Gladio, as the Six themselves have decreed, granting Noctis the fortune beyond all other mortal men, is not dead, but he does suffer after regaining consciousness to a spectrum of terrified faces above him by vomiting in the bathroom for two hours. Only once his stomach has settled can Ignis offer him the anti-nausea medication intended for Prompto’s nerves, and by that point, Gladio is too exhausted to even muster a glare at the duo cowering in the living space.
Prompto can’t stop apologising. Noctis simply refills Gladio’s glass of water and offers, “Well at least we know it works now.”
He thinks he sees the ghost of a smile flash onto Ignis’ face, but in fear of testing Gladio’s volatile temper, Noctis decides not to mention it.
Although there seems not to be any lingering effects of Gladio’s time in the Royal dimension - bar Ignis’ exasperation and Prompto’s guilt-ridden apologies - Noctis does seek advice from the only other person with intimate knowledge of the realm. Truthfully, he would rather not mention this mishap to his father - the King is a busy man, and Noctis is aware that he is not the priority for his father’s time - but Gladio is a sorry sight huddled in the bathroom. Princely duties aside, Noctis is the Meister in this relationship, meaning he is responsible for Gladio’s health just as he reassures Prompto’s uncertainties and orders Ignis to take a break every once in awhile.
One day he will be King. If he cannot look after his friends, then how will he look after a kingdom?
[Noctis] would putting a daemon weapon into my arsenal dimension work?
He clicks send, hoping not to disrupt any of his father’s more pressing duties. There’s no need to worry his father, so Noctis refrains from mentioning that he has already put Gladio in and pulled him out of the dimension. His father still has his doubts about Noctis living independently, and almost killing his Shield in a stupid accident is something the King is better off not knowing.
The reply comes swiftly; barely enough time has passed for Noctis to dread reading his father’s response.
[Dad] Provided that Weapons are transformed at the time, yes, it is feasible.
[Noctis] so can they not go in when they’re in their human forms or is it just a bad idea
[Dad] Do I have to inform Clarus that his son will not be returning home for dinner?
Noctis groans, scrubbing a hand over his face, but failing to outwit his father is the least of his problems. In the bathroom, Gladio and Ignis are conversing in low tones, probably plotting ways of murdering their stupid Prince in his sleep. Noctis wouldn’t blame them; if he has read his father’s text right, then his thoughtless could’ve caused some serious harm.
His phone buzzes again, a second message from his father.
[Dad] You are not the first in our family to test the limits of our magic. I trust that you would have informed me had Gladiolus’ health been dire. He will be well with rest. With perseverance, you could utilise this ability without the unpleasant side-effects for your friends.
Considering that Gladio has spent a number of hours hunched over a toilet, Noctis doubts that any of his friends will be partial to the idea. Nevertheless, storing Weapons alongside his armiger could have its uses for travel or stealth, and he is sure that Nyx could come up with ways to adapt the idea. It will be something for Noctis to think about at any least, providing that he can sway one of his Weapons into suffering through the nausea. Gladio is probably down for the count, but then, he has always dealt poorly with the after-effects of warping too. Ignis is far superior at wielding Noctis’ magic for his own, so he would be the better candidate.
Idly, Noctis wonders how Prompto will take to his magic. Basic endurance training is the priority for Prompto; he may not be Crownsguard, but he is a Royal Weapon now, and Noctis needs to be able to rely on both his human and Weapon form. Accustoming Prompto to being wielded is another pressing matter, but that will come with time and practice, and no small amount of Gladio’s rough physical affection. Beyond this, Noctis will like to see if Prompto is adept at harnessing the Royal magic; it will be cool if he is, but if he’s not, then at least he can wallow over it with Gladio while Ignis warp-strikes them into the ground.
[Noctis] how did you know it was Gladio?
[Dad] You would not be the first Prince to test his magic on his unsuspecting Shield.
Noctis winces at the thought of Clarus’ reaction, and somewhere distantly, he is sure he can hear his father laughing at it too.
-xv-
High school graduation passes in a flurry of tasteless music, strobe lights and psychedelic dancefloors, and not nearly enough alcohol to warrant the tedious good lucks and other pleasantries from people that Noctis will never see again. Most of the year-group and progressing into university to further their studies, but at eighteen, verging on nineteen, Noctis has neither the time nor the (mis)fortune to leave the walls of Insomnia in search of his academic calling. If he thought that graduating would offer respite from long hours pouring over books and snoozing through class, than Noctis soon considers this wishful thinking as his Royal duties increase.
