Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

One of the rules of the Lucian outdoors was to never let your guard down. Even during the night. Especially during the night, when a daemon could be hiding in every shadow, ready to pounce.

He wasn’t quite sure how it happened. They had just finished up a quick hunt, only a couple of imps, nothing too strenuous. Some hunters needed the help, and they needed the gil – just another day in the life. But they had made a stupid mistake, let their guard down for one second as they neared the campsite, celebrating the win. Somehow they didn't hear it, or maybe they just didn't pay enough attention, because they stumbled right into the path of a Yojimbo that had appeared out of nowhere, towering over them with its katana gleaming in the moonlight. They broke the rule, and paid the price straight away.

Prompto went down first. He hadn't even managed to summon his gun before the Yojimbo lunged forward in a blur, plunging its katana straight through him. It made a sickening, wet noise as it did, the sound the only thing Noctis could hear apart from his own heartbeat thundering in his chest. As quickly as it moved forward, the creature retracted its weapon, now dripping horribly with blood, and turned on its heel to face its next potential victims.

Prompto fell backwards the moment the blade was removed, ashen-faced and weakly clutching his stomach. Red pooled beneath him.

Noctis froze. That was his next mistake. The Yojimbo raised its katana above its head and drove it down, sending daemonic energy weaving through the ground and bursting back out again as jagged spikes. Noctis managed to phase out of the way, missing the spikes by a hair.

Someone screamed. Ignis. He had been near Noctis, only the slightest bit closer to the daemon. He didn’t dodge in time. Spikes impaled him, through his leg. His shoulder. Chest. Blooms of red soaked his shirt.

“Noct!” Gladio yelled. He was behind the daemon, only now getting the opportunity to rip his greatsword from the Armiger.

All Noctis wanted was to warp over to Ignis, sprawled face down on the floor, to Prompto, whose hands were starting to slip. Every second that passed, they grew closer to death. They needed help, now. But if he looked away, for even a millisecond, the Yojimbo would pounce and the situation would get even worse.

They needed to end this fight.

Noctis gritted his teeth, steeling himself for what was sure to be an arduous battle. Pulling his engine blade from the Armiger, he got into a proper fighting stance, keeping his eyes on the creature and its every minute movement. He just had to pray, to every Astral that might be listening, that Ignis and Prompto would hold on until he could get to them.

“Let’s go!” Noctis called back to Gladio, who answered him with a firm nod and eyes that seemed to burn with fury.

The Yojimbo, bored of waiting, swung its blade towards Noctis in a wide arc. It made no noise; only the sound of its bloody katana whistling through the air cut through the quiet night. Noctis flipped back out of range and used the brief moment the daemon was open to warp forward, slashing it up towards its face before phasing through it completely, ending up behind where it stood. Gladio saw his chance, barrelling at it and jumping up, landing a serious blow to its shoulder. As he moved, Noctis warped ahead, sailing over Gladio and summoning a greatsword himself, driving it down two-handed where Gladio had just struck. The creature reeled and slashed out quickly as it turned to face them again. Noctis stumbled a little as he landed from the heavy attack and couldn’t completely get out of the way, earning a deep gash to the leg as a result.

Sucking a breath through his teeth, Noctis tried to ignore the burning emanating from the injury. The creature was getting desperate now as the damage stacked up, its swings becoming more erratic. More dangerous.

Gladio spun around, gaining momentum to deliver a high-powered attack, his sword slicing sideways across the Yojimbo’s body. Noctis ran forward, just in time for Gladio to reach back and grab onto his arm to throw him up into the air. The engine blade back in his grasp, Noctis dove down, aiming for the daemon’s head or neck – somewhere hopefully fatal, or near enough. He plunged his sword down, but the creature dodged at the last moment, settling for a stab to the shoulder instead.

Noctis air stepped to the right, landing safely back on the ground and readying for another attack. The daemon was weakening now – its movements still fast but a fraction slower than they were at the start. All they needed was a few more good hits and they could tend to the others.

Noctis looked at Gladio across the battlefield, taking in his movement, looking for a chance to land a heavy blow together and finish it off. The Yojimbo plunged its sword down again, preparing for the same spike attack as earlier. Gladio saw it coming, he had plenty of time to dodge. The dark energy swirled once more, emerging through the ground, tearing up the grass and–

Gladio tripped. He tripped on a rock, or a twig, or something, and that was all it took. He was off balance, and the spikes got him too. Two in his left shoulder, one in his right. A big one through his abdomen. 

The daemon turned back to Noctis, its katana slung casually over its shoulder. Like it thought it had already won.

It stepped forward, once. Then again. Another step. Slowly.

It flew.

Noctis barely managed to get his sword in front of him to block the strike, every muscle in his shaking arms pushing up, forcing the creature back. He yelled, putting everything he had into it, managing to push the monster back for a split second.

He had his shot. He could only rely on himself now. 

Usually he didn't like to use it when he didn't need to. It took a lot out of him – sometimes he needed days to recover fully, to feel normal again. But there was no option. If he didn't finish this now, his friends would die. And there was no pain he could experience in this life that would be worse than that. Nothing.

So, he reached out, to every king and every queen of Lucis, and requested their strength. 

They gave it. Oh, they gave it. 

Crystalline weapons spun around him in a dazzling display, shimmering crystals left behind after every movement. Noctis warped freely around the daemon, barely touching the ground at all as he took each weapon and attacked with every scrap of strength and will he could muster. The Sword of the Wise. Embedded in the daemon’s chest. The Axe of the Conqueror. Wedged in its thigh. The Mace of the Fierce. Swung into its arm, shattering it completely. Every swing, every warp, drained him a little more. Time to end this.

Noctis warped at a devastating speed towards the daemon, The Blade of the Mystic finding his hand as if it belonged there. As he reached it, he swung out, the sword finding its mark. It cut cleanly, barely any resistance; straight through the Yojimbo’s neck. Its head flew off and out of sight, the rest of its body melting and disintegrating into gelatinous miasma. It never stood a chance.

As the phantom weapons shattered and disappeared, Noctis dropped onto his hands and knees, trying to get air into his lungs. His leg felt sticky, the bleeding slowing and the blood starting to dry. Still hurt like hell, though. The sudden infusion of strength was gone, leaving behind nothing but exhaustion and pain. Generally, the others would be right by his side for this part. Pulling his arm over their shoulders, offering potions, ethers or elixirs if they were lucky enough to have any. Trying to help as best they could, even when they couldn't possibly understand how it felt.

Oh, gods. Gods. The others. 

Noctis scrambled to his feet, desperate and needing to see proof they were alive, a sign, anything–

He dropped next to Prompto first. He was breathing shallow. Blood leaked from his mouth and his eyes were closed, his brow furrowed. He was so, so pale.

Noctis grabbed a potion from the Armiger, a few of these and everything would be just–

There were three. Three potions. Three fucking potions. He knew they were running low, just not that low. The plan was to restock while they turned in the hunt in the morning. He should've been on top of it. 

No, it might be alright. Could be the wounds just looked worse than they were; sometimes the blood was deceiving.

One potion each. It had to be enough.

He cracked a potion over Prompto's stomach, turning away as soon as the green glow spread across him. He couldn't waste time.

They had all fallen relatively near each other, making it easier to move quickly between them. 

Next, Ignis. Noctis had to turn him over, carefully. His glasses had fallen off at some point, they sat off to the side. One of the lenses was cracked. Another potion.

Gladio. His greatsword lay beside him, useless. Potion.

Noctis sat back. Watching, waiting. Waiting for Prompto to spring up with a sheepish laugh, embarrassed that he got knocked out straight away. For Ignis to swear to improve next time. Gladio to mutter about extra training.

A second passed. Half a minute. All three stayed unmoving. Pale and lifeless under the moonlight.

“No, no, please. Please.” Noctis kneeled next to Prompto again, looking closer at his wound. The potion had stitched it back together a little, but it wasn't nearly enough. He wouldn't survive the night.

Same with the others, after a brief check. The wounds were too deep, too severe. 

Noctis stood, putting his hands on his head as he tried to breathe, to think. Calm down. What was his next move?

Okay. They couldn’t stay here out in the open. Another daemon could appear from anywhere, and dawn was still hours away. He could see their campsite from here, the haven glow a beacon in the darkness. He just had to get them there.

First, Prompto. Noctis pulled him up into a sitting position and crouched in front of him, pulling his arms over his shoulders. He tried to ignore the weak groan of pain as he did so. Standing up, Prompto slung on his back, Noctis began running towards the haven, trying to keep his steps as even as possible. Prompto wasn’t very heavy, but carrying a person wasn’t easy. Climbing the slope, Noctis moved over to their still-laid-out sleeping bags from the night before, laying Prompto down as gently as he could manage. 

Not stopping, Noctis warped back to the other two. Now, Ignis. He was considerably taller and a little heavier than Prompto; a piggyback wouldn’t be as feasible. Noctis settled on a fireman’s carry, and pulled Ignis up, ducking under him to get him balanced across his shoulders. Noctis got to his feet, taking a moment to regain his balance and shift Ignis’ weight so he wouldn’t fall. And he moved. He kept moving, one step at a time. Sweat was pouring down his shirt now, the exertion starting to get to him. He just had to deal with it.

Arriving at the haven, Ignis was laid out next to Prompto, whose condition remained the same. They both still lay pale and silent.

