The worst part about living on a chocobo farm was the fact that sleeping in beyond six in the morning — for any normal human being — was absolutely impossible. Between the birdsong and the sound of squawking outside of Roxas's window, or the way that the birds tended to bonk their beaks against the window over his bed, he really was doomed to wake up early until the day he died.

Well, then, or the day that he finally convinced Ven to trade beds with him.

He didn't know which was more likely to come first.

Ven loved having the bed on the other side of the room, a fact that Roxas bemoaned as he groaned and threw his feet out from under the covers. He could already hear their father outside, tending to the babes and providing them the feed they needed. He woke up earlier than any of them anyway, and though he never intended to wake Roxas up in the morning, the birds got so loud whenever they saw him that it was impossible to sleep through their enthusiasm.

Prompto Argentum was a chocobo whisperer, that much was for sure. They loved roaming the property with him. It really made too much sense, considering the fact that he was basically a small, fleshy chocobo himself, but Roxas figured he'd never stop questioning it.

It took him all of fifteen minutes to go about his morning routine.

The fact that he did just about everything in the course of one shower helped.

He burned away the dirt from yesterday with a jetstream of hot water from the spigot out back, brushed his teeth beneath it, and pulled his clothes on during the walk toward the bird pens. He didn't have his jacket all the way on when he saw his dad waving to him from atop the back of his personal bird, and so he returned the gesture with a tired grunt and what might've been a greeting.

"I'm gonna take that as a good morning," Prompto said, hopping down off of the bird's back and tethering it to a wood pole not far away.

"Isn't it a bit early to be riding?"

"Aw, don't say that. It's never too early to start the day off right."

Prompto patted Roxas on the shoulder and stepped by him, advancing toward the larger, more comprehensive pen that held the majority of their riding birds. Roxas watched his father inspect a few of them, pat a few heads, and ruffle a few feathers before turning back to face his child.

"We got an order this morning," he proudly announced.

"What kind of order?"

"The bird kind, not the gun kind. Some guy in Insomnia wants a few birds for his stable, and he's heard we've got the best Chocobos around."

That woke Roxas up a little, and he leaned against the fence that kept the birds in while his father finished explaining.

"Usually, people just wanna buy my guns or drop a bird or two off. Not take 'em off my hands. We're less running a ranch, more running an orphanage."

Roxas stared, far too tired for anything he was hearing.

"If you sold less guns, you'd probably sell more birds."

"Yeah, but I like the birds a lot more than I like the guns."

"You're not supposed to be selling the guns anyway. But, you're not wrong. Our last order was, like, a month ago," Roxas admitted. "For one bird."

"Yeah, the winter slowdown can get pretty rough, but… I mean, hey, business is business. Even if I'm not supposed to be selling the guns, they help me take care of these guys! Can you really say it's not worth it?"

"It's not worth it."

"Hey! Roxas, cut me some slack," Prompto laughed. "You're my son, not a cop."

"Your best friend's the king. That makes him, like, a supercop."

Prompto picked out a particularly friendly chocobo and brought it through the pen, to where its soon-to-be stable brother waited. He let them nuzzle a little before climbing aboard, offering it a little tithe in the form of some beak-rubs. He used it as an excuse to change the subject.

"I figured you and Ven could ride 'em up there together, maybe get some bonding time in. I can handle the choring for a day or two, put in some hard work. Figure it's easier than picking up your slack."

Roxas was so busy rolling his eyes that he didn't notice his dad's wink, but he did pick up on the little chuckle that followed his jibe.

"Argentum Artillery: the place where we laugh at our own jokes," he muttered. "One of these days, people are gonna start questioning the name."

"And that day is so far away that I hope it never comes," Prompto admitted. "I'm gonna take this bird out to get it warmed up. You mind getting your brother out of bed? That kid sleeps like a log."

"Whatever," Roxas yawned, cupping a hand over his mouth. "If he gets up, he can come. If he's not feeling it, I'll just run 'em in alone."

