Noct is sixteen when he learns how to conjure the royal arms and, subsequently, use them to warp. He often sneaks Prompto into his training sessions to show off his new skill to him. Gladio never complains about it, luckily, and even teaches the blond some sparring skills of his own. Prompto is small and not very strong, but he tries his hardest. Once, he takes off his shirt to cool off after one particularly hard practice, and Noct sees dozens of thick scars cover Prompto’s back.
“I’ll protect you if anyone ever tries to hurt you again.” Noct tells him, and he means to keep that promise.
Now that Noct is almost seventeen, he thinks that his father has gotten over the idea of whipping as a form of punishment. It hasn’t happened in over three years, and Regis has lost interest in Noct’s daily occurrences in general, so he doesn’t worry much for Prompto’s well-being in that regard. He finds a thin veil of safety and clings to it.
When Noctis is set to graduate from school, the schoolboard asks him if he would make a speech at the ceremony, being royalty and all. Nothing would be worse, in Noct’s mind, so of course Regis insists that he do it. Noct outright refuses. He has surrendered to many things at his father’s demand in the past, but this would not be one of them.
“You do it if it’s so goddamned important to you.” Noct argues, folding his arms. He stands before his father at his throne and the room is occupied with several various advisors, glaives, and both the King’s and Prince’s Shields. All look on in terror, wishing Noct wouldn’t be obdurate.
“Noctis,” Regis looks down at him, “Take a moment to reconsider your words, and appreciate the mercy I am showing you.”
“Father,” Noct bites, “I will not speak at the ceremony. I feel no camaraderie to those individuals and do not wish to feign such.” He speaks with such a sarcastic amount of properness, it makes Ignis and Gladio cringe with dread.
“So be it.” Regis snaps his fingers and the doors to the throne room swing open. Prompto, eyes so agape with worry, enters after being pushed inside. He falls to his knees, grunting before his hands have a chance to catch himself.
Noct knows what’s about to happen, and he wants to hurt himself for thinking Prompto was safe. “I’m not allowing this!” He fights, looking up at his father with his teeth bared.
“You don’t have a choice, Noctis!” Regis stands and begins to descend the staircase down to the platform where Noct stands.
“But I do and I’m telling you it’s not going to happen!” Noct’s body is pulsing with anger.
“Glaives, restrain my son.” Regis orders, and the glaives practically cower when they hear the order. They move to obey, but are not quick enough.
Noct conjures a small blade, one big enough that will allow him to use his royal magic, and throws it to Prompto’s side to warp to him. Once he finds his footing, he puts an arm around Prompto’s shoulders and holds a newly conjured sword out in front of them both. “Don’t anyone dare touch him!” Noct spits, glaring directly into the eyes of his father.
“Stop this foolishness!” Regis threatens, holding up his hand that dons the ring of the Lucii. Its black gem shines, catching Noct’s eye.
“Stop with your threats!” Noct yells. “What do you mean to do, kill me? Then do it! You’re a coward!”
The irises of Regis’ eyes turn red, resembling those of daemons. He raises his hand above his head and it trembles as he summons the forbidden power of the old Kings from within the magic ring.
Noct feels twisting and pulling in his core, and it extracts all of the air from his lungs. He feels himself being raised up, his feet leaving the floor, gravity dissipating around him yet gathering to push down into his core all at once. There are gasps and cries of horror from everyone in the room, practically everyone trying to talk the King down.
“Noct…” Prompto utters, and it’s his first time speaking in front of the King.
“Your Highness, please.” Ignis pleads as respectfully as he can.
When Regis doesn’t stop, Clarus Amicitia, Gladio’s father and the King’s Shield, conjures his own greatsword and strikes his King, perhaps sealing his own death sentence, but it’s enough to get the King to release Noct from the grip of the Ring.
Noct falls to the floor and begins to pant and wheeze for air. Ignis and Gladio rush to him, covering him with their bodies to protect him. Even Prompto, at his low rank, moves to protect the Prince, the most scared out of anyone in the room.
“Regis!” Clarus questions, stunned at his King’s actions. “What the fuck is wrong with you!?”
