Work Text:
Noctis regretted agreeing to this. There was no need for Ignis to insist training had to occur so early in the morning. Meals were prepared throughout the day in the Citadel, and usually at really sensible hours like after noon. Noctis fully appreciated the work the kitchen staff did. It wasn’t like he needed to learn a lesson about being grateful for the luxuries his position afforded him. Getting up this early wasn’t some lesson in humility. Well, maybe it was, but he didn’t need it. Besides, learning how to cook breakfast at five AM was stupid because he was too tired and out of it to feel hunger. No, what he felt was sleep-inertia induced nausea, and the idea that he needed to cook made him feel sicker than he already did. Even three hours later, Noctis still felt half-asleep.
Some people, people like him, were not meant to be awake before sunrise. It was as simple as that.
Except he was awake. And dressed. And standing in the Citadel’s largest kitchen helping to prepare a vast breakfast banquet for his father and a variety of dignitaries attending various meetings today. To Ignis, this was the perfect way for Noctis to learn how to cook for himself when he finally moved out into his own apartment next month.
Cooking for forty people wasn’t exactly the same as cooking for himself, but whatever. Ignis probably had some deep meaning buried in all of this somewhere. Noctis just wasn’t entirely sure what it was.
Or Ignis just wanted Noctis to really appreciate the effort he put into every meal he prepared.
Yeah, that seemed probable. Likely, even. Because no one could deliver an understated message with as much panache as Ignis.
Despite his weariness, Noctis couldn’t deny finding something quite satisfying about helping to prep various parts of the meal. The sous chef had taken him aside and shown him how to turn dough into the pastries now baking in the ovens, and modelled the artistry required for a proper banquet. The timings, the attention to detail, the dedication. All of it so incredible and, yes, okay, fine, Noctis knew he owed Ignis a thank you.
…and maybe some of those pastries he’d helped prepare.
Now he stood at a station on his own cracking eggs for individual breakfast omelettes. This was the one thing he could do without getting in anyone’s way. Because the kitchen was really buzzing now, chefs moving with hurried practice as they prepped dishes while the wait staff delivered drinks to Regis and his guests. Honestly, it was overwhelming. So much heat and noise… although the scents of freshly baking bread made it worthwhile. Still, Noctis didn’t want to budge out of his corner now that food was being dished up, ready to serve. The chefs moved like cogs in a perfectly oiled machine. Everyone knew what to do and where to be. No way did he want to be the wrench that threw them all out of sync. He could picture it so easily; stepping away from the workstation, crashing into a chef, sending them and their armful of oven-fresh pastries flying, starting a domino effect that ended with food spillages and injured chefs everywhere.
Cracking the last egg, he pushed the bowl to the end of the workstation, ready to be collected by a chef de partie. Gathering the shells and sweeping them into a box, Noctis checked his path to the large trash compactor. Clear. He headed over, pressing the foot-lever and opening the trash. An unsettling smell wafted free. He frowned. What was that? It didn’t smell just like discarded scraps. It was cloying stench… like…
Gas?
Frowning, Noctis dumped the eggshells. He crouched down, peeking behind the trash can to see if he could find the source of the smell.
What he found was a pipe. A very, very big one. And now, with his head and shoulders under the workstation blocking out some of the noise of the kitchen, he could hear something else.
Something worse.
A hissing sound.
And the smell thickened, choking him.
Gas.
He could smell leaking gas.
Panic bloomed in his chest. Coughing, Noctis stumbled back, turning to see the eggs had been collected and were sat beside a huge set of burners the chef was about to turn on and –
“No!” Noctis cried out.
But it was too late.
Flame it the air.
And ignited the gas permeating the entire kitchen.
A burning wave smashed into Noctis, throwing him off his feet. He flew across the kitchen, smashing into a workstation. Pain crashed through his body, his head crunching against something.
Everything came in flashes after that.
Smoke.
Flames.
Screaming.
Ringing. So much ringing. In his head. It muffled everything else.
Noctis had no idea how long it took for the fog to clear from his mind. He was on the ground, legs and waist pinned down. His back was damp, probably with whatever kitchen ingredient he’d been thrown into. Gooey eggs, most likely.
Fire engulfed everything. A thought permeated his pain.
Put it out.
