A/N: Sorry for the wait, guys. Work has been killer, and unfortunately a family member has passed away, which means I'll be absent for most of this week (unless I find some time in between funeral arrangements and such). I hope this is enough for now, and I'll post again as soon as I can!

Chapter 19:

Inertia smiled when she looked at the picture of Lunafreya's wedding dress. Her lady was over the moon, and had wasted no time in sending her correspondence. She didn't bother using Gentiana and Griseo for the task - she forwarded it to Inertia's email without hesitation. It wasn't like the Empire didn't know about the impending wedding. It might look more suspicious if the two of them didn't talk about it over open channels.

Smiling to herself, she gazed at the picture, lost in the folds and seams of the Vivienne Westwood gown. It was both simple and elegant, a dress befitting of her pure and kindhearted Oracle. She pictured her walking down the aisle - King Regis walking her by the arm in the absence of a father figure, as ordained by herself and Noctis - cast alight in the glow of the cathedral, the stained glass window depicting a grandiose Leviathan presiding over her city Altissia. She pictured Noctis's smiling face, tears in his eyes, as he gazed upon the woman he was bound to spend the rest of his life with, a reunion of childhood friends, a union of destined lovers, an alliance between partners in restoring the light back to Eos.

Tears filled her eyes at the dream in her mind, one she would never get to see.

Her duty was here at the Citadel, and she was to remain, even as the wedding proceeded, as liaison between Lucis and Tenebrae.

It was a decision she didn't understand, nor agree with, but Lunafreya had been insistent.

And it was her duty to obey.

She wondered idly to herself if Prompto would be there, or Ignis, or Gladiolus, and who would be Noctis's best man, and how the blonde and the bespectacled ones in his retinue would look in their suits, and immediately shook the thought from her mind as Cor knocked on the door of her office.

"My apologies, Inertia-" He began.

"Don't," She raised a hand and stood from her seat. "You're always welcome here, Marshal."

The two of them had grown closer in the months since her foray into the Niflheim plot to infiltrate the Citadel. Though he had questioned her loyalty before, he didn't dare challenge them since, and, if she didn't know any better, she may have guessed he even respected her a little. Her thoughts, her opinions, her capabilities as an ambassador. And as a combatant. While he was strict, and driven, and exacting, there was something utterly fatherly about him. But with Ardyn Izunia as a father, her expectations were admittedly pretty low.

"I appreciate that, milady," He still offered her a half bow before seating himself on the opposite side of her desk.

"What brings you by this morning?" She sat in her own chair, crossing her legs. If Cor was here, it must be important. He didn't do house calls just to shoot the shit.

"We've… received word from Tenebrae," He hesitated, a little uneasy.

"Oh?" She tilted her a head a little, intrigued, but confused. Most correspondence from Tenebrae was relayed through her - what was so important it needed to go over her head?

"Yes, well," Cor cleared his throat. "It seems Lady Lunafreya intends to be present for the signing ceremony. She… made it clear you didn't approve."

"Is that a surprise?" She laughed wryly. She knew of Luna's intentions; it was just official now. "Milady Luna needs to be focused on her wedding. She needn't concern herself with the goings on of the peace treaty. And, if I'm being frank, Marshal," She paused, lowering her voice. "We'd all be fools not to assume this isn't some kind of trap."

"I agree, Inertia," For a moment, just a moment, she could see his 45 years slip through. Most of the time, he looked no older than 30, a handsome, stern, strong example of a man, but here, in this moment of vulnerability, she could see how tired he was, not just from his work or his duty, but from the many years of conflict inflicted on his body. "But King Regis has made up his mind about this. None of us are in any position to disobey."

"I agree completely," Inertia nodded. "And milady has made up her mind as well. So." She ran her fingers through her hair. "What do you need from me?"

It was the first time since he'd started training that his parents' car was in the driveway.

He knew better than to get his hopes up, but his face lit up anyway, and he could feel hope well up inside him like a kid on Christmas morning.

"GUYS!" He ran inside, giddy with excitement. He pulled the pistol from his belt, rounding the corner of the entryway towards the kitchen. He could see his mom there, putting something on the stove, while his dad was on his laptop at the dining room table. As unengaged as ever; though that didn't stop Prompto's boundless optimism.

