Work Text:
watching in slow motion as you turn around and say
or
The Prince and the Marquess
"And so, with the forthcoming wedding between His Royal Highness, Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum and the Most Honourable Marquis Besithia, Lord Mercurius Eleuthia-Besithia, we announce the end of the war and peace between Lucis and Niflheim."
The Prince Regent laid aside his quill with a finality that seemed, to Prompto, like a jail cell slamming shut. While he didn’t view his upcoming nuptials as a prison sentence by any means — this marriage would prevent further war and bloodshed — he wished he’d been allowed to meet his intended before the signing. He could see Prince Noctis, of course, standing at his father’s side much as Prompto himself was standing at his emperor’s side, but they’d never exchanged so much as a word. Not even a letter.
Even Lady Lunafreya, safely engaged to his cousin practically from their cradles, had written him shortly after the terms of the treaty were announced.
I know you must be quite anxious, she'd written in a neat hand, but I assure it will all come out well in the end. I've long been friends with Prince Noctis, and I'm certain the two of you shall suit. You need not fear him, nor his father.
An easy sentiment for one born to a royal house of her own, Prompto thought, sneaking a look around the room without doing anything so obvious as moving his head. The whole room looked as though it had been carved from black marble, so unlike the corridors of white and chrome in his new home. (So unlike the warm wooden walls of the home he'd grown up in.) It felt like an empty museum here — or a mausoleum.
Snow sprites, he wished that Loqi was here! His cousin had a way of demanding attention that allowed Prompto to shelter in his shadow, despite the older boy being a full handspan shorter than he.
Which was probably why Loqi wouldn't arrive for another sennight, he thought ruefully. His lord father wouldn't want him overshadowed, and the emperor's sister, Princess Phasma, had long insisted that Prompto needed to learn to stand on his own now that Loqi's acceptance had smoothed his way.
Prompto still felt as though he'd been pitched into a lake while knowing only how to float.
Movement caught his eye, and he flicked his gaze towards it to see Prince Noctis sneaking a glance at him. When their eyes met, the prince offered him a shy smile, and Prompto felt his cheeks warm. He really was like the night sky he was named for, all pale skin and dark hair and dark eyes… and beautiful.
Prompto smiled shyly back, wondering if he could live up to Lady Lunafreya's certainty in him.
Then the moment was over, and Prompto found himself whisked out of the room behind his emperor, to the rooms that had been prepared for them. Here, at least, the sense of a mausoleum faded — testament to hasty redecoration? Or perhaps they always kept apartments aside for diplomats here in the Citadel, with décor chosen for their comfort?
Prompto traced the outline of the Nifl Shield with a finger, and sighed.
The surroundings were slightly too opulent for him to feel comfortable, but it was nice that someone, at some point, had tried, anyway.
He tumbled onto the bed, staring up at the garnet bedcurtains. According to the schedule he'd found, he wouldn't be expected to present himself until the ball celebrating their betrothal, some eight hours hence. He needn't concern himself with getting ready until the late afternoon, so he had some time to himself.
Lunafreya had mentioned the Citadel had lovely gardens.
He rolled off the bed and quickly changed from his formal clothing into simple trousers and a shirt, something more reminiscent of his childhood, before leaving his room, crossing the suite, and sticking his head into the hall. If the guard, a tall redhead with a wicked scar bisecting his right cheek, thought anything of the simpler clothing, he didn't comment.
"Ah… are you supposed to be guarding the door, the emperor, or me?" Prompto asked, flushing again.
The redhead grinned at him. "Where'd you wanna go?"
"The gardens," Prompto said, relaxing. "I— if I can? It's allowed?"
"You're not a prisoner," the guard answered with a shrug. "I'm technically guarding the suite, but you can run along to the gardens if you want." Then he seemed to realise he should be more respectful, and added, "Your lordship."
Prompto only barely hid a flinch. He didn't think he'd ever get used to that. "Thank you," he said, slightly louder than a whisper, and slipped out of the room.
He saw a number of other guards as he wound his way through the corridors, but none of them stopped him. A few even offered smiles. He returned the smiles shyly, and continued on his way.
Emerging from the marbled halls into sunlight and greenery was like emerging from a tomb. Prompto let out an exaggerated sigh of relief, making his way eagerly to what looked like a rose bush. "By the gods, how can anyone live like that?" he asked the bush. "Such a grim place; no wonder everyone thinks the Lucis Caelums are necromancers."
"Some of us are."
Prompto yelped and whirled, only to lay eyes on his brand-new fiancé. "Y-your highness!"
