Series: Part 2 of the Onus series
Soundtrack: Search "Of Succession || FFXV" on Spotify
Related Fics:
Of Endurance (Part 1 of Onus series)
Of Decision (Part 3 of Onus series)
Author's Notes: This is the second fic in my series Onus, which is a sort-of prequel to my series Shattered Dreams. That said, this story is standalone and, while the previous installment may provide some context, it is not necessary to have read Of Endurance before reading this.
Toddlers knew an uncanny amount about ruling a kingdom.
For all that adults liked to tell children how little they understood about the world, parents knew better. While it may have been the case that there was so much babies had yet to learn, it was also true that there was so much they had yet to forget.
For instance:
Failure is inevitable. But when Noctis fell, he got right back up without ever wondering if he had fallen because he wasn't meant to walk. Everyone falls, sometimes.
Everything is worth noting. Most people passed by that cracked tile in the garden five times a day and had long since forgotten it was there. But every time they went for a walk, Reina had to sit down and stick her fingers in the gap. Regis never stopped her. Someday, when everyone else passed by that forgotten man standing on the street corner with a sign, she would stop. She would keep noticing.
Hunger and fatigue are perfectly legitimate reasons to scream and cry. Incidentally, if you happened to be the king, it was best to do this where no one could see.
Risks are necessary for progress. Somewhere between childhood and adulthood, people forgot this; they began practicing caution even at the price of everything else. Meanwhile, Noctis climbed headfirst out of his highchair because he had no sense of self-preservation and how ever was he going to get the noisy frog toy before his sister if he didn't get out immediately?
Sometimes it is difficult to notice things from so high up. At a foot and a half off the ground, Reina never missed the steady march of a line of ants, the pretty pebbles in the garden, or the somewhat fuzzy blueberry that had rolled under the couch at least a fortnight ago. The important thing to remember, at six feet off the ground, was that a different perspective would always reveal new things. Also, that if she put that blueberry in her mouth (which she would) she would absolutely be sick later that night.
No matter how poorly things go, never give up. No matter how often they fell, they always got back up. No matter how often they were told they could not have cookies for dinner, they always asked. And, yes, sometimes they screamed and cried and threw themselves dramatically upon the floor when life was looking especially dismal from a foot and a half off the ground, but they never gave up.
And those, as far as Regis could tell, were the primary tenants of ruling a kingdom.
Any two-year-old could do his job.
"Cookie!"
"No."
"Cookie now!"
Well. Perhaps not that two year old.
Noctis rocked in his high chair and screamed. His nanny, Creare Vinculum, dodged a flailing fist and swiped his face with a washcloth.
But the other one…
Across the table, Reina regarded her brother with a level stare and shoved six blueberries into her mouth.
"Reina, too many!" Crea had eyes on the back of her head. It was the thing Regis envied second most about her.
The first was that she got to spend all day with his children.
"I would allow you to eat as many blueberries as your little heart desires." Regis stuck his hand in front of Reina's mouth and received six half-chewed, very damp blueberries. "Except the fuzzy ones."
Crea shot him a smile over her shoulder as she pulled Noct out of his high chair and set him on the ground. "Go play, then, you little monster!"
Regis was beginning to understand why they called them the 'terrible twos,' but, even so, no amount of screaming, crying, and exercising their right to say 'no' as loudly and emphatically as possible could keep him from coming back for more.
Noctis shot off, as fast as his tiny legs would take him, out of the kitchen and into the adjacent room.
"Dada!" Reina said.
"Yes, my dear?"
"Booberry!"
Everything was an exclamation at two.
Regis turned to find her holding a blueberry out to him. Never mind the fact that her little fingers were covered in baby drool—pardon, toddler drool—he ate it anyway.
"When she starts trying to convince other people to eat her breakfast, it means the meal is over." Crea passed him the washcloth. "Here. Make yourself useful."
"I do try." Perhaps he didn't have Crea's fist-dodging prowess, but Reina was passably clean when he was done with her. Likely because Reina rarely tried to punch people for taking a washcloth to her face. Unlike her twin.
"Your Majesty?"
