A/N: Friendly reminder that this story is co-written by myself and roguehearted!
Chapter Six: Party of Three
Nearly a day had passed, and Loqi still believed that he had held his temper fairly well during the banquet given that his self-important grunt had decided to seize for himself a sizeable promotion right there at the table. What insolence, to make such fools of them in an atmosphere that would brook no argument at the time. He had resolved to address it today, in the next few minutes if his expectations were met to his satisfaction; to express anything to the contrary last night would have meant inviting scrutiny, so the only avenue available to the commander had been to slip under Prompto's skin and use a nickname he knew the other disliked hearing.
Well, perhaps that and being a bit harder than necessary on the captain's target.
The problem was that Prompto could easily have acquired the station of captain of his own merit-Loqi was all too aware of that. It was not merely the fact that he was admittedly one of the more impressive soldiers that any unit had to offer, which Loqi would never admit aloud, but his lineage was similarly remarkable as well. In many ways, it could rival Loqi's own. The sole difference was that Loqi's parents had kept him ; Prompto's had handed him over to be conscripted as soon as they were able. They hadn't so much as named him as far as Loqi knew. No, much like the rest of the soldiers Niflheim kept in their employ, Loqi assumed Prompto had named himself.
With a ridiculous one, at that.
Still, Prompto's lineage was a potentially major obstacle for Loqi and had been a thorn in his side since it was decided that he would be the one to end the prince's life. Loqi imagined Prompto's body would hardly be cold before that idiot weapons developer, Verstael Besithia, hastened forward to remind the emperor that he had been the one to gift the empire with the tool that won them the Crystal.
And the emperor would allow it, too. Aldercapt had always favored that crazy old prune, praising his advancements for their army while he brushed House Tummelt to the side and allowed them to fade into near obscurity.
He would not stand for it any longer. His name would be overlooked no more. If that meant seeing to it that Prompto failed while he stepped in and won the day, then so be it. So long as the task was completed, he hardly expected that Aldercapt would care who pulled the trigger in the aftermath.
It was more likely that that route would remain unavailable, however, which meant that there was always the option of killing Besithia. The man was frail enough for one good push down a flight of stairs to do the trick.
Whichever method he used, House Tummelt would rise again. He would make sure of that.
Deciding his course of action was a matter for when he returned home. For now, he would have to stay on top of his underling's progress.
In fact, he was so singularly focused on the dressing-down he had been mentally rehearsing that he didn't immediately register the dull pain that accompanied slamming into a shockingly locked door. A few moments passed where he could but stare at the offending entry as though it might open at his ire and confusion.
It did not.
This was an outrage! The unit's barracks in Gralea didn't have locks-they didn't even have a door . There was a giant opening in the walls that led to a pile of old mattresses and floor space for sleeping with an attached room for personal hygiene. Both shared the same amenity, which was to say that they were open at all times .
Per standard protocol, Loqi had been expecting the door to Prompto's present accommodations to be unlocked and his lodgings made available to him. Perhaps he had simply neglected to turn the knob far enough, an embarrassing yet otherwise unimportant development. With a few muffled curses, however, the commander tugged at the handle only to realize that it really was locked.
Oh, he is really in for it now.
For a fleeting moment, Loqi was willing to give Prompto the benefit of the doubt: if he was stupid enough to claim he was a captain in front of everyone at last night's dinner with no evidence or ability to prove it, he was certainly stupid enough to lock the door by accident.
That didn't stop Loqi from pounding on it with as much force as he could.
"I demand you permit my entrance at once!" he shouted, earning an inquisitive look from the guard stationed at the end of the hall. That brought Loqi up short and forced him to compose himself, but only a bit. If that guard knew what was good for him, he'd mind his own damn business. This matter was between him and his soldier.
As a matter of fact, Loqi was raising his hand to knock again with the full intention of tearing Prompto's throat out when he finally heard the click of the lock on the other side. The remorseful turn of Prompto's lips when he opened the door was not enough to ease Loqi's desire to slap that smile off of his face, though.
"Uh, sorry... Didn't know that's what that did."
So he was as big a moron as Loqi had suspected. How very unsurprising.
"Idiot," Loqi spat, shoving past Prompto and peering around the room in disdain.
Was he imagining it, or was this chamber bigger than his? He took a few paces forward, calculating the scale in his head before he determined that his must be the larger of the two. There was no way that the Lucians would be so bold as to offer his underling more luxurious accommodations than himself.
Prompto seemed to be remembering himself today, because he said nothing as Loqi scrutinized his chambers and carried on, "Why are you pushing buttons if you do not know what they do? Have you no sense? If we are to smuggle you a weapon to dispatch of the prince, then we need access to your quarters at all times."
Loqi huffed impatiently as Prompto hurried to shut the door and any prying ears beyond it, gritting his teeth. There was no way that he would ever admit to an error as grievous as speaking so openly about their mission before making sure that the room was secured. His assertion had been quiet enough, but he knew what the emperor or that foolish chancellor would have said if they were present: had the guards outside picked up on his ranting, the mission would have come to a swift end right then and there.
At least he has some sense , he admitted grudgingly to himself.
Sneering at Prompto's caution, Loqi recommenced glaring around the room, this time noting a suspiciously not imperial outfit folded on the corner of the bed.
"What the hell is this?" Loqi picked up the shirt, inspecting it with a measure of disgust. It looked like commoner clothing.
"Uh…"
"Have you been entertaining the help?" he continued over him. Loqi did not wait for an answer to that as he tossed the shirt carelessly back towards the bed, disregarding it entirely when it landed on the floor instead. "Sources have indicated that you attended the prince's training session this afternoon. What have you to report?"
Seeming to sense that Loqi wasn't in the mood for the sarcastic remarks he tended to rejoin with, Prompto reported with straight facts, albeit disappointingly vague ones: "Not a whole lot. His Shield is a tree—it takes an army just to bring that guy down."
