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Prompto looked up at the clock for what felt like the thousandth time that hour, his frown growing deeper when he saw that it had only ticked over one more minute.
Everyone was late.
Usually, Prompto was happy that he wasn’t taken on diplomatic trips. As much as he loved spending time with the guys, and going to see new places, his two experiences of diplomacy had sucked.
There was the trip to Gralea where he’d been leered at by one of the Emperor’s minions, and they’d spoken Niff to him because of the way he looked, and that weird chief scientist had stared at him and his wrist any time they’d been in the same room, eyes flicking between the two ominously. Plus, there’d been zero time to take any photos of the unusual Niff architecture, or the weird flowers so he’d be able to show Luna, or the weirdly pampered cats to show Noct, because they’d confiscated his camera at the border to prevent ‘spying’.
Tenebrae had been marginally better. He’d only really had to deal with Ravus being weird, but even then there’d been little time to see anything interesting. Noct and Luna had been whisked off, so he couldn’t spend time with his alphas to be, the imperial guards had been stationed around the entirety of the Fenestala Manor had made it impossible to explore, and the supply line for suppressants had been stopped so he’d been hit by the worst heat everafter he’d run out.
After those, he’d been formally excused from going on such trips again. Instead, he was free to watch movies in the cinema room housed in the underground of the Citadel, or go and take pictures throughout Insomnia, or make use of the virtually empty gym when the majority of the Kingsglaive were off on the trip with Noct and King Regis.
That was basically what he’d done this time, and up until now, it had been fine. He’d texted both Noct and Luna a few times, and they’d replied when they’d got around to it (Luna less frequently, since her travels throughout the world to heal often left her with no signal), but now Noct and King Regis and Gladio and Iggy and the Glaive and even Corwere late back.
He’d thought nothing of it for the first hour. There’d been some accident near the gate that he’d heard about on the radio, so he’d put it down to traffic. And then for the second hour, when there was still no sign of them, he’d put it down to a tyre having popped in the Regalia since King Regis always insisted that the thing didn’t need servicing, and especially not at the place in Hammerhead that had the cheapest tyres.
But then it had become the third hour, and Iggy’s uncle had come and asked if he’d heard from anyone since 3pm. And in the fourth hour, he was asked to come to the throne room, as one of the most senior people in the Citadel (which he’d felt his heart stop at, because he knew he’d only been designated as such because of his friendship with Noct, and the future marriage to him and Luna), and he was told that they’d lost contact with everyone who’d headed to Vogilupe, where the latest hashing out of a peace treaty was to be made underneath Shiva’s corpse.
They were into the seventh hour now. There was still no sign. And for the past few hours, Prompto had been sat in the throne room looking out of the window while people talked about the last time this had happened, during the attempt on King Regis’ life in Tenebrae where Noct had been injured. He’d tried summoning things from the armiger, which had worked fine, so at least he knew Noct was alive, and people had let out a sigh of relief, but he didn’t know the state he was in.
He’d had a panic attack sometime around hour five, and had ended up leaving Luna a long, rambling answerphone message asking her to commune with the Astrals and figure out where the fuck Noctis was. She hadn’t replied yet.
Suddenly, there was a flurry of movement in the Citadel courtyard. The gates were flung open, rather than carefully cranked back like he’d always seen them be. The Regalia and Star of Lucis were flanked by multiple other cars as they sped in, and parked haphazardly before members of the Glaive filtered out of the other cars.
His heart stopped when he Ignis get out of the car, a bloodied muscular arm over his shoulder.
“Fuck!” he yelled, standing up from where he’d been perched on the windowledge. “C-can we get the medics down there?” he called, watching wide eyed as Ignis helped a blood drenched Gladio out of the car. Cor was similarly helping Clarus out, and if Clarus was looking that bad, whatever they’d faced had to be sinister.
“Lord Argentum!” he’d heard someone call, but he’d been busy running down the stairs to leave the throne room, doing his best to get down to the car and find out what the fuckhad happened. He hadn’t seen Noct yet – the whole procedure was that it was Gladio and then Noct out of the car, that was the whole procedure they’d drilled! Why hadn’t he seen Noct get out of the car second?
“Lord Argentum!” called someone else, and then there was someone in a Glaive uniform holding him by the shoulders. “We’re trying to get medical down there, but we can’t have you running down there. We need to keep the hallways completely clear for them!”
It was like someone had paused, and then fast forwarded time, because the next thing Prompto knew, he was being helped into a small room just off from the infirmary, and being handed a bottle of water by someone in the cool grey worn by the Citadel admin staff, while Ignis’ uncle, and Iris along with her nanny hovered worriedly near the door.
“Wh-what happened to Daddy? And Gladdy?” asked Iris, still clad in her school uniform. She’d obviously been brought out of school for this, which meant it hadto be bad. His own hands were trembling, and he was relieved he’d been brought a bottle rather than a glass, since he knew he’d have splashed water all over himself.
And they were left there for well over an hour and a half before Ignis was finally brought in.
