The picture I drew for the prompts for @hurtnoctweek. All the messages got lobbed into the back of Noct’s head. I’m not sure how clear it is but that’s supposed to be a paper airplane.
All of our prompts have been announced. For your convenience, the full list is located here in PDF form. We look forward to seeing what you will create with them, and be sure to check out our Rules and FAQ as well.
Here we are with the first round up for @hurtnoctweek!
- We have listed relationships [platonic and romantic], ratings, and Archive Warnings
- With that in mind, please tread mindfully! Remember to look at the tags before reading.
You can also check out the AO3 collection: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/HurtNoctWeek2021/works
Day One: Captured Prince
Bird in Hand by Mokulule
Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Noctis Lucis Caelum
Iedolas Aldercapt
Verstael Besithia
Mature Rating
In which Noctis generally doesn’t have a good time.
Fight or Flight by Nyxx_Kess
Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Noctis Lucis Caelum
Ignis Scientia
Prompto Argentum
Gladiolus Amicitia
Mature Rating
But trussed up against something solid, hands stuck too far behind him to get any real leverage, he hasn’t figured out a way to disentangle himself from that.
Gladio’s going to need to add this one to the training drill list.
Seen Not Heard by everylemon
No Archive Warnings Apply
Noctis Lucis Caelum
Ignis Scientia
Gladiolus Amicitia
Prompto Argentum
Teen Rating
Whatever his kidnappers had done, they’d done as if to intentionally steal the Prince’s voice—an unsavory blend of fairy tale and horror story.
Of course, they hadn’t killed him. They clearly could have.
But Noctis never spoke again.
Deals in Darkness by GuineaGoon
No Archive Warnings Apply
Ravus Nox Fleuret/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Teen Rating
Everyone knew the Caelum family was odd. Their eccentricities were remarked upon in history books going back to their founder king. Anyone who spent enough time with the family knew this. Most people dismissed it as a quirk of being royalty and usually accepted it without too much trouble.
“If you truly want an interesting time, catch yourself a Caelum. I assure you, you’ll learn a great deal about daemons, and how to utilize the Crystal’s power,” Izunia mused while looking at his nails.
They only had one Caelum to catch, and they had been having a hard time tracking down Noctis Lucis Caelum in the wilds of Lucis ever since the fall of Insomnia.
Longing For the Sweet Oblivion of Death by star54kar
Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Major Character Death
Explicit Rating
Blisteringly bright, white pain, worse than anything he’d experienced in the entirety of his existence, consumed Noctis’ being as he was dragged back to consciousness with a harsh gasp.
He Endures by sabishisa
Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Teen Rating
Noctis suffers extreme electrocution for the sake of science. Made for Day 1 of Hurt Noct Week, the theme of which was Captured Prince.
Day Two: Relationship Woes
Cross My Heart and Hope to Die by everylemon
No Archive Warnings Apply
Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum
General Rating
But the buzz cut guy's not giving up, and he’s definitely got Prompto in his sights, too—which, great, gotta love that. He shoulders into their way, forcing them to stop because there’s no way around him in the crowded hallway, and gives a mocking little half-bow. "Prince Noctis! This here your royal consort?”
Nif by somewherealight
No Archive Warnings Apply
Teen Rating
Someone in Noct's retinue is a traitor.
Not Like This by sabishisa
No Archive Warnings Apply
Lunafreya Nox Fleuret & Noctis Lucis Caelum
Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
General Rating
Noctis meets Luna in Altissia and finally makes a major confession that shatters their relationship.
Things Change by quartzguts
No Archive Warnings Apply
Noctis Lucis Caelum & Ignis Scientia
Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum
Gladiolus Amicitia & Noctis Lucis Caelum
Teen Rating
When Noctis wakes up, his friends aren't the people he remembers them to be.
My Comfort in You by Nyxx_Kess
No Archive Warnings Apply
General Rating
Noctis keeps trying to reach across the gap, but his father seems to stay just out of his reach.