"Well, make sure you grab something to protect yourself with first. I'm sure you'll make good time and everything, but you know how bad it's been getting around here at night."

"I'm not sure a gun is gonna make me all that much safer," Roxas said.

"Then take some thunder rounds, too," Prompto replied, gently prompting his bird forward with a kick. "And don't skip out on your brother. You know how much he loves spending time with you."

"I said whatever, didn't I?"

Roxas watched his father disappear through the trees until the sound of his distinct humming vanished, replaced by the sound of squawking birds and pecking from the feeders. Once he was gone, the youngest Argentum made his way back inside to check on his brother. Ven was asleep, as he'd expected, so Roxas didn't bother waking him up. Instead, he made himself some breakfast and hit the armory while his father warmed the birds up.

Argentum Artillery, though officially a chocobo ranch, was also the country's most top secret shell-shop. Firearms of all makes and models were stocked in the secret basement out back, along with random bits and pieces of merchandise that Prompto had given up on selling. Roxas didn't know why his father ever decided to stock up on more than two dozen shirts with the words "Be a Chocobro" emblazoned across the sleeves, but they hadn't sold all that well.

Just in case, he took one for the road and stuffed it into the bag he'd brought downstairs with him. Even if all he did was give it away to somebody, he knew his dad would have been happy to know his stuff was getting out there in the world.

It took him about ten minutes to stock up on arms and ammo.

A few dozen thunder rounds, some regular stock ammunition, and two handguns were probably more than enough. The roads were only bad at night, and the worst anyone really saw during the day were some wild animals. Sure, nobody liked getting into a brawl with the occasional pack of wolves, but they tended to run off the second they heard a gunshot. Anything bigger was easy enough to avoid.

He gave his things a final check before tethering the birds together, made sure his phone was charged, and set out sometime around nine in the morning.

The road felt longer than it needed to, but the trip itself wasn't bad.

The paths for the birds were peaceful and neither of them minded the adventure much. One was a little more free-spirited than Roxas preferred, but it was easy to see exactly how his father had fallen in love with them. The closer they got to the city, the harder it became to avoid the roads; cars tended to spook the birds and they didn't much like the sound of engines, but they acclimated after a little while.

Noon came and went without a fuss.

Chocobos were fluffy little survivors, and even when the birds were put off by the desert heat and the sound of roaring engines flying down the highway, they were able to adapt. It helped that he kept feeding them little treats whenever a car came by, though, even if their future owners probably weren't going to enjoy the inevitable squawking that would deafen them every time a car went by.

He also made sure to stop so that he could catch a break for himself. Thankfully, Hammerhead was a good place to make a pit stop at. It also meant that his Aunt Cindy was there, repairing any broken down cars. According to his father, she was his first love before their mother.

Any memory of their mother that was brought up in front of their father would cause him to lapse into a brief silence. That silence was inevitably followed by a distant, far away look that took him from the eyes, pulling the corners of his lips toward his chin like sagging sails.

Roxas hoped that someday, his father would no longer have to wear that sort of expression anymore. It went unspoken but he was sure that Ventus wished the same for their father too.

Hammerhead faded in the distance behind him as noon turned to evening, and Roxas found himself within sight of the city just about an hour before dusk. With Ven, a lazy traveler by his own admission, it would have taken them two or three days to meander their way to Insomnia. Even on his faster days, Ven liked to stop and see the sights — if he got to take a few photos of the world along the way, he found the trip worthwhile.

The fledgeling stars overhead faded, replaced by bloody lights that stained the dark sky for miles.

Insomnia was the largest city he'd ever seen, and its touch was everywhere. Though floodlights weren't necessary, the streetlights that lined the highways were bright, blinding white, and the lamps that waited over the city's walls were no less harsh. Travelers were encouraged to find the city in times of dire need, and that utility showed.

King Noctis wanted his capital to be one that all wayward stars could call upon, and that desire was evident in the city's sheer glow.

