Noctis could never be sure if Bahamut had intended it to be a curse.
When King Regis Lucis Caelum stood before the Crystal gifted to his line, his infant son in his arms as had always been custom, the god that lived within the great stone dropped a vision into his mind. It came in a rush, all hands and sword-edges and pain, the face of a young man with Regis' hair and the Queen's eyes, seated on the Lucian throne with a blade in his heart.
Noctis, Regis thought, and the weight of his son in his arms felt almost too heavy to bear.
"No," he said.
It is what must be done to secure the will of the gods, the Astral said. It is the duty of the chosen king to bear the sacrifice, and of all who came before to see it done.
The vision shifted. The ghosts of the old kings, the same spirits Regis had seen when he first put on his father's ring and took his place as ruler of Lucis, pierced his son through as he hunched over the throne. And Regis, Regis in his own spectral armor, lifted his hands to deal the killing blow.
"Clarus." Regis' voice came out in a low bark, and Prince Noctis clenched his eyes in a grimace. "Clarus, I need trusted soldiers to move the Crystal to the vault beneath the Citadel."
King of the Stone, Bahamut said.
"Your Majesty?" Clarus hovered at the door, brows furrowed. "I don't understand."
"It's simple enough," Regis said. He stared into the Crystal's depths, his mind roaring in a dizzying rush of rage. "And when you're done, I'll need steel plating made. At least fifteen feet of it, blocking entry to the vault. The stair leading to it should be walled off--"
You cannot reject the salvation of your star, Bahamut warned.
"I refuse to kill my son!" It wasn't until Regis voice came back to him, echoing off the sleek marble walls, that he realized he'd shouted himself hoarse. At the door, Clarus took a step forward.
His fate is not yours to decide, Bahamut said. It has already been written. Your son, at least, will obey the will of the gods.
Noctis was three when Regis discovered what Bahamut had done. Noct was sitting on the floor, playing with a stuffed fox toy, when his nanny stood and beckoned him to the other side of the room.
"Stop playing and come here," she said. Noctis' eyes went wide, but he dropped the toy and stumbled towards her without a word. He was, as the nanny liked to say with a small, smug sense of pride, a very obedient child.
But then, two days later, his nanny came to Regis with disturbing news, wringing her hands in the long hem of her shirt. When the time came for the prince to play in the nursery, she said, he stubbornly refused to touch any of his toys.
"Even the fox," she said, in a tight voice. "He just sits there, crying, and when I ask him what's wrong, he says he can't."
Regis left his office at once. Noctis was still sobbing when he found him in the nursery, small and hiccoughing, surrounded by neat little baskets of toys. Regis knelt next to him and brushed tears from his round, miserable face.
"Tell me what's wrong, Noctis," he said.
"She said stop playing," Noctis said. "And I wanna hug Carbuncle, but I can't, cause that's playing, and my room's too big and you're sad all the time and I don't have any friends and Gladdy can't come over cause he's sick and I'm scared of Mr. Clarus and the dark and the basement where the voices are and I--"
"Noctis."
"And I'm scared I'll talk forever and--"
Regis ran a hand through Noctis' hair. "Stop talking," he said, and Noct gasped, "if you want to."
Noctis took a long, shaky breath. "Thank you," he whispered.
"Son," Regis said. "Play with your toys when you want to. Does that make it--"
The prince lunged for his fox plush, and squeezed it to his chest so tight that the stuffing in its head and legs bulged. Regis sat on the nursery room floor and pulled his son into his lap, holding him to his chest.
"I'm sorry, Noctis," he said.
"You're sad again," Noctis whispered. He pet his beloved fox frantically and curled up in Regis' lap, resting his head on his arm.
"I feel better now that you're here," Regis said. He kissed the top of Noctis' brow. "From now on, we'll all be more careful. Now that we know."
He sat there for a long while, gently rocking his son into a slow, fitful sleep, the fox tucked close to the young prince's tearstained cheeks, and sent a silent prayer that one day, Bahamut would feel the sting of what he had done to Noctis tenfold.