Loqi motioned impatiently for him to continue, having already seen the prince's Shield at dinner and been on the receiving end of one rather childish kick under the table. In a more normal situation, he might have believed that Prompto was exaggerating, but his recent experience brought him to believe that his assessment was not that far off the mark. Besides, it was that inexperienced clod of a prince that he cared more about.
"Prince Noctis is definitely a lot more skilled than we thought," he continued as though reading his thoughts, lowering his voice in case the guards outside tried to listen through the door. "He's pretty good with the whole Crystal magic stuff."
Unfortunate.
That wasn't exactly what Loqi wanted to hear, but he smirked at Prompto all the same. The level of skill that the prince and his Shield had amassed was Prompto's problem, after all, not his own.
So, Loqi lilted condescendingly, "I do hope you're not telling me that you re unable to take down a measly prince and his bodyguard. It would be a shame to have to send you back to Niflheim, but mistakes can be made..."
Trailing off, Loqi frowned as he looked Prompto over more closely and noted the fresh uniform he was wearing. He had expected that when Prompto was not tailing the prince, he would be confined to these meager quarters, but it seemed very much like he intended to take advantage of Loqi's distraction with the negotiations. It was amazing: when given an inch, he made off with a mile .
"Those uniforms are not infinite. Just where are you planning on going in that one?"
"I'm...doing...some recon tonight," Prompto answered with as casual a shrug as anyone could manage in a stiff new uniform. "I got the prince's advisor to invite me to dinner while he's occupied."
Loqi opened his mouth automatically, ready to point out that what he spoke of as a success could very well be a ruse on the chamberlain's part to see Prompto meet with an unfortunate end, but he stopped himself. If that were the case, he would just take over the mission himself. What a tragedy indeed.
Loqi did not believe he could be that fortunate, though. Besides, if this was a legitimate offer, then it would be the perfect opportunity for Prompto to integrate himself into the prince's inner circle. Apparently and unbelievably, there were those who found Prompto's personality charming . Loqi could hardly fathom why, but if any group of morons could, it would obviously be the Lucians.
"I see," he muttered, scrutinizing Prompto for a moment and trying to find any fault with his current course of action that he could. Sadly, he came up short and was forced to change tacks: "As you must know, we will be departing in a few days' time. You will remain here to finish your mission."
"Right."
Loqi raised an eyebrow, gazing at Prompto with a mocking stare. "We will return for the dearly departed prince's funeral to take Insomnia and retrieve you, of course."
If there was anything left of Prompto for them to retrieve. Loqi suspected that, for as folksy and moronic as he found the Lucians, they would not allow their future king's murderer to live long if the Niflheim army wasn't present to intervene. Based on the way Prompto swallowed hard and nodded uneasily, he had to know it as well. That didn't stop Loqi from dangling the hope of an extraction plan in Prompto's face, of course. Where would be the fun in that?
"We all are confident you won't let us down, captain ," he added as an afterthought.
"I got it, sir ," Prompto replied, and Loqi did not miss the barest touch of sarcasm in his tone. "Watch out for weapon, take down prince, get the hell outta here. Piece of cake."
You keep thinking that.
Loqi wasn't sure what he would have preferred: for Prompto to believe that there was actually an extraction plan in the works and hopefully waiting when the time came, or to know that death was inevitable but that he'd still have to go through with his orders anyway.
He wasn't given much time to mull over both enticing scenarios as Prompto strode purposefully to the door and laid a hand on the knob. His sickeningly, falsely regretful expression did little to soften his insistence when he indicated, "The prince's advisor should be here any minute, sooo ..."
Loqi narrowed his eyes but was able to take the hint, not that he was happy about it. Being thrown out by his inferior was not the best end to his day, yet if he were being honest, Loqi hardly desired to be here when the prince's chamberlain arrived. That man was unnerving.
"Careful not to waste this opportunity," warned Loqi as he exited the room. He paid the guards at the end of the hallway no mind when he called over his shoulder, "And I shall expect this door to beunlocked the next time we meet."
When the elevator doors opened, Gladio stepped inside and waved his keycard against the access panel. A few buttons that had previously been dark lit up, and he jabbed the one that would take him to Ignis's floor with a little more force than was probably necessary. After his discussion with Noct, though, he figured no one would blame him. It wasn't like he broke the damn thing.
Hopefully that was a sign of how the night would go.
Dinner with a Niff. Of all the things he'd never thought would happen, that had to be towards the top of the list. Part of him couldn't quite fathom what the hell Ignis had been thinking in the first place, letting this kid into his own quarters like this. Sure, there was no access to the residences without a keycard, but that didn't mean the little captain wouldn't gain some intel that they definitely didn't want him having.
The fact that stealth kills in the middle of the night were out of the equation for their opponents didn't do much to put his mind at ease. All they really had to do was knock out the right person and grab their card-after that, they'd have the freedom to enter some of the most personal, sacred parts of the Citadel. One key wouldn't get them everywhere, of course; the king was too smart to let anyone besides himself and Noct have access to every level. Still, it wasn't secure enough for Gladio's liking, especially not when Prompto wouldn't be able to get to Ignis's apartment without seeing the trick to making the elevator work.
But Noct had made himself clear not an hour ago: Gladio needed to keep an open mind if for no other reason than that his charge was asking him to. If they could get information out of their Niff shadow, then that was what he needed to do-it was the only way to both fulfill Noct's request and protect him at the same time.
That didn't mean he had to be happy about it.
So, he felt no remorse whatsoever about unlocking Ignis's door with his keycard and barging in without bothering to knock. They'd known each other long enough that that was basically par for the course now; Ignis was the only one who stuck to the whole knocking thing. Waste of time if you asked Gladio.
And speaking of wastes of time-and space, if he was being honest-it looked like the captain was already making himself comfortable. Well, maybe he couldn't go that far: Prompto was busy staring around the place with his mouth hanging open while Ignis set a glass on the counter in front of him. The guy didn't so much as twitch.
The hell kinda captain is he?
