FFXV fanfic: Backed In Silver

[shaicarus]

 

Fandom:  Final Fantasy XV
Characters:  Noctis Lucis Caelum, Prompto Argentum, Ignis Scientia, Gladio Amicitia. Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, Ardyn Izunia, Nyx Ulric, Crowe Altius, Libertus Ostium. Regis Lucis Caelum, Carbuncle, various astrals. A few other cameos.
Pairings: Noctis/Ignis/Prompto/Gladio, Noctis/Luna, Noct/Luna/Ignis/Prompto/Gladio, Noct/Luna/Nyx, a giant clusterfuck of an implied polyship, and implied Ardyn/Prompto
Chapter Rating:  PG-13 
Warnings: Anxiety, panic attacks, possession, dimension-hopping, mild suicidal ideation, blindness, canon disabled character, implied kidnapping, polyshipping if you couldn’t tell.
Word count: 21,734
Notes:  …So I wrote a sequel to If the Ring Fits. It took… a while. And it’s over twice as long. I got a little carried away. But I’m actually pretty proud of it.
Once again, basically every AU presented has had way too much thought put into it and some of them might be expanded upon later.
Some of the AUs here also showed up in ItRF, but I’m not gonna explain that here. Either you figure that out or come ask and I can explain things in way too much detail.

previously: If the Ring Fits

 

Noctis stared at the ceiling of the hotel room, the room dark enough that he couldn’t make out any of the details. To his left, Ignis was all but wrapped around him, their legs tangled, one of Ignis’s hands fisted loosely in the fabric of Noctis’s shirt. To his right, Prompto curled up against his side, one arm tossed over both him and Ignis, as if to hold them close and keep them safe at the same time, the fingers of his other hand threaded through Noctis’s hair. Gladio slept on the other side of the bed, his back to the three of them.

Noctis couldn’t sleep. It was such a strange thought. Part of him wanted to get up—to try to walk off the excess energy buzzing through his veins—but another part of him was wary to move. Ignis had never been a heavy sleeper and Prompto slept so much lighter than he used to, always waking up with a start like he expected to be somewhere else. 

So Noctis stared at the ceiling for another half hour, trying to will himself to fall asleep, until boredom finally won out and he began the careful process of extricating himself from the tangle of arms and legs. 

Ignis made an agitated noise and his hand tightened against Noctis’s chest. He buried his face further against Noctis’s shoulder, only to jerk awake with a pained hiss. 

“Noct?” he murmured, voice rough with sleep. “What’s wrong?" 

"It’s nothing, Specs.” Noctis pushed himself up on his elbows, and Prompto curled up more tightly beside him, head tucked against Noctis’s stomach. “Just…can’t sleep." 

Ignis huffed out something that tried to be a laugh. "Never thought I’d see the day. Well. Technically, I suppose I still haven’t.” Noctis snorted despite himself. 

“Iggyyyyy,” Prompto groaned, and both Noctis and Ignis jumped in surprise. “Stoppit." 

"No,” Ignis returned simply.

Prompto grumbled something that sounded more like an incoherent mash of syllables, rather than any discernible words, and then he sat up on one arm to grouse, “Why are we awake?”

“Because I can’t sleep,” Noctis huffed. Considering he was no longer being used as a pillow, he sat up properly and got to his feet. “I think I’m gonna go for a walk,” he decided, and he set about pulling his pants and his boots back on. He grabbed his coat from where it was thrown over the back of a chair and glanced back towards the bed.

Ignis reached towards him, fingers closing on thin air before Noctis grabbed his hand and let himself be reeled in, ducking his head for a kiss that was probably supposed to land on his forehead and instead landed more towards the bridge of his nose. Prompto stretched up on the arm he was still leaning on, nuzzling against Noctis’s face like an overgrown cat before he flopped back down on the bed, already squirming over like a caterpillar to curl up against Ignis’s ribs.

“Be careful,” Ignis cautioned, already laying back down. He shifted, one hand groping across the sheets until Prompto blearily lifted his head and dragged a pillow into range for him.

“Don’t worry,” Noctis offered over his shoulder, before he stepped out of the hotel room and headed for the stairs.

*

Many of Altissia’s streets were cordoned off, flooded or blocked with rubble or so damaged that there was a very real chance of falling through. Noctis’s path was winding, changing direction every time he got to a barricade. He was hardly even paying attention. At least, not until he caught sight of a familiar coat rounding the corner, just beyond the next barricade.

As if the world had suddenly tunneled, Noctis bolted ahead, following that corner of a coat, hopping over the barricade and rounding the corner. Ahead of him, beneath a row of cracked and toppling archways, booted steps faded and a flapping coat rounded the corner.

Noctis burst into a sprint.

*

He wasn’t even sure where he was anymore. The walls around him were cracking, dust falling from the ceiling every so often, but the building looked to be reasonably official. The hallways he walked through wound like a maze, corridors looping into even more corridors, and with every new corridor, he could see the brim of a hat, the hem of a coat, the heel of a boot rounding the next corner.

He swore he had been following for hours before, finally, he spotted Ardyn at the end of the hall, standing calmly with his hands linked together behind his back, at least until he lifted one, crooking his fingers as if to say ‘come get me.’

Noctis’s nostrils flared and his sword materialized, his fingers closing around the hilt for only as long it took to lift the blade and hurl it, and he vanished in a crackle of blue light to follow it.

But when the sword struck, Ardyn was not there, and the blade sank straight through the crystal clear surface at the end of the hallway. Feet first, Noctis fell through after it. He could hear glass breaking, but the surface rippled like water around him.

He was on his feet abruptly, tripping over himself as he came to a halt. Something smooth and narrow fell from his hand to clatter on the ground. It was dark and it was noisy and everything smelled like sea salt.

A hand landed on his back between his shoulders and he jumped, turning his face towards the hand’s owner, but there was nothing to see.

“Apologies,” Ignis murmured. Noctis heard some shuffling and Ignis’s hand slid lower down his back as he bent down. When he straightened back up, he pressed the narrow object—a cane, Noctis realized with a distant sort of clarity—back into Noctis’s hand.

It settled loosely against his palm, only to fall again as he couldn’t get his fingers to close around it. He didn’t hear it hit the ground, though, so he supposed Ignis must have caught it.

“Noct?” Ignis questioned gently. “What is it? You’re shaking.”

Was he? He supposed he was. He opened his mouth to answer, but the words wouldn’t come and his breathing was picking up, faster and shallower, and his heart was beating in his ears like Leviathan’s waves.

“Iggy!” Gladio’s voice called from somewhere ahead of them, and Noctis flinched. “You gonna keep him moving or what?”

Ignis’s arm slid around Noctis’s shoulders, drawing him closer. “We’ll catch up,” he called in return, and without waiting for a reply, he was leading Noctis away at a very purposeful speed. Wherever they went, Noctis wasn’t sure, but the sun wasn’t beating down on his face and everything was quieter.

He sat down on a bench at Ignis’s urging, but when his advisor tried to withdraw, Noctis latched onto the edge of his jacket with a vise-like grip, only relinquishing his hold when Ignis sat down next to him.

Slowly, his breathing evened out again and the roar of his heartbeat gradually melted back to a steady thumping. Everything was still dark, but it was at least quiet enough that it didn’t feel like the world was crushing down on top of him and he could pick a few of his thoughts out.

He heaved out a shuddering sigh and tipped over sideways to lean against Ignis, burrowing against one leather-clad armpit. He got a startled huff of laughter in reply.

He wanted his own Ignis, wanted to apologize because this was his life now. Whatever this was, Noctis would find his way out, but his Ignis did not have that option, all because he was helping Noctis, and Noctis was so sorry.

“None of that,” Ignis murmured against his hair, and the hand curled around Noctis’s shoulders shifted higher, carding through the hair at the back of his neck.

Well, he hadn’t meant to apologize out loud, but in his defense, his brain still felt like cottage cheese between his ears. He pressed himself impossibly closer to his advisor’s side.

Ignis stiffened beside him, straightening up, and for a moment Noctis worried he had done something wrong, until a gruff voice observed, “There you are.”

“Typically, 'we’ll catch up’ means that you carry on to Point B and wait for us,” Ignis pointed out blandly as he pulled his arm away and got up. Noctis didn’t have time to miss the presence before soft bootsteps approached and Prompto sat down beside him, pressing the cane into Noctis’s hand again.

Gladio scoffed. “If we go at your pace, the catching up will be days from now.”

Noctis could hear Gladio and Ignis retreating, and beside him, Prompto sighed, “Mom and Dad are fighting again.” It sounded like it was supposed to be a joke, but there was no humor to it. Noctis leaned his shoulder against Prompto’s.

Their voices carried. They weren’t as far away as they thought they were.

“You have to stop coddling him,” Gladio sighed. “We can’t just drop everything until he feels better.”

“My apologies if I don’t want to make things worse for him,” Ignis replied, tone clipped and terse.

Gladio, again. “None of us do.” Placating, but exasperated. “But options are limited. Sundown’s expected to be at three today; we need to get going.” Urgent.

And Ignis. “And we will, when Noct is ready to go.” Sharp. Snappish. “We’re supposed to be here for him, not simply because of him.” Accusing.

“Ig, come on, you know that’s not fair.” Wounded.

Prompto bumped his shoulder against Noctis’s, threaded their fingers together, and whispered conspiratorially in his ear, “Let’s get lost.”

Noctis nodded quickly in agreement, his other hand tightening around his cane as he stood. He let it tap halfheartedly over the ground, but by and large he followed where Prompto’s hold on his fingers led.

He wasn’t sure where they were going, and his confusion only got stronger when they slowed to a halt again. Finally, something was shoved into his hand, and he tucked the cane under his arm to prod at it, feet moving automatically as Prompto grabbed his elbow and pulled him aside. There was a spoon. Noctis curled his fingers around it and lifted it to his mouth. He hummed contently one he realized it was shaved ice.

“Ice cream vendor’s not open again yet,” Prompto explained as they came to a halt somewhere in the shade, “so I figure this is the next best thing.”

“You mean the gelato vendor?” Noctis asked wryly.

“Oh, same difference,” Prompto snorted, and he sounded like his mouth was full.

They ate in silence, their shoulders pressed together. Noctis let his thoughts drift. If he focused—concentrated, much like when he began to learn how his powers worked—then he could recall… details. Snippets of information of this world he was visiting and this body he was borrowing. Like he was observing them through a window. Or a mirror.

None of those details told him how he was going to get home.

He jerked, startled, at the feeling of fingers in his hair. “Sorry,” Prompto offered quietly, sheepish. “You just… looked really far away.”

Noctis grunted at him and leaned his head against Prompto’s shoulder. “’m fine.” There was a dog barking in the distance. It sounded upset. No one was acknowledging it, though.

Prompto lifted his shoulder, jostling Noctis. “You sure?”

“Positive. Whose dog is that?” The plaintive barking felt like he was being kicked in the chest.

“Huh?” Prompto’s chin brushed the top of his head.

“The one barking,” Noctis elaborated.

There was silence for a drawn out moment, before Prompto slowly stated, “I don’t hear any barking, Noct. Are… you sure you’re okay?”

“Just… tired,” he sighed, reaching for the first excuse he thought of. He held his empty cup up. “Can you throw this out for me?”

“Y-yeah. Sure.” The cup left his hand and Noctis listened to Prompto’s retreating footsteps before he took hold of his cane again and started walking, following the barking.

He couldn’t say he was surprised when he walked into a barricade, and he carefully crept past it, his cane tapping on the ground and his free hand dragging over the wall.

As he rounded the corner, the barking getting louder, he heard Prompto’s voice raise in panic. “Noct?”

Noctis flinched, but he picked up his pace. He nicked his fingers on cracks in the wall. He tripped over rubble. He nearly lost his cane when a hole in the floor sent him sprawling. But with each step he took, the barking got louder, until he turned a corner and could hear it at the end of the hall.

His toes caught on a collapsed piece of the ceiling when he was nearly there, and he landed on his knees, his cane clattering away across the floor. Rather than search for it, instead he simply shuffled forward on all fours, ignoring the way the debris bit into his palms.

The barking was right there, excited and right in his face. He lifted a hand and felt smooth glass.

The barking dipped low, into a whine as he pounded a fist against the glass. It sounded… familiar.

“Pryna?” he murmured, and she whined urgently at him.

He pressed harder at the glass, but nothing was happening and Pryna’s whining was getting more emphatic. His breathing began to pick up, each breath tumbling out on a quiet, “No, no, no,” as he pounded at the glass.

Pryna snuffled, gentle and quiet, and Noctis stilled, drawing in a breath. Just… think. Take a moment and think. How had he gotten here to begin with?

He could not see the way blue light enveloped him, but he felt the buzz over his skin, as familiar as the breath in his lungs. He pressed forward, phasing right through the glass. For an instant, he felt Pryna’s fur beneath his fingers, and then she grabbed his coat in her teeth and pulled. Noctis passed through the mirror.

He was in the air. And he was falling. His eyes snapped open, and he saw the sky up above, and craning his head showed, as expected, the ground rapidly approaching… along with a pair of wings, spread wide behind him. They looked black at first glance, but as he plunged and the light shifted, they gleamed every color imaginable, like oil on water. 

He tried to focus, tried to see anything about this world and how to use his wings, like he did in the last world. The sound of the wind ripping past his face, however, proved rather detrimental to his focus. 

A pair of arms wrapped around his middle, ripping him out of his plummet. Another pair of wings—enormous and gleaming black, like they might absorb the light around them—snapped open, and the two of them jerked to a halt before they began a much more gentle descent. 

