A/N: Welcome! Before you start reading, please note that this is a joint fic written by myself and roguehearted. It was originally published on AO3, where it is possible to credit two authors. Since that isn't the case here, we decided together that it would be posted under my account with me constantly reminding you that this is also her brain child as well. (Okay, that part was mostly me.) Seven chapters are currently available on AO3, so we will be posting two chapters a day here until we are all caught up. After that, updates will occur every other Tuesday so that we can keep up with our individual stories, starting with next week! We hope you enjoy!
Chapter One: First Impressions
For as long as Noctis could remember, there had been tension and fighting between Lucis and Niflheim. He couldn't recall when that had turned into an outright war, but he was certainly going to remember the day they lostthat war.
The envoys from Niflheim would be arriving shortly, and Noctis was expected to be in attendance to receive them-a looming obligation that was doing nothing to motivate him into moving, much to Ignis's apparent dismay.
The last thing Noctis wanted to do was stand there, neatly dressed, as they signed everything away. Well, maybe not everything per the treaty's basic outline: while Niflheim would take control of the outer regions, Insomnia would be left under their command.
Noctis scoffed at the thought. How long would that last? How long would that parasitic leech of an empire be content with those terms? Noctis assumed they wouldn't be happy with just letting Insomnia remain untouched for long. They'd eventually force them under their rule as well, which was something he had ranted about to Ignis the entire time he was getting dressed. It had done nothing to improve his mood.
"Do you think that you may be able to keep your look of disdain to a minimum?" Ignis asked as they made their way to the audience chamber.
Noctis sighed, trying to fashion his appearance into a more neutral expression. He would be doing his father no favors by exuding outright hostility towards their esteemed conquerors-guests, he meant guests.
Ignis glanced over at Noctis one last time before letting out a sigh of his own. "I suppose that will do."
"I don't see why I even have to be here," Noctis muttered. The formalwear was starting to feel increasingly suffocating as they headed down the long hallway.
"His Majesty merely requested your presence. I would venture to say that your involvement in the matter sets a precedent of solidarity."
Oh, sure. Now he wants to spend time with me, Noctis thought glumly as a guard opened the door to their destination, permitting them entry.
It was difficult to remain bothered by his father's distance, though, when he was hardly the only one who had been too focused on the impending event to socialize. In fact, Gladio's absence inside the audience chamber left Noctis feeling a bit uneasy. With each day leading up to Niflheim's arrival, he had gone deeper and deeper into Shield mode. The night before, he'd told Noct that he planned on meeting up with them early in the hopes of venting some frustration before their unwelcome guests arrived, but obviously that didn't exactly pan out.
He tried not to let it throw him. Everyone had been extremely busy with preparations this morning, the Crownsguard in particular. Gladio's father likely wanted to complete a final review of the security plans, and then there were last minute checks to made before the show could begin. Noctis knew that those were all necessary precautions given who they were dealing with, but it didn't make standing around waiting for the inevitable any easier without his Shield present.
A perfect start to the day.
As if on cue, Gladio hustled through the double doors of the dinky little audience chamber they only used for less desirable guests. Without so much as a glance at anyone else present, he made a beeline for them and took his position at Noctis's side.
Of course, he didn't waste a second in surveying him with a disapproving frown. Noctis already knew that today was bound to be awful, and that fact was probably still written all over his face despite his best efforts to hide it. Ignis had thankfully kept the not so gentle nudging to a minimum, having apparently given up hope that Noctis could look delighted by the idea of hosting a group of imperial diplomats. Gladio, not so much.
"Cheer up," he muttered for Noctis's ears only. "Sooner this is over with, sooner you can get your ass beat in the training room."
That one had a smile tugging at the corners of Noctis's lips. Initially, he had been thinking about skipping out on training today, but now he was starting to think that just maybe he'd like to work off a little steam after the so-called festivities. They had to present a strong image, otherwise their unwelcome guests would think they could waltz in and run the place. Of course, they probably would anyway, but they shouldn't invite it if they could get away with it.
With that thought in mind, he squared his shoulders, standing a little taller and looking a little prouder. Noctis wasn't about to let the Niffs see that they were getting to them. It was his father who would have to put up with the worst of it anyway; Noctis didn't think he'd be able to stand being diplomatic towards the dried up marshmallow that was Emperor Aldercapt no matter how many training dummies he tore apart.
Well, usually it was Gladio who got that honor, but he could dream.
A commotion by the far window drew Noctis's attention, and he glanced over to see that a few of the council members and advisors were crowding around, attempting to sneak the first peek at the oncoming douchebag parade. Beside him, Gladio rolled his eyes at their behavior.
