AN: Disclaimers and discussion exceptionally at the end.
Beta read again by Elillierose.
He couldn't sleep. He had tried to, but after at least an hour of twisting and turning on the plankboard bunk, he had given up on that and resulted into just lying still and listening to the soft snores around him. Every once in a while his heart rate went up when he thought he heard the approaching footsteps or someone clocking a gun somewhere, but eventually he relaxed again as nothing came through that door.
Moonlight poured in through the small window, and the sky blue eyes were drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Despite it all, in the midst of this hell, the cold light gave him an odd sense of reassurance. It brought back memories. Precious memories.
Back in Insomnia – 'Back home,' he thought – before the Empire, before all this shit… He and Noctis had often used to grab a few beers and go drink in a park. They'd spend hours like that, hanging around and boozing a little, and just enjoying themselves. The blond heaved a sigh. He would give anything to be able to just return to that. Just undo everything and go back. Back to when things hadn't been this messed up. When Insomnia hadn't been at war and they hadn't been the number one on the Empire's Most Wanted.
His fingers twitched as they again flexed around nothing. For the umpteenth time he had tried to summon his weapon, coming up with nothing. He was having a hard time remaining calm about it when every instinct screamed at him it wasn't a good sign.
Had something happened to Noctis?
'No,' he scolded himself. No, he wasn't going to go there! Noctis was fine! 'Slap, Prompto! Slap for even considering it.' It wouldn't make sense for the Empire to just off him so suddenly, right? After all that trouble capturing him? They hadn't been able to conjure their weapons since whatever the hell it was that that bastard Ardyn had done with his hand, he reminded himself, so that didn't mean anything. That didn't mean Noct was… He gulped, unable to see that thought to its end. It simply meant that they were held by the enemy; separated from each other; and unarmed. Which didn't really sound much better. '...Shit,' he mouthed quietly. They were really in deep this time, he thought sadly. Perhaps too deep.
There was a sound of fabric shifting against a hard surface, and a groggy grunt before the near silence descended again. The blond listened only half-heartedly; grief held onto his heart like a hand grenade, ready to pull the pin at any minute.
In the darkness of the night, Prompto sent a silent prayer to the Six. He would give anything. It didn't matter to him what the price tag was, he would give anything if only it meant that the others made it out of here.
The prince let his fingers trace idly along the delicately ornamented windowsill. He leaned his forehead against the cool glass, eyeing his own reflection against the dark night. He gave a humorless chuckle; he looked like a hobo, almost. He was still in his battle-tattered clothes, having refused the change of garments offered to him; the dark blotches of animal blood had sunken into the fabric, mattifying the material where the splatters had landed. His hair was a mess, and although he had washed his face, it hadn't helped the dark bags of exhaustion under his eyes. He felt tired, but not sleepy, intriguingly. Not with this kind of worry twisting his insides. He heaved a sigh, the breath fogging the glass as tiny little prickles of moisture gathered on the surface.
The room spelled splendor. The high walls were a royal shade of red, contrasted with white and steel décor as was fitting to the technical advances of Niflheim. The furniture was generous and sophisticated, and on the opposite side from the solid wood bedframe, an electrical fireplace flickered to invite him to lounge in front of it.
It was a magnificent prison. But a prison nonetheless. Suspended almost three hundred feet from the ground, nothing but plain stone and untrimmed windows, the room was inescapable. On the other side of the door were at least four guards, ready to take him out the second he stepped through. He grimaced at the clogged feeling he got as he again tried to call to his magic. It was like banging on a barred door: he knew that what he was after was on the other side but there was an obstacle.
Without his abilities, he was trapped. Unable to warp, he would most likely end up a wet red stain on the pavement far down below if he tried the window. And going against the troopers unarmed would be a wasted attempt. He wasn't handicapped on unarmed combat, the curtesy of Gladio's, naturally, but four against one was trying his luck. And even if he did manage to escape, he was still confined within the Imperial palace and no clue where to go.
Another sigh left him, and his eyes slid closed. A deep wave of ominousness swept over him again. Somewhere deep inside, he had had a hunch that this was going to eventually come to this. Somewhere between the fall of Insomnia and his presupposed destiny to form the bonds with gods, deep inside Noctis had come to understand that all this was eventually going to claim his life. Eventually, in some way or another. He hadn't had the courage to really embrace that thought, though, not to its fullest extent. And he hadn't expected it to be this soon.