Another warp found Noctis back with Gladio. This would be difficult. There was no way Noctis could carry him on his back, but staying here was not an option. Moving behind him, Noctis reached down, hooking his arms under Gladio’s armpits and raising his shoulders so they were off the ground. He started pulling, using his body weight as leverage to drag Gladio backwards towards safety. It was slow going – Gladio was heavy. And the ground was uneven, rocks and bumps probably making the trip pretty uncomfortable for Gladio. Still, he didn’t show any signs of consciousness. A few times, Noctis’ hands slipped, slick with blood, almost sending Gladio smacking down to the ground. He didn’t stop, just readjusted his grip and continued on, adrenaline keeping him going.

Noctis’ arms were shaking by the time he reached the slope of the haven. Taking a few quick breaths in preparation, he resumed dragging, up the incline and out of the reach of any more daemons. 

Stepping over the glowing blue boundary felt like a victory in and of itself. Once again, Noctis dragged Gladio over to the sleeping bags, laying him down. Now they were safe from daemons; no more surprise attacks. Noctis tried to ignore the way his shirt was soaked with blood.

Right. Potions. He needed potions. That was priority number one; if he didn’t get them, it was over.

There was a gas station not too far away – it was sure to stock some. But how to get there… The car was out, it would take too long to get over to where Ignis had parked it the day before and then drive to the store. Warping, cutting through the trees directly would be much faster. Okay, that was a plan.

It would probably be a good idea to make sure everyone was okay before he left – or, as okay as could be possible in their situation. 

A breeze blew through the camp and Noctis shivered, his damp shirt not helping matters. A fire. He should light the fire, keep the guys from freezing. Prompto seemed to be shivering slightly.

Luckily, Gladio had set up the fire before they headed out earlier, so all Noctis needed to do was light it. He summoned a lighter and a scrap of paper – a receipt, by the looks of it – from the Armiger, setting the paper alight and holding it at the base of the logs. They caught quickly, the fire licking up and eating the wood.

Noctis stood back, taking in some of its heat for a brief moment before turning around to the others. The fire provided a good bit of light, allowing Noctis to see more clearly what he hadn't really been able to see before. They looked bad. Really, really bad. All three were covered in blood that didn't seem to stop coming. The jostling and movement it took to get back to camp might have disturbed their wounds even more.

First aid. It wouldn’t do much to heal their wounds, but it would buy them some time which could prove to be invaluable. Noctis summoned their first aid kit – it was fully stocked since most of the time they relied on potions for injuries, and only used it if potions weren't quite enough. He rifled through the kit, trying to remember the first aid training he’d been forced to do back in Insomnia. Their wounds were too big for stitches. He didn't think his shaking hands could do them without worsening things anyway. Instead, he pulled out a thick roll of bandages and some gauze. 

Noctis sat next to Prompto, pulling his blood-soaked shirt up to see the gruesome injury. Gods, it was bad. Noctis took a breath, not wanting to panic and lose focus. 

“Okay, Prom. Sorry if I hurt you,” Noctis said quietly, readying his supplies. He didn't have time to be thorough – potions were the only thing that would save them – but he would try his best. He cleaned the wound quickly, wincing as he did so. He knew from experience how it stung. Despite that, Prompto didn't react. Step two, gauze. He placed it over the wound, securing it in place with a bandage. Right. Good. Onto the next.

Ignis. Clean, gauze, bandage. He had more wounds in different places, so it was a little trickier, but Noctis managed it. Again, he remained scarily still.

Finally, Gladio. Noctis cleaned the wounds and placed gauze over them. Bandages, next. As he put pressure over the wound to his abdomen, Gladio's eyes scrunched together before cracking open to slits, staring up at him. 

“Gladio! Gods–” Noctis began, only to be cut off by Gladio coughing roughly.

“Noct,” he rasped, grabbing onto his arm with a surprising amount of strength. “Iggy, Prompto… they okay? You okay?”

Noctis exhaled shakily. “They're hurt pretty bad. You are too. But, I'm gonna–” His eyes were fluttering shut again, his grip on Noctis’ arm loosening. “Gladio? Gladio! Damn it…” 

Noctis forced himself to tear his eyes away from his face. It was too lifeless.

He finished the bandaging in record time and stood up, looking over his friends once more. An awful red had already started soaking through the white fabric of their bandages.

That was the best he could do in the circumstances. It wasn't nearly enough. If he had only paid more attention, reacted faster… this wouldn’t have happened at all.

“Gods… I'm sorry. I'm sorry,” Noctis said to no one, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Ah, wait– I’ll just…” He ducked inside the tent, grabbing a few blankets that were left there in a bundle, and placed them over each of his friends. Hopefully it'd make them a little more comfortable, at least. “Please hold on. That– that's an order, you hear me? Stay alive. I'll be back soon.”

With that, Noctis summoned his blade and warped off the haven’s edge into the night. The gas station wasn’t too far when you weren’t restricted by the limits of the road – about half an hour's walk if he was to guess – and warping certainly cut the travel time down. But, Astrals, it was tiring. Noctis was already running on empty; he just had to hope he wouldn’t crash before he could make it there and back.

He kept flinging his sword, shattering into blue crystal fragments and appearing again, trying not to lose his balance as he reformed, his landings getting rougher each time. The wind whipped through his hair, and the trees passed in a blur. He felt wetness roll down his leg, the gash reopened from all the movement. No time to think about it.

At the thirtieth or so warp, Noctis felt it before he even threw the blade. He remerged and promptly collapsed to the floor, head spinning and nausea churning his stomach. Stasis. It was hard to deal with alone. After a few close calls, the guys had started keeping an eye out, keeping a mental tally of how many times he’d warped during battles so if he was ever caught off guard by a stasis episode, someone would be right there, an ether in hand. They did so much for him. So he’d push through. It was the least he could do in return.

Reaching into the Armiger, he pulled out an ether and crushed it in his grip, feeling magic flood into his body. Ethers were really only useful to Noctis, so he usually tried to convince the others not to buy too many – they didn’t have the gil to spare most of the time. As usual, no one listened to him and so he’d always find a couple extras snuck into the Armiger when he wasn’t paying attention. By then it was too late to do anything about it. 

He didn’t much like using them, though. They were good in a pinch, no doubt about that, but it was more of a bandaid solution. He usually crashed after taking them as the borrowed power started to wear off and left him hollow. Taking too many in succession wasn’t a great idea either; they just made him feel insanely sick, like he was overdosing or something. He didn’t have the luxury of that choice now. He had to take everything he could to keep going.

His sword flew through the air as he continued on, about halfway to the gas station if his estimation was right. As he warped, he could hear the growl of daemons crawling up from the earth. Some were near misses – he had to dodge a few that appeared right in his path.

He could just about see the lights that lined the road and the gas station’s unmissable sign when he dropped again, his magic running out faster than usual. The momentum had him slamming to the floor and, because the world was out to get him tonight, he managed to smack his head on a rock jutting up from within the grass. His vision turned white as his ears rang, and it was a battle just to cling to consciousness. Blood ran down from his forehead and into his right eye. Wiping it away was fruitless; it didn't seem to stop. Another ether. More magic.

The gas station was right across the road, the lights still on inside. Even if the place was closed, he’d get what he came for one way or another. Niceties be damned.

He warped one final time, clearing the road and emerging into a roll. The movement only made his head spin even worse. He wondered what the employee would think of him.

Noctis walked as straight as he could into the store, heading for the curative aisle. The shelves were empty; probably hadn’t been restocked yet. Had to ask the employee, then. As he approached the counter, the man sitting behind the register visibly recoiled at the sight of him. That bad, huh?

“I need potions,” Noctis said, skipping the pleasantries. He had to get back, quickly.

The man looked him up and down, an unimpressed expression on his face. “No shit. But,” he pointed to the door, “read the sign. No blood or dirt. And you’ve got both, pal.”

Noctis blinked in surprise. “Are you serious?”

“We like to keep our standards high, sir,” the man replied, every word dripping with arrogance. Noctis felt his temper flare. Ignis would not approve.

“I said,” Noctis spoke dangerously, “I need potions.”

“And I said–”

“Get me the fucking potions!” Noctis yelled, slamming the counter with both hands. The man jumped and paled, raising his hands in a pathetic display.

“Alright man, alright–” He scurried into the back room, reappearing with a box full of regular potions, and two or three Hi-Potions as well. “Here…”

Noctis pulled out all the remaining gil he had. He couldn’t risk not buying enough. “Give me what this buys. Quickly,” he added. The man nodded, rifling through the box.

Three Hi-Potions. Two standard potions. It wasn't much, but it would be enough. It had to be.

Noctis shoved the purchases into the Armiger, forcefully pushing his magic into them to infuse them with his strength, and turned on his heel, not sparing the cowering man another glance. The bright lights were starting to make his head hurt. He couldn’t risk taking a potion himself, though. The shape the others were in… they could need to use all of them. He would be fine.

Chapter Text

The potions were safely tucked away in the Armiger, the miracles that would save his friends becoming more and more infused with his magic. Now, Noctis just had to get back as fast as he could. Back to the people who needed him. Ignoring the way the world was spinning, he grabbed out his sword, ready to begin warping again. It took him a second longer than was probably normal to remember which way he came from.

The blood on his face was drying now, making his skin feel tight and weird every time he so much as moved his eyebrow. If the dizziness and headache were any indication, he had a concussion too, from that damn rock. Or it could be the ethers taking their toll. Didn’t matter all that much so long as he made it back soon.

The moon reigned over the sky, dawn still far away. Noctis warped past the moving shadows, feeling his magic pull from rapidly depleting reserves. Kept warping, and warping, barely taking a step before dissolving again and flying through the air. It’d been a long time since he’d warped this much and for such a distance. His arm was starting to ache. A quick glance at his surroundings as he prepared for another throw suggested he was about three-quarters of the way back to camp. Good. 

