Chapter 3

Negotiation

"Insomnia has fallen…"

Prompto was dancing.

He was dancing the waltz to the beautiful tune of Valse di Fantastica with Lady Lunafreya. Yes, the Lady Lunafreya, the woman he had been dreaming to meet all these years.

She looked beautiful, magnificent, ethereal even, like a goddess from old legends in that brilliant white wedding dress, the skirt swirling about her like a blooming flower as she danced gracefully, her golden hair shone in the ray of sunlight streaming in through the high sunroof above, her very presence brightening up the dancing hall.

Prompto moved, swayed, glided to the rhythm of the music, leading Lady Lunafreya perfectly across the dance floor, their feet flitting as if floating. He held his arm a little higher as Lady Lunafreya held on to his hand and twirled a couple of times with a laugh, and for a moment she looked like a happy young girl without a care in the world before Prompto caught her in his arms again.

She was absolutely lovely, just like how he had imagined her to be since he first received that precious letter from her.

He laughed with joy, holding on to Lady Lunafreya's hand as she did a pivaloop, her dress twirling once more, the blue sylleblossoms weaved into her hair fluttering like butterflies. He couldn't help but think how lucky and blessed Noct was to be married to an angel as sweet and beautiful as her.

Noct never actually said much about his marriage to Lady Lunafreya; at times, he even sounded like he wasn't that thrilled about the idea of getting married to her, but Prompto knew he actually was looking forward to being hers. The happy, loving look on his face today as he put the ring on Lady Lunafreya's dainty finger, and the way he tenderly kissed her after that, they just showed how much he actually cherished her in his own ways.

Prompto sighed contentedly. He had never felt so happy for Noct before.

"What's wrong, Prompto?" Lady Lunafreya asked with a teasing smile, her delicate hand squeezing his shoulder. "Tired of dancing with me already?"

"What? No…" Prompto didn't realize he had stopped dancing, too lost in his thoughts of how happy Noct and Lady Lunafreya would be now that they were finally together.

Just as he was about to reach for Lady Lunafreya's hand again, the music ended. He stared at her, somewhat startled, an apology already at the tip of his tongue when a new tune started to play. His hand grasped hers once more as he led her to the centre of the dance floor but stopped in his tracks when he realized the orchestra were playing the classic but fantastic Waltz for the Moon.

"Hey, it's a special one. It's Waltz for Luna!" Prompto said excitedly, winking and flashing Lady Lunafreya his boyish grin. "I'm sure Noct wants to dance to this song with you. I'll go find him. Be back in a jiffy!"

Prompto looked around the hall, scanning for his best friend. It took him a while to spot Noct among the sea of people but there he was, the groom, the celebrated man of the day, lurking at the back of the hall near a corner, looking down into his glass of champagne dolefully. Prompto sighed a little at the sight before it turned into a soft laughter of disbelief. Leave it to Noct to shy away even at his own wedding party.

Prompto pushed through the crowd to get to Noct, keeping his eyes on him. He wouldn't want to lose sight of him given how he actually failed to recognize Noct even when his gaze had fallen on him a few times before while he was trying to find him earlier. Not that Noct didn't stand out amongst the guests or anything like that—he absolutely did. Except Prompto's brain couldn't really associate that kind of magnificent, spectacular look with the laid-back, most-of-the-time-messy prince who wasn't actually very princely.

Noct looked incredibly… different today. Handsome, of course, the good-looking guy he was, but so different from what Prompto was used to seeing; so elegant and majestic and regal-looking. He wore an obviously expensive black tuxedo with matching black shirt, waistcoat and bowtie, the electric blue sylleblossoms pinned to his satin lapel the only pop of colour against his black ensemble. His usually untidy hair was carefully pulled back, lightly gelled and smartly styled, his bangs falling in a soft wave a little to the side of his face.

He was the very image of a perfect prince. And he couldn't have looked any more like a younger version of his father, the late King Regis.

Noct had suddenly started to walk away, like he knew Prompto was coming to drag him to the dance floor. Prompto opened his mouth to call out to him but stopped short when he belatedly realized Noct was no longer looking like the charming prince he was moments ago. He was back in his usual black t-shirt, pants and leather jacket, his hair messy and wet, sticking to his bloodied face. The sea of people was gone and now he just stood there watching Prompto get to him, his whole body trembling. There was a sword in his chest, piercing through him up to the hilt.

Prompto stepped back as Noct fell to his knees, blood spilling down his front and out of his mouth.

Noct, what the… This is your wedding day… Why is there a sword in your chest?

Prompto tried running to him, to help him, to get that fucking sword out of his chest, but Lady Lunafreya was suddenly behind Prompto, holding on to his hands tightly. He turned around, frantic, wanting to tell her that Noct was hurt, that she had to let him go to him only to see that it wasn't Lady Lunafreya that was holding him back at all.