Ignis was more dishevelled than Prompto had ever seen him. The man was pale, glasses off, and gone was his formal Crownsguard garb that Prompto had seen him through the window in. Instead, he was in a soft grey jumper – probably because his previous clothes were now covered in blood, and that thought knocked Prompto sick.
“What happened, Iggy?” cried Iris, clinging onto him as he made his way into the room.
“There was an attack,” sighed Ignis, holding onto her as he made his way over to the small couch. Prompto shifted over from where he’d been curled up on it, leaning into the older man’s side. “Noctis became unwell, and had been struggling somewhat throughout the course of the negotiations. The Empire attempted to take advantage before we left. Fortunately, both your father and Gladio were there to prevent anything horrible occurring, but… well…”
“They were Shields?” mumbled Prompto despondently.
“O-of course they were! That’s what being a Shield means!” said Iris, but she was crying into Ignis’ chest a moment later.
“And so, we were delayed. His Majesty stayed with Noctis in the Star, with Nyx and Titus. We needed the space in the Regalia to lay out Gladio and Lord Amacitia,” explained Ignis tiredly. “So Cor and I travelled with them.”
“And do you know how they are now, dear nephew?” asked his uncle, raising an eyebrow from where he was stood in the corner, writing things down in a notebook.
“Sadly not. I know His Majesty is unharmed, but it’s unlikely he’ll be willing to leave their sides. And it is not like the medical staff can force him to,” said Ignis, shaking his head.
“Very well,” nodded his uncle. “I will go and make the council aware. We need to adjust plans and inform the remainder of the Glaive,” he said before leaving.
It felt like hours before they received their next piece of news. In the meantime, Iris had ordered teddies for both her father and brother and had them delivered, and had tearily made two cards with supplies the administrative staff had rustled up for her. Ignis had fought sleep for a good while before finally dozing off, and it had taken both Prompto and Iris to lay him down and get his shoes off without waking him.
And Prompto had stepped out for a good half an hour for a teary call with Luna, begging her to ask the Astrals to let Noctis be okay with whatever illness he’d come down with, because they still hadn’t heard any news. Luna had assured him that she’d be there soon, and that all would be fine, and she’d even used her alpha voice to attempt to settle him.
It had calmed him slightly, but the nagging anxiety hadn’t entirely gone away. And when a Citadel doctor had come to the door, clad in black scrubs, he’d immediately thought the worst.
“The Lords Amacitia are ready for visitors now,” explained the doctor, carefully stepping over Iris’ drying cards as she entered the room. “And His Highness Prince Noctis has asked for the remainder of his Crownsguard. He is still unwell, so please try not to exhaust him –“
And with that, Prompto was taking off to find Noctis, sighing with relief when one of the nurses took him by the arm and steered him in the right direction, to a door flanked by Crowe and Nyx.
“Try not to panic too much, kid,” said Nyx, clapping a hand onto his shoulder before stepping aside to let him in.
“You know, saying that actually makes people panic dude,” groaned Prompto, pushing open the door and rushing to Noctis’ bedside.
Noct looked like shit to say the least. He had an oxygen mask clamped over his face, some vapour being pushed into it if the slight tinge to the gas inside was any clue. His breathing was laboured – he was propped upright by pillows, hunched like he’d run a 10k and was trying to catch his breath – and his hair was sticking to his forehead from the sweat coming off him.
“Shit, Noct,” groaned Prompto, grabbing hold of the hand closest to him. He saw who was holding Noctis’ other hand then, and froze.
“An appropriate assessment if there ever was one,” said King Regis, one corner of his lip quirking upwards in amusement. “Would you mind keeping my son under control for a while? I have a feeling that the news is going to report me dead if I am absent from public view for much longer. I feel that’s inviting the worst,” he said, reaching for his cane and pushing himself upright, patting Noctis’ hand.
“No death jokes,” huffed Prompto, nodding before reaching for a cloth to wipe at Noctis’ sweaty brow with, pushing his hair away from his face. After a thumbs up from Noctis, King Regis was whisked away by whichever advisor had obviously been hovering around the door since the moment he’d come in.
“What did you do?” sighed Prompto, climbing up on the bed to sit crosslegged between Noctis’ calves. “How did you get this sick? Iggy said you’ve been like this for days. You never said,” he rambled, clinging onto one of his hands and subconsciously starting to roll the edge of the sheet into a curved shape.
He groaned when Noctis just shrugged, and shook his head. “Luna’s coming, you know. She said she’d come and fix you and Gladio and anyone else who needs it up. She’s near the Vesperpool, so it’s going to take her a few days, but she’s gonna come and fix you and tell you not to be dumb and hide that you’re si-“
Noctis shushed him tiredly from behind his mask, giving his hand a squeeze. He closed his eyes, resting back against the pillows.
“You want to nap,” sighed Prompto, shifting to lay at Noctis’ side. “It wouldn’t be you if you didn’t want to nap I guess,” he said, shaking his head before taking his hand again.
“Shh,” Noctis hummed again, putting a finger over Prompto’s lips before letting himself go to sleep.
“How’s Prince Charmless doing?” came Gladio’s voice as the door opened, and Prompto was startled out of where he was adjusting the blankets as Noctis slept on.
