel
who is a full, bonded retainer to the King has had--?”
“Sex.” Gladio spoke bluntly, almost painfully so. “With the King.”
“Gods.” Ignis could not help but turn all of his conversations with Clarus and
the King over in his mind. Clarus had said that the King would never form the
Covenant with a child. Ignis had assumed it was a trust thing, but Clarus had
been so insistent, almost—disgusted. Of course. It was so simple. The only
answer that made sense, really.
He looked back at Gladio. “Does that mean that you expect--?”
“To do the same?” Gladio appeared in no way ashamed or uncomfortable. “Yeah,
eventually. But that’s a long way off. Like you said, every single person in my
family had done it for the last six centuries or so. It can’t be that bad.”
Ignis thought about the absurdity of the whole thing. Here they were, two
thirteen-year-olds talking about something so inherently vulgar. Ignis, having
graduated from the Royal Academy at twelve, knew a lot about sex, both casually
and academically. That’s what happened when you spent your days in a small
building with a multitude of young adults. Ignis had already heard every form
of dirty joke and swear word that existed. Still, beyond his experiments with
himself, the idea of having sex with anyone let alone--,
“Noctis,” Ignis said suddenly.
Gladio blinked at him, and for the first time, he actually looked
uncomfortable. “Urgh, please don’t remind me.”
Noctis had just turned nine, and Gladio was working with him nonstop to help
the Prince recover from his near death experience. Ignis knew that the two
fought like hateful siblings, that Gladio often bore the brunt of Noctis’s at
times rather sullen attitude.
Gladio actually did look like he might gag, so Ignis let it drop. “Can we just
pretend this conversation never happened,” Gladio asked.
“I’d like that,” Ignis admitted.
“Good.”
When Ignis got home that night, he sat on his bed and put his head in his
hands. The Covenant that all retainers to the King sealed consisted of having
ritualistic sex with the King. He turned it over and sideways in his mind,
inspecting the thought. He compared it to every crude thing he had ever heard
at the Academy and beyond. The King had said when the time comes, he would
expect Ignis to bond with Noctis. Noctis, who was four years younger than
Ignis, still a child. What a strange thought. Usually Ignis was the younger one
in any given relationship, but when it came to Noct, he clearly led. It was
like one of those stories where the protagonists were engaged as children, just
as absurd.
Ignis was never going to be able to look the King in the eye again. He had
basically propositioned him. Even here in the safety of his bedroom, Ignis’s
face turned red just to think about it. Scrubbing his hands over his eyes, he
took a deep breath.
Gladiolus, the strange Shield in training had the right way of thinking about
it. Some things could not be changed, and there was no use dwelling on it.
Ignis had made his decision a long time ago, and even this revelation could not
upend that. From the snippets he had read, now put in context, he was pretty
sure the act only had to happen once, and then they could go on with their
lives. Ignis could do pretty much anything at least once, and he was not driven
by emotion the way many people were. He could do this.
                                      ***
                                  **Noctis**
Noctis and Gladio never did have a full conversation about what happened during
their ill-fated training bout. The closest they came was when Noctis asked the
Shield one day, “My father ordered you to do that, didn’t he? Say all that shit
to me, I mean.”
Gladio’s face had been stone. “I make my own choices, Noctis. The King doesn’t
force me to do anything.”
“That didn’t answer my question.”
“You already know the answer to that question. Don’t make me say it.”
They fought a silent battle of wills until Noctis finally jerked his head away,
muttering caustically, “Whatever.”
And so several months passed. In that time, they established a basic routine.
Noctis would train with Gladio to use his magic to the point of exhaustion,
spend a few days being useless, and then repeat that. He still went to school
and still lived in the apartment, but in deference to his being out of
commission serval times a week, Ignis officially took over his spare bedroom.
Noctis didn’t exactly approve. After all he had moved out to gain his
independence, but there were a lot worse things than living with Ignis.
As he trained with Gladio, Noctis learned to visualize his well of power as
fast flowing river or something like a deeply dangerous lake. The further he
sank into it, the more magic he consumed, the wilder it flowed through his
body, and the more he was drained by it. As he envisioned it, warping required
a quick, but deep immersion into that lake. To conserve his energy, he needed
to do it with the least amount of magic possible to still accomplish his goal.
It was easy to throw himself into his magic, not so easy to do it with careful
deliberation, especially in the middle of a battle.
Similarly, to be able to phase through attacks, he needed to have activated his
magic, but the moment he did so his energy began to drain away. So instead, he
had to hold himself on the precipice of drawing power, like standing just above
the river with the tiniest toe in the water of his magic. Maintaining that
balanced state required intense concentration, being both immersed and most
definitely not. Thus, Noctis worked out a system of switching between the
various states of magic: attack, defend, attack, and so on.
Gladio quickly began to incorporate that into their training. He would make
Noctis draw a weapon, phase through Gladio’s wooden stick, warp away, switch
weapons, phase, repeat over and over until Noctis could do nothing but
collapse. And then the next day he would be expected to do the same but several
repetitions longer. Over and over.
One afternoon, he and Gladio were back in the Kingsglaive training hall, making
use of the wooden dummies hanging with chains from various parts of the vaulted
ceiling. Ignis had shown up a few minutes ago, meaning that the training
session had to be nearly over.
“Faster,” Gladio said after Noctis made it more or less gracefully back to the
ground from where he had been hanging precariously from the ceiling. Noctis
groaned, but he took a deep breath, concentrating. He closed his eyes and sank,
letting magic burst through every muscle and vein. Then he threw his sword at
the ceiling, his body following in a flurry of magical sparks.
He hadn’t quite thrown the sword hard enough to make it to the dummy he had
been aiming for, but things like that had long since stopped bothering him. For
half a second, he hung freely in the air before his stomach flew through his
mouth, and he was falling. He curled in on himself and threw the sword again.
This time he made it, stabbing the dummy in the torso.
Even though he knew his momentum stopped when he reappeared from a warp, it was
still a lot harder to fling himself back towards the ground, the instinctual
fear of going splat harder to overcome. But still, he did just that, pulling
the sword out of the dummy, letting himself drop into a freefall. He once again
twisted himself around in the air and threw. It wasn’t perfect. He managed to
throw the sword too close to the ground, so that when he reappeared he did in
fact slam into the floor with a painful thud.
“Faster doesn’t mean sloppy, Noct.”
Before Noctis could collect his breath and say something snarky, Ignis spoke
from where he was leaning against the wall near the entranceway. “I have no
idea how you can watch that display over and over, Gladio. My nerves are shot
from the last five minutes alone.”
“You should have been here when we first started this,” Gladio replied with a
shrug. “I’m surprised he’s not in a full body cast.”
“Ha, ha, very funny,” Noctis snarled as he clambered back to his feet.
Gladio crossed his arms and nodded at Noctis. “You haven’t forgotten what we’re
doing tomorrow have you?”
Of course Noctis hadn’t forgotten. Someone only reminded him what felt like
every five minutes or so. “Yes,” Noctis said, rolling his eyes.
“Good. We can’t afford to fuck this up. Half the Citadel is watching this
exhibition fight. You gotta make sure your head’s in the game.”
“I know,” Noctis snapped, irritation creeping into his tone. “I promise I won’t
embarrass you.”
It wasn’t like Noctis didn’t understand Gladio’s trepidation. As the heir to
the Amicitia household, Gladio had a prominent future role in the Crownsguard.
This exhibition fight was his first real test as Noctis’s weapons trainer, and
it was against the Kingsglaive, the Crownsguard’s bitter rival for the King’s
resources and attention.
“Glad to hear it,” Gladio said, completely unperturbed by Noctis’s mood. “Do
five more, and you’re done.”
“But Ignis is already here to pick me up,” Noctis whined, “You’re not going to
make him wait like that are you?”
From his perch, Ignis laughed and said with dry amusement, “Oh, I have nowhere
else to be Noctis.”
Noctis gave his advisor his most betrayed look, to which Ignis seemed
completely immune. “I’ll remember that, Iggy.”
Gladio gave Noctis a hard look. “You’re the one wasting time, Noct.”
The problem for Noctis at least with doing five more reps, wasn’t just that he
was tired, though that was certainly a factor. It was that things kept
happening to him when he strained himself with the magic, when he let it
overflow through his body. And the way his head was buzzing, the way prickles
of feral energy were licking up and down his arms told him he was close to that
point.
The first time he had noticed it was a few months ago during a training with
Gladio, a week after his very first success with the magic. At that point
Noctis’s attempts at his magic had been even closer to the charging of a
drunken bull as opposed to anything more elegant. Every time he had barreled
into Gladio with explosive force, he had felt he was drowning in magic, so
overwhelming it was disorienting. The magic had a tingly, almost burning effect
on his nerves, brightening his senses until the world felt oversaturated. He
had been aware of every minuscule signal his body was sending him, and he had
felt so alive.
By the time Gladio had motioned him to stop, he had been panting, but not from
exhaustion. The more he got used to the magic, the longer it took him to crash.
No, he had been panting because the magic coursing through his body over and
over had been making him feel flayed and raw. It had caused heat to pool in his
stomach, airy adrenaline to squeeze his lungs. Mortifyingly, his dick had
become painfully hard in his pants, and his attempts to discreetly hide that
fact from Gladio had been futile.
After toweling the sweat off his face, Gladio had raised his eyebrows and
glanced directly towards Noctis’s crotch so that Noct could not miss his
meaning, drawling, “Locker room’s empty. Trust me, I have no interest in
walking in on that.”
Noctis’s “Fuck you,” had been more habit that anything else, but Gladio still
answered mercilessly, “Sorry, but I’m taken, sweetheart. You’ll have to deal
with that little problem on your own.”
With no way to retain his dignity after that, Noctis had in fact taken care of
that little problem on his own, and every time after that as well, his jerk off
sessions becoming a shameful part of his after-training routine. Shameful
because he knew that Gladio knew exactly what he was doing in the locker room
every time it happened, since Noctis was still terrible at hiding his
erections. Though Gladio had declined to say anything to him about it after
that humiliating first time.
Noctis gathered his thoughts away from awkward memories, and with one last
glare at Gladio and Ignis did his five reps. Like he had predicted, that was
the push over the edge, magically speaking. His stomach was in a tight knot,
heat coiling and nerves tingling as he finished and walked over to the showers.
He hated this, hated how out of control it made him feel. Noctis wasn’t an
animal. He could control his libido if he needed to.
But the truth was part of him didn’t want to. After that first time, after he
had cum braced against the shower wall harder than he ever had in his entire
life, he had wanted to experience it again. Part of him liked how the Crystal’s
magic made him feel, and that was the most shameful aspect of the whole thing.
Noctis walked into the locker room. It was completely empty, not a shock since
he and Gladio always had the hall at this time of day. The locker room was
built with those shower stalls comprised of two layers. A curtain with a little
bench to change on, and then another curtain separating that from the shower
stall. Noctis went to the farthest one from the entrance, and slid the first
curtain closed. He felt achingly empty, needy. The aftereffects of the magic
had yet to fade, leaving his body burning and overstimulated. He knew from
experience now that if he ignored it, the feeling would go away eventually,
eventually being the operative word.
A moment. A precipice, and then he was walking forward, pulling his pants down,
yanking on his underwear until he stood naked and alone in the shower.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he let his forehead press against the cool shower
tile. He shivered at the contrast it created with his feverish skin. It was too
much.
He thought about turning the water on, hiding what he was doing under the noise
of the spray, but something about the silence of the bathroom, the ability it
gave him to focus entirely on the sensations was too compelling, and so
instead, he reached down and took his cock in hand.
He couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped him as he gave himself an
experimental tug. The acerbic brightness of the magic still had him over aware
of every sense, so that the texture of his own hand was torturous, maddening.
He needed this, and he surrendered to it, let himself build a slow but steady
pace as he jerked himself off to the high of his magic.
Part of him wondered what he must look like now, braced against the shower
wall, stark naked, slowly pumping his dick. Though he shivered at the thought,
he decided it didn’t matter. He could no more stop now than he could stop
breathing.
He slowly grew noisier and noisier, increasing his pace, pausing only to
quickly spit in his hand, unable to control the pants and groans.
As his balls tightened in warning, as his grunts and whimpers rang out, as he
tightened and quickened his grip mercilessly, he let himself fantasize that the
hand on his cock belonged to some else, imagining the hand driving him toward
completion in vivid detail. His lover’s hand would be firm and strong-gripped.
He’d have to be someone powerful, so that the gentle way he held Noctis would
be a gift, a surrender.
Noctis shuddered as his hand slid over his slit. He was so close.
Or maybe this lover wouldn’t be so gentle. Maybe he would make Noctis feel that
contained power. Maybe he would hold Noct down as he jerked him off, make him
take it.
It only took a few more strokes. A strangled gasp, and Noct was painting
stripes across the tiled wall, cumming in that impossibly hard way that only
the feeling of his magic allowed. A bright starburst of sensation that
continued in waves as he pumped his cock until it was just shy of painful.
He let his spent dick fall from his hand, the tension leaking out of his
muscles.
As he stood for a few moments in silence, he was already starting to regret it.
It wasn’t just Gladio out there, already long used to waiting on him. Ignis was
waiting too. Noctis groaned at the thought and finally turned on the
showerhead, watching as the water washed away the evidence of Noctis’s
activities.
After that, it didn’t take him long to finish up. Still standing where he had
left them, Ignis and Gladio had their heads bent together when he finally came
back out of the bathroom. He caught the tail end of their conversation.
“You know this is just an excuse to-,” Ignis was saying.
Gladio interrupted hotly, “I know exactly what this is an excuse for, Ignis.
I’m not a fucking idiot.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“What are you guys talking about?” Noctis asked as he bent to pick up his bags.
They had been so deep in discussion that they hadn’t heard him approach.
“Nothing,” said Ignis, just as Gladio said, “Politics.”
“Unhuh.” Noctis raised an eyebrow. “So nothing.”
Neither Gladio nor Ignis responded to that. They obviously weren’t going to
elaborate, but that was fine with Noctis. Whatever it was had thoroughly
distracted them from himself.
As they were leaving, Ignis turned to Gladio and said, “I accidently made far
too much for two people to eat. Why don’t you come with us?”
Noctis groaned in protest, but it was halfhearted at best. He really wanted to
go home and rest, not hang out with them. However, Gladio exchanged a set of
glances with Ignis that Noctis couldn’t read, and then he shrugged, “Sure.”
Noctis snorted. They could have at least pretended to ask his input on who was
allowed over at his own house, but he didn't argue.
After that, they all left the training hall together and climbed into Ignis’s
car. Prompto texted Noctis, asking if he was available. Since he couldn’t do
what he wanted, which was to ignore everyone and sleep, Noctis figured he might
as well get full, quality friendship time out of the situation. He leaned
forward from where he was relegated to the back seat, “Hey, Prompto wants to
come over. Is that okay?”
Ignis frowned. “You haven’t finished your math homework.”
Noctis resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing that wouldn’t get him
anywhere. “I wasn’t going to do it anyway, you know that.” They stared at each
other through the rearview mirror as Ignis waited on a red light. Noctis
refused to give in, holding his advisor’s eyes.
Finally, the light turned green, and Ignis heaved a sigh. “Fine.” Next to him
Gladio snorted derisively, though he didn’t comment. “But I won’t be speaking
to your teacher on your behalf this time,” Ignis added sternly, perhaps in
response to Gladio’s obvious opinion.
Leaning his head back against the head rest to catch what little sleep he
could, Noctis didn’t bother to reply to that.
                                      ***
That night Ignis prepared a noodle soup for the four of them. Gladio was
obviously a fan, as he somehow managed to eat five helpings. Though Noctis
would have rather retreated to his room with Prompto afterwards, his friend
instead began a lively argument with Ignis about the merits and skills involved
with various card games. Soon the four of them were seated around the kitchen
table, with Noctis somehow ending up across from Ignis.
Thus proceeded the most vicious and bloodthirsty game of Spades ever played:
Ignis and Noctis vs. Gladio and Prompto. Ignis was clearly the best player out
of the four, but as a partner Noctis made up for that by being entirely
hopeless, barely able to follow the concept of a trick, let alone the finer
points of the game. Prompto was surprisingly competitive; however, his bold
style meshed terribly with Gladio’s more cautious, defensive one. Needless to
say blood was nearly drawn several times that night.
“How the hell did you know Noct had the King and Ace of Spades? There’s no
way,” Gladio complained after his team took all the bags for the third game in
a row. Across from him, Prompto moaned as he leaned over to peek at the
scorecard.
Ignis grinned smugly, obviously enjoying himself far too much. “Simple
deduction. Noct never bids his midrange Spades even when he should, and since
he led, he would have played out his lesser Aces if his tricks were coming from
there. He did not, nor did he seem particularly stressed, meaning he had to be
counting high Spades only. I had the Queen and Jack, thus, he had to have the
two highest.” From across the table, Noctis blinked at that rather detailed
breakdown of his card bidding habits.
“Bullshit gibberish,” Gladio snorted. “Tell the truth. It’s witchcraft.”
Ignis pushed up his glasses from the bridge of his nose. “Yes, I sacrificed a
goat in a circle of blood last night, all so that I may humiliate you two in a
card game today.”
“Sounds about right.”
Noctis snickered. “Or maybe you just suck.”
Gladio actually let out a full body laugh at that. “You can shut right on the
hell up, Noct. Only people who actually contributed to the victory get to trash
talk.”
“Ouch,” said Prompto.
Noctis made a rather rude hand gesture.
Eventually, Noctis began to crash from his magical strain earlier that day. His
limbs trembled, and his muscled ached like he had the flu. The others had all
grown used to the phenomenon by now, so Prompto stood up and announced without
being asked that he was ready to go home. Noctis expected Gladio to follow
promptly, but the larger man hesitated, obviously waiting for Noct to leave
instead.
Remembering how cagily Ignis had invited Gladio to dinner, Noctis told the two
of them with a sigh that he was going to bed. It didn’t take him long to decide
what he was going to do. He brushed his teeth noisily and climbed into bed.
Then came the hard part, letting his eyes close without surrendering to sweet
call of sleep. He almost didn’t make it, but he heard his door squeak just a
little. Keeping his eyes firmly shut and his breathing even, Noctis waited
until he heard the door close again, and then he leapt out of bed, pressing his
ear against the door.
Noctis’s usually heavy sleep served him well here. Ignis and Gladio had no
reason to keep the volume down.
“Would you care for some coffee?” Ignis was saying.
“I’d take a beer if you got it.” Gladio chuckled.
“This apartment does belong to a sixteen-year-old.”
“Does it? I thought you officially moved in,” Gladio said. “Full-time nanny.”
Ignis’s voice was perfectly even. “Gladiolus.”
To Noctis’s surprise, Gladio’s response sounded chastised. “Sorry,” he grunted.
“That was uncalled for.”
“It was,” came Ignis’s quiet reply, so quiet that Noctis barely made it out. He
strained harder. Ignis was still talking. “—okay though. I know how worried you
are about tomorrow, even if you don’t let on.”
Noctis didn’t hear Gladio reply so he must have shrugged or given some other
response. There was the sound of the coffee maker, and then Gladio spoke again.
“How could I not be? You know that smug bastard wants to take Noct away from
me, put him in the care of some brainless Kingsglaive.”
“Your father would never let that happen.”
Gladio’s voice was surprisingly bitter. “Thanks, but I’d prefer to keep my job
without the help of nepotism.”
Ignis startled Noctis with his next comment, with how commanding his tone was.
There was the accompanying sound of something clanking, probably the coffee cup
being forcefully dropped against the table. “What are you not telling me
Gladio?”
A long pause and then, “I hate you sometimes,” Gladio said. “The issue is that
Noctis is maturing with some aspects of his magic faster than I think he's
actually ready for.”
“What do you mean?” Ignis asked.
Noctis too, was rather curious to know what exactly Gladio meant by that.
“The kid might still suck balls at warping, but that’s because he lacks
control. Actually calling the magic up, calling up a lot of it, he has to down
a freaking art form.” Gladio replied and then said bluntly, “And he’s been
jerking off after training, just about every day.”
Noctis could hear Ignis choke. He could almost see Ignis spluttering on his
coffee, and he shared the sentiment. He was actually going to die right here
against this door, the mortification was too much to bear. It was one thing to
know that Gladio knew, and another to be faced with it, even by eavesdropping.
He clenched his fists in helpless horror.
Ignis’s voice was higher pitched when he replied. “He is sixteen. Gods, that’s
what sixteen-year-old boys do, Gladio.”
“You saw him today, before he went into the showers,” Gladio insisted
forcefully, “That wasn’t hormones, that was magic.”
There was another long silence during which Noctis strained and strained his
hearing against the door until Ignis’s voice came again, back to his normal,
crisp tone. “That’s why Drautos is moving now, insisting on this fight. He
knows.”
“I assume so. Don’t know how, but he has to know.”
“Then you must be perfect tomorrow. Give them nothing to work with. Leave the
King no room for doubt.”
Now Gladio’s snort was full of easy bravado. “Who do you think I am?”
The Shield left soon after that, and Noctis just barely managed to make it back
to bed before Ignis was opening his door, checking on Noct one last time before
he went to bed himself as per his nightly routine. Noctis heard him come stand
beside the bed, and he held himself absolutely still.
“Oh, Noct.”
It felt like an eternity before Noctis heard the squeal of his door that told
him it was safe to open his eyes. It took him a long time to fall asleep.
                                      ***
***** The Intersection of Magic and Politics: Part B. *****
Chapter Summary
     Ignis receives an ultimatum. Noctis catches a blizzard spell with his
     face.
                                 **Chapter 5**
                                      ***
                                  **Noctis**
Half the Citadel might be watching this exhibition fight, but not his father.
Disappointingly, the King would not be attending the fight that he himself had
commissioned. Noctis found this out about half an hour before the event from
Cor, who had come to watch in Regis’s place.
Cor was unmoved by the dismay on Noct’s face. “The King had urgent matters to
attend to,” he said.
""Like I care," muttered Noctis. Cor only looked bored.
Noctis would not let this affect him. He wouldn’t. He was better than that, and
he had grown a lot in maturity since his childhood days of temper-tantruming.
And anyway, he shouldn’t have expected anything else. Even if no one bothered
to try to keep him informed, he had seen the uptick in military activity in the
last few weeks with his own eyes. There were rumors of some new Niflheim plan
of attack, and almost as if in preparation of that, the recent battering
against the new wall had been particularly vicious.
This exhibition fight was as much a distraction as test of Noctis’s growing
skills. A way to blow off steam by tapping into the rivalry between the various
arms of the military: the Crownsguard, the ancient organization tasked with
protecting the royal family and the Kingsglaive, the first line of defense
against the Empire. While gambling was in general illegal in Lucis, absolutely
no one had seen fit to do anything the stop the voracious betting that was
occurring on this fight.
Noctis sighed and walked to the corner of the hall where Gladio was already
preparing, doing some basic stretches. The fight was to take place in the
Kingsglaive training hall, a familiar place to both parties. Bleachers had been
brought in and set up all along the mirrored walls, contrasting garishly with
the high class marble and engraved woodwork.
He scowled at Gladio, unable to hide his quickly worsening mood. Noctis hated
these kinds of things, the fanfare, the showiness of it all.
Gladio narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you start with that shit now.”
“It’s just a stupid exhibition fight anyway. It doesn’t matter.”
Gladio’s tone was a warning. “Noctis.” Noctis wondered if this was where Gladio
admitted what he and Ignis had been talking about yesterday.
“What?” he asked in needling tone, and he knew he was being deliberately
provocative, pulling that awful, bratty teenager routine. Noctis did not want
to be here, but no one had asked him his opinion on that. It was just one more
thing he was being dragged into, one more duty to the Crown.
Even though Gladio wasn’t actually looking at him, Noctis could still feel
Gladio gritting his teeth. “Noctis, when you act like this, you’re just letting
them win.”
“Who’s them?”
“All those dumbasses that think because you’re skinny and moody that you’ll
never live up to your dad.”
Noctis didn’t have a chance to respond to Gladio because that was when Ignis
arrived. “Gladio, Noctis!” he greeted, coming to stand next to them. As Noctis
returned the greeting, Ignis leaned over them, lowering his voice to nearly a
whisper. “I just wanted to give you some advice before your fight.”
This confused Noctis, because Ignis usually had very little to do with his
weapons training, but Gladio nodded like he had expected this. “I’ve learned
who your opponents will be,” Ignis said. “Captain Drautos has chosen Glaive
Ulrich and Glaive Altius.”
Noctis still didn’t see the relevance. It wasn’t like knowing who their
opponents would be would change much ten minutes before the match. “They’re
both pretty new,” Gladio observed.
“And I suspect that he hopes you will underestimate them because of that.
However, they’re prodigies in their own rights, both fully covenanted. Ulrich
is a natural with Crystal magic, and Altius is one of the few who is capable of
absorbing and using her own elemental energy. You see, I’ve been watching the
Kingsglaive train in my spare time.” Gladio chuckled at that, but Ignis ignored
him, continuing with a piercing look at Noctis, “Ulrich relies heavily on his
superior mobility. When fighting other warp users, he likes to draw them up in
the air where he has the talent advantage. He’ll try to separate you and
Gladio, distract you while Altius uses elemental magic. You need to avoid the
temptation to follow Ulrich and instead focus on double teaming Altius.
Elemental magic is slow to charge, so your best bet is to take her out early.”
“Yes, mother,” Gladio said with an eye roll, but his voice was warm and it was
obvious he appreciated the gesture. He finished tying the straps on his arm
guards and he stood up, leaning over to squeeze Noctis’s shoulder and
whispering, “He forgets that I train with these people all the time. Come on,
let’s do this.”
The bleachers they’d set up all down walls weren’t exactly full, but they
weren’t empty either. For all that this fight had been anticipated for weeks,
the actual event was rather informal. Gladio and Noctis stepped into the middle
of the hall, and from the other side, Drautos and his two chosen broke away
from the group of Kingsglaive and officials they had been waiting with.
Noctis took a deep breath as he realized that he knew Glaive Ulrich at least.
He just hadn’t recognized his midnight story buddy by his last name. As they
came to stand across from each other in the center of the hall, Nyx grinned
that cheeky grin that somehow managed to make Noctis feel both unclean and
somehow put him at ease. All around them, the background chatter began to
dissipate as the audience ambled over to their seats.
“Captain Drautos.” Gladio nodded at the Kingsglaive Captain politely.
“Master Amicitia,” the Glaive returned just as politely. “Prince Noctis. I’ve
chosen Nyx Ulrich and Crowe Altius to be your opponents. I hope you are
amenable to this.”
“Of course.” Gladio’s voice was dangerously pleasant. “It doesn’t matter to us
who you choose.”
“No, I suppose not.” Drautos paused for a moment, the tension between him and
Gladio thick enough to choke on. The Kingsglaive Captain let his gaze drift
towards the Prince. “Any of the Kingsglaive would be able to defeat you
anyway,” he said, startling Noctis with his sudden aggression. “Do you want to
know why?”
With Noctis bristling beside him, Gladio responded coolly, “I’m sure you’ll
tell us.”
Behind Drautos, both Kingsglaive looked rather uncomfortable, but neither of
them spoke. “It’s because you refuse to give all of yourself to the Crown. That
is your downfall, this thinking that somehow keeping the boy from becoming a
man will protect him. It is just a shame that the Prince must suffer the
consequences of that mismanagement.”
This time it was Noct that responded in bewilderment, “What the hell are you
talking about?”
He was honestly lost in this conversation. Did this have something to do with
what he had overheard yesterday between Gladio and Ignis? That somehow his
sexual habits were a cause for Captain Drautos to make a political move, one
that his friends opposed? He wants to take Noctis away from you, Ignis had
said. Well, no one was taking Noctis anywhere he didn’t want to go.
“Don’t worry about it, Noctis,” Gladio said dismissively. “Captain Drautos
thinks he knows how to train magic better than the people who have been doing
it for the last six hundred years. We're about to prove his arrogance wrong.”
With that, Gladio withdrew his sword from where it hung across his broad back.
They all had practice weapons, metal but dull. The closest thing to real they
could get without being fully lethal, heavy enough to break bones and crack
skulls if one weren’t careful. Noctis let his thoughts drift with a tendril of
magic, as easy as breathing at this point, and his own training weapon
shimmered in existence in his hand. The two Kingsglaive followed suit. Drautos
smiled grimly, and then he retreated from where the four faced each other.
“Are you all prepared?” A chorus of affirmations followed. Nyx lost his easy
grin, his face settling into quiet competence while the other Kingsglaive,
Crowe, tightened her grip on her weapon, sliding into a ready stance. Gladio
and Noctis exchanged a silent look and they both nodded. Drautos waited a
moment longer, then said, “Go.”
Nyx moved first, his body disappearing in a flash of sparks. He reappeared in
front of Gladio before Noctis even had time to think, ferociously driving his
knife into Gladio’s chest. But Gladio was ready, and the knife clanged off his
greatsword. Not giving him a chance to retaliate, Nyx disappeared just as
quickly, rematerializing next to Crowe. The entire thing happened in the span
of less than three seconds.
“Move, Noct!” Gladio roared, rushing forward. Shaking his head, Noctis warped
behind the two Kingsglaive, or at least he tried to. Nyx had disappeared again
in the time it took Noct to move. Crowe swung around, meeting Noct’s hit. Noct
didn’t have time to fight for an advantage because he was immediately driven to
side by Nyx, who had once again reappeared next to him.
Gladio rushed past Noctis as the prince gave ground, and the Shield engaged Nyx
in an attempt to stop him from warping out again, each swing of his greatsword
coming out faster and more savagely than before.
Noctis, meanwhile, slashed at Crowe. They exchanged several flurries.
Remembering what Ignis had said about taking her out early, Noctis redoubled
his efforts, taking bigger and bigger risks as Crowe somehow managed to block
or phase through his every attack.
Eventually that risk paid off. Noctis rammed himself into her sword, coming so
close to missing the phase, that he felt the solid presence of the weapon in
his stomach, and then he was driving the dulled blade into her shoulder. It
didn’t pierce her skin, but the solid metal was enough to push her to the floor
with a scream. Noctis raised his sword to hit her again.
From somewhere far away Gladio shouted, and then without further warning, Nyx
was once again attacking Noctis. Battling Noctis away from the other
Kingsglaive, Nyx quickly twisted around and placed his hand on her injured
shoulder. Noctis wasn’t sure how to describe what happened, but he felt a
sudden pressure, like his own magic but not, and she was standing back up,
looking for all the world as if she was completely recovered.
The two Kingsglaive didn’t hesitate, attacking Noctis together before he had a
chance to understand what had just occurred. They were somehow in perfect sync
as they battered as Noctis’s defenses. He desperately swelled his magic in
response, letting it buffet and drown him. Sparks exploded around him. Though
Crowe retreated at the sight of it, Nyx doubled down, striking at him from all
angles. But Noctis was intangible, impervious, and it was almost as if his
magic was controlling his limbs for him, driving his body this way and that
without any input from himself.
Nyx could not hit him. Then Gladio finally reentered the fray, and the four of
them were nearly on top of each other. The battle blurred for Noctis into a
wash of limbs and flashes of metal. The two Kingsglaive had a way of moving
that blended physical grace and magic, as in tune with each other as dance
partners. It was taking all of the skill that Noct and Gladio possessed just to
keep up. Ignis had warned them that it would be this way, but Noctis hadn’t
understood, not really.
Noctis and Gladio were fighting two people whose job involved violence, whose
lived depended on being the best in the world at this, and even all the sweat
and blood and tears that Noctis had put into his lifelong training sessions
could not compare to that.
Gladio was unable to phase through attacks like the other three, so every hit
he took added up, straining his body even though he seemed unaffected. Noctis
was doing better there, but his inexperience with the magic showed through. He
was clearly more powerful than the two Kingsglaive, able to warp further
distances, but unlike him, their every movement was smooth, deliberate, not an
ounce more energy expended than what was required. They knew how to fight other
magic users and were far better at predicting Noctis’s movement than he was at
theirs.
Ignis had told them that their best chance at winning this fight lay in
defeating the Kingsglaive quickly, but he wasn’t the only one who had seen
that.
It came to an end when Noctis felt a prickle of icy energy race across his skin
just as Nyx seemingly abandoned his partner, warping away to the other end of
the hall. Noct’s thoughts felt sluggish, but he realized in a single moment of
clarity that he too needed retreat, that it was too late to stop whatever
magical blast Crowe had finally had enough time to cook up. Noctis wasn’t
directly in the blast range, nor was he far enough away to be safe, but Gladio
stood right in front of Crowe. He might be able to escape, but Gladio could
not. Gladio was going to be hit.
The problem that Noctis grappled with was that, of the two of them, Noctis was
clearly far better equipped to deal with the effects of a magical attack. He
had the ability to absorb magical energy, and though he wasn’t able to absorb
it fast enough to save him from a sudden, overwhelming explosion, it afforded
him at least some protection. From his many accidents as a child, he knew that
he also recovered from elemental damage far better than normal people. Normal
people like Gladio.
“Back off!” Gladio was shouting at him, and Noctis actually had to fight the
instinct to obey automatically, it was so ingrained into him to listen to
Gladio without question on the battle field.
Everything happened in flashes. Noctis zeroed in on Gladio’s face, drenched in
sweat, thunderously urgent and forceful, as if he could make Noctis act by
willpower alone. Noctis sank deep into his magic, feeling it move through his
body sluggishly, painfully. He had never before pushed himself so hard or for
so long, and he knew instinctively that he was at the end of his reserves, that
his magic would not respond to another call anytime soon.
Sparks surrounded him. He saw another flash of Gladio’s face, how his jaw
clenched in relief. Gladio believed that Noctis was obeying his command.
Meanwhile, the feeling of icy energy had become a solid pressure against him,
building and building, almost ready to snap. The world squeezed around Noctis,
his vision tunneling as he threw his sword.
The pressure snapped. Noctis landed, not on the other side of the hall, but
nearly on top of Gladio, sideway and stumbling. There was a roaring in his
ears, and then his skin was being blasted off. Noctis had felt the effects of
ice energy gone awry before. He knew what was happening, what to expect, but
that didn’t make it any more pleasant. The cold was so intense and so sudden
that his nerves had no way of processing it. Strangely, it felt hot, like a
burn. He could only stand there and take it, wait until torrent of frost had
abated.
It drove him to the ground, pushed all thought and focus out of his head so
that even his sword dematerialized from his hand.
Gladio was going to kill him for this.
They had lost.
                                      ***
                                   **Ignis**
Ignis hated that he could only watch as his friends defended their honor and
pride without him. Not many people knew that he was as capable of fighting as
the others, and that secret was one more layer of defense for the Prince. Ignis
understood that, but it didn’t make it easier to sit there, only able to pray.
As he watched the participants line up, Captain Drautos said something that
turned Gladio visibly livid. He couldn’t hear the words from where he was, but
he could guess. Don’t let him bait you, he wanted to shout at his friend.
Captain Drautos was an excellent soldier and a loyal citizen of Insomnia. Of
that there was no question. But he was ambitious, having fought his way from
nothing to becoming the much respected Captain of the Kingsglaive. He was the
one who had really turned the Kingsglaive from something of a joke organization
into the backbone of the fight against Niflheim. The man had a lot to be proud
of. However, that didn’t mean he was right about everything, or that his ideas
of how to train and protect Noctis had merit.
So Ignis could only watch, his heart stopping when the male Kingsglaive,
Ulrich, nearly ended the fight three seconds in. As Gladio defended and the
battle began in earnest, it quickly became clear to him that Noctis was a more
skilled swordsperson than Altius, but that Ulrich was better than both Gladio
and Noctis, a demon with a weapon. Still, combined the two groups’ skills
should have been fairly even.
Ignis wanted to shout in triumph, and then immediately horror as the Prince
finally landed a hit on Altius, coming so close to turning the tide of the
battle. Gladio had been smart to drive Ulrich away from the mage, to trust
Noctis to take care of her, but it didn’t matter because Ulrich seemed to sense
the instant his partner went down, and then he was warping toward her without a
second’s hesitation, leaving Gladio too far away to do anything about it.
That was the moment it turned, the moment the Shield and the Prince lost. The
battle became a frantic mess, Ulrich controlling most of the action, herding
Noctis and Gladio together. He’s buying time for Altius, Ignis wanted to shout.
Watch out!
Ignis had been the victim of Noctis’s accidental magical outbursts enough to
recognize the feeling of impending doom even without the obvious tell of
Ulrich’s retreat from his partner. Gladio didn’t have time to move, but Noctis
with his magic, did. You can retreat and take her out after the spell. She’ll
be vulnerable for a few precious seconds!
Gladio shouted, and Ignis thought that Noctis would actually do the smart
thing, but then he saw almost in slow motion, how Noctis cocked his elbow back
to throw in the wrong direction.
Don’t! Ignis stood up from his seat, his limbs moving almost automatically,
unthinkingly racing towards the battle. Don’t Noctis! An explosion of
crystalline sparks, and Noctis was in front of Gladio, his smaller frame almost
comically dwarfed as he outstretched his hands and took the hit intended for
his Shield.
A blast of frozen air.
Noctis was okay. He had to be okay. Altius would not throw a spell with the
power to permanently injure someone in a training bout, especially one
involving the prince. A hush race over the audience as the prince collapsed,
his front covered in a blue layer of frost. Altius fell to her knees, her
energy obviously spent, and Gladio stood over Noctis, loudly swearing. He
whipped his head around wildly. “Someone get me a goddamn potion and a remedy!”
Ignis pushed past several people who were rushing forward either to help or
just to see what was happening. “Move!” He was already pulling out the needed
items as he finally made it to where Noctis was half crouched on the ground.
“Gods, I’m fine,” Noct was complaining through chattering teeth, pushing
Gladio’s hand away irritably. Ignis grabbed that same hand, shoving a tiny vile
into his grip.
“Drink.”
“You idiot,” Gladio roared. “I’m supposed to jump in front of you, not the
other way around!”
Glaive Altius spoke from beside them, interrupting Gladio’s rage, her voice
timid, “Prince Noctis are you okay? I’m so sorry.”
Noctis was busy making a face at the taste of the potion. Ignis handed him the
remedy for the lingering frost damage. “I don’t need that,” Noctis growled.
Your skin will be peeling off for a week if you don’t. You know that. Drink.”
Noct turned and smiled weakly at the Kingsglaive. “You pack a mean punch, I
won’t lie, but I’ve had far worse. Don’t worry about it.” His words did nothing
to abate her stricken look. Ignis glared at him, looking pointedly at the
remedy. “Urg, fine.” Turning his head away, Noct finally downed the remedy,
Adams apple bobbing. The magic in the remedy worked nearly instantly, the frost
fading off his skin and the bubbled rashes melting away.
After that there was chaos in the hall, court healers fussing over what Ignis
had already done, gossip and unrest in the crowd. Someone jerked on Ignis’s
arm, and he turned back. Cor had him in a tight grip, Drautos right behind him.
From the corner of his eye, Ignis saw Gladio’s eyes flicker up. “The King wants
to speak to you and Captain Drautos, Master Scientia,” Cor said to Ignis.
"I thought he was busy," Noctis said from where he was still sitting on the
floor, now surrounded by healers.
"He is," said Cor.
After glaring at Noct, Ignis nodded. “I am his to command.” He stood up,
allowing himself only one last look at his friends. Gladio’s gaze was
expressionless. He did not react to Ignis’s attempt at a reassuring look.
Trailing Cor and Drautos, Ignis gathered his wits as they took the long way
through the Citadel towards the King’s chambers. Ignis hated this, hated the
politicking, even though he was good at it. And he would be good at for both
Noctis and Gladio’s sake. What had Drautos been really trying to prove back
there? That the Kingsglaive were more experienced fighters than two teenage
boys, one of whom who had just recently upended the entire way his body and
movement worked?
Clearly Drautos wished to make a power move. He had trained all of the current
Kingsglaive specifically to use the Crystal’s magic to its most violent end.
Ignis knew that Drautos had tried at some point to convince the King to put him
in charge of Noct’s training and had been rebuffed. Well, Drautos would never
replace Gladio, not under Ignis's watch. Not when Gladio was one of the only
people in Noct’s life that the prince trusted completely, one of the few people
who understood how Noctis thought, who could both manipulate him into action,
but also predict his needs.
Ignis sighed. It would have been better had Noct and Gladio managed to put on a
better show, but that wasn’t was had transpired, and Ignis needed to react
accordingly.
They walked in silence to the King’s private study. Cor left them at the door,
and with a nod to the guard, they both entered, standing at attention in front
of his desk. Ignis couldn’t help but notice a messy stack of papers, several
showing detailed schematics of what looked like an Imperial dreadnaught. He
frowned to himself. Why would the King be looking at schematics of Imperial
warships?
“Captain Drautos, Ignis,” the King acknowledged, drawing Ignis’s attention back
to the task at hand.
“I have tested Prince Noctis's magical abilities and battle skills, your
majesty,” Drautos said after they both bowed.
“And? How did my son perform?”
This was where Drautos ragged on Gladio, told the King all sorts of horrible
things that weren’t true or at least weren’t true in context. Standing
silently, Ignis forced the tension out of his shoulders, forced himself to wait
patiently.
“He performed admirably.”
It took Ignis a moment to process, he had been so prepared for the opposite
comment to be uttered. He blinked, and couldn’t help but glance sideways at
Drautos.
“His warping in particular still lacks finesse, but the boy has a natural
talent for his magic, especially considering his rather lackluster start.”
It was exactly what Ignis would have said, and he couldn’t understand what
Drautos gained by it, especially after he had made his contempt so clear
earlier.
“Ignis?” The King turned towards the young advisor. “What are your impressions
of Noct’s progress?”
“Drautos has of course far more experience with magic than myself,” Ignis said
with a touch of scorn, “but from what I have observed Prince Noctis has indeed
learned how to activate his magic almost frighteningly quickly. Gladiolus
trains with him nearly every day, and that effort shows. He displays an
instinctual grasp for Crystal magic that separates him from the Kingsglaive on
a fundamental level.” The trick was to admit the things that Ignis couldn’t
change, and to distinguish what he could, focus on the role that Gladio played
in the Prince’s progress. Noctis was not like the Kingsglaive, no matter how
much his abilities appeared identical on the surface.
“Yet he and Gladiolus were defeated by two fairly new Kingsglaive,” The King
pointed out. Ignis did not bother to ask how the King could know this when it
had happened less than half an hour ago.
“They lost because he lacks the necessary connection with his retainers.
Gladiolus, while admirably driven, does not possess the necessary discretion or
maturity to lead the Prince in this aspect of his magic.” Drautos said before
Ignis could answer himself. “Your majesty, it is my recommendation that Prince
Noctis begin the process of forming Covenants with qualified retainers
immediately. Every day we wait, that is one less protection afforded to him and
thus the Kingdom.”
It was one this to be told by Gladio that he suspected Drautos planned on
making a power grab specifically through the Covenant of the Retainers and
another to actually confront it. Ignis had thought he was prepared for this
eventuality. He had learned what the Covenant entailed and accepted it when he
was thirteen, this aspect of his duty to the Crown.
Even knowing all that, even though he had long since believed he could come at
this from a clinical perspective, Ignis still managed to lose his composure.
“Are you insane?” he burst out. “Noctis is sixteen. Sixteen! He’s been learning
his magic for barely a few months.”
“PrinceNoctis,” Drautos said, cool and commanding, “is a fully blooded heir to
Line Lucis. He is not a child.” Drautos’s eyes glinted, and he changed his tone
into something softer. “I understand your concern, Mr. Scientia, I do.
Fulfilling the Covenant has always been a delicate situation. But I have now
led over sixty Kingsglaive members through that process. You’ve seen for
yourself how the Covenant benefits all parties. Were you bound to your Prince,
you would not have needed a potion, you would have been able to heal him
through magic alone. We both want what is best for the Prince, and to that end,
I have several Kingsglaive members in mind. These Kingsglaive already have
experience with the current King. They possess the necessary qualities to make
this as painless a learning process as possible.”
Of course Drautos had several Kingsglaive in mind. He clearly saw an
opportunity to insert people closer to the prince from within his own ranks. It
was truly clever to push to have the Prince’s first bonded and thus closest
retainers come from Kingsglaive rather than the Crownsguard, usurping the
Amicitia’s traditional role. The problem, besides the cynical politics of the
whole thing, was that he clearly had no understanding of Noctis. Noctis was
wary of the process enough as it was without asking him to make his first
Covenant with one of his father’s castoffs.
“Prince Noctis is not ready for that,” Ignis insisted hotly. “Just because you
have experience with magic does not mean you have any experience with him.”
“You are blind, Scientia. In your misguided attempts to protect the Prince, you
would leave him ignorant and vulnerable. My sources tell me he has already
begun experimenting with his magic sexually. What do you think will happen when
he finds a girl at that school you insist on allowing him to attend? What do
you think in his ignorance he will do? Shall we choose our Crownsguard and
Kingsglaive from a pool of teenagers that the Prince found worthy to fuck?”
“Enough.” The King cut both of them off. He looked at them silently for a
moment. “Captain Drautos, make a list of those candidates you think
particularly suited to the task and bring them to me tomorrow morning.”
The Captain bowed, leaving without further argument. Ignis glared at his back
and then turned to face the King alone. He took a deep breath. The Captain was
wrong about the way to approach this with Noct, and Ignis would make the King
see that if it killed him.
Regis took a deep breath himself, held Ignis’s eyes, and asked, “I have heard
from my Kingsglaive Captain. Now I would hear from my son’s closest advisor.
Who would you choose as an appropriate candidate to form my son’s first
Covenant?”
Who would he trust to form Noctis’s first Covenant? Noctis was still to the
best of Ignis’s knowledge, a virgin, and Drautos’s comment about Noct’s school
activities betrayed his ignorance about that. Noctis was not the person to
causally engage in any behavior that involved intimacy. No, not only would this
be his first shared experience with the sexual aspect of his magic, but also
his first shared sexual experience altogether. How did one delicately navigate
something like that?
The correct answer might have been simply to ask Noctis. After all, agency was
an important aspect of sex. But Ignis knew Noctis well enough to know the
prince could never make a choice like what they were asking of him. He’d shut
down faster than the city turnpike during rush hour. Besides, this wasn’t sex,
not really. It was perhaps a mistake to even begin to think of it that way.
This was about who was qualified to be bonded to Noctis, to have access to his
power and magic.
Still, even with that thought, Ignis finally said, “I think he is too young for
this. I think you risk damaging him if you force his first sexual experience to
be yet another duty for the crown.”
He could hardly believe his own boldness, that he would dare suggest that the
King was making an entirely wrong move. For a moment he thought the King would
forgive it, that he would see the wisdom in Ignis’s statement, but then his
expression twisted, lips curling, and he said acidly, “I did not ask for your
opinion on Noctis’s maturity. I asked you who you felt would be a good
candidate to become the first of Prince Noctis’s true bonded retainers. If you
cannot answer me that then I will gladly defer to Drautos’s judgment.”
“Gladio,” Ignis said quickly. He didn’t give himself time to think as King
narrowed his eyes. “If I had to choose, I would choose Gladiolus.”
“Why?”
Why? Because Gladio was Noct’s Shield. Like Ignis, his purpose in life was to
help Noctis fulfill his duty. Because when Noctis had been healing from his
spinal wound, thirteen-year-old Gladio had spent more time with the physical
therapist than Noctis had, making sure that he knew every possible exercise
that the prince needed to do to get better. By the time Noctis was fully
healed, Gladio could have written a damn dissertation on physical therapy.
Because to Ignis’s eternal consternation, those two fought like feral animals
half the time and were strangely inseparable the other half, their dynamic more
complicated than an Altissian knot. Because this might not be about sex, but it
was certainly about trust.