Roxas stared from about a mile outside of the city limits while he deposited his once-loyal chocobos with their new owner, and watched the lights of the capital grow close in the watery windows of the cab he hailed to take him the rest of the way.

It only took a few minutes to get through the border check-in, and only a few more to spot a pair of two, well-memorized faces waiting for him on a very familiar street corner.

"Axel! Xion!" he called out to his best friends, elation written all over his face as the two of them came into view. The Usual Spot was eponymous for them — it was that place where they would get their usual order of sea-salt ice cream, chit-chat about the usual topics, and argue over the usual things.

For as long as Roxas could remember, it was a place that he associated with his childhood. Whenever they came to Insomnia and crashed at Aunt Iris' place for the night, whether it was too late to travel back home or not. Those were the nights that they were allowed to stay up late (his father had once told him it made it a lot easier for him to take him and Ven home without causing a ruckus).

"Hey, man. 'Bout time," Axel waved out, bringing his friend under his hold to give him a noogie, his shorter, darker-looking sister chuckling in the background.

Roxas wrestled free of his friend's faux-bullying and the two fell into a side-arm hug.

"Where's Kairi?"

"Not here," Xion responded. "She's been super busy with school. Getting involved with clubs and all. You know how Kairi is."

"Yeah," he answered, scratching at his cheek. "Always doing something."

The Juramento family were a fun bunch and Roxas believed it was because their mother was a fun aunt. Even though she had long married, Aunt Iris never stopped in her duty to serve the King. His father had told him that both Aunt Iris and King Noctis were longtime friends and that the Amicitia family were bound to serve the King since they were born: that was their duty.

Duty, duty, duty, serving, serving, serving.

It made sense that Iris knew how to keep things light when there was so much obligation in her system. She'd have gone crazy if she couldn't balance her life out.

It'd long time since he had last seen his friends. With how much work he'd been doing around the ranch, it felt like an eternity.

"Looks like you made it in time though. Nearly thought you weren't going to make it," Axel remarked, adding on when he saw Roxas's mortified look on his face. "I didn't think you were gonna die or anything! Don't get me wrong."

Axel held a finger up, accusatorily, or as if he were the first human weathervane.

"It would have been tragically irresponsible of you to be so late to our first meeting in forever. You'd have been an awful friend."

"Axel, you text me every morning..."

"And I'll keep doing it, if you keep ignoring me! Give a guy an answer once in a while, will ya?"

Xion let out a chuckle as her brother could not help but guffaw at Roxas's brashness. She'd be caught up in it too before long, the bickering.

As he slid into the empty seat next to her, she leaned over to offer him a quick hug.

"Kairi went through a growth spurt. She looks really different now and that's coming from me," the black-haired girl commented. "Giving you a heads up, just in case."

With a single eyebrow raised, Roxas gave a look. Last time he had seen Kairi was close to half a year ago, when she still sported the same short hair as Xion.

"Right, Kairi, tall," he managed. "I'll keep that memorized."

Axel slugged him in the arm harder than his uncle ever could've.

Despite the hour, the comforts of The Usual Spot were unchanging.

People wove in and out, basking in the quaint and cosy atmosphere for the café before they needed to continue with their lives. Whenever Roxas found himself in here, it was like his life had a pause button and he had pressed it in order to have all the time in the world with his best friends.

One of the older staff there, a Mrs. Clyne had known the three of them since they were young. She was acquainted with Aunt Iris, which made it easier for them to monopolise their favourite part of the café without any interruptions: the outdoor patio, decorated with flowers and shrubs, was their holy grail.

There, they could have their conversations easily without the danger of being overheard by other customers in the café. While it did not matter much to Roxas, it mattered a lot more to the Juramento siblings. They were royalty adjacent — and Roxas was too, by proxy of his father, which was the only reason they shared their thoughts with him as much as they did.