The door out to the hall was open (which meant Noctis was trying to get out), and a voice called in from the outside.
"Here, Weskham—is it that time already?" Regis lifted Reina out of her high chair, intending to deposit her on the ground as Crea had done to Noctis, and found her resistant. She held onto his arms and refused to put her feet down.
Just because she was more reserved didn't mean she wasn't also more stubborn.
"I'm afraid so, Sire." Weskham, his friend and steward, appeared in the kitchen doorway holding Regis' cape and crown.
It was a hassle to have cape and pauldron strapped in place while his daughter refused to relinquish her hold on his suit, but what was life without a challenge, anyway? Besides, Weskham was a professional. When he was through, it wasn't even crooked.
Weskham pulled a comb from his breast pocket and flattened Regis' mused hair back before hooking the crown behind his ear.
"I swear, if you were ever to leave, Lucis would fall," Regis said.
Or, at least, Lucis' king would look considerably less kingly in the mornings. And in the afternoons. And the evenings, as well.
He would probably, also, miss a meeting or five.
Weskham only smiled.
The nursery was a small suite of rooms. Ostensibly, it was fit to grow with the prince and princess as necessary. In reality, they were likely to start bickering as soon as they were old enough to understand that siblings were people, too, and they would be put in separate rooms for everyone's sanity. Mostly for everyone else's sanity. But, for now, it was a nursery—complete with two cribs, a set of rocking chairs, three bookcases full of brightly colored books, and half a dozen crates and shelves lined with toys. Or they were meant to be lined with toys, but in practice the toys were usually strewn across the floor in a veritable minefield of sharp points.
Attached, on either side of the nursery were a kitchen and dining area, and a bathroom—which was done up with little chocobos. Very cute. Regis tried not to let his envy show.
At the moment, the nursery was home to Crea—who was dragging Noctis back in through the open hall door—and a pair of nurses who were valiantly trying to clear the obstacle course before the king or his steward stepped on a plastic block.
It was always wise to wear shoes in the nursery.
"My dear, I fear that I really must go," Regis said.
Reina stared at him, mouth set, and held tight to his suit jacket. She knew what the words meant. She just didn't want to acknowledge them.
"I promise to come back."
Her bottom lip protruded, just enough to let him know she didn't find this tradeoff acceptable. A little wrinkle formed on her smooth forehead. And those eyes! How could he say no to her mother's eyes?
"Do you see what I have to contend with, Weskham?"
"Yes, Sire." He was trying not to laugh.
Regis lowered to put her on the ground. She didn't scream. She didn't wail. She just held onto his suit for all she was worth, keeping her legs clamped securely at his waist.
"Crea. I need you to rescue me."
Crea deposited a loudly complaining Noctis among his quickly disappearing toys and came to Regis' rescue.
"For every ounce that Noctis is loud, Reina has two ounces of stubbornness. Come on, little princess; Dad can't take you to court with him." She managed to slide one hand between Reina and Regis and began to pry tiny fingers from the front of his suit.
"She comes by it honestly," said Weskham.
"I know," Crea said, still working at Reina's grasp.
"What is this? How dare you speak of your king in such an offhand manner? This is conspiracy. This is treason. I will not tolerate this sort of talk. Respect your king, Steward!"
He wasn't fooling anyone.
Crea managed to detach Reina from Regis and lifted her out of his arms.
Reina did scream for that. She screamed like a fire engine and reached, for all she was worth, toward Regis even as Crea pulled her away.
Tiny tears formed in her bright blue eyes.
"Ah, little princess! I cannot stay, even if you cry."
Would that he could.
"Dada…"
He caught her hand so she wouldn't grab his face and leaned in to give her a scratchy kiss. She held onto his finger, forcing him to break her grasp as he pulled away again.
"As soon as I can, I swear I will return."
The idea of future benefits didn't register well in growing minds. She didn't stop crying, but he pulled himself away all the same.
"Noctis! Have a wonderful day, little prince." He swept Noct off his feet; he nearly got hit in the face with a yellow block, but with record reaction time he managed to give Noct a kiss and put him back on his feet, all the while avoiding a red mark on his forehead.
