Archive of Our Own

Please Notice Me

“And this is my son, Prince Noctis.”
Following his father’s introduction of him, Noctis reluctantly holds out a hand and allows the foreign leader to shake it enthusiastically. He only meets the man’s gaze momentarily before averting his eyes with annoyance, fighting the urge to not roll his eyes. He feels a slight bit of relief when his hand is released, which he lets fall back to his side.
The foreign leader, with a large and excited grin, brings his attention to Regis, who is standing next to Noctis. “Your Majesty, I thank you so much for squeezing a meeting in with us today. We are such a small nation most ignore us, so we are grateful for your support.” He bows at the waist while looking up at Regis with kind eyes.
Noctis looks at the leader again. He notes his gray uniform that reminds him of the dark uniforms of Lucis’ Kingsglaive, but made of a lesser material and with less intricate of a design. The man wearing it has short, messy strawberry blond hair and appears to be in about his mid-forties. He radiates appreciation and fascination, and the three men standing behind him seem only slightly less enthusiastic. Despite the sincerity of the group of foreigners, Noctis quietly huffs in boredom.
“I am happy to find friends wherever I can find them, regardless of how large or powerful they may be,” Regis replies. “I only hope that the children here today do not disturb you too much; they had been invited over a few weeks ago to play, and I did not wish to disappoint them.”
“No, no! Not at all!” The man responds. “Besides, not much would bother me if it means I get a meeting with the king of Lucis!”
Noctis shows his dislike of the situation a bit more with a slight downward tug of his lips. He had been looking forward to meeting some of the children who live in the Citadel or come from nearby families who assist the Citadel. With his father constantly busy and only being able to meet with Ignis, Gladiolus, and Prompto, and being graduated from high school, he was hoping to find more people with things in common with him. Now, his play date is being crashed by a government from a county he had only heard of in geography class. He accidentally huffs loudly enough to be heard by those standing nearest him.
“Noctis,” Regis says gently, turning his attention to him upon hearing his disapproval. “If you are tired, you may go rest in your quarters until the luncheon. Or if you’d rather still play with your peers, they’re in the drawing room.”
Noctis makes an uncomfortable face due to his father referring to him ‘playing’ with others, making him sound childish despite being twenty years old. “Yeah, whatever.”
“But do mind your manners while in the presence of our kind guests.”
Feeling slightly guilty, Noctis looks back up at the gracious foreign man before him. “Sorry. Yeah, welcome to Lucis.”
“Thank you, Prince Noctis,” the man responds, happy to be spoken to by the prince. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
Noctis forces a smile and nods, and now turns to go through the doors leading to the drawing room. As he exits and lets the doors shut behind himself, he sees about a dozen young people ranging from what looks like about six years old to about sixteen years old, talking and giggling in various spots in the room. He scratches at the back of his head, having hoped for more people closer to his own age to hang out with. As he looks around, he spots Iris and Talcott seated on the red sofa, so he approaches them.
“Prince Noctis!” Talcott cheers, twisting in the burgundy seat. He scoots his legs forcefully to push himself further from Iris and over to the other end of the piece of furniture, freeing up the middle of the sofa. “It’s so good to see you!”
“Hey. Good to see you, too, Talcott,” Noctis says in a slightly better mood. He seats himself on the middle cushion and looks at Iris. “So, are we the oldest ones here?”
“Looks that way,” she giggles. “I guess your retainers are the closest ones to your own age.”
“Who are those people in the other room?” Talcott questions with interest.
“Just some leaders of a tiny, worthless government my dad decided to ruin our plans with for some reason,” Noctis says with a sigh. “I was hoping Dad would take us to the gardens or something, but . . .”
Iris gives Noctis a look of pity, hearing the disappointment in his voice. “Aww, I’m sorry, Noct. Maybe next time.” She changes her tune in an attempt to raise his spirits. “At least you’ll have plenty of time to meet all these kids, though. You’ll be their king someday, you know.”
Noctis blinks upon hearing this. “Huh. I hadn’t thought about that.” This elicits another giggle from Iris. He glances around the room with her sentence going through his mind, observing the young faces that will someday belong to his employees.
“Well, what should we do, Prince Noctis?” Talcott urges as he wiggles energetically in his seat.
“Hmm. I’m not sure. Prompto and Gladio are the ones who usually come up with games to play,” Noctis admits. “And they’re not coming over today.” Shyly, he looks to Iris, who is watching him with interest. “Iris, what do you think?”
“Well, we want to get to know everyone, right? I think we can’t go wrong with ‘Truth or Dare’,” she suggests.
“Ooooh, that’s a good one!” Talcott adds. “But the little kids might like ‘Hide and Seek’ better.”
“Um, okay,” he agrees while rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess we could try starting with ‘Hide and Seek’ and see how that goes. The younger ones will probably leave earlier anyway, right?”
“Great idea,” Iris compliments. She excitedly gets to her feet and steps to the middle of the room. “Hey, everybody!” she calls out. Quickly, the children stop what they are doing and give her their full attention, resulting in a doll being dropped, a crayon rolling across the coffee table, and one teen stomping on another’s toe. “We’re gonna play a game of ‘Hide and Seek’ with the prince! Who wants to play?” The room erupts with ‘Me’s and ‘I do’s, prompting Noctis and Talcott to rise from their seats and meet Iris in the center of the drawing room. “Noct, do you wanna divide us all up into teams?”
“Um, sure. Maybe . . . by what colors we’re wearing?”
Iris takes note of Noctis wearing his royal raiment to compare it to she and Talcott’s attire, which consists of their usual garments. “Okay, so maybe black or white, red or pink, blue, and green?”
“Yeah, whatever works.”
Iris works to divide all sixteen of the people in the room into four groups of four based on the color of their clothing to the best of her ability. After spending more time than necessary on that due to children throwing paper wads and paper airplanes at one another across the room, she looks to Noctis only to see him still being very shy. She decides to announce some rules, which consist of only staying in the immediate areas of the grand room, the drawing room, the adjacent dining room, and the kitchen. When all of that is explained and understood smoothly, she checks on Noctis’ status again, seeing him looking only slightly more engaged.
“Prince Noctis, do you wanna hide or seek first?” Talcott asks him.
“Uh, how about I hide first?” he responds. He knows this game is very childish for someone his age, so he feels a little embarrassed about playing it. However, he wants to please his guests and experience playing it with someone other than classmates he disliked in elementary school.
“Okay! Teams Black and Green will hide, and Teams Red and Blue will seek!” Iris communicates. “Ready . . . ? Go!”
Noctis stands still for a moment, feeling unsure of where to go. He watches as eight of the people cover their eyes with their hands and count aloud together, and the seven others run in different directions to go hide. He knows he only has one minute to find a hiding spot, so he looks behind him in the direction of the doorway back into the grand room where his father is having his meeting. He resists a smirk as he begins running in that direction and quickly goes through the door and into the room.
Taking a moment to stand in the doorway to see what is happening, Noctis notices his father sitting in the largest recliner in the room, while around him on smaller chairs sit Clarus, Cor, and Drautos. Across from them are the four leaders from the other country sharing a couch. The group of them were talking, but upon Noctis coming into the room, Regis, Clarus, and the leader Noctis met but cannot remember his name turn to look at him instead of one another. He grins and waves at them before speeding into a run straight toward the couch where the foreign leaders are sitting. He slides into the floor and curls up between the wall and the back of the couch, having chosen this location to hide in for the game.