"Well," he grumbled while giving Noctis a friendly nudge, "sounds like we got incoming."
Well, we're already off to an awesome start.
Prompto was confident his commander had been in a worse mood than usual since the second security checkpoint they'd passed on their way to the Citadel. Loqi Tummelt, like most of the ranking Niflheim officers, had a huge ego-one that had not been flattered by being bumped nearly to the rear of the procession. Prompto would hardly consider it his fault, but somehow Loqi would see it that way. After all, Prompto was his plebeian soldier and the lucky dude they'd selected to bring with the envoys. It only made sense that Loqi would assume the best spot would be his.
And yet, here he was in the back with the rest of the scrubs, practically carrying the luggage.
Maybe it just wasn't his day. Loqi had already caught flack for the fact that Prompto was such an excellent shot but somehow still languished in the lower ranks of his battalion. Caligo had used that as an opportunity to insist that Loqi wasn't paying close enough attention to his troops, which might be true, but Prompto wasn't that concerned about climbing the ladder of the Niflheim army. And, no matter how fun it was to hear, he was even less thrilled about his commander receiving a dressing-down in front of him.
That did not endear him to Loqi at all. Not one bit.
In an eery stroke of timing, Loqi cut his eyes over to him, and Prompto could tell his commander was either crafting an insult or attempting to remember what to call him. It wouldn't be the first time.
"Remember," Loqi muttered curtly, "you can be replaced in the event you prove to be an embarrassment. You are to report to me each evening on the progress of your mission. I need not remind you what will happen if you fail."
If it weren't for the fact that they were supposed to present a united front under the wary gazes of their enemies, Prompto would have rolled his eyes. Okay, maybe he did a little anyway, but he doubted it was obvious enough to earn him Loqi's ire. This constant prodding at him was hardly specific to their present situation, and he hadn't been much better before they arrived in Lucis. His commander was constantly in a pissy mood, which had only intensified since Prompto was chosen for this job instead of him, so it wasn't like it could get much worse. Besides, what would he do? Send Prompto to scrub the barracks bathrooms again? Ha. The joke was on him: Prompto wouldn't be going back to Niflheim.
At least, he had the sinking suspicion he wouldn't. Not unless he was exceptionally lucky, and that was never in the cards for him.
Ah well. If he never had to see Gralea again, it would be too soon anyway.
"Easy there, Sir," he waved off his commander flippantly, adding the honorific as an afterthought. "Pretty sure the emperor wouldn't have hand-picked me if he thought I'd humiliate him."
Sure, it was probably pushing his luck, but they were too far now for Loqi to retaliate the way he would have in Niflheim. Otherwise, he'd have been more careful about his tone. Inside the Citadel, being led up to the audience chamber where they were expected wasn't the best place for him to do something drastic like physically remind Prompto who was in charge here. Well, he hoped so, anyway. After all, they both had jobs to do; it would be counterproductive if Prompto were too damaged to fulfill his. Loqi couldn't possibly hate him enough to cause a scene in front of the emperor.
...Never mind. That was a stupid thought.
From the looks of things, he already had his work cut out for him beyond his concerns about his commander. As impressive as the inside of the Citadel was-by far more marvelous than Gralea would ever be capable of building-the glares they received from just about everybody set Prompto slightly on edge. He was thoroughly trained (the best of his unit, even), but he wasn't stupid enough to believe that that made much difference around here. Most of these guards had magic. Niflheim may have won the war, yet he didn't want to be on the receiving end of the Crystal's power if it was truly as formidable as his briefing had indicated.
Yeah, Loqi probably wasn't the worst of his concerns on this trip. Especially not when there were guards in Lucis that looked like...well, baby behemoths with more hair.
Based on the glowers and sneers they were getting they were getting as they passed by, it was easy to assume the only thing stopping the guards from taking their heads off as they made their way into the Citadel was great restraint.
Well, it wasn't as if Prompto was expecting a warm welcome.
As the last of the envoys disappeared into the Citadel many floors below, a sort of calm descended over the room that Noctis hadn't been expecting. It wasn't until his father arrived, however, that everyone scrambled away from the windows to stand at attention. He found it more than a little difficult to keep his snicker of amusement to himself, but Noctis thought he managed it well enough. Sometimes, it amazed him just how childish grown adults could be with their drooping shoulders at the disappointment of having to return to their stations. There wasn't much more to see when the Niflheim contingent had long since passed out of their sight and were currently being escorted up the stairs, anyway.
