Warning: Very brief, purely speculative mention of rape this chapter. Like just one line.

3

Noctis tried to be subtle as he slipped through the Glaive headquarters, but even as they were distracted by the news pouring out of their TV, announcing the treaty terms, and even as their angry responses echoed loudly through that section of the building, they were still highly trained soldiers and some of them noticed him.

"Your highness!" There was an awkward stiffness in most of them, a wariness as they wondered if he'd heard their criticisms.

"Sir Ulrich," he managed, responding to the closest one who had acknowledged him. "I apologize for disturbing you," his eyes flicked to the screen, he felt his face spasm for a moment as he lost his hold on the coldness he tried to project before he had it back under control, "and that I am one of the last people you'd like to see at the moment."

"Your highness-"

"Which I do not blame any of you for," he continued, not letting Ulrich offer any empty apologies. "I came looking for your Captain."

The Glaives there (he had met maybe half of them before and knew the others from their files) shifted, some exchanging glances, some whispering to each other.

"Really, you're allowed to be angry. At least in front of me," he added the corollary with a grimace. "Your homes are getting sold out to buy Insomnia a few years, maybe."

"You think it's just going to be a few years, highness?" Lazarus asks, watching him with a sharp eyed look that he supposed wasn't too different than he normally did.

Noctis shrugged. "What reason do they have to honor a treaty? They'll have us surrounded. And we're not that self-sustaining." He shook his head. "Sorry, none of you need to hear any of my rants about this."

Glaive Altius was reaching out like she wanted to put a hand on his shoulder and he wondered what he must be revealing to be getting pity from the people he should be trying to comfort.

"Prince Noctis." Noctis turned at the voice behind him, managing not to fall into a combat stance in his surprise as Titus finally stepped into view, raising his eyebrows.

There was protocol between them, hundreds of little rules on how they were allowed to interact. He hadn't slipped up for years and Titus hadn't even before that.

Yet, despite the distance that had grown between them, despite the rage shimmering in Noctis as the treaty's terms were shown to him and his father's agreement to them affirmed, the first thing he'd thought to do was come see him.

Gladio or Ignis, or someone else entirely, would find him soon, drag him back to the Citadel where he'd have to be the proper Lucian prince. But right then and there, he threw his arms around Titus, holding him tightly.

"I'm so sorry, Uncle."

There was only a moment's hesitation before Titus returned the hug, stronger and more desperate than he had when they used to be able to do this. "Noct, you don't have anything to apologize for. I know they wouldn't have given you any choice."

He could almost feel Titus' anger, like there was so much of it for so many reasons that it was overflowing into the room around them.

"Yeah, well, since when has the Council listened to reason?" Or his father. He couldn't remember the last time they'd gotten to talk through anything, felt like his opinion had mattered more when he was a little kid than now, as an adult.

"Did they at least ask your agreement on the marriage?"

Noctis sighed, shoving his head against Titus' shoulder. "No. I'm lucky it's Luna, at least. Probably not going to stop the Nifs from dragging me off to some laboratory where they cut me open and rape me to try to make loyal little magical soldiers in a few years."

He grimaced at the dark bitterness in his voice, wishing he'd not let his mouth get away from him in the moment. Titus had gone completely stiff under his hands and he moved back, slowly releasing the hug.

"Sorry, sorry, that...you don't need that put on you with everything else."

"Noctis," Titus pulled back more, setting his hands on his shoulders, "I'm not going to let that happen." The anger was still there, but there was something almost like certainty joining it, an attempt to comfort Noctis, he figured.

He didn't say more, the things they both knew too well-that all of Titus family except Aulea had died to the Nifs invading after the Wall was retracted. That Noctis was the only family Titus actually had left anymore, even as their ranks created a gulf between them without Aulea there to bridge it.

"We both know if the Nifs want to, they'll do it eventually. None of the people over there who could stop it ever would," he pointed out, keeping his voice calm, reasonable. He didn't want Titus to feel guilty about what would happen to him if the Nifs got ahold of him, not when the future was so uncertain.

Titus finally looked over at the Glaives who were all clearly watching them. He let out a growl and gave a dismissive hand motion. "What are you looking at? You think that break will last forever?"

When Noctis looked over, face warm as he realized he'd forgotten their audience, he found expressions softened from what they'd been before, and not a few pairs of eyes moving from him and Titus, probably looking for signs of their relation.

But he looked more like a Caelum than anything else, more like one than even his father did, and he doubted they'd find the truth with their eyes.