A/N: I wrote this to go in the base story, but then changed my mind about it. It's cute, though, so I thought I'd share.
Summary: Six-year-old Noct and Rei attend King Regis' birthday soiree. Noct hates suits.
January 742:
More often than not, the only time they saw their father was as the king.
"Hurry up, Noctis, or we'll be late."
Six-year-old Reina stood in front of the floor length mirror in their room, holding very still as Merewyn—one of the Citadel staff—worked on the line of buttons up the back of her dress. She wanted desperately to run her fingers over the front of it—it was a brand new dress and she was enamored—but she didn't move a muscle, settling instead for admiring the garment in the mirror. It was just the right blue to bring out the color of her eyes, with a full, floor-length skirt made of layer upon layer of chiffon. Down the back trailed a line of white butterflies, as if they followed her every move.
Noctis, on the other hand, sat obstinately on his bed with his arms folded, refusing to submit himself to the same treatment. He said nothing to Sandre, but in the mirror Reina saw the sullen glare he gave her.
"Do you want to make your father wait?"
Still there was no reply from Noct. Reina wasn't surprised; no reply was Noct's usual reply.
Merewyn finished buttoning Reina's dress, giving her a smile in the mirror, which meant she was allowed to twist and twirl and admire the resulting flow of her dress. The servant watched cheerfully, straightening and letting Reina have her fill of the dress before she tried to rearrange the princess' hair.
"Now I won't ask you again, Prince Noctis. Get dressed or you won't see your father. I will not take you to the king looking like a street boy."
That did get Noctis on his feet. He fixed Sandre with a look fit to burn, but began to strip off his play clothes and submitted himself to being dressed up in formalwear. In spite of his compliance, Reina heard his grumbled complaint.
"Dad doesn't care what I wear."
Either their nanny didn't hear or she didn't care to respond, either way the comment passed unnoticed.
When they left—not, as far as Reina could tell, behind schedule—Noctis wore a black suit, which looked like a tiny imitation of their father's, and someone had at least passed a comb through his unruly hair. Reina wore her dress with delight, rather than complaint, and she had sat still long enough for Merewyn to plait her hair in an elaborate braid that wrapped around her head like a crown before weaving into a tail hanging over her shoulder. Not a hair was out of place; she walked like she was afraid improper motions would ruin her appearance.
Noctis stuffed his hands in his pockets and slumped after them. He didn't complain any further, at least not out loud, but he made it clear that he wasn't happy.
They crossed the Citadel in that fashion, the three of them making a well-dressed, if not well-behaved, trio. In spite of her excitement, Reina walked steadily and gracefully. She was going to see Father in her beautiful new dress—and she had sat so carefully and so patiently so Merewyn could do her hair with the braids and the crystals. Would he think she was beautiful? Would Sandre tell him what a good job she had done, being patient and calm even though she just wanted to twirl in circles in front of the mirror and laugh? Only time would tell.
Reina had only been in the ballroom a handful of times, and none of them had really been for a ball—this was the closest they had gotten to that, as far as she could recall. The whole room was decorated beyond its usual splendor. Silk drapery accented the gold-paneled walls, dozens of long tables were draped in gleaming black and set with gold chargers and flatware. There were servants lining the walls, waiting to be called into service, and guests were beginning to form a queue to be presented.
Before any of the others entered, however, Sandre led the prince and princess to the front, where an attendant announced, in a clear, ringing voice:
"The Crown Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum and Princess Reina Lucis Caelum."
"Stand up straight, Noctis. Now walk across together—not too fast, just like we practiced." Sandre gave them a nudge and suddenly they were in the long room, walking down the plush velvet carpet that ended on the other end, where the king sat.
Reina put on a smile. She held her head high and walked steadily toward him, precisely as she was told. Noctis, who had made a show of standing up straighter when chided, kept pace with her, but his expression made it clear he wished he wasn't.
When they reached the stairs leading up to the king, Reina curtsied—the motion, practiced for years, now, felt just right as she hit all the marks she ought to have. Noct looked at her, then bowed stiffly to the king. He was beaming at them in that way that made it impossible not to smile back. Even Noctis gave in as he motioned them up the stairs and lowered to one knee to catch his son.
