Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prompto’s breath came out in puffy little clouds against the slate gray sky.

The bench beneath him was cold enough to bite through the thick layers of his coat and stiff training fatigues but he sat, rolls of shivers crashing through him, tensing his body. He just breathed.

Another puff, and he tapped his booted feet, toes trying to find space in their leather and steel confines.

Another puff, and he clenched his hands and hunched his shoulders; anything to ignore the bitter chill of winter gnawing at him.

Another puff, and he tipped his head back against the frozen wrought iron bench, his neck blossoming in goosebumps at the metal’s cold kiss. He let out a long, white stream of breath and watched as it dissolved into nothing against the winter shrouded sky.

It was almost peaceful; a tranquil island in the middle of Insomnia, surrounded by the glimmering glass and steel of the Citadel. None of the soft whir of cars or the sensory explosion of lights and advertisements. Not even the rush of a thousand bodies all moving at once.

Just a courtyard, bare in the winter with a manicured lawn crisp under his boots and gangly trees reaching for a blank sky. Just this bench, biting into his ass and back, where he could sit and just...breathe. One little white puff at a time.

That’s how it always was for him--one step and one breath to gather the nerves pooling in his stomach and hands. To block out the little voice in his head that wanted him, nudged at him, to leave.

A couple more puffs, to rally the other, quieter voice that told him--just do it. Just stand up and walk through the tall glass doors barely ten feet away.

You got this. You always have.

Coming from his little arcade, with its peeling paint and faint but constant odor of mildew, these doors were a clean sleekness he never dreamed he’d have access to but here he was. The little keycard in his pant pocket, black and metal and digging into his thigh, was proof.

Crownsguard Argentum, it read in curling gold letters for anyone who cared to ask. Gold letters he still spent long minutes running his fingers over in quiet disbelief, late at night when his muscles ached and night was a veil across his bed.

He was here--not...not quite smack in the middle of the Citadel but--close enough. All he had to do was shift his head a couple inches and--there. Towering and gleaming in the sunless afternoon. Practically within arm’s reach if he could just...get off this bench.

He closed his eyes, still tapping his boots, and searched for the voice who whispered kind things: that he’d earned this, that this wasn’t a mistake, that...that his place wasn’t in that dingly little midtown arcade. That he wasn’t in over his head, he was good at this, even--all he had to do was get the fuck up.

Gravel crunched and a wave of deep laughter rolled into the little courtyard. Prompto lifted his head, the back of his neck numb with cold--and immediately stiffened when several men, hulking and brute in stature, strutted past.

Prompto was easy to spot--a lone, freezing figure in the middle of the courtyard, the only person in the entire city, possibly, who’d voluntarily sit out in this weather--and the mens’ proud eyes swept over him.

Nerves pooled in his stomach, pulsing across his skin; a nagging voice that said to turn back...a shard of instinct and memory that shrank away from those sneering, condescending smirks...Prompto felt small on that bench, and he wrapped his arms around himself--and he looked away.

He bit the inside of his cheek and looked up and up at the empty sky. The keycard dug into his thigh, edges still sharp, the metal still polished.

Sudden weight fell on his shoulder--a hand, warm and squeezing and Prompto jumped with a small yelp fueled by shattering nerves.

“Hey, it’s just me.” A voice tender and warm, followed by--Noctis, cheeks pink from the cold and dressed in his usual black--black like Prompto’s keycard and fatigues. “Shouldn’t you be inside?” And yet he still plopped right down beside Prompto on that frozen bench.

“Yeah.” Prompto eyed the glass doors, where the other group of Crownsguard had disappeared, and swallowed. “In a few minutes.”

Noctis was close, probably influenced by the cold, but Prompto wasn’t complaining as he slid against him, bringing their thighs together. Noctis’s bare hand immediately followed, seeking out Prompto’s gloved ones.

“Dude.” Prompto shifted, so he was half facing Noctis and took his hand, enveloping it in thick wool. “Didn’t Ignis teach you about bundling up?”

The shrug that fell from Noctis’s shoulders was both graceful and dismissive. “I wasn’t planning on staying out long.”

A stone, the size of a pebble and heavy with guilt, dropped into Prompto’s stomach. Noctis was only out here for him, because Prompto…

Flaring nerves. Disdainful stares, as dismissive as Noctis without gloves. That little, nagging voice…

...And a rigid little keycard that dug into his thigh because the prince sitting beside him thought he should have one.

The same prince that apparently decided sitting on an ice block of a bench was fine by him and who scooted closer and closer--so that Prompto could mark the difference of shade between his cheeks and lips and lose all sense of sinking nerves.

Under the press of Noctis’s lips on his, Prompto could forget all of what anchored him to this bench.

In the tug of Noctis’s hand on his own, Prompto felt weightless and thawed out as he let Noctis pull him from the bench.

“C’mon.” Noctis’s mouth was slanted into a grin as he led Prompto to the looming glass doors. “Don’t want you to be late.”

Seven months; five interviews; one background check; countless make out sessions with Noctis in his apartment--all of that between that night in June and now--and walking through the Crownsguard locker room was still an out of body experience.

These were hallowed halls, where legendary warriors have passed through for decades. He’d heard tales of immortals and shields trained here, listened to whispers of dazzling magic wielded by valiant princes…

Hard to believe today’s valiant prince was right behind him. Literally, two breaths away with a hand settled on the small of Prompto’s back, walking with him to their lockers.

Seven months ago this had been an indulgent daydream to help pass the time at his part time arcade job...but when he’d outdone all the fairy tales and saved the prince from a would-be assassin, this world had become his reality.

A reality involving a whirlwind of fitness tests and mountains of paperwork and tracking down coworkers and neighbors he hadn’t spoken to in years…He wouldn’t change a thing. He’d still accept the business card Cor the Immortal had slipped him during his discharge from the Citadel Infirmary. He’d still download the Crownsguard application at home and become instantly overwhelmed...but he’d still reach for a pen and notepad and start a To-Do list.

Noctis’s hand left his back as they reached their locker row and even though his coat was puffy down, Prompto still felt the loss of warmth and without it, without the solid press of that hand, he felt...it was a big locker room.

Noctis was comfortable enough in it, having spent the majority of his daily life breezing through--he barely gave anyone else a second glance even when they subtly eyed him, straightening and pausing their conversations with him there.

With Prompto there, too.

He could feel their stares as easily as he could still feel Noctis’s kiss--tingling, and with a whoosh of butterflies settling deep into his stomach...only he didn’t want to break out into a smile or laugh with these butterflies.

He kept his eyes on his locker, kept to shrugging off his coat in silence, and dropped down to the bench dividing the locker row. Already in his fatigues, he just stared down at his blurred reflection on the floor until Noctis’s locker slammed shut and he felt a hand on his shoulder again.

