Royal Protocol

by TheAsset6

[Co-written with roguehearted] Noctis didn't think things could be worse, not when Lucis lost to Niflheim and he was saddled with an imperial escort everywhere he went. Prompto had resigned himself to his fate long ago, although assassinating the prince was looking a lot more difficult than expected. Unlikely friendships form as the two attempt to change their fates and worlds.

10. Culture Shock

A/N: Friendly reminder that this story is co-written by myself and roguehearted! Also, my next independent story will be going up Saturday: Honor Bound. I hope to see you guys there as well! :)

Chapter Ten: Culture Shock

So, Insomnia. What could he say about Insomnia? Well, without putting too fine a point on it, this place was absolutely, positively the most amazing city he had ever explored in his entire life. Maybe he felt that way because he'd only ever seen Gralea before, but that didn't make him any less enamored with Lucis's Crown City as they drove through the gates towards the commercial district. To be honest, he would have been surprised if the Lucians themselves could refrain from gaping, it was that impressive.

There was so much going on that he simply couldn't keep track of it all. People flooded the streets, moving from shops to restaurants and sometimes nowhere at all in masses that you'd never see in Niflheim. Everyone there had places to go and things to do, but the Lucians were casually strolling along like they had all the time in the world. He figured that was for the best, because he would definitely need plenty of it to fully process everything. There were fluorescent lights advertising store names; plate-glass windows displayed the latest fashions and best technology. Menus were posted at the doors of different restaurants to advertise the sumptuous food they apparently served inside. (Prompto didn't know what a gourmet deluxe burger was, but it had to be pretty fancy—and expensive—if they needed two luxurious adjectives to describe it.) Bright colors gave way to expansive vistas where he could see the entirety of the city shining in the morning sun, all of it clean and cultured in a way Gralea couldn't achieve.

So, yeah. Amazing didn't quite cover it, but that was the best he could do.

He probably should have been embarrassed that no one else was as glued to the car windows as he was, yet Prompto brushed it aside almost as soon as he noticed. They'd be happy if he showed the city some respect, right? This was their home, after all, so gawking like an idiot had to make them feel like the superior civilization they doubtless believed themselves to be. It was the perfect strategic move. It was the right balance of awe and manipulation. It was just another way to ingratiate himself to his target, that was all.

Ooh! Chocobo shirts!

...Well, maybe there was a little more to it than that.

Despite his preoccupation, it didn't take long for Prompto to realize that they were actually just driving in wide circles over and over again. They'd passed the same restaurant three times in the last ten minutes, which he was fairly sure wasn't supposed to happen. Tearing his rapt attention away from the window, he met the marshal's eyes in the rear-view mirror and immediately wished he hadn't. The stony gaze he received in turn had him whirling back around to face the world outside, uncertain of whether the roundabout driving pattern was meant to thwart potential pursuers or simply to confuse him. At this point, he was leaning towards the latter.

It didn't really matter, though. The sights were just as impressive with each successive pass, and Prompto began picking up on small details he'd missed before. In spite of the tall buildings and crowded shops, the city didn't have the industrial aura that Gralea boasted. There were trees and flower beds outside the stores, and the entire city lacked the polluted haze that permanently obscured streets throughout Niflheim. It was...well, pretty damn impressive.

"As we discussed, the first item on our agenda is to pick up some clothes," Ignis indicated, his eyes on Noctis in the mirror. "The marshal has kindly made himself available to us throughout the day to manage parcels, so we won't have to carry them."

In the rear seat, Noctis hummed in acknowledgment without looking up from his phone. Prompto figured the confirmation wasn't so much for Noctis's benefit as it was a threat to himself—the marshal, Cor the Immortal, would be watching them throughout the day, so trying anything wouldn't be the smartest idea.

Honestly, he wasn't even sure what they expected him to do here if he did give it a go. Noctis was in the seat immediately behind him, so there was no convenient way to get to him before Gladiolus broke his neck; the same went for the innocent bystanders who would sooner take him down than see their prince get killed on their watch. (If they didn't, the king would probably be executing a lot more than just him. There was something comforting about not dying alone, but that wasn't really the best alternative either.) The only opening he was going to get today that wouldn't end in disaster was actually causing a disaster. It would be a lot easier to reach up than back, especially when no one would anticipate it. If he jerked the wheel at the right moment, they'd go careening into one of the storefronts; if he was strategic about it, he could kill everyone in the car and make it look like an accident.

This wasn't supposed to look like an accident, though. It was supposed to be deliberate, even if the king didn't realize that the emperor was behind it.

So, scratch that plan. It left a bad taste in his mouth anyway for some reason that he was not going to examine any further.

He didn't have a chance regardless as Gladiolus chose that moment to guess, "We probably won't need to go to too many places, right?"

"Might as well do as much as we can while we're here," Noctis contradicted him, rolling his eyes and pocketing his phone. "It's not really sightseeing from behind a window. Any place in particular catch your eye?"

It wasn't until he leaned forward a bit with a casual grin playing on his lips that Prompto registered the question was for him, not the Shield. And from the looks of things, their responses would have been vastly different if the latter had been given the opportunity, not that that was much of a surprise.

On one thing, however, they were likely in agreement. Prompto had seen at least three stores he would have liked to poke his head into so far, and that wasn't counting all the restaurants. Everything was so tantalizing that he could have hopped out and walked instead of forcing the marshal to chauffeur them around. The only problem was that he was also uncomfortably aware of the fact that it would be the prince paying for whatever they chose to do, and the last thing he wanted was to pick some fancy, expensive place to go and cost him a fortune. Not that he was cool with Noctis paying for anything, really, but he didn't have much choice there. So, if all he could do was minimize the impact on the prince's wallet, then that was what he'd do. He'd already been given far too much privilege at the Citadel-he couldn't bring himself to be upset about what he wouldn't get to try in the city.

"Anywhere's good," Prompto replied, shrugging as if where they went was a much smaller deal than Iris had made of it earlier. For his part, the prince didn't bat an eye.

"Cool. I've got a few spots in mind. You can drop us off in this district, Cor."

"Think you could put on a seatbelt in the meantime?" grumbled Gladiolus under his breath.

"We should get a move on if we want to have lunch before it's dinner time," the prince continued as if he hadn't spoken, although the quirked eyebrow Ignis shot him was enough to have him falling back into his seat with a placating gesture.

"That shouldn't be a problem," the marshal informed him as he turned towards the side of the street, easily fitting the vehicle between two others that were parked against the curb. "Just make sure you keep me apprised of your schedule."

Nodding in affirmation, Noctis gestured towards the trendy-looking shop outside the window and checked with Iris, "You think you can find some stuff for him here?"

"Uh, of course?" she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "What's our limit?"

"We can worry about that after we get started," he waved her off dismissively, which did absolutely nothing for the nervous lump that had lodged itself in Prompto's throat every time he thought about how much it had to cost to get clothes in a place like Insomnia.

Apparently, that wasn't something Noctis was too concerned about. He hopped onto the sidewalk without pause, Iris chattering in his ear about what he would need and his size and all the other stuff Prompto hadn't considered before they left the Citadel. He didn't bother now either: it appeared that his fate had been placed in her hands, so there really wasn't much point. Besides, he was too busy observing the prince's demeanor since they weren't surrounded by guards and the need to stand on ceremony for the first time. It was amazing and a little disconcerting to see a royal so at ease in public. The emperor never went anywhere without a parade and fifty escorts, not to mention the snipers that usually preceded him along his path just in case somebody tried to do him harm. That hadn't happened in Prompto's memory, but it was apparently something that Aldercapt had on his mind.

Not like Noctis. He had his Shield, his Shield's sister, a glorified butler, and an enemy operative for his security detail. Yeah, that was bound to end well.

"…around the block, if you like. Should we require any assistance, I'll call immediately," said butler was telling the marshal, motioning down the street while the latter nodded his understanding. Well, at least they hadn't forgotten backup. That was a step in the right direction.

There was no time to consider the competence of the Lucians, however, not when Noctis was already leading the way towards the store's entrance with Iris hot on his heels.

"Pick out some stuff you like, and I guess Iris will let you know if you're right or not," the prince threw over his shoulder once they were safely inside, his smirk indicating that she was actually the one in charge here. As if things weren't upside down enough. Royalty letting other people have a say, retainers raising no question as to the safety of their future monarch…

And an imperial grunt getting to go on a shopping spree that might just bankrupt the kingdom if the gleam in Iris's eyes was anything to go by.

That was honestly all he could think when he got a load of everything they expected him to choose from. None of it was on the scale of the king's attire by any stretch—he probably had his stuff made to order, and his closet definitely wouldn't include the range of casual shirts and pants that were threatening to overwhelm Prompto's senses. Still, they couldn't be serious. This stuff was way too nice for him! Besides that, how was he supposed to know what he liked? It was all so...different. Not in a bad way or anything, but he'd never seen... The sign called them jeans. What the hell was a jeans?

"Got a problem there?" grunted Gladiolus, who appeared behind him so suddenly that Prompto totally didn't jump out of his skin. Nuh uh. Nope.

He also didn't squeak when he hastily replied, "No!"

Gladiolus stared at him, one eyebrow raised in the exact opposite of an impressed expression.

Pull it together, Prompto!

"It's just, uh... There's..." Swallowing, Prompto smiled weakly and lamely finished, "There's a lot of stuff in here."

"That's kinda why they call it a store."

"I've got it!" Iris exclaimed, ignoring her brother's sarcasm to grab Prompto by the arm and drag him deeper into the shop.

Despite the irritated twitch at the corner of his jaw, Gladiolus didn't say a word about it, nor did his sister look to him for an opinion. Instead, she simply yanked Prompto this way and that, stopping at various racks and pulling out enough clothes to sink an airship. Every article ended up handed to him for safekeeping. Well, he called it handing them over, but in reality it was more like he was acting as her own personal pack chocobo. By the time they reached the other end of the store, his arms were stacked so high with garments that he almost couldn't see over them. That was apparently normal, though, because no one said a word about it. If anything, they joined in the process-including the prince, who was the only one that actually checked to see if he cared for the stuff they were loading him down with. (He wasn't stupid enough to say no, so onto the pile it went.)

