Archive of Our Own

Ignis runs.

The striking of his boots matches the pounding of his heart, but it’s not good enough, he needs to run faster.

The thing roars behind him, and he reflexively digs his fingertips against his hip, at the edge of his pocket, sealing in the contents at all costs. He swerves left and runs faster.

The thing is sliding around, seeking him out, but Ignis hasn’t made the search easy. The foul fog produced by the creature isn’t enough to subdue him like he supposes the creature expects it ought to, and the conditions brought about by his impulsive decision to pelt a grenade at it surely did nothing to aid the creature. The continued lack of visibility means he still can’t see how extensively the creature is injured, or if the explosive did any physical damage at all, but the resulting cloud of soil and dust is more than sufficient.

Its screeches are intimidating and would make a lesser man weep in terror, but he knows the creature is floundering. In the mingling layers of dirt, dust, and thick mist, the slippery serpent is just as susceptible to the lack of visibility. It’s losing him.

Except right now, he thinks it might have regained enough of its bearings to relocate his scent, or pinpoint the vibrations of his footfalls. Because that gods-forsaken sliding is creeping up on him again.

He can’t let it get close.

He grips the last grenade harder in his hand, digs his fingers harder against the edge of his pocket, and, still sprinting, he bites the pin.

He pulls it back quick, and lunges it hard behind him. He can’t see where it lands, and he doesn’t stop to wait.

A burst meets his ears, and the force from behind him is almost enough to knock him to his knees. He keeps it to a stumble though, and maintains the aching speed of his pace.

The next sound is a violent shrieking, and it’s much further away now than he thought it would be. So much, he chances a single glance:

It’s all dust and fog. Maybe he sees a shadow thrashing within it, but mostly he sees billowing clouds of earth and mist and how they grow larger as the creature shrieks. The earth shakes with the force of its flailing, and rocks all around them become displaced from the landscape.

He sets his gaze back forward and channels all his focus to his breathing and the continued racing of his legs. It’s going to be a tough pace to keep, but it’s the last step in his escape. He can endure it.

With the creature’s senses so compromised by its own corruption to the air and hemorrhaging of the ground, the thing is sufficiently distracted.

Were they a team of four, perhaps they could use this opportunity to swarm the creature by surprise and end its rampage before it could even realign itself to its surroundings.

But he is only one. And the same wealth of knowledge that enabled him to remain standing this long tells him this is not a battle worth pursuing any further, especially not when he is the only man left standing. Yes, he may be prideful, but none will find reason to call him stupid .

The convulsions of the rocks around him begin to become less noticeable, and the ear-piercing roaring turns to something distant and rumbling. But, when he can hear the sounds of crickets over it, that’s when he knows he’s escaped.

He slams his back to a cliff face and wheezes. Gods, when was the last time he wheezed? His lungs swell and contract and burn with the effort of keeping him breathing, and he coughs through it. It doesn’t take long to notice how much his legs are shaking and to feel that force pulling him down to the ground.

That was too damn close.

He wheezes deep breaths, coughing still, trying to steady himself as best as he can without immediate access to water, and he can’t tell if he’s still panicked or relieved or quite thoroughly pissed off .

His pocket squirms against his hand and he realizes he’s still keeping the seam of it sealed. Near-breathless, suddenly desperate to confirm the safety of its contents, he reaches into his pocket and cradles both hands to carefully remove the delicate materials, lest they squirm away unthinkingly.

It’s difficult, and his grip strains against wiggling protests, but the stirring slows at the sound of his voice.

“Hush, all of you,” he says, maybe too sharply, but it does the trick. “Let me assess the situation.”

His breath feels too shaky for the level-headedness he requires for this task, but he takes a breath and fans out his hand to study the strange, soft things huddled on his palms.

Three toads.

One is the size of the other two combined; large, stout, and brown as the earth, speckled with subtle flecks and stripes of darker brown. And it’s quite impressive for a mere toad. But then it starts making a sound: deep, constant, almost buzzing, and absolutely brimming with contempt.

It doesn’t have eyebrows, but the thing looks furious.

There’s another beside it, smaller and sandy with a more intense speckling of flecks all over its body. The poor thing looks frozen, sitting flatly against Ignis’s palm, trapped in the throes of fight or flight, stuck silent. The one sign of its continued survival is the flailing of its throat, inflating and deflating soundlessly at a speed that Ignis can only describe as alarming.

The third toad is deeply dark, black as the leather it sits against, to the extent that Ignis could fear losing sight of it against his gloves. It could blend in so perfectly there, if not for the sudden, insistent wiggling.

Exposed to the air, it had at first been completely still, but its head quickly began to twitch around in snappy arcs, and now it’s confident enough to be slapping its dark feet experimentally on the leather beneath it. And, when it looks up at Ignis’s face, it starts to slap its hands up his arm.

