Prompt Post
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ffxv_kinkmeme Welcome to Round One of the FFXV Kink Meme!
CLOSED for prompts | OPEN for fills
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Prompt, write, draw, comment, and most importantly have fun!
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UPDATE 12/30/16: I'm looking for some help! Details here. (I'm always looking for more pinners; this is an open invitation.)
I've added/clarified some rules to make life easier to my pinners. Please refrain from changing the subject lines except when filling or updating a fill. It makes it easier for us to keep track of what we've already looked at. Thank you so much!
UPDATE 1/28/17: We've opened up a Drabble Tree post! Go check it out.
UPDATE 2/21/2017: ROUND ONE IS CLOSED FOR PROMPTS. Please feel free to continue posting fills. Round Two will open for prompts and fills on 3/1/2017.
CLOSED for prompts | OPEN for fills
Please have a look at the extended rules here.
The important rules in short:
- Post anonymously.
- Negative comments on other people's prompts (kink-shaming, pairing-bashing etc.) and personal attacks of any kind will not be tolerated.
- One prompt per comment. Warnings for common triggers and squicks are encouraged, but not required.
- Prompts should follow the format: Character/character, prompt.
- Keep prompts to a reasonable length; prompts should not be detailed story outlines.
- Fills should have the word "Fill:" at the start of the subject line.
- Otherwise please avoid changing the subject line.
Please direct any questions or report any problems to the Ask a mod post.
Prompt, write, draw, comment, and most importantly have fun!
(You can also check out our Pinboard for Filled or Unfilled prompts)
UPDATE 12/30/16: I'm looking for some help! Details here. (I'm always looking for more pinners; this is an open invitation.)
I've added/clarified some rules to make life easier to my pinners. Please refrain from changing the subject lines except when filling or updating a fill. It makes it easier for us to keep track of what we've already looked at. Thank you so much!
UPDATE 1/28/17: We've opened up a Drabble Tree post! Go check it out.
UPDATE 2/21/2017: ROUND ONE IS CLOSED FOR PROMPTS. Please feel free to continue posting fills. Round Two will open for prompts and fills on 3/1/2017.
Anastasia AU
Date: 2017-01-07 02:42 pm (UTC)I'm open to literally all pairings so anyone can be dimitri
Re: Anastasia AU
Date: 2017-01-07 07:53 pm (UTC)*throws down fur coat* "Gladio, it's me… Nooooctis."
Re: Anastasia AU
Date: 2017-01-07 09:02 pm (UTC)Re: Anastasia AU
Date: 2017-01-15 01:47 pm (UTC)Umbra as Pookie? :3
FILL 1/? Re: Anastasia AU
Date: 2017-02-22 05:17 pm (UTC)--------
Ignis Scientia turned up the collar of his coat, bracing himself against the harsh winds of an Insomnian winter.
Ever since the Fall of the royal family and the annexation of Lucis into the Niflheim Empire, the climate in what was once the capital city had changed drastically. Temperate winters gave way to ice storms and an ugly mix of snow and sleet, summer was muggy and brief, and the spring and autumn felt tacked on like an afterthought. Ignis supposed there might be an Astral behind this—A god made furious with the derailment of their chosen prophecy—but he didn’t find much in him to care, these days.
All he really needed right now was a ticket out of the city. He could go back to Tenebrae, where his family had lived before the Fall. Find a small place, settle down with a job in a diner somewhere. A sad state of affairs for a man who had once been raised to be the right hand of the future king, but there was no use complaining. He was lucky that he’d been too young for the Empire to consider him a threat.
The prince had been younger, of course. But royal blood—and a supposed prophecy—outweighed such moral quandaries.
Not that there weren’t rumors that the prince had survived the attack. The people of Insomnia needed something to cling to, some hope to preserve what culture they had left as Niflheim MTs patrolled the city. Ignis couldn’t blame them… and he couldn’t blame himself for encouraging them. A man had to do what he must to survive, and Ignis had a slapdash sort of family of his own to protect.
“Iggy!”
Speak of the devil. Prompto Argentum skidded down the icy sidewalk towards Ignis with all the cheer of a born bastard. He was wearing a tattered red and black kilt over his jeans, thick black gloves, and his jacket was far too thin. Ignis would have been worried about that, but he knew that Prompto’s body temperature was always slightly higher than that of Insomnian natives.
Prompto was the main reason for this mad venture of theirs. Every day the two of them stayed in Insomnia brought them closer to the day that someone would notice the jerky way Prompto moved, the tattoo on his wrist, the heat of his skin. He was one of the last escaped test subjects of the first wave of MT soldiers, and the Empire would be very interested to learn how he had survived this long, and who had helped him.
As it was, Prompto treated the constant danger with a flippancy that was truly infuriating. He swung an arm around Ignis and nearly sent the two of them toppling into the street.
“Ready for the lineup?” he asked. “I feel good about this one, Iggy. I mean it. I think today’s the day we find our Prince Noctis.”
Ignis snorted. “Or someone who looks enough like him, anyways.”
“No sense of romance in your soul, Iggy.” Prompto grinned up at him and kicked at a snowbank, soaking his own jeans. “We’re doing that Amicitia guy a favor! He’s the one who put up all those wanted ads for the lost prince of Lucis. Do you think he cares if our Noctis is the real one or not?”
“The Astrals would care,” Ignis pointed out. He brushed snow from his pants. “He isn’t a fool, Prompto. I may not have worked at the palace for long before it… before it all happened, but I remember the Amicitias. A powerful family, even after the Fall. We need to do this right.”
“Think there's a risk that they’d recognize you?” Prompto asked, hooking his arm around Ignis’ elbow. Ignis looked up at the grey sky over the Citadel and sighed.
“No one ever recognizes me,” he said, in a small voice. Prompto shook his head and dragged him forward, towards the warmth of the lower city slums, and Ignis tore his gaze from the spire of the Citadel with a reluctance he couldn’t quite place.
FILL 2/? Re: Anastasia AU
Date: 2017-02-22 06:52 pm (UTC)“We warned you!” the matron said from behind him, in a high, quavering voice. “Don’t say we didn’t warn you, you… daemon!”
“Yeah, fuck you, too, Miss Carmen,” Noct spat. His dog, Umbra, gamboled about him, trying to figure out why his owner was lying on his face in the middle of the day.
“You’re too old to stay on, and we can’t abide delinquents,” the matron said. “The Empire took you in out of the goodness of its heart. It just goes to show that Lucian children have casual criminality in their bones.”
Noct scrambled to his feet and made to stride to the gate, but the guards who had unceremoniously thrown him out on his ass stepped forward, blocking his way.
“Not worth my time, anyways,” he said, and spat. “Come on, Umbra.”
As boy and dog stalked away from the imposing building that had been Noct’s lodgings for the past twelve years, Noct couldn’t help but feel the tension drain from his shoulders. Even if it wasn’t the way he wanted it, he was free of that place. Eighteen years old (give or take) and on his own, with nothing but an old ring in his pocket and a few gil in his boots, ready to tackle the greatest mystery of his known life.
Noct pulled out the black ring from his coat pocket and examined it thoughtfully. For as long as he could remember, he’d never put it on. It felt wrong, somehow, like there was a magnetic energy in the ring that pulled it away from his fingers, so he kept it looped on a chain for the most part. He slung the chain around his neck now and tucked the ring under his shirt. It was the only link he had to who he’d been before—Before he was deposited on the orphanage doorstep at age six or seven, covered in dried blood and wearing clothes too fine for a typical Lucian orphan. The officials thought he might be a noble, at first, but Noct had proven so belligerent, in the kindest terms, that they gave up on him soon enough.
So did the prospective parents who visited the orphanage year after year. Every one of them.
It didn’t matter. Noct had a plan. He was going to make it to Insomnia, then hitch a boat ride to Accordo. There, in Altissia, he could go through the recovered files from before the Fall of Lucis and see if any of them had a record of the ring, or of him, or of a family to which he might possibly, possibly belong.
“Clarus Amicitia! It’s me, Prince Noctis!”
Ignis groaned. Prompto grinned. The man on the stage—Dave, if Ignis’ memory was correct—slung down a giant fur coat and threw his arms out awkwardly. His black wig slipped over his eyes, and he hurriedly struggled to replace it, face frozen in a pained grimace.
Prompto applauded.
“Yes,” Ignis said, stiffly. “Well done. We’ll let you know our decision at the end of the week.”
He slumped in his chair as Dave strode off the stage, running back to grab his coat after a few steps.
“We’re screwed, Prompto,” he said, in a low voice. Prompto patted his shoulder.
“I don’t know,” he said. “That one kid seemed alright.”
“The one with the lisp? His skin was too pale, and his eyes weren’t right.”
Prompto hummed. “I know what’ll cheer you up, old man,” he said, ignoring Ignis’ squawk of outrage. “Let’s go back to our squat in the Citadel and scrounge up some bottles of wine from the cellar, and then we can get royally trashed in one of the guest rooms. How would that feel, huh?”
“You’re trying to bribe me,” Ignis said, slumping down further under Prompto’s hand.
“Yeah, but it’s working, right?”
Ignis sighed deeply. “Fine,” he said, and Prompto perked up. “But only because after a day like today, wine is the only thing I can think about keeping down.”
Prompto laughed and bounced to his feet. “That’s the Iggy I know,” he said, with a wicked smile. “Always the optimist.”
“Reporting in for a Call 5-T10.”