But gods, he was tired. He blinked rapidly in an attempt to wake himself up a bit, regretting it instantly as dizziness overcame him and he stumbled out of a warp, tripping over his own feet and falling to the floor. He felt empty; stasis was close again. Another ether would be–

A horrific screech sounded from just up ahead, the source invisible in the darkness. Noctis scrambled to his feet, cracking another ether in his fist and raising his sword towards the direction the noise came from. 

He didn’t have to wait long for it to reveal itself. Long, thick legs led the way for a large arachne as it scuttled into the open, moving slowly but with purpose as it sized its prey up. The humanoid part of its body perched atop six powerful legs made it truly daemonic and creepy to look at. Noctis tensed, knowing how fast it could move without warning.

The prey and predator circled each other, neither making the first move. Noctis considered just warping away, but this thing was fast, and if it got a solid hit on him from behind, he’d be as good as dead. Then so would Prompto, Ignis and Gladio. He couldn’t risk that.

Just like before with the Yojimbo, he had to finish this quick.

He warped first. Noctis thrust his sword at the arachne, aiming for its humanoid head, its white hair flowing in the breeze; a small but lethal target. Metal slid against rock-hard flesh as a huge leg blocked his strike, and he dropped down like a stone, just about avoiding another swing of another leg as it cut through the air above him.

Noctis flipped back out of the way, shaking his head as his vision began to blur. Not a good time for this. Two arachne stood in his path, melting together and splitting apart hypnotically; double vision from the fucking concussion. He lifted his sword in front of him, willing his eyes to work properly.

The arachne must have sensed his predicament, because it sent out a fast attack, wielding purple lightning bolts that struck down and moved out in a circle around it. Noctis instinctively phased to the side as one bolt came close, inadvertently putting himself in the path of a second one. It hit his arm, and his nerves were set on fire as electricity coursed through him. He flew back, thudding onto the ground and taking heaving breaths as his body twitched uncontrollably.

The daemon took its chance to pounce, leaping up into the air and bringing all six legs together to a deadly point, aiming right for his heart. He rolled at the last second, the creature landing with heavy impact where he had just been. Noctis sprang up and warped as the arachne landed, slashing a deep cut where one leg met the body. It snatched the leg back and jumped out of reach of a second swing, rearing its front two legs up in fury.

Noctis raced ahead, not wanting to give it a second to recover. Aiming for the human-like body again, Noctis flung his sword forward, reappearing as one of its legs swung at him. It connected with his chest, and he felt something crack, the strength of the creature no match for him. He cried out, the pain only intensifying as the force of the swing had him careening sideways into a large boulder. He slammed into it, the impact knocking the air out of him as he slid to the ground, stunned. The engine blade shattered back into the Armiger – that was better than dropping it to the floor and losing it.

The arachne wasted no time, using one of its front legs against his chest to pin him against the rock as he struggled to breathe. It seemed to savour playing with its food. The other front leg trailed down his body, down his leg, to the injury from the Yojimbo. It pressed down, the tip of the leg sharp, and Noctis groaned as blood poured freely from the wound. Still trying for small breaths, Noctis felt unconsciousness start to creep in, and his hands scrabbled uselessly against the huge leg. Black spots danced in his vision as the creature pushed harder against his chest, another leg coming down from the side aimed at his skull, about to–

Instinct more than anything else allowed Noctis to phase through the daemon, passing right through it. He fell to the floor, free of its trap, and jumped up again, gasping raggedly as he finally managed to get some air into his lungs. He quickly cracked another ether, not willing to be caught off guard with stasis, and grabbed his sword from the Armiger again. The daemon made an angry noise – a mix of a hiss and a growl – as it lurched towards him, limping slightly from the cut Noctis had made. 

Both injured, both angry, scared. Only one could win.

It would be Noctis. It had to be.

Not giving the arachne time to react, Noctis threw his sword low. It flew underneath the daemon and he warped after it quickly, reforming with his back facing the ground just as the blade glided beneath its main body. Grabbing the sword, he jabbed it upwards, stabbing into the creature’s flesh. The momentum from the warp carried him all the way under the body, his sword slicing a record of his path as he went. Daemonic blood covered him as he carved the arachne up, and the smell of it made him feel even more nauseous.

Noctis popped out from under the beast, skidding on his back along the ground as his momentum ran out and he dropped down. The arachne staggered, greatly wounded from the attack, a trail of blood left behind whenever it moved. Still, it wasn’t done yet. Lunging desperately forward, it scrambled towards Noctis, front legs poised for attack. Noctis dodged right, forgetting for a terrible second about his injured leg. He stumbled as it failed to take the sudden movement, not managing to get out of the way completely and allowing the arachne to jab its front leg into his left shoulder. 

Noctis gasped as it dug in, deep into his skin, and lifted him up before flicking the leg abruptly, sending him sailing straight up into the air. They liked to do that. Torture their prey, have fun before the kill. That was all well and good… until it gave its toy a golden opportunity while doing so. 

Noctis summoned a polearm – one of Ignis’ backups – from the Armiger, aiming it like a javelin towards the human-shaped part of the daemon. Ignoring every warning sign his body was throwing at him, Noctis hurled the spear down, warping after it. He reappeared just before it hit the daemon, grabbing onto the weapon and using his body weight to make it hit that much harder. The polearm hit its mark – straight through the arachne’s head, embedding its point into the earth. The arachne slumped, dead. 

Noctis stood on its collapsed corpse, still clutching the polearm with a white-knuckled grip. He panted, sweat and blood dripping off him. Lingering electricity making his fingers twitch. Every breath hurt, sharp flashes of pain accompanying each desperate inhale. 

He released the polearm, letting it return to the Armiger with a flash of light. Noctis slid off the body, not landing as gracefully as he would’ve liked onto the dirt. His shoulder burned and he reached a tentative hand to it, looking at the damage now that he had a chance. It was ragged, messy and deep. He could see some white if he looked close enough. His stomach churned dangerously, not much warning before he gagged and doubled over, nothing much coming up except for blood. Could’ve been the concussion. Or the broken ribs. Maybe all the ethers. Anything, really.

Focus. Focus. The potions. Get the potions back to camp. He’d been gone too long already.

Once again summoning his blade, Noctis threw it, following with a warp. He crashed spectacularly onto the ground as he reformed, his head spinning and his stomach threatening to rebel once more. Stasis, again? He reached into the Armiger for another ether–

None left. None left?

“The hell…? How many did I take..?” Noctis slurred, pushing himself up. Not a good idea. His bad shoulder couldn’t take the weight, sending him back to the floor in a heap. More carefully this time, he used his other arm to make most of the effort, clumsily getting to his feet with just a bit of trouble. 

Immediately, his blood-soaked leg buckled, and he collapsed again. His head pounded behind his eyes, and his vision blurred and warped in front of him. The adrenaline must’ve been wearing off. Shit.

“Okay.. slow.” This time, he was careful, pushing himself up into a sitting position with his good arm, then slowly rising to his feet while putting most of his weight on his good leg. Success. He stayed standing.

“Back to camp.” Back to camp. Couldn’t stop now. Had to save them.

Warping was out of the question. He had no magic to spare, and even if he did, he’d just fall – his balance was off. And then it would take ages to stand back up. This would be faster. He took one step. Then another. Every one sending fire up his leg. 

He couldn’t help but breathe heavily as he staggered along, exhaustion weighing him down alongside everything else. All that did was hurt his chest even more. Was that the ribs, or the electrocution? Didn’t matter. Still hurt.

Noctis stumbled through the night, almost tripping on an exposed root as he walked. He wrapped his non-injured arm around his ribs. It seemed to help. Maybe that was just in his head, though.

The haven wasn’t too far. Moving slowly made it seem much farther away. Have to get back.

“When… when you guys wake up,” Noctis said breathlessly, “you’re gonna- gonna be so confused.” He laughed a little hysterically, the smile dropping off his face as fast as it appeared as his lungs burned and his chest spasmed. “I gotta look like a- a mess… right now.”

A garula looked at him as he walked past, turning away as if in disgust.

“You won’t believe it… I killed it- killed the Yojimbo first. Got me– it got me in the leg.” He looked down at the leg in question. Burn, burn, burn. Fire and pain.

“Then…I was tired. Could've used a hand. But… it hurt you all. The blood. So much, everywhere. I thought–” he swallowed, “you were dead… for a second. Weren’t moving. We didn’t have enough. My fault. I’m in charge. Won’t happen again.” Noctis let go of his chest to wipe sweat from his brow, replacing his hold after.

“So I went to the… where was it?” He paused to think. “Oh! The gas- gas station. The guy there… he wasn’t letting me get anything. Because, oh yeah, because I had blood all over my face.” He raised a hand to his head, snatching it back when it stung.

“I hit my head. Hit it pretty bad, guys…” Noctis stared at the ground as he walked. Splotches of red appeared on the grass as he went. “But I got them. I- I yelled at him. P-probably should say sorry. Nah, he was an– asshole. Really was. So then I left and I–” He groaned as a wave of pain and heat washed over him. From the shoulder this time. “An arachne. Been ages– haven’t seen one in ages, right? I killed it too.”

Noctis felt a bit of pride. He did kill it. He was still strong.

“It hit me with a web… shocked me. Dunno where it hurts… It’s mixed in with everything else, I think. And it threw me– up into the air. Stuck its leg in my shoulder. I killed it. Killed an arachne. It got blood on me. Ha, I have– have arachne blood, your blood, and my blood all on me.”