Gladio dropped Noctis to his feet a few feet above the ground, before winching his wings in close to his back and dropping down as well. “What was that about?” he demanded, jabbing a finger at Noctis’s chest. 

“Headache,” Noctis supplied. “Hit me like a freighter just then.” He stretched his wings out behind him, getting accustomed to their weight and the way the muscles moved. 

Gladio’s eyes narrowed slightly, but before he could… argue? scold? they were interrupted by Ignis wondering, “Do we have a problem?" 

Noctis turned to look at him, and even with this world’s memories sitting on the other side of the glass, he still had to stop himself from sucking in a breath.

Ignis’s vision was clear, his face unscarred. The glasses on his nose were his regular spectacles. And only a single tawny, gold-edged wing was folded tight against his back. Where the other wing should have been, there was instead a jagged, shorn off stump. 

Stuttering back into motion, Noctis shook his head. "Headache,” he answered mechanically, and he tucked his wings in close to his back as if he could possibly hide them from view. 

“We are getting closer to the Glacian’s corpse,” Ignis mused thoughtfully, one finger tapping his lower lip. “We already know the astrals can have… adverse effects." 

Gladio snorted, and his wings rustled. "You mean their default state?" 

Ignis spread his hands in front of himself, conceding the point. 

Noctis, for his part, was content to let them think up an excuse for him. The topic was dropped a moment later when Prompto’s boots hit the ground a few feet away, and a second later he was wrist-deep in Noctis’s wings, preening the feathers distressed by the free fall. Noctis drew in a sharp breath, shoulders going rigid, only to sigh it out contently a moment later. Slowly, his wings unfurled, drooping behind him. 

"I was trying to be polite,” Ignis mused dryly, “but I suppose there’s not much point.” He sauntered over to help. 

Gladio shook his head in exasperation, but it was tinged with fondness nonetheless. “Am I the only one who remembers that the train will be leaving soon?" 

Eyes half-lidded and tone drowsy, Noctis pointed out, "There’s a conductor. His job’s to announce when it’s leaving.” Slowly, his eyes closed. 

With a slow shake of his head, Gladio huffed out a laugh and ruffled Noctis’s hair. “Uh huh,” he agreed dubiously. “Not at all just saying that so they’ll pet you." 

"You could pet me, too,” Noctis reasoned, cracking one eye open to look at Gladio expectantly. 

“We can only fit so many wings in one place,” Gladio argued, just to be contrary. 

Ignis made a show of folding his wing tighter to his back. “I’m sure you can find some space, then." 

With a roll of his eyes, Gladio cuffed him over the back of the head. Noctis grumbled at him incoherently but let the matter drop, eyes drifting shut again. 

He jerked back awake from his doze when Prompto clapped him on the shoulder. "Conductor’s announced that the train’s boarding, dude,” he said, laughter in his voice. 

Noctis nodded slowly and tried very hard not to look like he was staring at Prompto’s wings. They were nearly entirely transparent, and they looked as if each feather had been painstakingly carved from quartz, rippling every other color as he turned away and the light shifted. 

Noctis couldn’t quite keep himself from reaching out to wrap his fingers around the base of one transparent wing, and found them perfectly soft, despite their glass-like appearance. Prompto cocked a grin over his shoulder and winked. “Later,” he scolded playfully as he kept walking, Noctis’s hand dropping back to his side. 

He jolted back into motion as Gladio’s hand landed between his wings and gave him a shove. 

Ignis was the last of them aboard the train, his shoulders drawing taut as Noctis looked back at him. His wing tensed and he ducked his head slightly, and as Noctis actually looked around at the passengers, he could understand why. 

Families with children too small to fly. People who were ill or injured. They were on the train for Ignis’s benefit, and there was no way to pretend otherwise. 

Noctis glanced over his shoulder again, watching Gladio pause just long enough to let Ignis pass him, before he spread a wing out to curl it protectively around Ignis’s back. 

Noctis turned and kept walking. 

When they sat down, it was at a table with a bench on either side, the backs of the benches open. Noctis leaned forward to fold his arms on the table and slumped over, his head on his arms. 

He knew, at a glance, he could pass. But Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto knew him. One off-key conversation could very well set the alarm bells off. So best to just… nap. He couldn’t say anything strange if he was asleep. 

A moment later, Prompto hooked his chin over Noctis’s shoulder and nestled it downwards as he got comfortable, just in time for the train to start chugging into motion. 

Lulled by Ignis and Gladio’s conversation, Noctis let himself doze. 

This way. 

Noctis lifted his head off of the table, blinking sleep out of his eyes. 

He knew the voice, though it was quiet and distant enough that he couldn’t immediately pin point who it was, other than 'familiar.’ It echoed between his ears, and as he looked around at the others, it became apparent that they hadn’t heard anything. Prompto hadn’t even stirred. 

Noctis shrugged his shoulder, jostling Prompto. Apologetically, he scratched his fingers through the hair at the back of the blond’s neck, but when Prompto still seemed disinclined to move, Noctis informed him blandly, “Bladder, Prompto. I will pee on you." 

With an overwrought groan, Prompto shuffled away and flopped onto the table instead, freeing Noctis to get to his feet. His fingers trailed over the backs of Ignis’s shoulders as he passed, and he clapped Gladio on the shoulder before he continued on to the door to the next car. 

This way. 

The voice was louder in the next car, and Noctis picked up his pace, jogging along the aisle and into the next car. 

This way. 

Gentiana. It was Gentiana’s voice coaxing him further, this way, this way, this way from one car to the next, until he found himself stepping into the baggage car at the end of the train. 

It was towards the back of the car, tucked behind a set of shelves that had been bolted to the floor. It was wrapped in a sheet and it was huge, at least six feet high and six feet across. 

This way, Your Majesty. 

He flinched at the title, but he shook his head and crossed the car. He closed his fingers around the edge of the glass he could reach and pulled, one wing spreading to brace himself against the wall. It was heavy, and he ground his teeth as he pulled, dragging it out one inch at a time until a foot of it was clear of the shelves. If he turned sideways, it was enough space. 

He closed his fingers in the sheet and tugged, ripping the sheet to the ground. 

Where he should have seen his reflection in the mirror’s surface, instead he saw Gentiana, her eyes closed and a placid smile on her face as she reached towards him with one hand. 

His skin prickled with light and he reached through the glass. Her fingers closed around his and with a gentle tug, she led him forward. 

He lurched forward and found himself on his knees on the deck of an airship, the engine rumbling beneath his knees. His wrists were bound together behind his back and there was a bench across from him with a single occupant watching Noctis through a helmet’s visor. They almost looked like an MT, but the movements were too loose, and as they ducked their head to resume fiddling with their shotgun, Noctis couldn’t really imagine an MT openly fidgeting. 

The door from the cockpit slid open, boots striding over the metal floor. Noctis looked up slowly, lip curling unconsciously as Ardyn looked down at him. 

"Oh my,” Ardyn crooned, cupping his chin between a thumb and forefinger. “Quite the unhappy face.” He tapped his lip with the side of one finger. “Are the accommodations not to your liking, Your Highness?”

Noctis’s eyes narrowed and he leaned back, his hands on the floor. He scooted backwards so he was sitting in the circle of his bound arms, and with a jerk, he dragged them along his legs. Hands in front of himself again, he scrambled to his feet, one of his daggers appearing in his hands. 

He didn’t even make a step before Ardyn smacked him, hard enough that Noctis’s head snapped to one side and the knife fell from his hands, landing on the floor with a clatter before it vanished. 

“None of that,” Ardyn sighed, giving his hand a brief shake. “No one has any time for that." 

His eyes narrowed slowly when Noctis refused to simply sit back down, and his hands twitched at his sides. 

There was a flash of light as the armored bench-dweller’s shotgun vanished and they got to their feet. They closed the distance in two steps, one gauntlet-clad hand trailing along the back of Ardyn’s shoulders. "Hey now,” he quipped in a familiar voice, though it echoed slightly behind the helmet. “I actually had you relaxed earlier. You’re gonna ruin it.” Prompto pressed himself against Ardyn’s side, the fingers of one hand curling in Ardyn’s coat. 

With a slow sigh, the line of tension across Ardyn’s shoulders eased, just slightly. 

—down— 

Noctis barely heard it, tinny and distant, as if it was echoing from the opposite end of a long tunnel. 

You must— 

Noctis huffed out a breath, nostrils flaring. He glanced up to see Ardyn watching him speculatively. 

“Something on your mind, Your Highness?” the Chancellor wondered lowly. 

“You’re a shitty host,” Noctis spat in return. 

Ardyn schooled his features into a carefully crafted wounded expression, bringing a hand to his chest. “I daresay, we all have our shortcomings,” he lamented, turning away. “You may count yourself lucky that you need not endure my hospitality for long." 

"Almost there?” Prompto asked, his voice still echoing unnervingly from behind his mask. 

You must get down. 

They were getting closer to wherever Noctis needed to be, at least, as the voice rumbling between his ears grew clearer and louder. 

Ardyn’s voice was low as he replied, but Noctis swore he heard 'Pitioss’ in there, and he was pretty sure his spine turned to ice for a moment. He sat down on the bench behind him with a thump. 

Ardyn spared him a glance before he turned his attention back to Prompto, the tips of his fingers tipping the helmeted chin up carefully. “Keep him entertained for me." 

"You know it,” came the cheerful response, and with that assurance, Ardyn breezed away, heading towards the front-most compartment and the cockpit. Prompto returned to his bench. 

The silence sat heavily for a few moments until Noctis asked lowly, “So what’s he got on you, anyway?" 

The helmet cocked the one side, and despite Prompto’s voice, Noctis couldn’t help but wonder if his face was under there, too. 

"Uh… nothin’? Rude, much? Or is that just a Lucis thing, making weird snap judgments on people?" 

Noctis made to hold his hands up in a pacifying motion, though the effect was rather ruined by them still being bound together. The zip tie wasn’t exactly stylish. His hands fell back to his lap. 

"So you’re just… together." 

"Yup.” The P popped. Prompto offered no elaboration beyond that, and his shotgun appeared in his hands once more in a manner distressingly similar to the way weapons were summoned from the arsenal, but how— 

“You look sort of constipated,” Prompto observed blandly. 

“I’m being held hostage,” Noctis pointed out, and he got a shrug in a reply, a sort of silent ’fair point’ before Prompto ducked his head to his weapon maintenance again. 

Noctis used the silence to look around as best as he could without getting up to explore. He cast his thoughts back to Aranea’s airship, and as he spotted a panel near the rear of the ship, he wondered how similar the ships were. 

Only one way to find out. 

His knife appeared in his hands again, and Prompto’s head snapped up and he surged to his feet, shouting, “Boss! Complications!” Noctis threw the blade clumsily and warped, just a hair before Prompto could tackle him. Running the last few steps, Noctis slammed his shoulder against the panel and he couldn’t quite hold in a triumphant whoop as the gangplank’s seal broke with an almost deafening hiss and it began to open. 

The door to the cockpit opened and the sound of boots on the metal floor was just audible, but he didn’t plan on sticking around. 

Prompto’s fingers skimmed his elbow, and Noctis phased out of his hold. With a running start, he leapt from the gangplank before it was even fully open, looking back just long enough to see Ardyn hurl Prompto farther into the airship before the wind could rip him out of it. 

The ground approached rapidly, wind tearing at his hair and clothes, and he wished he had wings again, to simply glide to a halt. 

A knife appeared in his hands again, though he waited until the ground was worryingly close before he raised the knife over his head and threw it. With a deep breath, he warped. 

He hit the ground and tumbled, and as he wheezed and gasped and curled in on himself, his knife vanished back into the arsenal. 

You’re nearly there. 

Though the words were encouraging, he wanted to tell them, just for a moment, to shut up and let him remember how breathing worked. But he supposed he had no time for that. He could hear the sound of an airship preparing to land. 

Noctis stumbled to his feet and staggered a few steps before he lifted his bound wrists towards his mouth. He grabbed the long tab of the zip tie between his teeth and pulled, tightening it until he thought his wrists might bleed. When he came to a halt, it was so he could slam his elbows back, towards his hips, just shy of elbowing himself in the pelvis. With a click, the zip tie snapped. 

He shook his wrists out only briefly before he broke into a loping run. 

Returning to the ruins of Pitioss had never been especially high on his list of things to do, but as he came to the stairs he burst into a sprint, and he warped forward the last few yards, his feet touching down within the dungeon.

You must look down. 

Honestly, given what 'down’ had entailed that day and what he knew of these ruins, that really didn’t bode well. 

Carefully, he peered over the nearest ledge, into the endless abyss. He had fallen into it before. He didn’t remember smashing into paste at the bottom, though he did remember brief sparks of elsewhere before he was standing on solid ground again. 

Noctis took a deep breath and stepped off of the ledge. A knife appeared in his hand, and in the light of his warp, he could see the glass at the bottom of the abyss, and the single enormous, lightning-bright eye watching him through it, before he crashed through the glass. He heard glass shatter around him and he could smell ozone in the air. 

He tumbled to a halt on an enormous palm, sucking in air and letting it shudder out. 

Very well done, my boy. 

Despite himself, Noctis managed to crack a smile. A laugh like rolling thunder rattled at the back of his mind and the hair on his arms stood on end as static prickled at his fingers. 

Ramuh turned, and Noctis got slowly to his feet and kept moving. 

The ground was firm beneath him, and he looked down at glowing runes, eyes narrowing slightly in bewilderment. Lifting his head, he looked around, and by all appearances he was standing in a haven in Leide. The sun was setting, and when he turned around, it was to watch Gladio set up the tent. 

