When they all got their keys, Ignis and Noctis decided they wouldn't go in just yet. They opted instead to take advantage of what bits of sunlight were still afforded them to make an inventory check and get any supplies that they lacked, then refine or replace their weapons. Ignis in particular would go through the next day's itinerary, and he'd spend more than enough time being thorough and leaving no potential paths unconsidered. And, maybe, he'd have a bit of space in there for Noct's whims.
A good enough opportunity as any to do all that, Gladio figured, but he spotted Prompto about to tag along and intrude on the conversation already underway (the usual ploy for attention, now that he thought about it). He put his hand on the blond's shoulder. "You oughta sit this one out."
Prompto looked down at his shoulder, then at Gladio, then shot him a questioning look. Whether the innocence was false or not, Gladio couldn't tell just yet. "What, they don't need my input?"
Gladio answered back with a shake of his head. "Not for now. Besides, Ignis does enough thinking for all of us combined, anyway."
"Then… what should I do?"
"I dunno, play King's Knight or something."
Prompto checked his phone for service in the area, then cast his gaze back up at the swordsman. "There's something up that you're not telling me."
"Yeah. There is. I wanna ask you something."
"About… what?"
"You know what about."
Prompto sucked his teeth at him, and Gladio imagined the blond with a few years shaved off, in an Academia uniform, making the same noise at some instructor he didn't like. It made the older man roll his eyes.
"Didn't you learn your lesson when Iggy stopped you from talking? And Noct threatened to leave you to the Nifs?" Prompto asked.
Gladio made a brief note to self to suffer no more personal failures in front of someone like Prompto, considering his bald-faced propensity for throwing said failure back at someone's feet like a hunting cat proud of a new kill.
"Yeah, it's easy for you to talk about that, isn't it?" He shot back. "Play at being helpless, and get other people to defend you so you don't have to do anything for yourself. That's your strategy, ain't it? Worked out well for you so far."
Prompto's eyes widened a fraction, and for that long of a second there was a glint of anger in his eyes. Yet, less a mere glint and more of a bolt that lanced past and brightened its surroundings before it faded away and left no trace. "I'm real close to deciding you were better off dying from heatstroke, asshole."
"Why, hit a little too close to home there?"
"I am not-" Prompto bit back the rest of his words. It wouldn't do to make a scene here. He stole glances to either side of him to check if they'd garnered the attention of anyone more, and when he found that no one had their eyes turned in his direction, he spun on his heels around to leave to their motel room.
He moved like he was seconds away from his every step being a petulant stomp. Gladio observed, wondering if that was his anger talking, or if this was also all just an act. It was possible he had everything under control and wouldn't show it just yet. That, at least, made him unlike his possible ally who made his own victories known at whatever opportunity proved convenient.
Prompto was barely in the room before Gladio came in after and shut the door, and he followed that with a firm hold around the back of Prompto's neck that stilled him. It wasn't his style to do things this way, but- "Those who conjure through sound should meditate in quiet, and forget speaking for a while."
Where magic at its simplest was 'words changing reality', each spell specified the target of the change, and where each spell specified the target, an incantation reached deep into the core concept behind that change, gave it more focus. Incantations were a tad too poetic for his liking- he preferred to readsuch style than speakit- but it had to be this way; he wasn't Ignis. Even that man's quick-casts were potent.
Anyway, Gladio didn't need Prompto to talk, necessarily. He needed him to give answers, and he could do that just fine without his voice.
Prompto tried to refute that with an unfortunate exercise in futility, as he tried to speak and no sound emerged except that of the air passing through him. He realized the extent of the Silence, and turned around to glower at Gladio, teeth bared and tension coiling his muscles taut. Just because he could cope well with another option to express himself didn't mean he liked his best one taken away from him. Regardless, he raised his hands and started gesturing, shaping terms with his fingers. I don't know what the hell your problem is with anything I do, but either you stop it, or I stop it for you.
"Oh, you're gonna stand up for yourself this time? That's a switch."
Keep talking and we'll see how much of one it is. Prompto reached for the handgun he kept by his side, never stored away in the Armiger in case of these exact situations where conjuring wasn't an option.
Gladio scoffed. "That's cute, but say you do pop a few bullets in me. There's no way you'd be able to cover it up."
Prompto chewed on his lower lip, and Gladio could almost see the debate going on between his ears in his attempt to formulate any possible excuses for why the swordsman's torso could resemble a colander and he'd consequently caught a terrible case of no longer being among the living. The gulp of air and narrowed eyes told him that whatever stories Prompto tried to come up with, went up in smoke. He took his hand away from his weapon and continued to sign.
So I don't kill you. Big deal. Making you wish you were dead would be close enough in my book.
"It really is a lot harder for you to play things by ear when Ardyn isn't feeding you your information, huh?"
Prompto gritted his teeth. His gestures became quicker, and his hands started to look like claws. He's never told me what to do.
"Could've fooled me, considering how you never skip an opportunity to stick with him when he's around." Despite himself, irritation slipped into each word and drove him to step toward Prompto. "Did you forget why you joined the Crownsguard in the first place?"
You make it sound like I joined for the same reasons you did. News flash, shit-for-brains: I didn't! With every step Gladio took towards Prompto, Prompto took one back, keeping the distance between them even until he felt his back press against the wall. He may have been unable to cast, and unholstering his gun at such a close range was a bad idea, but his resolve not to show fear was still there. I know it comes as a shock to you, but some people choose what their jobs are, sometimes. They don't get it handed to them just because of their last name, or because their families were in the same line of work, or whatever the fuck!
"And you chose. Like it or not, you're here to protect Noctis and make sure he fulfills whatever his calling is. Not to side with some Nif!"
So what if I did it anyway? What's the big deal about that?
"You know what the deal is!"
I'm afraid I don't! You're gonna have to explain it to me. Use your big-boy words and all.
"I don't need to explain a damned thing and you know it. Now's not the time for you to pretend those assholes have anything remotely worth agreeing with!"
As if Insomnia did? Prompto shook his head in denial of such an idea, and the anger in his expression didn't leave him enough space to show what pity made brief flickers there. You nobles are so coddled, you don't even realize there was a reason people hated the Crown City.
"How -?" Gladio was close to sputtering. How the hell did someone hate the same city they lived in? Had Ardyn brainwashed this little shitstain?
Like I said, you nobles are coddled- you're dense, Prompto continued. You know… where I lived, I could see the Wall. And I learned a bit of the history behind it, too, how it used to cover more than just Insomnia. About thirty years ago, the Wall was pulled back without even a warning for all those people in the outlands, and Insomnia kept on being safe while everyone else was left to deal with the consequences.
