Chapter Text
Chapter 2 - Son of Lucis
“Come on Prompto! Pull yourself up!” Came the cheerful voice of Cindy above him. She’d successfully made it to the top of the combiner tractor in the field. It had the best view of the grounds, but Prompto was always too small to pull himself up. Cindy usually helped him up onto the old piece of equipment. But she figured since he was getting bigger now he should be able to do it on his own. But Prompto got winded easily, and it wasn’t easy to pull himself up onto this, since he had always been a little on the chubby side.
“I can’t!” He reached up, trying to pull himself up onto the large rusted fender like Cindy had done. The girl stuck her tongue out at him in a mocking manner.
“Come on! You’re already almost eight! Well, guess you gotta admit girls are better than boys!” She taunted good-naturedly. Prompto puffed out his cheeks and tried in vain to pull himself up once more.
“You two! How many times have I told you to stay off that thing!” Shouted a frantic voice from behind them. Prompto gasped and lost his grip, falling to the ground in a puff of dust. Lady Melba Aurum rushed towards them, leaning down to place her warm hands on either side of Prompto’s face.
“Are you hurt?” She asked kindly, checking him over and wiping dirt from his cheeks. He swiftly shook his head, allowing himself to bask in the gentle embrace for just a second. His heart swelled as she gave him a kind smile before turning to Cindy with a look of exasperation.
“Cindy! How many times have I told you to stop pulling poor Prompto into your games? Get off that thing before you fall and hurt yourself!” She chastised worriedly, Cindy sheepishly climbed down off the combiner with practiced ease.
“Lady Aurum! It’s okay, she didn’t-” Prompto tried to say, he didn’t want Cindy to get in trouble! She was his best friend. And it’s not like he didn’t want to do all this fun stuff. It wasn’t right for her to take all the fault for it!
“Prompto,” Came Melba’s soft refrain, she sighed and offered him a kind smile. She pulled him up off the ground, with mild trouble due to his size. “You’ve always been too kind for your own good.” She fussed over wiping dirt from his hair, before taking his glasses and cleaning them off. “Please, never change that. Never stop being kind.” She said as she put his glasses back on, pushing them up his nose with that kind smile of hers. Prompto couldn’t help but be in awe. Him? Kind? How could she say that when she had just shown him so much compassion that he didn’t know what to do with himself?
“Uh, yes ma’am.” He said bashfully, his ears felt warm, and he began to fiddle with the hem of his shirt.
“Yeah! Don’t turn into anyone poopy like Loqi!” Cindy said, scrunching her face up with distaste when speaking that name.
“Cindy! That is not nice!” Lady Aurum said, though her tone betrayed her words. They all knew the truth. Loqi was pretty poopy. Prompto had to hold back a giggle, putting his dirty hands over his face.
Prompto was thankful, at least, that Ardyn had avoided his face. He always did, there was no way he could risk an investigation. But when compared to how bad the damage had been elsewhere, he was truly thankful that at least it wasn’t his face.
He’d be moving slowly for the next few days. Which was fine. Because Ardyn had finally given up on him. He wasn’t going to be forced to assassinate the prince. His best friend.
Unfortunately, Loqi was still being set on the mission, and Prompto was just banned from interfering. Ardyn had ripped up his invitation right in front of him. He’d seen the gold and silver decorative letter flitter and flick in the small glow of the moonlight, with his face pressed to the hardwood floor, his ribs aching awfully.
“Once the job is done, I’m going to enjoy getting rid of you.” Came the voice above him, Prompto wouldn’t dare drag his eyes from the pile of ripped paper in front of him. Ardyn delivered one last blow to his hip, turning him over in the process, jostling the rest of his wounds before the man left the attic. The swift closing of the door sent the letter shreds across the floorboards. A few of them flew into his hair, and all Prompto could do was stare at the ceiling. He felt the hot well of tears forming in his eyes, and a bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
He reached up and weakly pulled a piece of the paper from his hair, he looked at the silver surface and saw the black scrawl of Noctis’ signature. It wound elegantly across the paper in a beautiful show of calligraphy skills. Tears dripped down the sides of his face freely, and his smile turned into a pitiful grimace before he lowered the paper to his lips. He’d wanted to be there. Wanted to make Noctis smile in the midst of the events. Knowing that the other would be trying to remain completely barren of emotion most of the time. It had always been Prompto’s favorite pass-time to break that composure. He supposed that deep in his heart he’d always just wanted to make the other smile. For as long as he’d known Noctis, the other had easily worn a mask, a front to the public eye. And Prompto had felt honored that he was one of the few to see the Noctis beneath the carefully constructed public facade.