His Shield glanced at him briefly, but it was more accurate to say that Gladio glanced past him, his gaze sliding away as if Noctis wasn’t even there. 

He felt sick, his guts squeezing, and for a few seconds all he could hear was 'get over it,’ 'pull yourself together,’ 'stop being a coward.’

A gloved hand landed on his shoulder and he snapped back to the present, blinking up at Ignis, his face unscarred but his shoulders heavy. He watched Noctis with quiet, tired concern for a moment before simply squeezing his shoulder and returning to whatever magic he was working with the camp stove. 

Noctis wanted to kiss him. To tell him he was fine. To stare into his eyes and laugh because they were clear, but he didn’t. Somewhere beyond the glass, something told him that wasn’t what they did in this world. With the way Gladio hardly acknowledged his existence, he couldn’t even bring himself to feel surprised. 

He tried not to wonder if that was where they were headed in his own world. 

But where was Prompto? 

He sat down at the edge of the haven, gaze unfocusing as he watched the sun finish sinking. 

He jerked back to himself when a tray was held in front of his face, and he reached up to accept on autopilot, fingers curling around it. He looked up, but Ignis was already turning away.

Noctis opened his mouth to call him back, but he didn’t know what he was supposed to say, and he closed his mouth with a click. He turned his attention back to his tray, though all he managed to do was prod the food around on it disinterestedly. 

(He prodded at his ribs. He was pretty sure he was thinner in this world. And when he looked at himself in his phone, he looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks.) 

Slowly, he looked up when Ignis returned to his side. 

“We’re running out of places to look for him." 

It was a simple statement, made… not emotionlessly, but as if he was simply too tired to feel anything about the words. 

"That’s because he ran away,” Gladio snapped, and Noctis cringed. 

With a low sigh, Ignis crouched beside him. “Where to next?" 

Noctis stared down at his plate and his nearly untouched food, and slowly slid a glance towards Ignis, and turned his head just enough that he could see Gladio. 

"…Instructions?" 

Ignis recoiled slightly at the request, shock written plainly across his features before he schooled them back into some semblance of neutrality. He was silent for a moment, and when he spoke, he picked his words very carefully. 

"Whether Prompto left of his own free will or otherwise, we’ve run out of places to search for him. Moving on to Altissia would be the next logical step to find a new lead on him." 

Everything phrased in terms of finding Prompto. What happened here? Noctis shook off the thought. It wasn’t one he wanted to explore. And whatever memories lurked on the other side of the glass, they could stay there until he needed them.

"To Altissia, then,” Noctis conceded quietly. He didn’t know what would happen here once he was gone, if this world’s Noctis would change his mind. He decided he didn’t care, if only so he didn’t have to think about how it would rip the group apart. 

Gladio was looking up from his book finally, watching Noctis cautiously. “You sure?” he asked slowly, warily, dreading a change of mind. 

Noctis nodded stiffly. “Yeah." 

Slowly, Gladio grinned, and he slapped his book shut. Tucking it under his arm, he got to his feet. "Well, alright then. I’m gonna hit the hay, then. Long way to go tomorrow.” With his book tucked under his arm, he disappeared into the tent. 

“We should probably follow suit,” Ignis mused after a moment, though he made no move to head to the tent until it was clear that Noctis was following him. 

He didn’t know where other mirrors were, save Pitioss and Altissia. Altissia was at least a direction to go. 

It was nearly morning by the time he managed to fall asleep. 

“Do you hear a dog barking?” he asked the next morning. It sounded so far off. 

Ignis cocked his head to one side to listen, though he didn’t seem particularly interested. “A sabertusk, perhaps,” he suggested blandly. “I’ve learned to tune them out." 

"Maybe we’ll find whatever it is while we move,” Gladio suggested, ushering them towards the Regalia. Noctis knew, in a distant way, that it was the best mood his Shield had been in in weeks. 

His chest felt tight. 

As they drove steadily towards Caem, Noctis tried to talk to them a few times. Gladio seemed willing enough to humor him, but he made no efforts to hide that humoring him was all he was doing. And Ignis… was terse. Clipped and monosyllabic, he was like talking to a concrete wall. 

“I miss you guys,” Noctis mumbled that night, sitting on the edge of a hotel bed. 

For a drawn out moment, nothing happened. And then Gladio heaved a sigh and ruffled Noctis’s hair as he assured him, “We’ll get our momentum back eventually,” before he made his way into the bathroom. 

Ignis, by contrast, was silent, staring out the window and into the parking lot. Finally, he joined Noctis on the edge of the bed. 

“You let us down,” he stated, picking his words carefully but pulling no punches, “when you dropped all of your duties so suddenly and so thoroughly. I… I don’t think we can simply forget you did that, Your Highness." 

In this world, Ignis hadn’t called him 'Noct’ in weeks. The realization hit him with a distant, glassy sort of clarity. 

He nodded tightly. 

With a quiet sigh, Ignis gripped Noctis’s shoulder. "Get some sleep." 

Noctis dreamed that night, and remembered arguments that escalated day by day with no one to mediate, only getting worse as they never got a break from each other, until they could hardly carry on a conversation without snapping like feral dogs. 

He awoke after only an hour’s sleep. He sat up, stepped into his boots, and headed for the door. 

"Goin’ somewhere?” Gladio rasped, his voice rough with sleep. 

“Need some air,” Noctis muttered, one hand on the door knob. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he added, peering over his shoulder. 

Slowly, Gladio nodded, and his eyes drifted shut again. Noctis stepped into the hall, closed the door carefully, and burst into a sprint. The man at the check-in desk didn’t even look in as Noctis bolted past and out the front door, into the parking lot. 

He pulled a whistle from the arsenal and called a chocobo, and no sooner did one sprint up to him than he clambered onto her back. He squeezed his eyes shut and listened before he urged the chocobo into motion in the direction of the distant barking. The bird burst into a gallop as Noctis urged her onwards. 

Her long legs ate up the ground even after she eventually had to slow to a lope, though the sun was beginning to rise by the time Noctis could really say the barking sounded any closer. And even then, it still sounded so far off. 

He reined the bird to a halt once the sun was up, and got comfortable on the ground, sitting in a gap between tree roots. She settled down beside him, her head on his lap as he dozed off. 

She woke him when a pack of sabertusks began to move into the area, and he scrambled onto her back and once again set off at a gallop. 

They found a haven that night. Noctis ignored his climbing hunger as the bird grazed carefully around the edge of the haven. They fell asleep in a pile, Noctis’s head pillowed on the bird’s shoulder and one of her wings spread over him. 

In the morning they set off once again. Ignis and Gladio had to be going crazy, assuming they weren’t at each other’s throats. (Though he supposed 'both’ was also a valid possibility.) 

He couldn’t say he was surprised when the entrance to a tomb began to rise over the hill, surrounded by trees. The barking poured out of the entrance like it was echoing down a tunnel. 

Noctis climbed down from the bird’s back and gave her beak a pat. “You stay right here.” She fluffed her feathers at him, though he wasn’t sure if that meant she got his point or not. 

He stepped into the tomb. 

Between the columns against the walls, there were plates of glass. Umbra barked at him from the nearest mirror, before he began running from one to the next, as if each plate was part of a larger whole. 

With a deep breath, Noctis waited for Umbra to stop pacing before he ran at the occupied plate of glass and phased through it. Amidst the sound of shattering glass, he crashed to his knees, throwing his arms around Umbra’s neck. The dog squirmed in excitement and licked his face, but only for a moment before he wiggled out of Noctis’s hold again. 

Carefully, he took Noctis’s gloved wrist between his teeth and gave him a tug. Slowly, Noctis nodded. He held out a hand and waited for Umbra to shake before he got to his feet again and kept walking. 

He found himself walking down a hallway, metal and cold and clinical. He heard the familiar sound of a dog’s claws clicking alongside him until it ground to a halt, replaced instead with a low, rumbling growl, as if the sound had been ripped straight from the flames of the Infernian. Slowly, Noctis looked down at it, and his heart seized in his chest. 

The beast growling up at him was a scorched and blackened abomination with its teeth bared, and eyes that glowed with amber hatred. Its ears were burned away to nearly nothing and a spur of bone was just visible at the end of its whip-like tail. 

Noctis backed away from it, only to come to a startled stop when he heard boots rounding the corner. 

An MT turned the corner, calmly patrolling. It ignored both Noctis and the growling hell hound, as if neither of them were even there. 

Slowly, Noctis looked down at his reflection in the metal floor. 

His hair was longer, and his clothing had a distinctly Niflheim flare to it. Before he could stop himself, he turned and shouted after the MT, “Hey!” before it could turn the next corner. It jerked to a halt but didn’t turn to look at him. “Where’s my dad?” Noctis forced the words out in a level tone. 

The MT lifted an arm and motioned for Noctis to follow before it carried on walking, forcing him to run to catch up. The dog stayed behind, and Noctis could hear the click of its claws retreating. 

The MT led at a steady, silent pace. When it came to a halt, it was at a very important looking door. Noctis reached for the knob, but the MT caught his wrist and shook its head with a jerk of movement. It offered no elaboration before releasing Noctis’s wrist, and it simply continued on its way. 

For an hour, Noctis waited in the corridor outside the very important door. He heard voices through the door every so often, but never loud enough to make out the words. 

When at last the door opened, Noctis straightened up with a jerk. He vaguely recognized a few of the people pouring out of the room—political figures in Niflheim, only dimly remembered from past lessons—but some looked more like techs and were entirely unknown to him. 

All of them meandered past him as if he were merely part of the scenery, until Ardyn stepped out. There was no one else in the room. The Chancellor paused just long enough to motion for Noctis to follow him before he set off in the opposite direction from the rest of the pack. 

For a second, it felt as if his boots were stuck to the floor, and then Noctis jerked back into motion, following on autopilot. Ardyn didn’t speak until Noctis caught up, when he wondered mildly, “Where in the world did Agrippa go?" 

The dog, Noctis realized. The blackened mutt. 

"Wandered off,” Noctis answered, his voice oddly mechanical to his own ears, as he tried to fit the pieces of this world together. Ardyn slid him a look that was almost concerned. 

“How terribly unlike him,” he mused blandly. “We’ll have to meet with the trainer once we return home." 

Noctis nodded silently, focusing on the floor until Ardyn came to a halt and cupped his chin with two fingers, tipping Noctis’s face up to peer at him, scrutinizing him. Noctis jerked his head back before he could help it, and Ardyn’s eyes narrowed minutely.

Clearing his throat, Noctis mumbled, "I’ll go find Agrippa,” before he hurried on ahead, leaving Ardyn in his wake. 

He found the dog outside and he was greeted by growling. Though the dog followed at a distance to the airfield and boarded an airship as Noctis and Ardyn did, the growling persisted, and the hound fled as soon as he was able to.

The silence was thick as Noctis trotted after Ardyn’s heels through the corridors of the Imperial Palace. He didn’t know what they were there for, or if it counted as home. He didn’t want to look. They were approaching a nondescript door. There was no one else around and Noctis slowed to a halt in silence. 

“Agrippa was bred specifically for you, if you recall,” Ardyn remarked mildly, placid and quiet. 

Noctis nodded stiffly, peering over his shoulder at where the hound lurked around the last corner. 

“No you don’t,” Ardyn argued quietly. “Not truly, at least. You are not my son." 

For just a split second, Noctis swore his heart froze in his chest. But then his mouth opened, and he stated, "You never even had a son. You stole one. What happens when he realizes that?" 

Ardyn’s laugh was low and unpleasant. "Is everyone such a naive fool on the other side of the glass?” he wondered dryly. “My boy already knows. Much more than your father chose to tell you, I expect.” He smiled, sly and narrow. 

Dimly, Noctis recalled the words, “You were born to die, my lamb, but that need not define you.” 

He shook his head slowly. “No, no, no,” it fell from his mouth, over and over, like a mantra. “You were lying. That’s not—” He closed his mouth with an audible click of teeth against teeth as Ardyn’s expression softened with something like pity. 

The Chancellor opened the door, and for a moment Noctis thought he was to be burned alive. And then he realized that the fire that seemed to fill the room was on the opposite side of a sheet of glass. 

“Run along now.” Ardyn gave him a gentle push through the door. “Be a dear and let my boy have his body back. You have somewhere else you need to be, I’m sure.”

Noctis stared into the fire, where the curved edge of a horn was just barely visible. He took a deep breath and broke into a run, passing through the glass. 

The heat was scorching and it felt like the air in his lungs was being baked out of him. Someone was shouting in the distance, enraged and rattling, though he couldn’t understand the words. He squeezed his eyes shut and kept running. 

When the heat vanished and he opened his eyes, he threw himself upright in a tangle of blankets in a tent. Gladio grumbled incoherently and pulled Noctis down against his chest, mumbling, “Just us, you’re fine." 

Noctis calmed immediately. He squirmed for a moment to get comfortable, until Prompto pressed up against his back and snuggled closer. A second later, Ignis slung an arm across both of them from behind Prompto. 

It took an embarrassingly long time for Noctis to realize that he, Prompto, and Gladio were all stark naked. Presumably, so was Ignis. 

Well. That was telling. And a relief. Sleep eluded him for the rest of the night, but he was content to lay there in silence, basking in the closeness. 

Some time later, Ignis stirred just before the alarm on his phone went off. He groped for it haphazardly, smacking Noctis in the ear in the process, and turned it off. 

Ignis sat up, and Prompto and Gladio began to stir not long after, albeit with great reluctance. Noctis stayed where he was for as long as he could, until Gladio sat up as easily as if Noctis wasn’t even there. He ran a hand through Noctis’s hair. 

