the day we met

"So this is it. Or should I say, tomorrow is it."

"Yes. Tomorrow, they will meet. Tomorrow, I believe, all the domino pieces will begin their descent. Even now I wonder how we managed to prevent this from happening sooner."

"…"

"Your confusion is palpable."

"May I ask a personal question?"

"You may."

"Why the sudden interest in their meeting? If I remember correctly, the last time I suggested something similar you seemed completely appalled at the idea. What has changed?"

"You are making it seem as if I had no right in worrying, when you know as well as I do that my fears weren't exactly unfounded. The circumstances of the boy are not precisely assuring or slightly logical-"

"I thought we had already discussed this. He is just a boy. Who could actually blame him for hiding what he is, where he comes from? Had I been in his place I would have done the exact same thing. And yes, even I was suspicious about him at first but once I saw it, I understood."

"And I am not dismissing that in the slightest. I am simply reminding you that we could not afford to take any chances and sadly, he was a great question mark with no apparent answer. Up to this date we continue stumbling in the dark with no real explanation of what happened to him. The risk was too great. Also…, the Crystal could never hope to be as loud in those days as it has become now."

"The Crystal has started communicating with you again?"

"Yes. With each passing day the connection gets stronger. Restless. Right now it's proving to be quite difficult to ignore."

"…What has it told you?"

"What I couldn't see due to my fear and shortsightedness. I should have imagined so the moment you told me his last name. The boy is important. His being here is no coincidental."

"You can't possibly be implying what I think you are."

"But I am, old friend. It's so obvious if you would dare to think about it. He has been chosen. He is next in line."

"That-That is not possible! How could he -?"

"Control your temper! I understand your disbelief; however you should consider that things of this nature are hardly ever predictable. Although it defies everything we thought we knew, we have no other option but to accept that fact that he is the one. The missing piece of this overtly extended puzzle game."

"…"

"I know you care about him…"

"I do. It is idiotic and senseless but I do. I… I cannot believe it. I am sorry. Nothing makes sense."

"You have seen what it does once. The effects, no-the toll it takes on the individual. I imagine it would be terrible for you to see it happen, especially to him. The same way I think it would be easier for you to stay in denial rather than face the truth."

"I would not wish that-that calamity upon anyone, not even my worst enemy. And you know me; I've always been more of a skeptical. When I really see it happen, then I'll believe it. Until then I'd rather not talk about this anymore."

"Hmph. I wonder…"

"Tell me again" he pleaded with Cor, turned on his side and propped his cheek on his arm looking at the man with big puppy eyes that were mildly deterred by the barrier of the glasses he now had to wear.

A few days before he turned nine he was diagnosed with moderate myopia; more often than not Prompto had to squeeze his eyes to be able to read signs at a considerate distance from him and sometimes, when he watched TV, he couldn't see the figures as clearly as he used to, their faces a little bit blurry at the edges. Cor had noticed the symptoms and had taken him as soon as he could to the closest ophthalmologist to get him an eye examination. The results had been clear.

And now there he was, the blond chubby boy peering at Cor behind his first pair of glasses.

The Crownsguard sighed and ran a hand through his short brown hair. He was sitting next to where Prompto laid on the bed, on the chair the boy had used those first few months in the house (in Insomnia) to be able to reach his favorite book-the one that for some reason always ended up on the top shelf of his closet.

"Prompto, it's nine already. I'm very tired and tomorrow-"the man said exasperated, knowing he was fighting a losing battle, before the blond boy interrupted him.

"I know what tomorrow is." He grumbled. How could he forget about it when his stomach lurched every time the mere thought surfaced to the forefront of his mind? When his hands got clammy and disgusting just thinking about what tomorrow had in store for him? Nope, there was no way he'd forget, in fact, he believed it would only turn for the worse-this anxiety within him-the moment he dared close his eyes, knowing he'd only end up assaulted by nightmares, knowing he was in for a long, sleepless night. Unless, Cor decided out of the kindness of his heart to tell the story one more time so Prompto could get distracted and drift off to dreamland slowly, gently with the man's voice acting as a lullaby of some sort. That would be ideal. At least, he wouldn't be alone.

"Just… Please, just one more time and I swear I won't bother you anymore. Please, pretty please Cor?" He begged, pouted in that way he had been taught ages ago, in the way he knew would disarm adults. He was playing dirty but he needed this with increasing urgency.

