Disclaimer: not mine

Chapter 17

Clarus stopped just outside the small settlement of Longwythe, waiting for his phone to ring or some sign of where to go. He started when he turned his head to find Noctis sitting in the passenger seat beside him, almost summoning a weapon, the car far too small for his sword or shield. "Noctis," he chided, and his Prince winced.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he stared at the car floor, shoulders hunched. He looked even paler and Clarus frowned, reaching out to gently brush a cold cheek.

"Have you fed?" he asked, was he in a car with a hungry vampire?

"Just tired," Noctis answered. "Gladio's alive, his wounds are healing. We're not in town to be safe." He leant back in the seat. "You need to turn around, there's a narrow dirt road about five minutes back on the left."

Clarus nodded and started the car, following Noctis' directions. He glanced at his Prince, seeing that he looked more than tired, he looked exhausted. He'd never looked so much like Regis, bowed under the weight of the Wall. "It's not your fault Noctis," he said, and he saw the boy flinch slightly. "We Amicitia are the King's sworn shields. Guard the Royal family with our lives and that is the way it has always been. Gladio did his duty and saved you, it is what he has spent his whole life training to do."

"Would he have done it…if he wasn't bound to Prom? When he wakes up…it'll be gone. What…what if…"

Clarus knew what he was asking and understood why. The relationship between Clarus and Noctis had always been complicated, different to his with Regis. They had always worked well together, understood each other. Gladio…hadn't understood Noctis, pushed when he shouldn't, and it had made things difficult. It had been improving though over the last year or two and now they would see if any kind of friendship and loyalty could survive them becoming two very different species. Would Gladio remember the time since Noctis' turning? How would he handle what Prompto had done to him?

"Turn here," Noctis instructed as the dirt road appeared.

Clarus followed his directions, moving deeper in dusty canyons of towering stone until the car was unable to go further safely. He got out and followed Noctis, seeing how he moved so gracefully, every movement fluid, even as his Prince stuck to the shadows. "How are you going with the sun?" he asked softly, knowing that their voices would echo if not careful.

"Okay," Noctis shrugged slightly. "Still can't be out at midday on a sunny day unless I'm fully covered."

"You're doing better than a lot of young vampires Noct," Clarus moved up beside him, reaching out to clasp his shoulder, feeling him tense for a second before relaxing. "I've seen ones over a decade who can't stand the amount of sun we're in right now."

Noctis glanced at him before looking back at where they were walking, not pulling away from the hand on his shoulder so he left his hand there as they walked.

Clarus wondered what it felt like to Noctis, was his hand hot? Even with his strength, was it even really noticeable to him now? Noctis was strong enough to lift and throw him….then again, he'd seen Regis pull off some crazy feats of strength over the years because of the magic that pretty much ran through the families veins, did that mean Noctis would be even stronger than a normal vampire?

Noctis stopped and indicated a gap in the wall, slipping through. Clarus followed him in, finding it a tight squeeze but he managed. They came out in an open area where a camp was set up.

Ignis looked up and then stood, obviously relieved to see Noctis back safe and sound. He then bowed slightly to Clarus and motioned to one of the tents. "He woke up about ten minutes ago Sir, though he's not entirely coherent."

Clarus nodded, heart in his throat, as he moved towards the tent. The flap opened and he found himself looking at a stranger, Khara?

"Lord Amicitia," the man…wolf greeted him and then turned back as a groan sounded form within the tent. He motioned for Clarus to enter so he did.

Clarus knelt down, finding his son lying in a sleeping bag, head thrashing as he moaned in distress, Prompto kneeling beside him, wiping him down with a damp cloth. Gladio began thrashing and the two worked together to hold him down. He moved to his sons head and cradled it in his hands, seeing his eyes open to slits but not fully focused. "Easy Gladio," he spoke gently to his son. "It's alright son, you're safe."

"Da…" his eyes fluttered, struggling to open and focus.

