Author's note:
This is an Ardyn-centric AU told in loosely connected chapters. It was inspired mainly by two fics from AO3; one called "try to see the glass as half full", which is a single scene from an Good!Ardyn kind of AU that I really like, and the other is a one-chapter fic called "Assigned Seating" that pitches forth the idea of Ardyn accompanying the boys from the very start of FFXV as part of the peace treaty.
My version diverges from canon at the "Resist Your Fate" ending of Episode Ardyn, in such a way that Ardyn does not plan to overpower Noctis, but to find a(nother) way past Bahamut to kill Regis and/or Noctis early. Because invading Insomnia has been so easy, he tries again and again, which forces Bahamut to intervene every time, and as a result, Ardyn's hate shifts from his brother's bloodline towards the Astral who keeps denying him his revenge and reminding him of this part he is to play in the grand scheme of things.
Here is a list of things you can expect in this fanfic, so you know what you are getting into:
chaotic good and/or neutral Ardyn Izunia | Noctis' POV (mostly) | but the whole gang is there | Bahamut bashing | canon divergence | fix-it of sorts | there's probably some swearing and depictions of violence in it, but nothing too graphic | no explicit pairings but hinted Luna/Noct | contains a decent dash of humor | as well as hurt/comfort | OC appearance in later chapters | also: send help! this thing grew out of control
Enjoy.
An Unexpected Rescue
All that Noctis heard were Regis' strained breaths, his echoing footsteps on the marble floors of Festala Manor and the wind rushing past them. With all the strength left in his still injured body, Noctis clung to his father. Chaos and destruction was all around. He did not dare to open his eyes, but he knew. He knew there were people fighting, and dying. The fear for his and his father's lives had dug its icy claws deep into his insides, and he pressed his face deeper into his Regis' cloak. Somewhere behind them resounded the clanging and rattling of the metal soldiers pursuing them.
Regis rounded a corner and slowed his steps. An explosion in the distance made the building tremble. He turned this way and that, apparently looking for a way out, before eventually lowering his eight-year-old son down to the floor. Yet Noctis refused to let go of him.
"I have to fight off our pursuers," his father explained. "Please, Noctis. I cannot carry you and fight at the same time. It will only take a moment, I promise."
He removed his son's fingers carefully, but firmly, from his coat. When Noctis risked a glance at his face, he saw not only determination, but also concern in Regis' eyes. He was doing this for him. Still, Noctis was afraid to be left alone, helpless and vulnerable as he was, and reached out to his father as he turned back and faced the Magitek soldiers. In Regis' hand, his sword materialised.
Noctis' attempt to stand up was thwarted by his back injury. Pain shot through his body and his legs buckled. Wincing, Noctis slumped back onto the floor. Tears of pain and fear filled his eyes. Through his watery view, he watched his father decimate their pursuers while he inwardly pleaded that they would make it out of the manor alive.
A loud crash from outside shook the walls and ceiling. The thunder-like rumble that followed forced to Noctis look up. Above him, cracks were forming in the stone.
Without further warning, pieces of the ceiling came loose.
Overcome by panic, Noctis screamed for his father. He desperately tried to crawl away. In a last and rather hopeless attempt to protect himself, Noctis threw his arms over his head. The crashing and rumbling of the stones around him was deafening. The dust that filled the air stung in his lungs and eyes, making him cough. It took Noctis several seconds to regain get his bearings. Fortunately, the collapsed ceiling had missed him, but a mountain of rubble and stone separated him from his father.
"Noctis!" Regis' shout barely reached through the debris. "Noct, are you alright? Are you hurt?"
"Dad!", Noctis called back, but ended up breathing in more dust, triggering a coughing fit.
"Stay where you are. I'm coming for you!"
His father's hasty footsteps quickly moved away, leaving behind an eerie silence, save for the sounds of Noctis' own, ragged breathing and the frantic pounding of heart. With difficulty, he brought himself back to a sitting position and slowly crawled away from the pile of rubble.
At the end of the corridor, behind the dust that hung in the air like a veil, the silhouette of a man holding a sword appeared. Noctis' breath hitched. His muscles tensed. Panic clutched his heart. This man could not be his father. Regis could not possibly have been that fast.