Gladio took a quick review of Insomnia's history. Okay, yes, it was true that King Mors scaled back the Wall before his passing and Regis was crowned King, but that had made the Wall stronger than it was before. Had there been a weak paling protecting Insomnia and the other nearby territories, it would only make it that much easier for the Empire to take over everything if they breached that defense.
"What would that have to do with you?" He couldn't help but posit. "You lived inside the Wall's protection-"
Don't talk to me like I'm as stupid as you think. Prompto blew air between his teeth. It could've changed at any moment if whatever King thought it strategically sound. I know the way the City is set up. It wasn't just a fluke that I lived near the Wall; all the foreigners lived near the edges. But natives, the nobles especially… you all lived closer to the center. Closer to the Citadel. Closer to the Crystal's protection.
Was it just Gladio, or was the way Prompto gestured 'nobility living near the Crystal' more apt to describe 'wastewater circling a drain'?
You all would be the last people left to the Nifs or the daemons. It's real obvious your parents never had to sit you down and give you a talk of what could happen if the Wall wasn't where you could see it anymore. A 'tch' noise followed the end of that sentence, not unlike flint striking steel for a spark.
Words failed Gladio, then. Was the Crown City truly set up that way, with all the commoners in the outskirts? The first to be sacrificed? He couldn't know for sure. He never bothered to learn the layout in terms of people rather than places and points of interest. Prompto sounded convinced of this, but then again, he could be as convinced as he damn well pleased about anything he wanted to. There was still the chance Ardyn fed him lies to nurse some already-existing resentment in Prompto, but then where would that resentment come from?
"From where does it follow that you distrusted the nobility so much that you'd ally yourself with Niflheim? They're the same guys that -" that killed your parents, Gladio had wanted to say. The others had suffered their own losses during the Fall of Insomnia, but of all of them, Prompto had heard of it in a way that no one should. Niflheim was responsible for that. Didn't that mean anything to him at all?
Prompto took a glance down and to the left, and just as quick came his response. Not with the Empire… just with Ardyn. He wasn't responsible for what happened. Besides, he's… and there was a small pause as Prompto considered how to complete the thought … He's different.
"For fuck's sake!" It was pathetic to witness. Prompto sounded like he was vouching for some shit boyfriend that no one with any sense would approve of. … Not altogether inaccurate, Gladio thought. But this was a lot more serious than who he was seeing. "What sob story did he pull to win you over?"
None! Sure, he mentioned that even the other Imperials hate his guts for what he's been up to, but that's not relevant. Prompto shrugged and gave a quick tilt of his head. What … is it really so hard for you to think someone can stand on the other side of a conflict without being scum of the earth? Childish. Expected, but childish coming from you.
Gladio had to resist the urge to sweep his hand over his face in exasperation. The petulant whiner was calling him childish. He tempered the urge with a reminder that said whiner persona had been exactly that. Prompto had put on a front and acted like someone they wouldn't think twice about, while he formulated his opinions on everyone else in secret. Deceptive, but effective.
"So, what, you think you know better? It doesn't matter if Ardyn didn't have a hand in what happened to Insomnia or your parents, he's still working for the Emperor, and that makes him part of the problem."
Ardyn isn't working for the Empire either, Prompto corrected. He may be with them, but he isn't for them. Pretty sure you'd know what that's like.
At that, he pointed directly to Gladio and mouthed 'fake Shield!'.
Gladio gave the traitor a glare that should have made him cower. "Call me that again, I dare you."
One couldn't expect the chill of fear to grip someone with ice water already coursing in their veins, though. 'It's true,' Prompto mouthed, but he showed no interest in repeating himself as he was dared.
Gladio would leave it at that. Back to the subject at hand. "The Empire thinks it can stop Noctis from getting the blessings of the Six. You're after the same thing, I take it?"
Maybe. But answer this: How is Noct supposed to get them all anyway? Prompto countered. You keep saying the Six, but it's more like the Three. Shiva and Ifrit are gone, Ramuh probably is, too. Noct already has Titan, Leviathan is still asleep, and no one's heard from the Sixth. I doubt they're gonna make an appearance now, after all that's happened.
"You're saying it's hopeless, then? That helping Noctis fulfill his calling is a lost cause?"
The roll of Prompto's eyes gave him time to avert his gaze and not have to look at Gladio for longer than he needed to. When they made contact again, those galactic eyes were less than impressed with the fact that their owner had to explain the following.
First off, you don't even know what his calling entails, exactly; none of us do. But whatever that is, I'm saying there has to be a way to get him where he needs to be, without the use of the gods. You might think it's great that Noct got Titan to our side, but… come on, Gladio. Titan's the only one that's actually done anything, and honestly? That's a pretty low bar-
He briefly paused to set one hand as far down as it could go without him having to crouch, then lifted it back up to continue-
when we're talking about a god that went to sleep with a rock on his back. The other gods don't come close. We've been through Leide. It's a desert. With forests on either side of it. Does that seem normal to you? It doesn't have to be that way, unless you really believe something as powerful as the Fulgurian is just too busy to bring consistent rain over there and thought it was better to leave it in such a shitty condition.
Gladio huffed. He wasn't really one to question the gods, considering their incomprehensible tongue and immense power, and he didn't think it appropriate to start now. And if there was a problem with their conduct, he'd have heard of a Priestess or a King objecting to it. They were the ones that the Six- and yes, he was still going to call them that- showed most favor to.
"Without gods, huh? Did Ardyn convince you of that too?"
Another 'Tch' noise. No. He didn't 'convince' me. Like I said, he didn't give me a sob story or any of that. It just happens that … we see eye-to-eye on some things.
It was one thing for Prompto to say that they saw eye-to-eye. But he hadn't done only that. He winked, closed his left eye the same deliberate way Ardyn would when he was behaving particularly oddly, even for them. And over his right, he brought his hands together, and formed a circle with his thumbs and pointer fingers. Like a sign for 'glasses', but both lenses overlapping into one. The remaining fingers were intertwined and formed a steeple.
The Crest of Etro.
Oh, fuck. This was worse than what Gladio had initially thought. That an ally he had known for years was working with an enemy Empire was one thing. Finding out that said ally-turned-traitor was a straight-up heathen was another. As far as he knew, the majority of Insomnia, heck, the whole world, believed in the Six because they actually existed. Even Niflheim trying to kill off what they could of the Hexatheon adhered to the fact that the gods were real enough to be killed.
Etro, he'd read a thing or two about, and none of the texts were charitable. No being alive had ever seen this supposed Goddess in person. Instead the civilized world wrote of her 'blessings' which turned out to be their opposites. Even now, the fact that people aged and died was her doing. And while everyone died as a matter of fact, those that were 'blessed' with her 'Eyes' died earlier than normal if they didn't go insane from what it was they 'saw', confused between their visions and reality. That the world would one day meet its end would be her doing, too. The death of the gods as well, if that ever happened? Her doing. All that, and no one had ever seen this Goddess with their own eyes.