Gladio supposed he could let it slide this time— only this time. After all, anyone would have to be impressed with Ignis's chambers: the apartment could have been a museum. If Gladio didn't know that Ignis had lived here since he was a kid, he would have thought it was some kind of model room that they just used for show—decoration without habitation and all that. It wasn't like every room in the Citadel was full, anyway.
Everything in Ignis's apartment was arranged with almost geometric precision, as always: the books on his shelf, the paperwork filed neatly on his desk, even the pillows on his sofa. There was nothing out of place; clutter was a concept Ignis had only heard of because that was practically how Noct existed. The counters in the small kitchenette across the main room were all cleared, and through another door was an immaculately made bed that looked like it hadn't been slept in for the last ten years.
All things considered, though, it was nothing fancy. There were definitely nicer rooms in the palace; Gladio's own home could boast of way more space and comfort, not that he'd ever brag about it. Still, Ignis's abode wasn't too shabby, and it more than put the guest rooms they'd stuck the Niffs in to shame. That was probably why Prompto was gaping like a damn fish, although Gladio didn't get what the big deal was. They had shit like this in the empire, didn't they?
Unless he was cataloging everything to tell Aldercapt what he should be complaining about later. It didn't strike Gladio as the most likely scenario, but hey, weirder things had happened lately.
Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Gladio tossed the door shut behind him. That, at least, snapped Prompto out of his stupor. If he did plan on ratting them out for providing the worst rooms they had to offer, then he'd need to find another time to take mental notes.
Apparently, they'd been in the middle of some pathetic excuse for a conversation before he arrived, because Ignis was busy telling Prompto, "We have water, tea, a few types of juice… I do believe Noct stashed some sodas here that you're more than welcome to."
Snorting, Gladio ignored the friendly smile Prompto shot him when he noticed that they weren't alone anymore and retorted, "He's gotta have somethin' to wash down the veggies with."
"Yes, well, that would require him to eat them in the first place and not strategically place them in my garbage disposal." Sighing, Ignis ironically chose that moment to lay a vegetable tray on the counter that would have made Noct green before he pointed at the untouched glass of lemonade he'd set in front of Prompto before. "If that is not to your liking, I'm sure we can find something else."
Yeah, got a few good ideas about that , Gladio thought darkly. Voicing his ideas on what constituted proper drinks for Niffs was probably not the way to start the evening on the right foot, so he simply watched as Ignis went into full-on mother-hen mode. It wasn't as bad as with Noct, but given the target of his attention, Gladio couldn't help wondering if he was going to get through this dinner without throwing up.
"Prompto, I forgot to ask: you aren't allergic to anything, are you?"
He glanced up from warily scrutinizing his drink to reassure him, "Nope, think I'm good."
Damn. Guess that would've been too easy.
For a few seconds, they descended into silence as Prompto returned to poking at his glass like he expected poison to be inside instead of juice. Not that that wasn't a valid point or exactly what Gladio would have liked, but he still exchanged a subtle, skeptical glance with Ignis.
"It's not gonna bite you, y'know," he finally pointed out.
Seeming to take the hint that they didn't have all night to watch him decide whether he wanted it or not, Prompto chuckled nervously and hastened to take a sip—with some admittedly entertaining results. The pinched expression he adopted when he swallowed a bit of the slightly sour, slightly sweet concoction was too good not to smirk at.
"Looks like he's got Noct's tastes," Gladio mused sarcastically, shooting Ignis a wry smirk. Knowing him, he was logging that information away for what he usually called amicable purposes , as well as potentially lethal ones should the need arise. Gladio didn't relish the thought of taking the stealthy approach to doing Prompto in if they had to, but he'd make do with whatever was necessary to get rid of the guy in that case.
"Training went well today, I take it?" Ignis inquired lightly, effectively changing the subject. It was like he knew when Gladio's thoughts turned violent and tried to preemptively steer them onto a safer course.
And of course, he just had to pick that one.
Prompto hazarded a furtive glance at him, but Gladio wasn't about to offer any assistance this time. After all, he really wanted to hear what the Niff's version of the story was going to be. Probably something about how he'd taken down the prince's Shield and deserved a medal—or maybe he'd save that for his ferret-brained commander.
What he didn't want to hear was Ignis's response. He'd be proud of Noct either way instead of appropriately appalled.
When the silence stretched into awkward territory, however, Gladio nearly rolled his eyes as he realized he was going to have to either be the first to speak or give the little shit a reason. So, he accepted a glass from Ignis with a grunt of thanks and took a long pull, staring pointedly in the other direction.
You first.
After all, he was just going to do exactly as Noct had asked: no confrontation, open mind, all that crap. There was nothing nice he could say about the whole thing, so he wouldn't say anything at all.
"Oh, it was fine," Prompto finally replied after watching him a few seconds longer. "We, uh... I mean, Prince Noctis sure knows what he's doing. We teamed up 'n' stuff."
At that lame description, Gladio snorted into his cup and muttered, "And stuff ."
"I see," murmured Ignis with a quick and easily readable glance at Gladio.
It was one he didn't return, knowing he wouldn't be able to stay as neutral about the situation as Noct needed him to if he did. Regardless, Ignis definitely didn't see. There was too much to that mess that wasn't included in Prompto's answer for him to possibly guess, although if anyone could, it would be him. Fortunately, he was smart enough to take the hint and chose not to press the subject. They could discuss it later.
Clearly thinking along the same lines, Ignis diverted his attention back to their unwanted audience to observe, "Dinner should be ready shortly. Prompto, I hate to ask as you are a guest here, but would you mind setting the table? All the plates and bowls are in that cupboard to your left, and the cutlery is in the drawer below."
Cutlery. Ignis wanted the NIff handling knives. What a comforting thought.
Gladio knew what this was: Ignis was betting on him not liking the idea, which meant he was aiming for Gladio to give the kid a hand. Of course. Because there was no way he'd do it unless absolutely necessary. Gladio wouldn't say he was hopeless in a kitchen—he could throw together Cup Noodles if he was hungry, and really, that was all anyone needed. Setting the table, though? Yeah, his concerns weren't enough for him to make a move there, so he'd leave it to the runt this time. Not his job.