From this distance, it appeared that the empire had arrived with a pretty interesting mix of characters given that their leader was pushing...what, nine thousand? He had no heir and had surrounded himself with equally decrepit-looking advisors. The youngest one there had to be a commander that looked like he still needed his mother present to drive. Noctis had said as much while Ignis was going over their guest list with him.
There was also the unique addition of one of their soldiers, though there hadn't been much information on him, so Noctis hadn't given it much thought. Why they thought they needed to bring him with them when they had already won was beyond him.
They could work that out later, though. For now, he spared a quick glance to his father, offering him a tiny smile in solidarity. He had been the one who requested Noctis be present for this, so it would be a good idea to be there for him more than just physically present in the room.
Easier said than done.
Noctis went rigid for a moment as their so-called esteemed guests began to file into the room like the ugliest beauty pageant ever. Almost involuntarily, he started mentally checking them off:
Emperor Curmudgeon. Check.
Commander Ass Kisser. Check.
Commander Boy Band. Check.
Legion of Doom…er, Advisors. Check.
Ah, and there was their soldier addition. He seemed a little young to be part of this if he wasn't a higher-up. Then again, that one commander was clearly not that old, but Noctis assumed his daddy had gotten him the position rather than anything he was actually capable of himself. They all actually looked like Gladio could snap them in half without trying too hard. How was it that they won this war, again?
That's right: his dad did not want to continue sacrificing lives, and Niflheim clearly gave zero shits about that.
It was evident in the way Emperor Crustbottom did nothing to hide his smirk of satisfaction as he approached Noctis's father. Noctis was inwardly proud of both his dad and Clarus for not just knifing this jerk and getting on with it.
"Ah, Your Majesty," Aldercapt began with such a false flourish that Noctis had to stop himself from crossing the room and cracking him across the face. "I do believe this meeting is long overdue."
"Indeed, it is," Regis replied, inclining his head slightly in acknowledgement. It was almost painful for Noctis to watch his father address Aldercapt as if they were anything close to equals. His father was nothing like this monster.
Aldercapt was the man who had organized the systematic destruction of everything the formerly free nations of Eos held dear-liberty, prosperity, freedom from fear. As his dad had told him since he was a kid, it was all in the pursuit of power, the hunt for something that would bring neither joy nor true satisfaction. That could only be found in other, better places.
Noctis wasn't sure what his father had meant by that, although he had spoken with such passion that Noctis imagined he must have something in mind. Maybe he even believed that Noctis felt similarly, given the way he'd looked at him at the time. He counted himself lucky that his father hadn't prompted him to elaborate. Even now, he was drawing a blank.
Somehow, his dad managed to maintain his regal, disciplined facade as he continued, "You do us a great honor by traveling all this way. It is our sincerest hope that your stay is both pleasurable and fruitful."
Noctis agreed with that sentiment-if, of course, one meant that the pleasure would be all theirs and the esteemed emperor choked on a fruit seed. The possibility was unlikely, so he would have to make do with wishful thinking; the mental images he could conjure up would suffice.
Pushing back against the mounting rage he was feeling over having to watch his dad play nice with Aldercapt, Noctis opted to distract himself by getting a better look at the rest of the envoys, particularly the out of place soldier that looked like a chocobo with a hormone problem. He would have thought they'd bring someone more impressive in appearance, to be honest. On the surface, this guy didn't look like much, but Noctis wasn't stupid enough to think they hadn't chosen him without reason. Still, Noctis doubted he could be all that highly ranked, not with the way his commander stood next to him with an air of obvious superiority. Well, he supposed that could be how that prepubescent snot rag looked at everyone-everybody had to present an image, after all. And Niflheim's was one that practically screamed better than you.
They must have noticed him staring, because the commander prodded his soldier with a quick nudge, and they both glanced in his direction. Holding back a grimace, Noctis quickly averted his gaze back to Aldercapt, who was clearly looking for a sign of weakness in his father's rhetoric that he could pounce on. Admittedly, Noctis was impressed that that massive sack of wrinkles managed to hold himself together. He knew that his own father's health had been in decline, but compared to the dusty bag of skin smirking at him, his dad looked remarkable-the very picture of what a leader should be. At least he had the excuse of maintaining a magical Wall; Aldercapt was just old and staying alive out of spite.
Perhaps the frigid air of Gralea had been preserving his body for this long.
Now that was an interesting thought.
"I imagine it will be. We intend to take in as much Lucian culture as we can before the treaty signing," Aldercapt carried on, and Noctis did not miss the brief flicker of disgust that flickered in the emperor's eyes. "Though I suppose it would be rude of us to arrive empty-handed."
