Series: Part 3 of the Onus series.
Soundtrack: Search "Of Decision || FFXV" on Spotify
Related Fics:
Of Endurance (Onus part 1)
Of Succession (Onus part 2)
Author's Notes: This is the third fic in the series Onus, which is a sort-of prequel to my series Shattered Dreams. That said, this story is standalone and, while the previous installments might provide some context, it is not necessary to have read them in order to understand and enjoy this story. This story will be both canon-divergent and Shattered Dreams divergent.
The violin hummed. Piano accompanied, bringing structure to the melody and smoothing over discordant notes when they rang out like choppy waves on an otherwise smooth pond. Thirty five people filled the garden lounge; out in the hall, servants paused and lingered beyond the open door. None of them bothered making excuses to one another. The only things they exchanged were smiles. If she had been ten years older they would have shaken their heads and walked on. But she was five. And the occasional break in an otherwise beautiful melody was excusable when the little girl holding the violin had never played for anyone, save her teacher and her brother.
The song ended. Enthusiastic applause filled the break. She lowered her violin and curtsied, beaming as her eyes swept the assembled audience. Her smile was bright enough to upstage the watery sunlight outside, until her gaze landed on her father.
He sat in front of the small crowd with a wingback armchair as his throne, an attendant at his elbow, and the Crown Prince on his lap. His eyes were on her twin brother: fixed but unfocused. When the song ended and the applause broke, he stirred and clapped with the others. But he looked at Noctis while he did so.
The applause faded, but her violin remained loose in her hands. Her governess, behind the piano, cleared her throat. "Number two, Princess Reina."
Reina lifted the violin to her quivering chin. Her eyes sparkled with tears. The piano began a new melody, and her bow struck matching notes. No squeaks, no chirps, no sounds out of place.
He still looked at Noctis.
Cor Leonis pushed his way into the room and knelt by the king's chair. "Imperials on the move, Your Majesty."
Regis tore his gaze away from his son. Never a moment of peace. Not in his bed at night, nor in the quiet of morning, nor even at his daughter's first recital. Two years he had been promising himself he would come to her lessons, hear her play, meet her governess properly. Where had those two years gone? The same place today would go: into the jaws of Lucis to be swallowed by duty and responsibility. The same place his son would go, when the darkness came.
Oh Noctis. If only Regis could have done something to spare him that fate.
No matter how long he thought on it, no solution presented itself. It consumed his thoughts—both waking and asleep—every second of every day. Even now he sat in Reina's audience and thought of Noct's future. Had he heard a single note she had played?
Not one.
"Sire," Cor called his attention back to the present.
Duty beckoned. Regis rose, setting Noctis down in his empty armchair, and followed Cor from the room. Better not to interrupt Reina and her first performance. At least she could have the adulation of the others. She would like that. As for the rest… he would have to make it up to her. Somehow. Only five years old and he had a list of owed recompense longer than the council's newest tax plan. Still he kept track of every time he failed them. As if that would mean something to them. Fool. Had it meant anything to him, that his father knew his own failings? No. Regis had only wanted time to play catch in the gardens. They never had.
He went with Cor. The servants in the hall parted for them and exchanged hesitant looks. When Regis appeared to give no note to their current occupation, they resettled themselves and persisted outside the door. Let them listen. If he was deprived it, at least she had some audience. After two years of practice he had no doubt that she was quite proficient. A shame he hadn't bothered to listen and find out.
"I am doomed to regret my choices," he said to no one in particular. "Whatever path I tread, I am ever looking over my shoulder, wishing I had seen the other choice and taken that route instead."
"A king pushes ever onward," Cor said, "Accepting the consequences and never looking back."
Regis stopped walking. "Yes. You would throw my own words in my face while I mope over my lot in life."
Clarus caught up with them, having followed Regis from the recital. "Someone should."
Regis sighed and continued walking. "Ever onward."
Someday, someone would repeat those words to Noctis and he would wonder how his father had done it. Maybe it was better if he never knew that Regis hadn't done any better at following his own advice than Noctis would. Or maybe he would never get the chance to experience any of that.
Regis shook his head. "Speak: the imperial advances."
"Dropships have been spotted across Cavaugh," Cor said. "Intelligence reports suggest they are leaving small groups of Magitek soldiers on the archipelago. To what purpose, we can only guess. More unsettling: they have been spotted in closer and closer proximity to Insomnia. I've just received word that a small squadron was seen working across the northern cliffs."