Prompto leaned into that hand and soaked as much second hand confidence as he could, until he felt his back straighten and he let out a tense but relieved breath.

Noctis sank onto the bench beside Prompto and more...leaned against him, his head resting on Prompto's shoulder and hair tickling his neck. A sigh followed--more of a little whine.

“Don’t wanna go in.” Definitely a whine, but somehow unfairly adorable.

Prompto couldn’t help it; he smiled and booped Noctis’s nose. “You gotta. Gladio will kick your ass if you don’t.”

“Not if I kick his first.”

“Which means...going in there, dude."

Noctis’s eyeroll was twenty percent snark and eighty percent amusement. He flicked Prompto’s nose back. “Yeah, yeah.” He checked his watch. “Better go before he comes looking for me.”

Prompto swallowed. Yeah, he should go. They should untangle from each other. They should get up...but he threaded Noctis’s hand with his and squeezed.

Noctis also made no move to let go.“My place tonight?”

“Yeah. Count on it.”

Noctis beamed and dammit, it made Prompto’s heart skip maybe three beats and then three more when Noctis leaned over for a kiss.

“See you then.”

Noctis stood, his hand leaving Prompto’s and then he was gone, breezing through to the other side of the locker room, out and into the training hall. Prompto watched until the heavy door clanged shut, the boom of it echoing; when it faded, silence engulfed the locker room.

Silence--because everyone was staring at him. A narrow, guarded study that had him dropping his eyes to the floor again, a flush staining his cheeks.

Someone slammed their locker shut, sharp and startling through the silence.

“C’mon, fellas.” A deep voice, flat and stony. “Better get going. Don’t want them thinking we’re slacking off and fire us.”

Rumbling hums of agreement. Prompto shifted through his training bag for his water bottle and clung to his fading confidence and just tried to tune out everything around him. He should’ve left with Noctis...

“You know Lucas got evicted? Overdue rent. All because someone decided to play hero with the prince.”

Ice seeped into Prompto’s blood. Fuck. He could feel when everyone’s attention turned to him.

“And now you’re on track to become his ‘Guard.” A huff of laughter, followed by a pause; Prompto imagined them all shaking their heads in a unified wave, trading doubtful looks. “Don’t know what they see in you.”

“Don’t worry, Leo. They’ll realize their mistake.” Another pause, and Prompto felt six pairs of eyes burning and burning into his back. “He’ll be back at that dump of an arcade by the end of the month.”

How hot did someone’s face have to be before it actually set on fire--because Prompto was pretty sure he was almost there.

“Careful.” This voice, blunt with caution, cut through the laughter. “He might go running to his pretty prince.”

“Nah, he won’t.”

Clunking boot steps, heavy and coming up closer until Prompto’s back tingled with the presence of a body inches away. Prompto stiffened and looked up at the row of glossy black lockers in front of him, where a large, dark outline filled the space behind him.

“You can handle a little locker room banter, right?” Prompto rocked forward, a yelp choking out of his lungs, as a big thump landed on his back.

Prompto sprang from the bench, his water bottle sloshing in his white knuckled grip, and glared at Leo. Back pressed against the lockers, he let his eyes drift just a fraction, to the door behind Leo, and let the entire room hear the challenge in his voice.

“Don’t touch me.”

Leo’s boasting smirk dropped down to lip curling displeasure. “Hmph. Run along, little chocobo. Remember to actually tie your boot laces this time.”

The locker room exploded in booming laughter and one by one, Leo leading the way, they all left the locker room. When they were gone, when silence once again settled in the locker room, Prompto slowly sank back down on the bench, staring after them. Breathing out once, twice...

A faint shattering of crystal, and there it was: heavy and solid in his hand, a dull gleam. His very own Crownsguard issued gun he could summon on command because of a fluke whirlwind of heroism.

Which just...didn't quite shut the taunts still ringing in his head up but it was fine. It would be. Prompto dismissed the gun and stood.

Over the mounds of blankets piled on Noctis’s couch, the view still took Prompto’s breath away. The vastness--the stretch of space and the fact that this wasn’t his apartment sort of made Prompto tiptoe around, like he was an intruder despite this being the...he lost count of how many times he’d been over here in the past seven months.

But the view. So much of his life had been spent craning his neck up at the buildings around him; it was hard to believe that he was looking down on the sparkling city now and these were Noctis’s blankets and Noctis’s couch...and Noctis’s arms wrapped around him.

It was heaven, as comforting and simple as Prompto imagined in his twenty years.

And after a shitty day of training, his back still throbbing from an...accidental boot, it was perfect. Warm and cozy like a cloud of golden chocobo feathers.

Their movie ended, the last scene going black with sweeping triumphant of music and crawling credits. Neither of them moved; Prompto’s eyes even started to droop as the apartment became shrouded in darkness.

Noctis’s fingers twitched, and then they traced lazy circles over the tops of Prompto’s shoulders. It sort of tickled but as the seconds went by, they became more deliberate. Pressing. And then they paused. Prompto he opened his eyes and looked up.

Noctis stared at the shadowed ceiling, gnawing his lip in thought. “You know. We’ve never really been out on a real date…”

Kind of hard to, when there was a guy who wanted the royal family dead...and where there was one guy, there were bound to be more. Their time together had been limited to couch cuddles and locker room pining.

Sometimes he caught Noctis staring out his windows, face pinched in something like longing but it never lasted. Not when there was always something to do here--a new game, or new movie, or when Noctis’s fingers traveled somewhere new...

Plus, Prompto usually felt too goddamn exhausted to do anything other than collapse on Noctis’s couch with him.

Prompto pat Noctis’s chest in assurance. “Not complaining.”

“I am.” There was a sigh in those words. Restlessness. And then Prompto rose slightly as Noctis sucked in a big breath. “Cor and Gladio finally approved a fishing trip. Next week.” And then Noctis finally looked at Prompto, a hopeful smile dancing along his lips. “Wanna come?”

Prompto knew Noctis liked fishing. He knew Noctis went out at least once a month, when his schedule allowed it, or when he wasn’t opting for an arcade trip instead. But that was before, and now it was winter and…

“Can you even fish in winter?” Prompto cringed, realizing something. “We don’t have to get up early, do we? In the cold?”

“Nah.” An excited gleam in those blue eyes. “The position of the sun means…”

And off he went--something about water temperatures...bait temperatures...kinds of fish. Also an isolated beach, slightly out of the city...Prompto could only take in so much before his eyes glazed over, before he thought of other things.

Like spending time with Noctis outside his apartment--in sunlight, not surrounded by metal...not cuddled up in blankets either, but...Sacrifices for the greater good--this time being his relationship. Their relationship.

