Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

BEFORE YOU START READING THIS: This fanfiction is not finished. And it won't ever be. I've considered orphaning it a few times, but frankly I feel that one name left attached to it is better than none. This was originally a collab piece.

How did this happen?

Noctis, the crown prince of Lucis and heir to the Crystal, stared out of the Citadel's upper windows at the kingdom that would cease to be his in just a few short hours. The city of Insomnia gleamed in the light of the sun, but it was a somber luminescence. It didn't seem as bright, didn't feel as warm. The entire world had gone cold and dark even as the yellow ball of flame continued to rise and fall each day, heedless of the suffering going on below.

And they were suffering. All of the lands outside the Crown City would soon be annexed by the empire of Niflheim; there was no telling what his soon-to-be former subjects would face after that. All he knew was that there would be nothing either he or his father could do about it, no matter how much they might wish differently.

The hardest part was the waiting. Waiting for the empire's representatives to arrive, waiting for the treaty to be signed, waiting for the other shoe to drop for the people who had already spent decades waging this war for them. It felt like utter betrayal, sitting here in the comfort of his home and the knowledge that he would still rule over something one day while others couldn't even say whether their homes would still be there tomorrow. Maybe they'd be razed to the ground, or the occupying forces would violently persuade their owners to quarter them. Noctis couldn't think of anything good coming out of this, and his dreams were increasingly plagued by the horrors that might befall the common people outside Insomnia's walls.

He knew that whatever he felt was nothing compared to his father, though. After over thirty years of a mostly successful rule, the great King Regis had been forced to make the ultimate sacrifice all so that his people didn't have to. Noctis admired that at the same time as he hated it.

What he wouldn't give to take the power he'd been granted by the Crystal and just fry those Niffs for the innocent lives they'd taken and the humiliation they'd forced on his father.

What he wouldn't give to show the emperor just how strong Lucis still was at its heart.

But he couldn't. Such was the arrangement they had negotiated with Niflheim a few days earlier. All he could do was sit and watch while his father signed most of the kingdom away. The best he could hope for was Niflheim's sincerity.

Yeah. Like that's gonna happen.

His thoughts showed no sign of easing, and when Ignis arrived to somberly inform him that the empire's representatives had been spotted at the South Gate, Noctis could only nod in response.
Today was the day they lost the war, but it felt like so much more than that.

Everything felt wrong. His black suit felt too big despite how it was perfectly tailored to his specific measurements; the cape with all its golden ornaments seemed to hang lopsided on his shoulders as though it, too, wanted to sink into the floor and never be seen again. Even his armored epaulets sat heavily on his shoulders like the devil and angel that both reminded him this was all necessary.

"Calm yourself, Noctis," his father's voice soothed him. Noctis glanced sideways at him and failed to hide his grimace.

"I'm calm..."

He doubted it was his imagination that conjured the smirk on the king's face. "You stand like one marching to his execution, not witnessing the beginnings of peace."

Is that what we're calling it?

Noctis didn't have the nerve to say such things to his father, especially not when the council and just about all of the Kingsglaive were present. Instead, he shuffled his feet in an attempt to make himself appear more at ease. It definitely didn't work given the exasperation Ignis exuded at the other side of the chamber.

As if his thoughts were broadcast for all to hear, his father finally turned to him with a compassionate yet stern gaze. "I understand. Believe me, I do."

"Then why are you doing this?" Noctis blurted out, regretting it a moment later when the king's eyes--not his father's--hardened.

"Because I recognize that although the decision may be difficult and risk much, it is the only way to bring peace to our people."

"But you don't know that for sure."

"I do not," he admitted. "Yet I have faith that our agreement is a step forward, not back. I must; as must you."

If they were anywhere else, if this were any other day, Noctis would have argued that point. What good was faith when the enemy was sitting at your doorstep with a smile on their face and possibly a dagger hidden behind their back? They had had this conversation, though, or at least one like it; the resolution was always the same.

This was the only way, like it or not.

They didn't have time to continue the conversation, which was probably for the best. At that moment, one of the guards announced that their...guests had arrived and moved to open the door.

It's showtime.