The man, not impressed by the boy's shenanigans, looked at the ceiling rubbing his temples with two fingers. "And you promise you will go immediately to sleep, no comebacks and no more whining?" Prompto grinned and promised, his heart already beating in excitement.

"You know what? Fine, I'll do it." Cor agreed tiredly, a smile creeping unto him despite his unwillingness "For the second time today, here we go."

"Once upon a time, there was a powerful man who traveled across the immensity of Eos accompanied by his group of friends. His entourage and him were both feared and admired for their grand power…"

All traces of tiredness in his voice were suddenly gone. In an instand, Cor had turned from a weary, tired man to the storyteller who had told Prompto the legend of the Crystal and the Lucis line. His eyes shined with a particular spark he never showed, with a passion he never used for anything else but this curious tale.

The tale began and the boy was delighted, feeling his sense of reality blend and distort thanks to the words coming from Cor's lips.

Soon, Prompto was captivated by this forever new, forever intriguing vision of Eos he had not seen before; this enchanted land rediscovered by a man who possessed the power of the elements and his three friends who aided him in his spontaneous quest. They did not know where they were going, what they were supposed to do-all they cared about was the earth who gave them birth and uncovering every little secret it had to share. This usually involved fighting against unknown creatures, the ever present threat of daemons, even other human beings (Prompto assumed it had to be a reference to the ongoing struggle between Lucis and Niflheim and he still shivered now, thinking of that dark kingdom he had lived in during his formative years). They met tons of people, encountered different locations: sand covered terrains, earth made of fire, miles and miles of snow and ice, storm ridden forests…

But their most interesting discovery, the one that was meant to change everything they thought they knew was the day they found the tribe of myths, the ghost of many legends unknown by common folk. Near the border dividing Lucian territory from Niflheim, the man and his friends crossed paths with The Farseers. On frozen ground, they met a small village of humble looking people dressed in animal fur, skin decorated with tribal tattoos and attired in rough made jewelry.

These strange nomads shaded in riddles and mystery that welcomed the group of foreigners with uncanny familiarity, as if they already knew they were coming, gave off airs of wisdom and knowledge the adventurers could only hope to accomplish after years of walking the entirety of Eos.

They were received with open arms, taken into the daily lives of this society they had believed to exist merely in children's wild imaginations. And they understood then that every rumor, every whisper, every story told around a campfire had been true. These were the people of legends, these were the people many spoke of in awe, these were the first inhabitants of the world as they knew it. These people, they had access to the future and beyond, could see what no one could.

Naturally, the leader of the group was immediately taken in by these unraveling of events, amazed at the fact that they had been led to this place, maybe by the hands of unknown forces, and decided to stay and observe them for as long as he could.

However, from here onwards, his importance to the story diminished for the real core of it resided in one of his friends. The most nondescript, the most quiet, the most solemn-the one who nobody would expect to be important enough or interesting enough to be the main star of his own adventure. Because in reality this was his story, a story that was branched out of another that, at first glance, seemed way greater, seemed bigger in the grand scheme of things.

This was the tale between him and the girl he fell in love with: The Seeress.

"The moment he first laid eyes on her," the Crownsguard said "he knew she was the one. At the main tent, where the group had an audience with the actual tribe leader in order to ask permission to remain among the Farseers-that was when he saw her. She stood by her chief's side; a young girl of halcyon hair and the prettiest smile he had ever seen adorning her gentle, round face."

Cor looked straight at Prompto but even so the child could tell the man's sights were somewhere far beyond the four walls of his small bedroom, eyes glazed with melancholy and… was that, perhaps, grief?

"But it was her eyes, I think, what made him really notice her otherworldly beauty" as he said this, his voice lowered a few tones "Yes, her eyes sung so many secrets, so many possible doors, a world full of options and possibilities and she knew what was behind each and every one of those doors. Had seen and experienced it all at her young age. And still, despite knowing so much, she smiled at him in earnest, unafraid of the future she had to know was to come… Honestly, who could blame him for falling for that kind of smile?"

He chuckled. Prompto felt something unpleasant twist in his stomach at the sound. For how happy he looked, there was just an off vibe Cor was giving off. It didn't feel right and it certainly did not look right.