Just the two of them, out on a date, finally...with approximately twenty other Crownsguard on the sidelines and...Prompto crashed back into reality he scrunched his face up in irritation and a small amount of dread.

Not complaining but...

“Um. Will there be other Crownsguard?”

Noctis’s fingers had started back with their idle circles and he hummed in distraction. “What? Oh yeah, of course. Especially after--you know.”

Yeah. But, man, forget about romantic.

He was new to Noctis’s orbit but even he noticed the extra security--ever present black shadows, always at the edge of his eyesight. And one day he’d be one of those shadows. Weird.

“They’re easing up, though,” Noctis said. “I mean, Gladio wouldn’t approve this trip if they didn’t think it was safe. It’ll just be maybe...one extra unit?”

Prompto really didn’t want to ask, could already feel the stone tipping into his stomach but, “which one?”

Noctis wrinkled his nose, apparently unimpressed. “I think Unit Two volunteered? We’ll see what Gladio says.”

Plunk, hard and cold, went the little stone in his stomach, plus maybe two more.

Yup, there went any hope of a relaxing date with his boyfriend. He almost wanted to scream out a thanks, universe from Noctis’s balcony.

“Isn’t that Lucas’s unit?”

“Lucas? Oh, yeah.” Noctis rolled his eyes. “I think they made a case about getting a second chance or something.”

A second chance, meaning off probation and taking on more highly coveted duties again--like royal protection. 

“Do you...think they deserve one?”

Noctis’s responding shrug rocked Prompto into the crook of his neck a bit. “Not my decision. If Gladio says it’s okay…”

Noctis seemed happy enough to leave it at that; his eyes closed and he pulled Prompto closer. Prompto’s eyes fell back on the cityscape below and just...even with Noctis’s arms around him, the twinkle of lights like fireflies, he felt a bubble of annoyance. And doubt.

Enough to bury his face in Noctis’s chest and have it on the tip of his tongue, they’re assholes, they don’t deserve this but...it wasn’t his call. Who was he, the newbie trainee who tripped over his laces, to make that judgement? Instead he said, “Sometimes I feel like the whole Lucas thing was my fault…”

Because maybe, otherwise, he could go through his training in peace…

“Dude.” Rustling cushions, Prompto lifting up with a muffled squeak as Noctis sat up and gave him an are you actually joking right now look. “You know it’s not your fault, right? If you hadn’t been around, I’d be dead and Lucas would still be fired.”

Yeah. He knew that. Noctis was right...but Noctis's words didn't ring louder than an alarm clock in his head--his touch didn’t stain him like smudged ink. Still, it was nice to hear...

Noctis hovered down close enough to make Prompto’s lips tingle. “Will you come, though? On Saturday?” A soft kiss, like a butterfly flitting over wildflowers.

“...Yeah. I could bring my camera, take some pictures.”

“Nerd.”

“Says the prince who fishes.”

Chapter Text

Thursday morning--sun a faint glimmer in the sky and the stars still a pretty dance--Prompto bounced from foot to foot, fumbling for his key ring. His breath was puffy again and frost coated the wilted flower pots lining the stoop.

Cold--it was so cold the sliver of exposed skin between his coat sleeves and gloves stung. And Noctis wanted to go out in this. In two days, he wanted Prompto to sit outside with him and fish.

Watching his hands shiver as they put key to lock, Prompto already felt bad for his future self for suffering through that but...no, wait.

Nah, it wouldn’t be suffering, not for their first date…

A rush of warmth from the pit of his stomach--butterflies, sparks, tingles--and Prompto actually puffed out a laugh.

His date. Their first date. He’d get to see Noctis in the sun; the actual light of day sparkling over the water and into Noctis’s face, making him squint and drop his bait. Or whatever Noctis did on a fishing trip.

Prompto laughed again and--dropped his keys. Of course; cold hands. That was cool.

This deep into winter, this early in the morning, they were already freezing through his gloves when Prompto scooped them up and--Prompto froze as he straightened.

Just--body still, the slow breeze biting his cheeks. Just looking out, one block down, right at the intersection. Nestled between two cars he knew and had memorized years ago: a black SUV, a few models newer than the other cars in the neighborhood. No scratches along its side, not even a rusted tailpipe. Zero stickers or trinkets on the dash.

Plain and perfect enough that it still managed to stick out like a sore thumb amongst the other white, silver and gray cars.

Especially with the guy wearing a black baseball cap sitting at the wheel.

Prompto slipped his house keys into his pocket and lifted his arm out for a stretch, holding it for a few seconds. He let his eyes wander over the other houses, over their humble brick and the peeling window shutters.

He switched arms. The guy was still there. Prompto noted his neighbors’ trash cans had fallen on their sides, maybe from a stray cat earlier that night.

Prompto propped a leg on the stoop railing and leaned his torso over it. The man looked down in his lap, something casting a dull glow in the car, but not enough to see...He really needed to sweep the dried leaves off the stoop. Maybe throw out these dumb flower pots; they only crowded the stoop, made it harder to position his feet and switch legs...

The man looked up and the world slowed in its tracks as they made eye contact.

Maybe it was nothing.

Just a guy, in his car. Warming it up before work. Just like Prompto was warming up before his run.

Maybe he was new to the neighborhood because Prompto had never seen him before.

Totally normal.

Not every guy in black, sitting in an SUV on a neighborhood street, was suspicious. Didn’t have to be suspicious. The Crownsguard had done their investigation...Noctis was going on a fishing trip; obviously the higher ups decided it was safe…

They’d also decided the arcade was safe and look at what that random guy in black had caused: a literal pain in Prompto’s side. Months of Noctis sequestered inside. Psychological evaluations, nightmares, his entire unit in the Crownsguard against him...

Prompto swallowed.

He’d also never seen a single For Rent sign or moving truck in months.

The guy was still staring and it was definitely the weak sun, definitely the baseball cap that caused the shadows over his face. It definitely didn’t matter that Prompto couldn’t see his eyes, or even the line of his mouth.

But something deep and instinctive stirred awake, cracked an eye open and nudged him: do something.

It’d been one minute too long; don’t cause a scene, get out, get out…

Prompto cracked the brightest of smiles he could manage so early in the morning cold and lifted a hand in friendly greeting.

And then he was off, hopping off the stoop in a graceful leap and hitting the pavement in a brisk jog. Just one block down and he was out of the man’s sight. Two more blocks, and he was out of the neighborhood. Five more blocks, and he was on the main city road, straight to the Citadel.

Prompto shivered.

It wasn’t cold in the Crownsguard wing of the Citadel but the halls were a spacious silver and white that blended well with the winter outside. The heat pumping through the pipes burned at his face, splotched red and raw from his run through the freezing air.