That was funny. Three kinds of blood. Noctis laughed breathily, his laughs turning into ragged coughs after a bit. Hurt his ribs again. Kept walking nonetheless.

“Why’m I talkin’ to myself?” Noctis wondered. Why was he talking to himself? He must’ve hit his head worse than he thought.

He could hear distant growls of daemons out there somewhere if he tried really hard. He couldn’t take another fight. Not today. Or, tonight, was probably more accurate. The forest started to thin out and he could see further now. Up ahead, through the trees – the haven! The blue glow shone brightly against the black palette of night. He’d make it.

“Comin’, guys…” Noctis mumbled. For every step he took, it seemed like the haven got further away. Weird. It shouldn’t be moving.

Stasis was not fun, Noctis decided. It made everything worse. If he was only able to warp, he’d be back at camp already.

He made it to the clearing where they had the daemon fight earlier. There were dark patches on the grass. He paused to look at them for a moment. The colours contrasted nicely.

Haven. Right.

Noctis blinked and found himself at the base of the incline leading up to camp. Clutching his ribs a little tighter, he began the climb that never felt like a climb before. Sweat poured off him as he struggled up the slope, his leg making its displeasure known. His lungs seized and left him breathless, but he reached the top anyway.

The fire was still going, but it was lower now. Probably a good idea to put more logs on.

Noctis limped over to the still-lifeless forms of his friends. They looked weak, but alive. A lot paler than they had been when he’d left, though.

“Hi-Potions, first.”

Who had the worst injuries? Prompto, it seemed. The daemon had got him good, and he looked to be in pain. The light from the fire illuminated his washed-out face. His expression was just… blank. It was wrong; Prompto could never keep his feelings hidden. Noctis bent down, clenching his teeth as the motion jostled his ribs. Pulling off the blanket that he’d put over Prompto earlier, he summoned the Hi-Potion and held it over his stomach, watching as the magic spread out. Prompto’s face smoothed out. Good. That’s good.

Ignis next. He didn’t show much sign of life, and his breathing was laboured. Who knew what the spikes might’ve hit, what damage they might have done? He crouched down again, holding the Hi-Potion over the worst wound he could see – the one in Ignis’ chest. The glow spread, and Noctis moved on.

Gladio. Usually, nothing fazed him. Even with broken bones, he’d just shrug it off and act like it was a regular occurrence. This was new. Noctis crushed the Hi-Potion over his abdomen, and the magic did its work. 

Okay. 

“Okay,” Noctis said. Now what?

He still had to protect them, until they woke up at least. Potions didn’t heal blood loss, so it would take some time for them to recover enough to regain consciousness. They were defenceless like this, and if something was to attack, it wouldn’t be ideal. He still had two potions. Saving them was a good idea – what if the Hi-Potions didn’t turn out to be enough? Or someone got hurt again? They couldn’t be caught out like this ever again.

The bloody, useless bandages covering each of his friends caught Noctis’ eye as he wondered what he should do next. He could clean all that up now, so then camp wouldn’t be a mess when they woke up. Ignis hated when the camp was messy. Noctis shivered, a sudden chill creeping in. Should top up the fire and get warm. He’d take off the bandages first. It would probably be more comfortable for everyone to sleep without those filthy things on them.

Slowly, slowly, Noctis moved back to Prompto, carefully peeling away the used bandages from his wound. He looked at it closely, now that it wasn’t obscured from view. The blood made it hard to see, but it was definitely healed; the Hi-Potion did its job. Noctis couldn’t help but smile at the sight. With the help of some towels and bottled water, Noctis managed to clean up the majority of the blood from Prompto's skin. The only indication he was ever hurt was a lingering redness that would fade in time.

The same was true for both Ignis and Gladio as well. All good as new, alive. Noctis threw the dirty bandages and towels into a trash bag and then into the Armiger. He’d take care of it properly later. 

With everyone stable and it being only a matter of time until they woke up again, Noctis figured he could sit for a while. Walking a few paces behind where the others slept, Noctis slid down to the ground, his back leaning against the cooler on the floor beside their makeshift kitchen. From here, he could see his friends and watch out past the haven, the clearing and even into the trees all at the same time. Nothing could sneak up on him. He summoned his engine blade and held it, the point resting against the ground. Just in case. It was good for keeping him upright, too. 

Out of curiosity, Noctis pulled his shirt up gently, peering at his chest. There wasn’t much of a noticeable bruise yet, but it was an angry red and inflamed, colour starting to form in the centre. He didn’t need to touch it to know it hurt. The shoulder wound was fire on his skin, but he couldn’t get a good look at it. His shirt was sticking to its ragged edges, dried and fresh blood not making things easier. Trying to pull it away proved not to be a good idea – Noctis blinked tears away after an aborted attempt. No touching that, then. It’d be fine. He’d worry about it later. His friends came first. 

They came so close. So close to death. If he hadn’t had those ethers, or the arachne or even the Yojimbo had injured him too, they would’ve died. Stuff like this didn’t happen often. Sure, injuries weren’t uncommon in their line of work, but it was almost never as bad as this. Especially the fact that everyone except for him had been hurt. He felt guilty – he wasn’t strong enough to prevent it from happening in the first place. Hopefully they wouldn’t be resentful of him having gotten away scot-free while they suffered. Well – Noctis glanced down at his bleeding leg, stretched out in front of him – maybe not completely scot-free.

He couldn’t imagine life without them. It would be a lonely life, that's for sure. And truthfully, one not worth all the struggle, especially now that Insomnia was nothing more than a pile of rubble and memories. 

Now, slumped against a camp cooler, propped up by his sword and watching over his unconscious friends, Noctis felt the worry that he'd done so well to bottle up return in full force. Gods, he was scared. Terrified of losing them. But he didn't allow himself to think the worst of the situation, because that would lead to panic, and he had to focus. Focus on what he had to do and how to do it. The adrenaline carried him through most of the trip, but that was pretty much faded now. All his souvenirs he'd been so lucky to get along the way, hurt. But he couldn't rest; not yet. Not until they opened their eyes and talked to him again and filled the camp with energy and noise because it was so quiet and he felt something could jump out at him, another daemon, and hurt them again but worse this time and he couldn't focus, his head was spinning and the stasis was wearing him down, such a heavy weight dragging out of him and–

Noctis choked on an inhale of breath, launching into rough coughs. He brought his arm up to his mouth and saw blood as he moved it away, stark red against pale skin. His chest sent waves of pain surging through him. He wasn't sure which part hurt the most though – there were plenty of contenders. His vision blurred and his eyelids were so heavy, but he forced himself awake. Had to protect them. The constant flickering of the fire wasn’t helping his aching head. The flames were getting really low now. He should add more logs; wouldn’t be good if the fire went out. 

A twig snapped somewhere beyond the light of the haven stone, out of sight. Noctis was on alert immediately, swivelling his head to see what was coming. His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword, ready to go if something dared to disturb the camp. This continued for a few minutes. Nothing ever came. 

Noctis trembled as he sat, stuttering breaths and his loud heartbeat accompanied by the silence of the night. His vision continued to blur and unblur in a dizzying dance as he waited, waited, waited. He had to scooch over a little after a while, his leg protesting the change in position. There was a pool of blood on the stone and he didn’t want to get it on himself. He was hungry. Would Ignis feel up to making something when he woke up? He might have to try his own hand at cooking again. Didn’t go so well last time – he could still recall the smell of the burnt food – but he’d give it a try. Probably was a good idea to check what ingredients they had. He could run back to the gas station if they needed anything they didn’t have. It wasn’t far.

The first few rays of sun appearing over the horizon caught him off guard and he squinted towards the sunrise, feeling a sense of relief at the knowledge that daemons wouldn’t be a problem for the next while.

Noctis watched the light pierce through the trees, how they seemed to make things glow. The grass shone down below, dewdrops catching the light in just the right way. Pretty. The sun hit his face and he closed his eyes, basking in its warmth. Still clutching his sword. Waiting for them to wake up, to hear their voices. The fire was nothing more than embers now.

Chapter Text

A yawn drew Noctis’ attention. He opened his eyes and looked over to see movement by the dying fire. Prompto was sitting up, stretching his arms like he’d just had a quick, casual nap. Ignis followed, frowning before summoning a new pair of glasses from the Armiger. Gladio practically launched up, his eyes wide, hands patting down where he’d been injured. They all sat with their backs to Noctis. He just watched them, joy making his heart pound faster. They were alive; they were okay.

“Hey, you guys okay? You hurt?” Gladio said, his voice veiled in concern.

“No, why– oh, oh gods…” Prompto breathed at the same time as Ignis urgently asked, “Gladio, what happened?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember coming back here,” Gladio responded, moving and looking over the other two for confirmation. He always made sure everyone was okay. “Last thing I remember, me and Noct– wait, where the hell is Noct? Where’s Noct?”

Panic erupted. Gladio and Ignis leapt to their feet, Prompto not far behind. They didn’t have to look far. He was right there, at the cooler. Where he’d been all night.

Gladio spun around and seemed to freeze for a second as their eyes met. He seemed on edge; maybe it was the sword in Noctis’ hand. He might’ve thought there was a threat or something. Noctis let the sword shatter and return to the Armiger, his arm falling heavily to the stone floor. The loss of his support made his balance falter a little.

“Holy fuck…” Gladio said, Ignis appearing behind him and inhaling sharply at the sight of Noctis. Prompto made a weird noise.

Noctis just stared back, happy they were okay. So happy… and tired too.

Gladio rushed forward, dropping down in front of him and cupping his face, tilting his head towards him.