But Who Am I? by GuineaGoon
No Archive Warnings Apply
Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Teen Rating
Many days Noctis found himself almost staring at everyone in a daze and trying to find a way to truly connect with them again. They had ten years of experiences together he had missed. There were comments and jokes he didn’t understand, and he couldn’t bring himself to ask what the reference was to.
So he stayed quiet and on the side. He watched and tried to learn, feeling like a stranger in a foreign land.
Prompto did his best to include him, but there was only so much the blonde could manage. He realized that while they had worked to keep him alive, his three friends had also drifted apart in their own ways. He could see the deep fissures they were trying to repair now that everyone was attempting to bring back Lucis to the glory they had had before.
Too Late To Say by Fantasywriter
No Archive Warnings Apply
Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Prompto Argentum/Cindy Aurum
Mature Rating
Noctis is too late when he finally decides to open up telling Prompto how he truly feels about his best friend.
Hurt Noct Week Day 6 | Maeroj #pixiv https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/92310151
In which Noctis experiences Final Fantasy XV from our side of the screen.
My friend Melia came up with this idea and it may fit day 6. Since I may only get one prompt in on time I figured this is the most all encompassing whump I could muster.
This will eventually get a full posting to Ao3 when I have enough brains to properly tag/summary/title. For now... have some very much hurt Noct. It gets worse before it gets better.
Have my day one, for the Day 1 Prompt: Imprisoned at Angelgard, @hurtnoctweek
The last thing he remembered was going to sleep. Just for a nap, just an hour before Ignis would be by to pick him up and take him to training. Not that he couldn’t drive himself, but Ignis had opinions, both on his going alone and his driving. So. He waited patiently in his apartment and got a little catnap.
When he woke up it was dark, damp, and smelled vaguely of mold and something metallic. His head ached, and as he shifted to touch it he heard something scrape against something else about the same time he realized there were shackles around his wrists.
Suddenly wide awake, he moved his arm forward and found it halted before he could get it in front of him. His eyes were adjusting to the dark, enough that he could make out the shadowy shape of thick chains hanging from the shackles. His stomach quietly bottomed out and a thin, panicked whine escaped him.
Where was he? What had happened?
He shifted his weight, realizing he was kneeling on something cold and hard. Stone, maybe? But where… where would that be? He stretched his senses, increasingly desperate, and realized he couldn’t feel the crystal, or his father, or even his bonds with his retinue.
Nothing.
His ends of the bonds stretched desperately, but reached out to nothing. There was nothing on the other side, not even his dad.
For the first time in memory, he was truly alone.
He spent several terrified moments just breathing, trying to focus.
Get it together, princess! You can’t wait for someone to save you. His internal voice was cruelly practical, an echo of Gladio even though he’d only just really started training under him in the past couple years. Before that it had been Drautos, and he could feel the ghost of his hand on his shoulder.
You can’t depend on everyone else to always be there, Noctis, he’d said so many times he could almost hear him now. You have to learn to stand on your own, especially when it hurts.
They hadn’t been talking about this, exactly, but… well. He was painfully right. Noctis was alone. He couldn’t wait for someone else to come save him.
He gave a tug at one chain, then the other, grimacing as one of his shoulders promptly informed him it was already out of joint. Great. Well, nothing for it. There was no way he’d be able to pull free of the shackles like this, so he had to get creative.
Wetting his lips, he reached for his armiger, control shivering faintly through the pain and panic. But he had to keep it together. Had to think, because until he knew the situation nothing was able to be taken for granted.
Slowly, so achingly slowly, his magic began to gather in front of him in flickering blue crystalline shards, illuminating a cave, and a blood soaked rock underneath him.
Noctis gagged as he finally placed the metallic smell of old blood, shuddering. Okay, Noct, focus. You can panic later. Right now it’s time to get the hell out of here.
He didn’t exactly have bolt cutters in his armiger and even if he had, he couldn’t hold them at the angle to get free. In fact, he wasn’t really sure he had anything in there he could use at the angle he was suspended at.
…but he still had some elemancy built up, from the other day… if he aimed the spells right… or, perhaps, if he was just smart enough….