He was being restrained, his wrists locked to a contraption. Like he was being crucified.

He looked down by his feet where Lady Lunafreya lay lifeless on a gritty flagstone floor, her wedding dress torn and no longer white as her own blood seeped through the fabric.

Lady Lunafreya… Noct… Why are they… dead?

No… That couldn't be true. But there they were; two pairs of glazed dead eyes staring back at him, blue and unseeing.

Prompto felt himself rip apart as he screamed at the nightmare that was unfolding. With eyes squeezed shut, he screamed and screamed until there was no more air left for him to breathe, until his lungs burst as the world shattered around him, until his eyes flew open again to a bright light that momentarily blinded him, his heart thumping hard against his ribcage.

He'd woken up thrashing, his chest heaving as he gasped desperately for air.

A nightmare. It was just a nightmare, right?

He stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling above him, wondering if this wasn't just another hell he'd gotten himself into. He couldn't tell. He'd didn't know where this was or how he got here. He tried to push himself up and started panicking again when he realized he couldn't move his arms.

No. Wasn't that just a dream? Was he really being held in a contraption? Crucified?

Prompto tried to move again, his heart sinking when he failed to get himself up. He choked trying to breathe, his lungs not working properly for a few long seconds before he was finally able take a few deep breaths, willing himself to calm down. He looked around again, slowly realizing he was actually lying on a bed in a room that looked a lot like the ones in hospitals. But he didn't remember going to a hospital. He couldn't even remember being sick. So why was he here? Was he really in a hospital even?

He looked down and saw his wrists were actually strapped to the sides of his bed.

The hell? What's happening?

He pulled at his wrists trying to get free, grunting and groaning until his wrists chaffed red from the friction.

This was useless. He was only hurting himself. He needed to calm down, assess the situation. Panicking wouldn't help him much. Now that he was a lot more awake, fragments of his recent dream were rushing through his mind before they slowly started to fade away. He remembered Noct's wedding and not much else beyond that. But the feeling of dread stayed with him, the dream felt a bit too real for his liking. He must have cared about the called-off wedding more than he realized. But why was he restrained to a bed? Where was he? Was he captured by the Empire? Was he still in Altissia? Where were Noct and the others?

He needed to know what happened. He needed to know what he had to do next to assist Noct and Lady Lunafreya.

He spent the next ten minutes or so carefully examining the room, thinking of ways to get himself free. He tried to summon his gun several times but nothing happened, and that sent his heart thundering in panic and worry. Was Noct okay? Why couldn't he access or feel any of his magic?

The door to the room opened suddenly with a quiet clack and in came someone Prompto didn't expect to see at all.

"Prompto, you're awak— Fuck, I told them not to strap you down!"

Prompto stared wide-eyed as he watched Cor Leonis, Cor the fucking Immortal himself hovering over him, undoing the straps around his wrists.

"Cor? You're… here?" he said uncertainly when he finally found his voice. "But why? What are you doing here? What's going on?"

"I'm here to check on you, kid. And to get some truth out of you."

"Truth?" Prompto repeated, trying to card through his memories. He looked around the room again. Was he being interrogated or something? "Where am I? Where's Noct?"

"Oh, you're friends with the prince now, huh? No longer a middle school kid?" Cor said with an arching eyebrow. For some reason, he sounded… sarcastic? Prompto couldn't tell.

"I don't understand what you're talking about."

Cor settled himself on the stool next to the bed, looking like he didn't have enough sleep. He crossed his arms and fixed Prompto with a penetrating gaze.

"Ready to tell me what happened two nights ago?" he said.

Two nights ago? Strangely enough, Prompto couldn't even remember what happened last night, let alone the nights before that.

"Uh, I don't remember. I seriously don't. But what about the negotiation?"

Cor raised an eyebrow again. "Negotiation?"

"Yes, the negotiation. Did it fall through? Is that why you're here? To help Noct negotiate with that lady?"

"What negotiation?" Cor pressed, sounding frustrated. He didn't wait for an answer as he sighed and poured water into a glass from the jug on the nightstand. He handed the glass to Prompto. "You're looking a bit too pale for my liking."

Prompto took the water uncertainly. He was thankful for it because he was thirsty as hell, but he still wanted to know what happened during the negotiation. Cor didn't seem to want to tell him about it.

Just as he was about to ask again, Gladio came striding into the room. Prompto straightened up immediately at the sight of him.

"Good morning, sir. I know you said to meet you later but I guess I could—"

"Gladio! Where's Noct? How did the negotiation go?" Prompto cut him off without regard, his voice shrill.

Gladio exchanged a confused look with Cor.

"The hell you talking about?" he growled. He didn't look too happy to see Prompto for some reason.

