Somnus Ultima

by TheAsset6

[Sleeping Beauty AU] King Regis and Queen Aulea's desire for a child has finally been fulfilled, as well as their kingdom's need for an heir to the throne. However, when a dark mage with a vendetta against Lucis blesses the young prince with a deadly curse, they realize that no sacrifice is too much when it comes to someone you love. But too much, it turns out, is never enough.

11. The Hanging Edge

Chapter Eleven: The Hanging Edge

Another day, another frozen dinner in front of the television. It wasn't a glamorous existence, but Nyx knew that there were worse ways to spend an evening.

All things considered, he should be grateful to be here in the first place. How many other Glaives could say that they were selected for a special mission in their first month on the job? In a word, none. He still remembered panicking when the king summoned him to his private chambers with strict instructions to tell no one, not even his captain, that he had so much as caught a whiff of their sovereign's cologne. His first thought was that he'd landed himself in trouble, that he'd done something so heinously inappropriate that it warranted King Regis presiding over his sentence rather than his commanding officer. When he'd reached his destination, a bundle of nerves beneath a stoic façade, it was to discover the exact opposite. His relief at not having to improvise a defense for some unknown transgression, however, was short-lived.

It remained to this day one of the strangest conversations he'd ever had, and that was saying something when he spent a substantial portion of his time listening to backwater hicks at a tiny diner in the middle of nowhere. According to King Regis, his service record was commendable and beyond reproach—not too surprising when he was twenty years old and had barely started that service yet. He hadn't contradicted his monarch, though; if anything, he'd probably been a bit overenthusiastic with his gratitude. Embarrassing reactions to such unexpected praise notwithstanding, the king had decided he was mature and trustworthy enough for a mission of utmost importance and urgency: standing watch over the crown prince of Lucis.

No pressure.

Looking back on it, Nyx figured he'd probably been more than a little foolish to jump right in without a second thought. Those were tough times, though, and he doubted that anyone else would have done differently in his position. He hadn't been present at the prince's fateful christening to hear the curse in its entirety, but rumor of it had spread throughout the Glaive and half the city like wildfire within hours. All he could remember was how infuriated he'd felt, imagining this helpless little baby doomed to die in someone else's pissing contest. If something like that had happened to his sister, he would have torn the world apart to keep her safe.

So, it really wasn't much of a surprise that that was exactly what the king was prepared to do. Well, insofar as any ruler could toss caution to the wind in favor of protecting his child. There were too many sons of Lucis to think about, sons who were dying in this senseless war of imperial aggression—while King Regis's son took priority over all of them for obvious reasons, there was only so much he could do as combination monarch and father.

That was where Nyx came in.

The king and his Shield had warned him that the consequences of agreeing to be the prince's protector might be difficult to endure: it was a job without glory, without praise, even without reward most of the time. Choosing this path meant going it alone for twenty long years as nothing more than a pair of eyes, ears, and hands. His name would be all he kept of his old self, discarding the rest until he returned to the Crown City with his charge at the end of their shared exile. If he accepted their offer, he could tell no one of his whereabouts or duties, family and commanding officer included. From that moment on, he would answer directly to Clarus Amicitia, Marshal Leonis, and the king himself. They would be his sole points of contact, and even then, their interactions were limited to bare necessity.

It was a hell of a deal, but what was he going to do—say no? That would have been pretty tacky when the king and queen were hanging on his answer with a pitiable sort of desperation he'd only seen once, staring back at him from his own mirror. The aftermath of his parents' deaths when he was just a teenager left him reeling as he struggled to come up with a way to support his kid sister all by himself. There hadn't been many options for him, but there was still hope for King Regis. Unlike Nyx, his world wasn't dead yet. And it was his duty as a Glaive and a citizen of Lucis to see to it that it stayed that way.

So, he'd offered his loyal service, made his peace, and stepped into the proverbial shadows. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, Nyx Ulric of Galahd had ceased to exist; he'd vanished into the bowels of the Citadel, never to be seen or heard from again. The moment he swore his secret oath to King Regis, one very different from his induction to the Kingsglaive, he was alone.

Or as alone as anyone could be in the middle of a crowd with an eight-year-old trailing after you, which honestly wasn't as bad as it sounded.

After the first couple of years, the prince had kind of grown on him. It was an uphill battle for a while, but Nyx thought he was owed the time to adjust. Being around kids wasn't easy for him, not when it only served as a reminder of just how long it had been since he'd seen his sister. She wasn't a child anymore; in fact, he wouldn't be too surprised if she'd gotten married and had a couple of her own. Still, that was the way he'd always see her, and he used to remember it every time the prince toddled into the diner with Cid.

Try as he might to avoid becoming attached as more than just a guard, though… Well, the kid had a knack for getting under your skin. He'd come running in every morning with that huge grin and wide, innocent eyes, asking Nyx if he could make them breakfast; the gentle tug on the leg of his pants (and then his sleeve when the prince was tall enough to reach it) had become routine by now, although he could usually predict what added request Noctis would have. It was kind of cute. Just a little.

…Okay, maybe it was downright adorable, but Nyx would never say that out loud.