The whole thing was so surreal: Prompto was utterly baffled by how amused he seemed with all of this. Any sensible member of a royal family would be annoyed, and Prompto wouldn't have blamed them for it at all. Noctis, on the other hand, didn't even try to hurry Iris along when she made it quite clear that she was determined to drag them through the entire store; Ignis and Gladiolus merely watched from nearby while they inspected damn near every individual article there.

It was… It was a lot.

Prompto didn't know how long they were at it before Iris finally said the words he'd been waiting for: "I think that's enough for now."

Yes. Thank the Six, yes!

"Noct, why don't you take him to the changing room so he can decide what works and what doesn't while I look for more?"

...Easy come, easy go.

Or maybe not. Maybe this was just the push Noctis needed to actually behave the way someone of his station was supposed to. After all, there was no chance the crown prince of Lucis was going to take orders from a bossy little girl in a skirt, right? If he could get away with ignoring Gladiolus's educated suggestions, then why would he take crap from his sister? Yeah, this would be the breaking point, all right. No two ways about it. The prince was already opening his mouth, getting ready to deliver the verbal slap she deserved-

"Yeah, okay."

What?!

Completely dumbstruck, Prompto could only watch as Iris skipped off to find even more clothes to pile on top of him without the reprimand he had been expecting. No, he had to have heard it wrong. That seriously did not just happen.

A quick slap on his shoulder drew his attention to the prince, who nodded towards an area at the back of the store labeled fitting rooms. Whatever that meant.

"Come on, it's this way."

Okay, he was wrong. That did just happen.

And that apparently wasn't even the strangest part.

Prompto followed Noctis into a secluded section that was thankfully bereft of clothing, eyeing the row of thin doors on either side with a frown. He never would have guessed that there was anything back here, especially not more rooms. The sight sent an involuntary shudder up his spine before he had a chance to quash his sudden sense of unease. It was stupid—like, really stupid—but he couldn't help thinking it reminded him a little bit of a few of the chambers in Zegnautus. Of course, calling them chambers was the nice way to put it, and there was no way they'd lock from the inside like these doors seemed to. (Lucians were funny about that.) If the way people were filing in and out to model clothes to their companions was any sign, though, they definitely didn't serve the same purpose.

"Uh... So, I just...?"

Nodding pointedly towards the nearest door, Noctis collapsed onto a plush chair with his phone and instructed, "Yeah, give those a shot. If they don't work, we can put it back and find something else."

Find something else? That was going to take time—didn't he have better things to do with his day than sit around while Prompto shuffled through outfit after outfit?

From the looks of it, he didn't, so Prompto ducked into the fitting room and tentatively locked the door behind him. It was...interesting on the other side, but not in a bad way. A mirror took up one wall, and there were hooks beside it for the hangars he was holding; a bench was situated in the corner that he figured was too small to be of any real use besides depositing his stack of garments. Actually, it was the most Niflheim thing in Lucis: functional and utilitarian without unnecessary adornment. So they didn't dress everything up around here.

Not like him. He threw on the first pair of pants and shirt he could grab and peered into the mirror to see someone he didn't recognize staring back at him—gaping back at him, really. The clothes were... Well, they were cool. The jeans were perfectly fitted to his size, and the shirt was loose without looking baggy like his clothes had been growing up. (They always got a few sizes too big so they wouldn't outgrow anything too fast, usually with interesting results.) All of that in conjunction with his new hair made it seem as though he was a totally different person-a person who looked more like a Lucian than someone from Niflheim. And that... He wasn't saying anything, but it didn't feel as bad as he'd expected.

Until he saw the price tag.

"Nooooo no no no no," he muttered under his breath in a panic. "Fifteen for a shirt? Are they crazy?!"

They had to be. Noctis, dress-and-dazzle baby behemoth, whoever the hell made this stuff-they were all nuts. Maybe royalty could afford this junk, but normal people? Him? Why would anyone spend this much for admittedly a really awesome shirt? He had no business being here; any prince would have said he wasn't worth the money.

Well, any other prince.

"You okay in there, Prompto?" Iris's voice called from the other side of the door, effectively banishing those thoughts and forcing his mind back to the here and now.

Okay wasn't exactly the word he would have used, but he'd go with it if for no other reason than to get through today without Gladiolus impaling him for offending his sister. Prompto was already thinking he wouldn't be able to avoid that once the Shield saw how much he was going to cost the prince, so why make things worse for himself?

That was also why he yanked his attention away from the mirror and unlocked the door before he could think better of it. If he was lucky, they'd say he looked terrible and make him put the clothes back.

Even if he kinda didn't want to.

Stop, he told himself firmly. This isn't gonna last.

Rule number one of being in the military: don't get attached. Not to people, not to the meager belongings they borrowed from the emperor, not to anything. Attachments were weakness; they made you vulnerable when nothing would last forever. This was no different, fancy clothes and lack of Loqi notwithstanding. His clock was ticking, and none of this stuff would come with him when it stopped no matter how much he liked it.

So, clearing his throat, he presented himself rigidly for inspection with a cautious, "Uh... Does this work, Noctis?"

To absolutely no one's surprise, it was Iris who answered first, stepping in front of the prince to level Prompto with a shrewd, pensive gaze. "You know, with the new hairstyle and getting him out of that silly uniform, he's actually pretty cute."

What.

It was hard to tell whether Noctis was more amused by Iris's opinion or her brother's deadpan expression where he and Ignis were standing across the room. If Prompto had to guess, however, he'd go with the second one.

"Well, we've got Iris's approval," Noctis announced, recovering before his Shield could see if his sister still thought Prompto was cute after being beaten with his own severed arm. "What do you think? You like it?"

Great...

"It's okay?" Prompto replied, not wanting to seem too eager when he was about to sabotage his own chances of getting what he figured passed for a nice outfit. There was no other choice, not when he had been so painfully reminded of how different he was from the rest of these people. "It's, uh...kinda expensive, though."

"How expensive?" demanded Gladiolus with a flat glare at his sister. Oh, was she in for a world of trouble.

No. It would be fine. Prompto could just say this one was his idea—they never had to know that it wasn't. Plus, he had a feeling the Shield wouldn't mind being given something to blame on him. Things had been too quiet the last few days, so they were due for a little spicing up.

"Fifteen...for just the shirt," he ultimately muttered with a remorseful grimace.

There was a beat of silence where he was positive the others were considering different ways to get him out of this outfit without causing it more damage than his mere presence already had. Then, the unthinkable happened.

Snorting, Gladiolus rolled his eyes and scoffed, "Yeah. Really breakin' the bank there."

"W-Wait…" Prompto frowned, glancing from the Shield to his prince and back again. "But that's-"

"That's fine," Noctis finished Prompto's sentence for him, albeit not quite like he'd expected. "If you like that one, we'll get it, but we should probably grab some better ones too."

Ignis nodded in agreement. "You would get more use out of higher quality material. Items in that price range usually aren't made for multiple washings."

"Oh, uh… Okay," murmured Prompto, peering at the pile of clothes still waiting for him in the changing room in distant horror. It wasn't hard to tell that most of the other things Iris had picked for him were made from thicker, softer material than the shirt he was already getting too comfortable in. He wasn't sure if he even wanted to check the price tags on those.

The prince must have mistaken his apprehension for distaste, because he hurried to add, "You don't have to get any of them if you don't want them. There's at least three other stores on this block."

Sure, that was all he needed. Something told him that while Gladiolus had been pretty patient so far, traipsing around the city looking for outfits that he'd probably only be allowed to wear on the rare occasions when they were outside the Citadel probably wasn't his thing. Come to think of it, maybe that was why Noctis was okay with spending so much: they were the same size, so once Prompto went back to wearing his uniforms (or went back to Niflheim, for all the prince knew), he'd just take the clothes for himself. They weren't anywhere near as nice as his own things, but Prompto figured he'd get some use out of them in training, at least.

That didn't seem right, though. Prompto would have thought the prince would take a more active role in choosing the styles Iris was picking out if he planned to appropriate this stuff when all was said and done. Maybe Prompto was off base here, but he didn't seem like the kind of person who'd wear something he didn't feel comfortable in. Not if he didn't have to.

Prompto was roughly pulled out of his own musings as something soft yet solid hit him in the back of the head. When he turned to look, he discovered a black wristband on the ground at his feet and a Shield with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. His gaze when he met Prompto's, however, wasn't quite as lighthearted.

"Can always give that a try," he suggested with a significant glance at Prompto's uncomfortably visible barcode. "Iris always says accessories make the outfit."

Well, she wasn't wrong. As Prompto bent to pick up the band, he couldn't help thinking that accessories would also be a great way to avoid any awkward questions. Whether Gladiolus was worried about reprisals or just didn't want to have to look at his brand had yet to be seen, but Prompto appreciated the gesture nevertheless.

Plus, it was plush and comfy—and way cheaper than the other stuff he'd be putting on the prince's tab today. He could live with that.

He had a harder time living with the sheer number of bags they took to the car on their way out of the store over an hour later. Noctis had made damn sure Iris was around to keep him distracted, so he hadn't gotten a look at what the total came to, but he knew it had to be pretty lofty. There was far too much accompanying him to his room in the Citadel for him to believe otherwise, and the pinched tension in Gladiolus's face spoke volumes that his voice didn't. Even Ignis, who was usually calm and collected, tapped away at his phone with a frown as he presumably calculated just how far in the hole Noctis was going to be after this little venture.

The only one who didn't seem bothered at all by their spending was the prince himself, who nonchalantly leaned against the truck while his Shield tossed the bags unceremoniously into the back seat.

"I'm starving," he announced, glancing around the block as though food would appear at his behest. "Now's probably a good time to find some lunch."

"Might I suggest returning to the Citadel so that I can prepare something suitable?" Ignis offered, although his tone suggested that he already knew Noctis wouldn't accept the offer.