Ignis couldn't help but think about how Noctis had leapt in front Gladio today.
He wondered if the King had heard the particulars of how the two youths had
lost their fight.
“Because contrary to how he often acts, Noctis trusts him.”
“Does he not trust you as well?” The implied true question of why Ignis had not
suggested himself hung thickly in the air.
Of course Noctis trusted Ignis. He had never questioned that. Noctis wouldn’t
know what to do without him. But Gladio was Noct’s Shield, not Ignis. Gladio
had already led Noctis through various physical tasks, many of which were
embarrassing and painful. They already had a way of relating through that, an
understanding reached through blood and tears already spent. Also Gladio,
through his family’s long history with the Crown, had more understanding of how
the Covenant actually worked than Ignis, but Ignis didn’t want to make that
argument because it invited the conclusion that that Drautos himself had the
most experience out of anyone in the Citadel.
“He trusts Gladio differently than he trusts me, your majesty.”
Though perhaps if he were being honest with himself, the real reason Ignis had
not suggested himself was because Ignis was rather afraid of the whole thing.
No matter how he tried to force himself to see it as nothing more than another
duty, meaningless, he couldn’t help but think, Noctis. This was Noctis. Sex
with Noctis. Could he really close his eyes and think of Lucis when the time
came?
The King said, “Do you remember, when you were child and you came to me about
this very topic?”
Ignis wished to the Gods he didn’t. “I do,” he replied.
“Do you remember what I told you then?”
It wasn’t something Ignis was likely to ever forget, no matter how he tried to
bury that particular humiliating rejection. “You told me that when the time
came, you expected me belong only to Noctis, your majesty. To pledge myself
only to Noctis.”
King Regis nodded. “I know how young my son is, Ignis. I do,” he said, the pain
in his eyes so evident that Ignis wanted to avert his own. “But there are
forces moving in this world that leave me with very few choices. Noctis must
master his magic, and part of that involves forming bonds with his retainers.”
“He’s not ready,” Ignis whispered.
“I know,” the King replied simply, all defensiveness gone. “I know, and I am
aware too, that Drautos believes the only consideration necessary for choosing
Noct’s bonded retainers is potential battle skill.” He held Ignis’s gaze,
obviously trying to impart some truth without actually saying it aloud.
After a moment, King Regis sighed. “Ignis, these are your choices: First, I
will never replace Gladiolus as Noctis’s Shield. Don't worry about that."
He waited for Ignis to nod silently, and then he continued, "However, I do
agree with Captain Drautos that Noct needs to be surrounded by people who not
only have the necessary training, but who also have the advantage of a Covenant
with him. You suggested Gladiolus should be his first. I'll trust your
discretion there, but as you are the two people closest to him, who spend the
most time with him, I expect the both of you to bond to Noct." His gaze was
unyielding. "If you and Gladiolus do not feel up to this task, then I will
phase out the majority of your responsibilities and give them to others until
such a time that you do.”
Ignis was not stupid. A position like his was not something easily regained
once lost. If he let it get to the point of being replaced, then he was pretty
much done for as Noctis’s advisor. Gladio might be in a better position, but
only because of his family’s influence.
“Dragging this out won't make it any easier. I'll give you two weeks to
convince Noctis to complete the bond with both of you,” the King finally said.
“If you three haven’t performed the ritual by then, then I will leave the task
to Drautos to do as he sees fit. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, your majesty,” Ignis replied, his heart sinking to the floor. “I fully
understand.”
                                      ***
Gladio took the news better than he expected. Ignis found him after he left the
King’s study, hiding in the Rhododendron garden of all places. The Shield sat
on a worn wooden bench, watching the dying Azaleas swaying in the breeze.
“Where is Noctis?” Ignis asked him as he approached.
Gladio replied, “Sulking.” He scooted over to allow Ignis a place on the bench
next to him. Turning to face him, Gladio raised his eyebrows at Ignis, asking
without asking, and so Ignis relayed the entire conversation. For a long time,
Gladio was silent, obviously absorbing and contemplating. Ignis waited
patiently.
“Well, we knew it was coming. Especially with Drautos pushing the way he was.”
Gladio eventually said with a shrug. “If not this soon, then at some point.” He
leaned his elbows on his knees, adding, “Though one thing bothers me.”
There was a lot more than one thing that bothered Ignis about this whole
situation. “What’s that?” asked Ignis.
“Why the ultimatum? Is he really that afraid for Noct's safety? Why now? I
mean, I’m pretty sure my father was around twenty when he bonded with the King,
and I know he was his first.”
“Your father was the King’s first bonded retainer?”
“The King’s Shield usually is,” Gladio replied.
They both trailed off, both lost in thought. If the King's Shield was usually
his first bonded retainer, then why would the King allow Drautos to even
attempt to upend that tradition. Why get Ignis to suggest Gladio, if Gladio
were the first choice anyway? “There is something going on below the surface,”
Ignis said, pushing up on his glasses, “something we haven’t been told.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“And I don’t care how good a leader or soldier Captain Drautos is,” Ignis added
firmly. “He sees this as a political strike against the Crownsguard, nothing
more. I will not allow Noctis to be used that way.”
“You mean we won’t allow it,” Gladio said gruffly. He leaned his shoulder into
Ignis’s and gave him a look.
Ignis nodded. “I suppose we can talk to Noct tomorrow after school. He needs
some time to calm down from his loss today.”
Gladio’s expression hardened at the mention of the lost fight. Raising his
brow, Ignis asked, “What?”
Gladio shook his head, “It’s just, we’re fighting so hard to keep Noctis out of
the hands of strangers, but did you ever think maybe that would be better?
Safer?”
“Is this because he jumped in front of you today?”
The outburst was abrupt and loud. “How am I supposed to protect him, if he’s
too busy being a dumbass, trying to protect me!?”
Ignis was suddenly struck by the memory of his earlier conversation with the
King. “Being the King’s Shield is more than battle skills,” he said, recalling
the King’s words about Drautos. “Monsters and daemons are not the only threats
he’ll face.”
Gladio bit his lips, but he nodded in agreement. “I suppose you’re right.”
Ignis smiled wryly, glad for a return to safer ground. “Do you even question
that at this point?”
Gladio snorted, “Ha.”
                                      ***
***** Long Overdue Conversations *****
Chapter Summary
     In which Gladio accidentally gives a naughty show, and Niflheim
     causes trouble.
Chapter Notes
     Starting now, there are issues of consent. Right now it's mostly just
     talking about it, but these characters are not perfect, and they're
     gonna be assholes to each other before it all gets better. I do
     reiterate though, that when sex happens, it will be consensual.
     There is also a sex scene that involves a 14 year old in this
     chapter. He does not actually participate in any way (the
     participants are both 18) , but the chapter does in a minor way
     explore his budding sexuality. If any of this seems like an issue for
     you, I'll write a more detailed summary in the end note so you that
     can make your own choices.
     Also naughty language.
     And sex. Duh.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                 **Chapter 6**
                                      ***
                                  **Noctis**
                                      ***
When Noctis was fourteen, a week before he started high school, he caught
Gladio having sex.
Well, ‘caught’ might have been a strong word. Spied, accidentally saw,
voyeured: those were perhaps more accurate descriptions. Either way, the event
was one hundred percent one of those memories Noctis planned on keeping to
himself all the way to the grave.
Gladio had recently acquired a new girlfriend, his third or fourth one in what
would become a long line of flings. Honestly, the numbering was hard to keep up
with. Personally, Noctis didn’t see the appeal. Gladio and his girlfriend
(Amber, Audrey?) didn’t seem to do a lot of talking, or really anything at all
that Noctis himself might have found alluring.
Noctis had a hard time understanding why Gladio would skiv off hanging out with
Ignis and Noctis, something that had up until then become a more regular
occurrence, to spend time with some chick who knew nothing about him.
After all, she didn’t know that Gladio still dealt with some stiffness in his
right leg where he’d broken it when he was twelve. She didn’t know about his
love of fast food or that he refused to eat anything with a ‘mushy’ texture.
Unlike Noctis, she didn't know about how Gladio secretly devoured bodice ripper
romance novels, or that his favorite activity besides training was a good hike
outside the city. Frankly, there was just no reason for him to choose her over
Noctis and Ignis.
At least, that was how Noctis saw it before the “incident.”
Amber (Noctis was pretty sure her name was Amber) showed up at Gladio’s house
while he and Noct were training in the back yard. She was one of those girls
who knew how to look like sex on legs with her ass wrapped tight in a mini
skirt. A strange, anticipatory look came over Gladio’s face as Amber leaned
against the back door, and he said rather distractedly to Noctis, “We’re done
for the day. Why don’t you go clean up?”
Noctis raised his eyebrow since he knew for a fact that it was a full half an
hour before they were scheduled to be done, but he didn’t complain. He took his
shower and then came back down the hall, which was when he saw it.
The hallway curved around the stairwell so that Noctis was partially hidden by
a corner. Gladio and his girlfriend were most definitely not.
Gladio stood braced against the wall of the hallway, right there in the open,
as if the two of them had been incapable of lasting long enough to make it
somewhere more private. Amber crouched on her knees in front of the Shield, her
mouth wrapped around his cock.
She sucked him slowly, the drag of her lips confident and teasing. Gladio had
one hand clenched by his hips, his soft sweatpants dragged below the swell of
his ass. The other hand scrabbled uselessly against the wall as she did
something wicked with her tongue. Every time her mouth slipped down over his
head, it made an obscene pop, spit glistening in the dimly lit hallway.
Noctis was close enough to see how she hollowed out her cheeks and how her
hands reached up to cup Gladio’s balls. He could see the curve of Gladio’s
hips, the way firm lines came together in a thatch of neatly trimmed, black
hair.
He could see all of this, but the two lovers did not see him. Amber faced
Gladio, and Gladio’s eyes were squeezed shut as he panted. He swore at her,
filthy words that came out hoarse and low. The sound of Gladio’s voice did
something uncomfortable to Noctis’s stomach, and he swallowed dryly.
Noctis should leave. He needed to leave. This was not for him, and he
absolutely did not want to know what Gladio would do to him if he were caught
here, blatantly watching the older teen getting sucked off, barely eight feet
away. He willed his feet to move, to back away. But he stood frozen, as if all
higher brain function had ceased to exist in his shock.
Instead, Noctis watched with wide eyes as Amber finally picked up the pace. She
laughed around the thick cock in her mouth as Gladio responded by jerking
forward in short, uncontrolled movements. She bobbed her head, trying to meet
him thrust for thrust. He swore again and let his head drop back against the
wall, accidently exposing the lines of his neck and collarbone to Noctis,
though his eyes remained closed. For a few moments, there was only the sound of
Gladio gasping and the slide of Amber’s mouth. Noctis stared in fascinated
horror as Gladio’s pants grew faster and faster.
Gladio reached forward, eyes opening, and Noctis panicked. But the Shield was
far too focused on achieving his completion to pay attention to the rest of the
hallway. He carded his fingers in Amber’s hair and then tightened his grip,
holding her in place. She made an “Umph” noise, and then Gladio’s hips snapped
forward. Once, twice, and he was groaning low and hard, his hips stuttering a
couple more times as he released his seed in her mouth.
Noctis whirled back around the corner and out of sight just in time. His heart
was racing, and he desperately focused on quieting his own breathing, lest he
be caught now that the act was over.
“You better make that up to me later,” Noctis heard Amber say through the wall.
He stilled himself even further. He needed to somehow make it back up the
stairs without being seen or heard, and he wasn’t sure if that was possible.
Gladio laughed, sounding impossibly relaxed now. “What did you have in mind,
baby?” His voice oozed sex. Noctis didn't hear her reply. She must have
whispered it, but Gladio laughed again. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen
tonight. I promised to do homework with Noctis so Iggy could go on a date. The
kid left all his summer reading to the last minute. He’s probably done with the
shower though. Gods forbid he find us like this.”
Too late for that one, Gladio, Noctis thought. There was no choice. He was just
going to have to go for it and hope for the best. He prepared himself to dart
back to the stairs.
“I can’t believe you’ve got to babysit him like he’s some bratty child.” She
sounded extraordinarily put out. Obviously the news that Gladio had no plans to
spend the night with her had killed her mood.
“He is occasionally a bratty child,” Gladio said easily, “But I promised to
help him with his literature homework and then take him back to the Citadel.”
Noctis knew that Gladio didn’t mean the comment cruelly, that the older teen
was practically incapable of showing affection in any normal way, but it stung
all the same.
“It’s pathetic. He’s fourteen. He’ll be fine for a night by himself. Let him
take the train like everyone else.” Something strangely ugly and aggressive had
entered her tone, and it gave Noctis pause, despite his resolution to flee
while he still had the chance.
Gladio’s response was quick and cold. “I already cut his weapons training short
for you. Don’t ask me for what I can’t give you. Prince Noctis is always going
to come first.”
“You cut it short for me. Hah. Only one of us got anything out of that.”
“I told you I would make it up to you later.” Gladio’s tone was clipped and
curt, all of his earlier easiness gone.
Had Amber known Gladio better, she would have recognized the warning signs of
his effort to control his unraveling temper. But she didn’t. “If he’s that
important, then maybe you should date him,” she spat.
“Get out.”
The was the noise of someone shuffling and then, “Gladly.”
Noctis finally made a break for it, darting back up the stairs and to the
relative safety of Gladio’s bedroom. Against all odds, he didn’t hear anyone
call his name, so he was pretty sure he made it without being caught. Miracles
did happen.
Noctis collapsed on Gladio’s bed, floored by both what he had seen and heard.
I’ve seen Gladio’s O face, he thought with a touch of hysteria. There was no
coming back from that. He was going to see that scene every time he walked
though that hallway for the rest of his life. Every time he saw those sweat
pants too. That was the most sexually explicit thing he had ever seen in his
life.
The hottest too, if he were being honest with himself. Not that he had a lot to
compare it to. He tried to imagine what it would be like to have someone like
Amber wrapped around his dick, but it was too difficult to keep the picture in
his mind. He kept getting side tracked by the memory Gladio’s hand in her hair,
how firmly he had held her towards the end, thrusting mercilessly.
Noctis’s dick twitched.
That was unfortunately when Gladio chose to finally come upstairs. He appeared
in the door, rubbing the back of his head. He was still wearing those damn
sweatpants.
“Sorry about taking so long, Amber and I had a bit of a disagreement.” When he
noticed that Noctis was just sitting aimlessly on his bed, he stopped and
crossed his arms. “Why aren’t you working on your homework?” he demanded with
an exasperated sigh. “I'm not sitting here all damn night, Noct.”
Still highly aware of what Gladio and his now ex-girlfriend had fought about,
Noctis’s answer was far more subdued than usual. “I’m sorry,” he said, letting
real regret enter his voice. “I guess I got a little sidetracked too.” Noctis
hoped to the Gods his face wasn’t too red. He couldn’t stop seeing Gladio’s
face scrunching up in apparent ecstasy, and it was extremely distracting.
Gladio’s response was as irreverent as ever. “Distracted with what? Your dick?”
He walked past Noct and sprawled in his computer chair.
Well, that didn’t last long. “And your pillow,” Noctis shot back, getting
himself back on even footing with the ribbing.
Gladio laughed at that far harder than he normally would, but it seemed to be
working his nerves loose, because when he stopped, his grin was a lot more
natural than before and a lot more like what Noctis was used to. Noctis
wondered how upset he really was by what had happened with Amber, or if he
hadn't really cared about her. It was hard to tell with Gladio sometimes.
“Well don’t let me hold you back from fifth century Lucian poetry. I know
you’re just riveted by it.”
Noctis sighed, but he leaned over for his book bag and fetched his textbook.
“Such big, fancy words.”
“Yeah, I’m fucking full of them. Like please commence pursuing the joys of
erudition. Now.”
“Alright, alright.” Noct bent down and got to work, though when he looked up,
he saw Gladio studying him with surprising intensity. “What?” he demanded.
“Nothing. You spelled complacency wrong.”
Noctis swore, “Shit.”
“And watch your goddamn language,” Gladio said, eyes glinting.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously. It’s an e after the c, not an a.”
Noctis rolled his eyes, his expression mostly tolerant. “You’re hilarious.”
                                      ***
That night, after Noctis had read more fifth century Lucian poetry than anyone
could while maintaining their sanity, he sat in his bed, his head too full to
easily fall asleep.
He wanted to jerk off, but he couldn’t get that scene from earlier out of his
head. He couldn’t seem to separate Amber from Gladio enough to fantasize about
getting amazing head, and he absolutely was not going to jerk off to any
fantasy involving Gladio. Eww. After all, he wasn’t attracted to Gladio. That
would just be weird and off-putting.
No, Noctis very much liked girls, not boys. Well, maybe both, but definitely
girls more. It was just his luck that the only really hot, sexual thing he had
ever experienced happened to so heavily feature his friend.
Finally, he decided it wasn’t so weird if it wasn’t exactly Gladio he was
thinking about. Really, it could be any faceless person. A faceless person with
the beginnings of a five a clock shadow and washboard abs that followed a trail
of curling black hair down towards hips that you could cut yourself on.
Yes, he liked that. He let himself imagine his strong, very much faceless
person reaching down and taking his cock in hand, just as he did the same to
himself. With that solution in mind, he jerked himself off quickly and
efficiently, seeking the relaxation that came afterward rather than any super
drawn out fantasy. Noctis came hard and satisfyingly to vague thoughts of fast
paced panting and fingers in his hair. Afterwards, he finally drifted off to
sleep.
Eventually the “incident” with Gladio did indeed recede from the forefront of
his mind. Within a month, Gladio tore those damn sweatpants by narrowly
avoiding a sword swipe to the groin, and he ended up having to throw them away.
Truly devastating.
Of course, Noctis was not present for that glorious pants tearing because less
than two weeks after the “incident,” Noctis decided he needed more friends, and
he snuck out of the Citadel to go to that party the first week of high school.
The fallout from that party started the infamous fight of freshman year, and
then Noctis had a lot more distressing memories than Gladio’s O face to worry
about, such as Gladio telling him that the Shield would not train him any
longer until Noctis could truly commit to his duty. Noctis telling him to go to
hell, to go suck a dick for all he cared. Gladio’s momentarily openly shocked
face, before it was all shoved underneath rage. Gladio walking away from him.
That was the year Noctis met Prompto for the second time, and the year he
learned that not everyone beyond Ignis and Gladio saw him as prince first and
person second. Prompto took away the sting of Gladio’s rejection, at least a
little bit, with his easy, unconditional love.
But without Gladio, there could be no Ignis, not really. They were all too
tangled up in each other by then. So eventually, a month later, Noctis sat on
the other side of the table from Gladio, Ignis beside him, watching the
Shield’s face close off in a way it used to never do because of Noctis.
Seeing that, something in Noct’s chest twisted and squeezed painfully. He
thought about Gladio standing in the doorway of his room, after having told his
girlfriend that Noctis would always come first, and then somehow Noctis was
profusely apologizing, nearly crying. Gladio kept jerking his head to the side,
rubbing the back of his neck, but when it came down to it, he looked Noctis in
the eye and nodded. Just like that, the Infamous fight of freshman year was
over, never to be spoken of again.
                                      ***
                                  **Noctis**
                                      ***
After the exhibition fight in which Noctis took a Blizzard spell to the face,
he spent the next day sleeping, his entire body protesting the lengths he had
driven it to.
Because Ignis and Cor had been in that meeting and Gladio had been distracted,
Noctis was able to take the opportunity to bully a guard into taking him back
to the apartment, knowing full well that his caretakers would have insisted he
stay the night at the Citadel until he had recovered. At home, he fell asleep
sprawled on the couch, only to wake up hours later, warm in his bed. Smelling
the distinct scent of bacon and eggs, he made it long enough to stumble to the
kitchen and eat with Ignis, then it was back to sleep.
Ignis looked at him strangely the entire time, like he wanted to say something,
but wasn’t sure how. Noctis wondered if he was going to be given a lecture
about how he was too important to throw himself into danger for others because
of the thing with Gladio. Whatever it was, Ignis didn't spit it out, and Noctis
was too exhausted to investigate.
Noctis dreamed that the sky was on fire, while a horned figure laughed cruelly.
The figure grew and grew in size until it blocked out the flames, leaning over
Noctis, smothering him. Noctis fell to his knees as he choked on smoke and ash
and darkness. But then he was forcefully shoved to the side, rolling until he
lay on his back. He craned his neck and saw that Gladio had replaced him.
Without looking back at Noctis, Gladio reached up and locked his forearms into
a bar, bracing himself against the horned figure as it bore down on him. Noctis
tried to stand back up, but he couldn’t. The flesh on Gladio’s arm burned away
to ash, yet he refused to fall.
“No more,”begged Noctis silently,“Please.”
The figure laughed at him.
                                      ***
The next morning Noctis insisted on going to school, even though he felt like
shit. He was starting to realize that the magic induced ache in his bones was a
permanent addition to his body, and he refused to let it take over his life.
Prompto met him by the front gate. “You look like crap,” his friend greeted
him.
“I feel like crap,” Noctis admitted with a wry shrug. There was no point in
putting on false airs, not for Prompto. Noctis had a headache building in his
temples to rival the worst migraines, and there was a strange, anxious pit in
his stomach.
“Well history’s first, and you could totally nap through that if you need to.”
History was indeed something Noctis could nap through, having been instructed
in that subject since he was old enough to remember being instructed. And in
the 600th year of the line of Lucis, King Theopold did in fact drive the nation
into a deep recession by his decision to tax the sale of imported sugar from
the Vesperpool region. Though his penchant for having lavish sex parties might
have also contributed. Maybe.It still made Noctis uncomfortable, however. It
wasn’t like a teacher would normally let her student sleep through class day
after day, but the Prince of Lucis was a special case.
“We’ll see,” was all Noctis said to that. Prompto shrugged.
Noctis did actually do his best not to fall asleep during history. The lecture
about the invention of magic draining machina wasn’t exactly riveting, but
Noctis managed to stay alert. In fact, that strange ball of nerves in his
stomach had only grown worse since this morning. He couldn’t stop tapping his
foot under his desk, even though his neighbor kept giving him pointed looks.
“--With the loss of the bay of Altissa, Lucis lost a valuable trade route, one
we have yet to recover--.”
There was a buzzing in Noctis’s ear, and without meaning to he rose from his
chair.
“Prince Noctis?” his teacher questioned as her lecture came to a stuttering
halt. He ignored her.
He could feel something just out of reach, a sense of jarring wrongness, a bit
like what had happened to him months ago when his magic had been trying to call
out to him. His nerves thrummed, and his heart stuttered strangely. Taking a
deep breath, he closed his eyes, and cast his senses towards his magic. His
magic roiled and bubbled within him, agitated and unstable. The mild draw of
the Crystal on his mind that had become a constant in his life, was a pounding
shriek.
“Something’s wrong,” he said to no one in particular. A burst of whispers raced
across the classroom as he ignored it all in favor of straining, reaching for
something he had no real way of describing to anyone other than perhaps his
father.
Eventually it was Prompto’s hand on his shoulder that pulled him back. Noctis
turned to his friend, blinking in confusion. “What’s wrong, Noct?” Prompto
asked, heedless of titles or propriety, his eyes roaming over Noctis’s face
questioningly.
“I--?” Noctis wasn’t sure how to explain it, how to describe what was happening
to him. He just knew that something was very, very wrong.
It turned out he did not have to, because that was when the sirens went off,
high pitched and whining, and it became very clear what was happening. The
droning sound was enough to drive Noctis out of his stupor, and he exchanged a
wild glance with Prompto.
Air raid sirens were a common phenomenon outside of the city and beyond the
protection of the new wall, but here in the heart of Insomnia they were a
remote thing, an excuse to skip class for drills. It wasn’t real. Except that
contrary to all common sense, it was very rapidly becoming so.
Students piled up over each other in a mad dash to reach the windows, though
fortunately Noctis already happened to be sitting next to the long row of
windows. He turned away from Prompto’s alarmed face, and slid open rusty
catches, pushing the closest window pane up and craning his head out.
Fire danced above them, setting off a ripple of sparks across the top of the
magical dome. The wailing of the siren was louder out here, demanding
attention. Above them, as the explosion cleared, Noctis could see the glinting
metal of imperial war ships. His breath caught in his throat. The dome was
supposed to reach far into the heavens so close to its source, higher than any
ship could fly. Yet here they were, at least three of them, very clearly
directly above them, very clearly attacking the city itself.
He glanced back to his fellow students. The anxiety of the students around him
was palpable, hurried, fearful whispers and quickly typed messages to parents
and loved ones.
This time Noctis heard the boom even over the unending whine of the air raid
sirens. The bombs could have been fireworks, for all they seemed as real. They
fell across the dome, setting off another cascade of glittering, shimmering
sparks as the magic of the Crystal absorbed the hit. For the longest moment,
Noctis was frozen, unable to process that this could be happening here at home.
This time when he felt that sense of wrongness again, he recognized it for what
it was, since it came over him just as the explosions filtered across the sky.
“Get back!” And there was the teacher, her face ghastly white. She ushered the
students back to the center of the classroom. “We will follow air raid
procedures just as we have practiced, in an orderly fashion,” she said firmly.
As they had practiced? That had been a once a year joke that none of the
students took seriously. Still, everyone knew that they were supposed to head
towards the basement boiler room that doubled as a shelter. Noctis heard
several whispered conversations as students filed past him.
“But we’re safe, right? The wall won’t let anything through.”
“I heard the King is sick. They say we’re always more vulnerable right before a
transition.” This comment caused several heads to turn towards Noctis.
“Is that why the Empire is attacking now?”
“But how did they get over the wall? Isn’t the dome too high for the war ships
to cross?”
Noctis fished his cellphone out of his bag. He had a missed call from Gladio,
two from Ignis, one from Cor, and one from his father. Gladio had left him a
text message:
Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you. —Gladio.
There were also two voicemails, one from his father and one from Ignis. He
didn’t bother to listen to them. He could guess what they said. Some variation
of stay where you are and out of the way until we can deal with you.
“Prince Noctis!” Noct jerked his head. The teacher was waving at him to follow
her. Everyone else had already filed out of the classroom except for him and
Prompto.
Noctis hesitated. “Gladio, my—bodyguard is coming to pick me up. I’ll be
alright.”
The teacher shook her head. “That may be, but until he gets here, I’m
responsible for you. You’ll be safer in the shelter with everyone else. I must
insist you follow me.”
Noctis’s thoughts were driven out of him by another wave of prickling
wrongness. He shuddered, and Prompto reached out and grabbed his shoulder.
“Noctis,” he said urgently.
Noctis was saved from having argue with either of them by the sound of Gladio’s
voice. “There you are.” He whirled to see the Shield striding through the
classroom door. Noctis might have never been more glad to see Gladio in his
life. “We’re going,” Gladio said curtly. His face was expressionless, held so
by sheer willpower.
“You two should get to shelter,” Gladio said to Prompto and their teacher as
Noctis grabbed his bookbag, oblivious to the fact that this was exactly what
they had been trying to do. He yanked on Noctis’s hand with the intent to drag
him along, but Noctis planted his feet.
“Wait.” Noctis twisted around and grabbed Prompto’s hand again, stretching
himself between his two friends. “Dammit, wait.” Letting go of the both of
them, he reached into his pocket, drawing out a tiny glass flask. With a
swallow, he screwed his eyes shut and focused entirely on the feeling of energy
crawling over his skin, crackling, burning, freezing, ever passively being
collected. Different than the magic that came from the Crystal and infinitely
easier to control.
He condensed the magic into his hand, and in a way he had always been able to
do and never been able to describe, he pushed it into the glass container,
watching the flask brighten and glow with energy. He ignored his teacher’s gasp
at the display. When he had nothing left to give, he inspected the flask
briefly. It was a mess of different energies, volatile and unstably swirling
around. Not his best work, but it would hold.
He took the flask and pressed into Prompto’s hand. “You know what this does,
right?” Prompto’s eyes were bright and uncertain, but he nodded. Noctis clasped
his friend’s hand tightly once more and said with a choke, “Be careful,
Prompto.”
Gladio’s voice cut across them, “That ain’t a freaking toy.” He looked like he
was going to demand Prompto give the magic flask back, but he seemed to think
better of it. Instead, he grabbed Noctis by the back of the neck, steering him
away. “You two get down to shelter,” he ordered and then firmly added, “All of
this is just a precaution. The Empire’s not going to breach the wall, not
today.”
Noctis caught one last look of Prompto’s pale face and then it was just him and
Gladio pushing against the tide of students headed towards the basement.
Gladio had a black SUV waiting for them. He didn’t do anything as stupid as
open the door for Noct, and Noct didn’t do anything as stupid as climb in the
backseat. Gladio wasn’t his chauffeur. As soon as both front doors slammed
shut, Gladio forcefully hit the gas, speeding them away from the school with
squealing tires.
“Put your seatbelt on,” Gladio commanded, not taking his eyes off the road.
As Noctis complied, he demanded, “Where are we going? What’s my father doing?
Is the wall actually in danger? Did my dad know this was coming?”
“We’re going to a safe house. Your dad is feeding the Crystal power to fuel the
wall. The Kingsglaive has been mobilized, and I doubt the wall is falling to
three war ships no matter how high they’re flying. And yes, the King knew
something was up, if not exactly this.” Gladio swerved the car suddenly, and
then they were pulling into the basement parking lot of Noctis’s apartment
building.
“Wait, we’re not going to the Citadel?”
“It’s stupid to put everyone in the same place during an emergency situation,”
said Gladio. “We planned for this. There’s a bunker underneath the apartment
park house.”
Noctis rebelled at that. “I don’t care. I should be with my father.”
Gladio parked the car, and then finally turned to face Noctis. “Your father
ordered us to take you somewhere safe, Noctis. That’s what we’re doing.”
“You just said the wall wouldn’t fall.” Noctis glared at him. “Take me to the
Citadel.”
“No.”
They glowered at each other across the gear stick. Gladio’s mouth twisted, and
then he said, “Please, Noct. Just for once do what I tell you.”
There was a lot underneath that, a lot neither one was saying. Noctis knew what
it meant that Gladio had pleaded, but he wanted to push back so much. His
father was at the Citadel, maybe killing himself, and Gladio was asking him to
ignore that. To sit in some safe bunker, being useless. It pointless, but he
couldn’t help but think back, searching for the last thing he had said to his
father. Something stupid like ‘goodbye’ or ‘will do.’ Noctis scowled, and tore
his head away, breaking eye contact.
Gladio said, “You know I’m yours. I’ll always be yours. But please don’t make
me choose.”
Don’t make him choose. Noctis or his father’s orders. The current or future
King. “You’ve chosen before,” Noctis said. He hated how a slightly petulant
tone had crept into his voice.
“I know.” It wasn’t Gladio’s usual combative manner, and something about that
finally drove the fight out of Noctis. He swore and climbed out of the car.
“Noctis! Gladio!” Slamming the door shut, Noctis turned to see Ignis
approaching them. The advisor pushed his glasses up as he approached and said,
“I was starting to worry.”
Gladio snorted, walking around the car. “Like I would let anything happen to
him,” he said, his tone back to its normal bluster.
At Noctis’s questioning look, Ignis explained, “I was at the apartment when it
started. You weren’t answering your phone, and this safe house is closer to
your school than the Citadel. I knew Gladio would pick you up. So I waited for
you.”
“Come on.” Gladio strode forward, leading them to the stairwell. A door next to
it said ‘maintenance.’ Noctis could guess what was really behind it.
“You know, having a secret safe house doesn’t seem all that useful if the
person it’s for doesn’t know it exists.”
“Now you do,” Gladio said brusquely as he opened the door. There actually was a
pile of brooms, buckets, and things behind the door, but Gladio climbed over
all that. He put his hand against the back wall and began to feel for something
in the semi darkness that Noctis couldn’t see.
With a satisfied grunt, Gladio seemingly found what he was looking for, and the
wall slid away to reveal the bunker behind. He fumbled for a moment and then
flicked a light switch. It was stark, a bunk bed taking up most of the space,
metal shelving with cans of food and water, and the most sophisticated thing in
there, a military grade radio sitting on an aluminum table. Roomie enough,
though obviously not intended for more than two people.
“Homey.”
“Get in there.” Gladio pushed Noctis and they all clambered in. With another
button press, the wall slid closed again with a heavy thud. Noctis was not
prepared for how suffocating it would feel to hear the slam of the door, to
feel the weight of concrete all around them. He hadn’t realized how pervasive
the sound of the sirens had become until it was completely deadened by layers
of concrete. He shuddered and then sat on the bottom bunk, conscious of the
fact that of the three of them, he was the only one able to sit fully
straightened on the thing. The joys of being short.
Ignis immediately went to the radio. Within a moment he was swearing softly.
“What is it?” Gladio went to stand next to him.
“The speaker cable has been chewed through, likely the work of mice. I can
reconnect it easily enough, but it will take a few minutes.”
Gladio grunted. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. “Not like
we’re in a rush.”
Noctis had a very different opinion on that. Without the radio, they were not
only stuck down here, but they were trapped without information, without
knowledge of how the King was faring with the Crystal. To him, that was very
rush worthy.
A wave of that annoying, prickling sensation washed over him. The dreadnaughts
must be bombing the wall again. Noctis leaned over and hung his head between
his knees. Each time was somehow worse than the previous, and he was starting
to feel sick to his stomach.
“Noctis?” Ignis’s voice was threaded with clear concern.
“He’s been doing that since I picked him up. I think it’s his magic.” Gladio’s
voice was more closed off than Ignis’s, but Noctis saw through his calm facade
easily enough.
“Noctis, are you--?”
“Fix the radio, Ignis,” Noctis interrupted with a little groan. “I’m fine.”
With only a touch of hesitation, Ignis nodded. He bent down, his clever fingers
pulling on delicate wires with competence.
“Close your eyes, Noct. We’re gonna be here a while,” said Gladio.
Noctis scowled at Gladio, even as he complied, stretching himself out on the
cot. His limbs and muscles still ached from yesterday’s over-extension of his
magic. Excessive sleep and ibuprofen were the only things that seemed to have
any effect on that, so he allowed himself to curl up and close his eyes, even
though his heart was jack rabbiting with nerves. In the end, it didn't matter
how stressed he was; his exhausted body would still eventually drive him
towards sleep. Thankfully, the nausea was better lying down, though he could
still feel the draw of the Crystal on his mind, ever incessant.
Noctis didn’t fully slip into oblivion, but as he rested, he managed to
fitfully doze. At some point he heard the crackling of the radio and Cor’s
voice. After confirming that his father was indeed fine for now, he rolled over
and ignored them. Gladio and Ignis were talking in hushed voices, but he
couldn’t bring himself to care.
Perhaps it was his worry and stress, but nightmares and images of terror clung
to his mind, robbing him of real rest. He dreamed he stood in a featureless
place, surrounded by murky smoke. Extending his hands, he saw that they were
rough and gnarled, all veins and liver spots. The black ring on his finger
seemed to be sucking away what little life he had left. Where it clung and tore
at him, there was acute, stabbing pain.
“No more,” he whispered. “Please.” His voice came out far deeper than anything
Noctis had produced in real life, the cadence identical to his father’s.
Noctis had nothing left to give, but the Crystal didn’t care. Its force rushed
over him through the ring, washing away his sense of self as he drowned in the
inhuman power of it. The Crystal wasn’t evil, nor was it strictly good. It was
beyond human understanding or the limitations of morality, and it used him
mercilessly, headless of anything but its own need.
Noctis woke with a start, though he didn’t open his eyes. Next to him, Gladio
and Ignis were still talking.
“—treated like children,” Gladio was saying.
“Now you sound like Noctis,” replied Ignis with an irritated huff.
“You can’t tell me that it doesn’t chafe at you to be stuck down here while
Gods know what is happening.”
“We have orders,” Ignis said simply, as if that was the end of the
conversation. Listening to this, Noctis gained some bitter satisfaction that
Gladio actually did feel the same way he did, even if the Shield refused to let
him see it.
“It just grates me that this week couldn’t have gone more perfectly for Drautos
if he had planned it.”
Ignis’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Yes, the most decorated Captain in history
conspired with the enemy to attack Insomnia in a way most advantageous to
showing off the prowess of the Kingsglaive, thus benefiting his political
agenda with the King and Council.”
“You don’t have to be so snippy about it,” Gladio said, “I’m just saying, the
bastard has timing. He wants to replace me as Noct’s trainer, so he demands a
fight between us and two of the best the Kingsglaive he has. Noctis isn't old
enough or mature enough to be fighting fully fledged Kingsglaive, and that has
nothing to do with who’s training him.”
“You could have refused.”
Gladio’s voice was hard. “No, I couldn’t have. I have to be able to look my
father in the eyes too, Ignis.”
“Hmn.”
“So we lose the fight, not really a surprise, but now Noct is vulnerable and
tired. So when the city is attacked, they have us sit here in this fucking
bunker to ‘protect’ him. Future leaders of the Kingdom and the Crownsguard sit
in hiding, meanwhile the Kingsglaive saves the day.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if the ultimatum were his idea in the first place, as
well.” Ignis said.
“Yeah, and I doubt he thinks we can convince Noctis to go through with it, so
we fail on that front too. In two weeks, Drautos takes all of this to the King
and says, ‘See, look. I was right. I’m the only one who can protect your son.’”
There was a thumping sound. The sound of Gladio hitting the wall in
frustration, Noctis realized. It was one of the longest and most open speeches
Noctis had ever heard Gladio give, and he couldn’t help how part of him was
jealous that the Shield was obviously so much more forthright and comfortable
with Ignis than himself. It wasn’t like he didn't already know that Ignis and
Gladio were as close to each other as they were to Noctis, without the barrier
of status and servitude in the way.
“What ultimatum?” asked Noctis as he finally opened his eyes, blinking in the
harsh florescent light.
His retainers jerked their heads up at the same time. Gladio had moved to the
lone chair, and Ignis was the one now standing. Instead of answering the
question, Ignis noted evenly, “You’re awake.”
“No. I’m babbling in my sleep,” Noctis snapped as he sat himself up with a
groan of stiff, protesting muscles. He saw Ignis and Gladio exchange a
significant look.
Ignis swallowed and seemed to steel himself. “Noctis,” he said in the same tone
one would use to inform someone their aunt had just died. Noctis’s stomach
squeezed in alarm, and he thought back to the strange way Ignis had been acting
last yesterday. Ignis continued, “Sometimes as we get older, our
responsibilities. . . change in ways that might make us uncomfortable.
Sometimes these responsibilities can become rather . . . intimate.”
Ignis’s tortured explanation was quickly put out of its misery.
“Astrals help me,” Gladio interrupted harshly. “What Ignis is trying to say is
that those far higher up the food chain than us have decided that you need to
start forming covenants with your retainers. The sooner the better.”
It took Noctis a long time to understand what they were saying. He blinked.
“What are you talking about?” he asked. “You don’t mean--?” He stopped
speaking, the looks on both his retainers telling him the answer to the
question he hadn’t fully yet asked. Some things were slotting into place in a
horrifying way. Ignis and Gladio’s hushed conversation about his sexual habits
the other night. Drautos’s comment about proper training.
“I’m supposed to start forming covenants? Like my dad? Those sorts of
covenants?”
Ignis nodded. When Noctis didn’t respond immediately, Gladio said with a
challenging look at Ignis, “See, that wasn’t so hard to spit out.”
Ignis looked pained.
As he stared at them in shock, Noctis was painfully aware of the concrete
pressing in all around him, how he was practically trapped down here with the
two of them. “But,” he said with a stutter, desperately trying to gather his
wits, “I don’t understand. I’ve barely started learning my magic.” Ignis opened
his mouth, but Noctis spoke over him, “And you still haven’t fully explained
what you meant by ultimatum!”
“What kind of ultimatum do you think, Noctis?” Gladio demanded before Ignis
could respond. Gladio sat full straightened in his chair, tension knotting his
shoulders. He leaned forward aggressively and said, “You know how this works.
You only have two retainers right now. Who the fuck do you think you’re
expected to covenant with?”
This should not be flooring Noctis the way it was. It wasn’t like he hadn’t
known what was expected of him. But it had been so abstract, so far away.
Noctis had just now, finally become comfortable with his warp magic. It wasn’t
fair. He stared at Gladio with wide eyes, then he hardened his expression.
“No,” he said.
                                      ***
                                   **Ignis**
                                      ***
Personally, Ignis thought this conversation could have been handled a lot
better.
Gladio was an excellent guardian, a true friend, but perhaps his biggest
failing was that he was incapable of understanding how someone could not share
his black and white view of duty. For Gladio this entire enterprise was simple.
A thing must be done, so it would be done. A flaw because it clashed so
terribly with Noctis, who was still incapable of separating his concept of duty
from his tumultuous relationship with his father.
“No,” said Noctis. He didn't shout or even really emote at all, either of which
would have been better. Instead, his expression was as impenetrable as the
Lucian wall.
Ignis sighed.
From long years of experience, Ignis found that he could loosely categorize
Noctis’s modes of expression into three forms. There was the Noctis that was
shy, a bit insecure, but also earnest and sweet. That was the Noctis who played
such a terrible hand of Spades, the one who chewed on his pencil as he did math
problems. It was the Noctis who sat in the kitchen with Ignis in comfortable
silence while the other man cooked. That was the best version of Noctis and the
one that Prompto in particular was a master at bringing to the surface.
But there was also the Noctis who was confused and angry, the one that lashed
out. That was the Noctis, who had quite shockingly told Gladio to go hell and
suck a dick while he was down there during their infamous month long fight, the
one that had smashed a six-hundred-year old vase when he was ten, the one who
had screamed at his father in the throne room. It was a rare sight, this angry
version of Noctis, and frankly one that Ignis was terrible at dealing with.
But even though Ignis flailed and blustered when confronted with Noctis’s more
explosive feelings, it was still better than the third version of Noctis, the
emotionless shell that the prince presented to the world as some sort of
learned defense mechanism. That was the version of himself that Noctis
retreated to when he felt he was being judged, when he was forced into the
public’s eye, when he wanted to run but could not, the version that Ignis
secretly despised.
It was that aloof shell of a person that faced Ignis and Gladio, his expression
far too still considering the circumstances.
“What do you mean, no?” Gladio demanded incredulously. “You can’t say no. This
is something you have to do, Noct.”
Noctis’s expression did not change. “No.”
Gladio actually growled in response to that, but before he could escalate it,
Ignis held out his hand, a plea to pause. “Noctis, I know this is a very
difficult subject to deal with.”
“You don’t know shit,” said Noctis. His tone was angry, combative, but his face
was still strangely blank. So somewhere between rage and numbness then. “I
don’t want to talk about it,” he said, turning his head as far away from them
as he could within the confines of the bunker.
Gladio looked like he was going to shout, but Ignis once again stopped him.
Patience. Focusing on the small of Noctis’s back and his hunched shoulders,
Ignis counted the prince’s breaths. One, two, three, four, five. Finally,
Noctis swung back around and demanded, “Do you really think you can force me to
fuck someone against my will?”
Ignis continued to hold his hand against Gladio, silently begging him to remain
quiet. Noctis still wasn’t ready to listen.
The prince scowled at their lack of response, clenching his fists. “What can
anyone do me if I just refuse, huh? Disinherit me?” He snarled, his voice
growing poisonously bitter, mocking, “Oh. Wait. I’m the only option for the
Crystal’s bitch. Guess that settles that.” Glaring at them, he demanded,
“Well?”
Ignis made Noctis wait a full second before he responded, making sure he had
the prince’s full attention. “Oh, I had the impression you preferred ranting at
us, as opposed to a civil conversation,” Ignis said, his voice sharp as a
dagger. He needed to reign this back in before it devolved any further, so he
rebuked Noctis with a scathing look. “Was I not correct in that?”
For half a second, Noctis looked like he might explode again, but thankfully
the expression passed. “Converse away,” he spat out.
Ignis nodded, ignoring Noct’s hostility. “Of course, no one can physically
force you do anything, Prince Noctis, at least not easily,” he said. “However,
the King and the Council are concerned. As you grow older and the King weaker,
you will become more and more of a target. He wishes you to be surrounded by
people who have the most advantages possible, in order to protect you. You know
how much power the Crystal gives, both to its chosen and their retainers. He
has said that if Gladio and I do not possess that power soon, then we will be
replaced by those that already do.”
Noctis absorbed that information silently. “How soon?” he finally asked.
“The King has given us thirteen days. Two weeks from yesterday.”
Ignis watched his prince warily as the teenager fell silent once again. It was
ridiculous, but he felt like he was standing on a precipice, and one wrong move
would push them all over the edge.
Can I do this thing?
Yes, he could. Unlike Noctis, Ignis wasn’t a virgin. People had sex for all
kinds of reasons, not always pleasure or love. And this wasn’t even really sex.
A magical ritual involving semen probably shouldn’t even be in the same
category as true love making.
It doesn’t have to mean the things you’re afraid of it meaning, Noctis.
Noctis spoke before Ignis could articulate his scattered thoughts. His voice
had that quiet, dead quality again that Ignis so hated. “So that’s how my dad
is going to force me, huh? Fuck the only people I care about or have them taken
away from me?”
Ignis exchanged a glance with Gladio. Bringing the King into this discussion
was only going make it a thousand times more treacherous.
Noctis didn’t wait on a true answer. He snorted and declared, “I don’t believe
it. My dad would never do this to me. He lo—he wouldn’t.”
Ignis thought about fire in the sky, dreadnaughts raining death from above. He
thought about Regis’s shriveled hands, his cane, Regis hunched in a chair,
brushing his sleeping son’s bangs out of his eyes.
“Do you love my son?”The King had asked.
I’d die for him.
Duty and love are not the same thing.
To me they are.
Why hadn’t the King been the one to talk to Noctis about this? Why would he
leave his son adrift, when he was literally the only other person in the world
who could possibly understand how Noctis was feeling. Because Noctis was right;
such a demand of his son was not like the King at all.
“I don’t think he sees it that way,” Ignis said carefully. “I don’t think he
sees it as a demand on you so much as on Gladio and I.”
Gladio finally decided he was allowed to contribute again. Ignis rather
desperately wished he wouldn’t. “You’re blowing this way of proportion,” Gladio
said. “For Gods sakes, I’ve heard you masturbating through the shower walls
more times than I want to think about. It’s not a big fucking deal. We do this,
and move on with our lives.”
Noctis glared at him hatefully, his cheeks burning red. “Fu—.”
“Noctis!” Ignis interrupted.
“This isn’t fair!”
Gladio snarled. “Life’s not fair. Suck it up.”
“Gladio!” Ignis twisted towards his colleague. “You are not helping.”
But it was too late. Noctis’s voice gained several degrees in volume and
vehemence. “No, you’re right, Gladio. Since it’s not a big fucking deal, why
don’t I bend you over that chair right now. Let’s just get it over with!”
Noctis had risen from his perch on the cot, sliding instinctively into an
aggressive stance, feet apart and balanced. Ignis wanted to laugh hysterically
at that clear influence of Gladio even as the two tried once again to tear each
other apart.
Gladio did not back down from challenges. He too rose from his chair. “Sure!”
he bellowed. “Let’s go! I’m not the one with the fucking problem Noct. I’m not
the one running from my duty.”
“And that’s all this is to you, one more duty?”
“What the hell else would it be?” Gladio demanded, voice laced with
exasperation.
Ignis was saved by the sound of static over the radio. At the sound, both
Noctis and Gladio froze.
“Scientia do you read me? The Kingsglaive has removed the threat. We have the
all clear. I repeat, we have the all clear.”
For a long moment the only sound to be heard was heavy breathing, then Noctis
whirled around. He stalked over to the door.
