Chapter Two: Disquiet

Prompto grinned at the display screen on his camera, scooting down lower in his bunk to lessen the glare from the window. Man, he remembered that day like it was just last week even though it had been way longer than that. They hadn't been run over by hurt feelings and broken hearts at that point, and you could tell just by looking at how carefree they all seemed. It wasn't like they had much to worry about back then, not compared to now: Insomnia was still safe and whole behind the protection of the Wall, and that farce of a treaty hadn't brought the empire knocking yet. Everything was just so normal, or as normal as it could be when you were escorting the crown prince to his wedding. Their biggest concern had been the car breaking down and having to take care of a few monsters in order to pay for it. …Okay, that had sucked a little.

Still, this picture made it all worth it: Noct and Iggy, side by side with huge grins on their faces while Gladio laughed in the background. It wasn't exactly a pose you'd think to see from a prince and his advisor, if Prompto was being honest, but it also wasn't like anyone had been expecting much from them so far outside of Insomnia. No one out there cared if their future king and his right-hand man waved their arms at their sides as if they were doing some jazz ensemble on a stage; it was a tiny town in the middle of nowhere, and everyone went about their business as if they saw that sort of thing every day. Besides, why shouldn't they have blown off a little steam and had some laughs? They'd just gotten the car put back together (which was totally not his fault!) and were halfway to Galdin Quay. The boat to Altissia was supposed to be waiting for them, and everything should have been good.

They were allowed to enjoy the good times, right?

Flipping to the next picture, Prompto outright laughed at the goofy grin on Noct's face in the selfie they'd taken on the pier—the one that led to where the boat to Altissia hadn't been waiting for them after all. In that moment, they were completely different people than they were now, even if their photos looked remarkably similar. They hadn't bumped into Ardyn yet; they hadn't seen just what the treaty signing meant for international travel. Sheesh, they hadn't even gone on that stupid jewel hunt for Dino at that point. The next day, though… Maybe it was just because Prompto knew him so well, but he could see the difference in Noct's face so clearly that it hurt a little. He'd probably be a pretty crappy friend if he didn't notice the way the prince's eyes were a little dimmer when he laughed than they had been before, that his smiles came less frequently and with a lot more effort, and that his silence was a more common occurrence than the sarcastic barbs Prompto had come to rely on.

But the Noct on his screen? That guy was still pretty happy. Sure, he wasn't totally enthusiastic about leaving home to get married to someone he hardly knew as anything but a pen pal, but he was still Noct. He hadn't been forced to take up the mantle of king before he was ready, nor had he needed to set aside grieving his father's death to go save the world or anything. The Noct on his screen was the friend he'd grown up with, not the guy who felt like he was failing everyone for not growing up fast enough.

Prompto loved the new guy just as much, but he couldn't deny that he missed the old Noct either.

Maybe that was why he'd grabbed his camera once the others went on their way that morning and spent the last hour flipping through all the photos he'd taken on their journey so far. In the peaceful semi-quiet of their room in the sleeper carriage, he could let the last few weeks fall away and just focus on the good times. If he didn't, he thought he might lose his mind pretty soon.

That wasn't to say that things weren't slowly getting better, at least when it came to the shattered pieces of their brotherhood when they left Altissia. Ignis's outburst in Fodina Caestino had been good for something: knocking some sense into those two knuckleheads. The sniping between prince and Shield had ended, with the exception of their usual banter, but even that held a certain level of caution to it that was foreign to all of them. It was like they were worried the other would take their words the wrong way and set their fragile armistice on fire. A few hours of slightly strained conversation and having to sleep in the same room loosened them up a bit, though, and Prompto had hope that things would go back to normal soon.

Just in time for them to get to Gralea, where no one had any idea what would be waiting for them.

Awesome.

His phone going off dragged Prompto out of his thoughts and memories, and he scrabbled for the device where he'd left it on top of their bag of curatives the night before. It wasn't like he needed it half the time what with the whole Shield-mandated radio silence unless it's an emergency and all that, so knowing that someone wanted to get in touch with him made him a little nervous these days.

It didn't help at all when Gladio's name popped up with a text on his screen.