"The transition from friends to lovers was surprisingly natural. Of course, she was the one who constantly pursued him and forced him into conversations more often than not. She was special in that way, could tell immediately he was not the type to interact with strangers unless he absolutely had to. So she took her time to break him out of his shell, get him to lower down his defenses using soft prodding, kind words, and her sunny attitude to prove him she was… well, real. That he could trust her and just open up."

"And that surprised him, because no one before, apart from his friends, had tried so hard to see him. Know him. This was too the first time he wanted to return the favor and get to understand her the same. Bit by bit, they learned each other's ways and whys, the mechanisms on how to maneuver around each other. He learned of her wisdom, her strength, the burden she had to carry on her frail shoulders, her pain and suffering as a consequence of the visions she was forced to see, the future she had to choose-"

His voice died, a murmur overpowered by the sound of the stream and Prompto had to bite back a gasp of surprise at what he saw in the man's eyes. Had to take a deep breath at the sudden squeezing sensation inside his chest, had the need to close his own eyes and not open them again for at least a whole week. He was too sensitive today, too attuned to feelings and that wasn't always good. Astrals, he hoped he wasn't in one of his odd reminiscing phases again. Just thinking about being put back in a closed space with another doctor had him reeling and exhausted, remembering the cold sweat on his skin as he tried to talk about a past that never took place.

He said nothing, curled his hand around the sheets and waited for Cor to turn back to normal.

Suddenly, he didn't feel too good. Suddenly, he didn't want to hear the end of the story, wishing to stay in that timeless period where nothing mattered but the timid meeting of palms and eyes, where all that counted was the fact that a man and a woman had fallen awkwardly in love in spite of the unfavorable circumstances surrounding them, in that ageless world where none of them had to leave the other. A world where they were happy with no consequences to pay.

"He had to leave her," Cor would say later, he knew, eyes downcast and raw in ways he never was "Sooner or later the little adventure they both starred for a short period of time had to end. He had a duty to his friends and she had a duty to upkeep, even greater than his. She saw the future… and she… and she didn't see one that showed the two of them together. Not the way they wanted. He couldn't stay and she couldn't leave."

An impossible situation. Love that burned brighter than ten thousand suns. This love was not meant to last for long. The memories would never fade-the smiles, the conversation, the truths and confessions shared, but a reunion would not occur.

The ending was one and one alone.

And Prompto didn't want to hear it. Not today.

He filled in the silence while still Cor said nothing, trying to keep him from uttering the hopelessly sad end to a sweet love story. "I-I don't really-I'm better now. I kind of feel sluggish and I guess you're tired too, right? You don't have to continue." Scared. Confused. Wanting. He wanted to let his thoughts simmer down in the solitude of night as he fought to conceal sleep. He wanted Cor to look at him with the usual dry fondness and sternness that characterized him so much, not the broken sad look the man who muttered old stories to the walls of his room gave him.

This was a vicious cycle he couldn't hope to escape. The story he loved to hear and the man who hated to tell it.

Another impasse. Another paradox at play. Cor blinked as if waking from a nightmare-vein on his temple throbbing madly, pulse racing, heart heavy-and his unfocused pupils settled on the lump under the covers. On the mystery child that was a question mark and an answer himself. "Are you sure? Will you be able to sleep like this?"

He nodded because he had no words and because he was afraid his voice would break if he spoke out loud. There was nothing else to be said, nothing else to be explained. Cor nodded back at him and after wishing him good night he walked out of the room, his shoulders slumped, his footsteps loud in the overwhelming quiet. The repentant man running out with his sins hot on his heels.

The door closed.

Darkness engulfed him.

When sleep came to him, he dreamed of green dresses and long tresses of gold flowing in the autumn breeze.

Prompto huffed and slumped even further on his seat, arms crossed and seatbelt still firmly plastered to his chest. He looked out the car window at his right; his gaze caught small figures like himself walking in groups or alone, all of them heading inside that foreign building Prompto had safely avoided for two years since his arrival to Insomnia.

He swallowed and tried to ignore the sweat being exuded out of his every pore. "Why do I have to go?" he asked with false bravado and frustration at the man on the driver's seat. It was easier to act like he was angry than admit how terribly scared he was of stepping out of the car, having to face this new world full of other human beings-even worse, other human beings who were his age. Those days on the road where he had met all kinds of people accompanied by the mysterious lady seemed so far away now. How had he been able to do it back then? He couldn't remember.