“Hey, hey, Noct, can you hear me? Come on, kid.” He sounded scared. Seemed a touch overdramatic. Everyone was fine now.

Noctis humoured him anyway, sensing Ignis dropping down beside him as well.

He cleared his throat, wincing as he tasted blood. So gross. “Y-yeah,” he said. Huh, his voice was weaker than he remembered.

“Tell me where you’re hurt, Noct. Hey, eyes on me,” Gladio said, moving his head so their eyes met again. “Where are you hurt?”

“Gods, Gladio,” Ignis said from beside Noctis. He was near his shoulder–

Fire erupted from the wound and Noctis panicked, ripping himself from Gladio’s grasp and lurching to the side, trying to get away from the pain. Of course, then his chest and leg decided to join in on the fun. His head spun. He felt he might throw up.

Strong hands found him again, moving him upright while staying far away from his shoulder. Noctis panted, overwhelmed with all the sensations and it was too much, too much–

“You’re alright. It’s alright. It’s just me.” Gladio again, holding his face. Grounding him. Away from the hurt.

“Gladio..!” Noctis started, not sure where the rest of the sentence was going.

“I’m here. You’re okay,” he spoke levelly, his voice familiar and helping Noctis to focus. “Where are you hurt, Noct?”

“The Yojimbo, I– I– I couldn’t, I thought–” Noctis said, hoping Gladio knew where he was going with this.

“Okay, Noct, calm down. Calm down. First, you need to tell me where you’re hurt. Okay? Can you do that for me?” Gladio said, his eyes boring into Noctis’.

Noctis nodded frantically. He could do that.

“Leg. Shoulder. Ribs, uh… head. The.. uh, the electricity…”

“Electricity? What?” Came Prompto’s voice. Sounded like he was somewhere behind Gladio.

“I don’t know,” Gladio said, turning to look at him before resuming his focus on Noctis. “Good job. We’re gonna fix you up all good as new, alright?”

“Huh? Okay,” Noctis replied. The world was kinda spinning again. It'd be nice if that stopped happening.

“Iggy?” Gladio said, looking to the side. Ignis popped up again, holding a potion in his hand.

“Only two,” he said seriously, handing the bottle to Gladio and gazing at Noctis with worried eyes.

“Shit. Okay. We’ll have to make do.”

Gladio brought the potion closer, but, no– they needed to save that! If someone– if someone got hurt, they couldn’t run out, he couldn’t go through that again. He wouldn’t. He never, ever, wanted to see all his friends bleeding out in front of him again. 

Gladio’s grip on him was weaker now that he had one hand on the potion, so Noctis pushed back, somehow scrambling to his feet, standing on shaky legs. “No. No.”

“Noct, we won’t hurt you. I am truly sorry that I did before, that was my own idiotic mistake,” Ignis said. That wasn’t the issue, why did they not understand?

Gladio stepped forward, potion in hand. “Listen to me–”

“No, no, no. We need it. We need it.” They had to get it, right? They only had one – or, was it two – left. 

Prompto spoke up next, standing beside the others. “Noct, you’re hurt real bad, buddy. Please–”

Prompto! Noctis couldn’t get the image of that sword going through him out of his mind. He’d understand. He always did.

Noctis moved, grabbing onto Prompto, looking at where the wound was, the blood–

“Prom! The potion, you know–”

They were all hurt so badly. Someone could–

“Need another dose and–”

If another daemon came out of nowhere again, they might not get so lucky next time and it–

“Was too close, man,” Noctis panted, pointing at the potion still in Gladio’s grip. No one said anything. Prompto clutched his arm and he looked confused for a moment before realisation dawned on him, the look replaced quickly by sadness.

“We’re okay, Noct. Gods, man, you– we’re okay. I promise. I promise you. See?” He pulled up his ripped and blood-stained shirt, showing unmarred skin beneath it. “You saved us,” he said, and he said it with such conviction that Noctis believed him. Right. Right. Of course. They were okay; he got back in time.

“No more?” Noctis asked Ignis, who frowned before answering.

“No more..? Ah, Noct, we’ll get more curatives. When you’re feeling better, we’ll turn in the hunt and buy as many as we can afford. I swear to it.”

Deal. That was a good plan.

Noctis felt lightheaded, just now remembering the shooting pain in his leg. He stumbled in Prompto’s grip and would’ve fallen right over if not for Prompto managing to lower him down gently. He remained at his side, keeping Noctis’ arm in his grasp.

“That leg injury first, Gladio,” Ignis said, crouching down and holding onto Noctis’ other arm. “He’s losing blood.”

“Yep, on it. Alright,” Gladio said, positioning himself in front of Noctis, “We’re gonna get that leg fixed up first. Ready?”

“Ready.”

Gladio nodded, holding the potion over his leg. Noctis tensed as he came near the injury, but Ignis and Prompto held him gently still, and that was reassuring. The potion cracked in Gladio’s hand, and the green glow spread over the gash. Noctis watched as the magic flooded the wound, stitching it up and sending warmth through him. He relaxed, sagging slightly as the pain faded away, leaving his leg all healed up like no daemon had ever been near him.

“There we go,” Gladio said, taking a look at the leg, touching and prodding it lightly to make sure there were no complications. “How about we get you a chair, huh? Beats sitting on the ground.”

“‘Kay.” Noctis felt tiredness sweep over him, but he didn’t want to sleep yet. That was a first. He felt like he still had things to do.

Prompto moved away, grabbing a chair from around the fire and bringing it closer.

“You want a hand?” Gladio asked, standing up.

Noctis forgot to answer and looked up, half expecting Gladio to be gone in the time it took for him to remember what the question even was. Gladio looked down at him. Maybe it hadn’t been too long then.

“Yeah.”

Gladio huffed a laugh, bending down and grabbing Noctis’ hand. “Alright, nice and slow.” 

He pulled him up slowly, one hand holding his. Gladio moved his hold to his elbow when Noctis was standing, the other at his waist. Noctis held onto him as the drastic change in position had his head spinning yet again. Gladio stayed far from his shoulder and was mindful of the ribs too, which Noctis greatly appreciated. Ignis hovered close, probably ready to leap into action should Noctis so much as trip on a pebble. Actually, that wasn’t such a far-fetched idea, now that he thought about it.

As Noctis sank into the chair, the others gathered around him as if waiting for something. Prompto had a curious yet hesitant look in his eye.

“Noct, where’d all that blood come from?” he asked, gesturing generally towards Noctis.

Noctis looked down at himself. What kind of question was that?

“Might be yours. Had to carry you all back after the Yojimbo,” Noctis stated simply. They had been bleeding pretty bad at the time.

“How did you even…” Prompto said, trailing off.

“What happened with that, anyway? How'd you finish it off?” Gladio asked.

Yeah, it'd been hard, but he hadn't hit stasis yet at the time. The real tiredness happened then.

“Noct?” Gladio came into view again.

“Huh?” Did he miss something?

“What happened with the Yojimbo? How'd you kill it?” Gladio repeated.

“Uh… Oh, the Armiger. But it got me, too. Cut my leg.” Noctis pointed down at his injured leg, furrowing his brow when it looked fine. He could've sworn…

“The Armiger – I see,” Ignis said with a nod. “The Yojimbo's blood must have covered you during the fight, no doubt.”

Oh, he meant that blood. “No, no. This is from the arachne.”

“The what?” Gladio said. 

Ignis took a breath. “An arachne– then, when you said electricity earlier…”

“It shocked you…” Prompto finished. “Astrals, Noct. Where did it even come from?”

It was taking them forever to put the pieces together. Having to explain everything all over again was frustrating. And there were some things he didn't want to remember quite so much.

“Noct?”

Because a lot happened… trying to remember the sequence of events was a little tricky. And he still felt sick.

“Is he asleep?”

The arachne was a tough fight. Really tough. That's where the shoulder wound came from after all.

“Don't let him. Keep him talking.”

There was a light grip on his arm. Noctis followed the touch back to Ignis. “Noct? Can you tell us more?”

“‘Bout what?”

“Everything. Every detail you can remember,” Gladio said, tilting his head up a little and looking at his eyes. “Take your time.”

“Okay,” Noctis blew out a long breath, forgetting for a second about his ribs. He moved an arm to clutch at his chest. Three sets of eyes followed his movement.

“Killed the Yojimbo. With the Armiger. We had three potions… it wasn't enough. Had to bring you back here. You two,” he said, looking between Ignis and Prompto. “Carried you. Had to drag Gladio.”

“Hm. Explains the twigs in my hair,” Gladio said.

“Then… tried to bandage up your wounds – buy time.”

What was next? Everything was mixing up in his brain.

“Did you leave, Noct?” Ignis prompted.

“Yeah,” Noctis replied, feeling guilty. How could he have left them hurt and alone? “Sorry. Had to go.”

“It's alright,” Gladio reassured. “Where did you go?”

“Gas station. Needed potions. I warped there. Fell on a rock of all things,” he said, pointing to the cut on his head. “Bought them and warped back. But the arachne got in the way.”

“And you fought,” Gladio stated.

“Yep. It cracked my ribs and got my shoulder. Threw me up. And shocked me. But I killed it first.” Noctis was pretty proud of that. Arachnes were no joke. “And then I came back. But slow.”

“Slow?” Prompto asked.

“Couldn’t warp anymore. Ran out of ethers.”

“Noct,” Ignis said intensely, looking at him rather closely. “Were you in stasis?”

“Yeah.”

“How many times?” Ignis continued. What a question. It took Noctis a few moments to think.

“Like…three–no, four times. Cause I ran out of ethers.”

Ignis and Gladio shared a look.