There was a chance he’d never get to see it again, though.
He tried desperately not to think of what was going to happen at that ball. Loqi was an idiot, but he was competent in the field of weaponry and war. How could he not be with Ardyn as the overseer of their training? It was scary to think, that in just two day’s time, his best friend might very well be killed by his adopted brother.
What would he do? How could he avoid this? He’d been completely banned from interfering. He couldn't even tell Noctis, because today was the start of the week’s end. And then on Monday, the festivities would begin, and classes were canceled in honor of the street fairs that would commence before the ball each night.
“I just wish,” He breathed into the open air, his vocal cords felt raw. He wasn’t even sure where that sentence was going. Wasn’t sure where his thoughts were leading him. He didn’t know what to do. Maybe his brain was just fuzzy from the pain, his fingertips had felt numb from the moment he’d denied Ardyn’s words.
“Go on,” Said a soft voice from behind him. Someone was trying to prompt him into continuing. The atmosphere of the attic was suddenly overcome with a thick presence that Prompto had never felt before. It was like cold frost set on his skin. He shuddered and forced his body to sit up in his alarm. His ribs ached, but his eyes searched frantically for the voice.
“Prompto.” His head whipped around and his shining blue eyes met the intense gaze of a serene woman. Her eyes weren’t open, but Prompto knew she was watching him. He felt as if she was peaking into his soul and displaying all of the separate parts of his entire being. Spilling himself out to examine his contents. She was sitting on his bed, her elegance made her look out of place in the dirtied room. There was a glow emanating around her, and her dark hair framed her pale features in a beautiful symmetrical cut.
“Who are you?” He asked almost breathlessly, moving to stand, trying to wipe the tears from his eyes. He hadn’t realized just how wet his face was, how hard had he been crying? The woman smiled kindly, in a way he hadn’t seen anyone smile in a long time.
The woman didn’t speak, instead, she lifted a hand from her lap and patted the seat beside her. Prompto was thankful that a puff of dust hadn’t formed from the action, while he knew he should be on edge, the thought of this woman having to be in his dirty room was somewhat embarrassing. Her hands folded neatly back into her lap, and Prompto resigned himself to standing on shaky legs. What did he really have to lose? Sure, this woman was a stranger. But, there was something about her. The earlier feeling of frost on his skin had trapped in the serene warmth of her presence, and with each step, his muscles seemed to relax minutely.
“That was a brave thing you did, Prompto.” Came her soft, rich voice. Her accent was unlike anything Prompto had ever heard. It was so soothing, thick and it dipped and slurred in a way that was making his ears buzz.
“What?...” He trailed off, sitting down beside the woman, an arm crossed over his stomach to support his ribs and shoulder.
“It’s not an easy thing, to stand up for what is most important. And to do that in the face of evil is no mere feat.” She explained, the words sunk into Prompto’s mind, and the weight of them lifted his chest into an easy breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“Who are you?” He asked again, though he realized that if he never got the woman’s name, he wouldn’t be upset. But she smiled faintly, her head dipping in understanding to his question. A gesture he didn’t find himself familiar with.
“You may not have heard of our kind. I am known as Gentiana, I am a messenger of the gods.” Prompto’s breath was once again stolen from his lungs. He traced the lines of her face with his eyes, she simply looked like a woman, though he knew that wasn’t fully true.
“Why, why are you here?” Why would a messenger of the gods be visiting him?
“Because I fear you may be the only hope Lucis’ people may have.” She said, and the weight of her words bore heavy on his shoulders. His stomach flipped and he could do nothing but helplessly gape at her like a fish gasping for water.
“I, I don’t understand.” He relented, swallowing around the lump that had formed in his throat. The woman reached forward slowly, and with the crook of her finger, wiped a tear from Prompto’s face. It was a strange sensation, her hands were equal parts warm and cold, and entirely inhuman. The tear fell from his face like a soft snowflake.
“You wish to go to the festival, right?” She asked, folding her hands neatly in her lap. Prompto looked down at his own hands.
“I have to, if not, then Noctis…” He felt his lip quiver, and he steeled himself from allowing the tears burning in his eyes to fall. Gentiana moved from his side, standing up and facing towards him.