It all seemed so normal. Noctis sort of wanted to cry, but he didn’t know how he would explain that, so he squeezed his eyes shut until the feeling passed. 

Gladio passed Noctis to Prompto, who snorted a laugh but accepted him happily before pointing out, "You know, we know you’re awake.” There was a series of shuffling noises as Gladio and Ignis got dressed. 

Noctis cracked an eye open to peer at Prompto. “Am not." 

"Oh. Whoops. Silly me." 

Ignis scoffed. "You two will need to get dressed eventually." 

"Can’t,” Prompto protested, his hold on Noctis tightening. “My arms are full—Hey!”

The protested happened as Noctis heaved a sigh and sat up. “I’m going, I’m going,” he grumbled, sneaking a glance at Ignis. His face was scarred and he was looking straight ahead as he rummaged through a bag in his lap. Slowly, Noctis glanced at the other two. 

They all looked so tired. 

Getting dressed involved an unexpected amount of tactical armor, and only when he was dressed did Noctis realize just how little light there was from outside, even once the flap was unzipped. 

Gladio emerged first, before he beckoned the rest of them out behind him. “Coast is clear." 

Prompto crawled out, then Ignis, and finally Noctis. It was so dark, and as he stared at the sky, he couldn’t see a single star, and the moon was nowhere to be seen. 

He thought of the dwindling sunlight in his own world, and his heart sank. When he thought about it, though, he knew; this world had been dark for years already. 

"Ready to go?” Prompto asked, smacking a palm against Noctis’s butt and jarring him back to the present. 

“Uh—yeah." 

Packing up camp was a simple matter of simply shoving everything into the arsenal, and then they were off. It was remarkably normal, actually, aside from the fact that they were bushwhacking through the Niflheim outback. (The route was long, but no one knew where they were.) 

There were more daemon fights than Noctis had ever been part of before, in every shape and size and consistency. Ignis lurked on the outskirts of each confrontation, supplying potions and ethers as needed. 

Halfway through the day (?), Noctis’s phone beeped at him, the familiar tone signaling a text message. When he pulled it from his pocket to check it, though, the guys seemed confused as to why. 

He doubted the others had even heard the text alert. 

It was from an unlisted number, and it was absurdly cheerful. Carbuncle. Noctis fought a smile off of his face. 

To Gralea! You’re on the right path! 

Well, that was a relief at least, but there was still one unfortunate detail. As it turned out, Gralea was still a week away. 

The days passed with surprising normalcy, though setting up camp was an unexpected endeavor, making sure it was hidden well enough to avoid being stomped on by a giant in the night. 

On the fourth night, as Noctis stared down at his phone without seeing it and chewed his fingernails, Prompto tumbled down sideways into his lap. Noctis nearly dropped his phone. 

"Nervous?” Prompto asked, rolling onto his back, head cradled by Noctis’s legs. 

“Huh?” Noctis began petting the blond hair out of reflex. 

“You’ve just seemed super distracted later,” Prompto clarified. “And we’re almost there, so…” He trailed off. 

“A bit, I guess,” Noctis answered, shrugging. 

With a grin, Prompto reached up to cup his cheek. “Reeelaaax. Whatever’s there, we can take it." 

Noctis turned his head to kiss Prompto’s palm, smiling crookedly. 

(This wasn’t his Prompto, though, and he knew that, and that fact sat in his chest like a stone.) 

"You two being gross?” Gladio asked blandly.

“Wanna be gross with us?” Prompto asked brightly in return. 

Noctis yelped as Gladio abruptly scooped him up, and Prompto grunted out a sharp, “Hey!” as he landed on his back. 

Ignoring the blond’s outrage, Gladio buried his face against Noctis’s hair and squeezed him close. 

Eventually, Noctis squirmed his way to freedom, retreating to Ignis’s side. Burrowing close, he pleaded, “Protect me." 

Ignis curled an arm around him and resumed pretending to sleep. 

The four of them all fell asleep in a heap that night, like a pile of puppies. 

Three days later, they were in Gralea. It was empty, save for the daemons. Empty and dark and abandoned, with a trail of glowing gemstones leading towards the palace, each stone bright red and cheerful. 

They spoke little as they walked the dead streets, as if the emptiness had swallowed up their voices. 

The others never noticed the trail of gems. Noctis knew his goal waited at the end of it. 

The palace held only corpses, human and MT alike, and everything was coated in daemonic sludge, slicking over the floors and oozing down the walls, hardening in dripping, needle-like stalactites. Noctis suggested splitting up so they could spend as little time in the ichor-crusted cesspool as possible, and then he followed the gem trail through the ooze, moving at a steady lope. 

The mirror was in the same room as last time, but there was no fire. There were no horns and no one screamed and raged in the distance. 

Carbuncle watched Noctis through the glass, bounding in circles and pawing at the surface. Noctis’s phone beeped, and he checked it. 

I missed you! 

I’m so proud! 

Are you ready? 

Noctis nodded slowly and stepped through the glass. He dropped to his knees in an instant and Carbuncle butted his nose against Noctis’s cheek. A gentle, tinny voice reminded him, You can’t stay long. 

Noctis dropped to his elbows and buried his face in Carbuncle’s fur. The small astral licked his ear sympathetically. 

"Does this one go home?" 

Carbuncle nuzzled his cheek against Noctis’s. I don’t know. I’m sorry. 

Noctis was still for a moment, and then he nodded. He climbed slowly to his feet, like a marionette rising up, and started walking, one foot after the other. A gentle, soothing, You can do this. I know you can, echoed after him. 

He found himself sitting in the Regalia, bound in golden chains. Well, sort of. They draped over his chest and shoulders almost elegantly and hardly even restricted his movements. They were also locked in place with a collar around his neck. 

He couldn’t move. 

Sort of. 

His body was moving, fingers tapping against the car door, but he wasn’t telling it to do that. It was like something else was living in his skin, pulling at the strings. 

His head turned, glancing around absentmindedly. He caught a glimpse of his eyes in the rearview mirror, like glowing, golden coals. He would have recoiled if he could. Instead, Prompto all but shrank into his seat as Noctis looked at him. He felt himself smile. 

"Ignore him,” Ignis intoned, reaching over the center console to squeeze Prompto’s hand. 

His head turned, looking instead at Gladio, who steadfastly ignored him and kept reading his book. 

His mouth opened and his voice wondered casually, “Get to the good part yet?” It was followed by a snort of laughter as Gladio slid down in his seat and ignored him even more intensely. 

He didn’t know where they were. None of it looked familiar. They were there… because of him? To find a way to get whatever was in his head with him out. A… daemon? But not quite. 

They drove late into the night, until crumbling ruins rose around them on all sides. They parked in a protected alcove and slept in the car. Well, the others slept in the car. He didn’t sleep. 

Morning was slow to dawn. He stared out into the ruins for lack of anything else to do, presumably. Unable to look around, it took him almost the whole night to realize that the primary, least decorative chain connected to the collar was wrapped around Gladio’s hand like a leash. 

He wondered how many times he attempted to run away in this world. 

When morning dawned the others woke quickly. Prompto gave a kiss to Ignis and Gladio, some of the tension draining from their shoulders. After a moment of hesitation, he stroked his fingers through Noctis’s hair. Though it earned him a snort of incredulous laughter, Noctis appreciated the gesture. 

Now and then, as they wandered through the ruins, his mouth opened and his voice tumbled out. 

“You could stay in the car, Gladio. If stomping through ruins isn’t your thing, I mean. Not much use if there’s nothing for you to stab.” It sounded like him. 

“You think he likes you ignoring him? My, uh… landlord, I mean. When even Prom is quiet, it’s pretty obvious it’s on purpose.” They were his words. His inflections. 

“Hey, Specs? Gonna keep taking care of me even when you figure out I’m here to stay?” But part of them was always twisted. 

And they were so quiet. They wouldn’t fight back. They wouldn’t talk to him. He was hardly three feet away and he missed them. 

It only got worse when they broke their way into the shattered remains of something like a library. 

His voice was soft and meek as he leaned against Gladio’s side. “Gladdy?” he sighed. “I wanna go home." 

Gladio’s expression softened and he ran a hand through Noctis’s hair. "Soon,” he rumbled. “Just hold tight." 

His mouth open, and when his voice spilled out, it sounded truly pitiful. "Untie me?" 

It was pretending to be him, Noctis realized with a hazy sort of outrage. To be the actual him. 

In an instant, Gladio’s expression hardened. He shoved a hand into Noctis’s face and pushed him away. "Don’t feed me that shit,” he snapped, hackles up. 

Noctis’s voice laughed. “Hey, I’ve gotta try." 

He didn’t know what they were looking for, but they spent days in the ruins. All of the translating was left to Ignis, who stationed himself at what had maybe been a table and was probably strong enough to hold the weight of his very old guides and the remnants of the books and tablets that Prompto and Gladio provided as they turned up. Translating necessitated staying in one place, so Noctis was left with Ignis. He sat on the floor beside Ignis’s chair, like some sort of misbehaving pet. Periodically, food showed up. 

It was very quiet. Ignis simply ignored him, staring down at his research with a single-minded focus, and if he even slept was debatable. Noctis was left with no options but to dig through the distant memories of this world to figure out what was going on. He should have just stayed in the dark. 

He recalled, with surprising vividness, reducing Prompto to tears. ("Prom, c'mon. You weren’t enough to keep me away. You’re not gonna be enough to get rid of me. Dessert’s a sometimes food.”) And though he could hear his own voice laughing, he recalled feeling like his heart was being ripped from his chest as Gladio and Ignis wrangled him into the trunk because it was the only way to guarantee that he would be quiet for a time. 

He decided he didn’t want to know more, and he turned his attention instead to trying to break his way to freedom, to control his own body. Or at least this world’s version of it. 

If whatever was pulling the strings even noticed his efforts, it never acknowledged them. It was as if Noctis was battering at a glass box. 

…Glass. 

Glass. 

Trying to phase… did nothing. Of course. But it was more the feeling of phasing that he was after, wasn’t it? 

As if that was as easily done as it was said. Like trying to perfectly recall the feeling of wind on his face, or the smell of the dirt after a storm. It slipped through his fingers time after time, the exact crackle of magic over his skin eluding him, the exact way his senses expanded sitting just out of reach. 

He paused, collecting himself. 

It had been quiet that day, until Ignis slammed a book shut and pushed it away with enough force that it nearly slid off the opposite side of the table. Each noise echoed in the crumbling walls. Elbows on the table, Ignis set his glasses down and dropped his face into his hands. Noctis’s voice wondered wryly, “Throwing in the towel?" 

Slowly, Ignis sighed out a breath and dragged his hands back, over his hair. Head low, his hands curled against the back of his head for a moment before he lowered them to the table again. He put his glasses back on and pulled the next book closer. 

"Not yet." 

Noctis’s voice laughed gently. "You know it won’t make up for brushing it off when he said he wasn’t feeling right.”

Ignis flinched. Just slightly, for those who knew what to look for. 

Noctis felt a crackle at the back of his mind. Without a thought, he bathed himself in that feeling and pushed outwards. 

He couldn’t tell immediately if it worked. And then he looked around, his eyes obeying his own commands as they panned from one side to the other. 

“…Specs." 

Ignis looked at him warily, expecting a blow, even if not a literal one. His hands clenched against the table as he braced himself. 

And Noctis burst into tears. 

There was a moment of stunned silence where Ignis hardly seemed to breathe. And then he threw himself forward, his knees hitting the ground as he wrapped his arms around Noctis and pulled him close. 

"Specs,” Noctis repeated, voice breaking halfway through. 

“You’re awake,” Ignis breathed as Noctis bawled against his shoulder. There were fingers in his hair and Ignis was cooing at him soothingly—"I’m here, I have you, it’s just us…"—as he hiccupped and sniffled. 

Noctis quieted eventually, after a few minutes that felt like hours. He felt no need to peel himself away from Ignis’s shoulder. 

“It’s been weeks,” Ignis stated softly, lips brushing Noctis’s temple as he spoke, “since you last woke up.” He leaned back slightly, just enough to look at Noctis’s face. “He—the car incident—he told Prompto it broke you, and—you never told us you were still conscious while he was parading about.” He sat back heavily, shoulders drooping. “We—” His voice cracked. “Noct, we’re supposed to protect you." 

Noctis cupped Ignis’s cheeks, thumbs pushing the glasses towards his hairline. His hair was unstyled and his clothing was rumpled. He looked exhausted. His eyes were damp and red-rimmed, and Noctis was pretty sure he was grinding his teeth to try to keep his composure. 

Sometimes it was easy to forget that Ignis was only a couple years older than Noctis. That was not one of those times. 

Noctis made sure the glasses were going to stay put before brushing his thumbs beneath Ignis’s eyes. The first tears fell reluctantly, and Ignis turned his face to the side, as if to hide his face against Noctis’s palm. 

Noctis slid his hands back, cupping the back of Ignis’s head. When his control finally cracked, it looked painful, and Noctis tugged him forward. Shoulders rounding, Ignis ducked his face against Noctis’s neck. 

Slowly, the tiny, choked noises he made quieted, and when he leaned back, he looked… mostly in control of himself. Head hung low and one hand curled limply in his lap, he sawed the side of his other hand beneath his nose in a shockingly juvenile gesture that just showcased how tired he was. 

"Well.” His voice was rough. “I’m in a right state." 

Noctis offered a wobbling smile. "Specs, take a nap." 

Ignis shook his head quickly. "No. No, you only just—" 

"Shh.” Noctis curled his hands around the back of Ignis’s neck, fingers beginning to work at the muscles in his neck and shoulders. 

