Let us head to the past, shall we...


A Talk With Noct

"Hey, Noct! Let's hit up the arcade. I heard the newest Final Fantasy just came in!" Prompto encouraged as they walked out the school doors. While many of the other students were subdued that afternoon with the reveal of the newest report cards, Prompto was certainly not one of them. Not that he'd made excellent grades—they were rather mediocre, in fact—but because he didn't have parents at home to show them to. His folks were abroad and only cared that he was still breathing, hadn't burned down the house, and at the very least were passing his classes. As he was currently able to check off on each of those, he had nothing to fear.

Noctis couldn't say the same thing.

The prince looked down at his report card for the twentieth time, yet again wincing. "Sorry, Prom. I'm gonna have to pass this time. I need to speak to my dad."

"Oooh. Yikes." Noctis lived on his own. If he needed to speak with his father, it was serious. "Well alright then. See you…?"

"Probably not until Monday," Noctis replied glumly.

"Double yikes. Okay then…till Monday…" He waved a hand that easily carried all his concerns for his friend and set off for his house.

Already at the front gate with the car door open and waiting was Ignis. Noctis slid into the backseat, slunk down with his knees drawn up, and pretended to bury his face in his phone.

"…Noct?" Ignis asked once he'd returned to the front seat. His voice already held a note of suspicion. "Care to divulge as to what's the matter?"

No, Ignis, I don't, thank you very much, he would've loved to say. What came out was, "My report card." Might as well tell the truth. Ignis would wheedle it out of him one way or another. His advisor was good like that, the perfect therapist that could make you spill your innermost secrets before you were able to catch yourself. Even when he tried to answer vaguely, all it took was a look, a raised eyebrow, and Noctis would know that he was just prolonging the inevitable.

To his answer, Ignis responded, "Oh dear…what's the damage?"

"D minus in Calculus…and an F in Literature."

Ignis grew very quiet for a long moment. When he at last spoke, he imparted, "To use the language of your peers, I do believe you're quite fucked."

"That's not even the worst of it."

"There's more?!"

"The Literature teacher wants a parent-teacher conference."

"Oh no…"

"And it has to be dad. Unless…you want to adopt me in the next twenty-four hours to become my legal guardian?" Beautiful thing about being on this side of bureaucracy was that he could see to it that things moved along much faster than normal. It wasn't a stretch that Ignis very well could be his legal guardian in less than a day.

Except Ignis replied "I'd sooner eat Cup Noodle for the rest of my life than become your guardian!"

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?!"

"It means no. We're going to the Citadel and your father will handle this."

Noctis was starting to regret not taking Prompto up on his offer to go gaming. He feared that by the end of the weekend, he'd no longer be a bachelor with an elegant penthouse. He'd be like any other student, living at home with his family. Citadel or not, it would feel like a prison.

~.~.~

"Clarus?"

"Yes, Your Majesty?" His Shield, who doubled as a close confidant, watched from a bedside chair as the king primped himself for the meeting in the adjacent bathroom.

"From one widowed father to another, if Gladiolus or Iris came home with such grades, what would you do?" Regis picked up a tiny pair of scissors and began to snip away at nose hairs.

Clarus looked away and offered "Lock them in a dungeon and throw away the key?"

"Now that's an idea!"

"Regis. I was joking."

"Oh. Well then…what would you do? Seriously?"

Older by only five years but feeling as though it were much more, Clarus let out a breath and rubbed his forehead. "I'd want to know why they're scoring so low, for one. I'd talk to them, ask them what's bothering them. Few kids make bad grades for the joy of it; usually something's diverting their concentration. It helps to figure out what it is."

Regis had frozen, staring at him by the reflection of the mirror. "Talk to him? Talk…to Noctis?"

Clarus blinked. "Well, yes. You are his father. Talk to him."

The king sat the scissors down and began to pull on his tie. "Y-yes, I'm his father!" he said, as though he needed to convince himself of this. "I'll just…talk to him."

