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One second, Noctis is jumping on marshmallow trampolines and cotton candy clouds; in the next, he finds himself surfing on chocolate waves atop a hard candy surfboard. He's not sure when the dream began or when he finally fell asleep, but he knows this is Carbuncle's doing. He rolls with the tides, even as he topples over beneath the swells, and he blinks to see himself sitting at an outdoor table, all dry and clean and not a single chocolate stain on his person.
It sort of looks like Altissia — at least, from what he's seen on brochures and tourist ads. There's no chocolate ocean from the outlook, just clear blue waters with fish and dolphins breaching the surface every so often, but the floating pink and red streamers and hearts are a nice touch. Noctis looks around and sees a handful of passerbys but their faces are all blurred out, and they become even more distorted when he tries to focus.
A chirp from the other end of the table gathers his attention, where Carbuncle has his front paws resting among plates and three-tiered trays of cakes, brownies, and all sorts of colorful confections.
‘You should try the chocolate cake! I'm sure you'll like it.’ Carbuncle says. Somehow. There's no voice and no text message, but Noctis just knows that's what it says.
He looks down to see a slice of chocolate cake before him, where the spot should have been empty only seconds ago, a fine dark drizzle zig-zagging and decorating the plate. It smells freshly baked, like it was just popped right out of the oven, and the sweet comforting scent makes his mouth water. He thinks he tastes it already.
Using the fork he didn't realize he had been holding, Noctis digs into the slice and takes a large forkful right into his mouth. With how cartoonishly large a bite he takes, he expects his cheeks to stretch out to accommodate. Instead the whole thing just melts on his tongue, even if he can still feel the soft rich texture of the cake and velvety cream. It almost tastes like pure chocolate — not like gross dark chocolate but like how he thinks the perfect chocolate should taste like. Sweet but not so much to make him gag, lots of cocoa, with just the slightest hint of bitterness.
‘See? Told you. I'd like to see one of your cooks match up to that!’ Carbuncle boasts.
Noctis thinks that'd be impossible, considering the real thing couldn't compare to his ultimate fantasy dreams. But he smiles along anyway, picks up a vanilla bonbon Carbuncle passes onto him.
As soon as he’s woken up by the maid, Noctis thinks to shrink into his bed and beg for an extra five minutes, except she tosses the heavy curtains back and the bright sunshine burns at his eyelids. They both know he can’t sleep through the sun shining on him.
“Ericaaaa,” Noctis groans, digging his face into the down of his pillow.
The maid only smiles, and rounds his bed to gently shake the Prince into wakefulness. “Come now, Your Highness. Did you forget today is Valentine’s? Or that His Majesty has planned an afternoon of taste-testing chocolates and cakes with you?”
That has Noctis shooting his eyes open. He forgot. He had been so excited last night that sleep wasn’t enough to calm down his nerves.
Satisfied, Erica steps over to the closet to pick out a fresh set of clothes. Noctis swings his torso over the bed, half his body hanging upside down from the edge as he fishes for a box he hid underneath. There’s a slight rattle as he tugs and twists, until he finally pulls out a small metal box and hefts it back up into bed.
“And what do we have here?” Erica asks, returning with a neatly-folded pair of clothes. She obliges when Noctis gestures for her to lean over.
“Close your eyes!”
So she does.
Noctis pulls out a large baggie from the box and slips his hand in to grab a couple chocolates, each individually wrapped in pink and red foil. Hershey Kisses, they were named. He takes her free hand and drops a chocolate Kiss in her palm, and leans forward to press his lips against her cheek. He catches a whiff of her perfume, all sweet and sugary like it was made for the holiday.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Erica,” he giggles.
She smiles warmly, wrapping her fingers around the chocolates, and leans down to offer a quick kiss to the crown of his hair. “Happy Valentine’s, Prince.”
“Umbra!”