Gladio swore, “You’ve got to be kidding me. They probably want all of us to
report to the Citadel. We’re not done here.”
Noctis did not spare them a glance as he searched for the correct switch
against the wall. “I’m going upstairs. Alone. I don’t care what you two do. If
you really think I need a babysitter, then you’re welcome to send someone the
King thinks is appropriately covenanted.”
With that he found the correct switch and the door slid open with a groan. True
to his word, he clomped up the stairs alone.
“Well that could have gone better,” Gladio said after a moment, voice
deceptively light.
Ignis groaned.
                                      ***
Chapter End Notes
     **In the first scene, which is fairly explicit, 14 year old Noct
     accidentally sees 18 year old Gladio getting a blow job from his
     girlfriend. Gladio is not the most thoughtful lover, and there is one
     sentence where it is implied that he holds his girlfriend down with
     force, but it's not clear as to whether he has permission to be that
     rough. Noctis watches, and then he goes home and jerks off while
     contemplating his sexuality.
     **The rest of the chapter deals with Ignis and Gladio telling Noct
     that they're all going to have to sleep together soon. Noctis is
     upset and feels like he is being forced into it. Gladio is rather
     problematically not sympathetic to Noct's fears (Its always Gladio's
     fault, dammit, he's just trying so hard, and being so bad at
     emotional support). Noctis also uses very crude sexual language to
     bait him. Basically they're all a little fucked up.
***** The Choices That Define Us *****
Chapter Summary
     Lines in the sand are drawn as our boys discover what they're willing
     and not willing to do for duty.
Chapter Notes
     Well, I'm not dead. I have lots of excuses, but they mostly boil down
     to I lost my muse some time in April, and I've only just now recently
     raised it from the dead.
     This chapter treads the line of dub con about as close as you can.
     More details for those who need it in the end note. You know what
     you're comfortable with, not me.
     Language and sexual situation warnings apply.
     Kudos are foreplay, and comments are basically third base. ;)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                      ***
                                  **Noctis**
                                      ***
When Noctis was twelve, he asked his father why he couldn’t just stop? Tell all
the Kingsglaive to go home? Make the Council build a brick wall instead of a
magical one?
It took his father a long time to answer. When he finally did, it was in a
language that Noctis didn't understand.
“What was that?” Noctis demanded.
“Lucian was a very different language thousands of years ago. That saying is
attributed to an early King of Lucis, Izunia Lucis Caelum,” replied Regis.
“What does it mean?”
“Non nobis solum nati sumus,” the King enunciated clearly. Regis reached down
and grasped his son firmly by the shoulder, his expression grave.
“Not for ourselves are we born.”
                                      ***
Noctis spent the next couple of days giving Ignis and Gladio the cold shoulder.
It was childish, but since both Ignis and Gladio had done it to him so many
months before, Noctis felt like fair was only fair. He got the impression that
they were hoping some space would help him cool down and become more tractable.
So far, it hadn’t worked.
Three days after the attack on the Crown City, Noctis sighed as he tried to
decide if he was going to do a workout by himself. Even as they improved on his
magical stamina and blade work, Gladio had also been having Noctis push himself
on cardio and strength training, except that by this point it had been days
since Noctis had willingly been around the Shield.
Noctis often ran with Prompto after or before school, but it was always hard to
be at school for any longer than necessary after some big event. The stares and
whispering always became unbearable. Still, Noctis decided to text his friend.
N: Wanna meet me at the Cit? Run?
P: I can't today. I’ve got photography club.
Noctis considered his options, and then another text came through.
P: You okay?
Noctis thought about it. This was Prompto’s way of asking the prince if this
was a crisis or simply an offer. Prompto was the kind of friend who would drop
everything if Noct asked. But what he was going through right now, the ritual
looming over his head, it was something he didn’t want Prompto to know anything
about.
N: Nah, I’m good today. Have fun.
P: Tom morning?
N: Sure.
P: Ok. See you then.
And so, that afternoon, Noctis called up a driver from the Crownsguard and went
to the Citadel training ground by himself. He waited until Gladio was supposed
to pick his sister up from school to give himself the best chance of avoiding
the Shield.
When he got there, the outdoor track was empty which suited Noctis just fine.
After a couple of stretches, he took off down the track, letting himself settle
into a mindless rhythm. The driving beat of his shoes against the asphalt was
the perfect distraction from his swirling thoughts.
Unfortunately, his isolation was too good to last, and soon three or four
Kingsglaive arrived, all wearing track suits and clearly intending the same as
Noct. Swearing silently to himself, he decided to just ignore them, giving only
a single begrudging wave of acknowledgment as he passed.
He ran and ran, longer than he ever would with Gladio or Prompto, long enough
that his thighs burned white hot and his feet tingled with every step. Several
of the Kingsglaive came and went, and still Noctis ran.
As he finally came to a stop, he saw that only one of the Kingsglaive was left,
the male Glaive he had fought in the exhibition fight. They’d been pretty
friendly ever since their late-night conversation months ago. The Kingsglaive
slowed his own jog as he approached Noctis.
“Are you stalking me, Your Highness? Because I just keep running into you
everywhere,” Nyx said in between gasping breaths, his eyes crinkling with
laughter.
It took Noctis far too long to realize he was being teased. He huffed and shook
his head. After grabbing two towels and bottles of water, Nyx handed one to
Noct, then collapsed on the grass next to the asphalt. It hit Noct that he
could barely stand he was so tired. How long had he been running?
Wiping the sweat off his brow, Noctis let himself slide down next to the
Kingsglaive. They both sat in silence for a moment as they caught their breath.
Eventually, Nyx leaned back and stretched. He eyed Noctis sideways, looked
away, and then eyed him again. “So what’s up with the merry boy band, your
highness? he asked. “Why are you here with me instead of Gladiolus?”
Noctis dropped his towel. “What?”
“You and your retainers,” Nyx said. His easy grin was incongruent with the
intensity of his stare. “I mean, you aren’t exactly subtle about how you’ve
been avoiding each other. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you guys fight like this
before.”
“We’re not a boy band,” Noctis replied indignantly, shaking his head. “And
you’ve been in the Kingsglaive like six months. You don’t know anything about
us.”
Nyx shrugged. “Guess I don’t,” he said. “I apologize if I’ve offended you, Your
Highness.” As much as he hated it, Noctis thought he probably deserved that
slip back into formality.
The Kingsglaive stayed sitting next to Noctis, but now he was silent. As the
seconds stretched, Noctis wondered how he was going to save this conversation.
He wasn’t sure if he could take another relationship, even one as minor as this
one, souring because of all the bullshit surrounding this ritual.
Nyx turned back to face Noctis suddenly. “I do know one thing though,” he said,
“There’re a lot of rumors going around that you refuse to form the Covenant of
Retainers with your Shield and Advisor. Captain Drautos is pretty convinced
that teaching you how to form a Covenant would be a lot better handled by the
Kingsglaive than them.”
The Kingsglaive’s tone wasn’t aggressive, even though his gaze was far too
direct to be polite. But Noctis still bristled, clenching his fists helplessly.
It was bad enough to be dealing with this pressure, let alone knowing that his
troubles were apparently common knowledge among the Kingsglaive. This was
between him and Ignis and Gladio, not anyone else. “And you completely agree
with him, I suppose?”
“Actually,” Nyx said. “I think Captain Drautos missed the point. I think all of
you have.”
Noctis blinked at the Glaive, still astounded at his boldness. Glaring at the
grass, he muttered bitterly, “The point? There’s no point. No good one anyway.”
Nyx raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you really think that? That your dad doesn’t
have a good reason?”
“I’m having a real hard time seeing the good reason,” Noctis retorted
dismissively.
Nyx snorted. “Come on man, if your dad only cared about your safety,” he
insisted, “you’d be completely in the hands of the Kingsglaive. But that’s not
what he did. Instead he went to your best friends and told them they needed to
take care of it.”
It was clear that Nyx was getting at something in particular that he wanted
Noctis to understand, that he had likely started the conversation with that
goal in mind, but Noctis was done. He had come here to have some goddamn peace
and quiet, and the last thing he wanted to talk about was his dad. Thus, he
said the worst thing he could possibly think of in the moment. Noctis suggested
harshly, “Maybe he doesn’t want his son fucking his leftovers.”
Noct’s spitefulness worked. The Glaive’s eyes grew hard, and for the first time
he sounded frustrated. He spat, “Gods, sometimes you’re such a brat. You’re so
busy thinking about how you’re going to face each of your friends after you’ve
fucked them, that you still haven’t considered the real consequences of your
choices.”
“Which are?” Noctis asked coldly.
“Having to face either Ignis or Gladio after you’ve gotten the other killed.
That’swhat I’d be focused on.”
They held each other’s gaze for half a moment longer. Then Noctis tore himself
away, flopping down until he was completely laying on his back.
He assumed Nyx would finally leave him be at that point, but the Glaive proved
Noct wrong, seemingly content to just sit there in silence once again. Ignoring
the other man, Noctis instead pondered his persistent dreams in which Gladio,
Ignis, and even Prompto, burned for him and died for him, over and over. The
Kingsglaive’s words had brought the worst of his recurring dreams to the
forefront of his mind.
In the smallest voice possible, Noctis confessed to the overcast sky, “I feel
like a rapist. Like the worst scum on the fucking planet.”
The Kingsglaive was unresponsive for so long that Noct thought he wasn’t going
to reply. Maybe there wasn’t anything to say to a confession like that. But
then Nyx changed the topic unexpectedly. Still sitting beside Noctis, he said,
“Did you know that you broke Crowe’s collarbone?”
“Crowe?”
“Glaive Altius. During the exhibition fight.”
“Oh,” said Noctis. “You know; you really suck at making a person feel better.”
“I’m not trying to make you feel better. I’m trying to help you.”
“Well, you’re doing a shit job at that too.”
Nyx laughed at that, apparently having let go of his earlier frustration. If
only it were so easy for Noctis. “What I’m trying to say,” said the Glaive, “is
that every time I fight alongside other Kingsglaive or Crownsguard, we’re in
total sync. I always know instinctively where the others are on the
battlefield, what condition they’re in, how much magic they’ve got left.
Together we can do amazing—impossible techniques.” His voice grew firmer. “So I
know you broke her collarbone because I felt it when it happened.”
Noctis thought about that. “You warped immediately. Stopped me from finishing
her off.”
“The King’s magic didn’t just make me more aware of her. It let me heal her
too.”
Noctis didn’t have anything to say to that.
“And so I ask you again, Your Highness,” Nyx said, “What are you going to say
to Ignis? Or Gladio? When it’s one of them lying in a pool of blood, and your
magic could have saved them? Or helped them save themselves?” His gaze was hard
and unforgiving. “Either way, I’ve said my piece,” he said with a snort, “done
my civic duty to convince one of you get your heads out of your asses."
I hope you have a good evening, Your Highness,” he said as he stood up. Then he
left.
                                      ***
                                   **Ignis**
                                      ***
As part of the agreement that had allowed him to move out on his own, Noctis
was supposed to have dinner with his father at the Citadel at least once a
week. Noctis had perfected the art of appearing indifferent to those dinners,
but Gods forbid you were anywhere near him if his father canceled on him.
Therefore, on Friday, three days after the attack and five days after the King
issued his fourteen-day ultimatum, when Clarus told Ignis that the King was
cancelling his weekly dinner with his son, Ignis was troubled. He frowned at
Clarus and said, “The prince won’t like that.”
Though Clarus had to have understood what Ignis wasn’t saying with those words,
the Shield of the King merely responded with a look that implied,do you think I
care?
Fortunately for Ignis, he had never been afraid of Clarus’s displeasure. Clarus
and Gladio were far too alike for that, both overtly blunt and simple, with
surprisingly sharp depths. Ignis had long since learned how to navigate the
famous Amicitia temper. He responded to Clarus’s disparaging look with one of
equal fervor, until the man sighed and said far more softly, “Regis doesn’t
want Noctis to see him like this. You can understand why, can’t you, Ignis?”
That Clarus had been willing to speak to Ignis without hiding behind titles was
a testament to how much the older man respected the much younger advisor, but
that didn’t change the fact that they were still fundamentally at odds over
this. Clarus belonged wholeheartedly to the current king, and Ignis the future.
Though it might be far easier for the king to avoid his son and the clear
consequences of his family’s sacrifice to the Crystal, it was not, in Ignis’s
opinion, the best thing for Noctis. And what was best for Noctis would always
be Ignis’s’ top priority.
“I’ll do what I can,” Ignis said with a sigh.
“That’s all any of us are capable of,” replied Clarus.
                                      ***
So many people believed that because Noctis often chose to be quiet and
unassuming, that he was oblivious to other people or incapable of reading them.
But the prince walked through the door of their shared apartment that evening,
his book bag slung over one shoulder, and he stopped dead as he saw Ignis’s
face. Ignis should not have worried about how he was going to tell Noctis that
his father had canceled their dinner; he should have worried about what he was
going to say after, because apparently the advisor’s own face had given it
away.
“Why is my father cancelling dinner?” Noctis demanded without preamble, not an
ounce of affection is his voice.
“Noctis,” Ignis warned as he was starkly reminded that they had barely spoken
over the past three days. Looking at Noctis’s stormy face, he was struck by the
realization that he was tired of always being in the middle of whatever tug of
war Noctis was currently engaged in, tired of always being the diffusor, the
mediator. This was a conversation for Noctis’s father, and Ignis was never
going to be a replacement for him.
“Tell me.”
Ignis grimaced, but he responded dutifully with the stock answer to these sorts
of questions, “He had important matters to attend to.”
Noctis’s response was swift and brutal. “Liar.”
In this, Ignis was indeed a liar, but that had no bearing on the situation at
all. They both knew why the king had canceled, and Ignis wasn’t going to insult
Noctis’s intelligence by arguing to the contrary. Not if Noctis insisted on
demanding that they drop the convenient lie that everyone who worked around the
king had unspokenly agreed to. Ignis held Noct’s gaze and waited on the prince
to come to a decision.
Noctis finally jerked his head to the side. Ignis still waited.
Noctis scuffled his feet against the floorboard. “I’m going to the Citadel,” he
said. He didn’t phrase it as a question, but the question was inherent. Of the
two of them, only Ignis could drive.
“I don’t think anything good will come out of it, Noct,” Ignis said softly, his
heart breaking.
“If you don’t want to drive me, I’ll just take the bus,” Noctis stubbornly
insisted.
It was rather telling that Noctis didn’t seem to know that there was no direct
bus connection from his apartment to the Citadel. The subway was a far better
avenue for that. Ignis resisted rolling his eyes. Mostly.
Instead, the advisor nodded in resignation, grabbed his keys, and together they
left for the Citadel.
                                      ***
Twenty minutes later, they were stopped at the entrance to the royal
apartments. Guarding the doorway were two Crownsguard. The closer one held up
his hand as they approached. “Prince Noctis, what brings you here?” he asked
politely.
Noctis cocked his head as if the question puzzled him. “I’m here to see my
father, of course. It’s Friday.”
An uneasy expression crossed over both guards’ faces. Ignis didn’t miss how
they exchanged a glance with each other before the same guard replied, “Master
Amicitia has given orders that the king is not to be disturbed by anyone, Your
Highness.” There was a brittle quality to the guard’s politeness now, the
wariness of someone stuck in an impossible choice. Prince Noctis technically
outranked all of them, including Clarus, but the Shield held far more political
power, and it was potentially far more dangerous to disobey the leader of the
Crownsguard than it was the errant prince.
“Prince Noctis!” Suddenly Clarus himself was there, striding down the corridor.
Ignis wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or horrified. “I didn’t think you
would be visiting the Citadel today.” Clarus spoke to the prince, but his glare
was directed at Ignis, and it was venomous.
Ignis shrugged helplessly.
Noctis said, “Yes, I’ve been told that you’ve forbidden anyone from seeing my
father today.”
Up until now Ignis had been totally focused on Clarus, but something in Noct’s
voice stopped Ignis cold, and he turned to face his prince warily. Noctis spent
most of his time acting hesitant and withdrawn, but he appeared to be neither
of those things right now. Instead, his eyes were narrowed and dangerous. In
this light, the blue of them shimmered almost purple in tone.
Clarus must not have been as good at reading Noctis as Ignis was, because the
Shield didn’t seem to notice the danger. He spoke placatingly, “The king isn’t
really feeling up to company today, Noctis. I’d be happy to tell him you
stopped by though. I’m sure he will call for you as soon as—.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Noctis cut in suddenly. As quickly as he had
interrupted Clarus, he dismissed the Shield again. Turning back to the guards,
Noctis said, “I won’t ask you move for me. It’s not right to put you in that
position.”
Neither guard looked like they were so much as breathing, the tension was that
thick. “Noctis,” Clarus insisted commandingly. It was clear he had no idea what
to do with this version of the prince either.
Noctis did not look back at the Shield. He seemed to be considering his next
move.
Finally, the prince closed his eyes, and Ignis’s heart stopped. He could almost
hear Gladio’s lecturing voice, as he’d say with a snap of his fingers, “You
won’t have time to focus in a real fight, Noct. You’ve got to phase like that.”
But that was a crutch Noctis had yet to lose. And so Noctis closed his eyes.
The tang and pressure of magic washed over Ignis like an explosion, as Noctis
simply walked forward. For half a terrifying second, Ignis feared Noctis would
try to fight the guards, but his fear was baseless. Noctis moved like a
shimmering wave, like a trick of the mind, and suddenly he was on the other
side of the guards, having simply phased through them.
It was almost too sudden for Ignis to understand, this brazen application of
the royal magic. Who are you and what have you done with Noctis?
“Gods dammit,” Clarus swore beside him. They moved at the same time, following
in Noctis’s wake. “Why does he always have to be so difficult?” the Shield
muttered under his breath.
Ignis wanted to snarl at his old mentor. Maybe Noctis was “difficult” because
he was sixteen years old, watching his father waste away before his eyes, and
bearing the future of his entire country on his shoulders.
Ignis considered the last few weeks as they hurriedly followed after Noctis,
who seemed oblivious that he had pursuers at all. He thought about the push to
force Noctis to master his magic as quickly as possible, the recent
debilitating attacks on the wall, how the king had gone from teaching his son
magic nearly every day to a near complete withdrawal.
“What are you not telling us, Master Amicitia?” Ignis hissed at the King’s
Shield.
Clarus glanced sideways at Ignis, but did not answer.
A few seconds later, and they were all standing in King Regis’s bed chamber.
The king sat hunched over in his bed, hidden below the chest by a thick
comforter. “Noctis!” he greeted them in surprise.
Ignis allowed himself a moment to absorb the sight of his ruler as King Regis
struggled to sit in a more upright position. His face was skeletal, as if the
Ring had begun to eat from his flesh after finding his energy insufficient.
Brittle, unkempt hair framed his face, and his eyes were sunken in, the
constant pain evident in their glassy quality.
Ignis heard Noctis take a deep breath, but when he looked over, the prince’s
face was unreadable. “Father,” he said, his voice gentle. “I’m here for
dinner.” For a long moment, father and son stared at each other in silence, and
then the king nodded. Noctis smiled a small smile, clambering gingerly onto the
foot of the king’s bed.
A servant provided two trays, and the two royal men proceeded to eat their
weekly dinner, Noctis crossed legged at the foot of the bed, and Regis barely
upright at the head. Neither one mentioned the sorry state of Regis’s body.
Instead, the king asked banal questions about how Noct was doing in school, and
Noctis answered as sullenly as possible. Ignis and Clarus stood at attention in
the doorway.
Someone unversed in how Noctis and his father operated might have wondered how
the prince could have been so driven to see his father on one hand, and
seemingly barely able to tolerate speaking to him the next. But Ignis, who knew
the prince the best, felt like his heart was breaking at how hard Noctis was
trying to pretend like nothing was wrong.
As they finished and another servant took their trays away, Noctis hesitated
and then said to his father, “Ignis and Gladio told me that you wanted to
possibly install Kingsglaive as my bodyguards.” He didn’t elaborate and he
didn’t look his father in the eye as he said it.
Ignis too found he couldn’t look his counterpart in the eye, choosing instead
to ignore the burning feeling of Clarus’s eyes on the back of his head.
“Noctis,” the king sighed. “What I want--.” He hesitated. “I want to know that
the people who stand behind you,” he said instead, “have every protection you
are capable of giving them. I want us to be ready for the trials ahead.” His
gaze grew particularly heavy. “I want no one’s sacrifice to be in vain.”
Noctis looked very small at the foot of the king’s bed. He squeezed his eyes
shut, opened them, and then nodded at his father.
“I’ll let you rest now, dad. Ignis will take me home.”
                                      ***
When they got home, Noctis collapsed on the edge of his bed. Hunching his
shoulders, he hung his head over his knees, tension running through every line
of his body. Ignis wavered, and then he followed, perching himself next to his
young charge. He wanted so badly to hold Noctis, to sooth him with a gentle
hand on his back, to remind him that he wasn’t alone, but he couldn’t. It
wasn’t Ignis’s place to sooth the prince like that.
Though sometimes he wondered if not him, then who?
“I wish—,” Noctis hesitated, startling Ignis from his rumination.
“You wish what?” asked Ignis.
Noctis only shook his head, refusing to meet his advisor's gaze.
“You wish for what?” Ignis repeated himself. “What do you need, Noct?”
Hesitantly, Ignis reached over and laid his hand over Noct’s arm. The prince
swung his head back up from his knees. He stared at his advisor's hand, like he
didn’t understand what was happening.
Ignis himself, had no idea what he was doing. He and Noctis were close, but
they weren’t exactly touchy. Just earlier he’d been thinking about how
exhausting it was to always have to be in emotional crisis mode around the
prince. Yet right now he wanted nothing more than to gather Noctis up in his
arms, to let the teen take from Ignis’s strength, to run his hands through
Noct’s silky hair until there were no more thoughts about things no one could
change.
As Ignis realized the dangerous path his thoughts had led him down, he fought
the instinct to jerk his hand back, knowing that would only make things worse.
Noctis saved him from his indiscretion. The prince quietly drew Ignis’s hand
away and asked, “What would you do, if you weren’t my advisor?”
“What do you mean, what would I do?” Ignis replied, as he scrambled to get his
thoughts back in order. “For a job?”
“A job, your life, whatever. What would you do, Ignis, if you could do anything
you wanted to?”
Ignis stared at the wall over Noctis’s head. “I’m already doing that,” he said.
He added teasingly, “Lucky you.”
Ignis had intended to lighten the atmosphere a bit. To bring Noctis out of the
brooding mood he was ensnared in, and hopefully also get himself back in the
correct mindset. But Noctis’s mouth tightened, almost like Ignis had hurt his
feelings. “I’m being serious, Iggy,” he demanded. “What would you do, if you
weren’t my advisor. If you couldn’t be.”
“So am I. I’m being entirely serious.” Ignis sighed, sensing that this wasn’t
something Noct would let go until he had the answer he wanted. “If I were
forced away, what would I do?” It wasn’t something he had ever really thought
about. “I suppose I would go back to the university. Study something that could
help people.”
Noctis absorbed that, then leaned forward, avoiding Ignis’s eyes. “Then you
should go,” he said tonelessly. “You should do what makes you happy.”
Ignis blinked at him in bafflement. How had they gotten to this? He couldn’t
quite hide the note of irritation creeping into his voice as he replied, “I
told you. I’m doing that already.”
“I don’t believe you,” Noctis ground out, further startling the advisor with
his outburst and shaking the bed. “How can being my glorified babysitter be
fulfilling for you?”
Ignis stared at Noctis in shock and then, his voice deliberately quiet, he
asked, “Do you see me as your glorified babysitter?”
Ignis couldn’t help the niggling doubt that he had fucked something up
somewhere. That perhaps the prospect of fulfilling the covenant with him had
disgusted Noctis to the point of demanding Ignis’s resignation. Even though he
knew better, knew that Noctis would never ask him to leave, he couldn’t help
but think that while Noctis’s growing feelings concerning Gladio were often
painfully obvious, his feelings about Ignis were far less so.
“Of course not,” Noctis replied, shaking his head. “But you’ve–you’ve given up
so much for me. You can’t tell me you haven’t, and I’m finally beginning to
realize how unfair that is—.”
“Noctis,” Ignis interrupted. He waited, and when the teen did not respond, he
said more firmly, “Noctis. Look at me.”
Noctis jerked his head up at his advisor. His eyes were shining, though he
wasn’t quite crying yet. “Noctis, I want you to listen to me very carefully,”
Ignis said, holding the prince’s eyes.
Part of him felt sick that he had not managed to stem this anxiety in Noctis
earlier. That he had never really noticed it before. Ignis had just assumed
that it was obvious that at some point in their relationship his devotion to
Noctis has become an eternal, soul consuming thing. Some people spent their
entire lives without the fulfillment of knowing exactly what they were meant to
do. But Ignis was not one of those people.
“As my prince and as my friend, you control many aspects of my life. That’s
true. But—and this is very important that you understand this, Noctis. You have
no right to decide for me what I find value in.” Ignis's gaze turned hard and
unyielding as he spoke.
“When I was a child,” he explained, “I realized that I possessed gifts that few
others do. And so I became your advisor because I knew it was something that I
could both do a lot of good with and excel at. More importantly, I became your
friend because I met a very lonely little boy who needed someone that cared for
him because he was Noctis and not because he was Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum.”
Noctis looked away at that, but Ignis continued his speech regardless, “You
have a lot of power, but you don’t get to decide for me what I need, Noctis.”
Ignis hesitated, and then he added firmly, “And you wound me when you belittle
my choices like that.”
“Ignis,” Noctis jerked his head back around with a shocked expression. “I
didn’t mean--.”
“I know what you meant, Noctis. I do. And I’m gratified that you care so much
for my happiness. But when I tell you that what I’ve chosen to do with my life
makes me happy, then I need you to believe me.”
They stared at each other, and then Noctis said softly, “I’m sorry, Iggy. Even
when I’m trying to be selfless, I somehow fuck that up too.”
“I’m sorry I ever led you to believe that I would possibly be happier
elsewhere.”
“You didn’t. I just--.”
Noctis kicked his feet against the edge of the bed as Ignis regarded him. “What
is this really about, Noctis?”
Noctis’s expression was unreadable. Finally, he replied, “I talked to Ulrich
yesterday. The Kingsglaive.”
“I know who he is. What about him?”
“We talked,” Noctis shrugged. “About the covenant I guess. He said it was
selfish of me. To be so hesitant to fulfil the covenant with you and Gladio.”
Ignis had unhappily suspected that this was what Noctis was really upset about.
The fast approaching deadline felt like it was pressing in on them on all
sides. He knew they needed to talk about it, even though he was starting to
dread almost as much as Noctis. Though it did surprise Ignis that Noctis had
spoken about the covenant with a Kingsglaive of all people. “How is that
selfish of you?”
“He said that it would give you guys power. The kind of power that could save
your lives. And by holding back because of my own apprehension, I wasn’t doing
our relationship justice.”
Here was where he should probably agree with Ulrich, push Noctis while he was
vulnerable and more easily led. “I think it’s more complicated than that,”
Ignis replied instead.
“Is it?” Noctis challenged. “Because I think it’s really not. If anything, it’s
really fucking simple.” To demonstrate, the prince made a crude hand gesture
involving his fist and his forefinger.
Ignis felt like his heart was breaking all over again. Indeed, his earlier
desire to hold Noctis felt selfish and manipulative upon reflection. Months
ago, Gladio had hurt Noctis on the command of the king, and at the time Ignis
had told Gladio that there was no reason to feel guilty since he’d had no
choice in the matter.
How stupid he had been.
Even though it placed his job and his future in jeopardy, it was becoming
clearer and clearer that he didn’t have the stomach to lead Noctis towards
something the teen so clearly dreaded with all of his being.
“Noctis,” Ignis said, “I won’t force you to do something you are uncomfortable
with. Not like that, not ever.”
“No, you would never make me uncomfortable,” Noctis said sarcastically. “You’ll
just bend over and let me rape you. But it’s okay because it was your choice.”
He immediately backtracked with a wince. “Sorry. That was uncalled for.”
Ignis sighed heavily. “It’s fine.”
“But it’s not. It’s not fine. And I don’t know how to deal with it.”
That he didn’t know how to deal with this was quite clear. “We deal with it
together,” said Ignis. “It’s not just your burden to bear, Noct. Like you said,
if rather crudely, it’s ours as well.”
With a sigh, he pushed at Noctis, bullying him further into the bed. “Look, you
should go to sleep. You’ve had a long, stressful couple of days.”
Noctis’s voice was very small as he allowed himself to be manhandled under the
covers. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Ignis paused. “That will never happen. I promise you.”
                                      ***
                                  **Noctis**
                                      ***
That night Noctis dreamed. It started out familiar enough. The smell of burning
metal, blood, and something foul, something that screamed of death and
wrongness. To describe the being before him as a snake with the head of a woman
was an injustice. The Marilith had a pulsing presence, a force that defied
description, but that would haunt Noctis until the day he died.
Normally when Noct dreamed of this memory, he was prostrate and helpless on the
ground, just like he had been in real life. Not truly in pain because the
daemon had already severed his spine in half.
But tonight was different. Noctis stood young and powerful, his magic spilling
out around him. Normally Noctis’s magic felt like an animal that he could
barely control. It licked and pulled at him when he needed it to be steady, and
failed him when he desperately needed one last push.
Tonight’s magic would not fail him. It was endless, truly endless, and it
begged to be unleashed. Rage and fear had nearly overwhelmed him, but his magic
had no patience for such human emotions. The ancient fury of the twelve Lucian
Kings was his to command tonight.
A thought, and twelve weapons burst into existence around him. Each was
controlled with a separate thread of consciousness, a difficult feat for any
normal man, but he had been born to wield this power. All twelve weapons
converged on the daemon. They slashed at her in a coordinated attack that moved
so fast it was difficult to follow with the human eye.
The daemon screamed.
He speared her again and again, one Armiger weapon for each of her arms. Sparks
of magic followed in their wake, and the daemon flinched back, the power of the
crystal fundamentally at odds with her nature. Noctis reveled in her pain.
Suddenly, whimpering sounded out from somewhere near his feet. He looked down,
and found himself looking into his own eyes. He lay at his own feet broken and
bleeding. For a second there was a strange sense of duality, and then Noctis
startled awake.
Sometimes Noctis hated his subconscious.
                                      ***
The next morning Noctis told Ignis he was ready to stop sulking and return to
his trainings with Gladio. Ignis gave him a funny look, but Noctis met it as
blandly as possible.
After getting dropped off, Noctis stared at the Amicitia household door in
trepidation. With what he was about to propose, he could only hope that Gladio
was the only person in the house right now. What he would do if Iris were home,
he had no idea. He shook his head at himself and firmly rang the doorbell. It
was too late to turn back now.
A heartbeat. Then two. Then Gladio was opening the door, his expression openly
surprised as he saw that it was the prince at his door. “Noctis,” he greeted
neutrally.
“Hey, Glad.”
Gladio raised his eyebrow when Noctis didn’t elaborate on his own, drawling,
“Is there a reason you’re here? On your day off?” The unsaid, when you’ve been
blowing me off for the past three days, hung thick in the air.
“I needed to talk to you.”
Gladio gave him a long, searching look that ended in a slight nod. “Alright.”
They walked together into the kitchen. Noctis sat at the counter while Gladio
stood on the other side, leaning his weight against the granite. After
fidgeting for a moment, Noctis looked up and said, “I’m ready. Let’s get this
over with.”
He was watching Gladio’s face closely, so he saw how Gladio’s eyes widened
almost imperceptivity before settling back into blank neutrality. He hadn’t
expected that of Noctis.
“Are you talking about what I think you’re talking about?” Gladio asked.
“Yes.”
“Have you talked to Ignis too?”
Noctis thought about his conversation last night, about how Ignis had promised
to let it be, to stop pushing Noctis. He thought about Ulrich saying, ‘When one
of them is lying in a pool of blood. What will you say then?’ If Ignis knew
what he was doing now, if he knew how far Noctis was pushing himself past his
boundaries, the advisor would certainly object. But Ignis wasn’t here now. And
he didn’t know.
“No. I came to you first.”
Noctis waited a long agonizing heartbeat. Then Gladio nodded. “Okay.” And that
was that. Gladio didn’t say anything else. He didn’t make a comment about how
long it had taken Noctis to come to the decision to fulfill his obligation to
form a covenant. He didn't make one of his stupid, teasing jokes. His voice was
deadly serious when he said, “How do you want to do this, Noctis? Do you want
to go back to the Citadel and complete the ritual with the help of the Citadel
doctors?”
Noctis blanched. His father, he knew, had a procedure. Made it as clinical as
possible. The two participants prepped in separate rooms, helped by a medical
professional, if that was necessary, and then they came back together to do the
deed as quickly and as painlessly as possible.
“Maybe that would be easiest,” Noctis said quietly.
“Then let’s go.” Gladio straightened up, already moving back towards the front
door.
Noctis’s heart thudded. “Wait, now?” he demanded.
Gladio stopped to look back at him. “It’s not going to get any easier if we
wait.”
Noctis scowled. Everyone kept saying that, that it wouldn’t get any easier by
waiting. Even if that were the case, it didn’t make the inverse true. It wasn’t
any easier to rush into the ritual immediately either. On the one hand, doing
it immediately would keep Ignis from interfering. On the other. . .
“You’re already nervous as hell, Noct,” Gladio said, interrupting Noct’s
thoughts. “It’ll be a lot better once it’s over with, and it’s not some big
unknown eating at you.”
Noctis bit his lip, but a deadened numbness was starting to seep into him. This
was really happening.
He felt his limbs move almost automatically, pulling him off of the counter
stool to follow Gladio. In a fog, he bent down to retie his shoes, slipping
past the Shield and out the door. There was the thud of the lock clicking into
place, and then Gladio was leading him to the car.
They both remained silent as Gladio drove them to the Citadel. He filled the
space with some shitty pop station, his fingers drumming against the wheel.
Tuning it out, Noctis watched the houses flying past them, becoming more and
more elegant, until the familiar lattice work of the Citadel wall greeted them.
He assumed the silence would continue as Gladio parked the car, but after
clicking the engine off, Gladio turned to Noct and said with sincerity, “I am
sorry, you know. That you feel like this thing is stealing your virginity from
you. I wish it could be different.”
Noctis closed his eyes. “I’m sorry too.” He tried to put what he actually meant
in his inflection, but whether it came across or not, he had no idea.
Gladio pushed his door open. “Don’t be. I told you. It’s just a ritual. Doesn’t
scare me.”
Gladio’s words sounded like a lie, but Noctis did not know how to call him out
on it, so he simply opened his own door and followed the Shield into the
Citadel.
                                      ***
Imperiously ignoring everyone around him, Gladio led the pair of them through
the Citadel’s winding hallways and into the medical wing. As he trailed Gladio,
Noctis wished he could possess his friend’s ease.
Actually, he was wishing for a lot of things right now. He wished that he could
just go back to last year, when his biggest concern was beating Prompto’s score
in Knights Tale and memorizing a list of a couple hundred of his ancestors. He
wished that he didn’t feel like everyone they passed knew exactly what Gladio
and Noct were about to do. He wished, strangely enough, that Ignis were here,
though an hour ago he would have said that the only thing that could make this
worse would be having to face both of his retainers at the same time. Now, he
longed for Ignis’s steady presence.
Most of all, Noctis wished that someone would rescue him, run up to them in the
hallway and shout that this had all been a big mistake, that there was no way
that King Regis would demand this of his son. He could stop all of this and
call Ignis right now. Ignis would know what to do, would make it better. But if
Noct did that, then he would be right back where he started, with images of
Ignis and Gladio, their bodies torn to shreds eating him alive.
No. He couldn’t turn back now.
Instead, Gladio led them into some waiting room. A lone Kingsglaive in a leg
cast was sprawled in a plastic chair, and two nurses sat behind the counter.
Noctis waited as Gladio had a whispered conversation. One of the nurses made a
small noise of surprise, lifting her gaze to Noctis, who was several paces
behind Gladio. Noctis gave her a withering look, and she quickly returned to
her conversation with Gladio.
Standing there, Noctis started to feel a little light-headed. He realized with
a jolt of surprise that his heart was racing, nearly beating out of his chest.
Several deep breaths did not nothing to alleviate the problem, and so he
decided to do his best to ignore it.
Then Gladio gestured to Noctis to follow him, and they were being led through
white plastered hallways. The nurse was middle-aged and severe looking. She
bowed with a polite, “Prince Noctis,” after giving him a once over. Noctis
immediately disliked her.
“Please wait in here, Your Highness,” she said, stopping in front an unlabeled
door. “Master Amicitia will be prepared in another room and will rejoin you
shortly.” They both nodded at her, and then she led Gladio away. Noctis refused
to watch them leave. Instead, he turned the knob and went inside.
So this was where he would lose his virginity. The room was pleasant enough.
There was a bed, wide and soft, but with that metal rail at the base that
betrayed it as nothing more than a dressed up medical cot. Soft, warm lights
rather than florescent were flickering on the tiled ceiling. A little table
with two water bottles and a tub of lubricant. Cabinets with white plastic
labels.
Noctis wasn’t sure if the halfway-successful attempt to make the room look less
like a doctor’s office was helpful or not. Somehow the warm lights and soft
looking bedspread just made the places where the room lacked life all that more
apparent.
As he walked over and perched on the edge of the bed, his thoughts felt numb
and sluggish, a counterpoint to the rabbiting of his heartbeat. What was he
supposed to do now? Should he try to pump himself up or just undress? He
couldn’t imagine a less stimulating sexual situation.
His eyes fell down to the bed, and he tried to picture Gladio laid out on it,
tried to imagine them together, but somehow the fantasy refused to hold in his
mind. He couldn’t feel anything but the tug-of-war of white sharp anxiety and
overwhelming emptiness.
Even though he was waiting for it, he was still startled when he heard a quiet
knock at the door. He jerked his head up, but couldn’t bring himself to do
anything more than that as Gladio let himself into the room.
“Hey,” Gladio said in a low voice, shutting the door softly behind himself.
“Hey,” responded Noctis dully.
Gladio wore plain gray sweatpants, slung low over his hips, and nothing else.
At any other time, Noctis would have been drawn to the sight, would have had to
force himself to look away. The soft light made the black of Gladio’s ever
increasingly expansive tattoos glint on his forearms.
Noctis didn’t move from where he sat on the edge of the bed as Gladio slowly
walked up to him, stopping right in front of Noctis’s knees. Their height
difference had the unfortunate effect of putting Gladio’s groin right at eye
level with Noctis’s face. That was perhaps the only thing that could have
forced Noctis to lift his head up and meet Gladio’s gaze.
Gladio’s face was closed off, a fortress to whatever he was feeling. His eyes
were . . . well, Noctis didn’t know how to describe the expression in his eyes,
except to say that Noctis instantly hated it.
After a silent moment, Gladio reached down, laying his hand on Noctis’s
shoulder.
Noctis flinched in response, and Gladio’s hand stilled, waiting, never breaking
eye contact.
He must have been waiting on some signal that Noctis hadn’t realized he had
given, because Gladio nodded at him after another moment, and then he gripped
Noctis firmly with his other hand, drawing the teenager closer to the edge of
the bed. It had the effect of making Noctis part his knees in order to avoid
knocking into Gladio’s shins, and suddenly Gladio was standing in Noctis’s
space, bracketed by his legs.
Noctis took a deep, gulping breath, though all he managed to do was inhale a
lungful of Gladio’s distinct scent. The usual sandy wood and musky maleness was
overlaid with something harshly astringent and medical.
“You’re not hard at all, are you?” asked Gladio, finally breaking the silence.
Afraid to speak, Noctis shook his head. He wanted to point out that Gladio
seemed to be entirely unaroused as well, judging by the front of his
sweatpants.
Without warning, Gladio’s hand shot towards Noctis’s trousers, making the
prince yelp in undignified surprise.
“Can you please calm down?” Gladio snapped aggressively, and that was what
finally clued Noctis in to how stressed Gladio actually was, how much this was
actually affecting him.
Gladio chose to focus on what his hands were doing, as opposed to meeting
Noctis’s eyes again, and so Noctis watched as well, holding himself entirely
still as Gladio quickly and efficiently took apart buttons. Soon he was down to
his boxer briefs. Gladio took a long pause again.
Noctis felt like he was viewing the entire thing from outside his own body,
completely removed from the situation. He watched almost dispassionately as
Gladio reached a bit too quickly to pull on Noctis’s boxers, as if Gladio also
needed a push before he lost his courage. After yanking it down, the Shield
paused again, his hand hovering over Noct’s limp cock.
It was then that it hit Noctis. From nearly two years ago, the memory of
Gladio, head braced wildly against the wall, neck and shoulder’s stretched
taunt as he panted overwhelmed Noctis’s thoughts. The current situation could
not be more starkly different. The muscles in Gladio’s neck were taunt, but
with an entirely different sort of tension. His mouth was pulled into a grim
line. Noctis realized with a sickening lurch that there was not an ounce of joy
on his friend’s face.
And there was the bitter truth, washing over Noctis. It was a truth that Noct
had never admitted to himself, not in two years of masturbating or fantasizing.
But with Gladio’s eyes inches from his own, with his hand finally about to
touch Noctis, Noct could no longer deny it.
The truth was that he had never been able to isolate Amber from his fantasy
about what he’s accidently seen because Noctis’s Shield had always been the
singularly important part of that fantasy. Ever since that day, Noctis had
secretly wondered what it would be like to have that sort of power over Gladio,
to make him feel that good.
“Noctis.” Gladio’s voice was strangely hesitant, the kind of tone he reserved
for Iris and skittish animals. The teen realized that Gladio’s hands had moved
back up to his shoulders while he had been distracted. One hand reached out at
Noctis’s face, and then Gladio was smearing his thumb under Noct’s eye. Noctis
could feel the wet that trailed it.
Squeezing his own eyes shut, Gladio took several breaths. Then he said, “This
was a mistake.”
Noctis blinked at him, struggling to comprehend as Gladio opened his eyes,
reached down, not to grasp Noct’s prick, but to pull his briefs and then his
pants back up.
“What are you doing?” Noctis made an abortive move to grasp Gladio’s hands, but
the Shield was already backing away.
“I can't do this,” Gladio said roughly, shaking his head again. “I thought I
could, but--.”
“You thought you could?” Noctis repeated incredulously. His face was starting
to burn even brighter. Without Gladio pressed into his space, he felt more
naked, more on display, even though technically he was wearing more clothes
than before. “After you gave me so much shit, you can't do this? Are you
shitting me?”
“Don’t curse,” snapped Gladio. They both glared at each other combatively.
“Gladio.” Noctis stood up, and the Shield jerked back a step. Noctis stopped.
“So that’s it then?” Noct asked. “What about the—?”
“I don’t know! Okay? I don’t fucking have all the answers.” Gladio clenched his
fists, then unclenched them. With a muttered swear, he flung the tube of lube
and the water off the nightstand. Glass shattered across the headboard.
Noctis watched it all mutely. He let Gladio stand there breathing heavily for a
few seconds, and then he muttered , “I thought you said it was just a ritual.”
“It is!” Gladio looked like he wanted to throw something else. “But, it’s—argh!
You’re just fucking sitting there, Noct. Making me feel like a fucking rapist.”
“I’m making you feel like a rapist?!” Noctis’s voice was growing higher and
higher pitched. Somehow he had gone from barely being able to form a coherent
thought or emotion, to feeling like he was about to burst from it. “What the
fuck do you want from me? Do you want me to pretend?” Noctis couldn’t help but
see a flash of Gladio’s face, scrunched up in ecstasy. He did his best to push
it away. “Would you like me to moan for you?” he snarled. “Then again, I’m the
one fucking you, Gladio. Maybe you’re supposed to pretend for me--.”
“Stop it,” Gladio hissed.
But now that he’s started, Noctis had no idea how to stop. “Maybe you’re the
one who’s supposed to beg for it, so I don’t have to think about what the fuck
it is I’m actually doing. You can take one for the team.”
“Stop it.”
“Would that make you feel less like a rapist, Gladio? If you were the victim?
If I was the one with my hands down your pants?”
“I said, shut the fuck up!” Gladio roared over Noctis.
Somehow they had ended up inches away from each other again, both heaving for
breath. Noctis could feel the tears leaking down his cheeks. He did nothing to
check them; there was no point.
But then something happened that stopped him short, something almost
incomprehensible.
A single fat teardrop was forming in the corner of Gladio’s left eye. It seemed
to catch the Shield by surprise as gravity did its job, the teardrop rolling
down his cheek until it was caught by his scruff. He blinked rapidly, as his
mouth fell into a confused frown.
Noctis had never seen Gladio cry before. Not once. Not when he’d broken his
leg, not when he’d gotten his ass beat after mouthing off to a Kingsglaive
member, not even when his mother had died.
“Gladio, are you--?”
“We’re done here,” Gladio said sharply. “I’ll call someone to send you home.”
Noctis shook his head slowly, unable to believe that this was how it was all
ending. “Don’t bother. I’ll sleep at the citadel tonight.”
Gladio gave him one last look. It was clear he knew that Noctis was avoiding
Ignis, but he didn’t exactly have a leg to stand on to chide Noct. With a sigh,
Gladio said, “I’m going out of town for the weekend.”
Noctis nodded, and Gladio turned to leave. He made it as far as the doorknob.
Then he swirled back around and added gruffly, “Just don’t do
anything—stupid—while I’m gone. Okay?”
Noctis just stared at him, too emotionally exhausted to keep interacting with
the Shield. With a small huff, Gladio finally left, slamming the door behind
himself.
                                      ***
Chapter End Notes
     * To all those who expected this to be a porn with plot, I truly do
     apologize. I also thought this was going to be a porno when I
     started. I'm blue balling myself too. But this is the story that
     demanded to be written. A big ol' ball of angst and hand wringing.
     **This chapter has a situation in which a character is described in
     great detail as being very uncomfortable with a sexual situation. His
     discomfort is problematically ignored until the last possible moment.
     No touching actually happens, but he is described having a lot of
     reactions that someone might have to an unwanted sexual situation. If
     you want to skip it, skip the scene with Gladio. It's the last
     section.
     Basically they come close to forcing themselves to go through with
     fucking for the ritual and then stop at the last moment. There is
     angst.
     *** Thanks again to all those who left comments. There are people
     that left comments months after my last post, and you truly are the
     reason I got back into my fic. You had no reason to leave me a
     comment on what was practically a dead fic, but you did anyway. Your
     kind words inspire me. :)
***** The Duty of a Friend *****
Chapter Summary
     Noctis and Gladio have surprisingly similar reactions to the events
     of the last chapter.
Chapter Notes
     *Warning for adult language and unhealthy thoughts about sexuality,
     relationships, and sexual expression. Basically what this has been
     from day one.
     ** This was originally part 2 of the last chapter but it mutated in
     the editing process into its own monstrosity, and now it too, is in
     two parts.
     ***Finally, it's been like almost a year since I watched the
     Kingsglaive movie. All characterization and setting details come from
     my limited memory, other people's fanfics, and what i needed for the
     plot. Basically, don't kill me if and when my story doesn't match the
     movie. I think they don't actually live in barracks, for example. But
     I mean, my story has people having sex for magic powers, so you know.
     . . .
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                      ***
                                 *Nyx Ulrich*
                                      ***
When he slept, Nyx Ulrich dreamed of death. Lifeless, shocked faces reaching
for him, grabbing at his pants legs and sleeves, trying to drag him down into
the abyss. Tonight, the dead pulled on his shoulders, shaking him, shouting at
him, their words garbled and indistinct.
“Get up!”
For a moment Nyx struggled between dreams and reality. Someone was grabbing at
his shirt sleeves, but no dead person had ever sounded quite as put out as the
person currently trying to force him out of bed.
