Chapter Text
You remembered the first time you met Cor. (C: 14, R:13)
The whole room scared you. You’d been pulled from the other refugees and were surrounded by adults. It wasn’t until you were lined up that you realised half the people in the room were wearing a uniform. Then you were told to fight. You panicked, you didn’t know how to fight properly. The cocky swagger of the young man in front of you sent a wave of fear through you. You went for him while he was preening with confidence, not expecting him to fall flat on his back. Your momentum found you straddling your opponent with an arm at his neck. The glare he shot you made you smirk. If he hadn’t been so sure of himself, you wouldn’t have been able to knock him down. He knocked you off and lunged for you. His rage at you having got one over on him made him easy to read and you managed to hold your own. When the leader of the adults pulled him away from you and smiled at you, you felt a rush of pride. You’d clearly passed whatever test they’d given you.
You remembered when you thought Cor wasn’t just a sparring companion. (C: 15, R:14)
You spent long hours practising with the young Crownsguard. It took weeks to get to grips with the warping that came with the Kings magic. It took almost as long for you to prove yourself to Cor. You went to the training room for your usual session with him and were surprised to see Clarus waiting for you instead of Cor.
“Sir?” You asked, dropping your head in a nodding bow. For Cor not to be there wasn’t good.
“Young Cor joined a fools errand.” The Prince’s Shield grumbled. “Waste of skill if you ask me.” You waited, standing at attention like you’d been taught. “I will test you you today.” You suppressed a shiver. Clarus was a good ten years older than you and was likely to wipe the floor with you. You shuddered at the thought. “What is your weapon of choice?”
“The daggers. Sir.” You said as smoothly as you could.
“Show me.” He commanded. You took your stance and the two blades materialised in your hands, ready. You thought about waiting, but Cor never waited for you to be ready. You instantly warped over the to shield and met his own blade with a clang. “Good.” He grunted, blocking you. You worked through the strategies that you’d put together over the months with Cor and tried to score a mark on the man who seemed determined to make you crumbled under the weight of his own weapon. But you couldn’t help but wonder where Cor was. Eventually Clarus decided that enough was enough.
“Sir?” You panted.
“Are you concerned for Cor?” His question shocked you. But you nodded.
“I... don’t have many friends.” You glanced down at the blades in your hands. You were a freak amongst the refugees for being chosen so young and unwelcome with the older glaives. But Cor understood. And Cor wasn’t some noble. “Cor... is probably my only one.”
“I am sorry.”
“For what?”
“It is likely that he will not come back.” Tears pricked at your eyes.
You remembered when you knew you loved Cor. (C17, R:16)
You thought no one knew. You’d said nothing to anyone. The only person who might know would be your own captain and he wasn’t the celebrating type. But Cor pulled you into one of the smaller training rooms unexpectely. In his hands was a single cupcake with a hastily applied candle, lit with even more haste. How had he found out?
“Happy Birthday.” He blabbed, holding it out for you.
“Thanks.” You said quietly. Your heart was crying. You knew you shouldn’t read anything into it. It was a single birthday cupcake. But it meant so much. “Share it with me?”
“Thought you’d never ask.” He grinned.
You remembered when you gave up a part of yourself to be near Cor. (C:19, R: 18)
You stood at the foot of the stairs that lead up to the throne. You stood rigid and a little scared.
“You were given the King’s gift before most would have.” Some lord off to the side explained. “You were deemed too young to make the choice.”
“Too young. And a friend to our youngest Crownsguard.” The King clarified. “It was accepted by the council at the time due to the circumstances.”
“But now, the choice must be made.” Another lord chimed in. “The law demands it.” The King frowned. You looked up at the King on his throne, he looked like he didn’t want to do what was being asked of him.
“Highness. You must not make an exception.”
“I know. Listen carefully child. The Kingsglaive are forbidden to have natural born children.” The confusion must have been clear on your face.
“The law is enforced. Surgically.” You froze for a moment. It sounded very permanent. And it very much seemed that you had to make the decision now. You tried to calm yourself with a deep breath.
“Your Highness?” You squeaked. You felt all the eyes focus sharply on you. “I am a Kingsglaive.” If you weren’t, you would probably never see Cor again. “I’ll follow the law.” You dropped you head into a bow.
“Very well.”
The next day, you were whisked away on a mission. You came back with a pain in your abdomen that you were told would fade within a few weeks. It was worth it. A piece of you was gone forever. Sacrificed to stay in Cor’s world.