Smart or crazy… guess it doesn’t matter, right now. Not so long as it worked.
Noctis turned his head to get a look at the chains, steeled himself, and reached first for the chill of ice. He fixated on the shackles and the thinner link between it and the heavy chains. He felt the temperature drop, and in the dim light of magic saw frost spreading rapidly over the metal, quickly becoming a heavy, gleaming layer of ice. His wrists burned where it touched, and his hands and arms tingled but he kept it up until he was shaking and out of ice.
Then he sent fire at the smaller links and threw his body forward. The chains groaned, then snapped, sending him face first into the stone.
Noctis could have wept in relief, still shaking but as much from stress and pain as the chill. Whoever had locked him here had only strung him up by his arms, which meant he was free, if not safe.
He got to his feet, swaying slightly. His arms ached horribly, having been stretched out to the sides who knows how long before he’d regained consciousness, and even though he’d been on his knees, he’d been straining forward with his full body weight. It was a wonder they weren’t both out of socket. For a moment, he let them hang loosely at his sides, taking in deep, shuddery breaths.
Then he forced himself to focus, because he had to get out of here, and there was no knowing what was out there waiting for him. Straightening his spine with a little wince at the pain, Noctis limped slowly for the entry, his bad knee throbbing with his pulse. Kneeling had never been great, and for however long he’d been on that hard, cold stone… yeah, it was locked up bad.
C’mon, princess, you’ve gotta meet me part way, he could practically hear Gladio saying.
He checked for his phone, and wasn’t surprised to come up empty handed. He didn’t have anything that wasn’t in his armiger, which was at this point mostly just his sword and, if he reached, he might be able to grab Ignis’ daggers or Gladio’s broadsword. Neither would help him any more than his own blade, so he simply continued onward, listening hard.
His footsteps sounded too loud. His breathing sounded too loud. And yet neither were louder than the creak of the heavy doors to the chamber he’d been left in. He could feel residual magic lingering in them, but whatever wards had been applied were either too old to still work or had been broken when he’d been placed in. He had the faintest inkling of where he might be and promptly dismissed it before it could get a foothold. No point in freaking himself out. The only thing important about where he was, was how hard it would or wouldn’t be to get home.
There were several more heavy doors on the way, ones he had to lean his whole weight into to shove open, bringing tears of pain to his eyes as his shoulders protested the pressure. But eventually there was a long corridor with light and he made a breathy sound of relief. Almost there…
He came out, squinting at the bright sunlight, and almost whimpered in relief as he saw a Glaive coming his way - Luche, maybe? He’d made an effort to memorize their names and faces but when he was tired it was harder to remember the ones he didn’t regularly interact with. They were looking for him.
He wasn’t alone.
“Highness!” The Glaive called, breaking into a loping jog. “Prince Noctis… it’s a relief to see you alive.”
“Good to be alive,” Noctis rasped, swaying with the effort of staying upright.
“Six, what did they do to you…” Blue eyes looked him over critically, touching the shackles and jerking back at their chill. “…you… you used elemancy to get free?”
“Can’t just wait for a rescue,” Noctis said, leaning into him against his best intentions to stay upright.
“No, of course not. You’re a fighter.” He wrapped an arm around him. “Come on, we’ll get you to Captain Drautos. We’ve been combing the countryside ever since you went missing.”
“…how long…?”
“It’s been three days,” he said quietly. “You’re damned lucky I was out here. No one really thought you’d be here, but… the Niffs broke in here once, why not again?”
“Where’s here?” Noctis asked, attempting to look around. Everything was so bright… his head pulsed unpleasantly.
The Glaive answered him, then said something else with a hint of panic, and it was only then that Noctis realized his consciousness was slipping away again.
But he was safe, now, with on of his father’s Glaives. They’d bring him to Drautos.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
This is my contribution for the @hurtnoctweek 2021 Day 1: Didn't escape the Tenebraen invasion
The fic has 7 chapters (26k in total) and updates daily. I’m hitting some more Noctis hurting prompts in the middle chapters, but there’s also quite a bit of plot, so be aware of that.