Regis sits quietly due to the unforeseen tension in the room, but does not freeze. He feels several pairs of eyes on him that are trying to pry an explanation from him, but does not allow it to make him nervous. He hears Clarus clear his throat in an almost threatening manner, but does not flinch. Instead, Regis sits up even straighter to tackle the situation professionally and calls out, “Noctis? Are you alright?”
“Shhhh!” Noctis responds, lying on his side against the carpeted floor. “They’ll find me! We’re playing ‘Hide and Seek’!”
The king had hoped to receive a more serious response from his grown son than being shushed for a game. Feeling a bit embarrassed, he takes a deep breath slowly enough that no one notices and clutches his cane more tightly in his hand. While fighting the urge to glare, he sees that one of the men sitting across from him turns his head just enough to get a glimpse at Noctis lying behind him. “Noct, I know I said you could play, but right now, we are –.”
“Teeheehee!” a child in a red dress giggles as she bursts in through the door with a male child in a blue pant suit behind her. “Priiiince Nooooctiiiiis~!” She sings. “Are you in here?!”
“Prince Noctis, I’m gonna find –,” the child in blue begins, but stops upon seeing King Regis. Appearing about seven years old at the most, the child still immediately bows with sincerity, feeling bad for unknowingly interrupting his king. “Y-y-your Majesty . . ."
Noctis hears the giggles of the first child coming closer to the couch, so he crawls further between the wall and couch so that he is about to go around to the far side of it, hoping to get out of view. He cannot help but smile while doing so, enjoying the disruption he is causing. There being little light and the area being quite tight, he accidentally bumps into the couch while trying to squeeze behind it to go around. He silently tilts his head sharply in frustration, expecting to be found at any second.
“Teehehe! I found you, Prince Noctis!” the child in the dress laughs, pointing at him from behind where he is crawling in the dark space.
Noctis looks over his shoulder to see behind himself, seeing that he is indeed spotted. “Guess I made it too easy . . .” He hears the giggles and footsteps disappear back into the other room, indicating the pair of children have left.
“Your Majesty,” the red-haired male sitting at the end of the couch where Noctis was crawling toward asks Regis. He receives an allowing nod from the king, so he says, “May I ask your son a question?”
“Of course,” Regis responds.
The red-haired man watches as Noctis pops through the tight spot and stands up right next to him while dusting his striped pants. “Prince Noctis?” the man asks, waiting for Noctis to stop fidgeting and look at him attentively. “How old are you?”
Noctis feels his face automatically flush slightly upon being asked the question, knowing his behavior is prompting it. Though his plan of messing up the meeting is going well, he hates that he has to make himself look bad for it to work. “T-twenty,” he answers shyly with his eyes averted. “As of last month.”
“It’s nice of you to take such an interest in the children here,” the leader of the foreigners says, trying to find something good in the situation. “I wish my son would have been so enthusiastic. Trying to get him to help with the kids was like asking him to fight a pack of behemoths!”
Regis smiles at the leader, thankful for the support. He knows his face must be showing signs of his humiliation for his son, despite his best efforts to hide it. Not wanting to seem uncaring about their meeting being treated so insignificantly, he decides to speak to his son before he finishes the walk back into the drawing room. “Noctis.”
Noctis stops and looks at his dad with a bored expression. “Yeah?”
Regis pushes his weights down against his cane as he rises from his seat. With posh, he walks across the room and just past his son, causing the latter to turn his body to face him so that Regis’ words will be harder for the audience to hear. “Noct, this is not acceptable behavior before these visitors,” he says in a quiet but serious tone, looking straight down into his shorter son’s eyes. “You have been nothing but rude and immature around them. You know better than to act this way.” The eyes his are glued to turn away and are accompanied by a frown and swallow from their owner. “Look at me.” The blue eyes lock in with his again, displaying a hint of fear this time, and he feels Noctis cross his arms tightly across his chest between them. “This is your warning. If you act up again, you will be punished.” He continues his hard stare into those younger eyes until they blink three times from the stinging of the tension. Regis releases him from the grip of his stare by looking more at his face than just at his eyes. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” Noctis mumbles while looking at the floor. There is a pause, so he looks up to see his father staring at him harshly again, waiting for a proper response. Noctis rubs the back of his head and looks him in the face again. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” He looks across the room at his own team and the foreign one. “Now apologize to everyone.”
Noctis sighs and takes a few steps toward the other end of the room. Three of the four outsiders plus Drautos look at him, not having heard the conversation, but knowing he was being scolded. “Sorry . . .”
Regis huffs, not liking the weak and informal apology his son has given. He walks to his son’s side, places a hand on his shoulder, and says loudly enough for everyone to hear, “Noctis, you are speaking to your leaders and our guests, not your friends. Please give a proper apology. And with meaning.” He allows his hand to move to Noctis’ back as if to support and encourage him, despite his frustration.
Noctis looks at his father nervously. This time, he is actually trying to obey, but is unsure of how. He thinks for a moment, trying to remember the last time he had to apologize to a guest, but the incidents were so stressful for him he tried to block them from his memory. He moves his thoughts in the direction of Ignis, trying to remember how he would have advised him to deliver this message. He swallows and says, “I’m sorry. I was rude. I won’t come back in here. I apologize.”
Regis nods. Though it is not the most eloquent, he appreciates it was said with a least a bit of feeling. He pats Noctis on the back and nods again to dismiss him before returning to his seat.

The meeting continues for about forty-five minutes uninterrupted and with success on both sides. Not only do the two groups compromise on a new trade agreement about seafood and spices, but some dad jokes were exchanged and laughter spread. This has been the best first meeting Lucis has had with another kingdom, so Regis wonders how much better it could have been if his son had not caused problems. He nods to Clarus as he requests to go into the kitchen to get himself some water, his scratchy throat demanding more liquid due to his allergies.
With a slight grin on his face, Clarus makes his way through the large rooms of the citadel. The meeting has put him in good spirits, and hearing the laughter of children nearby only makes him feel even better. He even feels an urge to visit Gladiolus to tell him how much the visitors appreciated his jokes that his son claims are lame. With these thoughts going, he opens the door to the kitchen, and what he sees turns his smile into a look of shock and revolt.
Noctis looks up from where he is squatted in the floor next to the kitchen island with distress upon seeing Clarus staring at him. As he gets to his feet, he sees Clarus turn and close the door behind him as he exits. Noctis glances around the room and takes a deep breath. The curtains are torn down from the windows and hanging on the counter tops. Raw egg is spread across those same counter tops all around the room with the shells and cartons discarded all over the floor. Smashed vegetables are smeared all in the bowl and all over the handles of the sink as if someone really hated the vegetables. A pack of cookies is strewn everywhere with a few having been bitten. Wet spaghetti noodles are stuck to and hanging from the ceiling. Sticky orange soda is covering some of the tile floor. Carefully, Noctis walks toward the door Clarus went through and stops, wondering if he should run or stay. He had hoped no one would catch him in the act and the disaster could be blamed on the children, wanting to ruin the meeting further but not wanting to get into trouble. He glances back at where Clarus had spotted him in the floor to see it is obvious he was putting laxative into the coffee maker full of Ebony. He now knows he is caught, so he decides to stand and wait.
