An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/?
Fandom: Final Fantasy XV
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Characters: Noctis Lucis Caelum, Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum, Gladiolus Amicitia, Nyx Ulric, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, Gentiana (Final Fantasy XV), Ravus Nox Fleuret, Cor Leonis, Regis Lucis Caelum, Clarus Amicitia, Ardyn Izunia
Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Noctis Lucis Caelum, King Noctis Lucis Caelum, OT4, Whump, BAMF Noctis Lucis Caelum, Prophecy, Withdrawal, Protective Chocobros (Final Fantasy XV), bamf everyone really, Luna and Gentiana are partners in divine, Dad!Cor, Regis lives, Battleprince Noctis, AU
Summary:
In an AU, where it is Regis who gets hurt by the Marilith attack instead of his son, it is up to Noctis and his friends to fulfill the prophecy together to rid Eos of the Starscourge.
It’s 1:30 am, I have a quiz in calculus in seven hours, I haven’t studied, and I’m basically a train wreck. Instead of studying I started working on a King!Noctis x Glaive!Reader piece that takes place in the alternate verse of episode Ignis. Anyone interested in reading it whenever it’s finished? 😂
Waking is an experience. Prompto has woken a great many times in his life, of course, but he’s never felt quite like he does now. There’s an energy coursing under his skin and he can practically taste the air as he breaths in deep, currants just lingering at the edges of his nose and blackberries on his tongue. If he has to give the flavor a name it would be Noctis, his king.
The thought crosses his mind and the usual warmth seems more intense, like there’s supposed to be a wall between himself and the absolute sea of affection he’s filled with. The emotion is so strong he can feel tears leaking from under his eyes. The response to it is immediate, a cool hand cupping his cheek and a sharp inhale, concerned.
He finally opens his eyes and the candlelight on the walls distracts him for a splits second, it’s brighter than ever. He turns to look at Noctis and the desire to weep becomes stronger, the relief of his face in overwhelming and Prompto shudder.
It’s all so much and he doesn’t understand why everything seems stronger, why he feels so...so strong.
“Noct?” His voice, at least, is his own.
“Prom,” The King’s voice is steady though the thumb slowly wiping away the rolling tears in shaking a bit. It’s an anchoring point and Prompto finds himself steadying, his panic ebbing until he can think around it.
“Why is everything...too, uh, much?”
Noctis offer him a sad smile and Prompto can’t help his responding wave of despair in response, something in his lover seems older now that it did just days ago. Noctis isn’t trying to make jokes or avoid answering and Prompto is starting to suffocate under the change.
“You should probably ask Luna for the long version, she knows more than I, but the short one is,” Noctis takes a deep breath and Prompto tenses, “You’re not human Prom.”
He blinks and then he laughs, without his usual joy because it’s a bad time for jokes, of course he’s human. Everyone knows the fae don’t stay in the mortal realm for long, even the changelings remember themselves and leave long before they reach Prompto’s age.
He laughs until the sound dies out as he realizes that Noctis is still looking at him with utter sincerity, it makes him feel cold.
“What am I then?” He whispers the words and tries not to let through how fucking scared of the answer he is.
Noctis doesn’t answer immediately, just strokes his cheek, marveling at the skin beneath his thumb and Prompto’s nerves can hardly take the silence, but the feeling is just too nice to be irritated.
“You’re amazing” Noctis grins at him, and Prompto’s heart unclenches at the silly expression, “you’re a fae.”
Prompto frowns, but there’s nothing but sincerity, so Noctis believes it at the very least. He doesn’t know what to say to the king, but he’s saved from having to speak as Noctis leans down and presses their foreheads together. It’s a familiar move, one they’ve repeated on every battlefield and after every too close call.
Normally Prompto would laugh and remind the king where they are and they’re situation, normally he would be trying to remind Noctis why they had to keep this quiet. Instead, his heightened perception means the feeling of Noctis’ lips against his own wipes out all of that rationale.
He’s pulling Noctis down, arm around his shoulders and tugging, pushing and shifting until Noctis is settled between his legs. They’re tangled together quickly, Noctis’ fingers exploring under Prompto’s tunic. When he finally pulls back for breath Prompto downright mewls, watching the way the light catches in Noctis’ dark blue eyes.