Title: what an honor, what an injustice
Rating: Mature
No romantic pairings, Ravus & Noctis, Ravus & Luna
Warnings (for the whole fic): coercion, captivity, human experimentation, violence, violence against children (Noctis is 13 for the majority of the fic), additional (more specific) warnings will be in the notes at the end of each chapter
Summary:
Cowering next to the throne is none other than Noctis Lucis Caelum, crown prince of Lucis. There’s a crude metal collar around the boy’s neck, attached to the throne with a heavy chain. He’s in no better state than Ravus, face dirty and clothes torn. He’s looking back at Ravus, eyes big and glistening. His legs are splayed uselessly to the side, while he holds himself up on his arms.
Joining the Niflheim military was the first impossible choice Ravus had to make. It's not the last one.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
T, gen, 1.5k, one-shot. Graphic depictions of violence. For the @hurtnoctweek prompt Stasis.
Noct takes the hit for Prompto.
Gladio's spent the past two hours hunched towards a computer monitor in the tiny cubicle that is the Crownsguard’s evidence review station. Beneath the arrhythmic flicker of the florescent light, he watches the surveillance videos from both cameras again and again and again: in slow-mo, with noise removal filters to sharpen the grainy picture, with Ignis and Marshal Leonis and his dad peering over his shoulder.
But the end result never changes. It’s obvious, every time.
He forces himself to watch the moment when the bullets hit. Ignis would tell him to stop self-flagellating, but he knows he doesn’t deserve to flinch away.
This took much longer than I thought it would, but work has been absolutely exhausting lately. I'm honestly just excited that I get to share this with you all because I really wanted to participate in Hurt!Noct Week.
This is a combination of day 1 prompts: buried alive and captured by Nifleheim (at least sort of?). This is just the 1st chapter, but I figured I’d share at least this bit for now. I hope you enjoy this!
You can also read this on AO3
-
He should’ve called Ignis. Or texted Gladio that he was going to be ten minutes late to their training session. Or Astrals, accepted Prompto’s offer to walk home with him even though his house was in the opposite direction.
But he hadn’t.
Instead, he’d strolled down the bustling streets, thinking about the planned King’s Knight session later that night. He scrolled idly through the mission details, trying to formulate a plan of attack. The last time Noctis had attempted this mission he’d been severely outclassed and had to abandon the mission lest he lose what little loot he’d been able to pilfer from the dungeon. With Gladio’s character acting as their tank, he could have Ignis on range attacks and healing. Prompto had the best stealth stats so they could have Prompto looting the place while the rest of them took care of the bigger monsters. Noctis fancied himself an all-around player so he could assist wherever needed the most help.
Caught up in his mini strategy session, he didn’t realize he was on a collision course with someone until he ran right into them. He stumbled, juggling his phone between his hands in an attempt to save it from meeting its demise on the pavement below.
“Watch where you’re going,” the man he ran into grumbled, brushing imaginary dirt off his jacket.
The man was dressed lavishly in a wide variety of patterns and textures. His coat looked sturdy and thick like it would keep out even the harshest of cold winds. The scarf around his neck was the brightest piece of clothing he wore—the reddish-orange silk oddly complementing the man's red-violet hair. Not a sliver of the man’s skin was visible besides the tip of the man’s fingers and his face under the shade of his fedora.
He had a right to be upset even if half of him wanted to insist that the man could have moved too. He shoved that thought down and instead nodded his head, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “Sorry about that,” Noctis apologized. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”
“Yes, I figured as much.” The man squinted at him, his head cocking to the side. “Hold on a moment, don’t I know you?”
Not for the first time, he was thankful for his privacy. His father had done a remarkable job at keeping him much out of the public eye. People knew who he was, but because he wasn’t in any of the newspapers or rag magazines that most celebrities appeared in he could go through life like normal. He didn’t have to think about paparazzi waiting outside his school or people approaching him asking for something or other.
“Probably not,” Noctis said, “maybe you’ve seen me walking home before? I go to the high school three blocks away.”