Noct turned from the ticket teller he was currently chewing out and right into the green mask of a humanoid MagiTech soldier. The soldier was flanked by two more, all of them holding heavy guns in their hands, one hissing slightly as rain landed on an exposed wire. Umbra barked at them, but they made no sign, no reaction to the furious sounds coming from their feet.
“That’s right,” said the teller. “Mr. Thing here is causing a scene.”
“I just need a ticket to the Quay,” Noct said, for what had to be the tenth time that minute.
“And I told you,” the teller said, “That you need to get a visa or a birth certificate.”
“You think I have one?” Noct cried. The teller blanched and glanced over his shoulder, towards the MTs. “What?”
A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, turning him back round to face the MT troopers.
“Identification,” the MT said. Noct glanced around. The people in the square around him were starting to back away, gazing at him from the corners of their eyes. That wasn’t a good sign. Noct felt fear stir in his stomach, and the familiar, discomforting buzz that crept over his skin when he needed to escape. He tamped it down and tried for a smile.
“Don’t. Don’t have any,” he said. “I’m from the orphanage in Hammerhead, they—“
“Come with us,” the MT closest to him said, and the grip on his shoulder tightened painfully. Noct squeezed his eyes shut, shuddered, and there was a shush of sound and a flash of blue light as he warped out of the soldier’s hold.
“Fuck,” he whispered. He’d tried, really tried, to hold in whatever weird magic he had that the rest of the kids in the orphanage didn’t—because it was bad enough being the odd one out without drawing that kind of attention. But here he was, not even a day into his adult life, and he’d slipped up. He stared at the troopers and shifted back as their mouths unhinged like snakes, revealing a hissing, red fire behind their masks.
“KINGSGLAIVE,” they shrieked, in unison. “KINGSGLAIVE SIGHTED.”
Umbra nipped at his heel, startling Noct into action. He pointed down the street and the dog took off, and he staggered into a warp. He couldn’t go far, not without something, anything to throw. He picked up a rock and tossed it at a fountain. He warped after it and landed hard on the stone.
“KINGSGLAIVE,” came cries from down the street. He could hear the stamping of boots, the creak of metal, the shouts of the other pedestrians as they darted into houses and down side alleys.
“I don’t even know what a Kingsglaive is!” Noct shouted, like that would make any difference. He heard a pop. A bullet landed on the cobbles next to him, then another broke off the hand of the fountain statue. Shit. Shit shit shit.
He threw the rock towards the alley where he could hear Umbra barking frantically, and warped again.
FILL 3/? Re: Anastasia AU
Date: 2017-02-22 09:41 pm (UTC)---
“Kingsglaive?” Chancellor Ardyn Izunia looked up from his untouched mug of coffee. His mauve hair was dulled in the dim light of Gralea’s Imperial fortress, and when General Ravus shifted back on his feet, he could see what looked like black veins trailing under the skin of his cheeks. “My dear General, there hasn’t been a Kingsglaive soldier in Insomnia in over ten years. Their powers died out with the royal family.”
“Yes, Chancellor Izunia,” Ravus said, trying to keep the excitement from his voice. “But the footage from the square in the city shows something… Interesting.”
“Interesting how?” Ardyn took the tablet that Ravus held in his hands and swiped it on. He stared at it for a long moment, then replayed the video.
Ravus rocked forward. “The boy in the video warped, but he’s clearly too young to be a straggling member of the Glaives. And as you said, the Kingsglaive army’s magic died with the king.”
Ardyn set the tablet down gingerly. His gaze was distant, and Ravus felt an inexplicable chill run through him.
“Double the MT patrols in Insomnia,” Ardyn said, in a dreamy voice. “I fear I must confer with the Emperor.”
“Sir?” Ravus technically had the right to demand clarification, but it was a well-known fact that Ardyn had the Emperor’s ear. No one would dare cross him, not even for something as simple as a casual inquiry.
“It’s nothing, General,” Ardyn said. “Just a wrinkle. A very small, persistent wrinkle. See to your army, there’s a dear.” He rose from his seat and made for the door, and as he passed, Ravus felt as though his skin were on fire. He stared after the Chancellor long after the door had closed behind him, and tried to still his hammering heart. Behind him, on the table, the video of the young man played again, showing a dark haired boy warping across a plaza in a burst of light and magic.
Noct followed Umbra through a hole in what looked like the largest, ugliest building in Insomnia. The Citadel was a ruin—A great gash had been blasted into the side of it, and the spire in the center was tilted at an angle. Moss grew in the cracks of the stone wall, and when Noct peeled back the boards of the gaping hole under which Umbra had crawled, he could hear skittering sounds in the dark. Hopefully rats. There was no way daemons could get into a building surrounded by warding lights, surely.
He straightened in what looked like an abandoned pantry. Ahead of him, illuminated by moonlight shining through a hole in the ceiling, Umbra waited.
“You’re creeping me out, boy,” Noct said. It wasn’t just that Umbra had led him on a frenzied chase down side streets and alleys right to the Citadel. It was also that Umbra had known, before even Noct had known, which way the screaming, shuddering MTs were headed. And now he was giving Noct such a deep, intelligent look that the young man almost didn’t want to follow.
He did, anyways. This place was huge—if the MTs found him here, he had plenty of places to hide.
They padded down corridors and up low, wide stairs. He passed frames stacked on the floor, stripped of their paintings. Broken vases littered empty side rooms. There were even old, rusty stains on the carpet and walls, obscured by mold but somehow too sickening for Noct to look at for long. When Umbra led him to a pair of ironwrought doors, he opened them slowly and stepped into a dream.
He felt like he should know this room. The high walls, the marble columns, the decrepit balconies hung with moth-eaten drapes. It was like the old tales, where the hero couldn’t look back until they’d passed through a cave or a tunnel or the underworld. Whatever was tugging at his mind was so tentative, so fragile, that even the slightest nudge or shift of the air could dislodge it. Noct looked up a set of narrow stairs and saw the wreckage of a ruined throne, and bit his cheek so hard it bled.
“Excuse me?”
Noct’s thoughts scattered at the sound of a light, accented voice calling out behind him. He pivoted on his heel, the dark strands of his hair flying about his face in the moonlit dust of the Lucian throne room.
Ignis knew he had to be drunk. Of course, he’d only had the two cups of wine, and he could usually keep the use of his faculties quite well until the fourth, but there was no other reason for him to see what stood before the throne.
“Dude,” Prompto whispered. “Are you seeing this?”
“I’m not sure,” Ignis whispered back.
“Do you guys live here?” The young man on the dais turned dazzling blue eyes to them, swiping his hair off his forehead. He had a grey and white dog with him, and while his chin was a bit too narrow, and his face a little too round, he could almost—almost—pass for a young King Regis.
“Astounding,” Ignis said to himself.
“What?” The man stepped down, the dog following gamely at his heels. “What’s astounding? You guys aren’t like, maintenance people or anything, are you?”
Prompto snorted at the thought. “Yeah, no. We’re, uh… We’re looking for someone, actually.”
“Yeah?” The man stopped, suddenly wary.
“Can you turn around?” Ignis asked. He stepped forward. The man glared at him, and Ignis twirled his finger. “I want to see something.”
The man turned awkwardly. “You gonna make sense any time soon, or…?”
“Goodness,” Ignis said. He fought through the haze of alcohol to turn on the charm offensive. “Did you know that you are the spitting image of the late prince of Lucis?”
The man laughed. “Right,” he said. “Why not? That makes sense. Look, I’m up to here with weird shit today, so I’m just gonna go—“
“No!” Prompto lunged forward, and the dog shoved between him and the dark haired man, baring sharp teeth. “Look, we’re serious. Have you heard of the Amicitias?”
The man frowned. “The traitors? I mean, the ones the Empire says are traitors?”
“Sure,” Prompto said. “They’ve been searching for the prince for years. Everyone says he was killed, but they say he wasn’t, and they’d know, right? So we’ve been gathering info… hold on… wait…” He dug in his jacket and pulled out a much-folded photograph. “Look. Just, uh, call off your dog, first.”
The man took the photo and squinted at it. “It’s a kid,” he said. “So?”
“So,” Ignis said, “Doesn’t he look familiar? His eyes, the hair, the chin?”
The man stared at the photo for a moment longer. “You guys don’t even know me,” he said. “And you’re trying to say I might be—“
“Well, who are you, then?” Ignis asked. “What’s your name?”
“Noct.” The two men raised their eyebrows. “It isn’t like that, okay? I picked it. When I was at the, the orphanage, they always talked shit about Lucian kids, so I chose the name that would piss them off the most. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Why would you need to pick your name?” Prompto asked.
“I… don’t know what my real one is,” Noct said. "Oh, come on, don't look at me like that."
Ignis had to hold back a laugh. Oh, this was too perfect. At the end of one of the most depressing days of his life, the gods had seen fit to drop an amnesiac urchin with the right bone structure and just enough innocent bewilderment to work. Just long enough to fool the Amicitias, and then Ignis and Prompto would be home free with the reward.
Of course, this young man wasn’t actually the prince. The prince was long dead. The Amicitias were fools for holding out this long, but they were fools with resources, and Ignis had no choice but to take what opportunities came his way.
“I think,” he said, in an arch tone, “that the three of us may need to have a talk.”