Regis looks to his Shield, humanity slowly returning to his eyes. He lowers his arm but doesn’t utter a single word. Instead, he pushes past everyone with their critical and disparaging gazes and leaves the throne room, alone.
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timeasmymeasure
Re: Fill: Scourge 6/?
Date: 2017-01-12 11:01 pm (UTC)“I’ll protect you if anyone ever tries to hurt you again.” Noct tells him, and he means to keep that promise.
Now that Noct is almost seventeen, he thinks that his father has gotten over the idea of whipping as a form of punishment. It hasn’t happened in over three years, and Regis has lost interest in Noct’s daily occurrences in general, so he doesn’t worry much for Prompto’s well-being in that regard. He finds a thin veil of safety and clings to it.
When Noctis is set to graduate from school, the schoolboard asks him if he would make a speech at the ceremony, being royalty and all. Nothing would be worse, in Noct’s mind, so of course Regis insists that he do it. Noct outright refuses. He has surrendered to many things at his father’s demand in the past, but this would not be one of them.
“You do it if it’s so goddamned important to you.” Noct argues, folding his arms. He stands before his father at his throne and the room is occupied with several various advisors, glaives, and both the King’s and Prince’s Shields. All look on in terror, wishing Noct wouldn’t be obdurate.
“Noctis,” Regis looks down at him, “Take a moment to reconsider your words, and appreciate the mercy I am showing you.”
“Father,” Noct bites, “I will not speak at the ceremony. I feel no camaraderie to those individuals and do not wish to feign such.” He speaks with such a sarcastic amount of properness, it makes Ignis and Gladio cringe with dread.
“So be it.” Regis snaps his fingers and the doors to the throne room swing open. Prompto, eyes so agape with worry, enters after being pushed inside. He falls to his knees, grunting before his hands have a chance to catch himself.
Noct knows what’s about to happen, and he wants to hurt himself for thinking Prompto was safe. “I’m not allowing this!” He fights, looking up at his father with his teeth bared.
“You don’t have a choice, Noctis!” Regis stands and begins to descend the staircase down to the platform where Noct stands.
“But I do and I’m telling you it’s not going to happen!” Noct’s body is pulsing with anger.
“Glaives, restrain my son.” Regis orders, and the glaives practically cower when they hear the order. They move to obey, but are not quick enough.
Noct conjures a small blade, one big enough that will allow him to use his royal magic, and throws it to Prompto’s side to warp to him. Once he finds his footing, he puts an arm around Prompto’s shoulders and holds a newly conjured sword out in front of them both. “Don’t anyone dare touch him!” Noct spits, glaring directly into the eyes of his father.
“Stop this foolishness!” Regis threatens, holding up his hand that dons the ring of the Lucii. Its black gem shines, catching Noct’s eye.
“Stop with your threats!” Noct yells. “What do you mean to do, kill me? Then do it! You’re a coward!”
The irises of Regis’ eyes turn red, resembling those of daemons. He raises his hand above his head and it trembles as he summons the forbidden power of the old Kings from within the magic ring.
Noct feels twisting and pulling in his core, and it extracts all of the air from his lungs. He feels himself being raised up, his feet leaving the floor, gravity dissipating around him yet gathering to push down into his core all at once. There are gasps and cries of horror from everyone in the room, practically everyone trying to talk the King down.
“Noct…” Prompto utters, and it’s his first time speaking in front of the King.
“Your Highness, please.” Ignis pleads as respectfully as he can.
When Regis doesn’t stop, Clarus Amicitia, Gladio’s father and the King’s Shield, conjures his own greatsword and strikes his King, perhaps sealing his own death sentence, but it’s enough to get the King to release Noct from the grip of the Ring.
Noct falls to the floor and begins to pant and wheeze for air. Ignis and Gladio rush to him, covering him with their bodies to protect him. Even Prompto, at his low rank, moves to protect the Prince, the most scared out of anyone in the room.
“Regis!” Clarus questions, stunned at his King’s actions. “What the fuck is wrong with you!?”
Regis looks to his Shield, humanity slowly returning to his eyes. He lowers his arm but doesn’t utter a single word. Instead, he pushes past everyone with their critical and disparaging gazes and leaves the throne room, alone.