The Messenger nudges his snout through the door, his timing as impeccable as always and arriving just after Erica left. Noctis hops off his chair and skips over to the dog. He sits on his knees and lavishes Umbra with scritches behind his ears and under his chin, and Umbra offers a few kisses and nuzzles in turn. But as much as both would love to spent the better hour of giving and receiving pets, they also know each have their respective chores and duties to do, so Noctis reaches around and unzips the dog’s little pack and pulls out a notebook.
Noctis allows himself a brief moment to look over the cover, one hand brushing over the hard spine with a fond gaze, before lifting himself up from the floor and stepping over to his desk. He picks up his phone and shoots Luna a short text, letting her know Umbra and the notebook arrived safely. Given technology and cell phones, the notebook is something of an unnecessary thing; but having a pen pal has so far been a quaint yet pleasant affair, and Luna’s handwriting is gorgeous. There are just some things that get lost in a screen and computerized text, and Umbra is more reliable and swift than any postal delivery system in Eos.
He rummages through his desk for a pencil and picks the next blank page to write on. It’s been a couple of years since they’ve started this correspondence, yet the notebook never seems to fill past the halfway point. Noctis had found it curious once and had asked Luna about it, but even the young Oracle-to-be had not the faintest clue. So Noctis doesn’t dwell on it anymore, and tries his best to doodle a few hearts and color them in with some stray crayons rolling around in his drawers.
Umbra, who had been resting by the foot of his chair, perks his ears up when he hears the soft tell-tale close of the notebook. Noctis slips it back in the mini backpack, along with a handful of Hershey Kisses; one for Luna, one for Ravus, and one for Gentiana.
“And one for you,” Noctis says, handing a bone-shaped treat to Umbra. While he knew dogs couldn’t handle chocolate, he didn’t know if that same logic applied to divine Messenger dogs. So he played it safe and asked if one of the cooks could bake a dog-safe treat, topped with a faux chocolate frosting and some pink sprinkles.
Noctis gives him one last scratch and a kiss on his head, before opening the door to let Umbra out. “Happy Valentine’s, Umbra!” he calls out, watching the wagging tail fade out from existence.
Noctis stashes the rest of his chocolates in his magic pocket, a tiny thing compared to the immense arsenal his father commands. Though unlike the king who holds hundreds of weapons and probably important documents, Noctis’ is made of a couple toys, some emergency snacks and napkins, his favorite chocobo plush, and a toy sword.
But he calls forth the magic easily enough. As he bounds down the halls, he makes sure to stop by his favorite guards and staff workers, pausing every so often to pop out a chocolate from the aether to hand over along with a quick peck on the cheeks. Occasionally, he gets a gift in return, much to his delight.
He’s snacking on a cupcake he had received from a passing manservant, in exchange for his own Valentine’s gift, when he turns a corner and bops head-first into Nyx. It’s sudden enough that his hand comes up and squishes the cupcake into his face, and there’s a nice dollop of frosting across his nose. Noctis grimaces and keens at the gross, sticky feeling on his face.
“Oops. Sorry there, starshine,” Nyx says, stooping and swiping a finger across the frosting.
Noctis looks up through his sticky-sweet eyelashes and sees Nyx and Drautos, the latter shooting a disapproving look at the glaive as he tastes the buttercream.
“ ‘s okay,” Noctis mumbles, pulling out one of his emergency napkins from his arsenal. He wipes at his face, trying his best to get as much of the cream off his skin. Drautos seems to take pity, though, and pulls out a handkerchief as he moves Nyx aside. Noctis relents and lifts his face to the captain, who makes quick work of the mess and manages to wipe every bit of frosting off.
“Are you in trouble again?” Noctis asks Nyx. Drautos snorts a silent laugh and doesn’t even bother hiding his grin.
“Hey now. Just because I’m in the Citadel doesn’t mean I’m in trouble.”
“But you’re in trouble, aren’t you?”
“Maybe.”
