Tempering the Shield
Stories can be inspirational and help someone form their dreams for the future. Such is true in the case of young Gladiolus of House Amicitia. Thanks to the stories and tales from his father about the feats of strength, valor, and bravery of King Regis, Gladiolus looked forward to one day swearing himself as Shield of the King — Shield of King Regis. Unfortunately, some truths are hard to hear and accept. Especially at such a young age.
Word count: 2,735
FFXV: Reimagined Table of Contents
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The throne room was always this awe-inspiring room whenever visited — which was far from often, much to the seven-year-old boy's dismay. Today, however, the boy was accompanied here by his father because today was a momentous occasion for him. Excitement coursed through the boy's body, and he could swear it was in his very bones. Every fiber of his being was used to make sure he stood at attention so that he proved he was on his best behavior, because this boy was standing before his idol: King Regis Lucis Caelum CXIII. This was the man who the boy's father told stories of and instilled in the boy's mind that he was the epitome what it meant to be king.
"It heartens me to see everyone here this fine day," King Regis said with a smile on his face.
Hearing those words from the king, the boy puffed out his chest and turned his nose somewhat into the air — he was going to show that he was a 'fine young man'. In his mind, given that he had followed his mother's guidance and allowed her to help dress him for the occasion, he was presentable in his sharp attire. As far as he was concerned, he was just like his father and therefore fit to stand there as a future Crownsguard — no — the future Shield of the King, sworn to protect the Crown to his fullest!
Little else mattered in the throne room. What mattered was that today, this boy was ready to meet the king. Even with the cursory glance toward the other children in the room, the boy hardly cared about their presence. Not at the moment — and he especially would care much less about them when he was praised as being worthy of serving as Shield. None of them would even compare!
The boy's attention was summoned the moment Regis began motioning for parents and their children to approach. A glance toward his father made him see that they were not moving just yet. That made him pretty antsy. He wanted to meet the king before everyone else! Still, until he and his father were called, the boy had to stand there and wait lest his father admonished him. Being reprimanded in front of the king would have made him far from worthy. The boy bide his time and bit his tongue while doing his best to hold his composure, slowly sneering at the other kids that were being brought before King Regis.
Much as it tested his patience, the boy behaved. Like his father, the boy brought his arms behind his back, watching carefully and listening for when his turn before the king was to come. It was inevitable. So when the first child was finally called forward with his parents at his back, the boy observed. The child that approached the throne was another young boy and was a mousy looking kid, thin and wiry.
Honestly, the sight of the other kid left the boy feeling unimpressed. That feeling led to his lips curving into a frown. Still, he continued to give his undivided attention to the scene that played out before him. Maybe he could glean some more information as to why all these other kids were here, and not just him. Once the mousy kid had fully come before King Regis, the king then motioned to his side in a beckoning fashion.
That was when another kid appeared, smaller and evidently shy with how he kept his gaze pointed at the floor. There was this curtain of black hair upon his head that fell over his face. The boy that stood at his father's side wondered who that was. The prince? Part of him recollected being told about the prince and how he was old enough to finally start meeting with people.
'… Did that mean him, too?' the boy wondered.
“Ignis of House Scientia…” King Regis started. The boy's eyes went back to the king and the mousy boy upon hearing his voice. “It shall fall to you as future Hand of the King to aid and guide my son, Noctis, into his role of future king. Can you swear to this? To keep him on the true path with his head held high?”
Those words made the boy's lips part as his heart sank. He could feel his dreams and hopes starting to crack.
This is what this whole gathering was for? All of them — he and the other noble children — had been brought before the king so that they could be asked to serve this other child? A child who was only supposedly going to be king in the future!?
The boy's attention went to his father. Aside from King Regis himself, the boy's father was also one of the biggest idols he had. Why, he wanted to be just like his father! A sturdy Shield of the king! Not some…some brat!
It was hard to contain himself as a furrow formed within his brow, and a deep frown settled upon his lips. The boy wanted to leave now more than anything. The only thing that stopped him from marching right out of the room was the fact that his father was right there. Doing anything that was unplanned, or something that would deem him as being 'unruly' (as his mother often put it) would have likely diminished his worth as future Shield.
That was not allowed to happen.
It was only when his name was uttered that the boy looked up.
“Gladiolus of House Amicitia.”