Not that that stopped Crowe from teasing him about it all the time when she was in Hammerhead—big brother Glaive, she called him if there was no risk of being overheard. Even Cid had a way of eyeing him when he'd unlock his phone screen to a selfie he'd taken with Noctis at his meager excuse for a seventh birthday party. The event itself hadn't been much, just him and Crowe joining Noctis and his foster family with a chocolate cake he'd whipped up at work that day; the kid's friends hadn't even been there, in spite of the marshal's best efforts to attend. Minor shindig or not, the prince had gone through the roof when he saw the little amber marble Nyx had wrapped up as a present to add to his growing treasure collection. Earth gemstones were a gil a dozen these days, but the way Noctis reacted, you would have thought Nyx gave him a block of pure gold. He'd held it up nice and high for their picture, the ostensibly precious commodity gleaming under the fluorescent lights of the apartment in stark contrast to the dark, empty space where one of his front teeth should have been. It was the sort of photo Nyx sent to the marshal immediately when he got home that night, knowing that the king would want to see it on a special occasion he couldn't be a part of.

The side of him that personified the regular human being he pretended to be by day was allowed to bask in the satisfaction of bringing a smile to the prince's face in that picture. The side of him that was and always would be a Kingsglaive operative had very different reasons for taking it in the first place.

Reasons that he was damn glad for when his phone started ringing in the middle of some terrible show about a bunch of people who thought they could sing—one of the seemingly thousands.

Tossing his half-eaten meal to the side, Nyx hauled himself off his couch and trudged unhurriedly into the kitchen. Honestly, he should have insisted that renovating an old barn in the middle of The Three Valleys was unnecessary. The place was bigger than he knew what to do with; cleaning it was more of a hassle than he felt like tolerating most days. Given how little time he spent there, he probably could have made do with the shack across the street and been just as comfortable. When he wasn't working at the diner, he was wandering the outskirts of Hammerhead keeping an eye on Noctis, unbeknownst to the prince; when he wasn't doing that, he was running all over Eos trying to gather ingredients Takka hadn't picked up. It was likely that's who was calling now, ready to send him on another wild goose chase for a damn tomato.

Needless to say, he was more than a little concerned to see Cid's name on the display above Noctis's grinning face. A glance at the clock told him this wasn't a social call—there was no way grumpy old Cid would ring him up at almost eight o'clock to shoot the breeze.

Nyx snatched his phone off the counter and swiped up on the screen, already speaking before he had the device to his ear. "What happened?"

"Get'cher ass out here, Ulric," came Cid's startlingly frantic reply. "Boy's gone missin'."

If there was enough time to panic, he would have. Instead, the training he hadn't used in years kicked into gear immediately.

"How long has he been gone?" Nyx demanded, striding purposefully back through the living room and taking the stairs three at a time.

"Been 'bout an hour. Sent 'im over to the diner, but Takka said he never showed up."

It took every ounce of patience and self-control he possessed not to ask why the hell Cid hadn't called earlier. There was no excuse to wait an hour, not when they were talking about the prince's safety. The outpost was miniscule; it should have taken him ten minutes to get to Takka's and back, twenty if they were busy. Maybe that was just him thinking like a Glaive instead of a civilian, but it still had him biting back a sigh of frustration nevertheless. They didn't have time for petty rebukes when too much had already been wasted.

"Did he see if he was with anyone?" he asked in a tone of forced calm as he flipped on his bedroom light. Switching the call to speaker, he tossed the phone onto the bed and knelt beside an old trunk on the far side of the room.

"Doesn't look like it," reported Cid. He must have been moving, because Nyx caught the slightly breathless quality of his voice with ease. "Them security cameras of yours didn't show nobody else."

Well, that was at least something—a kidnapping would have been all they needed. With steady fingers, he worked at the combination lock and called over his shoulder, "Probably saw something and wandered off. Any idea what that might be?"

"Not a one."

Of course not. That would be too simple.

"I'm on my way out right now," Nyx reassured him as evenly as he could. "I'll make a sweep of the valley and work my way back to you. He can't have gotten too far."

"You do that. I'll grab a car 'n'—"

"No, Cid. You stay put."

There was a pause while he set the lock aside and propped open the trunk. When Cid answered, the slightly shaky, worried pseudo-parent was nowhere to be found.

"If you think I'm jus' gonna sit here 'n' wait—"

"That's exactly what you're going to do," interrupted Nyx before he could get on a roll. It had been over an hour since anyone had seen his charge; they didn't have time to argue about this. "It's dark, and you know what's out here."

"Damn right I do. The hell you think I'd stay here for?"

Cid was a reasonable guy—usually. So, Nyx had no qualms about being frank with him: "Because right now, the prince has to be my priority. I can't help you if you run into trouble."

Snorting derisively, Cid retorted, "I can take care'a myself just fine. Ain't gotta worry 'bout me."

"And if you can't? If you get stuck or worse? How do you think the king would like it if he found out the guy taking care of his son went and got himself killed when he didn't have to?"

It was a low blow, but it did the trick: he had no immediate response to that. The line went so quiet that he wondered for a moment if Cid had hung up on him until he peered over to see the timer still ticking away. Nyx used the opening to press his advantage, knowing it would be a simple victory now.

