A/N: This is the fourth in a series of stories designed to fill in the holes of the XV plot. As such, and as far as I could make it, this series is canon-compliant. Footnotes are available on the AO3 version explaining certain plot decisions and references. Please note, this particular story covers content that has not yet been confirmed by Episode Ignis. In the event that it alters the compliance of this story, a chapter will be added in December to correct potential discrepancies since I have been asked by fans of the original posting not to alter the story as it stands right now. Enjoy!

Chapter One: Tides of Change

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Altissia was practically in ruins as the Hydraean raged at the altar. They'd done everything they could, but Prompto honestly didn't think the First Secretary had any clue what was going to happen when Leviathan awoke. Buildings had been uprooted, torn asunder and thrust into the waves that cut Noct off from the rest of the city; the seas were a roaring mess, and there was no way they were going to get boats into or out of the place. Add to that the empire hovering overhead, waiting for the opportunity to take down Leviathan before she could give Noct her blessing, and things were going to shit pretty quick. It was no wonder Camelia had been worried about her people's safety if Lady Lunafreya woke the sea serpent.

Not that everything had gone according to her plan. It had been hard enough to agree to leave Noct by himself and help get everyone away from the destruction—but evacuating the entire city? There wasn't anywhere to go that would be safe from this thing!

For a goddess, she sure does have a bad attitude.

As if in answer to his unspoken thought, the roar of the sea beast rent the air, and Prompto covered his ears against the deafening noise.

"Aww, come on, already!" he shouted, as if Leviathan gave a damn that he was annoyed.

Well, maybe annoyed wasn't the right word. Wave upon wave of imperial soldiers and MTs came at them on their way towards the altar, and Prompto was past the point of tired. He was past the point of exhausted, but they had to keep this up—for Noct's sake.

If he didn't get that blessing after everything they'd done to get this far… Prompto didn't even want to think about it.

Grunting with the exertion that was starting to strain his muscles, Prompto ducked beneath a Magitek assassin's sword and shot straight up into its faceplate. The metal twisted beneath the force of his bullet, but the machine didn't go down despite the electricity sparking and hissing through the opening. It swung around, waving its two blades like arcing wings, and Prompto rolled to the side as he fired off another shot. This one missed, and the assassin was hot on his heels.

"All right," he huffed, trading out his firearm for the big guns—or should he say circular saw. "You asked for it!"

Prompto fired up the machine just as the assassin's blades came down to shear his head from his shoulders. Flipping it to the side at the last moment, he sawed straight through its arms like a hot knife through butter, letting out a whoop of weary elation as he took its stupid head right off its now defenseless body.

"Wooooo-hoo-hoo-hoo!" he crowed, hopping up in the air. His victory was short-lived, however.

"Prompto, eyes forward!"

Sometimes, Ignis was such a buzzkill. A useful buzzkill, but still.

Prompto whirled around just in time to duck beneath the sudden barrage of bullets that sprayed in his direction with a yelp. He just managed to shake off the instinct to curl into a ball, reminding himself that he was a member of the goddamn Crownsguard now and should act like it. Rather, he rolled along the ground as enemy fire tore up the spot he'd been in mere seconds previously. With a breathless (and slightly hysterical) laugh of relief, he huddled behind a pile of rubble, all that was left of one of the less fortunate buildings near the altar, and reloaded his firearms. He couldn't help but grimace when he realized he was running low on ammunition, but there was nothing to be done for it: if he ran out, there were other ways to fight. They were all way less desirable, yet it would have to be done.

For Noct.

For everyone.

Pulling in a deep breath and holding it tight, Prompto took one moment to squeeze his eyes shut and muster whatever strength he had before whipping out of cover and firing indiscriminately toward the last place he'd spotted the empire's snipers.

A few went down but were quickly replaced, if not by other soldiers then by MTs that were all but immune to a quick bullet to the face. It was sad, really, but Prompto tried to tell himself that it was just another game at the arcade—one that was going to be really hard to beat, especially when the air suddenly turned hot and he just barely had a chance to throw himself to the ground when a blast of fire shot overhead.

Damn. Forgot they could do that!

Before he even had a chance to roll over and defend himself, there was a sound like a machine powering down accompanied by the crash of metal against stone. Frowning, Prompto glanced over his shoulder to see a pile of armor at his feet and Ignis beyond it, one eyebrow raised as he offered Prompto a hand.

"You need to remain vigilant."

Scoffing, Prompto almost spurned his help until he realized he actually did need it. He took Ignis's proffered hand grudgingly, grumbling, "I was. Coulda totally handled that."

"I have no doubt," replied Ignis dryly, approximately no votes of confidence there. Prompto would have been insulted if the ground didn't choose that moment to violently rupture beneath them, sending Prompto and Ignis hurtling through the air in different directions. All the breath in his lungs burst out in a painful huff, pain shooting up his back as he slammed into one of the few intact pillars and hit the ground hard.