Snuck into his right pocket, his camera was a solid promise, one he wanted to take and hold in between his shaky fingers like a safety blanket. He felt safer, more comfortable when there was the filter of his camera lenses separating him from the outside world, acting as a barrier he could hide behind and be the spectator instead of the actor for once. Looking at life through glass was how he endured the rare times Cor forced him to accompany him to the city beyond the door of his home and at present, he thought that would be the only way for him to last the entire day in the wretched building people liked to call 'school'.

Last night he had been so anxious, so needy for something to distract him, turning and twisting on the bed, he had begged Cor to the point of death to tell him again and again the tale of the man and the woman who were never meant to last. Ironically his anxiety increased thanks to that little strange moment mid narration that left him uneasy and not excited at all, thinking about the doomed ending. The end of all good things. Hands pressed to glass and azure eyes peering into the sprawling city below, asking, wondering, demanding for the one who would understand the true meaning of loneliness.

That did not make sense at all. Sighing he pushed his forehead against the cool window and wished for a meteorite to fall down and destroy the frigging school already.

He sensed Cor's frustrated gaze on the back of his neck. "Prompto, don't you think you might be overreacting? You're going to school, not war." He hated how he sounded so reasonable and composed, as if Prompo's fears were something stupid, a product of childish whims. "Look, nothing bad will happen to you. I can guarantee that. I was there, right in your place, right where you're sitting and fretting. It was indeed long time ago but I went through the same experience nonetheless. And yes, it is annoying but nothing otherworldly. Believe me when I say you're not the only brat who's losing his mind about going back to classes."

Prompto looked at Cor's silhouette reflected on the window. His frowning lips but smoldering eyes, the ones he had looked at for signs of lies or threats a lifetime ago in this exact same car, afraid and scared, still very much the lost boy in the driveway, the boy who had gone through hell and survived, the boy who had been brought to life, the boy who had been reborn. And the eyes that promised him that he would not be harmed, that everything would be okay, that he could trust him. And the real smile. Smiling lips, awkward as they were, changed everything. Trust me, they had said to the boy whose ribs poked out of skin. Trust him the boy had. Due do that trust, the choice made on the road to Insomnia, he had become the kid he was nowadays. Fed, happy, loved, taken care of, appreciated. It all went back to trust.

A hand, rough from handling hilts of swords and who knows what other weapons, fell softly on top of his shoulder. He didn't flinch. He didn't move. He waited for the man to speak.

"Do you trust me?"

Before his eyes flashed the scenes of his past. His hand in the air reaching for what was already gone. His curled form on the hard ground as he watched human nature at its worst. His blurry sight, shivering inside a tent as the man who later promised him he'd never hurt him shouted, screamed and lashed. Their hands shaking as he chose to live.

Yes. He knew already what his answer would be, had known since that fateful day.

"Yes," he turned around, uncrossed his arms. "I trust you"

"Good."

The hand on his shoulder squeezed gently. Laughing mouth, "Everything will turn out alright, you'll see."

C'mon, snap out of it. He's right. A bunch of kids cannot compare to surviving out there and you've done that already. So. Snap. Out. Of. It!

Taking a deep breath, lowering his arms, he agreed quietly, willing himself to open the passenger side's door and step out of the car. His sweaty fingers closed around one of the straps of his backpack, the others pulled at his faded chocobo themed t-shirt that didn't fit him quite as right as it once did as a result of his sudden weight gain and he tried his hardest to swallow the panic lodged in his throat.

He inhaled. He exhaled. Felt his bottom lip tremble. Sent a prayer to the Astrals asking them to give him the strength to pull this off.

When he finally climbed out of the automobile his legs almost gave out under the pressure, they were two jelly sticks undulating in opposite directions. Although he managed not to stumble, he could have easily ended up faced down on the pavement. What a great way to start this hell of a day. He took in the building where he would be studying for the next couple of years, ignoring the curious looks of passing kids that eyed him and the luxurious car he had gotten off from. Their looks were very much like daggers digging into his flesh but there was no turning back now. No point in avoiding the unavoidable.

He looked at Cor over his shoulder for the last time before going in. "See you at 3?" Nope. Totally not desperate. Of course the nervous hope in his voice could not be detected.