"Sandre made me wear these dumb clothes," Noctis complained as the king lifted him off his feet.
"Did she, indeed?"He smiled dotingly at Noct. "You would prefer something else?"
"Can't I just wear normal clothes?"
"Perhaps, once everyone has seen how nice you look in these clothes."
Noctis made a face. The king laughed. "The price of your position, I fear."
Reina watched the exchange, still standing before them with her hands clasped in front of her, waiting to be noticed. At last the king did turn his eyes on her.
"And Reina, my dear; you look very grown-up."
"Thank you, Father." Reina gave another well-practiced curtsey. Grown-up wasn't quite as good as beautiful, which—she felt—encompassed looking grown up at the same time as being pretty, but it was nice. "And Happy Birthday, Father."
"Thank you!" He dropped back to one knee to give her a hug, somehow managing that all the while holding Noct across one forearm. Reina savored the hug and when he straightened she took his hand as offered, but she wished he had picked her up, too.
"Now, then. We are all present and accounted for; so begins the long procession." The king shifted his hold on Noctis, lifting the prince onto his shoulders and motioning to the attendant at the far end of the room. He gave Reina his hand back and she held tight to it as the first guest was announced.
It was a long procession. For each person announced there was a name and a title and a long walk up the carpet; their father nodded to each one, looking mountainous and kingly from where Reina was standing. He talked to them while the guests entered, distracting young minds with whatever he could think to.
In spite of that, Noctis lost interest not but fifteen minutes in.
"This is boring," he complained.
"Would you prefer to wait somewhere else? Ignis is here, I believe—I can send you with him, instead," the king suggested, not in the least put off by his son's disinterest.
"Yeah. I like Ignis much better."
The king smiled, motioning to Sandre—who stood off to one side—between guests. He shifted Noctis off his shoulders, putting the prince's feet back on the ground.
"Will you kindly take Noctis to young Ignis? And let him change clothes if he wants—he is merely a child."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Sandre curtsied.
"Would you like to go with them, Reina?" the king asked, bending to look at her.
"No, Father, I want to stay," Reina said. Maybe it was boring, but if Father could do it, she could, too. She would prove she could do it.
"As you wish," he smiled. "Thank you, Sandre. That will be all."
Sandre took Noct away to find Ignis and Reina was left alone with her father—or as alone as they could be, in such a public place. She felt a surge of excitement at that. When it was just the two of them she wasn't second to Noctis, because Noctis wasn't around to be first. Father was looking at her, now, with his hands on her shoulders, big enough to cover half of each arm.
"My little girl—more grown up than you have any business being."
Reina beamed, thrilled with being the sole object of his attention, if only for a few moments. Of all the things he might have called her, she loved that title most.
"Are you too grown up to be picked up?"
"No, Father," Reina giggled.
"Excellent! For that is just what I intend to do."
He tucked his hands under her arms and swept her off her feet, spinning her around once—much to her delight—before settling her in his arms. Once they were ready, the procession resumed.
"Do you not find it boring?" He asked, picking up the conversation to keep it from becoming that way.
"I don't mind, Father." Nothing was boring enough to convince her to give up that time with him. They could have been doing nothing at all and she wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else.
He looked searchingly at her for a moment before returning his gaze to the approaching courtiers. "I find it amazing and impossible, how very different the two of you are. How do you find your dress?"
"I like it—it has butterflies!"
Her father looked as she twisted and showed him the little white cut-outs.
"So it does! Well! You look very pretty."
Reina's whole face lit up; she had been bright, before, but now she was a sunbeam in an Insomnian winter. "Thank you, Father!"
He smiled and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
"Now watch," he said, turning back toward the doors—they had missed at least three different names in their conversation, but somehow the king had managed a nod for each person that approached. "The Duke of Auriga has the silliest nose I have ever seen on a person."
Reina giggled.
That was how the rest of the procession went, with Reina sitting quite still in her father's arms, looking happier than ever, as he said little things to make her laugh and keep her entertained. He needn't have bothered. She would have been content just to be there; how Noctis could trade time with Father for playing with Ignis she couldn't fathom. She would never.