“Come on you big lump. It’s a motherfucking emergency.” Nyx blinked his eyes
open to see Libertus shucking his own armor on over his head. For what was
supposedly an emergency, the other Glaive didn’t seem all that concerned.
“Urgh,” Nyx groaned, and rolled over, before finally admitting defeat and
jumping out of bed. “The fuck, Lib?”
“Oh, you’re gonna love this, when you find out what they’re dragging us out of
bed for. I swear to the Six, if I still have to show up for guard duty at the
ass crack of dawn tomorrow.” The Glaive kept grumbling as Nyx joined him in
suiting up. Two other Glaives were already more or less dressed. Nyx could hear
further activity in the barrack hallways. Apparently they weren’t the only ones
being woken for the “motherfucking emergency.”
“What exactly are they dragging us out of bed for?”
“Seems the prince has decided to throw a fucking temper tantrum. And now, of
course, they’ve got to pull the rest of us into it.”
Libertus had finished with his own armor and was just waiting on Nyx. The
Glaive rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and tried to move faster. “Temper
tantrum?”
“Yeah, get this, him and that Chamberlain, Scentia or whatever, decided it
would be a great idea to steal daddy’s car.”
Nyx blinked. “You mean Ignis? Ignis Scientia?”
Libertus nodded.
Nyx shook his head. “I know Ignis. He would never let the prince doing
something like that. It doesn’t make any sense.”
Someone poked their head in the dorm and motioned to the remaining Glaives.
“Come on, rise and shine, assholes.”
Nyx exchanged a glance with Libertus, and then they both hustled into the
hallway.
They all paused in front of main door and got a speech from Glaive Lazarus. The
prince and his advisor were missing. They were last seen speeding off in the
Regalia, and no one had seen them since. The Kingsglaive’s task was to search
the city in pairs and do their best to bring the two in. This was to be kept in
the utmost secrecy.
Glaive Altius raised her hand. “What if they don’t cooperate, sir?”
Lazarus’s face was cold. “Don’t give them the option, Glaive Altius.
Dismissed.”
Libertus and Nyx exchanged an uneasy glance, and then turned and followed the
rest of the Kingsglaive into the city.
                                      ***
                                   *Noctis*
                              *10 hours earlier*
                                      ***
After that disastrous attempt with Gladio, Noctis walked over from the medical
ward to his chambers and locked himself in his room. Once he was alone, he
realized that he had two missed calls from Prompto and a text asking if he had
forgotten that they had planned on going running together that morning.
He swore to himself. Quickly calling Prompto, he lay on his bed and stared at
the stars painted on his ceiling as he spoke. “Dude, Prom, I’m so sorry. I’m
such an ass. I totally forgot we were meeting, and something came up—.”
“It’s fine,” Prompto’s voice was clear on the other end of the line. He did
actually sound fine, but Noctis’s stomach still twisted in guilt.
Even though he felt flayed raw by what had happened earlier with Gladio, and
all he wanted to do was hide in his bedroom for the rest of eternity, he bit
the bullet and offered, “Do you want to meet me somewhere?” He checked the time
and added, “We could go for lunch or something.”
The other teen’s response was unexpected. There was a bit of static and
rustling, and then, “Noctis, is everything okay? You sound—.” Prompto trailed
off, leaving the prince not quite sure what he sounded like.
The lie rose quickly to the tip of Noct’s tongue. He was used to spinning them
for Prompto now. Of course he was fine. He was just tired, always tired, even
though in reality he had not practiced his magic since the exhibition fight.
Physically, he had more energy than he had possessed in months. It was just
everything else that was making him want to crawl into bed and stay there
forever. “I—.” Noctis curled up and buried his head under his forearm. “No,” he
whispered hoarsely, “I’m really not okay.”
Prompto was silent on the other end, and then he asked, “What happened?”
Noctis laughed brokenly. “I can't tell you.”
There was nothing stopping Noctis from telling his friend. Nothing at all but
his own shame. The Ritual of Retainers was no secret. It had existed for too
long and involved too many people to successfully remain so. But being secret
and being widely known were two different things. To those that worked in the
Citadel, keeping the ritual out of the spotlight and private was a way of
supporting the king and his many sacrifices. It was a thing of pride and
cohesion. To be on the ‘in’ was to be trusted, and no one wanted to be the one
who had broken that trust.
Prompto didn’t come from an old military family like Gladio. He didn’t work in
the Citadel like Ignis. He had no reason to know, except that he had become
friends with the three people who were at the epicenter of building the next
generation of retainers. And so Noctis had said,I can't tell you, but what he
meant was, I don’t want to. Please don’t make me make you a part of this too.
“This is about Iggy and Gladio, right?” asked Prompto.
Noctis swallowed and said, “Yes.”
His friend was silent to that for a long moment. Then he said, “I’m sorry,
Noctis.”
“You’re sorry? What do you have to be sorry for?”
“I guess I’ve known for a little while now that something was going on between
you three. And you weren’t telling me about it, and I just kinda told myself,
well if he wanted me to know, then he would tell me. But now I’m thinking that
maybe I should have said something. Like I wasn’t there for you.”
“Prompto,” Noctis said softly. He wanted to punch something in frustration. He
imagined telling Prompto the truth, right here, right now. What would his
friend even say? Well, that sucks. Yeah, it does.
“It’s complicated,” Noctis said instead.
He could almost hear Prompto quirking his eyebrows. “I got that part.”
Noctis snorted despite himself. Still, he figured he owed Prompto some sort of
explanation, even if it wasn’t the full one. “My--.” The prince almost said,
‘My father,’ but then he changed gears. “Gladio, Ignis, and I have to do
something, and it’s—.”
“Complicated?”
“Yeah.” Noctis trailed off, his facing burning in discomfort.
“Hmn,” said Prompto. “Look, I know I’m just a commoner, and I have no idea what
kinda pressure you guys are under.”
“Prompto.”
Prompto ignored Noct’s interruption. “So, if I sound like a total ass, then
just, I don’t know, punch me or something the next time you see me. I know its
Gladio and Ignis’s job to take care of you, and you guys are kinda stuck
together, but it’s way more than a job for them.” Prompto’s voice was intensely
earnest as he spoke. “They both really freaking care about you. And I know that
you feel the same way.”
Noctis knew that too. But sometimes it was one thing to know it, and another
thing entirely to feel it. So, he merely shrugged, then realized Prompto
couldn’t see that. “Yeah,” he added instead.
That Noct, Ignis, and Gladio cared about each other, well yes, of course that
was true. That wasn’t the issue. No, whatever aspect of their relationship was
on the line with this ritual, it was infinitely more fragile. But still, Noctis
almost couldn’t help himself when he asked, “How do you know that?”
“What, that they care about you?”
Noctis made a small noise of affirmation.
“Are you kidding? I know because Iggy lets you play those Altissian pop
stations whenever he drives us around. That takes real love.”
“Dude.”
“Seriously,” the blond teen replied. “Do you think he plays that shit when he
gives me rides home? He bakes you cakes. Like at least three times a week. He
doesn’t exactly have to do that to do his job.” There was a lot of noise on the
end of the line, likely Prompto grabbing a drink or something. Then he
continued, “And I think for Gladio, being a jackass is form of affection.
There’s only two people outside his family I’ve ever seen him care enough about
to fight with. And that’s you and Iggy.”
Noctis wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about the Shield. “Gladio was four when
his dad told him that he would spend the rest of his life serving me,” he said
bitterly. “At least Ignis mostly had a choice.”
It wasn’t like Noct had never thought about how his retainers had come to be
his before now. It was one of those little fears that had slept in the bottom
of his stomach for as long as he could remember. What did their friendship
really mean, if they’d had no meaningful choice in the matter? What if Gladio
weren’t the thirteenth-somethingth of his line to serve as Shield to the line
of Lucis? What if Ignis didn’t feel beholden to the Crown for the opportunities
he had been given and the benefits his rise in status gave his family?
I need you to believe me, when I tell you what I do makes me happy, Ignis had
said. You don’t get to decide for me what I need, Noctis.
Prompto spoke suddenly, his words echoing the prince’s thoughts. “It’s like,
you didn’t get to decide who your dad was, but that doesn’t make you care about
him any less, right? It’s just like that.” When Noctis didn’t answer, he added,
“Would you choose to be born into a different family, if you could?”
Noctis blinked. He leaned back and stared at the twinkling stars that had
lulled him to sleep for most of his childhood. A different dad? A different
family? It was nearly impossible to imagine. The very act of attempting to
envision it felt traitorous and poisonous. He remembered the words of his
ancient ancestor in the Crystal so many months ago,blood calls to blood.I name
thee of the line Lucis Caelum, Protectors of the Crystal.
I name thee.
Noctis had once heard that there was a special sort of magic to names. In the
old fairy tales, the hero would trick and defeat the bad guy by hiding his true
name, only to reveal himself upon victory. Names were important. They had
power, and Noctis was bound by his name as tightly as if it were a real
physical chain. Noctis Lucis Caelum, Protector of the Crystal, Chosen King, and
Bringer of the Dawn, whatever that meant.
Son of Regis Lucis Caelum, the one-hundred and thirteenth King of Lucis and
Protector of the Crystal.
“No. I can't even imagine it,” Noctis said honestly.
“And yet, you didn’t choose it,” insisted Prompto. “Not really.”
“Not at all,” Noctis corrected.
“Even though you had no choice, you wouldn’t change it. You didn’t choose to be
prince of Lucis, but that doesn’t change how you feel about your dad in the
least bit,” Prompto repeated.
“It’s not the same.”
“Maybe not. I don’t really know what’s going on with you three. But I think
you’re afraid of something. It’s in how you refuse to talk about it. And
whatever that thing is, it isn’t some monster from a storybook.”
Noctis took a deep breath.
“I know you,” Prompto continued. “Not as well as Ignis or Gladio, maybe, but
I’ve never seen you afraid of something dangerous before. You gave Gladio a lot
of shit when he had you practically jumping off buildings, but you weren’t
afraid. Which makes me wonder. What are you really afraid of, Noct?”
What was he afraid of? That it would hurt? Since he was supposed to be the
pitcher in this scenario, it wasn’t likely to hurt him. At least that was what
he had always heard about this sort of sex.
Was he afraid of hurting Gladio or Ignis? Neither of them were stupid. Or mute.
Ignis was gay, and he’d had boyfriends before. He presumably knew how to make
it work without one of them harming the other. Gladio probably had less
experience with the mechanics of anal sex, but he was a well-known hedonist. He
had to have experimented at some point in his long string of flings. Noctis had
never even questioned that.
What then was he afraid of? That he would make a fool of himself? He made a
fool of himself all the time in front of them. His learning how to warp had
been more splat than success for the first few months.
He tried to imagine Ignis’s face once the deed was done. The Covenant of
Retainers was an act of creation. That was the old adage. Noctis could almost
see it in his advisor’s eyes; something new, something painful, where there had
been nothing before. A secret, where before there had been none between them.
How did his father do it? How did he face his many retainers, day in and day
out, knowing what each one looked like as he or she was getting fucked with a
royal cock?
Did he compare them?
Did fucking them feel good? Was he allowed to feel good about something so
fundamentally wrong? In some way, he had to. The whole point was to get to
completion. At least his, anyway.
Would it feel good for them, and what if it didn’t? Could he even tell the
difference? Would either one let him know? He pictured Gladio for perhaps the
thousandth time, though it was one of the first times that he truly admitted to
himself who he was picturing.
He envisioned his Shield panting underneath him, remembering how Gladio had
sworn when he was he’d been about to cum so long ago. Would he swear Noctis’s
name?
It was a shameful thing to want.
It was shameful to want Ignis to hold him and reassure him, when it was the
advisor who should be embittered by this, not Noctis. A shameful thing to want
Ignis to want him.
To want Gladio to. . . to beg for it, to be so turned on and needy, the way
Noctis sometimes felt needy after being devoured by his magic, that the Shield
just couldn’t help himself. To hear him whisper filthy things to Noctis. To
have Gladio leaning over him, using his height to hold the prince in place
because the Shield just couldn’t hold back anymore.
And Ignis. His feelings for his advisor were no less confused, even if he
managed to dwell on it less. He remembered how bitter he had felt at even the
possibility that Ignis felt like a ‘babysitter.’ The dynamic which that
implied. Ignis had all the pieces of Noct’s heart in the palm of his hand. He
possessed more of the prince’s vulnerability than any other person, and he had
never, not once, betrayed Noctis’s trust with that access.
Would that remain true after they had fucked each other? Would that precious
trust survive? Would the advisor hide behind a mask of coldness, barely
present, or would he hold Noctis lovingly as they fucked? Which was worse?
“I’m afraid,” said Noctis, “that this is going to fuck up our friendship
forever. All that shit you were just talking about, about how they feel, it’ll
just—break.”
Prompto was silent, obviously thinking about his words very carefully. “Do you
really think either Gladio or Ignis could hold something against you that
apparently you’re all being forced to do, whatever that is?”
Not like that. Not ever.
Ignis would have him think not. But he remembered the look of utter revulsion
on Gladio’s face as he had been about to touch Noctis, and his stomach churned.
How many days had it been since Noctis had found out what was expected of him
in the near future? Five days? It felt like an eternity.
“Noct,” Prompto said in the earnest way that only he was capable of, having
apparently read between the lines of the prince’s silence. “I’m sorry. I’m so,
so sorry. I wish I could help you.”
“Thanks,” he replied, trying put the truth of his gratitude in his inflection.
His friend said, “Look I won’t try anymore to get you to tell me what’s really
going on. I wouldn’t do that to you. But whatever you guys are trying to do
right now, it obviously isn’t working.”
Noctis squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t know how to fix it.”
“Did you talk to them about it?”
I won’t force you to do something you’re uncomfortable with. Not like that, not
ever. “Prompto?” Noct asked.
“Yeah.”
“What would you do, if you—liked—someone you had known for a long time? Someone
you were forced to spend a lot of time with. Would you tell them?”
When he answered, Prompto’s voice had a strange inflection. Noct had a hard
time placing it. “Wow, umm, I guess I would ask myself what I could live with
and what I couldn’t. Could I live with never telling that person? Is what I
have with them enough, or if I told them and was rejected, could I survive it?”
“Could you? Survive it?”
Noctis thought he heard Prompto laugh, but he wasn’t sure. “No, I don’t think
so,” Prompto replied quietly.
“I don’t think so either,” Noctis responded, just as quietly.
After that, the conversation became less serious, though no less strained.
Later Noctis laid on his bed, his phone resting on his chest. His father,
Gladio, Ignis, and even Prompto, they all swirled around in his head.
Everything breaking apart.
Was it wrong, to let this thing affect him so badly? He thought about Nyx
looking at him with hard eyes, saying, what will you do? When it’s one of them
lying in a pool of blood?
Noctis was a coward. He had always been a coward. His comfort and happiness
were nothing compared to the lives of the millions of people protected by the
New Wall and the Kingsglaive. Not for himself had he been born; his fate had
been sealed the moment he came into this world, too sickly to wail.
In the end, Gladio had been right. It wasn’t a big deal, this ritual. Just one
more unpleasant duty in a long line of unpleasant duties. He was the one who
had given it some great, terrible meaning, his warped feelings for his few
friends blowing the act far out of proportion. His unnatural thoughts about his
retainers were what was breaking them apart, not some outside force.
Though he was often accused of being a crybaby, Noctis did not actually cry
very often. But just then, alone in a way he did not often find himself, the
wayward prince curled in a ball and sobbed, great wracking cries that left his
limbs shaking.
                                      ***
                                    *Ignis*
                                      ***
Ignis was reading a very long and very dull report on tax reform proposals when
Gladio let himself into Ignis’s and Noct’s shared penthouse that afternoon. The
advisor lifted his head in surprise. “Gladio?”
The Shield poked his head sheepishly through the kitchen door. “Oh hey, I
thought you’d be out.”
Ignis wasn’t sure what that meant, that Gladio had chosen to come to the
apartment expecting the advisor to not be there. “I thought you’d be training
with Noctis,” Ignis replied, raising his brow at his friend, and setting the
report down on the counter.
“Training? Gladio asked in a distracted voice. “Is that what he—never mind. I’m
just here to borrow Noct’s fishing rod and tackle box. Where did you put it?”
It took Ignis a moment to understand what Gladio was asking him. “You want his
fishing rod? Why?”
Gladio was busy digging through the hall closet. His voice carried into the
kitchen. “Because I’m going fishing, obviously. Gonna spend a few days up on
the mountain. Clear my head, you know?” He came back in the kitchen empty
handed with an expectant look at Ignis.
The advisor blinked at him. Gladio’s family owned a cabin just outside the city
walls. Ignis had been there a few times. The retreat was situated next to a
small lake, far from any popular trails, but not so far as to be dangerous.
“You—you can't do that. We have barely nine days to either convince Noctis or
find some other solution, and you just want to go out of town for a few days?”
Gladio’s expression grew hard and unpleasant. Exhaling loudly, he replied,
“Look, I love you man, but you don’t get to be all high and mighty with me.
Contrary to popular opinion, it isn’t exactly pleasant to be the resident
deflowerer, okay?”
Ignis pushed his glasses up. Where was this suddenly coming from, and what had
Noctis and Gladio been doing in that training to put Gladio so out of sorts?
“What are you talking about?” the advisor asked sharply.
“About being the resident deflower? I’m talking about how you told the king
that I was the perfect man for the job to take his son’s virginity. You just
laid all of that in my lap without so much as asking me. And yeah, I know
exactly what you said,” he added at Ignis’s stricken looked. “The whole damn
Citadel knows exactly what’s going on, thanks to the fucking Kingsglaive gossip
chain.”
Ignis had informed Gladio of the King’s ultimatum right after he’d been given
it. But he hadn’t told Gladio what he’d said to the King, that Gladio was the
best person to handle Noctis’s virginity. He’d left that vague, assuming that
he wouldn’t need to say it. As Shield, Gladio had always been going to end up
in that position either way. “That’s not fair,” replied Ignis. “You’ve never
given me any reason to believe any differently. You’re the one that said over
and over than you didn’t find the prospect of the Covenant distressing.”
“I said it wasn’t a big deal when I thought we’d all be older.” Gladio retorted
with evident frustration. He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe of the
kitchen. “I never thought we’d be doing this when he was sixteen or that he’d
be so fucking skittish about it.”
“Even after we found out about the ultimatum, you seemed fine with it,” Ignis
insisted, shaking his head.
Gladio shrugged. “Yeah, well I figured it’d be like the magic training. He’d
bitch about it, but when push came to shove, he’d get his shit together.”
“You thought he would just accept his fate on his own?” Ignis had a difficult
time understanding how his friend and colleague had ever believed this
enterprise would go that smoothly. Perhaps Gladio was a lot more optimistic
than Ignis gave him credit for.
Dropping his gaze, Gladio hesitantly said, “No, not like that. Like I said, I
thought—but then Noctis and I were in that room, and he was fucking looking at
me, Iggy, just looking at me, and I—Urgh, not like that.”
Ignis felt his stomach drop out from under him at Gladio’s confused and halting
words. “Why are you attacking me with what I said to the king now, Gladio? What
room? What did you do?”
The Shield’s glare grew defensive and he shifted uneasily. “Nothing,
goddammit!” he swore, his voice heating up. “I didn’t do a goddamn thing.”
‘I don’t understand.”
Gladio crossed his arms over his chest, his shoulders rounded. “He came to me,
okay? He told me he was ready.”
Ignis froze, understanding finally coming to him. “And you believed him?!”
“Why the fuck not? This is something he has to do. You act like he can just go
tell his father, the Council, and the rest of the country to fuck off if he
wants. It doesn’t work that way.”
“But it went wrong, didn’t it?”
“It didn’t go anywhere, Ignis. I told you, nothing happened. We’re at the exact
same goddamn place we started.”
They exchanged heated glares. Finally, Ignis shook his head. “Okay,” he said
softly. He wasn’t sure there was anything else he could say. Ignis's own anger
at the Shield was steadily leaking away the longer he watched the other man’s
agonized face, and now he just felt tired. Gladio met his eyes briefly and
nodded with a sigh.
“I’m not a complete idiot,” Gladio said. “I know Noct is just a teenager. He’s
not always going to be the most rational or responsible person, and I don’t
expect him to be. He isn’t perfect.”
Ignis attempted a small smile. “None of us are.”
“But I have to be. Because it’s my job to be perfect when he isn’t. To protect
him. But it’s fucking hard, you know? Sometimes I don’t know what that looks
like.” Gladio shook his head, all the lines of his body tensely coiled. “We’re
so worried about his damned virginity and his feelings, but this thing isn’t
about his feelings. It can't be.”
“But?” supplied Ignis.
Gladio’s eyes glittered brightly with emotion. The Shield had given up all
pretense of being preoccupied with the fishing line. “But this morning, I had
my hand about an inch from his dick, and his eyes were completely dead. The kid
was about as mentally present as a rag doll.” He quirked his lip tiredly, “Very
sexy, by the way. I really dig partners that are so terrified, they can't look
me in the eye while we’re fucking. But anyway, I’m standing there, looking at
his dick and telling myself, Gladio it’s fine. It’s not even really sex. Just
get it over with .” The Shield swallowed deeply.
“He trusts me,” Gladio said, his voice breaking. His next words came out
slightly mangled as he took a shuddering breath. “He trusts me to take care of
him, and all I could think was, if I do this, then that’s going to be between
us for the rest of our lives. That I’m the one that took that from him.”
His expression growing defiant, he added, “So yeah, I walked away. I know I
pissed him off, and that we’re only putting off the inevitable. But Iggy, I’ve
got to live with myself too.”
Ignis squeezed his eyes shut. Sometimes he felt like everything was breaking
apart, piece by piece. “It’s in the guest room.”
“What?”
“The fishing rod and tackle box.” Ignis opened his eyes and leveled a steady
look at Gladio. “It’s what you came here for, right?”
Gladio frowned. “I—Okay. Thanks.”
He left to grab the gear, and Ignis waited in the kitchen. As he came back
through the apartment, Gladio paused in front of his friend. He rubbed the back
of his neck uncomfortably. “I hate the thought that you’re mad at me, Iggy.”
“What makes you think I’m angry with you?”
Gladio just shot him a look. Ignis sighed. “I’m angry. And frustrated. But not
at you. It’s just,” Ignis shrugged helplessly, “All of this.”
Gladio nodded, seeming to accept that. “I’ll be back Monday morning,” he said.
“I promise you, nothing will change between now and then. We’re gonna be fine,
but I just really need time to clear my fucking head.”
Ignis wanted to say to him, don’t you dare leave me alone with this mess, but
what he actually said was, “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
“Me too, Iggy. Me too.”
                                      ***
Noctis did not come home Saturday night. Ignis tried to remind himself that
teenagers were often fickle and hard-headed, and this particular one was
dealing with unspeakable stress. It didn’t mean anything. But the advisor had
not heard from his charge since he’d dropped the teen off at Gladio’s house
that morning.
Nothing happened, goddammit! I didn’t do a goddamn thing!
If Gladio said nothing had happened then Ignis trusted that nothing had truly
happened, at least in Gladio’s head. But what counted as nothing for the Shield
wasn’t usually the same as for anyone else. Ignis stared at his cellphone. No
missed calls or texts.
Would Noctis call him if something were truly wrong?
Perhaps he should have gotten more information from Gladio about the details of
what had transpired between the Shield and the prince, before letting Gladio
run off to the woods for gods knew how long. But supposedly nothing had
happened. At the same time, Gladio had also been talking about looking Noct’s
dick and choosing not to touch him. So something had to have happened.
Ignis hesitated. Then he flipped his phone and opened the favorites, pressing
Gladio’s name. It rang until the automated voicemail system kicked on. He hung
up and stared at his phone. Perhaps he should call Noct instead?
No. He would let it be. Noctis was going through so much, and he deserved his
space. If he wanted to spend the night at the Citadel, then that was his
business.
Even though Noct never wanted to spend the night at the Citadel. Even though it
was Saturday, which meant he should be wanting to hang out with Prompto, and
Noctis never hung out with Prompto at the Citadel except to run some mornings.
Was he avoiding Prompto too?
Ignis called Gladio again. It still went to voicemail. Then he finally called
Noctis, but the prince’s phone was turned off.
He sat on the couch and told himself he should just let it go. Tonight, he
could take the time for himself that he hadn’t been able to since he moved in
with Noct. Hell, he could go out on the town if he wanted, or he could do
literally anything else. No one was asking for his help.
He deserved a break from being the mediator-in-chief of their trifecta.
Ignis grabbed his car keys.
                                      ***
Chapter End Notes
     *Thank you for all the lovely, encouraging comments on the last
     chapter. Y'all give all the warm fuzzies.
***** What a Man Will Do and What a Man Won’t Do *****
Chapter Summary
     Noct's rebellious stunt gets out of hand, and Ignis discovers he has
     a car fetish.
Chapter Notes
     *Warning for adult language and angsting about sex, same as all the
     other chapters.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                      ***
                                   **Ignis**
                                      ***
A little bit later that night, Ignis stood outside the door to the prince’s
rooms. The heavy wood vibrated from the force of the noise coming from inside.
A guard stationed at the end of the hall had a pained look on his face.
“How long has he been like this?” Ignis asked the guard.
“I’ve been here for three hours,” the man answered dryly.
Ignis took a deep breath. “Right.” It seemed he had been right to worry that
something more had happened than what Gladio'd let on. Ignis was going to kill
his friend.
The advisor didn’t bother to knock. The music would have swallowed it anyway,
no matter how hard he rattled the door. As he swung the door open, noise
blasted out, all screaming guitars and pounding, angry drum beats. The room was
a certified disaster zone. It looked like Noctis had taken everything he owned
and thrown it at the far wall as some sort of target practice. Glass littered
the floor.
Noctis was lying down on top of the comforter of his plush bed. His eyes were
closed, but he must have sensed his advisor’s presence because he rolled up
onto his elbows as Ignis approached.
The prince didn’t bother to get up, but he watched as Ignis walked over to the
stereo and paused the music.
The silence that followed was heavenly.
“Usually when people turn their phones off, it’s because they don’t want to be
bothered. I don’t want to talk to you,” said Noctis bluntly.
Ignis was going to need a drastically different tactic. “Good,” he replied, as
he turned back around to face the teen. “The last thing I want to do is talk to
you.” A tiny, repressed part of him wanted to giggle at the way the prince’s
eyes bugged out, but he managed to contain himself.
“Why are you here then?” Noctis asked with a hostile glare, quickly recovering
himself.
Ignis blinked. He hadn’t actually thought that far ahead. Noctis clearly wasn’t
in a mood to talk about his feelings. But Ignis had a suspicion that if he left
the prince here tonight, then something even more destructive was bound to
happen. There was a taste of it in the air that left the back of his neck
prickling.
“Because I, ah, need someone to go out with me. Preferably to the Lone Crow or
someplace similar,” the advisor replied, thinking fast. They had to get out of
the Citadel. He asked pointedly “It is Saturday night. Were you planning on
spending it sulking in here?”
The teen glared at him with suspicion. The obvious flaw in Ignis’s response was
that if he had truly wanted someone to go out partying with, Gladio would have
been a much better candidate, though Ignis wasn’t sure if Noct knew that the
Shield was out of town.
Either way, Ignis had a strong feeling that Noct would be loath to start any
conversation about the Shield. So the question was which did the prince want to
avoid more, the prospect of Ignis dragging him out into the city, or talking
about Gladio?
“You want to take a sixteen-year-old out partying?” Noct asked dubiously.
“Are you planning on asking permission?” replied Ignis, his voice a little
needling. “I just thought we should do something a bit rebellious, that’s all.”
Noctis narrowed his eyes. He seemed to be calculating something. Then he looked
at Ignis with a challenge in his eyes, and he said almost casually, “That
sounds like a great idea. But just sneaking out is so tame. We should take the
Regalia. If we’re going to rebel, then we might as well go all the way.”
Check and mate. So instead of trying to get out of the advisor’s proposition by
bringing up Gladio, Noctis had instead twisted the proposition around into
something that Ignis would never willingly do himself. Ignis wasn’t sure if he
wanted to applaud Noct or slap him.
Sneaking into bars was one thing, but stealing his father’s car was close to
treason. Ignis had often helped Noctis sneak out of the Citadel when they were
younger. It was always surprising anyone who didn’t know them, that Ignis
wasn’t such a stick in the mud as his first impression might have one believe.
But this was the Regalia Noctis was suggesting. It wasn’t just some car.
Which was almost certainly why he had suggested it. “Are you insane, Noct?!
Clarus would literally flay me alive.”
“Then that’s a good reason not to get caught,” Noctis replied, rolling off the
bed. “Come on we’re wasting time.”
Ignis remained firm. “We are not stealing the Regalia.”
Noctis had the smug look of someone who had just won a great battle. “But I
thought you wanted to do something rebellious? Isn’t that what you said? Were
you not being serious, Iggy?”
It was Ignis’s turn to look flabbergasted.
“You want to do all the things that normal teenagers do right, Iggy? Well,
let’s go joyriding.” Now Noctis was starting to look a bit vindictive. “The
idea just keeps sounding better and better the more I think about it.”
All Ignis had wanted was to was get Noctis out of the Citadel and maybe loosen
him up a bit so the prince would be more willing to talk about whatever was
obviously going on. This spark of malevolence was not what he’d had in mind.
“You’ll be caught.” Perhaps that was Noct wanted. Perhaps this was some bout of
self-destruction that Ignis had inadvertently set off.
“Not if you come with me.” Noctis paused and held his hand out expectantly.
Ignis needed to stop this. He’d tried to manipulate the teen and gotten badly
burned for his trouble. Noctis had called his bluff, raising the ante to an
untenable height, and Ignis should fold right here.
“Let’s just go out tonight, Noct,” Ignis pleaded, “We don’t need to be so
destructive. Think about what your father will say once he realizes what you’ve
done. Taking the Regalia won’t exactly be something we can hide.”
Bringing up Noct’s father was a fatal, tactical mistake. Ignis saw that
immediately. “Yes,” Noctis replied coldly. “Gods forbid I make my father angry.
Then he might have to actually talk to me for once.”
The prince turned away from Ignis and walked over towards his balcony. For the
length of heartbeat, Ignis was frozen with indecision. Then he felt his heart
settle in his stomach, and he bounced forward right on Noct’s heels. The prince
looked back at his advisor.
“The Regalia?” Ignis asked again weakly.
“The Regalia,” Noct confirmed, grasping Ignis’s hand and pulling him forward.
“Let’s go.”
                                      ***
About forty minutes later, Ignis and Noctis stood in a small office inside the
royal carport underneath the Citadel, where keys to the Regalia hung in a
locker on the back wall. There had been a guard at the elevator and there would
be another at the carport exit, if they ever made it that far. Getting to the
office had been difficult enough, the trip having involved two emergency
staircases and the laurel tree underneath Noct’s balcony.
Ignis had lost his damn mind. It was the only explanation for why he was
standing guard while Noctis used the sliver-thin knife he had produced from
somewhere in his ever growing weapons’ arsenal to pry open the padlock of the
car-key locker.
“Hurry up,” he hissed at the prince as the clinking of the metal knife on the
lock echoed through the office and into the carport. They were making far too
much noise.
“This isn’t exactly easy, Iggy,” Noctis whispered. “Do you have something
thinner? Like a bobby pin?”
“Why would I have a bobby pin?” Ignis asked, exasperated. Noctis glanced up at
Ignis’s decidedly far too short for bobby pins hair length and shrugged.
Finally, there was the clink of success, and they were staring at a locker full
of keys. Noctis grinned triumphantly. He reached in and withdrew a silver key
ring, wagging it in front of Ignis.
The Regalia. The crown jewel of the royal fleet. Ignis was not rash, not like
Noctis and Gladio tended to be rash. He had no reason at all to be going along
with this, except that he knew Noctis better than perhaps any other person. For
reasons Ignis still had not managed to fully ascertain, though he had extremely
strong suspicions thanks to Gladio, Noctis had been looking for something to
burn tonight, whether the advisor was there or not. Ignis had only managed to
provide the particular fuel the prince had used.
“Well Iggy,” Noctis said with a wicked glint in his eyes, “Let’s have some
fun.”
The two had to move carefully as they snuck back through the carport so that
the guard at the elevator didn’t catch them red-handed. They kept crouched,
using the rows of parked cars for cover. Finally stopping in front of the
object of their mischief, Noct exchanged a series of glances with Ignis and
then handed the advisor the silver ring of keys. The prince left his friend
crouched next to the Regalia, moving cautiously several cars away, then he
jumped up with a clattering of noise.
The man posted at the elevator was older, with a hard, sun-weathered face and
salt and pepper hair. His insignia revealed him as a member of the Crownsguard,
which was better for the two mischief makers than the possibility of facing a
Kingsglaive.
Both the Kingsglaive and the Crownsguard had augmented physical abilities from
their connection with the king. They had nearly a supernatural ability to work
together in battle, but they differed significantly in the specific royal magic
they received. The Kingsglaive, the county’s front line troops, had the ability
to warp from King Regis, a feat only possible through the use of the Ring of
Lucis. Whereas, the Crownsguard could summon a much greater arsenal of weapons
than the Kingsglaive, but they could not warp. Their job was to protect the
king and the Citadel, and so fancy movement was not as much of a necessity as
the ability to work together to guard the only thing that kept their country
from ruin.
It was why Regis was so insistent that Noctis begin to bond with his own men.
No protection could come close to the incredible bond between various members
of the Kingsglaive, Crownsguard, and their king.
Since this guard was Crownsguard and not Kingsglaive, he would have a much
harder time chasing after the two boys than someone who could warp, and they
were counting on that. Noctis stood up suddenly, making as much noise as
humanly possible.
“Who’s there?!” The guard straightened from his slouch against the elevator, a
long spear appearing in his hand in a swirl of silver sparks.
Noctis raised his hands disarmingly with an awkward laugh. He began to move
opposite of the direction of the Regalia. “Hey there, fancy seeing you here.”
Ignis resisted the urge to drop his head into a face palm, and began the work
of unlocking the car door with as little noise as possible.
“Prince Noctis? Is that you? What are you doing?”
“Well, you see the thing is—I mean—umm—you can’t tell anyone I’m here,”
stammered Noctis, sounding anything but innocent.
“Your Highness, what are you doing sneaking around the carport?” There was a
pause and then, “Are you alone? I don’t understand.”
Because he had used the physical key and not the automatic, the car didn’t beep
when Ignis opened it, but the door still made a loud clicking noise. The
advisor knew he had to move fast at this point. He slid into the driver’s seat,
keeping his head ducked. Though it was muffled by the car door, Ignis could
still hear Noctis talking.
“I’m totally alone! Very alone. Because I’m uuhh, planning on meeting someone?”
Ignis winced. That statement had literally made no sense. He could see through
the rearview mirror that Noctis was standing in front the guard from the
opposite direction of the Regalia, doing his best to keep the man’s attention
facing the other way.
“Meeting who?”
“—A girl?” Noctis sounded like he wasn’t even sure what a girl was. How someone
could have as many years of training in diplomacy and subterfuge as Noct and
still be that bad at lying under pressure was beyond Ignis.
“A girl?” the Crownsguard repeated skeptically.
Ignis turned the engine. The headlights blared to life, refracting blinding
beams of white light across the walls of the carport.
“Hey!”
He’d had no chance to adjust the mirrors or seats, but they were close enough
to what Ignis preferred. The car rumbled with untapped energy, eagerly purring
as Ignis grasped the gearshift. It slid into reverse as smooth as butter, and
he punched it backwards, twisting the wheel at the last second, and letting the
car slide sideways towards where Noct and the Guard were standing.
Ignis pulled the Regalia around at what was probably a dangerous speed in such
a narrow space. He hadn’t wanted to do this, but now that he had committed, his
heart was racing with exhilaration. The car stopped about fifteen feet away
from Noctis and the guard. Still holding his spear, the guard had yet to make a
move, a look of utter bafflement plastered across his face.
The advisor and prince locked eyes from their respective positions. Noctis dove
forward just as the guard started to grab at him. Ignis saw it almost in slow
motion, how Noctis’s momentum sprang into action like a trained sprinter.
Gladio’s influence probably. And then guard was grasping nothing but air, while
Noctis produced a short knife identical to those of the Kingsglaive. He threw
it towards the Regalia, disappearing in an explosive splash of magic sparks.
Ruining any impressiveness his actions might have had, the prince narrowly
avoided spearing the car. He reappeared too close and barreled torso first into
the passenger-side car door. Ignis felt the painful sounding thud shake the
car, and he winced.
Noctis recovered quickly however, and then he slid into the passenger-side,
waving frantically at Ignis to hit the gas. Hit the gas Ignis did, the tires
squealing as the car exploded forward. The teenager barely had time to close
his door.
They were on the second basement floor, which meant they had go up two floors
to get to the entrance. Ignis took the turns at max speed, flinging Noctis into
the door every few seconds. He didn’t seem to mind, however, his face bright
red and laughing. As they came around the last turn, the prince rolled the
window down, leaned out the side, and aimed for the levered wooden obstruction
that blocked the carport entrance. A guard was sitting in a plastic chair next
to the exit lane.
Ignis didn’t slow down as they headed straight for the exit. Noctis had said he
could do it, and the advisor believed him. Ignis saw out of the corner of his
eye how Noctis become still with focus as he hung out the window, and then the
prince threw a sword at the joint connecting the lever and its base. He missed.
They were nearly on top of the levered obstruction now. Ignis did not let
himself panic. The sword reappeared in Noctis’s hand, and he took another shot.
This time his weapon connected. There was the dull force of the joint being
cleaved in half, and then the parking lever clattered to the ground.
Meanwhile, the guard was waving his hands at them, shouting something Ignis
didn’t care to hear over the roar of the Regalia’s V8 engine. He drove straight
over the broken parking lever, nearly jolting Noctis out of his seat. That
couldn’t have good for the alignment. They swerved out into the open, with
Noctis whooping and laughing as Ignis sped down the street.
They were free.
                                      ***
The two were not followed, at least not immediately. Not that Ignis had
expected some high speed chase through the streets of Insomnia. They hadn’t
exactly hidden who they were or what they were doing, and Noct was well known
for his sporadically defiant antics, although it had been a while since a major
incident.
Still, Ignis’s chest was heavy, his breathing slow and foreign feeling. His
senses seemed to be working only in short flashes. The smell of leather and
burnt dust. Condensation on the frosted windows. Heat on his hands as he held
the gearshift. Noctis trailing his fingers across the radio and dashboard.
The teenager’s hands were so strangely delicate. Ignis wondered what it would
taste like, to reach over and kiss the pad of his thumb.
With a choke, Ignis opened his window, letting the early March air blast some
sense into him. “What do you want to do now, Noct?” he asked over the sound of
the wind ripping through the open window.
Noctis was still playing with the dashboard. He looked up, his crystal blue
eyes meeting Ignis’s. “I want to drive of course,” he demanded, “Move over,
Iggy.”
Ignis snorted. He had gotten them out of the rich part of town, taking the
turnpike for the pure pleasure of having the room to let the Regalia move. The
advisor had been less than keen on the idea of joyriding, but even he had to
appreciate the pure craftsmanshift of a car like the Regalia. Such creations
were meant to be used, not waste away in a dusty garage. “Do you even know how
to drive a manual shift?” he asked as he demonstrated his own skill, shifting
up another gear and feeling the transmission respond beautifully.
Noctis made a face. “Gladio has been practicing with me. It’s totally fine.”
Ignis shot him a quick, dubious look. The prince met it as blandly as possible.
Rolling his eyes, Ignis flicked the turn signal, moving them back into the
right lane. “We’ll pull off by the munitions factory,” he said. “It’s the next
exit.”
Noctis nodded and leaned back against the headrest.
In the wide-open, empty parking lot, they switched places. Ignis insisted that
Noctis adjust the mirror and seats, much to the teen’s annoyance.
‘Happy now?” Noct snarled, though there was no real bite to his anger. The
prince took a deep breath and moved his hand to the gear shift, his foot just
beginning to release his press on the clutch.
“Parking break,” Ignis reminded him gently.
“Right,” came the sheepish answer. Noct adjusted accordingly, and tried again.
Sadly, the second time wasn’t exactly a raving success, the car lurching
forward and finally stalling out as Noct tried and failed to engage first gear.
“I’m beginning to think that Gladio and I have very different ideas of what
constitutes practice,” Ignis said mildly.
Bright pink color crawled up the back of Noct’s neck as he muttered, “Well, we
might have only practiced once.”
“Once?”
“For about twenty minutes.”
Ignis raised his eyebrows at the teen.
“With Gladio's two-door.”
In other words, Noctis had practiced with a car so far from the Regalia’s
league that driving it might as well have been an entirely different activity.
Ignis glanced over at his charge. The teen was determinedly not looking back at
him. Noct’s hair drifted wildly in every possible direction, like he’d stuck
his hand in light socket. Probably what happened when the wind met his hair
gel.
“Alright,” said Ignis. He leaned over so that he could see more clearly what
Noctis’s foot was doing. “We’re going to try again. This time, try to release
the clutch at the same time you press the gas. Together.” Noctis bit his lip as
he complied. The car made a horrid screeching noise when he didn’t press the
clutch down far enough, making Ignis cringe for the gears. Maybe the Regalia
wasn’t the best car to be learning stick with. But even though the car
complained, Noct did manage to get it moving forward.
“Excellent,” murmured Ignis, still leaning over Noct. The teen shivered, but he
was too focused on his task to give Ignis his full attention. Ignis settled
back into his seat and carefully watched his charge, a strange, heavy warmth in
the pit of his stomach. For the next several minutes, they slowly worked their
way up to second and then third gear, the Regalia zipping and zooming across
the huge parking lot.
At one point, after successfully shifting up and down several times, Noctis
turned to give Ignis a bright, triumphant grin. That grin transformed his face,
made his eyes blaze with blue light and the tiniest crinkle of a dimple form on
his cheeks. It was such a difference from his earlier sunken apathy and
maliciousness that the advisor swallowed his breath to see it.
As he met that open smile, Ignis was seized with a sudden, intense desire to
close the distance over the gear shift, to capture the teen’s mouth with his
own, to devour that grin and transmute it into something violently passionate.
Noctis had no idea what he was doing when he teased like that, no idea of his
effect on others.
But Ignis could teach him. After all, was he not his teacher in all other
aspects of life as well? Noctis had no idea of the true power that he
possessed.
But Ignis could show him.
“Stop the car!”
Noctis jerked his head. “What?”
“Stop the car, Noct! Please.”
Noctis’s downshift was not the most graceful thing to ever happen to the
Regalia, but eventually he slid to a stop. Ignis barely waited for the wheels
to stop rolling before he launched himself out the door. The freezing air was
like a slap to his face, and Ignis welcomed it. What the hell was wrong with
him?!
For some reason, his breathing had become fast and shallow. Mortifyingly, his
dick was rock hard in his pants. He braced his hands against the roof of the
car and closed his eyes.
When the hell had this snuck up on him? These feelings, they were practically
predatory. Since when had he thought about Noctis like this? Since when had he
looked at the sixteen-year-old and seen a thin, lithe body and raven,
girlishly-soft hair? Since when had he noticed soul-piercingly blue eyes, fine
cheekbones, and flush, petulant lips?
What it because of their looming task? Ignis was the only one of the three who
had been treating it with any amount of sensibility. At least, he had thought
so. Was he truly that delusional? And could such feelings be created in the
span of five days, if there were nothing for them to blossom from? He was
sickening. It wasn’t like he had never seen Noct in stages of undress before,
or never been confronted with the teen’s sexuality before. He did his laundry
for Gods’ sakes.
What kind of monster was he?
Ignis jerked his head up at the slam of the car door. He could barely make
himself meet Noctis’s eyes as the teen moved around the hood of the car.
“Iggy, are you okay? What the hell happened?” Noctis’s voice was full of
innocent concern.
“Don’t touch me,” Ignis snapped as Noctis reached over to place his hand on his
advisor’s shoulder. Noct froze, and Ignis mentally swore at himself. Even now
his thoughts were torn between self-disgust and the strange desire to push the
prince up against the side of the car. I’ll show you what’s wrong with me.
Ignis choked and squeezed his eyes shut once again.
“Ignis?” Noct’s voice had grown even softer. He didn’t try to touch the advisor
again.
Ignis wanted to tell the prince the truth of the strange feelings swirling
around inside him. A large part of him wanted to talk to Gladio, to get his
advice. The bigger part of him wanted to carve his libido out of his brain with
a rusty scalpel. And the most secret part of him wanted to hear Noctis gasping
and making those sweet little noises Ignis just knew the teen was capable of.
To hear his ass slap against the hood of the Regalia.
It was like once woken up, there was a monster prowling inside Ignis,
threatening to destroy everything he loved.
He did not have thoughts like these. He was proper and refined, and ever
correct.
Ignis had lost is virginity to another page in the Citadel, fumbling around in
the dark. The act had been quick and altogether uninspiring. At fifteen, he had
been a year younger than Noctis now, but probably more mature. Even so, he
wished he’d waited. He’d had other encounters in the years since, one lover
from the Kingsglaive that he still saw occasionally, but nothing serious or
frequent.
Unlike Ignis, Gladio’s lovers were all female, and he somehow seemed to take
them both far more and far less seriously. For one, his lovers were treated
with all the fanfare of actual girlfriends. They clung to his arm at public
events, met his parents, and demanded trinkets and romantic dates. However, he
also seemed to have a new one every month or so, his dry spells never lasting
very long.
Other than his first encounter, which had been mutual, Ignis had never taken
anyone’s virginity. That was more Gladio’s thing, or at least it had been. The
Shield seemed to be changing his tune about sleeping with with anything that
had legs. Still, Ignis preferred his lovers with a bit of maturity and
discretion.
Maturity and discretion weren’t words one would normally use to describe Noctis
Lucis Caelum.
The prince was still standing close enough to him, that Ignis felt it when he
suddenly stiffened.
Ignis shot him a questioning look. Noctis frowned, his body suddenly gone
tense, and he said barely audibly, “ Magic.”
All thoughts of libido and sex froze. “What sort of magic,” Ignis asked
quickly, his mind settling into something cold and hard.
Noctis’s frown deepened. His expression grew confused. “My—father’s, I think.”
Ignis blinked, and then they both swirled around.
Nyx Ulrich stood there ten feet away from the car, wearing only about three-
fourths of his uniform, seemingly nonchalant, his limbs relaxed. But his dark
eyes betrayed him, their graveness promising violence. Ignis had a very bad
feeling about this.
“Your Highness,” the Kingsglaive greeted politely.
From beside Ignis, Noctis’s tone was just as courteous. “Glaive Ulrich.”
“You do keep my nights exciting, Highness. But I’m going to have to insist that
you give me those keys and return with me. You don’t have permission to access
the Regalia.”
Ignis risked a sideways glance to see that Noctis was indeed holding the keys
in his other hand. Noctis twirled the keyring around on his forefinger. Nyx
glanced sideways at the spinning keys, and then he raised his eyebrows at the
prince expectantly.
Noctis’s voice grew far harsher, all his earlier softness and concern
vanishing. “Leave, Nyx.”
The Glaive cocked his head at the prince. “No can do, Noct. Orders are orders.”
Noctis’s mouth twitched at the Glaive’s informal address. “Leave, or I’ll make
you.”
“You’re welcome to try,” Nyx responded, sounding almost bored.
“Noctis,” Ignis interrupted in warning.
The prince ignored him. The engine blade appeared in his hand with an eruption
of sparks. No, Ignis realized almost immediately. The replica engine blade. The
training weapon Gladio had commissioned right after Noctis’s birthday. Noctis
moved away from Ignis and the car, closing the distance on the Kingsglaive by
several feet.
