i'll love you for a thousand more (i)
"Alge?"
Lindhard watched the boy perched on the windowsill, his knees were pulled up to his chin and a small finger drew senseless things on the fog covering the glass. Her eyes lingered on his knobby knees and pointy elbows, signs that he wasn't eating enough.
Again.
That worried her, especially since he used to be chubby when he was younger. She could still remember the feel of his swollen cheeks between her fingers, the frown he would give her when she did so.
"Alge?" She repeated a little louder. He didn't hear her. She said it three times more.
The boy always took more time than what was considered normal to answer to his given name.
He stopped finally; an unfinished silhouette of what she thought was a rabbit beneath the pad of his finger. Her son turned his head her way and she felt a pang deep inside her.
Maybe it was the blonde hair, pointing in several different directions, or maybe the doe blue eyes shining with both a spark of joy and a dozen shadows that hinted at ghosts no child his age should ever know. Maybe it was the map of freckles on his pearl white body, running down his legs, his arms, appeared numerous on his thighs, on his face, on the bridge of his nose. All of them, features he had not inherited from either his mother or father.
And Lindhard knew why.
The face she saw in the mirror was so different from his. Brunette, almond shaped green eyes, naturally tanned skin. Her husband had it worse with his coffee skinned complexion, dark eyes and rough angles where their son was soft…
Every time she saw him, she couldn't help but feel a stab of pain.
He smiled, lowered one leg so it was left hanging. "Yes, mom?"
"Ah…" She had called out to him instinctually, without really thinking about it. Seeing him being quiet, opposed to how overexcited he would normally act, made her feel a nervous anxiety. She should have been used to it; after all she had been feeling it for years now. "I… I just wanted to know what you were doing. Did I interrupt you, sweetie?"
"Nope" He said, making emphasis on the "p".
There was a juice stain near the hem of his shorts, the cuffs of his new shirt dusted with crayon powder, his shoelaces poorly tied just like whenever he was on a hurry. She hadn't noticed him making a mess of himself. He looked as antsy as she felt.
"I was… killing time"
"I see"
She wanted to say more, something along the lines of how he's never just killing time but then she remembered. Today was the day, of course Alge was acting out of character, it shouldn't have been a surprise. But truth be told she had forgotten (or had tried to), nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, her son was his happy bubbly self, and in the blink of an eye a week had passed.
It was time.
Lindhard's hand reached out to ruffle the sunny mop of hair, massaging his scalp while doing so. Alge huffed, secretly delighted and annoyed. "Mom, stop that! I'll be thirteen soon, you can't keep doing that anymore!"
That's it, she thought. He's only twelve. Yesterday he was being born and now he's twelve and it hasn't stopped feeling like I'm keeping him on borrowed time. Time we don't have. Time he does not have.
Yes, son, I won't be able to do this forever.
She didn't voice any of this, she kept these thoughts inside because just thinking about how many people had said the exact same words to him (another woman, in another life, the ones before her), reminding him of the inevitable, was heartbreaking. Why ruin the few moments of happiness he had left talking about what was to come?
"I'll do it for as long as I want to. I'm your mother after all" She tried to smile but it felt wrong. Not wanting him to notice her shift in mood, she turned away quickly and went to sit on the living room, throwing over her right shoulder "Okay, I'll leave you to your 'killing time'. Don't do anything I wouldn't do"
Once on the couch, she turned the TV though instead of watching it, she buried her face on her hands.
Twelve years that felt like a lifetime. Twelve years that fell too short.
She had thought her entire life, until Alge was born, that this kind of things only happened to other people. To those in fairytales, those chosen ones, those predetermined by the Gods, those blessed by whoever. Not to her. Never her. She was a simple woman, born into a simple life outside of Insomnia, living in a simple farm house with simple siblings and parents.