His lungs still heaved and he braced a hand against the smooth wall and stared at its perfect finish. Looking at the Citadel and royal family, at the Crownsguard and their enveloping black uniforms as they lined the backgrounds of ceremonies, Prompto had expected the ‘Guard wing to reflect that same imposing opulence. He could still remember the way his mouth popped open in quiet surprise when he first stepped through those doors.

If he didn’t know any better--if he didn’t have that little black card and portraits of every important figure of the Crownsguard, living legend or dead myth, he would have thought he’d be in any other corporate office.

Maybe that’s why his steps had slowed, why he stopped under oversized portraits of Clarus Amicitia and King Regis. Ignored the few ‘Guards filing past, and the echo of their steel boots.

Out of the cold, he now froze for an entirely different reason. Under the careful watch of the Shield and the King, he felt the weight of his task anchor him.

He shivered again and then shook his hands out, trying to get some feeling back in them.

Last time, he’d just gone on instinct. This time, in these vast corporate-like halls, there was protocol. This time, he was the start of the chain and the next link sat in his office three doors down.

His captain--he had a captain, someone he reported to and whose orders he had to obey.

“Can’t jump the gun and take matters in your own hands now,” Captain Archer had laughed with one of those too-hard-not-quite-friendly thumps on Prompto’s back, after he’d officially been sworn in.

The low laughs agreeing with Captain Archer still bordered the memory.

Catch his breath. Next--gloves and hat, both stuffed in different pockets. Fix his hair, warm his cheeks, palms pressed flat against them. Breathe…

What did he say?

His eyes travelled up and up, to Clarus Amicitia’s portrait. He’d worn his ceremonial uniform for it, and the painter had captured the deep black of his uniform but the paint reflected bright under the fluorescent lights, kinda making the whole thing look out of place in this white hall.

Same with Regis but Prompto couldn’t look at that one, not with how similar his eyes were to Noctis’s.

Noctis...he was why he was doing this, why he’d torn through the city at a lung breaking pace. Not once, but twice now. And like, fuck, one of those times was the reason why they’d never had a real date.

Prompto pushed off the wall. His hands had stopped trembling from cold or nerves by the time he knocked on Captain Archer’s door but his heart still did the rapid thump thump when a firm tenor voiced an enter.

The captain’s office was tidy, saved from outright sparse by the landscape portrait--somewhere in Cleigne, maybe, nice composition-- mounted on the wall behind him and a few knick knacks lining his desk. Prompto was staring at a red giant bobble head when the captain spoke.

“Something I can do for you, Argentum?”

“Yeah...” Prompto cleared his throat. “I saw something strange outside my house. I just...wanted to tell you. Sir. See what you think.”

Captain Archer raised a thick brow but gestured at one of the two deep sunken, gray armchairs before the desk. The suede swallowed the sound of Prompto’s weight settling in and wow, the captain seemed so high above. Prompto wished he still held his gloves or hat, something to fiddle with, but his only option was to fold his hands over his lap and straighten himself.

Maybe if he pretended he had a steel spine, he could actually conjure one, like the gun he called to his hands everyday in training…

Captain Archer clicked the black pen in his hand and leaned in his tall backed leather chair. “Well? Get on with it, Argentum.”

“Oh. Right.” Where did he start? “I was going out for a run.” He gestured over his clothes.

Captain Archer didn’t say anything, just blinked in a way that suggested he was going to fall asleep if Prompto didn’t get to the point. “Outside, there was a guy sitting in his car. I’ve never seen him or his car before."

That got a lean forward. “Sitting outside the Citadel?”

“No, sir.” Prompto frowned. “My house. He was on his phone, maybe? Wearing a black cap--I couldn’t really see his face but...he looked at me.”

“And did he...do anything?” The flat deadpan of the question, the you’re wasting my time slump of Captain Archer as he reclined back in his chair...Prompto tried not to slump himself.

“No...sir. We just stared at each other.” Hearing the words out loud made the whole situation sound like...he flushed. Was he wasting the captain’s time? “I waved at him and ran here.”

“You waved at him.” Definitely a and your point is…?

“Um. Yeah. Sir.”

Captain Archer said nothing for a few seconds. His face smoothed out and he clicked his pen again, seeming contemplative and Prompto kept his eyes up, feeling a flicker of hope with each second that passed.

Another click of the pen, and then creaking metal as Captain Archer tossed his pen onto his desk and leaned back with his full weight, his arms on the chair’s armrest. “Look. Kid. You got lucky that one time. And the Crown is grateful...especially the Prince, I’m told.”

A flare sparked in Prompto at the mention of Noctis, at the tone Captain Archer’s voice took. That’s not why...it wasn’t why…

“But you’ve been with us for…”

“Three months.” It came out thick, almost like muddy gravel and he cleared his throat again. “But sir, I’ve never seen the guy. What kinda dude sits in their car in a random neighborhood and--”

Prompto snapped his mouth shut as Captain Archer held up a hand.

“Three months.” He said this sagely, like this was the great truth of the world. But it only lasted a second--barely a second--before a crooked smile appeared on the captain’s thin lips. “You bored of us already, that you have to jump at every guy you see on the street? Having the prince’s favor isn’t good enough?”

Prompto’s mouth popped open and he felt cold and breathless, like he sprinted through the city a third fucking time. He squeezed his hands into fists and he just--he couldn’t--this was his life, maybe Noctis’s, it wasn’t about--

“Jeez, Chocobo, I’m messing with you!” Captain Archer shook his head, actually fucking chuckled and he rocked back and forth in his chair. Like this was the greatest joke he could have written. But it was there and gone in an instant. Something flashed in his gray eyes as he regarded Prompto quietly seething in his own chair. The smile vanished. “Or, is it something else? You know, I’ve been reading the training reports. Things aren’t going too well, are they?”

Prompto blinked. Wait, what?

No one had ever said anything or pulled him aside or offered so much as a you doing okay... Prompto sucked in a breath. The locker room, all of those accidents…They all played out in stark detail, all of them painting a picture that made the seed of doubt planted in him twinge a bit.

When Captain Archer spoke again, it was low, deliberate. “As your commanding officer, it’s my duty to insure that my recruits are up to standard. If you can’t meet those standards, if this is your way of courting my favor...then maybe you’d better rethink your place within the Crownsguard.”

Cold trickled down Prompto’s back as the words settled over him, as Captain Archer sat up and leaned over his desk and pinned Prompto with steely eyes. Silence overtook the office as Prompto shifted his own eyes back down to his fists, white and frozen on his lap.

"Dismissed.”

Outside, the cold ache of winter hadn’t lessened. In fact, it just seemed worse--to have the sun on his face but not feel anything, especially after that meeting…

It was still early, maybe an hour or so before Citadel workers started to arrive for the day, so Prompto found himself alone again. So alone and so exposed, even with the broad boulevard around him and Citadel at his back.