“I thought we’d already had this discussion, Your Highness,” Nyx drawled. “I
believe the result was rather unambiguous.”
“Maybe I want a rematch.”
In another interruption, Ignis asked, “Where is your partner, Glaive Ulrich? I
wasn’t aware that they sent Kingsglaive out alone, these days.”
“He’s around.”
Ignis frowned.
Meanwhile, Nyx glanced down at the prince’s weapon. “Is it sharp?” he asked.
Noctis responded honestly, “No.”
The Kingsglaive nodded.
Feeling more and more frantic, Ignis pleaded to the back of Noctis’s head.
“Your Highness, please, think this through. We’ve had our fun. Things will go a
lot easier for us if we stop now. Don’t do something you can't take back.”
“This isn’t any of your business, Ignis. Stay out of it.” Noctis said.
Ignis ignored the painful ball of hurt that lodged itself in the back of his
throat at his prince’s dismissive words. He didn’t mean it. He was prepared to
keep entreating the prince, when Noct suddenly moved.
The force of their weapons colliding shook Ignis. For the first few seconds, he
could barely see anything, as both combatants produced so many magical sparks
from phasing and warping that they seemed more like a dust cloud than two
fighting humans.
Ignis had seen Noctis spar countless times before, but he had never seen this
level of pure violence and viciousness.
After the first few clashes didn’t produce an easy winner, the fight slowed
down, and Ignis could finally make out a clear flow to the battle. Every slash
of Noct’s that the Glaive didn’t manage to phase through hit with such force
that Nyx was pushed back several steps. However, the Glaive was giving back as
good as he got, forcing Noctis to dance around even with his much shorter
knife, getting inside the prince’s guard more often than not.
Though Noctis had the reach advantage, Nyx had the far more important talent
advantage. A fact that he demonstrated when he easily hooked a leg behind
Noctis, tumbling them to the ground.
Ignis did not miss how this switch to grappling only occurred after Nyx had
maneuvered the prince towards one of the grassy strips that marked the
boundaries between parking sections.
They landed with Nyx on top, knees digging into Noctis’s armpits. Both weapons
disappeared as the prince desperately bucked up and to the side, trying to get
enough room to throw the Glaive off of himself. Unfortunately for Noctis, Nyx
knew how to use his weight advantage, giving Noct a hard elbow to the face for
the teen’s trouble and preventing him from equalizing their positions.
If the talent difference had been clear with swords, it was astronomical with
this down and dirty form of combat.
Noctis is going to lose , Ignis realized. It was inevitable. Perhaps it had
been inevitable from the moment the fight had begun, but it certainly was now.
Logically, Noctis losing was the best outcome. The longer the night went on,
the worse the consequences would be for the teen. Ulrich was accomplishing
through force what Ignis had failed to do with negotiation.
But somehow, it felt like there was more at stake here than a simple rematch.
Something more than a grounding or scolding. When Noctis lost here, it would be
just one more aspect of his life where he had been stripped of control. One
more erosion of agency in a long history of erosions. It made Ignis’s hands
itch with the need to draw his own weapons, the two daggers strapped underneath
the folds of his shirt.
Still, Noctis had ordered Ignis to stand down.
It ended when Nyx took control of the prince’s arm, twisting around with a
smooth, practiced movement until the Glaive held him a classic armbar.
Ignis moved towards the two combatants.
Noctis swore and gasped. It had to be extraordinarily painful. The prince
twisted and fought, but that increased the pressure on his elbow until his
cries turned sharp with pain, and he was pounding his other arm against the
Glaive in a clear sign of surrender.
Ignis threw the first dagger.
It buried itself with incredible precision in the Kingsglaive’s sleeve,
trapping his hand against the ground like a tent stake.
As the armbar was forcibly released, Noctis took a gasping breath and scrambled
away. Nyx was reaching over to release himself when Ignis threw his second
dagger, trapping the man’s other arm in exactly the same way, spearing him to
the ground.
Nyx struggled, but he was undone by the quality of his own uniform, heavy black
sleeves meant to endure the rigors of combat. Finally, he stopped and met
Ignis’s gaze directly, his eyes unreadable. A steady drip of blood was coming
from his nose where Noctis must have gotten a lucky hit.
“I believe His Highness told you to stay out of it,” Ulrich said in an even
tone.
Ignis leveled his own gaze back at the Kingsglaive. “He did,” the advisor
agreed. There was a heavy weight in his chest as he spoke. “But I make my own
choices.” The words had a feeling of finality to them. Like a declaration, a
line in the sand, that once spoken could not be taken back.
Though he faced the Kingsglaive, Ignis could feel Noctis’s wide eyes boring
into him.
I can give you my service and my devotion, and everything else from now until
we’re both dead in the ground, Noctis, thought Ignis, But I can’t give away my
soul.
Turning back to face the teen, he saw that the prince didn’t look much better
than his opponent. A bright bruise was already beginning to form on Noct’s
cheek where the Kingsglaive’s elbow had struck. Smears of dirt covered the
sides of his black jacket and likely his back too, and both knees of his pants
were torn to shreds. Blood dripped from a scrape on his knee and another on his
forearm.
“What do you want to do now?” he quietly asked the teen.
Noctis shook his head.
Ignis sighed and proceeded to walk over and pick up the key ring where Noctis
had dropped it upon launching his attack. The advisor was tired. He’d been
tired for a while now, but this felt different. I don’t want to do this alone
anymore, he thought. Looking back at the prince, he motioned for Noctis to
follow him.
After only a slight hesitation, Noct complied. Ignis climbed in the driver’s
seat, turning on the car as the teen gingerly slid in next to him. He glanced
at the rearview mirror to see that Nyx had not yet moved from where the advisor
had trapped him.
Ignis wasn’t sure if he believed that the Glaive really had no way to rescue
himself. Even if Ulrich could not warp without the room to throw a weapon, he
had to have other means of escape. After all, they had yet to see hide or hair
of his mysterious partner.
The advisor didn’t know how the Kingsglaive had found them; if they had just
been lucky, or if Ignis and Noct were in for a repeat scenario with more
Kingsglaive the second they stopped the car. Frankly, he no longer had the
energy to worry about it either way.
Both Ignis and Noct were silent for a long time as Ignis drove away. Neither
one noticed as another figure in black approached the prostrate Nyx, freeing
him just as the Regalia pulled away.
The silence in the car stretched and stretched until Noctis was fidgeting
incessantly, glancing back and forth at Ignis. The advisor didn’t have the
energy to coax Noctis’s words into the open, any more than he had the energy to
worry about what may or may not happen with the Kingsglaive. Really, the only
thing keeping him together was the mindless, predictable comfort that driving
never failed to provide.
Finally, Noctis gathered the gumption to start a conversation on his own.
“Where are we going?” the prince demanded.
Ignis kept his eyes on the road as he spoke. “We’re going to where we need to
be to end this once and for all.”
                                      ***
                                **Nyx Ulrich**
                                      ***
“You should have let me call for back up,” Libertus grumbled as he yanked one
of Ignis's knives out from Nyx's sleeve. “If Captain Drautos finds out we
basically let them go, he’ll kill us.”
Nyx’s thoughts were far away. He ignored his friend.
“Earth to Nyx?” Libertus waved his hand in front of the other’s face. “Hey
asshole, are you listening to me?”
“He really wants to fuck him. Poor bastard.” Nyx said suddenly.
Libertus shook his head. “What?”
“The advisor, Ignis,” Nyx repeated. Libertus turned back to face the direction
that the car had gone, and then he looked at his friend with a raised eyebrow.
Nyx’s grin grew smug, adding, “Really, for someone who’s been so dramatic about
the Covenant, he sure does seem to want to take some good old princely cock up
the ass.”
Libertus rolled his eyes. “Gods, you’re disgusting.”
Unconcerned, Nyx shrugged. “Nah, just practical.”
“Sounds like you’d volunteer yourself,” Libertus muttered.
Nyx blinked at him, looking surprised. “What, and you wouldn’t do it again?
Feel that again?”
Libertus didn’t answer.
Nyx snorted. “At least I’m honest.”
“You honestly lost on purpose,” Libertus snapped at him.
Narrowing his eyes, Nyx asked, “Did I now?”
Libertus looked unimpressed. Nyx once again let his gaze drift to where the
Regalia had disappeared. “It isn’t my job send errant teenagers back to bed,”
he said quietly, “That’s not what I was given this power for.”
“You’re supposed to obey orders.”
Nyx turned to face his friend, his grin teasing. He repeated the prince’s
advisor’s words back to Libertus in a sing-songy voice, “But, I make my own
choices.”
Libertus punched him in the shoulder and muttered, “Asshole.” The Glaives
turned back the way they had come and started walking. “Come one, let’s go
report to Lazarus. Astrals know what we’re actually going to say to him.”
“Aw, you’ll think of something.”
Libertus gave Nyx an incredulous look. “You mean, you’ll think of something.”
                                      ***
Chapter End Notes
     *Next chapter might be take little while more that these last two
     because I have very little written and even less edited, but it's
     coming. The muse is still strong Y'all.
     **I also wanted to be clear as we're obviously gearing up for the
     climax, at least for this arc. This part of the story focuses very
     heavily on Noct's relationship with Gladio and Ignis. That's because
     in my head cannon those three become friends before Prompto is even
     in the picture. I think it helps explain Prompto's feelings of
     inadequacy and outsiderness. He's afraid that he'll never be as close
     to the other three as they are to each other with all the history
     they have together.
     Obviously there's no OT4 without our fourth, but i wanted to be clear
     that Prompto will basically have an arc after the climax of this one,
     in which we will see the fallout from upcoming decisions our
     characters make and also will see how Prompto gets finally gets
     dragged in the middle of this hot mess. I didnt want any Prompto fans
     to worry. He'll get his focus.
     ***Comments and Kudos are love. Thank you so much. :)
***** The Loneliest Man in the Citadel *****
Chapter Summary
     Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio make a choice.
Chapter Notes
     Do angst and drama need a warning?
     This chapter was very difficult to write. It's messy, but so is life,
     so you know . . . I hope ya'll enjoy. :)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                      ***
                            **Gladiolus Amicitia**
                                      ***
Fishing, decided Gladio, was painfully boring. It was an activity for people
who had not yet discovered the far superior outdoor hobbies of hiking and
mountain climbing. His feelings had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that
he had not caught a single fish in the four hours he’d been doing this.
Nothing at all.
The Amicitia family owned a cabin in a popular retreat on a pristine mountain
lake outside the city. Gladio could still remember how much he’d loved coming
here as a child before things with the empire had gotten really bad. He even
had a couple of youthful memories of Noctis being with them, and in fact, he
was pretty sure Noctis had learned to swim in this very lake.
As dusk fell, he shook the fishing rod for the last time and sighed, finally
deciding to call it a day. Time to reel in the line and consign himself to
whatever was left in the cabinets from the last time someone had been here.
The cabin itself was pretty basic. It had everything you’d want in a family
retreat: three bedrooms, a decently stocked kitchen, piles of board games, a
wall covered in various weapons and hunting gear, and a deep freezer for the
meaty spoils of that gear. Everything the Amicitia family needed to kick back
and relax. Scrounging for dinner, Gladio found a can of beans and some frozen
bread that he managed to resuscitate in the oven. It wasn’t glamourous, but the
important thing was that someone had left a few cans of beer in the fridge.
Life’s small mercies.
The last bit of twilight had long since surrendered to full darkness by the
time he cracked open a cold one and retired to the porch swing. The early March
air was still crisp with the dying gasp of winter. With a sign of contentment,
he let himself absorb the creak of his swinging and the sound of wind curling
around trees that had yet to grow spring leaves. When was the last time he had
stopped and taken the time just to be still? He couldn’t remember. It was
always Noctis, or Iris, or training, or some crisis at the Citadel.
As he closed his eyes, his mind wandered, finally taking apart and processing
the events of the past week.
It had all started with that damn exhibition fight. Noctis jumping in front of
him. King Regis’s clear and stinging distrust of their ability to protect his
son. The attack on the magical city wall.
The king thinks he’s dying. As the swing went up and down, Gladio examined the
thought coldly, poking and prodding at it. He couldn’t imagine a life without
King Regis, without his father always there, just behind Regis’s shoulder.
Noctis and his retainers were the vanguard of the next generation, and they
weren’t ready.
The king’s chosen method of preparing them for that future had exposed a fatal
weakness in how he’d raised Noctis. On the one hand, Noctis had been groomed to
turn his efforts towards being a sacrifice for his people, just like his father
and his father before him. Yet on the other hand, King Regis had seen fit to
try to give Noctis as normal a childhood as possible, given the circumstances.
The prince had been allowed to play, to goof off, and to make mistakes,
spending afternoons hanging out at the arcade with Prompto instead of attending
council meetings.
That was where Noctis and Gladio were fundamentally different. Gladio too, had
been told from a young age that his life was not his own to live. But he had
always embraced that responsibility, even if he hadn’t always embraced Noctis
himself. And while, even in his darkest moments of resentment, Gladio had never
lost sight of his eventual purpose, Noctis seemed to have forgotten that he was
always going to have to fuck his way through the entire Crownsguard and
Kingsglaive.
Noctis was unwilling to give up the normalcy of being able to lose his
virginity on his own terms, but his fleeting childhood reprieves from his
responsibility had been just that, reprieves.
Reflecting on that, Gladio came to a realization about himself.
In the secret, repressed part of his subconscious, he resented Noctis for the
prince’s belief that he would ever have that choice. Gladio, in contrast, had
always given everything ever asked of him to the Crown. He had never
complained, not once, but yet Noctis, who had been blessed with so much
support, had not only been allowed to have those glimpses of freedom, but he
had the audacity to demand even more. It wasn’t fair.
Gladio took a swig of his beer and pushed the porch swing as far back as it
would go before releasing it. It wasn’t a nice feeling, this petty jealousy.
Gladio wasn’t used to it. He spent most of his time being glad that he wasn’t
Noctis, glad that he didn’t face the kind of pressures the younger teen did.
But even though it was never pleasant to look inside and see ugliness, Gladio
had never been the sort of person to willingly hide from himself either. Noctis
hadn’t chosen his lot in life, any more than Gladio had. And Gladio shuddered
to think of what a life of pure duty would have done to Noctis’s soul.
I love him too much to ever wish that on him.
Another swig of his beer and a second, powerful thought hit him.
He was ashamed of himself.
It seemed like he had yet to learn to balance the good of the Crown vs. the
good of the prince. Even though he’d promised himself the last time he had been
faced with these competing pressures, that he would choose differently, that he
would choose Noctis. The truth was that the prince deserved to be angry about
this. Nothing about it was fair.
Even if Gladio and Ignis refused to follow through with their own duty, Noctis
would not lose the pressure to perform the ritual. The responsibility would
just move from Gladio and Ignis to Captain Drautos, the leader of the
Kingsglaive. Even though whoever Drautos chose from Kingsglaive wouldn’t be
able to force Noctis to release his magic during sex any more than Gladio and
Ignis could have, they wouldn’t have to go that far.
Noctis was easily manipulated if you were fucking heartless. He broke under
guilt trips and harsh words, quickly shutting down and retreating into himself,
becoming pliant. Then it became a simple thing to take a lack of a no as a yes.
Gladio himself had come painfully close to something like that yesterday, much
as it hurt to admit it to himself.
Unless Noctis had a complete change of heart about the ritual, he was facing
something as close to rape as to make the difference immaterial.
But even if it were Gladio and Ignis, how could they force him to complete the
Ritual without using the same pushy tactics? Gladio curled his fist in
frustration, thinking about it. Noctis didn’t want to sleep with any one of
them, and Gladio couldn’t change that by wishing. What it better to be coerced
by two people who cared about you, rather than strangers? Or was that worse?
Gladio finished his first beer, and with a grunt, he leaned over and opened the
second, taking such a long gulp that he swallowed a quarter of the beer in the
first sip.
If only they could do it on their own terms . . . If only it wasn’t about magic
and duty.
Before he could follow that thought further, Gladio was suddenly drawn out of
his self-reflection by the sound of rolling tires on gravel. He frowned and
rose from his slouch on the swing. From where he stood, all he could see were
bright headlights. What was another car doing here?
His sword leaned against the door where he’d left it when he arrived. He
hesitated a moment longer, and then he grabbed the weapon as the strange car
slid to a stop next to his own. The headlights finally turned off as whoever
was inside cut the engine, but it was still too dark to make out details.
“This is private property, asshole,” he called out as he hefted his sword.
“You’re at the wrong house.”
The driver-side door opened, but still Gladio struggled to see who it was.
“Gods, you’re so aggressive sometimes,” came a very familiar voice as the
stranger climbed out of the car and slammed the door closed.
Gladio nearly dropped his sword. “Ignis?!”
                                      ***
                                **Nyx Ulrich**
                                      ***
Nyx had a very bad feeling about this. After giving their report, he and
Libertus had been told to hang tight, that someone important wished to speak
with them.
“I can't believe you dragged me into this,” Libertus muttered again. Nyx didn’t
bother answering. There was nothing to do but wait and take their punishment
like men.
A slick, black car finally rolled up to where they were standing. Both Glaives
scrambled to straighten up and stand at attention as none other than the King
of Lucis climbed out of the back.
Nyx heard Libertus groan under his breath next to him. “Astrals, we are so
fucked.” Despite himself, Nyx was starting to agree with that assessment.
Everyone knew how protective the king was over his son, and not only had they
let the prince get away, Nyx had given him a heavy blow to the face for his
trouble.
Perhaps they should have lied about that part.
“Glaive Ostium, Glaive Ulrich,” King Regis greeted respectfully. Both
Kingsglaive bowed low. Other than a few official ceremonies, Nyx hadn’t been
this close to the king since the night he received his powers. It was vaguely
unnerving.
The king didn’t seem to notice any nerves on the Kingsglaive’s part, however.
Instead, he asked them to repeat their story yet again. The Crownsguard leader,
Clarus Amicitia, had exited the car and stood behind the king, glaring at them
venomously. So, at least one person blamed them for losing the prince.
Well, he owed it to Libertus to take the fall for this one. With a dry swallow,
Nyx did as he was bid, explaining how they had come to search the industrial
sector.
“Everyone else seemed to think my son would choose to go where the night life
was, Glaive Ulrich,” the king said mildly. “How is it, that you two came to
search an empty factory parking lot instead?”
“With respect, Your Majesty, anyone could have guessed that. They stole a car
that can go zero to sixty in four seconds,” Nyx responded. “Why would they take
it cruising downtown where there’s so much traffic?” Also Noctis was a well-
known introvert. Why anyone would think he’d want to go clubbing or somewhere
similarly public was beyond Nyx. Especially with the bookish chamberlain in
tow.
“I assumed they stole the Regalia solely because it’s mine,” replied the king,
his voice still deceptively light. His gaze on Nyx had grown intense and
searching.
Nyx swallowed again. “I can't say one way or the other, Your Majesty,” he
replied diplomatically.
King Regis let Nyx’s lack of a true response slide. Instead, he asked, “If you
had to guess, where would you say they were going next?”
Nyx had a couple of very good guesses based on what he had overheard before the
two had driven off.
“I have no idea, Your Majesty,” he said. Libertus shook his head mutely.
The king leaned all of his weight on his cane and just looked at them. If Nyx
didn’t know better, he would have sworn that mind reading was one of the Royal
Lucian powers. Gods, he was starting to sweat, which was probably the point.
“Nyx Ulrich,” said the king. His tone startled Nyx. There was something . . .
honest in his voice that hadn’t been before. “I just want to find my son,”
Regis said quietly.
Nyx squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel Libertus’s humming tension next to
him.
“Please,” asked the king.
Nyx did not want to be in the middle of this drama. Frankly, he wasn’t paid
enough for it. But he couldn’t refuse a father the peace of mind of knowing his
son was safe either. “I think your best bet is to ask your Shield,” said Nyx,
pointing to Clarus.
King Regis narrowed his eyes and exchanged a glance with the Shield.
“Do you know where your son is right now, Master Amicitia?” continued Nyx.
“Because wherever that is, I think that’s where you’ll find the prince and his
chamberlain.”
“Why?” The king’s question was sharp and to the point. Clarus was still
frowning at them.
“Because we both know why Noct is acting out. It ain’t because he’s having
problems with his girlfriend.”
Clarus made an annoyed noise from behind the king. “That’s Prince Noctis—.”
King Regis cut Clarus off with a wave of his hand. “No,” he said slowly, “I
don’t think it’s a girl.”
Nyx was once again caught in the king’s intense gaze. He wasn’t sure how to
answer the question that was skimming the surface of their back and forth, but
still, he tried for his king’s sake. He said hesitantly, “I don’t know your son
or Ignis Scientia very well. But I do know people, and I saw how they looked at
each other tonight. Whatever they’re going to choose to do about the Covenant,
they’re going to choose it tonight. Thant’s why I think they’re with Gladiolus
Amicitia. Because those three always do everything important together.”
A half second after it came out of his mouth, he realized the potential sexual
implication of his last sentence, but it was too late to take it back. Still,
he cringed to himself and felt Libertus do the same next to him.
Both King Regis and his Shield grimaced. Clarus looked at his king and offered,
“Gladiolus decided to spend the weekend at the lake house, I believe.”
Nyx and Libertus were silent. The king glanced back and forth between them and
Clarus. Then he said to Nyx, “My son—did he say anything to you? About why he
did what he did, besides the obvious.” There was clear pain in the man’s eyes
as he asked.
The Kingsglaive didn’t exactly want to tattle to the king about his earlier
conversation with Noctis. That felt like something between the two of them. But
he was already dangerously close to insubordination, and really this whole
thing was getting ridiculous. King Regis didn’t need to ask Nyx what was going
in his son’s head. Only one person was the expert on inner workings of the mind
of Noctis Lucis Caelum, and that was Noctis Lucis Caelum.
But kings were human too. And clearly they could be just as cowardly as the
rest of the mere mortals around them.
Maybe the king forgot what it felt like to use sex as an end, rather than a
means after the fiftieth or so Kingsglaive recruit , thought Nyx uncharitably.
He stopped beating around the bush and said without mercy, “He told me that he
felt like a rapist, like the scum of the earth. Those were his words.”
King Regis clenched his hands over his cane tightly at Nyx’s abrasive words. He
frowned and said, “I suppose you believe I’ve failed my son, Glaive Ulrich—no,
don’t answer, I can see it plainly enough on your face,” he said before Nyx
could deny it. “You won’t be the first or the last. I know my son. I know he
hasn’t always embraced his duty the way those around us believe he should, and
I’ve always done my best to give him the leeway to grow up at his own pace.”
Nyx really wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to this. The king didn’t
need to explain himself to a lowly Kingsglaive. He didn’t need to explain
himself to anyone. And yet he was talking to Nyx and Libertus like they were
all equals, or at least something close to that. Clarus’s expression had lost
its annoyance and become completely unreadable, much to Nyx’s disappointment.
He could use some direction on what was expected of him right now.
King Regis continued, “I need Noct to master his magic, but I’ve learned what
effect my interference has on him from our initial efforts with the Crown’s
magic. I thought giving him the space to discover this aspect of his magic on
his own with the two people he trusts most would be less…traumatic than
anything else I could devise. Apparently he doesn’t feel the same.”
The Kingsglaive shifted uncomfortably under the king’s stare. “I’d ask him,
Your Majesty. I have no idea.”
“Of course you don’t,” the king said briskly, and just like that all earlier
emotion was cleared away. He nodded at Clarus, who pulled out his phone. Then
the king turned back to the two Kingsglaive and said, “Naturally, you’ll keep
this conversation completely between the three of us?”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” they replied immediately. The king nodded in
apparent satisfaction.
Meanwhile, Clarus was talking to someone on the phone, saying, “Are you sure?”
There was the sound of some annoyed chatter, and then Clarus rolled his eyes
resignedly and hung up. Afterwards, he turned to Regis and reported, “He says
they aren’t there. And he’d appreciate if I’d learn the definition of a
vacation.” Rolling his eyes again, he added, “Humph, I’d appreciate it if he
remembered that I’m his father and that I can still beat his ass from here to
kingdom come, if he deserves it.”
“Noctis and Ignis aren’t there?” asked Regis, his tone deceptively even.
Clarus shook his head. “My idiot son is lying his ass off,” he said grimly.
“They’re there alright. I could hear the prince in the background.”
King Regis pursed his lips. He looked back at the two waiting Kingsglaive, then
back again at his Shield, and then seemed to come to a decision. “If we know
that he’s safe, then it isn’t a matter for the Kingsglaive anymore. Have
Drautos call them off. I’ll deal with my son on my own terms.”
“As you wish, Majesty,” replied the Shield.
Nyx wondered if this meant he and Libertus were still on early morning guard
duty. Knowing their luck, they absolutely were.
                                      ***
                                  **Gladio**
                                      ***
Gladio didn’t understand what was going on. “Ignis?!” he called out. He could
see now that there was another person in the passenger seat, who could only be
Noctis. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s a long story,” replied Ignis, as he turned and waited for Noct to exit
the car as well.
Something in the advisor’s tone sounded off to Gladio. It immediately put him
on edge. He put his hand on his hip, trying to hide his unease. “Do I need to
buy you a damn dictionary for your birthday, Iggy? Because you seem to have
some major gaps in your understanding of words like ‘Alone’ and ‘Space.’”
Ignis didn't rise to the bait. He didn’t even turn around. “Come on, Noct,” he
said instead, facing the car. Gladio too, put his attention towards the car
Ignis had arrived in.
“Is that the—Regalia?” he asked dumbly. Before Ignis could answer, Noctis
finally clambered out, and all thoughts about how the hell they’d ended up with
the king’s car were driven out of Gladio by the sight of the prince.
He’s hurt. Noctis was bleeding.
Gladio didn’t even register himself dropping his sword. Noctis’s eyes rounded
as the Shield raced up to him, and then Gladio grabbed his charge roughly,
tugging him this way and that, spending a very long time lingering on the
bruise on the prince’s cheek. Though he made a face, Noctis endured Gladio’s
urgent examination, his complexion a bright red.
Finally, Gladio took a step back, and this time his voice had lost all
semblance of playfulness. “What the hell happened?” he demanded. He could see
from Noct’s injuries that the prince had been in some sort of altercation,
likely a fist fight if the bruises and scrapes were any indication. Of course,
the big question was, where the hell had Ignis been while this was happening?
“I told you,” said Ignis from behind him, “it’s a long story. One that would
perhaps be best explained inside.”
The Shield looked at Noctis, but he averted his eyes and remained silent.
“Fine,” snapped Gladio, trying and failing to hide his agitation. He grumbled
under his breath as the three of them walked inside and sat around the kitchen
table. Gladio took a moment to locate the first aid kit. He pulled out a
potion, handing it to Noctis. Examining it suspiciously, the prince made a face
and said petulantly, “Eww, this looks like it was bottled twenty years ago.”
“They don’t go bad,” Gladio replied brusquely. He didn’t have the patience
right now for any of Noct’s bullshit. “Just fucking drink it.” Noctis made a
face like Gladio had just insisted the prince kill his first born child, but he
complied nevertheless. Gladio watched as the bruise turned a mottled green,
then yellow, then finally fading away completely. Only then did let himself
fully relax in his chair.
Ignis shook his head at the interaction. “Would you like to explain or should
I?” he asked the teen. Noctis mumbled under his breath, making it clear they’d
be waiting a long time if they were going to rely on him to give a retelling of
the night’s events. “Right then,” said Ignis, launching into a succinct recap
what had led to them arriving at the cabin with the Regalia.
When Ignis was done, Gladio took a bracing breath.
One heartbeat.
Then two.
Then he bellowed, “Have both of you lost your damn minds?! What the hell were
you thinking?!”
Before Ignis could reply, Noctis said softly, “It’s not Ignis’s fault. I made
him do it. Please don’t blame him.”
Gladio’s response was acerbic. With a dismissive eye roll, he spat, “Oh? I
didn’t realize that mind control was on the list of royal powers nowadays.”
Noctis looked like he was going to say something smart in retaliation, but he
was interrupted by Ignis, who warned, “Gladio...”
The Shield remained undeterred. “I leave for one day. One fucking day. And you
two decide to steal a car.” His expression told them exactly what he thought
about that. Noctis at least had the wherewithal to look ashamed. Ignis was
harder to read. But then, he always was.
With a tsking noise, Gladio jerked his head to the side to give himself a
moment to breathe, watching Noctis from the corner of his eye. The prince’s
bruises might have healed, but he was still covered in dirt and blood from his
fight with the Kingsglaive.
Speaking of which, nothing about that part of the story made sense. Ulrich was
a much more experienced fighter than Noctis. Sure, the teen had the potential
to outclass the Glaive, but he was far from that level at the moment. Even with
Ignis’s help, Ulrich should have demolished them. What the fuck was that
Kingsglaive playing at?
Gladio sighed heavily. “Look, you should at least take a shower, Noct. You’re
fucking filthy.”
Noctis blinked at him suspiciously, so Gladio added, “We’ll take five, and talk
about this when you get out, okay?”
Noctis continued to look at him searchingly, but eventually he nodded and left
for the bathroom.
Ignis fidgeted uncomfortably while they waited; however, Gladio didn’t waste
any time. He whirled on the advisor as soon as he heard the shower spray,
starting accusingly, “You should have stopped him.”
Ignis didn’t answer. Watching his silent friend, Gladio snarled louder, “It was
your duty to stop him.”
At that, Ignis finally made a scoffing noise. “What was I supposed to do?” he
demanded, “lock him in his room?”
“Yes,” Gladio exclaimed, “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do, if you
had to. It’s your job to keep him safe!”
Ignis just looked at him, his mouth a hard line.
“Don’t look at me like that,” grumbled Gladio, running his hand through his
hair. Of course he knew it wasn’t as easy as telling Noctis what to do and
expecting the prince to listen. But there had to be something better than
stealing the damn car. Astrals.
“I don’t know what you want me to say. What’s done is done.”
There were several things Gladio wanted Ignis to say. He could start with
something like, I’m sorry, or I know I really fucked up. “Gods, Iggy. Literally
anything could have happened,” cried Gladio. “What if you’d crashed the car?
This is different than when you two pulled stupid shit when you were kids.
You’re in charge of his wellbeing now. You think they’re gonna let that shit
slide? Your fucking job is at stake, and for what? A wild night out?”
“You weren’t there. You didn’t see his face. And my job is already in jeopardy,
in case you’ve forgotten,” snapped Ignis.
Gladio had not forgotten. He snorted, “Dammit Iggy, it’s like all your higher
brain functions to a trip to Altissia and left you with just your dick for
brains.”
Ignis remained suspiciously silent to that jab. Frowning at his friend, Gladio
asked, “Ignis?”
“What?” the advisor snapped. He looked up and then away again.
“Oh my God,” Gladio replied slowly as several pieces slid into place, “You
actually were thinking with your dick.” The Shield had noticed Ignis looking at
Noctis several times in the past few weeks. But Ignis was gay and Noctis was
young and powerful and fit, and so Gladio had assumed there was no harm in the
advisor noticing.
Ignis gave him a pained look. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Gladio stared at the advisor, his eyes widening. This was much, much worse than
he had originally thought. Worse than Ignis’s lifelong inability to tell Noctis
no, or the pent-up advisor’s paradoxical susceptibility to crazy stunts. It was
one thing to know that Ignis sometimes seemed a little too familiar with Noct,
and another to see this strange, burning desire in the advisor’s eyes.
But then again, maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised , Gladio thought with a
little stabbing feeling in his chest. After all, sometimes he thought Ignis had
to be the loneliest damn person in the Citadel. The advisor hadn’t always hung
out with Gladio and Noctis. In fact, Gladio could still remember the moment he
had realized that Ignis lived in a tiny, single room in the servant quarters of
the Citadel, that he didn’t have family in the Crown City, the way Gladio and
Noctis did. How alone he was when he wasn’t with Noctis.
It had seemed like such a good idea at first, to have Ignis and Noctis move in
together. They’d be good for each other, and the advisor practically lived
there already. But there was a difference between spending time with a person
and living with them. It did something to your boundaries. And Gladio should
have realized what would happen when someone like Ignis crossed his rigidly
held boundaries. Gladio should have realized that Ignis could no more help
falling in love with Noctis, than he could help breathing.
No , thought Gladio as his horror grew. Because the thing about Noctis was that
he would never judge his advisor for being different than everyone else. Noctis
understood intimately what it felt like to be Other, and Ignis could not have
helped but fall in love with that.
But that didn’t change the fact that both of them had a job to do, and Ignis
had supremely failed at his tonight.
“You know this can't go anywhere, right?” he said as gently as he was capable
of.
“I have no idea what you mean,” Ignis snapped primly, still not admitting to
what his face had given away.
At that, Gladio shook his head. He couldn’t do this indirect bullshit. “I’m not
trying to upset you, Iggy. Please. But you’ve obviously got feelings for him.
Romantic feelings.”
Ignis couldn’t have looked more stunned if Gladio had dropped a brick on his
head. His mouth remained frozen for a long moment. “Excuse me?” he hissed, his
voice suddenly gone dangerous, as he pushed his chair out with a loud squealing
noise and slammed his fists on the table. He gave Gladio his most incredulous
and condescending look, “I practically raised Noct. That’s insane and frankly
hurtful. I’m like a parent to him!”
Gladio was not impressed. “You were a parent to him when he was twelve, Iggy. I
think you’ve noticed he isn’t twelve anymore.”
He couldn’t believe that Ignis was that clueless about his own feelings. It
just wasn’t possible. And indeed, a mix of emotions swirled on Ignis’s face.
Shame, desperation, but also an unmistakable touch of guilt. He knew. Clearly
feeling defensive, Ignis’s next words lashed out, “Just because I’m gay, does
not mean I leer at young boys. I can't believe you would say something that
intolerant to me.”
Gladio was not going to let the advisor get away with that either. Ignis might
be able to pull that shit with other people, but never him. He leaned over the
table so that he could look Ignis directly in the eyes. “Don’t be stupid, and
don’t put words in my mouth,” he snapped back. “One, he’s not a young boy. Two,
I don’t think you in love with him because you’re gay. I think you’re in love
with him because he’s Noctis and you’re Ignis.”
Ignis was about to argue further, but Gladio cut him off. “If you had
absolutely no feelings for him, then why would you be so afraid of this ritual?
You’re almost worse that Noct, and he’s the virgin.”
Perhaps that had gone a tad too far.
Ignis spluttered, his face growing a violent shade of purple. “Oh, go to hell,”
he hissed furiously. “You warn me of all people off from Noctis, meanwhile you
ignore what’s been going on under your nose for years now.” The advisor shook
his head. “Unbelievable.”
Now it was Gladio’s turn to look confused and wary. He couldn’t remember the
last time Ignis had cursed at him. “What—?”
“Noct has had a crush on you for years, you imbecile. You can’t have possibly
missed that. He isn’t exactly subtle. But rather that talk about it as mature
adults, you find it much easier to ignore and pretend like you don’t lead him
on constantly—.”
“The fuck are you talking about?” Gladio choked. “I’m trying to help you,
asshole, and you’re just throwing crazy accusations around.”
“Oh that’s rich,” Ignis jammed his chair back completely and stood up.
“What are you doing?” demanded Gladio with growing alarm.
That was when Gladio heard the telltale sound of his phone going off. He also
realized in that moment that the sound of the shower had stopped. “Don’t you
dare go anywhere,” he hissed at Ignis. His bag with all his stuff was in the
first bedroom. He strode down the hall, passing Noctis, who was just coming out
of the bathroom, smelling of clean soap.
As he grabbed his phone, he saw that his father was calling him. “Shit,” he
swore under his breath. With another muttered swear, he answered the phone.
Noctis had come to stand in the doorway, watching him warily.
Clarus’s voice was clear and unmistakably pissed. “Gladiolus,” he greeted. It
was never a good sign when his father used his full name.
“Dad,” acknowledged Gladio. He held Noctis’s gaze as he spoke. The prince
mutely shook his head.
“You wouldn’t happen to know where Prince Noctis and Ignis Scientia are
tonight, would you?”
Noctis’s eyes were desperate. “Gladio,” he begged. There was a smudge near his
ear that he must have missed in the shower. Typical.
Gladio thought about Ignis’s revelation back in the kitchen, about how fucked
up their little trifecta was fast becoming. Gods, this couldn’t get more
complicated.And all he had wanted was to enjoy half a weekend to himself. He
sighed and finally replied, “You people really need to learn the meaning of the
word vacation. I. Am. Out. Of. Town. Okay? I have no idea what they’re up to.
Probably at the penthouse.”
At those words, Noctis let out a relieved breath and murmured, “Thank you.”
Gladio shushed him silently.
“Are you sure?” asked Clarus.
“Unless you think I misplaced them up my ass, then yeah I’m pretty sure. Are we
done?” he growled. From the doorway, Noctis winced at the Shield’s tone.
“Watch yourself, son.”
“Yes sir,” replied Gladio. They exchanged a few more words, then he hung up.
Gladio turned and met Noct’s gaze as he closed his phone.
Looking at the prince, he was suddenly hyper aware that the last time they had
been alone in a room together, Gladio’d had his hands down the teen’s pants.
The way his lips were pursed, Noctis was clearly thinking of the same thing.
Gladio sighed and started to say something, then stopped. There was something
in the way Noctis was watching him, something—uncomfortable. He tried to tell
himself that it was just a product of the shittiness of the long day, but it
felt like more. He kept remembering how frozen Noctis had been, like a trapped
rabbit.
He’s had a crush on you for years, you imbecile!
Could it be true? Gladio had never really put a lot of thought into Noctis’s
sexuality before this sudden ultimatum. But now that he thought about it, Noct
had never spoken to him about a girl. Not once. What sixteen-year-old didn’t
spend all of their time thinking about girls? Unless they were thinking about
boys…
But then why was he so fucking skittish? If he truly had a crush on Gladio,
then shouldn’t he have been eager, rather than hesitant? If he truly liked
Gladio that way, why would he always be so hardheaded and contrarian to
everything Gladio had ever tried to beat into his thick skull? Also it was a
little weird to think of Noctis looking at him like that. Thinking those sorts
of thoughts about him. Had he jerked off to fantasies about Gladio before?
Gods, Gladio couldn’t take this anymore. He was supposed to be on fucking
vacation. He’d asked for two days. Two day for Noct and Iggy to take care of
themselves. And instead of giving him that much, they decided to burn the
metaphorical house and everything inside to the ground while he was gone.
“Gladio,” started Noctis, bringing the Shield back out of his thoughts. But
then he was interrupted by the arrival of Ignis behind him in the hallway.
Poking his head over the much shorter Noctis, Ignis asked, “Was that your
father? What did he want?”
Gladio raised his eyebrow at the advisor. Were they just dropping the argument
they’d been having in the kitchen? Apparently they were, because Ignis didn’t
react in any way to Gladio’s attempted eyebrow conversation. “Asked if I’d seen
you. Said no.”
Ignis absorbed that, then he said, “We need to talk.”
“Thought we were doing that. You didn’t seem too keen on it,” Gladio replied
challengingly. Noctis gave him a confused look, and Gladio shrugged at him. Let
Ignis explain that one if he wanted.
Ignis shook his head, and pushed past Noctis and into the bedroom, coming to
stand next to the sagging bed. “I mean the three of us need to talk. Seriously
and honestly. This can't go on any further like it is.”
Gladio wasn’t in the mood anymore to have a deep discussion about his feelings.
Not when he didn’t even know what they were. Ignis couldn’t just drop shit like
that on his head, and then expect to have a productive, well thought-out
conversation about it. He was about to say as much, but Noctis beat him to the
punch.
“I don’t have anything I want to talk about,” the prince said stubbornly,
crossing his arms over his chest in the doorway.
Ignis let out a deep breath. “This isn’t only about you. The consequences of
your choices here do not just affect you.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Noctis spat.
Gladio felt a prickle of danger crawl up his spine. That was Noctis’s patented,
I’m about to either throw a tantrum or run away voice. From the way Ignis was
gnashing his teeth, he obviously saw the threat too.
Ignis let a few seconds of silence pass, then he asked, “Were you lying to me
yesterday then?”
“What?” started Noctis, but Ignis spoke over him.
“Because I’m trying to keep my promise to you, Noct. You have no idea how hard
I’m trying. But I can't—I can't do that, if you don’t help me.” As he spoke,
Ignis let himself collapse on the edge of the bed, his face in his hands. He
sighed, then added, “If you won’t talk about the Covenant, then will you just
talk to me? Honestly?”
Noctis had uncrossed his arms at some point in that speech, and now his
expression was troubled and closed off. “Ignis,” he said, half swallowing the
word.
Gladio couldn’t help but think honesty was easy to demand from others, when you
weren’t willing to provide the same. After all, he was the only one who
seemingly wasn’t hiding some deep seated romantic feelings for someone else in
this room. “Honest about what?” he pointedly asked Ignis, his tone a lot more
caustic than he intended.
“Everything,” Ignis replied, his hands falling away from his face. “Not just
Noct. All of us. Maybe we can’t come to terms about the Covenant of Retainers
or the deadline we’ve been given. But if we can't be honest right now, then
what we have is doomed anyway.”
Gladio was starting to get pissed off. He bit his angry retort back with every
ounce of self-discipline he had. It wasn’t his job to protect Ignis the way it
was with Noctis, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel responsible for the idiot.
And Ignis was talking about discussing their fucking feelings as if that was
going to solve their problems, when he was the one who had made their problems
impossible to solve in the first place.
Because Gladio knew how this was going to go. He’d realized it while listening
to Ignis explain how he and Noct had sneaked out of the Citadel. Ignis had, for
good reasons or not, put the prince in danger during a time when the King was
plainly having a paranoid meltdown about the prince’s safety.
He was finished. He’d signed his resignation the instant he’d climbed down the
Laurel tree in front of Noct’s balcony. And neither of them seemed to fucking
get it! It was unbearable.
Really, the only thing that Gladio could see saving them was if Ignis had
something that no one else in the prince’s circle had. The qualities he did
have that formed the foundation of his relationship with Noct were not obvious.
They were in the small moments of understanding and quiet, in knowing when to
push and when to let Noct just be. But he needed something indisputable,
something concrete to put in front of the King when he had to face the mistake
he’d made tonight.
That could have been the Covenant. If Ignis, and probably Gladio in this
scenario, were the only ones who had a Covenant with Noct, it would go a long
way toward protecting their position together. The King couldn’t just throw
something like that away, not when he had so clearly stated how important it
was for Noctis’s retainers to have a magical connection with him.
But that was about as likely as Noctis announcing he and Ignis were eloping to
Niflheim together. And they were out of time; Ignis had seen to that.
Gladio‘s stomach squeezed into a tightly coiled ball of tension, thinking about
how he could possibly protect the both of them, even as he fought the desire to
snap at Ignis and take out all of his frustration right then. There were so
many pieces to this. Noctis with his fears, Ignis with his damn, whatever he
was feeling for the prince, and the precariousness of his job. None of it
meshed.
Gods, this wasn’t about magic powers anymore. It wasn’t even about Ignis’s and
Noctis’s apparent cross romantic feelings. It was about saving their
friendship. And Gladio had only ever had one job in his life, one driving
desire.
He would do anything to protect them.
                                      ***
                                  **Noctis**
                                      ***
Noctis had not wanted to talk. He still didn’t really want to talk. But he saw
where Ignis was coming from, how incredibly tiring this feeling of being in
limbo with the other two was. If Ignis wanted to have a talk about their
feelings, then he could participate as long as Ignis didn’t demand he start
talking about the damn Covenant too.
Across from him, Gladio’s face was impassive, impossible to read. It
disconcerted Noctis, as he relied on the fact that of the three of them,
Gladio’s moods were the easiest to predict and understand. But Noctis did not
understand the Shield right now. He seemed angry, but also indifferent to
Ignis’s proposition. Gladio caught Noctis staring at him and raised an eyebrow,
so Noctis furiously twisted away, his cheeks hot.
“We are going to talk, the three of us, about how we’re all feeling right now,
and we aren’t leaving this bedroom until we’re good and done,” said Ignis, his
tone leaving no room for argument. He slid himself further back onto the bed
and then sat cross legged at the head. With a quirk of his lip, he looked at
the other two expectantly. “Well?”
Noctis exchanged a glance with Gladio, who just shrugged. Swallowing down his
own trepidation, Noctis clambered next to Ignis on the sagging mattress,
feeling awkward and childish as he drew his legs underneath himself. Gladio of
course, managed to make his plopping onto the foot of the bed seem elegantly
purposeful in contrast.
Even though it was queen-sized, the bed didn’t give them enough room to be
completely separate in their space, especially with Gladio’s rather large
frame. With nothing to brace his back against and the rather precariously saggy
crater in the center, Noctis was forced to lean into the others. There was
something extremely intimate about having this conversation here, as opposed to
around the kitchen table or in the living room. Knowing Ignis, it was entirely
intentional.
Ignis smiled at Noctis and Gladio as they settled, the three of them in a
tight, but lopsided circle. “Thank you,” he murmured as he looked them both in
the eye in turn. “We’re going to lay a couple of ground rules to help
facilitate this exercise before we start if you are amenable.”
Gladio snorted, his knee knocking into Noctis’s. “I didn’t realize I’d signed
up for a therapy session when I decided to go on vacation.”
Ignis’s demeanor changed in an instant, his expression blazing thunderously.
Even though it wasn’t directed at him, Noctis fought the urge to scramble
backwards. “First rule,” barked Ignis, “If we’re going to do this, then we are
going to take it seriously. If you’re not going to try, then you can leave,
Gladio.”
“I didn’t say that.”
Ignis ignored him. “We’ve all done things to hurt one another, especially over
the past week, and we need to talk about it. But that means that you have to be
open. We are all going to carefully consider what the other is saying.” His
gaze lasered in on Gladio. “This will never work otherwise.”
Gladio shifted uneasily, but after a tense second he nodded. “If that’s what
you two really want to do right now, then I’ll try.” He sighed and said
cryptically, “Though I don’t think this will solve our actual problem.”
“Even so, thank you,” Ignis repeated, and like that he was composed and focused
again. “As I said, the first rule is that we are all going to listen to what
the other is saying, even if it sounds unfair or wrong or hurtful. Can we agree
to that?” This time Noctis joined in on the nodding. “Second rule,” stated
Ignis, “is that this is a safe place. What is said here is not going to be
repeated outside this room. Agreed?” Both Gladio and Noctis nodded once again.
Ignis inclined his head slightly at their assent and then continued, “Third, is
that we are going to be entirely honest here. I recognize that sometimes that’s
easier said than done when discussing complex emotions.” His gaze hardened.
“Here, there will be no lies. No hiding. The time for that is in the past.”
Noctis couldn’t help how his eyes slid to Gladio. Honest? Noctis wouldn’t mind
finding out exactly what was going on below the layers of hyper masculinity,
teasing, and aggressiveness. But could he give the same thing back? The truth
of his crush swelled in his chest. There was no way he could admit that to
Gladio, or even Ignis.
Gladio, meanwhile, was giving Ignis a strange look. They had a silent back and
forth, then Gladio muttered, “Whatever, Iggy.”
Noctis twisted around to watch how Ignis was going to react to that less than
enthusiastic consent. The advisor pursed his lips. “I’m only asking that you
try as much as you can. That we all do that, including me,” he said, his voice
sincere. “Please.”
Noctis wasn’t sure he could be completely honest with his retainers. But he
could try, especially with Ignis looking at him so pleadingly. Besides, the
prickly way that Gladio was reacting to the advisor was starting to bother him.