What good was a deity no one could see, sitting in a realm no one could cross through and come back from, casting curses that could never be lifted? Sounded dreadful in its most basic meaning.
In that case, Prompto was right when he said Ardyn wasn't working for Niflheim. He was using them. And Prompto, in turn, wasn't on his friends' side either, yet not directly on the side of Niflheim. He and that Imperial Chancellor, and perhaps more people that Gladio wasn't aware of, were using both the dominant political superpower and the opposition, for their own goals.
Bastard that Prompto was, he watched with delight as the realization dawned upon Gladio, and he concluded with a smile, What more can I say?
"Whatever you come up with, tell it to Noct yourself," Gladio decided. "I've had enough of listening to you."
"Mm, I'll consider it," Prompto said aloud.
Wait, "Wh-"
Gladio came to slumped over against an end table, and as the recollection returned to him, he used some choice four-letter words to curse his lack of attention to his previous situation. He should have noticed the mist curling around Prompto's fingertips and seen it for the bad sign that it was. Instead he'd only known he was being hit with a Sleep spell when Prompto's hand touched his face.
But what in the hell had Prompto even said? Incantations bolstered the power of spells, and given the swordsman's size, he'd sure as hell need one to knock him out cold like that, but whatever Prompto attached to that cast didn't sound like anything Gladio had ever heard before. It sounded... ancient. Oh no, Prompto mentioned it on the ride here. Ardyn knew how to cast magic, somehow, without the connection to either House Caelum or Fleuret. He just 'learned how', and combined with the fact that he prioritized the supposed Goddess of Death over even the Six and their influence on the known world was bad news.
Gladio got back to his feet and made a beeline for the Crow's Nest Diner. Prompto would join up with Ignis and Noctis there, he was sure. He was 'considering it', was he not? Gladio could imagine the little traitor was already halfway to making him look like the bad guy of the story, crocodile tears and all, and Noct would lay awkward pats on his shoulders, not much for physical contact himself but aware that Prompto was the kind of person who needed it.
The door to the diner came open with the ring of windchimes and plod of boots on the tile. Noctis was doubled over the pinball machine in his typical obsessive fashion. Ignis merely observed. Prompto was absent.
Gladio didn't have time to turn and leave without a word, as Ignis looked up as if waiting for his entry.
Fuck. He couldn't play this off. "Has anyone seen Prompto?"
Ignis raised a brow. "I thought he was with you."
Noctis looked up and let the ball go into the drain, the game briefly forgotten as the exchange registered. "What? What happened to Prompto?"
Shit, shit, shit. "Nothing, it's fine. He just… He's left somewhere, and I don't know where." Gladio realized what a lame answer that was, but it was better than blurting out that Prompto was not only a traitor to their cause but a nonbeliever. That wouldn't go over well. They wouldn't believe him if he said it.
"He can't be too far from here," Ignis said. "We-"
"Don't." Gladio had to cut him off. He didn't imagine this getting any other way except messy, if all of them got involved in searching for Prompto. "You stay with Noct. I'll go look for Prompto. In fact, I promise to bring him back, safe and sound. How's that?"
There was a glint of suspicion in Ignis's gaze, though that could have just been the light upon his glasses. "Be sure that you do."
Noctis looked uncertain of a great many things, but it subsided with the close of his eyes and the increased thrum of magic that both his bodyguard and his retainer could feel in their bones.
"He's heading west," the prince murmured, "and he feels… I don't know," he admitted, and placed his hands on either side of his head and mimed turning palm-sized knobs in either direction. "It's all… jumbled."
That was all the confirmation that Gladio needed to make that search on his own. "Stay with Noct," he repeated to Ignis, and exited the diner, leaving in the direction of Old Lestallum. Prompto would head there himself if he needed to get into contact with Ardyn, given the closer proximity to a communications tower.
Moreover, in a choice between speed and visibility, Prompto would likely travel on foot and take advantage of the forest separating the rest area from the old town. Though it was slower than hitching a ride, not having an extra pair or two of eyes on him meant no one around to reveal his whereabouts if anyone had asked for a blond in black with a bunch of T-shaped crosses on his shirt. That and less chance of him ending up somewhere he didn't want to be, if he were recognized by the person picking him up and not vice versa.
Yeah, the forest was a sensible route to take.
Gladio noted the obvious in his travel; any visual semblance of civilization only reached so far out from the rest area. Trees filled the surroundings after a few minutes, and the forest only got more dense the further in he traveled. All he had to go off of was that the ground gave way easily to a regular person and left evidence to what path they tread, as did dried shoots to a hurried pace, and it relieved him that his guess was right. Prompto still didn't trust himself with a Float spell to avoid making any footprints, so follow tracks Gladio did.
The sun started its retreat from the skies and sought the cover of the forest. The wind seemed to chase the sinking star, and brought with it a sweet and stinging scent. The clouds took on a pale echo of the color of the leaves, not as closely as open sea reflected a cloudless sky, but enough to put him on edge and make him pick up his pace.
He followed the tracks while the skies grew darker, and kept on until he no longer could, for the footprints stopped short. Had Prompto cast a spell at this point?
Simple explanation, but there could be another. Gladio raised his hand and his fingers came alight with a Fire spell. The flame crackled, sparked, and with the light it cast, he looked around and checked the trees for scuff marks or broken branches. Prompto wasn't above climbing trees; he often did it when he needed a vantage point to get a shot.
A breeze snuffed the light of his spell right out. He was close to thinking that the Fire cast wasn't a good idea in the first place, when the air resounded with a laugh he was getting frankly sick and tired of.
"Lighting a fire in a forest, with no way to put it out? Didn't anyone teach you better than that?"
An Aero spell, huh? "Some lessons take longer to sink in than others." Gladio shrugged, and clenched the fingers of his right hand into a loose fist while crystalline lights gleamed around it. "You gonna show yourself, or keep hiding in the dark?"
"Me, hiding? Rich, coming from a coward like you."
The air cracked open from gunshots fired from Gladio's right. A crackle, two, three of them. The air shimmered, the wall of magic crumbled, the bullets fell. Those shots gave Prompto away. The wind could work to Gladio's advantage this time. He swept the gust of an Aerora toward the source of the bullets, heard branches creak in protest- a weight lifted off them.
"I'm here anyway, aren't I?" His gaze darted back and forth for any sign of the traitor's approach "All on my own, too; I'm not that great at the whole 'coward' thing, it looks like."
"You'd think so, but I see right through you, self-aggrandizing fraud!"
The air burned, there was the telltale crisp scent. Gladio summoned the Shield of the Merciful King. Raised it in time to block a thunderbolt aimed at him from between the trees. Everything else went mute and stayed that way for a while after the Thundara dispersed.
