Chapter Text
Their infiltration of Aracheole Stronghold had disintegrated into a chaotic fight. A fight they weren’t winning. When Noctis felt Ramuh in the back of his head, he called out to him without hesitation. He needed all the help he could get.
Suddenly he was a hundred feet in the air and smaller than a speck of dust. Ramuh's terrible voice vibrated through every inch of his body. Lightning pinned him to Ramuh's hand. There was too much power. It was going to grind him down until he was nothing.
Then it was over, and he was back on his own two feet.
The air was still and the ground was black. Red sparks flew on the wind. The base was desolated.
Noctis felt desolated, too. Like if he peeled himself open and looked inside, everything would be blackened and charred. The memory of sparks danced on his skin.
He could hear the others, distantly. Prompto was losing his mind. Ignis was satisfied. Gladio was impressed. Noctis rubbed his arms, like he could brush that feeling off himself, get it away from him, get it out of him.
"Noct," Ignis said, suddenly close at hand. "Are you all right?"
"I don't know," Noctis said, right before his knees gave out. Gladio said "Shit!" and Prompto cried out, but Ignis just caught him.
"You're shaking," Ignis said. "Noctis, what's the matter?"
"I don't know," Noctis wavered. "I don't know, I don't-" He threw up on the smoldering concrete. He was surprised what came out of him wasn't black or red. He felt like it should've been.
When he was done, Ignis pulled him to him, back to chest. He wiped Noctis' mouth with his sleeve, gentle and efficient, and rolled up his cuff with a few quick motions to hide the mess. "You're all right," he said, stroking his arm.
"I don't know," Noctis repeated. He might have been starting to panic. Why shouldn't he? He'd been hollowed out. Ignis' arm around his stomach was the only thing holding him up.
"I know," Ignis said firmly, close to his ear. "I know the gods would not use you up, Noctis. Not like this. I know you will be all right."
Noctis choked, almost a sob. Ignis was wrong. He couldn't take this, not if it didn't go away. He wanted to rip himself open, stuff something inside himself, anything to get that emptiness out.
Ignis' other arm locked firmly across his chest, and somehow that brought it back from the brink of unbearable. Noctis clung to that arm. If Ignis moved it, Noctis might actually die.
"That's it," Ignis said. "You're all right."
Noctis shook and shook and gasped for air. Ignis held him together, sat there and let Noctis shake against him. Eventually that hollow feeling receded, just a bit. The gasping turned into breathing, each breath longer than the last. Then he was still and limp in Ignis' arms. He almost felt like a human being again. He took the deepest breath he'd ever taken. It felt like relief. He opened his eyes.
Gladio towered over him, even on his knees, his shoulders blocking out everything else around them. His face was taut and dark. He had an arm around Prompto, who knelt beside him. His face was wet with tears.
Noctis tilted his head back. The sky was blue and white, far above. "I'm all right," he said.
"Good," Gladio replied.
Gladio and Ignis eased him forward until Noctis was sitting cross-legged with his head resting on his palms. He was pretty sure each of his friends had at least one hand on him. He didn't mind. It helped.
"So that's the power of the Six," he said.
"Bit of a bad trip," Gladio said seriously.
Prompto let out a shaky laugh. "No kidding."
"All's well that ends well," Ignis said. He was gripping Noctis' arm pretty hard.
Noctis looked up at him. His face was pale and his lips were thin like he was pressing them together. His sharp eyes were locked on Noctis. He seemed rattled.
Noctis realized with a jolt that Ignis hadn't really been sure he'd be okay. Ignis had played confident for his sake, but he'd been afraid. Afraid Noctis would die in his arms. Or something.
"Specs," he said. He reached out for him, snagged his sleeve. The one he'd used to wipe Noctis' gross vomit off his face without hesitation. "I'm all right. Okay?"
Ignis stared at him. He reached forward, seizing Noctis' head in both hands. He brushed a kiss quickly across his forehead. "Thank the Six."
"Well," Prompto said, "it was kinda their fault in the first place. So I mean ..."
Ignis choked, and Noctis couldn't stop himself from grinning. "Blasphemer," Gladio joked, elbowing Prompto in the side.