Prince Noctis raised pale, empty hands with a rueful smile. "I didn't mean to frighten you," he said. "I just wanted to meet you properly, without all the formality."
"You knew I'd be here?" Prompto asked.
Prince Noctis' smile grew slightly wider. "Luna always recommends the gardens to those she knows are visiting the Citadel. It really is the best place for recovering from the desolate atmosphere of the palace."
"It is," agreed Prompto, more heartfelt than he meant to be. He flushed again. "I mean, ah—"
"I understand," Prince Noctis said, a soothing tone in his voice. "I was raised away from here, in Greater Cavaugh."
"...isn't Insomnia Cavaugh?" Prompto asked hesitantly.
"Insomnia likes to think so, according to Furia. But no, although the city takes up most of the land, there is more to Cavaugh than Insomnia." Prince Noctis turned, offering Prompto his arm with a smile. "Why don't I show you the gardens? We can get to know each other before we have to be princes again."
Prompto was blushing. He knew he was blushing as he reached out to take the prince's arm. "I… I'd like that," he agreed.
…was that a faint blush on Noctis' cheeks? Surely not.
Prince Noctis gently tugged Prompto to his side, tucking the blond’s hand under his arm, and Prompto had the wild realization that, though they were of a height, they seemed to fit together. Being there with the other prince felt… natural, in a way he hadn’t felt since he’d been brought to Zegnautus Castle last year.
They walked in step, Prince Noctis showing him plot after plot of roses, irises, lilies, daffodils, gladioluses, marigolds, and many others. "Traditionally, the gardens are kept by the Shields of the Lucis Caelums," Prince Noctis said. "The Amicitias consider it good luck to name girls for the flowers kept here."
"Do they still keep the tradition?" asked Prompto, who'd met Gladiolus Amicitia earlier that morning.
"Gladio's father does. He planted the irises himself after his daughter was born." At Prompto's questioning look, Noctis clarified, "Apparently gladioluses are a type of iris, so he wanted to make sure there were flowers for both his children."
"I suppose that makes sense," said Prompto dubiously, prompting a laugh from his companion.
"Father says he's gaming the system, but he sounds fond when he does, so who knows?"
Rather than answer the clearly rhetorical question, Prompto pointed out a new bed with several mixed flowers. "What are those?"
"I don't recognise any of them," Prince Noctis admitted. "Iris said something about a real flower clock, but I'm not sure how well it's going for her."
"How would that work?"
"I'm not entirely certain. Everything I know about flowers, I picked up from Gladio."
Circling the gardens beyond the Amicitias' territory took another hour, and as the sun dipped low in the sky the two young men returned to the main path. Somewhat reluctantly, Prompto let go of Noctis' arm. "Will I see you at supper, Prince Noctis?"
The prince nodded. "Of course. And — if you want, you can call me Noct. We're engaged, after all."
Prompto felt his face grow warm. "N-Noct," he repeated. It sounded nice in his mouth. "I'll look forward to dinner, then."
It wasn't until the young lord was out of sight that Noct let himself collapse on one of the not-so-decorative stone benches. Ignis had been right— then again, he usually was. The gardens were definitely less intimidating than the Citadel, and Luna loved to see them when she visited with the Oracle.
And Mercurius Eleuthia-Besithia blossomed in sunlight, when he was relaxed. Noct could relate; he always felt swallowed up, in the official rooms of the Citadel.
Now he just had to get through until dinner.
With a sigh, he eased himself back off the bench and headed for his quarters. Ignis had wanted to get in another fitting before the ball celebrating the treaty and betrothal — another chance for them to talk in privacy. And Noct could do with some more advice about the ball. After the afternoon visit, Noct really wanted Mercurius to like him.
The ball seemed to pass by in a blur. Usually, Noct was grateful for the rules of propriety that kept him from dancing with anyone more than twice. But tonight, after sharing first a country dance and then the supper dance with Mercurius, Noct wanted to keep dancing with him. He was a joy on the dance floor, light on his feet, graceful, easily able to converse while they twirled 'round one another.
At least they could share one more dance without people talking unduly, and Noctis knew precisely which one to ask for.
But first they had to suffer through supper, and endless speeches and toasts. More than once, he saw the various Glaives stationed along the walls rolling their eyes behind the Nifeln cohort; once he caught his father doing so. He'd expect it of King Mors, but usually Regis was much more circumspect.
Crowe, just behind Mercurius' father, caught Noct's eye for a moment and winked at him. He flushed — more than once she'd put him on his literal and metaphorical knees in training — and glanced at his dinner partner.