Seconds later, the door slams open, revealing his father red-faced with wrath. He first turns his head slowly as he takes in the condition of the room. He takes a fierce breath as he looks at his son, who looks genuinely afraid. “Noctis Lucis Caelum! Why have you done this?!”
“I –!” Noctis shouts.
“Don’t lie to me! Tell me what has made you do this! Clarus saw you, so don’t say the children did this!”
Noctis takes a deep breath through his nose, trying to calm himself down before answering. He can feel his lip trembling slightly as his father’s furious voice and expression have him unnerved. “I . . . I just thought . . .” His lip trembles visibly, so he swallows and sniffs to keep his tears down. “I thought it would be funny.”
Regis shakes for a quick second from rage. “Funny?! You thought that this would be funny ?!” He realizes he no longer hears children, so he looks behind himself to see that in his craze, he forgot to shut the door behind himself. He sees a few kids skitter away in the connected dining room, so he slams the door shut behind himself. He looks back to Noctis, who looks shorter than previously due to clutching his own arms and bending slightly from fright. “The luncheon is set to begin in thirty minutes! I will have to apologize to our kind guests again for having to delay it because of your mess!” He watches as two tears fall from Noctis’ left eye. “I cannot believe the brat you are being today! You have embarrassed me!”
A single sob escapes from Noctis. “D-Dad . . . !”
“Go to your room,” he says firmly. “Leave the doors unlocked. I will explain to our guests that I will be giving you a quick but effective lesson, then I will go see you.”
Noctis wipes his eye and takes off running past his father, obeying while his heart flies and pounds with dread. He passes Iris in the dining room where she is talking with the teenagers and hears her begin to speak to him as he dashes past them. He makes his way to the stairs and climbs them despite the tears in his eyes blocking a lot of his view. His footsteps clack loudly due to his dress shoes as he hurries through the halls until he reaches his suite. Panicking, he drops his keys after pulling them out of his pocket, forcing him to bend over and drop a tear on the hard floor while reaching for them. He manages to unlock the main door despite his trembling hand and enters without locking it behind him. He drops the keys on the bare table next to the door and goes through the nearly-empty sitting room, most of his items in his own apartment now. He goes on into his bedroom and turns on the light switch. He allows himself to drop on the edge of his queen-size bed, finding it a more comforting spot to be than the sitting area, and waits with immense dread for his father to come see him.
Noctis takes another deep breath, this time with his eyes closed. He tries to calm himself down, not wanting to cry in front of his father anymore. He remembers how angry he looked and yelled at him in the kitchen and frowns, hating that frightening, booming voice and seeing his usually gentle features turn harsh toward him. Being told he has embarrassed his father is the most painful thing that has transpired in a while, making his gut clench and ache just thinking over the moment it had happened. He was successful in upsetting his father and disrupting his international meeting, but is not sure it was worth the trouble he is facing now.
He wonders exactly how he will punish him, so he thinks about some of the previous ways his father has dealt with his poor behavior before. Usually, his father calms down and gives him a harsh lecture, and then has Ignis repeat the lecture to him in his own style the next day to make sure it sticks. Sometimes, he has to help clean training equipment, which smells really bad, and he gets to hear Gladio lecture him while he does it. The punishment he usually gets when he acts the worst is being grounded, which he hates the most because it means he cannot be with Prompto outside of school. As he tries to think of some other punishments he has endured, the main door of his suite opens, which he can see through the open door of the bedroom.
King Regis closes the door behind him and even takes a moment to lock it, sending a sharp pang of fear through his son. He turns and spots him on his bed, which is adorned with covers in case Noctis ever needs to use it. He walks into the bedroom, leaving the door open, and stops to stare down at his son. Wide, scared eyes look up at him, but they do not work to soften the king’s anger.
“Noctis, you are a child of royal blood.” Despite having only begun the next part of his lecture, the king pauses, his own words leading to a realization. “No, that is the problem, isn’t it?” He stares at Noctis, who is giving him a slightly confused look. “You are supposed to be an adult, but you act like a child. One so poorly-behaved a guest asked your age. I hope you felt even a fraction of the shame I did in that moment.” He pauses, watching Noctis drop his head and play with his hands. “Do you have anything you’d like to say for yourself?”
Noctis hesitates while rubbing his fingernails. He sniffs and looks back up at his father with dread and shame. “I’m sorry. And . . . I am a-ashamed.”
“Of getting caught or of what you have done?” Regis takes a few steps, not even requiring a response. “What you did in the grand room was simply childish and without discretion. As embarrassing as it was, I was letting you off with a reminder to act better. But what Clarus described to me and what I witnessed . . .” Regis shakes his head while looking around at the desolate room that had previously been full of Noctis’ favorite things. “There is nothing excusable about that scene! What were you thinking?!”
“It was just a prank!” Noctis chokes.
“Why?!”
Noctis drops a hand against his thigh in frustration, wishing this situation would hurry up and end. There is nothing he hates more than being reprimanded by his father, so he wishes it would end and he could just begin his miserable punishment. He feels a little queasy in his stomach from all of the scolding already. “I’m sorry, okay?!” He crosses his arms again defensively. “Playing with little kids isn’t exactly what I expected. And you wouldn’t let me go home until after you finished with those guys.”
“You are a brat , Noct.” Regis declares. He watches as Noctis gives him an expression of disgrace and hurt, as if tears will be coming any second. “The very definition. It hurts me to admit it, but I must accept and deal with what is before me.” Regis walks across the floor and past where Noctis is sitting on the edge of the bed, his shoes slowly making loud sounds on the floor not much unlike his son’s did in outside of the suite. He picks up one of the large decorative pillows and tosses it just above the center of the bed, causing Noctis to look curiously in its direction. He moves the other pillows and the covers over slightly to pull out the real pillow from underneath, unearthing it and setting it in a spot proper for someone to sleep on. He steps back and stops when he gets in front of his son. He looks at him with more pain than anger in his eyes this time, but with the same amount of resolution. “Lie down on your tummy for me, hips on the pillow.”
Noctis shifts and blinks, not understanding. “What?”
Regis gestures toward the large pink pillow he tossed on the bed. “Lie down with that pillow under your hips.” He pauses, seeing Noctis’ reaction unchanged. “You are getting a spanking.”
Noctis feels his entire form change temperature; his face is fighting between turning red with humiliation and white with fear. He has only ever gotten a spanking two other times in his life, and he had thought the guilt his father expressed afterward meant he would never be hit by him again. “D-Dad . . . ,” he says in a trembling voice.
“Now, Noct!” he commands, the anger returning a bit.
Noctis accidentally lets out a whimper as he twists on the bed to lie down as ordered, and pulls the real pillow under his head for support. His face decides to blush for the moment upon feeling his bottom lifted in the air from the thick decorative pillow under his hips. Being an adult now, despite his father’s accusations, he decides the pain will not be as bad as it was when he was younger, but the shame of having his bottom slapped by his dad will be much worse. He lies there in wait while watching his father, dreading the next few moments. In his mind, he prays to the six for this to only be a threat and for his father to not actually go through with this action.