Sure enough, the prince scanned the rows of shops as he replied, "It's cool, Specs. I figured we'd hang out here a bit longer, see more of the city and all that. There's a good diner up the street."

"Yes, I'm certain our guest came all the way from Niflheim in the hopes of experiencing Insomnia's refined diner culture," lilted Ignis sarcastically, not that it put a dent in Noctis's enthusiasm as he motioned for them to cross the street and set off at a quick clip.

"Can't see the Crown City without seeing the Crown City," insisted Noctis with a dismissive wave of his hand. Glancing at Prompto, he inquired, "Burgers and fries are good, right? They should have chicken if you're still stuck on the healthier options."

Well, at least he recognized one of those things. Fortunately, Ignis answered before he got the chance to show his ignorance regarding the rest.

"Fried chicken sandwiches are hardly a healthier choice," he huffed.

"Crispy," the prince corrected him. "Seriously, though, they've got salads and junk. It's perfect."

His chamberlain definitely had something to say about that, but it looked like he was alone on his side of the debate. Gladiolus appeared to be brightening up for the first time all day, which Prompto hadn't expected to see until they were on their way back to the Citadel. Burgers and fries, whatever those were, had to be pretty damn appealing.

Or...not.

"Pretty sure the place has got Cup Noodles, if it's the same one I'm thinkin' about," he chimed in with a smirk at Ignis's long-suffering sigh.

This time, Prompto couldn't contain his curiosity and cautiously inquired, "Uh... Cups of noodles?"

Rolling his eyes, Gladiolus amended, "Hell no. Cup Noodles. What, you don't have those back in Niflheim?"

"Not that I know of?" Not that that was saying a lot.

"They're the ultimate flavor experience," explained Gladiolus immediately, a huge grin that Prompto worried might just crack his face in two. "Not sure they sell 'em outside the city, but they're the best you're gonna get. Anybody else is just second rate."

"So... Better than burgers?" clarified Prompto with a frown. The way Noctis talked, he would have thought that was the ultimate flavor experience.

His Shield, however, clearly didn't agree. He nodded without hesitation, confirming, "Burgers ain't got nothin' on Cup Noodles."

"You sound like a crappy commercial," Noctis responded flatly.

It appeared that, for once, Ignis was on the same page with him when it came to food. He hummed in agreement and added, "Perhaps you have a point with regards to sodium, Gladio."

Okay, so Cup Noodles equal salt bombs. Got it!

While Gladiolus looked ready to fight them on it, Noctis didn't comment further, stopping outside an ordinary-looking building. Well, ordinary by Lucian standards—the restaurant they were walking into would have been pretty out of place in Niflheim. The roomy booths pressed up against well-lit windows that gave them an unobstructed view of the street outside, the faint music coming from the ceilings, the various advertisements on the walls for everything from local events to the brand of soft drink they served here… Yeah, it was all very Lucian, all right.

The weirdest part was a few colored-in children's menus proudly displayed on the walls, as if any establishment the prince frequented would allow kids with such terrible coordination to dine there. Unless...they did that on purpose? Like, the kid with the best drawing got a one-way ticket to meeting Noctis or the king? He could guess what happened after that, and the vibrant pictures didn't make him eager to think about it.

Lucky for him, he was presented with a decent enough distraction. Between the prince shoving a laminated menu in his face and Iris dragging them over to a booth, he was easily able to push those thoughts from his mind. He could ponder them later.

Right now, he needed his wits about him, because there were so many possibilities for lunch that he was getting a little queasy just reading through them all. The menu was covered in photos of various dishes alongside descriptions that made his mouth water—and prices that made him lose his appetite altogether. Was everything in Lucis this expensive, or was it just because of his present company?

Whichever it was, he appeared to be the only one worried about it. Again. Noctis was too concerned with unlatching Iris from his side to slide into the booth, Gladiolus practically trampling everyone to take the seat beside him. It sent a certain unspoken message, not that Prompto was bothered by it. He'd wanted a window spot anyway.

"Just pick anything that looks good," Noctis commanded, leaning forward to tap Prompto's menu once he was seated across from him. "But whatever you get, make sure it comes with fries."

Fries? What're fries?

It was another one of those things he apparently should've known already, so Prompto kept his mouth firmly closed while Noctis turned towards Ignis to relay his own order. His chamberlain had pulled a chair up at the end of their booth, his expression stony as he surveyed the restaurant with a critical eye. They must have been to places like this often enough for him to glare around it with an undeniable yet exasperated sense of disdain, especially since the prince obviously didn't need a menu to decide what he wanted.

"Make sure you ask for no lettuce, tomato, or onion on mine," Noctis reminded his advisor, who had to be thinking that was sacrilege if Prompto knew him at all.

As it turned out, he did! Ignis frowned in dismay, cleaning the section of table in front of him with a sanitary wipe he'd retrieved from his pocket. "Nothing remotely healthy for you, then?"

Noctis hummed as if he was actually giving the question serious thought. All he came up with was a sardonic, "I'll take ketchup with the fries."

From the way Ignis sighed in capitulation, Prompto was going to assume that ketchup didn't meet his standards for actual health food. He simply nodded tersely, however, and scrutinized his own menu as though it might bite him.

Prompto didn't know why—the stuff on there looked amazing! Sure, it probably wasn't considered on the same level as what they served at the Citadel (the king likely had a rule about that), but he could tell this was one luxurious restaurant despite Ignis's distaste. Burgers were apparently huge chunks of meat with bread on either side, which would have seemed pretty lackluster if not for all the stuff you could add to it. Bacon, eggs, vegetables of all kinds—onion rings? Those looked good, even if he couldn't tell how onions were even involved. Then there were other categories on the menu, too, as if the burgers weren't enough! They had towering mounds of what they called pasta with colorful sauces (none of the Cup Noodles Gladiolus had been going on about, much to the latter's chagrin), sandwiches that could rival the burgers, and a whole section dedicated to a fatty mess of awesome that they apparently called appetizers.

Forget the fries—how was he even supposed to guess what he shoulder order?!

"Don't hurt yourself over there."

Jolting a little in his seat, Prompto peered up to see Gladiolus frowning at him. Oh, goody.

"Huh?"

The Shield somehow managed to avoid rolling his eyes again as he repeated, "I said, don't hurt yourself. 'S'not like we can't get a few things to go if you can't decide."

Okay, Prompto was going to set aside the fact that either he'd been that transparent or Gladiolus was able to tell what he was thinking. He could worry about that some other time. For now, he'd settle with shaking his head in yet more confusion. That was starting to become a habit.

"Uh... To go?"

"They put the shit you don't eat in a box to take with you," explained Gladiolus. He was nice enough not to make it sound like he was talking to an idiot even though Prompto knew that had to be going through his mind.

Noctis's Shield could think what he wanted, though. Prompto was too busy marveling at the idea that they didn't get in your face about wasting food and make you eat it off the floor next time if you didn't finish. Now that sounded awesome!

It also made the task of deciding a bit easier, although he was so not going to order anything they would then have to haul back to the Citadel along with the rest of the stuff the prince had gotten him today. There was a line between what the hell and oh god, oh god-and that would be crossing it.

So, with a quick peek at the prices, Prompto picked the least expensive burger on the list (which thankfully still came with one of those onion ring thingies on top) and pointed towards it with a tentative glance at Ignis.

"Is...this okay?"

Ignis nodded and pulled out his phone, typing into what looked like a digital notepad and replying, "If that's what you would like, then it's acceptable."

Well, to him it was. As soon as he turned to take Iris's order, Noctis reached over to scoff skeptically at what Prompto had selected.

"That's cool and all, but it's pretty basic. You sure you don't wanna try a bit more than that? I mean, Gladio could eat three of those as an appetizer," he pointed out with a glance at his Shield, who graciously left his response at just an irritated grunt.

Prompto, however, was frowning down at the menu indecisively. He didn't want to take anything to go, but if the prince said it wasn't enough food… Noctis was the expert here, right? After all, he had to eat out pretty often if Ignis knew what he wanted without having to be told. (Sure, that was his job, but there were so many restaurants on this street alone that Prompto thought for sure he'd need a bit more to go on than just nothing that will keep me healthy.) If he wanted Prompto to choose something more, as he put it, then he might as well oblige.

For a price, apparently.

The next burger down was way more than the first, but it came with a lot for the money. It had every vegetable imaginable, plus some condiments he had never heard of before—and that wasn't counting the onion ring. He was really hoping that lived up to his expectations, because he really wanted it to taste as good as it looked.

"I guess I can do this instead," he amended with a shrug, although he didn't really need to bother. Ignis had already anticipated him, and his fingers flew over his tiny keyboard as he corrected the order.

"With fries, right?" asked Gladiolus with a—fond?—glance at the prince. "His Highness'll just give you his if you don't."

Oh. Right.

Prompto hadn't been planning on it, given that fries appeared to be just some yellow, floppy straws. But hey, he'd been proven wrong about everything else in the Lucians' lifestyle so far. Why stop now?

"Sure. Fries it is."

Now, Prompto had seen some strange stuff since he arrived in enemy territory. In fact, the strange outweighed the normal around here. Even so, nothing quite filled him with an overwhelming sense of oddness like the way Noctis seemed to deflate as soon as his chamberlain was out of sight. With Ignis placing their order and Gladiolus fielding Iris's chatter, it was as though he simply didn't have the energy to keep up appearances. He rested his chin in his palm and stared out the window, his expression blank despite there being plenty to see out there. Where Prompto was ordinarily fascinated with what was going on and how the other side lived and all that, the prince appeared more tired than interested in what his people were up to.

Back at the Citadel, he'd assumed Noctis's absence over the last few days had been like when Loqi didn't want to go to a tactical meeting, Ignis's excuse about feeling under the weather aside. Seeing him now, Prompto wasn't so sure that he'd been as right as he'd thought.

Before he had a chance to set his sights on something a little less awkwardly royal-shaped, Noctis inconveniently blinked himself out of his own stupor. Prompto had been laboring under the delusion that getting caught by Gladio would be worse, yet this definitely had it beat. Their gazes met momentarily, then the prince instantly glanced away when he realized he was the object of Prompto's scrutiny.