Re: FILL 3/? Re: Anastasia AU
Date: 2017-02-22 10:00 pm (UTC)Re: FILL 3/? Re: Anastasia AU
Date: 2017-02-22 11:39 pm (UTC)FILL 4/? Re: Anastasia AU
Date: 2017-02-22 11:57 pm (UTC)“You don’t have to believe it,” Ignis said, with the slightest aggravated draw. It was amusing to hear him use that tone on someone other than Prompto, for once. “Just humor us until we get to Altissia. If it turns out that you aren’t the prince, no harm done, you can look for your family in the records there. But if it turns out you are…”
Prompto noted his cue. “Then bam,” he said. “Instant family. Sort of.”
Noct huffed, climbing into the back seat with the dog. “That’ll take some convincing,” he said, in a low voice. “I’m not exactly prince material.”
Prompto jumped into the passenger seat as Ignis started up the ignition. “That,” he said, smugly, “is what we’re here for. We are the guys who are gonna jog that messed-up memory of yours.” He rapped on Noct’s head, and grinned wide when he was rewarded with a smile. “Hey, Iggy, he’s human after all!”
Ignis glanced at Noct through the rearview mirror, but the young man’s smile was already gone. “Of course he’s human, Prompto,” he said. “Whether he can act a prince is another matter entirely.”
“Oh, I can tell you and I are gonna get along great, Specs,” Noct said, laying out on the back seat.
“Like a house on fire,” Ignis said.
“Let’s hope there are some survivors,” said Prompto, and laughed at Ignis’ exhausted death glare.
“Back straight,” Ignis said, for the twenty-third time.
“Oh, fuck that, man,” said Noct, who was currently at swear number forty-six. “This is as straight as it’s gonna go.”
Ignis threw his hands in the air. “Noct,” he said, in the tones of a man on the verge of strangling all would-be princes. “We are going to meet Lunafreya Nox Fleuret. The daughter of the late Queen of Tenebrae, the youngest Oracle in history, and a close personal friend of the late royal family. If she doesn’t believe you to have a drop of royal blood in that bedraggled mess of yours,” Here he gestured to Noct’s entire person, “then you can kiss all chance of discovering your lineage goodbye.”
“If I’m not the prince, it’s not gonna matter,” Noct pointed out. Ignis groaned. Prompto made a mark under a list on his notebook titled “Iggy loses his shit,” and turned the page.
Coaching Noct in what he needed to know to pass muster was a mixed bag. Some of it he seemed to like—The information about King Regis, the crystal, the cats that the real prince kept trying to rescue when he was young. The deportment, memorization of dates, and the royal manner was a disaster. Noct wasn’t a bad kid—Prompto liked him, actually—but he didn’t really have much of a regal bearing, and he had a nasty habit of withdrawing whenever Ignis got his back up.
He was withdrawing now, wrapping his arms around his legs as Ignis tried to extol the real-life benefits of knowing who the former treasury official was. When Ignis caught him at it, he leaned down and tapped the young man on the forehead.
“What?” Noct asked, savagely. Ignis blinked in alarm.
“Back straight,” he said, in a quiet voice.
“Fuck you,” said Noct, and got up, striding off into the underbrush. Ignis turned to Prompto, who was making a whole new list on his notebook.
“What was that about?” Ignis asked.
“Dude, for such a smart guy, you really can be clueless,” said Prompto. “When you get all high and mighty, he shuts off.”
Ignis opened his mouth to make a sharp retort, but Prompto shook his head. “No. I love you, bro, you know that, but maybe you don’t know everything. You heard what he said before, about how that place where he grew up talked shit about Lucians? You don’t think maybe that has something to do with his authority issues?”
“So I’m meant to coddle him?” Ignis asked. “We don’t have time, Prompto.”
Prompto shrugged. “Have it your way,” he said. “I mean, hey, what do I know? I’m just an MT. Your meat-suit ways don’t register with me, beep beep.”
Ignis stared at him for a long moment, let out a loud, gusty sigh, and stormed off into the grass after Noct. Prompto looked down at Umbra, who was lying at his side, and scratched the dog behind the ears.
“You and me are the only normal ones in this whole traveling circus,” he said.
Ignis found Noct sitting behind a disused power generator, arms tucked into his leather jacket. Ignis felt a pang of remorse—He’d been so focused on getting to Galdin Quay that he didn’t even look at the man. Now that he did, he saw how gaunt Noct’s cheeks were, how his lips were so chapped that they bled in long cracks along his mouth, and that his capris were just an inch too high on his gangly legs. It made him think of the first time he’d met Prompto, all those years ago. Awkward and wounded, both of them, and Noct with too much pride to beg.
Then Noct spoke, and Ignis’ well of sympathy threatened to dry up immediately.
“Here comes the professor,” Noct said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I’m not here to chastise you,” Ignis said. Noct raised an eyebrow, disbelieving. “No, I… I apologize, Noct. My goal is not to make you uncomfortable.”
“No, your goal is to turn me into someone I’m not,” Noct said. Ignis sat next to him, stretching out his legs.
“Very well, then,” he said. “Who are you?”
“I don’t know!” Noct ran his hands through his hair. “This is all so confusing. A few months ago, I was an ungrateful drain on society. Today I’m, what? A prince? Maybe?”
“Who said that?” Ignis asked. “About being an ungrateful—“
“Does it matter?” Noct snapped. “Look, Specs. Sometimes it’s like… I can almost feel it, you know? It’s like having a word on the tip of your tongue, but it’s in a language you never heard of. This whole time, I can tell it’s there, but when I try to reach for it…” He sank his head into his hands and gave a helpless shrug.
Ignis shifted uncomfortably. If his and Prompto’s plans went through, they would probably only confuse the poor man more. But it couldn’t be helped. He’d gone this far, Astrals forgive him. He couldn’t back out now. For Prompto’s sake, if not for his own.
He gingerly placed a hand on Noct’s back. “It’s only been two days,” he said, at last. “Imagine what will happen in three, or four. Give yourself time, Noct.”
“Right,” Noct said, and clambered to his feet. “Right. We should go back. It’s getting dark soon. He glanced down at Ignis, who still sat with his hands on his knees, staring up at his dark-haired ticket to freedom. “Hey, Specs.”
“Mm?”
“Back straight.”
FILL 5/? Re: Anastasia AU
Date: 2017-02-23 02:20 am (UTC)----
The next leg of the drive to Galdin Quay was almost pleasant.
Noct found out that Prompto had a hobby for photography, and spent a good two hours going through every photo on his camera, asking questions and commenting on his favorites. Prompto, who Ignis could tell was starting to get the tremors again with the change in temperature, was more animated than his usual self. Ignis found himself checking the two of them in the mirror often, hiding a smile as Noct draped himself over Prompto’s chair to point out landmarks and interesting monsters.
When they stopped the car to walk Umbra, Prompto’s knees gave, Noct made it to the blonde just a few seconds after Ignis.
“It’s a childhood affliction,” Ignis said quickly, before Noct could ask. “He’ll be fine.”
Prompto smiled weakly and waved Noct off. “It’s no big,” he said. “Too much blood in my system.” Noct shrugged, but Ignis got the message, and asked the prince in training to take Umbra on his walk alone for a minute. Then he helped Prompto over to the ditch and held back his hair as his friend vomited black, viscous blood onto the dirt.
“Gross,” Prompto rasped. “I think that’s it, Iggy.”
It wasn’t, but Ignis humored him for another few steps. Then he knelt with him again, and held him through the inevitable shakes that came on the heels of this particular sickness.
Neither he nor Prompto knew what caused this. It had something to do with the testing Prompto had undergone as a child back in Niflheim, but he’d been too young to remember any of the details. So all either of them could do was weather through the occasional attacks, try to cover it up as best they could, and keep Prompto away from any and all MT patrols.
“Don’t know what I’d do without you, bro,” Prompto gasped, as Ignis helped him clean up.
“Probably die,” Ignis said. “I doubt you could cook for yourself if you tried.”
“Ha, fucking ha.”
There was a sound of shuffling behind Prompto’s back, and Ignis looked up to see Noct standing a few yards away, gazing at them with an unreadable expression. How much had he seen? What did he suspect? But no, Noct had grown up sheltered, locked away in an orphanage outside of the city. He had no reason to know anything about MTs, or suspect that one of his companions had been scheduled to be made into one of them. And even so, who would he tell?
When they all piled back into the car, Noct dug out a case of mints from the depths of his capris and handed them over to Prompto.
“Thanks, buddy,” Prompto said, smiling like the sun. Noct mumbled something and sat back, looking sheepish.
“Why Noct,” Ignis said, unable to stop himself. “That was almost an act of kindness.”
“Yeah, shocking,” Noct said, and dug his hands into the fur of the dog laying on his legs. Ignis’ eyes crinkled in amusement, and Noct looked up at him through the rearview mirror and risked the smallest, faintest smile in return.
When they made it to the Quay, someone was waiting for them.
He was a tall man with a broad jawline and unkempt stubble, with auburn hair that looked purple in the fluorescent lighting of the Quay. He tipped his hat to them as they approached the dining area, and his smile was so sincere that Ignis immediately distrusted it.
“Are you here for the boat to Altissia?” he asked, in a voice smooth as silk. “I’m afraid the last one left an hour ago. You’ll have to wait ‘til morning to embark.”
“That’s… nice to know,” Prompto said, looking at Ignis with clear confusion in his eyes. The blonde jerked his head slightly, and Ignis followed his gaze. Noct stood stock still on the boardwalk a few feet behind them, his tan skin gone deathly grey, knuckles white as he gripped one of their bags in his right hand. His pupils were shot, and he looked like Prompto on the verge of one of his episodes. At his side, Umbra’s teeth were bared, and the dog was growling low in his chest.