Once the ringing had stopped and he was sure there was no more danger, he spared a glance at the shield, checked the damaged gilding on it. That was from a quick-cast?
"A real shield for a fake one. Fitting!" Prompto sounded closer than before, but it was still difficult to pinpoint where his voice was coming from.
"Thought we covered this; you're not calling me that!"
"Why not? It's true! You talk about me needing other people to defend me, but it's you. You're the one that needs others. Classic projection."
"Projection, huh? Pretty big word for a little guy like you to be saying it." If he could keep Prompto talking, this would be easy.
"But it's perfect for you. You believe in these careless gods because you think they're the only things that can protect Noct better than you would. Better yet, you want them to, you want them to be that strong so that you don't have to lift a finger at the job you swore you'd do! Where's your conviction, man? I mean… someone with their job already set for them, all you have to do is live up to expectations. How hard is that? Unless… you can't do it? You say you're the King's Shield, but you don't think it, you don't act it, you don't believe in it. And the reason you don't, is because you're scared. Scared of the possibility it's not enough."
Gladio let himself look mildly impressed at that assessment. "You know… you're right. That's me down to a tee. Maybe you missed your real calling as a therapist?"
Hearing that stunned the voice into silence for a few seconds. "What, really?"
"Nah, just fuckin' with ya."
An idea and a fire were a lot alike, Gladio found. In this case they were one and the same. The Firaga spell exploded, sparks catching on brush at the foot of the trees, if the trees themselves hadn't already caught flame. What brush was still dry caught easy and burnt up fast, and the flames didn't take long to lap at the trees to consume them too.
Either Prompto escaped from that and gave away his position, or he escaped from that and gave away his position while burning. Those were his options. But he was crafty. He'd take a third route.
Gladio blocked a sword strike with the Merciful King's Shield. Prompto used that impact and leapt away from the swing of the Chaos King's Axe, put some distance between them.
"Heh…" Prompto tightened his grip on the Wise King's Sword. "We're going nowhere fast, huh?"
Gladio switched the Shield and Axe out for the Dynast King's Greatsword. "Looks that way."
The both of them channeled the galestorm of an Aeroga in their sword swings that extinguished the flames. The howl of the wind mixed in with the rumble in the distance, then died down.
With the flame cleared, Gladio held a tighter grip onto the greatsword. "So, how did you get out of that Silence so fast? I was hit with it hours ago, and it took nearly that long for it to wear off."
"Oh, that…" The smirk on the blond was so venomous, Gladio could feel it rush through his own veins. Prompto dispersed the Sword of the Wise King into the gleams of crystal shards, to illuminate his features, and with his hand free, he unfastened the bandana around his right arm. He turned it around in his hand, and let it dangle from his fingers, so that Gladio could see what exactly it was.
No way… "A ribbon?" Hidden under the black cloth- Prompto had kept that thing on him all of the time. No status spell would work on him as long as he was wearing it. But that meant… "You just pretended to be Mute back there?"
"I know, pretty crafty huh?" Prompto stashed the ribbon into his back pocket. "I wouldn't have known to fake it if you didn't cast that with an incantation, though, so thanks for that."
"You're welcome. So, what else did you do, play dead every time a battle got too hectic?"
"Hahaha, yeap! Works like a... well, like a charm. Why wouldn't it? You know how easy it is to take the heat off you when you don't look anywhere close to being a threat?"
He had a point there. Not looking like a threat was his entire shtick. That said, Gladio weighed his options. He couldn't try another status cast, nor could Prompto cast one on him if he couldn't learn it through affliction. They were both decent in elemental magic, and reached a stalemate with weapons.
Prompto beat him to coming up with a solution. "How about this? No magic, no weapons. Just you and me, mano a mano. Whaddya say?"
Gladio dismissed the greatsword. "You're taking the scenic route to an ass-kicking. Why wouldn't I accept? One thing's for sure; when this is over, you're coming with me."
Each flash of lightning took snapshots of them. Not as immortal as the modern counterpart, but the images would burn into the psyche just the same.
Prompto's already fair skin took on a ghostly pallor from the light, and shimmered from the rain pelting him. His hair was wild and wet and windswept. He pressed his feet firm to the ground. His right hand kept close to his chest, left hand out. With his solid stance, he vowed; though bend to the wind he might, he would not break. Not to the storm, and not to his opponent.
Gladio vowed the same when he took his stance.
They circled each other with slow sweeps of their feet, pacing like hands on a clock, minutes chasing hours, hours going opposite how they should. The distance closed, step by step, as fate drew them closer to the middle. The tips of their leading feet touched. They followed with a brief bump of the other's fist, like this was nothing but a friendly spar, though Gladio knew it'd be anything but that.
They parted, then. Bade their time.
Lightning served as the ring of the bell. The surroundings flashed to life. Prompto rushed forward in that instant and started with a right jab. Gladio blocked it and pushed it aside, and Prompto backed up as soon as it happened. Just testing him? Looked that way.
Another flash, and faster punches followed. Gladio parried, countered, was dodged just as quickly.
They started to circle each other again.
Whenever they met at the middle they punched, blocked, jabbed, parried, swiped. Matched each other well. Neither could land a hit on the other unless they took a risk. A matter of who would go first, then.
Prompto closed the distance and feinted a strike for Gladio's eyes. Then at the first sign of a block, he went for a takedown. He rushed about like a whirlwind, got his arms around the other's waist but moved so that he was behind him. Kicked at the back of his knees to knock him over forward, and followed that up with punches to the back of his head.
Gladio anticipated that, used his arms to protect himself, but he couldn't shield two places at once if Prompto wanted to go for his sides. He counted on the fact that Prompto was sitting on him, and threw all of his weight over to the side to make the guy fall over.
Prompto rolled away and sprung back to his feet. Gladio got up with a charge forward and swung at him. Though Prompto back-stepped out from the way of it, Gladio was persistent, got close again, and the next hook was a hairsbreadth from connecting. Prompto ducked under it, grabbed Gladio's arm like he'd try to vault him over. No, not yet. He sent a punch of his own just under Gladio's ribs. It connected, hard. He kept at it until he felt the other hunch forward as if his legs were about to give out, then hooked his arms behind one of Gladio's legs to knock him off balance and to the ground again.
Though Gladio was down, his other leg was free enough to kick. That kept any follow-up attacks at bay. Prompto relented again, put some space between them.
Gladio was sensing a pattern here, to make as big an understatement as possible. Prompto knew how to use his smaller size to his advantage. It wouldn't do any good to stress about not being taken down at all, though; distract himself with that, and the blond would probably land a shot to the head. Between landing on his back repeatedly and a concussion or worse, Gladio would choose the not-a-concussion option.
