Course Five: Bavarois

Regis had known from the very beginning that there was something going on involving his son and his retinue; it was as clear as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west. The four bedroom apartment with only one bed, the lack of interest in the opposite sex, the little hints of hands and gentle ribbing—Regis was many things, but blind was certainly not one of them. He remembered his own infatuation with Aulea as a young man, how he had fawned over her and worshipped the ground she walked upon. And, later, Regis would learn the equally important promise of gentle touch from his own Shield.

He knew that there was something going on with Noctis and his retinue, but it didn't mean the shock hadn't gone to his heart.

Clarus had put his money down on the young Prompto—he remembered the big change in Noctis and his friends after Noctis met the blond boy when they were still students. Cor had slapped a stack of hundreds down on Ignis, because the devotion that Ignis showed was beyond even what even a Shield did for their Kings. There was a pool from the Kingsglaive and the Crownsguard on which one was dating the prince—Crownsguard wanted one of their own, so Gladio was in the lead. The Kingsglaive had split between Prompto and Ignis for the most part, though there was one man who had thrown down an entire paycheck on it being all three of them.

Regis looked to his lasagna-covered Glaives and closed his mouth, attempting to protect the last shred of dignity he had.

At least he wasn't covered in lasagna.

He did not break his glance with Noctis as he slowly sunk into his dinner chair, thankful that his magical shield had managed to catch the flying splinters as well as the vestiges of what had once been their meal. He didn't break his gaze from Noctis, whose entire face had gone ghostly white at his own honesty, until Regis was seated.

"Ulric, you can pick up your winnings when you return from dropping my son and his…" Regis glanced to the broken remnants of what was left of Ignis, Prompto, and Gladio, "boyfriends at their apartment."

Noctis blinked.

"That is all, Noctis." Regis folded his hands in his lap and attempted to keep his face composed. "I hope that our next meal will be less… explosive."

"Wh—what?!"

Regis was shocked that it wasn't in fact Noctis who screamed this, but instead the young Prompto. The man was still spread across the floor, a bow too deep for Regis to find comfortable.

"Yes, Mr. Argentum?"

"Bu—but wha—"

Regis raised an eyebrow. This would do no good, no good at all. "Ignis, when you have sobered, I recommend teaching young Prompto the importance of decorum… and completing his sentences." He did not mention the spoons, though he was sure that Ignis would not be forgetting about them any time soon. "There's no reason for him to lack basic manners, even as a peasant."

"Commoner," Noctis groaned.

Regis looked to Noctis, who had dropped his toy sword to the ground. It was certainly a good decision for Regis to lock the Arsenal. "Ah, yes. We call them commoners now, don't we?" He smiled, knowing that his mouth was pulled a little tighter than it needed to be. "It helps quell uprisings…"

"Were you seriously betting on who I was fu—"

Putting out a hand, Regis hoped that it would be enough to stop Noctis from continuing. Thankfully, it seemed to do the trick.

"It seems most of us lost, as well." And it was quite a large sum of money, at that. Alas, Regis could not admit to that, particularly at the coloring of his son's face. Perhaps getting involved with his son's romantic entanglements (or what seemed to be lack thereof) had been the cause of his own downfall. Had he not found out about the bet, then perhaps the dinner never would have taken place and Regis could have stayed blissfully unaware.

Too late for that now, and never would Regis be the same.

Regis looked away from Noctis and toward Gladiolus, who was attempting his best to pull Ignis back into sorts. It was utterly peculiar to see the proper and prim advisor, the boy he had hand-picked for Noctis to trust implicitly, with his hair and suit a mess. The wine had managed to trickle down from his lips, staining his collar and he had yet to let go of the neck of the bottle.

He motioned to the Glaive again. "It would be best if one of you drove my son and his retinue back to their apartment. Clearly they are in no shape to drive." It was clear that none of them were in any shape to even be moving, if Regis were honest with himself. However, that was not necessarily Regis's concern; he was already near having a heart attack. While it was certainly his job to care for and love his son, right now… it was best if his son was home and his boyfriends were very much far away, lest heads roll.

Regis looked down at the toy sword that he had locked the Arsenal with; he would no doubt have to explain that nifty little trick for a day in the future…

"Dad?"

Regis looked up at his son, at his panicked face, at the lasagna staining his black shirt and tangled in his hair. Gods, he looked like his mother.

"Yes, Noctis?" It was hard to keep his composure, particularly at the heavy, labored breaths from Gladiolus and the groans from Prompto. Ignis seemed borderline unconscious.

"Uh… Do I have to marry Helga?"