Mercurius was frowning faintly at the cutlery, so Noct leaned over and whispered, "Go from the outside in. Iggy taught me."
Odd that Mercurius didn't know already — but maybe they had more in common than Noct had thought. If Mercurius had been raised outside Zegnautus like Noct had been raised near Keycatrich…
He realised suddenly he didn't know very much about his fiancé's past. They'd have to rectify that.
But not at supper, when anyone could hear.
Mercurius flashed him a grateful smile, and took a quick bite of fish. "Loqi and I never really did the whole courses thing," he whispered back. "His family are dreadfully informal, so meal etiquette never came up."
And score one for Mercurius being raised outside Zegnautus. Poor guy. At least Noct had had Ignis.
"It's all right. Ignis taught me the trick because I had a lot of trouble remembering which fork was for fish and which spoon was for dessert."
More accurately, Noctis hadn't cared, but to some people, good table manners mattered more than going out and doing some good with the crown. He had a sneaking suspicion that all of those people were on his grandfather's council.
"How do you like the fish?" he asked, since Mercurius had just taken another bite.
Violet blue eyes lit in delight. "It's really good!" the blond exclaimed as quietly as he could. "Delicate and tender — it's not like the fish back in Niflheim. What is it?"
Noct sat back in his chair, satisfied. "Dusk Lucian Carp," he answered. "I've been trying to catch one for months, and it finally bit last night. Ignis made sure we got it."
Mercurius' eyelids fluttered, like he was trying to process the information. "Wait. You caught this?"
Noct smiled. "I did. Grandfather taught me to fish, and I find it relaxing."
"I paint," Mercurius admitted, lowering his lashes. "I worked mostly with charcoal when I was young, but Loqi started me on watercolours shortly after we met."
"Did you bring any of your paints with you?" It was so easy to picture an idyllic scene out by the fishing pond Grandather had installed, Noct fishing while his fiancé — his husband, perhaps? — painted a landscape.
To his disappointment, Mercurius shook his head. "I didn't think I'd have time to paint."
"That's too bad," Noct murmured. "Maybe we can find you some once all of the pomp and circumstance wind down."
"Maybe we can," Mercurius answered, and then his attention was claimed by his other seatmate. Noct sighed and settled in to wait, impatiently, for his final dance of the night.
At long last, a delicate final course of lemon ice was served, and once the last spoon was laid aside, it took all of Noctis' willpower not to take Mercurius immediately by the hand and drag him back to the ballroom. There was still more dancing prior to the final waltz.
It seemed Ignis could detect his impatience, because no sooner had the small orchestra begun to play again than he'd whisked the young prince out onto the dance floor. To Noct's surprise, Ignis smiled down at him. "You're doing well," he said softly.
"...I am?"
The dance drew them apart, then back together, with Ignis still smiling. "You are," he confirmed. "I've not had to fetch you from behind the draperies."
Noctis suppressed a groan, as well as his delight that Ignis was teasing him — he really did believe he was doing well. "I haven't done that since I was six," he answered.
"Six and ten, I believe you mean," was the gentle answer. "But I don't just mean the ball. You put Lord Mercurius at his ease at supper, and beforehand in the gardens as well."
"I was just as overwhelmed when I came here," Noct said.
"But you were born to it, and had me to assist you," Ignis answered.
What did that mean? Before Noctis could ask, the dance came to a conclusion, and Ignis escorted Noctis over to dance with Iris. He put the question to the back of his mind for now. Hopefully Mercurius himself would explain.
The time seemed to alternately fly by and drag on, until at last the final waltz of the night was called. Noctis turned to go look for Mercurius, and smiled to find Iris already there with him. The girl beamed up at them both, then smoothly transferred the blond's arm into his before whirling off with her brother.
Mercurius slipped into his arms as though he fit there, and Noctis decided that he did. Politics or no, he liked Mercurius. "I wish we could have danced more," he confided. "The rules of propriety are quite inconvenient."
He was rewarded with a soft laugh. "They're a nightmare," Mercurius answered. "And they seem to be contradictory, if not outright hypocritical."
"Rules for thee, yet not for me," Noctis answered. "Though I suppose after we're wed they won't matter as much, Mercurius."
The blond flushed and lowered his eyelashes. "I, ah— If you don't mind… I'd prefer to be called Prompto."
Prompto.
Noctis savoured the name. "Then Prompto it is," he agreed, gazing deep into warm, blue-violet eyes and feeling his knees weaken.