His opponent was good at takedowns, decent at grappling, anticipating things. Gladio couldn't help but wonder who Prompto learned these moves from. Ardyn didn't seem like the type to know them. Cor wasn't, either, for that matter. Mystery aside, there had to be a way to get him, though. And Gladio was thinking of one… but it would hurt a little. Probably. Depending on how he played this.
He got to his feet. Counted on Prompto trying to stop the next punch. Prompto did just that, went in and locked his right arm around Gladio's left to keep it still. Gladio went to knee him in the midsection next. Prompto stopped that with his left arm, kept it outstretched to force some space.
A seamless movement; hard to tell if it was Gladio that moved around Prompto's outstretched arm and circled to behind him first, or if it was Prompto that spun to keep that left arm locked. Whatever it was, he still had hold, dropped down to one knee and vaulted Gladio over him in a fluid motion.
Prompto grinned. "Got ya."
"You sure?"
Prompto didn't understand until he saw that Gladio's right hand was clenched around something.
The bandana.
The ribbon.
"Give that back!" Prompto reached for it and earned himself a knee to the head. "F-fuck-" He let go and backed away, tried to get his bearings and recover from that hit.
Gladio took that chance to get back to his feet, though it seemed all those hits he suffered had their effect, to where he fumbled with his hands for a bit. He was fine when he got up, though.
"What's wrong, can't do anything without it?" He took some paces back, kept the ribbon dangling in the fingers of his left hand to challenge the other to take it.
"Shut up! Shut up!" He could hear a break in Prompto's voice. He almost felt for the guy. Almost. But he needed to do this in order to put some sense into him- or more appropriately, take it away.
He conjured a Fire spell and set the ribbon aflame.
Prompto cried as if he were burning, and charged forward to stop it. The next hit to the side of his head wasn't enough to knock him entirely out of balance but shook him up all the same. All he cared about was that the ribbon was gone in cinders and Gladio would pay for that.
Gladio grabbed him, but he slipped out of the hold and jabbed the swordsman in the gut, pure rage fueling his movements even if they were sloppier now. Climbed onto him and tried to choke him out. Gladio rewarded that with a hold on Prompto's arm and a fistful of shirt, then pulled him down and slammed him onto his back.
Prompto figured his mistake when he felt his arm get locked in a hold. A knee pressed to his ribs to keep him from moving. Leg locked around his head to isolate his limb. Gladio pulled. Pain flared out from Prompto's elbow. His forearm popped out of alignment, and an inhuman noise was torn out of him just as easily.
Gladio let go at the sound. That pain should have been enough to make Prompto stop.
It didn't. As soon as Prompto was free, he crawled away and put distance between them. His limb was twisted, useless, and turning an odd color.
That should've been enough. "Give up already!"
"And… and go back to you guys? I won't." The way Prompto said that sounded like I can't. "I'm… I'm as good as dead anyway. You… you've…"
As good as dead? He looked fine aside from his arm. What was he on about? Moreover, what would it take to make him change his mind? A worse beating? That couldn't happen. Gladio already promised to bring him back safe. This was already too far from that.
"I mean it," Gladio insisted. "Noct, and Iggy, they're waiting for you to come back."
"Tell 'em you never found me. Or… maybe they'll get the hint when they see whatever's left of you."
Prompto paced forward again, still intent on a fight. Intent, but his punches were slower. He couldn't guard anymore. Couldn't fight with only one good arm. Not while relying on his legs for support in this storm. But he'd try. He'd try, and Gladio hated that. That persistence made him wish he'd known how to properly cast Sleep. So much simpler if he'd learned that. Instead he had to settle for this; when Prompto tried to jab again with his good arm, he grabbed hold of it. He circled round, clinched him, then with a lift and sweeping kick, got Prompto off his feet to slam him into the ground, then pinned him.
Prompto couldn't break his fall. Pain lanced up his shoulder and along his sides. Involuntary whimpers crawled out from his lips when he felt more weight bear down upon him.
"We're done now. You're done." Gladio would think Prompto insane if he still insisted on this.
Sad to say he pretty much was. "Y-you haven't won yet… I'm… I'm still... " he breathed, but the rest of the words wouldn't come. His body began to shake from sobs. His breaths caught as if the words had tangled up into knots in his throat. Even then, he still managed a weak, "End it... for real- I, I mean it-"
"Damn it, Prompto, I'm not trying to kill you, and I'm not going to!" He knew if he did that, his shoulders would have to say goodbye to everything above it.
"Please…"
Gods, why did Prompto sound like that? Was the thought of having to answer to those he'd thought to betray so awful?
Gladio got his answer once he saw Prompto's body go chillingly still, and all the things he thought he knew about Prompto changed to something worse each second.
At first, the bruises started to look too coherent. Less cloudy and uncontrolled. Spread up his arm, along his neck in a network of main lines and branches, like lightning itself, just… black. Then the whites of Prompto's eyes were swallowed up by the same color. What blue was in his eyes turned purple. It occurred to Gladio that Prompto looked more daemon than man.
Any time Gladio thought things couldn't get worse, fate took it as a challenge. That, or fate had a fucked-up sense of humor.
Gladio had Prompto's good arm pinned down. That made the next bit confusing for him. Something slammed dead center into his chest and sent him clear away from the gunner-turned-daemon. He didn't hear what it was before it hit him, couldn't see it enough to dodge it. It wasn't like an Aeroga swept him away; this was force itself.
He got up to his feet just in time for a current of magic to surge up from beneath the earth and course through his feet. He tried to lift his foot on reflex to no avail; he was rooted to the ground, much like the trees around them. He only ever felt this stuck when he had the misfortune of trudging knee-deep in water at the same time Noctis would toss a Blizzara bomb into it for shits and giggles.
This wasn't like that. Again, he couldn't see what was holding him in place. "The hell is this?"
"Gravity." The next flash of lightning revealed an inhuman smirk and a viperous gleam in the eyes to match.
Prompto closed the meters-long distance between them with what might as well have been a single step and sent a palm strike to Gladio's stomach. Even a sledgehammer shot was softer than that. The same force from before radiated through the hit, and so did pain throughout the rest of Gladio's body. He left a ditch in the ground from his body skidding back.
Gladio struggled to breathe, watched Prompto stride towards him. But where he tried to catch his breath short of a physical attempt to claw the air into his mouth, the other approached with a sniper's calm, breaths slow and even, nowhere near as broken up as it was before his transformation, or whatever this was.
Prompto looked down to his dislocated forearm and put it back into position like the injury was a minor inconvenience to him, and Gladio could bet that his heart rate didn't raise a tick at any part of the process, not even in anticipation of pain. Could he even feel it anymore?