He shuddered as a shaky breath left his throat. Execution. There was going to be a public execution. Tomorrow. A lump rose to his throat at that, and the young man felt his arms tremble.
The will of the Emperor formulated into a single, cruel truth: he was going to die tomorrow, and as he was now, he was powerless to do anything about it.
"Where are they taking them?!" Noctis snarled at the older man, still on his knees but struggling against the hold on his arms. They had been dragged out of his sight, Prompto having been the last one. The blond had tried to fight it, had called out to him, Noctis had seen his mouth moving, but couldn't make out what was being said. But it was the intense look on his eyes. The gunner had looked… desperate. Pleading. "What're you gonna do to them?!"
Aldercapt's steps halted, but he didn't turn to face him, merely spoke over his shoulder. "You shouldn't worry about your companions, Highness. I told you: you behave, they shall go unharmed." He held a small pause before smirking, "Am I not a man of my word?"
The prince scoffed. "The same word you gave my father?!" There was a chuckle.
"Your father was a foolish man, boy. Foolish, and gullible. He didn't see what was unfolding in front of him."
"You have no idea what my father thought, you bastard! He wasn't blind!" the raven spat. "What do you want with us?"
Finally, the man turned to face him again. He observed the young man in silence, his composure betraying nothing but his glee, which was painfully obvious. There was a degree of malevolence to it; Noctis found it almost sickening how the man enjoyed this.
"What I want, boy," the man started, taking a few slow steps closer as he spoke, "–is your head." Noctis couldn't help a gasp; a sound the man seemed to take great pleasure in hearing. "To see the end of the Caelum bloodline, and your accursed existence." The old voice had grown sinister. "To cut that meagre bond to the Crystal, once and for all, as your corpse is splayed on display at the gates of the citadel."
His heart had sunk, the sheer cruelty and malice in that tone chilling him to the core. Such hate towards him, such will to see him desecrated like that! He struggled as the man came closer, suddenly more intimidated than he would have liked to admit. It seemed to please the Emperor as he sneered at him, "I suggest not to get any clever ideas. Otherwise, I'm afraid your dear friends would end up paying for it dearly."
Despite his quivering heart, anger ignited in him at those words. At that promise of pain to them. "You bastard! How dare you…?!"
"Do not think you'd be able to intimidate me, boy," the older man had the nerve to laugh. "You're like a dog barking at a mountain to move. Lucis has lost this futile little battle already. Do you honestly believe that anything you say would hold any power over me?" Seeing the shaken look on the young man's demeanor, the Emperor smiled almost sweetly. "That is what I thought." Shaking his head, he turned to return to the citadel. "Make no mistake, Highness, the fate of those friends of yours as well as your own rests on my palm. Now, if you just come quietly, there will be no need to make a mess, now is there? But please," he turned to shoot him with one more meaningful look, "–do try me if you like."
How were they? Noctis pulled himself up to stand properly, only to gaze at the moon high in the sky; he wondered where they were being held. And if they were alright. Against all his principles, and most of his morale, he had let himself be pushed around, for the sole reason of not giving the sadistic bastard a reason to hurt them. And yet he couldn't trust that. The asshole had proven his "trustworthiness" by attacking Insomnia at the wake of that supposed peace-treaty. The man had "given his word". A word that meant nothing at all. And yet it meant everything. He had promised they'd go unharmed if he obeyed. A promise he didn't believe in for a second, but had no other option but to trust. The Emperor had no reason to hurt them as long as they were the leverage, as long as he obeyed, but he had no reason not to, either. And considering the sadistic bastard's idea of entertainment, Noctis really couldn't rest easy. He could only hope that seeing his surrender was enough.
His heart tugged at the thought of what could have been done to them. And especially at the dawning of something else… The look on Prompto's face as he had been walked out of the airship. And again when they had been taken away, when he had tried to fight it. The blond had been chained like the others, something that Noctis really only realized just now, and the look on his face, it had been one of pure fear for his friend's safety. He remembered the way the gunner had tried to get to him, looking like it was all that mattered to him, before he had been shoved, the trooper cutting his line of sight. But Prompto had looked so determined, so sincere. So… honestly worried about him.