“Noctis, march yourself back down right this instant,” Ignis hisses, frustrated he can’t grab the wayward toad himself, lest he unfathomably drop the others. “I cannot afford losing track of any of you.”

Blessedly, the darkest toad merely beeps in frustration as it settles back onto his palm. It doesn’t make any further defiant leaps.

Ignis exhales heavily, momentarily dropping his head to his knees as he feels his lungs trembling with his exhaustion and relief. It hurts, and his whole body aches still, but thank the six, they actually survived…

The tone coming from the stout toad gets a little lower, a little slower, and a quiet, small beeping joins it. He lifts his head to assess the changes.

Can a toad look remorseful?

If nothing else, they certainly appear guilty. And worried. The Gladitoad looks significantly less pissed off — concerned even — and the Noctoad is the source of the new beeping; a demanding sound, but a decidedly worried one. He supposes, given their condition, their respective beeping sounds are the most they can offer in consolation. And, in fact, he can’t help but admit that it’s reassuring to feel them in his hands, vibrating with life.

… Although, the Promptoad is still concernedly quiet.

He frowns, and remembers the look on Prompto’s face right as it happened; the sheer terror sunken in his eyes as he had been shouting at Ignis, running quicker than he’d ever seen him with a toad in each fist.

And then he was caught by the mist just like the rest, and Ignis had watched the silhouette of a third toad drop to the ground. And then there they all were, hopping erratically toward him. His friends, shaped like a grouping of toads.

His precious, foolish friends.

“Gentlemen…” Ignis says through his teeth, still struggling to regain his bearings. “What have we learned?”

Gladio’s tone goes deep and angry again. And he swears Noctis’s eyes narrow as he starts beeping more insistently, smacking his hands aimlessly..

“Very interesting,” he says, “Because what I learned, is that the lot of you are too reckless for your own good. And, of course, we have observed the fascinating correlation that all who had ignored my request to acquire ribbons are now toads. I suppose we can only speculate on why I have retained my physique in spite of you all.”

Of course, there’s a ribbon tied securely in place above the edge of his left glove. Because he was the only one who regarded the listing of unidentified serpent daemon and thought to correlate it with previous serpentine encounters.

“ C’mon specs, they say it’s just a big snake” they had said, “ Like, it’s not one of those fucked up weird ones . It’s not gonna be that bad ” they had said.

They had anticipated venom, so they brought antidotes.

They had not anticipated the creature’s ability to produce a toxic fog.

A toxic fog that could turn its prey to helpless toads.

Except for Ignis, because of course he suspected such a turn of events.

The darkest toad in his palms slaps its way up his hand and makes to bite at the offending ribbon.

“Behave yourself,” Ignis chides, hands still too full to deal with him properly. “It won’t help you now. And with the absence of remedies in our inventory, you will all need to remain toads.”

There’s a high-pitched bubbling sound; quiet, but it sounds like screaming.

A reciprocal sensation buzzes against his palm where the Promptoad is seated.

He sighs heavily. “Not permanently, I would suspect. I recall no recorded cases of irreversible toad-turnings. We will simply need to wait out the effects.”

What he doesn’t mention is he doesn’t recall reading anywhere about such effects lasting longer than ten minutes after being removed from the source of the toxin. Now, they’re encroaching on twenty. Prompto at least stops the screaming, but the stock-stillness of his posture suggests he’s well-aware of the atypically prolonged nature of this.

Carefully, trying not to succumb to how his knees shake under his weight, he pushes himself up the rock and steadily to his feet. 

“We are but a short distance from the haven now,” he speaks in consolation. “You all best behave yourselves. And if a daemon crosses our path, you must understand, I will not hesitate to return you to the safety of my pocket.”

More frustrated beeping and buzzing meets his ears, and Prompto’s screaming returns.

“So behave yourselves,” he hisses at the lot of them. “Lest your calls serve as a delicious beacon for more horrid creatures to seek us out.”

They fall silent at that.

At least, he believes as much, until he realizes there’s the slightest reverberation against the leather of his gloves, and he starts to register an impossibly low sound of contempt.

“And Gladiolus, I will have no infrasonic noise from you. Just because I may not be able to hear it does not mean some toad-hungry creature won’t.”

He gets one buzzy croak in response, as the fat frog slaps its feet around, settles in place like an angry rock, and seethes in silence.

Ignis dutifully carries them to shelter.

-

If nothing else went well that day, at least they made it back to the haven without any additional encounters.

Ignis sighs heavily and settles his entourage on the counter of his cooking station to assess them.

Gladio still looks thoroughly pissed, Prompto still looks shell-shocked, and Noctis looks impatient.