King Regis saying his name should have felt amazing — it should have been exciting. However, the experience was dampened and made nigh undesirable…kind of like a soggy piece of bread. What should have felt like something felt far from anything amazing. It felt wrong.
Stiffly, Gladiolus walked forward. This moment was not at all how he imagined it in his head to play out.
Despite the radiant smile and the welcoming warmth that came from King Regis, Gladiolus felt every inch of his being wanting to dig in his heels. Yet — and like his father had bade him do in situations Gladiolus did not like before — he walked forward with hands clenched at his sides. When finally he stood before King Regis and Prince Noctis, Gladiolus kept his gaze deliberately locked onto the king. In his amber eyes burned this smoldering defiance.
If there was a chance at all that King Regis noticed this, he was doing an excellent job in hiding this fact. A fond smile still graced his lips as he regarded Gladiolus. Then he motioned toward Noctis. Gladiolus only followed his motion for the briefest of moments before returning his attention upon the king.
“House Amicitia has ever been the stalwart Shield of the King," Regis began, addressing Gladiolus. Regis gave a gentle nod in Gladiolus' father's direction before speaking again. "Just as your father, Clarus, has been — and continues to be — ever my dependable Shield, I hope that you shall take the mantle proudly when it comes time. For it shall fall to you to be Noctis’ Shield; to protect him from harm, and prevent him from falling into danger.”
Regis pat Noctis on the shoulder, and Noctis then offered a tentative smile toward Gladiolus afterward — not that Gladiolus spared a glance in his direction to notice.
“Can you swear to this? Will you be Noctis’ Shield? To aid and protect him?”
Gladiolus’ eyes finally flicked in Noctis’ direction, noticing movement from the young prince. Noctis had his hand outstretched, waiting to shake Gladiolus’ own in both formal greeting and to seal this role. This…burden. Well Gladiolus would not be burdened with the role of babysitter. His oath would be to the king!
Looking back up at the king while keeping his hands still firmly by his sides, Gladiolus replied: “I shall become Shield of the King! This I swear!”
This was a declaration made to no one but the current King Regis CXIII who loomed above everyone upon his throne. Something phrased in such a way that could mean anything else to those that were only listening. But in Gladiolus’ mind, it meant only one thing: he would prove himself worthy of being Shield for the only king who he felt deserved it.
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Dinner that night was quiet. In Gladiolus' head, however, there was a tempest of thoughts ever since realizing what the gathering at the Citadel was for. Fork in hand, he slid them through mashed potatoes and peas like a bulldozer of minuscule proportions. With such focus on moving his food around his plate, Gladiolus was rendered oblivious to the creased frown settled upon his father's lips.
“... I couldn’t help but notice that you didn’t shake the prince’s hand,” Clarus finally spoke. Calmly, he took up his fork and knife, cutting into his steak. His tone held no connotation of negativity — disappointment nor otherwise. “Was something wrong at the time?”
Gladiolus paused, his spoon midway lifted toward his mouth. Frowning, he put the fork down and looked toward his father.
“I thought that when you said that it was 'an official meeting' for me to start being Shield of the King that I’d get to serve King Regis… Not the prince.” Gladiolus’ brow then furrowed slightly. “He’s not even a king yet. How am I supposed to be Shield of the King if I’m just gonna be a babysitter?”
A low huff of amusement left Clarus’ nose.
“Noctis won’t be a prince forever, Gladio. It's your duty to see that he is as protected as possible. Like Regis and I, in time you should view yourself not only as a Shield, but a brother to Noctis.”
Gladiolus' lips pulled back into a grimace — a sight that did well to have been hidden from the presence of both the king and the prince earlier that day. Now that he was solely within the company of his family, there was no need to practice the mask that his parents often asked he do. Of course, the tight knot of discontent that formed in his stomach did little to quell such things. Reaching forward, Gladiolus pushed his plate away from himself and folded his arms across his chest — he was no longer enjoying his meal.
After slouching down in his chair, Gladiolus felt the pressure of something gently pressing against his shoulder. Casting a sidelong glance to his left, Gladiolus took note of his mother looking at him with this sympathetic look on her face. She squeezed his shoulder affectionately, and when he met her gaze, her expression warmed.
If only that also felt the way it should have. Much like the reception with King Regis, his mother's attempt at reassurance felt wrong.
