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Regis was reluctant to leave Noctis’ side. He was at Noctis’ bedside until his son regained consciousness, after the Marilith attack. Then, he immediately made plans to bring Noctis to Tenebrae.
The Crystal had shown him that Noctis would survive. No matter what, his fate was to be the Chosen King. But the thought that he might face his destiny alone, broken, with permanent grievous injuries to the heart and body, was too much for his father to handle.
Regis had already made up his mind that Noctis would at the very least not be alone. Not to the end.
But he was still King of Lucis, and as King he had duties to perform…
Such as fulfill a request by the Oracle to leave Noctis’ side and join her in the gardens of Fenestala Manor.
The Manor was a small city unto itself. There were forests, lakes and rivers on the island on which it stood – the largest floating island in Tenebrae. And within its walls was room for a massive garden, lovingly tended by the Manor’s staff.
The Oracle sat on a long bench in a part of the garden that was not open to visitors, one that was just a bit darker, quieter than the rest. Regis bowed in greeting, and the Oracle answered with a slow nod.
From as far back as Regis had known her, Sylva Via Fleuret had exuded calm and grace, even if it made her seem untouchable…like there was always a thick silk curtain between herself and the rest of the world.
She motioned for him to take a seat beside her and he did so, making sure to keep a respectful distance.
“You wished to speak with me, My Lady,” he respectfully greeted. “Is it regarding a matter of import?”
“My apologies,” she began. “I know you want to spend as much time as possible with little Noctis.”
Sometimes, as kindly as she always was, she unnerved him. He knew that part of it was the gift of prescience that was the Oracle’s blood right. And part of it was simply her knowing more about the human heart than he did.
Now that they were both parents, it seemed that she only spoke as one parent to another. It was an excellent way to get Regis to drop his guard.
“I’m grateful for your understanding,” he said. “It’s only until he heals. This is my excuse to be a doting father to him.”
Sylva nodded again. “It is nothing I would begrudge you, My King. I, too, would dote on my own children for as long as fate would permit.”
The mention of fate made that quiet part of the garden, even quieter.
The Oracle knew of Noctis’ fate. She must. Oracles were able to speak with the gods – they never needed a Crystal to show them what the gods intended.
But the knowledge of Noctis’ fate was a burden Regis was used to carrying on his own. There was no need to talk about it…unless, that was what the Oracle had summoned Regis to talked about. In which case, Regis wished he’d had more time to brace himself for it.
“Although I am aware that sometimes, pain is the only way to grow,” the Oracle added. “And because of this…I have a request to make of you, King Regis.”
A request…? Regis frowned, because this was a word he rarely heard. But he knew that an Oracle would be well within her bounds to make a request of a fellow royal. Especially a monarch of Lucis.
“Of course,” he confidently answered. “If it is within my power, My Lady, rest assured it shall be granted.”
Sylva Via Fleuret was silent. She folded her hands on her lap.
A look of pain crossed her face, just before she smiled.
“I must ask,” she said weakly, in almost a whisper, “that if my children’s lives are placed in danger…you do not try to rescue them.”
At first Regis wondered if this was a joke. He knew that in her youth, Sylva Via Fleuret was renowned for her unusual, but harmless, pranks. But she seemed a tad too old for pranks now...and besides, it seemed too cruel a thing to ask, even if he did not know her to be well-intentioned.
“My Lady,” he cautiously began, “it is not something I --”
“I assure you, My King,” she gently interrupted, “that it is well within your power.”
Had she forgotten? If she had, it was his duty to remind her:
“My Lady…a long time ago, a King of Lucis swore a blood oath…to an Oracle of House Fleuret. That he would keep her and her descendants safe, no matter the cost. I cannot break a blood oath made by my forebears.”
“Yet both heads of Houses Fleuret and Caelum also swore a blood oath, to the gods, that they would ever carry out divine will.” Her face did not change expression, but her hands clenched into fists on her lap. “What good is a blood oath - what can even a King of Lucis do - if it is the will of the gods that his own children suffer?”
The words struck Regis like an ice arrow to the heart. She knew of Noctis’ fate. Of course she did.
She knew her own children’s fate, as well.
“You would…have your children forced to grow this way?” Regis asked, unable to restrain a note of bitterness from creeping into the question. “You…won’t even fight it?”
She answered gently, “There is no way to fight it.”
Regis silently begged to differ. He was already fighting fate, the only way he knew how: by planning out a “normal” life for Noctis that drew him as far away from his destiny as possible. And hoping against hope that fate would correct itself.
What was Lady Sylva doing, to help her children? Nothing, it seemed. And for a moment, a wave of resentment passed through Regis.
Was the Oracle truly so weak?
And if the Oracle, who could commune with the gods, could do nothing…what hope did he – or anyone else – have of being able to change fate, no matter how horrible it was?