Shaking his head, the man inspected his face more thoroughly. “No that’s not it. I’ve definitely seen you before.” He felt as if the man could count his pores, and Noctis shuffled backward away from the man’s heavy stare. “Have you got an uncle that works at the palace? I used to work there.”
The man gave Noctis a private quirk of his lips like he was privy to some hidden joke that only he knew.
“Oh that’s… nice?”
The man nodded absentmindedly gaze still heavy on Noctis. “Hm, you really do look familiar,” he commented. “Quite handsome too.”
“Thanks?” Noctis looked down at his uniform and his loosened tie and wondered if there was a polite way to excuse himself from the conversation. He didn’t want to be rude by walking away from the man but he really did need to get going or he was going to be later than he thought to Gladio’s training session. “Well, I’m sorry for walking into you like that, but I gotta get going.”
“Right, right, of course.” The man swept a hand through his hair sheepishly. “It’s not like I can keep the prince from his important tasks just to talk with me.”
Ice filled Noctis’ veins as his title was casually thrown out by the man who claimed he couldn’t place his face. He stared at the man, uncomprehendingly. This was starting to look like the beginning of one of Ignis’ crime drama shows. Why did the man lie? What was his angle? What was going on?
“Who are you?” Noctis asked, channeling his calm façade to the max.
“A man of no consequence, I assure you.” The man waved him off with a few shooing gestures. “Off you go, your highness.”
Noctis gave him a wary look and an awkward bob of his head. He needed to get out of here. Ready to put this whole interaction behind him, he stepped to the side of the man to continue his route. Except he didn’t get very far before a hand latched onto his wrist with surprising force.
A violent tug had him wrenching himself back around, his shoulder twinging at the sudden jerk. Face-to-face with the man once more, Noctis saw how the man’s expression was colder, harsh in the afternoon sun. His teeth were bared in a sneer—looking for all the world like a coeurl.
“Let go,” Noctis ordered, now glaring at the man who wouldn’t leave him alone. “Didn’t you just tell me to go?”
A taunting smile peaked through the man’s sneer. “Now why would I do that?” He asked.
Noctis clenched his fists and bit out another order. “Let go of me, now.” He grabbed his phone with his free hand and quickly dialed the palace’s emergency numbers. It would be mildly embarrassing if Gladio found out he’d called the Crownsguard on a regular citizen, but his SAS kidnap training was blaring in his ears. “I’m warning you, I can have you arrested.”
A soft tsk came from the man who shook his head at Noctis’ threat. “We can’t have that now, can we?”
He opened his mouth to demand his release again, but all that came out was a choked-off yelp as something heavy struck his head. His knees refused to hold up his body and he collapsed to the concrete. The skin of his palms was torn in his attempt to catch himself, but he couldn’t feel it; the sharp pain by his temple shadowed the pain in his palms.
He turned his gaze back to the blurry figure of the man, who had been joined by another figure. His brain felt sluggish, his thoughts thick in his mouth as he tried to string a sentence together. “W-what—“
“Shh,” The man shushed, ignoring Noctis’ flinch as he tenderly ran a hand through Noctis’ hair. “Good night, sweet prince.”
The last thing he saw was a fist coming at his face.
Then nothing.
He regained consciousness with a choked-off groan. He felt like he’d gone through one of Gladio’s marathon training sessions and lost miserably.
Laying still, he took stock of his body. His lip was swollen and tender as he wet his dry, split lips. The right side of his face throbbed in-tune with his heartbeat and Noctis could barely get that eye to open more than a crack. What was he supposed to do? He’d been trained on how to handle a kidnapping situation; Cor had made it abundantly clear the variations in which people would try to snatch him up. But this wasn’t just a ‘what if.’ He’d been kidnapped not even four blocks away from his school.
It was a matter of figuring out what he could do to get out of here. He still had his magic though admittedly his connection to the Crystal felt like he was trying to pull at the energy through a strainer. Like sifting through a pile of hay for the needle—all of his abilities being the needle and the presence of his magic being the hay.
