Course Three: Fettini di Cernia

"Gladiolus. When did you first defile my son?"

Gladio breathed in through his nose, tight and controlled. This was a test. This had to be a test.

"Your Majesty, I haven't." Well, not today, at least. Not since last night.

But Gladio did not say that, because the King of Lucis staring him down the bridge of his nose (a nose that looked so much like Noctis's that it made it just a little harder to look at the man) made him incredibly nervous. Like, in a way that made it hard for him to prevent his hands from shaking.

As a little boy, Gladio had been taught never to show fear to an enemy-it was the easiest way for the Prince to get hurt. If he allowed himself to give into that fear, to allow himself to be lost in his emotions, then it could one day cost more than just a little embarrassment. It could have cost Noct his life.

And King Regis, well... King Regis was a shark in the water. He could no doubt smell the blood rushing through his ears. It must have been something in the family, something in their magic, to be able to make those of the Amicitia family so goddamn weak. He knew for a fact that he wasn't the first Amicitia to break his vows as a Shield-or, rather, slightly bend his vows. Of course he would protect Noctis with his life. He would never dare to think otherwise.

Just... he was pretty sure there was nothing in his vows about banging Noctis so hard he went to bed like a good little boy.

No, Gladio was positive there wasn't anything in his vows about fucking Noctis.

He checked.

Twice.

"Clarus and I have spoken. Perhaps you should be removed from your post as Shield, as you are unable to keep your hands off of Noctis."

Gladio stared with slack-jaw horror at the King.

He wouldn't.

He wouldn't dare.

This absolutely had to be a test of his resolve.

"Your Majesty, please. I am nothing but Noctis's bodyguard-" It was a lie. He fucking worshipped the ground Noctis walked on, and had ever since he was a kid and realized that Noctis wasn't as big of a useless dipshit as he thought. It took time, but Gladio would have died a thousand times over for Noctis. Bodyguard was just one name for what Gladio was to the Crown Prince. "Just as my father is to you."

Regis blinked at him.

"Gladiolus, you do not want to compare the relationship I have with your father to the relationship you have with my son."

Oh.

Oh, oh sweet Shiva's tits. He was joking, right?

Test. Test. Test-test-test. Test.

Gladio looked to Noctis, who was busy smashing his spoon into the dregs of his soup. He was going to be no help. Ignis really had to stop drinking soon- that had to have been his sixth or seventh glass. And Prompto... poor fucking Prom was ripping holes into the bread roll Ignis had thrown at him. Was there a pitcher of water he could drown himself in?

Regis clicked his fingers and the staff bounded forward, one of the ladies outright grabbing the empty spoon from Noctis's fingers.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Your Majesty."

But Gladio had some kind of vague idea, and that vague idea he didn't want to have anywhere near his mind.

No, no. Nope.

Uh-uh.

In his bowl's place was a plate of sumptuous slices of thin, barely cooked fish. His stomach almost gave out on him, which was saying something. He had been able to survive Prompto and Noctis's cooking with that steel stomach and resolve.

Gladio grabbed the crystal glass and took a drink, making sure to carefully place it back on the table. 900 year old Lucian glass.

Gladio wished he could have been as blissfully drunk as Ignis was. The man was staring out over the table with his nose resting on the side of his glass.

"Then you will have no issue with one of the other Glaive taking over your duties-"

"Dad, knock it off. Gladio is my Shield, not yours-"

"Then would you care to tell me when you began having sex with your Shield?"

"I don't know- why don't you tell us when you started fucking yours-"

"Noct!"

"Highness!"

"Say what."

This was not a test.

This was not a fucking drill.

"That is absolutely none of your business-"

"The hell it is when you're digging your nose into my fucking business!"

Gladio tried, he really tried, but…

"Who is fucking my father?!"

Regis glared balefully down the table to Noctis, who at some point stood up from the table, finger pointed right at Regis. "He is-I walked in on it-"

"Then you should have learned in your etiquette lessons to knock-"

"Five times!"

Gladio let his face go slack and straightened his back. He allowed his years of training to take over as he fought down the urge to yell, scream, or act unruly in any form. His father had taught him better.

His father. Who was fucking the King of Lucis.

At least five times.

"Perhaps you should have learned after the first four times, Noctis."

Gladio looked over to Ignis, whose eyes were bulbous and large, the glass of wine still gripped in his hand.

"Iggy," Gladio began, "I think you're done with the alcohol-"

"AND YOU ARE A HYPOCRITICAL ASSHOLE FOR TELLING ME NOT TO FUCK WHO I WANT TO."

"Noct-don't yell at your dad…" Prompto gulped when both King and Prince from each end stared at him for just a moment before once again launching their words at one another.

And Ignis still had his wine.

Gladio briefly stood from his seat and snatched the wine right out of Ignis's hand and drank it all down, not even realizing until he smashed his fist against the table that the damn thing was already broken.

"Will you stop breaking my son's inheritance, Gladiolus? You've already gone through six years of your pay. Someone give him a goblet, for godsake." How was he so calm?

How?

How?

This seriously had to be a test.

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