The man before them continued on as though unaware of Noct’s condition. “I happen to have missed the boat myself,” he said, “and I must take another avenue to reach my destination. You are welcome to take my lodgings at the inn for tonight,” he said, holding out a gold-edged ticket. “Free of charge.”
Ignis turned his gaze from Noct and narrowed his eyes. “Nothing is free,” he said. “I am sorry to say that we must decline.”
“But I insist!” The man smiled indulgently. “Let an old man be magnanimous for once, my boy.” He pressed the ticket into Ignis’ hand, and saluted him and Prompto with a wink, he started to walk around them when Noct let out a desperate sound in the back of his throat and spoke.
“Who… who are you?” he asked the man. He was trembling uncontrollably now, and Ignis wondered if he should go to him. “What are you?”
The man raised his eyebrows. “Oh dear, very impolite, aren't we? As for who…” He reached Noct in two strides, and his fingers brushed the side of Noct’s jaw. Noct remained perfectly still, but Umbra’s teeth snapped in a furious snarl, and the man rocked back with a low-throated laugh.
“A man of no consequence,” he said, and his warm chuckle was carried away by a sharp sea wind as he made his slow, sauntering way down the boardwalk.
“Noct?” Ignis dropped his own bag and ran to him, hardly noticing how Umbra had returned to his calm, gently panting self. “Noct, are you well?”
Noct looked up at Ignis with wide, terrified eyes, and gripped his shoulder hard.
“I’ve never wanted to kill someone more in my life,” he said, in a harsh voice, “than I do right now. And I don’t know why.”
“Ah,” Ignis said. “Well. That. Ah…” He looked at Prompto for help, and the blonde ran over.
“Let’s save the killing for later, yeah?” he said, in a falsely cheerful voice. “And plus side, we can sleep in actual beds tonight!”
Noct swallowed and turned his gaze to the distant horizon.
“Right,” he said. “Let’s do that.”
Noct nearly had himself under control by the time Ignis came back from his after dinner excursion. He and Prompto, understandably, had been quick to make excuses to leave. Noct couldn’t blame them. He still didn’t understand how someone could make him react so violently in just under a minute. He’d felt like his head was splitting open the whole time that smarmy asshole was talking to them, and when the man had turned to face him…
Noct shuddered and curled up on the bed, wrapping himself in the blankets despite the heat of the room.
“Rise and shine,” Ignis said, slipping into the room with a box under his arm. “The night is young, Noct.”
“Oh my gods,” Noct moaned. “You’re chipper.”
“Perish the thought.” Noct glanced over as Ignis dropped the box next to him. “I took the liberty of buying something for you. A present to commemorate the trip, and discovering your new life.”
“Huh,” Noct said, and sat up. He pulled out a large, wide-sleeved coat from the box and flapped it twice to smooth out the folds. “That’s… very purple.”
Ignis’ cheeks colored. “If you’d rather not, I can always have it returned—“
“No. Sorry, Specs.” Noct smiled ruefully. “I’m shit at gifts. No one’s ever… This is kind of my first one.”
Ignis watched Noct remove his old jacket and place it reverentially on the bed, then slip into the new one. He tested out the arms, then held out the edges like a cloak.
“Big, isn’t it?” he murmured.
“I figured you’d need room to grow,” Ignis said.
“The way you cook, definitely.” Noct looked up at him. “It’s nice, really. Thank you.”
“It’s nothing special,” Ignis said. He stood abruptly. “Come, we’re practicing dance steps again.”
Noct groaned, but followed the older man out onto the balcony anyways, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his new coat. When they emerged into the open air, Prompto was sitting on the floor with Umbra, hands extended to a cleared-out circle of patio chairs.
“Your dance floor awaits, your highness,” he said. Noct flipped him a rude gesture, and he snickered. Noct let Ignis show him where to stand, and mentally prepared himself for the unholy sounds of “One, two, three, one… Noct, no, put your foot there two thaaughh, try that again…”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Prompto said. “Hold up.” He got out his phone and flipped through it, then set it down on top of one of the chairs. He spread his hands out in an arc and whispered, “Ambience.”
Noct let out a bark of laughter, but then music started to play from the phone speakers, Ignis’ hands were on his side and shoulder, and it was becoming strangely hard to breathe. He looked down at his feet as the first chords of the melody rang out.
“Eyes up, your highness.”
“Don’t cry to me when I kick your shins out.” Noct’s cheeks flushed as Ignis laughed, free and light as he was with Prompto, and he stumbled over the taller man’s shoes. Ignis’ lips twitched, and they jerked through the first few movements to the sound of Ignis’ strangled laughter.
“If you think I’m so bad,” Noct said, hotly, “why don’t you—“
And suddenly Noct was being swept back, following Ignis’ flawless steps along the polished boards, feeling like a kite being tugged by the wind.
“Where’d you learn this?” Noct asked, as Ignis gently eased him into a spin.
“There are many empty ballroom in the Citadel,” Ignis said. “You should try this with Prompto, sometime.”
“I’m fine with you,” Noct said, without thinking. Ignis looked at him oddly, but didn’t comment. They were still dancing, Noct taking the lead again with Ignis’ hand on his back to guide him, when he realized that the music had stopped.
He staggered to a halt, and his nose bumped into Ignis’ collar, dislodging the taller man’s spectacles. He caught them as they fell, and looked up into green eyes that were nearly eclipsed by the wide blackness of Ignis’ pupils.
“Damn, Specs,” he said, in a soft voice. Ignis’ head tilted down half an inch, and Noct could feel the heat of him on his skin. Then long, cool fingers lifted the glasses from his hands, and Ignis stepped back.
“Thank you, Noct,” he said, in his throaty formal voice. He opened his mouth as though to say more, closed it, and then turned to go. Noct watched him pass Prompto, who was sitting there with such a look of deep, visceral melancholy that Noct felt a knot of apprehension form in his throat.
“Oh, Iggy,” Prompto whispered, like a sigh. “I should’ve known.”
Re: FILL 5/? Re: Anastasia AU
Date: 2017-02-23 02:42 am (UTC)That scene with Ardyn was excellent, btw. "What are you?" yasss~~~~
FILL 6/? Re: Anastasia AU
Date: 2017-02-23 05:23 am (UTC)----
In his dream, Ignis was ten years old, and his shirt was streaked with blood.
The blood wasn’t his, and he knew that in a dim, faraway manner, as though he were drifting a few inches from his body like a broken marionette. He watched King Regis fall before the blade of General Glauca, saw the splashes of blood that marred the light floor of the throne room. The King cried out in a voice that made his ears ring, whether enhanced by the King’s magic or by the desperate need of a dying father, Ignis couldn’t tell.
“Clarus! My son!”
There was a low, strangely familiar laugh, and Ignis saw Noct, Clarus, and Gladio running for the far door. They weren’t going to make it. Clarus Amicitia had a long gash running down his arm, and Gladio was still too young to wield his father’s sword—And Noctis, poor Noctis, Ignis’ only friend, was holding the ring of the Lucii in bloody hands and staring back at his father’s body with heartrending loss in his eyes.
Ignis ran to them.
“Mr. Amicitia, Noctis!” he called. Clarus looked at him blankly, as always, unable to put a name to Ignis’ face. Ignis didn’t care, not right now. “Not that way. There’s a window that opens in the side, right there. Noct and I… we use it to sneak out…”
Clarus looked to the window and nodded. “Thank you, son,” he said.
Ignis held the window up for them. When Noctis passed him, he gripped him by the arm and whispered in his ear. Ignis nodded, pushed him on, and slammed the window shut after him. Then he scrambled to the heavy curtains at the end of the east window and crouched behind them, eyes shut tight, hands to his ears, unable to block out the rattling screams of those who lay dying in the room beyond.
In the warm beds of the inn at Galdin Quay, Ignis woke in a cold sweat.
There was a heavy pressure on his legs. Ignis fumbled for the glasses he left on the bedside table and shoved them on, blinking into the eyes of Noct’s grey and white dog. Umbra panted heavily, closed his mouth, and pointed his snout towards the other bed. Ignis followed the dog’s gaze and saw Noctis lurching for the door.
“Let him be, Umbra,” Ignis said. The dog whined, and he shushed him, mindful of Prompto sleeping in the spot next to him. That’s when Ignis noticed that Noct was walking…strangely. His hands kept fumbling in the air ahead of him, and his stride was too wide for the cluttered room. He knocked into a chair, smiled fondly at it, and stepped around it lightly.
“Yes, father,” he said, in a slurred voice. “I’m coming. I’m almost… almost there.”
“Noct?” Ignis whispered. Noct didn’t turn. Was he sleepwalking? Ignis had to admit that he knew little about that phenomenon, only a dim recollection that it wasn’t a good idea to wake a sleepwalker. He glared at Umbra and the dog wriggled off the bed. Ignis followed suit, trailing the younger man out the door and onto the balcony.
When he came in sight of the water, Ignis’ heart twisted in his chest.
Daemons writhed in the dark waters beyond the balcony—great leech-like monsters with wide, round mouths that glowed with rows and rows of razor-sharp teeth. They arched out of the water at Noct’s arrival at the balcony, their eyeless heads craning as Noct laughed and stumbled on the polished deck.
“I’m coming,” Noct said, and grabbed the railing on the edge of the balcony. He lifted a leg to the second rung and beamed into the cool night air.