But that didn’t mean he was helpless. He just needed to approach the situation the right way and he could escape. He tried to remain calm, limiting his breathing to shallow breaths to keep up his ruse. This became a fruitless act when he heard someone or something step up behind him.
A familiar voice came from behind him. “It appears our guest of honor is awake,” the man cooed. Some of the man’s nonchalance had vanished, replaced by cruel giddiness. “And how are you, your majesty?”
Like hell he was going to go along with this guy’s fake care. His pride wouldn’t let him bite out a pleasantry, instead choosing to press his steely gaze on the eccentric man. His stare didn’t deter the man’s delight in his situation which only served to make his blood simmer in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to punch the smug look off that face.
“I think you’ll find, Noctis,” the man loomed over him, nudging him lightly in the ribs with his boots, “that I have the upper hand.”
He didn’t. Noctis refused to believe it. He may not have had any weapons on him, but Noctis had dialed the emergency response number for the palace. By dialing the number he had ensured back-up would be on their way to his location in less than five minutes. Well, the location of where the call took place. He couldn’t feel the shape of his phone in his pockets, but the Crownsguard would be able to pick up on any trail his kidnapper had left behind.
All he needed to do was wait.
“What do you want?” Noctis asked, shifting his position on the floor to try and alleviate the pressure on his lower back. He could already feel the scar tissue there begin to burn and ache.
“Already wanting me to reveal my dastardly plan?” The man questioned. “How cliché.” Noctis’ face must’ve given away his annoyance because the guy clucked his tongue at his expression.
“I realize this isn’t one of your silver-spoon soirees, but it’ll serve as a good setting for the video.” He straightened and made his way over to the small set-up of… camera equipment? “We need you to put on your best performance, your highness.” He looked up with a cold smile that sent a shiver running down Noctis’ spine. “Though do save some for the main event.”
“So you’re gonna, what? Ransom me or something?” Noctis squirmed in his binds. “Is that your plan?”
Humming noncommittally, the man continued setting up his equipment. “Or something.”
“Not much of a talker huh?” He was banking on being able to get some info out of the guy so he could shout it over what was sure to be his ransom video.
The waiting was bizarre. Despite the discomfort, he didn’t feel like he was all there—though the main contributor to this was the head injury—the quiet sounds of rustling cables and footsteps gave him peace of mind amongst the simmering unrest and anxiety as the experience faded into less immediate danger. If only he could concentrate on his armiger and summon the knife he stored there—then he’d be able to warp out of his binds and escape.
A quiet huff of laughter broke through the silence; it took him a few moments to realize the laugh came from him . It wasn’t funny, not by a long-shot. He was being stupidly optimistic, especially since his vision still wavered between doubled and covered in black splotches. He probably had one hell of a shiner too.
He wished he’d called someone to get him.
The derelict state of his mind was brushed away as a triumphant cry echoed slightly around him. He squinted at the man who looked at him expectantly.
“What?” Noctis asked, tiredly. He had no desire to give the man the reactions he was hoping for. Actually, the other being put off by his apathy made him feel better. “Did you finally get your whole… set-up ready?”
The man had the audacity to pout at him. “Now you’re just no fun,” he complained. “Aren’t you curious as to why I’ve brought you here?”
Noctis shrugged. “Not really?” The motion caused his chains to rattle in the tight space. “Most of the guys I’ve been kidnapped by all want the same thing: revenge or money.”
“I can assure you that my reason is definitely not for any monetary reason.” The man took a step towards him. “I suppose you could call it revenge, though I admit you are simply unlucky—to be chosen by the gods.” He cupped Noctis’ cheek with surprising tenderness, brushing his thumb along his cheekbones. “You do bear a striking resemblance to him.”
A nail dug it the flesh underneath his eye and Noctis hissed, attempting to turn his face out of the man’s grip. “What a pity,” the man said, releasing his hold on Noctis. “Before we begin, I think it’s only fair that you finally be able to put a name to your captor.”
“Oh now you want to introduce yourself?” Noctis grumbled—because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut to save his life apparently.
