Work Text:
All Ignis wants out of life is for Noctis to be well and truly happy.
Most days, Ignis thinks he manages that. Noctis complains about having to wake up before noon, and he grumbles every time Ignis slips vegetables into his food, but he’s never outright cruel, and he’s kind in little ways. He gets through each day with only minor hiccups, rarely a tantrum, never thick depression. He’s a decidedly difficult prince, but not because he’s moody. If anything, he’s always in the same mood.
It’s just that that never includes smiling.
For as long as Ignis can remember, Noctis’ expression has stayed solemn, occasionally pouting, and crying once in a blue moon, but mostly just a thin, unchanging frown. Even when they were little, just getting to know each other, playing with monster toys and evolving into video games, Noctis never smiled. It didn’t matter if Ignis let him win a match or if he was given the present he’d been pestering all year for—his eyes never twinkled. It didn’t change all throughout his adolescence, doesn’t waver in his teens.
At least Ignis knows it isn’t personal. He’s sure Noctis does appreciate his efforts, probably more so than those of his shield and other servants. Sometimes he thanks the Citadel’s maids when he catches them making his bed. But he’ll never smile at them, and they all know it—everyone on staff is quite aware of their brooding prince’s condition. He won’t smile for his advisor, his shield, his subjects, even his own father. Those that haven’t adjusted to that walk around him on pins and needles. Ignis doesn’t. He’s not worried that Noctis will lash out—he’s worried that Noctis isn’t happy.
When Noctis reaches high school, there’s a brief glimmer of hope. For the first time—aside from Ignis, who doesn’t really count—Noctis makes a friend. It’s not someone on his father’s payroll, not someone obligated to bow and pick up after him. He willingly spends time with one of his peers, and the first few times Ignis picks him up after school, Ignis really does hope to see a change.
There isn’t one. Noctis’ conversations feel lighter, and there’s less protest to waking up early enough for school, but it isn’t enough to lift the corners of his lips. The crushing reality descends on Ignis again, and he returns to the heartbroken acceptance that plagues their relationship. Sometimes, it actually feels worse with Noctis older, because his life is complicating, and more weight starts sinking his shoulders. He presents as an alpha, and the corresponding hormones are just as expected. He becomes more aggressive when challenged, unintentionally more menacing to the omegas around the Citadel. He’s twice as brooding, but only on days that he hasn’t seen Prompto.
Prompto presents as an omega, just like Ignis has, and for a moment, Ignis fears that that will end things—Prompto will timidly bow away and they’ll lose the one thing that makes any difference to Noctis’ mood, even if it’s not enough. But Prompto remains as spirited and strong as before, and he shows no signs of leaving Noctis’ side. Noctis keeps seeing him whenever possible—they might as well both be betas for all that Noctis cares.
By the time that they both graduate, nothing’s changed. Noctis is smarter and snappier but otherwise the same kid Ignis grew up with. Except not a kid anymore. He grows broader and tougher through Gladiolus’ training—he’ll be a formidable king. He could be a fearsome alpha. He won’t have the warmth the people want, but Ignis knows there is still warmth in him and remains staunchly loyal.
Half a year after that graduation, the council meetings that Noctis never attends take a nasty turn. King Regis brings up the bitter truth: someday, Noctis will need to marry. Sooner rather than later. He needs to get his family situation sorted—meet a nice omega, figure out their fertility, obtain a surrogate if necessary, and repeat until it’s set in stone. More than one council member points out how difficult that will be—Noctis doesn’t like anyone, so how will he ever find a suitable mate? Regis is clearly troubled by it, but after several weeks of bickering, they decide Noctis’ whole life for him.
They’ll marry him off to whoever they deem best. There won’t be any need to consult Noctis, because he won’t like his suitor anyway. No one can make him happy. So they may as well just accept that and get started making babies.
Ignis feels sick with the decision. He’s elected to break the news to Noctis while they search for the right omega. Ignis digs his fists into his knees beneath the table and hates that it’s come to this.
But he wants what’s best for Noctis. He doesn’t want Noctis to rule and die alone. He agrees to inform his prince of their decision, and Regis quietly thanks him.
It takes him almost a full week to work up the nerve to do it. He waits for a day that Noctis is visiting Prompto and vows to say it on the car ride home.