"Let's go get the Regalia," Noctis suggested.
Prompto sprang to his feet. "And get the heck out of here? Yes, please."
Of course, then they ran into fucking Ravus.
---------
After that creep Ardyn chased Ravus away – and fine, even though Noctis was shaking with fury, he was probably in no condition to fight Ravus – they finally piled into the Regalia. The mood was even worse than before.
Ignis was silent, Prompto was wilted, and Gladio was seething. Noctis' own anger was fading fast. He was tired. Ignis pulled the Regalia onto the main road and picked up speed. Noctis leaned against the side of the car and closed his eyes.
"Sorry," Gladio said.
No one responded. It occurred to Noctis that Gladio might be talking to him. He dragged his eyes open. "Huh?"
Gladio was staring murderously at his own hands where they were clasped in his lap. "I'm sorry. Your Majesty."
Noctis forced his brain to trace back over what happened with Ravus. Gladio, tossed aside. Smashed into the side of the Regalia. Noctis lunging in front of him. Protecting his Shield from the threat.
Gladio’s elbow was scraped and bleeding. Noctis hadn't noticed. That probably wasn't the only place he was hurt.
Noctis drew a potion out of the armiger. He held it out.
Gladio growled. "I don't need that."
Noctis levered himself away from the side of the car. He cracked the potion against Gladio's shoulder. Magic lit the air. It both was and wasn’t a part of him. He almost felt it heal Gladio’s wounds. When it was done, he held out his hand.
Gladio stared at it like it was Ravus, or a freaking normal shirt.
"I'm tired," Noctis said. "And I'm." He didn't know what he was. Not quite right, still. He shook his hand impatiently.
Gladio took it, carefully. Then he reached over and hauled Noctis across the back seat. He tucked him against his side so Noctis could rest his head, wrapped his tattooed arm around his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," Gladio repeated. Softer, this time. Just between the two of them.
"It's fine, shut up." Noctis reached over for Gladio's other hand. It was a little awkward, but he didn't care. He held it in both of his own, gently rubbed the calloused fingers. A lifetime of work, for him.
Gladio couldn't protect Noctis from everything. He couldn't protect him from the gods. Just like Clarus couldn't protect his dad from the Empire. Noctis felt a spear of panic.
It was safer to focus on Gladio. His arm around him was warmer than the sun shining though the open top of the Regalia. He couldn't protect Noctis from everything. His job was to try. And he always did. "It’s seriously fine," Noctis murmured, squeezing his hand.
"Mmph," Gladio said. It wasn't an agreement.
Noctis didn't have the energy to argue. His eyes slipped closed. Gladio was a better pillow than the side of the Regalia by far. He clumsily tangled their fingers together.
"You did good today," Gladio said. "With Ramuh. I know it hurt, but what you did will save a lot of people. It's gonna make a difference."
Maybe that made it worth it.
---------
Turned out it was all for nothing, because Jared was dead.
After the news broke, after Noctis listened to a crying little boy say he believed in him, everyone was distracted. Gladio went to comfort Iris and Ignis was busy making calls and plans. No one was paying attention to Noctis.
When he knew he was alone, he collapsed into a chair. His chest hurt, and it was making him think about earlier, about Ramuh and that scorched hollowness he was trying to forget. It was a lost cause. That feeling was going to be part of his brain forever. It scared him.
Pale hands caught his own and pulled them away from his chest. Noctis started. He hadn't noticed Prompto enter the room, and he also hadn't noticed that he was kind of scraping at himself. The realization made him almost want to cry. He was close anyway.
Prompto sank to the floor at his feet, keeping Noctis' hands for himself. "Hey, buddy. You doing all right?"
Nocits didn't know how to answer that.
"Sorry," Prompto said, like he'd decided it was a stupid question. “Everything sucks, right. About earlier, I …” He trailed off, and his eyes traced up and down Noctis. Like he was looking for cracks.
Noctis couldn’t blame him.
"The whole psheww-k-chhhh thing was amazing, don’t get me wrong, but, uh … Maybe we'll be lucky and you'll never have to do that again." His voice was bright, Prompto's voice was always bright, but he still sounded like he didn't believe that any more than Noctis did. "Or maybe it won't be like that every time. For you. Maybe it'll get easier."