Prompto eyed the few cars going by, taking note of the colors, of their drivers, when they seemed to slow down...Everyone seemed to wear sunglasses or scarfs or hats to shield themselves from the winter sun and freeze. Anyone one of them could be...he shook his head…

Was this how action movie characters felt?

Captain Archer’s threat-- or accusation, whatever--still rang in his ears but it had nothing on the loud roar that was his dismissal.

If Prompto had known his interference with the assassin seven months ago would get him shot and Lucas Whathisface fired and his unit and commanding officer against him...he’d still fucking do it. Everything, right down to the wrong turn that left him with the jagged scar in his side, because it’d been the right call. Because they’d survived and that’s all that mattered.

He’d do it all again because Lucas hadn’t, because he had been inattentive and Noctis could have gotten killed--getting shot and dealing with all the locker room bullshit was better than Noctis being dead.

Prompto took that chance for Noctis without even knowing him and Captain Archer...wouldn’t, out of bruised pride or arrogance.

Prompto had fallen for it--who knows what anyone who actually mattered thought with those reports. He winced, feeling like he was going to be sick...

They weren’t going to do anything...

Fuck that guy. Not even respectfully.

Noctis deserved better--not even the bare minimum, the absolute best, and these guys weren’t giving that because...because marking their territory took more priority than actually doing their jobs.

Prompto turned back around, kicking up a cold breeze around him that stung his face as he hurried back to the Citadel. His hands dug around for his keycard and phone as he looked up and up at the metal castle glimmering in morning sun.

The number had been programmed into his phone a week after Prompto had woken in the Citadel infirmary seven months ago, when it’d became clear that he would be a constant presence in Noctis’s life. He’d never actually used it before but...well, first time for everything.

It only rang once and relief almost made Prompto stumble. “Gladio? Can we meet in your office?”

Chapter Text

In the end...Prompto stood on his stoop Saturday morning, bundled up and shivering as Leo scowled down at him, his hulking figure blocking out the morning light, casting a huge shadow that Prompto refused to shrink into.

“Your royal carriage awaits,” Leo said, voice dripping in disdain and standing about six inches too close--like he could intimidate Prompto back through the door with just one more step.

But Leo was right--the cars were here, Noctis was here, waiting and probably watching and no way was Prompto gonna let Leo ruin their day.

“Thanks,” Prompto mumbled, pushing past Leo--his forearm caught in a tight hold, almost crushing, and Prompto froze in place.

“Dragging another unit into this--I know it was you,” Leo growled, leaning in closer, breath harsh against Prompto’s ear. “Think we can’t do our jobs?”

“No.” Prompto yanked out of Leo’s grip, though he still felt bruising fingers around his arm. “You guys suck at your jobs.”

Leo’s glare grew dark and Prompto managed to keep his chin high when he hopped down the stoop, just as one of the car doors opened, revealing Noctis with an excited grin.

“Get in loser, we’re going fishing.”

Prompto stuck out his tongue but practically dove into the toasty car. He traded a kiss or three with Noctis, their hands automatically threading together like drawing magnets; he loved Noctis’s hands, the unassuming strength in them, how gentle they were…

Something shifted from the other end of the car--Gladio, face blank and leaning against the seat, muscled arm stretched along the top; the tightness of his hand as he gripped the leather was telling.

“Hey big guy,” Prompto greeted. “You ready to be bored to tears-- ow.” He rubbed the spot where Noctis had jabbed. “That’s for calling me loser, loser.”

Noctis’s grin turned shit-eating. “If Gladio didn’t want to die of boredom, he’d wouldn’t have taught me how to fish in the first place.”

“Hopefully no one’s dyin’ today,” Gladio grumbled, staring out one window or another, the definition of ominous doom and gloom.

Prompto felt Noctis’s glance, could perfectly picture the raised brow that said wow, wet blanket, much? But he kept his eyes on Gladio. He’d be lying if he didn’t feel grateful, even with some of his mirth fading the longer he watched Gladio and the tense, alert glare of his entire being.

In the end, they obviously hadn’t canceled the trip. But Gladio had listened to Prompto, had nodded his head thoughtfully even while his eyes burned with suppressed rage.

To be honest, it was half terrifying and half the most badass thing he’d ever seen, especially when Gladio had immediately called Cor and set up another meeting--one that Prompto hadn’t been invited to but one that definitely at least happened.

So. The trip hadn’t been canceled but Prompto had at least left his meeting with Gladio with a thanks...and then a few hours later, his phone blinked with a message from Noctis: Gladio also assigned your unit for Saturday? You don’t have to be on duty...do you?

Can’t, Prompto had replied, still a baby trainee.

Extra security wasn’t bad. Knowing that it was there, that he made it happen...Prompto could almost relax into the way Noctis rested his head on his shoulder and the steady warmth of him…

Warmth was a distant memory a few hours later.

About an hour from the city center, on the promised isolated beach, Prompto sat beside Noctis, arms wrapped around himself and knees pulled up close to his chin--one of his arms had looped through Noctis’s at some point and currently, he refused to let go.

Noctis let out a frustrated whine when one of Prompto’s shivers knocked his hook away from the small silvery fish he held. “Dude. Stay still.”

“You did this to me,” Prompto said through clattering teeth. He let out his own whine when the wind shifted an inch, blowing his hair in a new direction and freezing a new part of his face. “You said it would be warm out here.”

“I said the water gets warm,” and Prompto could hear the amusement while there was a also definite eye roll. “I think Gladio packed a blanket or two though.”

Prompto knew exactly where, too--in the basket under the plastic folding table that currently sported a buffet of snacks prepared by Ignis. But that was over there, nestled in the scrub plants that broke up the soft sand of the beach.

Away from Noctis, too. Where some of the Crownsguard and Gladio were stationed, alert and imposing statues. If they were cold, they definitely didn’t show it, didn’t flinch as they were hit by the constant cold breeze.

Prompto didn’t envy them but he did look away when he felt their burning eyes on him, specifically Leo who stood closest to the table and was the sole reason why he hadn’t gone to get a blanket yet.

Well. That, and this was his date with Noctis. So fuck him. But also… “Bad idea,” Prompto scooted closer to Noctis. “If I get warm now, I won’t move. No badass beach pics.”

Because, yeah, his camera was currently wedged in his lap and pressing against Noctis’s thigh.

Noctis finally finished hooking the bait fish and he ran an assessing eye over the rod to check...something that went straight through Prompto’s head the first time Noctis had explained the ins and outs of fishing. But there was affection in Noctis’s cool blue eyes when he looked over at Prompto.

“Now’s your chance, I’m getting up in like three seconds.”