"Oh, Prompto," His mother sighed. She was a small thing, a little round in the middle, shorter than Prompto by a head. Blonde like him, but they both knew he hadn't inherited that genetically. He raced to throw his arms around her for a hug, and she lazily patted him on the shoulder, hardly returning the gesture - it was like he was gross to her, some junkyard animal she didn't want to touch.

He didn't even bother trying with his father. He hadn't hugged him since his high school graduation - and he'd been smacked across the face when they got home that day. He knew better than to try anymore.

"How was your trip?" He sat gleefully at the table, placing his pistol down, hoping one of them noticed before too long. Then he could go on and on about how training had been going, how good he'd gotten as a marksman, the intricacies of the craftsmanship of his gun, everything he hadn't been able to tell them, or anyone, besides the three friends he spent all his time with.

"Very good, very good," His father readjusted the glasses on his nose, not even sparing a glance Prompto's way. He was a large man, a broad shouldered, bushy mustached, hulking man, the opposite of Prompto, really. He didn't talk much, he didn't feel much, and he preferred to show his feelings with his fists rather than his words. What a lucky day it was when Prompto scored the Argentums as his foster family.

"When did you get back?" He lazily traced his fingers across the muzzle of his gun, waiting for one of them to notice. To notice the gun. To notice him.

"Earlier this afternoon, dear," His mother seemed far away and distracted. "We were going to have some ribs for dinner, were you going to join us?"

He thought of his friends waiting back at Noct's apartment. Ignis was cooking tonight after another long day of training, and he had come home just to shower and grab a few things.

But how often did he get the chance to have dinner with his folks?

"Yeah! Yeah, I'll scarf down whatever you cook, mom!" He beamed. Truth be told, Ignis's food tasted infinitely better than his mother's. But hers meant more to him; he rarely ever got to eat it. And it was a sort of substitute for the love she never showed him.

"And then it's back to Noctis, I assume?" His father asked absentmindedly, typing something on his laptop. It was always work with him - never play. Even on their trips his dad would take his work with him.

"Yeah, that was the plan," Prompto kicked his feet on the floor, a little awkward. "B-but I can stay here. It's been awhile since I've seen you guys."

"No, that's alright, dear," His mom assured him from the kitchen. "We wouldn't want to keep you from your friends."

"We're terribly uninteresting, I'm afraid," His dad agreed. Neither of them had even looked at him, or at his beautiful, wonderful gun.

"Oh..okay," His face fell, his shoulders too. He picked it up, defeated.

"I…I guess I'll see you when dinner's ready," He put it on his belt, heading for his room without another word.

"Of course, dear," His mother reassured him, stirring something in a pot. His father said nothing, as usual. And as usual, nothing Prompto did or said mattered. They didn't even know he'd brought a gun into the house. Neither of them cared enough to notice. Families were supposed to want to be together; parents were supposed to support their kids and encourage them. Not treat them like pests to be tolerated, or inconveniences to be escaped with months-long trips every chance they got. All he ever wanted was a family, a place to belong, and even when he had one, he didn't really have one. He wiped tears away from his eyes with the back of his glove, trying not to sniffle loud enough for them to hear, or else his dad would probably smack him again like he always did.

He wondered if Niflheim would have really been so much worse than this.

Sure, the Empire caused strife and misery for all the lands it annexed, but what about the citizens inside its borders? What about the families in their homes at night, fixing dinner for their kitchen tables, helping their kids do homework, watching TV together before bed time? Was life really so much worse for them?

He didn't wait for his mom's ribs, and he didn't say goodbye when he went out the front door. And neither of his parents bothered to care.

Another night, another delicious dinner with Iggy and the gang.

Gladiolus laid his sword down in the front hall, tiptoeing into his family's quarters. His belly was full, his hair a mess from training earlier that day. He and his friends had played King's Knight long enough that his eyes were burning, and he knew he needed sleep, especially if he was supposed to be getting up early enough for training the next morning. They'd decided to drink tonight - why, he wasn't sure. Probably a bad idea in the middle of the week. Poor Prompto had started it, and been the first to get plastered, too. The kid was a lightweight, but he was upset about something. Not that he talked about it. So Gladio didn't ask why, he just joined him for a drink or two until Noct followed. And then, eventually, Ignis too.