“I know what you’re doing,” Ignis groused. “It’s not going to work." 

"Mmhm." 

Five minutes later, Noctis carefully lowered Ignis’s sleeping head down to his lap. He ran a hand through Ignis’s hair before carefully shrugging his jacket off. He balled it up and set it down, and cautiously moved Ignis’s head onto it. 

He disentangled his… leash from around a chair leg and stood up, before he grabbed Ignis’s jacket from over the back of the chair and draped it over his sleeping advisor. He started walking.

There was a metallic rushing noise on the air, like hot wind down a tunnel, pulsing like breath. 

He hadn’t heard it when he wasn’t in control. Taking that as a sign, he followed it. As he made his way out of the remnants of the library, the noise only got louder. He could hear Prompto and Gladio in the distance, and he rounded the building to avoid them. 

It felt like he wandered through the ruins for hours, but as he was beginning to hear the others calling for him, he unearthed a staircase that led down beneath the ground. Following the sound, he took the stairs two at a time, his leash coiled around his arm and out of the way. 

The cellar had been grand, once upon a time. But all that remained were the walls, crumbling architecture, and a cracked and dusty mirror. 

Noctis swept a hand over the glass, clearing just a small portion of it. A knight’s helm looked back at him, a glimpse of wings just visible behind it. Noctis pressed his hands to the glass… and nothing happened. He couldn’t phase. He leaned his forehead against the dusty glass and pushed with his hands, but he remained on the wrong side. 

Slowly, he looked down at the chains around him. He had wondered at their purpose, but he was pretty sure he knew. 

Use your power, Son of Lucis. 

"I’m trying!” Noctis snapped, and he squeezed his eyes shut. 

Are you? 

His head was beginning to pound and he could feel a stirring at the back of his mind, ominous and slimy. His passenger was stretching. 

“I can’t!" 

Blood of my blood. You must prevail. 

He could feel blood beginning to stream from his nose. "I can’t, I can't—" 

Will you abandon those who wait for you? Will you leave them behind? 

"…No." 

Use your power. 

The chains were beginning to burn, but he felt a crackle over his skin. He leaned forward and tumbled through the glass. 

For a long moment he simply lay there, shuddering and gasping with his eyes squeezed shut. 

Slowly, as the feeling of being kicked in the chest receded, he opened his eyes and looked up. The spectral armor was massive, but it was kneeling for him, offering one gauntlet-clad hand. Noctis took it and let himself be pulled back to his feet. The armor released him and turned aside, and Noctis began walking once again. 

He woke up… on a floor? That’s what it felt like, at any rate. His head was pillowed on someone’s thigh, and he recognized the hand in his hair as Prompto’s. There were voices surrounding him, speaking quietly. One of them was Luna’s, alive and well, and he wanted to be thrilled about that, but the world felt like it was muffled by cotton. She was carrying on quietly with Ignis and Gladio and a trio of unfamiliar voices. 

Slowly, Noctis opened his eyes, though already all he wanted was to go back to sleep, as if his energy was being siphoned out of him. He pushed the urge away and lifted his head, glancing around. Everything bobbed slightly, and finally he realized that they were on a train, sitting in a storage car with both the Regalia and the Star of Lucis, along with an unfamiliar motorcycle. 

In fact, Ignis was sitting on the bike, feet on the floor and arms draped casually over the handlebars. Luna sat beside the bike, her legs curled beneath her and one of her shoulders leaning against Ignis’s knee. 

Gladio sat on the Regalia, beside—Libertus. The name came to him sluggishly. And the two sitting on the Star’s hood were Crowe and Nyx. Prompto was sitting on the floor, leaning against Gladio’s knees, and Noctis was draped over his lap.

Peculiarly, all of them save Luna were wearing Kingsglaive uniforms. 

"Hey, buddy,” Prompto greeted quietly, his voice low. “We wake you?”

Noctis shook his head slowly, levering himself up as he did. And then he froze as he caught a glimpse of his hands. He was wearing the Ring of the Lucii. For an absurd moment, he wanted to rip it off and throw it aside. But no, he couldn’t. Besides, Luna was right there. She was fine. Here, at least. 

Gladio was saying something. 

“Sorry?" 

"Bad dream?” Gladio repeated. 

Everyone was staring at him, looking so concerned. He stared at his hands and nodded. 

“Lookin’ a little peaky, don’t you think?” Libertus observed, before he leaned over to prod Luna’s hip with the toe of his boot. “What was it you did last time?" 

”'Last time,’“ Luna returned primly, "was rather extenuating circumstances, and I would rather not do it twice. But…” She shifted away from Ignis’s knee to scoot across the floor until she could cup Noctis’s chin and tip his face up. 

His eyes traced over her features carefully, memorizing each detail, storing them away for when he returned to a world where she was gone. She looked quietly bemused at his scrutiny and just how intent he seemed, before she smiled gently and drew him into a kiss. 

He froze at first, before he surged into it, hands curling around her upper arms. There was a spark of something between them, bright and bursting with warmth, and energy flooded into him. They parted slowly, their foreheads pressed together.

“One of these days,” Ignis mused wryly, “you two will stop kissing as if it’s never going to happen again." 

Ignoring just how very right he was, Noctis lifted a hand to flip him off without thinking. His reward was a clearing of Ignis’s throat to mask a snort of laughter. 

…Which meant he could see the gesture. 

Slowly, doing his best not to look like he was staring or being weird about it, he snuck a glance at Ignis. 

His face was scarred on one side, but his right eye was open and clear. For a moment, Noctis recalled the words, ”Well, not ideal perhaps, but imagine how much worse it could have been if I couldn’t warp.“

Noctis glanced away before it became apparent and shuffled back, leaning against Prompto’s side, and Luna followed, tucking herself against his shoulder. 

They were headed to Cartanica and then to Gralea, he gathered from the conversation, though he said little himself. Not that that was unusual. 

It was as they were heading to the sleeper cars that more details were revealed about the world. Like the nightly debates about the sleeping arrangements, which was handled that night by Nyx dropping off of the Star’s hood to his knees on the floor, before he sprawled over Luna, Noctis, and Prompto’s laps all at once and declared, "Dibs." 

Or the fact that watching Nyx very thoroughly kiss Luna and Prompto good night was not something Noctis had a problem with. Nor was being on the receiving end of an equally thorough good night kiss before Nyx and Prompto stole the top bunk. 

Noctis and Luna fell asleep tangled together on the bottom bunk. Despite the earlier nap and the kiss from Luna, he fell asleep easily. And that night, he dreamed. Or… remembered? Nyx and Crowe and Libertus. He knew them. He loved them. Not as he loved Luna. Not as he loved Prompto or Ignis or Gladio. But it didn’t have to be the same to be real. 

He remembered drag races with Nyx, between the Regalia and the Star. He remembered sitting behind Crowe on her bike and launching himself off of it to warp at speeds he had never reached before. He remembered sparring with Libertus only to abruptly turn to tag-team Gladio together, because eventually they had to win. 

He felt as if he got a good night’s rest, but when he woke up he was already exhausted. He wondered how his father had managed to fuel the entire Kingsglaive and everything else, rather than just a handful of people. 

He was also not curled up against the same person he fell asleep with, and he burrowed closer to Prompto’s shoulder. 

"Hey,” Prompto greeted quietly. “Train’s stopped. The others are in the shop at the station." 

"Nothing you wanted to get?” Noctis wondered, still muzzy with sleep. 

“Didn’t want you to wake up alone,” Prompto answered with a shrug. It was an excuse, but one Noctis got the impression he had been quietly allowing to carry on. 

Even so, he asked, “Something wrong?" 

Prompto shifted uncomfortably and buried his face against Noctis’s hair as he mumbled, "Nope." 

Noctis bobbed his head up to bump Prompto’s nose. "Prom." 

Prompto remained stubbornly silent until Noctis coaxed once more, ”Prom.“ 

"I just wish I could help more, you know?” Prompto spat out in a rush. “I mean, Ignis takes care of you. Gladio’s your Shield. I just… leech your magic, and it does this to you." 

'This,’ presumably, meaning the all-encompassing exhaustion.

Noctis squirmed in Prompto’s hold so he could look the gunner in the face. 

"This?” He squirmed again to draw attention to how they were pressed chest-to-chest and how their legs were tangled together. “This helps. More than you know.” He leaned forward, kissing him slowly, until Prompto started to relax and hopefully that look of doe-eyed sadness was gone. Noctis hated to see any of them sad, regardless of whether or not they were truly his. 

Prompto smiled as they parted, soft and so utterly besotted that Noctis felt instantly homesick, though the feeling was easily enough ignored as Prompto leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Noctis’s until the sleeper compartment’s door slid open and Nyx peered in. 

“Shoving off again soon,” he reported casually. “Next up, Cartanica. Need anything before we’re gone?" 

"You,” Prompto informed him, and he lifted a corner of the blanket. “Under here." 

Nyx shrugged just as casually, kicked his boots off, and climbed onto the bunk, sprawling over top of both of them. "Anything else?”

“Nah,” Prompto sighed contently. 

Ignis and Crowe peered in next, when no one emerged. 

“…Seriously?” Crowe sighed. “Are you having a slumber party?" 

"Not slumbering,” Noctis returned. “Unfortunately." 

Crowe rolled her eyes and stepped in, threading a hand into Nyx’s hair and tugging at it until he reluctantly sat back up and got to his feet. After only a moment more of lingering, Noctis and Prompto sat up. It was, apparently, finally time to get ready for the day. It wouldn’t be long before they arrived in Cartanica, and if nothing else, that seemed like as good a place as any to start looking. 

Of course, once they got there, there were a few grumblings as they crowded around the elevator down into the mines, about whether or not Noctis should stay behind at the train station until the path through the mine was cleared. It was a tempting idea, but he waved it off and stepped into the elevator. Exhausted or not, he was a king, wasn’t he? Wasn’t that what all of Gladio’s shouting was about? A king did not sit on his hands and wait. 

With some discontented mumbling amongst themselves, everyone else followed him into the elevator. Only Luna seemed content to accept his decision without second-guessing it. 

Granted, once they were stepping off of the elevator in the mine, things got slightly… strange. Stranger. 

He swore Nyx was talking to him, but he was in the middle of a conversation with Gladio and Libertus when Noctis looked at him. 

Prompto ruffled his hair, dragging his attention back to the present. 

With eight of them together, tearing through the monsters and getting around the abandoned construction equipment was nothing even approaching a challenge, especially when seven of them could teleport at will and all of them could throw magic whenever they pleased. 

Well, it wasn’t a challenge until they ran into the malboro, at least. It was rather opposed to the idea of just staying dead.

And midway through the fight, Noctis got distracted. Nyx was calling him, he could swear he heard it. It was only a brief lapse in attention, but it was just long enough for the malboro to seize him in one fat tentacle. It battered him against the ground, smashing the air from his lungs and leaving him gasping and wheezing. It did this once, and then a second time, and then a third time before Gladio sliced through the tentacle and Noctis crashed to the ground. He landed face down in the water, where he failed to sit back up. 

Everything seemed sort of hazy after that. He tried to sit up on his elbows but fell flat against the ground again. He coughed murky water and swamp slime down the front of Gladio’s coat as his Shield scooped him up. Gladio handed him off to Libertus and launched himself back into the fight, and gunfire echoed behind them and a golden light lit the corner of Noctis’s vision on one side, though the sounds were fading as Libertus retreated. He didn’t hear Crowe join them, as everything faded for a moment until he jolted back into the moment as a potion was poured into his mouth. He gagged and sat up with a gasp, nearly cracking his head against Libertus’s. 

"Easy there,” Crowe soothed, kneeling on his other side. She clamped a hand down on his shoulder as he tried to get up. “You’re not going anywhere." 

"The others—" 

Crowe grabbed his chin and turned his head so he could see the others sprinting to join them, leaving the still-flailing malboro behind in the water. 

Nyx joined them first, clearing the last of the distance with a warp, one knife spearing into the rock before he joined it. He scooped Noctis up in a hurry and broke into a lope, Libertus and Crowe following on his heels as the others caught up. 

It wasn’t until all of them were gathered at a haven in the mine and half of them were setting up camp that Gladio demanded, "What the hell was that?" 

"Gladio.” Luna’s voice was sharp—nearly scolding—and she curled a hand around the back of Noctis’s neck as she crouched beside him. “Now is not the time." 

"No. You get out of here with that shit,” Gladio returned, and he reached out to grab Noctis’s chin with one hand, forcing him to look up. “What happened?" 

Noctis jerked his head back, wrenching it out of Gladio’s hold as he scowled upwards. ”Relax,“ he snapped. "I’m not gonna keel over. I’m no more tired now than I was earlier. I just—I could’ve sworn I heard someone calling me." 

He could’ve sworn Nyx was calling him. But no one owned up to it. No one else had heard it. 

There was silence for a moment, and Noctis felt a hand on his forehead. He jerked away, offering a sullen, "Quit it.” Ignis backed off, holding his hands up in a pacifying motion. 

Marvelous. Noctis had seven babysitters, and somehow he was supposed to find a way to get away from all of them?

Luna’s hand was on his arm, and he glanced at her sharply. Warmth radiated from that point of contact, and in an instant he felt as if the malboro never touched him. 

By silent agreement, they decided to camp that night and just deal with the malboro in the morning. It was a plan that Noctis was more than content with. 

Dinner was a simple affair, and other than a few rounds of poker, they began to turn in for the night not long after. 

Noctis lingered at the edge of the haven. He could guess why he was hearing things. He had been through this enough times already. That meant he was close. No better time to slip away than when everyone was asleep, then. 

Well. Not quite everyone. 