Clarus picked up the cloth Prompto had dropped and began wiping the sweat from his skin. "I'm here." Gladio had always been a healthy child, very rarely ill and even when he was it was never anything bad. Seeing him so weak and sick, hurt. He could lose his son if his body couldn't accept and adapt to the infection.

Gladio stilled slowly, panting, muscles trembling. His throat worked and Prompto picked up a canteen so Clarus carefully lifted Gladio's head so he could drink without choking. Once done he lowered him back down, watching as Gladio's eyes slowly opened further, resting a hand against his cheek. His skin was hot, too hot, but Khara didn't seem too concerned about it, werewolves did tend to have higher body temperatures than humans after all. Gladio groaned, blinking up at him. "Dddaadd," he slurred.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Ignis curled into Noctis as they listened to Gladio thrashing in the tent. They both hated hearing it, though seeing it was worse. It had been almost a week since he was infected, so it had to end soon. How did anyone on their own survive? Ignis flinched as the noise got worse and Noctis nuzzled his throat, soothing him. Gradually, things calmed and Noctis could hear Clarus speaking with Gladio who thankfully was aware of his presence.

After a while they got up and Noctis helped prepare food while Ignis cooked it. A thin broth was warmed for Gladio since he hadn't been conscious enough for long enough to eat. Ignis took it into the tent, leaving Noctis to watch the stove. He stared at it, wishing he could eat it, Iggy's cooking beat anything else he'd ever eaten but now, all it would do was make him vomit.

Hands rested on his shoulders and he leant back into his Sire. "You really miss it huh?" Prompto asked and he nodded.

"Iggy's a better cook than any in the Citadel kitchens," he told him.

"I'll have to take your word for it."

Dinner was served in bowls to make it harder to spill and given to those watching over Gladio while Prompto took Noctis into the rocks canyons to hunt, the animals they drained could be cooked later. Neither liked animal blood and Noctis couldn't drink it only, but they had to at the moment.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Cor slumped on his couch, tired from a day of endless meetings as security measures were changed to fit the changing laws of the city. He was having to take on some of Clarus' work but he didn't mind under the circumstances. Regis hadn't hesitated to tell him to go, leaving Iris in the care of the Hester's. The girl was very worried about the group, especially Noctis. She'd had a crush on him since they'd met and to hear he had become a vampire had been a massive shock.

Noctis being turned had shocked and horrified the population. Sympathy for the Prince thankfully still outweighed other reactions. How would the news his Shield was a werewolf be taken? It could be seen as an effort to take over the government and in a way, it kind of was. He doubted Niflheim could have imagined their plan leading to vampires becoming legal in Insomnia, they had been aiming to destabilise the Monarchy. Had the werewolf attack been a plan of some kind by a group? A fluke? Hopefully Clarus would know more when he returned.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Prompto lay in his sleeping bag, Noctis curled into him, asleep. Clarus was in the tent with Gladio and Pelna, watching over him for the night and giving them a break. So he really should be sleeping too but…he couldn't stop thinking about what would happen when Gladio recovered.

He knew Noctis was scared his Shield would hate him for being a vampire but Noctis hadn't done anything to Gladio, not like he had. If Gladio was going to hate either of them, surely it was him. He'd not only turned Noctis, but he'd blood bound Gladio and Ignis. Werewolves were immune to their powers, but they were tasty, considered a delicacy in Niflheim for their blood and for how fast they healed. If Gladio agreed to donate, he could give a lot more blood than Ignis could.

Gladio could return to Insomnia with his Father, he could live there legally, and the wolves in the city would surely help him adapt. Technically, a group of three would be easier to hide, but they needed the numbers against the Imperial forces, especially if they were blockading more roads to cut them off from the Tombs.

,,,,,,,,,,,

Pelna made them all leave as Gladio's fever broke to a normal werewolf body temperature and he shifted into a normal sleep. The last thing anyone wanted was him reacting badly to Prompto's presence or something. He picked up the bowl of Anak meat stew and waved it under Gladio's nose. After a week of broth he would be starving and sure enough his nose twitched, eyelids fluttering. "Come on Gladio, rise and shine," he called softly.

