Chapter Text
“Imagine a land – it’s a faraway place, where the coeurls and reindeer roam. You could wander around many cultures and tongues – it’s absolute chaos, but hey, it’s home. Under the stars in the east, and the moon in the west, and the Shiva Borealis light – come down and see, it’s a wondrous sight; another frigid, frozen night.”
FFXV
Gladio ran through the congested streets of downtown Niflheim, concealing his spoils in the many folds of his robes as he went. A faded gold necklace tucked away against his left thigh, a scuffed sapphire bracelet concealed in his breast pocket, a loaf of hopefully-not-moldy-or-frozen bread tucked between his threadbare cloak and raggedy shirt, and –
“Stop him! Thief!”
“Shit.” He cursed, hastily shoving the rest of his pilfered goods away in various hiding spots on his person as he increased his speed. He barreled down the cobblestone road, his bare feet sliding across the thin frost that never seemed to fully melt away. He kicked up dust and snow and probably pissed off quite a few shop owners as he knocked over their stalls in his hurry.
“Gotta keep up, boys!” He called, almost immediately regretting his words when he looked over his shoulder and caught sight of the palace guards mercilessly shoving people out of their way as they chased him down. He nearly ran face first into a crumbling stone pillar, but used his momentum to his advantage and ran up against it, instead. He threw himself against the worn-down cracks in its side and hoisted himself up into the first open window he could find. Iris chirped in his ear, warning him that the guards had seen where he had gone, and he cursed under his breath. He did a quick scan of his surroundings, and dove for another open window across the room once he was sure the coast was clear.
“I really need to get better at thinking shit through.” Gladio said, just barely managing to grab at an unfurled awning halfway down the next building. He dropped to his feet from a less daunting height and quietly thanked Shiva for the patch of snow that muffled the noise. He took off, ducking under arches, around pillars, and through crowds until the sound of the guards’ shouting tapered off in the distance.
Once he was sure he had ditched them, he pulled his hood down and shook out his hair. He surveyed the stalls surrounding him as he walked. He slowed his gait, didn’t hold eye contact with anyone but didn’t avoid it, either, and stopped to idly peruse the wares offered at certain stands in an effort to blend in with the crowds of shoppers in the marketplace. He snatched a second raggedy cloak off a nearby stand – this one long and pale grey and nothing like his own faded purple excuse of an extra layer. He fastened it around his shoulders and sidestepped away before the vendor took notice. He nicked a thick, peeling leather belt with a large silver buckle from another stall and looped it around his hips. Near the end of the pathway, he snatched a stretched out black headband and pushed his hair out of his face before securing the band over it. He turned a corner into a little doorway and ditched his moth-eaten coat in a discarded basket before readjusting his new cloak and rejoining the flow of foot traffic out into the main city square.
“Those idiots shouldn’t be able to recognize me, anymore.” He sighed, quietly mourning the loss of his old coat. It had seen him through some tough times, but the city will be looking for a man in a purple cloak and brown coat with messy hair, and they won’t be finding him here. However, one easily noticed aspect of his image still clung to his shoulder.
“Why don’t you meet up at the house, Iris? I’ll be there soon.” He said, poking the monkey nestled on his shoulder with a fond smile. She bit his finger defiantly, but stood and stretched out before looking down at him expectantly. He held his arm out and allowed her to use it as a boost onto a near rooftop, his smile widening at the little squeaks she sent his way before scurrying off. “Don’t let the guards catch you.” He said, watching her run in the direction of their little home until she was out of sight.
“Alright, let’s see what else I can nab on my way up.” Gladio said, rolling out his shoulders and sauntering into the main market.
FFXV
Prompto’s heart broke in his chest, and he had to blink away the tears in his eyes as he walked through the streets of his city. So many people lived here, in the shadow of his home, and none of them shared any of his luck. They were worn, ragged, and dirty – his people were damn near dying out here, right outside the palace walls. They were freezing, starving, and grief-stricken, and he had no idea. He had always believed his country to be rich and prosperous – that is what his father always made it seem like, at least.
“A leader is only as happy as his least happy subject,” Prompto thought, and, true to the old phrase, he could feel the joy in his heart crack and shrivel under the weary gazes of his people. He hunched his shoulders and refastened the cloth over his lower face, which was protecting his identity and his skin. His pain was so strong it was almost physical, and he struggled to hold himself together and keep up appearances. He had even smudged snow on his arms and left his nice shoes in his room before coming out here. Best not to let his efforts go to waste. He came here to witness the people he hopes to rule, and he can’t let himself be deterred so quickly.
However, despite all the hardship he’d suddenly been faced with, there is hope. He could hear men laughing around a fire somewhere nearby, and see children running together through the streets with their mothers chasing them down. He could see couples holding hands, and sense a thread of happiness woven into the air, weak as it may be. To be poor is not to be unhappy, he’s heard, and it has never seemed so true to him until now.
He meandered through the city’s central market, idly observing the people going about their daily business. He remained detatched, careful not to meet anyone’s gaze and staying out of everyone’s way. That is, until he came face to face with something that truly gutted him. Prompto could feel his very soul lurch at the sight of two small children sadly staring up a table of baked goods and over-ripe fruits. He approached them with his heart in his throat, and knelt beside them with a weak, timid smile. He reached out and wiped smudges of dirt from their cheeks, cradling their faces for a moment and getting lost in the boundless pain in their eyes before remembering himself.