On the other side stood a gaudy display of imperial might. Or, in terms Noctis tended to agree with the people on, a bunch of sissies in white coats who hid behind their guns because actual battle was beyond them. Where Lucians were armed with the king's magic and the finest weapons ever seen in combat, Niflheim substituted talent for technology and mowed down their opposition with firearms. While impressive, it left much to be desired with regards to skill. Anyone could pull a trigger, but it took a true warrior to wield a sword.

Somehow, Noctis managed to keep those thoughts off his face as the retinue entered the audience chamber. All he had to do was think happy thoughts--Gladio kicking his ass in training, Ignis tutting at him over the mess in his chambers, his father's scrunched nose at the idea of conceding defeat--and it all just melted away.

...Sort of.

"Sit up straight, boy."

Verstael's harsh words, practically lined with acid, broke through the silence that had fallen over the envoy. Insomnia was practically alive; and not in a good way. News of the treaty had spread like wildfire and thus the streets were lined with citizens holding up signs; many of which were offensive and telling the Niffs to get the hell off of their land. Held back by armed officers, words of spite were thrown around outside by a citizenry that had been renowned for its love of the Lucian Royalty. Prompto watched from within the safety of the moving car and felt a slight sadness grip at his chest. They didn't deserve this. The lands Niflheim were going to take would only fall foul like Gralea; a city of cold and ice that rarely saw the warmth that he was looking upon right now, out of this window.

He felt sick, honestly. Straightening somewhat at Verstael's words, Prompto glanced down at his attire. As was normal of Niflheim garb, he was dressed in a long white jacket adorned with a variety of golden filigree. Underneath, more white clothing, though adorned with black fabric as well. His boots were dark, long and up to the knee. On one side of his forehead and reaching back into his hair a golden filigree half-crown rested.

He looked like a Prince. Six, he was a Prince. Even if it never felt like that.

The car slowed to a halt outside the main steps of the Citadel; an impressive building in itself. In a better mood, and perhaps not when he honestly felt like even the wind could knock him over, Prompto might have been tempted to take a photo of such beautiful architecture. Now? He merely stepped out of the car as the door was opened and pulled off the best smile he could muster. It was that, or risk Verstael yelling at him again. Emperor Aldercapt joined them from another car, with a brief curt nod to Prompto.

Waving to the semi-angered crowd below, Prompto turned his back on those gathered and began to make his way up the steps. The Citadel was just as magnificent on the inside as it was on the outside, adorned in marbles of silvers and blacks. Even the elevator was was decorated with the most beautiful embossment, and far more fancy than anything he'd seen in the Imperial Capital.

"Remember, boy. You're a Prince of the Empire. Act it. Do as you're told. And keep your damned mouth shut, unless you have something decent to say." Verstael snapped, seeming to notice the blonds brief distraction with aesthetics.

Prompto nodded, stepping out into the corridor as the elevator halted. Up ahead were the two large doors that led to the Council Audience chamber where the treaty was to be signed. Where he'd be signing his life away.

As they stepped inside, someone from the room announced them.

"Emperor Aldercapt. Commander Verstael Besithia. Prince Prompto." That final name caused murmurs. Prince Prompto had never been in the public eye until today and as gazes fell on him all he wanted to do was curl up then and there on the spot. Yet, with Verstael so close, instead he found himself plastering a rather smug smirk across his face, dipping his head slightly as his name was announced. Inside, he felt sick and wanted nothing more than to disappear. His stomach churned uncomfortably at the thought of raising his gaze to those who spoke in whispers, whispers of surprise, whispers of hate. Yet outwardly, he walked with the cockiness and smugness that was expected of him; something Verstael clearly noted as he glanced at the younger blond.

The tables lined up in the middle of the room held the Council of Lucis on one side, and the Council of Niflheim soon filled the other. Aldercapt and Prompto made their way to the furthest table where the treaty paper was led out for all to see, and the Emperor nodded curtly to the King before taking his seat. Prompto moved to stand just behind Aldercapt, letting his gaze wander to the Prince of Lucis; and as his role demanded of him, that shit-eating smirk on his face only grew.