You remembered realizing just what you’d done. (C:20, R:19)
Ever since you’d officially accepted the position of Kingsglaive you’d noticed a change in how the other glaives treated you. They shunned you less and less, inviting you out with them after missions and generally made you feel welcome. You were all outcasts, a choice of life stripped from you to serve your King. It still wasn’t family. But you were content despite this. You had Cor, and an unexpected friend in Clarus. The age didn’t really bother you, he’d taught you how to beat the crap out of Cor after all. You were out of the city, stopping in at Hammerhead for some supplies and a quick tune up. The bike your captain had assigned you was one of the older ones and prone to protesting along the road.
“Hey there kiddo.” The mechanic called out to you as you rolled the bike into the garage. Cid was a blessing out here. “Not seen you out on your own before. That your bike?”
“It is, sort of.”
“One of the glaive’s.” Cid frowned. “How old are you now?”
“Nineteen.”
“Dang it.” Cid spat. “They got you too.”
“Hey! I was a glaive before now and you said nothing!” You protested.
“They brainwash you too?”
“What? No!”
“Then why? Don’t remember you talking about protecting your people or the usual claptrap. What made you do it?” Cid asked. He set about giving the bike a look over. “Never saw you as one to give up something for nuthin'.”
“Cor.” His name spilled from you.
“I know the boy. Good kid.” You waited. “Wait.” There. “You got a thing for the boy chauffeur? That why you let them cut you open? Are you mad girl?”
“Maybe.”
“When Regis told me what they did to y’all, it made me sick. Couldn’t stand to know he would enforce those damned laws like his father.”
“The King... was kind.” You whispered. “If I hadn’t have done it... I would have ended up in the slums or something...”
“Ya think Cor would just abandon you for not being a fancy glaive? Are you some kinda fool? If he gave one lick aboucha he wouldn’t care if you werea glaive or a nuthin’. ” You froze at the mechanics rant.
“I... I...”
“If I could stand tha sight of him I’d give that stupid Prince a piece of my mind. Taking that away from ya.”
“It’s done.” You said firmly, trying to keep hold on your resolve. It was worth it, to stay in Cor's world. “I can’t change that.”
“You’re a darned fool girl. I hope he’s worth it.” He was. He really was.
You remembered that one birthday. (C: 22, R: 21)
Cor had told you to come over the second you were done reporting to your captain. You took the time to shower and change into some fresh clothes. You could have gone in your uniform, but it needed a clean and Cor’s neighbourhood was more used to the guards uniforms. You remembered the comments the first and only time you’d worn your glaives uniform. Plain clothes was better. You let yourself in. He’d given you a key years ago, getting your hopes up and then coming to the conclusion that he just wanted you to come and water his plants. If you happened to need to stay over he let you use his bed and took the sofa. It was a small thing, but it bound you closer to him. The simple but neatly laid table surprised you almost as much as the smell from the kitchen.
“Cor? What’s this for?”
“Happy Birthday.” He smiled. “I thought I’d cook.”
“You don’t cook.” You laughed.
“I had one of the King’s chefs show me a few things.” He admitted.
“For little ol’ me?” You teased, sitting down. You enjoyed teasing him ever since he’d said you were his lady when he’d rescued you. You told him about your most recent excursion with the glaives outside the walls as you ate, glossing over the little skirmish with the Empire as you’d assisted with a caravan of refugees. You both moved to the sofa with glasses in hand once you’d finished, leaving the dishes for another time.
“So, what’s really with the dinner?” You asked, turning to face him. “I’ve been here plenty of birthday’s before this one. You’ve never cooked before.”
“I figured it was time.”
“Time?”
“You should live here. With me.” He blurted.
“Cor, don’t joke about this.” You shifted in place. “I know I stay over a lot, but-”
“I want you here. I want you here with me.” He put down his glass and gently took your hands in his. “I should have done this sooner.” His touch electrified you. “Would you- shit... Give me a second.” Your mouth was dry as you waited for him to speak again. “Would you go out with me?” Cor wanted you? But you’d... you could never... You flung your arms around him, slinging the contents of your wine glass over the floor.
“Oh Six. Cor.” You gasped into his shoulder crying. “Of course I will.” He carefully kissed you. When you came up you tried to blink away the tears. “You’re such an idiot. I’ve loved you for forever.”