Everything went dark for a second, and when the wheels in his brain started turning again, it was a struggle to so much as lift his head—his entire body was way too heavy to bother for an interminable time. Wheezing in a few shallow breaths, Prompto groaned as he eventually forced himself onto his knees, almost falling forward from the effort. If the ache in his ribs was anything to go by, that was definitely gonna leave a bruise in the morning. Whatever it was.

Once his vision cleared and stopped spinning long enough to regain his bearings, Prompto cast a look around and realized that this attack hadn't been from the empire—in fact, they appeared to be retreating even though they hadn't accomplished their mission yet. No, the ground was splitting in two right down the middle of the road, undoubtedly because of Leviathan's little tantrum not far off.

Leviathan…

The muscles in Prompto's neck protested sharply at just how fast he whipped his head to the side, his eyes going wide at the sight of the pissy goddess soaring high into the air beyond the water and a small, insignificant speck of black being batted aside like a bug hitting a windshield.

"Ignis!" he shouted, staggering to his feet. Ignis was doing the same on the opposite side of the disintegrating street, looking about as shitty as Prompto was feeling. "We've gotta go—I think Noct's in trouble!"

Ignis seemed to shake off his own pain at that, glaring in the direction that Prompto was pointing with a grave expression. He didn't have to say a word for Prompto to know exactly what he was thinking, because it was the same thought that had repeatedly run through his own mind all day: it wasn't supposed to be like this.

The worst part was that it wasn't the fight they hadn't anticipated. After what happened with Titan, it was pretty much a given that the empire would interfere, especially in a city that was technically their turf. Even the whole battling the god to earn their favor thing wasn't a big surprise—not all of them were as nice as Ramuh, it seemed. Prompto wouldn't go so far as to say that it made sense, because it totally didn't, but he wasn't exactly shocked either. Nothing that had happened since they got to Altissia was unexpected or even out of the ordinary anymore.

The fact of the matter, however, was that they were never supposed to do this at all. This was supposed to be a happy trip. Noct should have gotten married. He should have seen Lady Lunafreya before the world went to hell. They should have been able to take the ferry in Galdin rather than sailing out on the king's yacht from a secret harbor. They should have had a home to return to.

But they didn't, and there was no changing that fact. No amount of wallowing was going to alter their course, nor would it help Noct when he so obviously needed it.

Seeming to realize the same thing, Ignis ordered, "Call Gladio. Tell him to meet us at the altar."

Prompto nodded, ignoring the heavy tenor of Ignis's voice as they dashed towards the home of the goddess. Technically, this was up to Noct and Lady Lunafreya. Even though Prompto, Ignis, and Gladio were Noct's guardians and tasked with remaining at his side, it wasn't their fight this time. Their place was here, where they'd agreed to be, seeing to it that everyone was out of the line of fire. Prompto thought they'd done a good job, and Gladio was making sure the stragglers made it out alive, so surely no one would mind if they just…slipped in to help, right?

The universe didn't seem to agree.

Before he had a chance to dig his phone out of his pocket, the ground quaked again, nearly sending them to their knees as another roar reached their ears. When Prompto tried to spy what was happening over the wall of water, he found that Leviathan was no longer in the air—they couldn't see her at all, and Noct was nowhere to be found. The distance wasn't far, but it felt like they were an entire world away from where they needed to be, from the side of their brother in his hour of need.

This isn't right…

"Prompto, watch yourself!"

The warning came too late, but luck was on their side for once. Prompto screeched to a halt, Ignis right beside him, as a building in front of them collapsed into the street. Dust filled the air, attacking his lungs until all he could feel were chunks of dirt and stone he coughed up in the darkness that fell around them. They weren't alone, though. He wasn't able to see through the dust burning his eyes, but he knew that much. Mechanical footsteps echoed around them, as though they were sitting amidst a marching army, and the ground shook beneath their rhythmic gait. Prompto thought he called out for Ignis, could have sworn he heard the latter shouting his name, but there was no way to be sure if it was real or a figment of his imagination. So much of that day felt like it couldn't possibly have happened that Prompto was beginning to wonder if he was still asleep.

By the time the dust settled enough that he could get a hazy view of his surroundings, he was positive this had to be a dream—why else would the empire be retreating?

Prompto blinked, gawping uncomprehendingly as the soldiers and MTs that were supposed to be killing them filed over the rubble in the opposite direction of the altar. (At least, that was what he assumed since he could barely tell up from down at the moment.) None of them so much as paused to glance in his direction, ignoring him like he was nothing more than a harmless insect, hardly worth their time or effort. There were imperial ships in the air, but they were slowly turning around, heading back towards the sea even as the sounds of the goddess's rage still echoed in the distance. For whatever reason, they were all abandoning Altissia to whatever fate Leviathan had in store for it.

All, it appeared, save one.