Noctis looks to Drautos and silently asks his question. “Guard duty,” the captain stoically answers.
Nyx looks absolutely betrayed. “Captain, c’mon. At least let me look cool in front of His Highness.”
Noctis does think Nyx is cool, but he feels like teasing and doesn’t admit it.
“Oh! Uncle Drautos, here.” A chocolate fizzles into existence, and Noctis reaches to pull open one of his uncle's jacket pockets and drops it in. He plants a small kiss along the man’s jaw, ignoring the way the stubble pricks at his lips. Out of all his uncles, Drautos is dead last in terms of soft beards and mustaches; but at least he’s toe-to-toe with Cor in the category of cool fighting skills. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
Titus Drautos, Captain of the Kingsglaive, receives his gifts with grace and poise as all doting uncles do. He pockets his dirty handkerchief and gently ruffles the boy’s soft mop of hair. “Thank you, Highness.”
“Noct!” the Prince reminds, batting the offending hand away.
“Thank you, Noct.”
“You too, Nyx.” Noctis turns his little round eyes over to the glaive, with his two outstretched hands offering some chocolate Kisses. He dumps them into Nyx’s hands and counts each one out. “There’s a Kiss for you, Pelna, Crowe, Libby, Luche… and Tredd.”
“Aww, thanks, little Prince,” he says, as Noctis reaches around to plant a quick smooch right under the crow’s foot tattoo. “Happy Valentine’s to you too.”
The two men straighten up just in time to see Noctis dart away and stop around the corner, targeting yet another guard to gift a Kiss to.
Noctis finds Gladio and Ignis in the training room. He slips in through the crack of the double doors and quietly sits on the ground, tucking his knees beneath his chin as he watches the two spar. He doesn’t disturb them, not when they’re so focused, but both of them notice his presence and glance his way before they go to town on each other again.
Ignis is working on his spearwork this time, Gladio relying solely on his massive shield to deflect and parry. Barely in their teens, yet both training to become stalwart protectors, the Sword and Shield. Noctis thinks it's a little unfair, that they have to turn from royal playmates to royal Crownsguard so soon, but he admits they look pretty cool. He also thinks they'd probably be even cooler once he learns how to master his Lucian gifts, and give them slivers of his powers like his father does with the Kingsglaive. He imagines Ignis’ graceful form vaulting and cutting through the air in warp strikes, and Gladio's massive bulk slamming and hitting like a behemoth as he phases in and out through the flurries of crystalline sparks.
Maybe in a couple years, when Cor would begin his official training, he could finally join them in their spars.
But for now, he's content with watching the two trade blows and strikes. It's over when Ignis tips his spearhead into the ground and hoists himself into the air, practically vaulting himself over Gladio when he comes charging in with his shield as a battering ram. But whether through too much force or faulty equipment, the spear shaft splinters under the weight and pressure, and Ignis narrowly lands on his feet when Gladio turns on his heel to kick out Ignis’ legs from underneath him. Sprawled on the floor and with no weapon, the decisive winner is Gladio.
“Do we even call this my win?” Gladio offers a hand to Ignis, glancing at the broken remains of the practice spear. “Kinda feels unfair.”
“I don't mean to sound like a sore loser, but I get where you're coming from,” Ignis replies, hoisting himself back up with Gladio's help. He adjusts his glasses on his nose, which had threatened to fly off in his earlier fall. “Why not ask Noct?”
Noctis perks up at his mention, but he stays where he's seated and taps his chin in a wistful thought. “I dunno. Iggy looked really cool flying through the air like that though.”
Gladio huffs a laugh as he sets his shield on the weapons rack. “So you're saying I don’t win because Ignis was cooler?”
“Noooo, I didn't say that! Um, can we just call it a tie?”
Gladio and Ignis share a passing look and a shrug.
“Sure?”
“Alright?”
They say in unison.