Even if not, he was kind enough to give Gladio a turn to grow well acquainted with the sensation. Pain exploded under Gladio's ribs each time Prompto's boot connected. And again. And again. Was the storm getting closer to them, or could he just not see anymore from the supernovas going off in his sides?
He hurled up a warm and metallic-tasting mess. Had barely enough strength left to crawl and did it blind. He got a few feet away and wondered when the other hits would come. He heard the short huffs of air, each one paced apart like the second-ticks of a clock. The realization came a little late that the daemon was watching him crawl on purpose and laughing about it, too. Daemons were usually mindless. This one had it in him to play with his food.
He was rolled over onto his side. There was pressure on his arm. Legs locked around his limb. He knew where this was going. Thankfully, the roar of thunder drowned him out as his arm was twisted in the same way he'd done to the blond earlier.
Gladio was let go, kicked onto his back, straddled, and pressed to mentally correct his earlier assessment. This type had a capacity for sadism. Exactly that word. Gladio was sure of it, because he could feel that one pretty clearly, and wished he could unfeel it.
But maybe he wouldn't feel anything anymore. Prompto was getting ready to deal the finishing blow. Gladio pondered for a brief bit if he could just will himself to fade out before that hit connected; he'd had enough of this.
It didn't come. Not oblivion, and not the strike that would send him there.
Prompto had stopped. He held his fist high but wouldn't bring it down. Pain was etched in the furrow of his brows, the sharp breaths he'd take.
"Gladio…"
Prompto recognized him. Tried to speak again, "I… You should've…" but his words stopped short. He started to choke again, and his muscles seized up. Tears the color of tar ran down his face. He had enough control in him yet to crawl away from on top of Gladio so he didn't hurl that same tar on the guy, then he collapsed.
"Shit…" The hell happened to him? Gladio conjured a Hi-Potion and swallowed down just enough that it'd work at all. It burned on its way down like taking a glass of straight whisky, but he ignored that and the uncomfortable feel of places he didn't want to think about stitching themselves back together.
"Come on, I'm not losing you! Got my ass kicked too hard to let that go to waste by you dying on me!"
He said something else, too, something more. And maybe he was just hearing things, little auditory hallucinations to fill in the space between one thunder strike and the next, but it sounded as if Prompto responded as best as he could with a noise of recognition and not an actual word. But it was as good a sign as any that he was alive.
Gladio thanked the gods that he could still feel a pulse on the other to be sure; he was still breathing, still warm. No, more than warm. He tipped the bottle of Potion to Prompto's mouth and chilled it with a minor Blizzard spell. What liquid dribbled down the blond's throat convinced him to gulp it down on his own, and Gladio poured more until the bottle was finished.
He pried Prompto's eyelids apart long enough to check that his eyes were back to normal. Prompto didn't respond otherwise, but his breathing was fine. Like he was asleep.
Gladio made a note to self: next time they ever fought, he'd have to knock Prompto out as quickly as possible. Forget rules, forget a fair fight, and just hit him with a spell or something. Expecting him to give up on his own was too damn much to ask for.
Prompto stirred awake, and blinked away the blur in his vision while his surroundings see-sawed back and forth before his eyes. He saw a mess of black beside him, vaguely humanoid. Recognition settled in him and tension shot through his every nerve. He tried to scramble to an upright position, but all he could manage were twitches.
Gladio didn't take his eyes off of him. "You're awake. That's good."
"Where the fuck am I?" This wasn't the motel, from what Prompto could see. Everything was wood, for one.
"Found a nice, empty cabin here in the forest. Abandoned."
Prompto's breathing picked up as he struggled further. His body wouldn't respond; like he was chained down but couldn't see the restraints. "Why can't I move?"
His vision cleared enough for him to see that Gladio held the nullifying ribbon in his right hand.
"Immune to status effects with it, a lot more susceptible without it," the swordsman said, more to himself than anything.
Another ribbon? It didn't make any sense. Prompto only ever had the one. "That... can't be right," he whispered. "I- I saw it burn up…"
"You're right, except for the part where you're not." Gladio conjured up a regular handcloth in his left hand, closed his fist around it, and when he opened it back up, it was a replica of the bandana and the ribbon hidden beneath it. "I used Vanish on the real one," he motioned with his right hand, "and burned up a Decoy." He motioned with his left.
So that was what Prompto had seen. "Fuck… I really fell for that…"
"Hmph. You were supposed to, that was the point." A sharp exhale of air followed. "I thought you'd stop if I could beat you, and I couldn't do that until I got you to lose your composure. I figured the ribbon was important since you never took it off… didn't realize how important it was."
"Well, now you know. So, why can't I move?"
"A Paralyze spell. Based it off of the way you used Gravity on me, except instead of just the legs, I used this on your whole body. Minus your head, of course, since I'll need you to talk on account of you can't use your hands."
"Crafty. … What do you want now?"
"Answers. I wanna know what the hell happened back there. Specifically the part where you could've killed me, but you didn't. You hesitated."
"No… I didn't hold back. You were… you just got the better of me, that's all."
"Bullshit."
Prompto averted his gaze, though he knew it wouldn't stop the questions from coming.
And Gladio would still insist on this. "You had every chance. Why didn't you take any of them?"
"... Because he needs you."
Noctis. Even as far gone as Prompto thought he was, he was still thinking of Noctis.
Gladio's gaze narrowed. "He needs you, too."
"No he doesn't. I'm…"
"His friend, jackass."
"As long as I'm convenient, I guess." A bitter laugh drummed out of the blond's chest and carried an ache with it that made him wince. "Everyone else that's tried to be my friend… as soon as they saw the real me, they'd leave. What makes Noct so different?"
"He wouldn't do that."
"Heard the same thing from people before. They'd ditch me all the same, because I'm not like them. And I'm not like any of you either. That's just how it is. That's how it's always been." Prompto shook his head, and tried to blink back the tears that were forming on his violet-blue eyes. "Why do you care, anyway? You know what you need to do, so do it. You wanna protect Noct? Then-"
"No."
The refusal stilled the blond for a moment. "You should. You already know what I am."
"Yeah, I do. You're sick. But since you're so sure of what you really are, answer this. What kind of 'monster' would want to stop being one, to the point where they'd rather die before they ever turned into one?" With a flicker of crystal shards, Gladio summoned a pill bottle from the warp space. He'd found it earlier when he was looking for the handcloth to use as a decoy ribbon.
Prompto's look darkened when he saw the bottle. "Give that back."
"I will. How long has this been going on?"
The look didn't waver, while Prompto considered how to answer. "As long as I can remember."
"And that… whatever that was that came over you… it's happened before?"
"Once or… twice before. But it's hazy."
"It only comes out when you're in trouble."
"... Yeah."