Or so he thought. The sight of Prompto hovering indecisively in front of the cabinet didn't exactly inspire confidence.
For someone who was allegedly an officer in the most powerful military Eos had ever seen, Gladio had no idea how he'd gotten there if he couldn't even figure out something as simple as what they were going to need to eat dinner. Plates and bowls? Forks and spoons? They'd literally used all that at the banquet-this wasn't airship science or anything.
The first step was easy enough, and Gladio watched impatiently as Prompto eventually transferred three plates and three bowls from the cabinet to the table as though he was afraid they might attack him.
Then, apparently, came the hard part. Every time Prompto reached for one style of fork in Ignis's fancy set, he seemed to think better of it and went for another instead. The problem? He'd abandon that one a moment later, frowning down at the drawer in confusion. It was a pretty damn pitiful display, but he tried to remember that not all soldiers were as fortunate as him. He wasn't your run-of-the-mill grunt or even officer: he was the Shield of the future king of Lucis, and as such, he'd at least gotten a few basic pointers when it came to formal dining.
Prompto, on the other hand, spoke as if he'd been yanked off the streets of Lestallum and seemed about as educated. Gladio definitely didn't peg him for the kind of guy who'd been pampered his whole life and therefore had no idea what he was doing when servants could do it for him-those were the vibes he got from Loqi, not Prompto. At least getting confused about which forks they were supposed to use admittedly wasn't one of the worst things that could have happened.
Gladio wouldn't say he was taking pity on the guy, per se. He was just hungry, and hurrying this along would mean spending less time in the presence of his latest tactical nightmare. So, he took a deep breath and stepped forward, clapping a hand on Prompto's shoulder and roughly reaching past him to grab three dinner forks with as many smaller soup spoons.
He didn't look at Ignis. He damn well didn't comment on the relieved smile Prompto sent his way, nor did he make a sarcastic remark about standing there all day even though it was on the tip of his tongue. That would be counterproductive to Noct's mission and, therefore, injurious to his own. A few forks and spoons weren't going to kill him.
"Thank you," Ignis called from the kitchen, looking towards where they were finishing up in the small dining area on the other side of the island. "I believe everything is ready here, so why don't you two have a seat?"
Good. They were finally getting to the part of the meal that included eating. Having something in his mouth would make it a hell of a lot easier to keep it from saying anything he'd regret later. Well, maybe not him , but Noct sure would. It wasn't worth being on the receiving end of that pout of his, not after Gladio had already gotten enough of that for one week.
"Thanks for cookin', Iggy," he grunted as he plopped himself down in a chair, nodding gratefully when the latter set their main courses in the center of the table.
"It isn't nearly as much as last night, but we do have enough green soup curry and grilled barramundi for the three of us."
Gladio didn't point out that Ignis had done that on purpose, that there would have been enough for only the two of them if it weren't for his sudden idea to invite Prompto to dinner. After all, Ignis was in charge of Noct's schedule: he knew damn well that he was having dinner with his dad tonight without needing to be reminded. As much as he hated admitting it, though, Gladio had to say that it was a pretty good plan if they were going to get the Niff on his own. Around the rest of the envoys, the kid was too careful; they needed a little privacy if they were going to accomplish what Noct expected of them.
And it had to be a team effort. Great.
Tact wasn't exactly Gladio's strong suit, so he busied himself with serving up the food while Ignis inquired, "Tell us, Prompto, are you enjoying your stay thus far?"
"Definitely," he answered emphatically, following Gladio's lead and dishing a surprisingly modest amount of soup into his own bowl. "Everything's been great. Hard to believe Lucis is like this."
No surprise there: they didn't have near as much intelligence on Niflheim as Gladio would have liked, but the differences between their kingdoms were fairly well documented. Where King Regis actually gave a shit about giving his people a good life, Aldercapt was mostly concerned with making sure he had enough military strength to bring down the rest of the planet. If that meant they went without a few creature comforts, then so be it. Hell, Gladio wouldn't have been taken aback at all to discover that they weren't as productive in the food department as they let on, but there was no evidence to back him up there. Based on the way Prompto had practically inhaled his meal at the banquet, though, he didn't think he was too far off the mark.
Especially not when Prompto leaned over to smell the green curry with an expression of utter elation that Gladio thought was a little overdone. Ignis was a damn good cook, but it was just soup .
For a moment, he wondered if Prompto realized that himself, because his face fell as he stared at the meal with something like suspicion in his eyes. Pausing with his spoon halfway to his mouth, Gladio frowned. They'd already been through the poison thing, hadn't they?
"Uh..." Prompto cleared his throat with an awkward glance between Gladio and Ignis. "Was this, like, for Prince Noctis or something?"
...Huh?
The meal in front of them was nothing special, at least not by Ignis's standards. In fact, Gladio was surprised that he hadn't gone with something more impressive if he was trying to get Prompto in a mood to blurt out a few imperial secrets. Maybe he had gotten a little fancy with the spices-Gladio could tell from the scent-but outside of making more than he normally would for just himself, it was pretty basic fare.
"No, I daresay that His Highness would have much preferred I made him a plate of fries," Ignis noted with a wry smirk, not at all bothered by the oddness of his question. "He would have been welcome to dine with us, of course, had he not made prior arrangements."
Had you not made those prior arrangements for him , mused Gladio to himself.
"I'm certain that whatever he is being served is a touch more extravagant," he continued as though he had no idea what it was that Gladio was thinking. He knew him too well to believe that he was totally unaware, though.
Prompto was none the wiser and simply shrugged. "If you say so. Not sure what could be better than this, though."
And apparently he wasn't kidding: a sip of his soup had him grinning so widely that Gladio wondered how he kept the food from dribbling out of his mouth. Was this guy for real, or was he trying to lull them into a false sense of security by acting like an ignorant, inexperienced moron?
Whichever it was, Gladio was determined to let Ignis handle it. Of the two of them, he was less likely to say something that wasn't entirely politically correct.