My liege…” The words are half panted and Prompto tries to take them back as they leave his lips, it’s hardly the way he speaks to Noctis. The other’s eyes widen and then a slow smile spreads over his lips and he leans in for another kiss. They’ve barely connected when a delicate cough makes Noctis jerk back, flailing off of Prompto and directly to the door.
Prompto’s blush is short lived as he takes in the spectacle that is Lunafreya in his new wight. She’s the beautiful oracle she’s always been, resplendent in her pale colors and the icy blue of her eyes but there’s another layer to her now, power and aura where there wasn’t before. He can see the soothing colors that pulse around her, expanding as she breaths and swirling in the air and she exhales.
“Noctis.” She bends her head in respect, not a true bow but a simple acknowledgment, “Prompto rí an tsolais” To his shock Lunafreya kneels before him in a graceful movement, head bent.
“Uh…”
She looks at him and smiles widely, “I’m sure you’re very confused, especially since the King doesn’t seem to be able to get many words in when he’s with you.”
Noctis makes a noise and blushes brightly, ducking his head some. Prompto just looks chagrined and shrugs.
“Why is everything so-so-just…” he trails off, watching the tendrils of Lunafreya’s hair and sinking into the warmth of Noctis’ palm at the base of his spine as the King moves to stand beside him.
“You have unlocked the truth of your heat, your birthright has only just begun to lighten your sight. Soon you will burn with the radiance of the sun which blessed you. You are not just far, you are one of the Dé Danann who carries the sacred light within. You , who are fated to bond the people firm to the hearts of mortals.”
There was a power to the words that made Noctis shiver and Prompto felt himself responding to it, a feeling emanating from his chest and a sudden wash of warm light. The room, unnoticed to him except as an unremarkable one like so many corners of the palace melted away and Prompto was, for the moment, in another realm.
He stares, a tug in his chest makes tears well up and he blinks them away. There’s a forest, a table full of fruits and other’s moving around it, beings of light and air who look toward him with a distinct air of delight and sweeping bows (those who have bodies made for bowing). It’s so beautiful and there’s a pit of longing, of homesickness that opens in his chest and he slides off the pallet, feet touching soft grass as he steps forward.
The breeze is sweet with a myriad of scents, honeysuckle and sage, roses and rain, and he leans into it, savoring it and feeling unfamiliar muscles pull in his shoulders, the breeze moving through nerves he’s never had before. He looks over his shoulder and gasps, blue wings flickering.
One of the other’s touch him and he feels the warmth and affection of their, his, race as it floods him. He smiles and speaks, a language lost to men comfortable on his tongue.
The other guides him forward and he is ready to shake off the bonds of Mortality when the wind shifts and the scent of currants, of harsh human soap, of sweat, touches him for an instant. Prompto jerks to a halt, his eyes wide in horror and the forest fades, returning him to the stone room.
Noctis is slumped in a chair, chin against his chest asleep and Lunafreya is tiredly leaning against the wall, their clothing is different again. Lunafreya’s hair is down and she looks drained. Fear shoots through him, the passage of time is clear and when he looks down he is still wearing the clothing from the forest, his wings phantoms though, invisible memories of them in the way his muscles bunch expectantly.
Lunafreya raises her head when he sits up, “Prompto!” She rushes forward and Noctis jumps, blinking sleepily and then registering that Prompto is moving. He too comes to stand beside Prompto, arms wrapped around him tightly.
“Wha-?”
“I told you your nature and there was a sound like drums, haze filled the room and you were lost to us. It’s been several days of us working from this room to try to reach you. I was uncertain it was working, it was very draining to send Noctis’ essence to you.”
Prompto stares at her, leaning heavily into Noctis’ embrace, though the King is silent.
“Days? I was only at their table for seconds. I-um-I smelled Noct. Where was I?”
Lunafreya sighs softly, “Likely to the eternal lands, the home of the fae. It is said that the strongest of the fae leave a part of themselves there so they may return as they please, no matter where they go.”
Prompto nods, exhaustion seeping into his bones. He’s not made for all of this, he is made for loving Noctis, laughing with Gladiolus, sneaking into the kitchen to steal ingredients for Ignis. There is something brewing here for him that he wants to keep at bay.