He threw his jacket on the floor, not even bothering to hang it up. He was a little buzzed, and supremely exhausted. He was careful not to make any noise - his dad always slept early; he had duties to perform starting at the crack of dawn. Jared, their manservant, and Talcott, his grandson, would also be sleeping by now. And given that it was past midnight, and tomorrow was a school day, Iris should be asleep, too.

But she rounded the corner and threw her arms around him in a massive bear hug that nearly knocked the wind out of him. Him, Gladiolus Amicitia, all 6'6" of him, muscles and sinews and bulk, was taken aback by his skinny little 15 year old sister. What she lacked in size she made up for in energy.

"Hey, squirt, what are you doing up?" He laughed, ruffling her hair. She'd chopped it all off recently at the start of the school year — she was tired of it, she said. But he figured it was some girly trend thing, and her just trying to fit in. But that was ok - being raised in the Citadel, he wanted her to be as normal as possible before the kingdom would ask more of her, like it did him.

"Gladdy!" She laughed when he ruffled her hair. "You really think I still go to bed early?" She scoffed. "I'm not a kid anymore."

"Yeah, I know, kid," He ran a hand through his hair. She groaned when he called her 'kid.' "Is dad asleep?"

"As always," She crossed her arms. "What were you doing out so late? Were you taking another girl out again?"

"What? No," He shook his head. "You always think I'm out with a girl." Which, in his younger days, he usually was. And he'd be lying if he said he didn't flirt shamelessly with any attractive girls he came across. But being elevated to the Crownsguard had made him more dutiful, and less prone to skirt-chasing. He didn't have the time to date anymore, not like he used to. Especially now that he was training for Noct's wedding, ushering in a whole new age with it for the kingdom of Lucis.

"You're either out with a girl or with Noct and Iggy and Prompto," She rolled her eyes. "So… you were with Noct?"

"Yeah, no big deal," He tried to make his way to the kitchen for some water - the more water he drank now, the less of a hangover he'd have in the morning.

"Is… Is Noct doing okay?" She asked sheepishly, looking at her feet. He tried not to smile - he and everyone else in the Citadel knew of Iris's crush on the crown prince, except maybe the prince himself. He found it endearing, if a little disturbing. He hoped her heart wasn't too crushed by his betrothal to Lunafreya. "I mean… with the wedding coming up and all?"

"He's doing good, yeah," He made for the fridge, grabbing a water bottle.

"That's good…" She leaned in suddenly, sniffing Gladio's collar. He reeled when she did so, but it was too late. "Gladio, you've been drinking!"
"No hiding anything from you," He winked, swigging some water. "I'm 23, Iris, it's legal."

"Yeah, but if dad found out you were doing it in the middle of the week…" She smirked. "And Prompto and Noct are underage! Were they drinking too?"

"I think that's enough for one night, kiddo," He turned her around by the shoulders, pushing her towards the hallway. "Time for bed."

"No fair!" She whined. "I wish I were an adult, already…"

"You might think that now, but you'll feel differently someday," Gladio laughed as she stalked off to bed, grumbling the whole way. He smiled to himself, gathering up his water and taking himself to bed. Training was gonna suck after a night of drinking - it would suck even more the less sleep he got.

Noctis had passed out on the couch of his apartment before even making it to his bed that evening. Gladiolus and Prompto had already left, leaving the Steward alone with the sleeping prince. Ignis, even in his slightly drunken state, had seen to it to cover him with a blanket and clean the mess in the kitchen before seeing himself out. He almost craved an Ebony, but he knew better than to mix alcohol with coffee, a depressant with a stimulant. Adjusting his glasses, he made his way to the window, looking out over the Insomnian streets below as he always did.

