AN: This isn't nice.

Really, this and the following chapters are the reason why this is rated M, just to be on the safe side.

I am so happy how this chapter turned out, though! Really. It is exactly how I wanted it. I hope you'll like it, at least on some levels, lol. And sorry it's a bit short, but I just really, really, really had to have that ending.

Prompto felt the sun rays warming his cheek, and half-lidded eyes turned to gaze at the sky absentmindedly out of the small glassless window. The cool stone against his back made chills run along his spine despite the gentle warmth. He could hear the cheering crowds outside, but the sound seemed dreamlike. So distant and out of place.

He could have never imagined it'd turn out like this.

He jumped a little at the sound of a weight colliding with the bars further down the hollow hall, then Gladio's heartfelt curses as the metal refused to surrender. With a timid sigh, Prompto dragged himself to sit on his knees and grabbed a hold of the bars that sealed him up into the cramped space of his own, and tried to peer his eyes over to the brute man. "Gladio…"

"I hope you are happy now." Prompto couldn't help a gasp escaping at the sound of Ignis' icy tone; the sound was drenched with malevolence and hate, and it made the blond shiver and swallow.

'Please…' "Iggy, I–"

"Don't you dare speak to me, filth!" he hissed, cutting a venomous glare at the blond to silence him. The pleading look on the other's face was ignored.

In his own cell across the aisle, Ignis leaned against the bars, clenching them with both hands, glaring bloody murder at the younger man. The blond felt his lips moving but nothing came out. Fear, primal and desperate, clenched his chest.

'Please! I-I didn't mean to…!'

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Although morphed a bit by static, glee and satisfaction were audible in the age-worn voice blasting from the speakers. The cheers of the crowd got louder. "Welcome to witness history to be made. The day that marks the dawn of a new era!"

"You belong out there, Prompto. Instead of him," Ignis declared coldly. His hard eyes never left the other's; he didn't even blink.

'No! I didn't know! I swear I didn't know…!'

"Welcome to witness the day-"

'It wasn't my fault!'

"-the last king of Lucis dies!"

"I didn't know this would happen!" the gunner tried. "I swear!" The blood thumped in his ears so fiercely he feared his heart was going to burst. He winced visibly at the sound of horns blowing fanfares outside, and the noise of the crowd took a greedy edge. "I didn't want this." They didn't really think he did, did they? How could they?!

Ignis scoffed, snarling as he pushed himself off the metal. "Do you think it matters any at this point?" His voice broke at the end, and he turned his back to the younger man.

"Leave him, Iggy!" Gladio grunted loudly. "We need to get out of here! Noct needs us!" There was another intense clanging sound, a grunt of pain, the sound of flesh hitting solid rock. "Dammit! It's not budging!"

"Cease it, Gladio!" Ignis had perked up at the sound of the other's pain. "It's no use! We don't need you ending up hurting yourself!"

"I'll be happy to cut off my right arm and leg if it gets us out of this cell!" the shield's voice spat back as he again banged himself against the metal, in desperate hopes of breaking through. "Dammit, don't you get it?! He needs us!" The voice was strangled and desperate, on the verge of breaking.

Ignis looked like he bit his cheek, and he had to blink to push back that treacherous moisture that had gathered behind his eyes. "I know!" A fist flew against the concrete, the surface scraping the skin, but the adviser didn't even flinch at that. An agonized snarl distorted his features. The man's shoulders shook.

Prompto's heart was in his throat as he sat on limp legs, taking in the on-the-verge-of-breakdown state of the other. He had never seen Ignis like this, so out of control, so lost. Ignis, who would always remain calm, always see the reason in the chaos, now so close to crumbling down, in front of him. It was disturbing. And Gladio. Gladio, whose resolve was practically unconquerable, now barely holding it together as the sounds of him slamming himself against the metal increased in frequency and in volume. Almost as if he was fearing it wasn't going to work. As if he was losing hope.

"Guys?" he started. "Guys, we cannot give up! C'mon! There's gotta be a way!"

"If I were you, Prompto, I would hold my mouth shut!" Gladio barked. "Do you think we're not trying?!"

"I–"

He was cut off by the blow of the horns outside, and the sound of something huge moving, scraping against ground and wringing around metal. He gulped; it sounded like they were running out of time. "No…"

The half-lidded eyes gazed up and down the impressive-looking gates almost disbelievingly. He traced the sculpted figures on them absentmindedly, the sound of blood pulsing in his ears drawing most of his attention. Every other intake of breath was a greedy gulp in the middle of shuddering gasps. Through a fog he heard the crowds, their cheers. Their eagerness. It made his stomach turn, to think what they had come to witness.