Regis blinked at his son. Oh, yes. Helga. "It seems you are rather preoccupied at the moment," Regis admitted. Preoccupied… that did not even begin to cover the predicament his son had himself in—

Regis shook his head violently. Those thoughts were absolutely and completely unwelcome.

"So… uh… no wedding?"

"For now." It was certainly a good thing that he had never once shown Lord Byrn nor his daughter any interest in the proposition for tying their families together. Of course, there was no reason for Noctis to know that.

Regis's head hurt, and he finally closed his eyes, focusing on breathing and the slight tinge at his hand. It was enough to pull him from his thoughts, to compose himself.

"Well, it seems that our dinner… may need to be rescheduled."

Someone whimpered.

"Can we… like… not?"

Regis allowed his heavy lids to inspect the banquet room. "Perhaps… lunch in the gardens would be better."

He took his time standing from his chair, then pulling his cane from the Arsenal. Regis was just as careful to avoid burning pieces of the Rogue Star Queen's 3rd Century wooden table and the lasagna smeared across the floor. Making his way forward, he finally reached Noctis and with one hand awkwardly pat his son on the shoulder.

He looked down at Gladiolus, who was barely holding Ignis by the back of his shirt. "You have some lasagna, right there," Regis reached up to his own beard, and Gladiolus mimicked him, dropping Ignis to the ground with a thunk. "No, no. The other side."

Gladiolus continued to rub at his beard as Regis continued past Prompto, gently prodding him with the end of his cane. "I hope we can properly eat a meal next time, Mr. Argentum."

The blond lifted one of his hands briefly, but it slapped back onto the ground. The zucchini on his shoulder plopped gracelessly onto the onyx and gold marbled floor.

Regis continued forward. There was a young kitchen staff girl at the very end of the banquet room, her hands full of a silver tray. Regis smiled to her, watching her trembling lip pull back. "That would be my dessert?"

"Ye—yes, Your Majesty," she replied.

Regis quirked his lips. "Have my Shield deliver it to my quarters."

With that he motioned to the shell-shocked Crownsguard and Kingsglaive at the doors, and marched out with all the dignity that a King held.

Later that night, when he had properly eaten a real supper (for not even the Gods would dare to upset Lady Quina) Regis allowed Clarus to take him and the Bavarois to bed. It was nice to allow his Shield to feed him the sweet raspberry jelly, and he certainly needed the comfort.

"The table was an unfortunate loss. It will be missed."

"Truly, Regis? Did you have to do that to them?"

Regis hummed as he accepted a mouthful of sweet, soft dessert. "I believe so, yes."

Clarus pulled away the spoon, eyes narrowed. "Was this the dessert prepared for dinner today?"

Regis smiled.

"Your son hates mushy food."

Regis only smiled wider.

There was a knock at the door, and Clarus was quick to pull himself from the bed though Regis was pleased to note that he did not rush to put on his jacket as he would have a few years prior. He handed the plate to Regis, who accepted it gracefully.

"Noctis is the only person who barges in without invitation," Regis reminded, only getting a tart glance from the other man.

"Who is it?" Clarus called, and Regis pointed looked down at the pink, spongy dessert. It jiggled when he pushed his spoon down.

"Ulric, sir."

"Let him in, Clarus."

The Kingsglaive looked a little worse for wear—his uniform was dirtied, traces of tomato sauce and soot clinging to the tips of his hair. Cheese had long-ago melded into his collar, but none of that seemed to bother the man. "Got Prince Noctis and the others back to his apartment."

"Were there any issues?"

Ulric tried not to smile, pulling his arms straight behind him. "We had to peel Argentum from the floor. Scientia will probably have a nasty hangover in the morning. Gladio may have dented the car door, but other than that… they'll survive."

"I'll send them something to help in the morning," Regis told the Kingsglaive. "Dismissed, Ulric."

"Yes, Your Majesty." The man did not move.

"Ah. Yes. One moment." Regis rested his spoon on the plate and put the dish on the bedside table. He clicked his fingers together, though solely for the benefit of the two others in the room, as he pulled a rather large black velvet pouch from the ether. "This would be for you. Enjoy your prize, you have certainly earned it."

The man only hesitated for a moment before accepting the pouch. He opened it, and for a moment Regis thought the man would attempt to count his winnings right there in his private quarters, but instead he pulled out a large bundle of cash.

The Kingsglaive reached out his hand toward Regis. "You won too, you know?"

Regis winced at the incredulous look Clarus shot him. "I… I think it would be better if you enjoyed the winnings on your own. I do not have any need for my own coin."

Ulric shrugged. "If you're sure, Your Majesty."

"Quite."

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