Noctis is still silent, holding him tightly, head tilting back to avoid the spikes of Prompto’s crown. Lunafreya is talking again, trying to explain something, but Prompto can only hear a sound that reminds him of galloping horses. The noise grows louder in his ears and he finds himself listening to it, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning into Noctis.
It’s not until he registers the King’s voice that he realizes, the sound is his heartbeat. He forces himself to take a deep breath and is slows, fades until it is less noticeable, and he opens his eyes. Lunafreya’s concerned gaze makes him frown and then he looks at Noctis.
Noctis looks like a man burning, his eyes have dark circles under them and his hair is messier than ever around his face, his usual frown is pulled into a grimace and he attempts a smile for Prompto that makes him want to cringe.
“I’m sorry.” Prompto mumbles and Noctis’ expression darkens further so he scrambles to explain, “Sorry Noct I didn’t know I could do that...I don’t want you to worry it’s just, a lot, you know?”
Noctis nods but the expression doesn’t ease.
“I can help you learn to control it, to hold your mortal form fully and keep hidden what you are, if you choose, create your glamour. We can begin with-”
“Please, Luna.”
Noctis’ voice is a bit hoarse as he finally speaks and Prompto flinches at the sound, but Lunafreya simply inclines her head and takes her leave of them. Prompto peels himself away from where he is pressed to Noctis’ chest and swallows hard.
“I understand is...Noct I get it if you’re upset. It’s not like you could’ve known, I mean, I didn’t know and for a mortal king to waste his time with me, I’m sorry.”
Noctis’ fingers pressed to his cheek and Prompto looks up at him, “Prom, shut up.”
Then he’s kissing Prompto, hard and desperate and with the edge of a man trying to hold on. Prompto, surprised by it, didn’t respond immediately and Noctis pulls away, his expression closed off and Prompto quickly reaches for him, pulls him back in and kisses him softly.
“Hey.” He says quietly when they part, foreheads leaning together. The overwhelming amount of information has dulled the effect of his Sight, but near Noctis he can feel the thrum of the King’s life, the blue magic that he’s always been in tune with is visible in the spaces between them. His breath is Noctis’ breath and Prompto thinks he might understand why he never embraced the well of magic in himself.
After all, why would he ever want to leave this; Noctis’ surly, stubborn love, Gladio’s easy going conversation, Ignis’ faithful company, or Lunafreya’s serene warmth. What could fae offer him that wouldn’t be overshadowed by his friends?
Noctis smiles slowly, “This is so dumb.”
Prompto grins, the tension and fear starting to drain out of him as it slowly rolls over him, he’s got power now, power he can feel as it streams through him, power enough that maybe he can stand beside a King. Hellfire, if Lunafreya’s right, he might just be a King in his own right.
“The dumbest, but you love it!” Prompto yawns widely, “Noct, can we forfeit the royal infirmary and take a nap now?”
The King laughs a little, “If the Brownie at the door let’s us, yes. He was adamant before that you be kept here.”
“A Brownie?” Prompto knows what that means, but he can’t shake the image of a little baked good with legs just the same. Noctis just gives him a rueful smile, his fingers creeping under the collar of Prompto’s shirt in the back and rubbing small circles into the nape of his neck.
“C’mon then.” he slides off the pallet, untangling himself from Noctis, and they both head out the door. They make it two steps before Leighas appears and Prompto blushes as the little one bows to him, his voice echoes inside of Prompto’s head, “Hail, O King of Sun, Hail O Golden One! It brings us great joy to see thou hale.”
His dark green eyes dart to Noctis, who looks utterly lost but resigned to it, “Thou art blessed in thy love, he is strong and worthy of thou O Lord of Light. We shall see him crowned in stars.”
Prompto nods and responds aloud, feeling the difference in the language, though he hears nothing strange, “It would please me greatly to see him thus. He carries my heart wherever he goes.”
The Brownie bows low and fades from sight, leaving Noctis to stare while Prompto finds himself speechless at the sight of literal stars, made small and strung together on a milky chain, settle into the Mortal King’s hair.
“I think we’d better speak with Luna after we rest.”
Noctis raises a hand to the tiny lights and violet sparks in his eyes, “Yes, but first, a nap.” Prompto laughs, leaning to kiss Noctis softly and allowing himself to be pulled along, a nap, a meeting and then he really must paint his lover draped only in starlight.