For a moment, it seemed they both waited for the other to speak. But Regis chose to stew in the many emotions he felt at the time, and it seemed Sylva chose to hold back the rest of her words. So many things needed to be said -
- and at the same time, nothing else needed to be said.
Sylva must have felt that as well.
She gestured to the shadows, and to Regis’ surprise, something started to slowly approach. It wasn’t a human being – it was a dog. A large white dog.
He’d caught a glimpse of that dog before, wandering the halls of Fenestala Manor during their short stay. But it was never introduced as part of the royal household, so he never thought much of it. He only thought it was strange, that large dogs (there was another black one, wasn’t there?) were allowed to roam the Manor freely, uncollared.
The dog stopped to sit between them. Sylva reached out to scratch it gently behind the ears.
“This is Pryna,” Sylva said, keeping her distant stare fixed on the dog instead of Regis, “She is one of the three Messengers sent by the Gods to assist the Oracle.”
It was an enormous privilege to even see the Messengers, and Regis knew it. The Messengers of the gods chose the ones to whom they showed themselves, only when there was a reason.
The solemn look on the Oracle’s face told Regis that Pryna’s presence now must mean there was an enormous, and enormously valid, reason.
“When my visions show me only darkness,” Sylva said with unwavering softness, “Pryna gives me light. Let me show you.”
She laid her hand to rest on the top of Pryna’s head, between the ears, then closed her eyes.
Without being prompted, Regis closed his eyes as well.
And –
***
Noctis was in his second year of college, working nights at a sushi shop (a sushi shop?) in the heart of the city – a city that wasn’t Insomnia. Was nowhere even near Lucis.
Mornings, he spent in University. Weekends, he spent with his girlfriend (girlfriend!!), Luna, who worked at a nearby electronics store, and his childhood friends – Prompto, Ignis and Gladio. It was a strict Friday night ritual that as soon as Noctis got off work, the five of them went out for drinks somewhere new, a part of the city they had never explored before - and that Prompto would take pictures.
The five of them would post those pictures on their separate social media accounts…and no one would hound them for it. Noctis wasn’t a prince, Luna wasn’t a princess, and they led their lives just as other young people led theirs.
There was no royalty in that other world. No Crystals or Oracles or blood oaths…or even gods. Noctis was, simply and cluelessly, a young man doing his best to get by.
While falling asleep, he whispered plans of setting up his own bait and tackle shop after graduation to his girlfriend, who had dreams of her own about setting up a quaint little electronics-cum-flower shop.
Maybe they could put up their shops side by side. Maybe they could even have just one shop for everything they wanted to sell. Maybe they could finally afford to live together, too. Maybe it was going to be wonderful.
All Regis cared about was that after that conversation, Noctis fell asleep with the most serene smile on his lips.
***
It was a point of contention between Noctis and his brother-in-law – whether or not it was time to give his father up to a nursing home. To Noctis, it would never be time…and to his brother-in-law Ravus, it was time ten years ago, when Regis started forgetting his only son’s name.
Now Regis was living with his forgotten child Noctis and his wife, and their two growing children…spending most of his days sitting quietly in a rocking chair (a rocking chair? Really? Where’s the Regalia?) near the window, where he could always see the sun.
Darkness upset Regis. The sight of the sun always made him calmer. No one actually ever figured out why, but everyone said it was common for people his age.
He couldn’t even step out of his memories anymore. His loving grandchildren came and kissed his hand before leaving for school and after coming home from it…and not a flash of recognition showed on his face.
Noctis was teaching in a high school nearby, and his meager salary barely made ends meet – not to mention, his work kept him too busy to help with household matters, most times. Luna stayed home to care for everyone, but this put a strain on her, and her brother had decided he had had enough of her sad smile, every time he came to visit.
“If you cannot care for her, I will take her home,” was his warning to Noctis. He didn’t care about Regis or his niece and nephew – Luna was his main priority. Luna was the charge with whom their dear departed mother had left him. He would not see her made so weary.
So Noctis talked to his beloved wife…asked if she wanted to leave. To go home, to take a break, at least.
And if she wanted to leave him…he would understand. She deserved better than the best he could give, in this life.
She touched his face and smiled sadly at him.
“You may not know it, dear husband,” she said, “but this life – the one we have – is everything we could ever want.”
Softly comfortable in his rocking chair by the window, Regis was only vaguely aware of the young couple embracing in his presence, whispering words of assurance and love to each other. Who were they…? (Luna and Noctis) Their names were on the tip of his tongue (Luna and Noctis) but he simply couldn’t find them.
