"Gladio?"
"Yeah?" his deep, gruff voice rumbled from the front seat. He casually tossed his head back and regarded Noctis out of the corner of his eye.
Noctis watched the thick, black marks on his neck and shoulders ripple and move with just that one movement. He traced the feathers, liking the finesse of the texture and the way they curled around his arm and muscles. Noting the way it amplified the sunlight that hit him. It was just too cool. If he had any other reservations, staring at Gladio's arms quieted a lot of them.
A small twinge of self-consciousness still hesitated his tongue. " . . . I think I want a tattoo," Noctis said.
Gladio's eyebrow quirked up. "You think?" he joked, not really reacting to what Noctis said.
"I want a tattoo."
"WHAT?" Prompto yelled sitting straight up from his reclined position in the backseat. "Seriously? Where? Of what-"
"Talking to Glad, Prompto," Noctis interrupted.
Gladio braced his arm against the driver's seat so he could turn and face Noctis fully. "You do, huh?" Whether or not he intended to, his shoulders rolled forward slightly, and his eyes flicked down to his own ink. "'S a big commitment," he said. "You have it forever. Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I've already thought it through."
"What are you gonna get?" Prompto asked. "One as gnarly as Gladio's?" He gently clapped Glad on the shoulder.
"No. Much smaller. On my shoulder blade. I want the Lucian coat of arms, with wings coming off the sides. Angel wings. And a banner across the bottom with 'Regnabit in Aeternum' on it."
"'Reign Eternal,'" Gladio said. "Sounds cool."
"That's so cool!" Prompto said, sliding Noctis a quick fist-bump. He was relieved for Prompto's approval. But the two of them sat in silence, awaiting Gladio's answer. He stared at Noctis, a small smile on his face.
Finally, he shrugged. "I mean, I'm all for it! But maybe we should ask Ignis."
"Aww! But Iggy'll say no!" Prompto protested.
"Say no to what?" The driver's door slid open and Ignis slipped into the seat, still staring at their gas receipt. "If it's Prompto's idea, I most definitely will."
"It was not my idea! Noctis wants a tattoo!" he blurted out. Noctis winced, glancing at Prompto out of the corner of his eye.
Ignis paused. "A tattoo?" As though the very thought of one had never occurred to him in his whole life, let alone in reference to the Prince. "Is that so, Highness?"
Noctis nodded. "Yeah."
"Why do you want one?"
"Well, Lucis has fallen. And my dad's . . . I'm not giving up. I never will. I want something that shows my pride. In myself, in Lucis, in my father and family. Just . . . something permanent. It'll help me feel . . . " Connected? No, connected wasn't the right word. It would help him take ownership of himself, and help him claim what he had. But how to put that into words?
Ignis saved him the trouble. "I understand," he said, eyes forward. "Where?"
"On my shoulder blade. I want the Lucian coat of arms with wings off the sides, and a banner that says, 'Regnabit in Aeternum'."
"It's an excellent concept, Highness. Though, do you understand that it's a very large, very permanent commitment?"
"I understand. That's part of why I want it. It's sort of symbolic."
"Yes, and while I appreciate the sentiments that would be attached to it, it would also become a very large, very permanent target on your back. Literally and figuratively," he added as an afterthought. "A very permanent target, for as long as we're on the run, and that is very indefinite right now. I'm inclined to say no."
"Glad's tattoos are just as identifying as mine would be. And they're in a much harder spot to cover up."
"True," Ignis agreed. "But that is an unfortunate circumstance that cannot be helped." Glad shot Ignis a look. He mustn't have realized the rudeness of his comment. "What's more, Highness, have you researched an artist? Are they reputable? What about disease? Do they sanitize their equipment?" He jammed the keys in the ignition, and the engine purred to life. "I'll not let the Crowned Prince of Lucis contract Hepatitis on my watch-"
"Okay, okay!" Prompto said. "Easy, Web M.D.!"
While Ignis went on his kick, Noctis had pulled out his phone to show him the artist he had picked out. He unbuckled his seatbelt and slid to the front of his seat, reaching around to show Ignis. "See? In Lestallum. Which is on our way. Also, 98% rating. Almost all of them say they clean the needles right in front of you."
"Hm," he grunted. Non-committal as anything. He threw the car in gear and gently pulled out of the gas station parking lot, kicking up gravel and dirt behind them. Nobody spoke, and Noctis felt like the silence was choking him. He felt embarrassed for even bringing it up. Ignis was judging him, Gladio would say no if Ignis said no, and even if Prompto stood up for him, nobody would listen.
"Ig? Is that a no?"
