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The castle itself was nearly reclaimed by the forest.
Prompto pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders; the crumbling stones leading towards the gate were too close to the cliff-edge to relax now. He almost regretted making the trip on foot-- now that exhaustion burned through his body like a poison. But the trees were thick and the ground was rough, riding would have only made it more dangerous.
-
Chance alone had led him to this castle. As crumbling as it was, there were no records of it to be found. Just whispered stories from hunters of an old king who still claimed dominion over these lands. Strange stories were the only sign posts he had, though.
The old blacksmith was refreshingly unimpressed by Prompto's knighthood, just waved his hand in answer to most questions until his granddaughter finally offered to point Prompto in the right direction.
“The old fisherman,” she offered, “People see ‘im all the time out in those woods. Most everyone else is too superstitious to catch anything up there. Could always try your luck asking him about your king.”
So he'd taken her advice-- followed the river from their forge south, until the signs of civilization trailed away into dust and grass and only the plodding of his horse's hooves quietly marked the passing of time. It had been a long time since he'd started this journey. Ten years since the Oracle had begged her knights to break her curse.
To find the grail.
So they'd each set out. Led by messengers, prophecies and rumors. Magicians and priests. Any story that hinted at immortality in its core, the Oracle had sent her knights to chase. Nothing but fairy tales and nonsense, usually, but the Oracle knew the grail existed, and Prompto believed her.
-
Prompto found him just after dawn-- perched at the end of a half-rotten pier, his line already cast out into the river. His motions were smooth and practiced, tugging the line back before letting it out again. Back and forth, letting the lure drift into the water. He hardly reacted to Prompto's approach, only murmuring a vague “thanks for not scaring off the fish.”
Prompto watched the ebb and flow of the man's motions for a few silent minutes, “So you're the old fisherman?”
That finally earned him a laugh, the man snapping his wrist back to bring his line in close before setting his rod down and finally offering Prompto his attention. “Who told you that? Ol’ Cid?”
“Mm, someone back in town. Maybe they meant someone else.” Prompto smiled back, reflecting the man's amused grin. He wasn't exactly young, but certainly not “old” by any stretch. The beginnings of wrinkles teased at the corners of his eyes, and his beard had a few strands of gray, but his voice and eyes still held enough youth in them that he couldn't have been any older than Prompto was. “Your dad, maybe?”
The fisherman hummed, and stretched his legs out. “Don't think the old man knows how.”
“Guess it’s you.”
“Guess it’s me.”
Prompto shifted his weight, “I’m Prompto, a knight of the Oracle--”
“--Explains the outfit.”
The comment disarmed Prompto completely. He couldn’t understand the way his voice dripped down his spine, or why he kept smiling over his shoulder like they were just old friends. He stuck to his script, using the practiced words to steady himself. “She’s given us a quest, and I think you could help. Can I ask you a few questions?” The words stuck, a little too artificial.
“You came all the way out here? Sure.” He paused, some of the easygoing facade cracking, “Noctis, by the way.”
“Suits you better than ‘old man.’” It felt good, easy even, returning back the banter. Prompto lowered down carefully, trying to find a spot to sit that wasn't questionably damp. “Just heard some weird stories about the forest. I figured you could tell me which ones were true.”
“Oh, yeah? Not many monsters left any more, too many knights running around.” Noctis scooted over, subtly making room for Prompto at the edge of the pier. Prompto slid in, letting the toes of his boots just break the surface of the water.
“Nothing like that. Look at me; never been the dragon slaying type.” Prompto leaned back on his hands. “I heard there was a king still ruling over these woods.” He pretended not to notice Noctis’ knuckles whitening or his shoulders tensing. “You know anything about that?”
Noctis was quiet. He tilted his head, hesitant but clearly enough, towards a break in the trees.
“You see that path? Wait until tonight, then follow it as far as you can.”
-
After that, Noctis had left. Just a brief goodbye before he'd packed up and gone-- down the same road he'd told Prompto to travel. His instructions were clear, though. Prompto couldn't follow him until nightfall. Anything else and he'd never find his answer. He had no reasons to doubt Noctis, and nothing to lose by trusting him. So once the last sun-colors had faded from the river's reflection, Prompto patted his horse on the nose wishing her good luck for both of them. And followed.