He seemed to agree, because he didn't attempt to kick him under the table or prompt Gladio to say a word. Instead, he inclined his head and replied, "I thank you, but really, I'm just an amateur cook. With all the preparations for your arrival, I'm afraid I am a bit out of practice."
Now that , Gladio could say something about.
"Amateur, my foot," he snorted with a roll of his eyes.
"Yeah, this is, like, the most amazing thing ever," agreed Prompto immediately. It didn't leave the best taste in his mouth that they were on the same page-or at the very least that Prompto was pretending they were-so Gladio merely swallowed another spoonful of soup to keep his tongue occupied.
If Ignis appreciated his efforts, he offered no indication, using the opening to ask, "Do you not prepare your own meals back in Niflheim?"
"Sure, we do," Prompto hastened to assure them. "They're just not as...fancy as all this. If you're an amateur, we've gotta be the scrubs."
A little weak on the recovery, but that wasn't the important thing. No, it was his fumble that caught Gladio's attention more. Which was it: a simple meal was the most amazing thing ever or it was just a little different from what he was used to? Gladio had a feeling he knew which one it was, although he decided not to remark on it just in case he was wrong. Besides, Prompto seemed to know that he'd slipped up, ducking his head and focusing on his food instead of stepping all over himself again.
Gladio wasn't willing to let him get off that easy, though, no matter how much he was enjoying his dinner. Raising an eyebrow, he glanced significantly at Ignis before wondering aloud, "So, what's on the menu in the empire?"
Prompto paused, spoon in his mouth, and stared up at them for a beat that lasted a little too long. Oh, yeah-they had him now.
Swallowing his soup with a hell of a lot more effort than before, Prompto stammered, "Oh, uh, nothing out of the ordinary?"
"You askin' or are you tellin'?"
This time, Ignis did give Gladio that kick under the table.
Not subtle enough, huh?
Oh, well. Someone had to make a decisive move here, and Prompto's aversion to the question was pretty telling. Was he under strict orders not to give even the most mundane details about Niflheim away? Or did he simply not have much of an answer to give them? Gladio was leaning towards the latter: the Niffs had already won the war, so what did they care if Lucis knew what that had for dinner?
He wasn't going to get any help from either of them, though. While Ignis was obviously irritated at Gladio's admitted lack of finesse, he also did't jump in to provide an out for Prompto to take advantage of. He just tilted his head curiously and waited to hear his response.
What they ended up getting wasn't exactly what Gladio considered useful, although it was definitely more gutsy than he ever would have expected.
"What can I say? It's not polite to tell you we drink the blood of our enemies for breakfast and round out dinner with a heaping helping of Lucian flesh, right?"
Gladio stared at him for one moment—two—then rolled his eyes and glared down at his plate as he dug into his fish with unnecessary vehemence. "Smart ass."
"Definitely smart—not sure that's why, though," joked Prompto. It was unsettling just how similar he was to Noct in that instant: he didn't need convincing lies or uncomfortable truths when he could use humor instead. The worst part was that Gladio had no choice but to go with it, especially if he was going to stick to Noct's expectations. It was starting to feel like he'd been handcuffed here.
Ignis, however, was never as concerned about that kind of thing. He just wasn't the type to call Prompto out on his bullshit the way Gladio normally wouldn't have hesitated to do. This wasn't the best time anyway, but he had no doubt that there would be one hell of a discussion once Prompto left under the impression that he'd won that round.
"It would appear you share a sense of humor with His Highness," Ignis remarked, cutting into his own filet with less aggression than Gladio.
"Yeah, regular comedian," he grumbled in agreement, shooting Ignis a glance that he hoped indicated that he definitely got the reference. Jokes were Noct's way of avoiding something he didn't want to talk about too.
Latching onto the new topic, Prompto asked, "The prince is a...funny guy, then?"
"Guess you could say that."
Ignis nodded. "I would wager it is one of his traits that Gladio finds most taxing."
Well, he wasn't wrong , but that didn't stop Gladio from rolling his eyes in exasperation. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate Noct's sarcasm-far from it. When he wasn't using it to get out of something, Gladio thought he could be pretty hilarious.
Then there were times when it annoyed the shit out of him.
That wasn't any of Prompto's business, however, so Gladio merely grunted without comment. Contrary to what he expected, the Niff didn't go straight for Noct's throat. He imagined that anyone else (mostly that asshole Loqi) would have taken that as invitation to badmouth his charge, but Prompto… Well, it looked like he was smart enough to play it safe.
"Least it never gets boring, right?" Prompto observed with a sympathetic smile at the two of them.
"Wouldn't want that," muttered Gladio, roughly spearing a bite of his fish. The attempt at camaraderie was nauseating, but if it got them a few answers, then he was willing to play ball and asked, "Guys in our line of work don't catch many breaks, right?"
"You can say that again," laughed Prompto in that aggravatingly cheerful way he had of sawing at Gladio's last nerve.
When he opened his mouth to continue, Gladio thought for sure that they were going to get something of use for a change—instead, the little shit just pushed the subject right back to them.
"So, how long have you guys worked for the prince?"
None of your damn business , Gladio decided not to reply. It wasn't like he wouldn't be able to figure it out if he really wanted to: the Niffs had gathered their own information on Lucis, and there had to be a file somewhere that answered his question so that they wouldn't have to. So far, they hadn't given Prompto anything that would be of value to the envoys, not to Gladio's knowledge. He wasn't about to change that either. This was a question for their resident genius—let him figure out how to climb out of this particular hole.
"We have both been trained to aid Noct since his birth," Ignis answered carefully, offering no indication of just when they officially undertook their positions. "And what of you? Becoming a captain so young can be no small feat. When did you begin your service?"
"Kinda the same," shrugged Prompto in something that looked suspiciously like relief. "I've been there about as long as you guys, I guess. Easy to lose track of time."
It was all Gladio could do not to say that it must be simple to forget when every day was spent in the same useless grind of helping an evil empire destroy the world. That would probably earn him a much less gentle kick from Ignis, however, and those pointy ass shoes of his hurt like hell when he wanted them to.
