Chapter Text
King Noctis and his retinue were something a legend.
There was his advisor, the dominant that held the power of Ramuh himself inside of him, devastating powerful and wise beyond his years.
The Shield of the King was the dominant for Titan, strong and steadfast, the very mountains trembled and fell before him.
The gunner who stood by his side was a branded from Niflheim, the dominant for Shiva, eyes like the glacian herself and twice as pretty.
Noct held within him Bahamut, the blade master, and rightly so, because he commanded the royal arms as easy as he did his own limbs.
They were a force to be reckoned with.
But the legends of them felling entire armies of MT units, and wiping out the daemons in Costlemark tower are only part of the story, sometimes they were riding down the highway looking for hunts to get enough Gil for petrol and a place to sleep. Or haggling with the tipster at an outpost in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.
‘I’m telling you this job is worth double that money!’ Noctis argued, a royal title, or the powers of a god, were getting him nowhere, ‘And the tipster in Longwythe offered more.’
‘Then by all means, hop in that fancy car of yours and fuck off to Longwythe,’ The man replied cooly, knowing full well that wasn’t an option.
The Regalia had been running on fumes for miles, and everyone in the diner had seen the four of them pushing the car up into the station.
‘Twelve-hundred Gil, final offer,’ The man sighs, ‘That’s still above the job’s value.’
‘Fine,’ Noct slapped the horn of a spiralcorn down on the counter, a little harder and a lot louder than was strictly necessary.
‘Well, we may as well have something to eat while we’re here,’ Gladiolus swivelled on his chair, he hadn’t done much in the negotiation besides be big and imposing.
‘Indeed,’ Ignis chimed in, cleaning the monster guts off his glasses with a paper serviette, ‘Prompto hasn’t been able to stop talking about hot chips all day.’
‘They’re called “fries,” Iggy! And they’re Kenny’s Fries! The best of the best!’ Prompto waved his hands enthusiastically, ‘Says so on the sign!’
‘If you can read that,’ The man behind the counter roared, ‘Then I’m sure you didn’t miss the other sign? We don’t serve your kind here, Branded.’
Prompto stilled, eyes wide, his companions rose to their feet.
‘You hard of hearing? I said clear out, scum,’ The hawked up a loogie and spat right in Prompto’s face, just clear of the tattoo that ran the length of his cheek and down his neck, and he didn’t do a thing about it, just sat like a statue on his chair, as if he’d been frozen.
‘Don’t make me force you -‘ The man pulled a bat out from underneath and counter but didn’t get very far, not when Gladio appeared in front of him and reefed the weapon out of his hands, snapped it in two and threw it on the ground, ‘He’s with us.’
Ignis led Prompto by the hand, suppressing a sigh when he flinched, and took him outside, already producing a hanky to clean him up and running a hand through his hair.
Leaving Noct and Gladio the job of teaching the man a lesson.
‘Are you alright, Prom?’ Ignis asks kindly, squatting next to the passenger side door and speaking softly, ‘We’ll get back on the road soon, we’ve enough daylight to make it to a haven.’
That was code for: Let’s get the hell out of here, and Prompto knew it. He knew it wasn’t right that branded were treated this way outside of Crown City, but it wasn’t anything new. Gods, even inside the city, a branded couldn’t just walk around on their own.
‘Sure am, just hope I don’t catch anything from that dude’s spit,’ He aims for lighthearted but his voice wobbles enough that he gets another hug from Ignis.
He’d been getting a lot of those lately.
It’s not like he wasn’t aware of his brand, how can he not be? He’d been born and raised in a facility in Niflheim, rescued when he was eight years old by Cor the Immortal himself, and taken back to Lucius. Sure, it was less of a rescue effort than it was a get-our-hands-on-the-glacian’s-dominant mission, but after a lifetime of torture and being used for his power, he’d take it. He was allowed to go outside, sleep in a real bed, eat people food and even have a name, he’d have been happy with that. But when Cor took him to to the Citadel and introduced him to the king, and when he was sworn in as part of the Prince’s royal retinue - he not only had human rights, but a place in the world, someone to fight for.
‘I’m alright, Iggy,’ Prompto smiles now, and he means it. He could handle being a branded.
When Noct met Prompto, he’d never seen a branded before.
Of course he’d heard of them, he knew that there were magic users who weren’t royalty or affiliated with the crown like the glaives were, and didn’t use the crystal, but also weren’t dominants. But inside the city of Insomnia, they didn’t have to be slaves, their families didn’t abandon them when they showed signs of magic, and they certainly didn’t get their faces tattooed. But there was Prompto, scrawny and hurt, terrified and pale, wild blonde hair hanging in his face, with a brand that ran the length of his cheek and disappeared into the neck of his jumper.
‘Noctis,’ His dad spoke, wheeling his chair until he was right in front of the boy, ‘This is Prompto, Cor’s new son and the dominant for the Glacian.’
‘Hello, Prompto,’ Noct smiled, and stuck out his hand. Prompto only stared at it, looking lost before glancing up at Cor.