It was like the Shield was secretly still punishing Ignis for what had happened
with the Regalia, and Noctis figured he owed it to Ignis at least be more
cooperative than what Gladio was offering.
“I agree,” Noctis said, his eyes on the advisor. “I’ll be as honest as I’m
able.”
Ignis shot him a grateful look. “Thank you, Noct.” Then he turned back to
Gladio.
“I’ll be as honest as you decide to be, Iggy. I can promise that much.” That
wasn’t at all close to what Noctis had promised, but it was clear that it was
the best they were getting out of Gladio.
“I can accept that,” replied Ignis.
Noctis let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. With how tense
and defensive the three of them currently were, it had taken all of Ignis’s
power of persuasion to get them to agree to talk in the first place. Noctis at
least was trying to cooperate. But how the hell was Ignis going to get Gladio
to open up when the Shield clearly intended to do anything but?
                                      ***
A few minutes later, they officially began their discussion. Ignis made them
shake hands on the rules they had promised to follow. Then he said, “Okay.
We’ll start with an exercise in honesty. First, we are each going to tell the
others one thing that we appreciate about them, that we haven’t told them
before. No commenting or interrupting. Can we do that?”
At that, Noctis felt a little lost. “I thought we were talking about our
problems?” he asked.
“Just because Ignis won’t admit it, doesn’t mean this isn’t a therapy session,
Noct,” Gladio said, his tone dismissive. “Don’t you know how these things work?
You can't start with the jugular. You have to ease into it.”
Even though he said it to Noctis, Gladio had his attention on Ignis. The way he
was looking at Ignis was an obvious challenge, and the advisor responded not
with vitriol, but a far slyer counterattack.
“For example,” retorted Ignis, looking at the Shield from over the rims of his
glasses, “I’ll start. Gladio, I truly admire your conviction. When you make a
choice, you stick with it to the bitter end, no matter what. I wish I had the
sort of determination to do even one thing, that you show with everything.”
Upon finishing, Ignis raise his eyebrow, the challenge clearly returned.
Gladio’s face made an interesting contortion as he listened to Ignis’s
compliment. He spluttered, “The hell you talking about? You’ve baked the same
cake three days a week for the past two years straight, and you say you don’t
have conviction?”
Next to him, Noctis interjected, reminding the two of them that he was still
here, “You aren’t allowed to comment or interrupt.” In retaliation, Gladio shot
him a heated look, his knee pushing into Noctis’s rather uncomfortably.
“You’re quite right, Noct,” Ignis replied encouragingly, ignoring the tense
undertone. “Gladio promised us that he would do his best to absorb what we have
to say without judgment.” Nodding at the prince, he asked, “Would you like to
go next?”
Noctis gulped. His mind went blank as soon as he was put on the spot. “Uh, does
it have to be about Gladio?”
Ignis shook his head. “Either one.”
“Right.” Noctis was quickly starting to agree with Gladio about the merits of
this therapy session. In that really it would be fine if they ended it right
here. It probably wasn’t a good thing to tell Gladio that what he secretly
appreciated about him was the work the Shield put into maintaining his six
pack. This didn’t seem like the appropriate place for that.
They were both staring at him now. Ignis with his stupid encouraging smile, and
Gladio with his armed crossed over his chest, mouth ticked sideways in
annoyance. “Umm,” Noctis repeated. “What I like—what I really like about Gladio
is….”
Gladio’s mouth twitched. Someone who didn't know the Shield probably wouldn’t
have even picked up on it. But Noctis did know him. Gladio didn’t have very
many nervous ticks, but that little, barely noticeable mouth twitch was one of
them. Noctis suddenly felt guilty. If Gladio were making him wait that long on
a simple compliment, he’d probably be feeling really shitty too.
“I appreciate that Gladio doesn’t treat me like I’m breakable. He never has,
even when he’d being an overprotective ass.” Seeing Ignis’s grimace, Noctis
added hastily, “What I mean is when I’m around Gladio, I actually feel like a
human being.” He paused again as they both stared at him like he had just
admitted to enjoying dancing naked in the moonlight. “And I guess, I appreciate
that. About him.”
Relieved to be out of the spotlight, Noctis fiddled with a loose thread in the
comforter as Ignis made a strange, thoughtful face. “Thank you for sharing that
with us.” Noctis nodded at him. Ignis didn’t seem to be finished, however. The
advisor frowned and asked, “Noctis, do you not normally feel human?”
That felt like a trick question. “I thought we weren’t supposed to make
judgments about what the others were saying,” Noctis accused.
Ignis narrowed his eyes at having his words used against him. “Alright then, I
accept that,” he replied, dropping it quickly. He turned to face the Shield.
“Gladio, would you like to go next?”
Noctis had a hard time believing that Ignis had let him off the hook that
easily, no matter what promises the advisor had made, but he decided not to
question it. Instead, he also turned his attention to Gladio, who was busy
looking at Noctis with a dazed expression. “Gladio?”
The Shield shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. It only took him a
moment after that to collect himself, and then he inhaled a deep breath,
looking Ignis directly in the eyes as he spoke. “Ignis, I like how you don’t
let other people’s opinions get in the way of who you are. You cook and sew and
all that shit, and you never seem to care that some people would call that
girly or gay. I really like that about you.”
Noctis was stunned. He hadn’t expected Gladio to actually participate, not
really. But then again, the Shield had promised to put in as much effort as
Ignis did. Ignis, on the other hand, seemed completely unruffled. He smiled at
Gladio warmly and said, “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
Rubbing the back of his head, Gladio muttered under his breath and looked away.
Thus, they all three acknowledged something that they appreciated about one of
the others. Gladio had implied it was just a feint by Ignis to get them to more
difficult topics, but Noctis thought there had to be merit in shifting their
thinking. Sometimes he took the good things about his retainers for granted,
and if nothing else, being put on the spot had forced him to put words to his
positive feelings.
“Okay, I’ll go again,” stated Ignis. “Hmn, Noctis.” The prince felt his heart
jump. It was so stupid, but he couldn’t help but feel his nerves clench in
anticipation of what Ignis would say to him. “I appreciate the trust that you
show me. I know how difficult it is for you feel vulnerable, and the fact that
you allow yourself to be so around me makes me feel privileged. I also
appreciate how you never fail to cheer me up when I’ve been having a difficult
day.”
That wasn’t at all what Noctis had expected Ignis to say. Something about one
of his personality traits or something, sure. But this felt deeper somehow, and
also patently not true. Noctis was well known for his apathy. It was
practically his defining trait. Prompto was the one who spent his time trying
to cheer other people up. He opened his mouth to argue, but Ignis cut him off.
“Remember Noct. You promised to absorb without judgment. And I promised to tell
you the truth.”
For some reason, Gladio snorted at that. Ignis ignored him. Swallowing his
words back down, Noctis nodded at the advisor, accepting it for now. But that
meant …
“Would you like to go next Noctis? Or would you like for Gladio to go first?”
“Hey, who said we could go out of order?” Gladio immediately demanded.
Pretending like the Shield hadn’t said anything, Noctis asked, “Yeah, can
Gladio go first please?”
Ignis didn’t answer, and Gladio sighed heavily. “Fine. Noctis—,” he turned to
the prince with a considering look, “I like the way you treat people who are
weaker than you.” The Shield said it flatly. “They say if you want to know what
a man’s like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.”
Then with an uncomfortable shrug, Gladio added, “It makes me proud to call
myself your Shield.”
After that, there was a long, tense moment of silence where all three seemed
afraid to speak. Noctis couldn’t stop Gladio’s words from knocking around in
his brain, over and over. He was proud to call himself Noctis’s Shield. Noctis
swallowed. His eyes flickered up, only to see that Gladio was unabashedly
staring at him. There was something there in his gaze, something vast and
painful, and the longer Noct held his gaze, the harder it became to breath,
until finally Gladio tore his eyes away.
“You win, Ignis,” Gladio said suddenly and aggressively. “I can't stand this
anymore. Let’s just get it out in the fucking open.”
“What?” started Noctis, but Ignis seemed faster on the uptake.
“No lies.” Ignis’s gaze was just as intense as Gladio’s. “No lies and no
hiding.”
“I got that. Astrals.” Gladio turned back to Noctis. His knees were still
pressed hard against Noct’s. “No lies, huh. Fine.” Seeming to steel himself,
his next words came out in a rush, and they were on the topic that Noctis
wanted to talk about the least. “The truth is I don’t want your first Covenant
to be with some fucktard Kingsglaive. None of them know shit about you. But at
the same time, I can't fuck you knowing you’re terrified of me. So in the end,
I just feel trapped, and it’s driving me insane.”
Noctis’s heart thundered in his chest at the suddenness of Gladio’s
exclamation. Next to him, Ignis’s face was solemn. He said quietly, “Thank you,
Gladio.”
“Fuck you,” Gladio snapped immediately, the words clearly more reflex than
anything actually wrathful.
Sitting between them, Noctis felt like he was being emotionally bombarded on
all sides. He had no idea what to think with Gladio and Ignis throwing these
revelations at him, one by one. The idea that Gladio felt as trapped as him was
a new thought. Gladio had always seemed so unbothered by it all. Even after
he’d left Noct sitting on that damn cot in the Citadel, it had been difficult
for Noctis to wrap his head around what exactly was going on in Gladio’s head.
It was apparent now that Ignis had always intended this conversation to end up
at the Covenant. Noctis felt like he should be pissed that he’d been
manipulated, but at the same time he hadn’t fought that hard against it. Both
he and Gladio had allowed themselves to be led here, and now it seemed moot to
complain.
“What makes you think I’m afraid of you?”
Gladio blinked, obviously thrown by the question. “What do you mean, what makes
me think that? Literally everything you’ve done since you found out we had a
timeline to get this done, Noct. You’re not exactly hard to read.”
Even though Gladio was insisting he was an open book, the Shield had not
realized Noctis’s feelings for him, as far as the prince could tell. So he
obviously wasn’t as observant as he thought. Noctis glared at him, and Gladio
glared right back.
Ignis sighed and said, “If you want honesty, then I’m afraid too. I’m afraid I
can't put sex, even for this purpose, in a box in my mind and keep it separate
from everything else I feel about you.” Noctis stared at him, not quite
understanding what Ignis was trying to tell him. What did he mean by everything
else?
Suddenly, Gladio let out a loud breath and leaned back on the bed until he was
flat on his back. Noctis had to scooch sideways, nearly into Ignis’s lap, to
avoid being crushed. Meanwhile, the Shield said to the ceiling, “This is never
going to work.”
Ignis shifted to give Noctis more room and then replied dryly, “Yes, you’ve
made that opinion abundantly clear.”
“I mean it’s never going to work the way we’re thinking about it. We need to
change the angle we’re approaching it from.”
Before Ignis could say something, Noctis asked, “What do you mean?”
“I mean I’m tired of talking about this constantly in terms of the fucking
Ritual. That’s never what this has been about.”
“That’s literally the only thing it’s about,” replied Noctis. But Ignis was
shaking his head. Noctis gave him a questioning look.
Ignis had a thoughtful expression. He said softly, “It’s about you, Noctis.
It’s about how you want to lose your virginity. On your terms.”
Still on his back, Gladio nodded in assent on the other side of Noctis. One of
Ignis’s hands drifted to rest on Noctis, drawing the prince’s attention back to
him. He looked at Noct seriously. “I think I know the answer to my next
question, but I want to hear it in your words anyway. So do me a favor, and
don’t think about what you think we want or what you think you should want.”
“Okay?”
“How do you want to lose your virginity?”
Noctis felt his breath stop in his throat. “I—.” He couldn’t say it. Even
though Ignis was asking, even though he was telling him it was okay, Noctis
still couldn’t say it.
“Please,” said Ignis.
Noctis trembled. He looked down at his lap, but there was nothing enlightening
or helpful there. “With someone I love,” he finally whispered brokenly, hot,
embarrassed tears instantly beginning to collect in the corners of his eyes. “I
can't stand the thought of it not meaning a damn thing.” Unwillingly, he began
to cry in earnest, unable stop the torrent once it was released. “I want it to
be like everyone says. Fireworks and everything else. Something I can remember.
Is that so wrong?!” Noctis could barely get the words out in between his
heaving breaths, but at the same time, he couldn’t stop himself either,
speeding up until it was all coming out in a rush. “Oh Gods,” he sobbed, “It’s
not fair!”
Noctis curled in on himself. He couldn’t see through his tears, but suddenly,
he felt a warm weight drape around him. Blinking and hesitantly raising his
head, he caught sight of a mop of dusty brown hair, and he realized that Ignis
had embraced him and was holding him tightly. For half a second he stiffened,
but the advisor refused to let go, and finally Noctis couldn’t help but relax
into his grip.
It was like everything he had held inside for the past week was leaking away,
like poison leaving his pores through Ignis’s warmth. No one said anything as
Noctis reveled in the release that finally breaking down gave him. Ignis rubbed
soothing circles in the back of Noct’s head until his breathing slowed down to
something manageable and he was able to raise his head and meet the both of
their gazes once more.
Gladio had sat back up in the interim and was biting his lip thoughtfully. As
he rubbed the salt away from his own face, Noctis was startled by what he saw
in the Shield’s expression. Gladio’s fists were clenched in his lap, his eyes
fierce and determined.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day, and I’ve finally had a revelation,”
declared Gladio. His words had an air of complete resolve. It reminded Noctis
of Ignis’s earlier point about the Shield’s decisiveness. “The Covenant was
always going to mean something, whether we wanted it to or not. And because of
that, there was always going to be something between the three of us, no matter
which one of us took Noct’s virginity. It was always going to fuck up our
friendship, at least a little.”
Still half in the advisor’s lap, Noctis felt Ignis’s sigh tickle the back of
his neck. He shivered slightly. The feeling of it made a strange, tight
sensation curl up in his stomach. “What are you suggesting then?” asked Ignis,
ignoring Noctis’s movement.
“I’m saying, you should have your first sexual experience with someone who
knows what the fuck they’re doing, someone who’s going to listen to you, focus
on your needs, and make you feel safe.” His eyes met Ignis’s over Noct’s head.
“That’s how everyone should lose their virginity,” he added.
It was odd, to hear Gladio talking like that. He wasn’t normally the
enlightened one, but then again, he’d always had a freer opinion on sex than
anyone else Noct knew, except maybe some of the Kingsglaive.
Noctis raised his head so he could get a direct look at Gladio. “You’re saying,
you--?”
“Want to make love to you,” Gladio replied earnestly, without any hint of
hesitation or embarrassment. Noctis nearly choked on his breath. That was
something he was never going to unhear. But Gladio wasn’t done. “All this talk
about feelings and friendship has made me realize, we’re thinking about this
all wrong. It doesn’t have to be that complicated. This can be something we do
together, something that brings us closer together and builds trust. Or it can
be some painful, duty driven thing. And I know which I’d prefer.”
Noctis couldn’t get his brain past the words, make love. Who talked like that?
No one in real life, who didn’t belong in a cheesy romance movie referred to
sex like that. “What do you mean, together?” squealed Noctis.
“Fucking together. You two were the ones going on and on about no secrets and
no hiding and all that shit, right?”
“You’re talking about a threesome,” inserted Ignis, his voice flat and
incredulous.
“I’m talking about how nothing that happens in this room leaves this room. Rule
two wasn’t it?” Gladio said, raising his eyebrow at Ignis.
“I don’t think that’s what Ignis meant earlier,” protested Noctis.
“No, I definitely didn’t mean a three way, Astrals.” Ignis’s arms around Noctis
had growing tenser and tenser the more Gladio pushed his idea. Noctis squirmed
uncomfortably.
Gladio watched this and then said, “I’m so fucking tired of all this drama. If
Noctis has to lose his v-card, then so be it. You want to have the fireworks
and all that shit, then so fucking be it. We’ll give you the best orgasm a
teenage virgin’s ever had. We’ll do it because you deserve to have at least
that.”
He stopped and looked at them expectantly. When neither Noctis or Ignis had
anything to say, Gladio swore, and just kept on talking in a barely coherent,
rambling fashion.
“The threesome thing. Look, I’m not trying to be a kinky bastard. We tried it,
just the two of us. It didn’t work. Maybe it’s my problem, but I don’t have the
ability to—I don’t know—keep it all in separate boxes in my head either. I just
can't. And I’ve been trying to figure out how to fit that in with what we have,
our friendship. But then I thought, well that’s it. Friendship. Brotherhood.
It’s not normal or usual, what we’re dealing with. Nothing about this is. So
fuck the tiny boxes and the Citadel and whatever anyone else thinks. Fuck them
all. We make it ours. It doesn’t have to be this shameful thing done in the
dark that we all do our best to forget about and take to our graves. But it
could be something more important. Us. Right here, affirming what we are to
each other. That’s what we can make this Ritual.”
By the time he finally ran out of steam, Gladio was breathing heavily, and
looking at them with pleading eyes. “This is about Noctis, sure. But it’s about
the three of us too.” Still, neither Ignis nor Noctis answered. For himself,
Noctis was simply too stunned.
He felt the heaviness of the moment all the way down to his bones.
“You’re really serious about this, Gladio? About doing it—together?” he asked,
aware that Gladio wasn’t callous enough to say it unseriously. But sometimes
Gladio didn’t realize he was being cruel. “You’re not just fucking with us to
embarrass us or something?”
Gladio put his hand over his heart. “I’ve never been more serious about
anything in my life. I don’t give a flying fuck what anyone else thinks about
it.”
After he absorbed that, Noctis twisted out of Ignis’s arms and turned to look
at him, asking without asking. Ignis didn’t answer right away. He stared at
Gladio for a long moment, then at Noctis consideringly. “I can't bear the
thought of hurting you, Noct.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Ignis’s eyes were bright. “I think Gladio is never allowed to tell anyone else
off for having a crazy idea ever again. But I care more about what you want.”
“I want—I want to be able to make my own choices.”
“I understand that,’ said Ignis.
Noctis shook his head. “The thing is, you do get to make your own choices.
You’ve always been able to. Isn’t that what you told Ulrich?” Ignis nodded with
a frown, and Noct continued firmly, “You make your own choices, but I—I never
will. Everything about my life belongs to someone else. So when Gladio says he
wants to take this Ritual for himself, to make it mean what we choose it to
mean, I get that. I mean, I don’t think I would have ever connected it to a
threesome. That’s all Gladio, but I want a choice too.”
Ignis dipped his head in acquiescence. “Okay.”
“Okay,” repeated Noctis.
They all three just sat there for a moment. Then suddenly Noctis was giggling,
unable to bear the tension any longer. Gladio let a long, relieved breath and
collapsed back down, and even Ignis cracked a strained smile.
“This is completely insane,” spewed Noctis through his sharp gasps. “We’ve all
lost our minds. I mean, we’re actually considering this! Like three guys. At
the same time.”
Gladio shrugged. “You make it sound so bad. I never meant literally all at the
same time. Just together.” He laughed. “We’re not planning on spit roasting
anyone, Astrals.
Ignis choked as if he had swallowed something particularly sour. “You’re
disgusting, Gladio,” he informed the Shield with a sniff. “No one needs that
filth.”
Gladio raised his head, looking completely unrepentant. “Don’t be a prude. The
world would be a better place if everyone were just willing to admit what they
wanted.”
“It’s your language I have a problem with, not your sexual ideals.”
“Words only have the power we give them.”
Noctis snorted at that. “Does that mean you don’t care about my cursing
anymore?”
“No,” snapped both Ignis and Gladio at the same time.
They glared, and Noctis shifted uncomfortably. “Are we really doing this?” he
asked again. It still didn’t feel real.
“Are we?” asked Gladio significantly.
Noctis gulped. A precipice.
“Yes?” he said, aware that he didn’t sound very sure of himself.
Gladio didn’t seem to accept that as an answer. He commanded, “What are you
afraid of Noct? Tell me that.”
Prompto had asked him the same thing. And Noctis had not told him. Not directly
anyway.
What am I afraid of?
He could have gone through the same list he had yesterday. Hurting someone.
Being embarrassed. But that didn’t really capture what he was feeling. He
remembered looking Gladio in the eye as the Shield had his hands on Noct’s hip.
How trapped he had felt. Afraid to feel. Afraid to not.
He remembered his thoughts from this morning. How will I look them in the eye
after I know what they look like when they're being fucked?
“I can't,” he began. He stopped. Both Gladio and Ignis remained still. He took
a deep breath. “I’m afraid of being seen—.” He almost said like that or in that
position or even by you, but he ended up repeating himself. “I’m afraid of
being seen.”
It wasn’t the only fear he had, not by a long shot. But it was perhaps the
truest. The distilled essence of the torrent inside of himself, and the most
honest thing he had said tonight.
“I already see you, Noct,” said Gladio, his voice strangely gruff. Noctis
jerked his head up and found that his Shield was once again intensely focused
entirely on him.
Noctis squeezed his eyes closed, unable to bear the other’s focus. “No you
don’t.”
Gladio refused to relent. “Yes, I do.”
“I—.”
“Noctis.” Gladio forced Noctis to meet his eyes again through the power of his
voice alone. “I see you.”
And then Noctis got it. He understood what Gladio was desperately trying to
tell him, the only way he could. Noctis quivered from the knowledge of it.
Gladio knew. How had he finally realized it? When? The Shield remained
merciless, refusing to back down. “No more hiding.”
If Noctis never heard that damn phrase again, it would be too soon.
“You think we aren’t afraid of the same things you are?” interjected Ignis. His
eyes shone with emotion.
“Of course, you aren’t,” replied Noctis, hardly believing that he was saying
this out loud. He looked back at Gladio, “You don’t love me. Not like that.”
Noctis wasn’t even sure if he loved Gladio like that. His feelings were all
mixed up and jumbled with his feelings for Ignis and all of his fears and
insecurities.
With a quick, pitying glance at Ignis, Gladio quirked his lip tiredly. “No I
don’t.” At that, Noctis felt his heart sink into his stomach. He knew it. But
that didn’t make it easier to hear. “But I’d be lying if I said you were just a
job. Or just a friend. That’s what I was trying to say earlier. We don’t need a
fucking label. I said I wanted to make love to you, and I meant it. Not because
your dad told me to, or because my job depends on it. I want to because I care
about you, and I can give you that.”
Ignis covered his eyes. Gladio was impassive for a second, then he launched
himself off the bed very suddenly. In his absence, Noctis nearly fell into the
crater. Ignoring Noct’s yelp, the Shield rummaged in his bag, then retrieved a
jar of something from within. He turned around, and very carefully placed it on
the foot of the bed where he had been sitting.
It was lube.
Gladio steadily met Noctis’s gaze, something like a challenge in his eyes. “Let
me take care of you, Noct,” he said, his voice curling around Noct’s name. “I
want this.”
Noctis stared at the jar. The label was black and unassuming, but Noct knew
what it was. With a lot more conviction than he actually felt, he said quietly,
“Okay.”
His heart settled somewhere deep in his stomach. It was and was not like this
morning. He was nervous, but it wasn’t the same trapped feeling as before. By
bucking the expectations placed upon them, not through refusing, but by
transforming the ritual, Noctis’s outlook on it had been transformed as well.
I chose this.
With a nod, Noctis said again, “Okay.” Ignis reached over and carefully
squeezed his hand.
“Okay,” repeated Gladio with finality.
                                      ***
Chapter End Notes
     I apologize for taking so long to reply to the comments on the last
     two chapters. They were lovely and affirming, and ya'll are the best.
     Thank you so much.
***** To Be Seen *****
Chapter Summary
     In which the author discovers that the worst part of writing a
     threesome is keeping up with the pronoun antecedents.
Chapter Notes
     Explicit Sexual material ahead. Safe and consensual.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                      ***
                              **Ignis Scientia**
                                      ***
Before Gladio or Noctis could take it any further, Ignis announced he had to
use the bathroom. The look Gladio gave Ignis told him that Gladio knew exactly
why he was retreating, but he ignored the Shield.
In the bathroom, Ignis turned on the sink and cupped his hands to get a sip of
water for his painfully dry mouth. Staring at himself in the mirror, he tried
desperately to center himself.
His emotions swirled, making him feel uncomfortably out of control. There was
the ever present confusion of his newly discovered desire for Noctis. He was
also vaguely angry with Gladio, though he knew it was mostly a product of his
own embarrassment and shame. Even so, Gladio had a lot of balls blaming him for
the Regalia stealing incident. After all, if Gladio hadn’t traumatized Noctis
earlier this morning, then the prince probably wouldn’t have wanted to pull a
stupid stunt in the first place. He had no right to talk to Ignis like that, no
right at all.
With a heavy breath, Ignis splashed himself with the running water, feeling the
cool relief run down his face and hair.
No, Gladio was acting like Ignis was purposely being duplicitous by not
announcing his confused and dangerous emotions to Noctis. But at the same time,
the Shield insisted that Ignis could not allow himself to be ruled by those
same feelings. There was no way to win there.
Ignis gave himself one last long look in the mirror and then with a sigh,
walked back out in the hall to where he could hear the others talking from the
open bedroom door. Ignis silently halted as he heard what Noctis was asking
Gladio, “Have you ever does something like this before?”
Gladio’s respond was gruff and distracted. “Like what? Sex? A threesome?” Ignis
couldn’t help himself. He didn’t much care what Gladio had or had not tried
before. But Noctis’s interest—well that intrigued the advisor very much. So he
stopped outside the room and listened avidly.
“No. I mean—with a guy.”
Ignis strained to hear Gladio’s response. It took him a moment, then the Shield
responded, “No. I haven’t.”
“Oh.”
Gladio snorted. “But I have played around with that stuff with girls. Works
pretty much the same way.”
Noctis shuffled, then replied, “Does it bother you to be doing it with two guys
now?” Ignis wished desperately that he could see the prince’s face. But he
figured his reappearance would halt the conversation right there.
“Gods, you need to listen. I told you I wanted to, didn’t I?”
“I guess.”
“Sex is sex, Noct. I like it.” Gladio laughed again smugly. “I’ve been told I’m
good at it too.” Outside the door, Ignis rolled his eyes. With another loud
breath, the Shield added, “Sex is about making each other feel good. It’s not
rocket science, you know, no matter what parts you have. It’s supposed to be
fun.”
This might have been the point when Ignis decided to finally enter the room,
but then Noctis asked Gladio, “Do you think Iggy is actually okay with this?”
The advisor froze.
“I think Ignis knows what he wants,” The Shield replied cryptically.
Ignis indeed knew what he wanted. It was just that what he wanted was awful and
predatory. To control and propel the sexual awakening of Noctis Lucis Caelum.
To show him what exactly it meant to want, to need. Gladio might have gotten
the whole thing started, but Ignis wanted to be the one who took these first
steps with Noctis.
With that, Ignis finally make a loud clattering noise and proceeded to take a
few heavy steps, rounding the corner to the bedroom. Noctis looked up at him
guiltily as he entered. “Hey.”
Ignis smiled, ignoring the obvious tension. “Hello.”
The prince stood by the dresser, and Gladio lounged on the bed. The teen must
have been pacing back and forth while Ignis was in the bathroom. He could
almost see the path worn in the carpet. With a slightly raised eyebrow, Ignis
gestured to the bed, but Noct shook his head, remaining firmly where he was.
Ignis shrugged.
He couldn’t help but stare at his charge. Noctis might have showered, but he
hadn’t brought a change of clothes, and the clothes he wore were still filthy.
Ignis hadn’t really noticed before, but now that he was contemplating tearing
them off, it was suddenly apparent.
Suddenly Noctis yawned, rolling his shoulders around stiffly. The display
reminded Ignis how late it must be, and he quickly glanced at his watch. 2:30
a.m. No wonder Noctis was yawning. Now that he looked closer, Ignis could see
the dark rings forming under the prince’s eyes, and it wasn’t just the teen
either. Ignis felt like he could sleep for an eternity as well. “Are you sure
you don’t need a short rest, Noct?” he asked kindly.
The prince shook his head in response. “I’m not that tired actually.”
“You’re not tired?” teased Gladio. “I don’t believe it.”
“I’m not,” insisted Noctis. “I haven’t—I haven’t used my magic in like a week
now.” Noctis looked a bit uncomfortable at the reminder that his magic took so
much from him. “So I’m not tired. Not like that.”
Gladio seemed like he was going to say something, but then he visibly changed
gears. “Well, good,” he said, “It’ll make this easier then.”
Noctis shrugged as Gladio sat up and looked at him intently. “You can feel it,
can't you? Sometimes when you touch yourself. Your magic?”
The prince swallowed visibly. His eyes darted around, to Ignis and then back to
Gladio. Then he nodded.
“Good. This’ll be really simple. Just let your magic guide you when you’re
fucking us, and you’ll be fine.”
Noctis made a nearly inaudible gasp on the word ‘fucking,’ but he nodded once
more.
Gladio continued, “Okay, how do we want to —?”
Ignis interrupted the Shield. “I will.”
He squared himself and faced Noctis. The words had come almost unbidden, but he
couldn’t lie to himself about how little he wanted to take it back. Gladio
might be the hedonist, the confident one, the easy choice, but Ignis wanted
this.
Would Gladio argue with him? He hated how his stomach clenched with nerves, and
he was struck again by the unfairness of it all. How in the hell did Gladio
find it so easy? The Shield had just announced with all the aplomb of a new
work-out routine that he wanted to make love to Noctis, only minutes after
finding out Noct’s feelings for him. Ignis meanwhile, could barely hold himself
together, had to watch the teen lust after his Shield while choking his own
desires down. He had to look at Noct and know that the teen believed that Ignis
was forcing himself to this task, that it was something akin to rape.
It wasn’t fair.
But Gladio surprised Ignis. He gave the advisor a look that was nearly
unreadable in its complexity, and then the he nodded.
Noctis bit his lip, eyelashes fluttering. “I don’t know what to do.”
“No,” agreed Gladio, “But Iggy does. He says he’s got this, and I believe him.”
Ignis wasn’t sure that was true, but he was unwilling to give this away to
Gladio’s hands, so he nodded silently. He didn’t trust himself to speak. He
wondered if Noctis could see the painful desire that was tearing its way
through every nerve of his body.
Gladio settled himself further on the bed and took a long, deep breath. “Show
us then,” he commanded from his perch, his voice strangely cool and low.
“Undress him.” At Gladio’s challenging words, Ignis felt something hot sink to
the bottom of his stomach.
With clenched fists, Noctis captured Ignis’s gaze, refusing to look away or
hide.
No secrets.
Ignis was nothing if not obedient. He and Noctis stood only a few feet apart,
one by the dresser and the other the door. A voice in his head cawed over and
over, this is real, this is really happening. Walking the few steps to his
charge, Ignis slowly took the time to absorb the sight of the younger teenager,
the warm flush of his cheeks and the shallow rise and fall of his chest. This
was a moment Ignis would never experience again, and thus, he needed to absorb
every sharp second of it.
He did not look away from Noct’s face as he slowly grasped the thin cotton of
the teen’s shirt. The texture of the fabric made everything feel so much more
real, something concrete to hold in his hand. As he exposed a strip of Noctis’s
slim stomach, he wanted nothing more than to reach down and kiss the tiny belly
button, but he held back. This was something that had to be handled delicately.
This was Noct.
Instead, he removed Noctis’s T-shirt jaw-achingly slowly. The prince held
entirely still for him. When Noct stood bare-chested, Ignis again paused for a
long time. Noct’s eyes were still wide, his pupils huge and dark. Goosebumps
rose up across the teen’s collarbone as Ignis let himself look. Noctis’s chest
was smooth, his nipples small and dusky. A smidgen of black hair started at his
bellybutton and traveled south.
Ignis ached to get one of those peaks in his mouth. Swallowing dryly, he asked,
“Is this okay?”
Noctis nodded. Ignis didn’t look away from Noct’s face as he reached over,
resting his hands on the prince’s waist line. He let his expression ask the
question for him, and he was rewarded with another nod.
Soon Noctis was standing in just his underwear, and Ignis himself was
trembling. Now they were at the precipice, at a thing that couldn’t be taken
back once it was done. Ignis wasn’t sure he could throw himself over that
cliff. Not with the way Noctis was looking at him, the teen’s expression wary
yet trusting. Afraid, but not of Ignis.
I can't do this, Ignis thought hysterically. He wasn’t good enough or brave
enough to lead in changing the shape of their relationship like this. He
wasn’t.
“Keep going,” came Gladio’s voice from behind him. He had almost forgotten the
Shield was there. Gladio’s tone wasn’t commanding, but it was gruff, an octave
too low.
Ignis didn’t dare take his eyes off Noctis long enough to look back, but the
sound of arousal was unmistakable.
Noctis shivered in response, and his breathing immediately grew shallower.
Ignis had to bite back the jealousy that laced through him at the clear effect
the Shield had on the teenager. It didn’t matter, because Ignis would always
have this; he would always be Noct’s first.
Tugging at the prince’s waistband, Ignis drove Noct’s attention back to
himself. However, for the first time since Ignis had begun undressing him, Noct
tensed up. His body completely froze, save for his hands. Noctis moved as if to
stop Ignis, before the teen placed his arms stiffly back at his side.
That wasn’t at all what Ignis wanted. He cupped the prince’s cheek with a
gentle touch. Noctis squeezed his eyes shut at the gesture, before meeting
Ignis’s gaze again.
“No fear,” murmured Ignis. He didn’t phrase it as a question, but he waited on
the answer regardless.
After a silent moment, Noctis mimicked Ignis, trailing his own fingers down the
older man’s cheek. The feeling of Noct’s warmth sent a blast of hot electricity
through Ignis that seemed to travel straight to his dick. He shivered
violently. Noctis replied with a quiet smile, “No fear.”
In response, Ignis took a half a step back, waiting. Then Noctis reached down
and climbed out of his own boxers of his own volition, finally standing before
them entirely naked.
Ignis wanted. Oh how badly he wanted. It wasn’t a new sight, but he felt he was
seeing with new eyes. Even in this moment, he could hardly believe that Noct
could be so willing, so forward.
Noctis was only half hard. His dick was slim, but long, and it was entirely
perfect.
The teen made a motion like he wanted to cover himself. However at the last
second, he clenched his fists and forced himself to stand still, nearly
vibrating with nerves. Ignis wanted to tell him how fucking gorgeous he was,
but Noctis wouldn’t have responded well to such an outpouring. No, for now
silence was best, even if it felt like it was killing him.
Noctis’s eyes were flickering between Gladio and Ignis. “I don’t,” he started,
then stopped.
Gladio stood up suddenly. “Look at the two of you,” he said as he came to stand
next to them. He met Ignis’s gaze very briefly, his eyes bright and
mischievous. Ignis’s stomach did another drop, not sure if he wanted Gladio’s
interruption. The Shield grinned and looked at Noctis, then back at Ignis.
“Just look at him,” murmured Gladio, his voice still that low drawl. “Not even
hard, and he’s practically choking to get your cock in his mouth.”
Ignis swallowed hard. Gladio was once again talking in a way he never could.
Though Ignis had never seen the Shield in an intimate setting before, it was
fast becoming clear that Gladio liked to give a filthy running commentary while
he was fucking. Still, no matter how much Gladio seemed to enjoy his dirty
talk, Noctis was sixteen and nervous as hell. The Shield couldn’t just say
things like that. Plus, Noctis didn’t look at all like he wanted anyone’s cock
in his mouth. If anything, that was what Ignis was fantasizing about....
Ignis’s gaze shot to Gladio in sudden comprehension, and the Shield smirked
even brighter. “Look, he finally gets it, Noct. Damn that’s adorable.”
Noctis was biting his lip, looking back and forth between them. “Don’t be
stupid, Gladio,” he muttered. “You don’t—you don’t.”
“I don’t what?” challenged Gladio. “I don’t know what I’m talking about it?” He
snorted. Ignis hated that he could be so collected, like it was any other
argument they were having, like Noctis wasn’t naked before him. “No hiding. No
lying.” Gladio cocked his head. “Isn’t that right, Iggy?”
When Ignis didn’t answer right away, Gladio repeated himself. “Iggy? You still
with us?”
“Yes,” Ignis choked out at last. “Yes that’s right.” He was finally seeing it.
Finally seeing what Gladio had been trying to accomplish. Noctis wasn’t trying
to cover himself anymore, too distracted by Gladio’s ribbing. Ignis gave Gladio
another level look.
Gladio blinked at him, then shook his head. “Gods, both of you are hopeless.
You would have never been able to do this without me anyway.”
“Gladio,” Ignis said in warning.
The Shield ignored him. “Do you trust me?” Gladio asked abruptly, his eyes
intensely focused on his two partners.
Ignis paused. His heartbeat felt like it was ratcheting out of his chest. He
still wasn’t sure how he was going to handle actually touching Noctis, and from
the look the teen was giving him, Noct was similarly struggling. “Yes,” replied
Ignis.
Noctis’s voice was a lot less sure, but he repeated Ignis’s yes. Gladio gave
then both another long look, then snorted and retreated back the bed. Without
ceremony, he shucked his pants down, until he was down to boxers.
Ignis choked on his breath, but he didn’t say anything, choosing instead to
watch as a brilliant shade of red blossomed across Noct’s cheeks. Noctis’s half
hard cock gave a valiant little jump, although he didn’t seem to notice, eyes
glued to the Shield.
Ignis resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Gladio situated himself on the bed.
Meanwhile, the Shield looked at Ignis and said, “Safe word. I need something to
tell me you’re uncomfortable. Both of you.”
“What?” stuttered Noctis.
“Just how kinky are we getting, Gladio?” Ignis asked, nearly in the same
breath.
Gladio made an impatient noise. “You said you trusted me. Was that a lie or
not? Safe word, gentlemen. Sometime this century, please.”
“Cinnamon,” Ignis replied quickly, narrowing his eyes.
“Noct?”
“I’ll use the same.”
Gladio nodded. “That’ll be our code for a full stop. If you’re uncomfortable,
tell me and we’ll slow down. Use that and I’ll know you absolutely don’t want
to do whatever we’re doing. Got it?” He settled back, clearly getting himself
comfortable. After what did actually feel like a century, he finally stopped
moving and put his attention back to Ignis and Noctis.
“Ignis,” he said suddenly. His voice was smooth and reassuring. “Look at
Noctis.”
Ignis couldn’t help but obey. He didn’t usually like to play games in bed.
Normally, he found it too difficult to let go, to put all of his trust in his
partner. But this was Gladio, and somehow he found himself locking eyes with
Noctis, then letting his gaze slowly drag down, taking another eyeful of the
youth before him. Rather than making the situation more stressful and
ridiculous, Gladio’s calm, commanding tone was putting him at ease, letting him
focus on the here and now. Damn him.
“Kiss him.”
Ignis couldn’t stop the near full body shudder that rocked him at those words.
Gods, this was crazy, what they were doing. He’d never felt anything like this
in his life. Was this how sex normally went for Gladio? No wonder he was such a
degenerate.
Ignis closed what little distance there was left between him and Noctis, and
then he cupped the youth’s face as gently as he could. Noctis’s eyes were
bright and completely present. Still, Ignis had to be sure.
“Is this okay?” he murmured, his breath ghosting over Noct’s cheek.
Noctis didn’t answer. He swallowed, eyes darting in a clear resurgence of
nerves. For half a second Ignis thought he had somehow ruined everything. But
then Noctis’s lips were on his, the press as gentle as the wings of bird and
gone nearly as quickly.
Ignis groaned, chasing the teen’s mouth instinctively as Noct pulled away. He
managed to stop for half a second again, and then he let himself capture Noct’s
lips.
Finally.
It was everything Ignis had never let himself dream about. Noctis was hesitant
at first. It took a couple seconds of Ignis teasing his lips, before he finally
let the older man in, gasping at the touch of tongue on his teeth, the roof of
his mouth, everywhere at once.
Noct was a couple steps behind Ignis, learning as he went, and it was magical
to be the one teaching him this dance. The teen let Ignis dominate the kiss for
a few precious seconds, before he was pushing forward, eagerly trying on Ignis
what the advisor was doing to him. Every swipe of his tongue was exploratory,
no motion the same as the one before it.
Ignis groaned in Noct’s mouth as the teen’s fingers tightened in his hair,
pulling and clenching in time with the movement of his tongue. Noct’s other
hand slid boldly under Ignis’s vest, racking up and down. He chased Ignis as
the advisor pulled away, but Ignis only meant to take off his shirt, and then
they were both hungrily at it again.
But even the best things had to come to an end at some point. Ignis drew away
for the final time, biting and pulling on Noct’s lips as he did so, enjoying
the noises the action drew out of the youth. He worked his way down Noct’s
neck, sucking and biting, until he couldn’t bear it anymore.
He paused, his breath coming in short gasps against the side of Noctis’s neck.
The prince was trembling and breathing like he had just spent a couple rounds
at the track.
I did that to him , Ignis couldn’t help but crow inwardly with immense
satisfaction. He was finally feeding that monster deep inside of himself and it
was insatiable.
“Wow, Ignis. Who knew you were such a wild animal underneath all that proper
bullshit,” came Gladio’s voice from behind him. Ignis wanted to flip him a rude
hand gesture, but he had much more important things to occupy his time. That
was until he heard Gladio’s next words.
“I think Noctis and I both want to see what else you can do with that mouth,
Iggy.”
Noctis froze, though Ignis could tell he was trying to hide it. Ignis,
meanwhile, could barely control the thundering of his heart. Gladio wanted him
to—to do….
Gladio’s voice grew even smoother, silkier. “I wonder what kind of noises you
can wring from His Highness,” he said lazily from his perch on the bed. “You’ll
have to be careful with him, of course. Yours is the first mouth to ever get a
taste of that royal cock.” He paused, and Ignis thought he was mercifully done,
but then he continued, “You remember your first blow job, right Iggy?”
Gods, Gladio needed a fucking gag. Ignis had always suspected that there was
nothing but pure filth behind those overlarge muscles, and he was fast being
proven right. But at the same time, there was something oddly soothing about
the hum of Gladio’s voice, about how reliably crass he was at all times. Even
now.
And yes, Ignis did remember his first blow job, not that Gladio knew anything
about it. He remembered how hard it had been to keep himself from cumming in
his partner’s mouth. But Gladio was worrying needlessly. That was a long time
ago, and Ignis happened to be quite skilled with his mouth. Far too skilled to
let Noctis cum until they were good and ready.
“I remember,” he said, and he was surprised at how hoarse his voice came out.
He didn’t even sound like himself. He wet his lips and saw Noctis’s gaze dart
to the motion, then back again.
Ignis couldn’t help but drag this out. He didn't drop straight down, though
something sang inside of him at the thought of himself on his knees for Noctis.
At the thought of Noctis just taking him.
Instead, he went back to sucking on Noctis’s neck, and then he slowly, oh so
slowly worked his way down, doing his best to wring every noise possible from
the teen. It didn’t matter that Gladio was watching, that he would know
undeniably how much Ignis was loving this. Gladio already knew everything about
him anyway. No, this obsession had stopped being deniable long ago.
And Noctis was making such beautiful noises. Not loud. His sounds were still
choked off, still repressed. He trembled as Ignis worked him over, trembling
that Ignis could tell mostly came from nerves. But he hadn’t asked them to stop
yet, and Ignis trusted him to be honest about that. Even so, his tiny, barely
audible whimpers and gasps felt like that much more of an achievement because
the teen clearly didn’t intend to make them.
Finally, Ignis dropped gracefully down to his knees. Noctis moved as if to back
away, but Ignis had anticipated that bit of shyness, and he grasped the back of
the teen’s knee, keeping his face pressed against Noct’s hip and groin as he
lowered himself down. Ignis held him there as he nosed Noct’s increasingly
hardening cock.
Noctis had a clean, slightly musky smell. With a wicked grin and his grip on
the back of Noct’s leg still tight, the advisor licked a sloppy strip up the
half hardened cock. The teen let out a quivering, choked noise, but Ignis
didn't stop. He had a firm goal now.
With confidence he hadn’t known he possessed, he mouthed the tip of Noct’s
dick, peppering him with tiny, sucking kisses. Gods, he could almost taste
blood rushing south, Noct’s arousal building like a lit fire. Ignis couldn’t
see Noctis’s face from where he knelt, but he could read the teen easily in
tiny, unsuppressed movements. Could feel it in the tremble of Noct’s legs, the
restless motion of his hips, the goosebumps that flared in the wake of Ignis’s
teasing breath.
As Noct finally, finally began to actually pant for Ignis, he took pity on the
teenager, and let his entire mouth encircle Noctis’s cock. With a shallow
breath through his nose, Ignis took Noctis as far as he could without gagging,
then drew back down with a demanding swallow.
It was worth everything to hear Noct gasp, “Ignis!” his voice so fucking needy.
The advisor was ready for the way Noct’s hips jerked forward. He let him, let
the teen push his cock messily into Ignis’s mouth for a few shuddering thrusts,
before he gripped Noct’s hip firmly again and took control, slowing the pace,
making Noctis endure the slow drag of his lips.
Ignis wanted to keep going as he worked Noctis up and down. He’d never wanted
anything as badly in his life. But the reality of their task could not be
forgotten for long. Squeezing his eyes shut in regret, he pulled off of Noctis
in one smooth motion as the teen whined at the loss.
He rocked back on his heels and met Noctis’s gaze. The teen’s pupils were blown
wide, his cheeks bright red, and his hair a tangled mess. With a heavy swallow,
Ignis then turned his gaze back to Gladio.
It shouldn’t have been surprising, after all Gladio was the one who had said
that sex was sex, but Ignis was still astounded to see that the Shield was
sporting a clear tent in his boxers. Seeing Ignis was looking at him, Gladio
palmed his bulge with an easy chuckle. “Gods, Iggy,” he breathed out, “I don’t
even like men, and you almost made me blow my load just watching you suck
cock.”
At that, Ignis gave him his best unimpressed look, but Gladio only snorted
again and motioned for Ignis to come towards him. Warily, Ignis did just that,
never losing his intense awareness of Noctis right behind him.
Ignis tried to stop in front of the Shield’s knees, but Gladio reached out and
grasped Ignis’s forearm, pulling the other man down and onto his lap. Ignis
probably could have stopped it, but frankly he was too overwhelmed and dazed.
Instead, he let himself fall. His neglected dick pressed tantalizingly against
Gladio’s in this position, and he couldn’t stop the shaky noise that escaped
him.
Gladio laughed again, and then leaned into Ignis’s ear. He purred under his
breath, “See, I told you, you two were freaking out for nothing. He’s fucking
loving it.”
Ignis tried to give him a stern look. This was not the time to argue who had
been right or wrong, but Gladio shook his head, adding, “You moved a little too
fast for me there, Iggy. Didn’t expect you get so into it. Now Noct is just
gonna have to hang tight n’ wait on us to prep you up.”
For a second Ignis was confused, but it was soon clear when Gladio lifted him
up and tugged on his pants. Once again, Ignis could not see Noctis’s face, and
he mourned that loss even as he stayed silent, letting Gladio maneuver him more
comfortably on his lap as the Shield unscrewed the cap on the lube.
Gladio cocked his head and held out the tub, his question clear. Ignis shook
his head slowly. He wasn’t sure he had the self-possession to prep himself.
Gladio shrugged. “I haven’t really done this before to someone else, Iggy. So
just tell me if I’m doing it wrong or something.”
His focus still half on Noctis, Ignis nodded faintly as he shifted in Gladio’s
lap.
After working the lube onto his hand, Gladio breached him easily with one
finger. Ignis sighed at the feeling. He had done this enough times now to know
how to relax and take it for those first few vaguely painful minutes. Gladio
worked Ignis open slowly at first, spending nearly as much time teasing him as
actually stretching him before the Shield added the second finger.
The entire time, Gladio kept his eyes on Ignis’s face, watching for every
minute expression, slowing down at the slightest wince, grinning when Ignis’s
eyes would widen when he hit a pleasurable spot. As he worked, Gladio rolled
his hips, keeping a slow, hazy pressure against Ignis’s trapped cock.