Watching the procession in silence was possibly the hardest thing Noctis had ever been made to do in all his years of being the crown prince. To stand straight but not threateningly so, to appear pleasant but not artificially, to keep his hand away from the pommel of the sword strapped to his waist as a sign of his station more than for actual use--it was all difficult as hell when he had the prince of Niflheim sneering at him like something that lived in the Vesperpool. Even Ravus Nox Fleuret wasn't this bad at first impressions.

Meanwhile, the representatives of Niflheim took their places with their raised noses in peace. Noctis had to school his expression when his father's fingers squeezed his own inconspicuously as he lowered himself into his seat at the emperor's side. There was so much contained in that one gesture--understanding, agreement, sadness, regret, warning--that Noctis felt something lodge itself in his throat. It was no secret to anyone living within the Citadel that he hadn't been on the best terms with his father in recent years, but he could still feel the latter's thoughts and emotions like a physical thing that lived in his own chest.

Neither of them liked this, and they could suffer their pain together.

"Emperor Aldercapt," the king announced in greeting, inclining his head respectfully.

"Honored guests. Welcome to Insomnia."

And so it began.

The treaty ceremony itself didn't last long. The demands, or.. well, agreements, were read out: Insomnia was to surrender all outlying lands to Niflheim yet the city would be untouched. Trade routes would be established. And then the final one, the one that had Prompto's stomach churning and Noctis livid.

Everything in the document had been expected--the land grab, the trade deals, all of it. The whole point was to end the fighting and create a partnership of sorts, all at the cost of just a few hundred miles of land. Wars had been fought over much less.

Everything in the treaty had been expected except one detail.

If it weren't for the fact that he had nothing better to do, Noctis would have missed it only to be told at a later date. Maybe that would have been better than realizing just what his role in all this would be in the middle of a crowded room with their enemies only a few feet away. He could practically see it: his father calling him to his chambers, sitting him down, and gently breaking the news to him. Noctis would lose his temper and say things he didn't mean, but his dad wouldn't utter a word. He would wait for Noctis to talk himself into silence before appealing not to his son, but to the prince. He would say that this was necessary, and Noctis would grudgingly accept the demand.

Because there was no other way he'd ever consent to being a glorified tour guide for the snarky little shit of a prince standing across from him.

That was what he was reduced to as the king's flowing script endorsed the treaty on his designated line, sealing their fates and those of their subjects--former subjects, in some cases. The clause was right there, plain as day:

Prince Prompto was to remain in Insomnia as an asset of the Empire. Or, in simpler terms, they were leaving him behind to get a look at how the city worked from the inside.

Prompto had been angry at first; but no amount of anger would let him disobey a direct order. He was nothing but a fancied up figurehead for Niflheim; and thus they had all right to boss him around and order him as needed. Words were exchanged, before Emperor Aldercapt leaned forward to sign his name across the bottom of the treaty.

It was a small movement; but Prompto flinched as he watched his life signed away on a piece of paper.

There was an old poem Ignis had made Noctis read when he was in high school. He'd been on a mission to get him to devour more literature than comic books--to no avail--and that poem had been one of many that made their way into his book bag when he least expected it.

Although it wasn't really to his taste with the depressing content and old style, there had been one part that struck him and stayed with him years later:

"This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang but a whimper."

Those words had made him think, but he'd never truly understood what they meant until the moment the signing was finished. Their world had just ended, but there was no gunfire; there were no explosions of magic or bombs or any other tool of destruction. The end had come with the scratching of pens and the rustling of paper; it commenced with rounds of applause and false camaraderie.

Not with a bang but a whimper.

By the time the debris of their former lives settled around their feet, Noctis was alone. His father was making nice with the emperor, and the councils were mingling. Even Ignis, who Noctis would have made a beeline for, was engaged in conversation with some Niff. The only person who wasn't currently busy with pretending to like this whole thing was the other prince, who was standing in the corner with that same obnoxious smirk on full display.
Noctis tried to ignore him. He really did.

Then his father glanced at him with a significant twitch of his lips, and the decision was taken right out of his hands.