“Don’t you dare leap from this table,” he scolds preemptively. It’s still night, and he could still lose them out here if they continue to act recklessly. “The day has been long — the battle, arduous — and I suspect it has taken a toll on you all, amphibious affliction notwithstanding.”

Noctis slaps his feet around impatiently, and Gladio’s deep angry tone returns.

“Next time,” he gestures his hand to fully expose the perfectly secure ribbon. “I hope you will all heed my warnings in regards to preventative measures as I so advise .”

Noctis beeps, and Ignis can’t tell if it is an acknowledgement or vitriolic sass.

“ In the meantime ,” he continues regardless. “It would be best for us all to focus on regaining our composure. Difficult on an empty stomach, is it not?”

He collects a shallow dish and a bottle of water, pouring the contents of the latter into the former, and he sets it down beside the toads.

“Into the dish.” He insists. 

Noctis slaps his feet and beeps.

“If you may recall, toads drink through their skin. You will find no refreshment without it.”

He pushes the dish a little closer, and Noct makes some indignant beeping noises, but his little feet stomp forward and he climbs into the dish, settling bodily into the water.

“Excellent,” he commends, and regards the remaining toads. “Gentlemen?”

Gladio croaks and hops heavily onto the edge of the dish. It tilts upward, pouring the water over himself, but not without displacing the first toad directly into his face.

The two of them beep in agony.

“ Gentlemen, ” Ignis huffs and seeks paper towels to address the mess. All the while, he can hear their unconquerable beeping.

He settles the dish back in place just in time to see Noctis’s webbed-hand smack onto Gladio’s eye. It stays there.

The massive toad gurgles with fury,

“ Honestly, ” he mutters under his breath and he plucks the Noctoad off the other, steadfast in his grip despite its kicking and beeping. “Sit here.”

He deposits the toad into the wet dish, and reaches for the Gladitoad. It makes an angry sound when he lifts it from the table.

“Hush, you,” he narrows his eyes at the toad, holding it not unlike a hamburger. “I am attempting to make hydration a simple process. Settle down now.”

He settles Gladio into the empty dish.

He blinks.

He turns, and sees Noctis navigating up the cooking station to where the ingredients are.

He catches him into his hands and Noctis belts out a disappointed beep.

“Dinner is not ready yet,” he says simply and adjusts his grip until Noctis is firmly secure. “ Please, have some water first.”

He lowers him into the empty dish.

He turns, and Gladiolus is on the edge of the table.

He leaps.

Ignis catches him.

“ Fuck’s sake!” he hisses, and returns Gladio to the table. “ Please be civilized!”

Gladio croaks unintelligibly and starts waddling off toward the edge again.

Really!?

Noctis’s body smacks against the woodgrain as he falls from the dish.

It at least distracts Gladio from leaping off the edge, because he instead turns around and glares at the dark toad beeping and slapping its way across the table.

And they sit there, beeps and bellowing croaks saturating the air.

Ignis sighs roughly and moves closer to where the Promptoad sits.

He telegraphs the movement, raising his hands slowly out to him. Prompto doesn’t look comfortable at all, but at least he isn’t hopping away. Carefully, he picks up the small toad and settles it gently in the middle of the dish. 

The toad’s throat keeps swelling and contracting like a seizing balloon while Ignis steadily replenishes the dish with water, and the panicked motions persist even as he sets the bottle aside. However, as he begins to work on preparing a meal fit for his comrades, he spares frequent glances to observe Prompto’s little toad eyes steadily droop shut.

Well, at least he managed to get one of them to hydrate.

He exhales carefully and narrows his focus to his task, procuring some ingredients he thinks their small stomachs will tolerate.

-

Noctis and Gladio wandered around the countertop for an irresponsibly long time.

But Ignis permitted them their freedom. If they ignored his wisdom once today, then who is he to stop them from setting themselves up for suffering once more? 

Well… perhaps it is in his job description to do just that, but damn it all he couldn’t quite be bothered to participate in their petty exchange.

So, instead, he cooked.

Things may have come to blows for the two toads, smacking each other more than once each if the warbling beep-screams were anything to go by, but the furious activity must have worn them both out. And considering the day’s events as a whole, Ignis is surprised and slightly impressed that it took as long as it did.

But they had simmered down. And, by the time Ignis was finished seasoning his fish of choice, a glance to the tabletop revealed all three toads sitting silently and sleepily in the dish.

He doesn’t comment on it, but he smiles and replenishes some more water to the dish. Gladio cracks one eye open, studying him as he does it — squinting suspiciously — but it droops back shut quickly enough. Undoubtedly, he’s comfortable.