There was one thing about Prompto's answer, though, that gave him pause—something that didn't quite add up. So, biting back a frown of distaste, Gladio casually prodded, "Especially when you're a little kid."
Just as he'd begun to suspect, Prompto nodded emphatically as he set aside his empty bowl and reached for the barramundi. "You got that right!"
Gladio nodded in what he hoped looked like sympathy and not the utter bafflement he really felt, waiting for Prompto to turn his attention back to his meal before glancing over at Ignis with a quirked eyebrow.
The hell?
Ignis shook his head so minutely that Gladio nearly missed it, and he could tell that the chamberlain's mind was racing to put together the threads of information Prompto was weaving for them. Neither of them could have expected an answer like that. After all, theirs were rare and special cases. How could Prompto possibly be in the same boat like it seemed he was trying to make it sound?
This was weird. Too weird. If Niflheim was recruiting kids for their army, if that was the norm in the empire, then they had one hell of a situation on their hands. Still, Gladio wasn't sure he was ready to believe that that was the case just yet. After all, who was to say that the little shit wasn't lying to get some sympathy from them? This whole conversation had taken a strange turn, and Gladio wouldn't have been surprised if it was Prompto's plan to drive a wedge between them and Noct by trying to get them on his side.
That was never going to happen, not while Gladio lived, but there was no denying that they needed to casually press the subject without scaring Prompto off it.
"I suppose it is easier to have grown up in such circumstances," Ignis ventured, sparing a brief glance for Gladio as he spoke, "rather than being thrust into them later in life."
Prompto chewed on that for a moment, moving his head from side to side in the most neutral gesture Gladio had ever seen.
"Maybe?" he answered with a pensive hum. "I mean, not like many people get in that much later, but I guess it gives you a leg up."
"Always helps when you got competition," Gladiolus immediately retorted, although Prompto's bark of laughter wasn't the response he expected.
"Yeah, not so sure that's an issue," he chuckled, morosely before seeming to realize that that might be erring a little too close to some awkward honesty. Clearing his throat, he predictably evaded, "What about you guys? You probably had tons of competition to work for Prince Noctis, right?"
Prompto obviously had no idea how things worked in Lucis, and it really wasn't any of his concern, so Gladio watched with satisfaction as Ignis decided to do what was best for the entire room in this situation.
He lied his well-tailored pants off.
"Any position of such prestige will often invite competition. One simply has to be better than the others vying for his post," the king of misdirection claimed with a warm smile, although the implication that either of them had any competition was completely laughable. "We can't all be born into our positions, now can we?"
See, that right there? That was why Ignis was the brains and Gladio was the brawn. He never would have thought of that; in fact, he likely would have opened his mouth and inserted his foot at this point. There was no other way he could think to approach the situation without cracking the whole thing wide open. The information was too valuable to risk it, so he was unspeakably grateful that Ignis had enough presence of mind to lead Prompto down a path he wouldn't realize he'd traveled until at least a few hours from now.
And, sure enough, the kid played right into it.
"Dude, right!" he exclaimed, leaning forward with an earnest expression that turned Gladio's stomach. "Guys like Loqi, lemme tell ya. They've got it made!"
Ignis nodded along, his lips turned up in what Prompto would call understanding while Gladio recognized it for what it was: satisfaction . His gamble had paid off, and they seemed to have found a topic Prompto could relate to—they just needed to feed into it.
Which meant it was time for another gamble. Along with Prompto's confirmation that Loqi was born to his position like Gladio had assumed at that mess of a banquet, the commander's age—even his appearance and bratty behavior—were enough to indicate that he couldn't command his way out of a paper bag. If they were right, then that totally changed the game, especially if Prompto was under that idiot's orders.
Luckily, Ignis could have been a spy if he didn't have advising down pat.
"Commander Tummelt," Ignis echoed with a nod. "It can be a thankless job, putting in all the work for the credit to be attributed elsewhere."
Damn. Nice one, Iggy.
If Prompto wanted to think that was how they felt about their service to Noct, that was his business. Ignis and Gladio knew better.
And from the look of the disappointed frown on the Niff's face, he immediately jumped to that exact conclusion.
Hook. Line. Sinker.
"Yeah, it's always the ones at the top who get the pats on the back, that's for sure," Prompto muttered, pushing his fish around his plate distractedly. "Just gotta deal, though. Not like we can do anything about it, right?"
Well, he sure couldn't from the sounds of it. A somber mood settled around the table, although Gladio definitely wasn't disappointed with the results of Ignis's poking—provided the information wasn't false. After all the work they'd put in this evening (Ignis into the dinner and Gladio into not ruining it), that was the last thing they needed. He wasn't sure it was worth worrying, though: Prompto seemed pretty earnest, and an attitude like his only came from personal experience.
Which was why Gladio could imagine what he was talking about, but there was a disconnect between that and feeling bad for the guy. Whatever crap he dealt with, he could still leave. He didn't, though, and that was what defined him. For all they knew, he was aspiring to the level of Pampered Slimeball the rest of the envoys personified.
Finding out seemed to be next on Ignis's agenda, and his eyes were trained intensely on Prompto when he asked, "I suppose, but it's the path we've chosen for ourselves. If we decide not to follow it, there are certainly others waiting to take our place."
"Uh, sure?" Prompto replied, sounding almost as uncertain as Gladio was beginning to feel. The kid was steering them in so many directions that he was starting to question which way was up. He didn't have a chance to ponder it before Prompto was diverting the attention to them once again, though: "Speaking of, what would you guys be doing if you weren't stationed here?"
What would they be doing? That wasn't something Gladio had ever imagined in spite of the rocky start he'd had with Noct years ago. Back in those days, he'd simply fooled himself into believing that if he wanted it badly enough, his charge simply wouldn't ascend to the throne. He would be too irresponsible, too selfish, and his father wouldn't let it happen. For a teenager, it had been a pretty stupid thought: that would never fly no matter how terrible a king Noct was likely to be. They were lucky, then, that he was a better person than Gladio had given him credit for. Even if he wasn't, Gladio had never so much as considered daydreaming about living another life—the Amicitia family was better than that. Noct deserved better than that.