Shit... Well, better get used to it.

Plastering a friendly smile onto his face, Noctis approached his new best friend and nodded in greeting.

"Prince Prompto," he murmured, glad that his animosity didn't make it into his tone. That would be bad. "How are you liking Lucis so far?"

Not that he really cared, but he'd done enough of those stupid etiquette lessons to know it was the right thing to ask.

Prompto had wanted to wall-flower his way through the event, and hoped that merely remaining as un-approachable as possible would help that. Sure enough, asides from the occasional councilman or woman, most people were avoiding him. That suited him fine; any social interaction was going to have him fleeing for the nearest exit. Or table. That could work too. Though.. apparently the Astrals weren't on his side today, as he noted the Crown Prince make a bee-line across the busy hall to where he stood. Well, crap. Still, he let the familiar mask of a smirk sit on his lips and dipped his head formally in greeting to the other Prince. His tone practically dripped with sarcasm, though he made sure not to overstep any royal boundaries.

"Can't say I'm keen on the weather; prefer it colder." That was a lie. The cold, bitter bite of Gralea was absolutely mind-numbing. Lucis was a breath of fresh air, compared to that. Still. He had a personality no, a mask, to keep up. "Surprised I'm not seeing more people with tans, really."

Somehow, Noctis wasn't at all surprised that the prince of Niflheim was as big a douchebag as he looked. It was a shame, really: he would have preferred to be proven wrong, but it appeared that he'd be spending his time around someone he would probably loathe sharing air with.

For the sake of the treaty and the peace it was supposed to ensure, however, Noctis didn't rise to the bait. He nodded in patient acknowledgement, tucked his hands behind his back, and looked calmly out upon the assemblage.

"That must be the strength of the Wall at work," he remarked disinterestedly, as if that was par for the course. He wasn't quite sure that was the real reason, but it sounded good, so he would go with it. "We get the warm weather without the sunburn."

The Wall. Prompto had been educated on it; or at least, on what Niflheim knew of it, for years. A safeguard that protected Insomnia from the Empire, allowing peace and prosperity for those who resided within. However, rumours had slipped afoot that maintaining the wall was taking a toll on the King, and thus Niflheim had decided to use that to their advantage; seeking to drive a dagger in at the point of weakness.

Smiling mildly, Noctis nodded once again to the other prince and added, "I guess you'll be getting used to it with this being your new home and all." The words left a bad taste on his tongue, but he ignored it. Allowing himself to grimace at every displeasing thought would probably leave him with a permanent frown, given the circumstances.

"Lucky. The most Gralea can offer you is frost bite; so I suppose you'll be relieved that the treaty has me coming here, rather than yourself there?" Prompto cast his gaze across at the other Prince, still smirking as he spoke. "Honestly. With all those rumours from Niflheim floating around.. I must admit, I expected you to be taller."

Antagonizing the Prince probably wasn't the smartest plan, and the blond supposed deep down there was a bit of resentment there. Resentment that he'd been forced into undertaking this task; a task that made him feel sick to his stomach.

It was a really good thing Gladio wasn't around right now. The idea of what his Shield would say was the only thing keeping Noctis from snapping at Prince Smart-Ass--who was the exact same height, by the way. If he'd been anyone else, Noctis would have pointed out their similar statures and crafted a counter insult of equal immaturity. But this wasn't just anyone, and he wanted to win this the only way that would make his father proud--the high road.

If Gladio were here, he'd step in and glare down at Prince Pissy to remind him how tall he wasn't. If Gladio were here, he'd utter some snide comment about making sure Noctis wasn't the shortest one in the room by taking a few inches off Prince Douchecanoe's shoulders.

If Gladio were here, they would have an international incident on their hands. Maybe Master Clarus had had it right when he banned Gladio from attending on the grounds that he was too emotionally unstable in the face of the impending treaty.

Still, Noctis would never admit it, but he considered it his duty to make his Shield proud. So, he shrugged a careless shoulder and snarked right on back.

"Size isn't really a good measure of someone's ability. But I'm sure that's not news to you." Noctis remarked.