Instead of suffering through six hours of class every day, he now spends most of his time in the citadel, shadowing his father in meetings or conducting his own, applying the political and financial information that his tutors drilled into him to the real world, to real lives, governing and reporting on the people of Insomnia. The study in his quarters becomes his primary home, a den of books, paperwork, and coffee cups where he can nearly always be found. In the evening, he and Ignis sit at opposite ends of the table and discuss the day’s work, Noctis resting his dinner-plate and mugs atop the ever-mounting pile of paperwork. Most reports are signed with both his name and a coffee stain, but Gladio’s almost-permanent presence at Noctis’ back effectively deters any complaints.
Where Noctis used to crawl through the school hours with Prompto sharing in the suffering at his side, now it is Gladio who trails the Prince day-in, day-out. Unlike Prompto, whose cheery countenance and bright moments of spontaneity can be compared to a puppy, the Shield is a guard dog through and through, never more than a pace away. Truthfully, Noctis would choose Prompto’s babble over Gladio’s steady silence any day, but it would be cruel to admit this aloud. They are not at fault for the duties they have been born into, and Noctis appreciates that Gladio is only doing his job. He is grateful to have found both a friend and a faithful Weapon in Gladio; he can only imagine how awkward disliking his Shield would have been.
With Noctis scarcely separated from his Shield within the citadel, he is pleased and perhaps the tiniest bit surprised to witness a close friendship developing between Ignis and Prompto. Despite working a full-time job in the city now, Prompto crashes Noctis’ quarters most evenings, although he rarely spends the night. As Prompto is still learning to drive, Ignis ferries him back home on the nights in which he cannot be persuaded to stay, and Noctis imagines this is the time during which his Weapons gossip about him - not, that is, that Ignis would ever admit to such. They are good for each other, Ignis’ serenity curbing Prompto’s anxiety, and Prompto’s jubilance succeeding in coaxing Ignis away from his work. On days where Noctis’ duties drag on, he often returns to his quarters to find the pair pouring over recipe books or bickering in front of the games console. On one particular occasion, Prompto had ushered the Prince and Shield inside to reveal Ignis conked out on the sofa, glasses askew and sewing kit sprawled across his lap, and no small number of photographs already snapped by Prompto’s camera.
They’ve not told Ignis about those photos.
Weekends are when they can spend time together as a group. Noctis’ duties do not grant him a day off, but meetings with the public scarcely occur at the weekend, and the Royal advisors and councilmen are entitled to respite. Saturday mornings are characterised by Noctis hanging around the Kingsglaive grounds, bothering Nyx if he can find them, or practising his warping by warp-racing any of Nyx’s vagabond circle of friends around the citadel. Saturday afternoons are when Noctis and his Weapons occupy the east training grounds, terrifying any unwitting passer-bys with their hollering, bouts of gunfire and flames, and violent renditions of tag and sticky toffee.
Prompto continues to squirm whenever somebody wields him. Gladio is an okay shot with Prompto’s silver firearm, and Noctis knows that his Shield can wield almost anything. A Meister’s ease of use of a Weapon reflects the type and strength of their bond; Noctis struggled with Gladio’s hefty shield because he struggled with Gladio in his entirety, but as their friendship developed, so did the trust between them, and now Noctis can wield Gladio almost effortlessly, his faith that the Shield will protect him in sync with Gladio’s desire to protect.
As forging multiple Weapon bonds is a skill unique to line of Lucis Caelum, a Weapon wielding another Weapon is but a myth to the people of Lucis. Noctis remembers the fumbling exchange when he first suggested that Gladio try the weight of Ignis’ lance; they had acquiesced to the idea if only to please their Prince, and then neither had looked the other in the eye for the rest of the day. Noctis had thought the whole thing hilarious until Gladio had held Prompto for the first time and almost brought down the ceiling, and since then he cannot help but feel oddly uneasy and yet happy to watch Prompto ducking behind Gladio’s shield or Ignis shooting targets to Prompto’s approval.
Ignis is a crack shot with Prompto, which would surprise Noctis were Prompto not simply besotted. Every time Ignis fusses - was that all right, Prompto, he asks, are you okay? - Noctis wants to bury his face into his hands and scream at how stupid his friends are and how stupid he is for loving them and how stupidly in love they are with each other. Even Noctis cannot wield Prompto to the same effect that Ignis can, and it’s so embarrassing to watch them dance around each other than he wants to take matters into his own hands, but a small part of him aches at the thought that they’ll never love him the same way as each other, and he cannot bring himself to say anything in fear of this ugly truth spilling out. So Noctis relishes his time with Gladio instead - safe, dependable Gladio who flirts with anybody and everybody except him, who Noctis still yearns for and yet is thankful to never have to worry about kissing, or touching, or Astrals having sex with all the same, and who seems entirely unaffected by Ignis and Prompto’s maybe-relationship in the way that Noctis is really, really not.
At least they’re not both pining over people they can’t have. Noctis’ conflicted feelings about wanting and not-wanting to date his friends is enough of a heartache for all of them.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
[FILL] Re: Any pairing or gen, the bros are Noct's weapons (8/?)