Neither spoke again until the dance ended.
Prompto was an early riser, more so by habit at this stage of his life. Though he couldn't feel the sun's gentle warmth caressing his face, his eyes fluttered open despite the late night they'd had. It took him a moment to orient himself to the new room, but once he had, he slipped from the bed and quickly dressed in his simpler clothes. A dawn tour of the gardens would be nice, he thought.
As he eased his way out of the suite, the guard — not the redhead this time, a lean man with dark hair and eyes that seemed to stare through him — offered him a note. "His Highness left this for you," he said quietly.
Prompto thanked him, and tried not to seem too eager as he accepted the note.
Good morning, sweetheart. I wished to meet you for breakfast, but the King says I must spend time with the royal council. I've the afternoon free; do you want to meet for a late lunch? I'll be waiting by the flower clock.
He looked up to offer the guard a coin for his courtesy, and realised the lean man didn't look near so intimidating when he was hiding a smile. Then he realised he was blushing again. Ugh.
A year ago he'd been apprehensive, even frightened at the prospect of marrying a man he'd never met. He'd been apprehensive about a lot of things, really, but after Loqi had eased his way in Niflheim, most of his worry had been redirected to his upcoming nuptials.
That anxiety had never truly left him, not until the moment he and Prince Noctis (Noct; he held that permission close to his heart) had locked eyes yesterday at the signing. Now he was eager to see his betrothed, even looking forward to the wedding.
Lunafreya had been right; they did suit one another.
"Thank you," he said again to the guard, who inclined his head politely. Prompto hesitated, then, emboldened by something (he wasn't sure what), he asked, "Do you know where I could find some watercolors?"
If the request surprised his guard, the older man didn't show it. Instead he replied, "I don't know about watercolours specifically, but there are paints and canvas in the storerooms. Let me ring for someone to show you the way."
Prompto nodded, pleased, his mind racing as he made plans for the morning hours.
He didn't find watercolours, but he did find Noct's Shield, who was more than happy to requisition a sketchpad and a box of chalk pastels for him, along with three charcoal pencils of different shades. While Gladiolus searched for the pastels, Prompto sketched a quick study of the older man. No dandy he; Gladiolus was clad as simply as Prompto himself, likely preparing for a morning ride.
When Prompto presented him the sketch as thanks, Gladiolus' eyebrows rose. "You're pretty good at this," he noted.
"I've always liked art," Prompto answered. "And since I'm not really needed for the rest of the treaty stuff…"
Gladiolus nodded, and smiled kindly at him. "I understand. Noct— ah, his Highness — feels the same way about the Council meetings his Majesty has him attend."
Prompto remembered the almost-exasperated tone of the note in his pocket. "Do you think I'll…?" His voice trailed off and he flushed. What kind of foolish question was that?
But Gladiolus looked thoughtful. "You might," he said after a moment. "The Regent rarely has his wife sit in, but King Mors often had both his wife and his Shield at his right and left hands." Spying the immediate panic in Prompto's face, he chuckled. "Don't worry; we won't launch you into a meeting and let you flounder. Iggy — that is, Ignis, Lord Scientia — would make sure you have an aptitude for it first."
On that disquieting note, Prompto bade Gladiolus farewell and beat a hasty retreat to the gardens. He spent the rest of the morning sketching the door guards from memory to get his hand back in, then learning the best techniques for the pastels. A light brunch was brought to him shortly after Shield Amictia the elder passed him by; Prompto ate absently, absorbed in the work.
Shortly after noon, he glanced at the sun, then his hands, and realised he'd need to wash up if he was going to eat with Noct. Carefully replacing the pastels in their box, he gathered his things and retreated to the suite he shared with his father. His charcoal-smeared breeches and pastel-dusted shirt were discarded, and he quickly washed his hands and face in a basin before changing into fawn-coloured breeches and a matching shirt.
He hesitated a moment before selecting a yellow brocade vest Loqi had ordered for him the moment he'd realised Prompto had no idea what he was doing at a tailor's shop. It was two different shades of yellow, one of which almost exactly matched his hair; it formed a raised pattern of a blackberry bush, all thorns and berries and vines. Loqi must also have had it packed for him; Prompto certainly didn't remember picking it out.
It was warm enough — and the meeting sounded informal enough — that after putting the vest on, Prompto didn't bother with a coat. Selecting a deep red cravat (the tailor had called it burgundy), Prompto spent a few moments wrestling with it before giving up. Perhaps he shouldn't have refused the services of a valet after all.