Prompto was retired, at least from the kingmaking game, but his confidences carried on through Roxas.

As a child, when he asked his father how Insomnia had fallen the first time around, he simply said that they were tricked – that they were not prepared – and he did not want to make the same mistake again, not when he had family he needed to protect. Roxas's fingers kneaded against the rim of their table, and he wondered if maybe that was why his dad was so keen on brotherhood.

Knee deep into conversation and the thoughts it provoked, Roxas didn't realise the presence of somebody else behind him until he sees Xion and Axel's eyes turn upwards. He twists on a delay, and comes face to face with stoic, gray eyes.

Before he can say a word, King Noctis Lucis Caelum places a finger to his lips. His eyes trail back to Xion and Axel, a mischievous uncertainty playing across his face, but neither moves to break his confidences.

Roxas, on the other hand, opened his mouth to say literally anything he could think of.

"Uncle Noct," Xion interjected, grinning despite the quickness of how she cut Roxas off.

Axel nodded in his uncle's direction, greeting him with a slow wave and a salute before pulling him into a strange, makeshift handshake that the two must have practiced some time before.

Roxas leaned back in response, arms rapidly folding across his chest, and ceased his protests. Apparently, this was normal.

With every second, Roxas eased back a bit, an outsider caught between three windows. He's silent until he catches sight of something even more unfamiliar — a tuft of flaxen hair peeking out from the other side of the king's shoulder.

Roxas peered around, adjusted in his seat, and rested his cheek on his fist to catch a glimpse of the girl sitting beside his ruler.

The first thing that Roxas notices about her is that she's a splitting image of Lady Lunafreya, her face somewhat obscured by the sun hat on her head.

That's his daughter, Roxas thought to himself, putting two and two together.

Finally, the King turns to him and stares at him for a long while before his eyes brighten up with recognition, as though they had met before. He made a mental note to ask Ventus and his father about it when he gets back, and his knuckles shuffled idly against each other.

"This is Roxas," Axel announces, gesturing grandly to his starstruck friend. "Y'know, Prompto's of kid? He's the bad-boy twin."

It's Roxas's turn to punch Axel.

Xion and the blonde-haired girl let out a shared chuckle and it doesn't take long to notice how easily Xion falls into the conversation. Despite her usual discomfort and her general distaste for people, she didn't seem to mind the King or his daughter, and her words came easier than Roxas expected. It was wild that she wasn't just as pinned as he was, even if she did know the king personally, apparently.

It was just that she usually felt like such a fly on a log, and now, faced with these two strangers, she'd become a flower on the wall.

Instead, it's Lil Lady Lunafreya that keeps striking him as uncertain, but he can't shake the welcoming look in her eye. Instead of the glaciers he expected them to be, every word thawed them out into warm skies.

"He does have the right hair," Noctis mused, fingers framing his chin.

"The right hair?"

"I once told your father that his hair looks just like a Chocobo's butt," Noctis informed Roxas, as if that made it somehow less spectacular. "It must run in the family."

Roxas hoped the King couldn't see him blushing. His tan complexion was supposed to hide that — it was part of why he didn't mind being the one to do all the choring. Trying not to think about it, or the way that the princess on the other side of the table stared at him while he hid his face, he let Noctis continue.

"It helps that we've met before too. When you and your brother were little, I met you on a trip across the sea. Your father always had a thing for travel. Nice to meet you, down the line."

Roxas, now a tomato and not at all a functioning teenager, took a second to cope with the fact that the King of his country probably knew what he looked like as a baby.

"It's, uh, nice to meet you too, your majesty," Roxas managed, mouthing the final two words as if they might keep Noctis's little secret between the five of them. "Dad talks about you all the time. Not, uh, about your daughter at all, but it's nice to meet her too."

At the mention of her name, even indirectly, the girl leaned to her father, whispering something in a hushed tone that he couldn't quite hear. Roxas observed the way that Noctis leaned close to Axel, passing on the message before the redhead proceeds to the counter to help the royal order himself a drink.