Date: 2017-03-02 08:40 pm (UTC)Gladio, as the Six themselves have decreed, granting Noctis the fortune beyond all other mortal men, is not dead, but he does suffer after regaining consciousness to a spectrum of terrified faces above him by vomiting in the bathroom for two hours. Only once his stomach has settled can Ignis offer him the anti-nausea medication intended for Prompto’s nerves, and by that point, Gladio is too exhausted to even muster a glare at the duo cowering in the living space.
Prompto can’t stop apologising. Noctis simply refills Gladio’s glass of water and offers, “Well at least we know it works now.”
He thinks he sees the ghost of a smile flash onto Ignis’ face, but in fear of testing Gladio’s volatile temper, Noctis decides not to mention it.
Although there seems not to be any lingering effects of Gladio’s time in the Royal dimension - bar Ignis’ exasperation and Prompto’s guilt-ridden apologies - Noctis does seek advice from the only other person with intimate knowledge of the realm. Truthfully, he would rather not mention this mishap to his father - the King is a busy man, and Noctis is aware that he is not the priority for his father’s time - but Gladio is a sorry sight huddled in the bathroom. Princely duties aside, Noctis is the Meister in this relationship, meaning he is responsible for Gladio’s health just as he reassures Prompto’s uncertainties and orders Ignis to take a break every once in awhile.
One day he will be King. If he cannot look after his friends, then how will he look after a kingdom?
[Noctis] would putting a daemon weapon into my arsenal dimension work?
He clicks send, hoping not to disrupt any of his father’s more pressing duties. There’s no need to worry his father, so Noctis refrains from mentioning that he has already put Gladio in and pulled him out of the dimension. His father still has his doubts about Noctis living independently, and almost killing his Shield in a stupid accident is something the King is better off not knowing.
The reply comes swiftly; barely enough time has passed for Noctis to dread reading his father’s response.
[Dad] Provided that Weapons are transformed at the time, yes, it is feasible.
[Noctis] so can they not go in when they’re in their human forms or is it just a bad idea
[Dad] Do I have to inform Clarus that his son will not be returning home for dinner?
Noctis groans, scrubbing a hand over his face, but failing to outwit his father is the least of his problems. In the bathroom, Gladio and Ignis are conversing in low tones, probably plotting ways of murdering their stupid Prince in his sleep. Noctis wouldn’t blame them; if he has read his father’s text right, then his thoughtless could’ve caused some serious harm.
His phone buzzes again, a second message from his father.
[Dad] You are not the first in our family to test the limits of our magic. I trust that you would have informed me had Gladiolus’ health been dire. He will be well with rest. With perseverance, you could utilise this ability without the unpleasant side-effects for your friends.
Considering that Gladio has spent a number of hours hunched over a toilet, Noctis doubts that any of his friends will be partial to the idea. Nevertheless, storing Weapons alongside his armiger could have its uses for travel or stealth, and he is sure that Nyx could come up with ways to adapt the idea. It will be something for Noctis to think about at any least, providing that he can sway one of his Weapons into suffering through the nausea. Gladio is probably down for the count, but then, he has always dealt poorly with the after-effects of warping too. Ignis is far superior at wielding Noctis’ magic for his own, so he would be the better candidate.
Idly, Noctis wonders how Prompto will take to his magic. Basic endurance training is the priority for Prompto; he may not be Crownsguard, but he is a Royal Weapon now, and Noctis needs to be able to rely on both his human and Weapon form. Accustoming Prompto to being wielded is another pressing matter, but that will come with time and practice, and no small amount of Gladio’s rough physical affection. Beyond this, Noctis will like to see if Prompto is adept at harnessing the Royal magic; it will be cool if he is, but if he’s not, then at least he can wallow over it with Gladio while Ignis warp-strikes them into the ground.
[Noctis] how did you know it was Gladio?
[Dad] You would not be the first Prince to test his magic on his unsuspecting Shield.
Noctis winces at the thought of Clarus’ reaction, and somewhere distantly, he is sure he can hear his father laughing at it too.
-xv-
High school graduation passes in a flurry of tasteless music, strobe lights and psychedelic dancefloors, and not nearly enough alcohol to warrant the tedious good lucks and other pleasantries from people that Noctis will never see again. Most of the year-group and progressing into university to further their studies, but at eighteen, verging on nineteen, Noctis has neither the time nor the (mis)fortune to leave the walls of Insomnia in search of his academic calling. If he thought that graduating would offer respite from long hours pouring over books and snoozing through class, than Noctis soon considers this wishful thinking as his Royal duties increase.