He groaned but then amber eyes slowly opened, a confused frown flickering across his face. He tried to sit up but didn't make it and Pelna reached out his free hand to help him up against the pile of pillows Noctis had made for him.

"Easy, you're going to feel pretty weak for a little while," he warned.

"Who…who are you?" he demanded shakily.

"Pelna Khara, we've never really met before but I'm the one who's been doing your supply runs," he explained, holding the bowl out and Gladio took it.

"Supply runs?" he asked in confusion and Pelna frowned.

"What's the last thing you remember?" the fever could affect memory, Pelna didn't remember how he'd been injured or much of how he was infected. Pelna had been running supplies for them for months though, he should remember that, unless…he remembered nothing of his time blood bound? That could be tricky.

,,,,,,,,,

"I…" Gladio struggled to focus and remember. What was happening? Obviously he'd been sick, but he never really got sick. And where was he? A tent? The more he tried the more his head hurt.

"Easy, don't try and force it. You've been very sick the last week. Eat your stew, you'll be able to focus better with some proper food in you. If you're worried, Ignis made the stew."

Ignis was in the camp? That was a relief and meant he was likely safe at least. He lifted the stew and took a bite, yeah, that was one of Iggy's recipes. He fought to eat slowly, not wanting to make himself sick. what was going on? What was he doing outside the city? If Ignis was there, did that mean Noct was too? No, it was too dangerous for him to leave the safety of the Wall. He'd been sick, but why? Why hadn't he been moved back to the city for treatment?

He shifted and winced, putting the bowl down to pull his shirt out and his eyes widened as he saw the healing wounds on his chest…claw marks. He'd been mauled… he gasped as he remembered the feeling of sharp claws slicing into his skin, screaming…Noctis yelling, the feel of his magic being unleashed…to defend Gladio. Why had they been somewhere they could be attacked? He tried to remember, he needed to…a club….Noct had needed a break…he'd been dancing with a blond boy. Gladio shook his head, rubbing his temples.

"Remember something?" Khara asked, dark eyes focused on him, seeming concerned.

"I took the hit for Noct," he murmured, and the older man nodded.

"Yeah, he's been beating himself up over that."

So Noct was here or had been. They'd been at a club in Insomnia….he closed his eyes, trying to remember anything after that. Why was remembering…he gasped as a memory swam before his eyes, Noctis lying utterly limp in someone's arms, not the kind of limp an unconscious body had, but the kind that screamed dead. His skin was pale, bloodless, limbs loose, chest still instead of moving with breath, his lips blue.

"Where is he? Where's Noctis?" he demanded. Not even a Phoenix Down could work on someone who had been dead as long as Noctis seemed to be in that memory. "He was dead…" his head snapped around to the tent entrance and there was Noctis, kneeling in the opening even as Khara hesitated, looking between them, before leaving them alone, sending Noctis a look he couldn't decipher. "Noct…" how? Maybe it wasn't a real memory but a nightmare or something?

"It's okay Gladio, I'm okay," his Prince told him, speaking softly and gently, one hand out to him.

Gladio sagged with relief, it couldn't be a real…he blinked, looking Noctis over again. He was…different…his eyes went wide in shock and horror. "Noct…no, no…" he'd failed. He'd failed the duty of his family; he'd failed the bratty boy who had become his friend after years of fighting and arguments…Noctis was dead. He watched the vampire crawl further into the tent, kneeling in front of him, and he forced himself to look down, to not meet its eyes.

"Gladio please," it whispered. "Don't you remember?" a pale hand reached out towards his arm, moving slowly. Cold fingers brushed his skin and he shivered. "I'd never hurt you. I'm still me, still the same."

"Vampire," he glared at his chin, unwilling to risk eye contact.

