AN: Thank you so much to my beta reader Elillierose for the advice on this one. I had a bit of a hard time making it sound the way I wanted it to, but now I can say I'm happy with it. I hope you like it!

Also, thank you to all of you who've left comments and especially the critique! Your feedback had me reassess how I want to write the coming events out, and it just made the whole idea of the tone I'll be using a lot clearer.

Here's the fourth!

The low humming of the crappy air conditioning was the only other sound in the darkness, in addition to his own slow, deep breaths. The ship shook constantly; he could feel the engines as the rattles resonated in the metal structures. A slow inhale, and an even slower exhale.

Prompto lied on his back, splayed on the concrete. He had his eyes open, although it made no difference. His cell had no windows, no lamps, not a single source of light. He had had his cell phone, but that had ran out of battery maybe two hours ago. Or three, or a half, he didn't know. He had no idea what time it was, how long they had been held captive.

He felt cold. Little trembles ran along his limbs constantly; Prompto wasn't sure it had anything to do with the temperature, though. 'Traitor.' Everything that had been said rang in his head. 'Planted into Lucis.' He would willingly sacrifice his aim arm to unhear them. 'Accomplished your task.' But apparently they were after his heart instead. 'I don't wanna hear it.' He couldn't help another shuddering sob leaving him. Hear what? His excuses? His… lies? Is that what they thought of him now? Just lies? That he was a… a fake. A set-up. Closing his eyes, the young man brought his hands around his middle tightly; he feared he might just fall apart at seams if he didn't.

'It wasn't my fault!' The man had to bite his cheek, and it wasn't quite enough to entirely stifle the panicked pants hissing out from behind clenched teeth. 'Ho-how could I have known that–?!' He couldn't even finish the thought. Desperate anger flared, and he clawed at the skin on his marked wrist in a futile attempt to rid himself of it. He hated it. Gods, he hated it, and he hated himself! It had never brought him anything but shame and self-loathe. And now, now it was even worse.

No matter how he looked at it, it still stood that they were held by the Empire, on their way to who knows were, and not likely to make it out of there. And they had used him to make it happen! Whatever the enemy had in store for them – their fates, their lives, their deaths – their blood would be on Prompto's hands as well. He chuckled darkly: a sound of immense regret. 'I'm one of them, after all.'

It was a morbid thought, and yet so horribly accurate. What lunacy had come over him for him to think that it could be changed? That anything he did would alter that in any way? When getting rid of it hadn't been an option, he had tried to put it past him. Sometimes he had thought about talking about his origin with Noctis, at a right moment, at a right time. But maybe there hadn't been a right time, or maybe whenever he had tried to summon the courage, he had come to doubt if his friend would accept that after all. 'Too late for that now,' he thought. There was a lump in his throat, and he struggled to breathe around it as the mental image of his friend's shocked face came flooding back. Betrayal. And hurt. The gunner's breaths came in shuddering, shallow gulps; a fresh streak of tears formulated behind his eyes and he fought to keep them from falling.

The concrete sent tiny pin-prickles up and down his arms as hair on them stuck onto the floor a little. He shivered constantly. As he lied there, listening to his own voice trembling, breath after breath, Prompto was sure he could feel his heartbeats grow weaker. He chuckled, a sound void of humor or pleasure. Funny. He never knew heart break was a physical thing, too.

The man felt his mass shifting to the right significantly when the ship seemed to change its course. In a fleeting thought he wondered where they were headed. And how the others were doing. He let out a deep, mortified sigh as he recalled how Noctis' limp form had been carried on board, one magitek soldier on each of his arms, and a third one holding him at gunpoint, as if he could have posed a threat at them even when unconscious. That had been the last he had seen of him. He knew that at least Gladio was held along that same aisle as him, he had been walked not far ahead of him. The shield's hands had been shackled, and a threatening barrel had been pushed into his back as he was forced forward. But what about Ignis? The blond winced at the recollection of the blood. No matter what, that kick was gonna smart; another jab of guilt stung him.

Curling up onto his side, Prompto let his breaths grow shallow as he tried to relax on the cold floor. Despite everything, that clash with the wyverns, now seemingly a lifetime ago, had exhausted him. His dehydrated state made him a bit woozy, and the darkness tempted him with sleep. But his racing thoughts kept his mind on the edge, ignoring the demands of the body. He laid there for a long while, eventually drifting into restless sleep riddled with nameless fear.

The flight seemed to take forever. He had snapped awake from his uneasy sleep, but it seemed like he'd only caught a moment's rest. Or it could have been a good few hours, but he couldn't tell. His idea of time was twisted. They were still mid-flight, the ship shaking steadily with the roar of the engines. With touch and feel, he had tried to map out the perimeter of his isolation, and was now leaning against the wall he had deemed smoothest. Metal, most likely, instead of concrete. Not much better, but at least it wasn't scratching.