Something self-righteous in him wants to insist to them that he told them so , that of course they all needed a little hydration to feel better, it’s hydration! But, looking at their content little faces, disrupting them seems the impossibly worse crime.

So he leaves them to sit, just as he leaves the fish to simmer, delighting in the atmospheric sizzling as much as the toads must appreciate the water. 

Oh, how rewarding, the simple joys.

He proceeds with peeling an orange.

By the time the fish finishes, he has two oranges worth of slices prepared, stripped of skin and tissue, and each piece sliced in half for simplest consumption.

Beside the fruit, all delicately arranged on a cutting board, he places and cubes the fish, studying the presentation a little longer than necessary, and then finally lowering the board next to the dish pool. Noctis immediately perks up at the sound of the wood tapping against the counter, and it sends him shuffling out of the dish pool.

Whether it be the smell, the sound, the rippling in the water, or Noctis’s indignant smack upon exiting the dish, the remaining toads open their eyes.

Gladio is first to move, scrambling in the direction of the food, and struggling at the edge of the dish.

He leans on it, flails his arms uselessly, and the weight pushes the edge to the tabletop.

Water pours out around him, Prompto slides into him, and the sandy toad’s screaming returns.

“Gladiolus!” Ignis hisses, forcing a hand quickly down on the opposite side of the dish to ground it. Two thirds of the water content is on the table now, and an uncertain percentage of that is dripping off the edge and down to the haven floor. 

With the dish anchored, Gladio manages to kick his way out of it, but not without displacing the screaming Promptoad again. Prompto tumbles back toward the center of the bowl, and the screaming turns to beeps of anguish.

Gladio joins Noctis at the edge of the meal plate. Prompto tucks his legs under himself and lays flatly in the dish.

Ignis exhales in remorse, and lowers himself closer to the dish.

“Now, now, Prompto, let us not be deterred by Gladio’s animalistic behavior..” He says, immediately met with an offended croak from elsewhere. “Please join us for dinner.”

Prompto remains flat and unmoved.

He sighs. They're all handling the affliction about as well as they could be, but Prompto seems to be taking it particularly hard.

"Apologies, but I'd like you to manage some nourishment before night's end." He carefully lifts the sandy toad and deposits it by dish.

Prompto doesn't move or beep, but Ignis doesn't take it any further. He gives the toad space, and hopes hunger will drive him to eat soon.

Besides, he needs to take care of his own needs.

Ignis prepares his own plate of fish and eats exhaustedly.

As he eats, he observes:

Gladio pushes his nose to an orange slice, nudging it along the plate until it rests in front of the still-frozen Prompto. For a short moment, the two toads remain unmoving, and then Gladio navigates the plate again, seeking another citrus slice to prod at. The plate rattles with the force of Gladio’s irresponsible waddling, but it at least stays upright, and Gladio nudges the second slice to where he pushed the first.

Now Prompto has two orange slices.

Smack. Smack.

Noctis is hopping across the plate, with a cube of fish secured in his mouth. He stops in front of Prompto and deposits the cube gracefully atop the sandy toad’s face.

Noctis looks incredibly pleased with himself before he hops away in pursuit of citrus consumption.

Gladio proceeds with eating his own share of fish, leaving Ignis to observe Prompto carefully. 

He still looks shell-shocked, but having the food pushed in front of him seems to have done something.

The cube tumbles off him to beside the orange slices, and Prompto’s little face shifts, studying the items placed before him.

It takes longer than Ignis would like, but, soon enough, Prompto lunges at the cubes and bites determinedly at each.

Ignis breathes a silent sound of relief, grateful to see his comrades eating freely. Savoring the success, he takes another slice from his own plate and chews contentedly.

-

By the time Ignis is finished with his own fish, the ravenous toads are still vigorously smacking their mouths open and shut in a frenzied grab for cubes.

The ravenous toads, of course, being Noctis and Gladio, chewing like the whole arrangement had been a competition. Prompto seemed to lack the same enthusiasm for it. He had eaten the slices Noct and Gladio had presented to him easily enough, and he had sought out a few more pieces on his own, but he’d gone still in the passing minutes.

Ignis sets his plate aside and returns to the edge of the table.

“Gentleman, if you don’t mind, I will be stealing Prompto away.” he says, announcing himself as he reaches for Prompto. The other toads keep biting at their tiny feast while the sandy one sits stiffly, and remains that way even as Ignis lifts him up and away from the cooking station.

He carries him into the tent, and frowns at the small, cold thing settled stiffly against his palm.

He lays his hand carefully over it like a blanket and rests the side of his thumb onto his head, pushing there and then down this length of his spine before repeating the motion.

“You will be fine,” he assures him, certain. “I assure you. Regardless of how long you gentlemen remain as toads, I will ensure your safety.”