It was rude of you to arrive, period, Noctis mused to himself, not holding out much hope that the envoys realized this and would retreat back to their frozen wasteland. If only it were that easy. Instead, they would have to endure this discomfort for however long the emperor decided to stay.
And speaking of discomfort, the sensation of being watched had the hair on the back of his neck standing up, and Noctis peered furtively back over at their ridiculous-looking invaders with a frown. Why was that blond one still looking at him?
Creep.
Noctis snuck a glance at Ignis, who appeared to be staring in that direction as well. Maybe it wasn't just him, then. Still, it was unnerving to say the least, so he did his best to turn his attention back to his father and not the senile asshole who was talking to him.
"We have a rather promising soldier with us that we were hoping you'd allow to shadow your son and his guard." Noctis was sure that Aldercapt was well aware that Gladio's role was that of Shield, and the undercut of the title was intentional lest the Lucians forget who the winners were. Petty and childish-how very fitting for Niflheim. "We thought it might be best to learn how you operate in order to make future dealings in the newly acquired territories more seamless."
Seamless, huh?
Noctis could feel the pleading, Don't Speak aura radiating off of Ignis, preventing him from loudly protesting this request-if it could even be seen as a request. He knew full well his father wouldn't be permitted to refuse. The whole farce of making it sound like it was a gesture of goodwill made Noctis want to puke.
He kept his mouth shut, though, grinding his teeth together so hard that he was certain his jaw would snap. If everyone else had to stay silent in the face of these veiled insults, then so would he.
Gladio, for sure, couldn't have been happy with the slight. To his credit, however, his Shield didn't lose his temper; he didn't even allow his expression to twitch in the slightest, which actually made Noctis that much more certain that his friend was downright furious. Everyone in the room knew what that little comment had been about-it wasn't subtle or clever, nor was it meant to be. Noctis was pretty sure the emperor wouldn't be capable of making a truly witty insult, although he bitterly realized that Aldercapt had no reason the be clever when he already had all of Lucis by the neck.
Noctis could see in his father's eyes that he wished to correct the mistake. However, he merely nodded once in affirmation, holding his tongue instead. His father was not a foolish man. They didn't hold the high ground, nor would they for the duration of the negotiations. Until such time as they could ascertain the empire's true purpose here-it was unlikely to be as simple as a mere treaty signing, after all-he would have to proceed with caution.
They all needed to.
"Your gesture is greatly appreciated," his dad lied through his teeth with a glance at the soldier in question. "I am sure he will learn much about our ways before long. Prince Noctis is a capable guide."
Well, he already knew that Gladio was not going to like that idea. If anything, the insult to his position was nothing by comparison. This soldier would be shadowing them everywhere? There was no way the emperor could be doing it just for the educational value; there was nothing he couldn't learn through a quick internet search.
Besides what could a simple Niff soldier possibly learn from him?
If Noctis thought that Gladio had been a bit overprotective in the past, he could already predict that that would seem mild once this hostile playdate began.
The slight, uneasy shift of Gladio's weight was all the confirmation that Noctis needed that his suspicions were indeed correct. The game had already begun, and the pieces were starting to move into position. Even as his dad was reassuring the emperor of his ability to instruct this guy, he knew it wouldn't be as simple as that.
Then, something unexpected happened.
At the brief mention of his duty, their unfortunate new shadow took a small step forward; out of the corner of his eye, Noctis spotted Clarus's fingers twitching as though he expected an attack in the middle of the audience chamber. But the Niff didn't join in the mutually benevolent bullshit. Rather, he bowed his head deferentially when the king's eyes fell on him. It only lasted a moment before he resumed his posture and stepped back into line, but the sheer normality of the motion seemed to make the room stop. No one could have anticipated a response like that, not when the rest of the envoys appeared quite happy to sneer at them. Noctis had assumed they'd all be much too stuck on themselves to bother with basic royal protocol.
Well, it seemed like at least one of them had some manners.
If his father was as surprised as the rest of them, he chose not to show it. Turning back to Aldercapt with a very political smile, he offered, "I should think you and your envoys would be weary from your journey. It is, after all, quite a long way."
"Of course," Aldercapt replied with a smile of his own, one that Noctis thought looked unnatural on the man's face. "We can agree that it would be best to retire before tonight's festivities. I trust you have someone to show us to our quarters?"
Their quarters. Great.
When they left, Noctis wanted those sheets burned. Maybe the beds, too. Screw it, they should probably just burn whatever wing of the Citadel they were putting them up in. Was it too much to hope that the Crownsguard would lead them all straight off the roof instead of the rooms that had been prepared earlier?