He rested his head against the coolness of it, having his eyes closed in hopes of being able to catch some more sleep. His instincts sharpened, however, as he heard the approaching steps of troopers stomping closer. And stopping close.

"Ah!" With a sharp hiss, he squeezed his eyes, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness assaulting them. He cracked one eye open to peer at the silhouette against the light.

The trooper stepped closer, and instinctively the man felt himself press against the wall tighter, his breath hitching a little in anticipation. It paid him no heed, though, as it simply dropped something to the ground. The faint smell of yeast trailed over. His brows furrowed.

If they honestly thought he would eat from the floor, they were sadly mistaken.

The trooper turned practically on its heels, not sparing a glance at the captive as it went to leave him. Knowing it wouldn't be for long, Prompto used what light he had left eyeing at the items on the floor sceptically. A water bottle. And a chunk of bread. Unwillingly, the man licked his dry lips. The water, he might have to surrender to that. But fuck that bread. He might have been a captive, he might have been a lot of things at that moment, but there was a limit. Pushing himself off the wall, he lunged to snatch the bottle before the door slid shut and his world went dark again.

Feeling the coolness in his hand, the man pondered if this was a good idea. The cap of it had been replaced, which didn't really comfort him at all. Would they go as far as to put something into it? Probably not poison, though, as it seemed they were wanted alive, but drugs? Maybe a precaution, to make sure they'd come quietly? But… as he realized just how long it had been since he last drank, just how parched his throat felt, he understood he had no choice.

As the water touched his tongue, his self-control seemed to slip. Prompto went from tentative to voracious in an instant as the liquid soothed his ache. The thought that this was a bad idea drummed in the back of his head, but right now he didn't care. For now, he was grateful of any amount of relief he was allowed, no matter how small. He emptied the bottle almost ravenously, crunching it before tossing it across the darkness. It landed with a skidding sound somewhere to his left.

"… seventy-seven… seventy… eight," he huffed as the elbows met the knees. "Seventy-nine." He barely paused as his shoulders met the floor before pulling himself to sit up again. "And that's a second eighty!" he huffed as he relaxed his posture, wiped his brow a little. "Good enough." Lying back to his back, he tapped his stomach lightly to relax the muscles and stretched.

How long was this flight going to take?! Prompto could swear they had been airborne for an entire day already! Or night, or the second day! He had fallen back to sleep some time ago, only to wake up some time later, and apparently he hadn't missed a goddamn thing. They were still moving steadily, and he was beginning to think they were on their way out of the very Eos with how long this was taking! Really, he had a hunch where they were headed, especially since it seemed to take this ridiculously long to get to, but… he really wished he was wrong.

It was cold. He noted how the temperature had really gone down, and the hair on his arms stood as he shivered. His teeth chattering lightly. Grunting, he flipped onto his stomach and started pushing himself up from the floor. "One… two… three…" He went slowly, mainly to work some warmth into his limbs. And eventually his teeth quieted down. "Seventeen… eighteen…"

Until suddenly they seemed to slow down, and the tremors subsided as auxiliary engines were cut off.

Had they arrived?

Now instantly alert, dropping himself onto his hands and knees, Prompto tried to piece together the clues. It felt like the movement had slowed down. Like they were hovering in place. He heard mechanical howling sounds as the ship's pressures were adjusted and felt the change in the angle of the hull. He could hear the troopers' thumping steps going back and forth behind the door. Then there was the hissing sound and the light as the door slid open.

With a few brisk steps, he was yanked up harshly, and he let out a gasp as his wrist was pulled sharply up into the middle of his back. "Alright! Alright," he yelped, raising his other hand to show that he wasn't resisting as he was forced to walk.

The ship had landed; its ramp was already down, and Prompto could see lights outside as he was dragged towards the exit. There were a lot more steps and a familiar scoff, and he dared to peer behind him. Ignis was being walked much the same way he was: two soldiers, having the adviser in a death grip.

"Ignis!" The man's attention piqued, the green eyes glanced at him. "Iggy, are you–agh!" Prompto tried but was interrupted as he was shoved forward to shut him up. Biting his teeth, he obeyed, seeing that it would do him no good not to. Just going along with it for now seemed like the best course of action, and reluctantly the gunner allowed himself to be walked out of the ship.

His heart skipped a beat as what he saw sunk in. The cityscape extended into every direction, buildings upon buildings as far as the eye could see. They were high above the ground, on a landing dock, and the elegant architectural achievement standing directly in front of them imposing and grandiose as it stood tall above its surroundings. It was circular in shape, looking like an arena, and cold tremors ran along his spine.