While Ignis and Gladio had been assigned to their positions at early ages, they were still offered to them, not thrust upon them without the option to decline. It was up to them whether they accepted or not; neither of them would be forced to maintain their positions if they didn't want to. There would be a hell of a lot of begging for Ignis to stay in particular, but he was free to retire whenever he wanted.
Not that he wanted to. Not that they wanted to. Gladio couldn't picture himself doing anything else, and not in the same trapped way that Prompto's behavior seemed to exude. In fact, he would have found his lack of devotion to his station more despicable if he weren't...well, a Niff. They weren't exactly known for honor, after all.
"I suppose I wouldn't mind exploring the culinary arts in more depth. It would be fascinating to operate my own restaurant, if I could," Ignis humored him, rising to clear the finished dishes from the table. "And what about yourself?"
When a minute passed where all he could do was stammer semi-coherent remarks about not having put much thought into it, Gladiolus decided to take pity on him if for no other reason than that they'd be here all night if he didn't.
"Well, not much use in thinkin' about it now," he muttered, stretching his arms over his head with a grunt. "Ain't like any of us is lookin' for a new gig."
"Y-Yeah. Right… Oh, uh, here! L-Let me help with that!" he offered to Ignis as he hopped out of his seat and started grabbing plates. It was a pretty obvious maneuver to dodge any other uncomfortable questions, but Gladio didn't call him on it. There was too much to think about for him to go looking for more just yet.
"That's quite all right, I've got it," Ignis assured him dismissively, taking the plates to the kitchen himself. "You may have a seat. In any case, it's about time I brought out dessert."
Sure it was-it definitely had nothing to do with the savage delight he took in making Gladio and Prompto sit out there together while he arranged Noct's favorite pastries on a plate. That would be so very petty of him, which was far below his station.
Then again, Gladio figured a little payback for being less than vocal tonight was probably to be expected. He'd survive a minute of awkwardly staring in opposite directions as though the other didn't exist. As Shield, there were far worse things.
Thankfully, it didn't take long for Ignis to gather their final course and announce on his way back, "I hope you've saved room."
"Can make some if we didn't," Gladio huffed, masking his grimace with a cough. He'd never understood what Noct saw in these things—they were so sweet that Gladio could practically feel his teeth rotting out of his mouth anytime he tried one. He was more of a savory person, especially in the meat department.
And okay, a nutrient-deprived, sodium explosion of Cup Noodles was always welcome. It was his one guilty pleasure—Noct had so many that Gladio wasn't sure how he still functioned without vegetables.
That was a mystery for another day. For now, he was too busy putting up a front for their audience. His diet wasn't any of Prompto's concern.
"One should think," Ignis sighed with a patient smirk, setting the plate in the center of the table. For Prompto's benefit, he added, "A favorite of His Highness that I only recently perfected."
If the sudden grumbling of Prompto's stomach was any sign, then he definitely thought Noct was onto something. Just as Prompto was reaching for one, however, he froze with his hand halfway to the plate. Again .
"Is it really okay to be eating them?" he asked, no small amount of trepidation coloring his tone.
Suddenly, his previous question made a little more sense, but only a little. What did he think, that Noct would throw a hissy fit over three missing desserts? He could be stubborn and vindictive when he wanted to, but that was way more than he'd ever bother with.
Ignis apparently thought the same, because he shrugged unconcernedly. "I don't see why not. Unless you're too full from dinner, in which case, I'd be happy to box a few up for you take for later."
As if to model that it was okay, Ignis plucked a pastry from the dish before offering it to Gladio. It was all he could do to hide his glare and take one of the desserts with a grudging grunt of thanks. If nothing else, what better way to throw off the enemy than to allow him to think they enjoyed copious amounts of sugary pastries that would make them slower in a fight? Yeah, he'd go with that, silently vowing retribution on Ignis while he watched Prompto's expression shift from reluctance to curiosity. Maybe dessert just wasn't a big thing in the empire, in which case at least they hadsomething going for them.
Frowning as they each grabbed their own shares, Prompto cautiously picked a pastry from the dish and bit into it, immediately groaning at the taste.
"Duuuuuude , that Crystal's more powerful than I thought," he mused as he happily downed the rest and eyed the others curiously. "I didn't know you could use magic to cook!"
Say what, now?
What exactly did Niflheim think the Crystal did? It was powerful, but pastry baking was not on the list of marvels it was capable of as far as Gladio knew. If it were, Ignis would have used it to force Noct to make his own sweets years ago.
Correcting Prompto's incorrect assumptions about the Crystal wasn't exactly on his to-do list, though. He could feel free to imagine that was how they made their food and crafted their weapons and cleaned their toilets—whatever he wanted, as long as he didn't figure out the true extent of its might.
"Well, there are plenty more if you'd like some," Ignis offered, only having eaten half of his own.
Gladio smirked as vindictively as he was willing to, what with their present company. He knew the little desserts weren't exactly to Ignis's liking either, and he had never gotten away with sneaking anything healthy into them, so they were basically worthless now that he'd finally gotten the recipe right. Well, okay, maybe not worthless : given how the negotiations had gone today, it was no wonder he'd made a few batches for Noct. Eating some himself was just an unfortunate side effect of giving a damn.
Prompto appeared to err more along the lines that Noct did in terms of his diet, and Ignis nodded pointedly towards his plate. "I see you also have a sweet tooth."
"Kinda hard not to when you make stuff like this," snorted Prompto with a glance at the clock over the stove. "Would it, uh, be all right if I took you up on that box?"
Tilting his head to the side, Gladio followed his gaze in confusion. It wasn't what he would call late, but hey, he wouldn't complain about ending the evening early. At least, their evening with the Niff—he and Ignis had a lot to talk about.