Cor shook his head at him and rolled his eyes. He really needed to stop doing that. Prompto was not sure about how he felt being an endless amount of stress for the man; he had enough responsibilities as it was.

"Who else is going to come pick you up? Silly child. Have a nice day, enjoy yourself and give them hell." He winked at him, something Prompto had trouble processing because Cor did not wink (ever), and rolled all the car windows up again. And just like that, the black car sped up down the street, in the direction of The Citadel most likely. Leaving Prompto staring at its shiny behind sorrowfully.

"Are you sure about this decision, Noctis?" His father had asked him that night, food untouched and his entire attention centered on his only son. He still saw him with those wary eyes he had fixed upon him after the Marilith attack. As if he was still seeing the child covered in blood and not the recovering boy that sat before him. Noctis wondered if his dad was aware of that. The way he looked at him.

No, he wasn't sure. He was afraid. He was confused. He was tired. But most of all, he was lonely. He was the one who carried a burden he couldn't possible begin to understand yet. Not how Luna (fair Luna, left behind in Tenebrae), Ignis (wise and smart, Ignis) and Gladio (his shield, his guard, the strongest out of the three) understood. And he needed desperately to get away from that. Feel normal again.

Where was the Noctis who laughed at stupid things? Where was the Noctis that climbed trees and talked to anyone that might listen? He didn't know. He didn't know.

So he answered, "Yes. I can't be a stranger to my people, right? And I kind of want to be independent someday." He laughed, hoped that the smile would not reveal the unease hiding underneath.

His dad had examined him then, pensive and silent for a few minutes and when he found what he seemed to be looking for in his face, he nodded to himself as if he had just confirmed something about Noctis he had not previously seen.

Two years later and there he was again, in that same position, being asked the same question-worded differently perhaps, but the intention remained- by none other than Gladiolus, thick eyebrows raised and skeptical tone. He was probably thinking Noctis was an idiot, as he usually did.

They were sitting on the stairs by the entrance of the palace, Ignis to his left merely watching the exchange between them. Waiting for the moment when things got heated to step in and act as the voice of reason. Meanwhile, he was content to observe and lay back, head tilted sideways like a bird. He wouldn't get any support from the other child except for that inquisitive gaze of his; Gladio was all Noctis' to deal with, how fun. And by that he meant how annoying. They had been having a great time until someone forced the topic in the conversation-he was exhausted of having to explain every little thing he did to everyone.

"Do you really wanna do this? Me and Iggy, we've never been to school and well, look at us. It's not like going there is necessary or something. You could stay here and study with us if you wanted."

No.

He would not stand for a caged existence. He had been injured, that much was true, but he had not been left a cripple. So if he had the chance to break free, why wouldn't he take it?

"Guys, you do realize I can't always depend on you, right?" is what he chose to say, the safest response at the moment.

Ignis snorted softly. Noctis, the boy who refused constantly to eat his veggies and slipped them smoothly onto his friend's plate when he thought no one was looking. Noctis, the boy with nightmares waiting day and night by his door. Noctis, the boy who stared at empty air and murmured names of flowers. Noctis, the boy who had never interacted with other children his age asides from Ignis and Gladio. Asking for freedom. No, demanding freedom.

"Yes, we know. But you are the Prince, Noctis. We're just saying it will be different than when you hang with us. There will be a lot of kids that will try to be friends with you just to show off. Because, again, you're the Prince. You do realize that, don't you?"

Turning his words back on him. Smart.

The young prince sighed and raised his eyes to meet the light of the biggest star in the universe, let it blind him momentarily. Bathed in sunlight, he drowned in an infinite sea of golden.

Dimpled smile. Blue eyes. Fingers on the verge of touching. Flowery scent.

His voice came out oddly comforted, "I know. People will try to get close to me because of who I am. I'm not as dumb as you'd like to think Gladio. And I understand too what my duty is… but…."

His eyes burned; he closed them, multicolored splashes flashed behind his closed lids and he breathed in the cool Lucian breeze. "But there is-there is life out there. I have responsibilities, I have duties but that-The point is, I'm still not there yet, where my dad is. Where I'm supposed to be when I get older. I just turned ten. And, I think, life has to be more than this." He motioned with both hands to everywhere around him, "It has to be more than the four walls of my bedroom and the long hallways, it has to be more than being a pampered kid sitting alone and doing nothing. I want to see at least what it's like out there until my time finally comes."