“Noctis!” Ignis called out the name of the long dead prince, and the man in front of him twisted round slowly, his eyes flashing violet as his lids half-lifted. Below him, the daemons whirled their dark green tails, turning the water into a boiling froth.
Noct raised his foot from the rail.
Ignis didn’t know how he managed to make it the next two yards. It was as though he blinked and he was there, arms wrapped tight around Noct’s slender waist, hauling him back from the edge and onto the floor of the balcony. There was a cry from inside the room, and he looked up over Noct’s thrashing limbs to see Prompto falling out of bed.
“Noctis,” Ignis cried. “Please, Noctis.” He could feel the anguish in his chest, hot and terrible as it had been that day so many years ago, when another dark-haired charge had held him in blood-slick fingers and whispered in his ear. He pleaded with the ghost of the boy he'd once called his friend, pleaded with himself, with the young man who had taken his friend's name. He pleaded as he held Noct fast between his legs, as he pressed his hands to the deck to keep them from lashing out. He didn’t know that he was weeping until he tasted the salt on his tongue.
Prompto ran to the edge of the dock, holding a black and silver handgun, and fired into the water. There was a high, keening scream, and a great rush of sound as the daemons descended into the depths.
Noct looked up at Ignis with unfocused, glazed eyes.
“Iggy,” he said. “I’ll come back for you. I’ll find you.”
“No,” Ignis said. “Whatever has you, don’t use his words. Not like this.”
Noct blinked rapidly and stilled, his chest heaving, and squinted his eyes shut.
“Hell, Specs,” he said, after a minute of silence. “You’re heavy.”
Ignis let out a hysterical laugh, and Prompto looked at him in alarm. But it didn’t matter. Ignis leaned down and took the young man in his arms, hot tears stinging his eyes.
“I won’t let it happen again, Noct,” he said, fiercely. “Not this time.”
“Not with you.”
Re: FILL 6/? Re: Anastasia AU
Date: 2017-02-23 01:18 pm (UTC)I forgot about this part of the movie. I love how you've changed things to work in the world of the game.
FILL 7/? Re: Anastasia AU
Date: 2017-02-23 04:29 pm (UTC)Leaving Prompto with Umbra to sulk, Ignis made his way to their silent companion. Noct shrugged when Ignis indicated the seat next to him, but he didn’t look away from the water when Ignis sat down.
“Penny for them, Noct.”
Noct huffed and twisted his finger around a silver chain at his neck. Ignis could see the lump of whatever hung from it under his shirt, dragging at the fabric, and wondered—not for the first time—just what it was that the man felt he had to hide.
“What you said on the balcony.” Noct’s gaze fixed on the distant shore. “About it happening again.”
Ignis frowned. “I was in a panic, Noct,” he said.
“You called me Noctis.” The young man turned to him, and Ignis remembered the way the color of his eyes had seemed to change last night, when the tight fist of fear had closed over his heart. “You don’t really think I might be…”
You aren’t, Ignis thought. But I wish you were.
“You never know,” he said out loud. “Stranger things have happened.”
Noct smirked. “Sure have.” He lifted his hand and touched Ignis’ chin, a strangely intimate gesture that had the older man straining to keep his breath steady. “Iggy. I…”
No. Ignis stood, aware by Noct’s crestfallen expression that the look on his face must have been forbidding indeed. “I should check on Prompto,” he said.
“Yeah,” said Noct. “Of course.”
Ignis picked his way across the deck, and felt the young man’s gaze burning into him, opening him up to all the lies and pain and deception to whatever soft, shivering core lay beneath. Ignis looked up at Prompto sitting with his legs dangling over the side of the boat, and let the sight of his friend, the closest he had to a brother, ground him. The guard he kept over his heart clicked in place. His purpose was clear again. He couldn’t let himself be distracted by a young man with the eyes of a prince and a mouth like a sailor, not when there was Prompto to protect.
It was such a familiar argument that Ignis could almost convince himself.
“Luna!” Prompto shouted, skinny arms spread wide. “There’s the most beautiful pen-pal in the world!”
Lady Lunafreya, daughter of the Queen of Tenebrae and Oracle to the dead kings of Lucis, clapped her hands in delight as Prompto vaulted her garden fence. She was a well put-together young woman in a white and black pencil skirt with a flowing, semi-sheer top, and she looked so genuinely pleased to see them all that even Noct rose from his perpetual slouch. She laughed and wrapped her arms around Prompto’s shoulders.
“Don’t you flatter me,” she said, in the same lilting accent as Ignis’. “I’m a married woman, now.”
“What?” Prompto released her with exaggerated shock, and grabbed at her hands. “Who took you from me, Lu?”
Luna kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t act surprised. You’re the one who introduced us.” She looked up at Noct and Ignis, who were hanging back in the awkward way of all third wheels, and beckoned to them. “Come in, please. I just made coffee.”
“Coffee would be wonderful, thank you,” Ignis said, and pushed Noct ahead of him as they all filed through the door. Umbra kept trying to lunge between Noct’s legs, and he and Ignis spent a good minute trying to keep him from wriggling past them.
“My apologies,” Ignis said, when Luna saw them standing at the door. “Noct has a dog, and—“
“Oh!” Luna smiled at Noct warmly. “So do I. Does yours play well with others?”
“I think so, your, uh, Oracleness,” Noct said, and staggered back as Umbra barreled past him, paws scrabbling on the soft, plush carpet of Luna’s apartment. He tried to grab the dog by the collar, but Umbra danced out of his grasp, slid under a chair, and rocketed into Luna. The Oracle went tipping backwards onto the couch, and Prompto fell over an ottoman in his attempt to catch her.
Ignis made a choking sound.
“Oh, fuck,” Noct said, all of Ignis’ careful training forgotten. He ran to Umbra and knelt, holding his collar as the dog tried to lick at Luna’s shins. “Shit, I’m so sorry, he never does this…”
Luna was silent. Noct looked to Ignis and Prompto in a panic.
“Look, I’ll—I’ll walk him out. I’m sorry, I ruined this. I’m so sorry, Specs.”
“Noctis.” Luna laid a hand on the top of Noct’s head, and he stared up at her. “You are Noctis, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know,” Noct said. “I was hoping you’d tell me.”
Luna glanced down at Umbra, who was trying his best to rub half his fur onto her legs, and back to Noct.
“I believe,” she said, “that we should all have some coffee, first.”
In the end, it was Ignis who made the coffee. Luna’s hands kept shaking, and every time she looked at Noct, her face would go pale and she’d lose track of her words. She finally calmed down when they all sat in a loose circle, clutching a motley collection of mugs and cups.
Ignis had to admit that the Oracle’s apartment wasn’t as grand as he expected. It was small, but comfortable, and the décor was an unusual blend of soft pastels and what looked like retro diner signs. There was a toolbox next to one of the doors, and a yellow jumpsuit hanging up on a hook by the entrance to the garden, where Umbra was rolling about with a white, pointy-eared dog that could have been his twin. Luna kept glancing their way as she sipped her coffee, and finally let out a shaky breath and turned to the men in her living room.
“I have good news and bad news,” she said, at last. “The bad news first, dear Prompto. Clarus Amicitia has refused to see anyone claiming to be the prince. He was nearly fooled several times, and I fear he—He’s given up hope. His son, Gladiolus, is not so hardened, which may be a help, because I…” she turned her gaze to Noct, and held her mug in both hands to steady it. “He does look like the prince.”
“Noctis,” she said, and Noct looked up guiltily. He hadn’t taken a sip of his drink—Ignis suspected that he’d taken the coffee just to be polite. “Are you comfortable answering a few questions?”
“Sure,” he said, and glanced at Ignis’ disapproving glare. “I mean yes, thank you.”
Luna’s smile was bright, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Very well,” she said.
Noct answered all her questions well enough, even if he did stumble over some of the names. Luna was surprisingly gentle with him, quick to reach out and touch his knee, or his hand, as though she needed a reminder that he was there. That was a comforting thought—Ignis had worried that the debacle with the dog had ruined everything.
Except… it seemed as though it had almost done half the job of convincing Luna. That was unusual. Ignis watched the Oracle thoughtfully, trying to read her as Prompto would, watching for signs of distrust or disbelief. None came.
“One last question,” Luna said. “It may sound like a silly one, but bear with me. How did you know my dog’s name was Umbra?”
There was a stark silence in the Oracle’s living room.
“Pardon?” Ignis said.
“Your dog?” Prompto choked.
“That’s not… that can’t be possible,” Noct said. “I found Umbra when he was a puppy, maybe a year old. He didn’t have a collar—He was trapped in the bushes in the back of the orph—where I lived.”
“I know my messengers,” Luna said, with a finality that had all three men shift in their chairs. “Umbra. Pryna. Come here.”
Both dogs padded around the couch, sitting on either side of the Oracle with their tongues lolling. Umbra had grass stains on his fur, but Pryna looked immaculate and commanding.
“But the door’s closed,” Ignis said. “They were just outside, I was watching them.”
Luna nodded. “You know that an Oracle's messengers take many forms, Mr. Scientia. I sent Umbra to find the prince of Lucis eight years ago.”
Ignis’ face drained of all color. On the couch, Noct was running his finger under the chain at his neck, looking for all the world like he was in another place and time, unaware of the others around him.