It was a very smart move on his part. No wonder he ended up being the King.

"Hello, Roxas," she greeted him with an air of elegance imbued into her words, something that was typical of someone raised in royalty — something that Roxas was far from accustomed to.

"Uh, hi," he greeted back, just as eloquently. "You said your name was, uh...?"

"My name is Naminé," she said, her tone so musical that he couldn't shake the feeling that she might secretly out her identity as an angel at any minute. She did look like an one, if nothing else, and it was so easy to get lost looking at her that he only stopped staring when she spoke and broke him out of his trance. "Xion and Axel have told me a lot about you. Your father used to send family photos to my father on a more frequent basis."

Xion leaned in to join in the conversation.

"Naminé here is like a sister to me," she commented. "We've known each other since we were kids."

That made sense. He should have figured Xion had her own life, that she and Axel didn't just wait for the days he came into the city.

"Oh," he said. "Do you and your dad come here often, then?"

"Not often," she admitted, voice soft. "But when we can, we do."

"I guess he's a pretty busy guy."

"Yes. But he likes to take me places, sometimes, when there's not much work left for the day."

"Doesn't his security detail get, like, mad at him?"

"They do," she said.

"Roxas, don't be an idiot," Xion interjected. "King Noctis is probably stronger than his guards. They're just there for show."

"And for me," Naminé acquiesced, though from her tone, he could tell that she agreed with Xion.

"I guess there aren't many safer places to be," Roxas figured. "You know, other than right by your dad. My old man says he's super tough."

"Uncle Gladio too," Xion said.

"Roxas, doesn't your father own a chocobo farm?" Naminé suddenly inquired, leaning forward so that her elbows rested daintily upon the table.

"Yeah."

"And he also owns an armory, doesn't he?"

"Well, uh," Roxas began, rubbing nervously at the back of his head. She was looking at him so innocently, so full of genuine curiosity, that he couldn't bring himself to lie to her. "Yeah. We sell birds. Birds and guns."

"Mm," she hummed, her finger coming to the junction of her lips.

"He knows it's, like, real illegal," Roxas stumbled, trying to cover his tracks. "But you gotta do what you gotta do. He's just trying to provide for us, so, like, probably don't tell your dad or…"

"Don't worry. His secret is safe with me."

Roxas believed that.

"So, uh, what's your dad do—"

Oh, on all things holy, how he wished he could've just bashed his head into the edge of the table.

"No, I mean, like, what's it like being a princess or — or some other question. What's it like, with your dad being King? That's what I meant to say."

Xion kicked him under the table and Roxas grunted.

Naminé, meanwhile, thought about the question, her gaze flickering over to where her father and Axel were lingering at the counter. It looked like they'd ordered the table another round of drinks in general, but it wasn't hard to spot the presence of two, caustic-white to-go cups.

Roxas's brow furrowed, but he didn't say anything about it.

"Well," she finally decided. "I can't really say. I've never had a father other than mine to compare."

Roxas sank a little lower in his chair for a second, but paused when he saw Naminé perk up a little, her pensive demeanor fading.

"Though, I think it would be nice to have a farmer and a gunsmith for a father. It sounds very exciting. I'd love to meet him, one day."

"Haven't you already?"

"No," she admitted. "He and my father haven't spoken in a while. I'm not sure why."

"Probably the gun thing," Xion observed, and Roxas remembered only in that second that she'd even been there in the first place.

"That could be it," Naminé answered, looking just as stoic as her father. "But it's clear they still care about each other. So that's all that matters."

Roxas blinked, straightening a little in his seat.

"How can you tell something like that?"

"Well, I can't imagine he'd let me be alone with you if he didn't trust your father a lot," she admitted. "Even with Xion around, he can be… protective, sometimes."

It took Roxas a second to process what she said. When he did, he turned to Xion, his fingers curling around the edge of the table.