Luna sat down beside him on one side, Nyx on the other. Luna took one of Noctis’s hands, fingers delicately tracing over the lines of his palm. nyx’s fingers carded through his hair, slowly, over and over. 

Noctis’s eyes drifted halfway closed, until he forcibly remembered that he had to be somewhere. Before he could assure them that he would come to bed soon, though, Luna murmured, “You need to go, don’t you?" 

Noctis slid her a sharp, startled look, and she slowly offered him a small, knowing smile. He turned his head to look at Nyx, who simply shrugged one shoulder and said, "She already recruited me. Just tell us where we need to get you." 

"I think,” Noctis began carefully, “I need to get into the tomb." 

Nyx’s response was a low whistle. "You ever do anything simple, Your Majesty?" 

Luna laughed gently and squeezed Noctis’s hand. "We can handle it,” she assured him. “You’ve no need to worry." 

The three of them stayed at the edge of the haven until the sounds from inside the tent faded and fell silent. Slowly, once they were certain the coast was clear, they slipped away. 

They stood at the edge of the water for a few moments once the malboro was easily visible. None of them said anything at first, and then Luna kissed his cheek and Nyx squeezed his hand and then curled a hand around the back of his neck. Noctis only narrowly avoided squeaking as Nyx reeled him into a kiss before letting him go once again, just as quickly, as Luna laughed quietly behind one hand. 

"Go on.” Nyx gave Noctis’s shoulder a shove towards the tomb. “We can keep the plant monster busy." 

Noctis nodded hesitantly as Luna waved him on his way, and he turned away as she pulled her trident from the arsenal. Nyx threw a knife away from them both and slammed into the malboro with the force of a wrecking ball, and Noctis broke into a sprint towards the tomb. 

The malboro eggs smelled like roasted sewage as he set them on fire, and the malboro shrieked behind him as they burned, though Luna sliced off several of its tentacles, ensuring its attention stayed focused on her and Nyx. 

Noctis watched them for a moment longer, jerking forward a step as the malboro’s mouth gaped open and it spewed out gas, though he wasn’t sure how he could help. Nyx retreated to Luna’s side, and some of the tension across Noctis’s shoulders relaxed as gold light poured from Luna’s hand, burning the gas away around them. 

Electricity arced between Nyx’s hands and the malboro’s mouth. It twitched and sagged into the water, a last gasp of gas sputtering from its mouth, though the way it twitched seemed proof enough that it would get up again soon. 

Noctis turned away to heave open the door to the tomb, and he stepped inside. 

Took you long enough. 

The voice was laughingly expectant and dreadfully familiar. The mirror was below Noctis’s feet, and Nyx stared back at him through ankle-deep water. Noctis stared into the glass, eyes wide, and he felt a sudden wave of grief for this man he barely knew as he breathed out a quiet, "Oh." 

Nyx’s sardonic half-smile rippled beneath the water, and he reached up to beckon with one hand. Time to get a move on, young king. 

Noctis looked over his shoulder, out of the tomb, back to where another Nyx was passing fire from hand to hand, waiting for the malboro to wake up and open its mouth. 

Noctis had a sudden urge to rush back out and say goodbye properly, until Luna met his gaze and motioned him forward.

With a small shake of his head, Noctis looked down once again and dropped through the glass. He landed on his knees and waved off the hand Nyx offered him. Heaving himself to his feet, he couldn’t look at the Glaive. 

He took a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly, and he started walking. 

And carried on walking. He wasn’t sure where he was other than some version of the middle of nowhere. He could see the glowing smoke of a haven in the distance, but something in his gut told him it was best to avoid it. Instead, he kept walking in a straight line, and soon enough he came to a campsite. Or at least a campfire. He hesitated to sit beside it, though. For the moment all he saw was a lone mesmenir grazing nearby, but he saw nothing to indicate any sort of protection from the daemons that would surely show up in the night. 

As if to prove him right, a creature landed not five feet away, just on the opposite side of the fire. 

It was about seven feet tall, digitigrade legs ending in a single tapered spike each that it balanced on carefully, and hands ending in long, wicked talons. Its skin was more like dark grey leather, a pair of enormous, bat-like wings protruded from its back, and it had a long, whip-like tail that ended in a narrow, bony needle. It had long, mobile, pointed ears, and rather than a nose, its nostrils were pressed flat to its head. Its mouth was stretched too wide and loaded with too many narrow, needle-like teeth. Rather than eyes, there was smooth skin stretched taut over where they should have been. 

It folded its wings against its back and let its tail coil on the ground around its… feet. Quietly, Noctis waited for it to try to eat him, regardless of how casual it seemed. 

It cocked its head to one side, ears flicking towards him. And then it… changed. 

Bones cracked and shifted, though it seemed unperturbed by what had to be a painful process. Soon enough, it was… reasonably human. 

"Your heart is beating very quickly,” Ignis observed, calm but concerned. “Has something happened?”

He still had the tail. And the teeth, though they did at least fit inside his mouth. His skin had a greyish pallor, his nails were too sharp, and his ears were pointed. His eyes were scarred over, only the right one open. And he was naked, which was less enjoyable than it usually was. 

Noctis reached for this world’s memories, but it hurt, as if too much was trying to flood into his head. He flinched and drew in a sharp breath. 

Ignis cocked his head to one side and slowly rounded the fire until he could carefully cup Noctis’s chin with one hand. “You’re frightened,” he observed, sounding faintly bemused. 

Noctis jerked his head back, out of Ignis’s hold, and he stumbled back two steps. 

“Noct?” Ignis questioned, voice small, and Noctis flinched again at his voice. “What happened?" 

Noctis’s mouth worked silently for a few seconds, but all he managed was a stuttering, "I—I can't—” before his breathing began to pick up too much for words to form. 

Ignis made a low, distressed noise as Noctis began to hyperventilate in earnest. Slowly, he backed up, and when he turned away, Noctis stopped paying attention to what he was doing. 

And then a shadow loomed over him and he looked up, expecting to be eaten. Instead he saw… a mesmenir. Or something like a mesmenir, but with too many crystal protrusions. She sniffed him curiously, recoiled sharply, and paused. And then she head-butted him carefully and slowly Noctis began to pet her nose. 

(Agrippa hadn’t known him either, he recalled, but at least the mesmenir seemed more agreeable to his presence.) 

Ignis kept his distance, and when the mesmenir laid down, Noctis followed her to the ground and let himself slowly space out as he stroked her neck and she rested her head on his lap. 

When another creature showed up perhaps fifteen minutes later, Noctis looked up slowly, reluctantly, and couldn’t quite hold in a whimper. 

It was… a bit like a saber-tooth cat, but with long ears, short antlers, and a shaggy mane down the full length of its neck and back. Its tail was short and stubby and its legs more resembled reptilian talons. Save for the black mane and a carefully braided beard, all of its fur was tawny and barely even long enough to be called fuzzy. It also had bright red eyes. Four of them, in fact. 

It grunted curiously at Ignis (when had he gotten dressed?) in confusion, and Ignis simply shrugged helplessly. With a grumble, the cat dropped the spiracorn corpse that it was dragging along the ground and transformed until a rather naked Gladio was standing beside the fire. A mane still ran down his back. His beard was still braided. He still had the antlers. His eyeteeth were too prominent. And he still had four bright red eyes. 

“What happened?” he asked gruffly. 

“He won’t say anything,” Ignis reported fretfully. “And Citrine seemed a touch off earlier." 

Gladio took a step towards the mesmenir, only to come to a halt when she snorted at him warningly and pressed her head more firmly against Noctis’s lap. 

Gladio’s response was a sharp, almost bark-like noise, and Citrine snorted once more with what sounded like mutinous intent. With a final grunt, Gladio left her alone. 

"She doesn’t know him,” Gladio informed Ignis, whose expression twisted with confusion. “But he’s scared, and that’s good enough for her.” He rubbed the back of his head. “We need to get him to say something." 

Noctis, unfortunately, was content to stare at Citrine with single-minded focus, burying his fingers in the coarse fur on top of her head. 

He glanced up only when another creature arrived, melting out of Gladio’s shadow. 

It was a human silhouette, perhaps a bit shorter than Noctis. It absorbed the flickering firelight that struck it, leaving it impossible to discern any of its features or even which direction it was facing. It dripped a viscous black goo onto the ground from no discernible source. 

Noctis couldn’t even be surprised when it turned into Prompto. 

Compared to Gladio and Ignis, he looked remarkably normal, save for the black ooze that still made up his hands and forearms. He dragged his hands over his naked torso, and as the ooze dripped downwards, it formed into a sleeveless bodysuit from high on his neck down to his feet. 

Noctis ducked towards Citrine to ignore the world, and it was then that he accidentally nicked a finger on the small spike just behind her head. Rather than blood, black ichor welled from the side of his finger. He stared down at it, blinking slowly. He hardly even noticed when Citrine snorted and began to prod at him worriedly with her nose. 

He lost a stretch of time after that. His ears buzzed and he knew that the guys were talking at him but the words weren’t processing. It was like they were speaking gibberish, and he pulled his arms over his head and huddled closer to Citrine. 

He swore it was only a few minutes, but when the world started making sense again, the fire had dwindled to embers and Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto were curled around him like a pack of fretful cats. He thought all of them were asleep until Prompto observed, "You said something about wanting to go home.” He sounded like he was caught somewhere between confusion and concern. 

Noctis was propped up against Gladio’s chest, Ignis was curled against his right side, Citrine’s head was still on his lap, and Prompto was tucked against his left side, watching him carefully. 

“You know that’s not possible,” Prompto pointed out. “Just—what’s wrong?" 

Noctis stared at the embers of the fire for a long moment, and he hardly even realized he was speaking until he heard himself quietly state, "I’m not your Noct." 

"…What?” Prompto reached up, one blackened hand turning Noctis’s face to look at him. “You’re gonna need to explain that a bit." 

Noctis pulled his head away so he could drag his hands down his face. "May as well wake the others,” he mumbled, partially muffled. “It’s a weird story and I’d rather only tell it once." 

Before long, the others were awake (Gladio was still nude, which seemed odd, but not the oddest), still clustered together. Noctis explained the story haltingly, and when his voice cracked near the end and he wanted to go home, it was Gladio who pulled him close, tucking Noctis’s head beneath his chin. Daemons or otherwise, they were still them. Noctis almost felt silly for being afraid. 

"Twenty years old,” Prompto mused eventually, cupping Noctis’s face to look at him, as if he wasn’t going to look just like this world’s Noctis. “Huh." 

They all lapsed into silence for a time, until Ignis offered quietly, "You were the Chosen One in this world, as well. For a time. Before the gods changed their minds. But that was near two thousand years ago." 

Noctis felt like the air was punched out of his lungs. "And now?” he wondered faintly. “The new Chosen One?" 

"His name’s Ardyn,” Gladio rumbled quietly. “Little twig of a kid." 

"He’s twenty,” Prompto scoffed, rolling his eyes. 

Noctis let them argue about whether or not that counted as being a kid and let his thoughts wander. 

Ardyn had taken his place in this world. Had he taken Ardyn’s, then? What did that mean for the Ardyn in his own world? What was he? What was the mess they were all stuck in? 

(“You were born to die, my lamb.”) 

He flinched as fingers ran through his hair, and they fled a second later. 

“Sorry,” Gladio offered. “Habit." 

"It’s alright,” Noctis murmured. “I… It’s nice. I miss mine." 

Prompto nuzzled against his neck and Gladio settled his chin on top of Noctis’s head. Ignis’s tail curled around him, and Citrine snorted out a warm breath. 

Noctis didn’t remember falling asleep, but he supposed he had to have. Next thing he knew, he was waking up. 

Citrine was standing up and Ignis was cooking over the newly stoked fire while Prompto saddled and bridled Citrine. Noctis was curled against Gladio still. He stirred only reluctantly and had to smother a flinch when he looked up into four red eyes. 

"We have some idea of where to find a mirror,” Gladio explained, voice low. “We’re heading out as soon as we’re done eating.” He waited until Noctis nodded stiffly before urging him to get up. 

Breakfast was a simple, hurried affair, and afterwards, Noctis climbed into Citrine’s saddle. As used to a chocobo as he was, it felt more than a little strange. Prompto gave the mesmenir a pat as he cheerfully stated, “She should just follow Gladio, so don’t worry." 

And soon enough, they were off. The three of them transformed, and Gladio stood still long enough for Prompto to melt through his shadow before taking off at a lope. As Citrine set off after him, Noctis could hear Ignis launching himself into the air before his shadow passed overhead. 

Noctis didn’t bother to ask how they were running around in the daylight without any harm. Trying to understand everything about this world seemed a bit… ambitious. 

Every so often, Ignis swooped lower, or Gladio slowed and peered over his shoulder, or Prompto materialized in a nearby shadow, and each time, Noctis called, "Still okay,” and sent them on their way. 

It was nice to know they were still worrywarts even when they were literally ancient. 

As the sun began to sink, Noctis worried. For naught, apparently. He saw daemons in the distance, but none drew near. When Ignis landed in a clear patch of ground with a flourish and they stopped for camp, there was no worry of daemons. They were daemons. Even Noctis. 

He didn’t even have time for his breathing to pick up before Ignis’s eyeless face was butting against his cheek. 

Right. Heart beat. Good hearing. He took a deep breath and relaxed, just a little. 

They fell asleep that night in a pile. At some point Noctis heard the three of them muttering about the Solar Guard in tones of vague concern, but they offered no explanation and he didn’t bother to ask. 

By the next afternoon, Noctis was riding through surprisingly familiar ruins. 