Fill 1/? Re: Gen or Ignis/Noctis- Ella enchanted au
When King Regis Lucis Caelum stood before the Crystal gifted to his line, his infant son in his arms as had always been custom, the god that lived within the great stone dropped a vision into his mind. It came in a rush, all hands and sword-edges and pain, the face of a young man with Regis' hair and the Queen's eyes, seated on the Lucian throne with a blade in his heart.
Noctis, Regis thought, and the weight of his son in his arms felt almost too heavy to bear.
"No," he said.
It is what must be done to secure the will of the gods, the Astral said. It is the duty of the chosen king to bear the sacrifice, and of all who came before to see it done.
The vision shifted. The ghosts of the old kings, the same spirits Regis had seen when he first put on his father's ring and took his place as ruler of Lucis, pierced his son through as he hunched over the throne. And Regis, Regis in his own spectral armor, lifted his hands to deal the killing blow.
"Clarus." Regis' voice came out in a low bark, and Prince Noctis clenched his eyes in a grimace. "Clarus, I need trusted soldiers to move the Crystal to the vault beneath the Citadel."
King of the Stone, Bahamut said.
"Your Majesty?" Clarus hovered at the door, brows furrowed. "I don't understand."
"It's simple enough," Regis said. He stared into the Crystal's depths, his mind roaring in a dizzying rush of rage. "And when you're done, I'll need steel plating made. At least fifteen feet of it, blocking entry to the vault. The stair leading to it should be walled off--"
You cannot reject the salvation of your star, Bahamut warned.
"I refuse to kill my son!" It wasn't until Regis voice came back to him, echoing off the sleek marble walls, that he realized he'd shouted himself hoarse. At the door, Clarus took a step forward.
His fate is not yours to decide, Bahamut said. It has already been written. Your son, at least, will obey the will of the gods.
Noctis was three when Regis discovered what Bahamut had done. Noct was sitting on the floor, playing with a stuffed fox toy, when his nanny stood and beckoned him to the other side of the room.
"Stop playing and come here," she said. Noctis' eyes went wide, but he dropped the toy and stumbled towards her without a word. He was, as the nanny liked to say with a small, smug sense of pride, a very obedient child.
But then, two days later, his nanny came to Regis with disturbing news, wringing her hands in the long hem of her shirt. When the time came for the prince to play in the nursery, she said, he stubbornly refused to touch any of his toys.
"Even the fox," she said, in a tight voice. "He just sits there, crying, and when I ask him what's wrong, he says he can't."
Regis left his office at once. Noctis was still sobbing when he found him in the nursery, small and hiccoughing, surrounded by neat little baskets of toys. Regis knelt next to him and brushed tears from his round, miserable face.
"Tell me what's wrong, Noctis," he said.
"She said stop playing," Noctis said. "And I wanna hug Carbuncle, but I can't, cause that's playing, and my room's too big and you're sad all the time and I don't have any friends and Gladdy can't come over cause he's sick and I'm scared of Mr. Clarus and the dark and the basement where the voices are and I--"
"Noctis."
"And I'm scared I'll talk forever and--"
Regis ran a hand through Noctis' hair. "Stop talking," he said, and Noct gasped, "if you want to."
Noctis took a long, shaky breath. "Thank you," he whispered.
"Son," Regis said. "Play with your toys when you want to. Does that make it--"
The prince lunged for his fox plush, and squeezed it to his chest so tight that the stuffing in its head and legs bulged. Regis sat on the nursery room floor and pulled his son into his lap, holding him to his chest.
"I'm sorry, Noctis," he said.
"You're sad again," Noctis whispered. He pet his beloved fox frantically and curled up in Regis' lap, resting his head on his arm.
"I feel better now that you're here," Regis said. He kissed the top of Noctis' brow. "From now on, we'll all be more careful. Now that we know."
He sat there for a long while, gently rocking his son into a slow, fitful sleep, the fox tucked close to the young prince's tearstained cheeks, and sent a silent prayer that one day, Bahamut would feel the sting of what he had done to Noctis tenfold.