"Yeah," it whispered, sounding…sad? "Watch," it urged, pulling its hand back and then there was the familiar sound of shattering crystal, the flash of blue light, and then a Crownsguard-issue phone was in its hand. It tossed the phone and he caught it, seeing his screensaver on it. "I'm still the same Noctis, Gladio. Dad knows, he came to see us. He's working to change the laws so I can go home one day. It's legal for werewolves to live in the city now. Pelna's one of the Wolves of Galahd, he's been helping us since his King found out. When you were hurt we called him for help."

"Ignis, is he…"

"Still human," the vampire quickly assured him. "It's just me and Prompto."

Gladio took a breath and risked a look up at Noctis, seeing the pain in his expression, the sadness. Seeing him dressed in something other than Royal black was strange but if they were hiding out in Lucis it made sense. He rubbed at his head; it was pounding. He unlocked his phone and then stared. It was a photo…of him and Nocti…the vampire. He didn't recognise where, but he was playing with it, tickling, and it was laughing, face utterly open, childlike. "What?"

"What's wrong?" it sounded genuinely concerned.

He turned the phone around so it could see and then he saw it smile softly.

"All of Lucis has seen that. Dad showed it when he announced I'd been turned and then the papers printed it. We spent some time in a town where everyone lives together peacefully. For safety, we're lying about how and when I was turned, it's a long story. So everyone thinks I was only a few days old in that photo. I'm kind of breaking milestone records for a baby vampire, we think it's because I'm still linked to the Crystal when every other Royal ever turned was cut off."

Gladio listened, torn. It sounded like Noctis and he'd read those same accounts of various family members who had been turned over the centuries, it had never ended well. "How long?" he asked.

"Not even six months." A cold hand reached out again, this time resting on his arm, squeezing gently.

Why didn't he remember? A head injury? No, his head was aching but there was no localised pain from an injury. He glanced down at the injury, a recent injury which meant he'd defended the vampire as he would have Noctis.

"I'm sorry…I didn't see it, couldn't get my sword up fast enough and then you were there. When I heard you scream…" the vampires shuddered. "I…I lost it. They're all dead, they were mad, attacked for no reason. We'd barely dealt with a group of MT's when they showed up. I should have been faster and now…you're…Gladio," pale cold hands were trembling, blood tinged tears slipping down his face and Gladio was moving before he could think, reaching out to his Prince, drawing him into his arms. Noctis twisted, wrapping his arms around him and Gladio forced himself not to flinch from the cold.

He had the sinking feeling he knew what Noctis unable to say. The scars on his chest, the fact a wolf had been watching over him…he was infected. "I'm infected," he whispered, feeling Noctis nod. He felt him nuzzle at his throat and shivered, swallowing hard, but there wasn't even a hint of fangs. He sounded like Noctis…the King knew…the Crystal… he tightened his hold, ignoring the coldness, he'd just have to get used to it and maybe he wasn't as cold as he felt, if he was infected then his own temperature was likely a bit higher than it used to be.

He was a werewolf now…he didn't think he felt any different but how would he know? "Noct?"

"Yeah?" Noctis pulled back and looked up at him and Gladio fought not to drop his gaze, werewolves were immune to vampire powers, which meant it was safe to look him in the eye.

"Why can't I remember?"

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Prompto listened to the two in the tent, knew Pelna was as well. Gladio's reaction to Noctis had caused him pain, Prom had been able to feel it, but now he seemed to be accepting that he was still Noctis in every way that mattered. He was taking news of his own infection pretty well too. Hearing him ask why he couldn't remember had Prompto wincing, would Gladio hate him? Would he remember at some point? There was no way to know.

Clarus obviously wanted to be at his sons side but was waiting for Noctis to finish speaking with him, human hearing not good enough to hear them since they were whispering. Noctis was being careful of Gladio's now enhanced senses. Would Clarus take Gladio home if that was what he wanted? Or would he insist he remain as Noct's Shield?

TBC….