"Why?" Clarus asked. "They can't hope to break our defenses with a few MTs."
"Perhaps they search for an alternate route inside the city," Regis said.
"They would only be crushed within the Wall," Clarus said.
"Maybe survival isn't what they're after," Cor said. "What does suicide matter to MTs?"
"To what end?" Regis asked.
"If the king falls, so does the Wall," Cor said.
Regis shook his head. "Why now? They have controlled the greater part of Cavaugh for nearly a decade. What would drive them to attack so brashly now, of all times? Nothing has changed."
"Something has," Clarus said. "Three months ago, you announced that the crystal Chose Noctis."
"You think they hunt my son?"
"I merely present it as an option."
"An unsettling one," Regis said. "So be it. Send men out to the cliffs to hunt down these imperials. After, they will search the surrounding area for anything of note—if the imperials have found anything, I wish to know of it. After that, let us reassign a portion of the Crownsguard; while Noctis' Shield remains young and in training, I would have some few of them dedicated to my son's safety."
Cor hastened to do as he was bidden with Clarus on his heels. For a few moments, at least, Regis was on his own. Outside, sunlight was struggling to break free of the clouds and take control of the sky. It spilled across the black marble floor and glinted off brass statues. When clouds once more passed over the face of the sun, the whole hallway dimmed.
Regis stood looking down the hall in the direction they had come. Strange, to be completely alone. All the servants that should have been here were at the lounge listening to Reina. Ah, but he wasn't quite alone. Avunculus had followed him from the other room. How easily he forgot such an unobtrusive man. It was unbefitting. Avun deserved better of him.
"Is there anything else you needed, Sire?"
They must have stood still for too long. He didn't usually ask unless Regis gave some indication.
He sighed. He couldn't return and listen to the remainder of Reina's recital. Regardless of how much was or was not left, he would only be interrupted again. It was bad enough that he should sit there and not listen to her only to be pulled away. He refused to do the same thing again. But he could linger in the hall with the servants, who were all doing much the same, and hear what there was to hear.
Mind made up, he retraced his steps down the hallway and rounded the corner toward the lounge. Avun followed. By walking swiftly and straining his ears, Regis just managed to catch the tail end of a melody. He stopped just beyond the corner, far enough away that he didn't draw note from the servants clustered outside the lounge door and listened.
Extraordinary, that a five year old could coax such music from such a tiny instrument. Granted, she had been playing it for nearly half her short life, but she and Noctis had never failed to amaze him with how rapidly they learned. Children were like that. Keen minds made a quick study of everything. It was life in a world of rules and restrictions that took that away from them. Their nanny had once assured him that they were above average in most every respect.
And then he had fired her.
Another regret for another day.
He shut his eyes, leaned against the wall, and focused on Reina's song. Another break came and he could just hear Agnys' voice when she gave new instructions. Then Reina's violin returned to life. Music had some uncanny ability to convey emotions without words or pictures. The tune wasn't a sad one, but somehow the hum of the violin turned it mournful. When he opened his eyes again, his cheeks were damp with tears.
He stayed for as long as he was able. Inevitably, Clarus returned to draw him away again. A squadron of men had been deployed to search the cliffs where the MTs had been spotted and, if necessary, neutralize the threat. He could do no more on that front until news returned. In the meantime, Cor provided him with the names and schedules of a few Crownsguards, who would be Noctis' guard for the time being.
They withdrew to hold a more private conversation in Regis' study. He told himself that at least he had heard Reina and met her governess, even if he hadn't been able to stay for the full recital. Next time he would stay. Next time.
It was always next time.
The clouds had won the battle for the sky. No more gaps remained for the sunlight to break through, and they were growing darker by the minute. Winter had well and truly come to Insomnia. Thankfully, someone had lit a fire in his study hearth. The room itself was warm and welcoming when they arrived.
"Will you be requiring anything, Your Majesty?" Avun stood in the door, hand on the handle.
"Nothing for now, thank you Avun," Regis said.
He withdrew, shutting the door behind him.
"So. Imperials are encroaching on our land and Clarus suggests, with good reason, that my son may be in danger." Regis settled himself in his chair and pulled the papers toward himself. "In addition, I am led to believe that Niflheim is in the process of researching dangerous new weapons. Is that not so, Cor?"