She had thought her entire life it would be someone else, not her, who would pick up her son's drawings and see not a family picture but the faces of strangers, famous but still strangers, staring back at her from the paper. A sturdy man, tattoos all over his arms, a scar on his chest and across his face. Another one, while he was tall not as big as the other, glasses on his face and a no-nonsense expression. Letters addressed to a "Lady Lunafreya". A girl with a pixie cut and a happy smile. What seemed to be a mechanic. A gray haired mercenary. More pictures kept appearing on every surface in the house, intimate, full of warmth. Gladiolus and Iris Amicitia, Ignis Scientia, The Oracle Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, Aranea Highwind, Cindy Aurum … They were important figures in Eos history, each and every one of them had played an important role in saving the world from becoming the realm of daemons. They also were all long dead. And Alge drew them, read about them, cried out for them in his sleep (and she would close her eyes and pretend she couldn't hear anything to keep herself from breaking), talked about them with so much fondness…
She'd jokingly tell her husband, to hide her own uneasiness, that it was Alge taking photos with the tip of his fingers, with ink, colors, markers, pencils, whatever he put his hands on. She pretended it was normal.
She had thought she would never have to quit her job, worried as she got the more Alge grew up and in the end, the increasing fear of losing her first and only son overcame reason. Clark, her husband, immersed himself into working in the city and she tried to ignore that, slowly but surely, he was drifting away bit by bit (it was because he couldn't handle being too close, too long near Alge for he was terrified of getting attached to what wasn't meant to last).
It had never crossed her mind that out of all the millions of people in the world, she would have to be the one to see her five year old son freeze in the middle of play time, his eyes widening like plates and in the place where two sky blue irises used to be, a golden symbol take residence. His little body shaking with tremors, her hand over her mouth in horror despite expecting something like that happening, his eyes clearing, his small voice telling her I'm fine mama, why are you crying?
She wondered if this was how every woman that had ever given birth to The Seer had felt like. She wondered if all of them had felt as hopeless as she did right then. Knowing that the son she loved with her soul (that they had all loved) wouldn't last a day over fifteen. Four years, she had prayed in the dead of night for Alge to be one of those rare cases where The Seer actually managed to reach twenty given the late appearance of the visions, like the Original Seer who saved them from the Fall. Her prayers were not answered however. That didn't turn out to be the case as she understood that day when Alge turned five and had his first-
Knock. Knock.
Startled from her train of thought, she jumped from the couch, her heart on her throat.
Time of self reflection and self pity was over: he had arrived. How had she missed it, the noise of the many engines of cars, of the wheels crushing grass and earth and stone?
Somewhere on the house, Alge made a gleeful noise, a mix of exclamation, gasp and sigh he probably didn't know he made in these kinds of situations and this time around now that she was paying attention to her surroundings, she heard the sound of his footfalls running to the door. To their guest.
She fixed her clothes before heading to the front door.
The sight that greeted her emerald eyes was a thing of wonder, something she never knew how to comprehend no matter how many times she had witnessed it over and over throughout the years. The door wide open, bright sunlight filtering in. Alge, skinny arms and legs wrapped around the young arrival like a monkey, his face resting on the crook of his shoulder. The man stood unsteady, his hands holding onto the door's frame as if to keep from falling over; Alge most likely jumped him the moment he opened the door. After regaining back his balance, his arms flew to immediately return the fierce embrace he was being subjected to, crushing the boy to his chest as if it hadn't been a week but years without seeing each other. While Lindhard could not see her son's face, she could perfectly see the man's and even now she was still taken off guard by the unguarded, vulnerable expression full of raw emotion he wore. Although his eyes were closed, it was so easy to read the relief, the joy, the pain, the… love… he felt…
An ache similar to the one she had felt earlier stung her and she had to look away, a conundrum of opposing emotions fighting inside her. She didn't know which one she was supposed to listen. To distract herself from the conflict within, she focused on their guest.
Jet black expensive clothes, from his shoes to his head, with his silky black hair, aristocratic features, smooth skin. Handsome and distant, he was of average height but he made up for it with his imposing presence, there was no mistaking him for someone of no consequence. Especially for Lindhard. How could she ever not recognize the young man his son drew the most, who was always on the back of all his notebooks, whose name was written literally and metaphorically on everything Alge owned, who had appeared on the very rainy night the boy was born to change her universe drastically?
He was known by many names. The Chosen King, King of Kings, Immortal King, Savior, Favored by The Grand Six, Favorite of the Gods, King of Lucis. Guardian of The Seer, Noctis Lucis Caelum.