"Have we really never talked about your uncle being the king, before, Xion? This feels important."

"It's come up, but I mean…"

Naminé, noticing the girl's discomfort, suggested a conclusion to her statement. "What is there to say about it?"

To Roxas, it felt like there were a billion and one different things to say about it. Especially since he hadn't really thought about it in detail at all before that very night. It was sort of strange, and now, faced with the evidence of it for the first time, it left him feeling a little beleaguered.

Seeing that he didn't have any real means of getting back, the King had offered to drive him the next day, considering that it was one of the few chances he got that he could ignore his kingly duties.

"It'd be nice to see Prompto again," Noctis said, but there was a nuance of something else there that only his father would know. "Maybe catch up."

The ride back would have been a tad bit awkward had it not been for Roxas falling asleep, his forehead pressed against the window. He dreamt of forget-me-nots and snow white tulips until Naminé finally shook him awake in the back seat.

Dumping his bag unceremoniously by the feet of the sofa, Roxas made himself comfortable on the couch as the scent of mushroom soup wafted into the room and made it past his nostrils. Roxas inhaled it and let out a contented sigh: they were going to have Peppery Daggerquill Rice, accompanied by Quillhorn soup.

"Welcome b—" Prompto greeted, coming to an abrupt pause. Roxas pursed his lips together, not liking the way his father had fixated his gaze upon him – for an unnaturally long second – before looking around him, fixating on the two night passengers who wandered in through the doorway behind him.

Noctis was inspecting an old portrait with his daughter, his thumbs smoothing over the glass panel that covered his once young face, when he looked up at Prompto.

"Noct," Prompto managed, after a second.

"Hey," Noctis responded, offering his friend a nod.

Prompto's eyes flickered to Naminé — the spitting image of her mother, cast anew in pale porcelain — and then back toward his son. There was some sort of tension there, waiting to broil beneath the surface like water left on the stove. The eldest blond's fingers fumbled over each other and he stepped, nimbly, into the room. There was a strange chill about him that Roxas hadn't felt in a while.

"Long time no see, huh?"

"Been busy," Noctis replied. His hand flocked to his hair.

"Yeah, being, uh, king and all. I figured."

"Look, Prompto, I—"

"Roxas, wasn't Ven with you?" Prompto asked, changing the subject before either of them could get started on whatever thaw work they needed. "I told you to take him with you."

"I left him home," Roxas explained, not yet putting the pieces together. "He was still asleep when I left, so I didn't bother him."

"He wasn't home when I came back from choring, so I—"

Prompto froze, and Roxas saw a distant crag in his father's eyes crumble. At once, it was as if everyone in the room were putting all the pieces together in sequence.

Ven was like his father. Getting a late start to the day didn't mean he was gonna leave the day's tasks undone. He would have set out maybe a little later than Roxas had.

Later than Roxas, who had gotten to the city just before dark.

And if he'd left, and he thought he couldn't make it...

"Roxas," Prompto croaked. "Go to your room. Make sure he's not just tucked away in there. I'm gonna make a call."

Roxas took a glance out of the window: the sun was setting, its shape about to disappear behind the mountains.

Ventus was always back before the light completely faded from the skies.

While Roxas came to the same realization as the others, Prompto dove into action, calling everyone and anyone who came to mind. As he expected, he could hear his father talking to Uncle Gladiolus. It was no secret that Ven wanted to be part of the Crownsguard, just like their father once had been. His training sessions were mostly held at the Amicitia household. There were times where Roxas would accompany him and watch him spar with Terra. There were also times where he would join in with his brother to double team against Terra, much to Uncle Gladio's dismay — but it was likely that Ven went there, if he made it to the city at all.

Fishing out his phone, Roxas did his part by dialing Ven as soon as he got to his bedroom. As the ringtone continued on, he could hear his father talking to Aqua next. Roxas could only wonder how many people he was going to call before his brother finally reached home, safe and sound.