"We know only that they have expanded several research facilities in the past few months. As of yet, no one has been able to learn what goes on inside."
"Is it not possible to infiltrate these places?" Clarus asked. "Who do you have inside Niflheim, at the moment?"
"Only civilian informants," Cor said. "The most recent inside information we have is nearly five years old. It seems safe to assume that things have changed."
"We have competent people who are able to enter these places," Regis said. "It has been done before. I require eyes inside those facilities, Cor. See it done."
"The question isn't 'how,' but 'who,' Your Majesty," Cor said. "I would only dare send the best, and someone willing, at that."
"What of the two who helped secure our alliance with Accordo?" Clarus asked.
Alliance was a strong word for what they had. Regis would have labelled it open negotiations, at best, and then only because he shared a mutual friend with Camelia Claustra. Even then, the situation was complicated at best. But, in a word, alliance was the shortest label.
"Lieutenant Ackers and Lieutenant Elshett? They only just returned from Altissia," Cor said. "I'm sure you'll agree that they've earned their rest."
"Rest they may have earned," Regis said, "But the crown has need of capable infiltrators. The choice is yours, Cor; I trust you will choose the best people for this mission."
"Then if you'll excuse me, I will take my leave." Cor bowed. "I will have names for you by tomorrow."
He left Regis and Clarus to await news from the squad they had sent in search of MTs on the cliffs. MTs in Cavaugh and secret research in Niflheim. An unpleasant end to an unpleasant year. He tapped his fingers on his desk and found his eyes falling to a letter he had tossed aside a few day before. The note was from Tenebrae, and more than likely delayed by imperials harassing the courier. Small miracle it had reached Insomnia at all.
Sylva sent her regards and her condolences. Their last meeting had ended under less than favorable terms. That she could so easily accept his son's fate unsettled him. It had been a point of contention for them before Noctis was Chosen. Now her words of encouragement rang hollow on the page.
The Chosen King indeed. Chosen to be sacrificed on the throne for the good of all Lucis. And for what reason? Simply by a misfortune of his birth? What curse was it placed on the Lucis Caelum family that doomed them to this? Regis had never wished so keenly that his children were someone else's children as he did, now. If they had been born anywhere else, they would have had a chance at a real life.
Alas, such was the fate of the royal family. To protect and serve. They would give their lives for Lucis. Regis had thought he had come to terms with that years ago when he had first put on the Ring of the Lucii. It is one thing, however, to accept that his own life was forfeit for the greater good and quite another to accept that his son's was. Would that he could have protected his own son as he protected Insomnia. All he could do was save him for his fate. Like livestock to slaughter.
Regis pushed those dark thoughts from his mind. He crumpled Sylva's letter in his hand and dropped it into the waste bin. Likely she was correct; he would need to come to terms with this sooner or later. Three months was much too soon, however.
"Is it too early to place young Ignis in combat training?" Regis asked.
Clarus raised his eyebrows. "He is of an age with Gladio, is he not?"
"Roughly, yes. That is so."
"Then I would say not at all." He stood a little straighter and tucked his arms behind his back in a military at-ease. "And yet, I am known for forcing my children to hoist a sword rather earlier than most men would."
"Have you given one to Iris, yet?"
After eight years, Clarus and his wife had decided to try for a second child. Regis maintained this was because it had taken them eight years to forget how difficult Gladiolus had been as a baby. They had been blessed with a baby girl not but a few weeks ago. Clarus' daughter would either grow up precisely like his son, or opposite in every way, in that Clarus would either treat her identically or as if she was a flower that might break at any moment. It remained to be seen which would hold true.
Clarus laughed. "She can't even sit up, much less hold a blade! Besides, Fidelia has strictly forbidden me."
"That she forbid you at all, seems to imply that you thought to try," Regis said.
"Yes… Well." Clarus cleared his throat and turned toward the window.
Regis smiled. A comfortable silence fell between them for a few moments, until the original reason for their conversation returned to him.
"Do you think me callous, giving a blade to the Hand of the Heir?" He asked.
"Of course not." Clarus turned back toward him. "You fear for the Crown Prince's life—and your concerns are well within reason. But regardless of what imminent threats may or may not await Prince Noctis, his retinue will need to know their way around a blade. Especially considering the fate that awaits him. No, Regis; I believe all three of those boys will see more than their fair share of action before this is through."