Prompto burrowed his head in closer, if that were possible. “Can’t we just stay here for five more minutes? You’re so warm.”

“Love to.” Rustling, and then Prompto felt a kiss press into the top of his head. “But then I won’t want to move. I’ve been dying to get out here for months.”

The hunger in Noctis’s voice for this place felt like long lost passion. Like a reunion, all eagerness and zero chill. Honestly, after Noctis had hyped this trip up so much, Prompto was surprised Noctis was still sitting beside him.

But Noctis now stared out at the churning gray sea, one palm planted flat on the sand, ready to hoist his weight up and to the shore line. His face was relaxed, the smallest of smiles tugging at his lips but his body was tense, ready for this--this, some semblance of peace that had existed in his life way before Prompto.

Guilt, the kind that was shy and self conscious, made Prompto detach himself from Noctis but not before a small nudge. “Hey. Thanks for bringing me.”

Focused as he was on the sea, it took a couple seconds for Noctis to register what Prompto said but when he did he looked pleased, grateful.

“Honestly...thanks for agreeing to come. It’s…” Noctis jerked his head back towards the others while rolling his eyes. “Pretty sure they draw straws for these trips. Pretty boring, you know?”

“I mean…Hey!” Prompto yelped when Noctis poked him. “Okay, yeah, I’m not into the whole fishing thing. But this is a pretty cool date.” And just to seal that statement, he pressed a kiss to Noctis’s cheek.

It was adorable how pleased with himself Noctis looked and it was amazing how quickly Prompto’s heart sputtered when Noctis chased him for an actual kiss, all slow and languid--like a dead fish wasn’t dangling two feet from their heads and at least a dozen Crownsguard weren’t watching from the distance.

None of that mattered.

When they broke apart, both of their faces were dusted with a red that had nothing to do with how cold the wind was. Prompto’s lips were still moist and warm from Noctis’s when he went to stand--Prompto stopped him.

“Wait. First date selfie?”

It took a bit of adjusting; getting the highlight of their date--the sea--in the background meant turning around completely. Prompto leapt out of the way when the dead fish from Noctis’s fishing pole almost smacked him in the face--and then it took way too long to figure out the perfect balance between the sea and their faces. In the end...maybe there was too much forehead in the picture but...Prompto beamed at his camera anyway.

Noctis was up a second later, heading toward the water, rod in one hand and line in the other. Prompto sat a moment longer, just watching his prince be happy...totally an old man in his puffy coat, cap and rubber boots. But a cute old man at least.

Prompto cupped his hands and held them to his face, warming his nose and cheeks, before bounding up to his feet and following Noctis.

The beach really was beautiful, in a simple rustic kind of way; gray sea with white topped waves and equally white sand that squished under boot. Small dunes rose up further inland, speckled with brush and reed, all dusty green.

Further along were buildings in ruin, their brick and wood frames smooth from sand constantly blowing against it.

“Apparently my family had an estate or something nearby,” Noctis had said with a shrug when they first arrived. “Before one of my ancestors decided he hated the beach or something.”

Rude, Prompto thought now as he raised his camera and zoomed in one some of the ruins. Tall grass overtook the foundation and swayed in the breeze but Prompto liked how wild it looked. He snapped a picture, making a note to get up close later. Maybe they could...sneak away...

But for now...He turned toward the water and watched Noctis through the camera lens. The beach was beautiful but it had nothing on Noctis. Prompto took picture after picture of Noctis casting out his line, losing himself in the familiar motions of it.

The Crownsguard, their tense thunder cloud, faded away--the cold faded away. Sure, he still shivered and his toes had gone numb a while ago but...who cared when only he and Noctis existed in this little bubble.

Prompto lost count of how many pictures he took; he lost track of when the camera’s sights wandered from Noctis and the sea to just the sea. There was something about how the waves swelled from the vast gray into a sharp edge that just crumbled and then crashed.

No wonder Noctis loved this so much, was glued to watching it--a constant swirl and toss. Mesmerizing, hypnotic…

It felt like a gift, one that Noctis had given him, and one that--pride, the satisfied kind that made Prompto’s heart squeeze, welled up in him--he’d helped secure this. This...it was okay.

Prompto lowered his camera and knelt, just content to take it all in, memorize it with his own eyes...let them be drawn in by the waves tumbling over themselves, and again and again, and...Prompto squinted. A black ball?

A buoy? For boats?

Through his camera lens, it looked like nothing. Just a black round ball, almost blending into the water perfectly. About the size of a beach ball. No loops for rope or markers...just smooth...and a single red light blinking.

His stomach dropped through the sand and the world tilted and warped--he knew this instinct. The familiar sense of is this actually happening--he still tasted it in his dreams, the urgent need to move, to get away, this wasn’t right.

Something inside him shattered.

“Hey Noct.” His voice sounded so far away, pitched way too high to be truly casual. “Look at that.”

Noctis first looked at Prompto, all distracted like he hadn’t heard him, but then he followed Prompto’s line of sight...and lowered his rod a fraction.

One second, the world was gray and white and the next--black and red. From ice to an inferno--and then cool blue. Something tugged at Prompto’s arm, almost pulling it from its socket.

And then his entire body tugged. Flew through the air as an explosion ripped through the beach.

Not once, but twice. That blast, that body wrenching tug.

And then he was on his stomach, coughing up sand and cradling his arm. Muffled ringing filled his ears and his lungs heaved and heaved as his body struggled to stay in focus, to get up.

He knew this: the engulfing blackness in his vision, and the release as his body slumped, giving into shock and pain.

Chapter Text

“...Prompto…”

Ugh. No.

Five more minutes.

“...Prompto...”

Something slapped against the side of his face but Prompto brushed it away and melted back into that deep, dark place.

“Prompto!”

Another slap, sharper this time, enough to make Prompto groan and roll heavily onto his side--and then choke as he breathed in something thick and gritty.

“Hey.” That voice, tender, firm, spoke into his ear. Something rubbed at his back--a hand. Up and down, soothing. “You’re okay. It’s okay.”

Prompto’s lungs calmed into a rawness that made his breath come out ragged and dry. Slowly he opened his eyes, wincing at how white and bright everything was and for a frantic second he thought of a soft cotton gown and a bed like clouds.

Was he there again? He hurt then too, that dead weight kind that made moving and existing hard.

But when the world came into focus--none of it made sense: white sand, gray sea; thick black pillars of smoke; red flame that didn’t match how cold it was--and Noctis, covered in soot and sand, broken bits of glass sprinkled around him as he shivered with his arms around himself.

“What happened?” Prompto knew though--it came back to him as soon as those words formed: gray waves, a black ball blinking rapid red--a jerking, sparking pull and the dull ache in his arm that faded a little more each second--“you warped us?”