He finished and silence reigned. Ignis and Gladio exchanged confused and surprised stares. How mature, how different, how old yet how impossibly young sounded their small friend. Their small friend with a scarred back and a future clouded in uncertainty. Their friend, the future king that would not be like any other, this they knew without really comprehending why, basic instinct seared into their very bones.

It was the bespectacled boy who spoke this time, "I can see where Gladio's concern stems from, I shared those same doubts myself. But I can also see your point, Noctis." He stood up, brushing invisible dust from his new slacks. The sun reflecting off his glasses made it impossible to distinguish his eyes. "At the end of the day, it's your life and it's in your hands what you decide to do with it. If you want to go to school, do so. If instead you would prefer to stay with us, so be it. Either way, no matter what you choose, we'll stand by your side."

And then a smile, small, barely there but it warmed Noctis to his center.

A strong slap between his shoulder blades. "What he said." Gladio added, with hints of awe in his eyes after Ignis' little speech. "I guess I could cut you off some slack. You might even surprise me and not be totally hopeless."

He felt his own lips move of their own accord and the nest thing he knew, he was smiling too.

"And here I thought you were going to be nice for a change."

"Ha. I would pay anything to see you trying to befriend anyone. Now that would be true entertainment, definitely more fun and less painful than watching you training with a sword."

The wise and the strong, the future advisor and shield. The two boys he had known for as long as he could remember, the two boys who had to mature in advance, right now they laughed and joked by his side. Behaved they way the should have been allowed, the way other kids in other parts of Insomnia probably did. Promised they would stand by his side.

He was not leaving them behind. He wasn't tired of them either. For better or for worse, even as he sometimes complained, they were the beginning. The start. The place, the home, the starting point where he would always return to no matter how far he strayed.

Alright.

"You're not funny, Gladio."

On a Monday, two children from very different backgrounds woke up at the same exact hour.

Their destination was the same.

The first woke up in his humble home, winced when the clock alarm screeched too loudly, announcing the beginning of the dreaded new day with its terrible hollering. Alarmed, his legs got entangled with the sheets and as he tried to disentangle himself, he ended up on the floor of his bedroom, a mess of limbs and fabric. The man, who took care of him and had stayed the previous night in order to drive him to his destination, immediately went to check on him to make sure he was okay.

After his waking up fiasco, he bathed. Dressed slowly, no energy in his arms as he pulled on a shirt and shorts. And he stared at his body in the mirror. His protruding stomach, chubby legs, chubby arms, chubby face, chubby fingers. The freckles he possessed no fondness for, the eyes displaying dislike for the changes his body suffered-the eyes that couldn't stay focused on one part of his body for too long without averting them in shame.

Next he proceeded to have breakfast with his guardian, noticing his slightly out of character behavior. Sometimes he paused mid bite and stared at the wall behind him. Burning holes in empty air.

And suddenly he pointed out, "His Majesty's son will be joining school today as well. You should try to talk to him. He is a shy kid, kind of a loner. I'm sure he'd appreciate the company."

How could he not know? Every day for the last couple months there had been nothing but talk of the Prince and the King's abrupt announcement of his son integrating to common school education. The black haired boy that he-

He stared. His fingers, clutched around his fork, jerked and let go of the silverware in open surprise.

"What the hell, Cor?"

"Language!"

The second boy woke up in his royal chambers and traced every step of his usual routine.

That strange feeling took over him again when he looked in the bathroom mirror (saw his tired face, his still sleepy eyes, his hair mussed from sleep, the youthful face that was eerily similar to Regis's at his age) when he thought he saw tufts of yellow behind the glass. Disturbed, he met with his father for breakfast. Just the two of them on opposite sides of the long mahogany table. And somehow, he couldn't pinpoint what exactly, but there was something out of place, a different atmosphere settling about them. Just like the calm before the storm, expectant and high strung with tension.

A wire waiting to snap.

"How are you feeling, son? Nervous, I imagine."

"Not really…"

Small talk. Pointless conversation. It was a tad awkward. He imagined it was because the one actually nervous about him going to school was his father. Noctis? Noctis was just full of simmering excitement hidden under a façade of indifference. That was starting to become his MO as of lately; acting non interested in what truly interested him.