Yup. Smooth move, genius.

Instead of reprimanding him for not minding his own business, however, Noctis chose to fiddle with one of the salt shakers and pretend he had been paying attention to Gladiolus and Iris's conversation the entire time. In the interests of self-preservation, Prompto figured it best not to draw any attention to the contrary, especially not when Ignis returned and set a plate of what appeared to be the much anticipated fries and—gasp!—onion rings in the middle of the table.

"I assumed that you wanted these before the actual meal," he observed, apparently to Noctis's pleasure. His previous melancholy was gone in a flash, and Prompto wondered whether he'd simply imagined it. This wouldn't be the first time he read the prince wrong; odds were that it wouldn't be the last either.

Then again, maybe the guy was just hungry. He immediately snatched one of the fries with a grateful grin at his chamberlain before pushing the whole plate towards Prompto. There was no missing how Gladiolus's eyes followed it while Iris plucked something for herself off the edge.

"You gonna try one or what?" Noctis inquired, nudging the dish again.

It sounded like a question, but after the bout of the doldrums Noctis had just yanked himself out of, Prompto thought it was a better idea to treat it like more of a command. The last thing he wanted to do was tempt fate if the prince wasn't feeling well.

Besides: onion rings.

"Yeah, definitely," he replied with more enthusiasm than was probably warranted. Covering it quickly he selected one of the...extremely greasy and not at all nutritionally sound circles from the plate, twirling it in his fingers a few times before deciding to hell with table manners. Noctis had used his hands, so that was good enough for him.

The second the breading touched his tongue, Prompto thought he might just be having a religious experience. That was what they called it when you floated out of your body in utter bliss, right? He remembered it was something like that. If it wasn't, then he was making it a saying, because holy shit. Forget the fancy food at the Citadel—this was the best thing on the entire planet.

It was so good that he didn't even think before he grabbed onion ring after onion ring and popped them into his mouth until he barely had room to chew them. That was fine, though. If he choked, at least he'd die happy.

Maybe a bit embarrassed too. The thinly-veiled horror Ignis barely managed to hide by occupying himself with fixing his coffee was pretty telling. Noctis, however, didn't appear to mind at all; he seemed more amused than anything else.

"It's free refills," the prince commented with a casual shrug, "so you don't have to eat them like they're going to disappear."

"They might if you let Gladdy get at them," Iris contradicted him, cautiously taking a few for herself.

"It's cool. We'll send him to get the refills, then." Noctis pointed to the fries where they lay abandoned on the other side of the plate. "If you're going to try any of these, you should do it with ketchup."

Ignis cleared his throat, interjecting before he could make any other recommendations, "And I would suggest not filling up on side dishes."

Noctis snorted, waving off Ignis's concern. "Not like we can't bring whatever we don't eat back as leftovers."

Ignis was apparently content to ignore the prince's excuse in favor of zeroing in Prompto, who was suddenly painfully aware of the hot, greasy goodness shoved into his cheeks. Well. This was a situation Prompto knew he did not want to be in. The chamberlain had proven far too perceptive for his own good; it wouldn't surprise him in the least if he was about to be asked whether he was here to assassinate their prince and aid in the destruction of their home.

What actually came out of his mouth was nowhere near as bad. Thankfully.

"So, Prompto. Do you not frequent such establishments in Niflheim?"

Swallowing the giant gob of food in his mouth, Prompto subtly pounded on his chest (and blinked the tears from his eyes—those were hot!) as he answered, "There aren't really any of these kinds of places near the barracks, so...not so much."

It was only half a lie: there weren't places like this in Gralea period, nor would he have been able to go to them even if there were. He was pretty sure that somewhere in the world, Loqi was already having a conniption; his Prompto Is Doing Something I Wouldn't Like senses must have started tingling by now. That was a pretty common occurrence, though. If it were up to his commander, they wouldn't eat at all; it was only the necessity of it that forced the issue. His head would literally pop if he got a load of this so-called meal. Prompto was already calling it.

But they didn't need to know that, especially not Ignis. A change of subject was in order.

Or, he should say, a change of target.

"Do you come to places like this a lot?" he asked the prince with a guileless smile.

His question seemed to take Noctis by surprise, and he hurriedly dropped his phone from where he'd been holding it sideways at...eye level…

Uh… Weird much?

"Sorry, your face looked too weird not to take a picture," he muttered sheepishly.

A picture. With a phone. Well, at least now Prompto could say he had officially seen it all.

Without bothering to explain, the prince pushed the device off to the side and shrugged as he belatedly answered, "Anyway, I haven't been out much since I moved back to the Citadel, but when I was on my own, I talked Gladio or Ignis into letting me hang out here from time to time. There were a couple of other places, too. Mostly when I was in school."

That was an interesting concept. A prince living away from the palace? Definitely not something he would have expected.

It was something he would have liked to get some more information on, but apparently Noctis thought he'd said enough about himself and focused on the plate of fries instead of making eye contact. That admittedly seemed like the right choice given how Gladiolus was shaking his head and rolling his eyes next to him.

Ooh. Touchy subject?

Prompto wasn't sure why, but hey, Gladiolus took offense to the tiniest things. The guy had a short fuse, so he wasn't about to poke the behemoth by asking about wherever the prince had lived before. For one thing, he likely wouldn't say; for another, there were only two onion rings left, and Iris was eyeing them with obvious desire. They could say what they wanted about refills or whatever, but there was no way he wasn't grabbing just one more of those before they were gone forever.

And a fry, because damn, those were almost as good even without whatever ketchup was! The Lucians clearly loved their grease, that much was obvious, but Prompto thought they might be onto something nonetheless.

Frowning down at his food while he tried to figure out how to find the perfect balance of onion ring and fry (Stick the fry through the hole? Eat them side by side? Separately? So many options!), he chose to backtrack a bit instead and nodded towards the prince's phone. Perhaps that would set Gladiolus's mind at ease.

"So, uh... What kind of picture?"

The more appropriate question would have been how the hell he had taken a picture without a camera, but Prompto was no idiot. There was only so much he could ask about before things got weird—it had happened too many times already.

Noctis paused a moment, picking up his phone and ignoring the warning glare from Gladiolus that Prompto had been hoping to avoid. Despite his Shield's reluctance, the prince hesitantly swiped and tapped at the screen a few times before he held the phone out to Prompto. On full display was an image of him, cheeks crammed full of onion rings.

Okay, so maybe he could understand why Ignis had been so appalled. He did look downright ridiculous.

"I can delete it, if you want," Noctis offered after a few beats of somewhat awkward silence that was broken only by Iris stifling a laugh.

Prompto barely noticed, he was so transfixed on the picture. It...was completely clear. Like, he'd seen surveillance photos that were nowhere near as detailed as this. He could make out every strand of his own hair, every freckle on his face—he could even read the poster on the wall a few feet behind him.

And this came from a phone?

Unreal!

Without thinking, Prompto reached out and poked the screen curiously. He didn't even care that his mouth fell open when a little menu popped up in the corner of the screen, offering him the option to edit the picture—or send it to somebody? You could do that?

"Whoa..." whispered Prompto, unable to find a better word for the total bewilderment he was feeling.

Noctis appeared equally confused when he slowly asked, "Do you wanna try it?"

Do I what now?

The prince handed over his phone without further explanation, leaning forward to press his finger against the screen again. The picture disappeared and left Prompto staring at the reflected image of the top of the table that replaced it.

Too taken in by his own curiosity to think better of it, Prompto instinctively held a finger over the device, hesitating when he noticed the murderous glare that Gladiolus was alternating between him and the prince. Maybe this wasn't the best idea, after all…

Not that Noctis minded in the slightest. Of course he didn't. He never did.

"You just aim it where you want to take the picture and touch the circle button in the middle," he instructed, ignoring the heat of his Shield's disdain.

That, Prompto supposed, was permission enough. Aim and click. That sounded familiar enough that he wasn't likely to screw it up, at least.

With one final, apologetic glance at Gladiolus, Prompto stuck the phone over his menu and tapped the little silver circle the prince had indicated. Immediately, it made a snapping sound that almost had Prompto dropping the device in his surprise that it actually worked. That wasn't to say that he'd thought Noctis was lying to him, but it did seem too good to be true that this tiny box could pack such a punch.

Yet that was exactly what it did. When Prompto gingerly lowered the phone, his mouth fell open to see a perfectly formed image of his menu right there on the screen.

"It worked!" he exclaimed, turning the phone and practically shoving it under Noctis's nose in his excitement. This time, Gladiolus's twitching muscles when he got near the prince didn't deter him at all. He simply poked the same spot the prince had to return to whatever camera thing this was and pointed the lens towards the corner of the table.

The picture was so clear that he could see the pale line in the Formica where someone must have scratched the surface. The cream-colored, impossible-to-see-scratches-on surface.

"This is amazing," he whispered in awe as he peered around to find what else he could take pictures of.

In reality, it was more like he was looking for things he couldn't take pictures of. The only direction he didn't turn for shots was Gladiolus's. Prompto was trying to ignore how he went rigid and stony-faced the moment Prompto enthusiastically began shooting images of whatever random objects he could find around the diner. Conversely, the prince was more enthused, reaching over the table to survey his handiwork once he'd examined every corner of the restaurant.

"Perhaps we can find some other subjects after lunch," Ignis suggested, drawing Prompto's nose away from the screen. He hadn't even registered that the chamberlain had picked up their food and distributed it around the table, he had been so absorbed in the clearly magical device in his hand. As excited as he had been to try the latest in Lucian cuisine, Prompto would have liked nothing more than to keep poking around on Noctis's phone now that he knew what it could do, burger be damned.

An order was an order, though, so he gently set the device down in the middle of the table between himself and the prince. Part of him expected the latter to take it back and never allow Prompto to touch it again, not when he'd filled it with enough pictures to probably monopolize whatever limited memory it had.

So, he was entirely taken aback when Noctis didn't reach for it. He simply turned to whisper something to Gladiolus, waving aside his Shield's vaguely disgruntled reaction before returning his attention to his food.