-
The castle had seemed like a dream the first time he saw it. It was built from black stone, it had been polished once and places still mirrored back the moonlight. Grasses and trees had pushed their way up the rampart, though, bringing the wall down off the harsh cliff face. Prompto had taken that as his answer at first. Whatever king had ruled here was gone. So he made his camp, and slept the night outside the wall. But when the sun of dawn pressed him awake, the castle was gone.
-
Now he was here again. Noctis hadn’t been there to tease him, and that made Prompto somehow uneasy. He'd met the man once, he had no reason to expect to see him again. So he waited alone, watching the river flow until night fell and he could find the castle again.
He collapsed down at the pinnacle of his climb, letting the cold night air heal the burning in his lungs. He didn't expect to find anything inside except more rubble, but maybe-- there had to be some magic to it. If it was finally the Grail, and he could save the Lady's life? Unraveling fate seemed impossible, but so did disappearing castles.
He fell into too deep a distraction, completely oblivious until a heavy hand fell onto his shoulder. “Took ya long enough.”
Prompto jerked away, pivoting to regain his balance. He didn't recognize the voice, and certainly didn't recognize the man-- tall, broad and dressed in heavy black and gold robes.
“Noct's been waiting for you, hurry up.” He pulled Prompto up, clapping him across the back once he'd managed to scramble to his feet.
He led Prompto past the gate. The hall was all marble and glass, flawless enough that Prompto regretted the click of his shoes against the floor. The silence didn't last long, at least, when the hall turned and opened up onto a wide banquet room.
“Gladio,” there was a voice Prompto recognized, even though the man it belonged to looked completely different-- clean-shaven and draped in the same black and gold finery as Prompto's escort. “Any sign?” Noctis’ face broke into a wide grin when Prompto stepped into view. “Hey, you had me worried.” His teasing laugh betrayed too much nervousness.
“Couldn't figure out how to work a door,” Gladio interrupted the moment, lightly pushing Prompto forward instead of leaving him gawking any longer. “Found him right outside.”
“Thanks.” Noctis’ eyes flitted between Prompto and Gladio, like he wasn't sure himself who he was thanking. He draped an arm over Prompto's shoulder, herding him over to the table. “This'll explain everything. I promise.”
There was a feast laid out, and it didn't take much encouragement from Noctis for Prompto to eat as much as he could. It felt like coming home, somehow, as the dizziness from too much food and wine took over. Words flowed just easily between them all, until Gladio leaned over to whisper to Noctis, “It's time,” and Noctis nudged his shoulder against Prompto's to point out the far doorway swinging open.
Suddenly, it was cold. Something of the castle's decay finally seeping in. Someone appeared in the doorway, carrying a sword laid out on a length of velvet. As they slowly crossed the room to present the sword to Noctis, Prompto realized their face was heavily scarred. It made each carefully placed step make sense; he was blind.
The blind man laid the sword in front of Noctis. It was silver, the hilt curling into unfurled wings. Noctis rested his hand over the blade, with a quiet sigh. Prompto studied the new man's face, looking for any hint at the emotion he should be sharing in the moment, but he was already turning and walking away.
There was no time for Prompto to question what was happening before he was back. This time bearing a small goblet on a black cushion. Prompto shot up. It couldn't- he looked at Noctis, desperate to catch his eye and see any sign that this was it-- the cup of immortality, the sacred and ancient thing so many knights had failed to find. But he couldn't bring himself to cut through Noctis' sad downward gaze as the treasure was placed on the table before him.
Prompto was mesmerized enough by the grail that he didn't notice the third treasure until the blind man was standing in front of them with it already.
“Thank you, for everything, Ignis.” Noctis' voice was soft, the words more breath then language as he held out his hands for the spear being offered to him. He lifted it gently, then laid it alongside the sword. It forked into a trident, and the length was engraved with a delicately-finned sea serpent. Prompto bit his lip. There was obviously meaning here. Noctis had given him his answer, that he was the king was obvious. But there was more answer than question and Prompto couldn't parse the rest.
Noctis looked at him and smiled, “Almost dawn, huh?”
-
Prompto didn't remember falling asleep, but he recognized where he was when he awoke. The piecemeal remains of polished black stone made that easy to see. The silver sword, with curled wings for a hilt, driven into the ground in front of him confirmed the rest. At least something remained. He knew, somehow, the castle wouldn't reappear. He carefully collected the blade and started his walk home, hoping but not expecting to meet his king along the river again.