"Bye-bye, Dada!" Noctis waved the block.
Reina had stopped screaming, but she was still making intermittent sounds of discontent as she rubbed her eyes. Regis waved to her even as he backed away toward the door. She waved back. He tore himself away and turned down the hall.
"What is the time?" He asked.
Weskham pulled a pocket watch from his vest. "Seven-fifty, precisely."
It was a good thing that the Crownsguards at the end of the hall held the doors open for him and Weskham, or Regis would have run into them as he stared.
"Do you always come to fetch me early?"
"Most usually, Sire." Weskham put the watch back in his pocket. "I have judged that you will not be on time to court without a fifteen minute buffer to say goodbye to the little prince and princess."
"If you were ever to leave," Regis repeated, "Lucis would fall."
From the moment he walked through the throne room doors, he was king once more. Weskham might have argued that he was always king, but Regis did his very best not to be, inside the nursery. Noctis and Reina would grow up unable to escape from their bloodline; they didn't need him trying to be a king as well as their father on top of that. Better that they remain separate. Or as separate as was possible. Inevitably, the kingdom called.
And so he went. Beyond those double doors, Lucis waited; a long marble floor tiled up to the stairs—above sat his throne and, on either side, the seats of the council. Those were already filled when Regis arrived, leaving Weskham at the door. The shuffle of feet and the rustle of fabric echoed as all twelve councillors rose.
Clarus—royal adviser, King's Shield, and his oldest friend—met him at the throne.
"News from Accordo, Sire," Clarus said.
"The unrest?" Regis took his seat.
That had been brewing for years. Lucis had long assumed it would come to nothing—presumably the empire believed the same, for they had done nothing to placate Accordo's people, thus far. And yet, in the past few months, tensions had been growing. Rumblings in the capital city spoke of renewed support to shrug off the imperial hand on their shoulder.
"Operatives in Altissia report that yesterday a group of several hundred civilians stood in silent protest outside the manor. Their demands have been issued through various channels—it comes down to much the same thing each time: they wish to govern themselves, and now they have enough support, at least, to organize a march. Niflheim may well be rethinking their complacent hold on Accordo."
"We should send representatives immediately." From the council galley, Felice Antares, Master of Services, spoke. "If there is some chance that we might rekindle old ties with Accordo, we must waste no time."
"You forget yourself, Master Felice." Aldebrand Thuban, Master of the Treasury, leaned forward to speak. "If we were to forge a new alliance with Accordo, we would be obligated to aid in their revolution. That will only lead to more Lucian lives lost on the battlefield—have we not enough trouble of our own with the empire?"
"If we could muster our strength and theirs," Felice insisted, "We will both stand a better chance against Niflheim."
Aldebrand shook his head. "It is folly. We should wait and let the trouble in Altissia run its course. If Accordo breaks free from the empire, then, perhaps, we might open talks of treaties and alliances with them."
"If they have already won their revolution, what incentive could we possibly offer them?" Felice asked.
"They will still have Nifhleim to contend with, revolution or no," Aldebrand said. "They will not lightly turn down an olive branch."
Given the chance, Felice and Aldebrand would be at each other's throats all morning. Regis glanced at Clarus.
Clarus needed no more telling that that. "As of yet, there is no revolution. It is mere talk and peaceful protests. This may well end peacefully, yet."
"But, correct me if I err, Master Clarus, we might plant a seed and encourage it to grow in that direction." When the Master of Justice, Hamon Carina, spoke, others quieted. Perhaps because it happened so rarely. Perhaps because he had a way of putting his finger on the truth that everyone else was dancing around—however ugly it may have been.
"Are you suggesting that we incite revolution?" Felice was aghast. She ought to have expected it from him, by now.
"I am merely stating that it could be done, if His Majesty wished it." Hamon spread his hands.
He also had a way of bringing the discussion to ground in a few words.
Regis sat forward in his throne. "Clarus, how many operatives have we stationed in Altissia at the moment?"
"Half a dozen, all deeply undercover, Your Majesty."