"You know…" Gladiolus' mother began, gently jostling his shoulder as this teasing smile spread across her lips and she spared a look in Clarus' direction. When she reaffirmed her attention on Gladiolus, she lifted her hand and ran in through his hair. "I believe your father had the same concerns and hopes when he was around your age — maybe just a little older if I remember the stories he told me."
"Oh, and what stories are those, Florere?" Clarus asked, arching a brow with this incredulous smile tugging at his lips.
"Just the ones you regaled me of where you swore up and down so adamantly about how you'd have rather been a Shield of the King to Mors — Light lead his path — rather than Regis at first," Florere giggled, drawing her hand back from Gladiolus and soon resting it upon her swollen, pregnant belly.
"Come now… No need to bore the boy with such stories," Clarus scoffed with a hint of embarrassment. "But yes…I do suppose that once upon a time, I did echo the same kind of sentiment when it came to meeting Regis for the first time. I wanted to be King Mors' Shield for a long time. I even expressed that to Regis when we were still just boys. Must've been teenagers when I finally told him."
Even with hearing the accounts from both his mother and father, a discontented frown remained creased upon Gladiolus' face. Finally, a long sigh escaped his nostrils. Looking toward his father, Gladiolus asked him, "When were you sworn as King Regis' Shield, Dad?"
"Hmm… I must have been around the same age you were when I first met Regis…" Clarus mused with no hesitation. Then a gentle chuckle escaped him while a fond look crossed his features. "Why, young Noctis reminds me of when I first saw Regis as just a little thing myself."
"And what changed?"
"'What changed'?" Clarus thoughtfully repeated, his expression growing pensive as he set his utensils down. He was silent for a time, and Gladiolus watched him with rapt attention. Then, finally, Clarus answered, "I suppose Regis and I…simply grew up. In the time that we grew up together, I had a lot of realizations — and it helped that Regis also was growing into a fine young man that took after Mors' teachings as king to become what I believe is an even better one. When the late King Mors passed, Regis was left with all the weight of responsibility that was left behind — a burdensome heirloom if ever there was one."
With a sigh, Clarus steepled his fingers and leaned forward, his gaze firmly on Gladio. "With all that responsibility that King Regis has and still carries, he needs a Shield like me to ever look out for him. The biggest thing that Mors left Regis was the target upon his back that Niflheim aims for, and so must I shield him from them so he may continue to stand as a symbol of hope for the people of Lucis."
"You're saying King Regis will die and that'll all be left to Noctis?" Gladiolus asked. He was attempting to wrap his head around everything that his father was telling him.
"I am. It is preordained that so long as Lucis and Niflheim remain locked in conflict, so too shall Noctis bear the weight of responsibility for leading and protecting Lucis in the wake of whatever Niflheim may choose to do," Clarus confirmed. Picking up his utensils, Clarus resumed working on his food, ending his explanation with, "When Noctis ascends the throne, he will have need of his Royal Council. That will include you as well when the time comes."
Gladiolus' face twisted into discomfort and annoyance. None of that was what he wanted to hear! The last thing he wanted to think about was King Regis dying before he even got a chance to be a Shield of the King!
Standing abruptly and causing the chair to skid noisily across the floor, Gladiolus bit his tongue and pursed his lips tightly. So much frustration swam in his head and begged at his mouth to be let out, but with as much of a jumble as his thoughts were, he only stood there for a time. A myriad of emotions were at the forefront, but all-in-all, Gladiolus just felt crestfallen about everything — crestfallen, disappointed, and especially upset about the very idea that his father was making it sound like he would never have the chance to be Shield of the King to Regis. Serving Noctis as Shield instead had never been part of his goal nor dream!
'It's not fair…!' came a clear and embittered thought in Gladiolus' mind that was cause for him to clench his jaw. After a long moment of silence, he finally manged a quiet, seething announcement to the table: "I'm going to my room."
The moment that Gladiolus turned, Florere reached out for him only to have been halted by Clarus while he shook his head. In silence, the two of them watched Gladiolus storm away. Clarus closed his eyes the moment he heard Gladiolus slam his door.
"I can speak with him," Florere offered, returning a hand to her belly.
"No. Allow me once dinner's been finished and he's had time to simmer down…" Clarus replied. "Gladiolus is still young and has much to learn. He'll need to grow into his role, and I can only guide him in the meantime while I train him to be a proper Shield. For now, he must come to terms with what may not be able to come to pass."