Perhaps Noct could help him.
With a renewed spring in his step, he hurried out of the suite, only to be stopped by the guard at the door — the redhead again. He studied Prompto for a moment, then said, "May I?"
Before Prompto could respond, the redhead's hands were on the cravat, and in an eyeblink it was knotted respectably. "There," the guard said, satisfied.
"Oh. Uh, thank you," Prompto said, and earned a wink that made him blush nearly as red as his cravat.
"Go on, have your outing," the redhead told him.
Sharply reminded that gossip spread rapidly among servants and soldiers alike, Prompto headed back outside. After a morning spent among the blossoms and bushes, he was familiar with the gardens, and unerringly made his way to the flower clock.
Noct was there, wearing breeches and a double-breasted waistcoat in royal black over a silver-grey shirt paired with a dark blue cravat that matched his eyes; like Prompto, he'd forgone a coat. A picnic basket lay at his feet.
He extended one hand to the blond, grinning widely. "You look fantastic, Sunshine," he said, blue eyes dancing.
Prompto accepted that hand and let himself be tugged against the other boy's side. "So do you, Noct," he said. "Are we going to take luncheon here, or…?"
"Better," Noct said, picking up the basket. "Here, come with me."
Without ever releasing Prompto's hand, the other boy led him deeper into the gardens, until they came to a wall. Noct said, "Aperi ostium mihi," and, in a shimmer of blue light, a door appeared.
Prompto's eyes widened. "You can use magic?"
Noct smiled. "Not really," he admitted. "The spells were laid down centuries ago, and even though the magic is long gone, the spells still respond to the Lucis Caelums, and those sealed to us. Only Caelums and Amicitias can open this door."
"That's amazing," Prompto breathed as Noct opened the door, revealing a tree-lined pathway.
"Come on," the Prince urged, "we're not there yet."
The two of them set along the shady path hand in hand, chatting quietly as they walked. Prompto had the vague idea, as they went, that somehow this idyllic place was still on the Citadel's lands, even though they appeared to be cut off from the rest of the world. Perhaps it was meant as some kind of retreat for the royal family?
At last they came to a spring, where a small rowboat had been dragged ashore and decorated with peonies of pink and cream. A blush stained Prompto's cheeks as he looked over at Noctis, a question in his eyes.
All of this, for him?
Noct's nod, delivered with a gentle smile, only made Prompto blush all the brighter. "It's so lovely," he managed to say, as Noctis helped him into the boat.
"So are you," Noct answered, and Prompto almost hid his face in his hands. How was he supposed to behave with any sense of decorum if Noctis kept complimenting him like this?
"Fustian," he managed to get out, hoping the word came out in one piece. He took the picnic basket from Noct and placed it on the bench opposite him, thus ensuring the prince could only sit beside him. Prompto's efforts were rewarded with a blush from his fiancé as he sat at his side.
They spoke quietly as they ate, sharing stories of their childhood homes and friends — Prince Noctis was unusually close with Lady Lunafreya, and Prompto hastened to assure him that Loqi would do well by her. Both admitted to knowing little of the war between their nations, which was no real surprise as no blood had been spilled since Mors Lucis Caelum and Iedolas Aldercapt had claimed their respective thrones on the same day some fifty-odd years before.
Even when the basket was emptied, set aside next to the boat with their drained wineglasses, they continued to speak. Prompto couldn't say when Noctis had put an arm around his waist— perhaps when he'd admitted to missing his cousin dreadfully. "He'll make it in time for the wedding, I trust," Noct said, leaning in towards Prompto.
The blond gratefully leaned in as well. "He's only a sennight behind me," he answered. "I'm rather given to hiding in his shadow."
"You shine far too brightly to ever be in anyone's shadow," Noctis murmured.
Why Prompto was still scrambling to find an answer, he felt himself being eased up and into Noct's lap, and then a hand touched his chin lightly.
"Look at me?" Noct asked, so sweetly that Prompto couldn't help but do so.
When he did, his eyes landed on a gold ring with a small, golden stone set into it. "B—But aren't we already engaged?" he asked in a small voice, shifting his gaze from the ring to the prince.
"We are," Noctis admitted, "by the decree of our fathers and rulers. However— Prompto, I've known you but a few days, and yet I feel we can make more than just an arrangement of this match. In time, perhaps love will deepen between us. So… Prompto, will you marry me?"
In answer, Prompto slid an arm over Noct's shoulders and kissed him softly. "Yes," he whispered, drawing back. "I will."