Prompto's throat keeps beating its alarming, panicked rhythm, but he makes a small sound, a short gurgle of acknowledgement.

"I have no intent to discard any of you." He also insists, unsure of what anxieties are vexing Prompto right this second, but wanting so much to dispel them. "You are all precious to me, so don't believe for a moment that I'll let you suffer. I will do everything in my power to help you all. You are dear to me just the same as they are. Do not forget it. You will be fine."

He can't tell if the toad is calming more, but it settles more closely into his hand. So he lets himself stay a little longer, carefully soothing his companion.

He pets him until he feels significantly more relaxed in his hands, then with two more firm pats he lowers Prompto onto the floor of the tent, withdraws, and sets out to prepare the rest of their lodgings. Two layers of towels on the others' pillows; one dry layer, and a moist layer on top.

He collects the remaining toads, all round and sated, blessedly not trying to bite each other’s eyes.

He sets to settle the toads at their respective sleeping bags. 

Gladio and Prompto settle without fuss, but before he can get Noctis in place, the toad wriggles out of his hands and leaps outward, disappearing into blankets.

“ Noct!” Ignis groans, lifting a fold in the material, hoping for a simple retrieval.

He doesn’t see Noctis. He just hears the investigative croaking.

“Noctis, so help me, I will shake this blanket out to locate you.”

The head of a small toad emerges, poking out from one of the folds in the blanket. He sits there, throat beating, looking entirely too content.

Ignis heaves a sigh. “Well, If his Highness is comfortable, then I suppose there’s no need to alter the arrangement. Though you mustn’t complain later for the dampness you've tracked through it.”

He just beeps pleasantly and hunkers down into the fabric, looking about as cozy as such a creature could be.

He allows it.

-

Ignis steps back outside to deal with the mess of dinner. He's accustomed to a sizable mess from the four of them, but today's feast seems to have yielded just over a quarter of the typical dish accumulation. It's at least one blessing in the wake of this exhausting day.

Sealing away the remainder of his cooking materials, he wipes his hands of the task and sinks into his camping chair, gazing toward where the sky is speckled with pinpricks of stars.

He sighs. It's a lovely sight, but it's difficult to appreciate it quite as much without the others present to accent the atmosphere.

Too lost in his wistful woes, he startles at something hitting his leg.

He looks down to find a pitch dark toad seated on his shoe, in such a pose, as if to leap at him.

The thing smacks into his shin and drops instantly back down flat on his back, webbed-limbs kicking in the air, warbling in failure.

He sighs more heavily now. "I suppose you must be restless"

Noctis swivels until he's upright, and then he's climbing up Ignis's shoe again. This time, he beeps and makes a wild grab for the material of the pant-leg.

"Incredible." He deadpans, because Noctis manages not to fall this time, and he climbs up the towering length of his high-end slacks. They'd endured enough wear through the day's battle, but to be scaled by a toad strikes him as the more personal slight.

Noctis emerges over the edge of his knee and settles there, blinking around.

"Comfortable?"

It hits him in the abdomen like a squashy bullet. He recoils automatically, but instantly he's rolling his eyes.

"Is this quite necessary?" He says fully expecting his words to achieve nothing. Noct's complex toad-fingers seek traction on the silk of his shirt, finding it in insufficient amounts. But the fabric folds and bunches just enough to give him leverage, so the eager toad beeps onward in calculated leaps, landing at last on his shoulder.

He tilts his head to study the creature there, head raised so proud, perched like a parrot.

"Are you proud of yourself?"

Noctis beeps

And launches at his ear

He can't help the full-body squirm and startled grunt.

"NOCT."

It chaotically climbs his hair, the sensation utterly horrible, and then the animal is finally settled at the summit.

Ignis can only imagine inferior suppositions of how proud and exaltant the small toad must appear in the crown of his hair.

"Noctis." He speaks flatly. "Glance at a strand of hair. Any which one you prefer."

He hears a responding beep.

"Consider the width of one strand. Not the length, mind you, but the decidedly thin nature of one strand across."

Another beep.

"My patience."

Beep.

He breathes out to sigh a frustrated sound but it comes out defeated.

As peripherally disgusting the sensation is, he can't help but find a vague comfort in the toad's presence, sitting for once calmly in the bedding of his hair. He can feel the thing breathing there, shifting on occasion, but mostly they stay settled, content, and watch the clouds roll below the stars.

Noctis bites his hair.

He flinches, half-yells and nearly tosses the prince off.

He throws his hands over this head until he feels the damp squashy culprit croaking against his fingers. He levels it with his eyes and stares into its untelling face.

"How do you say, in the common tongue: this is why we cannot have nice things."

Noctis makes an extended noise, part frustration, part despair, as Ignis carries him back toward the tent.