It would have been more prudent for Prompto to pay a bit more mind to what they were conveying to one another, considering the circumstances. For all he knew, they were plotting to strangle him and make it look like he'd choked on his food—there was likely a reasonably sized dumpster they could stow his body in if the marshal didn't want to take it back to the Citadel to be disposed of. Whether that was their plan or not, one thing was for sure: Prompto needed to keep his head in the game.

And that was so not happening when he had a brick of burger in front of him.

That was the only way he could describe the massive pile of meat, bread, and vegetables on his plate—and the onion ring. That was there too. There was so much of it that Prompto wasn't sure how the hell he was going to fit it in his mouth. There appeared to be two schools of thought, though: there was Iris, who cut hers in half, and Gladiolus, who dove right in. Then again, he had a big enough mouth that he could probably swallow the whole thing in one go.

And it looked so much more fulfilling that way.

What's good for the Shield is good for the Niff, he reasoned, picking up the burger and imitating Gladiolus.

Onion rings? Definitely even better like this.

Somehow, the relative silence that settled around them while they ate wasn't nearly as awkward as Prompto would have expected—which was fine by him. He was intent on enjoying every bit of the burger that he had been talked into getting. (The one that was not poisoned, by the way. Score!)

He was only halfway done when Noctis and Gladiolus polished off theirs with the expert finesse of two people who obviously packed it away like this all the time. Prompto figured that made sense: Gladiolus wasn't the size of a house by coincidence. It was a bit more amazing that Noctis wasn't imitating a beached whale, but maybe all that Crystal magic helped him along. Either way, they weren't keen on waiting for the rest of them to catch up, and the prince elbowed Gladiolus in an effort to shove him from the banquette.

The big guy surprisingly didn't argue, although he also didn't seem too happy about it as he stood and made room for Noctis to slide out after him. Ignis shot them both an inquisitive glance that the prince ignored in favor of pointing towards the door.

"Gladio and I are just gonna run a quick errand. We'll be right back," Noctis briskly explained, if that was what it could be called. Ignis's dubious expression immediately honed in on the Shield, who looked like he'd rather be doing anything besides whatever it was that Noctis had planned but was being forced to go along with it anyway.

Typical royalty.

While Prompto may not have known them well, he could sense the silent conversation between the two retainers and tried not to stare—which he failed miserably at. Iris wasn't doing any better, so it couldn't be too bad, right?

"Very well," Ignis eventually answered, hesitantly drawing his gaze away from Gladiolus. Whatever they were up to, the advisor clearly thought it was in his best interests not to question the prince. Prompto assumed that was probably a good choice: there was no telling what Noctis might do if his decisions were debated in public like this. It was one thing at the Citadel, where he could hear their complaints in private, but there were certain protocols that needed to be followed where others could see. That much, Prompto was well aware of.

So, nobody said anything as Noctis pushed a reluctant Gladiolus towards the diner's exit. Ignis merely focused his attention on Prompto and offered a pleasant, albeit forced, smile.

"Is the meal to your liking?"

Nice save, dude.

If arguing with the prince wasn't in Ignis's best interests, then drawing attention to it wasn't in Prompto's. Instead, he decided to play it safe and smiled through the mouthful of food he was attempting to swallow with some difficulty. One of these days, he was going to learn how to take it easy with stuffing more into his face than he could manage.

That day was not today.

"'S'amavin'," he slurred, wincing when a few stray crumbs were expelled from his mouth and landed on his plate.

Iris giggled at his total lack of sophistication, and even Ignis looked like he was having a difficult time maintaining that ever-present air of disdain at his cro-magnon tendencies. Their attention had Prompto covering his mouth, though, and he choked down what he could before he tried again with more success.

"It's amazing," he repeated with a sheepish grin. "No wonder Noctis likes this stuff so much. You guys eat like this all the time?"

It would be so much easier on him if they did. After all, there were two ways to think about this. The first was that Noctis might just die of the sheer amount he ingested so that Prompto wouldn't even have to bother putting forth any effort; the second was that he couldn't think of a better way to go.

Maybe if he was lucky, the king would execute him by way of burger.

Sadly, he was never that fortunate. While Prompto struggled to polish off his lunch, Ignis made short work of explaining that he used to be in charge of the prince's diet before he moved back to the Citadel. At that point, the royal chefs had mostly taken over, although Iris was quick to interject that that didn't mean he ate anywhere near as healthy as anyone would have thought a prince would. With a Shield that constantly stepped out for what Ignis explained were basically crappy, dried noodles, it was no wonder. Talk about a bad influence.

An influence that was apparently going to do its best to take hold of him as well, because Iris and her brother had a lot more in common than he'd previously thought. According to her, they couldn't leave until he'd tasted a milkshake, which he'd needed Ignis to explain before he wholeheartedly agreed to the idea. (He had studiously ignored the way Iris demanded to know what was wrong with Niflheim if they didn't have milkshakes. None of them needed to explore that line of thought.) Well, maybe not quite that enthusiastically: his stomach was already so full that adding more had him feeling like he might need to spend some time on the bathroom floor again. But, on the other hand, you only lived once-and not everybody got to do so with a prince's posse. Maybe he could find room for something small…

Or large. With frothy white stuff on top, if the picture was to be believed. Yeah. He could stand for that too.

The most difficult part was deciding which of the ostensibly million flavors he actually wanted to try. Iris had been helpful and suggested not ordering anything with coffee in it, which Prompto was totally fine with. He'd gotten a whiff of the stuff at one of their fancy breakfasts during the negotiations and learned the hard way that it tasted nothing like its scent. Perhaps he just didn't have the right taste buds for that sort of thing? Ignis was a super sophisticated kind of guy and loved the stuff—it made sense he'd have super sophisticated taste.

He could keep it. That crap was nasty.

Ultimately, he took the easy way out and agreed to get whatever she did, keeping his fingers crossed under the table that it wouldn't be disgusting. Maple bacon didn't really sound like something he wanted to be drinking, after all.

Fortunately, he didn't have to worry about it until Noctis and Gladiolus got back. Ignis insisted that they wait for the two of them in spite of Iris's wheedling, and that suited Prompto just fine. It gave him a little more time to cram the small amount he had left into his stomach and (hopefully) digest it before he needed to consider exactly how sick he was going to be that night. Admittedly, he had a bit of an ulterior motive there: keeping his mouth stuffed meant not having to answer any questions, particularly ones about what his life was like back in Niflheim if he required an explanation for something like milkshakes. It wasn't like he thought they would attack him over it, but if Ignis decided to tag-team with Iris, he would be so screwed. Prompto was at least ninety-seven percent certain that Iris wouldn't mind literally twisting his arm for answers. Like sister, like brother.

It was funny: Prompto didn't want to associate the prince's presence with safety from interrogation, yet that was exactly what had begun to happen. At least with Noctis around, his retainers wouldn't go so hard on him. They had to keep up appearances, what with the treaty and all that. Royal eyes meant they had to defer to him; when he wasn't there, they got to call the shots on their own.

Which was why Prompto was both immeasurably grateful and freaked the hell out when a bag was dropped in his lap and a prince slid into the seat across from him again.

"Hey," Noctis greeted him with a pleased smirk at either himself or the way Prompto jumped half a foot out of his seat. "Brought you something."

Crowded restaurant notwithstanding, it was unacceptable that he hadn't heard the prince sneak up behind him—and worse, Gladiolus was slipping back into the booth when Prompto hadn't heard him approach either. The only one who did stand out was Iris, who hopped up from her seat to order their milkshakes as soon as she saw the two of them were back. Seriously, he was better than this! None of the Lucians were supposed to get the drop on him. If anything, it was meant to be the other way around.

Adding that to the mental list of things Prompto needed to up his game on, he peered down at the plastic bag that was balanced precariously on his knees with an uncomprehending expression. They'd brought him something? And it wasn't a swift and painless death? The prince couldn't be serious—there was no way!

Only there apparently was, because Noctis nodded insistently towards his...gift?

"Well? You gonna open it or what?"

"Oh, uh... Right..."

Prompto could practically feel Gladiolus's stern gaze watching his every move as he pushed his plate out of the way to set the bag on the table. It was pretty plain, all things considered; he didn't recognize the logo on the side, but that was all that would identify it to any of the Lucians. Maybe it was another clothing store? Perhaps the prince's Shield had told him about Prompto's barcode and they had gone to get him more accessories to hide it? That was probably it. The prince had spent enough money on him today, so he doubted it was anything bigger than that.

And was proven wrong the moment he slipped the bag down around a white box with a picture of the most amazing, stylish, fancy, spectacular camera he'd ever seen in his entire life. (The bar wasn't set high, but still, it was a huge deal!)

"Whoa..." Prompto breathed. Speechless didn't quite cover his reaction, and his eyes darted back and forth between the prince and the box, which he couldn't quite bring himself to touch even though Noctis had said it was for him.

The prince chuckled excitedly, giving Prompto a friendly nudge to break him out of his stupor. "It's all digital, but there are some places around here where you can print the pictures. Pretty sure if we got some photo paper, we could do it back at the Citadel."

"That would undoubtedly be the more secure route," Ignis observed.

"Right, that too. Anyway, take a look at this."

From there, the prince dove into a thorough explanation of what exactly the device could do—or he attempted to. It was pretty obvious that some of the specs on the box were a little outside his experience. Regardless, he stuttered through anything that gave him pause to walk investigate some of the more advanced settings on the new camera.

Prompto's new camera.

Because, apparently, that had just happened. The prince had seen fit to buy him not only an entirely new wardrobe and food today, but also an extremely pricey-looking camera.

So much for Noctis's momentary lapse in enthusiasm being the strangest thing he'd seen yet.

---

When the prince suggested that they test out his camera in a park, Prompto hadn't quite understood what he meant. Cars were great and all, but was a parking lot really the best place for that sort of thing? Of course, he supposed it wasn't the worst spot to pick: maybe they could find a few rare vehicles that further put Niflheim's to shame or something. That wouldn't be so bad. Otherwise, he simply hadn't seen the point. As far as Prompto knew, the only events that happened in those kinds of places were muggings and the occasional murder—not the sort of thing a big, strong Shield would want his little sister going to, for sure.