The sword in the stranger's hand vanished with a red flash of magic. "Silly old me," an unfamiliar voice rang out, "I must have mistaken you for one of those dreadful soldiers."
The dust settled slowly. As the man stepped closer, he revealed himself to be neither one of Niflheim's commanders, nor a servant of House Fleuret, nor a member of the Crownsguard. Noctis eyed the stranger warily, uncertain of whether he was facing a foe or a friend, though he was hoping for the latter. The stranger's appearance looked eccentric. Noctis did not know exactly what the word meant, but nothing seemed to describe the man's clothing better. He wore a heavy, dark coat, a shirt with unnecessarily many frills, a scarf, a red neckerchief and a lopsided hat. The man's peculiarly bright eyes appeared kind, but equally tired. Noctis had seen the same tired look in his father's eyes, not always, but increasingly often.
"Who ... Who are you?", Noctis coughed out.
"Just a man desperately trying to make a change," the stranger replied with a sly smile.
The man stepped even closer, and Noctis struggled to stand again, but just as before he fell back to the ground in pain. The stranger sank to a knee in front of him. "Now, now. Don't worry. It would not befit me to leave the Prince of Lucis lying amidst all this rubble, would it? Here, allow me to reunite you with your dear father. The poor man must be worried sick." Without much hesitation, he lifted Noctis into his arms and stood up.
The wound on his back caused Noctis to wince, but he did not resist.
"You are so light." The stranger chuckled. "What do they feed you at the Citadel?"
Under other circumstances, Noctis might have said something in reply, but he did not feel like talking. Especially not about home. Nothing seemed more distant than home at that moment, without his father, without Iggy, even without Luna. Why did she have to stay behind? What would the Empire do with her? Tears came to his eyes again and Noctis dug his hands into the stranger's scarf. There was something comforting about his many layers of clothing.
"Well then. There ought to be another corridor just like this one on the other side of the building. I may assume that Regis is heading there this very instant." With Noctis is his arms, the stranger walked out of the corridor and deeper into the manor. He moved in long, swaying strides, very leisurely, and quite unlike Regis. At least, however, he seemed to know where they had to go.
Noctis wiped a tear from his eye and looked around. It was still unusually quiet around them. His fear slowly subsided – until the terrifying rattle of metal armour filled the hall they were crossing. The stranger turned towards the source of the sound and Noctis saw three magitek axemen running towards them.
"Look, I do not mind the escort, but why do you ...?"
Noctis' fingers tightened around the man's scarf. "Please don't leave me behind," he pleaded softly.
The stranger glanced at him. "Oh, but of course. They are after you."
The nearest of the axemen lunged at them with his weapon raised, but Noctis' self-appointed saviour caught the MT mid-air with a kick and sent it to the ground.
"Hold on tight!" He pressed Noctis to his chest and dodged another infantryman's blow with a gallant twist.
Noctis was not entirely sure what happened next. He caught a glimpse of some kind of dark energy shooting out from the stranger's hand to the soldiers. A fraction of a second later, their pursuers fell clattering to the ground as if they were discarded toys. Baffled, Noctis stared at the motionless metal men. "How ...?" was all he managed to say.
"You know, your father is not the only one who possesses magic. However, you would find that my magic is, well, shall we say, substantially different from his." The stranger looked at Noctis with a smug expression on his face. "Let's not dawdle any longer, shall we?"
They finally approached the open passageway that led to the parallel corridor. The sounds of footsteps quickly grew closer, announcing the presence of another human being.
Noctis' rescuer stopped abruptly. A strange flicker surrounded him for a second, before he strode purposefully around the corner into the corridor.
King Regis came running towards them. The grimness on his face gave way to pure relief as his eyes fell on his son.
"Dad!"
"Noctis!"
Hastily, yet not without consideration for Noctis' injury, Regis took the boy from the stranger's arms. "Forgive me, Noctis. I should have never let you go," he said softly, touched Noctis' forehead with his own and held him tight. They remained in a close embrace for a moment before Regis addressed his son's saviour. "Thank you so much. If you will tell me your name, then I ..."
His voice trailed off, and when Noctis turned his head, the stranger had disappeared as if he had been nothing but a phantom within a daydream.