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“Walk tall, my son.”
That was the last thing Noctis’s father ever said to him. Walk tall. As if he could do anything else. Oh, it wasn’t easy, holding his shit together while the world crumbled around him. But he wasn’t alone. Noctis had his friends by his side every step of the way. His brothers. And he had Prompto.
***
When news of Insomnia’s fall reached them, it broke something in Noctis. Something Prompto couldn’t reach. Something Prompto couldn’t heal.
But he tried.
With every wistful glance. Every lingering touch. Every night spent curled up next to one another, Ignis and Gladio asleep beside them.
If he helped at all, he didn’t know. But Prompto tried.
***
When things got dangerous, Prompto was there to lend his strength. When things became hard, Prompto was there to lend his shoulder. When things became unbearable, Prompto was there to offer his love.
It was a quiet thing. Soft. Unspoken.
But Noctis heard it loud and clear.
***
“Think what you will, but I think you’re good enough for me. ”
The truth in the words resonated between them. That was all they had. All they could have. But it was enough.
***
Noctis was destined for things far greater than a nobody like Prompto could even comprehend. As the Astrals gave their blessings, one by one, Prompto watched him grow. He grew in power. He grew in maturity. And Prompto’s love grew alongside him.
***
Luna’s death hit Noctis harder than he ever could have expected.
As Noctis raged, Prompto was there to lend an ear. As Noctis grieved, Prompto stood guard. As Noctis wept, Prompto was his rock.
There was no Noctis without Prompto. Not anymore.
Maybe there never was.
***
The day Noctis pushed Prompto off the train, Noctis lost his will to live. But he didn’t give up. He fought on. Prompto’s memory was worth that and more.
***
Prompto was a clone of a man so corrupt he couldn’t fathom his cruelty. A Monster.
Didn’t that make Prompto a monster as well?
It made sense Noctis pushed him off the train. It made sense he didn’t want Prompto anymore.
Noctis didn’t deserve his taint.
Still, Prompto fought on, in his own way. For himself. For the injustices he discovered.
And Prompto fought for Noctis.
***
They found Prompto alive. Tied up, tortured, and barely hanging on, but alive.
Prompto wasn’t who they’d thought he was. He was a Niff. A clone. A cog in a corrupt machine.
But, to Noctis, Prompto was exactly who he needed to be.
To Noctis, Prompto was perfect.
***
Soon, it would all be over. Noctis would receive the power from the Crystal to save the world and all would be well.
Still, in the quiet moments before the final battle, melancholy was all Prompto could feel. The end was near. Once everything was over, would Noctis leave him behind?
“Ever at your side.”
***
As Noctis floated in the Crystal, a voice came to him. It told him things, showed him his future. His duty. His fate. It revealed to him his own demise.
Noctis resolved to save the world. After all, Prompto deserved the world.
***
In the ten years Noctis was gone, Prompto fought. He fought for others. He fought for himself. But mostly, he fought for Noctis.
He fought to ensure that, when he returned, Noctis still had a world to save.
***
The world lay in ruin. As Noctis fought his way forward, he had to wonder if it was even still worth saving.
When he saw Prompto again, Noctis had his answer.
***
Noctis was going to die. Ten years of waiting and hoping and preparing, and Noctis was going to die anyway. It wasn’t fair.
Prompto listened in silence as Noctis explained. As he said goodbye. As he ripped out Prompto’s heart.
Outwardly, Prompto remained strong for his King. Inside, however, he wept. In the silence of his own mind, Prompto raged. He screamed to the Astrals, begging them to offer another alternative. A way to save Noctis.
Bahamut answered.
***
Fire. And ice. And goodbye.
***
“Walk tall, my friends.”
Those were the last words Noctis ever said to Prompto. As if he would do any different. Prompto knew what was coming next.
He was ready.
***
As the spectral blades of the former Kings of Lucis danced before him, Noctis’s last thoughts were of hope and the sunrise. And of Prompto.
***
At the moment the first blade struck, Prompto set into motion Bahamut’s plan.
It was quick, but it wasn’t painless. Prompto’s entire being was obliterated. There was nothing left behind.
Nothing but a memory.
***
As the Ring of Lucii disintegrated, Noctis felt a wave of immense relief. It was over. He could rest now.
But the voice from the Crystal returned.
It spoke of things Noctis couldn’t comprehend. Of sacrifice. Of the bonds of friendship. Of love. And it asked a question.
Noctis’s soul answered.
And Noctis woke up.
***
Prompto had sacrificed himself to save Noctis. To save the world.
He had given not just his life, but his very soul, to ensure Noctis would survive to see that world thrive once more.
Because the prophecy stated the King of Light had to make the ultimate sacrifice. And what is more ultimate than losing your entire world?
***
Noctis spent the rest of the life he owed to Prompto believing he would see him again in the afterlife. It was what kept him going. He’d never told Prompto how much he loved him. He looked forward to the day he finally could.
But when that day came, when Noctis was old and grey, there was no reunion.
Prompto had given his very essence to ensure Noctis had a chance to survive. If Noctis hadn’t loved Prompto as he did, that sacrifice would have been in vain. Now, faced with eternity without Prompto…
Noctis wept.