He already has Prompto’s key—a security measure in case they ever fail to answer the door—better that than the glaives break in on the off chance something’s gone wrong. They don’t answer his first knock, which isn’t uncommon, as they’re prone to playing games too loud, blasting inappropriate songs, and sleeping in the middle of the day.
Ignis lets himself in, notes that, as usual, Prompto’s parents are nowhere to be found, and wanders in to find Noctis and Prompto in the living room.
Noctis doesn’t even notice Ignis. That isn’t surprising, given that the stereo’s shrieking a pounding beat, the racing game on the television is turned up to the maximum volume, and Noctis seems completely focused on the level. His eyes are fixed on the screen, the controller balanced on the armrest, one thumb frantically jerking around the joystick.
His other hand is absently petting through Prompto’s hair. Prompto’s curled up on the couch, head in Noctis’ lap, eyes closed and lips upturned. It’s difficult to hear over the rest, but Ignis is fairly certain that Prompto is purring.
And Noctis is smiling.
All at once, Ignis goes into a state of shock. He stares at his prince, mesmerized by the sight, drinking in every little detail. He tries to perfectly capture the moment in his mind, memorizing everything from the smell of pizza in the nearby kitchen to the empty bags of chips littering the coffee table. Then Noctis’ virtual car goes careening off the road, exploding into little tiny shards of flying metal and announcing his game over. Noctis finally looks away from the screen, noticing Ignis.
His hand stops its petting motion. Prompto grunts, his eyes fluttering open. Noctis’ smile falls.
An enormous wave of guilt rushes through Ignis. If he’d known Noctis was so enjoying himself, he never would have interrupted. It’s too late now. Ignis shouts over the music that it’s time to go.
Noctis nods and doesn’t fight it. Prompto begrudgingly sits up, and Noctis affectionately ruffles his hair on the way out. The smile doesn’t come back.
It’s nowhere to be found on the ride home. Ignis asks how the visit was, and Noctis responds the way he always does. When Ignis breaks and specifically asks what lifted his mood, Noctis doesn’t answer. He stares blankly out the window, and Ignis wonders if even he doesn’t know. He must be so used to frowning.
He doesn’t smile again no matter how hard Ignis tries to replicate the moment. He buys Noctis the game that Prompto had. He finds the album Noctis was listening to and lets Noctis play it so loud that the cooks complain about hearing it all the way down in the kitchens. Ignis makes every variety of pizza he can think of and even gives up his normal health regime to buy Noctis all the chips he wants. Nothing works.
Another month passes, and Regis asks if Ignis has broken the news yet. In truth, Ignis had forgotten. He promises to get to it, but secretly, he’s hoping every day that it wasn’t just a fluke—that Noctis really will change and learn to experience just joy.
Ignis agrees to go to some awful horror movie with Noctis, trying to be amiable to soften the oncoming blow. Noctis wants to bring Prompto too. They buy out the whole theatre for the night on Gladiolus’ insistence—can’t have the prince in a dark place surrounded by strangers—and the four of them line the middle seats. The movie starts with a splatter of blood and a flurry of alpha actors so angry that it makes Ignis uncomfortable even through the screen. The film work is so vivid that he feels like he can smell them, and he tenses up for it, but doesn’t leave. He just turns his eyes away for the worst parts. Looking at Gladiolus’ face isn’t better—he grins like a predator around mouthfuls of popcorn. Prompto looks more distressed than Ignis is. He squirms in his seat, and Noctis’ hand shifts onto his. Noctis softly pets the back of Prompto’s hand, and slowly, Prompto’s fear ebbs away. His lashes even lower, and he quietly purrs.
Noctis’ lips twitch. Ignis watches, utterly fascinated, as Noctis cricks a smile.
It clicks into place. Noctis has been around Prompto a hundred times. He’s heard more than one omega purr. But Prompto’s purring destroys his defenses. Something swells in Ignis’ chest—he’s finally found the key.
He uses it whenever he can. He invites Prompto over to the Citadel as often as possible, and he brings up fetching Prompto on all of their outings. He dotes on Prompto when he can and makes sure the rest of the staff does the same. Whenever Prompto’s over, the cooks feed him well and often, the maids smile and clean up after him, and the guards even open doors for him. Prompto seems clueless and flustered but always grateful, and in stark contrast to Noctis, it’s ridiculously easy to make him smile.