He could go home, back to the Citadel, back to the quarters he shared with his uncle. Surely Urentus was already asleep by now; and there was no one else with which to speak at this hour. Truth be told, he wasn't all that tired tonight. Though he could quiet his tongue, he could never quiet his mind, and as the date of the wedding approached, so too did the date of the armistice between Lucis and Niflheim. It unsettled his stomach, and it had only grown worse since Inertia had ceased all communication between him and the others in his retinue. He understood it was at the behest of the king - that this was all in Noctis's best interest, since she was a complication. Once the wedding ensued, things would improve, and she could be more forthcoming with her information with the crown prince.

But Ignis wasn't sure they had enough time for that scenario to play out.

Should the Empire decide to betray the trust of Lucis, the ideal scenario he created would never come to pass.

He tried to calm his nerves, tried to settle himself by looking out on the lights below that lined the city streets. But a quiet revelation disturbed him even more than before.

He was consumed by the status of the kingdom, the status of the armistice between Lucis and Niflheim, the role of the ambassadors in the diplomatic endeavor, all because he had nothing else to invest himself in.

He wasn't very close with his uncle. He loved him, sure, as any family member loves a family member, but their relationship was entirely founded on their duty to the kingdom, and little else. No weekends spent talking over television, or taking fishing trips together, or even cooking together. All Ignis knew of the culinary arts he'd taught himself with no input from his uncle. Nothing between them was familial at all, really. And he'd been robbed of a father and mother before he was old enough to even know what that meant.

All he had of them was the picture he kept by his bedside, the picture from when his mother was pregnant with him and his father was grinning with joy.

The day he had been introduced to King Regis, and the moment King Regis had introduced him to his son, was the day Ignis learned what it meant to have a family.

So perhaps he would stay here tonight, on the couch opposite the one Noctis occupied. Perhaps he would find another blanket, and lay down, and not think about the ghosts in his Citadel lodgings, or the silence between him and his uncle, or the way the proposed peace treaty between his kingdom and Niflheim felt hollow, or the way Inertia looked at him with eyes the color of the ice that gripped his spelldaggers. No. Tonight he would sleep in the company of the closest thing he had to a family member, if only to know what that felt like.

And when Noctis asked him in the morning why he was still here, and why he hadn't gone home, he would tell him one should never drive under the influence. With alcohol in his system, it wasn't safe to operate a vehicle back to the Citadel.

But what he told his prince would not be true.

She hugged her jacket around her shoulders a little, bracing herself against the chill of the evening. Her belly was full, and her heart was fuller, and she hesitated to even think about returning to work the next morning. She probably shouldn't have confided in Barrick about Lunafreya coming for the treaty signing - but Cor had left it up to her to decide which Glaive should be tasked with providing her an escort into Insomnia. She didn't know the Glaives, not like Barrick did, and she valued her opinion. She was mulling over his recommendations - first, Nyx, but, when she mentioned she might feel more comfortable with a woman, another capable warrior, Crowe Altius - while he was waiting at the corner of Burbank and London for the light to change. Lost in thought, she suddenly saw the shock of blonde hair among the bodies trying to cross the street. She wondered if she should try to hide her face, or turn around, or duck into an alleyway. King Regis's orders had been clear - she needn't muddle them now, not when they were so close to the peace treaty signing and the wedding.

But she noticed he was swaying a little, his eyes were heavy, his lids puffy, and he stumbled a little when he walked.

So, whether it was out of concern for him or mere morbid curiosity, she waited for him to catch sight of her.

But he didn't.

He almost walked right by her until she called after him.

"Prompto!" She touched his arm, trying to get his attention.

He hiccuped, his reaction slow, but realization hitting him like a ton of bricks.

"I-Inertia?" He seemed flummoxed by her, and his cheeks immediately flushed. "What are you doing here?"

She wasn't sure letting him know of her weekly visits to Barrick's family's house was prudent, given that he'd been feeding information to the enemy not so long ago. Not even the Citadel clergy knew of her endeavors to check on his well being, as well as that of his family - it was her little secret, both for their sake, and her own.

"I'm just coming back from a business dinner," She lied through her teeth. "Are you okay?" She hesitated, and could smell the alcohol on his breath. "Have you been drinking?"