Fortunately, the man seemed amused by his comment. “Do forgive me for my rudeness, your highness .” The mocking emphasis he placed on the title was not lost to Noctis, but he didn’t dignify him with an answer. “I’ve been reduced to the moniker ‘Adagium,’ by the royal line of Lucis.”
It sounded familiar, but Noctis couldn’t place where he’d heard it. Had the name come up in his studies? Was it a political thing?
Adagium sighed and shook his head. “I’m not surprised you don’t know of me. Your dear father is desperately trying to keep you in the dark.”
Noctis furrowed his brow. “What do you mean he’s keeping me in the dark?”
With a shake of his head, Adagium stepped back over to his equipment. “I’ve talked enough for now, it’s time we get the show started lest the party be stopped before it’s even begun.” Adagium grinned at him. “The stage is yours, prince Noctis.”
A red light blinked to life on the camera as Noctis stared into the lens. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Did Adagium want him to beg? To show whoever was watching the video that he was scared? He wasn’t. Scared that it is. Unnerved? Yes, how could he not be when he was kidnapped and tied up in some unknown location.
His captor sighed tilting his hat to cover his face and—
Adagium changed. No longer was he wearing the extravagant, pattern-clashing, textile collage of an outfit. He was in a set of armor, his face masked and hair tucked away under the rigid helmet. Noctis had only seen the armor in person once before on that fateful escape from Tenebrae as he reached desperately for Luna’s hand.
Magitek armor.
To see the man stripped of his individualism did more to bother Noctis than he expected. Something about the metal, placid expression staring at him had his stomach clenching nervously. How had Adagium done it? An illusion? But how? To his knowledge, illusion magic was typically only used by the messengers of the gods; he figured he’d already met all of them at this point with his connection to Luna.
With four jerky steps, Adagium stood beside him, a hand painfully clasping his shoulder. Noctis side-eyed the man as if he could glean some sort of direction for what he wanted Noctis to do.
Once again, Adadgium broke the silence. “Salutations, Your Majesty, Regis Lucis Caelum,” Adagium said, “113th monarch in the long line of Lucis.”
He’d somehow managed to project his voice to see like he was behind the camera again. Another impossibility Noctis didn’t know how to find an answer to.
“As you can see, I have an auspicious guest with me, one I know you’re well-acquainted with. Won’t you say hello to your dear father, Noct?” Adagium asked.
Gritting his teeth, Noctis glared at a spot on the wall. He wasn’t going to give the other what he wanted, not when he could still deny him of his game. If he could weaponize his silence, he would.
With an angry tut from Adagium, Noctis’ hair was yanked with a merciless tug, pulling his head backward and exposing his throat. He could feel the handful of hair desperately trying to cling to his scalp as he let out a small whimper at the rough treatment.
“What a difficult boy,” Adagium commented, “he must’ve been quite the child to raise. To think he’d forget his manners at a time like this.”
“Shut up,” Noctis growled.
“Oh he speaks! Splendid! Now while I’ve broken through that stony exterior, we can commence the show.”
Suddenly, a knife was pressed against Noctis’ neck. He flinched back into Adagium’s hold on his hair, but the knife followed, the edge of the blade making a small, shallow cut on the delicate skin of his neck. He was helpless, tied up, and at the mercy of his captor. And it didn’t seem like Adagium had any qualms against hurting him.
The blood that lazily oozed from the wound dripped down his neck and settled into his jugular notch like a morbid jewel. Noctis heard Adagium’s hum of approval and could feel the pressure of the knife increase slightly as if Adagium had lapsed in his awareness that he was the one holding the knife and thus in control of how far the blade entered Noctis’ flesh.
“Now, I understand why Lucis values black as a special color—it goes amazingly with blood red, wouldn’t you agree?”
He said it so off-handedly that Noctis wasn’t sure who he was talking to: Noctis, Regis, or himself. What was clear, was that Adagium had a deep-seated grudge against Lucis—the royal line in particular. But why? Was he from one of the outer nations that had been left behind when his father had to pull back the wall to just the city of Lucis?