It went to voicemail five or six times before Roxas settled on leaving a message, long after the sound of dialing in the other room came to a stop.

Hi, this is Ven! If you're looking for me, I'll get back to you later! Please leave a message after the beep! Chat later!

"Hey, are you on the way back home?" Roxas asked, a tincture of concern evident in spite of the way he held himself together. He needed to be strong, for his father's sake too. "Dad's freaking out. Don't tell me you're out after dark. Call me back."

When the recording ended, Roxas basked in the silence for a room before composing himself and walking out to meet his father… who was nowhere to be found.

"Dad?" he called out, fear tinged at the edges of his words. If there was one thing Roxas hated, it was being alone at home. Even with Noctis and Naminé in the room with it, he had a feeling they would not stay.

The dark outside of the ranch was full of terrors big and small, the sort that spooked the birds and left massive tracks across the earth in the dead of night.

More than being alone, he feared inaction, and the consequence that prickled at the rear of his mind: that perhaps his brother was missing due to his decision, and his choice not to wake him up earlier than he needed to.

He had a bag packed full of arms and ammo before he knew it, and he was halfway out the door of his room when he heard the familiar sound of a car door slamming shut outside.

"Yo," Prompto called, stepping through the door. He sounded harried, breathless. "Roxas! Roxas?"

"Dad, you need to chill," Roxas tried to assuage him, hoping that his presence would calm the older man. "Ven's an idiot. He probably just… like, lost track of time."

His father looked hesitant to just wait around and twiddle his thumbs, but Roxas wasn't going to allow his father to storm out of the house and end up running into the dark. Even if he had Noctis with him. Even if it were a better idea than just him going alone. Even if Roxas hadn't fostered the same idea just seconds prior.

"Okay. Another half an hour and if Ven isn't back by then," Prompto took a deep breath. "I'm going out there to look for him."

He turned his gaze towards his youngest son, petting him gently on the head.

The smile that he flashed next was so sincere that it nocked an arrow in Roxas's throat. It was the epitome of the man his father was: Prompto Argentum, he who gave more than he could ever allow himself to take; the one who hid his despair behind smiles and jokes; the one whose heart was big enough to put everyone else beyond himself that it was overwhelmingly blinding.

"Then let me go with you," Roxas offered but he was met with a sharp, stern look.

"No can do."

"What do you mean no?" Roxas retorted, rage filling him quickly. "He's my brother, and you were about to—"

"You are my sons," Prompto said curtly. Both eyes and the full force of the guilt held within them leveled on Roxas, and for just one second, the youngest Argentum wondered what it felt like to stare down from the hammer behind his father's barrels on a bad day. "I won't lose you both."

Noctis put a hand on his friend's shoulder at the mention of loss. Fingers squeezed down gently, and he inhaled. It was clear that he wanted to say something, but that he knew better.

Roxas knew the root of it, whether the others did or not.

He hadn't understood the why or how-comes on the day he learned his mother wasn't coming home. All he understood was the way his father crumbled at the mention of her, and how forcefully he shirked all semblance of responsibility since that day. He remembered the change in their dinners, and that his father's shoulders looked a lot broader than they once did.

The bitter font of loss was not something Prompto Argentum dared drink from a second time.

"Be careful," was all Roxas offered, disgruntled, before a relieved grin broke out on his father's face.

The next thing he knew, his hair was being ruffled and a gun was being shoved gingerly into his hands: his father's favourite handgun. He could tell it was because of the intricate design etched into the metal surface that was achievable by the hands of the finest gunsmith in Insomnia. Beyond that, he knew the weight from childhood, and irresponsible days spent training on the range out back.

"Only if you promise to take care of your brother for me, if he gets home first," Prompto answered. "And give him, like, a really stern lecture."

"I promise."

"And tell him it's from me, okay?"

"... Sure, Dad."

"And that I totally said all of it?"

"Yeah."

"Alright."

Prompto patted his son on the arm.