"Buckle up."
Noctis slid back and did as he was told, but kept at it.
"No, then?" Ignis' fingers tightened around the wheel while they drove, and Noctis could tell he was thinking about it.
"Well then I guess we should get you to the artist."
" . . . Are you serious?" Noctis asked, grabbing the seat in front of him.
"Yes. Though, I'd like to restate that I am against it-"
"ALRIGHT!" Prompto shouted. "Aw man, it's gonna look SO cool, Noct! I wonder if it's gonna hurt! Hey, Glad, did your tattoos hurt?"
"Yup. Sometimes."
"Well, don't worry. If you cry, me and Glad will hold your hands."
Noctis lightly shoved Prompto. "Shut up, I won't cry."
"You say that now," Gladio teased.
They continued their banter for the next several miles, up to the main drag of Lestallum. Noctis used his phone as their GPS, giving directions to the parlor. And in no time at all, they arrived.
He psyched himself up the whole ride there, getting ready to expect pain. He thought he was ready, but as soon as he stepped out of the car, his knees felt a little unsteady. He didn't want to lead the crowd, and even waited for either Ignis or Gladio to go first, but it became clear pretty quickly that this was his rodeo, so he should fight the bulls. He pulled the door open, and the receptionist looked up at the ding of the bell.
Noctis felt instantly judged. Whether the man intended it to or not, his eyebrow lifted as he scrutinized Noctis' white (and very expensive) designer shirt and plain jeans. He looked exactly like the kind of person Ignis used to warn him about. Black, ripped, wife-beater tank top, hair dyed completely black with the exception of the tips in the back, which were a shocking teal. Black, sagging cargo pants and black converse. And guy-liner, Noctis noted. Lots of guy-liner.
Clearly Noctis didn't belong in his world just as much as he didn't belong in Noctis' world.
"Can I help you?"
"Yeah, I want a tattoo."
"Really? In a tattoo parlor? Never would've guessed."
The comment irritated him, but Noctis couldn't come up with a good response, so he ignored it. He pulled his phone out and walked up to the counter, showing the receptionist the Lucis coat of arms. "I want this, with angel wings off the sides, and a banner underneath that says, 'Reignabit in Aeternam.' Can the artist named Claire do it?"
" . . . Yeah. She's back there. Claire!" he suddenly shouted, making Noctis jump. "Y'got a customer!"
"Send them back!" she yelled from behind a curtain.
As soon as they went back there, she introduced herself with a smile and a handshake, but right away Ignis and Gladio were on her case. They grilled her, bombarding her with questions about reputation, past experience, safety, disease transmission, Hepatitis, HIV, anything and everything. And Noctis' resolve waned and waned with each question. They were embarrassing him - couldn't he just get the tattoo and be done with it? Ignis signed the waiver, and she took it in for the reception to hold on to.
"Where do you want the ink, dude?" she asked him.
"Left shoulder blade." He handed her his phone and his description, and she went off to make a stencil of the image.
"You're sure about this?" Ignis asked. "Absolutely sure? Once done, it can never be undone."
"I'm sure."
His heart was starting to race, he could feel the tension in his shoulders. He had to keep reminding himself to drop them. His toes were curled up inside his shoes and his leg wanted to bounce uncontrollably. She returned, and gently explained all the equipment and the ink to the group, and how she would do the tattoo. She cleaned the instruments right in front of them, as she said she would, and when she said she was ready, Ignis stood quickly.
"Leaving?" Noctis asked, cursing how clipped and high his voice sounded.
"Yes. I don't want to watch."
"It's a tattoo, Ig, not a cattle brand!"
The buzzing started behind him, and despite all the mental preparation, he still tensed up when the needle touched, stabbing into his skin.
"Listen to the buzz, listen to the buzz," he told himself over and over, to keep his mind off the acute pain. Every so often Gladio would talk to her about his ink or hers, and even that was an added comfort. That it wasn't completely silent and he wasn't completely alone. Before he knew it, she wiped the tattoo one last time, said, "Okay! You're done!", stuck a bandage on him, and sent them on their way. Ignis paid with cash, and before they left, Claire sent him away with a list of instructions on how to care for the tattoo.
"It looks good," Prompto said later, on their way into their hotel.
"You like it?" Noctis asked.
"I like it, too!" Glad said.
" . . . Yes, it does look nice," Ignis offered, with a nearly undetectable smile.
"Thanks," Noctis said. He liked it, too. Now he could feel rooted in his kingdom. Now he could step into his father's shoes. Fully and completely, and anyone who saw it could know:
Regnabit in Aeternam.