He could feel a headache coming on, which was definitely not going to do him any good when all this was over. In light of these new developments, Gladio was probably going to run him ragged in training later. There was just no way he wouldn't take this out on him-not in a bad way, but he certainly wouldn't want Noctis being outmatched by some shrimpy snow weasel.
Okay, maybe that was unfair. The soldier didn't appear to be that much shorter than him. Noctis would just have to refine the insults a bit once he started—what was it they expected him to do? Right, teach him stuff.
Noctis was pretty sure if he put his head together with Gladio, they could come up with all kinds of bullshit Lucian customs to show this guy. Until his eye caught Ignis's knowing gaze, of course.
Fine. So, the royal custom of the fairer-haired person eats all the vegetables probably wouldn't fly. Still, Noctis was against giving this guy anything of actual value-as if he really believed that they wanted to preserve or learn anything here.
Like it or not, though, Noctis knew he was going to be stuck with this Niff, so there was no sense in being petty and making things harder on his father. He had bigger things to deal with, like the sentient stalk of cauliflower that was Emperor Aldercapt. If that meant that Noctis was expected to deal with his own imperial annoyance, then he'd bear it.
For his father.
And then bitch massively about it to Ignis later. And then when Ignis wouldn't join in on the complaint-fest, he'd just bounce insults off Gladio, who was probably coming up with some good ones already.
It would be okay. The empire only had them by the neck, waiting to snap it.
...Never mind. This sucked.
Sucked was putting it mildly. By the time the king waved for his waiting retainers to lead them out, Prompto thought his heart was going to explode from sheer anxiety. Was it always like this when you were in the presence of royalty? He'd never really noticed around Aldercapt, although that probably had something to do with the fact that the guy was so ancient nobody really considered him much of a threat anyway. That wasn't to say that King Regis was any spring chocobo-far from it. Despite that, he definitely exuded a certain strength that Prompto could only assume came from the power of the Crystal that had been backing Lucian kings for...well, ever.
Maybe that was it. They didn't know much about the Crystal aside from what trickled down through the ranks, and even then, it was vague enough that no one had an actual clue. It was all magic this, and mystical mumbo jumbo that. Honestly, Prompto would have thought it was just some kind of act that the Lucians used to throw off their enemies if it weren't for the Wall that surrounded their Crown City. Yeah, it was a little hard to argue against that one, especially from an airship. In the sky. With a barrier in front of them. At times like that, Prompto thought it was safer to shut his mouth, keep his fingers crossed, and pray to whatever deities existed that they didn't go hurtling towards the ground in a flaming mess of metal and flesh.
There was always the return trip. And hey, it couldn't happen to a nicer bunch of people.
Prompto knew that Loqi had wanted to find something at fault with him during that brief and uncomfortable exchange-when did he not? But clearly he couldn't come up with anything, although Prompto thought he might have had a problem with the whole bowing thing. Did he not understand the complexities involved in what Prompto had to do? Well, that was a definite possibility: it wasn't like he had been chosen for what was supposedly the most important mission in Niflheim's history or whatever they'd fed him. Still, whether Loqi or even the king bought his humility or not wasn't important. The latter hadn't called Prompto any number of the things he totally was, so he'd call it a victory for now.
Actually, the meet-and-greet had gone better than he'd expected, what with the fact that Lucis and Niflheim had been bitter enemies for longer than he'd been alive. He knew going in that it wouldn't be as simple as waltzing up to the king with a bow on his head like tada, I'm your consolation prize! No, it would be an uphill battle just like he'd suspected-one he really couldn't tumble backwards on. If there was one thing Prompto had learned after years of service, though, it was how to keep his game face up. He'd figured out the fun way that not schooling your features well enough would mean gross bathroom duty or the few worse fates than that.
Nooooo, thank you.
At the moment, Prompto wasn't even worrying about those things. He was too busy thanking every Astral ever that they were going to get a break before they had to deal with all the pomp and circumstance of royal life. Well, the emperor would be right at home there; the closest Prompto had ever gotten was guarding the doors of major events, and even then it wasn't very often. In Gralea, there weren't many people who could afford the fancy clothes and luxuries he assumed they probably had in Lucis, so state dinners were...bland. Nothing special. He wasn't even sure what to expect from a nation that allowed itself to have a little fun once in a while, but it was as exciting as it was exhausting to think about. ...Then again, that was probably the hours he'd spent in the airship catching up with him. Never mind.
With neither a complaint nor a sigh of relief, as both would be inappropriate, Prompto followed as they were guided out of the audience chamber and down the corridor towards the elevators. (Yes, they didn't have to take the stairs this time!) A short ride later left them at the wing he assumed was just for them-by which he meant that it was heavily guarded by stern, stoic figures who probably wanted to be literally anywhere else right about now.