-

He peers into the tent, and, as it would turn out, Prompto isn't asleep either. The small toad is still seated in the center of its pillow, breathing at an accelerated swelling once again.

He frowns and holds Noctis up to his face. Noctis must understand what he's sensing, because he receives a lack of contempt from the springy toad. It watches him with an intelligence that he can rely on.

“I’d like to ask for your assistance, Noctis,” he murmurs into his hands at the thoughtful toad. “Prompto isn’t taking this situation very well. It may be useful for him to be gifted some solidarity.”

Noctis beeps determinedly.

He places Noctis beside Prompto, and immediately the dark toad sidles up to the sandy one, pushing their faces together, nearly eye-against-eye. It looks uncomfortable, but neither seems perturbed. Prompto remains unmoving, and Noctis does the same, sitting in place before letting out some small beeps.

He beeps; sometimes once, sometimes twice, and sometimes in a droning tone of wordless consolation.

There's no change in expression to betray the inner feelings of the Promptoad, but the horrible pace of its beating throat slows by small degrees.

It will have to do.

Only now does he notice that all the other pillows are empty.

He returns outdoors and finds the Gladitoad seated where Gladio would typically lounge on an evening under the stars. Now, he's seated there in a full-body squat.

"Good evening," he greets his comrade properly, and Gladio just sits there looking wise and ancient.

He croaks a deep sound.

"Hm. Insightful.”

He sits, and for just a moment it feels like a normal night observing the stars with a friend.

Then he hears the indignant gurgling.

A long drawn out sound of contempt.

"Hm… you know, Gladiolus, I've observed that you and Noctis have been on rather antagonist terms since our return. Care to explain?"

Gladio makes a sound that can't be interpreted as a "yes" or a "no".

"Hm, I do believe you were the first to become a toad, if I am not mistaken."

Gladio makes a myriad of sounds, sounds that sound almost like speech, but all the words are croaks.

"Oh is that right?"

More gurgling nonsense.

"That's deeply insightful."

The next sound is extended and frustrated.

"Hm, I apologize. I cannot comprehend a word of it. I suppose I can make the necessary assumptions. Noct was reckless?"

A firm beep.

"Hm. And you had to save him from his own irresponsible decision."

Another certain croak.

"Of course, by performing a reckless action yourself."

They both become more consciously aware of the crickets surrounding the haven.

"Who do you suppose he learned it from?"

The ensuing croak sounds uniquely offended.

"Alas," Ignis sighs tiredly. "You both became compromised in battle. Were it not for Prompto gathering you all into one place, I don't know how quickly I could have…"

He suddenly decides he doesn't want to think about that anymore. He inhales, and exhales.

"It does no good to ruminate on the worst. Thank you for protecting His Highness. I am glad to see you all safe, in relative terms."

Gladio makes a descending noise, and Ignis accepts it as passive acceptance.

He heaves another sigh, increasingly feeling the weight of the night.

His knees ache as he pushes out of his chair, and he holds it briefly for support.

"Can I entrust you with the responsibility of hopping yourself back to the tent, or must you suffer the indignity of my hands."

Gladio croaks something deep, but only mildly resentful. He rotates, and hops from his chair.

Gladio's effort across the haven to the tent is valiant, powered by forceful hops and single-minded determination.

Ignis moves indifferently behind him.

Gladio disappears through the flap of the tent, and Ignis pushes it aside to enter. He nearly has enough time to be frustrated for Gladio's immediate trajectory away from his designated pillow, but then he reassesses.

Noctis and Prompto are still perched upon their shared pillow. Noctis’s head rests flat atop Prompto, with eyes closed and looking perfectly comfortable.

Prompto looks flattened.

And the sandy toad's eyes are still open. His breathing looks less erratic though, which is just as well.

Gladio pauses below the pillow.

And then he carefully lunges.

Noctis's eyes squint open.

Ignis fears the worst, that the toads will brawl til morning, but Gladio settles behind them, lowering his massive face onto the both of them.

Now Prompto and Noctis are flattened.

Gladio makes a sleepy noise and settles.

Noctis's eyes drift shut again.

Prompto looks anxious, then tired, then finally sleepy. He settles and sinks into the material beneath him as his eyes gradually shut.

Ignis looks upon his vast fortune of toads, contemplates them, then produces one more bottle of water. He approaches the toad pile and pours one last helping of carefully-dripped water upon them.

Noctis doesn't stir, but he makes a sound that Ignis might call purring. But the toad equivalent, of course.

And…

That’s all he can do.

He prepares himself for rest, observes his pile of friends once more, then settles on his own pillow.

He sleeps.

…

He… he sleeps…

…

He…

… cannot sleep.