His father's next words surfaced out of nowhere: "Has Cor ever mentioned the boy he has been taking care of?", too casual, too suggestive. "He told me he is starting school today, the same one you are going to and that it's his first time assisting one."

He swallowed nothing. Was able to tell what his father did not say out loud. And he remembered the first time he heard of this mystery child Cor had taken under his wing. He remembered being eight years old and unexpectedly emotional at the idea of getting to know another kid. But when he had asked the Crownsguard, the man had been strangely tight lipped about it and changed the subject every time Noctis tried to pry information out of him. As the months passed, he simply lost interest. Now though, he felt compelled to know, to just-

"What is his name?" his tongue acted on its own, his words drenched in hurried urgency.

His father's eyes darkened and his expression turned somber, business like, the tone the man in the throne room used.

"His name, Noctis, is Prompto Argentum."

So far, so good. He had entered the classroom a few minutes ago and nothing traumatizing had happened to him yet so that counted as a small victory. The hallways, crawling with children and noise, had been another animal entirely; he had walked as fast as he could with his short legs, shoulders hunched and gaze lowered in order to avoid making eye contact by accident, and aside from the casual shoulder brushing, it hadn't been that terrible as he had first imagined.

The important part in all this is he survived, and now he sat on the first desk next to the windows, safe and calmer than when he had climbed out of Cor's car. Prompto, the true survivor. The King of Risk. His first day of school was proving to be less awful than what TV liked to show him.

He was alone since he decided to enter his homeroom early and while he waited, he browsed through his photo gallery. It contained several pictures of the interior of his house taken from several angles; there were some ridiculous 'selfies' (nothing below the neck), some pictures of Cor's annoyed face (the man hated photos with a passion but allowed him to do as he pleased), others of many pages from Eos Mithology…

His style was obviously a far cry from an expert's and the artists he admired but he liked to think he had potential. Yes, he might have stumbled upon photography entirely on accident but the connection had been so swift, so immediate-fire catching on wind and growing out of control-he couldn't help but think that this could become his passion. That part of him that made him unique and relevant, different from others (and no, whatever the thing on his wrist was did not count).

Taking advantage of the empty state of the classroom, he dared to snap a few pictures from the back and then took shots of the courtyard that could be glimpsed through the windows. He was just taking his last picture when, at once, it happened.

His finger froze on top of the shutter, on the verge of pressing down. The small hairs on his nape stood on end and goose bumps appeared on his arms. Nights on the road hiding from monsters, his heart beating a thousand beats per minute, that was the reaction he relived in this moment, standing by the windows on shaky knees. In a way though, this sensation- it felt not quite as alarming as those instances in the wild, fighting to live another day as the lady used to say. It felt like… anticipation. It felt like long days lounging on the couch waiting for a certain something to happen. For the door to open and for someone, someone who was not Cor, to walk in. It felt like those times he turned around to make a comment, say something to the open space next to him where he could have almost sworn he had formerly seen the shape of a body. It felt like a dream.

Despite this unexpected flow of emotions he moved. Craned his neck, the rest of his body following along with the movement. His ankles, his hips, his torso and knees. Moving to meet the source of this rare, electric brand new….

Everything stopped, everything ceased to exist, his breath evaporated inside his lungs, his heart shrunk and crumbled followed by his cracking ribs and bending elbows and opening mouth and widening eyes. Free falling, being embraced in punishing wind and the certainty that you were going to die the instant you stopped but it was still amazing experiencing the drop of your stomach to your feet and the skin on your face pull back like a mask. That was what he felt. And it was also very much like the suicidal waiting for the train to rush towards them at high speed, knowing that when it reached them it would all be over and the sentiment of release could not be greater.

His soul burned. And he did not even had a clue of that was supposed to be like, could not describe it at all. Yet it did.

He didn't know what was that paralyzed him first. The boiling blue eyes that met his. The face he had seen more than his own, on papers and pictures and now he realized no, papers and the internet could never do justice to a face like this. A face like his. Silky black hair like his. And the eyes. It was the eyes that drew him in and it began and it ended, a part of his life, a part of his being was born as he recalled a feverish dream two years ago, two months after arriving to Insomnia, in which a blond sixteen year old with freckles-the freckles he disliked so much but he was thin and lean and different-threw his arm around somebody's neck and that somebody, that somebody left him breathless, drowning in a sea of blue.

Black hair, black clothes, aristocratic figures.