There was a muffled sound of someone speaking into a microphone, but the stone made the words indistinct. He could guess what was being said, though, as the crowds suddenly burst into roaring applause that carried through the thick wall in muffled noise of enthusiasm.

A magitek soldier on each side of him grabbed a bit firmer hold of his arms, the grip tight enough to feel uncomfortable. The ominous jingle the chain between the handcuffs made as it dangled against his knees made a shudder run down his spine, as if the sound had sealed his fate. Solidified what was about to happen as the muffled yet joyous sound of the horns carried through, and the humongous doors begun to pull apart.

Slowly, slowly the grandiose doors slid ajar, revealing a vast sandlot, surrounded from all sides by the rising grandstand. Even from afar, Noctis could tell by the lively moving mass that the place was chock-full. He could hear the crowds clearly now, and gulped as he made out what was being chanted,

'Off with his head.'

His heart leaped, feeling like it tried to tear itself out of his chest. He had tried to prepare himself for this, to be ready when the time would come. But how can you prepare for something like this? You can't! His heart was in his gut as the soldiers pushed him roughly, forcing him to walk on lead legs. Panic fluttered in his veins, his mind; his rapid, shuddering pants grew frightened, against all his promises to himself that he wouldn't let them have the pleasure of seeing his fear. It was terrifying! As the guards forced him out onto the field, he had to bite his lip to force down a sob as he saw the stage.

In the middle of the arena stood about six feet high platform; a sturdy pole stood erected in the center with a noose hanging from it. On the platform stood two men, both in armor, both armed. Noctis couldn't help it; he squeezed his eyes shut as he was shoved to walk faster, a strangled sob escaping through gritted teeth. He didn't want to watch, didn't want to believe this was actually happening. Gods, he was scared! Scared and mortified. This wasn't how it was supposed to go! It couldn't end like this! The noise of the crowd became a muddled cacophony in the back of his mind as he was forced to climb the stairs leading onto the stage.

He was walked to stand under the noose; Noctis could make out the edges of the ledge. The magitek troopers never let go of him as one of the human guards reached above him. The feel of the rope against his neck made his teeth chatter, shiver running along his spine as a wave of nausea came over him.

The racket of the crowd was deafening, but to Noctis it was a blur of white noise; it barely registered from behind the sound of his heart racing. He noticed the change, though, as the crowds fell quiet and the presence around him seemed to go still. As if the world had stopped.

Emperor Aldercapt didn't bother hiding his pleasure as he observed the young man, his every gesture. The royal VIP box was situated so that the afternoon sun was shining from behind them, illuminating the stage, offering the perfect view. His government sat with him, the two adjutants on both of his sides. Minister Verstael Besithia was sitting next to them on the left, a vacant look on his face. Behind him lounged Chancellor Izunia, a thoroughly satisfied look on his face as he relaxed himself against the seat. The only one notably missing was High Commander Nox Fleuret.

The Emperor stood up, taking his time allowing the crowd to quiet down before starting, his magnified voice booming through the speakers, echoing around the awaiting audience,

"Prince Noctis of Lucis! You are brought here today to be executed as an enemy of the state. Do you have any last words?"

The raven's throat was sandpaper, and he gulped on instinct to try and ease out the ache. Last words? He felt like he wanted to say so much, and yet the words were lost at the tip of his tongue. His mind buzzed, and yet nothing seemed to make sense. The feeling around his throat was nauseating. He fought the panic that threatened to rise. The last thing he wanted, literally, was to disgrace himself in front of that bastard of an Emperor and his directorate of despots.

Aldercapt seemed to take the young man's silence as a sign to go on. "You have nothing to say?" The tone was a morbid cross of glee and incredulousness; it made Noctis' blood boil. Swear to the Six, that man would pay! Somehow, some time, that man would pay for all of this!

"Carry on," the old man waved his hand to signal the men. Noctis flinched involuntarily as the noose was tightened around his neck. Fighting the urge to squeeze his eyes shut, the prince bit his teeth as he waited. Waited for what he knew was coming: the sensation of falling, and then the sharp yank that would end his life.

Until suddenly the speakers exploded with the distinguishable cry of agony and the wet rattles that followed.