He stirs, and huffs an exhale as silently as he can manage, and inhales deeply. This evening has been excessive. He wants to sleep, so he has the energy he needs in order to manage his toad friends in the morning.

… If they’re still toads in the morning.

He exhales, and it wavers in his chest. They might still be toads in the morning. He’s never seen a toad status last this long, why is it taking so long?

He… he can’t dwell on that now. Maybe he hasn’t heard of a toad-turning as long as this, but he’s never heard of a permanent one either. They will be fine. They will be safe. They have to be.

He remembers them hopping uselessly on the ground as a massive snake slithered toward them with every intent to consume. He remembers its teeth, and how close it came to all of them.

It’s… quite a bit to deal with all of a sudden.

He hears his breath shaking and his eyes feel hot, then wet, and, ah, of course, tears . He tries to keep his breathing quiet and even, despite how it keeps shaking, but damn it he could have lost three friends tonight because of their combined negligence. What would he do without them? How can he even begin to—

His breath shakes more and ah, gods damn it, he cries.

He can cry. Sometimes, an advisor can cry. In the safety of solitude, he can cry, and spare his friends the shame of seeing him like—

Something wet hits his neck and he gasps.

“Noct!” he gasps, seeing the dark toad scrambling for purchase. He sighs an exasperated sound and gathers the toad into his hands. “That was rude."

Noctis beeps, just looking into his eyes… looking… forlorn.

He rubs the edge of his sleeve against his eye. "Mind me not. Get sleep."

He flattens a little, as if to anchor himself in place, the full strength of two ounces.

“ Noctis ,” he says, as if to shame, but he has no malice to give. Noctis stays there, and… it’s welcomed.

A deep sound buzzes beside them and Ignis looks. A large toad, sitting expectantly, and a small sandy one slapping its hands steadily across the tent floor, stopping beside the Gladitoad. 

Gladio rockets into his abdomen.

Ignis grunts and collapses all the way back down. Noctis is displaced and immediately begins a scramble toward his head. Gladio seems to have the same idea, making an effort to clamber up his whole body, but he loses leverage at the shoulder and falls off onto his back. There’s a hideous cacophony of croaking before all the toads find themselves in a line, side-by-side, looking up at Ignis.

They fall into silence, and Ignis looks at their… strangely sad eyes.

"All of you," he laughs breathlessly. "I'll be gray by year's end, I’m sure of it. Please bear with me. And be aware of yourselves. All I want is your safety. I want you all back to yourselves and safe. "

He scoops them closer to his face and looks at them all, their expressions all remorseful as they move to nudge into his skin.

"So hurry up," he tells them, feeling his eyes burn again. "Get better so I can prepare more than two plates of food in the morning.

He holds his palm over them, and they each snuggle to his skin. Noctis at his neck, Gladio under his chin, and Prompto wedged beside his cheek, all of them disgustingly damp.

But he doesn’t have the impulse to push them away.

He feels them breathing.

He drifts to sleep feeling the life of his friends.

-

His eyes crack open to the sight of light.

And an emptiness beside him.

The tent is free of toads.

He bolts upright, anticipating rebellion. The toads have left the tent in a fit of spite and now he must embark on an exhausting mission to round them up. He'll lock them in his pockets this time, he swears it—

He hears footfalls, the sound of shoes, plates clattering, chattering…

He adorns his glasses and clambers out from the tent.

"Iggy's up!" He hears almost instantly, greeted by the sight of a familiar grinning blonde.

"About time," Noct deadpans, in the process of forking food into his mouth. He swallows and points at the cooking station with his fork. "Eat something."

Ignis looks and sees a mess of flour and batter and eggshells. Gladio is standing there, stoically taking a bite from a warped pancake.

"Mornin' Iggy." The man nods toward him, and then he pushes a plate across the counter. "Thought we'd try to make you something."

Ignis takes the plate and looks at the thing upon it. It's oblong, speckled, and a tad burnt around the edges. Orange slices are piled beside it.

Gladio scratches his neck, looking entirely uncertain, "We know it's not as good as you'd make it, but we agreed we should let you sleep, and give you one less thing to worry about."

"Hm... it seems, in the process, you created a new kind of task for me to deal with." Ignis nods toward the cooking station and everyone looks at it.

"We'll clean it up!" Noct insists quickly, pushing out of his chair and moving to stand between Ignis and the mess, as if to obscure its existence. Seeing him standing now, Ignis can see flecks of flour all over his dark clothes. In fact, all three of them seem to be afflicted with varying degrees of powdered violence. "Focus on eating. We got this."

He can't help the smile that grows on his face. The fondness is too much to bear. He nods his compliance and moves to the seating area, reclines, and observes his friends.

"Shut up, I got it!" He hears Noctis complain by the counter.