"Noctis, you're back!" Squealed the blond boy in his arms.
"Of course I'm back, stupid. We do this every week" The King of Lucis snorted, his intimidating blue orbs open now, trying to go for an annoyed tone but his arms tightened around Alge nonetheless when it seemed like he was beginning to slip.
"Hey, what do you mean stupid? You are the one who's always late, peas for brains" Muttered a salty Alge.
"Says the one with a chocobo butt for a hairdo"
"That joke is as outdated as you are old man"
"So you do admit it was funny?"
"I never said that. When did I say that?"
"You just did. You called it a "joke" ".
"Ugggh.. .That was so…Why are you like this?...Whatever" Huffed the blond. She didn't need to see her son's face to know he was pouting, or at least pretending to do so "You're the worst"
"And still you missed me"
"I…"
Pause.
Silence.
The mood decreased from light hearted to heavy and glum in a second.
And in an unexpected burst of honesty, the twelve year old confessed softly "You know I always miss you, Noct"
The King froze. Tried to smile but failed, his face was a blank slate. It reminded her of her hand in her son's hair and her failed attempt to smile as well.
"…I always miss you too, Prompto" He whispered, brokenly. Blue eyes darkened and red rimmed, he looked like one of those people who had shed enough tears to last a lifetime and therefore were unable to cry anymore.
That did it. The whole scene made her feel unwelcome, like she didn't belong, watching from the sidelines as the two of them shunned the outside world. Even if it ended up lasting only three minutes, that brief exchange was enough for her to see how everything else faded away in the background, how everything was relegated to second place whenever they were together. And the name. That name. The name of The Seer that started it all, she had read about him as a child, had sung poems and odes in his name, had seen the documentaries, had been taught about him in school and being nonethewiser back then, she had admired him. Now that she had seen the real cruelty of fate, she tried to deny his existence, tried to unsee his traces that lived on inside Alge (tried to unsee that Alge was entirely, completely him).
Prompto Argentum. The First Seer in many years and in ways, also The Last. With his peculiar characteristics that Alge, and Godwin, and Draconius, and Pete, and every Seer child before him had been bestowed upon along with that cursed gift. Lindhard had done her research, knew that the similarities the all had in common were more pronounced than what she'd initially reborn, forever tied to a never-ending loop, forever bound to The King in life and death.
Staring at Alge in those moments, sometimes she thought…
This is not my son. How many lives have you stolen? How many children have been sacrificed, how many families destroyed so you could be able to reunite with him, when no one else has the chance to…?
Sometimes she couldn't help but be bitter, sometimes she forgot she had ever loved the child. Sometimes she wished for something different (for what should have been hers and only hers).
Almost as if sensing her dark thoughts, The King finally tore his attention away from the child and focused it on her. The previous atmosphere vanished into thin air. Chills descended down her spine, her hair stood on end in alert; it was an involuntary reaction to the sudden hum of ominous power that seemed to cling to the man. There was no way she would ever get used to being in presence of royalty, she still had no idea how to act in front of him because no matter how different he acted with her son, that not necessarily translated to how he acted with everybody else. Besides, he was The King, he was…
"I apologize for my rudeness, Mrs. Lya. I must admit I have been caught off guard" he said this while pinching Alge on the arm whom unexpectedly yelped and let go of the King's neck. The King rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'drama queen' and he gently put the blond back down.
"What the hell was that for?!"
"Language, Alge!" She scolded automatically.
He jumped and turned around so fast she almost feared he would break his neck. He grinned back at her sheepishly, his right hand rubbing his neck in nervousness, a blush spreading across his cheeks and nose, making his freckles stand out. "Sorry mom, totally forgot you were there, hehe"
Ah…
A cold dreadful feeling settled itself in her stomach.
"Should have named you Forgetful instead of Prompto"
She wanted to tell him to stop calling her son by that name.
What she said was "No harm done, Your Highness. I know better than most how excited he gets when you come visit this little monkey"
"Excited to kick his butt at my new game, you mean" Alge piped in. The blush expanded up to his ears.
To him, The king said "As if" and to her "Oh, right. As usual, I've ordered the Kingslaive to stay outside the house. I assure you, they won't bother you at all Mrs. Lya."