"He's going to want you there when I bring him home, not out in the middle of the desert. Besides, he'd probably think it was his fault if anything happened to you."

Bingo. That was the straw that broke the chocobo's back. After another few seconds of silence, there was an odd noise somewhere between a grunt and a hiccough before Cid muttered, "All right, fine. I'll stay here. But you best find him quick, Ulric."

"Fast as I can," he promised, reaching over to end the call before turning back to the trunk. He hadn't opened it in the eight years he'd lived there; he'd never had reason to before tonight. So, it was indescribably surreal to run a hand over the uniform he never wore and pick up the earpiece he never used. Nyx had spent every day of his exile hoping that he wouldn't need anything in this trunk, at least not until he escorted Noctis back to the Citadel. It looked like he wasn't going to make that goal.

As much as seeing his old fatigues filled him with a sense of home he hadn't felt in longer than he cared to think about, there would be other occasions to get sentimental over it. For now, he adjusted the black plastic arch around his ear and cast a regretful glance at the hilts of his daggers where they poked up in the corner beside his uniform.

There was no sense in venturing outside unarmed when night had fallen; doing so would be disastrous these days, what with all the daemons prowling around. This wasn't a standard rescue op, though—Noctis could not be around swords or any other blade longer than cutlery. That wasn't his rule, yet he understood why the king had made it all the same. The curse's trigger was only supposed to be tripped by the prince's own sword, but there was no telling how that might change when he didn't have one. As such, Nyx eyed every new face with suspicion and scanned their clothes for the slightest indication that they were wielding anything more dangerous than a fileting knife. The hunters that frequented the outpost were of no concern; their job was about quantity, not quality, so guns were more useful to them. Cid had gotten rid of any extra weapons he'd kept when he left the Citadel after he agreed to take Noctis in, and there was no reason for anyone else in Hammerhead carry any. Even Crowe, much as she hated to do it, left her armaments in Insomnia during her weekly stints as the prince's tutor. It was an uncomfortable feeling for a Glaive to have absolutely nothing to defend themselves with, but they made what sacrifices were necessary to safeguard their prince's life.

That was why he quashed the desire to grab his preferred weapons and instead chose a pistol Marshal Leonis had presented to him when he left the Crown City. It didn't take a connoisseur or even a fan to appreciate what a beautiful piece it was with its silver filigree inlaid along the black barrel. A weapon befitting the prince's temporary shield, he'd called it, and Nyx hadn't been too proud to downplay the compliment. The royal family was counting on him and only him to defend their son with his life.

And he would do it gladly.

Strapping the holster around his torso, Nyx darted back downstairs and out the front door before he tapped the side of his earpiece and waited. The answer was predictably prompt.

"What's wrong?" the king's Shield immediately inquired.

"His Highness is missing," replied Nyx as he glared into the shadows. "I'm in pursuit now, sir."

Clarus didn't waste a moment in bolting down the same path he had earlier: "How long?"

"About an hour, sir."

"Abduction or separation?"

"Looks like just separation. Cid said he was alone."

There was a muttered curse on the other end of the secure channel before Clarus warned, "Find him, but proceed with caution. You've lost the light."

That was one thing he really didn't need to be told. There was a strip of orange on the horizon, barely visible over the rocky hills surrounding his abode, but the sun itself had long since vanished for the night. Nyx heard the distant sounds of what could have easily been either grass ruffled by a sudden breeze or a daemon stalking its prey. If there was any luck to be had today, it was the former.

"Will do, sir. I'd like to request that medics be placed on standby just in case—whoever can be spared that the king trusts."

"You'll have them," confirmed Clarus in no uncertain terms. "We've prepared for every contingency."

"Thank you, sir."

"Keep me apprised of the situation."

"You'll be the first to know," Nyx agreed, tapping his earpiece again to disconnect the transmission. Gun loaded and backup confirmed, he squinted at the darkness beyond the floodlamps he'd installed around the barn and set out into the night.

There was something to be said for having spent eight years scouting around Hammerhead like some kind of spy: he didn't need light to show him where he was going. Of course, it would have been a hell of a lot easier, but he tried not to dwell on what he couldn't change. At this point, his mind was too focused on the task at hand and the logistics of how he was going to find the needle in the proverbial haystack. At least there wasn't much in the way of trees or foliage out here; the most he usually saw was scrubby bushes that lent little to the overall Leiden aesthetic. On days when he had to walk to work in the blistering heat, he admittedly wouldn't have minded a little shade—now, he was glad the landscape was lacking in that department. More shadows would be a detriment to his mission, and Noctis was still so small that he could easily be hidden beneath a thick enough bush. Open land was better: he could see further and make out subtle differences in color underneath the rising moon.

He just needed to keep thinking like that and not get hung up on the emotional side of this whole mess. That was how they were going to get through—with strength and focus.

Nyx let the daily diner employee fall by the wayside as he picked his way carefully through the darkness towards one of the nearby dirt roads. That guy couldn't keep the prince safe, but the Glaive that usually let him take point could. So, he became the person he'd been eight years ago, if a little wiser and a lot more experienced.

