Through all the years he's known the shield, Ignis had never seen Gladiolus so fully lose control as he did that day. Though more than deserving of the warrior's ire, the elder Argentum was hardly a worthy adversary to the shield of the future king, but his judgment was clouded and he let the older man get under his skin.

Frankly, Ignis was jealous. He had wanted to be the one to put Paul Argentum in his place.

The police had to literally pull Gladiolus off of Paul Argentum's prone form, the older man's face swollen and bloodied past recognition. They dragged the warrior through the wreckage, his voice bellowing the entire way. He was thankfully aware enough of himself at this point that he refrained from lashing out at the emergency staff.

As the EMT's rushed about getting Mr. Argentum's broken body on the stretcher and out the door, Ignis could not bring himself to feel a morsel of pity for the man who had undoubtedly done this to his own son on numerous occasions.

To Prompto.

The adviser and shield kept out of the way—two shadows in the hall—counting every time they'd inadvertently and irreversibly allowed harm to come to their friend. Ignis stole a glance at his long time companion, whose face was flushed with anger as surely as the adviser's own was flushed with shame.

He really should have figured it out sooner. Maybe if he had, Prompto could have avoided such hurt.

"…and when I came to again, dad was gone and they'd already loaded Noct up and I thought they were arresting Gladio—oh gods, Gladio's face—and I…Iggy just looked so…so…I've never seen him look like that. I did that." Prompto was shaking and babbling and desperate in his need to get it all out. "You're hurt because of me." The blonde reached out shaking fingers to ghost along Noctis' shoulder before his face crumpled once more. He fell quiet after that, sniffling hard when Noctis gently squeezed his hand.

After a few moments of near silence in which Cor shifted uncomfortably and Ignis and Gladio stood stoic in the hall, Prompto turned his watery gaze to his long-time friend, "Noct, I'm so—"

"Don't you dare. Don't you dare say you're sorry, Prom. I won't accept it." At the freckled boy's stricken look, the prince rushed to continue. "None of this is your fault. Your dad is a piece of shit."

"But I—"

"No buts." Noctis was firm. He reached out and ran his hand gently down the bruised side of Prompto's face, brushing errant yellow strands away from a tight and swollen eye. "You're my best friend, Prompto. I love you so much, and I'd do anything—absolutely anything—to keep you safe."

If possible, Prompto only seemed more despondent, his body nearly folding up until his middle protested violently, reminding him of his bruised ribs. "Noct, I don't deserve—"

He was caught off guard as Noctis gathered him carefully into a hug, tucking his blond head under his chin. "You deserve everything." The prince whispered as his shield and adviser picked their way through the remnants of the living room and added their support to their young friend.

Outside, the last of the nosy neighbors lost interest and wandered away, leaving the police and Crownsguard to do their duties in peace.

The moon climbed higher in the sky while Prompto told his story. It had reached its apex and began its descent as Cor carted Prompto, the prince, and his retinue to their vehicles and followed them back to the Citadel. Once there, he guarded the door to the infirmary as the blonde was more thoroughly examined. The head doctor released him after administering a half-dose elixir, deeming him well enough to go to Noctis' rooms. All four boys ambled there in silence, an cloud of melancholy trailing behind them through the shadowed halls.

Prompto had actually never been to this area of the Citadel before. Though he had a high clearance level due to being friends with Noct, he'd never been allowed past the common areas and kitchens. The suite consisted of three rooms rather modestly decorated considering they housed a prince. The blonde found himself drawn to a large circular window overlooking the gardens. There a bench seat covered in plush cushions of burgundy and black beckoned to him.

"Can I….?" he asked, gesturing half-heartedly to the seat.

"Yeah, of course, Prom. Sit anywhere you like. My room is your room."

The freckled youth nodded absently and perched upon the cushions. It took him a few minutes, but he got comfortable enough to pull his legs up with them so he could lay his head upon his knees and gaze out of the window.

Quietly, Noctis climbed onto his own bed, sitting up against the headboard, staring towards the dark TV mounted in the opposite wall. Ignis busied himself tidying up the long disused desk, arranging and re-arranging the various Kings Knight figures and Noct's obscenely large pen collection. Gladiolus arranged himself in a plush black armchair, well worn from countless afternoon naps.

"Prom?" Noct offered into a silence stretched much too long.

A sniffle, then a reluctant: "Yeah?"

"You're my best friend. You know that, right?"

Prompto shifted, not quite looking at the prince, but no longer lost in the world beyond the pane. "Yeah, Noct, I know." He murmured, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he fought to control his emotions. "You're mine, too. I don't know what I'd do without you. Without any of you."

He sniffled, finally meeting Noctis' gaze. "You've saved my life. And I don't mean just today. There were so many times…too many times that I almost gave up." He swiped at his eyes, slowly unfolding. He stood when Noctis spread his arms wide, a silent invitation. Prompto lurched forward, his steps uneven and heavy as he approached his friend, finally collapsing down into a warm, loving embrace.

Without the devastated boy noticing, Noctis somehow managed to wrangle them both beneath the blankets, finally resting when Prompto's head was comfortably cradled against his chest. Taking the cue, Ignis and Gladiolus slipped quietly from the room, leaving the younger boys sound asleep wrapped in one another's arms.

That night was plagued with nightmares. His father bent and twisted, eyes afire as he hurled slurs and fists, his mother in the background, oozing smoke from every pore. But as the terror heightened, another voice joined the litany, this one soft and smooth and so very warm—it chased away the monsters lurking in every dark corner. And this was repeated the next night, and the one after that, ant the one after that until there was a night without darkness. When Prompto closed his eyes, he was in a field on the back of a great golden chocobo, Noctis riding one of royal black. They were smiling, laughing, chasing one another around the field under a soft pink sky. And though it warped and trembled the way dreams do, he felt safer and more loved than he ever remembered feeling before.

He was home.

::::just an epilogue to go! apologies for the severe delay in updates::::