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It’s dark outside by the time they can finally slip into the backseat of the car, a sleek, black thing that looks like the shortened version of a limousine—not quite as nice as the Regalia. Noctis doesn’t pay that much attention to cars. He’s busy with the screen of his phone, after four boring hours of staring at museum workers. He had to cut the ribbon in front of the newly remodeled building, give a short speech (thankfully pre-written by Ignis), and then attend one of the dullest seminars of his life. It’s amazing that the press stuck around as long as they did—they’re still flashing their cameras as he and Prompto shut the doors of their ride.
Ignis is already waiting behind the wheel. He pulls away from the curb and smoothly compliments, “That was an excellent appearance, Noct. It should do wonders for the public view of the crown.”
“I hope so,” Prompto groans, slumping down in the seat next to Noctis, his phone coming out too. “I thought I was going to fall asleep when they started talking about the museum’s old-as-hell founders. Talk about a snooze fest.”
In the corner of his eye, Noctis can see Ignis’ frown in the overhead mirror. Noctis grunts his agreement. In a way, it makes him feel incrementally better that Prompto had to suffer too—after all, misery loves company. On the other hand, Prompto’s round shoulders looked way too comfortable; he had to truly fight the temptation of drifting off on them. He’d make up for it here and now, if they didn’t still have a public dinner to attend. There’s a new restaurant opening across town, one that’s apparently pledged to donate a percentage of its profits to the local orphanage, so, of course, he’s expected to meet his father for their first dinner service and share another stuffy meal.
They’ve only made it a few blocks when Noctis suddenly remembers the one silver lining of today. He calls to the front seat, “Hey, Iggy, pull over at the next newsstand.”
The car takes a smooth turn to the left. Even as Ignis asks, “May I ask what for?” they’re pulling over.
“Ohhh,” Prompto chirps for him, clearly cluing in, “the special King’s Knight issue of Gaming Weekly!”
Ignis pops open the driver’s door and tells them, “I’ll get it.”
But Noctis is already turning off his phone. “Nah, I’ll get this one.”
“It’s really no trouble.”
Noctis grunts, “I wanna stretch my legs anyway,” and opens his door. As soon as he’s slipped out, Prompto scrambles out after him.
Noctis shuts the door again, only to find Ignis frowning over him. “Then perhaps a few laps around the car would be better suited to get your blood flowing.”
“Ignis, I said I’ll get it.”
Strangely, Ignis opens his mouth, clearly about to protest again, but that just hardens Noctis’ resolve. He pushes right past Ignis, marching for the open storefront they clearly pulled over for. It’s lined in every sort of magazine and newspaper available, displaying everything from home décor to classic horror flicks. Noctis’ eyes skim the shelves, for once skipping over the fishing ones in favour of his second favourite pastime.
Instead, his eyes land on a big, glossy image of him and Prompto, leaning so close together that their black-blue and sunshine-yellow hair is mingled against both their cheeks, Noctis’ expression infinitely uninterested and Prompto beaming like a star.
The bright red headline reads: The Prince’s Blond Bombshell: Bodyguard or Boyfriend?
Beside him, Prompto’s fluttering voice gives a little gasp. He can feel Prompto now hovering just over his shoulder. Ignis releases a failed sigh, clearly not far behind.
He should’ve known that Ignis was trying to protect him. He’s always saying not to read the tabloids. And Noctis usually listens. It’s not like he cares what others think, or at least, that’s what he tells himself. But the mingled headline and snapshot burn into him until he’s reaching out, plucking the thick magazine right off the shelf. He flips inside past two full page ads for moogle themed purses, then lands on an article chalk full of more intrusive pictures. The first one shows Noctis and Prompto at last week’s book reading, where he’d recited a short story to a library full of small children. Prompto’s on a stool next to his, smiling fondly at Noctis’ oblivious face, while Noctis’ attention is on his page. The first paragraph he skims through is light fluff, gushing over how nice their young prince is for engaging kids. Nowhere does it mention, of course, that the idea was very strongly recommended by his father.