"Of course," the latter agreed, getting up from the table and once again leaving Gladio with only Prompto for company. It wasn't that he took his time on purpose—actually, to hell with that. He definitely did it on purpose. There was no other reason to take his sweet time putting together a to-go box.
And it was no wonder when he was busy assembling a cloth sack full of plastic holders (all the nicest Lucian plastics) with leftovers from dinner. Damn, Gladio usually left with food in a paper bag if he ate with Ignis.
"Unfortunately, I wasn't able to provide any soup as I don't have an adequate container handy," he explained with a small frown. "Hopefully this will suffice."
Prompto's shocked skepticism was answer enough, so Ignis didn't bother waiting for him to reply before inquiring, "Shall I escort you back to your quarters?"
"Yeah… Yeah, that would be great. Thanks," Prompto murmured, shaking off his surprise and rising to his feet.
Gladio barely lifted a hand in farewell as he mumbled a quick goodnight and followed Ignis out the door- finally . It was a relief when they closed it behind them, leaving him alone in the middle of Ignis's apartment to consider his unease by himself.
Well, that hadn't gone according to plan at all. Gladio had fully expected to see the real Prompto, the one who was just as bad as the rest of the Niffs when he didn't have to worry about being overheard by Noct or the king. He'd been waiting on tenterhooks for him to overstep his bounds just once , anything that would justify a negative report. After all, Noct was counting on him to get information out of the kid.
What he'd received wasn't anything like what he thought he would, though. As Gladio slumped down onto Ignis's couch to await his return, all he could think was...
"What the hell was that?"
"My thoughts exactly," sighed Ignis, stepping inside and locking the door. Unsurprisingly, he made a quick stop in the kitchen to grab a can of Ebony before sinking into the chair across from him and murmuring, "Well, I can hardly say that went as expected."
"Yeah, tell me about it," grumbled Gladio with a furtive glance at Ignis's favorite drink. Coffee wasn't really up his alley, not when he was already keyed up enough, but it was pretty telling when their resident genius resorted to the heavy stuff at this hour.
Gladio, on the other hand, was more partial to taking his frustrations out on some training dummies. If he was going to blow off steam, then he may as well be productive while he was at it. Maybe Ignis wouldn't agree with his methods, but hey, they couldn't all be coffee-addicted saints.
"Thought we were supposed to be diggin' for answers, not more questions," Gladio pointed out, deciding not to comment on his approaching caffeine buzz. "Kid led us through a damn maze all night."
"We simply need to gain some direction in order to navigate this particular maze. For starters, it would appear that the position of captain doesn't carry as much prestige as it does in Lucis."
Snorting derisively, Gladio folded his arms and muttered, "Doesn't look like it. Sounds more like the captains are just glorified grunts."
Honestly, that was what both angered and confused him the most. The military wasn't meant to be inflicted on you—it was a give and take. You gave up your freedom to fight for your country, and in return, they provided for you. That was what happened for every son of Lucis who served, whether as Shield or in the Crownsguard or even the lowly gate watch.
If the clues they'd put together from Prompto were any indication of how captains were treated in Niflheim, then he didn't want to think about how the hordes of unranked soldiers got by.
"What I wanna know is why they brought 'im in the first place if that's how it is in Niflheim."
"That is the real question here. It does not appear that he has a personal agenda of his own," Ignis responded pedantically, like a teacher whose pupil just clued in to the actual purpose of the lesson for the first time all year. It was a habit that Gladio found obnoxious at best, but he managed not to roll his eyes this time as he figured Ignis would work his way around to the point soon enough.
"Not sure the kid's got what it takes to pull something like that off anyway," Gladio sighed to his hands, already mentally wincing at how he knew Ignis would take that.
It wasn't that he thought Prompto was stupid, per se. More like...what was the word for it? Guileless . He was too damn earnest to be a total faker.
And if he was , then he was a pretty damn talented actor. That could be dangerous.
"If it is not his agenda, then we must assume it is that of who he serves and that his commander could stand to gain a great deal from undermining Noct..." Ignis trailed off with a frown, mulling over the rest of his thoughts without sharing any of them.
As early as it was in the game, Gladio assumed Ignis had to have at least three different theories about Prompto already hammered out. He didn't like to speculate until he felt he had gathered the appropriate amount of intel, though, so it would be a while before he opened his damn mouth.
Instead, he latched onto a different topic: " You seem to have had quite the change of heart since last night. Might I ask what brought this about?"
Yeah, Gladio knew it was only a matter of time before Ignis commented on that. It wasn't like they'd had a chance to talk about his little chat with Noct what with the Niff in the house. Ignis was smart, though; he probably already knew and just wanted Gladio to say it for reasons he'd never be able to fathom.
"Noct's got new orders from the king," he muttered, trying to find anything else to look at besides his companion. The blinking colon between the numbers on Ignis's oven clock worked well enough. "Gonna need to play nice with this kid if we wanna see what he knows. Y'know, spy style and all that."
Gladio chose not to say that it was Noct's request that he play ball. He chose not to point out that his prince said he needed him, and that it wasn't in Gladio's carefully structured DNA as Shield to deny his prince what he needed. He decided to keep those things to himself, knowing that Ignis would get that smile that never failed to make Gladio cringe if he didn't. There was nothing mushy about this—it was business and duty, and if Gladio was good at anything, it was those two things.
So, clearing his throat, he pressed on before Ignis could ask for more details. "Speakin' of, you think we got enough intel for His Highness to report to the king?"
Gladio was lucky that Ignis wasn't an I Told You So type of person, at least not outright. The soft, thoughtful hum he offered in response packed enough sentiment for Gladio to get the picture. It was all so frustratingly Ignis, even if he was thankful he didn't have to hear it put into words.
Graciously, Ignis carried on with the conversation like a professional, and Gladio elected to ignore the pointed looks his companion was giving him over his coffee.
"I should say so. If we were to toss in the observations I made before your arrival and the banquet, and prior to bringing him here tonight, then I daresay we have much to discuss about our friend Prompto ."