Noctis brings his hands together in one decisive clap and picks himself up from the floor, as Gladio tosses a towel to Ignis, who catches it one-handedly and with ease. He has reflexes like a coeurl, Noctis swears. He meets them halfway across the training room, and the two stand before him with half expectancy in their eyes.
“So what's up, Noct?” Gladio asks, after taking a swig from his water bottle. He swallows, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and adds, “Bored and came to watch?”
Noctis clasps his hands behind his back and rocks on the balls of his feet. “Nope. It's Valentine's Day.”
Ignis smiles wryly and walks off to the side to rummage through his bag. “Good thing I brought this with me then,” he says, returning to Noctis and presenting a small glass container. In it is a mini chocolate cake, topped off with a red frosting and a heart-shaped decoration. ”Uncle helped me with this, I hope you like it, Noct.”
Noctis takes it gingerly with both hands, eyes wide with wonder and admiration. He didn't expect a gift from Iggy. He lifts the glass container and inspects it from all sides, being extra careful to not fumble or drop it. “Wow, this looks really good, Iggy! Like a pro,” he says rather excitedly. He beams at Ignis with a radiant smile.
(Ignis believes it's definitely worth the mess in his uncle's kitchen.)
Noctis was too preoccupied with the cake that he didn't notice Gladio had disappeared to his own training bag. The only indication of him having ever left is the stuffed pink tonberry suddenly pressed into his face. Noctis reaches with one hand — the other holding onto Ignis’ present — and pulls the plush away from his face. It holds a heart in place of its knife, a tiny box of chocolate in place of the lantern. It's cute, really cute. Almost too cute for Gladio to have picked it out himself.
“Iris helped me choose,” Gladio explains before he's asked. Yeah, that makes more sense. But Noctis appreciates it all the same.
“I didn't know there's pink tonberries! Thanks, Gladdy, it's cute.” He makes sure to give it a nice squeeze against his chest, even shakes it around a little for good measure.
(Letting Iris drag him around the mall for three hours was worth it, Gladio thinks.)
He wants to hug them, actually, for giving him Valentine’s presents, but they're both too sweaty and gross for his liking. Noctis dismisses his gifts into the aether, and they're replaced with two small bags of chocolates he hands to each of the two. “Happy Valentine's to you guys,” he says, before scrunching up his nose, “You guys are really sweaty though so I'm not gonna kiss you.”
“Oh, darn. And I was really looking forward to a smooch from Prince Charming,” Gladio teases, already opening up one of the chocolates to pop into his mouth.
“I can't say I blame him. We are a little… Gross,” Ignis adds in.
Noctis does think it's a little unfair. He's given everyone else kisses, and he hates to leave his best friends out. He quickly figures out a compromise, however, and remembers what one of the girls did in a TV show. He kisses the fingertips of both his hands and leans up to gently smack them both on the cheeks. An indirect kiss still counts, right?
Gladio laughs out loud, and even Ignis doesn't hold back a soft laugh.
“Now where'd you learn that from?” his Shield-to-be asks, prodding his finger right at Noctis’ forehead.
“Me and Iris watched TV together, and a girl kissed her hand then touched the guy's face. She said it was an indirect kiss or something.” Noctis tosses his head back and makes to bite at Gladio's finger, though the latter was too quick with his reflexes and made it out unscathed, leaving him to chomp down on empty air.
“Is that something an eleven year old should be watching?” Ignis asks, immediately defaulting into mother hen mode.
“I dunno. I didn't really get it, and it was boring anyway.”
Ignis looks unconvinced though, and Noctis puffs out his chest to insist that no, he didn't see any icky adult stuff except for that one scene. But he almost gets knocked off balance when a solid weight collides into his back and a pair of arms wrap around his waist.
“Happy Valentine's Day, Noct!” Prompto sings into his ear. Noctis gets a nice, wet smooch to his temple, with an accentuated “Mmm-wuah!”