Was something wrong? Had their identities been figured out? Were there a bunch of MTs coming out of the woodwork to take them captive?

Whoa… Hold it together, Prompto. He forced himself to take a deep breath as he opened the text, thinking, It's probably nothing. Maybe the train's just gonna make it to Tenebrae early. Yeah. No biggie.

Well, they weren't in Tenebrae, but Prompto was still able to huff out an embarrassed laugh at the sight of a message fitting for Noct's Shield: "Following up a lead with Iggy. Get your ass up and keep Noct occupied."

Short, rude, and to the point. Yup, totally Gladio, all right.

Invoking his wrath wasn't exactly on Prompto's to-do list today, though, so he regretfully stowed his camera with the curatives and got up. He could finish laughing at what a dork Noct pretended not to be later.

The one problem with Gladio's text, he realized quickly, was that it hadn't really specified where he could find the prince. It was almost lunch time, which meant that their typically drowsy friend would usually still be sleeping, but he'd been up almost as early as Ignis and Gladio that morning. Prompto might have pretended to be asleep while they got ready and left the compartment, speaking in hushed tones so as not to wake him. It wasn't that he wanted to hide from them necessarily; they were his best friends, and he loved spending time with them. That didn't mean that he never needed a few minutes for himself, though, and he'd thought that now would be the best—maybe even the only—time. Once they got to Tenebrae… Well, they really didn't know what was going to happen after that.

Now, as he ducked in and out of the carriages trying to find a familiar face, he was beginning to regret his decision not to follow the others before. It would have been so much easier to find Noct if they hadn't been separated in the first place. He was almost ready to text Gladio and interrupt whatever he and Ignis had gotten up to when he stopped dead in his tracks to stare out a window with his mouth hanging open.

That's…something you don't see every day.

Maybe he was understating that just a little bit. Insomnia was pretty consistent when it came to the weather, and Prompto didn't have a whole lot of experience with the outside world, but…he suspected that deserts didn't usually move in next door to blizzards. It just didn't seem like something that made a whole lot of sense.

But this was the empire, and the empire loved not making sense! Well, mostly its chancellor, but hey. Semantics.

As the train sped through the sparse mining towns (if you could even call them that), the mountains in the distance were getting pummeled with snow. It was so weird: cool air was blowing through the train purely because it was so warm outside. The dusty landscape with its scrubby little bushes was as dry as a bone, so much so that Prompto highly doubted the area had seen any rain whatsoever recently. Yet it was still snowing probably no more than a mile away.

Was he dreaming this? No one else looked nearly as confused or worried as he did about the world going crazy. Maybe he hadn't actually woken up and Gladio's text was all in his head, just like this weird weather?

Nah, he never got that lucky. Besides, the way a tremor went up his spine with the sudden feeling of being watched was too real to be a figment of his imagination. Alongside the insane sight outside, Prompto had to admit the whole thing was starting to freak him out a little.

Gotta find Noct.

In general, it wasn't good manners to run through a train. There were lots of people who shot you dirty looks for bumping into them, and kids seemed to think that just because one person was running, it meant that they should be allowed to as well… Yeah, not good manners at all.

Prompto did it anyway. He sped through that train so fast that he might have beaten a few of his previous records on those old morning runs he used to need to stay in shape. (After he began working with Gladio on some self-defense, and especially once they started kicking daemon ass and taking names, he found he was doing all right without the added exercise these days.) A few people yelled at him to slow down, but he didn't pay them any mind. It had already been a few minutes since Gladio texted him, which meant that Noct had been by himself all that time. These people could deal with one guy in a hurry.

By the time he finally found Noct in one of the far too many dining cars, Prompto was just about out of breath from a combination of effort, disquiet, and the surety that Gladio would roast him alive to add to a Cup Noodles if he didn't make it to the prince pretty damn fast. He got lucky—Noct was just fine. No one was looking at him funny, whether in recognition or something more sinister, and it appeared that he was just calmly watching the same phenomenon that had delayed Prompto.

Gladio-sized crisis averted!