“Good.” Regis takes a moment to look at his son wearing the fine suit Ignis had chosen for him to wear for today’s occasion. Instead of using it for sitting with the adults and discussing politics and forging international relationships like his father had hoped, he is wearing it while lying on his old bed waiting for a spanking to be delivered to him by his parent. If Noctis had been the child of any other royal, Regis would find this hilarious, but it being his own son, he finds it disgraceful, painful, and enraging.
The king steps as close as he can to the bed and leans one hand against his cane for support and reaches the other across the bed and over Noctis’ derriere. Though he loathes to hit his son, he focuses on his anger and on how he would expect any other father to deal with this situation, helping him find the strength he needs to give out this discipline. Quickly, he brings his hand up and slams it down against the seat of Noctis’ pants, eliciting a loud gasp from Noctis. Having well-survived the one hit to his son, he forces himself to continue the attack.
Noctis bites his lip as he feels the hand of his father continue to come down slowly across his buttocks twice more. As he had expected, it does not hurt as much as it had when he received his last spanking years ago. He closes his eyes and grips the pillow, trying to imagine something pleasant to keep his mind away from what he is enduring emotionally. However, his attempt at a daydream is severed upon hearing his father say, “Take your pants down.”
Regis stares tensely at Noctis, who looks over his shoulder at him with arched brows. “Hurry up. I don’t have all day – there are important people waiting for me to finish a meeting with them.”
“But why?” Noctis complains.
Regis feels his blood begin to boil upon his son resisting his commands, but decides he will kindly explain. “Because your pants are blocking the hits too much. You’ll feel it more without them, and I can finish your lesson faster.”
Noctis sighs with aggravation as he lifts his hips from the pillow and undoes his buttons and zipper of his pants. He moves to sit on his knees and pulls them down quickly mid-way down his thighs, showing his soft gray briefs. He lies back down against the pillow and attempts his daydream tactic again, hoping he will still not feel the hits much. Though this is much more embarrassing than with his pants on, he decides to focus on Tenebrae to try to not think about how he looks right now.
Regis resumes his position and lands a hit against the underwear, getting a gasp from Noctis very similar to the one received from the first hit with the pants on, indicating the pain surprised him again. Hoping this will be sufficient, he continues his assault, getting small whimpers and wines from Noctis, as well as minor squirms of discomfort. Still dissatisfied with the amount of time being taken, he stops again. “Your underwear is going to have to go as well.”
Noctis’ face becomes even redder than before, yet his stomach feels cold inside. He grips the covers around him and wiggles his feet a bit while looking back at his dad. “I can’t . . . no . . . ,” he begs, feeling helpless as he refuses to do anything to physically fight his father. “I can’t do it . . . it’s too . . .”
Quickly putting an end to the issue, Regis reaches up and pulls the underwear down by the band, bringing them down just below his bottom. He looks at the soft marshmallow-like buttocks of the prince, seeing it is tinted pink from his doing. Needing to hurry, he brings his hand up yet again and returns to the task at hand.
“Ah!” Noctis breathes, his gasp coming out as more of a cry this time. The loud sound of his tender skin being smacked from the rough palm of his father’s hand echoes through the room, making the vulnerability Noctis is feeling feel even more overwhelming. Without any clothing to buffer the skin-to-skin contact, the pain is much more pronounced as well. Just as he was beginning to feel the greatest shame of his life upon his bottom being bared to his father, that feeling is multiplied from crying out in pain over it being struck in a punishment he thought was for children. Every other second, he feels the palm of his dad’s large hand hit one of his butt cheeks, making it jiggle and sting painfully, and more so each time. He latches onto his pillow under his head tightly and closes his eyes as he lets out another bleat from the pain. He thinks about the word ‘sylleblossom’ and tries to picture the beautiful flower, but his brain is struggling to come up with the proper image due to the pain distracting him too much. The next slap causes his hands to grip the pillow even more harshly, and he feels something wet fall on his curled finger as he struggles, bringing his attention to the fact that he is crying. Another hard smack to his right buttock sends another tear flying down his eye and his hips wiggling. As the next hit lands on his left cheek, he decides that right now – this moment of lying in his old bed getting spanked on his bare bottom by his dad’s bare hand – is the most miserable and excruciating punishment of his life.
Regis pauses for a moment as he stares at the round red flesh beneath him. He takes a deep breath as he feels his own body feeling weary from having to use his own hand to hit. He wiggles his hand lightly as it stings in a failed attempt to cure it. “Alright, Noctis. As you know, my body isn’t as strong as it once was, so I will have to adjust your punishment.”
Noctis’ body immediately relaxes, having been tensed more than he had realized. With his dad too tired to keep hitting him, he almost smiles with relief, but is still in too much pain to do so. He lies there hopeful his dad will let him re-clothe himself any second. After what he has just endured, he would not even mind hearing that he is grounded, the thought of enduring that sounding like fun compared to this. Instead, the next thing his ears detect is a tinkling, metallic noise, intriguing him, so he looks back at his dad to see him removing the belt from around his waist. “D-Dad . . . ?” he asks fearfully, hoping he is not about to be whipped with his father’s belt made of the finest leather from Altissia.
Regis looks from his belt to Noctis’ gaze with a look that is a mixture of ‘forgive me’ and ‘you deserve this’. “I think it will be much easier for me to use this on your rear instead.” He finishes removing it from his pants and folds it to get it ready to use as a weapon.
“Dad, I don’t need it!” he cries while kicking his legs, one more tear falling from his eye. “It-it hurts enough already! Please!” All of Noctis’ pride is gone and replaced with desperation. “You already spanked me really hard!”
“Yes, I did, but it wasn’t enough. Now hold still.” He taps the belt lightly against the red bare bottom of his son, aiming before he begins striking. “You are a brat, Noctis,” he repeats. “And brats must be spanked until their lesson is learned.”
“I have learned!” Noctis protests, a sob coming out this time from the dread. “I-I’ve learned my lesson! Please!”
“We’ll see,” Regis says with little hope. He taps the belt against the lower part of Noctis’ rump once more before whipping the belt across both cheeks at the same time, sending Noctis jolting up with his hands and a yell escaping his lips. Expecting this, Regis leans his thighs against the bed and places his cane on it near Noctis’ legs. He uses that hand now to gently push Noctis down against the mattress by the small part of his back. He takes a moment to pet him there in an attempt to calm him down a bit. “Now hold still.”
All thoughts of Tenebrae have completely left his mind as the only thing he can think of now is the doom he is facing. The belt taps the same spot that was just hit, and now strikes against it, causing a tearful wail to escape the prince’s lips. He claws wildly at the pillow his head is on as if searching for a button to make this all stop. He feels his father’s hand pushing down on his thighs, surprising him as he had not even realized he was struggling with his legs. Another whack from the belt sends a full-blown sob surging from him as he feels the horrifically searing pain in his buttocks, feeling like nothing he has ever felt before. The burning is so intense it feels as if his father has lit a match across his bottom. He instinctively presses his hips downward and clenches his butt cheeks as if that will help him escape his fate.