Prompto paused for half an instant in front of the door to what would apparently be his room while they were staying in Lucis, but he didn't bother to even glance at his commander as he hastened to disappear behind it a moment later. No offense to Loqi (actually, all offense to Loqi), but he didn't need a babysitter to tell him how to act in his own quarters.
Which was...
Was this what they called a room?!
Oh. Em. Gee.
Five…four…three….two….one.
Ignis was happy that Noctis had the good sense to wait until the envoys had left the room and was well out of hearing-aid range before he let out a frustrated groan and ran a hand through his formerly immaculate hair.
"You couldn't have waited until we were back in your room for that?" he inquired. The question, of course, was rhetorical, but he knew that wasn't going to stop Noctis from issuing a smart-ass answer.
"No. I couldn't."
How very interesting. Oddly enough, that wasn't quite as smart-assed as Ignis expected, but high stress and the fact that he had to share the the Citadel with their enemy had obviously thrown Noct off his game-and now the empire would be placing one of their own in close proximity to him. An awkward turn of events, but also an intriguing one, not that Noct appeared to share the sentiment. Rather, his attention was conspicuously drawn elsewhere.
As the prince wandered off towards the king and Master Clarus, Ignis hesitated only a moment in deciding whether or not to follow. In spite of all they needed to accomplish before the banquet this evening, there was no doubt in his mind that Noct needed a few moments to unwind. They all did, as a matter of fact, although he would not be included amongst those who could sit and breathe for the brief span of time they had to prepare. He had work to do, and unlike Noct's task, it would not wait.
So, with one last glance at his charge and friend, Ignis turned back to Gladio with a cynically quirked eyebrow.
"As Noct's guard, I'm certain you've already concocted a few choice names for our new friend from Niflheim?"
Gladio snorted, his gaze similarly following Noct as he not-so-subtly courted his father's affection like a cat seeking attention. "Guess you could say that."
Utterly unsurprised, Ignis retorted, "While I understand the situation is less than desirable, I should hope the two of you don't plan on starting an incident out of spite."
After the slights that had been thrown at Gladio personally and their contingent at large, Ignis assumed that Gladio would not be averse to causing an incident-perhaps he was even itching to. Not that he would disagree that the emperor was the perfect candidate to accidentally take a midnight stroll right off the roof of the Citadel, but Ignis still endeavored to approach the situation with an air of diplomacy. To push an inconvenient person off a tall building, after all, solved nothing.
Perhaps a cliff would be better.
"You've got nothin' to worry about, Iggy," Gladio eventually reassured him, one eye still on Noct and the king. "We'll behave ourselves. Gotta make a good impression on the opposition anyway."
Ignis found some relief in that, however small. It wasn't that he didn't have faith in the two of them, but this was not just an opportunity for Niflheim to dig their nails in deeper. Doors opened both ways: if the empire intended to use their soldier's position to gather intel on Lucis, then they, too, could use him to gain intel on Niflheim.
What it came down to was who was smarter about it, and they couldn't be smarter about it if they were too busy being petty.
He knew Gladio might not like it, but if that was what it took to keep Noct safe, he would do so for as long as they were being shadowed. A duration, as it happened, that Niflheim had kindly left out of their presentation.
How typical..
Still, Ignis doubted that he had nothing to worry about. Gladio and Noct would find their own ways of venting their frustrations, and that was worrisome enough. While King Regis's own staff would undoubtedly be tending to matters concerning the emperor and his commanders, Ignis figured that if this soldier was to be Noct's special guest, it would be up to him to handle those circumstances. It was always better to see to it without having to be instructed, as well.
"I suppose I will see to it that our guest is settling in well." Ignis cast one final glance in Noct's direction. He knew he'd be able to trust Gladio to ensure they got back in time to get ready for tonight. Whether or not they were both presentable... That was another matter. "If I am not back before the dinner begins, please make sure Noct arrives on time and dressed for the occasion."
No jeans, he added to himself. It was not worth mentioning to Gladio-he'd best already know.
With that final plea, Ignis headed towards the guest wing to ensure the schedule was relayed to the appropriate parties.
As soon as the envoys had filtered out of the chamber, Regis allowed his shoulders to droop with the weight of their burden. There was so much at stake that his mind was awhirl with all the things he would need to remember in the coming days, starting with the feast in their conquerors' honor this evening. That would be one of his least favorite royal events, and he had been present for the state dinner of M.E. 725.
For now, the best he could do was relax while he had the chance. Perhaps a nap was in order, something that would strengthen him or, at the very least, present the illusion that he was well rested. That was a nearly impossible feat these days.
