Author's Note: Some spoilers for the game, but diverges from canon after Chapter 9. This assumes that the empire didn't self-destruct, and the attempt to penetrate Gralea was mostly unsuccessful and called for a retreat. I was highly bothered by Gladiolus's behavior from Chapter 10 and on, particularly in regards to Noctis, and I considered how things might have ended up if the tension had only grown. Those musings led to this short, Enjoy.
He feels guilty.
It's four years into the war and they've all grown. Strangely, they're as close as ever— for some reason he had expected them all to drift apart. How wrong he was. He, Ignus, and Prompto still run missions together routinely, often joined by Noctis, who sometimes flew solo. But they all gravitated towards him any time he was around. It was like Noctis had some sort of divine draw, but that was fitting for the King of Kings. People met him and they wanted to be closer to him, to his power, to his wisdom, and to his stability.
Especially now, when he had beaten the empire nearly entirely out of Lucis.
Gladiolus can't recall ever imagining this, Noctis ruling with an iron fist over his kingdom, slowly gaining ground over the empire. Over Ardyn. Oh yes, Ardyn was still around, and now… Noctis was a match for him. The once prince had learned his games, and truly that's where Ardyn's strength lay. Even alone, Noctis could force him away from a battle field. For some reason, Gladiolus had always seen something different, some sudden victory that put Lucis back in power immediately.
The strength of their king had almost taken Gladiolus by surprise too. Looking back on it now he could see it, building slowly in will and resolve when they began their journey all those years ago. It's almost funny how he remembers Noctis, small and pale and new to battle, when compared to the Noctis he knows now. He remembers how close they were, how Noctis humored his teasing and his protectiveness. But more than that, he still remembers those terrible months after Lunafreya's death. He'll never forgive his behavior then— he remembers the incident on the train in his nightmares sometimes. No king, no prince, should be treated with such disrespect. For it to have been in public like that… It makes Gladiolus uncomfortable now. And that he laid hands on Noctis…
Gladiolus felt the air grow cold as Noctis rose from his seat in front of his war council, and he had trouble swallowing. He pushed away from the wall he leaned against, out of the shadows, and became the king's shadow as Noctis rounded the table, apparently done with the conversation. Even Gladiolus, as distanced as he was now, had known that their king wouldn't entertain talk of capturing Accordo for Lucis. It wasn't in Noctis's nature to double-cross his allies. He stayed some meters behind the king, close enough to shield him, never too far, but far enough that he didn't have to meet his king's eyes. He didn't speak.
Your words are not welcome anymore, Gladiolus. Leave or be silent.
The first command Noctis ever issued to him, eyes a stone-stiff blue and sharp with anger. His jaw had been tight as the last shreds of patience he'd had with Gladiolus had snapped. The shield had thought his prince silent in cowardice, unable to stand up for himself. He'd been taken aback, shocked numb from the harsh and sudden words, and the tone in which Noctis had spoken. Another sharp insult about to leave his lips, Noctis had turned his back on him. And Gladiolus, in that moment, felt alone for the first time in his life. In that moment all his fears came true in an entirely different way. He had feared failing in his duty, in Noctis dying before he could accomplish the great prophesied fate he had. He had feared Noctis being too weak, when truly he had only grown stronger every day, until all of a sudden he was winning most of their sparring matches.
He didn't mean for his words to turn cruel, malicious. His taunts had an edge that was too hard, too real.
He lost his place, but not his duty.
He lost his friend, but not his King.
Noctis no longer confides in him. Their late night talks around the camp fire should have become late night talks around a strategy table, but as his king's order, Gladiolus has kept his silence except when necessary to speak. He's kept out of the way. And Gods did it sting to know he wasn't trusted anymore.
He never meant for this to happen.
Noctis took an unexpected turn around a corner that snapped Gladiolus out of his memories, and the taller, darker man hurried to get the king back into his sight. When he rounded the corner he had to stop short, and rocked back onto his heels. Impossibly blue eyes met his, and Gladiolus felt his heart cringe, trapped as he was in that gaze.
"What would you do if I told you to leave?"
Noctis's voice was slow, steady. Searching. Gladiolus could almost feel the heat of his king's focus on his face. The question made his brows dip down in unease and his heart race.
Is he cutting me loose?
He shouldn't be surprised, but it hurt. It hurt like it had hurt when he found out that Lunafreya was dead, and the happy ending they all had been praying for had only existed in their dreams. It hurt like those first few days of silence, where Noctis's cold shoulder was relentless, and every word that Gladiolus dared to speak was met with a narrow stare.
"I couldn't, your Majesty."
His throat was tight again, but he stood tall, refused to back down because this was his job. It had been the duty of his family for generations. He couldn't imagine doing anything else, or the shame he would see in his father's eyes when he met him in the beyond.
Noctis studied him, and Gladiolus nearly held his breath.
"Hey! Hey Noct!", Prompto bounded down the hall, and observed the scene with quick eyes and an expression that only faltered for a moment. He kept right on going— eager to prevent any trouble and spare Gladiolus, who had watched his and Ignis's close relationship with Noctis with grief.
Gladiolus knew what Cid was talking about when he said that he regretted the falling out he had with Regis. He only wished he had seen it for the warning, the premonition, that it was.
When Gladiolus looked back to Noctis he was alarmed to find that the king's gaze hadn't wavered. He recognized the look as one of thought, decision. But whatever it was, whatever Noctis had been thinking or had been about to say… He remained silent. The ornate black cape Noctis wore caught air as he turned sharply to approach Prompto, and the two began walking towards the king's makeshift office, where Ignis waited if the coffee aroma filling the air was anything to go by.
Gladiolus didn't miss that Noctis slowed at the door, and that, when he had entered, he left it open. For the first time in three years, Gladiolus felt a hint of welcome in Noctis's actions.
He wouldn't spurn it this time.