“Stop that, Noct,” Regis instructs. Instead, his son brings his legs up again in a futile attempt to shield his targeted bottom from any further assault. Regis grits his teeth before pushing his legs down again and striking him even harder out of anger. After only four strikes with the prestigious belt, he takes a moment to observe the damage he has dealt to Noctis’ bottom so far. It is a bright red with some crimson welts and raw streaks, mostly in his sit spots. There are also blotches of blue and purple on various spots of his butt, reminding him of a painting he had once viewed in Lestallum. He sighs, conflicted about whether he should continue the punishment or end it now.
“It hurts, it hurts, it huuuurts !” Noctis sobs while wiggling his hips around as a way of flailing from the pain. He hears Regis tut in response, but in desperation, he decides to continue. “Dad, stooo-op!”
Intensely annoyed, the king hits Noctis with the belt again, earning him a higher-pitched cry to hear and another welt to look at. “I will stop when I decide to, and not before!” Regis shouts furiously. “Your posterior deserves a lot more punishment than this! How do maintenance spankings sound to you?! Since you cannot handle this like an adult?!”
Noctis slams his right fist down against the pillow several times as he chokes on his excessive tears. Though he does not know what maintenance spankings are, and misunderstands the king’s ranting, he decides to agree to them as a desperate attempt to end his current suffering. “Y-yes! Okay!”
Regis is taken aback by Noctis’ quick reply, having expected to not receive one at all. “You agree to maintenance spankings?” he queries to make sure he is understanding his son’s reply.
Noctis heaves for a moment, trying to catch his breath. “If you stop wh-whipping me now-ww . . .”
“Alright, I can make that offer real,” Regis clarifies. “You would take it?” He receives Noctis nodding his head while sobbing as a response. “Say it, Noct.”
Noctis kicks his legs a little again and hesitates to answer, wondering if this offer is some kind of a trap. However, he reasons that whatever maintenance spankings are, they would at least come later and save his troubled tush for now. He would like to ask what they are, but is afraid the question may just irritate his father even more. Suddenly, he feels the belt make vicious contact with his butt again, making him dance miserably in the bed while crying out like a babe. “Y-y-yes! Yes, s-s-s-siiiir!”
“Alright, then.” He unfolds the belt in his hand and stands up straight to begin putting it back on himself. “I think that will be a good solution to our problem.”
Noctis hears the belt clanking again, hoping and praying that is an indication he has indeed somehow negotiated an end to this misery. He looks over his shoulder and sees his father is pulling the belt back through the belt loops attached to his kingly raiment, causing him to collapse limply in the bed. He moans and continues to squirm and writhe in place as his hind end throbs and burns angrily from what has already transpired. His shoulders continue to shake from his weeping, which has not calmed yet at all. The next sensation he feels is a gentle sweeping motion of his father’s hand on his sensitive rump, causing him to let out another sob and kick his legs.
Regis feels the surface of Noctis’ contused bottom to assess the damage, evoking a hiss from the prince, and now moves his hand back up to the small of his back to pet him like he had earlier. Now that his duty of disciplining his son has ended for the moment, he feels some of his anger melt away and instead feels a desire to bring comfort to him. He delivers gentle pets and strokes to his back before speaking again. “Noct, this punishment was very hard on you, but it was even harder on me.”
Resisting rolling his eyes at that assertion, Noctis tries to control his crying in order to more easily hear anything more his father might say to him. The feeling of his father petting his back is successfully bringing a small amount of comfort to him, so he tries to focus on that instead of the pain. “Mmm,” Noctis moans.
Regis nods, though no one is looking at him. “Unfortunately, I must hurry back to the meeting. Hopefully Cor kept everything going smoothly in my absence.” Regis pulls his hand away from Noctis before sighing at the sight of his son lying there struggling with the consequences of his actions. He gets to his feet and declares, “I love you, my bratty son,” before heading toward the exit.
As Regis exits Noctis’ suite, he leans against the unlocked door he has shut behind himself and closes his eyes. He thinks over the images of his grown child squirming and crying out over getting a spanking. He switches to images of Noctis standing in the kitchen with the look of guilt and horror plastered on his face as he was reprimanded by his father. Now, he recalls the last images of him lying prostrate on his bed with his red bum glowing above his special attire lowered to his knees. He opens his eyes and sighs again as he continues walking away.

“So I’m not sure I’m comfortable forging an arrangement regarding rare minerals until His Majesty is better able to interact with us,” the foreign leader concludes from his seat on the couch.
Regis walks into the room with the use of his cane and gives a small smile to the others in the room. He takes his seat and sits in as noble of a manner as possible as he looks among everyone in the room. “I must apologize yet again for the interruptions. I’m afraid my son had forgotten how to properly behave, so discipline was dealt out.”
The leader takes in his words as well as the fact that the palm of his hand is red as if he had been hitting something. He nods knowingly and sends him a smile. “No apology needed, Your Highness.”

About half an hour later, Noctis is lying in the same position in his bed except he is playing King’s Knight now on his cellphone. He hears a knock at the door followed by, “Noct, it’s Ignis. I’m coming in,” sounding muffled from the other side. He sighs and waits for his advisor to come inside.
Ignis opens the door and closes it behind himself before setting a small bag of items on the table where the keys are lying. He begins walking toward the bedroom when he looks up and sees something red. He continues closer until he reaches the bedroom, unbelieving that the redness is actually the color of his dear friend’s buttocks. “Noct, did you hurt yourself?” he asks with a bit of panic.
Noctis manages to chuckle, and now turns to look back at Ignis. “More like met my dad’s belt.”
Ignis’ jaw goes slack upon hearing this, having never known the king to give out such harsh corporal punishments before. “You got a belting? Why? What happened?”
“Long story,” Noctis huffs from exhaustion. “What are you doing here anyway?”
Ignis hesitates, still processing the new information given to him. “The king called me and asked that I come over to get you ready for the luncheon at 2. He mentioned you might also need some advice about how to act at the table around the guests.”
Noctis takes in a deep breath before pushing it out with frustration. “And how am I supposed to sit at the table like this?”
Ignis’ attention returns to Noctis’ bare bottom lifted up on display. He notes the myriad of colors and how they are complimented by the welts and raw areas, thinking of a photograph he had seen of a paining in Lestallum. “Hmm. It may prove a bit uncomfortable.” He hears Noctis snort with annoyance at the understatement, prompting him to place a hand on his chin in thought. “How about we start with some ice for the swelling?” Ignis walks to another room of the suite and returns moments later with an ice pack that Noctis had used before when he had hurt himself practicing with Gladio. He activates it and sets it against Noctis’ behind, causing Noctis to gasp and wriggle in response. “Let it alone so it can work.”
“Thank you, Ignis,” Noctis whines.
Ignis now walks away from Noctis’ injury and takes a look at his face. He sees it is red and swollen, though nothing in comparison to the redness and swelling present at his other end. His eyes are puffy, sad, and red as well – all indications that he has been crying a lot. He studies him in silence, considering.
“What?” Noctis asks weakly.
“You are a mess , Noct,” Ignis states before shaking his head. “You’ve obviously cried a great deal, and your clothes must be so wrinkled. I ironed those perfectly for you, too.”