"No you're just spreading it around! Get the cloth damp first."

"Ugh, fine!" Noctis groans, and migrates to the other side of the station.

"Blondie, what are you doing."

"I've got… the peels." Prompto says, with a handful of peels.

"Okay, toss em."

"Yeah, but where's the—"

His flitting eyes spot the trash before he finishes and he scurries around Gladio to dispose of the remains.

They go on squabbling and clattering around the station as Ignis digs into his makeshift meal.

He bites, and texturally it's almost off-putting.

But he tastes it, and it tastes like something unmistakably handcrafted by his friends.

He contentedly takes another bite, and steeps in the gratitude he feels for their efforts.

-

"So, uh…" Noctis is sitting on the ground beside Ignis's chair, staring at the cracks in the haven. "Thanks for saving us, Iggy. Sorry we fucked up the mission."

"Yeah," Gladio adds, looking unusually humiliated. "You told us so. Guess we let the battle confidence get to us."

"Won't happen again," Prompto insists, shaking his head and chirping the words like his life depends on Ignis accepting this group-apology.

“Hm, I think I may be less offended by the toad-turning itself and rather more perturbed by the behavior I witnessed thereafter.”

He directs a glare toward Noctis and Gladio and they both squirm.

“Okay, um, also sorry about going toad wild.” Noctis says.

“Yeah… might’ve gotten carried away” Gladio says. “Sorry if we overdid it.”

“I mean, it was kind of funny.” Prompto says.

“And it was kind of funny,” Noctis also says.

“Hm……...” Ignis says.

“Uh, but for the record, I am also sorry,” Prompto insists.

“Prompto, you didn’t even move .” Noctis says.

“Uh, yeah ! I did!

“ When?”

“Like, uh… hm… no I definitely… uh, I remember hopping around to get an orange slice.”

“Prompto, that doesn’t count!”

" Gentlemen, please, enough fretting,” Ignis says and they all watch him anxiously. He studies them, and… 

He decides:

“I believe you've all been sufficiently punished by your time transfigured." Ignis says, and everyone's posture sags with relief. "More important is this: may we please equip accordingly when we settle on our next mark?"

"You got it." Noctis accepts, and the others nod their agreement. "Not interested in being an inch tall again…"

“No arguments here." Prompto remarks.

“Yeah, I think we’re good.” Gladio says with finality on the matter.

So Ignis settles back in his seat. "Then we shall remain on good terms. And… hm. Ah, I do believe I am done with my plate, if I may just—"

" I'll take that," Noctis jumps up and takes the plate from his hands. "You're… you're still on break. So… I'm taking the plate."

Noctis hurries off back to the cooking station, and Ignis sighs, appreciative.

"Hmm… a break , is that right? What an unfamiliar concept. I think then I would quite like a can of ebony to accompany me."

Ignis looks up expectantly to Gladio, and the man bristles, then smirks. "You got it, boss."

Then he turns, and Ignis observes the two confusedly rummaging around the station.

He watches fondly, then sees a figure inching into his peripheral.

Prompto sidles beside him, and sits to the ground where Noctis left.

"... Hey," Prompto says.

"Hello, Prompto," Ignis responds.

"So, uh, um…" Prompto scratches at his neck, looking skittish. "Hey, Iggy?"

"... Yes, Prompto?"

"Um… uh… thanks for… you know…" Prompto lifts a hand over himself and awkwardly pats his own head. "I, uh, really wasn't having a good time. Being a toad. And… the…" he repeats the motion. "... It helped. I mean, everything you do helps , but… y'know? Um… yeah… sorry about all the trouble..."

"Hmm," Ignis considers and moves his hand over the side of his chair, right onto Prompto's head where Prompto flinches in surprise at a few thoughtful pats. "I could do without repeating our retinue's toadal transformation, but… comforting you is never a trouble. Entirely incomparable."

"Awh… thanks Iggy," Prompto smiles, and flattens his hair in a flustered fit. 

"Of course." He nods, and holds his hand aloft as he sees Gladio returning with the requested can of ebony and Noctis in tow.

"To your liking?" Gladio says as he hands off the beverage, preemptively popped open and ready for consumption.

Ignis takes a refreshing sip, then lounges back. "Ah. My elixir. Thank you kindly."

Gladio smiles, and turns to move aside.

One by one, the others manage to find their way into their own chairs and suddenly everything feels right again. All his friends are back to their familiar selves, and each is comfortable and safe. Noctis and Prompto are playing games on their phones, Gladio is reading, and Ignis has the better half of a can of ebony left to appreciate.

They’ll need to head out again soon, and gather more funds for their mission, but, in the meantime, they have this.

Each other. And he thinks he’s quite content with that.

He’d choose no one else as his companions.

… Even if they were toads.