"Only a little," He lied back, sheepish.

"That doesn't smell like a little," She took his arm, steadying him as he swayed. "You could knock a Bandersnatch out with your breath alone." She laughed a little, and he smiled; he must be drunk. Normal Prompto would have been embarrassed beyond all measure.

"Guilty," He sang a little. He leaned on her.

"And your friends left you alone in this condition?" She wondered. He tapped his toe on the sidewalk, refusing to meet her eye.

"No… not really, I mean… we were at Noct's, and…" He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. She sighed.

"Where do you live?" She questioned.

"Oh, no, that's not-"

"I'm not really giving you a choice, Argentum," She teased, though her intent was clear. He flushed again.

"I don't want you to see where I live," He murmured. It was honest, and it made her own face flush a little at its sincerity. Was he ashamed? Embarrassed? Worried she'd stalk him?

"I won't come inside," She reassured him. "But I'd like to ensure you get home safely."

"I… guess that's OK," He managed weakly. He started walking again in the direction from which they'd come, and she followed quietly, not forcing conversation upon the poor drunk kid - she was fairly certain he was underage - and wondered idly if he lived somewhere near Barrick's. But they made a left at the first block and headed East instead of South, so her suspicions were knocked right out from under her.

"What's your favorite alcoholic beverage?" She took a chance to get him talking. He paused, and for a moment she thought he might not have heard her. But eventually, he answered.

"Vodka," He said simply. Another hiccup. A slight trip.

"What kind?" She encouraged him.

"Any kind," He shrugged his shoulders.

"You don't have a preference?" She strung him along. He shook his head.

"Whatever makes me stop feeling the fastest," He mumbled. She frowned, and felt the sadness in her throat. He always wore a big, goofy grin, and eyes that danced, and hair that bounced, and not once had it ever occurred to her that maybe, just maybe, this happy-go-lucky, optimistic, innocent kid was actually in pain. A lot of it.

"I like a good Old Fashioned," She had her hands in her pockets, looking up at the night sky, the slight shimmer of the Wall around the city catching her eye. "It's the only drink I can tolerate, really."

"Why that?" He shriveled his nose at the thought of it, and she laughed.

"It's the first drink I ever had," She explained, catching his arm when he stumbled a little. She tried to ignore the way it tickled her fingertips, touching his skin instead of his sleeve. The way electricity jolted up her arm. "I suppose I'm a slave to nostalgia."

"So you don't drink anything else?" He caught himself a little when next he faltered.

"Not by choice," She shook her head. "Honestly I don't care for alcohol."

"So there's nothing you ever wanna forget?" He asked earnestly. She paused, searching for the words.

"On the contrary. There's a lot I wish to forget," She replied. "Which is why I drink at all." Honest. Sincere. They were quiet for awhile before he spoke up again.

"Why do you talk like that?" He asked suddenly. She tried not to laugh when he asked it.

"Like what?" She inquired.

"That… fancy, shmancy talk," He waved his hand around as if brandishing the air with a paintbrush, or waving a wand, and it made her laugh. "You know, the way Iggy does."

"Well, as Lady Lunafreya's retainer, I was encouraged to adopt a certain amount of decorum, and it became something of a habit," She hesitated. "But quite frankly, I can't fucking stand it."

He laughed a real belly laugh when he heard her curse. Which made her laugh, too.

"Diplomacy would be way better if you could swear all the time," He leaned on her a little, and she tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.

"Do I really sound like Ignis?" She managed through her own laughter. Prompto shook his head.

"No, Ignis sounds like he has a stick up his butt," He shrugged. "You only have, like, half of one."

"Gee, thanks," She punched him in the arm a little. She didn't even realize they'd reached their destination until Prompto stopped in front of a nice suburban home a few blocks off of Yargon Avenue. There was a garage, a chimney blowing smoke into the night sky, and a porch decorated with decor straight out of a home etiquette magazine. It was picture perfect.
"Well… this is my stop," He cleared his throat, uncomfortable. "Uh.. thanks, I guess."

"For what?' She laughed. "It's practically my civic duty to make sure town drunks get home safely."