Noctis sighs, finding that to be the least of his worries. “Sorry, Specs. I really did appreciate it.”
Ignis nods. “Well, how about we get you some water to drink and wash your face?”
“Sure,” he agrees, trusting him. He brings his hand up and scratches as the back of his hair. “Hey, Ignis? What are . . . maintenance spankings ?”
Having turned toward the door to head for Noctis’ private bathroom, Ignis turns back toward him and blinks with surprise. “Oh? Where did you hear about those?” It occurs to him without having to wait for Noctis to answer. “Did His Majesty decide you need them?”
“Yeah. Actually . . . he . . . kind of offered those instead of finishing this beating. And I agreed. I’d kind of like to be able to sit tonight.”
Ignis places two fingers on his forehead and sighs. “Noct, if those welts and bruises are of any indication, I doubt highly you will be wanting to sit for two or three days minimum. And as for the maintenance spankings . . .” He straightens his posture more and looks down at his prince. “Well, I cannot say I am an expert in corporal punishment, but I have the impression you made a bad deal.”
Noctis feels his stomach drop as his expression falls to one of great dread. “So . . . I should have had my advisor present before making a deal with my dad.”
“Indeed,” he answers simply. “Just as you’ve been taught to not speak to police without your attorney present.” Ignis turns and takes a seat on the edge of Noctis’ bed carefully enough to not sit on him or jar him too harshly. “Maintenance spankings are spankings that are usually not as severe as punishment spankings, but are administered regardless of how you behave. They are given as reminders of what will happen if you do infringe upon the understood rules as a way of reinforcing good behavior.”
Noctis bites his lip for a moment, feeling doomed once again. “Wait, so . . . I just agreed to get spanked for no reason?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say for no reason . . .” Ignis grins a little, enjoying that Noctis is actually listening closely to him. “They are usually scheduled, such as every night at bedtime for a month or three times a week for six months. It is in hopes that these painful reminders will encourage you to stop breaking the rules so that real spankings are no longer necessary for correction.”
Noctis drops his head into his pillow and growls, agreeing that he has probably made a bad deal with his father. He brings his face back out so that Ignis can see his pout. “Well, he didn’t say anything about a schedule.” He shakes his head and his speech comes out slower and more painfully. “I just couldn’t take anym-more of him hitting me . . .”
Ignis gives Noctis a sympathetic look and pats his back soothingly. Quietly, he says, “It’s alright, Noct. I shall help you get through the luncheon.”

1:45PM arrives quickly. Ignis insisted that Noctis arrive early for the luncheon in order to try to get back into any good graces that may still be available, so they left his chambers at 1:40PM. On the way, Noctis has some difficulty walking due to his pain, requiring Ignis to help him or let him take breaks along the way to the designated dining room. He is thankful for the icepack Ignis had him use in the bed, believing it has made his ailment more bearable. Though they do not arrive exactly at the early time of 1:45 that Ignis had chosen, they do arrive by 1:50, which is acceptable enough for him.
Once inside of the dining hall, everyone else is seated already and chatting, consisting of the foreign leaders, King Regis, Cor, Clarus, Drautos, Iris, Talcott, and Gladio. Ignis walks with Noctis over to the two empty chairs across from Iris and Gladio in the center of the table and pulls one of the chairs out for Noctis, who sits reluctantly.
Immediately, Noctis suppresses a moan as his battered bottom makes contact with the fancy chair. He focuses on taking a deep breath and re-positions himself slightly in an effort to distribute his weight in a more comfortable way before looking around at the faces at the table. He looks at Iris in front of him to see her giggling at something Gladio is telling her while pointing at the nearby restroom with his thumb, so he decides to try to focus on them.
After a few seconds pass, Iris brings her attention to Noctis, which makes her smile fade a bit. “Noct, are you feeling okay?” she asks upon noticing his puffy face.
“Uh, yeah,” Noctis answers nervously, moving his eyes from her to Talcott, who is also giving him a look of concern. He hears the unmistakable sound of his father clearing his throat, so he moves his gaze to the head of the table to see him ready to speak.
“I want to say thank you to all of you who are here with us today,” Regis begins, speaking loudly but amicably. “I would like to think that despite some disruptions, our meeting was beneficial to both parties involved.”
With a mixture of boredom and pain, Noctis’ mind wanders from what his father is saying. He touches his pocket to feel of his phone, but before he can pull it out, he feels an elbow hit him. He looks to see Ignis is giving him a very serious look while shaking his head to advise against it. Noctis shifts a little in his seat instead and places his hands on the table to play with his fingers as a distraction, which gets Talcott’s attention. He ignores the gaze on himself and continues to fidget, minding his own business.
“Isn’t that right, Noctis?” Regis suddenly asks.
Noctis blinks and looks over at his father, having no idea what he had just said before that. He glances at Ignis, who is watching in waiting. “Uh . . . um, yeah. Yes, sir,” he says nervously. This only earns him more questionable eyes aiming in his direction in addition to the look of displeasure in his father’s and one of disbelief in Ignis’.
“Noctis, have you not heard a word I have said?” Regis asks firmly.
Noctis swallows. “Yeah,” he assures. “Everybody is benefiting from getting together today.”
“And?”
Noctis looks to Ignis again for guidance, not having heard anything past that. He only gets a frown from his companion, so he looks back at his father. “And . . . we should do it again . . . sometime . . . ?”
While Regis’ complexion is beginning to turn red again, the foreign leader chuckles and looks at Noctis. “Yes, I agree, Prince Noctis. But next time, I hope you and your father will come to visit us at our palace.”
While Regis agrees with the leader, Ignis turns his head and whispers to Noctis bitterly. “Noct, you need to pay close attention. These are important matters.”
“I just spaced out, okay?” he says grouchily before shifting yet again, his butt aching.
To Noctis’ relief, the servants come out from the kitchen and begin spreading covered dishes on the table. After carefully placing the large dishes, they begin passing out napkins, utensils, and empty plates before everyone seated in preparation for the 2PM start time. The rest of the dialogue spoken around the table is casual, allowing the prince to relax for a moment before things become more formal again at the start time.
The pain begins to intensify as many minutes have now passed since Noctis began sitting in the cushioned wooden chair. He wishes Ignis would let him play on his phone as a distraction, but knows that Ignis is only trying to keep him out of more trouble, so he obeys. He glances around for some kind of distraction as he keeps playing with his fingers, wishing he could forget about his punishment. “Prince Noctis, why were you crying?”
Noctis hears Talcott ask him a dreaded question, bringing his attention there. “Huh?”
“I saw you run away in a hurry earlier, and I could see you and hear you crying,” he adds sadly. “Are you okay?”
“Uh,” Noctis begins. He sees that Iris’ expression matches Talcott’s, but Gladio is looking at him with worry, having no idea what Talcott is talking about. “Yeah. Sorry about that. But . . . thanks for asking.”
“Your face is still a little puffy. Want to talk about it?” Iris offers, sitting between Talcott and Gladio. She watches as Noctis makes a pained expression and pushes himself up from his seat for a second before sitting back down. “Are you in pain?”
“Your back giving you trouble?” Gladio asks quietly with concern.
“He will be alright,” Ignis guarantees.