“You know,” Noct said, in a quiet voice, “This is going to sound weird, but now that I think about it… I always wanted a dog. Dad… Dad wouldn’t let me keep pets, so my friend and I used to sneak out the window in the throne room…”
At his place by the fire, Ignis sloshed coffee over his hands.
“Why did I just—?” Noct whispered. He twisted the chain. “That’s strange. Why can’t I remember his name? I could swear he was there, when it happened. I told him I’d come back for him, but I never—“
Ignis rose with a clatter of china. Noct, Prompto, and Luna stared at him as he strode to the door, yanked it open, and stepped out into the warm air of an Altissian springtime.
“Might not be feeling so hot,” Prompto said. “I’ll get him.” He pattered after him.
“Noctis,” Luna said, in the careful, tentative way one would speak to a wild animal. “May I see what you have on that chain?”
“Oh,” Noct said. “I guess.” He pulled out the black ring from its hiding place and lifted it up. The small crystal inlaid in the band winked in the lamplight of Luna’s living room, casting spots on the walls, and Lady Lunafreya dropped her mug of coffee on the clean white floors.
“Dude,” Prompto said, grabbing Ignis by the shoulders. “Dude!”
“Let me go, Prompto,” Ignis said. He twisted out of his friend’s enthusiastic grip, but Prompto wasn’t having it. He lunged after the taller man and pulled him back by the suspenders. Ignis squawked at the indignity, but Prompto just grabbed him by the collar and hung on.
“Did you hear that?” he asked. “We never told him about you. So how’d he know?”
Ignis looked askance. “I don’t—It could be a coincidence.”
“A coincidence how? The guy has Luna’s dog, he remembers you, there was that shit at the Quay… Bro. I think we actually found him.”
“I know,” Ignis said. “That’s the problem.”
“Oh,” Prompto said. “This is you being clueless again, isn’t it?” He smacked Ignis on the shoulder. “Get with it, dude! You like him! He likes you! He’s the first guy in the whole fucking Citadel who remembers you, and he—“
“He’s the prince of Lucis,” Ignis snapped, and Prompto deflated at the fury in his voice. “The king of Lucis, I suppose. He has a destiny thousands of years in the making, and I would just be—I’d simply be a distraction.”
Prompto opened his mouth to protest, but Ignis pushed away from him, not minding the way one of his buttons popped loose under Prompto’s fingers.
“We’ll get him to Clarus,” he said, finally. “We’ll let him go. And then we’ll find our way to Tenebrae. Like we planned, Prompto.”
He squared his shoulders, took a steadying breath, and opened the door to Lunafreya’s apartments again. Prompto watched him go, and dug his hands in the worn pockets of his jeans.
There was a roar overhead as an MT transport carrier darkened the sky, passing over the sloped roofs of Altissia and towards the Imperial base at the edge of the water. Prompto scowled at it, watching its progress for a time, and then turned to follow his friend into the safety of the apartment.
Re: FILL 7/? Re: Anastasia AU
Date: 2017-02-23 06:35 pm (UTC)FILL 8/? Re: Anastasia AU
Date: 2017-02-23 09:26 pm (UTC)And then there was the state of the capital. Ravus hadn’t seen the Emperor in person in nearly a week. All reports were to be given to Ardyn directly, and the General couldn’t help but notice that there were… sounds… coming from the MT wing that didn’t sound entirely mechanical in nature. The streets of the city were thinning out as well, as citizens fled reports of daemons prowling the edges of Gralea’s fortress and sought safe havens at the border of Tenebrae.
He was starting to wonder what was keeping him here.
Ravus rapped on the door.
“Is that my dear friend the General?”
Hells, he was in a mood again. Ravus braced himself and entered the room, but kept his fingers clenched tight on the handle behind him.
“Sir,” he said.
Ardyn leaned back on his chair, flipping through a report. “Upsetting news, General,” he said. “It seems as though we have enemies of the state at large in Altissia.”
“The prince,” Ravus said. “Yes, I can send troops to his location imm—“
“Prince?” Ardyn’s brows raised. “Who said prince?”
Ravus paled. “No one, sir. Please, go on.”
Ardyn smiled wryly. “So polite, Ravus. Just like your sister. How is she, by the by?”
Ah, so it was that game. She’s quite well, thank you.”
“And long may she remain so, of course. No, for right now, I believe we should let the usual suspect go. Let him come to us.”
Ravus waited for an explanation that didn’t come, and sighed. “What are your orders, sir?”
“Orders? Oh, no, I don’t have the power to order you, dear Ravus. Just a suggestion.” He dropped the file on the table and looked up at the General, and his eyes gleamed with the dark fire of madness.
“What do you know about Ignis Scientia and Prompto Argentum?”
Luna left the apartment that afternoon, assuring them all that she would be back as soon as she obtained permission for Noct to meet with Clarus and Gladio in the evening. This left all three of them to the tender mercies of her wife, a blonde blue-eyed mechanic in a fringed, rhinestone-studded jumpsuit and the kind of smile that could start a war.
“I know just what to do with y’all,” she said. She winked at Prompto, who flushed a deep red and opened his mouth like a dying trout.
Cindy proceeded to drag them over half the breadth of Altissia, pointing out famous buildings and art installments with the rapid disinterest of a woman on a mission. Noct started to fall behind, looking dazed, and Prompto coughed meaningly and nudged Ignis with an elbow. Ignis looked away, and Prompto coughed again.
“You doin’ alright, baby?” Cindy asked. Prompto blushed again.
“Y-yeah,” he stammered. “Ignis. Scientia,” he hissed. Ignis rolled his eyes and slowed his pace, falling into step with Noct—with the prince.
“It’s certainly a sight, isn’t it, your highness?” he asked.
“Don’t start calling me that,” Noct said. “Not when I was Hey, You for half my life.”
Ignis couldn’t help but smile a little. “I may know the feeling.” Noct smirked. “I assure you, it’s true. I’ve made a living off of being easily forgettable.”
“That’s hard to believe,” said Noct. Blue eyes met green, and Ignis was paralyzed under the weight of his stare. “You’re a pretty memorable guy.” Noct brushed his hand against Ignis’, and let it slide up his arm slowly, lazily.
“Your highness,” Ignis said, and Noct stepped back. “We should catch up with the others.”
Noct frowned and withdrew his arm, then walked off at a quick trot to draw even with Prompto. The blonde looked back at Ignis with his brows knit tight, but Ignis waved him off. It was better this way, he told himself. Noctis simply didn’t know it yet.
Cindy dipped into her own funds to buy Noct a suit, which made the young man stammer and blush worse than Prompto. It was almost endearing—and it wasn’t until Prompto caught Ignis’ eye that he realized he’d been staring after Noct like a lovestruck fool.
Prompto was starting to tire well before they were to meet the Amicitia’s at the Leville where they were staying, and Ignis insisted that he go back with Cindy to Luna’s. Prompto agreed reluctantly, though he did perk up a little when Cindy assured him that they could stop on the way for a plate of fries. Ignis smiled after them. It really was easy to bring Prompto out of a sulk, at least.
By the time Ignis and Noct made it to the Leville, the prince was noticeably panicking.
“Calm down,” Ignis said. “You’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know, Specs,” Noct said. He looped an arm around Ignis’ waist, drawing him in. “I can’t use a ring and a magical dog as proof of royalty. What if I’m not? What if it’s a massive mistake, and I’m back to where I started, and I—“
“It isn’t a mistake,” Ignis said. He smoothed back Noct’s hair, like he would for Prompto, and leaned in. “You’ll see. Just… wait in the reception room while I talk to them, alright?”
“Right,” Noct said. He sighed loudly. “Right. Gods, Specs, I’m glad you’re with me.”
You shouldn’t be, Ignis thought, but he simply smiled and led Noct into the Leville. When Noct was safely pacing in the reception room, Ignis counted under his breath and made to head up the stairs.
Only to be faced with a spectre of his past.
Time had treated Clarus Amicitia well. His head was still shaved—or he’d gone bald in the past decade, Ignis supposed—and his shoulders filled out his silk dress shirt with broad, solid muscle. There were more lines around his eyes and mouth, and the stubble on his cheek was more white than grey, but he could have been the same man Ignis had led out of the throne room that terrible day in Insomnia.
Gladio, at his right, had grown up to be a heavily tattooed, thick-haired foil to his father. He wore leather pants and a cotton tank top, looking more the working man than a retired king’s shield, and there was a glimmer of humor in his eye that Ignis failed to see in Clarus. Ignis moved to the bottom step of the stair.
“Mr. Amicitia,” he said. “A moment of your time.”
Clarus looked him up and down with such exaggerated care that Ignis felt dread begin to build in his throat. “Ah,” he said. “I was warned about you.”
“Warned?” Ignis didn’t like how that sounded. “By Lady Lunafreya?”
“Oh, no,” Clarus said. “Lunafreya had only the best things to say about you, Mister… Shents, was it?”
“Scientia,” Ignis said, through gritted teeth. Gods, he’d saved this man’s life, and even now he couldn’t be bothered to learn his name. “Then, sir, you know that I’m here because—“
“You’re here for your own benefit,” Clarus said. “A very helpful gentleman came by with a wealth of information about you and your… dear colleague, who I see is not with us. Forging, larceny, embezzlement, black market smuggling of royal artifacts, and, ah yes! Now, I believe, you have set your sights to identity theft. How high you have risen.”
“That’s not—That isn’t what I’m here for,” Ignis said.
“You don’t deny the charges?” Clarus said, in an indifferent voice.