Prompto jumped at the feeling of the iron grip being replaced with a cold, metallic kiss on both of his wrists as they were jerked behind him. There was a meaningful clack, and on instinct he jerked against the tension. The metal dug into the skin more tightly, the shackles allowing zero movement as it forced his shoulders into an uncomfortable angle. There was a mechanical hand on his shoulder, but it wasn't gripping him. It was simply a warning, telling him not to get any clever ideas. There was another metallic sound as Ignis' hands were secured, and the adviser was pushed to stand next to him. Daring to steal a glance at the older man, Prompto noted that he at least appeared to be alright. Ignis had his chin lowered, but the green eyes were hard and trained onto something in the distance.

There were lines of magitek units standing at attention, and three figures were approaching them. As they came closer, Prompto recognized the features he had only ever seen in pictures. The Emperor Aldercapt looked pleased as he came closer, two adjutants walking briskly behind him.

There was a loud grunt, and the blond's breath hitched. Gladiolus' face looked pained as he was almost dragged out of the ship, and the blood on his face looked fresh. The man struggled, looking furious, but it died down as a trooper raised his rifle and smacked the butt of the gun across the back of the brute's head. His knees gave out under the assault, and in the moment of weakness, the man was restrained. He was kicked into the stomach, a loud grunt leaving him, before he was yanked up from the ground and forcibly brought to stand with the others, still a little bent over with the pain.

Aldercapt and his men stopped a reasonable distance away, looking at the dropship expectantly. From inside emerged Ardyn Izunia, light breeze swaying his hair a little as he strode over, a victorious smile plastered onto his face. Stopping a few steps in front of the emperor, he brought a hand over his chest and bowed his head a little. With a chuckle, the older man motioned him to carry on. "Chancellor," came his one-word greeting.

"Your Grace."

"I take it you have the boy?" Without a word, Ardyn's smile widened into a self-satisfied smirk and he motioned to someone behind him.

Soon enough, Noctis was dragged out as well, a trooper twisting his arm into his back and gripping his hair, forcing his head back. Prompto felt himself freeze. "Noct!" The prince glanced at them, and the gunner's breath hitched. It was a look of utter bewilderment and terror, like a cornered animal, and he felt himself moving on autopilot. He made a move to go to him, his restraints and their situation momentarily forgotten. The moment was short-lived, though, as he was ruthlessly jerked back, and Noctis was shoved forward, cutting off his line of sight. In the corner of his eye Prompto saw the other Crownsguards struggling, but their efforts were just as futile.

With a weight pressing down into the back of his knee, Noctis was pushed onto his knees in front of Aldercapt and his head was jerked back, forcing him to look at him. Visibly snarling, the young man forced a defiant look as he was assessed shamelessly.

Aldercapt smiled a smile that, if you didn't know better, could have been mistaken to be gentle. "Welcome to Gralea, prince Noctis," the old man mused. "This is indeed a pleasure." Noctis hissed from behind his teeth.

The older man sauntered to stand above him, and without a warning, he gripped the prince's chin firmly. Forcing his head to the side, Aldercapt seemed to study him, a ruthless glint in those peering eyes. "So this is whom is said to be the King of Kings… Just a child," he mused. "You're no king, boy. You know nothing of true power. You're just a fool. Like your father." A spark ignited in the twilight eyes, and against his better judgement, he spat.

The world seemed to stand still as the Emperor slowly brought a hand to wipe his eyes. Noctis was glaring at him furiously, his breaths ragged. He let out a strangled yelp as his head was jerked back, almost cutting off his airway. "You shouldn't have done that, boy," Aldercapt said, voice condescending, as he motioned to his left. Noctis didn't care; he struggled as much as he was able, fixing the other with a murderous look. He was cut off with a nervous sound.

"Noct!" Ignis' tone was frightened, a warning, and the sheer unusualness of it was enough to catch the other's attention. Glancing at them, the blue eyes widened as he took in the sight of the adviser, hands behind his back, head yanked back, a ragged blade posed across his throat.

With a shuddering intake of breath, the prince froze up, not daring to breathe as his gaze met Ignis'. The green eyes were wide, pleading, silently begging the prince to do as he was told for once in his life, for his sake.

What else could he possibly do? Doing his best to show his surrender, Noctis tore his eyes from his friend to gaze meaningfully at the emperor.

The older man seemed to take great pleasure in observing the change in his young captive's demeanor. The prince went from furious to completely subdued in a matter of moments when his friend was threatened. A weakness the emperor was going to exploit. "It would be in your best interest to comply, Your Highness," Aldercapt spoke casually, but the threat underneath was obvious, "If you value the wellbeing of your friends." He smirked openly at the gasp the young one couldn't quite stifle. The piercing blue eyes were left glaring daggers at him, but the look had lost its edge. Chuckling to himself, Aldercapt decided he had seen enough. Turning his back, he flicked his wrist at the troopers holding the Crownsguards. "Take them away."