For nearly the last decade, he had spent any free time he did manage to wrangle ensuring that the skills he'd learned in training and his short tenure with the Kingsglaive didn't go to waste. He still worked on his physique and stamina (all those chocolate chip pancakes really weren't helping), and switching from daggers to a gun meant target practice until his eardrums were about to explode. When he was in town, the marshal would even arrange to meet and assess his abilities. So far, he hadn't been found wanting, but that didn't mean he was about to start sitting around all day eating Takka's salmon surprise—the surprise being that it wasn't quite as disgusting as it looked, but not by much.

All those hours, those years of effort without any return on his investment were finally paying off. Nyx's muscles didn't protest in the slightest when he had to crouch low behind a rock to avoid detection by a passing beast that would soon wander into the jaws of something far worse; it was no strain to clamber atop the towering hill overlooking Hammerhead and the surrounding flatlands. His breath was steady, his heart rate even, and as he surveyed the region where he suspected he would find the prince, a calm descended on him that seemed to sharpen his vision.

All to no avail: even from this vantage point, there was nothing to see. No daemons, which was a relief, but also no child.

"Damn," Nyx cursed quietly, glancing to the left of the outpost with a calculating frown. Maybe it was too optimistic to believe that Noctis would be ambling about in such an obvious place. He was young, but he wasn't stupid: he knew he shouldn't be out by himself after dark, and there was no way he could get lost if he stayed within sight of Hammerhead. It was still unlikely that he'd traveled far on his own, though, which left one of two probable scenarios: he was deliberately moving away from home, or something was very wrong.

Scanning his mental map of the area, Nyx briefly considered abandoning his current course to scour the Weaverwilds instead. Perhaps Noctis had tried to return to the outpost and was merely diverted or waylaid somehow. It was dubious that he made it to Keycatrich Trench or the debris fields where Lucis had once waged war against the empire in such a relatively short amount of time—at least, that was what he hoped. The area was crawling with creatures that made their homes in the rusting stacks of metal and glass; if Noctis didn't hurt himself on the ancient refuse, there were plenty of other things that would gladly make up the difference.

Then again, while the Weaverwilds were a reasonable enough guess, the prince might also have followed the road towards Insomnia. In that case, he would eventually run into the guards and Glaives that always patrolled the approach to their capital. There was no question as to whether Noctis would be safe in their custody, but it was never as simple as that. Nyx could imagine a kid getting scared and hiding from who he would see as frightening pursuers; with only a few working streetlights mounted at intervals, it would be literal child's play for him to slip past them unnoticed, especially when he was undoubtedly dressed in black as usual. They could mistake him for a rock, a shrub, or perhaps even just another shadow drifting across the landscape.

They could lose him entirely or never see him at all because he hadn't gone in that direction.

They could find him mangled and beyond saving elsewhere, days from now and far too late.

There were so many possibilities, and although Nyx didn't have the time to sit here vacillating between one or the other or the other besides that, his legs refused to make the decision for him. Going the wrong way could potentially mean a rather abrupt end to his service. He would deserve it, too, like the damn disgrace he was proving to be: tracking was one thing he'd always been good at, and his captain had praised him for it on numerous occasions, yet it amounted to nothing in that moment. Hunting down a missing person would have been a simple matter under different circumstances; in any other situation, he would have thought through the mind of his quarry and considered their most likely course.

This, however, was nothing like a routine manhunt. He wasn't trying to fathom the mind of a dangerous criminal intent on bringing harm to the royal family; it wasn't his job to keep the Citadel running without so much as a crack in its security. No, he was dealing with a kid—an irrational, nonsensical, probably terrified kid. Adult or Glaive, it didn't matter: nothing came to mind that would have driven him away from Hammerhead after dark, especially without telling Cid. He hadn't been abducted that they were aware of, nor had he returned home. There were any number of directions he could have taken or paths he could have followed, but without knowing why he'd left in the first place, Nyx may as well be hunting for a speck of salt in the sea.

Ultimately, he decided he had no other choice but to call for more backup. Cid, Takka, hunters, the whole damn Kingsglaive and Crownsguard—whatever it took, they needed to find the prince. Nyx needed reinforcements. There was no way he could do this by himself, although it stung to admit.

After all these years, when the time finally came for him to do the job he'd been chosen specially to perform, he'd choked. Some hero he was.

He never got a chance to call in the cavalry, as it turned out. Just as he made to activate his earpiece, there was a rustle of movement beneath his perch that had him diving forward to look over the edge. If he'd been sitting here all this time when Noctis was right there…

But it wasn't the prince, to his mingled dismay and relief. Staring up at him was Umbra, that lovable stray and apparently accomplished sneak. Nyx had no idea how he'd suddenly appeared out of thin air—there certainly hadn't been any other sign of his approach—yet now wasn't the time to question it. As soon as he verified that he had Nyx's attention, Umbra let out two resounding barks that echoed in the open air like a death knell. He automatically hastened to muffle the dog before he alerted every daemon on the planet to their whereabouts, but when he dropped to the ground, Umbra was already dashing off towards Longwythe.

"Get back here!" Nyx hissed, reluctant to make any more unnecessary noise.

His caution made no difference to the stray, who only stopped long enough to bark at him in what he would have described as an oddly scolding way. If that were possible for an animal, which it wasn't.