“You show great compassion for the prince, it is relieving to see he keeps such good company.” She complimented with the hint of a smile. Prompto felt his ears heat ever so slightly at the praise. “But, what I want you to understand is that everything that is going to happen has a pre-determined course of action. Whether you go to that ball or not, the outcome will be the same.” She said, her mysterious answer shook Prompto to his core.
“So, Noctis, he’s going to…” A hand was raised and he closed his mouth, waiting patiently for the lady to explain herself.
“That is not your concern.” She said simply, and Prompto couldn’t help but blink up at her.
“I, don’t understand.” He admitted once more. Was she telling him that Noctis was destined to die no matter what? Gentiana smiled and shook her head once.
“Think outside of your head, Prompto. The fates are not working against you. We’ve had our eyes on you for quite some time, and we do not wish for you to endure any more hardships.” She reassured, and Prompto breathed a sigh of relief. If what she was saying was true, then Loqi wasn’t going to succeed. Prompto felt his heart flutter, Noctis would be okay. But why was she telling him all of this?
“So, knowing that the prince will be alright despite your presence, do you still wish to attend the festivities?” She asked him, inquiring intently. Prompto chewed his lip, he nodded at her question. Of course, he wanted to. All he wanted was to enjoy the time away from his family. The lights, the music, and the events were so alluring to him. He’d imagined what it would be like to actually set foot in the Citadel, the place Noctis had grown up.
But it couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t be able to. There was no way Ardyn would let him leave his room, let alone the property.
“Then it’s decided.” She hummed matter-of-factly. And not for the first time tonight, Prompto wondered if the ethereal being had read his mind. And as he looked back up to meet her gaze, he faltered. Her eyes were opened slightly to look at him, he nearly got lost in the dark hazel gaze. He gulped and tried to avert his attention elsewhere.
“What do you mean?” He asked timidly, the overbearing presence became more like a comfort to him, now. Almost like a weighted blanket was resting on top of him, calming his nerves.
“You must attend the Festival.” She waved her hand and Prompto followed the gesture with his eyes. He watched as a draft of frosted breeze swept down to the floor where he’d been lying before, and carried the remnants of the torn invitation into the air. His mouth fell open slightly, never had he seen magic used before. It was enchanting, he watched as the shreds of his dreams swirled elegantly before him, before the edges began to shine brilliantly and the shreds were seared back together at the seams. The now intact slip of paper floated down and landed in his outstretched hand. He exhaled lightly and swore he could see his breath fogging in front of him. However, he wasn’t cold. If anything his fingertips finally got their feeling back as warmth spread throughout his body.
“How did you…” She shook her head, silencing his question gently.
“It matters not how, but why.” She said, her mysterious air washed over Prompto once more and he shifted in his seat. “Why have you always been kind?” She reached out a hand and wiped another tear from his cheek. Prompto watched as the snowflake drifted on the light evening breeze blowing in from his window. “Why have you taken every horrible word and action unto yourself, despite repercussion?” Prompto felt an unknown emotion bubble up his throat, and his eyes stung with the recognition of his pain.
“For everything you’ve endured, every strike, insult, and heartache. For every time you never admitted the small bubble of something that has always itched its way up your throat but never passed your tongue.” Tears flew freely from Prompto’s eyes, though as soon as they graced the air they were turned to gentle snowflakes until he had his own flurry surrounding his person.
“And the yearning of your heart for another. I shall grant your wish.” She spoke into the air and it was almost as if time stood still. The flakes lazily falling around him slowed their descent.
“Every time my heart yearned for another…” He repeated, he was dumbstruck, not even sure if he was fully processing or understanding her words. But she smiled at him nonetheless.
“For all of the love and kindness you’ve always given this unforgiving world, we shall return it onto you threefold.”
“But, how? How will I go?” He whispered, and once again the woman shook her head and pointed down at the invitation.
“I will gift you clothes woven from the silver lining.” From his closet came an old suit, one that Ardyn had acquired for him to wear when he was forced to attend the dinner parties with the other influential families. It was gray and frayed at the ends, though it was nicer than anything he had otherwise. Before his eyes, the suit was swallowed by swirling silver and white mist. And Prompto felt a familiarity take hold in his mind. There was something about this magic that had a nagging memory come up at the back of his awareness.
“Wait, you…” Once again, he was in awe. Memories of a lecture he’d gotten from Ardyn about the gods came to the front of his attention. This was Gentiana, the messenger of the gods. Or, more specifically, the goddess Shiva. Whose body is still decaying in the frigid Alps of the place where he was born. A sudden well of guilt set forth in his throat. Why was Gentiana here? She had to have made a mistake. Though he knew it was rude to even imagine that a being such as her would make mistakes, there was no way this gracious act was for him. And once again, Prompto couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
“Please, stop. I don’t deserve this.” He spoke, his voice piqued with desperation. Gentiana tilted her head at him, stalling her magic. She said nothing, so Prompto assumed she was waiting for him to continue. So he took a breath.