He had to put out the fire. His mind ran sluggish fingers over the contents of his Armiger, finding one of his magic flasks. They were hard to make, and he hadn’t exactly mastered the technique yet, but he’d managed a few containing ice magic. It came free, cold glass pressing against his sooty fingers. Holding tight, he threw it at the nearest, largest fire and watched the flames die in a heartbeat. A barking cough escaped him, his lungs choked with smoke. He fell back with a moan, his body fizzing with pain.
Noctis forced himself to sit a little higher, wrenching another ice flask from the Armiger. He threw it at another bank of flames, watching ice consume them. The fire died out, leaving smoke and rubble in its wake.
His hearing cleared, the dull ringing replaced by shouts. Shadows moved around him as people staggered around. His vision blurred. He’d taken a hefty blow to the head. Everything was spinning. He tried to pull his legs free, but they were stuck. Pain shot through his back. Great. That hurt too. He fell back, too dizzy to stay upright. He swallowed hard, feeling nauseous. He should get up, help people… Ice flasks weren’t enough… He had some potions stocked. He could…
Noctis blinked. He forced his eyes open, nor realising he’d passed out. He already felt himself slipping.
Footsteps came closer. A blurry shape appeared over him. Then another. And another. The weight lifted from his legs. Relief came immediately.
A hand touched his face. Noctis dragged his eyes up to a familiar face.
“Don’t move, Your Highness. You’ve been injured.”
Noctis frowned at Cor. It wasn’t like him to state the obvious. He shifted, feeling the puddle beneath him soaking into his clothes. He frowned. “Did I fall on the eggs?” he asked, hearing the weird slur in his voice. He reached down, expecting to find something slimy and gross.
Cor’s eyes flashed with worry. He caught Noctis’ hand before it could find any eggy goo. “Don’t worry about that right now. The doctors are on their way. We’ll soon have you taken to safety.”
“Gas,” Noctis said. “There was a gas leak.” The words slipped and skidded around his mouth. Why was he so out of it? Exhaustion settled deep into his bones. His eyes were so heavy. He frowned, struggling to think of what he wanted to say. “Is everyone alright?”
“People are being taken to safety as we speak and the leak has been dealt with. Did you put the fires out?”
Noctis flinched. He wasn’t supposed to use magic outside of the training halls. Especially not his brand of barely controlled, frequently explosive magic. He wasn’t known for a deft touch. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Wanted to put the fire out.”
“You did very well,” Cor said. Noctis felt the warm weight of Cor’s hand rest on his head. “His Majesty will be proud.”
“Good,” Noctis said. He tried and failed to keep his eyes open. “Cor?”
“Eyes open, Noctis,” Cor ordered.
He couldn’t obey. “Tell Ignis… Tell him thank you.”
“Thank you?” Cor asked.
Ugh. He didn’t get it. Cor didn’t know the lesson Noctis had learned. “’Cause he cooks,” Noctis said.
There was a beat of silence between them. “I will pass on the message if you open your eyes,” Cor said. “Noctis!”
Noctis couldn’t. He fell away.
But it didn’t hold for long. A terrible, screaming pain yanked him back into the waking world. Hot hands held him, not letting go even when he cried out and tried to pull away. What was happening? He saw blurry figures above him. Some looked liked they were speaking, but the words wouldn’t penetrate the fuzz in his head. What were they doing? Everything around him was so blurry. Let go. He wanted them to let go. He told them to, but they didn’t understand. Instead, their bodies blurred and shifted, in and out of human form.
Daemons. He was surrounded by daemons!
Fight. He had to fight. Even through the pain and the fatigue, he couldn’t let them take him. Never again. Never! He kicked and pulled, trying to get himself free.
He couldn’t. He couldn’t escape!
A sharp, sudden pain pierced his elbow. Moments later, a heavy feeling closed in on him. His blurry vision bobbed and waved, like he was underwater looking up. Something fell against his hair, brushing it back.
Why would a daemon do that?
Noctis was unconscious before he could think of an answer.
Voices. In the dark. Calling out to him.
“…recover fully, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you, Doctor Gainsborough. And the kitchen staff?”
“Much like your son, all will recover with time and treatment. I’m a little concerned about Chef…”
Sleep washed over Noctis, taking him away. He had no idea of how long he drifted, bobbing along the current of dreams and wakefulness. When something broke through, the voices latched on, anchoring him for the first time.
“As always, Ignis, Noct will wake up when he feels ready, and not a moment sooner.”
Dad. Dad was here.