Regal eyes looking at him as if he were a dream.

He knew him and he didn't know him.

The camera made a deafening sound when it touched the ground.

"Noct…"

The prince's hand twitched at his side.

The woman made no sound, alerted no senses as she moved, floated across the room. The girl sleeping on the bed was not disturbed out of her slumber. She didn't get enough rest as it was and the woman preferred to not take from her the precious moments where she could drift off to the land of dreams. She looked at her once more before stepping out of her room entirely, noting how the moonlight touching her young face made her look even younger. Like this, she was not the former princess, she was not the chosen girl. She was just like any other fourteen year old succumbing to sleep.

So young and she had already lost so much. Destiny was not kind on her and the future would not be better either.

Wind drifted in and fanned the long locks of ebony hair out of her physical's form face.

She knew what she had to do.

Two furry creatures trotted quietly beside her while she walked down the hallway, tongues hanging out of their mouths comically. One was black, the other's fur was a creamy color. Blessed beings. A gift to the Oracle.

She didn't stop walking until she reached the double doors that led to the royal garden. By the time she got there, the night sky was filled with dark clouds threatening to rain down on the unsuspecting people below. It was a sign. From her fellow… huh, she couldn't find a proper word to refer to them. But it didn't matter anyway. They were displeased by her course of actions, her sudden need to rectify what didn't need meddling.

They didn't understand. They who stayed apart and rejected humanity. They who chose an eternity of solitude. They who had not seen what she had seen or maybe they had but deemed too… human to matter.

Everything mattered to her.

Clink.

"What are you doing?" Deep voice. Smooth tone. No longer a child. No longer the little boy that smiled and gifted her flowers while blushing red on every Valentine's day (that weird human tradition she couldn't begin to make sense of after centuries of living among them).

No longer the twelve year old that had slipped a flower ring on her finger (to her puzzlement and amusement), his mismatched orbs burning with determination, promising he would marry her when he got older, when he became the man he was expected to be. Binding them in a pool of uncertainty.

He had grown. He was taller, (he had barely reached her hip once, he had barely reached her shoulder once, he now stood bigger than her) he had had gained muscle on his wiry arms and skinny legs. His face was angular, composed of sharp cheekbones, cheeks that would never blush as they did before, eyes that shined with rage and hatred not with joy and kindness, an attractive cupid bow and that frown that it seemed to have taken permanent residence on his visage. Pale blond hair reached his chin and she could perfectly remember running her fingers through his soft strands, rubbing his scalp gently, carefully (careful not to hurt him; sometimes she forgot her own strength). Tenderly.

He was broken.

He was beautiful.

He was painfully human.

(That face. That emotion. There was no way she would ever forget the pain, the sorrow and the betrayal on his blood stained face-his mother's blood-while he looked at the father of the King of Kings run away, leaving them to a life of imprisonment.

The beautiful, beautiful boy painted in his progenitor's life source. Lips open in mercy, lips begging to be saved.

Terribly alive.

So alive.

And so human)

He was human.

"Master Ravus." She said. Because that was all she could say. "Awake at such hours? Lack of sleep drives the body to the brink of collapse. You should-"

"I'm no child. You don't fool me, Gentiana. You're up to something." He seethed. Because that was all he had learned to do now.

She didn't say anything. She stayed put in her place, engaging in a silent challenge with the boy that used to love her.

When he received no answer from her, he merely shook his head, whispered something under his breath that she picked up due to her enhanced hearing, "Whatever. It doesn't concern me, whatever it is that you freaks do." And walked off without sparing another glance in her direction.

It was… painful. It bothered her. She would ponder about this pain later.

She looked at the female dog, her olive eyes now open and commanding. The little dog whined and sat on the back of its paws. She picked her up slowly, elevated her until they were on eye level.

"You know what to do. Your mission must be fulfilled as soon as possible. Find the boy blessed by Etro, find the eyes meant to foresee the changes in the timeline. I can sense it, feel it. Change has begun, the tides are turning."

Then, she put Pryna back on the ground and she had to say no more for when she opened the doors, the dog scurried past them, little legs moving fast, and faded away into the black of night to be found much later by the boy who would define history.

A/N:

Thank you for reading and I'm very sorry about the delay. My life has been crazy busy as of lately and I thank you again for your patience. Hope you like this chapter :)