No more inquiries are made from Noctis’ friends as the servants stand in front of them and uncover the dishes, revealing a small feast. On the table are cockatrice breasts, mashed Leiden potatoes, Furloch carrots, gravy, salad, alstroom soup, and FM&A beans. Dutifully, Ignis begins filling Noctis’ plate after a servant begins with Regis’ and the foreign leader’s.
“Ignis, no carrots,” Noctis whispers.
“ Yes , carrots,” Ignis mumbles as he dips mashed potatoes. Noctis puts his elbow on the table and leans his head against it miserably in response. “Noct, no elbows on the table.”
Noctis huffs while sitting back in his seat. He looks up the table at his father to see he is indeed watching him. He stands to take the pressure off his throbbing posterior. “Your Highness, may I please be excused?” he asks him.
Regis gives him an incredulous look. “No, you may not. Now sit down and be polite.”
Noctis huffs again as he carefully takes his seat. He stares at the plate Ignis sets before him with disgust, looking at the carrots touching the edge of the gravy. He crosses his arms childishly as he sinks a bit in his seat.
After a couple of minutes pass, everyone has begun eating while still talking in small groups. He carefully eats the cockatrice and gravy in his plate while glowering at the carrots he ordered Ignis not to place there. Feeling a need to release his frustration, he picks up his spoon and scoops it in the carrots, and now drops them in Ignis’ plate. Unknown to him, a foreign leader, Drautos, and Talcott watch him do it.
Ignis gives Noctis a look of anger. “Stop acting like a child, Noct,” he warns quietly. “Eat your vegetables.”
The foreigner who had asked Noctis his age earlier laughs at the scene, getting Regis’ attention. He asks the one sitting next to him, “I Remember when you were a kid and wouldn’t eat broccoli?”
“Where’s all the kids from earlier?” Noctis asks Iris, ignoring the scene he is creating.
“Oh, Gladio took them home. They only came to see you, not for the meeting,” she explains. “When you left and didn’t come back, they got bored.”
“Noctis,” Regis calls from the end of the table. He watches as Noctis turns his full attention toward him. “King Videre has said he has a son not much older than you that he would like for you to meet. You would like that, wouldn’t you?”
Noctis looks at the foreign leader, assuming he is King Videre, and genuinely smiles. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I’d like that.”
“Then I think I can agree to meet your people at your kingdom soon,” Regis informs King Videre, who Noctis had identified correctly. “My son could really use a good influence, and a prince like himself to look up to would be perfect.”
“I will have to check my appointments, but I’m fairly sure I have a few days open next month if that works for you,” King Videre responds.
“That may be manageable.”
Noctis scoffs as he scoops his spoon angrily in his potatoes again. “Yeah, right. You don’t have time for anything.”
Regis sends another firm look down the table at his son, who is not looking at him. “What was that, Noctis?” He waits, but the only reaction Noctis gives is dropping his spoon purposely. “Do you have something you’d like to say in regards to royal appointments?”
Noctis crosses his arms again, but still does not look at his father. “If it has anything to do with me, you don’t have time for it.”
Regis throws his napkin down on the table next to his plate and glares at his son while his face turns red with anger. “Now is not the time for your petty accusations. Now apologize.”
Noctis’ only movement is him moving his hips slightly in his seat. His arms are crossed firmly against his chest as he lays his back against his seat in poor posture. His lips are pressed together securely and his eyes sting in true anger. He feels Ignis tap his shoulder, ready to give advice, and feels Gladio’s eyes on him, but does not respond.
“Has your bratty mouth finally tired?” Regis taunts. He shakes his head in disappointment. “That is a conversation we can have in private, not in front of our guests at the dinner table. Now, I command you to apologize.”
Noctis’ heart is pounding in his chest, but he refuses to budge. He feels Ignis press against his shoulder and say his name, but ignores him, standing his ground. Finally, he has begun to make his true feelings known, and he is beginning to feel liberated. He feels Ignis push against him again and say his name more sharply, so he looks at his advisor and shakes his head. “It’s the truth.”
Regis stands up abruptly, pushing his seat backward as he rises. With fury, he makes his way in a rush to the prince and grabs him roughly by the shoulder, getting a frightened and startled look from him. He pulls him to his feet and hears him complain and whine the way from his spot next to Ignis until Regis returns to the head of the table. With the strength he has left, he takes his seat again and pulls Noctis so roughly that it sends him landing across his knees at an angle so that his head is somewhat facing the table.
“D-Dad!” Noctis shouts in panic as he tries to balance himself across the firm lap of his larger father. “Please! Please no!”
“I have had more than enough of your disrespect today!” Regis scolds furiously, no longer worried about disrupting anyone. He overpowers his struggling son and gets his round bottom lifted and in a perfect position to be struck.
“Dad, please! Please don’t!” Noctis pleads while choking back tears. “E-everyone’s watching!”
“Just as they were when you were disrespecting me,” Regis points out. He grabs Noctis’ arm that flung back to try to shield his bottom and bends it carefully, holding it up out of the way above his waist. “You didn’t seem to mind humiliating me in front of them all day today, so why should I care about giving your bratty bottom a sound spanking in front of them?”
Noctis begins to cry from the shame he is feeling at everyone watching him across his father’s lap and left helpless with his arms secured and his toes barely reaching the floor. “Pl-please . . . it’s too embarrassing . . .” Two tears roll down his cheeks and land on his father’s pants below.
With his bottom raised and vulnerable, Regis slaps it as hard as he can manage with his hand, making an audible sound throughout the room despite the pants and underwear standing between his palm and Noctis’ butt. This sends Noctis squirming and crying out from pain. Ruthlessly, Regis hits him again, again, and again in quick succession.
Iris is frozen. Talcott is gasping while watching. Gladio is smirking. Ignis is fascinated. Cor nods. Everyone at the table is watching with different opinions and perspectives on the scene, but everyone agrees that this punishment was well-deserved.
After a total of ten spanks, Regis pulls Noctis up and stands up in front of him. He watches as his son leans over with his hands covering his face in a weeping mess. “Now you will stand over there with your nose in the corner! You will stay there until I dismiss you! Understood?!”
Noctis continues his sobbing. “Y-yes, sir!” he screeches through his hands. He makes his way painfully to the corner of the room closest to Regis’ seat and leans his body against his hands on the wall, sticking his bottom out just enough to keep the skin stretched. Never before has his father disciplined him in such a severe way in front of anyone aside from servants and other citadel leaders. He sobs uncontrollably into the corner from the immense feelings of shame and from the massive stinging and burning of his rump.
“I must apologize for having to discipline my son in front of all of you. I will now prioritize his behavior more than before,” Regis announces from his seat at the table. “I am ashamed to realize how poorly I have raised him.”
King Videre sighs. “It isn’t easy being both a king and a father. I don’t know how you raised him or how he usually behaves, but I commend you for trying to right it.”
“I admit I had my doubts about how the kingdom of Lucis was being ran,” one of the foreigners says, “but after seeing how you handle your son, my faith has risen.”
King Regis’ anger lessens upon hearing the compliments from his new allies. He had felt a bit concerned he would be frowned-upon for not being able to control his son better, but it appears that his efforts displayed for them have actually earned him more respect. “I appreciate your forgiving words. If your son is even half as mature as you claim, I may request to study your way of parenting.”