But you'd still rather die than defend yourself that way. Gladio thought it, but didn't say it. He took a contemplative look at the ribbon in one hand and the pill bottle in the other. A ward for negative status effects. Turning into a pseudo-daemon was about as negative as things could get, outside of being dead. Medicine, for the same thing.
It was starting to come together. The way he understood it, whatever weird-ass disease it was that Prompto had, was one he was trying to keep in check for as long as possible, by any means he had available to him. In the meantime, he vaulted headfirst into the nihilistic Death Goddess nonsense because if worse came to worst and he couldn't be fixed, he figured he'd either die or be killed sooner rather than later anyhow. And if he sided with Ardyn, it would be easier on his friends to say good riddance to a traitor than goodbye to someone they cared about.
So, this is what Ardyn saw in Prompto. An outcast whose life was marked as different from the beginning, whose role in proper society wasn't set since birth because of something he couldn't control, leaving him on an uncertain path. In a place where everyone else knew where and who they needed to be, the one that didn't was malleable in comparison, easy to win over. Because as much as he hated the rigidity of the world, he still wanted to belong to it, and if there wasn't a place for him, he would carve one out. He just needed to think it was something he chose to do, in the end.
Gladio tied the ribbon back around Prompto's arm, then handed the bottle to him. "Don't miss a dose."
Prompto's immobility went away bit by bit, until he had enough sensation in his arm to take the bottle and stash it away himself. "Don't have to tell me twice."
"Good, wouldn't want to anyway. So whatever this is you've got… Lunafreya might be able to fix it."
"What… you really think she can?" He pulled himself up so that he was seated.
"She's the Priestess for a reason. The Fleurets can heal just about anything as long as it's still breathing, just ask Noct. You can doubt the gods however much you want, but if you doubt what Luna's capable of, I might actually kick your ass and spare Noct the trouble of doing it himself. But then tell him about it anyway just so he puts in the extra effort."
Prompto pretend-flinched and raised his hands in mock defense on top of that. "Okay, I believe you." But his mouth still tightened to a tense line, and he lowered his hands to his sides. "How do you even know you can trust me, after all this?"
"The hell's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm saying you're a dumbass, Gladio. I'm saying I'm…" a harsh inhale, and Prompto found his words. "I'm not worth all this."
Gladio huffed. "Quit it with the doom and gloom shit. It's getting annoying."
"Make me."
There were some things about Prompto that Gladio could swear he'd have called bullshit on if he'd ever read it on paper or heard it described without ever knowing the guy. Like how he came off so unassuming and cloud-headed, but the set of his jaw and the severity in his gaze gave the impression that he'd level a mountain with his hands if it didn't get out of his way fast enough; how his hair looked at first glance like it'd be downy to the touch and reminiscent of chocobo feathers, but it was equally likely it'd sear anyone for having the audacity to get too close, for the same reason no one stuck their hands into an open flame; how being close to him was as likely to bring comfort as it was to court misfortune.
It shouldn't have worked out. One side should have been false. But as Gladio got close, enough to hear the way Prompto's breath caught, he realized, he believed them both. And this, too, was true; that what he did then meant nothing more than what it was, and meant everything even beyond it.
If the wind howled outside, all he heard were whispers. If the thunder crashed, he heard plinks. Whatever storm was out there didn't matter. Just the blond in his grasp, lips so soft they reminded him of ripe figs in the late summer, and they were just as tempting to bite. He could feel the last traces of tiny cuts along Prompto's fingers, and either the guy bit his nails a lot or he just never took the time to file them after trimming. Still, his hands were soft, whereas Gladio knew his own were rough and calloused, too lived-in in comparison, but that didn't matter either; their fingers fit perfectly when intertwined with each other.
When Gladio pulled away, maybe it was just his imagination but he could swear he heard a whine of protest. But Prompto still let him go, and allowed him to settle back in his seat.
Prompto's eyes drifted open as if from a long sleep. "Is that why…?"
"No, it isn't. I just did that because I wanted to."
"Oh." The blond licked his lips. He wasn't going to say he was savoring the kiss, but that was exactly what he was doing.
"I meant what I said, though. We need you around. But if it helps any, then ..." Gladio paused and let his eyes wander the ceiling planks as he thought of just how to word this. "That whole sickness thing? Ardyn told us about it while you were in the caravan last night."
Prompto tensed up. "But I never told him I had it. How did he…?"
Gladio disguised the chill that crawled up his spine with a single-shoulder shrug. "He made a good guess. He seems to know a lot of things we don't. The thing is, he told us to make sure you didn't get too sick. Said it'd be bad for all of us. Not believing him at this stage doesn't sound like a good idea. So… we're gonna do all we can, and that involves getting you to Luna."
Prompto laughed, and Gladio couldn't tell if he actually meant to laugh or if it was an attempt to stave off a cry. Whatever it was, he took his leave of the bed and checked that he had everything in order, though he took his time with it.
"I collected some water for you to clean yourself up. S'on the table."
"Thanks." Prompto went over to the basin that was there and washed his face of whatever grime he had left, though his cheek stung from a hit that hadn't healed completely. The potion prioritized the worse of his wounds and left some things to nature. Sure. That was fine.
He cast a quick glance over his shoulder to be sure of where Gladio was. Let the silence linger between them for a bit before the next words chased them off.
"Can't believe you got a big ol' crush on little ol' me." The unmistakable note of mischief tinged every letter of his words.
"Huh? No. Hell no."
"Nah, of course not. You lo-"
"If you don't want me to grab your gun and shoot you with it, I suggest you quit yapping." But it didn't take long for him to relent. "It slipped out."
"Heat of the moment? Last chance you'd ever get kind of thing?"
"...You could say that."
"Thought that's what it was." The smile was so obvious, Gladio could hear it in the way Prompto spoke. The fact that he turned around to face Gladio made obvious what the other already knew. "Be honest, now. You probably thought about what I'd be saying if we got it on, huh? 'Oh, Gladdy, you're sooo~ good,' or something like that?"
Gladio pondered the wording. "You're close, but instead of calling me 'Gladdy', you'd be saying something else."
Prompto frowned. "I'd call you 'Gladio' like I usually do?"
"Not quite. A little more in the other direction."
There was a pause for thought, and then in sunk in. "... Oh. Dude, that's naughty, even for me."
Gladio's look could almost rival Prompto's in deviousness. "You sure? 'Cause I'm willing to bet you would call me that if you were turned on enough."
Prompto opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it and closed it.
It was quiet again. But it was an odd thing, this silence. It just begged for something to fill it.
Gladio found that he couldn't resist the question. "So, what is he to you, anyway?"
"Who, Ardyn?"
"Mmhm."
"Oh, it's obvious isn't it?" Prompto said flatly. "He's my sugar daddy. I was actually hoping you guys would crash at the motel room so while you all slept, I'd sneak out, rendezvous with him and I'd get a good dicking with hats off."