Prompto almost overshot the table in his enthusiasm and had to catch himself on the floor as he tripped over his own two feet. "Whoa! There you are, buddy!"

Noct didn't immediately turn to look at him, so Prompto took a moment to lean against the table and catch his breath, nodding towards the unlikely snowstorm.

"Did you see this? It's unreal!"

"Yeah," agreed Noct, sounding just as incredulous as Prompto felt. "Never seen anything like it… Doesn't make any sense."

That was for sure—at least it wasn't just him. Wouldn't it totally be their luck if this was some new trick Niflheim had up their sleeve? They already ruled most of the world now and had their thumb firmly set on the places they didn't, so it didn't seem all that far-fetched that they found some way to control the weather, too. This was a technological powerhouse they were talking about; if they could manufacture countless MTs to send after one wayward prince, a weather machine would probably be pretty easy for them.

And that was only if they hadn't figured out some way to use the Crystal to do it.

Can they do that, though? I mean, it's supposed to be only Noct's family that can make it work…

Maybe he was getting ahead of himself, but there was no denying that weirder things had happened. Like, ohhh, blizzards in the desert, maybe?

Noct abruptly slid out of his seat and pushed past Prompto into the aisle, probably to get a better look at the view from the other side of the train. "What's going on?"

"It's a real mystery," murmured Prompto with a shrug. "I'm not liking that snow cloud. Kind of gives me the chills. Like, who comes up with this stuff?"

And that right there was when everything went wrong.

Noct had never looked at him like that, as if…as if he was some kind of enemy. Even when they were kids and Prompto was positive his mere presence annoyed just about everybody, he'd never been subjected to that gaze. Indifference, lack of recognition, uncertainty—sure. But this? It was like Noct didn't know who he was. Or, even worse, he did and wasn't a fan of what he saw.

And if his expression was bad, it was nothing compared to the way he darted forward and tried to punch Prompto right in the face a second later.

"The hell are you doing here!?" he shouted, drawing the attention of basically everyone in the carriage.

Prompto just barely managed to dodge his fist, staggering backwards and stammering, "Whoa, what's going on!?" When Noct wheeled around and stalked towards him again, Prompto harmlessly held his hands up in front of him, palms out. "Easy there, buddy. Didn't see that coming. You alright?"

Noct didn't answer, using his surprise to attack him again—only this time, he summoned his sword first.

"Shut up!" he practically screamed. A few people rose out of their seats in shock as he sliced downwards, a move that would have easily left Prompto in two pieces had he not thrown himself back a few feet at the last second.

"Be careful there!" Prompto exclaimed, retreating slowly with wide and disbelieving eyes. His heart was pounding out of his chest, just as likely to kill him as Noct seemed determined to. "Wait—is this for real?"

Yes. Apparently, it was.

His admittedly well-rehearsed self-preservation instincts took over before he could see what Noct did next: he ran. Prompto was out the door and heading for the next carriage a few rapid heartbeats before Noct's footsteps began to pursue him, his mind almost tripping him up rather than his feet this time. Why the hell was Noct attacking him? What had he done wrong!?

Now was obviously not the time to ask Noct that question, so Prompto flew through the sleeper car towards the next carriage, only stopping when the bang of a door echoed behind him and Noct stopped running. Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted the guy who was supposed to be his best friend throwing open one of the compartments and yelling, "Show yourself!"

Uh… Wha-?

It was stupid—really stupid—but Prompto backtracked anyway. A huge part of him didn't want to believe that Noct was chasing him down like some kind of criminal, content to imagine that this was all part of the dream he'd thought he was having earlier. If it was, then maybe Prompto could talk some sense into him.

"Uh…" He leaned in behind the prince, glancing over his shoulder at the empty bunks. "Noct?"

Another punch.

Nope, not liking the whole sense thing right now! Very much not liking it!

So, he ran. From his best friend. Who was scaring the hell out of him even as he cursed Prompto so quietly that he almost missed it.

He had just about reached the other end of the next carriage when Noct burst through the door, the few passengers in their audience following his progress with interested gazes.

"C'mon, Noct. You're scaring me!" Prompto finally whimpered, backing towards the door. "Seriously, man, cut it out!"