Noctis chuckled to himself. Something was funny about all this – he just couldn't put his finger on what it was.

“Noct, listen,” Ignis said, bringing a hand to the side of his face. “How many ethers did you take?”

Noctis blinked at him. More tricky questions.

“We'll help you figure it out. This is important,” Ignis pushed.

“He's shaking… is that..?” Prompto said, distinctly not helping him figure out the problem.

Ignis took over the questioning, intent on finding the answer for some reason. “So you hit your head on a rock en route to the gas station. Was that because you fell into stasis? Did you take an ether, then?”

Yeah, it was stasis then. Hurt a damn lot too. Stupid rock. “Yeah. Wait.” That wasn't the first stasis, or the first ether.

“What is it?” Ignis said, gently steering him towards answering.

“Had one before that.”

Ignis nodded. “Good. Then, the arachne, was it?”

“Yeah. Took another before the fight. And one during it, I think.”

“And then–” Ignis started.

Noctis cut him off, recalling what happened next. “Kept warpin’, stasis again. Ran out of ethers. So I walked back.”

“You walked on that leg?” Gladio asked.

What were with these questions? 

“Yeah? What leg was I supposed to use?”

Gladio rolled his eyes fondly. “Never mind.”

“Then, you took four ethers, Noct, is that right?” Ignis resumed, still with his ether investigation.

“Yeah. Feel sick.” ‘Cause he did. Maybe he took too many.

“That's not surprising,” Ignis muttered, moving a hand to his forehead, dodging the injury there. His hand felt cool on Noctis’ skin. “And now? Are you in stasis?”

He didn't even have to think about that one. “Mhm. Tired.”

“I know. I assume we're out of everything, then,” Ignis sighed, turning around slightly. 

“Yep. Nothing but a single potion,” Prompto chimed in, rubbing his hands up and down his own arms.

“That might be for the best. He's taken too many, too quickly.” 

Why was he talking like he wasn't there? So annoying.

Gladio gave Noctis an almost apologetic look. “You're gonna have to ride it out.”

“Oh.” He knew they had nothing for it, but it was still a little upsetting to hear it confirmed. Stasis was awful. He wanted it to go away. Now he couldn't stop thinking about it. How it dragged out of him, made him feel hollow and empty, how–

“Hey, Noct, you're fine. You're okay.” Gladio was there, in front of him again.

He couldn't breathe. Every inhale sent shooting pain through his chest. That only made his breaths come faster. He couldn't take a full one.

He grabbed onto Gladio. 

“Slow down. You're alright. Look at me.” Gladio placed his hand against Noctis’ heart. “Look at me. You're okay. Slow your breathing. Can you do that for me?”

There was a grip around his wrist. Ignis held it, muttering under his breath.

Noctis tried his best to match Gladio’s breathing – he was breathing loudly for some reason. Slowly, the heaving inhales reduced, and the dizziness stopped. His chest remained angry about the situation and ached terribly. He still felt he couldn't get a proper breath in. He felt weak.

After a few seconds, Gladio spoke up again. “Noct? You with me?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I'm good.” He wasn't, really.

“I wanna check your ribs, alright? I won't touch,” Gladio added in response to the uncertain noise from Noctis. He trusted him, and so he nodded in agreement.

Gladio lifted his shirt up gently, not disturbing the mess that was his shoulder, thankfully. Noctis peered down as he did so. A pretty sizeable bruise had developed in the few hours since he’d been hurt.

True to his word, Gladio didn’t touch. He stared at the injury, thinking, before he let the shirt fall down again and got to his feet, grabbing Ignis as he went.

Noctis watched them go, listening as they talked amongst each other.

“The potion should go to the ribs,” Gladio said to Ignis, who adjusted his glasses, considering.

“His shoulder is worse,” Ignis replied simply. Wait, were they talking about him?

“I know, I don’t like leaving it like that. But if he panics again,” Gladio leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice, “he might puncture a lung. Then what?”

Noctis didn’t have time to dwell on that or continue listening as Prompto appeared in his field of view, a smile on his face that only looked a little forced.

“You’re a mess, man,” Prompto said with a small laugh.

“Yeah, I know.” He could feel the blood coating the right side of his face as well as most of his body. It was pretty uncomfortable. Prompto seemed to have changed clothes at some point – his shirt wasn’t blood-soaked anymore. It made Noctis relax more, seeing tangible proof that everyone was okay. He couldn’t shake the thought that they’d just drop again, though. 

Ignis and Gladio were still talking off to the side, and Prompto summoned a cloth, wetting it with a bottle of water. Felt familiar.

“Can I?” Prompto asked, raising the cloth. Noctis wasn’t exactly sure what he was asking, but he didn’t have the brainpower to think about it too much. Prompto wouldn’t do anything bad, so it was probably fine. He nodded, and Prompto came closer, starting to wipe the blood from his face with the cloth gently.

“Don’t like seeing you covered in blood,” he said as he worked, his touch feather light near the head injury. It was relaxing, somehow. The gentle, repetitive motion and the slight chill from the cloth felt nice.

“Same,” Noctis replied. “Like, you. Don’t like seeing blood on you, either.”

“Then let’s both try our best to avoid it,” Prompto said, stepping back and admiring his handiwork. “That’s better. I can actually see you now.”

Noctis raised a hand to his face, feeling soft skin instead of dry, crusted blood. “Feels better. Thanks, Prom.”

“Anytime, buddy.”

“Look at you,” Gladio said, coming back over with Ignis at his side. “Just about ready for a ball.”

A ball? The last ball he’d been to was probably a year ago, back in Insomnia. He’d never really liked them, but he had to go. Royal appearances and all. Did they have events like that out here?

“What?” he asked instead. Ignis smiled and clapped a hand on Gladio’s shoulder, moving past him to look at Noctis’ ribs himself.

“Nothing, doesn’t matter,” Gladio said, shaking his head. “We’re gonna fix up your ribs now.”

That was good. He missed feeling no pain every time he took a breath.

“Okay,” Noctis said. With that confirmation, Ignis summoned the last potion from the Armiger. Noctis felt a twinge of unease knowing they were well and truly out now. Another attack and–

The potion cracked and Noctis almost passed out from the relief it gave. He took a deep breath, putting a hand where the damage had been and was pleased to find that it barely hurt at all. Basic potions weren’t one hundred percent perfect when it came to big injuries – a Hi-Potion would be better – but he didn’t mind at all; he’d take it.

“How do you feel?” Ignis asked as he examined the newly healed area.

“I can breathe,” Noctis said, taking another deep breath to prove it. Two potions in and he was exhausted; accelerated healing took its toll, and the blood loss probably wasn’t helping things. A nap might be in order soon. Not yet, though.

“Good. Now that that’s sorted,” Gladio began, staring at the shoulder wound. “We need to clean your shoulder, or it’ll get infected.”

Noctis would’ve gone a shade paler if he hadn’t been so pale already. The mere thought of someone touching his shoulder made him tense up. It already hurt enough as is, and prodding and poking it would only make it worse. 

“No…” he breathed. No. No. No more pain.

“Noct, I’ll be as careful as I possibly can,” Ignis said softly, already beginning to unpack the first aid kit. Noctis trembled, though he couldn’t tell if it was the fear, the ether overdose, or the blood loss that was responsible.

“Trust me, it’ll feel a hell of a lot better once it’s bandaged up. After that, we’ll grab some more potions and fix it up fully,” Gladio said, crossing his arms across his chest. “Can’t do that if it’s not clean; that’s a one-way ticket to doing some real damage.”

“I’ll be quick,” Ignis reassured, pulling out tweezers, scissors, what was left of the bandages, and disinfectant, setting them out on a clean sheet on the floor. Gods, this was going to be hell.

“Up you get,” Gladio said, pulling Noctis to his feet again. He swayed on the spot, but Gladio’s firm grip ensured he didn’t fall. “Sit against me.”

Oh, he knew that move. Seen it a hundred times before with hunters who’d been injured out in the wilds. It allowed them to be kept in place while they got treated, when there were no better options. Pain made people strong, allowed them to escape whatever was hurting them. That only ended up hurting them even more.

He didn’t have much of a choice in all this; they were probably right about the best way to treat it. His head wasn’t right – he knew that for sure. The concussion made things seem scarier somehow, more confusing. He just had to trust them. He did trust them.

So despite everything telling him to run, he lowered himself down shakily, leaning back against Gladio who sat on the haven floor, and stretched his legs out in front of him. Ignis pulled on some gloves and sat down, his materials beside him. Gladio’s arm came around Noctis’ middle, effectively locking him into place. Prompto found his hand, letting him know he was there. His heart rabbited in his chest.

And Ignis began. He peeled the barely recognisable t-shirt from the wound, the edges catching and stuck with blood. Noctis squeezed his eyes shut as the pain started, nausea curling in his stomach at the awful feeling. He held Prompto’s hand in a death grip; hopefully, he wasn’t hurting him. There was a constant stream of sound, soothing and familiar, but Noctis couldn’t focus long enough to hear it properly. 

He opened an eye to see Ignis take the tweezers in hand, peering closer at the wound first. 

“Try not to look,” Gladio’s voice rumbled from behind, and Noctis had to agree with that plan.

There must’ve been a lot stuck in there – Ignis seemed to take forever. Pulling fragments of whatever there was out, scrap by scrap. Every time he did it sent a wave of fire through the wound. Noctis tried his best to stay still, knowing moving would likely make things worse. He felt sweat drip down his neck. Noises stuck in the back of his throat. It kept going. Kept going. The arachne had the last laugh in the end.