"Time's up, then. I'll be back soon. Gotta go, kiddo."

It took Roxas a couple of steps to realise that it hadn't been half an hour yet and he groaned in annoyance.

8:30pm.

That was what the clock said.

Had it not been for the fact that Naminé was left behind, Roxas was sure that he'd have died from his feelings about the entire situation. Not only that, he'd probably have been terrified because he was alone at home and that any knock on the door could potentially mean something more than just a customer.

Living out in the wild, away from the city, certainly had its setbacks.

"Roxas, they'll be alright," Naminé reassured him, having watched him pace back and forth since their fathers had departed on a search for Ventus together. "My father once said that whenever your father was with him, he felt like he could do anything. They're stronger together, that much I'm certain of."

A pause, a brief silence, if only to study the expressions of the boy before her.

"In a way, your father was like a pillar of strength to my father. Without him, I don't think my father would have saved the entirety of Eos years ago," she continued, her voice bringing about a much needed calm and a sense of serenity that spread throughout the entire house.

Roxas took a seat on the couch across her, watching the young woman before him carry herself in such a manner becoming of her status and yet, unbecoming of someone so young such as herself. If Roxas wasn't wrong, they weren't too far apart in age, and Xion had known her since they were kids, which meant Axel knew her about the same length of time.

Suddenly, the girl let out a giggle.

"I can hear you thinking. If you've got questions, I don't mind answering them. It's nice to have friends beyond the palace— friends that are not bound to me by duty," Naminé admitted, her eyes softening at the edges.

"Naminé, how old are you?" he inquired, wanting to know more about the daughter of his father's best friend. Plus, what she had said intrigued him: the fact that Noctis trusted her to be alone with him spoke volumes of something.

"Fifteen. I've been homeschooled most of my life but my parents decided that it would be a good idea to let me attend a public school when the holidays end."

"Which school?"

"I believe it's the same one that my father and your father attended," she answered, confirming Roxas's suspicions. His thoughts lingered on the way the both of them had greeted with each other: there was an air of awkward tension between them — the one that Naminé had spoken of earlier.

Noctis Lucis Caelum and Prompto Argentum held each other in high regard but from what he had observed, there seemed to something hanging in between them, although Roxas could not put his finger on it. It was as though the King wished for the past to replay once again so that he could relish all the time he had in the world before he had to grow up.

"Adulting sucks," he heard his father once complaining to his mother, who had swiftly pulled back a finger to hit him on the forehead, but there was a tenderness between them that Roxas, at that point in time, could not quite fathom and yet, he could see it.

If they were best friends, then why was his father so chilly towards Naminé's father?

The two of them continued firing off questions until Roxas got fed up when he looked at the clock once more: it was 9:15pm, and still no sign of them, no calls or anything. Not even a single message from Ventus and that was when the younger Argentum had been forced to accept that this was so unlike his brother. Ever since their mother had passed away, it had been a mutual agreement to, at the very least, let their father know that they were alive and well.

"I'm going," he announced as he emerged from his room, dressed in a plain black turtleneck top with the sleeves covering the expanse of his arms; it was adorned with a zipper of his iconic symbol, the diagonal cross. Paired with a pair of grey jeans and black sneakers, he made sure that his phone and wallet were on him and the gun tucked into his back pocket, hidden underneath the hem of his top.

What he certainly had not expected was Naminé grabbing him by the wrist, tugging him back.

"Don't go," she requested, her words firm but far from demanding. In fact, it was almost like a plea. When Roxas turned to her, he could see the storm brewing in her eyes, almost appearing as stoic as her father.

Roxas studied her for a minute, tried to search her eyes for the many great unknowns that probably waited there. He studied the flecks in her blue skies, noted how resolute the frail looking girl before him was in comparison to the girl he expected her to be when they met.

The memory of his father's eyes crumbling flashed through his mind and he knew he his choice.

"Alright," Roxas relented. "Thirty more minutes."