Gladio gave Prompto a look that said all it needed to.
Prompto raised an eyebrow. "I thought you'd buy that."
"You must think I was born yesterday."
The laugh sounded more genuine than before, this time. "I guess I should tell you the truth then, even if it is weird. I've never met him before, but I feel like I know him from somewhere. And… the way you made it sound, he's kind of like a -" another laugh jumped out of him - "a guardian angel, or something."
Gladio wouldn't have considered 'guardian angel' and 'Ardyn' as two things that belonged on the same continent, much less the former being used to describe the latter in anything approaching the same sentence. But he had to concede that the term fit, given what lengths Ardyn had gone to to protect Prompto.
Prompto turned his head this way and that. He sought something, and the search led him to the window where he peered out past the glass. "When did all the thunder and lightning stop?"
… When did it? Gladio himself hadn't noticed the storm had receded until it was pointed out. "Dunno. At least that means it's safe for us to leave here. The others should be looking for us, if they haven't already done that and missed us."
The two of them stepped out to a clearer night sky within their view, with the vestiges of the storm soaked into the earth or left adrip from the trees. Prompto emptied out the basin and put it back where it belonged.
Gladio waited until he returned, then mused, "Huh. And you were doubting the Fulgurian was still around."
Prompto sucked his teeth. "Storms happen sometimes. That's nothing special."
They made their way around singed branches and fallen halves of trees, and soon heard voices, saw lights in the distance.
"Gladio? You out here?" Noctis called out. He sounded confident that his friend was safe, even if unknown.
"Prompto, where are you?" Ignis sounded more concerned.
Prompto began to run in the direction of the light. "Iggy, Noct! We're-" he made a show of tripping over a shrub in excitement, though he got back to his feet and into view of the two. "We're here! We're okay!"
Ignis spotted him first, then dimmed the light to a more tolerable level. Once he and Noctis reached Prompto, he got closer yet and pulled him into a tight embrace as if to be sure he wasn't imagining this. "Thank the gods." The relief in the retainer was palpable.
"You're welcome." The smugness in the prince was similarly felt, but a quick thwap to his head made him consider revising that tone. And consider it, he did, only to opt against making any correction. "Technically, with the Landforger's power inside me, I am kind of a god."
"You're an egotistical pain in the ass, is what you are."
Noctis grinned at Ignis anyway, and took Prompto's hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. His expression brightened yet when his trusted Shield came out from the cover of darkness as well, and he released his hold on Prompto's hand to take Gladio's in the same way. "I knew we could count on you."
He looked so proud, so happy, that Gladio couldn't help trying to match it with his own smile.
"I wouldn't be too sure." Ignis's words broke them out of their reverie, and when they turned to look, the adviser was tenderly stroking at the mark on Prompto's cheek, the one that hadn't healed yet. The ire burned in Ignis's gaze, and were his accusation a living thing, it would have leapt out of him and went right for Gladio's throat to gouge the Shield where he stood. "What did you do to him?"
Words failed. Gladio didn't know what to say to that. He couldn't be honest about what had happened; what he'd found out wasn't his secret to tell. He supposed if Prompto was quiet about his condition to the others, and he wasn't going to leap to Ardyn's side as long as there was still hope that Luna could heal him for good, then the issue was settled.
"Wait, Iggy…" Prompto took Ignis's hand in his, drawing the retainer's attention away from the supposed culprit. "It's okay. It's not his fault. I just… got carried away, almost caught a whole daemon claw with my face. Could've been a lot worse than this, but he saved me, y'know. I owe him big time."
Ignis glanced at Gladio, still a tad disbelieving, but his friend's words were more pressing. "Why did you run away at all?"
"I wasn't thinking straight," Prompto said with a shake of his head, and his gaze wandered along the ground as if he were nervous at how his explanation would sound. "I just felt… like I could be doing more for you guys, carrying my own weight instead of being the load. He tried to stop me from leaving, told me I didn't have to prove anything to anybody, but I … I didn't want you guys to see me as weak."
"In that case, he's right. You don't have to prove your worth to us. You're not weak. You do enough for us as it is. More than you need to," Ignis insisted.
"You think so?"
The retainer nodded, and earned a tight hug.
"You're the best." Prompto whispered.
Ignis smirked. "Oh, you're just finding out now? I thought that was obvious."
That got a laugh. "Ah, knew the warm and tender stuff from you wouldn't last."
At that point, Noctis leaned closer to Gladio and whispered, "and the guy says I'm full of myself."
"To be fair, he's right about that one."
Noctis gasped in mock offense. "Whose side are you on? I thought you were supposed to protect me!"
"Oh, I know. Sometimes that means calling you out once or twice." He got a playful punch to the shoulder for that.
"Asshole. Maybe I should make good on what I said earlier and just have Titan be my Shield. You can run along and do whatever."
"That was out of line when you first said it, and it's out of line now too."
"I'm still your boss, and I can still get away with it."
"Whatever it is you decide to do," Ignis cut in, "I suggest you hold off on it until I've said my piece." And for that, he locked eyes with Gladio and gave a nod of acknowledgment. "Thank you, for keeping Prompto safe."
Gladio waved a hand to dismiss that, though he appreciated it all the same. "Aw, Iggy, you're about to make me blush."
The stern look turned into an unimpressed frown in record time. "This is the fastest I've ever reconsidered having said anything in my life."
"No takesies backsies, Iggy. You've already thanked him," Prompto chimed in.
"And that's as good a voucher as any for Gladio to stay with us," Noctis added. "I mean, why wouldn't I keep proof that you were wrong about something?"
Ignis couldn't look any more offended if someone smacked his heretofore nonexistent puppy. "We should head back. Now."
The others didn't need to be told twice, and were happy to go back to the motel with Ignis taking the lead as if he'd outpace his regret that way. They returned to their shared room in relative quiet, and while they were preparing to rest, Noctis spoke up.
"Y'know, I don't think we'd have found you guys if we'd left the motel earlier. It all worked out in a weird way."
Prompto tilted his head and let out a curious hum. "Why? What stopped you? Aside from the…" he gestured to the air above them.
Noctis laughed and pointed to the side of his own head. "A really bad headache. Like the ones I got from Titan. Kept me down until the worst of the storm was over. If I didn't know any better, I'd say the Stormsender himself was telling me to wait it out- that you two would be fine even if we didn't hurry. So at least this means he's nearby. We can find him next."
"Oh… sounds like a plan." Prompto nodded.
Noctis nodded back, and laid down to go to sleep. When he wasn't looking, Gladio got Prompto's attention and signed, Told you.
Prompto responded with a different kind of sign that needed just one specific finger on his hand to do, and he used both fingers for extra emphasis. Gladio kept his amusement to a low chuckle.