The prospect of an alliance with Accordo—the first in a hundred and fifty years—was a tempting one. Niflheim had a mighty army, one difficult to battle with traditional soldiers. If they could stay in the shadows and offer aid to Accordo, it might be worth the trouble. But a few hundred civilians were an insufficient force to support.
"For the moment we will wait. Let Accordo stew while we observe. If this trend gains momentum, it may well be worth the risk to extend our hand in alliance. Until then, your operatives will remain hidden and report all developments."
"Very good, Your Majesty." Clarus motioned to one of the attendants across the hall as he descended the steps to deliver the necessary orders.
The usual lull in discussion formed as they laid one subject to rest, before Aldebrand brought up the next. "Sire, concerns have been raised, among the corporations, about the most recent iteration of the tax plan."
Someone was always unhappy with taxes. Nevertheless, he sat through the complaints; the goal was to minimize the discontent while maximizing the income. It was a delicate line to walk.
From taxes they moved on to roads—engineers recommended bridge maintenance for the mainland connector and they had more road patching than the budget allowed for after an unexpectedly rough winter. Then there was the housing market and the still-new export regulations. And then. And then. And then.
It wasn't uncommon for it to be dark—even in the summer—by the time he had any space to breathe.
It also wasn't uncommon to miss bedtime.
The nursery was unlit, but for a single night light casting the shadows of their cribs on the far wall. Regis stopped and leaned in the doorway. A nurse sat in the corner chair, where he was used to seeing Crea. For the life of him, he couldn't remember her name. Likely, he ought to have paid more attention to his own childrens' caretakers, but…
Just more excuses.
She looked up when he entered and leapt to her feet. He motioned for her to sit—a practiced motion—and pressed his finger to his lips as he crept forward.
Both twins were asleep in their respective beds. It wasn't so long ago that he would come at this time of night and find them still awake… or that he would stay through the night so he could be present when they woke hungry. As much as he appreciated the changes—watching them learn new words, teaching them, speaking to them, answering increasingly frequent questions—it hadn't occurred to him just how much more he would miss once they had a more normal schedule.
And when they went to school? When they left for the day, earlier even than he was expected in court? When they were gone all day and he was gone all evening, would he ever see them?
He reached out to touch Noctis' hair and resettle his blankets.
They didn't have to go away to school, surely. It would be a simple task to hire tutors and give them a far better education than they would have anywhere in the city. Then they would be present all day. Whenever he had a spare moment he could come and see them; they would be right here waiting for him.
Right up until they grew up and tired of waiting for a father who never came home when he said he would.
"Forgive me, Reina, my dear." He smoothed her hair back and brushed a finger over her silken cheek. "I did come as soon as I was able."
But that didn't matter to a two year old. As far as she knew, he had never returned. How many more promises to her would he break before she was old enough to count them? How many after she started counting would it take before she stopped believing him?
He sighed, tucked the blankets up to her shoulders, and stepped away. His eyes caught on the nurse, who was sitting on the very edge of her chair and watching him for any sign that she should stand up, again.
"Forgive me," he said, keeping his voice low, "But I cannot recall your name."
"Jenet, Your Majesty." She rocked on the edge of the seat, clutching the fabric as she tried to decide whether an introduction required her to be on her feet.
"Well, Jenet. Thank you for watching over them."
"Oh! Yes. Of course, Your Majesty."
Had Crea ever been so nervous around him? Surely she must have been, two years ago.
"Goodnight." He gave her a smile and a nod, which she returned only belatedly, and left his children to their rest.
Sweet dreams, my dearest ones.
A/N: Welcome back, Of Endurance readers and welcome, new readers. Sorry, I know, I said a couple weeks and then I made you wait a couple months. But we are moving forward, now! You might notice this chapter is pretty long compared to my normal chapters (or maybe not, idk). For some reason, all the chapters in this are like 3-4k... I don't really know why it happened, but it did. I can make them shorter, I guess, because I know there's a point at which chapters really get too long, but I don't think we've passed that, yet. But, anyway, let me know if 4k is too long. This is actually one of the shorter ones, so far, I think.