“Gross!” he squeals, trying to knock Prompto off him. The blonde is a veritable octopus, though, and keeps his entire body glued to him. “Get offa me!”
“Nuh-uh. Not until you give me candy.”
Cor is hot on his heels, however, and manages to peel the boy off, before Noctis executes his bright idea of falling backwards and squishing Prompto underneath him. The man tugs the blonde by the back collar of his shirt, like a mother cat holding its kitten by the scruff, even successfully placating the hyperactive child. “I think you've had enough sweets for the entire week, son.”
His tone comes out solid and blunt, but they all know the difference between the voices of Cor the Father and Cor the Marshal. Noctis thinks he sounds like his own dad when he caught his eight year old son running butt-naked into his office, trying to avoid the maids and bath time — for the thirty-something-ish time. A tad bit exasperated but still wholly fond.
Gladio and Ignis nod their heads in greeting with a soft “Marshal” and “Captain” but Noctis skips the formalities.
“Hi, Uncle Cor.”
“Gladiolus. Ignis,” Cor says to them, “Highness.”
“Your dad's lookin’ for you,” Prompto pipes up, shrugging off Cor's hold on him. “He said it's almost time for cake! And” — he looks up almost sheepishly at Cor — “He said I should come too. If you're okay with it.”
Cor looks… Not pleased, but he doesn't say it. Noctis knows Prompto must have already had a bunch of sugar, that Cor probably doesn't want him to have anymore, but his dad said it would be fine to invite his friend over. And, well. Sorry, Uncle, but he's gonna pick Prompto. Cor doesn't like it, but Noctis manages to appease him with a kiss and a chocolate.
Noctis looks to Gladio and Ignis, invites them over as well, but they each have their own plans for the afternoon; Gladio already promised Iris, and Ignis his uncle. They promise him next year, should the chance arise again, but Noctis doesn't hold anything against them. If Noctis wants to spend time with his dad, then there's no reason for them to not spend time with their own families.
Prompto seems more excited about eating cake with Regis than Noctis is, however, and starts shoving him out the doors before Noctis can say his proper goodbyes.
“Hi, Dad! Hi, Clarus!”
Regis and Clarus are waiting for them in one of the smaller dining rooms, a private and cozy area usually reserved for just father and son and a few close friends. It's tucked away in the more quiet parts of the Citadel, far away from the council rooms and meeting chambers, even lacking the more ornate decorations of glass chandeliers and gold trims. Here, Regis doesn't need to keep up with the image of a king, and can indulge himself in being a father.
Noctis skips over to Regis’ seat at the round table, stopping at his side to receive an affectionate pat on the head. “Hello, son. How has your day been?”
“Great! I hung out with Carbuncle last night, we were in Altissia! Erica woke me up today, instead of Amelie, and Umbra came by earlier. I got to see Uncle Drautos too, and did you know Nyx is here again? He always gets in trouble. And Gladio gave me a pink tonberry, and Ignis made this really small cake he made with his uncle,” Noctis rambles, running his words across a zipline. He summons out the tonberry toy as proof, and Regis only smiles as he gives the gift a cursory glance.
“It sounds you've had an adventure today. Sit, sit. And you can tell me all the details over your favorite sweets.”
Noctis doesn't need to be told twice. He takes the seat to Regis’ right, Clarus having already taken the left, and Prompto and Cor soon follow suit. They drop all pretenses here, in the comfort of each other's familiarity and without the burden of keeping to their respective stations. Prompto slides into Noctis’ side, and Cor is wedged between his son and Clarus.
Noctis starts chattering away, beginning with his dreams of swimming in a chocolate ocean, with Prompto jutting in every so often with his “ooh's” and “ahh's” and childish commentary, as they wait for the staff to bring out the chocolates and sweets.