"Great," he muttered. "Not bad enough I've got a prince to look for. Have to watch out for this stupid—"

It was probably a good thing he didn't finish that sentence. He wasn't sure whether the gods would actually smite him down for blasphemy, but it was a pretty good possibility given how things were panning out tonight. Up until now, anyway.

Nyx hadn't gone a step before he caught a glimpse of something round and shiny in the dirt by his shoe where Umbra had been waiting for him. When he bent to pick it up, he could only stare for a few seconds. There was no way one of these would be just lying around out here, which meant…

But it couldn't be...

Another bark, further away than before, yanked Nyx's attention away from the Oracle Ascension Coin in his hand. This time, he didn't vacillate or consider his options. He was willing to take a chance on this. If he was wrong, then he would just keep looking. If he was right, then he could apologize to the Astrals for his near-miss later.

Scrambling to his feet, Nyx veered sharply to the right and raced in the direction Umbra had gone. He had to wonder now if he was wrong and sheer luck wasn't all that kept the daemons from descending upon them amidst the racket the dog was making; it was just more fuel for the fire of hope that had been rekindled in his chest. It gave speed to his legs and lightened his steps, pushing him faster and faster until he could just make out the white spots of Umbra's fur over the crest of the next hill. So great was his determination, perhaps his blind desperation, that he only vaguely registered just how far away from Hammerhead the dog was leading him. The lights of the outpost had all but faded into the distance before he careened down the opposite side of the slope and they vanished completely.

Out here, there were no more streetlamps. He could spot a few winking at him from the road, but they were far enough away that they did little to illuminate anything around him. There was a flashlight pinned to his holster that he didn't dare turn on—maybe Umbra was protected by whatever magical mumbo jumbo he had, but Nyx wasn't about to take any chances with himself or Noctis. It wouldn't be enough to keep any daemons at bay, only draw them closer if they spotted him. No, it wasn't worth the risk.

That turned out to be all the better for him. The land flattened out once he left The Three Valleys behind and was nearing the road to Longwythe Peak, giving him an unobstructed view of his surroundings. His eyes had already adjusted to the almost absolute darkness, so it was relatively simple to spot Umbra ahead, barreling straight towards a figure that loomed up out of the gloom and the tiny bundle at its feet.

Nyx's entire being went cold, that burst of hope right along with it, as he screeched to a halt. The stance, the robe, the katana that put the marshal's to shame—he'd only ever seen pictures of Ronin daemons before, but there was no mistaking one now that it was right in front of him. Nor was there any question of what it was after.

The daemon had been frozen with its blade poised over their shared target when Umbra launched himself at the creature. In the blink of an eye, almost too quick to see, it sliced its katana upwards into the dog's path. Nyx didn't think it missed, but an instant later, Umbra landed on its other side without a scratch on him and reared back to lunge again. Thoroughly distracted by an active, potent adversary (which was a strange thing to say about a dog, but again, Nyx wasn't about to judge), the Ronin abandoned its original prey and left itself wide open to an attack from the rear.

The bundle of cloth and flesh huddled on the ground didn't budge an inch.

What Nyx really wanted in that moment was to have a dagger in the palm of each hand—then he'd go to town on that Ronin the way it deserved for even having the nerve to exist.

Maybe it was better that he didn't. According to what they'd learned during training, a daemon like this one was best handled from a distance. And fortunately, he had just the thing for that.

Slipping the gun out of its holster, Nyx crouched low to the ground and held it steady in both hands. He couldn't exactly claim to be the best shot in Lucis, but he was no slouch with firearms. Marshal Leonis wouldn't have given him this one if he was anything less than capable, especially when it might mean accidentally shooting the crown prince in the event of even the slightest mishap. Right now, that didn't look like it was going to be much of a problem, which was a whole other issue. He needed to make this fast.

It was damn near impossible to line up the shot with Umbra constantly forcing the Ronin to shift positions, although he couldn't deny that it was satisfying as hell to watch the dog tear at the daemon's limbs anytime the opportunity presented itself. He gnawed on a wrist, clawed at a leg—at one point, Nyx could have sworn he sent the daemon reeling without the slightest touch whatsoever. There was little room for him to operate without hitting the wrong target, so Nyx could only watch and wait for the opportunity to strike. However, his frustration in that regard was nothing compared to the confusing mix of emotions that had his heart practically beating out of his chest with impatience. He was too far away—from this distance, he couldn't ascertain the prince's condition. Unless the daemon was neutralized, and quickly, he was utterly useless to his charge.

That thought was the only thing that kept him from running closer in an attempt to extract Noctis from the fray. It was the sole reason he was able to maintain some semblance of composure as a Glaive until Umbra got the daemon right where he wanted it so he could pull the trigger.

The shot was perfect: it went straight through the Ronin's head and out the other side. As it would have against any opponent, human and monster alike, that trajectory defused the threat swiftly and surely. Unlike a human, though, the Ronin didn't bleed. The matter that erupted with the exiting bullet was all dark, the stuff of nightmares instead of nature. It oozed from every pore, and Nyx watched its skin turn blacker than the night sky before the daemon seemed to melt into the ground and disappear.

One moment of silence passed—two. Then Nyx was back on his feet and sprinting towards the prince with reckless abandon.