Noct didn't even falter. Ducking into the interchange, Prompto clutched a stitch in his side and wondered a few things, not least of which being just how much longer he could keep this up. Eventually, they were going to run out of train.

And then the traitorous voice in the back of his head, the one that had stalked his steps ever since he was a little kid, just had to put its two gil in.

This is why Gladio really texted you, it sneered. Why else would he and Ignis conveniently vanish just in time for Noct to try to kill you? They were ordered to—he wanted to kill you, and now he has his chance.

But that couldn't be it! He and Noct were best friends! Maybe he wasn't quite as close with Ignis or Gladio, but he liked to think that they cared about him at least a little bit—definitely enough to question why Noct would want him dead and maybe stop the prince before he tried!

Where were they, though? If this was real and not just some crazy dream, then why weren't they here to help him? To help Noct control himself so he wouldn't have to feel the regret later?

Noctis wasn't a murderous person. Hell, he wasn't even a vengeful person. No matter what Prompto had done, he wouldn't resort to this—never this.

Yet here they were, running through the train like a couple of wild men, Noct conjuring weapons and attacking him as though no one else existed.

Realizing it made Prompto gasp out, "It's not safe," when they were once again contained in the same carriage, not that Noct seemed to care all that much. "Plus, you're causing a scene."

Nope, no shits given.

"Quit playing around, okay?"

That got him another sword to the face as Noct cried out, "You think this is funny!?"

Not at all, but it was getting beyond ridiculous. "Dude, are you seriously trying to kill me!?"

"Why wouldn't I!?"

Prompto felt his heart grow cold the moment he heard those words, and he stumbled over himself in the next interchange. With sudden clarity, he knew what it was he had done.

He was born a Niff.

Why else would Noct want him dead? He must have found out somehow, realized that his so-called friend was a traitor and decided to get rid of him before he could turn his back on all of them. After all, what good had Niflheim ever done for Lucis? They'd stolen Noct's dad from him, his kingdom, his throne—they'd even taken his fiancée-slash-friend-slash-wingman to the Astrals. Why should Prompto live when everything he represented was evil?

He didn't realize he'd stopped moving, frozen in anguish, until Noct's voice broke through his stupor. "I've got you now!"

Whipping around, Prompto raised his hands to defend himself even though he knew it was useless. If Noct wanted to kill him, he could do it regardless of how hard Prompto tried to hold him off. He considered just giving up when he felt his back hit the wall, a certain finality to the sensation. Dead end.

"What're you after, following me around this whole time?" Noct snarled as he approached. If it were possible for Prompto's stomach to fall further, it totally would have. "It's all your fault…"

"What are you talking about?" he couldn't stop himself from blurting out just before Noct slammed him against the wall, his forearm pressed tightly to Prompto's throat. He understood why Noct was mad at him for being a Niff, but…did he really blame Prompto when he hadn't actually done all those awful things himself? "Do you really mean that, Noct?"

There was no hesitation in his eyes or his voice as Noct retorted, "Of course I do! You can't talk your way out of this!"

Maybe not, but Prompto was the one who talked his way out of detention when their high school math teacher caught him skipping class to take pictures of squirrels. (It was springtime, and they were all cute and chubby from those acorns they'd eaten to stay plump all winter, okay? So sue him.) If anyone could do it, he could.

"You won't even let me!" he pointed out, pushing against Noct's arm to get some air back in his lungs. "Noct, please. Can't we talk for a sec?"

"Never."

Muscles twitching with the effort of keeping Prompto pinned, Noct backed off slightly even though his expression clearly indicated he didn't want to hear this. If he had it his way, his sword would have already impaled Prompto through the gut and this whole thing would have been over—Prompto knew that much. If he could just get Noct to listen—

There wasn't time. An explosion rocked the train, throwing Noct backwards; he hit his head against the hard floor and went still.

Gulping down the air he'd been running short on, Prompto slid down the wall to the floor. This wasn't what he'd expected when he woke up today—not even close. He knew he should be worried that there was apparently something wrong outside the train; distant shouts of confusion and panic weren't lost on him. That didn't make it any easier to move, nor did it help him tear his eyes away from where Noct lay unconscious for even a moment.