"That's quite alright, thanks, Your Majesty"
After that, they all fell into awkward silence. She didn't know what to say, how to act asides from making polite small talk that would prove meaningless in the end and a waste of time to the two of them.
Alge looked between the two before clapping his hands together "So, the game. Dad brought me a new Justice Monsters, wanna check it out?" It wasn't really a question, he was already latching onto the King's hands and pulling him in the direction of his room. Successfully distracted, Lindhard felt that she could breathe again now that she held no longer The King's gaze.
"Really? Another one? I can still remember when it was just an arcade thing at The Crow's Nest"
"I know right? Crazy how there are movies and cell phone games..."
Her eyes remained glued to their backs as they ventured further inside the house. Alge whose head barely reached his shoulder (in three years he'd be almost the same height), and The King all dressed in black. Hand in hand. Light and dark. The sun and the moon. The King's naturally somber visage was softened to the point he could have been someone else, a side of him almost no soul had ever seen and her son's face was so radiant it was painful to watch him.
Despite her own feelings in the matter, she couldn't deny, at least not right then, that there was something so pure about it. About them. A sentiment so innocent and so warm it made her think that they had probably found what thousands of others had died searching for. What had made the world turn in and out of itself in search of that one thing that would make it better and whole and happy, they already had it.
In her younger days, when she had nothing to do with Seers and Kings, she would read about them, their story, and think it was the most romantic and beautiful tale there could ever be. Prompto Argentum offered his life to the Astrals for Noctis Lucis Caelum, his beloved. The Gods did not only save The King but gave him immortality as his newfound calling was to be the eternal Guardian of The Seer, who was to be reincarnated over and over. The moment the actual Seer died, immediately after a new Seer was born someplace else in Eos and somehow, The King always found him, as if he could sense Prompto's location by instinct. She had thought it magical and had failed to see the true cruelty in the fact, too focused on the fairytale aspect to understand reality, because the truth was that by every inch the Gods gave in, there would be punishment. The Gods gave in to Prompto's whim, their punishment was to condemn the King not to a life but to a lifetime, an eternity of being forced to watch Prompto's short lifespan slowly fade with each vision, never having enough time with him… It was a loop, a continuum, a circle, there was no end to them. As long as there was a Guardian, there would be a Seer and as long as the Seer lived, The Guardian had to be there by his side.
Lindhard saw that now.
But back then, she had been young, naïve and most of all a dreamer. And she remembered dreaming about sharing the same fate without truly understanding the horror of their circumstances. She remembered being just like any other teenage girl watching the live stream of the royal wedding with her two older sisters, swooning and cooing and wishing for a wedding talked about as theirs. The Seer of the occasion, Wendari if she recalled correctly, was never referred to by his name of birth but as Prompto Argentum. He wore his official Seer clothes with a few changes to make it more appropriate to be wedding attire and The King wore a new version of his royal uniform. The ceremony although grand and luxurious was in no way less welcoming, if anything she could have sworn that during the time of the celebration the world felt a little brighter, a little warmer.
It was tradition for the Guardian King to wed the Seer on the day of his fifteenth birthday, since it was well known that more often than not the young man died a couple of months after turning fifteen and if he was very lucky, he would last to the day the original Prompto Argentum died at his twenty years of age. After the union was ascertained, the Seer would live in the palace for as long as the visions allowed him and he would reign alongside his King. Ironic really, how her younger self fawned over those trivial things but in present time, now that Lindhard was at the center of the storm and it was her son, not someone else's, the one to die a teenager and get married and leave the house at only fifteen, well… her perspective on things had certainly changed a lot.
Three more years. That was all she had and then, he would be gone in smoke, like an overly long sad dream or nightmare (she could not decide) she hadn't been able to wake up from. Maybe when it finally ended…
No.
Absolutely not.
Taking a deep breath, she composed herself. How surprising really, she had never known how self centered she could be. She wasn't like this, today was a weird day, she wouldn't normally act in this insensitive way, feeling resentful towards the King of Lucis, even towards her own son. She had been nonstop complaining, behaving more paranoid and wary than usual. What was wrong with her?