Umbra was smart enough not to get in his way as he slid to his knees beside where Noctis was sprawled out on his stomach, pressing two fingers to the prince's throat. It took a second for his own heart to stop beating deafeningly over what he sought, but when it did, he could have collapsed in relief: Noctis's pulse was by far more rapid than it should have been, but it was there. He could work with that.

What he couldn't work with was the warm, sticky wetness on the back of the prince's shirt where blood was steadily pouring from an open wound it was too dark to see properly.

"Noctis," Nyx called quietly, swallowing the lump in his throat that tasted faintly of failure. "Hey, little man. Can you hear me?"

No response.

With the darkness having shifted from boon to hindrance, Nyx flipped on his flashlight and slowly maneuvered Noctis into his lap, impatiently swiping aside a broken branch in his way. As soon as he got a good look at the prince's face, he knew exactly what was wrong.

The kid was in shock, that much was obvious. His face was pale, more so than it should have been with the amount of blood loss it appeared that he'd suffered; when Nyx lightly tapped his cheek, his skin was cool to the touch. He would have written it off as a sign that the evening was a chilly one, a herald of the winter that rapidly approached, but the thin sheen of sweat that reflected in the illumination of his flashlight told a different story.

Then those expressive blue eyes cracked opened to show him dilated pupils while Noctis's lips struggled to soundlessly form his name around increasingly rapid, almost violent breaths. There was a distance in his expression that Nyx didn't like one bit, and dirt was caked on the side of his face where it had been pressed to the ground.

For now, none of that was important. Noctis was alive, and with any luck, he would be able to tell them what the hell had happened later. Much later.

Nyx managed a weak smile at that and whispered, "Hey, you're okay. You're gonna be fine, all right? Try to breath with me. In and out, come on."

His exaggeratedly even breathing had little impact on Noctis, who barely seemed to recognize him much less understand the words he said. He kept up a steady stream of them anyway, awkwardly pulling off his own jacket with one hand so he could keep the prince propped up a bit with the other. His flashlight threw strange shadows over the slashed fabric of Noctis's shirt, enough to make the hole appear much bigger than he hoped the wound itself was; he had to take his best guess as he balled up his coat and pressed it tightly to the spot to stem as much of the bleeding as possible. It looked like he'd gotten there just in time—there was no puddle of life on the ground around him, but he could see spots forming that were already too dark to be just rocks.

They needed to get back to Hammerhead, sooner rather than later.

That was yet another dilemma. Glaives weren't medical experts by any stretch, but he'd gone through enough first aid training to know that you weren't supposed to move someone when they were in shock. You kept them warm, you put pressure on their wounds, and you tried to talk them around if you could—check, check, and check. This was a situation they would have classified as outside of standard operating procedures, though. It was dark, and they had confirmation of daemons in the area. Maybe Umbra could keep them at bay, or maybe it was just his imagination and dangerously wishful thinking, but he didn't like the prospect of waiting around like a sitting duck either way. Noctis was already too young to defend himself; with his injury, there was no way he'd be able to run if necessary. Nyx was his only protection and his only support, at the very least until he could call for backup. If he contacted Clarus, maybe he could send reinforcements to this location. Nyx knew where they were—it was possible.

Would the king agree to that, though? Was there anyone besides his small group of confidants that he felt he could trust enough to send? How long would it take for them to get here if he did—an hour, two? More than that had already elapsed since Noctis had gone missing, by Cid's estimation, and he wasn't willing to waste more time when he had no way of gauging the severity of the prince's wound.

He'd have to make do.

"All right, little man," Nyx grunted as he carefully lifted the prince into his arms, decision made. "Let's get you home, huh? Bet old man Cid's waiting for us."

Noctis's whimper made him wince, but there was nothing else he could do to ease the prince's pain until they reached civilization. With one arm under his back to keep pressure against the jacket covering his wound, all the hope Nyx had was in haste. Maybe he'd pass out—Nyx hoped he passed out.

So, of course, he remained awake and just barely aware the entire trip back. It was an uncomfortable one and took a hell of a lot longer than finding him had, although that may have been Nyx's mind playing tricks on him. There was just no easy way to bear the grimaces and muffled cries of agony when Noctis was jostled a little too much. Each involuntary exclamation was like a bullet through the heart, and they hadn't gotten far in his mad dash back to Hammerhead before Nyx thought he might know what that daemon felt like before it dissolved into whatever realm it came from.

More than once, Nyx considered making that call to Clarus, if only to let him know that he had the prince in his care—for whatever that was worth, anyway. Every time it occurred to him, he would glance down at Noctis and abandon the idea immediately. Maybe the kid wasn't all there right now, but his breathing had finally eased up some and his eyes were glued to Nyx's face as if he might disappear without any warning. As a Glaive, his duty was to inform his commanding officer that his mission had been a bittersweet success; as the prince's guardian in the shadows, however, he simply couldn't do it. Putting the king's mind at ease—because it was naïve to think that his Shield hadn't informed him as soon as they'd disconnected—wasn't his priority. The continued safety and security of his charge was. If that meant delaying his check-in until the prince was back where he was supposed to be instead of risking him overhearing a sensitive conversation even in this state of semi-awareness, so be it.