It wasn't until a splash of green greeted them a few blocks from the diner that he realized he had been a little off base in his thinking.

The Crown City Memorial Park wasn't where people parked. It wasn't where shady deals went down in the middle of the night, if he had to guess, nor was it a spot for a convenient assignation. No, the park was a lush green field that stretched almost as far as he could see when the prince and his retinue turned onto a path that cut right through it. There were actual, honest-to-god green trees that were three times the size of the little ones that decorated the sidewalks outside the shops they'd visited. Flowers and shrubs bloomed beneath them, the scent of what he could only assume was nature assaulting him from every angle until he was positive they put his burger to shame. (He'd have to compare notes later, preferably with another burger. For science.)

Even more unbelievable was that the Lucians didn't just walk by as if their surroundings were a waste of time, a short-lived attraction that would be paved over to make way for industrialism at its finest. There were people throwing balls to one another while others meandered about; kids ran around, ostensibly building up their stamina so they'd be ready when King Regis required their service. None of them seemed to think it was strange that a royal retinue was wandering amongst them—nobody bowed or knelt the way they would have been expected to if Aldercapt had graced them with his presence. No one they'd passed that day had done more than glance a little longer at the prince than was strictly normal. Noctis didn't appear offended or anything, so maybe he had the same rules outside the Citadel as he did within: no awkward formalities. Prompto couldn't complain about that.

Neither did the prince's retainers, who went about their business like there weren't potential threats all over. That, however, was all Prompto saw once he got past his initial awe—any one of these people could be carrying a weapon to kill Noctis with. Sure, their coming here was random, but there was never any telling. And if it wasn't on purpose, there was always the possibility of an accident. A wayward ball, a stray runner not watching where they were going. There were even...even...

Dogs.

Oh, shit.

It took every bit of training Prompto had not to falter at the sight of two enormous mutts lounging beneath one of the trees. Their owner was nearby, a portly dude with a book and a cup of what Prompto recognized as coffee (Yuck, no wonder.), but neither he nor his pets paid them any mind as they strode past. Prompto was tempted to make sure they weren't sleeping or dead or something, but it was probably better to count his blessings and move on. He liked his face right where it was.

With that thought in mind, he sped up a little to walk alongside Ignis, who was checking the time on his phone while Iris chattered amicably in the prince's ear. Unlike Gladiolus, he wasn't likely to brush Prompto off or toss a carrier full of milkshakes at him for what he'd undoubtedly deem a really stupid question.

"So... You guys take your fun stuff pretty seriously, huh?" he mused, clutching the bag with his precious camera in it a little tighter as a group of children ran by.

Ignis paused to put away his phone before he eyed Prompto curiously. "I suppose that's one way to look at it. The comfort of the citizens is held in rather high regard. Recreational locales and the events within them are maintained for their entertainment. This is hardly the only park in the Crown City, but it is the largest, boasting a total of-"

"Uh, yeah, what Specs said," interjected Noctis, who had apparently clued into their conversation at some point and was staring at Ignis as though his advisor was speaking gibberish. Shaking his head, he slapped Prompto lightly on the shoulder and pushed him forward a bit so that he couldn't be subjected to more facts and figures. "You wanna test out your camera, or are you going to leave it in the...box…"

Noctis trailed off, his eyes widening at a black dog Prompto hadn't spotted trotting over to them with clear purpose. Was it possible that the prince also didn't care for the little devils?

Whew, not just me.

Or maybe it was. Rather than stiffening the way Prompto did, Noctis slowly knelt beside the beast, shoulders slumping in relief after a moment as he scratched behind the dog's ears. It was amazing he made it that far and still had a hand.

"What's up, Umbra?" he greeted the creature with a wide grin. "How'd you find us all the way out here?"

"He certainly nose how to track a scent," Ignis remarked, grinning mildly at Gladiolus where the latter rolled his eyes at the corny pun.

Obviously, the dog didn't answer, although he accepted the prince's offerings of affection and gentle praise before apparently growing bored with it. That was when the compact monster—Umbra—scurried past him and stopped right in front of Prompto, staring at him with a pair of some of the most intense amber eyes he'd ever seen. If he'd thought that Ignis could peer into his mind, it was as if this dog was looking into the depths of his soul.

And Prompto was powerless to do anything but stand there, frozen in place.

The prince hesitated only a moment and then stepped between them, quietly assured the canine, "It's okay, that's just Prompto. He's a friend."

...What.

From the looks of it, Gladiolus was thinking the exact same thing. Their eyes met behind Noctis's back before darting away, both of them attempting to find anything else to stare at besides each other. After all, Prompto didn't need the Shield to remind him that they so weren't friends. They were companions at best, and even that was merely for the time being. As soon as he completed his mission, any remote sense of toleration that kept Gladiolus from killing him would vanish, and he'd probably be the first to take revenge on Prompto to protect his prince's honor—what remained of it when he was bleeding out, anyway.

A high-pitched whining caught Prompto's attention, and he forced those thoughts aside to peer down at Umbra where the dog was anxiously pawing the ground at his feet. For half a second, Prompto was tempted to run—if the beast was preparing to pounce, then he didn't want to be anywhere in the vicinity.

But he didn't. Whether it was Noctis's reassurances (false reassurances that there was no way he actually felt) or Prompto's lack of panicked fleeing, Umbra stayed rooted to the spot and continued surveying him as though he was on display for everyone's amusement. Or he wanted the same treatment Noctis had given him. That wasn't going to happen.

Whatever Umbra gleaned from their brief stare-down, he must not have seen enough to know Prompto's purpose here in Lucis. That or he was personally insulted by Prompto's aversion to showering him with affection, because the great beast took a few steps forward and proceeded to nudge Prompto's hand with his nose.

Which would have been cute. If it weren't vaguely terrifying.

"He likes you," Noctis observed, avoiding his Shield's piercing gaze while brushing the dirt off his pants.

As if to confirm his assessment, Umbra huffed and licked Prompto's hand. Or maybe he was just tasting him. That burger was suddenly rearing its ugly head.

"Maybe Umbra would be a decent test subject for Prompto's camera?" Ignis recommended as he cleared his throat, offering a much needed if slightly horrifying distraction. "I'm afraid we don't have all day."

"Yeah, we're wastin' daylight," grunted Gladiolus.

He didn't wait for the rest of them before he stalked off towards a set of benches nearby, collapsing onto one and dumping their milkshakes beside him. Not seeming keen on testing his Shield's patience further, Noctis followed immediately, Iris and Ignis in his wake.

It took Prompto a few seconds longer, although it was only partially because there was a monster sitting in his path. A monster that was now rubbing its head against the side of his leg as though pretending to be adorable was going to change Prompto's mind. Which it wasn't. It totally wasn't. He'd seen plenty of dogs to know this game. Of course, the ones in Niflheim usually tended to be the predators while his unit played nice, but same difference.

That didn't stop him from tentatively reaching out and poking Umbra's cold, wet nose when he turned it up to stare at him.

"Hey, Prompto!" yelled Gladiolus, effectively scaring the shit out of him. "Wake up!"

Oddly enough, Prompto wasn't the only one who glared in indignation as he started towards the others. Umbra whined plaintively at his side, bunting his leg a few times in...consolation? Nah. Couldn't be.

Gingerly placing his bag on the bench, Prompto muttered, "S-Sorry... So, uh... How do we work this thing?"

"Takin' it outta the box is always good," deadpanned the prince's Shield.

Right. Good advice.

Umbra sat down at Prompto's feet when he situated himself on the bench with the others and dug his camera out of the packaging. Prompto figured he might be imagining things once again (that was happening a lot today), but he could have sworn the dog was side-eyeing Gladiolus in either curiosity or disgust. Well, maybe he was just projecting-he could relate to that a bit too well.

"It should come fully charged," Ignis indicated, clearly attempting to smooth over the awkwardness that had settled around them. "I assume you know how it works?"

"Oh, uh... Sure. Point and click, right?"

Echoing what Noctis said before was enough reassurance for Ignis, who motioned vaguely for him to get on with it. It was a lot more difficult when there was so much stuff he could take his first picture of. He wasn't a sap or anything, but... Well, this camera was kinda special. He wanted the first photo on it to be a good one, not just some blades of grass. There were the other possibilities, of course—actually, strike that. Gladiolus probably wouldn't care for that too much. Maybe Umbra? ...Nope. No way was he going for that, just in case the dog decided to resort to its meaner instincts.

As Prompto sat there vacillating, the camera—his camera—held carefully in his hands, Iris made his decision for him. Thankfully. He found that he liked it better when people did that.

"Here, try this!" she suggested, lifting the only untouched drink from the carrier and holding it up. "You'll want to remember it anyway once you have some."

"Just a damn milkshake," grumbled Gladiolus while he absently took a pull from his own.

Iris smacked his arm, which didn't even jostle him. "He hasn't had one before, Gladdy!"

If that argument made a dent in the Shield's condescension, he didn't show it. He simply rolled his eyes and looked on while his sister shoved Prompto's drink in front of the camera again. Apparently, he wasn't going to get out of it.

"Uh, okay! Just...let me..."

Prompto didn't even have to peek through the viewfinder—there was a digital screen on the back that looked just like Noctis's phone. That definitely made it more convenient to line up the shot, check the lighting, and hit the button on top to take the picture. A little more fiddling brought it up on the screen, clear and perfect and—

"Now try it," insisted Iris, thrusting the milkshake into his free hand.

"Take it easy around the camera," Gladiolus grudgingly warned. Prompto doubted he actually minded, but the prince had probably spent a fortune on this thing, so being careful was the better plan.

It was a smart idea, then, that he put the device down before he took a gulp of the sweetest, sugariest, most phenomenal cup of paradise ever.

"Why is everything so good?" he whined, going in for another sip. If a sip emptied half the container in one go, that was.