Then, he sensed Ignis move back. Gladio’s arm tightened around him. A bottle opened.

Something wet touched his shoulder. 

His vision turned white. It burned him from the inside out. He had to get away. It hurt, it hurt, it had to stop. But he was trapped. His legs couldn’t move all of a sudden, a weight pressing down on them. He writhed and fought against his restraints as fire ravaged through his shoulder, spreading through him. The wet thing rubbed against the wound again and he screamed, his throat raw and voice broken. He thrashed and tried to push away, but something behind him stopped his movement. All he could see was black dots on a canvas of blurry images. An escape. 

He took it. 

His eyes fluttered closed, and the pain was gone.

Chapter Text

A mix of a few different things came to Noctis’ attention. Pounding in his head, in sync with his heartbeat. A sandpaper-like roughness in his throat. Burning coming from his shoulder. An intermittent pressure on his face, tap tap tapping. What was that? 

He blinked his heavy eyes open painfully slowly, the world spinning and lurching weirdly around him. His body felt like lead – it wasn't supposed to feel like that, if he remembered correctly.

The tapping stopped and a blurry thing appeared in his field of view. He blinked again, staring up at it blankly. Sound came from it. His ears might have been disconnected from his brain.

Another blink. The image started to clear. Gladio loomed above him and the tapping started again. Wait, but… he'd been hurt. They were all hurt, they–

“Noct, you with me?”

Wait, but how was he hurt? The pain seemed to cloud his brain – he couldn't connect his thoughts together very well. Better investigate.

“Come on, look at me.”

Gladio might know more.

“What happened?” is what he meant to say. What came out instead was more of a choked, “Wha..?”

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Gladio said, relief evident on his face.

Where were Prompto and Ignis? It couldn't– they'd been hurt. Hurt bad. He didn't make it back in time?

“I didn't… make it?” he asked, fear coiling in his gut.

Gladio frowned down at him, placing a large hand on his forehead. “Make what?”

This was going nowhere. He had to get answers, now.

Finding strength deep inside him, Noctis lurched up to his feet in a stilted motion, almost falling flat on his face in the process. Gladio was immediately at his side, holding tightly to his arm – the one that wasn't on the burning side.

“Noct, sit down.”

He would, he would. In a minute. He had to see…something. What was it, though? He walked on shaky legs, forward. Towards answers, hopefully. Gladio wasn’t helping much; he kept trying to steer him back.

“Is it the concussion?” A bright voice said.

“Possibly. Or the blood loss, the ether overdose, stasis, plain exhaustion…He's been through a lot today.” Another voice.

Noctis whirled around, trusting Gladio to stop him from falling over. What he saw made him freeze in place. Ignis and Prompto. They were fine. No blood anywhere.

“How?” Noctis said in awe. Why was this a revelation, again? The words caught in his abused throat, and he coughed painfully, new dizziness making things swirl together. 

“Alright, field trip’s over. Sit,” Gladio said, moving back to Ignis and Prompto.

They were sitting next to one of the sleeping bags, and yeah – they looked perfectly fine. Why did he think they weren't? Maybe his head was worse off than he thought.

He sat down slowly, Prompto grabbing his hand on the way to help steady him. Ignis produced a bottle of water, offering it to him, which he gratefully accepted. The cool liquid soothed his aching throat, and he closed his eyes in satisfaction. Someone took the bottle from him and he opened his eyes again, a surprisingly difficult endeavour seeing as they were so heavy.

Noctis felt cold. The fire must've gone out. He should think about restarting it. A brief examination of himself revealed another possibility for the chill – his shirt was gone. 

“My shirt is gone.” His shirt was gone. Why was it gone?

“It had to be removed so I could access your shoulder. Are you cold?” Ignis asked.

Okay, that made sense. His ragged shoulder seemed to pulse in agreement. He swallowed back the nausea.

“Noct?” Ignis said, drawing his attention. “Would you like your jacket?”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Noctis replied, suppressing a shiver. He had a feeling his evil shoulder wouldn't like the movement, and he didn't want to anger it even more.

Ignis grabbed his jacket from the tent and knelt down, slowly working his arms through it. The arms in question didn't want to move on their own. The jacket was probably a good call; attempting to get his bad shoulder through a shirt sleeve was definitely not on the table right now.

Gods. He was tired. He was hurting. But he couldn't get over the fact that his friends were still here with him. He had to do better, there was no other option. Had to protect them.

Noctis heard movement in the trees. His eyes widened and he pushed himself up, inadvertently agitating his injury. But that didn't matter – something was out there. And he'd kill it before it hurt anyone again.

“Oh for– Noct, sit your ass down.” Gladio's voice faded away as Noctis staggered to the haven’s edge, looking out for signs of a daemon approaching. A weapon, he needed his weapon. The engine blade appeared in his hand once again. Movement from behind him. 

Gladio, Ignis and Prompto. They could help him fend off the daemon. But last time they'd tried that…

“What’s wrong, Noct?” Ignis said beside him, looking at his face instead of surveying the area.

“Daemon, I think.” They had to be focused. 

“Buddy, it’s daytime,” Prompto said, quieter than usual. Noctis did not see the significance of that. Obviously it was day. 

“Daemons don't come out in the day,” Prompto added.

Oh.

But he– he swore he heard something. A daemon. There was always another daemon. No matter how many they killed, no matter how many times they were hurt in the process, there was always another daemon.

“I'll take that,” Gladio said, taking his blade from him. Noctis stared at him imploringly, wondering just what the hell he was thinking. Gladio didn’t seem to be even the mildest bit concerned with the potential danger for all he talked up being a Shield. It was coming – Noctis knew it was coming, and he wouldn’t be caught off guard again.

Noctis scanned the tree line, searching for even the slightest hint of an attempted attack. His shoulder pulsed in time with his pounding heart, and he didn’t even realise he’d reached up to touch it until Ignis guided his hand away gently. Noctis rubbed at his eyes as a sudden spell of tiredness threatened to ruin his focus. And dizziness. And nausea. It felt like they came as a package deal these days.

Ignis furrowed his brow and lifted Noctis’ jacket slightly off his shoulder, peering at it closely. He cursed softly, and Gladio and Prompto both turned to look at him, questions in their eyes. Were they only now noticing he’d hurt his shoulder?

“Still bleeding,” Ignis reported. Noctis looked down and yeah, sure enough, there was a small pinprick of red on the white bandage that consumed his shoulder. Probably not a good sign. 

“Shit. We’ll go now, then,” Gladio sighed, taking a look at the shoulder himself before taking hold of Noctis’ arm. “Time for a nap, Noct.”

Noctis continued watching the forest. Waiting. “No. Not until… the daemon–”

“Noct.” Gladio stood in front of him, his face completely genuine. “We won’t let anything happen. Nothing will get you.”

Noctis swallowed, begrudgingly tearing his eyes away from surveillance as Gladio navigated them both back towards the sleeping bags.

“But, before I– I let it get to everyone. Hurt you all,” Noctis whispered, looking up at Gladio, trying to get him to understand that he couldn’t do it again. 

Gladio sighed, weary and deep. In it, something bigger that Noctis didn’t see before. As they reached the sleeping bags, Noctis sat down, surrounded by people who looked like they all had something to say.

“Listen,” Gladio said. “It was not your fault. Hear me? Nothing that happened was your fault. We let you down. And you still pulled through for all of us.”

“Now it’s our turn to help you, Noct,” Ignis said gently, shaking out a pillow that came from nowhere. “We won’t let anything near you.”

Prompto crouched down, grabbing Noctis’ hand and squeezing. “I said it before man, you saved us – like you always do. Take a nap, put your feet up; you’ve earned it!”

Noctis was conflicted. There was no danger, it was just his mixed-up brain making things out of nothing. But, could he really..?

“You did good, kid. Real good,” Gladio said, ruffling his hair lightly.

He did. He did good. They were alive, everyone was okay. The danger was gone – for now at least. 

Ignis pushed Noctis down until he was lying on the sleeping bag, his head resting on the pillow. He really was tired. Near-death experiences tended to do that.

“Rest, Noct,” Ignis said simply. 

He shut his eyes. Sleep came quickly – every injury, the stasis, blood loss, concussion and all the shitty things that had happened combined to drag him under.

And rest probably was a good idea. Along with elixirs and ethers (though having any more was probably ill-advised at the minute), sleep was one of the best ways to recover from stasis, especially after so many episodes in a day. Not to mention the concussion would benefit from it too. So yeah, sleep was good.

Not that it lasted for long, though. His shoulder burned unrelentingly, forcibly pulling Noctis from the brief respite. He kept his eyes closed and just lay there. After the rest, his body somehow felt heavier than it had been earlier, and he imagined opening his eyes would set the world off spinning again. He was keen to avoid that.

There was movement near his shoulder, something poking around the area. Pressure landed on the wound and Noctis gasped, opening his eyes to see Ignis looking back at him in surprise.

“Noct! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Ignis said, covering up the wound with Noctis’ jacket.

“What’re you doin’?” Noctis asked him, already feeling ready to sleep again.

Ignis held Noctis’ wrist in his hand, circling it and probably checking his pulse. “The bleeding hasn’t stopped. I’m trying to slow it as best I can until Prompto and Gladio get back.”

Noctis furrowed his brow. He didn’t even notice they were gone. “Where..?”

“The gas station – they’re purchasing more curatives. Once you’ve taken a Hi-Potion or two, you’ll be back to normal in no time at all,” he answered, putting a hand on Noctis’ forehead next.