Gesturing for his remaining retainers to take their leave, Regis watched as his son drifted away from his retainers and slipped past the dawdling council members awaiting recognition, a slight smile playing on his lips. The latter could wait a bit longer; there were more important matters to be discussed in the meantime. His son had handled himself with all the grace and dignity of a monarch for the brief time that they were expected to entertain their unfortunate guests, and he couldn't be more proud that he had managed it for this long. He only wished that he could find the words when Noctis stopped just out of reach, looking hesitant to speak.
Despite his silence, there must have been something in Regis's gaze that strengthened Noctis's resolve, as he finally ducked in closer and murmured, "So, you really want me to teach that guy anything?"
Regis offered him a warm smile. He, of all people, could understand his son's dismay and irritation. The very notion that he would need to leave Noctis with that soldier unsettled him enough; he knew that Gladiolus was perfectly capable of protecting his son, but it was still a difficult situation to swallow. Perhaps that was the greatest defeat of all: realizing that the empire could, at least for the time being, dictate the fate of his own child.
"I care less about the teaching and more about the learning," he answered quietly, putting an arm around Noctis's shoulders and guiding him away from the straggling diplomats. Now wasn't the time to embarrass him with paternal displays while he was still under the watchful eyes of his retainers and friends.
To his surprise and delight, he need not have worried: although his son attempted to hide it with a neutral facade, Regis did not miss the moment his son moved in closer to the casual embrace.
With a glance back over his shoulder to make sure their privacy held, Regis quashed the comfort that simple gesture gave him and continued, "We cannot determine the full extent of the emperor's motives in leaving this soldier at your side in particular. However, it gives us an opportunity to use it to our advantage." He smiled sympathetically to soften the blow of what he considered the most onerous favor he'd ever requested of his son: "Do as the emperor wishes for now. Show this boy the Citadel and the rest of the city. Let Ignis instruct him on our customs and traditions, and keep Gladiolus at your side always. If any information about his true purpose or that of his government can be gleaned through your interactions with him, do so. We will need all the intelligence we can acquire in the days to come."
It wasn't something he relished. In fact, he hated the taste of the words on his lips. Regardless, it was necessary, and they would endure the unendurable the only way Regis knew how: by fighting back with quiet resolve.
In lieu of an immediate reply, Noctis ducked his head. Regis thought he might be mistaken, but he could have sworn a small smile had graced his son's features before he turned away. If that was the only accomplishment he could take from today, then he would be quite content indeed.
"We'll be fine," Noctis muttered after a moment.
His tone was firm, yet Regis suspected his son was merely trying to downplay his newly acquired burden. The sentiment was a noble one, even though he loathed for Noctis to carry it to begin with. If he could, he would have shouldered it himself. He, however, would have his hands full with the emperor, and for all that he wished to relieve Noctis of this duty, doing so would only invite greater problems.
"Doubt any of them have much intelligence to offer, anyway," Noctis added before he had a chance to reply, looking pleased with his own assessment. "If he says anything of value, though, we'll let you know."
"This is all I ask," chuckled Regis fondly, jostling Noctis a little for his sarcasm. It was appreciated, little as it could do to lighten the load on either of their shoulders. This was, after all, a defeat; it was not meant to be easy. Whatever solace he could take in his son's smiles now that he was living at the Citadel again would be a welcome encouragement.
Unfortunately, there were responsibilities they had to attend to that would keep them from engaging in the pleasure of each other's company all day. The banquet scheduled in a few hours was to be an affair of special magnificence-only the best for their imperial guests, of course-and it would be unwise to attend without some small measure of rest. Emperor Aldercapt was a great deal older than Regis (not that he appears as such by comparison, he bitterly reminded himself), but he had also ruled much longer. Despite his agreement with Noctis on the level of intelligence contained within the empire, there was no denying that Aldercapt was a practiced manipulator. They would all do well to have their wits about them during every interaction, regardless of how casual it might be considered.
With a glance at his son's Shield, who had retreated to stand beside the door until they were finished, Regis's expression fell a bit before he was able to shore it up. Parting from Noctis with villains sharing their home left an unpleasant taste with him, one reminiscent of the night his son had been surrounded by death and destruction while Regis was too far off to spare him grievous injury.
Never again, he'd sworn to himself then. He did so again now, eyes drinking in the sight of the adult who never would have been had he failed even more thoroughly than he already had-the son who was gracious enough to subtly wriggle closer when Regis felt he hardly deserved the comfort of his touch. His beautiful, brave son.
Never again.