Instead of suffering through six hours of class every day, he now spends most of his time in the citadel, shadowing his father in meetings or conducting his own, applying the political and financial information that his tutors drilled into him to the real world, to real lives, governing and reporting on the people of Insomnia. The study in his quarters becomes his primary home, a den of books, paperwork, and coffee cups where he can nearly always be found. In the evening, he and Ignis sit at opposite ends of the table and discuss the day’s work, Noctis resting his dinner-plate and mugs atop the ever-mounting pile of paperwork. Most reports are signed with both his name and a coffee stain, but Gladio’s almost-permanent presence at Noctis’ back effectively deters any complaints.
Where Noctis used to crawl through the school hours with Prompto sharing in the suffering at his side, now it is Gladio who trails the Prince day-in, day-out. Unlike Prompto, whose cheery countenance and bright moments of spontaneity can be compared to a puppy, the Shield is a guard dog through and through, never more than a pace away. Truthfully, Noctis would choose Prompto’s babble over Gladio’s steady silence any day, but it would be cruel to admit this aloud. They are not at fault for the duties they have been born into, and Noctis appreciates that Gladio is only doing his job. He is grateful to have found both a friend and a faithful Weapon in Gladio; he can only imagine how awkward disliking his Shield would have been.
With Noctis scarcely separated from his Shield within the citadel, he is pleased and perhaps the tiniest bit surprised to witness a close friendship developing between Ignis and Prompto. Despite working a full-time job in the city now, Prompto crashes Noctis’ quarters most evenings, although he rarely spends the night. As Prompto is still learning to drive, Ignis ferries him back home on the nights in which he cannot be persuaded to stay, and Noctis imagines this is the time during which his Weapons gossip about him - not, that is, that Ignis would ever admit to such. They are good for each other, Ignis’ serenity curbing Prompto’s anxiety, and Prompto’s jubilance succeeding in coaxing Ignis away from his work. On days where Noctis’ duties drag on, he often returns to his quarters to find the pair pouring over recipe books or bickering in front of the games console. On one particular occasion, Prompto had ushered the Prince and Shield inside to reveal Ignis conked out on the sofa, glasses askew and sewing kit sprawled across his lap, and no small number of photographs already snapped by Prompto’s camera.
They’ve not told Ignis about those photos.
Weekends are when they can spend time together as a group. Noctis’ duties do not grant him a day off, but meetings with the public scarcely occur at the weekend, and the Royal advisors and councilmen are entitled to respite. Saturday mornings are characterised by Noctis hanging around the Kingsglaive grounds, bothering Nyx if he can find them, or practising his warping by warp-racing any of Nyx’s vagabond circle of friends around the citadel. Saturday afternoons are when Noctis and his Weapons occupy the east training grounds, terrifying any unwitting passer-bys with their hollering, bouts of gunfire and flames, and violent renditions of tag and sticky toffee.
Prompto continues to squirm whenever somebody wields him. Gladio is an okay shot with Prompto’s silver firearm, and Noctis knows that his Shield can wield almost anything. A Meister’s ease of use of a Weapon reflects the type and strength of their bond; Noctis struggled with Gladio’s hefty shield because he struggled with Gladio in his entirety, but as their friendship developed, so did the trust between them, and now Noctis can wield Gladio almost effortlessly, his faith that the Shield will protect him in sync with Gladio’s desire to protect.
As forging multiple Weapon bonds is a skill unique to line of Lucis Caelum, a Weapon wielding another Weapon is but a myth to the people of Lucis. Noctis remembers the fumbling exchange when he first suggested that Gladio try the weight of Ignis’ lance; they had acquiesced to the idea if only to please their Prince, and then neither had looked the other in the eye for the rest of the day. Noctis had thought the whole thing hilarious until Gladio had held Prompto for the first time and almost brought down the ceiling, and since then he cannot help but feel oddly uneasy and yet happy to watch Prompto ducking behind Gladio’s shield or Ignis shooting targets to Prompto’s approval.
Ignis is a crack shot with Prompto, which would surprise Noctis were Prompto not simply besotted. Every time Ignis fusses - was that all right, Prompto, he asks, are you okay? - Noctis wants to bury his face into his hands and scream at how stupid his friends are and how stupid he is for loving them and how stupidly in love they are with each other. Even Noctis cannot wield Prompto to the same effect that Ignis can, and it’s so embarrassing to watch them dance around each other than he wants to take matters into his own hands, but a small part of him aches at the thought that they’ll never love him the same way as each other, and he cannot bring himself to say anything in fear of this ugly truth spilling out. So Noctis relishes his time with Gladio instead - safe, dependable Gladio who flirts with anybody and everybody except him, who Noctis still yearns for and yet is thankful to never have to worry about kissing, or touching, or Astrals having sex with all the same, and who seems entirely unaffected by Ignis and Prompto’s maybe-relationship in the way that Noctis is really, really not.
At least they’re not both pining over people they can’t have. Noctis’ conflicted feelings about wanting and not-wanting to date his friends is enough of a heartache for all of them.
-xv-