All he knew was that they were in love and beautiful. So beautiful. And reminded him of himself and his own wife (Aulea…dear Aulea) who was gone, so many years ago now…
***
Noctis was out of control. He was hooked on a drug that enhanced his magic powers - and when he was high on it, he ended up destroying Empire property, challenging Imperial soldiers to the stupidest duels, and crashing into Empire establishments with absolute impunity.
In this unhinged life, he was fortunate to have friends to keep him from fully going off the rails. Gladio was there to keep him safe. Ignis was there to take him home, and care for his barely-conscious self until the drug had exited his system. Prompto was there to make him laugh, until laughing felt natural again, until he felt anchored to earth once more.
Here, one of his fates was to save the world from its cruel gods. But there were no Oracles, or Crystals, or Messengers to give him hints. So Noctis, unaware of the true extent of the magical gifts he had inherited, had to stumble into his destiny, drugged off his mind half the time, and making mistake after mistake.
Here, his fate was not locked to an early death. He had more than one option. He could save the world, but how? Burning brightly, as the drug in his veins ate him up – or steadily, slowly, soberly, navigating the difficult years when the gods threw him one obstacle after another?
Or, he could not save the world – he could just fail, then live out his days away from Empire eyes, apart from all expectations. Or could not save the world – because he could die trying.
Whichever way he chose, he would not be alone. He would have his friends, his father Regis and stepmother Sylva, with him every step of the way.
What faced him here was a lifetime of struggle and pain – but a long one. A hard-fought one. And one well worth living.
Unlike -
***
Regis woke from the visions gradually, the sights and sounds and smells of the Fenestala Manor garden slowly coming back into focus.
Sylva Via Fleuret’s eyes were still closed. One of her hands was on the head of the Messenger named Pryna, while the other was holding Regis’.
When did that happen? Regis gently, but immediately, took his hand back.
As soon as he did, Sylva’s ice-blue eyes opened.
And then she fixed on him the most melancholy smile he had ever seen.
“Do you see now?” she asked. “There are so many other worlds, other lives, besides this one. And in some of them, our children are happy.”
It was difficult for him to process. Was it all not just a dream? Those other lives Noct lived, especially the ones where he lived long, and happily –
Was it all real? Only, elsewhere, and not here?
"It's no use," Sylva said, as she folded her hands in her lap again, the very picture of propriety. “In many worlds - as in this one, fate cannot be changed. I do not want you to harbor any illusions that they could be. I do not know when my children will be in danger. I only know…that it will be soon." Her voice broke in that last word, and subtly started to shake. "In my vision of what is to come, Luna still has not put up her hair. And Ravus still smiles...”
She fell silent, and Regis saw that tears had started falling from her tightly shut eyes.
He reached out to hold her. And she fell into his arms, all the decorum she was known for shattered to pieces, as she started sobbing onto his shoulder.
Regis found himself shedding tears, completely against his will. If it was all real – if the visions she and Pryna had showed them actually existed – why was the Oracle weeping in his arms?
“Elsewhere, they are happy,” Sylva muttered, close to his ear. “Elsewhere, far away from us, they live.”
So he wasn’t alone, Regis realized: another parent knew she was going to lose her children.
And it had been selfish of him to think that loss was for him alone to shoulder.
He held on to Sylva Via Fleuret, who spoke no more, and simply took comfort in the warmth of her presence and the tears they shed together – for their children. For the future. For themselves.
He was still processing the visions that he saw - he felt he needed a lot more time to think about it. There were so many.
In one of them, Noctis would help run a sushi shop. In some of them, Regis would live to see his grandchildren. In many of them, Noctis and Luna would lead good lives, in the company of loving friends and family…even if sometimes, they would never find each other.
There were so, so many other, more fulfilling lives to lead.
Just not here.
***
Still, he tried.
“Lunafreya!” he cried, as he seized the young princess of Tenebrae’s hand.
And mourned that he had no more hands to spare, as he glimpsed her brother, the young prince, grieving over his mother’s body.
He ran with his son in one arm, one hand holding on to Lunafreya. Away from the soldiers. Toward the safety of the Lucian ships.
And every fabric of his being said wrong. Wrong, wrong – this wasn’t supposed to happen.
He had promised he would not try to save them.
But, as if she had known – as if she had become Oracle at her mother’s death, inheriting her prescience and many other talents in an instant – little Luna broke free of his hold.
She stopped running.
Regis looked back at Tenebrae’s first daughter only once – that was all he had time for, lest the Niflheim soldiers catch up with him and his son.
And he thought he saw Sylva’s calm and grace looking back at him.
Later, as he sat in the Lucian cruiser, trying desperately to comfort his distressed son, he remembered that in other worlds, Luna and Ravus led better lives.
They may not in this one – but thinking that they did in others, helped quiet his own tempestuous heart.
That was the only time he fully understood Sylva’s final gift to him, from one parent to another:
She taught him how to take comfort in what could never be.