The answer was glaringly obvious: she was burned out. However, that did not excuse her. It could not justify thinking of Alge as a thief of lives. Or anything she had thought of.
Guilt began to surface like stomach acid, for each negative thought she had had Lindhard felt like hitting herself in the face. Guilt for blaming the King, for not making an effort to understand outside of her own problems because in the end, even if she was suffering it could never compare to how the King felt, now couldn't it? After all, for Lindhard, it'd be just once. Painful but only once. On the other hand, how many times had Noctis Lucis Caelum already lost Prompto Argentum? In five hundred years, how many Prompto's had he seen open their eyes to a new world only to see their light perish in what, for him, must feel like a minute? How did he still retain his sanity? How was he able to take care of his people and bear the burden of playing Guardian to a dead end? How could he still love Prompto, despite everything?
Amazing, unbelievable but true, The King had never looked at no other but his Seer, never married anyone else, never tried to produce an heir. His eyes were firmly centered on Prompto Argentum no matter how much time passed. And yet the pain he had to feel… she could not even begin to imagine…
Worse than that, to fathom the pain Prompto himself has to carry-That Alge has to carry-
She felt a drop fall on her hand. She looked down. It was a tear. Shaking, she raised trembling fingers to her face and felt the wet trails… When had she started crying? Better yet, how had she ended up sitting on the couch again? Losing time, that was not good. Had she been that immersed in her thoughts she had not noticed the world turning around her? This was worse than the episode earlier.
The woman stood up and reached for her phone lying on the table. She turned it on, unlocked it, checked the hour and found herself surprised at the numbers on the screen. Two hours had passed since The King arrived!
Hurriedly, she went to look for them certain that a something that had been eluding her the entire day would be revealed when she found them. Soon she realized they were not inside the house and it was only when she looked out the windows in the back of the house that she saw them. They were sitting on the grass, the King uninterested in the state of his dress pants with his legs folded, his arms at his side supporting his weight and Alge was sprawled out on the ground, pointing somewhere up above.
She stood there inside the house, her hands pressed against the window pane, seeing them in a new light. Again doing something she wouldn't normally do. What she would normally do was leave them to their own devices until it was time to say goodbye but there she was. Today was a day for change, it seemed.
They talked. They laughed. They messed witch each other like they were both five year olds. Like they had known each other their entire lives. Like they were simply two best friends hanging out with each other after school despite the age gap. Like she used to hang out with Clark and her gang of friends in middle school, then high school. And there was actually nothing remarkable about them. They looked normal, comfortable, and natural together; every reaction and interaction was spontaneous and yet while being nothing out of this world it felt still…
It felt meant to be.
The more she watched them, the more she began to see a truth about herself. The reason why she had acted so stingy all day long. It wasn't just only because she was burned out. She understood finally, as she observed them interact and witnessed the air of finality surrounding them, how the King looked at her son like he was everything and how Alge returned back the stare. Seeing them act so happy when they knew what was coming.
A fact. A truth. A dormant realization. Lindhard had given up on Alge since The King had knocked on her door the night he was born. She had already let go of his tiny hand, she had let go of his smiles and seeing him grow. She had given up from the start and that was what was eating her inside, corroding her soul.
But had the King of Kings given up on Alge, on Prompto? No. The universe kept beating him down, spitting on his face and yet he had not given up on him. He was still there, holding onto the impossible, holding on onto what was not meant to last. Her resentment steamed from nothing else but that, her own inability to cling to her child knowing he would die (she was no better than her husband).
The King was laughing loudly at something he did to Alge. Alge rubbed a muddy hand on his face and in return, The King took a handful of grass to decorate Alge's hair. Alge… no, Prompto Argentum stuck out his tongue and then burst into giggles, swatting the King's hands away from his hair.
Lindhard, dry throat and dry tears, wondered if The King would ever be able to let go.
If he would ever have to let go.
If you have any thoughts, want to share some ideas, some headcanons, how to make it better, how to expand this universe, some fan art (I'd be so honored),want to collaborate, whether you liked it or didn't, or simply leave a review, don't be afraid to write to my personal tumblr: thirstyforhughdancy or comment right here on ff 3 Thanks for reading, I love you all