They were twenty minutes into the ruins when Gladio ground to a halt and Ignis landed. Prompto ripped himself out of Citrine’s shadows, tendrils of tar rising from his shoulders. A shot rang out in the distance and Prompto smacked the bullet out of the air with one tendril. 

When actual soldiers rushed them, Gladio pounced, slamming two onto the ground, bones cracking under his weight. Ignis speared one through the neck with his tail, grabbed another by the shoulders, and hurled himself into the air, his tail ripping through the first soldier’s throat as he did. Prompto smacked Citrine’s flank and ushered her away, and as she broke into a sprint, Noctis could hear a scream ending in a meaty smack behind him. 

He turned in his saddle to look back at them, but when he hauled on the reins to turn Citrine back, she took her bit in her teeth and plunged ahead, deeper into the ruins. Her hooves clattered over the ground and when she leapt over a pit in the ground, Noctis tore his hands to shreds grabbing her neck for balance. 

The sounds of fighting had faded into the distance by the time she finally slowed, sides heaving. As she came to a halt, Noctis dropped down from her saddle. If he squinted into the distance, he could recognize the ruins of the library. At least he was pretty sure he could. Which meant he had to go— 

He turned in a circle, brow furrowing, until he took off at a sprint in the direction that looked the most familiar. With a snort, Citrine trotted after him. 

(He could hear no voices that weren’t actually there. He tried not to think about it.) 

When he found the stairs leading down beneath the ground, he took them two at a time, leaving Citrine to stamp the ground anxiously behind him. When he swiped a hand over the dust-coated mirror, he felt a surge of white-hot relief when a single great eye stared back at him from a draconic helmet. 

The relief lasted only a second, though, before something at the back of his mind rattled like a caged animal, outraged at the sheer audacity of being caged in the first place. With a shout equal parts pained and startled, Noctis clutched at his head and sank to his knees. He had an agonizing glimpse of two thousand years of life, before it was like he was locked in a glass box again. 

With no control of the body, he surged forwards, fists hammering at the glass as he screamed. He saw his reflection, eyes glowing red in black pits and sharpened teeth bared in a snarl.

Noctis watched with growing horror as the glass cracked and chips began to fall loose. 

Blue light suddenly wreathed him, and he felt more than heard the all-encompassing GET OUT!just before he was thrown back into control as a glowing fist met the glass. He tumbled gracelessly through the mirror in time to hear it shatter into a thousand pieces behind him. 

Scrambling back to his feet, he broke into a run. 

Abruptly, his feet weren’t on the ground. He looked down, but he couldn’t see his legs, or any other aspect of his body. He was just… there, mentally even if not so much corporeally. 

Cautiously, he reached for this world’s memories, only to find that they rather abruptly terminated. 

Nineteen years old, and the Chosen One mistimed a warp in a panic during an assassination attempt, and fell to his death. He could actually remember the way it felt—a neck and spine breaking on impact with the ground. 

So he was… dead. Or at least this version of him was dead. And he was… possessing his own ghost? His head was starting to hurt, and he switched focus to the guys. What about them? 

He felt like he was being pulled in several directions at once, and he let that feeling guide him. His thoughts turned towards Gladio first, and he let himself be pulled. 

Just like that, Noctis was there, watching Gladio train. Traveling at the speed of thought was unexpectedly convenient, though the fact that being dead seemed to be a prerequisite was rather less convenient. But he supposed it was moot. 

Gladio seemed… okay, more or less. He was wearing a Kingsglaive uniform as he trained, and Noctis supposed that wasn’t surprising. There wouldn’t be a prince’s Shield when there was no prince to shield. For a time, Noctis simply watched as Gladio worked on mastering the finer aspects of warping. 

(Truthfully, he seemed to have more of an issue with the size of the knife than with the act of warping itself, and Noctis almost wanted to laugh.) 

When Nyx loped over to offer a hand—"a friendly spar"—Noctis felt an unexpected pang in his chest, and it only got worse when he spotted Crowe and Libertus watching from the sidelines and… he was pretty sure they were making a bet. That wasn’t really surprising, honestly. 

Still, Noctis remained, watching Nyx and Gladio go at each other. He felt… unsettled, sort of. Gladio seemed too… jumpy wasn’t the best word, but it was the first one that came to Noctis, and his temper was getting the better of him too quickly, with each movement getting sharper and less calculated with each blow Nyx landed. 

Nyx could see it, too, Noctis realized, once he noticed that Nyx was playing, deliberately goading Gladio’s temper to the surface. 

A swing with a knife—too wide and too fast—missed its mark, and Nyx flipped Gladio over his shoulder and onto the ground and sat on him. Arms folded, legs crossed, casual as anything. 

“Piss off, Ulric,” Gladio grumbled, making no move to get up despite the fact that he could most likely bench press Nyx without much of an issue. 

“No thanks,” came the bland response. Nyx tapped a finger to Gladio’s forehead. “Maybe leave whatever’s in here at home next time you show up,” he suggested, and though the criticism was honest, it was offered jovially enough. 

Gladio rolled his eyes and finally dumped Nyx onto the ground. “Yeah, yeah,” he groused, though there was no real heat behind the words. 

Getting up off of the ground from there was more difficult than one might imagine, purely because Nyx kept tripping him right back onto the ground. By the time their impromptu scuffle ended, though, Gladio was grinning again. 

As he left, Noctis followed him. It was as easy as just deciding to do so. But Gladio wasn’t going home. Not just then. Instead, Noctis recognized the Lucis Caelum family crypt, and realization dawned as Gladio let himself inside. He was quiet at first, just staring at Noctis’s name on the stone. 

“He’s right, you know,” he observed eventually. “I gotta stop coming here, in one way or another.” He reached up, tapping two fingers against Noctis’s name. “What do you think? That alright with you?" 

Noctis doubted he was actually expecting an answer. But if he was asking to move on, then Noctis couldn’t quite help but to provide one. As best as he could, at any rate. Noctis reached out. He didn’t know if he had hands to touch with like this, but he was going to try. 

A shiver chased itself down Gladio’s spine and he closed his eyes as Noctis brushed his hair back. When he laughed, the sound was damp. 

"Forget you’re gone, sometimes,” he admitted, eyes opening again. “Keep thinking I’ll walk past the arcade and see you in there with Prompto.” He shook his head ruefully and lapsed into silence. 

When he spoke again, it was to wonder quietly, “Did I fail you? Or was it just… something that happened?" 

Noctis ran a… hand? over Gladio’s hair again, and slowly the moment passed. Gladio sighed and traced a finger over Noctis’s name, and it seemed a lot like a goodbye. 

Noctis left Gladio to his musings. He would be alright. 

But what about Prompto? 

It was as simple as thinking it; an instant later he was at Prompto’s side as the blond jogged through the Citadel, weaving through people as he went, a stack of folders tucked under one arm. He slowed slightly as he passed Monica, turning and walking backwards just long enough to assure her, "I’ll have that prototype back to you by the end of the week!” before he turned to face forward and kept loping along. 

Curious, Noctis drifted after him as he made his way to a corridor predominantly dedicated to Crownsguard matters. 

He knocked 'shave and a haircut’ on the door to Cor’s office and simply let himself inside. Without looking up from his desk, Cor intoned, “Most people wait to be invited in." 

"You never have anyone else in here,” Prompto argued as he brandished the stack of folders. Cor took them, still without looking up, and handed a different stack of folders back, this time in various colors. 

Pouting, Prompto accepted them. “This isn’t what I had in mind when Gladio convinced me to join the Crownsguard,” he groused. 

“Would you rather see combat?” Cor wondered blandly. He spared Prompto the briefest glance before he returned his attention to the meticulously organized chaos of his desk. 

Scuffing a toe against the floor, Prompto sighed, “No thanks.” He looked down at his armload of folders, glancing over the colors to determine which went where, before he saluted Cor, turned, and loped back out into the corridor. 

Prompto was a gofer, apparently. Not just Cor’s, but everyone’s. He had standard training as well, as Noctis saw that evening, and no one seemed to be an ass about it, but he was still very much the lowest on the Crownsguard totem pole. He seemed content, though. 

It was after training, as he was heading home, that he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and punched in Gladio’s number. They talked about nothing in particular as Prompto walked, and when they bid farewell, it was with, “See you on Friday. The usual booth? …Great." 

Noctis smiled to himself—as much as he could with nothing like a mouth—until Prompto’s expression turned apprehensive as he continued to stare down at his phone. Slowly, he typed in another number. 

Eventually, he sighed into the receiver, "Hey, Iggy.” He cleared his throat. “It’s me. It’s, uh. It’s Prompto. Again. Just… call me back when you get this. You know the drill by now. …Bye.” He hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment, as if he was waiting for it to start ringing, before he heaved a sigh and shoved it back into his pocket. 

Noctis reached out before he could help it, his fingers curling around Prompto’s and squeezing. 

Prompto’s stride stumbled and he stuttered to a halt, staring down at his hand. He looked around slowly, as if there was possibly someone else around who had grabbed his hand without him noticing. 

Noctis gave his hand another squeeze, and Prompto dragged in a breath, letting it out as a shuddering sigh. 

“Right,” he huffed to himself, and he dragged a hand through his hair. His expression was softer after that. “Right,” he repeated, firmer that time. “I’ll get through to him eventually.” He snorted out a laugh. “Maybe I can convince the king to order him home.” He shook his head to himself and kept walking. 

Noctis let him go, instead looking over his shoulder (?), back towards the Citadel. What was his dad up to? 

Just like that, he found himself in one of the Citadel’s gardens, watching as his father strolled along the orderly paths with a woman… more than a few years his junior. Though their hands were joined and their conversation seemed cheerful, there was something strangely platonic about it. 

It wasn’t until they turned a corner on the path that Noctis realized the woman was pregnant. He vaguely recognized her as the oldest daughter of one of the oldest families of Lucian aristocracy. 

He supposed, with the heir dead, a political coupling would be a logical outcome, but actually thinking about it was just too weird. He watched them meander for just long enough to decide that they seemed happy before he left. He still needed to check in with Ignis, anyway. 

And he found himself… not in Ignis’s apartment. Not the apartment Noctis was accustomed to, at least, as the room was still plainly Ignis’s. Noctis looked out the window to get an idea of where it was, and he stared into the mountains of Tenebrae. 

What? 

Ignis was sitting at the table, having tea with Luna and Ravus. Alive and whole, respectively. There were two guards in Niflheim armor outside the door, but they were a passive, easily ignored presence. 

How much would have been better if Noctis had died? Just before the trip, perhaps, or maybe even back during the marilith attack. If there was no prophecy to follow because there was no Chosen One. 

During the marilith attack would have been better, probably. He hadn’t yet been friends with Gladio and Prompto, and Ignis would have bounced back. Tenebrae wouldn’t have been invaded if there was no Lucian prince to harbor. 

His attention was drawn back to the actual conversation when Ignis’s voice turned anxious. 

“—can’t.” His hold on his cup went white-knuckled. “I… no. I’m not ready to go back yet.” He shook his head tightly. “Eventually, but…” He trailed off. 

With a quiet smile, Luna pointed out, “You know you’re welcome to stay as long as you need to, Lord Scientia." 

Ignis’s answering smile was strained. 

Noctis explored as they continued to talk, though it sounded like Ignis was stiltedly trying to wrap things up. 

Noctis found a black jacket hanging in the bedroom, perfectly cared for and immaculately clean, and he tried to trail a hand over the familiar fabric to no avail. Nose wrinkling in irritation, he abandoned the endeavor. 

Instead, he found Ignis’s phone on the bedside table. It was turned off and it looked like it hadn’t been touched in half an eternity. 

Noctis reached for it, but nothing happened. It didn’t even budge. But he could hear the conversation in the other room coming to a close, and he knew he was running low on time. He ground his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut and he reached out once again. 

The phone powered on. Though he felt a spike of excitement, he kept his focus. 

Painstakingly, he opened the photos. There weren’t many, so it took hardly any time at all before he found one of him and Prompto arguing over a bag of chips. Gladio was laughing in the background and Ignis’s hand was visible, reaching into frame to halfheartedly try to separate them. 

Once that picture was open, Noctis left the phone alone just in time to hear footsteps leaving through the main door. A moment later, Ignis walked into the bedroom. Noctis watched as he aimlessly tidied for a few minutes, until he noticed that his phone was on. The screen had gone dark with inattention, but a light in the corner was blinking steadily. His expression screwed up in confusion as he picked it up. The screen lit up, and he sucked in a breath as he stared at the picture. Hastily, he closed out of it and went to turn the phone off, but his finger hovered over the button without pressing it. 

He checked his missed calls instead. "Eighty-seven,” he mused to himself, before he quickly drew in a breath and hit redial before he could change his mind. 

For a moment, he was silent. Noctis could hear a voice answering on the other end, but he couldn’t make out the words. 

“…Prompto? It’s me. It—" 

”IGNIS!“ Prompto’s delighted shriek was audible from across the room, and Ignis recoiled slightly from the phone. 

Noctis crept closer as Prompto kept babbling, his voice indistinct and tinny. 

"Prompto—I can't—I’m not—” To hear Ignis stumble over his words was unsettling. 

Prompto, however, adapted quickly. Noctis was close enough by then that if he strained, he could make out Prompto saying, “You know, a lot’s been going on. Might get too caught up talking about it to let you get a word in edgewise." 

Ignis smiled, just slightly. "…Alright. Let’s have it." 

Noctis retreated as they talked. He still needed to check in with Luna. 

Just like that, he was with her. She was strolling through a garden with Ravus, her hand linked around her brother’s elbow. In mild tones, they discussed an upcoming trip to Altissia to heal those who couldn’t make the pilgrimage to Tenebrae. Noctis got the impression that such trips happened frequently. 