Umbra must have agreed, because he deposited his muzzle on Prompto's leg with a low whimper and shot him what had to be one of the most pitiful looks he had ever seen. Prompto tensed in spite of himself, unsure of how to process this latest shock: the dogs that he was accustomed to never played up the pouting like that. Usually, they were a lot more teeth and a lot less big, pleading eyes.

"He wants you to share," Noctis interpreted like it was nowhere near as major a deal as it was. Leaning over, he dropped a small dollop of the white froth from his shake on the dog's nose; Umbra wasted no time in happily licking it off, nuzzling Noctis's hand in thanks.

"Noct," Ignis warned, flashing the prince a disapproving scowl. Apparently, he was against sharing—good call, in Prompto's opinion.

"It wasn't chocolate," Noctis evaded. As if to prove his point, he followed the excuse up with offering Umbra another small sample that earned him a sigh from his advisor. Ignoring him to swirl his spoon around his nearly empty cup, the prince shifted his gaze back to Prompto and inquired, "So, does that mean you've got no Niflheim delicacies to recommend?"

Prompto blinked, cautiously glancing up from his heavenly drink to reply, "Well, we've got some good stuff. It's just...different from here."

That was putting it mildly. Still, it wasn't a total lie: Prompto was positive that there had to be delicious food somewhere in Gralea. He simply didn't know where and figured it was saved for the emperor, just like the prices made the best sustenance here exclusive to the royals. They couldn't fool him—not everyone in Insomnia could be made of money, right? As such, it was only logical that some items were meant to be seen but not touched.

Prompto had gotten to, though. The thought made him take another deep pull from his cup as he sighed in contentment. He definitely had gotten to.

The last thing he wanted was to remember his usual fare, however, so he quickly steered the subject back to what they'd come here for. Umbra didn't seem to mind, although Prompto had to turn away from the betrayed gleam in his eyes when he move away from where the dog was using his knee as a leaning post.

"Okay! So, now that we've got the royal meal taken care of, what next?" he mused, scanning the park for something else to test his camera on.

Noctis was on his feet in an instant. "You've got room for over a hundred pictures. Might as well fill it up. There's a pretty cool fountain over this way, built in memory of some really badass captain. You'd probably like that."

Right. Captains. Sure.

"Yeah, sounds awesome," mumbled Prompto as enthusiastically as he could manage.

It wasn't that he didn't get excited over stuff like that. After all, they had statues and junk in Gralea. They were all of the emperor, and they were only in the Keep, but they were still pretty cool. Mostly. Sometimes they got boring, but hey, military life. What could you do?

Apparently the Lucians felt the same, because he had no choice but to follow the prince a few yards away from the others to peer up at some sculpture of a soldier Prompto didn't give two shits about. When it all boiled down, every soldier had the same job: defend their country. A few of them got famous for it, sure; somebody had to be in the right place at the right time. Everyone else faded into obscurity, which was honestly the best fate Prompto could think of in his line of work. The ones who got remembered generally didn't meet happy ends.

This guy had gotten lucky, although that wasn't what caught his attention at all—the fountain itself was. He'd thought the little lakes in the Citadel's gardens were cool, but this had water shooting up into the sky in artistic little arches that practically screamed overindulgence. Seriously, the things these people spent their money on. Prompto was just surprised it wasn't paying homage to the king in his younger days, which would have made way more sense than Somebody Von What's-His-Name holding a sword over the pool below.

Not that Prompto was above getting a shot of that—the fountain, not the statue. The most he caught of the latter was its concrete shoes.

The real gold was what he saw when he turned around.

All things considered, Gladiolus didn't seem like the type of guy who would be good with animals. Or kids. ...Or humans. Anyway, the point was that he had a few rough edges that Prompto didn't think you could sand down with a sledgehammer. As such, he never would have expected to see the big guy bent over his knees so Umbra could lick the rest of his milkshake right out of the cup. It wasn't even an accident! Gladiolus didn't look put out or angry for a change—actually, his expression was clear in spite of the fact that Prompto was standing with Noctis out of arm's reach. It was unheard of. It was unprecedented.

It was time for a photo op.

Snickering under his breath, Prompto raised the camera and got a shot before he could talk himself out of it. The image on the screen was everything he could ever hope for and so much more when he poked the prince with his elbow and motioned towards his masterpiece.

"Dude. Best. Picture. Ever."

Noctis immediately broke into a grin, tilting his head to examine the picture as he led the way back towards the others. The statue of the boring old captain was long forgotten, and the prince did nothing to hide his amused chuckles at his Shield's expense.

"Man, Gladio, I never took you for a dog person," he teased when they approached. "Nice one, Prompto."

"The hell you talkin' about?" the Shield grumbled as he straightened. His cup, however, remained conspicuously on the ground where Umbra could continue making quick work of its contents.

Bolstered by the prince's support, Prompto turned the camera so he'd be able to see the screen and lilted, "I'm thinking of calling it Dog's Best Friend."

Oddly enough, Prompto hadn't thought that Gladiolus's face could turn an even deeper shade of purple than it had when he and the prince had teamed up to put him on his ass. Wonders never ceased around here.

"Delete that," he ordered, his tone deadly. "Now."

Where Noctis had folded under Gladiolus's stern and downright intimidating gaze in the training room, he didn't back down now. Too many witnesses, maybe. Or he had to make up for lost time. Whatever his reasons, the prince appeared emboldened by the big guy's obvious lack approval for their behavior.

"Nah, keep it," he insisted, quickly shielding the delete button with his hand when Prompto automatically moved to tap it. "Gladio'll appreciate it someday when he's having a ruff time."

Was...he making corny jokes? He was totally making corny jokes. Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum, heir apparent, was making lame puns about dogs.

This can't be happening.

Only it was. Noctis looked far too satisfied for the opposite as he smirked in the face of his Shield's murderous glare. The latter didn't move to snatch the camera like Prompto expected, although the way his hands clenched into fists in his lap was pretty telling.

Which was why Prompto had to make it worse.

"You sure? I thought a Shield would be groomed for perfection," he observed with a wry grin.

It was encouraging to hear Noctis snort in response to his addition, even if Gladiolus clearly didn't appreciate them essentially ganging up on him. Noctis apparently realized that as well, and he held his palms up in a show of mock surrender.

"Okay, okay, we'll stop hounding you."

Never mind. Royal privilege seemed to mean he got at least one more shot.

But only one.

"Noct."

It was Ignis's warning that had Noctis retreating a step, raising a hand in silent apology for his less than royal behavior. That didn't stop him from muttering, "Dog petter," but at least he had the presence of mind to make it quiet enough that his chamberlain wouldn't catch it. Not that that would have mattered, from the looks of it. To his befuddlement, it actually didn't seem like Ignis was as exasperated as he sounded, though Prompto was trying to calculate the odds that a prince could get killed by his own Shield. Given how tightly Gladiolus was gritting his teeth, he figured it was safe to say that Noctis was toeing the line.

"You'll have to excuse Gladio," Ignis explained, obviously reading Prompto's thoughts in that really awkward manner he had of knowing absolutely everything. "His bark is worse than his bite."

A beat of silence-two-three-

Did...he just...?

He did. Iris burst out laughing, and Noctis wasn't far behind her while Ignis merely smiled smugly at his own contribution to their comedy routine. Gladiolus was the only one who wasn't amused, although he seemed to think better of fighting them all at the same time. Instead, he grunted wordlessly and leaned back on the bench, arms folded and looking for all the world like he would rather be anywhere else.

Unfortunately, he soon got his wish. Once the laughter had subsided and Umbra had taken up residence at Gladiolus's feet in silent admiration, once Prompto had filled up a good bit of his camera's memory with photos and gotten a balloon chocobo from a vendor, once they'd given something called a merry-go-round a shot and checked out sidewalk art (in which the Astrals featured prominently, much to the prince's apparent disinterest)-once they'd seen and done and conquered, it was time to head back to the Citadel. If it were up to Prompto, he would have stayed out all night; there was so much in the park alone that he could only imagine what was waiting in the city itself.

His hand was forced, however, when Noctis nodded off on the bench around sunset, his head falling onto his Shield's shoulder and his mouth hanging open slightly.

"S-Sorry, I didn't mean to take so long," Prompto muttered for the millionth time, glancing abashedly between the sleeping prince and his chamberlain.

"You needn't worry. His Highness insisted that your wishes be accommodated," Ignis reassured him as he tapped out a message on his phone. "You acquired all the pictures you wanted?"

"Uh, yeah…?" Prompto didn't have much more of an answer than that since he was too busy trying to wrap his mind around anyone caring about him getting what he wanted. The notion was ridiculous, too ridiculous for words. They probably meant the emperor.

Duh.

Prompto struggled to keep that in mind while Gladiolus finally nudged Noctis awake, the latter swatting at him grouchily until he fully registered where he had fallen asleep. What followed was a blur of motion: the prince rubbing at his eyes in an attempt to regain some coherence, Gladiolus absently offering Prompto the balloon animal to hold while he got him on his feet, Ignis wandering off with Iris to summon Cor, Umbra curling up under the bench and watching them leave instead of following. (Prompto wasn't disappointed about that. He wasn't.) All of a sudden, it felt like everyone had a role here besides him, and Prompto found himself at a bit of a loss for words all the way back to the Citadel. Iris kept up a steady stream of conversation with whoever would appease her, which was nice, but he still thought he should have done more—what more was, however, he had no clue.

Ultimately, he gave up and settled into his seat until they arrived at the gates. When they stepped inside and parted ways, Ignis accompanying him to his room while the others went...wherever it was they went, he was unable to do much more than offer a muttered thanks for everything. A bit lame, but at least it was something.

It wasn't until Ignis left him standing in the middle of his room, arms full of his royally funded spoils, that Prompto realized he hadn't gleaned anything from the prince that he should have. An entire day, and all he had was that Noctis liked burgers and could fall asleep literally anywhere. While that was all pretty impressive, he still groaned to realize that he was definitely going to need to get his head back in the game if he had any hopes of completing his mission.