Nevermind that he hadn't had a heart to heart with Noctis in for-never. But there was, of course, a first for everything.

~.~.~

"Mr. Caelum—may I call you Mr. Caelum? Mr. Caelum, your son hasn't read any of the assigned work for the class this semester," Mr. Simmons, the Literature teacher, informed. "At this point, I'll even take knowledge parsed from cliffnotes if it'll help. This class is part of his core curriculum. If he fails, I'm afraid he'll have to attend summer school…or repeat the year."

"I understand. I'll fire his tutors right away."

"What? No! Just…he was doing well up until a few weeks ago. Can you think of anything that might've caused this shift?"

Regis stared at him blankly. "I haven't the faintest idea." Noctis wasn't there for him to ask as the teacher had wanted to see him alone.

The Literature teacher gave a quiet and yet very audible grunt. "Not a thing, Mr. Caelum? Maybe…and I'm just speculating here, but didn't you sign the controversial peace treaty with Niflheim not too long ago? Something so polarizing, don't you think that could've affected your son?"

Regis smiled warmly and waved a dismissive hand. "Noctis has been thrown from a car by a daemon and bounced back like it was nothing. Some schoolyard gossip wouldn't make him fail like this."

The teacher paled. "I actually remember when that news broke to the capital. I happened to have a friend who worked in your son's elementary school who informed me that he coped by creating a fictional creature he called 'Carbuncle'. I feel Noctis might be under more stress than you think. Would you at least talk to him? Please?"

There it went again. Regis gulped, rubbing sweaty palms on his knees. "I'll try."

~.~.~

"So your teacher seems to think you're holding on to some sort of repressed childhood trauma that's affecting your grades," Regis announced at dinner that evening.

Noctis nearly choked on his Leiden baked potato. "What gave him that idea?"

Regis shrugged, keeping his head bowed as he cut into his garula shank. "Don't know. Something about a Carbuncle?"

"Never heard of it." Noctis kept a steady hand as he dalloped on sour cream.

"Well, either way, I'm going to be tutoring you personally until those grades come up so you'll be staying here. Ignis will care for the apartment in your absence."

"Oh my god, you're ruining my life!" Noctis exploded, throwing down his utensils. He snatched his napkin off and tossed it away. Taking a page from his father, he performed a warp-strike out of the room by throwing the blade at the ceiling, disappearing a second afterwards.

"Do you wish for me to go get him, Sire?" asked Ignis, always close at hand.

"No, it's fine. I'll…" He took a deep breath. "I'll talk with him."

~.~.~

"Noctis? Can I come in? Even if you say no, I'll just warp-strike inside so you might as well open it."

The lock clicked and Regis pushed open the door just as Noctis was returning back to his bed. He'd changed from his prestigious school uniform to skull and cross-bones pajamas, even covering his feet in black socks dotted in a similar pattern. Regis wasn't sure which of his predecessors had stolen the significance of black as a royal color but he was sure that wasn't why Noctis had dressed this way. Actually, he was certain that wasn't why his son ever wore the color, unlike himself. Maybe he should ask him why.

But not now.

"I wanted to apologize," the king spoke, shutting the door behind him. He walked over to the bed where Noctis had sat himself. His son had given him the courtesy of remaining up-right, sitting cross-legged. "Maybe my decision was a little harsh."

Noctis smacked his teeth, something his son knew irritated him. He refused to let the boy get the upper hand. "How about this: we'll go on a week by week basis. This week, you'll live here. At the end of the week, you bring me your graded papers. All of your papers; I'll call the school to check. If they're satisfactory, the week afterwards, you may live back at the apartment. If you score anything below a B—yes, a B!—you return to living here for that week. Is that a deal?"

"C's. No lower than a C. I've never made higher than that in Literature." Noctis countered.

That was news. "Well, you will now, mister!"