“Are you hungry?” He asked, soft as the snow beneath their feet. When they nodded, he stood and selected a thick loaf of bread off the table in front of them. He ducked back down and offered it to them with another kind smile. “Here, take it.”
The elder child took it with little more than an immensely grateful look before collecting her brother and running off down one of the countless side streets. They seemed to know what was coming before Prompto himself did.
“Hey!” He heard over his shoulder. “Thief! I turn by back for less than a moment and you’ve already stolen my bread!”
He turned to see a red-faced man in torn robes stomping towards him, wagging his finger in the air in self-righteous anger.
“Excuse me?” Prompto said, “I am no thief! Those children were hungry and I –“
“Well,” The man interrupted, haughty and, if possible, even more angry than before, “If you are no thief, then where is the money you expect to pay me with?”
“I-I have no money.” Prompto stammered, stumbling back from the man towering over him. He reeked of angry alpha, and Prompto had to fight his instincts to not bow his head and cower before him.
The man hmphed, sneering down at Prompto. “Then you are a dirty, no good thief. Do you know what we do to people like you? People who take our hard work and spit on it?” He demanded. He reached out and grabbed Prompto by his shirt, dragging him closer. “And an omegan thief, no less. I ought to teach you a lesson or two about –“
“Woah there, Caligo!” Another voice interrupted, connected to the hand that had grabbed the fist twisted into Prompto’s shirt. “Why don’t we all just relax, yeah? Let the nice boy go.” The words were simple enough, but the underlying threat was plain to see.
“Gladiolus. I should have known this dirty streetrat would be in cahoots with the likes of you.” The man – Caligo – growled. He shoved Prompto away, hardly sparing a glance as the omega tripped over himself before regaining his balance.
Gladiolus stepped between them, very obviously shielding Prompto from Caligo’s angry glare. “Yeah, you should have.” He said, staring Caligo down for a moment before turning to face Prompto.
“Hey,” He whispered, and for a moment, Prompto was stunned by the smile on his handsome face, “Do you trust me?”
“I… what?” He asked. He could feel the blood rushing to his face, and sent a silent prayer to Shiva that his blush wouldn’t be too obvious.
“I asked if you trust me.” Gladiolus repeated, infinitely patient with the obviously shaken omega.
Prompto silently weighed his answers, but found that he had nothing to lose, really. This man had all but saved him from whatever “punishment” Caligo had been working towards, so he kind of has no choice but to trust that Gladiolus would continue working in his favor. “Yes.” He answered simply, squinting up at his handsome savior. He barely felt the calloused fingers unclasping his bracelet, too lost in the deep amber eyes that seemed to gaze directly into his soul.
Gladiolus turned with a flourish, holding up a beautiful golden bracelet that winked in the sunlight. It was thick and very obviously authentic, and the band was inlaid with jade and emeralds from end to end. In the very center was a small crystal lotus flower, glinting beautifully as the bracelt swung to and fro in Gladiolus’ grasp. “This is what you want, right?”
Prompto didn’t even have the time to protest before Caligo was snatching it up with a near-feral grin. He looked it over once to verify its worth before shoving it into his side pocket.
“Get out of my sight, the both of you.” He snapped, stepping into their space and glaring up at Gladiolus. “Before I change my mind and call the palace guards.”
“Don’t worry, Caligo, we’ll be on our way.” Gladiolus said, his lips curling into a thin, catlike grin. He grabbed Prompto by his arm and dragged him away, quietly shushing his protests as they mixed in with a passing crowd. “Just wait until we get out of here.” He said, tightening his grip on Prompto’s bicep and steering them away from Caligo’s stand.
“My mother’s bracelet!” Prompto snapped once they were far enough away that Caligo would no longer be an immediate threat to his safety. He ripped his arm away and glared up at Gladiolus, his face burning with brewing rage. “I can’t believe – I trusted you, and you gave away my mother’s –“
“Bracelet?” Gladiolus said, his smile widening into a full-on grin as he held the very same bracelet up in the air.
All at once, Prompto’s anger swelled and fizzled out like a dead fuse. “How did you…” He whispered, absolutely dumbfounded at the sight of the bracelet he had seen Gladiolus hand off in exchange for their freedom.
Gladiolus leaned back against the wall behind him and offered it to Prompto with a smirk, “Swapped it with one of his fruits. Figured he wouldn’t notice right away. Though, we should probably get going.” When Prompto didn’t immediately take it back, he reached out and gently took the omega’s wrist in his large hands. He fastened the dainty little thing around an equally dainty arm, careful not to drop it.
“Get going?” Prompto breathed, his eyes sliding from his arm up to meet Gladiolus’ eyes. “Gladiolus, what do you –“
“Hey!” He heard over the noise of the marketplace, “Stop them! Thieves! Stop!”
“Before he catches up to us.” Gladio laughed, kicking off from the wall and pulling his hair out of the band on his head. He shook it out and winked down at the cute omega he had just saved,
“By the way, you can call me Gladio.”