Noctis’ company usually provides the cherry on top, pushing Prompto over the edge, and then Prompto’s purring like a spoiled kitten. And then Noctis grins.
Ignis couldn’t be happier himself. His only worry is the council—he does his best to keep the situation from reaching them. Regis doesn’t speak with Noctis on a regular basis, so there isn’t much risk of that. The servants keep it to themselves, equally as nervous about ruining their setup. When Prompto anxiously asks if he could possibly become one of the Crownsguard, Ignis arranges for two betas to train him and makes sure they treat him like royalty. The first time he comes back from their session, he’s got tears in his eyes. He splutters out his confusion; he can’t understand why they praised him so much. Noctis comes around the corner and sees Prompto crying. He instantly gets angrier than Ignis has ever seen him. It’s so intense that both Ignis and Prompto physically step back from the onslaught of pheromones. Then Noctis realizes they’re happy tears and hugs Prompto apologetically, rubbing his back until he purrs into the crick of Noctis’ neck, and the two of them shuffle happily off to Noctis’ quarters.
Everything is going well until Prompto glumly admits that his parents are selling their apartment and he needs to move out. He can’t afford anywhere near the Citadel; he’ll have to get a small place in a far off, cheaper district. They’re in the car, Ignis driving Prompto home. He keeps his eyes on the road and doesn’t even hesitate to suggest that Prompto move into the Citadel.
Prompto’s shocked. He points out that he’s a commoner. Ignis is too. He knows he should run the idea by the king, but then Noctis’ handsome smile flashes in Ignis mind, and he forgets everything else. He insists on helping Prompto move.
The day that Prompto does move in to the empty study next to Noctis’ quarters, Noctis practically beams all day long. Every staff member on shift helps, and every one vows to keep it secret until Ignis tells the council. Prompto insists he’ll be quiet and well behaved and no one will even know he’s there, but they obviously do, because of the look on Noctis’ face.
Prompto spends most of his time in Noctis’ room, but when he ventures out, everyone dotes on him twice as hard. It’s well worth it. Noctis smiles every day, and Ignis has never felt more satisfied.
Even Regis starts to notice, and the day that he comes into Ignis’ office unannounced, Ignis is sure he’s figured out what’s happened and is about to evict their contagious ray of sunshine.
Instead, Regis lays a manila folder on Ignis’ desk and announces that they’ve found a suitable candidate for Noctis: an omega noblewoman from Altissia. Regis cheerfully notes that Noctis is clearly doing better and thus ready to mate. He thanks Ignis for always being by Noctis’ side and encouraging this.
With a lump in his throat, Ignis guiltily admits that Noctis already has a mate.
Surprise doesn’t begin to cover the look on Regis’ face. Unable to form the words, Ignis gets up and invites the king to follow him. They walk in silence down to the gardens, where they find Noctis lounging against a hedge near the back, Prompto lying in the grass with his cheek on Noctis’ thigh. He’s flipping sleepily through his camera, purring contentedly as Noctis strokes through his hair. Noctis’ face is absolutely radiant. His gaze is fixed on Prompto, full of such palpable love that Ignis’ chest constricts. He knows he’s willing to fight for Noctis’ freedom. He’s decided he can’t let Noctis be paired off with a stranger, and he’ll convince even the king of that if he has to.
Regis stays with Ignis in the doorway. Neither of them step down onto the path; neither of them dare disturb the scene. The gently bubbling fountain covers up their quiet words, so Noctis obliviously continues his ministrations.
After a long moment, Regis murmurs, “You’ve done well, Ignis.”
Ignis answers, “I didn’t do a thing. But I’m very pleased with the result.”
A long breath, and Regis agrees, “As am I. ...I’ve only met Prompto a few times, and only briefly. I know he’s a commoner and a male... but if he can do that to my son, we have no choice. He’s our new prince.”
A weight leaves Ignis’ shoulders. He asks, just to be sure, “You approve, then?”
Regis doesn’t hesitate. Ignis knows that he loves Noctis just as much as Ignis does, and this is all either of them has ever wanted. He says, “I do.”
Ignis volunteers, “I’ll tell him.”
Only then does Ignis move forward to interrupt, carrying good news.