"Town drunk, huh," He laughed weakly, eyes cast downward. She realized her mistake with a stab in the gut.

"Prompto, you're a lot more than a town drunk," She smiled up at him when he looked up from the sidewalk. "You don't give yourself enough credit. You've a lot to offer."

"I do?" His voice was small, like a child who didn't believe it when his parent told him he was good at something.

"Of course," She beamed. "You'll make some lucky girl very happy one day."

"I will?" He tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes, and part of her wondered if maybe, just maybe, he wanted that girl to be her. But wishful thinking had disappointed her before, and she shoved the thought away before it could do anymore harm.

"Prompto!" She heard a woman's voice from inside, and wondered if maybe it was his mother. She hadn't realized how close they were until she looked up into those red, bleary blue eyes, and he was only inches away. He closed his eyes, and she couldn't tell if he looked tired or hurt.

"Coming!" He yelled back. He winced.

"How bad is it?" He exhaled a little, and she could smell the alcohol in the air. She knew he was referring to his breath.

"Pretty bad," She answered honestly, chuckling. "Better get to bed before she can smell you at the door."

"Right," He rolled his eyes, moaning a little. "Moms are the worst."

"At least you have one," She smiled sadly up at him, and he blinked down at her, a little confused. But she saw understanding sink in on his face again, and he fumbled for words.

"Oh, no, shit, Inertia, I didn't mean, I'm so sorry-"

"Forget it," She winked at him, and took his hands in her own, if nothing else than to shut him up. She wasn't really in the mood to listen to more explanations of what it was like to have a mom. "Get some rest."

He looked down at their hands, breathing harder than he should. Part of her wondered if he would try to kiss her, like most guys tried to whenever they were inches away from a girl's face.

"I don't really have one either," His voice was barely above a whisper. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched the tears fill his eyes, and she could see the pain there, the pain she felt in her own heart, and knew there was an understanding between them that she couldn't exactly explain, but with a nod and a swallow, he raced inside - in the uncoordinated way only a drunk man can - before she could say anything. She watched him go, disheartened, ashamed she'd let her own shortcomings get the best of her. She hadn't meant to incite Prompto's pity, or his guilt. But she had a way of ruining all the best things she had in life - why stop in Tenebrae? It may as well extend to Insomnia, too.

All the way back to the Citadel, she tried not to think of the boy with blonde hair and blue eyes, so normally kind and bright, but tonight so sad. Instead, she focused on the cold, and only the cold, so that maybe, eventually, she would go numb, and then she'd feel nothing at all.

Noctis stirred himself awake in the middle of the night, a little confused when he saw Specs asleep on the couch across from him. It wasn't an unwelcome sight, exactly, but certainly not something he was used to seeing. But eyeing the liquor bottles on the coffee table, he yawned, remembering the amount of drinking they'd done, and figured the ever-responsible Ignis Scientia wouldn't want to drive when inebriated. Stretching a little, he rose from his makeshift bed to shuffle over to the kitchen. His throat was dry, his head hurting, and he figured water might ease the hangover he was bound to have in the morning.

But when he took the water from the fridge, he noticed the picture of Altissia on the label, and felt his heart flutter, thinking of Luna's smiling face. He'd last heard from her just earlier this evening, as Umbra had come by with their journal, and she'd said something that worried him.

Going to be at the peace treaty signing. Will meet you in Altissia.

He frowned as he took a drink, wondering why he himself was being forced to leave, his retinue in tow, but his bride-to-be would get to be there.

Something didn't feel right about this.

Things had been weird ever since the day he'd fought Inertia. He had been angry, and confused, and hurt that no one, least of all his father, had informed him of her ability to use the Royal Arms, or warp, or use magic like all the other Glaives could. Even Luna hadn't offered him up anymore information when he'd asked. Why would they all hide this from him? Since that day he hadn't seen her, not once, even around the Citadel. Not even Iggy, Gladio, or Prompto wanted to talk about her.

But he had a feeling that she was the only person who could tell him what was really going on.

He crept back onto the couch across from Iggy, setting his throbbing head down for some more rest, upon deciding, in the morning, he would go to her directly, and have his questions answered.