“Oh, and I gave everyone kisses today!” Noctis says, calling forth the last few of his candy. He reaches over for his father's hand and drops one in his palm, before tugging at his upper sleeve in a request for him to lean down. Regis chuckles and answers his son's request, leaning in to receive a kiss on his forehead. “Happy Valentine’s, Dad.”
“Happy Valentine's, Noctis.” Regis returns a kiss of his own and presses his lips to the crown of his hair, then his forehead, to his nose and cheeks, peppering fleeting butterfly kisses all over his son's face until Noctis giggles and gently pushes him away.
“Your beard tickles!”
“Would you rather I have Drautos’?”
“Nuh-uh. Yours is softest.” Noctis makes to prove it by cupping his small hands to the sides of Regis’ face, thumbs brushing over the soft sideburns.
“It's reassuring to know where I stand on your hierarchy of beards.”
“And I, Noctis?” Clarus asks, leaning over to match his amused gaze with the boy.
“You're tied with Cor. But Drautos is still last.” Noctis summons up a chocolate and kisses it before tossing it across to Clarus, who catches it with ease.
The Shield grins and pockets the sweet, quirking a brow at Cor. “Well then, old friend, that's yet another rivalry to add to the list.”
“Are we placing bets?” Cor asks, rising up to the challenge.
“I'm afraid I'll be taking no sides this time, lest I influence my son's judging.” Regis raises his hands, palms facing outwards, as he determines to keep neutral in this whole affair.
Prompto perks up at the idea, giving no indication of which side he stands for. “Oooo! Loser has to, uh, ummm…”
“Take us to the arcade,” Noctis proposes.
“Yeah, the arcade!”
Regis, Cor, and Clarus determine the rules and judging day over tea and cake, while Noctis and Prompto trade chocolate truffles and bites of tarts and sugary confections with each other.
He's making his way over to his rooms, nursing a nauseous stomach overfilled with sugar, when he spots them.
“Ardyn!” Noctis almost trips over his feet as he scrambles over, but his uncle manages to catch him in time.
Ardyn hoists him up effortlessly and gently bops his nose with his index finger. Noctis thinks he's too old to be carried around like this anymore, but he doesn't complain, especially since it's been an entire year since they last visited. So he wraps his little arms around his uncle's neck and squeezes him into a tight hug.
“Come now, brother. Must you hog our dear nephew?”
“You're just jealous that he likes me more,” Ardyn quips.
Noctis pulls away and sees Somnus smiling at him, one hand outstretched in an invitation. Immediately he leans out and makes grabby hands towards the man, and Ardyn is forced to surrender his precious cargo into the arms of his brother — but not without sticking his tongue out at him.
Somnus ignores him in favor of Noctis, who gives him a kiss on his cheekbone. “Oh? Well, I get a hug and a kiss. I'm thinking you should be jealous instead.”
Noctis giggles in the light of their banter and Ardyn's dramatics, who moans and groans about heartbreak and betrayal.
“I didn't know you were gonna be here! Aren't you supposed to be in Niflheim?” Noctis asks. As much as he missed his weird immortal uncles, he's still surprised to see both of them back in Insomnia. Last he heard, they were supposed to be helping with some sort of Scourge outbreak in Gralea.
“Let's just say we missed our darling Prince so much and we were homesick,” Ardyn says, taking his hat off and doing that weird gesture thing he often does with it.
“That's cheesy.”
“Somnus complained too much about the cold.”
“That makes sense.”
“Hey now!” Somnus gently flicks Noctis’ nose, smiling all the same. “But if you must know, there's just some news we'd like to deliver to your father.”
“Are you staying?”
“I'm afraid not for long. We're due back in Niflheim next week.”
Noctis whines deep in his throat. Stupid Niflheim. At least when Ardyn and Somnus were roaming around Lucis, they were in the same continent and not across the great wide seas. This trip was taking forever, and he'd never get Ardyn to teach him that cool fire-lightning spell at this rate.