“Cor said he wanted to thank me because I cook. I admit I’m not entirely sure of his meaning.”
Ignis was with him too.
“Given the blood loss, it’s a miracle he was conscious at all. I’m sure he’ll explain himself once he awakens.”
As Dad spoke, Noctis felt a warm hand close around his. Dad’s warmth bled into him, chasing away the cold sitting deep in his bones. Noctis squeezed, hoping to draw out more heat.
“Noct?” Dad called. “Can you hear me?”
He could, but he wasn’t ready to open his eyes. “S’cold.”
“I’ll fetch another blanket,” Ignis said. Noctis heard him walking away.
“It won’t be long until we have you warmed up,” Dad said. Noctis felt the bed dip. “Can you open your eyes for me while we wait?”
Noctis forced his eyelids apart. He saw Dad sat beside him. Blinking, Noctis looked around. He was in his bedroom at the Citadel, but it was weird. He could see an IV beside him, the tubing connected to his arm. Why was that here? He reached out to pull it free.
“No, leave that. You need the painkillers.” Dad placed his hand over Noctis’. “There was an accident this morning. In the kitchens. Do you remember?”
Through his treacly thoughts, Noctis nodded. “Explosion.”
“Right. A gas leak.”
Noctis nodded. Yes, he remembered. “Everyone okay?”
“A little banged up, but thankfully everyone will be fine. Including you.” Dad placed a hand against Noctis’ cheek. He leaned into the warmth. “You put the fires out very quickly. That helped save a lot of lives. Well done.”
A faint tremor of pain went through Noctis’ side. He tried to find a more comfortable position. What had happened?
Dad helped settle him. “The explosion sent a lot of debris into the air and threw people around. You landed on a knife. It went into your back and you lost a lot of blood.”
A memory shot through Noctis’ mind. Eggs. “Thought I landed on eggs.”
Dad chuckled. “No, that was very much your blood I’m afraid.”
“Oh.”
“Doctor Gainsborough will be here shortly to check on you. He’s been coming by every few hours. The infirmary is rather full, and he thought you’d be more comfortable in your own room,” Dad said. He looked over. “Ah, Ignis. Thank you.”
He took the blanket and the pair of them tucked Noctis in. The extra warmth felt good. Noctis relaxed into his pillows and blankets. He could tell he wouldn’t be awake for much longer. Not if he was this cozy. He felt so much better already.
“Glad to hear it, Noct,” Dad said, sounding amused.
“Didn’t mean to say that out loud,” Noctis mumbled.
“Never mind,” Dad said, brushing his hair back from his face.
Noctis looked to Ignis, saw the pale, drawn expression on his friend’s face.
“I learned my lesson,” Noctis told him.
Ignis frowned. “Lesson?”
Noctis nodded. “Cooking. It’s hard. And you put in a lot of effort every time.” He yawned. “Thank you.”
“Noct, had I known there was a gas leak, I would have –”
Oh no. He wasn’t going to have Ignis blame himself for an accident. Especially a training accident like this. “You’re not a gas detector, Ignis. It’s not like you knew.”
“No, but –”
Noctis groaned aloud. Ignis looked shocked. Dad chuckled, muttering something under his breath about ‘a little loopy’. “Ignis!” Noctis said, feeling the words rushing to escape him. He didn’t even care. “It was a gas leak. An accident. So, unless part of the training today was to teach me how to fix broken gas mains and you, like, crawled under that workstation and broke the pipe on purpose, I think maybe it’s not your fault and if you keep blaming yourself I’m gonna… I’ll find something… you can really…” He broke off into a wide, jaw cracking yawn.
“Alright, Noct, I think Ignis understands. It was an accident, and hardly one he or anyone else could foresee,” Dad said.
“Exactly,” Noctis said. He looked at Dad and smiled. “You’re really smart!”
Ignis cleared his throat, a sure sign he was smothering laughter.
“Yes, son, I’m sure I am. And you need more sleep.”
Noctis nodded. “I always need more sleep.” He closed his eyes. “But only if Ignis promises me he knows it isn’t his fault.”
“I promise, Noct,” Ignis said from the other side of the bed.
“Great, because all that misplaced guilt was gonna get super old real fast,” Noctis said.
Dad burst out into real laughter this time. Even Ignis couldn’t fully contain himself. The sound of their chuckles followed Noctis into sweet, refreshing dreams.