You could never forget when you found him. (C:26, R:25)
You’d heard the tinkling of smashed glass as you’d warped into and across the room to escape the fire of the MT’s who were tracking you from room to room. The wail of a child made you turn without a thought. At the bottom of a broken tube, dripping with whatever fluid had filled it, was a baby. Your heart lurched as you realised all the tubes beside it all contained a babe of their own. You could hear the heavy footsteps of the MT’s, drawn to the cries.
“Error with unit 05953234.” The computer announced. Another reason to leave as quickly as possible. But you couldn’t.
“Shhh.” You soothed, gathering the child in your arms. You’d have to get somewhere safe to get them ready to deal with the freezing temperature outside before leaving. At a glance you saw he was a boy, gripping the front of your uniform like his life depended on it. You couldn’t help but smile for a moment. You cursed under your breath as the computer blared a new alarm.
“Disposal of unit 05953234 required.” You fled the room, you couldn’t linger even though the boy had fallen asleep, content in your arms despite the chaos.
You remembered feeling empty. (C:26, R:25)
They’d taken him from you. You should have known they would. They’d stripped you of motherhood just as they had taken your ability to bear children away all those years ago. You let the other glaives beat you, goading them to do so repeately. The pain barely registered. You were patched up and manhandled into a car. Nothing felt real any more. Not even Cor coaxing you to the sofa or the food he offered to you.
“Please. Eat something.” You could barely hear his voice.
“Tell me they’ll love him.” You whispered, hiding your face in your knees.
“[Name]...”
“He deserves to be loved.” You whimpered.
“He, Prompto, will be.” That name. Your boy’s name.
“They won’t call him that.” A sob shook you. “Why would they call him that?”
“Because I asked them to.” Cor said softly. Your head snapped up. “This isn’t just about Prompto, is it?” You shook your head and squeezed yourself. “I’ve never seen you so attached to a child-”
“I can’t have one.” You sobbed. You couldn’t hide it from him any longer.
“How...?”
“All of us.”
“All?”
“The glaives.” You were sure you were violating some part of the law that bound you to the King. But you didn’t care any more.
“What?” You just about registered the shock in his voice.
“I’m so sorry, Cor.” You cried, unable to stop the tears. He drew you close and held you tightly.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.” He tried to sooth you. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” The weight was gone from your heart. Cor knew. And he still loved you.
You remembered making that silly cake. (C:35, R34)
You always made a cake. It had started as stupid thing. Celebrating the day they’d arbitrarily decided was his birthday. A small cake for your boy. It was never perfectly on time, you were always late or early thanks to work. You’d never voiced it, but you were sure you were kept out of the city on the actual day. Even this year you were baking a few days in advance. You had your orders to relieve one of the glaives out scouting near the border the day before Prompto's birthday.
“What’s the theme this time?” Cor asked, looking over your shoulder. “That’s a bright yellow.”
“You said he’s got a thing for chocobos.” You were a little short of breath as you mixed up the butter cream. “So, yellow.”
“I’ll get some yellow paper for his gift to match the cake.” You felt him press a kiss to your neck and you held up a finger coated in butter cream.
“How’s it taste?” He carefully licked the mixture off your finger and smiled.
“He’ll love it.”
“Perfect. Now let go of me so I can assemble this thing. And Cor? Wish him a happy birthday for me."
You remembered seeing him as a man. (C: 43, R:42)
You were there to fill in for the young Prince, stuck in a meeting with his father. Apparently your behaviour over the last few years had placated the higher ups. That and the time where you could have contested the adoption had passed. Prompto was an Argentum. He would have to choose not to be. And you were never going to force him into any sort of choice. It was enough to finally be allowed to see him. To help train him.
“Um, hi. Are you... my teacher?” Prompto asked nervously. You sighed. The poor thing was skittish. His carefully styled hair was bobbing along with his bouncing from foot to foot.
“Not really. I’m here so you can get used to the warping that the Prince uses.” You explained. Six he could barely stand still. “You do what you usually do. Cor will be your opponent once he gets here.” His face lit up at Cor’s name.
“I’m so glad it’s Cor.” He chirped. “He was like a big brother to me. His wife sounded nice too. She makes great cakes.” Joyful laugher burst out of you.
“Oh, Prom.” His eyes widened. “Cor’s told me all about you. I’m glad you liked the cakes.”
“Oh. Oh!” He exclaimed. “Thank you so much for them! I always told Cor but I wanted to say it myself!”
“You are very welcome.” You felt like you could smile for days. He was so kind, such a good boy. “Now, let’s try and get the jump on Cor when he comes in.” The grin that met your own was infectious.
Your boy was a man. And you loved him so.