“Oh, don't fret now, dear nephew. Because I have a present!” Ardyn does a grand flourish with his arms, sweeping widely while doing that weird hat-in-hand gesture again.
Somnus, however, looks far less amused. He narrows his eyes at his brother, mouth setting into a tight frown. “You can't be serious. I told you —”
“Oh, calm yourself, Somnus. Be original! I'm sure Noctis has had enough sweets for the entire month,” Ardyn breaks in. He looks to the boy. “Right, dear Noct?”
“Yeah, I think I had too much. Stomach's not feeling really good actually.”
“That spoiling father of yours.” Somnus clicks his tongue, but his tone is not unkind; he knows full well just how much they all spoil the Prince. He adjusts his hold and places a hand over Noctis’ stomach, fingers barely alight with a dim wintergreen glow. “Here, do you remember that Cure spell we were working on?”
“Yeah!”
“Good boy, now let's see if we can still do it.”
Noctis places both his hands over Sonnus’ and closes his eyes, focusing the wilds of his magic into that landing point. Healing magic had always been tricky and difficult to come by, but with Luna's advice and Somnus’ teachings, he's been recently making small improvements. He rarely gets anything past fixing up a scraped knee, but Regis had remarked what a surprise it had been, saying it had been several generations since the Caelum line birthed a royal capable of healing magic.
But with Somnus’ magic guiding and amplifying his own, he feels a refreshingly cool sensation spread throughout his stomach, replacing that bloating ache with a soothing touch.
“Very good, Noct!” Somnus says, and Noctis opens his eyes to see his uncle looking down proudly at him.
Noctis tries not to blush at the compliment and wiggles around in Somnus’ hold, an indication to be let down. Once he's back on his own two feet, he goes from one uncle's object of attention to another's.
Ardyn leans down to eye level and takes both of Noctis’ hands in his, with a wicked glint in his eyes and a smile that promises mischief. Noctis knows that look.
Noctis likes that look. Because nothing ever good comes from it, at least in the Citadel's eyes, but that's when everything gets fun. Somnus recognizes that foreboding smile as well, and he sighs in exasperation as Ardyn calls forth a sword from his arsenal. It's a dark metal, and looks strangely futuristic with its glowing lights that blink in and out from a clear display screen perched on the hilt. It only excites Noctis more, his eyes growing wide in glee and anticipation as Ardyn gingerly places the handle in the little boy's hands.
“Courtesy of Niflheim.”
Noctis terrorizes the entire Citadel as he runs down the halls with a magitek-grade sword in his hand, Ardyn cackling in triumph while watching the Crownsguard chase after the eleven year old Prince. Somnus stands by ready with a potion and a phoenix down, just in case.
Sword confiscated by none other than Regis himself, Noctis is left alone in the throne room as his two immortal uncles leave with his father, Ardyn grinning with satisfaction while Regis waves the sword dangerously close to the other's face in a display of threats. Noctis is just a bit bummed by his short-lived present, but as with all of Ardyn's antics, he expected as much.
With no one around to lecture him about manners and dirtying ancient relics, he climbs up the dais and stands on top of the throne, reaching up on his tip toes so he could get just a tad closer to the Crystal. He pulls out the last chocolate Kiss he has saved, all wrapped up in a bright pink foil. Noctis spares it a quick kiss then pulls his arm back to lob it into the blinding void of the Crystal, watching the space around it ripple and distort as it swallows the candy. He waits a few seconds and watches for something, anything. When nothing happens, he climbs down the throne and makes his way down the steps, just slightly dejected from the lack of response.
But as he gets halfway down, Noctis feels the air shift around him, and he turns his head just in time to see the Crystal spit something out. He races down the rest of the stairs and stoops to pick up whatever Bahamut left him, turning it over a few times in his hands as he admires it.
He smiles at the rumpled up heart, shaped from the pink foil that wrapped the chocolate he had just gifted the Crystal, and runs off to show his father and uncles what he found.