A/N: Written for FFXV Rare Pairs Week for the prompt "Blood/Wounds." This is an alternate scene that takes place during Episode Prompto.
"What's with you and the damn camera anyway?" Aranea huffed her annoyance as she cleaned the gash above Prompto's brow.
Prompto offered a weak smile and a nervous chuckle. "It's just…been a hobby of mine since I was a kid."
"Well you're hobby is going to get us killed."
Prompto's lighthearted smile faded, pulling his mouth down into a deep frown. Thinking back to their last battle with the giant behemoth (okay so a behemoth was already huge, hence the name, but this was in a class of its own), Prompto just couldn't resist getting a picture. Hell even Gladio would have been impressed by the size. The guys would have been so proud of him that he took a monster of that caliber out…wouldn't they? Or perhaps they all thought the same as Aranea – reckless and stupid.
"Damn, blondie, there's no need to cry over it. It's just a practical advice. The behemoth would have ripped your head off if I hadn't stepped in."
Was he crying? Blinking his eyes, moisture clung to his eyelashes. Had they not sought refuge in the cave, the frigid air would have frozen his eyes shut. Their escape didn't quite go as planned. Given they already infiltrated an Imperial facility, of course there would be troops hot on their asses, but Prompto did not anticipate just how many checkpoints were set up. Niflheim looked like a snowy wasteland. Sure there were some bases, but otherwise Prompto couldn't figure out what civilization the Emperor was trying to protect. And it was only going to get worse. Gralea was the heart of Niflheim. That's where Noctis and the guys would eventually have to go if they were planning to recover the crystal. That's where he needed to go as well.
However, night was now upon them (damn, night came quickly these days). With the chaos at the first facility, captive daemons were now loose and on the prowl. The moment Aranea spotted the cave she insisted on retiring for the day or risk becoming dinner. At least they were shielded from the wind, and they were able to build a fire to keep warm.
"Ow," Prompto flinched as alcohol assaulted the open wound.
"Hold still, you baby," Aranea reprimanded as she finished cleaning up the cut and discarded the cotton ball. "Take off your clothes."
Prompto nearly choked on his own saliva when he heard the demand. His eyes widen but that was the only part of him that moved. Aranea turned back with a fresh cloth and more alcohol only to find a statue.
"You're not going to be immature about this, are you?"
Silence. The professional mercenary rolled her eyes, not believing Prompto was going to put up a fight.
"Look, I'm trying to get you to your friends in one piece. Just want to make sure you actually still are. Coat and shirt off now."
Rolling his eyes, Prompto shrugged his jacket off, flinching in the process. Then he slowly reached over his head for the back of his shirt to pull it off. Aranea arched an eyebrow upon hearing his pained grunts. She moved around to his back side and helped to slowly lift his shirt over his head. Her eyes zeroed on the blood congealing around the hole in Prompto's lower back.
"Hm, how you haven't gotten yourself killed by now is beyond me," she muttered.
Prompto bit his tongue as cold alcohol stung the wound. Slender fingers probed around the area. Tears pricked at his eyes as each light touch sent electrical shocks radiating outwards form the wound. He clenched his eyelids shut willing himself not to scream. His fingers dug into deep into his coat.
"You need to relax more," Aranea suggested, feeling the tension under her finger tips. "It'll be a lot easier for me to locate and possibly extract the bullet out if you stop tensing up."
"It hurts like a bitch though," Prompto complained through his teeth.
"Good," Aranea replied. Her tone was assertive, not malicious like she wanted to torture him.
"The hell you mean 'good?' Ow!"
Prompto's whole body jerked as she doused more alcohol on him. The cold stung more bitterly than the Glacian's harsh endless winter storm that took over Niflheim. Placing his head into his hands he entwined his fingers into his hair, slowly inhaling in and then exhaling in order to distract him from the pain.
"The fact you bleed makes you human, Prompto," she softly reassured him, staring down with pity-filled eyes.
Sitting motionless, he gave no indication whether he heard Aranea until he responded, "You sure? Honestly I'm not even sure what it means to be human anymore."
The sadness in his voice broke Aranea's heart. She couldn't imagine what it was like for him to learn the truth. Hell she barely had processed the information herself. All of this time she had regarded the magitek army as nothing more than mass produced robots, conveniently made on demand. Why waste the time training new batches of soldiers drafted from the populace when you can just continuously build troops that were preprogrammed to do your bidding? How perfect to have empty shells, devoid of thoughts and emotions – no fear and no rationality. She would have remained in her ignorant bliss had she not crossed paths with Prompto. This man was anything but devoid of emotions and thought. Yet the day he was born he was predestined to become a magitek soldier. It still unnerved her to know that each of those machines had a human base.
"Lay down," she instructed him. "I think I can get the bullet it out but I'll need you on your stomach."
Without arguing, Prompto carefully lowered himself until his stomach was flat on the cold stone floor. Aranea pulled a knife out of her boot and ran it over the flames of their campfire. As it cooled, she rummaged through Prompto's bag until she located a bottle of luminescent green potion. With knife hand, Aranea inserted the blade into the hole, slicing through neighboring flesh until she reached the bullet. High pitched whines seethed through Prompto's teeth as she widened the hole until she could slip her dainty index finger and thumb inside and grasped the bullet. Prompto clenched his jaw and growled as the pressure pushed on his nerves. After a few wiggles, Aranea's fingers slipped out. While the pain subsided for a bit the pain raged until Aranea cracked open a bottle of potion over his wound. A few seconds of contact of the magical liquid healed Prompto's physical wounds but did little for the emotional ones. Sitting up, Prompto caught Aranea looking him over, making him feel vulnerable, especially when he was half way naked.
"You said that you no longer knew what it meant to be human. Let me tell you a story…let me tell you why I no longer work for the Imperials."
Prompto was in the process of putting his shirt back on, but in his distraction from Aranea's voice, he lowered his arms and forgot about getting dressed.
"I…I was on a recon mission to find out where Prince Noctis and the rest of you had gone. While we had actual infantrymen that were human we were also accompanied by the magitek. The difference between us humans is that we can be rationalized with. When citizens were denying knowledge about your existence, be it true or not, the human soldiers at least tried to bargain with the citizens or used threats to coerce information. You know, psychological intimidation. Magitek have no thought process, no logic. Cross one and they would shoot on the spot. A child was running away from a soldier and happened to run right into me in the process. Kid landed flat on his rear end. A magitek nearby saw the whole thing and computed the event as a sign of hostility and shot the kid on the spot. A clean shot straight through his head. No questions asked. No way to actually differentiate an accident from premeditated intention. Tell me, would you have shot that kid, Prompto?"
Prompto furrowed his brows, offended by the question. "Of course not! H-how could you even ask…"
Aranea scooted herself closer and placed her hand over his heart, which was beating rapidly in his chest. The heat from her once gloved hand began warming his cold skin. "That's what makes you human, Prompto. You actually have a heart. You're ability to actually have a moral compass. Don't you ever lose that, you here me."
Peering into her eyes, Prompto gazed into the guilt she held for having once be a party to such horrors that the Imperials routinely unleashed on others. Prompto placed his hand over hers and gently stroked it. Silently he nodded his promise to her, earning him a relieved smile. Pulling his hand out of the crumpled garment, Prompto stared down at his barcode, the one thing that suggested he was anything other than human. He narrowed his eyes at it. Puffing up his chest Prompto promised to never lose his sense of self. So long as he held onto his principals then he would know his soul was always intact.