"And something I'm sure you have far further experience in." Prompto replied almost instantly; not averting his gaze from the Prince as he did so. Inwardly, he wanted to be sick; -really- wanted to. Oh hell, how was he supposed to keep up such an unnatural act? He'd been reprimanded time and time again for being too casual with his words, too 'unstable' as they'd labeled him. Of course, to Niflheim, anything that didn't fit in with severely tight regulations could be labeled as that.

Behind his back, he absently clenched his hands together and briefly cast his gaze over at Verstael and Emperor Aldercapt. Neither were paying attention, but he knew better than to assume he wasn't being watched.

Humming, Noctis smiled tersely at the ridiculous comeback. Apparently, he wasn't dealing with some refined imperial politician. No, he was dealing with a five-year-old.

That made things simultaneously better and worse.

"Well, one of us has to have experience in something, anyway," he shot back pleasantly. "So, thanks for the compliment."

And I think that's about as much civility as I can manage today. Ignis would be so proud.

As a matter of fact, he caught his advisor's eye from across the room and registered that the two councils were beginning to break up. There would be more of this garbage tomorrow night, after the Niffs had gotten a welcoming tour of the city (at least the part of it that held no strategic value whatsoever because his father wasn't an idiot) and they gathered together for a formal celebration of their new arrangement. If Noctis was going to stay sane through that ordeal, he needed some space. Now.

Turning back to Prince Pettiness, Noctis inclined his head with a respectful yet perfunctory grace.

"Well, if you'll excuse me, someone's gotta do the hard work around here," he murmured, smirking.

With that, Noctis turned on his heel and swept across the audience chamber to Ignis, who was waiting for him with his standard unruffled expression. It only took a glance for him to recognize that they were leaving, and he followed along without question. Only the utmost effort saw them both safely tucked inside the privacy of the elevator before Noctis slumped against the wall with an irritated groan.

"I can't believe they're making me do this."

What had been a very long day had turned into a very long night. When Noctis and Ignis returned to his chambers, it was to find an irate Gladio lounging on his sofa with a sour expression and the desire to punch any Niffs that had gotten out of line during the signing. The reassurance from Ignis that their guests had been perfect gentlemen made him snort, and Noctis couldn't stop himself from recounting his conversation with Niflheim's own Prince Shithead. None of his barbs were anything Gladio hadn't taunted Noctis about since they were kids, of course; that was probably why Noctis had been able to stomach it from the royal nightmare downstairs.

Still, Gladio was allowed to say those things. Because he was Gladio.

Prince Fartface was not Gladio.

Which was probably why his Shield defied both their fathers and insisted on accompanying him the following day as the Lucian retinue escorted the Niffs around Insomnia. Noctis's father had relented on only one condition: that Ignis join them as well and keep both Noctis and Gladio in line should the need arise.

That was going to be easier said than done, Noctis realized when he discovered the seating arrangements. Something told him that being stuck in a confined space with the foreign prince and some guard named Loqi wasn't going to end well given Gladio's quick trigger.

Watching Prince Noctis' back fade into the crowd of people, Prompto finally relaxed his grip from behind him, releasing the intake of breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and moved to stride towards where Emporer Aldercapt and Verstael were conversing with Lucian diplomats. The conversation was fairly neutral, though upon seeing the blond return to them, Verstael cast him a glare. Ah. That was for spending.. too much time with the Prince? Too litte? Six, Prompto would give himself a headache trying to work out where he'd messed up that time.

"Boy." Verstael snapped; because, why couldn't anyone use his actual name? "Head to your chambers for now. The tour starts early tomorrow, and I expect to see you there on time. Let me just.." He glanced around the room, before settling eyes on another Commander; albeit of a lower rank. "Loqi! You'll be escorting Prince Prompto for the night."

Great. Now he really wanted to shrink into a small gap to die. With no such beautiful end in sight, Prompto merely nodded his head as Loqi approached. The Commander in question walked with the usual stuck-up Niflheim confidence that Prompto continuously failed to adopt to his own personality. It wasn’t long before the two were led out of the room and to where he supposed they'd be sleeping. Him and his.. what, guard? Loqi couldn't stand him.