"Why do I feel as if you want me along purely so I can carry things for you?” Ravus wondered dryly. 

Luna blinked up at him innocently. “Must you always assume everyone has an ulterior motive?” she tsked mildly. At the flat look she got in return, she conceded, “It would be appreciated." 

Ravus rolled his eyes, but it was already pretty apparent that Luna would get her way. 

They seemed… happy. Luna seemed tired—Noctis didn’t know much of what the Oracle’s role entailed, but he could guess at certain aspects—but she seemed content. Noctis supposed it made a certain amount of sense. If so much of Niflheim’s war on everything was tied into the prophecy and dragging it to fruition, of course it was milder when there was no longer a prophecy. 

It was… sort of soothing, just to watch them get to be a family. 

"Is this truly where you are supposed to be, your highness?" 

As Ravus and Luna rounded a corner, Noctis turned slowly to face the familiar voice. Gentiana was facing him, though her eyes were still closed and she was smiling placidly. 

"The young prince moved on some time ago,” she carried on. “Should you not do the same?" 

Noctis didn’t want to argue. He wasn’t even sure if he could. He glanced back in the direction Luna had gone, before he squeezed his eyes shut and turned his thoughts instead to mirrors. He didn’t know which one he needed, but when traveling was as simple as thinking, it was a simple matter to keep checking until he found one where his reflection was not his own. 

When Luna stared back at him through a layer of glass, he stopped. And stared. And waited. 

"…I’m sorry.” He offered the words quietly after several moments of silence.

She regarded him with something like sadness, though he couldn’t quite pick out the exact word to describe it. My choices were my own, as they always have been. 

“You chose to die, for me!” he snapped, slapping a hand to the glass. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?" 

You can’t keep me, Noctis. Gentle, true, but also so calm. Matter-of-fact. She brooked no argument, as ever. I am the Oracle above all, and what I do is for the world. 

"And the world still needs me,” he guessed, voice numbed to flatness. “'Anointed by the crystal,’” he quoted, with a bitter scoff of laughter. “Right. I get it." 

He closed his eyes and stepped through the glass. He felt lips against his forehead, but he clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes tighter and kept walking straight ahead. 

He found himself sitting on the hood of a car, staring up at the sky, watching the way the clouds drifted past the stars. Ignis was sitting beside him, a katana across his lap. When Noctis looked over his shoulder he saw that the car was not the Regalia or the Star, and it was parked a stone’s throw from a motel. The wreckage of a city was far off in the distance, still glowing with lights that had yet to go out. 

They sat in silence until finally Ignis clapped him on the shoulder. "Ready to head to bed?" 

"Gladio and Prompto—” Noctis fell abruptly silent at the look that flickered across Ignis’s face, before his expression settled on quiet resignation. 

“Your highness,” he sighed. “I know you miss them. But you can’t undo what happened by dwelling on it." 

Noctis blinked at him slowly, and he supposed in a sense he could know what happened, but just based on that, he didn’t want to know. 

Ignis shook his head. "Right, well. I’m going to bed.” He handed over the car keys. “Don’t forget to park the car this time, and remember, you said something about needing to call Stella." 

Noctis took the keys and watched him leave, before he turned to look at the sky again. Slowly, he closed his eyes and listened. 

Far off in the distance, something was shrieking, sharp and insistent and angry. Noctis nodded once to himself and hopped off of the hood of the car. He had a direction, at least. 

He drove until the sun was coming up, and then longer still. Wherever he was, he didn’t want to be there. His cell phone rang almost nonstop until the battery died. He left it in the car once he made it into the ruins of the city. So… strangely familiar, but just foreign enough for him to crumple his unease into a ball and smother it. He could deal with that later. 

At a steady lope, he followed the shrieking—so much louder—into what he was pretty sure was this world’s Citadel. He bypassed the bodies in the hallways with hardly a glance and followed the shrieking with a single-minded purpose, right into… the throne room? Maybe? It sort of looked like the throne room he knew, at any rate, save for the cracked and blood-smeared mirror that loomed behind the throne itself. 

Leviathan watched him with a single enormous eye, her voice sharp and grating and so loud as she growled, So far off of your own path. 

Noctis rolled his eyes and pulled a pair of daggers from the arsenal. He hurled them across the room and warped through the mirror, and he kept on moving. 

And then he found himself sitting beside a campfire. Not at a haven, but he felt no fear of any daemons, even in the darkness. 

To his left, Ignis cooked dinner while a tonberry tried so very hard to help. To his right, Luna and Gladio argued in hushed tones over something on Gladio’s phone. Her hair glowed as if it was lit by fire. Prompto was nowhere to be seen. A pride of coeurls patrolled around them, occasionally returning to camp for a pat from whoever seemed most likely to offer one. Noctis scratched the top of a large head mostly out of reflex when one of the cats butted at his shoulder, and then it moved on again. 

Noctis rather admirably kept his expression blank despite his growing confusion. It only intensified when he looked down and spotted the Ring of the Lucii around his finger. 

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Ignis brandished a tray at him, and his hands closed around it out of habit as Ignis watched him in bemusement. 

"Will you be joining us for dinner,” he wondered wryly, “or will you be getting lost again?" 

Noctis rolled his eyes and took a bite… and watched the tonberry toddle past to bring trays to Luna and Gladio. 

What. 

Why. 

…Never mind. 

Noctis busied himself with dinner. 

It was later, as they all curled up amongst the coeurls, that Noctis heard his name being called in the distance. But Gladio was pressed to his back and Luna and Ignis were tangled together in front of him and there was a coeurl half sprawled across his legs. He wasn’t going anywhere that night. Even so, he couldn’t sleep. He would have laughed if he didn’t think it would wake the others up. 

At some point, Gladio rolled away from him, but as Noctis was debating trying to disentangle himself, Luna rolled towards him, tucking herself against his chest. He pulled her closer; he would let himself have that. 

It was nearing dawn when the coeurls began to stir, slowly picking themselves up off of the ground to begin what seemed to be a habitual patrol. Two of them loped off into the distance as Ignis reluctantly sat up and the tonberry (what even) began to prod everyone else awake before it vanished with the sunrise. 

Two of the coeurls were evidently hunting for breakfast, which they returned with quickly. Ignis began preparing it without even blinking. 

As Noctis learned soon enough, the coeurls were also their steeds, which was possibly the coolest thing he had ever experienced. To make matters better, when they set off it was in the same direction the voice insistently calling his name was coming from. 

(”The Rogue Queen will wait for us at Shiva’s altar.“) 

The words struck him as they rode towards the snow gathering in the distance. It was… probably a logical place to find a mirror. Or as logical as any other places he’d found them so far. 

When night fell, the tonberry returned and other daemons… acknowledged them, but with something like caution or wary respect rather than hostility. And there was someone following them, far off in the distance. After the fourth time Noctis spotted them, Gladio observed, "Huh. Guess he’s still at it." 

"There’s a lot at stake for him,” Luna reminded him, and Noctis knew they were talking about Ardyn, but he didn’t want to look into why. 

When they camped that night, Noctis played fetch with a coeurl and watched Luna badger Ignis into dancing with her around the fire. 

Far off in the distance, an enormous human form waited. 

When they camped the next night, it was snowing. Noctis beat Luna in a game of blackjack for the right to sit on Gladio’s lap and use him as a space heater, stranding the loser and Ignis with the cats (who were warm, yes, but not nearly as affectionate). 

He lost the next night, and determined to make both Luna and Gladio as jealous as he could by making out with Ignis. It worked well enough, though they were all too cold to get up to much, and truthfully, he was glad for that. He wanted his Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto.

(He wanted his Luna, too, but he knew better than to expect a miracle.) 

Ardyn never stopped following them. He never got any closer, but he never left. 

They camped a mile from the altar on the last night. Noctis stayed up, flanked by two coeurls for warmth as he watched the Rogue Queen’s statue. She never moved, but she commanded attention all the same. 

Noctis waited until the others were asleep before he climbed onto a coeurl’s back and rode it towards the altar’s temple. 

He couldn’t even decide if he was surprised, resigned, or somewhere in the middle when Ardyn met him there. 

Noctis circled him warily, still seated on the cat’s back. Ardyn simply scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. I’m not here to fight.” He gestured to the queen with a flourish. “She’s here. I’ve lost. I just wish to see what you do." 

"Probably not what you’re expecting,” Noctis returned dryly, sliding down from the cat’s back. 

Ardyn canted his head to one side curiously, and Noctis sighed, “I need a mirror." 

"I certainly hope you’re not expecting me to help you find it,” Ardyn stated plainly, linking his hands together behind his back. 

“I’ve learned better than to expect people to be helpful,” Noctis answered earnestly before he turned away. The cat stayed behind, watching Ardyn dubiously as Noctis entered the temple, where the altar itself was ahead of him, lit with funerary candles. The mirror was behind the altar, tall and gleaming. Noctis sucked in a breath and his jaw worked silently for a moment as he tried to find something to say. 

“…Hey, Dad,” he settled on quietly, his smile small and trembling. “Proud of me yet?" 

Regis’s laugh was warm. Always. You know that. He reached out, beckoning with one hand. Are you ready? 

Noctis nodded slowly and his sword appeared in his hand. He warped through the glass with a flick of his wrist. 

He landed on his knees, and he felt an arm around his shoulders and a hand brushing his hair back. He breathed out a shuddering sigh and his father’s hand between his shoulders urged him onward. Noctis climbed to his feet and broke into a jog. 

He barked his shins on a coffee table and crashed to his knees with an impact that rattled the floor. Eyes wide, he stared around at a familiar hotel room. The door swung open, hitting the wall with a thump, and Noctis whipped towards it as Ignis hit his shoulder on the doorframe and stumbled into the room. Noctis climbed to his feet and bolted across the room, slamming into Ignis with enough force that his back met the wall. He slid down to the floor, pulling Noctis down with him, "Noctis,” leaving his mouth as little more than a breath. 

Noctis buried his face against Ignis’s neck and clung to his suspenders with a white-knuckled grip as he rapidly forgot how to breathe, until every breath shuddered damply out of his chest. 

Ignis’s fingers slid over his face and through his hair, searching for injuries until Noctis mumbled, “’m okay." 

Instead, Ignis’s arms folded around Noctis, pulling him close and burying his face against Noctis’s hair. 

They were silent save for Noctis’s gradually slowing breathing and the way Ignis occasionally shushed him, until finally Ignis murmured, "You’ve been gone for… weeks, Noct. What happened?" 

"Where’re the others?” Noctis mumbled, rather than answering. “Only wanna explain it once." 

"…They should be back soon,” Ignis answered, hands curling around Noctis’s arms. “Let’s get up off the floor, shall we?" 

It was nearly an hour later when Gladio and Prompto trudged into the room—and froze. Ignis and Noctis had, indeed, gotten off of the floor, moving instead to the couch, where Ignis sat and Noctis used his lap as a pillow, his face buried against Ignis’s abdomen. 

Eventually, just to break the silence, Ignis deadpanned, "I found him,” and Noctis tittered weakly against his shirt. 

When Noctis sat up he was immediately thrown back against the couch cushions as Prompto launched at him, clearing the coffee table and clambering into Noctis’s lap, arms around his neck with an almost noose-like intensity. He couldn’t be budged from his spot after that. 

Gladio, by contrast, slowly sat down in one of the chairs.

Noctis explained the entire ordeal haltingly, one hand buried in Prompto’s hair and the other clenched in Ignis’s hand. He wanted to crawl into Gladio’s lap, but Prompto refused to be budged. 

A buzzing stillness filled the room when he finished speaking, until Prompto breathed, “Shit, Noct.” He was toying with the ring he wore on a chain around his neck with one hand, his other arm still around Noctis’s shoulders. “That's—shit." 

Ignis tucked a leg onto the couch so he could turn sideways, so he could pull Noctis into a nearly crushing hug without moving Prompto. 

Gladio looked… stricken. As if someone had wrapped a hand around his heart and squeezed. 

"You thought I ran away,” Noctis guessed, and Gladio flinched and looked away. “…’s'okay. I get it." 

"It’s not okay,” Gladio snapped, sounding slightly panicked. “I’m supposed to know you better than that." 

And maybe he was supposed to, and maybe it hurt, but all Noctis knew was that he didn’t want to argue. "Gladio—” He swallowed thickly. “Just… come here.” He lifted a hand to beckon Gladio closer as Prompto shuffled about to make space. “I missed you." 

That was all it took to get Gladio to round the coffee table. He shoved it aside with his foot, freeing up enough space to fall to his knees in front of the couch. Noctis leaned forward, and Gladio kissed him like he was trying to inhale him, as if he would turn to dust and vanish. 

Noctis had half a second to breathe afterwards before Prompto kissed him, insistent and needy until Ignis observed, "I feel like I’m being left out,” and Prompto leaned away to instead shove Noctis’s face towards Ignis for a kiss that was slow and searching. 

And slowly, the world seemed to right itself, and Noctis urged the group away from the couch, if that would keep its axis from tipping out of alignment again. As they fussed over him, he could almost breathe again, and as they piled onto the bed, he almost felt like he fit inside his skin again. 

It wasn’t until later, as they were gradually contemplating dozing off, that Gladio quietly wondered, “Do you think it’s true? About being born to die?" 

Noctis was quiet at first, holding one of Ignis’s hands captive to absentmindedly curl and straighten his fingers until Ignis squeezed his hand and Prompto curled closer to his side. 

Noctis sighed out a breath and stared at the ceiling. "…Who says that needs to define me?”