Gladio looked significantly better than when he’d last seen him. There was a fresh scar over his eye, and one of his arms was in a sling and heavily bandaged, but he was upright and talking and Ignis didn’t seem too worried when he followed him in.
“Gladdy,” Prompto sighed in relief, rushing over to give the older man a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay, dude.”
“It was nothing a few potions couldn’t handle,” said Gladio with a grin, giving him a bonecrushing squeeze back with his good arm. “Don’t worry about me. The sling is mainly to stop me from going to training any time soon. How’s he doing?”
“They said pneumonia,” sighed Prompto, looking back over at where Noctis was sleeping. “He’s doing better since they gave him the neb thing but he’s pretty much just slept since I got here. How long was he sick for?”
“Since the day after we got there,” explained Ignis, making his way over to sit in the chair at the other side of Noctis’ bed, checking his IV lines and monitors were all still properly attached. “And I am assuming, from your reaction earlier, that he didn’t inform you?”
“Nope,” said Prompto, looking to Gladio and pointing to the other chair before climbing up onto the end of Noctis’ bed to sit. “Luna’s going to kick his ass when she gets here.”
“I’m not gonna shield him from that one,” grinned Gladio, rubbing Noctis’ arm. “He deserves it.”
“Indeed. Fortunately, she’ll also be able to heal him after,” said Ignis, nodding.
“Tryna sleep,” groaned Noctis, voice croaky as he shifted.
“Sleep later, nerd,” said Prompto, poking his thigh gently. “You summoned your Crownsguard here, and we’re here. So be awake and let us tell you that you were dumb.”
“M’not dumb,” huffed Noctis, before breaking into a series of hacking coughs. There were Gladio and Ignis’ hands rubbing his back then, and Prompto’s on his sides, all of them easing him upright to try and help.
“Even your dad agreed you were dumb with this one,” said Gladio when it had eventually died off, helping him lay back with his good arm. “And you’re his favourite.”
“I’m his son. Of course I’m his favourite,” sighed Noctis, laying back against the cushions.
“Still a dumb favourite,” said Prompto, shaking his head as he kept one hand on Noctis’ waist.
Noctis was moved to his suite in the Citadel after two days, and his Crownsguard went along with him.
“Make sure Blondie gets a nap, will ya?” asked Gladio, as he walked into the suite, Noctis tucked under his good arm. “He’s getting snippy. And he’s looking like shit because he’s spent most of his time being stressed about not being able to nest instead of normal shit like sleeping.”
“He just wants to ensure Noctis is in a comfortable place,” said Ignis, shaking his head. “He should settle now he’s had chance to prepare the bedroom.”
“He doesn’t look like shit. But he does need to sleep,” said Noctis, breath slightly laboured after the short walk from the elevator. He’d declined a wheelchair, insisting he could manage the two-minute trip from the infirmary to his suite. “I’ll fix it.”
“See that you do. I’ll go and draw up your medications and prepare some dinner. And ensure your Shield doesn’t try and escape and go to the training rooms,” said Ignis, giving Gladio a knowing look.
“It was once, Iggy,” sighed Gladio, letting go of Noctis for a moment to open the door to the bedroom.
“Noct!” cried Prompto, getting up from where he’d been adjusting the corners of pillowcases and bounding over to him. “Come get into bed. I got the good sheets, the ones that are super warm, you know?” he said, taking both of his hands and leading him over, as the door shut. “And I got you extra pillows, incase you still need to sit up and stuff, and –“
Noctis shushed him, before climbing into the bed. “It’s perfect, Prom. You did a great job. Get in with me,” he said patiently, looking up at the blonde.
“I’ve still not finished though,” said Prompto anxiously, looking around the room. “There’s still stuff, it’s not ready.”
“Prom. Get in. I want time with you all to myself so I’m ready to share when Luna gets here,” said Noctis, patting the other side of the bed. “I’m not pulling the covers up until you get in.”
“It’s not ready though,” whined Prompto, clambering under the covers and pulling it up over the pair of them. “And someone is probably going to kill me for being in the Royal bed when we’re not married yet, you know. If you see a red light on my forehead, at least warn me.”
“You’ll have already shot them by then,” said Noctis, wrapping his arms around him. “I scared you, huh?”
“Understatement of the fucking year, dude,” grumbled Prompto, reluctantly curling into him more. “You should have at least text me. Lower anxiety for a few days is way better than me assuming you’re dead.”
“I was gonna, in the car home. I was kind of sick though and you’d think I’d been kidnapped if dad did it for me. No emojis,” murmured Noctis. “Sorry for worrying you though.”
“Or he’d send everyone the wrong emoji by mistake. Like when the entire Glaive got the cum drops,” sighed Prompto, nodding. “Lets agree that you don’t leave it until the last day to tell me that you’re sick next time.”
“I’ll agree that if you agree to nap with me. Luna’s gonna think I’m not taking care of you,” yawned Noctis, patting his side.
“I’ll do it. For your sake,” sighed Prompto, closing his eyes.
“She’s still gonna kick my ass later though, isn’t she?”
“Definitely.”