"As riveting as our shared disdain for our guests would be to discuss, we both must make ready for tonight. I trust," Regis added with a somewhat forced smirk as he ran his fingers teasingly through his son's carefully styled (and slightly disheveled) hair, "that you'll arrive dressed appropriately for your station?"
Noctis ducked away, scowling a bit as he tried to undo the apparent damage that had been done to his coiffure. The gesture was halfhearted at best, and just as Regis anticipated, the look Noctis aimed at him did not have much bite to it.
"You should probably coordinate with the emperor," he joked once he'd corrected Regis's mistake. "Would be pretty embarrassing if you guys showed up dressed the same."
Chuckling a bit at the idea of arriving to the evening's spectacle as the emperor's twin (which would never happen, because he would burn anything in his closet that remotely resembled Aldercapt's style), Regis put a hand on Noctis's back and guided him towards the door where Gladiolus was waiting. Fortunately, he trusted Ignis too much to believe that his son would be any less prepared for this evening than himself: his son's chamberlain had likely already managed the finer details of his attire. In fact, if Regis knew him and his propensity for perfection as well as he thought, he was quite certain that there was an immaculately pressed suit adorned with the embellishments of his station waiting for him in his room. Regis might not have been sharing fashion advice with the emperor this evening, but it was a small comfort to know that his match would be a more palatable one.
Whether Noctis was considering the humiliation of wearing similar attire to his father or there was something else troubling him, Regis noticed the way his eyes drifted towards his cane before he could correct himself. It was hardly a simple accessory to forget when it tapped against the marble tile, echoing through the chamber in reminder of all that Regis had lost to the power which sapped his strength even now. It was premature to imagine, but he hated to think of his son in the same predicament: that youthful exuberance drained from his face, leaving exhaustion and despair in its wake. For as aggrieved as Regis frequently felt with his own destiny, the idea that Noctis would share the same fate left an emptiness in his chest that he could not seem to fill.
The Crystal, the empire, the steady yet insidious flow of time…
Would they ever be free of their burdens? Would the Astrals themselves ever tire of the suffering their line had been forced to endure?
It was a foolish thought, one that Regis had abandoned long ago. Even so, it was a pleasant notion to entertain once in a great while.
Pleasant notions were what drew him from his bed every morning, and they were what dispelled the somber atmosphere that had settled between them now. With a wry smile, Regis nudged Noctis's shoulder once more and assured him, "You needn't concern yourself."
"Good," Noctis approved, shifting in apparent uncertainty as he spared a glance for Gladiolus. "I'll, uh, see you tonight then."
Regis wished he did not have to ask, yet given the necessary nature of their interactions before their guests, it was unfortunately understandable. As much as Regis would have loved nothing more than to keep Noctis close to him through these difficult trials, there were formalities that needed to be upheld, not least of which that the emperor would have to be his first and foremost priority. Therefore, he supposed he would have to appreciate his son's presence for what it was whilst grinning and bearing the rest.
Nodding to his son's Shield as they approached the door, Regis confirmed in as bolstering a manner possible, "You shall indeed."
For better or worse, he decided not to add. They were both well aware of their respective duties; it was something Regis took great pride in to see how Noctis shouldered his responsibility in a way he hadn't not long ago. If there was one positive aspect of this living hell they were about to enter, flippant as it might seem to believe, it was that Regis could witness his son blossoming into the fine king he would one day become-a day he would not live to see, in the habit of monarchs.
Perhaps that was what made him stop short at the exit and shift his cane to the opposite hand so his left could grasp Noctis's shoulder tightly. In that one point of contact, he tried to transmit all the love and admiration he had felt for his son since the moment he was born as he sincerely assured him, "I would have no one else at my side."
Well, no one but Clarus, but that had long since become habit. He did not care to ruin the moment with such a reminder, not when his greatest concern was Noctis's confidence. He would need it if they were to emerge on the other side of this travesty in one piece. Of that, Regis was more than certain.
And that, fortunately, was not the only surety he harbored.
As he stepped out into the corridor and inclined his head towards his own Shield, who fell into step beside him immediately, Regis hesitated when Gladiolus's voice drifted out to them from the audience chamber.
"You all set? This guard is playing chamberlain for a while."
That bit of sarcasm was enough to bring a smirk to his lips, and he glanced over to see that Clarus was not immune to his son's remark either. His was a more long-suffering reaction, yet the amusement in his eyes gleamed back at Regis nevertheless.
"That sounds dangerous," Noctis retorted in much the same manner.
Shaking his head, Regis left them to their exchange and led the way towards the elevators. Yes, they had a difficult journey ahead of them, but he was grateful to know that his son was in capable hands.