“No, Iggy, I– I spent all our money. Earlier.” Because he did. He used the last of their little savings to buy the stuff that saved their lives. Didn’t they realise that?

“They will turn in the Yojimbo hunt on the way there,” Ignis said patiently. He shook his head. “At least we’re getting something out of that damned creature in the end.”

“Cool… nice,” Noctis said, already falling asleep again. He’d love to chat more, but he’d also really like to not feel the constant stabbing from his shoulder. So, easy choice. More sleep it was.

He didn't get to hear if Ignis said anything else; the second he closed his eyes, he was dead to the world again. 

The next time Noctis woke up, it was to rustling and low conversation happening very close by. More poking around his shoulder, and pressure lifting – the bandages being taken off most likely. The pain was dulled somewhat, which was a weird thing because as far as he knew, it should be on fire. Maybe he'd gotten used to it at this point.

Noctis forced his eyes open once more, just catching the sight of his shoulder's red-soaked bandages being moved away, out of view. He felt stuck between sleep and consciousness, like it could be a dream but was very real at the same time. His body seemed to weigh a ton, though it also felt light. Very weird sensations that made the situation that much stranger. Prompto was there at some point, saying something he couldn't entirely make out. Noctis blinked, and Gladio appeared, holding a Hi-Potion in his hand. The next blink, a soft green glow spreading over his injury and–

The pain melted away, leaving nothing but a bone-deep exhaustion that always came from using potions, especially the heavy-duty ones like Hi-Potions. For the first time since the Yojimbo attack, he felt no pain. Noctis sighed in relief, sinking down even further into whatever he was lying on. A hand carded through his hair, and Noctis fell back into the blackness – deeper, deeper and deeper.

And he floated there for a while, so it seemed. Or maybe it was barely any time at all. Hard to say, but the lack of burning was nice. He could feel the stasis lifting too, releasing a huge weight from him and allowing his energy to begin building back up. Thoughts were coming clearer as the concussion began to heal – the Hi-Potion might’ve had a hand in that as well – and it was nice to be able to actually link thoughts together again.

What a day. A shit show, to say the least. If he told his teenage self that in a couple years he'd be fighting for his life in the wilderness, going up against daemons and the limits of his own abilities, he would've laughed before going back to sleep.

But there was something bothering him. Where were the Six? Titan and Ramuh, at least. Did they just sit back and watch while he was attacked repeatedly, almost dying in multiple instances throughout the night? It could've been the stasis that prevented their summoning – it took a lot out of him to do it. Though, further back than that, during the Yojimbo attack – he'd been fine magic-wise then. They should've helped; it wasn't like it was an easy victory in the end.

Noctis was probably the only one in the group who still had some semblance of faith in the Astrals. The others used to have their varying beliefs but over time, after seeing the toll everything Astral-related took on him, their trust began to fade. Which was fair – Noctis had to wonder about their motivations himself sometimes. His role required him to keep his trust in them though, at least for a little while, until all the Covenants were made. 

His faith had taken a hit tonight, that was for damn sure.

But hey, the fact that he could even have this debate with himself was a good sign. The concussion, exhaustion and probably the ether overdose on top of that had thoroughly scrambled his brain. Thinking back, it was a little funny how out of it he'd been. Being completely and utterly focused on one task – saving his friends – was likely the only reason he'd been able to stay standing.

He was awake, he realised. Lying still with his eyes closed. Made sense. Not a lot of internal discussion tended to happen when asleep.

Noctis opened his eyes to the inside of the tent. The door flaps were shut, blocking the view of the haven and leaving him a little disoriented thanks to not knowing if it was day or night.

He felt like he'd been sleeping for a long time, a kind of heaviness weighing him down as he lay. Tentatively, he reached a hand to his injured shoulder, letting out a breath when it didn't hurt a bit. Those Hi-Potions did their work.

Overall, he was feeling pretty good. Which was a nice change of pace.

After taking a minute to prepare, Noctis slowly pushed himself up from the floor, slightly concerned about how tired the motion left him. He sat cross-legged, rubbing his eyes with one hand. Trying to wake himself up a little more.

He swallowed, wincing at the sandpaper-like feeling in his throat. He summoned a bottle of water from the Armiger and took a long drink, placing the half-empty bottle down on the tent floor when his throat felt more normal again.

As he took a long breath, the tent flaps pulled open slightly, causing a streak of blinding light to enter and hit Noctis in the eye. He squinted towards the entrance and towards Prompto, whose eyes widened at the sight of him.

“Noct! You're finally awake!” Prompto said, entering the tent and sitting across from Noctis. 

“Yep,” Noctis said, clearing his throat before continuing. “How long was I out for?”

Prompto shook his head and his brow furrowed for a moment before he met Noctis’ eyes again. “Like a whole day, man.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Noctis responded, running a hand through his greasy hair. Still felt like there was blood in it. “You all okay?”

“Yeah, we've just been a little worried.” 

Noctis rolled his shoulders, ready to finally move around. “Nothing to worry about now. Let's move outside – better not keep the other two waiting.”

Prompto nodded and stood, bent over in the confines of the tent, and moved to the entrance. He turned and held a hand out towards Noctis, who took it and got to his feet only somewhat unsteadily. Blame it on being knocked out for a day.

They exited the tent, Noctis raising a hand to shield his eyes from the barrage of light. Looked to be about midday if he had to guess.

“Look who I found!” Prompto called, putting an arm around Noctis’ shoulders. Gentler than usual, it felt like.

Gladio and Ignis were sitting by the fire and stood when they appeared, relief clear on their faces despite their weak attempts to hide it. 

“Hey, there he is,” Gladio said, approaching with a wide grin on his face, Ignis following not far behind. “Have a nice nap?”

“I did, yeah,” Noctis replied. “Prom said I was out for a day?”

“Yes, that's about right. We thought it best to let you rest, you sorely needed it. Though, more importantly,” Ignis pressed, placing a hand on Noctis’ forehead. “How are you feeling now?”

Noctis shrugged as both Gladio and Ignis carried out their own quick examinations. They pulled back his shirt to look at his shoulder and tilted his head, peering at his eyes. Putting their minds at ease. Noctis understood – he let them do what they needed to. Gladio moved his arm around, testing the range of motion, while Ignis looked at his head injury that had caused so many problems. Prompto remained a constant presence, craning his head to look where they looked, watching their reactions as they went. 

“I’m okay. Really,” Noctis said as they moved back, satisfied with what they found – or didn’t find.

“Any pain?” Ignis asked.

“Nope. I’m good.” 

Which was true. If anything, he was just–

“Hungry?” 

He had to wonder if Ignis could read his mind sometimes.

“Actually, yeah. Starving,” Noctis said. It had been like close to two days since he had anything.

“Sit, and I’ll get something for you,” Ignis said, gesturing towards the various scattered chairs that sat around the unlit fire. The sight of the pile of ashes and soot gave Noctis a brief feeling of déjà vu. He brushed it off – was probably nothing.

“Thanks, Iggy,” Noctis said with a nod, moving towards the fire. Prompto and Gladio flanked him as Ignis headed towards their small kitchen setup.

Noctis sighed heavily as he dropped down into one of the camp chairs, practically sinking into it.

“Hey, Noct,” Prompto said, taking a seat himself. Noctis met his gaze, encouraging him to continue. “Thanks for… well, you know, saving our lives and all. Still don’t know how you did it – you were seriously messed up when we woke up.”

Noctis huffed a laugh – it was easier to look back on things now that he wasn’t in agonising pain every waking second. “I was so focused on getting back, it was like everything that happened on the way was just a small obstacle in the grand scheme of things. Of course, when I did get back… things kinda fell apart. It’s a bit of a blur, honestly. Adrenaline makes you capable of crazy things.”

“Yeah, adrenaline and about ten ethers, you mean,” Gladio cut in.

“Exaggeration, but yeah. That wasn’t fun,” Noctis responded, remembering the aftereffects of that particular choice. “I have to keep on top of things better. We got insanely lucky – and that’s saying something.”

“It’s not all up to you, but I agree. We’ll keep better track of supplies, make sure we’re not caught out again,” Gladio said. “And schedule in some more training. The Yojimbo made a mess out of us – it will not happen a second time.”

“Ooh, I do not like the sound of that,” Prompto whined, slumping back in his seat.

“Hey, I killed it and an arachne,” Noctis shot back. “Why do I have to train more?”

Gladio raised his eyebrows, a thoroughly unimpressed look on his face. “Yeah, you killed them and almost died as a result. Iggy agrees with me, don’t you Ig?” he called in the direction of the kitchen.

Ignis glanced over, picking up a plate from the counter. “And what am I agreeing to?” he asked, moving towards them. 

“More training.” Gladio grinned, clapping a hand on Prompto’s shoulder. “The earlier, the better.”

Ignis hummed, handing the plate – which contained an incredible-looking something-sandwich – to Noctis before sitting on another chair. “Well, it can’t hurt. There’s always room for improvement, especially now that we know we’re severely lacking in places.”

“I knew you’d say that, gods, I swear I heard it in my head before you said a word,” Prompto pouted. Ignis rolled his eyes before throwing an apple in Prompto’s direction. Like a dog with a bone, he lit up and caught it, taking a huge bite and immediately looking less depressed at the promise of extra training.

Even Noctis couldn’t complain too much – they did need to work on some things, and getting stronger would ease his mind a little. Plus, the sandwich was damn good and he was more focused on that than the fact he’d have to wake up at dawn to run circles around the haven. At dawn. Training. Early. Huh… it was starting to sound worse every second.

But looking around at his friends bickering between each other, laughing, alive… well. He found he couldn’t complain about much at all.