"N-Noct?"

Against his better judgment, he crawled closer and put a trembling hand on the prince's shoulder. Well, he was still breathing. That was something, at least. Of course, he'd probably still be ready to kill Prompto the second he woke up, but that was for later. He'd somehow been given the blessing of an extra minute to figure out what the hell was going on, so he'd take it while he could.

Or, that was the plan, anyway.

"Oh, dear. What an awkward turn of events."

Prompto didn't think as he jumped protectively in front of Noct; he didn't stop to consider the fact that he'd just been chased through a train and nearly murdered at least half a dozen times. None of that mattered—not the pain of knowing Noct wanted him dead or the fact that he would have succeeded if Prompto moved even half a second too late. It meant nothing at all when the chancellor of Niflheim stood framed in the doorway to the next carriage, that seemingly benign but actually evil little smirk on his lips.

"You!" exclaimed Prompto, his voice hoarse from pleading with Noct. It was like someone had turned on the lights in a dark room, and all of a sudden, everything made sense. "Y-You did this!"

Ardyn pressed a hand to his chest, feigning offense as he simpered, "Me? Why, I hardly know what you mean, dear boy."

"Like hell you don't!"

"If you ask me, it would seem that His Highness has quite taken leave of his senses."

"And who's he got to blame for that?" growled Prompto. Before he'd really thought out the whole let's attack the imperial chancellor thing, he was charging towards the guy.

Without a weapon, because why not?

What he didn't expect was to run headlong into a metal door, groaning as every limb lit up with pain. He somehow managed to ignore it long enough to turn and face the chuckling monster behind him, summoning his firearm—

What the hell!?

There were two Nocts. Why were there two Nocts!? One was still very much unconscious while the other sneered at Prompto from where he was leaned up against the door to the outside of the immobile train. There was just no way…

One of them was Ardyn—had to be. Apparently, it wasn't in the chancellor's best interests to play with his head, because he wasn't exactly making it hard to figure out which was which. The Noct in the doorway was wearing the same smug, superior expression that Ardyn seemed to have permanently painted onto his face. But how was it possible? The guy was a politician, not a magician. Maybe it wasn't the weather that Niflheim was controlling, after all—maybe they'd come up with some kind of machine that could change your appearance so you looked like someone totally different!

Was that why Noct—his Noct—had attacked him? If Ardyn was on the train with them, had he used whatever device was making him look like the prince to change Prompto into someone else?

Three guesses who, he thought darkly, reflecting on Noct's nonsensical ramblings. Everything suddenly seemed so obvious.

Rather than attacking Prompto the way his best friend had, the fake Noct let him think things through as if he wanted Prompto to realize the gravity of the situation: that their enemy had the technology or the magic or the whatever to become whoever he wanted—and they'd be none the wiser.

"What did you do?" he whispered in horror. The fake Noct's smirk grew wider.

"I merely helped dear Noct see past your sweet, innocent surface to who you truly are underneath."

He even spoke with Noct's voice, but Prompto couldn't dwell on it when his blood congealed with the implications of that answer. Did… Did Ardyn know…?

If he did, he wasn't telling. Instead he slid open the door and vanished through it, his eyes daring Prompto to follow.

For a second, all Prompto could do was stare numbly after him. If the chancellor knew where he came from and who he was, there was no telling what he'd do with that information. The fact that he could easily tell Noct was the least of his concerns, and the relief he thought he would have felt at his secret still being safe never made an appearance. Prompto's eyes sought out his unconscious best friend, his gaze blurry with guilty tears at having thought that Noct would seriously want him dead for something like where he was born. That just wasn't who he was. Maybe he would have sent Prompto away, or it would have driven a wedge between them even if the former allowed him to stay, but killing him? No, it wasn't Noct.

But it was the kind of game Ardyn would play to make him think that was the case.

So, although he hated the idea of leaving Noct by himself even without Gladio's orders to stick with him, Prompto whispered an apology under his breath and went after Ardyn. Enough was enough.