The second paragraph reads: ‘Next to Prince Noctis, of course, was faithful sidekick Prompto Argentum, who can often be found at our prince’s side. This commoner-turned-official has been all the rage in the papers lately, and if you don’t know why, you must’ve been living under a rock! Despite the somewhat punk-rock style that he can often be found in on his off-duty days, this blond beauty looks stunning in his tailored black suit, clearly custom-made to match the prince’s own.’
Noctis actually pauses, glancing over at the real Prompto Argentum, who’s gaping down at the magazine and mouthing ‘beautiful?’ Cheeks heating but drawn by some invisible, nauseating force, Noctis turns back and reads on.
‘In an interview with the press only two months ago, the palace stated that Prompto Argentum attends outings with Prince Noctis in an official capacity—although just what that capacity was, they didn’t say. Many have speculated that he serves as an undercover Crownsguard, but this paper thinks there’s more than meets the eye going on here. For proof, just look at this exclusive shot from last week’s Balamb Elementary School visit, where we can clearly see Prince Noctis’ arm around the trim waist of his loyal companion.’
The text is interrupted for a photograph of Noctis and Prompto walking through a playground. There’s a red circle drawn around Noctis’ hand cupping Prompto’s hip, and the way the two are looking at one another, it certainly appears intentional. Except that Noctis is fairly certain he was trying to tug Prompto aside because a rogue game of tag was about to barrel into them.
‘But most damning, perhaps,’ the article continues, ‘is the exclusive scoop we got from Thursday’s visit to the local Chocobo shelter.’ The next photograph is a long shot, obscured by the blurry form of some random civilian in the foreground, with Noctis and Prompto way off in the background, kneeling in the dirt of the chocobo pen. Noctis is placing a fluffy newborn chick into Prompto’s lap, and Prompto is clutching his face like he’s never seen anything cuter in his entire life. Noctis distinctly remembers feeling like he hadn’t seen anything cuter than Prompto so happy. The article speculates: ‘Is this a Crownsguard inspecting a royal threat, or a smitten prince gifting an adorable token of affection to his secret mistress?’
Prompto must not be far behind, because as Noctis’ gaze lingers back to the picture, Prompto squeaks, “Mistress?”
The final paragraph on the page, plastered below a small collage of photos wherein the two are standing just a tad too close, notes: ‘Obviously, the two are quite close. And what a delight it is for the rest of us, because unlike our stoic Prince Noctis, Prompto Argentum is a complete ball of sunshine! He never fails to flash the press a winning smile, and he appears truly enthusiastic when it comes to his duties to his prince and our fair city. It’s clear that he’s a good influence on our prince. And given that body, he must also be quite an active person. In fact, behind closed doors, it’s very likely that the two share a very active sex-life—‘
Noctis’ hands are too numb to flip the page. Before he can, Ignis leans over and rips the entire magazine right out of his hands. Noctis doesn’t fight it. He just stares at where the magazine was. Ignis quietly announces, “That’s quite enough. Indulging in the tabloids’ lewd rumour mill will do no one any good.”
Lewd indeed. Noctis’ face is burning up, and he didn’t even get to the actually lewd part. Prompto seems just as zoned out as him but slowly mumbles, awe-struck, “They love me.”
“As do we all,” Ignis mutters in a withered tone. “But the king certainly won’t if the two of you are late for tonight’s dinner.” With that, he takes them each by the shoulder and steers them back towards the car. Noctis can’t even remember why they pulled over in the first place.
Ignis herds them onto the backseat. They sit together, conspicuously close, which Noctis realizes just a tad too late, and by then, he’s not willing to change it. When he sneaks a look at Prompto, Prompto catches his eye, then flushes a pretty crimson colour and looks pointedly away.
They spend the rest of the drive in an uncomfortable silence, at least until Prompto mumbles almost timidly, “...King’s Knight?”
And Noctis mutters, “Yeah,” squeezing a quick game in before they really do have to be ‘official’.