“I’ll hardly deny that I did what I must to survive,” Ignis said, “But trust me when I tell you that in that room,” he gestured behind him, “is the last surviving member of the royal family, and he’s gone through hell to get here.”
“In your company, certainly,” said Clarus. Gladio narrowed his eyes, looking from Ignis to his father, and crossed his arms.
“Typical,” Ignis said. “Do you know anything of who I am, that you’re so quick to jump to the conclusions of a stranger? No recollection at all? None? By the Six, the only one of you who ever treated me as a person was…” Noctis, he thought, and his rage died away in a flood of acute remorse. After all those years, he’d turned around and treated Noct like a disposable pawn, a stepping stool to something greater. But no. That was behind him. He would do right this time—
“So that’s what this is,” Clarus said, looking down on him with all the disgust normally afforded for vermin. “You felt slighted, so you thought to humiliate what’s left of the Council of Lucis—“
“Damn you, no,” Ignis said. “If you don’t give him a chance, you’ll be making the worst mistake of your—“
“Ignis?”
Ignis turned, jerkily, towards the door. Noct stood there, his cheeks crimson, his eyes overbright, holding the chain at his neck like a lifeline. He’d heard. Gods, how much?
“Noctis,” Ignis said. “It isn’t what you think. It’s true, Noctis, you are—”
“You lied to me.” Noct’s voice was low, but there was a tremor there, and Ignis ached to hear it. “None of it was real.” He glanced up at Clarus for the briefest moment, then retreated back into the room, slamming the door behind him. Ignis almost made to follow, but grabbed the rail of the stair to hold himself back.
Behind him, Gladio made a soft clicking sound against his teeth.
“He looked like him, Dad.”
“No,” said Clarus. “The poor boy has clearly suffered enough. It’s a shame,” he said, passing by Ignis as though the man weren’t there, “that there are people in this world who will prey on the vulnerable in such a way.”
Ignis listened to their retreating footsteps, and thought of Noct as he’d been in the throne room, lost and frightened. The way he’d looked as he stepped over the rail of the balcony at Galdin Quay, the helpless smile he’d worn when Ignis and Prompto had told him stories of Regis and the young prince.
“He has the ring.”
The footsteps halted.
“What’s that?” That was Gladio. Ignis turned, still holding onto the rail.
“Noctis,” he said. “He has the ring. The ring of the Lucii. You want to know if it’s really him? Have him put it on.”
Clarus pivoted on his heel, an imposing statue of a man in black silk. “If what you say is true, you must know that the ring will destroy an unworthy host.”
“I know.”
“You are willing to bet that boy’s life on this?”
Ignis’ laugh was harsh and humorless. “I’d bet mine. Just. Just talk to him. Please.”
The silence stretched so long that Ignis almost considered falling to his knees. His life was already in shambles—what dignity did he have left to lose?
“If you won’t do it, I will.” Gladio took a step back from his father and bowed to him shortly. “This guy might be scum,” he said, and Ignis shrugged. Why deny it? “But he ain’t lying. I think he really believes this kid’s the one.”
“Gladiolus,” Clarus snapped, but Gladio was already heading for the door.
Re: FILL 8/? Re: Anastasia AU
Date: 2017-02-23 10:05 pm (UTC)I hope Noct will still be in the room.
Re: FILL 8/? Re: Anastasia AU
Date: 2017-02-24 09:39 pm (UTC)You're making it work so well I was giggling the whole time oh my goddd I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO SAY I'M SO HAPPY this is perfection
Re: FILL 8/? Re: Anastasia AU
Date: 2017-02-24 09:41 pm (UTC)Re: FILL 8/? Re: Anastasia AU
Date: 2017-02-24 11:06 pm (UTC)Aaaaa I am so glad you like it! This is just so FUN to write, because I love that movie and the characters really fit. Thank you for coming up with the prompt!
I'm posting an edited version of the fic up on AO3--I added some extra bits re: Ignis' backstory and motivations, and changed the scene where he gave Noct a coat to a scene where he made Noct pastries, because I felt that worked more with the FFXV universe. Little things like that! The link is here if you're interested, (I'm all caught up with what's on the meme so far) but I'll keep posting on the kinkmeme for folks who aren't keen on AO3:
http://archiveofourown.org/works/9901340
FILL 9/? (And AO3 link) Re: Anastasia AU
Date: 2017-02-24 11:23 pm (UTC)--------------
Gladiolus Amicitia walked into the reception room of the Leville to see the scrawny, dark-haired friend of the conman stuck halfway through an upper window. The man had stripped down to his black dress shirt to prevent his jacket from getting scratched on the edge of the window, and had it balled up under one arm. The problem he hadn’t accounted for was that shaving half an inch of fabric did nothing when you weren’t skinny enough to fit through the gap in the first place. His shoulders were firmly wedged against the frame, and his right shoe dangled from his toes as he tried to maneuver himself into a better position. A ring on a chain hung loose at his neck, clinking against the ledge.
“Need any help, there?” Gladio asked.
“You know what, fuck you,” said the boy. Gladio laughed.
“For a con artist, you’re kind of terrible at last-minute escapes,” he said. He pulled a chair out from behind a desk and sat down directly in front of the boy, watching him with every sign of amusement. “They say you’re our prince Noctis, you know.”
“You got it wrong,” said the kid. “I’m just Noct. And Ignis is the con artist. I’m just the… the sap. I can’t believe they even dragged my dog into this!”
Gladio made a noise of mock sympathy. “My heart bleeds, man. You want me to give you a push?”
Noct glared at him. “No.”
“Just asking.” He crossed his legs and sat back, and the other man let out an aggrieved sigh.
“Is he still out there?” Noct asked.
“What, the Shen-something guy?”
“Scientia.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Noct nodded. “He’s not coming in, if that’s what you’re worried about. Man looks like he’s about to have a breakdown.”
“Good,” said Noct. “He deserves it.”
“Ouch.” Gladio watched him wriggle about for another few seconds, and finally took pity on him. “Look, let me grab your arm and I can—“
“I’m fine!” Noct said. Then there was a… pressure in the air around them, and he disappeared in a flash of blue light. His shoe landed on the carpet, and there was another flash, and the man was crashing to the floor.
Gladio took a step back.
“Right,” Noct said. “That happened. You didn’t see that, okay?”
“No,” Gladio said, holding out his hands to block the man’s escape. “No, no. I definitely saw that. You warped.”
Noct stared at him with a sullen glare that would have put the collective force of Altissia’s teenagers to shame. “Yeah? So I’m a freak, so what?” He tried to dodge around him, but Gladio matched him step for step. “Love of Shiva, man, what’s your deal?”
“Ok, calm down,” Gladio said, partly to himself. “Right now, there’s a guy hyperventilating on the stairs because he thinks you’re prince Noctis. And you know what?” He squinted at him, examining the line of his face, the shape of his eyes, his delicate cheekbones. “I think he might be right.”
“Well, since you’ve all decided for me—“
Gladio spun the boy around and pushed him into the chair. “Stop being an asshole for a second and listen,” he said. “No one warps anymore. No one uses magic anymore. Not since the Fall. Because the only people with magic were Noctis, Regis, and the Glaives, and the Glaives all lost their skills when the king died. So that leaves one person who could ever do what you just did.”
They stared at each other in silence for a while.
“That ring around your neck,” Gladio said. “You think you can try it on?”
He saw something in the man’s eyes snap. “Fine,” he said. “Fine. It’s probably a fake, though. Just like everything else is, just like Ignis and Prompto. But if you want to know so bad, sure.” He pulled off the necklace and unhooked it, slid out the ring, and shoved it onto the ring finger of his right hand.
An overpowering wave of magic pulsed outward from the ring, sending Gladio to his knees.
Outside, in the entranceway, Ignis and Clarus staggered. The lights of the Leville flickered, and Clarus Amicitia felt the familiar hum of the ring of Lucii’s magic for the first time since the ring, and the prince, had disappeared from his grasp over ten years ago.
“Holy hell,” Gladio said, from his spot on the floor.
The man on the chair in front of him opened eyes that shone a brilliant violet. He lifted his hand wonderingly, tilting the ring so that he could peer through the black clasp that held it, and turned his unsettling gaze to the man at his feet.
“Gladio?” he said. The violet in his eyes faded, and he blinked. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Noct?”
The prince nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah… I… I remember you. What the hell do they feed people in Altissia? Steroids and protein shakes?”
“Come here, you smartmouth piece of—“
Gladio pulled Noct into a crushing embrace, ignoring Noct’s squeak of dismay as his arms were pinned to his sides. He lifted him as he stood, and the two of them went wheeling into a wall, where they fell onto a chaise lounge that hadn’t been made to withstand the force of two bodies striking it at full weight. Its legs collapsed, and so did they.
“How much?” Gladio asked. He kept a hand on Noct’s shoulder, unable to pull away. He felt that if he let go, the prince would disappear again, and none of this would have happened. Noct glanced at his clenching fingers but didn’t comment. “How much do you remember? Why didn’t you find us until now? Where the hell were you?”
“I remember bits and pieces,” Noct said, grinning madly. “I know you looked better without the ponytail.” Gladio scowled. “The rest is… it’s kind of a long story.”
“Yeah, I bet. I’m going to get my dad. Just wait h—no, no, come with me.” He dragged the protesting prince to the door, kicked it open, and yanked him out into the open.
“Dad!” he shouted, holding out the hand with the ring as though Noct were an unnecessary afterthought. “We got ourselves a prince!”