"Wait! What're you gonna do to them?!" Noctis had probably aimed for spiteful, yet his demand came out near desperate. He caught all of their eyes as the troopers started to drag them away.

"They'll be safe. As long as you behave," Aldercapt spoke over his shoulder as he started for the building. His empty demands dying on his lips, Noctis was left gazing after them as they were dragged away, one by one.

The heavy stomps of the troopers echoed lowly in the moist stone walls as they descended the circular stairs. The staircase had a few small windows through which the fading daylight peered inside, but it was hardly enough to provide enough light to actually see well.

Prompto took note how the temperature seemed to drop a little at about every ten stairs. It was like going into a wine cellar. A nasty feeling tickled his throat, his breaths grew a bit labored as he fought his growing discomfort with narrow spaces.

They were led through various corridors, but eventually they reached what could only have been called a cellblock. Along the aisle were maybe a dozen cells; each small space was enclosed with brick or natural stone and heavy duty steel bars.

The gunner was stopped in front of the one closest to the door on the right. Prompto gulped as he felt unnatural fingers fumbling with his bindings, the metal eventually coming off, and he was pushed inside. "Ah!" Taking a few fumbling steps, he quickly assessed his new surroundings: limited by a natural stone wall to his right and a brick one to the left, the space was hardly larger than a broom closet. At least there was a window. There was a sound of locking behind him, and he spun around to slam himself against the bars. "Wait!" For what? The magitek soldier didn't even glance at him before heading for the door.

On the other side of the aisle, Ignis was shoved into his cell, much in the same manner as the younger one. Rubbing his abused wrists, the strategist turned to observe their captors as he leaned himself against the bars, eyeing them venomously.

It was the shield who refused to go quietly. Struggling all the way as he was walked along the aisle, he gave the troopers a nasty piece of his mind as he tried to yank himself free on every step. He was walked out of the others' sight, further down the aisle, but soon they heard a cell door opening, then a dull thwacking sound as something heavy met flesh. "Argh!"

"Gladio?!" Ignis' instincts flared. "Gladio! Stop struggling. Just go with it, for now!" A disoriented groan of pain was all the answer he got before they heard the heavy thump as his mass fell onto the floor. There was a scraping sound before he was sealed up with a signifying click. Ignis and Prompto both leaned into their bars, as far as they were able, trying to catch a glimpse, hear a sound, any hint of the shield's condition. The troopers peered around a little as they passed them by but didn't stop. The door let out a rusty creak as it was pulled closed behind them. An eerie silence settled over the captive men.

"Gladio?" Prompto called out tentatively. "Gladdy, you ok?" He got no reply, and his breath hitched.

Ignis shook his head and he gave a heavy sigh and went to slump against the brick. He rested his head against it and closed his eyes. Prompto gulped as he observed his eerily calm demeanor. There was something disturbingly fallacious about it. "Iggy?"

"Be quiet." The blond winced at the tone. It was thick with barely contained rage.

"Iggy, please, listen! I know this looks bad–"

"I said," Ignis snapped, the acidy eyes cutting over, "be quiet." He held a meaningful pause. "I think enough has been said as it is."

It stung, it stung him deep. But Prompto would be damned if he would just let it go. "No! You don't get it! I had nothing to do with this!"

"Then what?" Ignis' voice rose. "Care to explain how this happened?"

"I didn't know, alright?!" Prompto's voice took a pleading tone. It wasn't fair! How should he have known?! How could he have possibly?

Ignis scoffed incredulously, shaking his head. "Is that your excuse? 'You didn't know?'" He turned his eyes into the floor. Prompto grit his teeth.

"I know what you think. And it's wrong. I'm not an enemy, Iggy. It's not an act, I swear. I'm in this as much as you, aren't I?!" The strategist fixed him with a scrutinizing look, as if he was looking for any clues of the blond's loyalty.

"Tell me something, Prompto," Ignis begun, his tone telling the other he had exactly one chance to explain himself, "Why did the Chancellor call you a 'tool'?"

Prompto gulped as his gaze wandered to his wristband. His throat felt dry suddenly, and his breath caught a little. "It's… it's complicated. I-I'm not quite sure how it works myself," he said quietly.

Ignis' eyes flashed with something sharp. "You know that translates into you pleading guilty?" The younger man gulped.

"It's not that! I-" Prompto grabbed the bars, his voice equal amounts of desperation and frustration. "I don't know what happened, alright?! It's the truth!"

The strategist studied him, seeming to weigh his words. Until,

"I wish it were."

AN2: Lol, holy shit, he's fit! :D I probably couldn't do a first eighty sit-ups. I'm a wreck.