If he thought getting to his feet before had been difficult, it was nothing compared to this. His legs turned to jelly beneath him, leaving him more unsteady than a flan in daylight, and the world kept spinning around and around like the worst carnival ride ever—the kind you were pretty sure was going to make you throw up but just left you hanging right on the nauseous edge of getting sick instead. Still, Prompto forced himself to soldier through the churning of his stomach and aching of his head. He couldn't just sit here!

"Ignis!" he hoarsely cried out, coughing around the dust still coating his throat. "Ardyn's heading for the altar. We've gotta move!"

Without waiting for a reply, he lurched forward in what he hoped was the right direction, trusting that Ignis would at least follow the sound of his voice until they found each other again. He didn't make it far, though; his foot caught on something hard and unyielding that sent him toppling right back to the pavement with a pained grunt. In a surge of immature, childish, petty, totally worth it frustration, Prompto made to kick whatever it was that had gotten in his way—

Only to freeze in place, his mouth hanging open when he realized what it was he'd tripped over.

There was so much blood covering Ignis's face that he wasn't sure where it was even coming from. The dust around them settled in his wounds, attempting to turn them a chalky white, but more blood oozed out to cover it with fresh, bright red. Ignis's daggers were lying a few feet away, not that he noticed: although Prompto couldn't see his face clearly, it was obvious (and probably a really good thing) that he was unconscious. His limbs were thrown haphazardly out at his sides, so very far from the poise and grace Ignis always exuded even in the worst of times. His hair, normally brown, was coated in dust and blood and rocks and who knew what else. He looked like death, and Prompto thought his heart may have stuttered to a stop in that moment.

Scrambling forward onto his knees, his hands hovered over Ignis as he tried to figure out what to do, what the hell am I supposed to do—do I move him or let him stay here or try to stop the blood but where's the blood even coming from this isn't good that's a lot of blood what do I do what do I do—

It wasn't until he registered the shallow, unsteady rise and fall of Ignis's chest that his brain stopped short-circuiting long enough for him to cobble together some semblance of a plan. Well, it probably wasn't even that, if he was being honest: get Gladio and get Ignis out of here was a pretty bad excuse for a plan, but he figured he would go with that for now. The rest, as Ignis liked to say, would have to wait for later.

Prompto had a much more difficult time getting his phone out of his pocket than he should have, but his hands were shaking and his fingers too numb for him to feel for the device. It didn't help that he kept one eye on Ignis the entire time, cataloging the barely distinguishable rhythm of his breathing just in case…just in case.

"—to, you there?"

Gladio's voice shook him from his stupor; Prompto hadn't realized he'd finished dialing and put the phone to his ear. Clearing the dirt from his throat as best he could, Prompto ground out, "Where are you?!"

"Some Niffs were blocking the evac route. Had to take care of 'em. The hell's going on?"

"Noct's in trouble, and Ignis is hurt," he replied as he gently turned Ignis over onto his back. Prompto nearly dropped the phone when he finally determined that the blood was pouring from Ignis's eyes—his glasses were gone, shattered on the ground beside Prompto's boots. Time itself seemed to stop the same way Prompto's lungs quit working, and it took a second for him to notice that Gladio was talking again. "Huh?"

"Get Ignis to the hotel," he repeated over the static in the line, slower than he usually would in the heat of battle. He was huffing with exertion, and Prompto could somehow picture Gladio sprinting through the streets, making his way towards the one person who defined his very existence. "I'll go after Noct."

Prompto hesitated, biting his lip. They didn't have time for this, but…

There's nothing we can do, not right now, he argued with himself, squinting through the deepening gloom at the mountainous waves that still separated them from the altar. Knowing there was no way they could help didn't stop his mind from buzzing with a million scenarios, each less comforting than the last. Ardyn had to have arrived by now, and Noct was all alone. Or maybe that wasn't entirely true: he had Lady Lunafreya, but what power would she have against the Chancellor? Prompto was still fuzzy on the details, but it didn't seem like the Oracle's strength would do much against people—the gods were more her style. And then there was Leviathan…

But Ignis…

There wasn't time, nor was there much to decide. Gladio could handle things at the altar; right now, Ignis was relying on him—Noct would be relying on him—to get them to safety. The two had been friends forever, and as his advisor, Ignis was both Noct's lighthouse and his anchor. Whether as friends or colleagues, the prince needed Ignis, and it was Prompto's job to make sure Noct got what he needed on this messed up shitstorm of a journey.

"Right," he muttered to himself since Gladio had long since disconnected the call. It took every ounce of strength he possessed to sling one of Ignis's arms across his own shoulders and haul him upright, the latter's weight throwing him off balance when he was having a hard enough time standing as it was. Ignis stirred only slightly, turning his head a bit in Prompto's direction and shuffling forward as directed—but it was better than the alternative.

They left the altar behind. They turned their backs on the wall of water and their friends as they made their way back through the empty, demolished streets towards the hotel. It was no use heading for the First Secretary's home—the mansion was too close to the center of the action, and there was no guarantee they would be welcome without Noct as their ticket—so they would have to make do and pray to the gods that weren't currently wreaking havoc on humanity that the others would be so lucky.