And he was going to complete his mission.

---

Ignis had to admit that he hadn't expected to collect such a vast array of mental notes that day. Instead of a few cursory observations and meager analyses, however, he had spent most of the last few hours carefully cataloging each interaction with and reaction from their imperial guest—and it wasn't solely Prompto's actions he had been paying attention to.

Noct's recent behavior was a minor yet growing concern of his, one that did not show any signs of abating anytime soon. While it was common knowledge that his charge enjoyed naps a bit too much for his own personal tastes, the bouts of exhaustion that had plagued him over the last few days were a touch outside the norm. It admittedly hadn't grown severe enough that he thought he should bring his concerns to the court physicians, but he was attuned to every shift of Noct's demeanor and nuance of his health regardless. Well, more than usual.

If anything, Ignis reasoned that it might very well be the predicament they had landed in with Prompto that was most at fault for his prince's sudden ailment. As such, he was not at all surprised to enter Noct's chambers and discover him lying face down on the couch as though the outing had utterly drained him.

"You could at least change out of your street clothes," Ignis tutted, crossing the room to take a seat in one of the adjacent armchairs.

Noct lifted his head just enough to manage a half-hearted glare. It was a mite less intimidating than he no doubt meant it to be.

"You could at least…" He trailed off, clearly coming to the realization that he lacked a decent retort and hating every moment of it. With this battle of wits quite lost, Noct merely groaned and dropped his face into the pillow once more. "Can't whatever you wanna talk about wait till morning?"

"I suppose, if you wish to get up earlier, we can have our discussion before breakfast."

Ignis barely finished his suggestion before Noct sat upright, attentive yet annoyed. "Fine, fine, I'm up."

That wasn't the most convincing of reassurances, but Ignis decided not to remark on it. If that was the best he could manage for now, then it would be wise to take what he could get.

Luck, however, was not on his side. Noct's lackadaisical approach to the conversation was more than matched by Gladio's irritation when the latter barged in, slamming the apartment door shut behind him and leaning against it with his arms folded over his chest.

"Good of you to join us," lilted Ignis. He hadn't meant to intensify the glare that was aimed decisively in his direction, but he supposed there was no helping that now.

"Had to tell my dad to put a leash on Iris. She snuck in to visit the damn Niff, and nobody said a word."

The rigidity leached from Noct's shoulders when Gladio's ire wasn't immediately directed towards him, and he somehow mustered the energy to joke, "Well, now we have a break-in specialist if you ever need to get into his room."

The deadpan glower he received by way of response was enough to have him visibly rethinking his endeavor to pretend everything was normal. Noct might have been laboring under the delusion that Gladio was more angry at Iris than him, but he wasn't so foolish as to believe his levity at the park at his Shield's expense wouldn't come back to bite him later. It was merely a matter of triage for the time being.

"That is rather concerning," Ignis interjected before it could come to that, carefully testing the waters while simultaneously hoping to defer Noct's sentence. "What did she visit his room for?"

At that, Gladio tensed minutely, and the glance he shot Ignis practically screamed that there was more to his impending explanation than he was willing to provide—to Noct, in any case. Not that the latter seemed to realize that he was being misdirected, but that was a consideration for later.

For now, Ignis quirked an eyebrow when Gladio answered, "She wanted to see 'im for herself. Ended up biting off more than she could chew."

"How so?"

"That Niff ain't right," grumbled Gladio, shifting uncomfortably. There was a pregnant pause before he continued, "He's got this tattoo on his arm. Never seen anything like it. When Iris asked, he told us it's so they can keep track or something like that."

"I saw it when we trained together. That weird barcode thing on his wrist, right?" Noct sank deeper into the couch and frowned in concern as he glanced between Gladio and himself. "Thought he just liked how it looked or something."

"Well, the fact that Niflheim operates their military in a less than honorable fashion is not exactly news," Ignis observed in as unaffected a manner possible. While he wasn't enthused with the likelihood of Prompto's circumstances, his priority had to be Noct, as did Gladio's. It would do them no good to have their prince more worried about the enemy's circumstances than his own.

Gladio, it seemed, was in agreement. He wasted no time at all in adding, "Yeah, no surprises there. Plus, it's not like it's totally outta the ordinary."

"Quite right. Utilizing tattoos or physical markers as identification is an admittedly familiar concept," Ignis ventured. "Gladio's are the markings of a Shield, as are Master Clarus's."

"Yeah, but we don't use that to keep an eye on him or anything," Noct pointed out skeptically. His gaze shifted to Gladio for confirmation that his Shield refused to give, so he huffed, "It's weird, Specs."

Well, he wasn't wrong there. Unfortunately, it was of greater importance to Ignis that they remain focused on the task at hand: determining the threat Prompto potentially posed, if any, rather than pitying him for whatever plight he might have been born into as a citizen of Niflheim. Some things simply could not be changed, especially when one was dealing with an empire that literally governed more than half the planet.

"I assume that they must use them much in the same way that we carry cards and badges. The empire is nothing if not utilitarian. They may simply find that route more secure. By imprinting their identification onto their skin, they run little risk of it being lost or stolen."

"Still messed up," Noct muttered imploringly as he eyed his Shield. If he thought he would be vindicated by the latter, however, he was sorely mistaken.

Rather than acknowledge his concerns, Gladio merely shrugged awkwardly under his insistent gaze. Ignis knew better than to believe that this latest revelation did not impact him at all, of course. To the contrary, he was quite certain that it had been on Gladio's mind all day, hence his distraction when he was not otherwise occupied with his self-proclaimed duty of keeping Prompto as far from Noct as possible. Even so, he was well trained and well aware that they could not afford any distractions, humanitarian or otherwise. Not at present.

As such, Ignis was unsurprised when he brushed the matter aside in favor of more productive discourse, much to Noct's apparent chagrin.

"Whatever the empire's up to, we've got bigger problems on our hands here," he grumbled, pointedly ignoring Noct's eye roll. "Now we've got a Niff running around the Citadel with a camera."

Noct's voice was heavy on the sarcasm when he shot back "Oh, yeah. Someone seeing all those pictures he took of you and Umbra is way more important than whatever that tattoo is for. My bad."

Gladio's glare was scathing, but Noct paid him no mind. He was far too absorbed in his own indignation for that, which was precisely the reason they would need to proceed with caution.

If they were allowed to proceed at all.

"So, I gave him a hobby. What's the big deal? He can't send the photos anywhere without us knowing," Noct pressed on dismissively before his Shield could respond in kind.

"He doesn't need a hobby. Following you around is his hobby."

Ignis sighed, shaking his head. This was not how he had wanted things to go. Gathering intelligence on the empire had been one of their many priorities, but had he known this was the type of information they were likely to end up with, he would have set aside the notion completely. Noct was compassionate to a fault, which was a worthy trait in any future king, yet his obviously growing attachment was disconcerting. It would have been well and good to feel sympathy for a refugee or a Lucian commoner; this was a captain in the imperial army. Neither he nor Gladio could afford to have Noct side with him over them, not to mention the king. For all they knew, that had been the emperor's plan all along: dispatch someone who would pluck on Noct's all too sensitive heartstrings and drive a wedge between him and those tasked with guiding him. It was just he sort of underhanded devilry Aldercapt enjoyed, but Ignis was not about to let him win if that was indeed the case.

Concerning as Prompto's situation appeared, it was detrimental to Noct's safety to allow such a friendship to flourish. What they should have been considering was how to safeguard the territories they were losing from a similar fate, not invest their time in someone who had potentially already fallen too far into it.

Saying so was likely to prompt a less than desirable reaction, so Ignis attempted to ease the blow a bit by gently remarking, "Based on the information he's provided to us, I suspect that this is simply what Niflheim does with children who are orphaned or taken into the care of the state. In exchange for shelter, food, and security, they are expected to serve in their army. It is, possibly, better than the alternative."

"Which is what, exactly?" Noct demanded, clearly not falling for it. "Their army treats them like garbage. We already know that."

"That may be, but-"

"He's not bad," interjected Noct. "I mean, the guy got weirdly excited over onion rings and my phone camera, but he's more of an asset than a threat. You could probably get him to turn over state secrets in exchange for a cookie."

Oh, yes. The more Noct spoke, the more his own theory appeared to hold water. Ignis and Gladio had been with Noct since they were children. They'd had their differences—more than he cared to think about—but Noct had always valued their judgment highly nevertheless. That he was willing to fight them on this, that he was willing to defend their enemy as though the latter was more of a friend than they were, spoke volumes of Prompto's influence. That had to be the emperor's goal—he could think of few alternatives.

Gladio must have considered the same, although Ignis was impressed at his decidedly cool reaction. He did not lose his temper; he did not respond with the sort of vitriol Ignis would have expected. Instead, he made a move in this game of chess that even he had not taken into account.

"All right. If you're so sure, then what's say we put it to the test?" he suggested tersely. "Tomorrow, we train. We'll bring your new friend and see if he really is as harmless as you think."

It wasn't exactly what Ignis would have resorted to, but it seemed a reasonable trial in light of the circumstances. Well, in his opinion, at least. Noct was of a different mind—a mind that was slowly but surely being twisted to suit Prompto's purposes rather than the ones it should. He immediately attempted to brush the idea aside with a flippant, "Yeah, that definitely worked out so well for us last time."

Once again, Gladio impressively took the high road. He'd informed Ignis of the rigamarole their first training session had become, and he could tell right away that Noct was uncharacteristically attempting to use his humiliation to manipulate him. It didn't work: his Shield leveled him with a glower so intensely unimpressed that Noct was left reeling in silence. Never let it be said that he did not know where the line was. He might toe it on occasion, but this was where it ended. When Gladio said they were training, they were training. Only a fool would believe they could convince him otherwise, and while Noct was many things, a fool was not one of them.

"Fine," he eventually capitulated, sullenly glaring at the floor. "Not like it's going to change your mind, though."

This time, Gladio did respond: he barked a humorless laugh and eyed Ignis with a significant inclination of his head that Noct couldn't see.

"Better hope that ain't true."