Gladio leaned in and whispered filthily, “He’s watching us, you know. Imagining
my fingers are his cock. He’s thinking about how badly he wants to be the one
disappearing in your ass.” Ignis groaned and broke eye contact as Gladio
punctuated his words with a ferocious twist of his fingers. “I don’t know Iggy;
you already seem so fucked out. Maybe I should take over. You know there’s no
shame in—.”
Ignis cut the Shield off by grabbing the back of his hair viciously and jolting
his head up to face the advisor. Ignis looked him deeply in the eyes, and then
leaned down and caught Gladio’s lips, stopping his stream of words in its
tracks. Ignis kissed him aggressively, leaving no room for argument, grinding
hard against the Shield at the same time in a two pronged attack.
Gladio made a hmphing noise in the back of his throat as Ignis released him.
Holding his wide eyes again, Ignis whispered, “Thank you.”
He knew Gladio would understand exactly what he meant. Gladio blinked at him,
then nodded.
With that, Ignis climbed off of the Shield and turned back to face Noctis.
If Ignis looked like the essence of a good fucking, then there was nothing left
fit to describe Noctis. The prince’s cock jutted out, painfully red and hard.
In his rapturous attention on what Ignis and Gladio had been doing, he had
seemingly forgotten about his own nakedness. He faced his advisor, his hungry
anticipation evident.
Noctis’s eyes widened as he caught whatever was in Ignis’s expression. The
speed of the prince’s breathing increased dramatically, almost as if he were
having a panic attack. His mouth worked like he wanted to say something, but
didn’t know how to make noise at the moment. It was almost like he had just had
some intense revelation. Ignis hoped that it was about how much he wanted to
push onwards.
“Move, Gladio,” Ignis commanded without looking back to see that he had been
obeyed. He crooked his finger at Noctis and was rewarded as the teen followed
him, almost in a daze.
Ignis maneuvered Noctis until he was lying on his back in the bed. Gladio had
indeed moved to the base of the bed, where he stood watching them intently.
How was it that just hours earlier, Noctis could not so much as contemplate sex
with his retainers, and yet now he lay there openly wanton? Ignis had no idea.
It felt like everything was happening too fast, like Gladio had purposely given
them no time to process. Oh, it wasn’t like Noctis wasn’t nervous. Ignis could
still see that emotion tracked across his face, a distinct wariness. But it
amazed Ignis over and over again that what he didn’t sense anywhere in Noct’s
countenance was true fear.
No hiding.
This was still Noctis’s first time though, and Ignis would not fuck this up, no
matter how eager he was. So he paused yet again, and asked, “Is this okay,
Noct?”
Noctis replied, his voice low and husky, “Yeah.” He stayed still as Ignis
climbed over him, settling over his hips, not quite touching.
Noctis was looking at Ignis again, his expression strange and thoughtful. It
was almost as if the lust had faded away, even though his dick remained hard as
before. Ignis hesitated.
“Ignis?”
Though it was patently killing him, Ignis held himself aloft and asked in a
strangled voice, “Yes, Noct?”
Noctis shivered as Ignis spoke his name, but he held his advisor’s gaze. Oddly
enough, Ignis felt more than saw Gladio tense up behind him. Noctis’s eyes
flickered to the Shield and back again, and then he seemed to steel himself.
“I see you too, Ignis,” he said softly, “I want you to know that
before—before—.” He bit his lip as his entire frame curled in on itself shyly.
Without thinking, Ignis splayed his palm on Noct’s chest, keeping him from
running away, holding him steady. His heart suddenly thundered in his chest for
an utterly new reason. “You—You, what do you mean? Earlier you—.”
“I know. I know what I said earlier. But just now—I’m not blind, Iggy. And
neither are you.”
Ignis couldn’t breathe. He didn’t dare look at Gladio behind him. “Are you—?”
He wasn’t sure what to ask. Was Noct disgusted? Embarrassed? Did he want to
stop?
Abruptly, Noctis arched up and pressed his lips against his advisor. He grabbed
Ignis’s shoulder and slipped inside the advisor’s mouth without hesitation,
continuing what they had stopped earlier. The prince tangled himself with
Ignis, his mouth searing hot.
For a moment it was simply too much, and Ignis almost pushed Noctis away. But
then he relaxed, feeling beads of salt building in the corner of his eyes,
despite his best effort against it. He didn’t have the wherewithal to rub at
his eyes. Instead, he pushed against Noctis, leading the teen back down against
the bed.
Ignis felt between them, finding Noct’s cock.
No Fear.
He lined them up as Noctis watched him, eyes completely trusting. Then finally,
he sank down.
It wasn’t perfect. But then, no one’s first time was.
Ignis had not let Gladio spend enough time stretching him open, and now he paid
for it with a dull burn that radiated outward. But it was a pain that he
welcomed, grounding him back in the moment. Thankfully, Noctis had enough sense
not to surge against him, instead letting Ignis set his own pace as he speared
himself on Noct’s cock.
Ignis rolled his hips as he sank further and further down, trying to adjust to
the length inside of him. He couldn’t, not for an instant, let go of the fact
that this was Noctis. This was Noctis’s pleasure he was doing his best to
create and build.
Finally, Ignis bottomed out, and he stopped just to breathe. Noctis was shaking
underneath him. Collecting himself, Ignis leaned forward, entangling his
fingers tightly with Noct’s. He waited for Noct’s breathing to slow down
alongside his own, and then he started to move up and down.
It took them a while to build any sort of rhythm. They jarred against each
other, instead of moving in tandem. Noctis was tense, far too tense, and he
struggled to get a feel for Ignis’s movements. But Ignis was infinitely
patient. He was here to teach.
Ignis took Noctis’s hands and gently placed them on his hips and thighs. With
his palm over his pupil’s, Ignis slowed his grinding, using the press of his
grip to show Noctis how to lead his partner’s movements. When Noctis was
finally guiding Ignis’s hips without help, Ignis let go and concentrated on his
own rhythm.
It happened from one moment to the next. Something just clicked, and suddenly
they were moving together.Noctis gasped with every intake of air. Meanwhile,
Ignis leaned back and finally found that perfect angle. He let out an
embarrassing noise, half groan and half moan, as pleasure lit up the nerves all
the way up his spine.
This was what sex was. This was making love, learning each other, coming
together. It couldn’t be more perfect in that moment.
So it was enormously annoying when Noctis just stopped. Ignis almost growled at
him, but then he saw how intense Noct’s gaze was, how serious. “Ignis,” he said
again, looking up at his advisor. Ignis waited.
Noctis still had not learned how to activate his magic without closing his
eyes, much to Gladio’s chagrin. And so he closed his eyes.
Painfully, Ignis had almost forgotten the purpose of why they were here. He had
almost forgotten that this was a task. But Noctis hadn’t.The advisor wasn’t
sure exactly what he expected to happen when Noctis called on his magic. Noct’s
royal magic had always been a mystery to someone like Ignis, who was far more
versed in elemental magic.
Though they sometimes appeared similar to sparks of electricity, the blue
sparks that exploded around them felt nothing like that. Ignis could feel the
magic moving, entirely alien, sinking into him and through him.
It hurt like an attack, over-bright and sharp.
Ignis gasped as Noctis opened his eyes, only to reveal that his pupils glowed
nearly purple with power, their soft blue consumed by the magic. Silver blue
sparks swirled around them in an increasingly tight pattern. Ignis struggled to
control his fear, his feeling of being trapped on top of Noct, his desire to
shy away from the otherness of his prince. He would not be so cowardly.
It was like his nerves were being blasted open, like he could feel each one as
a separate thing. Every place he was connected to Noctis, his legs bracketing
the prince, their tangled hands, the cock deep inside of him, everywhere he
burned white hot, somewhere on the precipice of pain and pleasure. It was
overwhelming.
Noctis surged up, his thrust unexpectedly confident, almost violent. Where
their hands connected, he suddenly tightened his grip, pulling Ignis down and
close to him, forcing even more contact and the overly saturated sensations
that followed.
“Ignis!” whined Noctis, and this time it was a question, desperate and begging.
The advisor understood what he was being asked. He hissed, “Yes.” Noctis did
not need another grant of permission. He held onto Ignis’s arms like he was
afraid the advisor would go flying off, and he set a punishing pace, pounding
up over and over again. Noctis’s movement inside of Ignis was a new level of
exquisiteness, something he had never come close to experiencing before. He
could no longer control the noises he was making. His grunts and gasps
interlaced luridly with the slap of his ass against Noctis.
Noctis was mindlessly chasing his own completion now, jerking Ignis up and
down, heedless of anything else, but it didn’t matter. Ignis came with a
strangled cry, painting a strip across Noct’s stomach. Pleasure traveled in a
radiating wave, more intense that anything he had ever experienced before, the
magic making every sensation that assaulted him twice as powerful.
Ignis had a moment of sweet comedown where everything was hazy, before he
realized that Noctis was once again begging him. Desperately trying to get
Ignis to participate in the rhythm again, he pulled on his advisor, crying out
when Ignis’s muscles clenched around him. The teen was nearly mindless with
need.
Ignis did start to move again, taking a second before he managed to get in
tandem with Noctis. He hissed as Noctis pressed against his overly sensitive
prostate, and realized with a faint sort of horror that the magic had not
stopped simply because he had cum. Every sensation was still twice as strong,
and so the feeling of Noctis’s cock against his nerves was almost unbearably
powerful. He shuddered and whined, unable to help how he clenched around Noctis
again, jerking their rhythm apart.
But Noctis had grabbed onto his hips and was dragging Ignis against himself,
even as Ignis cried out at the sensations, scrabbling his fingers against the
prince, more out of instinct than a true attempt to make the prince stop.
Even if he hadn’t felt it inside of himself, Ignis would have known the instant
Noctis came because the magical sparks that had been swirling around and
through them suddenly coalesced together, entering Ignis’s chest in one swoop.
All the way to his bones, he felt Noctis cum like it was his own second orgasm.
For the briefest, but most unforgettable moment, Ignis’s awareness floated to a
higher plane where he felt everything that connected him to Noctis brightening
and singing with magic. Their bodies here in this moment, but also the years of
companionship, whispered conversations held late at night, hours of comfortable
silences; it all washed together in one bright arc and then flowed into Ignis.
He sensed his connection to Noctis and then all the connections that Noctis
possessed, flowing out of the prince and into the earth. There was a strong
thread to his father, a very different type of thread bound to Gladio, and even
one that Ignis could tell connected him to Prompto. The others were weak,
unpossessed of the magic that now suffused Ignis. He could even sense the
source of it all, every bit leading back to the Crystal, humming against them
with boundless power.
It was beautiful.
And then Ignis’s awareness of it washed away. He shuddered and screamed as more
present sensations climaxed all around him, buffeting and drowning him in the
feeling of Noctis’s soul as it encircled him. He heard a shout, and then Gladio
was pushing him, holding him down. With that, came the realization that he had
been bucking up and away from Noctis, attempting to flee the overwhelming
force.
He clenched his thighs, making himself be still and accept this connection,
only to groan and nearly lose himself again as Noctis shuddered. The prince’s
cock pulsed, letting loose another spurt of cum inside of Ignis and the entire
thing started again, a wave of incredible awareness of everything that
connected him to Noctis, and everything that Noct’s magic touched, and finally
drowning in Noctis himself.
With another shout, Ignis came for the second time, the force of Noct’s magic
allowing nothing less. It tore through him like a rush of adrenaline. His cock
jerked against Noct, and he squeezed the prince’s hand as tightly as he could.
When Ignis came back to the present, he found he was shivering uncontrollably.
Gladio had climbed on the bed and was gently pulling him off of Noctis. Ignis
protested weakly, highly concerned with how Noctis had faired with the ritual.
He couldn’t go from that instant of perfect oneness to possessing these
separate bodies. It just wasn’t possible.
Gladio seemed to sense this in him, however, because he didn’t fight as Ignis
clambered up next to Noctis and wrapped his arms around the youth. Noctis was
awake, and he smiled sleepily at Ignis as the advisor leaned over him.
“Hey, are you okay?” Noctis asked, his voice muffled.
Ignis shushed him. “I’m wonderful, Noct. You just rest now.”
Noctis laughed, sounding almost drunk. “Will do,” he giggled. “Don’t think I
could stop that if I wanted.” Indeed, Noctis was nearly boneless, already
starting to fall asleep in Ignis’s arms.
Belatedly, Ignis realized as he categorized the warm, pleasant ache that came
from great sex, that he too, had another pain that seemed to radiate through
his muscles and was only getting stronger by the moment. He groaned and
clutched Noctis tighter. His mind too, seemed soft and muzzy. “Gladio,’ he said
weakly, “I believe I’m not in a position to take care of the prince at the
moment. It’s up to you now.”
He missed how Gladio settled himself snugly on Noct’s other side, barely making
it work on the queen sized bed. Leaning over the passed out teenager, Gladio
rolled his eyes and said, “What, and you don’t think I’ll take care of you too?
You idiot. Go to sleep. Rest while you can.”
Ignis did just that, falling into a deep oblivion.
                                      ***
Chapter End Notes
     Kudos and comments feed my black soul.
     Thank you to everyone who commented on the previous chapter. Ya'll
     warm my heart. <3
***** Power Freely Given *****
Chapter Summary
     Gladio suggests a game. The game involves his dick.
Chapter Notes
     *Warning for explicit sexual material. There is some power play in
     this chapter and some discussion of sexual kinks. They don't exactly
     follow traditional etiquette, but kind of do their own chocobros
     thing. If you're iffy on sub/dom undertones and power play, I will,
     as always, leave a more detailed description in the end note.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                      ***
                            **Gladiolus Amicitia**
                                      ***
When Gladio was twelve years old, a daemon severed Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum’s
spine. He could still remember the overwhelming bustle in the prince’s quarters
in the days afterward. X-ray after X-ray. Muttering doctors and soothsayers and
King Regis’s pale, grim face. In those terrible weeks, Gladio only saw his own
father in small glimpses and snatches.
At twelve, the young Amicitia was already an unbelievable height of five-foot-
ten and corded with muscle. By that time, he had been deemed mature enough to
begin limited guard duty with the Crownsguard. To have that duty was an
incredible honor, especially for someone so young. And so Gladio was standing
in the doorway of Noctis’s room, desperately trying not to fidget and risk
being deemed unworthy of his new responsibility, when his father entered the
room. Clarus ignored his son, instead walking over to check on the sleeping
prince.
Noctis spent most of his time asleep in those days. The doctors blamed it on
the trauma.
Clarus’s face was troubled. He stood deep in thought for a few minutes, before
turning crisply around. To this day, Gladio had no idea why Clarus took the
time to check in on Noctis when he had so many other seemingly more important
responsibilities. Either way, the Shield turned around and met his son’s eyes.
Gladio kept himself at attention, not acknowledging his father’s interest. The
older Shield frowned, and then he motioned Gladio over.
“Look at him,” commanded Clarus.
Gladio did as he had been bid. The prince’s hair was lank and matted. His face
had an unhealthy sheen, and the grimace that shaped his lips suggested
nightmares and restless sleep.
Gladio spoke hesitantly, “I’ve heard talk around the Citadel that Prince Noctis
can no longer inherit the Ring. That he was always too sickly to follow in his
father’s footsteps and that this is the final sign from the Gods. I’ve heard
that the King will be forced to take a new wife.” Gladio wasn’t sure how he
felt about these rumors. Sickly Noctis had never impressed him all that much,
but the venom of some the circulating rumors disturbed him. What did it mean to
him to be the future Shield to a cripple?
“The ‘people’ who believe that are fools,” replied Clarus, surprisingly
vehement. “And you’re no fool.” Without taking his eyes off of the prince, he
commanded, “Take another good look at the boy, son. Noctis is your King. He’s
your purpose. More than a lover, more than your own children, he’s what you
were born for, Gladiolus.” Clarus turned to look gravely at his son. “You’d
best pray for his quick recovery because without him, you are nothing.”
Gladio never forgot that conversation. His father hadn’t meant to be cruel when
he’d told his son that he was nothing without a king. Clarus had only been
trying to get Gladio to understand the depth of what it meant to be Shield to
the King. That there was no room for doubt, no room for self.
Sometimes Gladio felt he had not learned that lesson, despite his father’s
effort. Gladio was meant to have nothing outside of his duty to Noctis, but
that was like asking him not to have a soul. Gladio loved too hard, too
fiercely to accomplish that feat. No, Gladio was not nothing without Noctis. He
firmly believed that no person’s worth came from outside of himself. But at the
same time, the person that Gladio was without Noctis, he didn’t like very much.
Noctis, despite his flaws, gave Gladio something better. Something to aspire to
be.
                                      ***
                              **Ignis Scientia**
                                      ***
Ignis awoke to the sensation of having his chest crushed by what felt like a
concrete block. He wheezed weakly, batting at the thing squeezing all of the
air out of his lungs. Nothing happened, except that Gladio groaned, and so
Ignis set about pulling himself out from underneath the almost naked Shield.
Unfortunately, he had forgotten how small the bed was for three mostly grown
men, and he slid ungracefully into a heap on the floor just as he managed to
free himself.
Gladio cracked his eyes open. “Iggy, what the hell are you doing?” he mumbled,
his sleepy voice sounding like he was gargling marbles.
“Trying to keep you from suffocating me, you oaf,” Ignis replied indignantly.
He meant to get back up right away, but realized that his legs had all the
strength of cotton. Huffing, he collapsed back into a sprawl. Gladio watched
this, then with a grunt, leaned over Noctis and stretched out his hand.
The advisor grasped the outstretched palm without hesitation, and then Gladio
pulled him back up on the bed. There was some awkward shuffling and less than
gentle maneuvering of the oblivious Noctis, until they were more or less
comfortable again. Gladio pulled the prince nearly on top of himself, and Ignis
wedged his legs half underneath them.
Gladio blinked sleepily at Ignis over the top of Noct’s head. “How’ya feeling?”
Ignis took stock of himself. It still didn’t feel quite real, what they had
done earlier. His mind kept replaying the images, skipping and halting and
starting over. Physically he was exhausted, more than could be explained by
simple sex. The magic stealing from his physical energy to power itself. He had
heard that the Kingsglaive tended to recover from it quickly, more quickly than
he had seen Noctis do the same. But then, none of them used even the fraction
of the magic that flowed through Noctis at every moment of every day. Ignis had
seen that himself in his strange moment of clarity.
“Tired,” he replied honestly.
Gladio nodded and curled around Noctis more tightly as Ignis watched. The
prince still had that boneless look, head lolling crookedly across Gladio’s
chest. Without thinking, Ignis reached over and propped him up, lest the teen
wake up with a painful crick in his neck. When he noticed what Ignis was doing,
Gladio helpfully shifted a bit until Noct was more secure in the crease of his
elbow. The Shield grinned at Ignis.
Ignis swallowed heavily at the sight of the two of them. Noctis looked so soft,
so vulnerable, his wild hair hanging over his eyes and his hands curled up and
tucked over his breastbone. His face was relaxed, his sleep deep and easy.
Ignis knew that Noctis often struggled with nightmares, though the prince had
never admitted it. To see him so open and safe made something deep inside of
Ignis clench and hurt.
Ignis looked at Gladio gravely and said what had been on his mind since Gladio
told him to kiss the prince. “After all your talk about keeping back from
Noctis, you pushed me to make this more than just the ritual,” he accused.
“Why?”
“Because you wouldn’t have done it otherwise,” the Shield replied simply. His
tone turned curious. “Do you regret it?”
Ignis could never regret loving Noctis. But he could fear the pain that love
would cause him down the line. That he could fear very much. He shook his head.
“So what?” he asked, “The threesome, the talking about making love, all of it
was a ploy to get me to fulfil the ultimatum with Noctis and offset the damage
caused by his stunt?”
Gladio did not answer right away.
“That’s rather cunning of you,” Ignis observed.
Narrowing his eyes, Gladio finally replied, “I won’t say I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
Gladio kept talking however, “And it wasn’t a ploy. I wasn’t trying to hurt
you. I didn’t, did I?”
Ignis looked at the sleeping Noctis. “No, you didn’t.”
“Good.”
For a while they were both silent. Ignis watched as warm light slowly filtered
in through the window. If dawn was just beginning, they couldn’t have been
asleep for very long. As the sunlight hit his eyes, Noctis shifted with a
mumble, burying his head further in Gladio’s arm.
Ignis shook his head. “You’re straight. Self-professed rather loudly. Yet the
threesome was your idea,” he accused softly. “You were practically salivating
watching us.”
Gladio reached up and rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Gods Iggy,
everyone’s got their thing, don’t they?”
“And yours is watching other people get off?” Ignis asked dryly.
‘Yeah, actually.”
“Oh.” A pause, then, “Really?”
Gladio shrugged. “Not in a creepy way. I’m not standing outside anybody’s
window or anything.” Gladio’s voice grew hoarser with his next words. “But
being allowed to watch another person lose themselves to pleasure, especially
if it’s something new for them. There’s something—erotic about the trust that
takes, don’t you think? To let you be a part of that?”
“I suppose.”
Gladio snorted. “You suppose,” he repeated snidely. “I’ve never really
discriminated gender-wise when it comes to those sorts of kinks. It’s not about
that, you know?”
Ignis absorbed that information. He had never really talked to Gladio about his
sex life before, but he’d heard rumors. Gladio was known for his wildness in
the sack, his willingness to experiment. Even though Ignis knew all the non-
sexual reasons Gladio had suggested the threesome, there had to be something of
this in there too. It explained how quickly he had jumped to sharing. It also
explained how eagerly he had taken charge from the sidelines, commanding
Ignis’s actions.
“I wish you had told me beforehand,” Ignis admitted.
“Why? It wasn’t exactly necessary to what we were doing.”
“I think Noctis would have been less confused, if you had given him a reason
for your rather sudden sexual turnaround.”
“It wasn’t a turnaround,” Gladio exclaimed. “Since when have I been a prude or
hesitant about any of this?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No actually, I don’t. What do you want, a fucking chart of all my sexual
proclivities before we fuck again? Yes to power games and being tied up, no to
golden showers?” Gladio glared hotly at the advisor over the top of Noctis’s
sleeping form. The prince had not shifted during their loud conversation, let
alone awoken.
With a sigh, Ignis replied, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Gladio deflated just as abruptly as he had exploded. “Nah,” he said, “I didn’t
mean to get so defensive. There aren’t a lot of people that know that about me,
you know? It’s not exactly glamourous future Shield material.” His tone grew
derisive. “The King’s Shield is so tough that he would rather watch other
people have sex than do it himself.”
Ignis shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. “If you only like men when you’re
watching them, will it be hard to for you with Noctis?”
Gladio shook his head, seeming confused. “What? No, I wasn’t lying when I said
I liked sex for its own sake. And Noctis is—well, he’s Noctis.”
Ignis could certainly relate to that sentiment. “Well, I’m glad you told me. I
do appreciate that trust.”
After that, there were a few minutes of thoughtful silence. Watching the
advisor contemplatively, Gladio eventually added softly, “I like the idea of
you watching us though. Does that bother you?”
Ignis granted the Shield the gift of thinking about his answer seriously and
completely. He took a moment to respond. “No. It doesn’t bother me. Especially
after last night. I—liked it myself, to be honest. What we did.”
Gladio snorted. "Honestly, I think our sweet prince has a couple of kinks
himself. He got all hot and bothered when I was telling you two what to do. Did
you notice that?"
Of course Ignis had noticed. How could he not notice every tiny detail of
Noctis's reactions to himself and Gladio? "I did," he said. Looking at Noct’s
unchanged, sleeping face, he asked, “When do you think he’ll awaken?”
Gladio shrugged. “No idea.” He stretched, and with that, he slid out from
underneath Noctis. Rummaging on the floor next to the bed, the Shield found his
discarded pants. Turning back to look at Ignis, he said, “I’m no cook. Not like
you, but I think there’s some pancake mix in one of the cabinets.”
Ignis nodded, and Gladio left the room. He could hear the Shield in the
bathroom and then tromping though the kitchen. With a sigh, he rolled over to
face Noctis. Really he should get up and face the start of the day, maybe help
Gladio turn their breakfast into something more than pancake mix and tap water.
But he was so warm and comfortable right where he was, it was hard to think
about moving anywhere. Even the massive crater in the center of the old
mattress felt like a shelter as opposed to the trial on his back that it
normally would present.
His muscles were still stiff and achy in an almost feverish way, but the longer
he remained awake, the more that feeling seemed to lessen. Whereas the ache in
his ass was an entirely more pleasant reminder of what they had done, and
something feral and possessive inside of Ignis rejoiced at the knowledge that
the sensation would likely remain for several days. Less pleasant was the
stickiness coated to the back of his thighs. That Ignis could do without.
Suddenly, Noctis stretched and rolled over, mumbling under his breath. Ignis
watched silently as the teen rolled back over almost immediately and seemed to
fight the draw of wakefulness, tossing and turning in an almost affronted
manner. Finally, he blinked his eyes open and then focused on Ignis lying
beside him.
“Hey.”
“Good morning,” Ignis replied much more calmly than he actually felt.
Noctis rubbed at the corners of his eyes. He blinked at his advisor, and Ignis
was struck with sudden and overwhelming horror. This was what he had feared
before they had begun this venture. This was the absolute worst outcome.
Because right now, his only desire was to lean over the teen, kiss him awake,
and feel his shoulder blades arch underneath Ignis’s clever fingers. Ignis
forced himself to remain still, but that clearly wasn’t the right move either,
because the longer he lay there silently, the more anxious Noct’s face became.
Ignis was better than this. He was stronger than this. He thought about
Gladio’s serious face saying, because you wouldn’t have done it otherwise.
I see you too, Ignis.
“I hope that your experience last night was what you hoped it would be,” he
said carefully.
Noctis’s answer what not what he expected. Instead of answering in an
affirmative or negative, the teen turned the question back on Ignis. “Was it
was you hoped it would be?” Noct inquired rather pointedly.
If Ignis were a stronger person, this was where he would begin to draw back. To
put some semblance of distance back into their relationship. After all, Gladio
had premised this decision on the belief that sex between the three of them
could be an affirmation of their friendship, and not something either
unattainably romantic or merely perfunctory. Ignis risked everything by
continuing to acknowledge his true feelings.
Instead he replied, daring to look his prince in the eyes, “Yes it was.”
They held each other’s gaze, and then Noctis nodded, breaking away. “Me too,”
he said softly.
Ignis’s heart clenched again, painfully and completely, and with that, he
finally decided to sit up. However, he had forgotten that the both of them had
fallen asleep naked. As the blanket fell away from him, Noctis’s eyes widened
subtly.
That brought Ignis up short. He often caught Noctis looking at Gladio, but
couldn’t really remember a time where he had noticed the same thing directed at
himself. Yet Noctis was clearly enraptured by whatever he saw. Ignis almost had
the urge to check behind him to make sure the Shield hadn’t snuck up on them in
the interval.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he said to Noctis, shattering the strange moment.
“Gladio volunteered to make breakfast. Do you think you’re up for that?”
Noctis made a face. “Depends on what it is. I’m not sure he won’t accidently
poison us.”
With an indulgent smile, Ignis replied, “Pancakes, I believe. I meant more
energy wise, however. How do you feel after the ritual?”
“Oh that. I’m fine. How about you?”
“I suppose I finally understand what you go through when your magic demands all
of your energy.” At Noctis’s stricken look, he quickly added, “I’m also fine,
Noctis. Truly. And I will be even better once I’m actually clean.” With that he
finally climbed out of bed and headed down the hall. He was still a bit dizzy
and sore, but it was manageable.
If only his turbulent emotions were so easy to deal with.
                                      ***
                            **Noctis Lucis Caelum**
                                      ***
After Ignis left, Noctis made himself take a deep breath and sit up in the bed,
his legs curled up underneath him.
He was no longer a virgin. From the significance they had given the act, some
part of Noctis had expected that he would feel differently afterwards, that
some part of him would be inexorably changed. But he still felt like himself.
The tiredness in his bones was nothing new. It was the same fatigue that
plagued him every time he pushed himself with his magic.
Was he marked now? Truly different? He knew you couldn’t tell just by looking
at person whether they were a virgin or not, that for the most part the idea of
virginity was an indefinite concept anyway. But that didn’t stop his paranoid
brain from helpfully informing him that everyone would be able to see what
Ignis and he had done, stamped somewhere on his forehead.
There was the virginity part of it, but there was also the Ignis part of it,
and that Noctis understood even less. The way Ignis had looked at him last
night, reverent and awed. It had never occurred to Noctis before, that Ignis
could see him as more than the child he had cared for all these years. What had
Ignis said? You have a lot of power, but you don’t get to decide for me what I
need, Noctis.
Noctis didn’t get to decide for him what he felt either. And Ignis clearly felt
something. Something powerful and strange and adult. Last night, it had been
easy to accept it, to let those unexposed feelings thread through their
interaction, to tell Ignis that he saw him. But here, the morning after and in
the light of day, it was so much harder. Now it felt like something dangerous
to acknowledge and make real.
It was just so damn confusing.
With a shake of his head, he closed his eyes and sought his magic within
himself. The power slumbered, heavy and slow, like a cat that had just recently
fed to excess. If he concentrated and let his awareness hover, he could feel
the deeper connections within himself. The flow between himself and the Crystal
was sluggish but steady as his body tried to feed it the required energy it
needed to sustain itself. He knew that no matter how hard he pushed himself,
the flow of magic would never just stop or run out. It was bound to the blood
in his veins, to his very soul.
And there. If he concentrated just right, he could feel it, faint and
flickering, the barest thread. Ignis. The advisor was now a tiny draw on his
magic, bound to Noctis in the same way that Noctis was bound to the Crystal.
Noctis snapped his eyes open, the awareness of his magic fading into the
constant background hum it normally occupied. The knowledge of the successful
Covenant was heady and humbling.
It was his hunger that finally drove him out of the warm bed. He heard the
shower finally turn on as he gingerly slid from the bed. The only clothes he
had were the muddied and torn ones from last night, and he crinkled his nose in
distaste as he dressed himself. With a stretch, he ambled through the hallway.
He could smell the scent of cooking oil and butter, much to his ravenous
excitement.
Noctis walked into the kitchen, and then he stopped dead, unable to help
himself as he stood dumbfounded. Gladio had his back to him, bent over the
stovetop. The Shield wore pants and nothing else. Black ink rippled across his
broad shoulder blades. It gave Noctis the strange urge to taste, to suck kisses
into the Shield’s skin. He could do it right now, walk up behind the Shield and
loop his arms around Gladio’s back.
He swallowed heavily, and the noise drew Gladio around. The Shield twisted
towards the prince, granting Noctis the sight of Gladio’s muscles curling with
his motion.
“You’re awake.”
Noctis nodded. Gladio didn’t seem bothered by his lack of verbal answer. The
older man cocked his head consideringly. “That Ignis in the shower then?”
Noctis nodded again. “Hmn. You hungry?” he asked. “It ain’t gourmet or
anything, but it’s what we’ve got. I wasn’t exactly planning on a party when I
came up here.”
Noctis shrugged and sat at the kitchen table as answer. Gladio snorted and
turned back to flip his pancakes. A few minutes later, he set two plates down,
one for him and one for Noctis. They ate in silence. Noctis could faintly hear
the shower spray from where they sat.
The silence should have been uncomfortable, hampered by the implications of
what they had all three done last night. But it wasn’t. Gladio voraciously
focused on his own pancakes. He only seemed bothered when Noctis pushed his
plate away after finishing off barely half of his portion. The Shield scowled
at Noctis, and then seemed to think better of it.
“How are you feeling?” Gladio asked, his gaze directed at something by his
feet. Noctis understood that his answer here would determine whether they
finished what they had begun last night. Gladio had given him that power with
this one simple question.
He made himself look at his Shield. “I’m fine,” he said. Noctis’s answer felt
like a huge weight between them, charging the air with tension and something
strangely undefinable. He stared at his Shield as the sound of the shower
finally stopped, and the slam of the bathroom door rang down the hallway.
When Ignis walked into the kitchen, he let out a long suffering sigh at the
sight before him. “Gladio, where is your shirt? Must you carry on like that?”
“Don’t look if it bothers your delicate sensibilities.”
Ignis rolled his eyes, then looked from Gladio to Noctis. “What were you two
talking about?” he asked, concern suddenly evident.
Gladio lifted his gaze. When he spoke, his voice was perfectly even. “Noct
here, says he feels fine.”
“Meaning?”
“Oh, I think you know exactly what he meant.”
Ignis frowned. He stared at the prince. “I do,” he admitted. “But don’t forget
our rather tenuous position. We can't stay here much longer. We will be found
out, and the longer that takes the worse it will be.”
Gladio turned and raised his eyebrows at Noctis. “I think he just doesn’t want
to share.”
“Gladio!”
The Shield ignored the advisor, speaking instead to Noctis. “I’d say he needs
to chill out and get laid, but you know—.”
“You are just as concerned as me, if not more so. Don’t lie,” replied Ignis
tightly.
Gladio gave Ignis a strange look, one Noctis had no way to interpret. After a
moment, Ignis shook his head in response, giving a resigned sigh. “Okay,” he
said.
“Okay,” repeated Gladio. They both turned to face Noctis.
“Uh—Okay?” he hedged. Gladio snorted.
“Shall we move this back to the bedroom?” Ignis asked pointedly.
Gladio waved to Noctis. “After you.”
                                      ***
Noctis sat on the edge of the bed he had lost his virginity in, his stomach in
a tight knot. Ignis leaned his weight against the dresser, and Gladio stood at
the edge of the bed, staring contemplatively at Noctis. The prince fought not
to quail under that gaze. It didn’t help that Gladio was still wearing only his
pants, his abs glistening in the growing daylight.
“Let’s have some fun,” Gladio exclaimed suddenly. “We said we were going to
facilitate the sexual awakening of one Noctis Lucis Caelum, right? Well, we’re
not going to accomplish that by sticking to the missionary position.”
“Excuse me.” Ignis looked at the Shield accusingly. He raised his eyebrow in
the way that only he could. “It was the cowgirl, thank you very much.”
“Whatever.”
Noctis interrupted them, “What do you mean by fun?” Tension threaded his voice,
despite his best efforts to seem calm and nonchalant. He wasn’t quite sure
Gladio idea of fun would match his own.
Gladio just looked at him. “It’s not that complicated. Isn’t there something
you want to try? Something you’ve fantasized about?”
Noctis didn’t know how to tell his Shield that it was enough of a fantasy to
dream about Gladio willingly sleeping with him. That by itself had always
seemed so unattainable. How to say, I just want you? That’s enough.
“Why do you care what he's into, Gladio?” asked Ignis pointedly. He was giving
Gladio a dark look.
Noctis didn't really expect Gladio to provide a direct answer, but he surprised
Noctis, casting Ignis an equally dark look in return, “Because it turns me on,
asshole. Some of us like our sex lives a bit spicier than the cowgirl.”
For his part, Ignis didn’t seem at all offended by Gladio’s abrasive words. His
gaze was serious as he said, “Perhaps this isn’t the situation where that sort
of sexual experimentation is appropriate?”
“Maybe the best time to get into some sexual experimentation is when you’re
fucking two people whose job is to keep you safe. Just saying,” replied Gladio,
refusing to back down. “Also, maybe it’s Noctis’s business what sexual
experimentation he does or does not want to get into.”
They both turned to look at Noctis then, making him fidget uncomfortably.
Mercilessly, Gladio said, “You’ve thought about it before, haven’t you? Fucking
me?” Noctis shook his head mutely, knowing they both recognized perfectly well
that it was a lie.
Ignis’s demeanor had changed significantly at Gladio’s comment about Noctis
deciding what he did or did not want to do in bed. His gaze grew thoughtful,
and eventually, the advisor seemed to resign himself. “Of course, this is about
what Noct wants.” Looking directly at the prince, he added, “I just want to be
clear on what exactly it is you want.”
Noctis merely shrugged. Rolling his eyes, Gladio replied, “Well, if that’s
that, I’d like to get back to fucking His Highness’s brains out, if you don’t
mind.”
Ignis’s eyes glittered. “Not at all.”
Cutting across them both, Noctis grumbled, “Don’t call me that. Especially not
here.” He glared at his Shield to make himself crystal clear, purposely
ignoring the ‘brains fucking’ comment. Sometimes there just was no possible
response. Plus, he was starting to think Gladio enjoying watching him squirm.
Ignoring the prince’s look, Gladio walked over and stood in front of Noctis.
The position was eerily similar to the way they had stood against each other
yesterday during their failed attempt at the ritual. It wasn’t a comfortable
reminder. Noctis frowned at Gladio, but the Shield only cocked his head.
Suddenly, Gladio leaned down and pressed his lips over Noctis’s. Rather than
seeking entrance into Noct’s mouth, he sucked and teased the teen’s lips
gently. It wasn’t quite the hungry kiss that Ignis had given Noctis, but
instead, it was a kiss that promised things to come. It smoldered with banked
heat, all control and contained power. Fire kindled in the teen’s belly, and he
reached up without thinking to clutch at Gladio’s shoulder.
“What you fantasize about?” asked Gladio again, pulling his lips away. He had
one hand braced on the bed, and he leaned over Noctis, pressed into his space.
“Nothing,” protested Noctis, feeling heat climb his cheeks as he tried and
failed to recover his breath. Part of him wished that Gladio would just shut up
and go back to kissing. It was still so impossible to believe that this was
happening at all. He felt like he hadn’t had enough time to process and absorb
yesterday’s events, and yet they were beginning all over again in Gladio’s
typical headstrong manner.
Gladio nipped at his lips playfully in response. The shock of it sent a wave of
heat through Noctis’s nerves. “I don’t believe you,” pressed Gladio. “Tell me
what you want.”
Noctis shook his head, and Gladio nipped him even harder, leaning up to suck on
his ear. The Shield whispered in his ear afterwards, “What are you afraid of,
Your Highness?” His voice lilted over the ‘Your Highness.’ “It’s just me and
Iggy here. And I really want to know.”
Noctis felt dizzy. He heard Ignis add teasingly, “You should just tell him,
Noct. I don’t think Gladio will let this go until you do.”
“Tell me,” urged Gladio.
Noctis was strangely breathless. “I want . . . I want.”
“Tell me,” Gladio repeated.
A peculiar thought went through Noct’s head. Gladio was his, not because the
prince had forced him to be, but because Gladio made the choice every single
day to belong to Noctis. The idea was oddly thrilling. Gladio would never
purposely harm him, and there was something exhilarating, not about testing
that resolve per se, but in affirming it, in relying on it. Several visions
raced through his head.
Powerful hands holding him down, rough and demanding.
Flexing muscles consuming him.
A thousand fantasies, all centered around one thing.
“I want to feel your strength against me,” breathed Noctis, his cheeks burning.
He could hardly believe the words were actually coming out of his mouth.
Gladio let himself wear a look of immense satisfaction for a moment before
drawing back. “Finally got you to spit it out.” He raised an eyebrow. “Are you
saying you want me to dominate you? Restrain you? You do know you’re supposed
to top, right?”
Noctis looked away with a shrug, to which Gladio sighed heavily. “Well, I live
to serve my prince.”
That wasn’t what Noctis wanted to hear. The idea of Gladio doing anything in
bed simply because Noctis wanted it and not because the Shield also desired it
was supremely unappealing. He was about to say as much, but when he met
Gladio’s eyes again, he saw that the Shield’s gaze was considering rather than
reluctant.
Noctis swallowed and waited.
Ignis was the one who spoke next. “You remember your word from yesterday,
correct? If you want to play those sorts of games, you have to be clear on your
boundaries.” At that, Gladio nodded in agreement.
“Cinnamon,” said Noctis. “It was cinnamon.”
“Are you sure about this?” asked Gladio.
Yeah,” Noctis replied, aware of how breathy his voice was becoming as
anticipation kindled in his belly. Would Gladio really do it? Hold Noctis down?
Force the teen to endure whatever he chose to do? Just how far would he go?
Gladio shook his head. “You have to promise to tell me if you become
uncomfortable, okay?”
“I will.”
“I’m serious. You’re fucking hard to read sometimes. Especially when you’re all
worked up.”
“Who says you can get me all worked up?”
Gladio’s voice was a warning. “Noctis.”
“I said I would,” Noctis protested. “What else do you want me to say?”
“Nothing.”
When Gladio decided to move, it was sudden and very much in character. He
practically pounced on Noctis, using his superior weight to drive Noctis onto
his back. The position of Gladio’s knees bracketing the prince was more
reminiscent of Nyx’s grappling mount yesterday than Ignis’s more sexual one.
His legs were pushed far too high into Noctis’s armpits to be purely erotic,
but he leaned over the teen and grasped his wrists tightly, letting Noctis feel
the power of his grip.
Noctis froze, waiting with bated breath, not quite sure how to react. Somehow,
even though this could just be like any other training exercise, it wasn’t.
Everywhere they touched felt electrified, the warmth of Gladio’s hands burning
a line straight to his dick.
The Shield held his face above Noct’s, his wild hair falling around them. “It’s
no fun if you don’t fight back, you know,” he whispered. Those words broke the
spell over Noctis. The prince abruptly bucked up, pulling on his trapped
wrists. Nothing happened, and Gladio goaded, “Come on. You know better than
that. What’s your first step? You’re in one of the least powerful positions you
could possibly be in a fight. What are you going to do about that?”
“Is this a lesson or is it sex?” snarled Noctis as he tried very unsuccessfully
to shrimp and crab his way out from underneath his Shield. The harder it was to
free himself, the faster Noct’s heart beat. He could do anything he wanted to
me right now, Noctis thought frantically. He was entirely powerless, and though
he had complained about it, his awareness of that fact was made all the
stronger by the inclusion of real grappling techniques.
To an outsider, what they were doing might have seemed excessively violent. But
it wasn’t. Gladio and Noctis had been training together intimately for the past
eight years. Noctis had been held down like this by Gladio plenty of times
before. He knew if Gladio chose, he could find about ten different ways to
choke or twist Noctis into submission before the prince could even begin to
counter. But just as clearly as Noctis knew he could, he also knew that Gladio
would not. Instinctively, Noctis grasped that this was a mental game more than
a physical one, and just as Noctis would lose by giving up, Gladio lost by
resorting to truly coercive means.
Gladio smirked, completely unaffected by Noctis’s hostile tone. “That depends
entirely on how well you do, Your Highness.” To demonstrate, he dug his knees
even further into Noctis’s armpits and leaned over to mouth at Noctis’s neck,
still holding the prince’s wrists tightly as he did so. Noctis shivered at the
feeling, his heart racing. Gladio smelled like the good kind of sweat and sweet
shampoo.
“Don’t call me that!”
Gladio was busy sucking a bruise into Noctis’s neck. The prince, trapped as he
was, remained unable to stop him. He was completely exposed, forced to just
take it. “Make me,” baited the Shield.
Ignis interrupted them from his perch on the dresser. “If this is what you two
call foreplay, I question a great number of your past interactions.”
Gladio lifted his head to glance back at Ignis, and that was all the
opportunity that Noctis needed. He had finally wiggled out enough to get one
leg mostly free. With a sudden thrust, he kicked one of Gladio’s knees out,
while at the same time shrimping and bucking sideways.
The Shield had sacrificed some of his balance to hold Noctis’s wrists down, and
he paid for it, collapsing with an ummphing noise. Noctis kicked at him again,
and they wrestled violently for a moment, until Noctis managed to precariously
climb on top. He wasn’t in the same position of power that Gladio had been, as
the Shield’s legs were locked firmly around Noctis’s waist, his hips free. But
it was enough for Noctis to be able to lean over and gloat in Gladio’s face.
“And here you were going to get me all worked up, Mister Shield,” he jeered.
Rather than fight him, Gladio used the much dirtier tactic of pressing his
erection forcefully against Noctis. They both groaned at that, and then Noctis
completely lost track of what exactly he had been trying to win. He chose
instead to run his hands over the Shield’s torso. Gladio’s chest was just a
firm as he had always imagined, and in a burst of uncharacteristic boldness, he
pinched one of his nipples, enjoying the noises the action produced. After
panting and swearing at Noctis for a few seconds, Gladio responded by leaning
up and biting him firmly.
Noctis half snarled, half grinned at his Shield for the burst of pain in his
hand. But Gladio was already working on getting back on top. He grabbed
Noctis’s smarting arm and pulled it flush against himself, dragging Noctis’s
head down with it. Taking the opportunity to reassert his dominance, Gladio bit
Noctis’s ear a lot harder than before, almost painfully. It shouldn’t have been
as arousing at it was, but Noctis shuddered and whined, unable to help himself.
With a smug chuckle that Noctis couldn’t bring himself to hate, Gladio did
something complicated and flipped them, rolling Noctis onto his stomach and
twisting the prince’s hands tightly behind his back. Noctis’s face was squashed
into the mattress, leaving him slightly disoriented.
The Shield pressed himself down on Noctis, his cock digging into the swell of
Noctis’s ass. His voice husky, he commanded, “Give in.”
Noctis wiggled underneath him, only the feel the hard press of the Shield’s
erection even more deeply. He froze. The need to free himself battled with the
desire to rut against his captor, leaving him unable to do either. Gladio
didn’t seem bothered by it. His voice curled around Noctis. “Give in,” he
repeated, his legs flexing with the words.
The teen’s breath was coming out in shaky pants. “You still haven’t made me.”
Gladio laughed, completely unconcerned. “So feisty. What do you think, Iggy?”
Noctis heard Ignis swallow. When the advisor spoke, Noctis sensed the arousal
threaded through it, clear as day. “He is rather . . . uncooperative.”
Noctis wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t for Gladio to suddenly
loosen his grip. It was so unexpected that Noctis didn’t have the wherewithal
to take advantage of it. He twisted to meet Gladio’s eyes questioningly. The
Shield’s face was deadly serious. “Are you okay if I bring Ignis into the game,
Noctis?”
“Uh, sure?” Noctis replied, his confusion evident. His head buzzing with need
made it a lot harder to think than it should have been. Gladio’s eyes held
Noct’s searchingly a moment longer, then he nodded. Just as suddenly as he had
let go, he grabbed the prince’s arms again.
“Come here, Iggy,” Gladio commanded. He didn’t look back as he spoke. The way
his head was twisted, Noctis didn’t see Ignis approach, but he felt the
advisor’s hands on him suddenly, a firm and cool counterpoint to Gladio’s heat.
The bed dipped as Ignis climbed up behind Noctis. “Hold him for me?”
Ignis gripped Noctis’s wrists tightly. The prince could feelIgnis behind him,
beyond the simple hands covering his own. The advisor’s presence was almost
stronger than Gladio’s, or at least Noctis’s awareness of it was. It pulsed
with a beat that seemed to ring, mine, mine! Noctis had no idea how to deal
with these feelings racing through him. Intense excitement, anticipation, and
arousal so powerful his balls ached.
“Ignis,” Noctis whined. The advisor’s movement paused sharply before he went
back to helping Gladio flip the teen onto his back so that he was once again
staring up into Gladio’s eyes. Noct’s head was half in Ignis’s lap, his arms
trapped in Ignis’s grip. The teen’s legs dangled off the bed.
And—Astrals.
At some point while Noctis had been on his stomach, Gladio had lost his pants.
His cock jutted out, proud and engorged and leaking precome. It was thicker
than Ignis’s had been, though shorter, which only made sense with the Shield’s
broader stature. A thousand incoherent thoughts raced through Noctis
simultaneously.
Gladio’s gaze was hungry and possessive. He leaned back over Noctis, his dick
hanging tantalizingly, but not touching. He pressed both hands into Ignis’s
knees, completely encircling the teen in the process. “Give in,” he demanded in
a low voice, his breath ghosting over Noctis.