He hardly needed to keep Noctis's attention on himself, but Nyx still breathlessly murmured reassurances and platitudes all the way back to Hammerhead. Every now and again, he had to wonder if the prince understood him when tiny fingers closed around the front of his shirt and held on tight for a few seconds or minutes. If he had a free hand, he would have given it to him to hold, but all he could manage was hugging him closer to his chest and speeding on his way.

The relief Nyx felt when he lunged over the guardrail and sprinted across the street into the lights of the outpost was all-encompassing. Luck or something a lot more potent had been on their side, as they hadn't run afoul of any other daemons on the return journey. That was enough to confirm his suspicions that Umbra had something to do with it, and suddenly the coin he'd stuffed unceremoniously into his pocket seemed to weigh a ton. It would probably be worthless, but he resolved to ask Clarus or Marshal Leonis if they were at all aware that the Oracle appeared to be keeping tabs on the prince like the rest of them. If they were, by some unlikely turn of events, then hopefully it wouldn't be reaching too far above his station to point out that knowing what allies he had on hand would be pretty damn helpful.

They all seemed to come out of the woodwork the second he rounded the bushes in front of the garage: the dog was still following close on his heels, Cid was practically on top of them as soon as they were within view, and Cindy and Takka hovered a few feet behind to give them space.

"He all right?" demanded Cid, although he only had eyes for Noctis. He was bent over the prince with a frown, one hand on his forehead while the other swiped at the filth still clinging to his cheek.

Nyx wasn't sure how to answer that, so he settled for a quiet, "We need to get him inside."

That was all the hint Cid needed, because his eyes shot up to meet Nyx's and he very clearly didn't like what he found staring back at him. It was effective, though; he backed up just enough for Nyx to move past him into the garage.

For a time, the only sound was their footsteps against the stairs and the creaking of floorboards as they trekked through the apartment. Cid rerouted them when Nyx made to enter Noctis's room, muttering something about it being too small before guiding him instead to his own. He didn't have the heart to tell Noctis's guardian that this wasn't much bigger; the bed, at least, was large enough for him to settle the prince carefully on his stomach and still have room to sit.

Gingerly, he removed his crumpled jacket from where it had been sandwiched between his arm and Noctis's injury all this time, distantly noting how Cid told his niece what supplies they would need. Not that water and towels and first aid kits would do them any good, he realized quickly.

The lamp beside the bed flooded the room with light so that Nyx could finally pry the tattered remains of the prince's shirt aside and examine the wound beneath. It was ugly, worse than anything he would have expected. He'd been hoping that it was just a graze, enough to give him a good shock but ultimately leave no lasting damage—that wasn't what had happened, though. A long, oozing gash ran from his shoulder blade nearly to his waist in a straight and unmistakable line. Noctis was lucky that the Ronin hadn't sliced him clean in half. Nyx could only surmise that he'd tried to run and hadn't gotten out of the way in time for the daemon to strike, cutting his strings but not quite finishing the job.

Luck. That what we're calling it?

First aid kits would be all but useless here, yet Nyx wasn't about to deny Cid the comfort of action, how ever futile it might be. They still needed to clean him up and keep pressure on the wound—that was something they could work with. He simply needed to focus on that.

So, he replaced his sodden coat over the injury and let Cid take over for a while, stepping back to relinquish his space beside Noctis. The prince's eyes blearily fell on his guardian, who ran a hand through his hair as both a gesture of comfort and to brush the dust from his black locks. Before Nyx could leave the room, he heard the tiniest sigh as Noctis murmured something too soft for him to hear.

It never ceased to amaze him how hard-as-nails Cid Sophiar turned into a cup of melted butter around this kid. He leaned forward to put his ear almost to Noctis's lips and quietly asked, "What'd you say?"

Nyx knelt beside the bed just in time to hear the prince groggily whisper, "Spy…go'the frog…"

"Spy?" he wondered aloud, fully ready to believe that Noctis was simply spouting random imaginings. He wasn't exactly what Nyx would consider lucid, after all.

His assumption was proven wrong, however, when he glanced up at Cid. He'd always been relatively pale, probably because he insisted on wearing that stupid ball cap of his every waking moment, but his skin was practically translucent as all the blood drained from his face. From the looks of it, that wasn't just the nonsensical ramblings of a traumatized kid.

"What's he talking about?" Nyx inquired, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Cid shook his head, closed his eyes, and let out a long sigh. "Ain't nothin' important. Jus' an old man makin' stupid mistakes, 's all."

Despite the curiosity that blossomed in his chest, Nyx didn't ask. He wanted to, but the look on Cid's face made it painfully obvious that the question wouldn't be welcome. Besides, it already hurt enough to watch him lean over and press a kiss to Noctis's temple, his fingers gentle as they continued to stroke absently over his head. Cindy's footsteps were echoing through the apartment as she ran back up from the garage, and Takka was muttering something about returning to the diner to make soup or whatever else Noctis might be able to stomach.

As with so many other things tonight, now wasn't the time.

Nyx didn't wait around to witness the added heartbreak of seeing Noctis's foster family trying to pick up the shattered pieces of their smallest member. He'd already put off his duty long enough. Now that the prince was out of danger for the time being, he had no more excuses.