A jab of guilt stung him a little. When he really thought about it, he couldn't really fathom the thought of Prompto being a schemer. That he would have planned doing something like this, on purpose? It just seemed somehow unbelievable, despite all this. And the way they were treating him, like a stranger. Like an enemy. It seemed off, too. True, he didn't understand what was going on, and yes, the way Prompto had reacted had been less than impressive, but… did he really believe his best friend had been a… a spy all along?
No. No, he didn't. The way his friendship with Prompto had developed, the way they were when they spent time together… It seemed too spur-of-the-moment, too unpremeditated. Too honest. Yes, there was definitely something Prompto wasn't telling, but… for some reason, Noctis couldn't bring himself to think it made him his enemy per se. An instinct told him there was something else behind all this, and the prince had always been prone to trust his instincts. He didn't understand what was going on, but something told him the blond hadn't, either. And his earlier reaction flashed in his mind. The way he had just allowed himself to be, he understood now, manipulated. How he had just shot the sharpshooter down like that. He chuckled darkly at the irony of the thought, but it didn't ease his embarrassment. He had overreacted, be it for the adrenaline or the fear in the situation or whatever, but now, in the hindsight, cutting him down like that when Prompto had obviously tried to explain… He heaved an embarrassed, guilty sigh. Gods, he was the worst. Prompto must have thought he hated him, with a reaction like that, and truthfully, Noctis couldn't but blame himself if he did. If he could, he'd take it back. Apologize to the blond and hear him out for what he had to say. But… He took a grim look around the luxurious room.
But it looked like his chance had passed him by a long time ago.
The door was slammed open as two magitek troopers almost stormed into the cellblock. Prompto woke up with a startle, scampering up from the plankboard clumsily as apprehension burst into his blood stream in the form of adrenaline. His eyes were all over the place, the memories of the days before catching up with him. 'Right…' He gulped in anticipation as the troopers came to a stop behind his door.
He had backed away subconsciously as the guard fumbled with the lock. But now as the both of the gruesome creatures stepped into the already crammed space, nervousness flared in him; his back pressed against the far wall in a desperate attempt to gain some space. "Wha-what are you doin'?!" he demanded weakly, a degree of fear in his voice.
He got no reply as one of them roughly yanked him off the wall. "Eah?!" His head spun a little as he was slammed chest first into the brick stone, head jerked back, air escaping his lungs. A heavy weight held him in place, pressing into his upper back borderline painfully. He struggled to breathe, drawing in shallow, rapid gasps.
One of them crushed him against the wall, and the other reached out to grab something. Prompto gasped in surprise as his right arm was pulled out, and he felt fumbling around his wrist, over his band. Then in dawned to him. The initial unease exploded into full-blown panic and a cold lump settled into his gut as he understood. "Let go of me!" He tried to struggle, tried to pry his arm free, but froze as he saw a gleam of steel in the corner of his eye and felt the kiss of metal ghosting over his skin.
His breaths were ragged with fear; a small whimper escaped him. Ignoring him, the guard grabbed his arm tighter as it thrust the piece of metal against the skin. Prompto gasped at the rough tugging motion, tried to jerk his hand away, only to find it being held in a death grip. He couldn't help shudders racing up and down his spine as the halves of the band slid against skin and off. His arm was turned so that his code was clearly visible, and something was stuck against it. He dared a glance at the cylinder-shaped object.
The signifying beep made his heart skip a beat; a small gasp escaped unwanted. This wasn't happening! It was beyond humiliating. It was sacrilege! A green light flashed alit at the corner of the device, and his arm was released. The blue eyes were wide with equal amounts of surprise and disbelief as he felt the weight being lifted from him. He understood, though; the first tugs of nausea bubbled in his stomach, raising the taste of bile into his mouth. He cradled his right arm into his chest, clasping the wrist like his life depended on it. He was left shaking, drawing in shaky breaths through his nose; the guards paid him no more heed as they simply turned to leave, apparently done with him. Whatever it was exactly that they had wanted – 'To check,' he thought, hissing with bitterness and humiliation – they got it.
He had never felt so used. It was degrading. In a violating way, almost. It was enough to make him feel disgusted with himself. And as he fought the rising nausea, he felt eyes on him and slowly, slowly turned to gaze at the strategist.