‘You can shake his hand, you’re allowed to touch him,’ The man spoke.
Prompto’s hand was freezing, blue at the tips, but he shook Noct’s hand softly.
‘You’re also allowed to speak,’ Cor added, ‘Remember? We talked about this.’
Eyes wide and hands still holding Noct’s, Prompto licked his lips, ‘H-hello, Prince Noctis.’
‘Just Noct is fine,’ He smiled harder, trying to get the boy to do it too.
‘Starting today, Prompto will be in your retinue, you’ll live and train here in the citadel,’ His dad said, ‘Prompto, I ask that you not only take care of my son, but that you be his friend. Ever at his side, not as a branded, as his knight.’
The words had gravity, and the scrawny boy seemed to meet them head on, eyes wide as he nodded, ‘Ever at your side,’ he repeated.
Noct hadn’t ever had a friend over, but a good place to start seemed like his bedroom, which also happened to be right next door to Prompto’s own room.
‘So um, do you want to come in and play a game?’
‘Game?’
‘Yeah, I can’t do a lot at the moment in this chair, but I’ve got some video games that we can play until dinner if you want? Or you can go to your room if you’re tired?’
‘Oh… um,’ Prompto bit his lip, fidgeting with the sleeves of his jumper, ‘I don’t know how to play…’
‘That’s okay, I’ll show you.’
Prompto nodded.
One game turns to two, turns to however many it takes for the sun to set and the room to get dark, illuminated only by the TV mounted on the wall as the boys sit on Noctis’ bed, working through the levels of the dungeon they’re on. Prompto picked up the game like a chocobo to water and is a whiz at aiming the bow and arrow.
‘I can’t believe you’ve never played this before!’ Noct sighed as his character died again.
‘Never played any game before,’ Prompto said as he stunned the boss with a grenade.
‘Well I have heaps I’ve never been able to get through on multiplay with Specs, he’s not very good at games, probably rather read about saving the whales or something.’
‘What’s Specs?’
‘Who’s Specs,’ Noct corrects, ‘And he’s in my retinue too, he’s training to be my advisor.’
‘Is he a branded as well?’ Prompto asked
‘Uh, no, he’s not- and his name is Ignis, you’ll like him.’
Prompto may have liked Ignis, but Ignis loved Prompto.
It didn’t take long for the older boy to take him under his wing, helping with everything from learning to read, to showing him how to tie his shoes. He was the first person to coax a real laugh out of the boy, and all it took was flicking some flour in his face while teaching him how to bake cookies. It was Ignis’ bed Prompto would run to when he’d had a nightmare, and it was Ignis who taught him how to hold his head high despite his brand.
Gladiolus was a whole other kettle of fish.
Prompto had been living with Noctis for a full year before they crossed paths in the garden, when the prince was finally able to walk and they could spend whole afternoons out there playing. The game was hide and seek, and the little girl they met was “it.” But she was It for a long time, and it was getting dark before they realised she’d gone missing.
‘There’s a tunnel, it leads to the park in Insomnia,’ Noct looked panicked, and shaky, he hadn’t walked this far or for this long in a while, ‘She probably went through it.’
‘I’ll go, you wait here,’ Prompto pushed him down to sit on the grass, ‘Or, uh - get Iggy.’
‘Prom, you can’t. You’ve never even been outside the citadel on your own.’
‘I won’t get caught, and I’ll be super quick.’
Just like that he was off, and after a long time, and a frantic search party, and the little girl’s very angry big brother getting even angrier when he found out the Prince’s little Niff had gone looking for her, the pair returned.
‘Iris!’ Gladio called out, running to the little girl as she emerged from the tunnel.
‘Gladdy!’ She wailed, ‘The boy, the boy who came to get me, he’s-‘
‘Where is Prompto?’ Noctis demanded.
‘He got stuck!’ Iris cried, the tunnel got really cold and he got stuck!’
“Stuck” was an understatement, what had happened was Shiva’s dominant got scared of the small spaces, and photos Noct had seen in history books of the cages Niflheim kept their branded in came flooding through his mind, he’d gotten overwhelmed and his powers reacted.
Gladiolus marched down to the park where the tunnel let out, and spoke to Prompto with a softness he usually reserved for Iris as the Kingsglaives worked on thawing him out with weak fire magic, and when they did, and Prom came sliding out of the tunnel covered in icy water and shivering, it was Gladio who scooped him up and wiped the tears off his face.
The Prompto that he grew into was a confident, kind and loyal young man, a whiz with a gun and and a crackshot with his mastery of Shiva’s powers, and while he couldn’t leave the citadel without an escort, and while he asked more than once for permission to undergo the illegal and stupidly dangerous surgery to have his brand removed with no luck, he was happy.
Then Insomnia fell.
Which leads us to today, in a car, zooming down the highway trying to get back the throne for a kingdom that doesn’t exist, making for a haven because the hotels out here all have a very strict no-branded-policy.
‘You sure you’re okay, Prom?’ Noct asks again.
Of course, “ever at your side” remember?’ He smiles easily.