“Yeah.” Noctis’s eyes were wide with guilt as he looked Prompto up and down. His face was pale though--that was a broken elixir in the sand. “I haven’t warped that far with someone else in...I’ve never done that.”

“Dude.” Prompto wanted it to sound like a dude, you’re insane, ha but he barely managed a croak before the words died.

Noctis just gave him a smile that was both a little shell shocked and let’s never do that again--and then he glanced back up the beach.

Prompto could hear the fighting from here. Noctis had warped them as far down the beach as he could, toward the old ruins. More than once if the pain in his arm said anything. He couldn’t even see where their little camp had been, especially not through the thick clouds of smoke--more than one explosion, then. The air was choked with the acrid odor.

“We need to get back to Gladio,” Noctis said, voice tight.

Yeah. That made sense. Gladio was Noctis’s Shield for this exact purpose and--Gods, Prompto’s stomach churned that this was his job, too but--look where it got them. He tried and this still...fuck.

Noctis glanced at Prompto. “Don’t suppose you have your phone?”

Prompto shook out his head and checked his pockets but couldn’t find its small, familiar weight. “I think it’s back at camp. You?”

Noctis just glanced at the broken bits of glass at his feet and--oh. “Think I landed on it wrong. We should get back."

Instinct told Prompto no, don’t go where he could hear steel on steel, where the ground shook from new explosions.

But Noctis was already going, his steps uneven from residual stasis and the squishy sand. Prompto could only hurry after him, stumbling and kicking up sand behind him, but eyes glued onto the horizon ahead of them.

Another explosion rocked the beach and Noctis swore, muttering something under his breath--Prompto was sure he caught Gladio in there--when he spotted the man.

Dressed in head-to-toe black, a still point ahead of the billowing smoke--Prompto heard the shout, even a hundred yards away. He saw the dull metal in the man’s arm raise, the red line that flickered to life across the beach, focusing on Noctis.

Prompto’s own gun landed in his hand with a shatter of crystal and--one second the man stood, the next a shot cracked through the air and--the man slumped to the ground.

Noctis halted, comically slipping in the sand and landing on his ass, chest heaving and eyes wide.

Prompto’s hand trembled as he dismissed the gun--as he stared at that unmoving black splotch on the white sand.

“Shit,” Noctis hissed. Prompto mutely nodded. Yeah.

Last time...last time he’d...he’d woken in the Citadel Infirmary, he didn’t have to see--

“We need to find cover,” Prompto managed, voice nothing by a rasp.

“Gladio--”

“He’ll find us.” Prompto sank down beside Noctis. Put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Find an anchor. Look at Noctis, not at the...the...fuck. “When he’s done kicking ass. He’ll find us. But--sorry, dude, I’m your ‘Guard right now and I say we find cover.”

“I totally outrank you.” No fight in that statement though, not as Noctis turned and looked up and down at Prompto. “You okay?”

Prompto’s smile was a wobble that instantly faded. “Yeah.” No confidence in that statement. “C’mon--the ruins.”

So they ran, moving further from danger. Prompto felt his blood sing with it, like he could fly if he went fast enough. Frantic and clumsy, both of them slipping in the sand and then tripping over old driftwood as they stumbled into the dry scrub.

It scratched against their coats and pants and crunched under the weight of their boots. They passed through the old, rusted gate, tangled with weeds, and to the ruined brick walls of the old Caelum estate.

The brush was taller here, almost to their shoulders in some areas, with the brick crumbling completely in some sections, graffitied in others. It was big, yeah, because the Caelums were royalty, but Prompto could almost imagine how this place might have been cozier than the Citadel.

But it was eerie, gray and muted under the cloud covered sky. Not silent though, not with gunfire and shouting down the beach. But...empty, the safest Prompto could do for Noctis, until Gladio came along.

They came to a section of wall that rose over their heads, the brick chipped and sparse in areas but sturdy enough to at least support the arching frame of what was once a window.

Prompto let Noctis climb through, where the ruin’s shadow stunted the brush enough that he could sit. Prompto knelt on the other side, his arms resting on the brick sill and just--took off a glove and reached out to wipe some of the soot from Noctis’s face. Noctis’s skin was ice and he leaned into the touch.

“Some date, huh?”

“Yeah,” Prompto smiled, although it took everything he had to kept himself in place and not run off the adrenaline pumping through him. “Sure know how to show a guy a good time.”

Noctis snorted and he reached for Prompto’s hand, tugged on his wrist until Prompto was also climbing through the window and sitting beside him, arm in arm. Hard, thin reeds poked him through his thick pants and into his ass...and he could feel Noctis’s heart racing which mean his own was obvious but...whatever. He clung to Noctis.

They had a nice view of the peninsula, overlooking more beach, the sand their backyard. It was almost nice and if he concentrated, it was almost like their date was back on track. The clouds were even a pale gold here, like the sun was doing it best to prepare a sunset for them. It would have been beautiful to watch.

“Who do you think it is this time?”

“Assholes,” Prompto immediately replied.

Noctis nodded, even though Prompto was just trying to be funny. Sort of. “Yeah...I still see that cult mentioned in council reports…”

“Hmm.”

The investigation results came back inconclusive… “The guy outside my house was kinda dressed like...the other guy.”

“What?” Noctis shifted so he was looking at Prompto, alarm clouding his features. “What guy?”

Oh. Before a whoops could fall from Prompto’s lips, a reed snapped behind them and they both froze. Prompto looked at Noctis, pressing a finger to his lips, and then carefully, slowly, looked back around the window and into the old estate.

Whoever it was had clearly been startled by the snapping reed because they took their time to come into view but when they did, stepping into a gap in the brush--Prompto sagged as relief washed through him. He leaned back, out of sight, and slumped his head against the brick behind him and whispered a small thanks to the universe.

He felt Noctis move around him to see who it was and Prompto let him because--it wasn’t Gladio, but was back up at least.

“Captain Archer.” Noctis stopped in surprise, blinking back what might have been disappointment--not Gladio--but his shoulders relaxed a bit.

Prompto and Noctis stood and watched Captain Archer halt--and then Leo came up behind him, out of breath and sword in hand. Blood stained both their clothes, still slick and shining on the polyester of their coats.

They all stared at each other--and then Captain Archer smiled and raised a small black radio. “Located His Highness. Prepare extraction on the northeast beach, estate side.”

Noctis leaned against the brick frame, like the promised comfort of safety was too much; Prompto was right there with him. His stomach felt hollow as adrenaline seeped out of him. Noctis reached a hand out and brushed at Prompto’s, offering the smallest of smiles.

“Guess I was wrong about you, Little Chocobo.” Leo smirked, looking between Prompto and Noctis. Prompto tensed at the nickname but he held onto Noctis. “Guess you are useful in sticky situations.”