But his son was shaking his head and…laughing? Yes, those trembling shoulders were definitely from laughter. "Dad, I have three months left of school. I'm not going to college so this is it. I've spent the better part of my life making C's. That's not going to stop just because you want it to."

It was here that Regis felt the first of what would slowly become many more uncomfortable pangs. He instantly recognized what it was: Noctis was wresting away from him, pulling bit by bit from his control.

His son was becoming an adult.

He considered his options and realized Noctis was right. And yet…

"Noctis, would you be satisfied ruling this country knowing you only gave your education the bare minimum?"

This stunned the teen. The guilt etched its way from his cheeks to his ears and he ducked his head. "I guess not."

The king slid back to where he was pressed to the headboard, now sitting directly next to his son. He put an arm around him, ignoring when he felt the flinch. His arm wasn't removed. "Sometimes we're not motivated enough to do our best just for ourselves. Sometimes the encouragement we need to excel comes from the desire to please others. The man who barely even tries earns little respect from his peers but the one who tries, even if he fails, will still be awarded their appreciation. Do you understand what I'm saying, Noctis?"

Noctis had shrunk in on himself, no longer such an adult. He was back to being a boy and Regis checked the smile that wanted to spread across his face. "Yeah…I think I get it."

The king nodded solemnly. "Good. I was once a prince, too, you know, plagued by thoughts of 'why bother?' It took my father's death and the first time I sat in that throne room without him to realize just how much I didn't know."

By now, Noctis was so still, Regis wondered if he was breathing. This conversation had taken a darker turn than he'd intended. Maybe now would be a good time to inform him that Ignis had made his favorite dessert to cheer him up.

But instead, Noctis quietly asked, "What was he like? Grandpa?" The word sounded stiff from disuse.

"I'm glad you asked! Let me tell you about your no good, scoundrel of a grandfather, King Mors..."

And so the evening was passed by reliving stories from the past.

~.~.~

"Noctis, I hereby absolve you from needing to study Calculus. If your teacher questions why, inform them that it's an order from the King and this has to be cruel and unusual punishment. There's no way a student could possibly need all of this!"

It was the next morning and the two were attempting to tackle the weekend homework Noctis had been assigned. At the bafflement on his father's face, mirth flashed through his blue eyes. "Oh? What was all of that about not doing things halfway? Do I hear a quitter? You know, Gladio told me—"

"'Winners never quit, and quitters never win'", Regis growled, now being the one to click his tongue. "I get more than enough of that from Clarus."

Honestly, Noctis hated the line as well. He'd last heard it after initially giving up on the labyrinth of Pitioss Ruins, in which, inexplicably, he was the only one that was allowed entrance. Easy for Gladio to give little quips like that; he wasn't the one doing it! That first attempt lasted two hours and the full run cost him a week. Every step was a death trap and a single mistake could've landed him at death's door…with no one to revive him. Sometimes he still had nightmares of being back there.

He shook his head. That wasn't important. Or…was it? He'd used calculations to judge distances for jumping platforms in the dark, timing necessary falls from moving objects, and inching along hazardous ledges. Rudimentary math, for sure, and most of it was guess work, but math nonetheless. He couldn't give up now.

That weekend was one of grueling studying. At times, Ignis would stop in to quiz him in Literature and give him a biscuit (a Tenebraen biscuit, of which Noctis had long ago given up trying to get his advisor to call them cookies) if he answered a question correctly. When Monday dawned, Noctis had never been more eager to go back to school.

His grades increased exponentially and he became the top performer in the two classes. The teachers hailed him as a late-blooming prodigy and word quickly spread about the new wunderkind taking the school by storm.

…Is what Regis would've liked to have seen. Instead, Noctis came home at the end of the week with an F in Calculus and…an A in Literature. The king laughed until he cried before sending his son back to his apartment.

Sometimes you just have to know when to concede defeat.