Noctis didn't know what would be worse. Feeling that feeling over and over, or becoming something where that gaping rawness didn't bother him anymore.
Prompto must have seen it on his face, because he squeezed Noctis' hands tighter. "It doesn't matter," Prompto continued. "We'll be by your side, every time. I can't ... make it better, or do it for you. But I'll ..." He laughed unsteadily, shrugged.
"I know," Noctis said. Prompto would do anything, everything he could.
Noctis leaned forward. He pulled on his hands. Prompto released them instantly. Noctis wound his fingers though Prompto's golden hair. His friend's warmth drove some of the tightness out of his chest. "Thank you," he said.
Prompto gripped Noctis' knees. "I mean, dude, you're the one who's doing the heavy lifting here. For real."
Noctis shook his head, but he didn't argue. He just curled his hand around the back of Prompto's neck, pressed his temple to the side of Prompto's head, and breathed.
He was going to have to do it again. And again and again and again. He'd known Luna was suffering, as she faced each of the gods in turn, but he hadn't really understood what that meant. Not for her, not for him. He was the Chosen King. He was going to win the favor of each of the Six. No matter what it took. And he was going to use that favor to save everyone.
He just didn't know what would be left of him by the time he was done.
He choked on a sob. A single short sound escaped him. That was all it took.
Then he was bawling into Prompto's hair.
"Oh my gosh, Noct, hey, buddy, shh." Prompto's hands were everywhere, trying to soothe him. "It's okay, you're okay, I'm right here.”
Noctis tried to get himself under control. "I’m sorry.”
“Dude, Noct, you can cry whenever you want. You're always so locked down ... I mean, I cry in the car when everyone else is busy shopping for potions, so maybe you have your own ... but I think you're kinda, like, long overdue. Just go to town, let it all out."
Prompto’s words pierced the haze of Noctis’ thoughts, gave him something outside himself to focus on. Prompto breaking down alone, hiding it from the rest of them. From him. How could he have missed that? He was supposed to be responsible for everybody. He dug his fingers into Prompto’s skin.
"Don't ever cry without me again," Noctis said. "Please."
"Dude, you're not missing much. It's just a lot of snot dripping and ugly red-face, honestly."
"Prompto," Noctis said haggardly. "Please."
"Sure, Noct," Prompto surrendered, rubbing Noctis' back with slow gentle strokes. "If it's that important to you."
It was, but Noctis' ability to articulate himself was seriously hampered by the tears currently dripping off his own face.
The door to their room opened, and two sharp breaths cut the air. "Noct," Gladio's low voice came, "you okay?"
"He's fine," Prompto said. He got up on his knees and pulled Noctis' head to his chest. Shielding him from view. Probably the way he'd want to be shielded if he was distressed. "We're just having a moment."
Footsteps. Prompto tensed. He was ready to defend Noctis, even from their friends.
"It's fine," Noctis murmured. They'd all seen him in pieces earlier. Why not in tears now?
Ignis perched on the arm of his chair. A gloved hand slid up his back. "There now."
Gladio's hand clamped down on the back on his neck. Firm, solid. Grounding.
"You are not to blame for what's transpired here," Ignis said, "and we will do everything we can to prevent it from happening again."
"So don't sweat it," Gladio said. "You've got this, and we've got you."
"Whatever it takes," Prompto agreed. "Nifs, crazy god stuff … whatever."
Noctis took a shuddering breath. They were trying to help. He knew they'd do anything for him. He knew he’d do anything he needed to. He hated it. What it might mean.
"I know," was all he said. His voice came out sturdier than he felt. It was probably his friends’ steady hands, keeping him in place.
Noctis scrubbed at his eyes. He couldn’t wallow. They had to get to Altissia. To the next Astral. The next impossible thing.
Maybe he'd finally get to see Luna. He was looking forward to talking to her. There were so many things he wanted to say. He wanted to see her smile, hear her say something wise.
The thought of it calmed his heart a little. She’d probably tell him to have more hope.