Ignis had risen to sit up on his bunk. The poker face betrayed nothing of what the man was thinking, but the green eyes were keen as he studied the blond. Prompto felt his shoulders go slack as he sighed a shuddering breath. He was positive Ignis had paid attention. To all of it. "You saw that, didn't you?"
"Yes." A bit surprisingly to Prompto, the tone didn't sound bitter. It didn't sound like anything, really. It was almost… lost. Like he didn't know what to make of what had just occurred.
"All of it?" His only reply was a silent nod, then,
"What was that about, Prompto? What is that mark?"
He gulped, his eyes lowering to the ground. He didn't know what to tell him, how to answer that question himself. He had never talked about it with anyone who didn't already know, those selected individuals being his parents. Prompto took a moment to think about how to put it. As if to summon the courage, he inhaled deeply. "I don't know that much about it, honest," he started. "Just that I've always had it. Like… like all involved with the magitek tests do." He paused, risking a glance at the strategist's expression; he felt his eyes widen. Ignis looked nothing short of shocked. Whatever the man had anticipated, it hadn't been this. A confession like this. Catching the rising tension, Prompto hurried to continue, "I swear, Iggy, I always thought that it was nothing. Just, like a brand or a… a tattoo or something. I never knew that…" His blabbering voice faded into unsureness. He didn't know how to word what was on his mind. He didn't need to, though. Ignis beat him to it. The emerald flashed dangerously as the adviser pieced together the information.
His voice like poison, the adviser practically hissed, "Prompto. Do you mean to tell me that… that mark is what the Chancellor meant when he said that the Empire had been able to track us?" Prompto could swear that something in the man's whole demeanor changed. Ignis looked like a snake, snarling with his eyes, that sharp tongue fire and ice. He couldn't hold the gaze; the blue eyes averted to the ground, in shame, and in fright. He had never seen Ignis like this, and it frightened him. Frightened him to know he was the cause behind it.
"I-I guess," he shrugged. "I didn't know it… it does anything. It doesn't feel like anything, so I always thought it was nothing."
Anger had furrowed the hazel-brown brows, Ignis' tone rising, "And were you perhaps planning on mentioning this at some point?" Prompto gulped. He had. Planned on it, really. On several occasions. But there was a reason he hadn't gone through with it. He had feared that this would happen. That this would be their reaction. He felt his heart quaking. It looked like he had been right.
Not that it mattered anymore.
"I meant to, really. It's just that I… I was afraid what you guys would think of it," he said, voice colored with regret.
Ignis' eyes were on the blond as if he had tried to pry out what the blond wasn't saying. He took a moment to weigh the words. "Although I understand why that'd keep you, Prompto, I cannot accept that you were carrying something like that and said nothing about it. Had we known about it, we could have figured it out. Found out how it works. Made plans, Prompto!" He held a pause. "Now we were picked up like berries by the Empire. We had no way we could have expected an ambush; we were caught completely off guard, and now they have him, Prompto. They have Noct."
The younger man's jaw hung slack, his posture slumped to sit on the floor. He felt horrible. So riddled with guilt and regret, Prompto wanted to just disappear. He didn't want to hear what he sensed was coming. Didn't want to, knowing Ignis was right. Knowing he deserved it.
Ignis scoffed, the sound spiteful more than anything. "So congratulations, Prompto." The adviser went as far as to clap his hands slowly a couple of times. "They have him now, and it is indeed as the Chancellor said, thanks to you."
AN2: I had someone leave a review in which they suggested that perhaps Noct hasn't turned against Prompto after all, at least not entirely. Well, you were right. He hadn't, not entirely. And I know a few people have been expecting them to just talk Prompto's situation out and come clean about it. I have plans about how this's gonna unfold, so bear with me? It is gonna unfold, later. It can't be all rain and no rainbows, after all. I wouldn't have the heart. (I would, actually.)
I loved writing that Aldercapt scene! ^..^ The next chapter's gonna be where I'm getting back to the present time, or to the events of the opening, and gotta say I'm looking forward to writing that.
And just a disclaimer: yeah, I'm including mentions of drinking. Lol, I dunno about the legal drinking age in Insomnia, but to a European, these guys definitely seem old enough. So no, not implying underage boozing, in case anyone is concerned about that.