Noctis had never been capable of giving Gladio what he wanted so easily. To
give in to Gladio was unthinkable. That layer of antagonism had been a part of
their relationship since day one. He shook his head as much as he could within
the confines of Ignis’s lap. “No,” he rasped.
The Shield’s eyes on him darkened, but he didn’t say anything. He exchanged a
series of glances with Ignis that Noctis couldn’t see, and then slid further
away. For a second Noctis feared he was withdrawing completely, but the Shield
had merely decided to finally undress his prince.
He unbuttoned Noctis’s pants. The prince lifted his hips and kicked at Gladio,
but his legs might as well have been made of cotton for how much the Shield
paid attention to it. After he had Noctis pants-less, he climbed back up onto
the prince’s hips, completely ignoring Noctis’s now freed and leaking erection.
He used his weight to hold Noctis down as Ignis expertly did the same to the
torn and muddied shirt.
Gladio continued to ignore Noctis, much to the teen’s frustration. He lifted
himself up on his knees, hovering over the teen. Noctis knew that he would be
able to hover like that for as long as he deemed necessary. They would never
see the Shield’s thighs so much as tremble. He leaned even further forward over
Noctis, until his dick hung nearly in the prince’s face. Noctis had a moment of
blind, automatic panic. Would Gladio try to force his cock into Noctis’s mouth?
It was one thing to fantasize about it, and another to suddenly be confronted
with the possibility without any sort of control over how it happened. The teen
pulled on his wrists with urgency he hadn’t felt earlier, but of course, Ignis
was unrelenting. Noctis was just starting to feel horribly trapped, unable to
breath, but then Gladio’s dick slid past his cheek. Instead, he heard Ignis
make a muffled noise, and then he realized that they were making out above him,
even as they kept Noctis imprisoned.
He groaned as his panic bled away. Of course Gladio would not go that far. The
Shield knew his charge. He knew what Noctis was comfortable with, and he knew
how to read the teen, even if he had earlier insisted otherwise. No. Instead,
Gladio was planning on torturing Noctis, letting his cock hang as frustratingly
close as possible.
Gladio moaned loudly and rocked his hips. His dick slid back and forth across
Noct’s cheek and nose. Even as he resisted the urge to reach and lick, Noctis
wondered what would happen if he bit him. The bastard deserved it. In his
frustration, the teen growled threateningly against the velvety, veined skin of
his retainer’s cock. Gladio’s only response was to laugh in Ignis’s mouth and
snap his hips forward harder, letting Noctis know he had gotten the message and
he didn’t give a fuck. Ignis’s grip against Noctis’s wrists tightened and
clenched in response to something Gladio was doing to his mouth. Noctis could
only growl and kick again.
It was like he was slowly being reduced to pure sensation and need. He had yet
to verbally beg, but it was only a matter of time with the way his heart raced
out of control. And indeed, the words slipped out, almost unbidden as he
inhaled the deep musk of Gladio’s cock. “Please, Gladio. Stop teasing me!”
The older man ignored him completely.
“Please. I give in. Just please!”
Gladio froze above him. He rocked back onto his thighs so he could look Noctis
in the face. “What was that?”
Noctis swallowed heavily. It was humiliating, but somehow not. Still, he
couldn’t quite get his voice to the deferential tone he knew the Shield wanted.
Instead, a hint of confrontation laced his words. “I said I give in. Surrender.
Submit. Whatever you want to call it.”
The Shield’s tone was odd. “So, you’ll give me what I want?”
“As long as what you want involves my dick, sure!” Noctis snarled impatiently.
Gladio appeared to be mildly disappointed. He glanced up at Ignis and said
calmly, “A bit defiant for someone who’s supposedly surrendered.”
Noctis suddenly perceived that Gladio truly would not relent until he had won
this game, not now that they committed. He should have known that Gladio’s
drive for excellence was unbeatable. Noctis had asked to play this game, and
Gladio would to deliver. And indeed, the Shield was leaning back up to continue
where he and Ignis had left off. “No! Wait,” gasped Noctis.
Gladio paused.
It was so hard to get the fucking words out. “I’m sorry. Please.”
Gladio refused to budge. “What will you give me, Noctis?”
An odd sense of deja’vu overcame Noct, and his heart stuttered. There was a
heavy weight in his chest. He could almost hear the voices of the Crystal
whispering in the back of his head, the constant murmur and hum.
What will you give me?
Anything.
His eyes locked onto Gladio.
“Anything,” said Noctis, and he finally, truly meant it. “Anything.”
With those words, with his true surrender, something loosened and came free
inside of Noctis. It hit him like a wave, the tension leaking out of his
muscles as he almost collapsed in Ignis’s lap. He felt strangely light, as if
he were floating, like the aftermath of an orgasm.
Gladio bent over and kissed Noctis gently on the forehead, the cheek, the
crease where his neck met his ear, his mouth. He peppered Noctis with kisses,
the press of his lips more delicate than dandelion fluff, a strange
counterpoint to their earlier aggressive play.
A breath of air tickled Noct’s back, and then he was being drawn up to sit more
firmly in front of Ignis. Even as Gladio continued his delicate touching, the
advisor ran his fingers down Noct’s back, tracing lines. After a distracted
second, Noctis realized that Ignis was actually tracing the faint line that ran
diagonal across his back, the old scar from his childhood injury.
Gladio spoke quietly. “I want you to work me open with your fingers, Noct.”
Noctis blanched. Panic began to bleed into his earlier sweet release, and he
said, “But—but I can't. I don’t know how—.”
“Noctis.” Gladio interrupted him. His voice was still just as quiet. “You
promised me anything. You said you would do anything for me, remember?”
Noctis remained frozen. But suddenly Ignis was moving behind him. He reached
around, taking the prince’s hands in his own. “Sshh, Noct. I’ve got you.” Ignis
leaned over Noctis’s shoulder, his breath caressing the teen’s neck as he
guided their hands to the jar of lube that Gladio had produced from somewhere.
Gladio himself scooched up, still on his knees and hovering as easily as if it
were the most comfortable position in the world.
Ignis wrapped his hand around Noct’s again after they were both dripping.
Lifting himself up, the Shield gave them easy access. Ignis pressed Noctis’s
hand forward, and Noctis let him.
As he sought Gladio’s hole, Noctis was struck by just how intimate their
positioning was. He was surrounded on all sides by his retainers, encircled by
them, Ignis behind him and Gladio in front. Ignis couldn’t quite reach Gladio
from his position, but he held Noctis’s arm steady. “Slowly now,” he murmured
encouragingly.
Gladio burned like a brand on Noctis’s finger. He hissed as Noctis breached
him, but Ignis kept the prince from retreating. “Try to relax,” Ignis
instructed the Shield. “It’ll be a lot easier if you can.” He left one hand
with Noctis, but he reached down with the other and took Gladio’s cock in hand,
giving it a firm tug.
Gladio squeezed his eyes shut, only to jerk them back open as Ignis rubbed at
the sensitive skin at the head of his cock. The Shield’s hip twitched in a tiny
thrust, but that just pressed him back against Noctis’s finger, and he let out
a shaky groan. Noctis could feel Ignis grinning against his shoulder. “Don’t
close your eyes,” the advisor commanded. “I want you to look at us.”
Gladio’s own grin turned feral. “Thought I was the one in charge here.”
“Ha,” snorted Ignis. He twisted to whisper in Noctis’s ear. “Try to move your
finger now, Noct. Gently though. Watch his face.”
Ignis kept up his hand job as Noctis experimented with his finger. Ignis didn’t
have quite the angle to be anything more than teasing, but Gladio didn’t seem
to mind. His eyes were far more focused on Noctis. The prince began to slide in
and out, pressing at Gladio’s tight walls and reveling at the movement of his
finger. It was lurid, the way Gladio’s ass almost seemed to suck him back in.
Noctis tried to watch the Shield’s face like Ignis had instructed, but it was
hard. Gladio’s eyes were dark and glittering. A slight sheen of sweat had
collected at the crown of his head and behind his ears. But it was the way he
was watching Noctis back that captivated the prince, his gaze deep and
piercing, never for an instant letting Noctis forget just what exactly this
meant.
Gladio had told Noctis that he saw him, that he knew at least in some capacity
about Noctis’s feelings, and yet he was still willing to do this. The Shield
had still chosen to give sex with his charge meaning beyond his mere duty to
the Crown. Overwhelmed by that thought, Noctis leaned forward, bracing himself
against Gladio’s shoulder for stability. He felt Ignis scrabble for balance as
his movement trapped the advisor’s hand between himself and Gladio, but he
ignored it. Noctis looked his Shield in the eye and then kissed him deeply.
Gladio eagerly received the prince. He kissed differently than Ignis. The
advisor had been all dynamic movement, teasing, and sucking, whereas Gladio’s
kiss was more driving. Like everything else in his life, Gladio approached
kissing head on and forcefully, and just like with everything else, it was a
mistake to assume that this meant he was simple or uncreative. Noctis let
Gladio control the kiss, the push of his tongue hot and insistent. The Shield’s
stubble scraped the teen’s cheek, and his hands gripped and pulled on his hair.
“I think he’s ready for two fingers,” Ignis gently interrupted after a long
moment. Noctis pulled away reluctantly, his heart racing again. His dick had
renewed all the interest it might have lost in the intervening time he had been
prepping Gladio. He’d been horny for so long at this point that he practically
ached from it.
Gladio hissed again at the introduction of the second finger, visibly tensing
up. Noctis didn’t need Ignis to tell him to pause, however. He gripped Gladio’s
thigh with his free hand and stared at the Shield, waiting. The Shield swore
under his breath, “Fuck, Fuck,”took a couple of deep breaths, and then nodded.
“I forgot how shitty this part is,” he said ruefully. “Wish we could just skip
to the good bit.”
Noctis made a face. “Not the best choice of words, Glad, considering where my
fingers are.”
With a toothy grin, Gladio replied, “Please, I’m clean. Not a total newbie
here.” Noctis shook his head at the Shield’s renewed sense of humor, and
carefully began to move both fingers. He wouldn’t have admitted it to Gladio,
but it was awe inspiring how easily the Shield’s hole stretched to accommodate
Noctis, how natural this felt.
Ignis sighed his patented ‘I can't believe I’m friends with you two sigh’ and
said, “If you could just relax, it would be a lot easier. I happen to like this
part myself.” At those words, Noctis had a vision of their previous night’s
positions, Ignis groaning in Gladio’s lap, glasses askew, hair wild and
tussled. He shivered.
Gladio blew a raspberry and replied to Ignis with false, hearty belligerence,
“Back off! You had your turn, Specs.”
Imperiously ignoring the Shield, Ignis instructed Noctis, “Try to change up
your angle, see if you can find—.” Gladio’s next hiss was much louder and
higher pitched. He jumped against Noctis, and then swore deeper.
Noctis couldn’t help his smug grin. “Like that?” he asked Ignis coyly. He
couldn’t see Ignis’s face behind him, but he could almost feel the advisor’s
warm expression.
“Like that,” Ignis repeated approvingly. Noctis sought the same angle again,
and was rewarded with the change in Gladio’s noises. The Shield’s thighs
finally began to tremble from the strain, and he started to pant as Noctis
scissored his fingers and relentlessly pressed against that tight bundle of
nerves.
After a few more minutes of that, Gladio reached up and batted their hands
away. “Alright, alright. Astrals. You’re gonna make me cum before the party’s
really even started.” He let himself collapse onto Noctis’s hips, and the
prince exhaled shakily at the sudden, pleasant pressure against his own
neglected dick.
Ignis kissed the back of Noctis’s neck before withdrawing. Without the advisor
behind him, Noctis fell back against the bed, Gladio following close behind.
The Shield pressed his hands against both Noctis’s wrists, pinning them above
the prince’s head with his full weight. He took a moment to stare intently at
Noctis. His heavy dick hung between them, but with his hands once again pinned,
Noctis had no way to touch. He mourned that loss, and so he pulled against
Gladio’s immobilizing grip.
Gladio did not so much as budge. His gaze hardened as he shook his head.
“Shsh,” he said. “Don’t forget who’s in control here. I’ve got you.”
It wasn’t that Noctis had forgotten exactly, but the reminder brought all of
those strange feelings of release back to the forefront of his mind. The
knowledge of his powerlessness in this moment was sharp and vivid, the
awareness of Gladio even stronger. He stopped struggling and waited, wary but
not afraid, trembling in anticipation.
“Don’t move your hands,” Gladio commanded. Noctis nodded, and Gladio removed
his hold on the prince. Noctis kept his arms pressed against the bed above his
head as Gladio ran his broad hands down the prince’s torso. For the first time
since they had begun this, Gladio wrapped his hands around Noctis’s cock. His
hands were rougher than Ignis’s and significantly larger, his calluses scraping
against sensitive skin. Noctis jumped at the contact and had to fight to remain
obedient, keeping his arms where Gladio had commanded they remain.
Gladio gave the teen a couple of sharp tugs, before lining himself up.
The feeling of tight heat sinking onto his cock was something Noctis would
never grow used to. Gladio kept up a litany of swearing, fists clenching the
sheets by Noctis’s hips. It was clear he had less experience and was less
comfortable with this than Ignis had been. Noctis wanted to reach for him,
comfort him somehow, but Gladio had given the command, and so Noctis stayed as
still as he could. Of course, he couldn’t quite keep himself from shaking
underneath his Shield, his muscles rebelling against their enforced impotence.
When he bottomed out, Gladio shifted his focus back to Noctis’s face. He
grinned ruefully, and reached for the prince’s cheek. “I know how hard this is,
but you’re being so good for me.” The words were and yet were not spoken in
Gladio’s usual coaching voice. His tone was soft and vulnerable, but it still
carried enough of the shape of their normal mode of communication to twist
something up inside of Noctis, to make him swallow heavily under the weight of
the feelings coursing through him.
Gladio began to roll his hips, more testing himself, than truly seeking
friction. It was difficult to just sit there and take it, but Noctis quickly
realized that his enforced stillness also meant that he could focus intently on
every minute sensation that he was experiencing. The tight drag of Gladio’s
heat against his dick, every torturous shifting motion. Gladio was larger than
Ignis, his frame towering over Noctis. He was also a lot more verbal. Ignis had
been vocal in his own way, but it had been all grunts, gasps and eventually and
very memorably—shouts. Gladio renewed his swearing, letting loose a guttural
“fuck” as he built into his own easy rhythm.
“Gods, your dick, Noct. Fucking hell. . . And you just letting me use you. . .
Gods, I could do whatever I wanted to you right now, and you would just take
it. . . Fuck.” On and on like that it went. Gladio reached down and wrapped a
fist around his own cock, jerking himself off as languidly as he was fucking
himself on Noct’s cock.
Noctis whimpered. It was torture. Not enough to get him off, but Gladio had
been teasing him so for long now, even this dragging rhythm was pushing him
close, so fucking close.
Gladio slowed even more, barely moving. “Noctis,” he ordered. “Remember when
you first started warping, and you blasted out magic wildly instead of
precisely?” He pushed a hand against Noctis’s chest, keeping the prince from
bucking up. Noctis hadn’t even realized he had been doing it. “Noctis?”
“I guess.”
Gladio nodded. “It’s the same with this. You overwhelmed yourself and Iggy
yesterday. Now call up your magic. But remember this time, you control your
magic. It doesn’t control you.” With a short laugh, he added, “That’s my job.”
Noctis remembered how it had happened last night with Ignis. As he had built
closer and closer to his completion, a strange, separate, driving need had
begun to coarse through him. He could no more have refused it, than stopped
breathing.
He had felt the threads of connection building between him and Ignis, and he
had been compelled to complete them. The magic had whispered in his ear, twined
through every facet of his consciousness, until he had stopped fighting and set
it free. At the time, he had sensed Ignis’s sudden fear, acrid in the back of
his throat, but the magic was like a storm, a force of nature with no concept
of human restraint, and Noctis had been unable to deny it, even if he had
wanted to. Which he hadn’t.
“Don’t you dare close your eyes.”
Noctis snapped his eyes back open and glared at the Shield. He pressed his hips
up in a churlish display of defiance. Gladio narrowed his eyes, and then leaned
back over the prince, pushing his weight down and trapping the prince’s arms.
“Don’t. Close. Your eyes.”
With Gladio’s face less than an inch away from his own, brown eyes nearly
hidden by dilated pupils, Noctis sank into his magic. It responded eagerly, a
wild animal set free from captivity. It raced through him like electricity,
along nerves, and through muscles. Glittering sparks exploded all around them,
nearly blinding.
Noctis’s senses expanded almost painfully, the smells of the room, Gladio’s
distinct musk, Ignis’s clean hair, sweat, the sex from yesterday, all of it
overwhelming him. Where he and Gladio touched, the hands trapping him burned
white hot, and the pressure around his dick was indescribable.
Gladio swore at him. “Hold it in, Noct! You have to control it. Fuck—Gods help
me!”
Noctis was over aware of Gladio above him. Threads of magic flowed across every
place they touched, building and weaving together a tapestry of connection. But
it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. He thrust up and felt the responding surge
of magic race against Gladio. Yes, this was right. This was good.
But the Shield fought him, denying the connection even as it wove itself
irreversibly through him. Gladio used both of his hands and all of his weight
to hold Noctis down. He pressed his entire forearm against Noctis’s chest,
ignoring the silver sparks of magic that swirled and coalesced around the
contact, and the other hand wrapped around Noctis’s mouth and neck, trying to
prevent him from thrashing. Noctis bit him, drawing blood. His overblown senses
made the taste of copper and Gladio almost unbearable. The Shield swore, but
did not relent.
“Calm down,” the Shield growled. “You surrendered to me, remember?” He pressed
harder and Noctis thrashed harder.
Then Noctis stopped. He clawed his way back from the murky depths of his power,
fighting for that balance, that precipice he had learned to stand on. You do
not control me. Like emerging from underwater, Noctis blinked and nodded
slowly. Gladio gave him another long look, then released him. The Shield was
breathing heavily and shaking.
Without thinking, Noctis reached up, and cupped Gladio’s face. Gladio gave the
prince a look like he was going to protest, but he held back, and instead
closed his eyes wearily. The magic leapt, like it did with every other place
they touched, yet it was different now, not tame, but not the nearly
destructive joining it had begun as.
Noctis’s head still buzzed with power. He almost felt high, or what he imagined
being high felt like. Bright and potent.
The prince tightened his grip on the Shield’s chin. Light twisted around them.
Here was a worthy retainer. A man who had dared to command and restrain a full
blooded Lucis Caelum. Like Ignis with his quiet competence, strength, and
endless love, Gladio’s bravery and unyielding nature called out to Noctis in a
primal way.
But still, Noctis Lucis Caelum was power. He was light incarnate. King of Kings
and Bringer of the Dawn. He would not come into this Covenant subservient to
another. He could not.
“The control you have over me,” Noctis said in a ringing voice, “it’s power
I’ve freely given you.”
“I know.”
Noctis’s magic surged. “I take it back,” he said simply.
He had no idea if Gladio would have fought him, given the chance. He moved so
suddenly that the Shield barely reacted, flipping them expertly and abruptly
with a twist of his hip. Gladio landed on his back, Noctis snugly between his
legs. The move caused Noct’s cock to slip from its sheath, but on their
landing, he snapped forward roughly, rejoining their bodies back together.
The magic was swirling rapidly again, but this time, it and Noctis were in
tandem. Together they battered at Gladio. He offered no resistance, grabbing
the worn headboard for support with one hand. Driven by the need to reach even
deeper inside Gladio, Noctis lifted the man’s hips up, instinctually supporting
the Shield’s knees above his shoulders. Gladio was heavy, but Noctis took no
notice, relishing in the fury of pounding hips and Gladio’s shouting curses.
Noctis drove deeply and relentlessly into his Shield. The sound of his balls
slapping and the squelch of lube rang out in between Gladio’s muttered swears.
Someone was repeating over and over, “You are mine. You are mine.” Noctis was
too full of desire and magic to really comprehend.
“Fuck, Yes,”swore Gladio in between gasping breaths, “Always.”
The connection that had been building between them wove tighter and tighter.
Noctis’s balls squeezed tightly, and then he was cumming. Intense pleasure
suffused him, a wave of physical ecstasy, but this exhalation was more than any
physical release could possibly be.
I see you.
And Noctis did. He saw, not Gladio’s thoughts, or his memories, or anything
like that. But for one brief instant, he saw Gladio, the soul of a person that
was Gladio, and he was beautiful.
Then it was gone, washed away as Noctis’s magic hooked itself deep inside of
the Shield, a seed planted from the cum pulsing inside the older man, but also
from every other way they fit together. The two of them laughing, a fist bump
after Noctis had managed some complicated move, Gladio’s quiet demanding of
more, always more. The Shield's gaze that said, I know you, and I know you are
capable of incredible things.
Then it was done. Noctis collapsed on top of his Shield, suddenly overcome. The
infant connection between him and Gladio pulsed gently, as alive as anything
else. Gladio didn’t speak, but he wrapped an arm around the prince roughly, and
a little too tight. Noctis tolerated it, too tired to complain. Instead he
closed his eyes, seeking his two magical connections.
There they were. Bright and strong. Thin as a thread compared to the ocean of
power than connected him to the Crystal, but unbreakable all the same. The two
threads swirled around each other, wrapped and tangled so it was almost
impossible to separate them apart. But that made sense. His father’s retainers
could sense each other nearly as easily as they could the king.
Gods, Noctis ached. He ached all the way down to his bones. How he had demanded
the fullness of his magic twice in so short of a time was not something he
would ever take back, but it left him weaker than a kitten.
“This part I could do without,” he mumbled pitifully into Gladio’s chest. He
was oddly sticky, but then he realized that it was Gladio's cum splattered on
his chest.
The Shield rumbled, and then ruffled his hair. “Anyone else you feel like
fucking before we rejoin society, Your Highness?” he teased.
“Noctis,” insisted the prince.
“Noctis,” relented the Shield with a little sigh.
“And, no. I don’t think there is.”
The bed dipped as Ignis seated himself on the edge. He leaned over and rested
his palm on Noctis’s side. He didn’t say anything, just sat quietly as both
Gladio and Noctis began to doze.
                                      ***
                              **Ignis Scientia**
                                      ***
Ignis had his eyes closed, letting himself meditate on the events of the past
twenty-four hours. He had no idea what came next, what sort of shape his
relationship with Noctis and even Gladio would take now. It had already been a
few hours since Noctis had completed the Ritual with Gladio, and they were both
still deeply asleep. Meanwhile, the morning light was slowly brightening into
afternoon.
A strange rattling noise. Ignis jerked his eyes open. He looked down at the
sleeping men. Neither one had stirred. From previous experience with Noct’s
magically induced comas, he surmised they likely would not awaken for several
more hours.
More rattling. Ignis stood abruptly. He pulled on his shirt and stalked into
the front of the house. Now he could hear a motor and voices. The shades were
drawn by the front window, but he drew the blinds slightly apart and peered
through.
Men in black uniforms. A cane. Dread sank his stomach down to his toes. He
couldn’t have been more afraid if it were a firing squad at his door.
He opened the front door before they could knock. Standing in the entrance way,
Ignis bowed low, his heart clamoring.
“Your Majesty,” he said.
                                      ***
Chapter End Notes
     *Warning: Gladio pushes Noctis into admitting he has a sexual fantasy
     involving being dominated by Gladio. They decide to act it out after
     talking about safe words again. It most involves being held down and
     restrained. The most uncomfortable it gets is that at one point,
     Noctis starts to panic that Gladio is going to facefuck him without
     permission, but it quickly passes as he realizes that Gladio wouldn't
     do that.
     When they finally start fucking for real, Gladio makes Noctis keep
     his hands above his head. However, after Noctis calls his magic, he
     changes his mind, tells Gladio that the control Gladio has over him
     is freely given, but he takes it back now. Then he flips them over,
     and begins to fuck Gladio in earnest. he does not ask Gladio for
     permission, and it is heavily implied that Gladio is totally into it,
     but I wanted to mention that since it isn't perfect consent. If you
     want to skip the smut, skip the second Noctis scene. The first is
     just him waking up. They are delineated with ***.
     Also I've just realized how long and involved this porn scene is
     after trying to write a succinct summary. You're welcome.
     ***Thank you as always for the lovely and heart warming comments you
     leave me. Every last one is dear to me. <3
***** I'm Glad It Was You *****
Chapter Summary
     Ignis faces the king alone.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                                      ***
                              **Ignis Scientia**
                                      ***
“Your Majesty,” greeted Ignis as he swung the front door open. The prince and
his retainers had finally been caught, and it could not have come at a worse
time. With both Noctis and Gladio passed out cold for the foreseeable future,
Ignis was entirely on his own in facing the king.
“Master Scientia.” King Regis’s greeting gave no hint to his true feelings.
Behind him stood his Shield and Gladio’s father, Clarus Amicitia. A Crownsguard
member whose name Ignis didn’t know formed the rear. Ignis could see another
Crownsguard in one of the two black cars they had arrived in.
Stepping aside, Ignis waved them in cabin with another deep bow, striving to
control his breathing. The king walked ponderously, stopping at the kitchen
table and sitting in one of the chairs rather than going further into the house
like Ignis might have expected. Regis drew his fingers underneath his chin, and
questioned, “Am I correct in assuming that my son and his Shield are also in
this house somewhere?”
Ignis drew himself up stiffly. “Yes. But they’re both asleep right now.”
Standing behind to his king, Clarus was expressionless. He turned to the
Crownsguard. “If you would fetch my son and the prince for me?”
“Sir.”
The silence expanded as they waited. Ignis wondered if the Crownsguard would
even be able to wake the prince and his Shield. He wanted to say something, but
he wasn’t sure how, so instead he stood impotent. Vague shouting noises echoed
down the hall, then the distinct patter of regulation Crownsguard boots. The
guard returned, expression drenched in distress. “Sir! They won’t wake up.
Neither one!”
So that answered that question , thought Ignis.
“What?” demanded the Shield, but he was already moving down the hall.
The king lifted his head from where he had been resting on steepled fingers.
Rather than follow his Shield, he steadily met Ignis’s gaze. Regis seemed to
sense something in that gaze, because after a moment, he nodded and rested his
head once more. “Master Scientia, I trust my Shield to discern the situation
for himself, but I’m sure your reassurance would not be amiss.”
“Majesty.” It was odd. These two men’s children had just spent the morning
fucking each other in the family vacation home. Was that not awkward for them,
even under the admittedly unusual circumstances? Ignis had little desire to
confront his old mentor, but he obligingly followed the Shield and Crownsguard
into the bedroom.
Clarus stopped at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed over his chest. The
guard next to him had an anxious expression, eyes darting back and forth
between Clarus and the two sleeping men. For a moment, the only sound that
could be heard was the snuffling of Gladio’s half snore lifting Noctis’s hair,
and the heavy breathing of the young Shield’s father.
“Explain,” demanded Clarus tightly.
Ignis would not let himself be cowed. The Shield had to understand what the
scene before him, the two naked men and their apparent unnatural exhaustion,
meant. “We were given an ultimatum,” Ignis started, fighting to keep the
accusation out of his voice. He didn’t think he was very successful. “They’ve
fulfilled it.” He did not avert his eyes as Clarus swung around to meet him.
“You were given an ultimatum, and they’ve fulfilled it?” the Shield repeated
incredulously.
“Yes,” insisted Ignis, remaining stubborn.
Clarus opened his mouth, then closed it. He took two deep breaths, looked at
his son, and spoke, his temper clearly barely in check. “There is a place,”
said the Shield slowly, “within the Citadel, specifically for the completion of
the Ritual of Retainers. Everything there is designed to keep both participants
safe and comfortable; magic replenishing potions for the prince, doctors to
make sure they are both clean, and a place to rest afterwards. Why on Gods’
green earth would you completely throw all of that away and haphazardly attempt
to perform a dangerous magical ritual outside of the protection of the city and
away from anyone that could help if things went wrong?” When Ignis didn’t
answer fast enough, he snapped, “Well?! Answer me!”
“It wasn’t planned that way,” admitted Ignis unwillingly.
“Not planned?” The Shield took another deep breath. “Astrals, help me! I am not
stupid. Obviously this was never going to be an easy situation at the prince’s
age, so why the hell would you make it even more complicated?! What were you
thinking?”
Ignis snapped. “I was thinking that our prince deserved to choose for himself
how he was going to lose his virginity.”
They glared at each other. Clarus sighed. “How long ago?”
“What?”
“How long ago did my son complete the Covenant with Prince Noctis? I assume
they were successful?”
“I—yes they were. About three hours ago.”
“Right.” Clarus turned to his Crownsguard. “Stay here,” he commanded. Pointing
at Ignis he said, “You, with me.” They walked back to where the king still
waited.
As they approached and the king saw his Shield’s face, he said neutrally, “So,
it’s done then.”
Clarus nodded tightly.
“And Noctis?” asked King Regis, looking at Ignis.
“Your Majesty?” questioned Ignis, not sure what he was being asked to tell his
king.
“Is my son—well?”
Ignis swallowed. “He is,” he replied softly. “As well as one could expect.”
The king nodded, his face still that neutral expression. “Good. That’s good,”
he said.
Clarus did not allow that moment to sit for very long. He rounded on Ignis once
again. “You helped Prince Noctis steal a car last night, removing him from the
safety of the Citadel. You damaged the gate of the royal garage and attacked a
Kingsglaive. Because of yours and Prince Noctis’s actions, every Kingsglaive
member and most of the Crownsguard were called from their usual duties to
perform a massive and ultimately pointless manhunt.”
Even though Ignis had known it was coming, the disappointment in Clarus’s voice
stung on a deep level. Clarus had mentored Ignis for years before declaring the
advisor fit for his duties without supervision. To hear that pride in Ignis
broken was almost impossible to bear. Ignis hung his head. At least he would
not shame himself by making up excuses or refusing responsibility for his
actions. That much he could still do. “It was all my idea,” he said steadily.
“Not Noctis’s. I made a mistake.”
“I find it difficult to believe that stealing the Regalia was truly your idea,
Master Scientia,” King Regis said with a twitch of his brow.
“I was upset,” lied Ignis. He willed with every ounce of self-control for his
expression not to give him away. He didn’t expect them to believe him. But if
he could prevent them from laying the blame solely on Noct, then maybe he could
also keep the worst of the punishment from his prince. At the moment, that was
best that he could think to do. “I drove to the Citadel to find Noctis. I told
him that I wanted to do something rebellious. I was—upset at the pressure we’ve
been feeling lately to form a Covenant together, and I wanted to let off some
steam. Noctis was reluctant, but I manipulated him into following me.”
Both of the men that faced him wore identical expressions of skepticism.
“Ignis,” began the Shield, “You don’t do Prince Noctis a favor by keeping him
from the consequences of his actions. He’ll never learn better that way.”
Ignis had already considered that argument, but he wasn’t Noctis’s parent. And
he didn’t believe that Noctis had chosen his destructive actions because of a
character flaw or something that could be inherently corrected through harsh
discipline. If anything, harsh discipline and punishment would make it worse.
He looked at the king and insisted, “I did my best to force Noctis into it. If
you would blame the events of last night on someone, then it must be me.”
“And you will not waver from that conviction, Master Scientia?” King Regis
asked. “What if I demanded the truth out of you as your King?”
Ignis swallowed heavily. “I would respectfully remind you of your own words to
me, Your Majesty, the day I asked to become your retainer.”
The king’s eyes glinted. “And which words were those?”
Ignis refused to look away. “You told me that when the time came, you expected
me to belong to Noctis. Only to Noctis,” he said unwaveringly. “And so I do.”
The king held his gaze a bit longer, then snorted. He waved his hand. “I assume
my son is conveniently passed out from his magic for the foreseeable future?”
Clarus spoke. “I’d say a couple more hours at least, from the look of them.”
With a nod, the King replied, “Well, that’s that. Please inform Drautos that
his services in instructing my son seem to be no longer necessary. Then take
Gladiolus and Noct back to the Citadel. We’ll give them an appropriately angry
lecture after they wake up.”
“No,” Ignis interjected unthinkingly. Both men gave him some form of a shocked
look. “I mean,” he began again, trying to regain his footing, “Please don’t.
Let them go back to the penthouse. It’s bad enough that the entire Citadel
knows Noctis was being pressured to perform the Ritual of Retainers. If they
are both carried into the Citadel as they are, anyone worth their salt who
knows anything at all about the Covenant will know what that means. Please
don’t subject them to that.”
Ignis didn’t bother to hide the pleading in his eyes as he looked from Clarus
to the king. Clarus was the one who was self-righteously angry, and thus the
harder one to convince. And indeed he said dismissively, “If you had wanted to
avoid the entire Citadel knowing what you were up to, perhaps you should not
have incurred a manhunt that required the entire Citadel to be involved.”
Ignis remained silent, but turned his gaze on the king. Finally, King Regis
gave a curt nod. “Take Gladiolus and Prince Noctis to the penthouse then. But
have Guard Adrian remain with them until they both awaken. Then have them come
to my chamber first thing tomorrow morning.” Clarus bobbed his head and went
outside. Guard Adrian must have been the one in the car.
With that, the king slowly stood up. Ignis raced to hand him his cane, feeling
useless. King Regis took the cane from him gratefully, then headed towards the
bedroom. As they entered, the guard that had been left there bowed and
straightened back up into attention.
“Leave us,” commanded King Regis. Ignis watched in confusion as the Crownsguard
obeyed without hesitation. He was still trying to figure out what exactly was
going on, when the king spoke again. “Young Gladiolus was not the first to form
a Covenant with my son, was he, Ignis?” At Ignis’s shocked looked, he chuckled,
though his mirth seemed rather forced. “I have been bound to the Crystal for
longer than you’ve even been alive. To me, you practically stink of fresh
Crystal magic.”
Ignis frowned. “Does that mean that all the Crownsguard and Kingsglaive know as
well?”
The king shook his head. “My retainers are bound to me, not the Crystal. Just
as you and Gladiolus are bound to Noctis. I sense all Crystal magic; you sense
only his.”
Ignis remembered how Glaive Ulrich had interrupted his conversation with Noctis
last night. How Noctis had frozen and whispered, “Magic.” The prince had been
able to sense his father’s magic as clearly as the King could evidently sense
his son’s.
“Have you tried to use your bond with the prince yet?” asked King Regis. The
curiosity in his voice was clear. Ignis shook his head and the king added, “I
assume you have some weapon of his that you know well? One that was a present
from you, perhaps?”
Ignis did indeed have a weapon like that. A short knife, like those the
Kingsglaive carried. He had given it to Noctis after the prince had first
learned how to warp as congratulations for the teen’s efforts.
The king turned to the sleeping Noctis and spoke without facing Ignis. “Don’t
think about what it looks like. That’s not important. Remember instead that
moment of connection to Noctis that you felt when he first bound himself to
you. You’ll have to learn how to call up that feeling instantaneously
eventually, but for now just try. Then remember what the weapon feels like.
It’s weight in your hand. The cold of the metal, perhaps.”
Ignis closed his eyes, aware of how many times Gladio had snapped at Noctis for
doing the same when trying to call his magic. Oh well. It wasn’t hard to bring
back the memory of that connection. It felt like it was soldered onto his
brain, bright and painful in its power. The problem was in connecting that
feeling, that memory, to a specific weapon. Ignis suddenly understood why it
had taken Noctis so many months to grasp this concept. But then again, Noctis
had not had someone to show him the way, whereas Ignis had this unforgettable
memory to work from.
Ignis felt it, like a thread snapping into place. He felt the weight and the
shape of the knife before he saw its glint. A few silver sparks crackled in his
grip, and then he was holding the squat little knife. At the same time, Noctis
took a gasping breath and jerked upright, upending the oblivious Gladio.
“Ignis?” wheezed the prince. He blinked stupidly for a few seconds, clearly
trying to get his bearings.
For himself, Ignis could only stare at the weapon that now lay in his grip. It
was real. Of course, he had always known that the weapons Noctis banished and
retrieved from the void were real. But still, this was real. It had weight.
There was a small nick in the handle from someone’s carelessness, probably
Noctis.
“Ignis?” asked Noctis again as he rubbed his eyes. He finally seemed to focus,
then shrieked. “DAD!” If it weren’t so horrifying, it would have been
hilarious. Noctis fumbled into a better sitting position, scrabbling against
the covers, limbs flailing. Only he was still naked, and his movement pulled
the blanket away from his crotch. This started an entire new round of shrieking
and a flailing jerk of the covers.
Frankly, Ignis thought it could have been worse. The teen could still be
covered in dried cum, as he had been earlier before Ignis had cleaned him off.
After mostly recovering himself while the king watched impassively, Noctis
repeated, “Dad! What are you doing here?”
The king’s mouth curled. “I’ve come for my car, Noctis.”
At that, Noctis’s face turned bright, cherry red. “I—I—,” repeated the teen.
His eyes met Ignis’s and then the knife in the advisor’s hand. Eyes widening,
he obviously recognized the weapon. “Ignis,” he repeated for the third time.
Letting the weapon disappear was as easy as a thought. With another ripple of
silver sparks, it returned to the void. Ignis held his hand up, staring at the
space left behind. The thought kept repeating like a mantra, it’s real, it’s
real.
Ignis heard the king take a deep breath behind him. Then it all seemed to
happen at once. Noctis’s face widened in horror, and Ignis heard a whooshing
noise. Some instinct had him turn around to face the king.
King Regis was swinging a sword a him.
King Regis was swinging a sword at him, and Noctis was shouting, and Ignis was
going to die. It didn’t make sense, but Ignis was still going to die, split in
two by the man whose son’s virginity he had taken.
The ringing, clashing sound of metal on metal rang out. A splash of magical
sparks blinded Ignis momentarily. Then everything cleared away.
Ignis held a polearm defensively across his body, and the king’s sword was
buried in it. They both stood there silently panting, until Noctis broke the
quiet. “What the hell are you doing, dad?!” The teen stood up shakily, heedless
of his nakedness in his desperation to help his friend.
Something about that frantic thoughtlessness warmed Ignis. He glanced back from
the prince to the polearm in his hands.
With a mighty heave, the king jerked his sword back, and it dissipated into a
wave of sparks. Ignis didn’t dare drop his weapon or move it in anyway. He
stood frozen as Noctis sidled up, panting in his post magic weakness.
The king spoke when Noctis finally stood beside his advisor. “I wanted you both
to understand why I pushed this on you, why it was necessary. Do you see now?”
Noctis was angry in the way that Ignis could not be. “I see that you almost
killed Ignis!”
“Did I?” The question was flung at them. Noctis glared and snarled at his
father, his teeth bared almost wolf-like. The intimidating effect was only
slightly marred by the fact that he stood before them as naked as the day he
had been born.
Once again the weapon disappeared from Ignis’s hand. He lifted a palm to rest
on Noct’s bare shoulder, hoping to calm the prince’s temper before he said or
did something regretful. “I’m alright, Noct. Truly.”
The prince shook his head. “What if you had, what if—?” Noctis trailed off as
the king stooped laboriously to pick up his discarded cane.
He straightened up and met Noctis’s gaze steadily, oblivious to his son’s
nakedness. “The magic is easiest to teach when it is fresh in their minds.
Which you would have known, had you chosen to do this within the Citadel.” His
gaze swiveled to Ignis, though he still spoke to Noctis. “Even without teaching
in the finer aspects of the magic of retainers, he is already faster and
stronger. He calls a weapon to himself as naturally as you would have, for it
is your skills he uses to do so. Do you understand?”
Ignis, at least, understood. He still wasn’t sure that forcing Regis’s son to
give up his virginity for that magical power was worth the heartbreak, but he
did understand it. This was the potential difference between life and death, as
his still racing heartbeat helpfully informed him.
Noctis jerked his head to the side. Both Ignis and the king waited on him to
make up his mind. Finally, he turned back to face his father and nodded
stiffly. At that, King Regis let out a long breath.
Noctis, in that moment, seemed to finally notice his nakedness. He blushed
again fiercely and stumbled away to search for his discarded clothes. As the
prince rummaged on one side of the bed, Ignis called out gently, “Other side,
Noct.” The look Noctis shot him was not particularly grateful, but he did
follow Ignis’s direction, finally finding his torn clothing from the night
before. Facing the wall, he yanked his clothes back on, the trembling of his
hands obvious despite his attempt to hide it.
As Noct came back around, the king raised a brow at the state of his son’s
clothing, but neither Noctis nor Ignis ventured an explanation. Though in
Noctis’s case, Ignis thought his lack of response might have more to do with
how pale and shaking he was, and how his eyes squeezed shut like he was
fighting a wave of dizziness.
“Master Scientia has convinced me to allow you to return to your apartment,
rather than the Citadel, Noctis,” said the king. At that, Noctis shot Ignis a
look. “However, this does not mean that you will not face the consequences for
your actions last night. You and Gladiolus will report to me first thing
tomorrow morning. Do you understand me?”
Noctis’s answer was toneless. “Yes, sir.”
“One more thing.” Ignis jerked his head up. The king had ignored Noct’s less
than enthusiastic assent, but still, his voice had grown grave and commanding.
“I don’t believe that Master Amicitia or our Crownsguard friend have realized
that this past night involved both Ignis and Gladiolus. For now, let us keep
that information between the four of us.”
Ignis knew that Noctis did not grasp the depth of what the king was saying with
that. It was highly doubtful that it was Clarus that King Regis did not trust.
But maybe someone else in his guard? After all, somehow the entire Citadel had
found out about the ultimatum in the first place. Someone had to be talking. He
let his eyes met his king’s and nodded, allowing the weight of his inference to
show in his gaze.
King Regis did not respond, but instead said, “I’ll give you a few minutes to
gather yourselves, shall I? Perhaps dress Gladiolus if he still cannot be
woken. Then I’ll send the Crownsguard to help him to the car.” With that, the
king left, his lame leg dragging along.
Ignis waited until he had closed the door behind him, then went to shake
Gladio. Of course, the Shield gave absolutely no response. If he still hadn’t
been snoring, Ignis might have been worried about him. “Just sit down, Noct.
I’ll take care of this.”
“Humph,” snorted the prince, but nevertheless he obeyed, collapsing back
against the edge of the bed. Noctis watched as Ignis found Gladio’s pants and
then brusquely dressed him, ignoring any potential embarrassment. After he
finished that task, Ignis made to leave, but Noctis stopped him.
“Wait, Iggy. Ignis!” Noctis called out to his advisor.
“Noctis, we cannot stay here any longer—.”
Noctis cut off Ignis’s words. He stumbled to his feet and strode up to the
advisor, far too close for comfort. Taking a moment to hold Ignis’s gaze,
Noctis suddenly smiled, bright and warm, and then he reached up slowly. Ignis
knew he should back away. He must back away. But he did not. He let the shorter
teenager reach up with soft lips and press himself against Ignis.
Ignis drowned in the heady scent of his prince. He soaked in the heat of his
mouth, the fullness of his lips. Noctis kissed him with a quiet assurance that
was slow and content, rather than hungry. Even when the kiss turned open
mouthed, tongues pushing and exploring, it stayed sweet.
Afterwards, Noctis hid his face in the crook of Ignis’s neck. “I’m glad it was
you,” he whispered. “Thank you.”
Ignis’s heart stopped, and he started to pull his head back to look at Noctis
aghast, but the teen was already walking past him. He could only stand
dumbfounded as Noctis left the room without looking back.
In life, there are certain things that can never be taken back. Some words that
remain between two people for the rest of their lives. For Ignis, I’m glad it
was you,was one of those irreversibly life altering moments. He stood there,
Gladio’s snoring the only noise around him, and he fought not to cry.
He was still standing there when the two Crownsguard came back to carry Gladio
to the car. He stood as they heaved the Shield up, and he remained as they
carried Gladio past him and down the hallway.
When he finally walked outside, Noctis was already in one of the cars with
Gladio, the Shield’s head lolling against the window. Clarus waved to Ignis.
“We can trust you to drive the Regalia back to the Citadel in one piece, I
hope,” he said dryly.
“Ah, yes, sir.”
“Good. I’ve got Guard Adrian driving those two idiots back to the apartment.
You’re to come with us to the Citadel after you drop off the car. The king
wants to have a few more words with you.”
“I am his to command,” Ignis demurred.
Clarus wasn’t impressed. “Humph. Glad you remember that.”
Ignis watched as the car bearing Noctis drove away. The prince twisted around
and stared at Ignis until the cloud of dust from the gravel road blurred
everything away.
The young advisor took a deep breath.
I’m glad it was you. With just those few words, Noctis had the power to sweep
over all of Ignis’s defenses, to lay his soul bare and bleeding. Ignis
remembered what Noctis had said to Gladio, before the teen had turned the
tables on him. The power you have over me, it’s power feely given. Ignis wasn’t
sure that the power Noctis had over him was freely given, but it was too late
now, and it couldn’t be taken back. Nor, if he were being honest with himself,
did Ignis ever wish to.
If I had to fall, then I’m glad it was you, he thought.
With a sigh, Ignis climbed into the Regalia, and flicked the ignition. It was
going to be a long drive back to the Citadel.
                                      ***
                                  **The Spy**
                                      ***
Two men were in an office. The first man sat behind the desk, and it was clear
that he was the powerful one in the room. His bright blue eyes and scarred face
exuded security and competence. The second man hovered in front of the desk,
pacing restlessly.
The pacing man spoke. “The king has been too secretive on this. He knows.” The
last sentence he shot at the man behind the desk like an insult.
“The king is protecting his son. Of course he’s being secretive,” replied the
man behind the desk placidly. “I’d be more concerned if he weren’t attempting
to shield Noctis from the weight of the Citadel gossip chain.” He pursed his
lips and added, “What we need to concern ourselves with is whether the prince
has truly made a move with his retainers. The reports on that have been . . .
unreliable.”
“He ran off with the chamberlain. Don’t you think that means he likely
completed the ritual with him?”
The man behind the desk shook his head slowly. “You forget; I was there when
the chamberlain spoke to the king. Ignis Scientia is a coward. He fears the
ritual. It is unlikely that he will allow himself to be the first to complete
it with the prince.”
“But we know something unexpected happened yesterday morning with the Amicitia
heir. The prince refused to complete the ritual with him as well.”
“Regardless, the young Amicitia is the bigger threat. He’s been trained since
he was a child in royal arms and magic, whether or not he actually possesses it
yet. The king believes that it is the Amicitia’s birthright to lead the prince
in his magic. He will not allow another to take his favorite retainer’s son’s
place as long the boy is in anyway competent, despite my efforts.”
The pacing man asked nervously, “What will you do then?”
“Simple. I will show the king just how foolishly he places his trust. Gladiolus
cannot protect the prince. No, the prince is easily manipulated and weak
himself. What he sees in that boy I have no idea.”
“I just hope you know what you’re doing. You know he wants one of his own close
to the prince.”
“And he’ll get it.” The man behind the desk waved his hand. “Now leave. I have
work to do.”
                                      ***
                                *End of Part 1*
Chapter End Notes
     *Clearly this is not the end. This story will be continued in a part
     two. I decided to separate it out, rather than continuing to add to
     this already long fic because the tone of the story will be shifting
     slightly. I know some readers might not like that I plan on leading
     this story down a darker road, but it's where my heart felt compelled
     to go.
     The next part of the story will continue to explore themes of choice
     and consent, and how choosing to complete the ritual as they did will
     effect our boys' relationships with each other. It will also explore
     what happens when someone (Prompto) innocent of all the political
     maneuvering gets dragged into the thick of these difficult sexual
     politics.
     **Finally, thank you all again. I have adored every comment you left
     me. I've said it before, but the positivity of this fandom amazes me.
     Seriously, thank you. <3
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