Silently slipping downstairs, Nyx made his way outside through the garage before he tapped his earpiece to initiate the transmission.

The king's Shield exuded an air of composure Nyx had to envy when he ordered, "Report."

"Target secure," he responded, carefully detached. "Gonna need those medics, sir, and a surgeon if you've got one."

"I will make the necessary arrangements. What is the prince's status?"

That was where Nyx hesitated half a second before divulging, "Stable, but I'm not sure how long he'll stay that way. He needs immediate attention, sir."

"The marshal is dispatching medical personnel as we speak. They should arrive in Hammerhead within the hour."

"If that's the best you can do, then we can manage here, sir."

"We will expedite our resources as much as possible," Clarus assured him, not that he expected any less. There was a short pause where Nyx mistakenly thought he'd bring their conversation to a close before he added, "You never said what transpired, Ulric."

No, he hadn't. The part of him that had been idly watching over the prince all these years couldn't find an effective way to put it into words, but with the veiled order to finish his report fresh from his commander's tongue, the Glaive could hardly keep his silence.

"He's not in any condition to explain why he left, sir," he elaborated slowly, "but when I found him, he'd crossed a Ronin."

There was a long silence after that, one in which Nyx felt like he could read everything the king's Shield was thinking—how devastating it was that this had happened, how fortunate they were that it wasn't worse, how the king was going to react when he found out. On his side of the transmission, Nyx suddenly felt like he had it easy. From this point on, his role reverted to normal: watch over the prince and keep him safe. That probably meant taking on a lot more shifts at the diner after tonight, but ultimately, it was nothing new or different than usual. Clarus, however, would have to deal with the fallout on a much higher level.

If Cid was this big a mess, he didn't even want to consider how King Regis was taking it.

Clarus's exhausted sigh brought his mind back to the conversation in time for him to remark, "The situation is stabilized. The prince is being treated. We must consider this a victory."

"Can't argue with that, sir," Nyx agreed, leaning against the side of the garage and running a hand over his face. The last couple of hours were starting to catch up with him.

His voice must have conveyed as much, because there was a certain warmth in Clarus's tone when he continued, "You did well tonight, Ulric. If it wasn't clear before that you were the right choice for this assignment, you've proven so today."

Snorting, Nyx lilted, "Only took eight years, huh, sir?"

"Let us hope that no similar circumstances arise to test your ability again," chuckled Clarus. It was a brittle sound, as though it might shatter at the slightest provocation, but it was a start.

"You can say that again, sir."

The conversation waned from there, with Clarus once again praising his success and Nyx promising to let him know if anything changed. When they finally disconnected, he pulled his earpiece out and stared up at the sky, not quite ready to go back inside. Of all the things he ever would have expected to happen tonight, this sure as hell wasn't one of them. If he could, he'd turn back time and complain less about that stupid frozen dinner that was still sitting on the table in his living room where he'd left it. The alternative was nothing to crow about.

Before he could get too lost in thoughts of what might have been, he felt eyes on him and peered over to see Umbra sitting calmly amidst the cars that were probably not going to get serviced tomorrow. He was another quandary that Nyx really didn't feel like digging too deeply into at the moment, especially with the piercing, pointed stare Umbra was leveling at him. If he didn't know any better, he'd say that dog was actually human.

After tonight, maybe that wasn't too far off the mark.

Again, questions for another day. Right now, there was only one place he wanted—needed—to be.

So, he took a deep breath and slowly released it into the night. He was Nyx Ulric, Kingsglaive operative and the man granted the honor of protecting the crown prince of Lucis. He'd come this far, through curses and exile and learning how to cook a decent meal—nothing could scare him away from his duty now.

It was that reminder, that sense of purpose in the face of his destiny, that stuck with him as he ascended the stairs and reentered the quiet apartment. Something like grief seemed to have stolen the life from every room, the echoes of gentle teasing and the ringing of a little boy's laughter conspicuously absent.

The Glaive soldiered through it.

Nyx made his way back down the hall, pausing at Noctis's room when a splash of vibrant color caught his eye. With all the…excitement, they'd committed what the prince would consider the most unforgivable of offenses. The thought of his indignant pout brought a smirk to Nyx's lips, and he took it upon himself to retrieve the lonely, forgotten stuffed animal that had been waiting on the bed for his best friend to return home. What kind of guardian would he be to leave Carbuncle in suspense like that?

When the two of them stepped into Cid's room together, not much had changed in the tableau of misery: Cid held one of Noctis's hands in his while simultaneously pressing a red-stained towel to his back, and Cindy sat on the floor nearby looking as desperate to do something as the rest of them felt. It didn't seem like intruding to join them, so Nyx perched on the other side of the bed and breathed a sigh of relief to discover that Noctis had finally, miraculously drifted out of consciousness.

He didn't stir once, not for the vehicle that noisily pulled up outside or the rest of them when they cleared the room. He slept through the harried introductions and painful explanations; not a sound passed his lips when the doctor who had brought Noctis into the world injected him with something that would let him escape it for a while.

And when all was said and done—the cleaning, the suturing, the bandaging, the prescribing—Nyx was once again at Noctis's side, gently wedging Carbuncle under his arm and murmuring softly in his ear, "Sleep well, young prince."