Noctis’ hands ball up into fists against the wall as his body trembles from a combination of pain and anger. Hearing the leaders compliment his father for spanking him is one of the worst things that could have come from him standing up for himself. This frustration only worsens his sobbing that he is trying to control, so he squeezes his eyes shut to try to block it out. He hopes the luncheon will end quickly and the guests will depart soon after so he can go home to his apartment and away from the king.

About thirty minutes later, Noctis is still standing and staring into the blank corner of the dining room wall, but is now more upright and in less pain. He does not dare turn to look, but based on what he can hear, the luncheon has ended and some people are leaving the room. He sniffs and wipes the remaining tears from his eyes on his striped sleeve ready for when he can finally step out.
Several more minutes pass before Noctis hears Regis say, “Thank you all. I will be in touch.” He now hears his familiar foot and cane steps coming toward him from the other end of the room. He swallows nervously, relieved that the guests are likely gone, but scared of what his father may say or do to him now that they may be gone. Tensely, he listens to the steps as they come closer and stop behind him.
“Noctis, you may come out of the corner now,” Regis announces.
Noctis hesitates for a second, but turns around to see his father looking at him with a somewhat aggressive look on his face. Past him, Noctis sees that the room is clear, leaving only the two of them inside. He rubs the back of his neck for a moment before saying, “Thanks,” under his breath.
Regis frowns at him while his grip is tight on the head of his cane. “I hope you’re up for discussing the rest of your punishment.” He watches as Noctis’ lips part slightly and he grunts, but refrains from protesting. “You already know what it is: maintenance spankings. Something you have already agreed to willingly.” He watches at Noctis’ cheeks flush a bit and he shifts a bit in place with his eyes averted. “But before that, we must talk about this atrocious behavior! What has gotten into you today?!” The only response he gets is Noctis shaking his head, so he continues. “How could you disrespect your father at the dinner table in front of guests?! Why are you being such a brat?!”
“I’m not a brat!” he growls, his anger bubbling up.
“Then answer my question: how could you disrespect me in front of guests the way you did?!”
“Everything I said was true!”
“Nonsense!” Regis scoffs. “If it was, you would have spoken to me about it in private, not make an embarrassing scene!”
“Fine! Maybe I am a brat prince! But maybe it’s because I don’t want to make an appointment time to speak to my own father!”
“You are dangerously close to yet another spanking! You’d best choose your next words wisely!” Regis warns, his gaze as sharp as his sword. He stares at his son, seeing the tears come back to his eyes with one falling down his face. “I don’t know where these ideas of yours are coming from, but I don’t appreciate you lying like you did!”
“I’m not lying!” he cries.
“You sat there and said I didn’t have time for anything to do with you! That is simply untrue! And the fact that you haven’t complained about it before to me tells me you made it up to cause trouble at our meeting!” He stands there waiting for a response, but only sees Noctis wiping at his wet eyes. “If it is so true, then surely you can give an example?!”
“Today!” Noctis snivels. “You were supposed to take me and the others somewhere outside! But instead, you brought those people here!”
“Plans change when you run a kingdom! Priorities have to be made! I won’t apologize for that!”
“I was . . . looking forward t-t-t-o . . . spending time with you outside . . . !” Noctis is now sobbing and wiping at his eyes with damp fingers as his held-in emotions begin bursting out.
Regis feels his anger begin to dissipate, but not wanting to allow that to happen, he shakes his head, wanting to remain firm and authoritative with his son regardless of how he chooses to act. “We could make up for it at any available day! There’s no excuse!”
“What available day?!” Noctis screams, his anger returning.
“Stop this! I’ve heard enough!”
“You never want to hear it!” Noctis lets out some loud sobs, his crying now uncontrollable. “How am I su-supposed to tell you how I feel . . . if you don’t want to hear it?!”
Regis takes a deep breath in an effort to collect himself. His head is beginning to throb from dealing with his son’s outbursts all day, but he knows he needs to deal with the situation as soon as possible to put an end to it. “Fine. I’m available now, so let’s hear it.” He pulls a handkerchief from his own pocket and hands it to Noctis.
Noctis wipes his face with the loaned handkerchief and tries to collect himself as quickly as he can, wanting to take advantage of this rare opportunity. “I miss you, Dad . . . I want to go fishing with you.” He looks up at his eyes now with his own swollen ones. “I want to learn from you, not just from Ignis. I thought today might be special, but . . .” He chokes on a sob, but manages to get past it. “That’s why I disrupted you in the grand room. And when that didn’t work, I got upset and ruined the kitchen. I was hoping I wouldn’t get caught and you’d think it was one of the kids, and it would ruin the luncheon and make you look bad. You ruined my day, so I wanted to ruin yours, too.”
Regis’ expression is no longer angry, but instead is a mixture of sad and disappointed. “Go on.”
“Well, Clarus caught me and you beat my ass. I hoped that was the end of it, but you made me go to that stupid luncheon knowing how badly you whipped me. It hurt so bad and you were talking about scheduling with those guys, so I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I tried to get your attention, but you just . . . spanked me in front of everyone.” He takes a breath, a little horrified that he has exposed his feelings as much as he has, even to his own father. “The only thing you made time for today with me was punishing me!”
“So you lashed out like a child because you didn’t get things your way?” Regis asks. However, this time, his voice is gentle. “Noctis, do you not realize how terribly you have behaved? This is what I was talking about earlier: you are a brat .”
Noctis gives him a look of defeat and sorrow. “But . . .”
“You deserved both of those spankings today, regardless of why you did the things you did. You cannot act that way just because you are hurting. That is not okay.”
Noctis shakes his head while looking downward at his dad’s legs. “So that’s it, then? I pour my heart out to you and all you can do is call me names again?”
“Noct . . .” Regis wraps an arm around his son’s shoulders and pulls him into a half hug. He presses his cheek down against the top of his son’s head, flattening his hair a bit in his effort to hold him. “No. That’s not it.” He holds his positions for a few seconds to try to calm both of them down. “I’m sorry I made you feel neglected. King or not, it is not right for me to disappoint my son and make him feel pushed away. I wish I had known how you felt sooner.” With no retort from the smaller male, Regis pulls Noctis into a full hug, wrapping both of his arms around his small back. “I love you, my son. And I’m saddened to hear that you have been hurting because I failed to notice my shortcomings.”
Noctis begins to weep gently against his father’s formal attire, but he is unsure of whether he is crying from his sad feelings still pouring out or from the joy of feeling his father’s embrace and attention on him. “I love you, too, Dad . . .”
“I promise I will change things around here. I will make my staff know that you can speak with me at nearly any time you wish. I will have them check my calendars and make space for time with you.” He caresses his back now to try to stop his weeping, and kisses the top of his head gently. “Now that I have heard you, you have no reason to act out again, right?”
“Right!” Noctis says into his garment.
“So I do expect better behavior from you from now on, and maintenance spankings will help.” He hears a groan from Noctis, causing him to grin slightly. He pulls him in even closer and places a longer kiss on his head this time, trying to show his affection to his son even stronger. “I love you, Noctis. Even if I am not around, never forget that.”