Prompto bristled and Noctis squeezed his hand, rolling his eyes at Leo. Captain Archer just looked unimpressed, his square jaw tightening.

“Unfortunately,” Captain Archer said, “I can’t say the same about you.”

Faster than any of them could blink, pale blue flashed and a gun appeared in Captain Archer’s hand. Leo cursed as Archer pointed the gun at his chest, and stepped back into the brush, hands up and pale as snow. Panicked, instantly pleading, in a way Prompto had never seen him, but felt to his core.

Archer frowned and then rolled his eyes and went lower.

Prompto winced at the cracking shot; it swallowed Leo’s cry. So fast, barely two seconds--Leo fell to his knees, clutching his side as red bloomed into his hand.

Prompto stared, the breath in his lungs constricting as his own side throbbed in phantom, remembered pain--his hands shook and he had to do something, anything--something--but he just...he just…What?

Flashing crystal shattered--Noctis’s sword appeared, and he raised it at Captain Archer while trying to pull Prompto behind him. He didn’t go gracefully, tripping over his locked legs, still staring and staring at Leo.

“The hell--” That was a growl from Noctis as he backed both of them away.

“Potion,” Leo moaned, sinking lower onto the ground, doubled over almost completely but Prompto’s shaking hands came up empty.

“Now, now, Highness,” Captain Archer said as he raised the gun again. Pointing it at Prompto. “Be good..”

Good could not describe Noctis. Not with how his face twisted in a snarl and his body shook with barely contained rage. The air sparked with it, making the hairs on Prompto’s arms and neck rise beneath all his layers--not the gun pointed at him, but the magic flickering in Noctis’s veins.

Something rumbled behind them but Prompto didn’t dare look. Still, he knew, and the sound coming closer was deafening: a boat; Archer smiled again.

“Ah,” he said, not lowering the gun. “That’s our cue.”

“Like hell I’m going with you.” Noctis groped the air behind him, searching--and Prompto grasped his hand again, holding tight enough to squeeze the blood out from his fingers but he needed--they needed this anchor.

Archer smiled and summoned something to his other hand. “I’ve prepared for that.”

Recognition slammed into them at the same time--Prompto shouted a warning, Noctis a curse--but they were cut off when the world exploded into ice, ripping their hands and bodies apart, knocking them to the ground as their bodies seized up into stone.

Completely leaden, unable to move even as Prompto strained against the force of the spell Archer had thrown. Ice coated everything it touched, so cold it burned through the layers Prompto wore.

Noctis lay beside him. Prompto could sense him, could hear the grunts the fell from his mouth as he tried to yell and move. But he could only see the toe of his boot, unmoving, like a corpse frozen in ice.

Metal scrapped sand--the boat-- and panic, desperate and pleading, flooded Prompto as two sets of boots splashed into the water and made their way up the beach, stopping beside Noctis.

No.

No.

More grunts sounded from Noctis, mixed with the rustle of clothes and plants snapping, and that boot disappeared from Prompto’s line of vision.

Get up, get the fuck up.

But pushing against the spell was like pushing against a thousand mountains and each second that passed by--they were taking Noctis away.

No. Shit.

Prompto summoned his gun, desperation clawing at him, but when he couldn’t curl his hand around the heavy metal, it slipped to the ground with a dull thud. His throat tightened and vision went watery, blurred with tears he couldn’t blink away.

“Chain him down,” Archer ordered, followed by the sounds of something dragging through brush and sand, “so he can’t warp when the spell fades.”

No.

Prompto pushed and pushed, trying to turn his head so he could see, so he could yell for Noctis to fight back. To summon a sword, call for Gladio, to say he--

Frozen sand sprayed over Prompto as Archer made his way around and knelt before Prompto, the barrel of his gun a black hole pointed right at him.

Every sound except his own heart faded as Prompto had no choice but to stare at the gun. He waited for his life to flash, to see the montage that brought him to this point--it’d be nice, to see his moments with Noctis before he never saw him again; Prompto yearned for it even, for that to be the last things he saw.

But Archer dismissed the gun in a flurry of crystal, leaving Prompto a hollow and breathless statue.

“Five more minutes,” Archer said patiently, as if this were a kitchen timer for dinner. “And then you can move.”

Something heavy landed in the boat, causing it to rock and water to splash--Noctis, Prompto realized, a whimper falling from his mouth, followed by a groan as he tried--he tried to push and push but he just...he couldn’t, and he could hear the chains--

“The Crownsguard are skilled,” Archer said down to Prompto, his gray eyes dark under his thick brows. “You’ll find us soon but tell them--destroy the Crystal or I’ll--” He gestured to Prompto’s left, toward the boat. “I will destroy Lucis’s future. Tell them.”

And then he was gone. Through brush and the frozen icescape he had created, he was gone. Prompto heard him jump into the boat, heard him order the others to go. And then the whir of the motor, the scrap of sand, water churning--and they were gone, fading into nothing in the horizon.

Gone. With Noctis. Frozen on this beach, with Leo bleeding out...Stranded.

Gone.

Forty...forty-one...forty-three....forty-nine...no.

Forty...what?

Forty…

Start over.

One...two...three…

Five minutes, Archer had said--how long was that? How long until he could move his hand, hold his gun? Run after Noctis?

His finger wiggled--now. And then he closed his hand.

Like the shattering glass that brought him his gun, the spell lifted, and Prompto gasped, coughing and sputtering. He turned over, braced his arms on the sand and just...he breathed. Deep and full, chest expanding until it hurt. Nearby in the brush, Leo gave a weak moan.

“Noctis! Prompto!”

At that voice, it was like Prompto was spelled again.

Frozen dread.

He dipped his head into his arms and curled into a ball and half hoped Gladio would miss him in the brush and spare him what came next.

Gladio discovered Leo first and the curse that sprang out made Prompto wince but--broken glass. A potion, finally. “Hey, I need a medic over here--Noctis!”

How do you tell a Shield you failed?

“Noct--Prompto?”

Prompto let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding; it came out in a panicked gasp that went back in, sharp, but he couldn’t hold it, he couldn’t--he couldn’t breathe. He shivered so bad in that crater of ice he was sure he’d shatter any second.  

Gladio knelt beside him, hand going to his shoulder. The wrong kind of anchor--it was heavy and it pinned Prompto into place, shook at him: look up.

Gladio’s face was covered in soot and blood. His jacket was torn, burned away in some areas. His eyes were wild, sizzling like fire and his arms trembled with a primal need to hunt, to protect.

And Prompto had failed him.

“Prompto--where’s Noctis?”

“He’s gone,” Prompto whispered, the words coming out in white puffs that ghosted along Gladio’s face, as if punching him. “They took him.”