"The negotiation. With that Claustra lady," Prompto said impatiently, his gaze darting from Gladio to Cor who was watching him closely with a frown on his face.

"Claustra lady? The hell is that?"

"Are you being serious, Gladio? You know, that woman we met earlier, with short, pale blond hair, all serious and business-like."

"Who— Wait, you mean, Camelia Claustra? The first secretary of Accordo?" Gladio asked, a note of disbelief in his voice.

"Yeah. Her. Did she agree to let Lady Lunafreya call forth Leviathan?"

Cor stared at him, looking so damn confused. "Seriously, I don't get what you're saying, Prompto. Just what did you dream of just now? Did you dream of Camelia Claustra?"

"No! Why would I dream about her? I'm talking about the negotiation. About Altissia."

"Altissia? What the hell are you getting at?" Gladio's thick eyebrows furrowed as he checked the patient's chart hooked at the end of Prompto's bed. "Altissia, my ass. Look kid, stop acting like you're fucking crazy because it's not gonna save you. I saw what you were trying to do that night."

"But Altissia is—"

"You're not in fucking Altissia, Prompto. You're in Insomnia. You're currently being held in this room for trying to—"

"Insomnia? Did you say Insomnia?" Prompto croaked, not believing how insensitive Gladio could be.

"What, you're trying to act deaf now? You really think we're that stupid, huh?"

Prompto ignored Gladio's scathing words. He didn't know why he was so angry with him. He didn't want to care, either. All he could think of was what Gladio had said earlier.

Insomnia. He said they were currently in Insomnia.

Prompto stared at his hands, feeling anger rising inside of him.

"You're kidding, right? That kind of thing… Don't joke about something like that, okay? I can't believe you, Gladio," Prompto said, letting out a shuddering breath trying to hold back his anger. "Insomnia is no more… Insomnia has fallen…"

"The fuck you're talking about?" Gladio almost roared. He sounded so damn dangerous.

"We read about it in the newspaper, remember? Insomnia was attacked, destroyed by the Empire. We went back… We saw the burning city with our eyes…"

"Fuck, Prompto. You realize what the hell you're spouting? There's no way Insomnia would be destroyed while King Regis's Wall is still up."

Prompto's eye snapped to Gladio at the mention of King Regis.

"King Regis…? What are you saying, Gladio? There's no Wall anymore. King Regis is dead!"

An incredible pain spread throughout his head as Gladio's huge hand slapped him hard on the side of his face. Before he could get himself together again, Gladio had grabbed him roughly by the collar of his shirt, pulling him almost off the bed, his livid face just inches away from Prompto's paling one.

"How fucking dare you say the King is dead," Gladio hissed so menacingly Prompto instinctively tried to get away from him for fear of his life. "Are you so desperate to save your sorry fucking ass that you'd say bullshit things like that? How can the King be dead when I just saw him ten minutes ago staring worriedly at his unwaking son? But I guess that's expected out of you since you were actually trying to kill Noct two nights ago."

Prompto's eyes widened at Gladio's crazy accusation.

"What the hell are you saying? Me trying to… kill Noct? I would never…"

There was a sudden ringing in his ears and the air seemed to be cut off.

His lungs felt like they were shrinking. It was getting harder to breathe. He was gasping, his airways lined with fine sand. At first he thought Gladio had choked him, but when his shaking hands flew to his neck, nothing was there squeezing his throat. Prompto swallowed with difficulty, eyes burning. He tasted blood. He swiped a hand across his mouth and realized his lips had split open, bleeding from Gladio's anger-filled slap.

"I'm… I'm sorry…" Prompto rasped, his eyes watering. "But I don't under…"

There was a sharp, spiking pain in between his eyes, making him wince and forcing a little cry out of him. The world was spinning. There were about eight Gladios in front of him, all looking ready to murder, teeth bared and primed to bite his head off. Prompto shivered. Something was definitely wrong with him. The sounds around him were getting muffled, his mind swirling and fading. He heard Cor's voice, loud and angry, but he didn't know what he was saying.

It was seriously getting really hard to breathe now. He was going to pass out. But there were still so many things he had to know, he had to ask. What about Noct? Where was he? Did he manage to gain Camelia Claustra's trust? Was Lady Lunafreya going to perform the ritual to rouse Leviathan? But what about that thing Gladio had said? Why did he accuse Prompto of wanting to kill Noct? That was just unthinkable.

Prompto's mind was swiftly leaving him. His body was going limp. Gladio and Cor's faces were undulating in his tunneling vision. He thought he heard Cor calling out his name. He wanted to answer him but his body was unresponsive. No. He didn't want to pass out, to fall asleep. He needed to know what happened to Noct.

But he was already drifting away..

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Next chapter:

Junk

"I wonder what kind of dream he was having."