"He will have to be trained as a Crownsguard." Regis sighed and ran his hand over his beard. "See to it that he receives the best instructors available. Even if they need be made available."
By the time news returned from the contingent they had sent out to investigate the MT sighting, evening was falling and Regis was at least assured that Noctis would be followed at all times by a handful of Crownsguards. A more permanent solution would take time. Years of time, in all likelihood. While Gladio may have been swinging a sword for as long as he could hold one, he was still a mere child, and Ignis would not become proficient overnight. Perhaps in five to ten years they would be suitable.
Then again, would there ever come a day when he stopped fearing for Noctis' life? Doubtful.
General Drautos himself reported on the state of the MTs. All Magitek soldiers had been dispatched; merely a small squad of them had been sent in the first place. Thus far, Lucis' soldiers had been unable to find anything of interest in the region they had discovered the MTs. The cliffs fell away sharply to the sea, which was choppy and turbulent. It had long since worn away any beach that might have once existed; no suitable port existed for an imperial vessel to dock at.
Regis could have told them that in the first place. Every boat that Lucis had launched in his lifetime had come from Caem or Altissia. Insomnia may have been on an island, but it was hardly beachfront property.
And so their soldiers returned to the city and Regis was no wiser for the excursion. Yes, they might have destroyed the MTs. Arguably, Insomnia was left safer for that. But, somehow, he could not shake the feeling that the Magitek soldiers themselves were not the threat of interest. Something still remained. Something he could not yet put his finger on. There seemed nothing he could do about it, save wait for Cor's spies to discover something or for Niflheim to reveal their hand.
He retired well after the hour he had intended to. Dinner had not happened at all, but Avunculus met him at the upper levels of the Citadel—home only to the royal family and a select few serving staff.
"I took the liberty of having dinner sent to your chambers, Your Majesty." Avun bowed.
"Ah, Avun. You are a lifesaver," Regis said. "My thanks."
"Of course, Sire." Avun bowed again and gestured down the hall, but Regis stopped in the open door to his childrens' room.
Once, there had been talk of splitting them into separate rooms when they were old enough to occupy full-sized beds. Twins they may have been, but siblings were wont to quarrel as soon as they understood that their brother or sister was a person, too. And so Reina and Noctis did quarrel. They fought over who was allowed to read which book and, in spite of the surplus of crayons, they fought over one particular blue crayon. Regis could not, for the life of him, fathom what made that crayon different. They had a dozen others in exactly the same color, but they both wanted that one. When it finally wore down, there were bound to be tantrums.
Regardless, the point was that though they bickered and argued and screamed and pulled hair like the best of siblings, at the end of the day—no matter how mad they were at each other—they could not sleep but for making up with one another. After the worst of their fights, without fail, they slept together in one bed. Sometimes they would sit side by side, Reina clutching Chika the Chocobo and Noctis holding Cat the Cactuar, and mumble half-words and semi-coherent sentences to one another. It had been amusing when they had done the same thing at two years old. Now it seemed extraordinary that they had some sort of language only the two of them spoke. Regis often wondered if they would ever grow out of it. He hoped not.
Tonight, each twin slept in their own bed. The room was lit by only a cool blue nightlight, which cast shadows of stars across the room and speckled their bedspreads with the night sky. On each pillow, a shock of ebony hair was just visible above the blankets. Tucked up to their chins. And one little hand stuck out from beneath the covers on both beds and hung over the edge. Their hands were clasped.
Regis smiled. He stood for too long, watching them sleep. He had meant to return early enough to make his apologies to Reina. In spite of his best intentions, he had been late. Again.
Well. Perhaps by tomorrow she would forget her disappointment at his early departure. He would simply have to wait and see.
When he turned toward his room, Avun was still waiting for him. He pulled open the door and Regis passed within. As promised, dinner was waiting for him. It was even warm. Mostly. He ate, though he tasted little of it as he tried to think of ways to rearrange his schedule and guarantee his attendance at Reina's next performance. By the time Avun had helped him out of his formalwear, Regis was no closer to a solution. He fell into bed, discontent with his own capabilities as a father. He was doomed to play only one of his parts well: king or father, but never both.
He slept, but only uneasily. And as the darkness took hold, the Lucii called.