---
Prompto Argentum was lost. It was his own fault, really. It’s just around the block! he’d said. Who loses their way in half a mile of apartments? he’d said. Well, if Ignis didn’t kill him for staying out after dark in a strange city, Luna would. He peered up at an arching stairway and tried to remember if he’d seen it before. It would help if Altissian architecture made any sense, but that was asking too much of it, really. Still, it did make for some interesting shots.
He swiveled the lens of his camera and backed up, focusing on a spot where a bird’s nest was wedged in the corner of a stair and a lamp-post.
Hopefully Ignis wasn’t fucking this up again. That Noct was the prince wasn’t a concern anymore, but Ignis had a mean streak for self-destruction. Oh, he cared for Prompto well enough—doted on him, if Prompto was being honest—but when it came to his own life? He was a grade-A train wreck in the making.
Prompto turned, still looking through the camera, and got an eyeful of an almost familiar face. He lowered the camera, blinking into the darkness at the light haired, white-robed man who stepped towards him out of the shadows of an alley.
He had a very… purposeful step. Prompto shivered. He knew what that meant. Trouble.
He didn’t wait to see what the man wanted. One glance at the sword at his side told Prompto all he needed to know, and a life of ducking MT patrols had made him wary. Never hesitate, Iggy had told him, when they were just starving teenagers scraping a living out of the wreckage of the Citadel. Neither will they.
Prompto spun on his toes and ran.
FILL 10/? Re: Anastasia AU
Date: 2017-02-25 04:52 pm (UTC)The memories of his life before the Fall were scattered. He knew Clarus Amicitia and Gladio in a vague, haphazard way, going by an abstract feeling rather than true memory. He remembered his father clearly, too clearly, and when he closed his eyes to Clarus’ embrace he could see the blood that ran down his father’s chest and spotted the floor of the throne room black. He remembered the smile of the man who slew him, and the way his hair had seemed almost purple in the flickering light of what had become a killing ground.
And he remembered the boy who had held his hand and told him to run.
“Ignis,” he said, from the depths of his overwhelmed mind. “Ignis.” He twisted in Clarus’ grip, looking to the stair, but the railing where Ignis had stood was empty.
“Strange,” Clarus said. “You’d think he’d want the reward.”
“He needs it,” Noct said. “For him and Prompto. But Clarus, Gladio, it isn’t just that…“ He looked to the glass doors of the Leville, and saw a familiar back disappear around the corner.
“I’m sorry,” he said, extricating himself from their hold. He ran for the door.
Ignis was already several blocks away by the time he made it into the street. “Ignis!” he shouted. The man didn’t respond. “Iggy, wait!”
Ignis’ pace faltered for half a breath, and then he turned down a side street. Noct made to follow, but felt a hand on his shoulder.
“You should let him go, son,” Clarus said, in the low voice that Noct was only now beginning to find familiar. “He’s done his part.”
“That’s the thing,” Noct said. “He has. He’s Ignis.” Clarus looked at him blankly. “He was my friend.”
“I’m sure you thought he was,” said Clarus. “Come with us, prince Noctis. We have much to discuss.”
Noct tore his gaze from the dark street where Ignis had gone, and allowed himself to be towed back into the Leville.
“I know,” he said. “We do.”
---
Ignis made it four blocks before he passed the first MT soldier. The locals stared in polite distaste—MTs were forbidden from setting foot outside of the Imperial fortress in accordance with a treaty that had been signed shortly after the Fall. That they were unused to an MT presence was obvious. Insomnians knew better than to make open eye contact: It was better to let your gaze slide off the troopers, to stay to the shadows and keep your head down. Ignis grimaced at the scandalized gasps and laughter that followed in the MT’s wake—until he saw a second, marching across a bridge.
By the time he spotted a fifth, Ignis’ heart was pounding in his temples. He picked up speed, cutting across open air dining areas and through perfectly cultivated gardens.
When he saw the tenth trooper, Ignis began to run.
He forced himself to go against all instinct and head to where the MT presence was thickest, close to the neighborhood where Cindy and Luna lived. His hands inched to the knife guards he kept strapped under his shirt, and when he saw the bright floodlights of an MT carrier ship, he pulled the blades from their sheaths. He leapt across a gondola dock to the opposing street and nearly slipped into the water, but righted himself just as he heard the crack of a gun.
It wasn’t the stuttering fire of an MT-class weapon. It was the short, contained shot of a handgun. Prompto. He had five bullets after their night at the Quay.
The second went off as Ignis dodged a couple trying to escape the flood of MT soldiers. One of the troopers saw Ignis’ blades and sounded an alarm, but the third shot had just been fired, and all he could hear beyond the resounding echoes of Prompto’s gun was the pulse of blood in his head and the clack of his boots on the street.
There. The fourth shot, and the dreadful rattle of MT gunfire. Ignis felt a burning hand grab at his arm, and he jerked free so forcefully that his sleeve tore under the gauntlet of his attacker. Ten more paces, and then a whistling he’d only heard twice before, and Ignis ducked as an anchor swerved past his ear. It landed on the ground ten feet away and skittered towards him, dragging deep gouges into the street.
The fifth shot fired as Ignis rounded the corner into a street lined by sloping magnolia trees. In the tunnel formed by their branches, he could see a mass of jerking, shuddering MT troopers, slowly parting into two uneven lines. In the opening they made, Ignis could see Prompto—Prompto—trying to rise on violently trembling legs. A man in white stood over him, his blond hair shining in the blazing light of the MT carrier ship at the end of the street.
“Prompto!”
Ignis skidded on a drift of dark leaves. He was close enough now that he could see a wound bleeding sluggishly on the other man’s right arm, and black streaks, like tar or oil, dotting the road. Prompto had been spitting blood, and he still managed to get a shot in. Despite the terror overtaking Ignis’ mind, he couldn’t help but feel a small amount of pride in that.
“Citizen of Niflheim.” The man in white must have been wearing a headset. His voice boomed through the speakers of the carrier ship. Prompto winced—He always was sensitive to noise. “Drop your weapons.”
“Let go of my brother,” Ignis spat. Prompto attempted to rise, and the man before him gently pressed him down with his booted foot. Fury choked Ignis. Desperately, recklessly, he threw one of his knives—the man knocked it idly out of the air. The lines of MT soldiers on either side turned their heads towards Ignis in one motion, their eyes glowing an unearthly red.
“You are mistaken. This is a Class C-7 First Phase Magitech Subject,” the man said, in a cold voice. Ignis jerked as two hands grabbed at his right arm from behind. “And traitor to the Empire.”
---
"I've said it before, but you're kind of terrible at this."
Noct sighed. He was standing on the outside of the balcony railing beyond the Amicitia's rooms at the Leville, caught in the act of judging how far he could warp to the ground without cracking his skull on the street. The warm breeze that drifted over the canals brought the scent of fried dough and cut flowers, and he could hear echoes of laughter far below. Gladio stood framed against the dim light of the room beyond, and he was flanked by Iris, his tiny, dark-haired teenage sister with a handshake that could bend steel. Both of them looked far too amused by his predicament than they had a right to be.
"Tired of us already?" Gladio asked. Noct felt a blush rise to his cheeks.
"No," he said. "It's not that. I'm just gonna be gone a minute. I need to see..."
"Ignis," Iris said.
"We know," said Gladio.
Noct and the Amicitias had spent the last two hours filling each other in while sitting in the largest living room Noct had seen in his life, over a spread of appetizers that could have fed an army. The others acted as though such excess was perfectly normal, but Noct found himself picking at his plate while he spoke, deeply guilty for piling so much on at once. The decor in their rooms was worse. For the first thirty minutes, Noct was terrified to touch anything for fear he'd break some heirloom or priceless artifact, and it wasn't until Clarus had retired for the night and Gladio and Iris had dragged him into Gladio's much simpler, less intimidating room, that he'd calmed down enough to tell them the truth about Ignis.
Gladio had gone very quiet, then.
Now, Noct let the two of them drag him back over the railing. "We're not gonna stop you," Gladio said, to Noct's surprise. "I get it. You can't let it go like this."
"But we're not letting you go, either," said Iris. "So we're going with you."
And that's how Noct found himself walking hand in hand with Gladio's little sister down the streets of Altissia at midnight, with Gladio a warm presence at his side. It was almost frightening, how quickly he'd grown accustomed to them. Iris' excited chatter reminded him a bit of Prompto, and Gladio spoke to him as though the vast stretch of time between them didn't exist. Twice he had to blink back tears, claiming that the flower stalls scattered throughout Altissia were to blame. By the smug look on her face, he could tell that Iris wasn't convinced.
"They're staying with the Oracle?" she said, as they turned down a street framed by magnolia trees. "I like Luna. If we were still working as Shields, I'd ask to be hers in a heartbeat. Cindy says she wouldn't mind."
"And Dad says no," Gladio said, in a tone that implied that this was a long-standing argument. "She's practically on house arrest these days. If the Empire knew you were—Wait." His voice lowered, and he placed a hand on Noct's chest to stop him. Noct craned around the larger man to follow his gaze, and felt his skin crawl at the sight that greeted them further down the street.
Umbra crouched in the center of the road, muzzle down, slowly dragging what looked like a body along the asphalt. For a moment, Noct couldn't—wouldn't—register what the body was, but his mind eventually picked up on the purple leopard-print dress shirt, the tan suspenders, the gelled-back hair.
"Ignis," he breathed.