Adagium broke out of his musings, finally pulling the knife back enough that it was just resting against the cut. “Never mind that,” he said. “I expect you’re waiting for some kind of demand from me. Money? Some impossible wish for power? Recognition?” Noctis could hear the smirk in his voice, that deceptively playful quirk of his lips. “No, I don’t want any of those, not explicitly at least.”
What do you want? Noctis didn’t voice no matter how much he wanted to. This little video of Adagium’s seemed to be going nowhere which could be good if this was a live broadcast, build the tension maybe.
“My reason for kidnapping Noct is very simple: because I could.”
He said it so matter-of-factly that Noctis’ brain stumbled to a halt. That’s it? Because he could? That didn’t make any sense, not when Adagium had brought up some kind of revenge. “What happened to your revenge?” Noctis asked. “You mentioned your reasons could be considered revenge and the gods.” He remembered the forlorn look in Adagium’s eyes before the rage had trickled back in. “You said I resembled someone, Adagium.”
He knew he was being bold, foolhardy more accurately, but his captor hadn’t revealed his name and Noctis was hoping if he brought up his aforementioned desire for revenge on film he’d reveal more of his reasoning. If the heroes in movies could get a villain to reveal their schemes, Noctis should be able to do it to Adagium.
Adagium’s grip on his hair tightened, Noctis crying out as several strands were tugged out of his scalp. “Oh Noct,” he purred, “I see you’ve decided to join the conversation.”
Noctis felt his skin crawl at the contemptuous pride in Adagium’s voice. He’d overstepped with his nosy questions.
“Yes, I did say that, didn’t I?” Adagium said. “You remember Adagium, do you not Your Majesty? The mythical monster locked away in the dark depths of Angelgard for ages, lost to time amongst the words of false kings and fraudulent nations.”
Who was Adagium? Noctis wondered, a stray tear slipping down the side of his face towards his hairline. “Why?” Noctis whispered, afraid of the answer he’d receive but unwilling to let his question lie.
The magitek disguise rippled ominously, a black miasma seeping through the gaps of armor. Quickly, the figure of Adagium was being overshadowed by the mist. The tiny glints of gold light within the consuming shadows was what gave away the nature of the mist: Starscourge.
Eyes wide, Noctis struggled in the man’s grip. He remembered when the Starscourge had infected him as a child when the Marilith had sliced his back open and nearly severed his spinal cord. The burning agony of the scourge ravaging his body, when not even his coma brought him relief from its infection. The hushed cries of similarly infected at the edges of his mind like a web of anguish, ever-growing with each infected. Get away getawaygetaway.
His struggling was for naught as the black mirage leaned closer to him. “Why?” Adagium asked the hand that held the knife lazily dragged to the center of his chest. “Because I was saving people. Because that first false king was jealous and power-hungry, over-eager to be the one to wear the crown. And the rest,” he spat the word, “never bothered to question any of their forebears, convinced that they had always done what was best for the kingdom of Lucis.”
Noctis shook his head as best he could. “But why would they—“
“Because the gods didn’t stop them.” The knife in his hand pressed harder against Noctis’ chest and hissed at the sting of the blade. “But the time of reckoning is steadily approaching!”
With a flourish of his hand, the knife was sent away. Noctis thought it was eerily similar to accessing the armiger. “While all the pieces aren’t in their proper place just yet, a bit of ‘divine retribution’ soothes the soul.”
“What do you mean by divine retribution?” Noctis asked, his voice far quieter than he expected.
The miasma cloud seemed to grin impossibly wide, though he couldn’t discern an actual face. “I thought it would be perfect for you to atone on behalf of your forebears, Noct. And to have your father helplessly watch as he struggles to find you.”
Adagium stood behind him once more and wrapped his arms loosely around Noctis’ shoulders. “Let’s have the chosen, King of Light spend some time in the dark,” he purred, black ichor dripping onto his shirt. Onto his head. Onto his face. It was everywhere and Noctis couldn’t focus on anything else.