“I- my people are the ones who took your goddess away.” He breathed lightly, his hands folded tightly in his lap. He tried not to look down at the wristband that hid the worst part of himself, the ugly black lines that he knew absolutely nothing about. Numbers etched into his skin, and a barcode resembling something from a cereal box or other food item at the local grocery store. He didn’t know what it was, but he’d always had it. Loqi had a similar one, which he wore with pride when at home. Ardyn had trusted his brother with the knowledge of what the strange tattoo-like mark was. But Prompto hadn’t yet ‘earned it’. With a deep breath, he tried to keep his composure as if he needed to convince the being before him that he was unworthy. “I don’t belong here, I never have. I wasn’t meant to be here in Lucis.” He felt his chest tighten because the only reason he was here was to commit a heinous crime. Whether he wanted to or not, a man who associated with the devil is not without sin. “You have to have made a mistake, because this,” He took a shaky breath. “This gift is meant to go to someone else who deserves it more.”
“That’s enough.” Her voice was solid and somewhat frigid. Like a block of ice, unyielding and completely stagnant. Prompto was somewhat relieved. This is what he was expecting, or rather, this is what he deserved. He expected her to take the invitation, and the suit, and maybe tear both to shreds.
“You’re right.” She stated simply, and the light around the article of clothing grew brighter. Prompto closed his eyes and waited for her to turn the suit into ribbons. “You’re not from here.” She took a step towards him and Prompto tried not to flinch, though the atmosphere was still comfortable and warm despite the frigid temperature. He expected her to raise her hand, to enact some sort of punishment.
“But, regardless.” She lifted his chin, and his eyes widened as she stared down at him with that ever-so-kind smile. His breath hitched in his throat, a wash of warmth settled over his shoulders, and it was as if all of his fear, his timidness, his guilt fizzled and vanished without a trace. “In the eyes of the gods, you have, and always will be, a son of Lucis.” She finished, and Prompto’s heart twisted, a new flurry of snowflakes overtook the area around him as tears fell from his eyes.
With a bright, blinding light, the old ragged suit floated down. Renewed in beauty and color as if it were a completely different set of finery the likes of which Prompto had only seen in royal photoshoots. The trim was silver, the suit itself a creamy white. There was silver filigree across the suit’s vest and lacing up the mesh sleeves of the undershirt. The pants were a straight cut that looked like they would hug his body perfectly. He’d never seen such beauty, and he was hesitant to reach out to touch it.
“You will go to the ball,” Gentiana continued, and his eyes roamed back up to meet her gaze. “You will dance, and bask in the festivities.” She pulled him to stand by the hand, and the snowflakes flew around him in dizzying swirls, he hadn’t even noticed that Gentiana had spun him as he stood, or that the injuries he’d acquired were nothing more than a dull ache at his movements.
“You will fall in love.” Prompto was light-headed, whether from lack of breath or simply from the world spinning around him.
“And, as long as you don these clothes, no one will recognize you.” She smiled, the suit floated down to lay on the bed where he had been sitting. He worried that the contrast would make the bed look dull, or that any dust would rub off on the creamy white fabric. Instead, the bed seemed to brighten, as if the blanket was new and somewhat fuller. And Prompto once again felt like crying.
“But, there is a hindrance.” She said, her tone took on a grave lilt and Prompto’s gaze meandered to meet hers once more. Her lips were downturned. “For each night of the ball, you must leave before the stroke of midnight. For the magic only lasts so long before needing to be replenished. On the night of the third ball, the magic will end, and you’ll be right back where you started before all of this. Unless you decide to take action against this dim destiny.” She motioned to the room. The dust, the broken and creaking floorboards, the lack of decoration. Prompto felt his heart sink. He’d have to return back to this. But, he supposed that would be fine. If he got to enjoy Noctis’ birthday, whether the other recognized him or not, he’d be forever grateful for the opportunity that Gentiana was giving him. So, with a grateful smile, and a heart full of hope, he nodded in understanding.
“Thank you,” He whispered, his voice was hoarse. Gentiana smiled once more, and what a beautiful smile it was.
“Then, don’t squander these gifts. And remember,” She leaned forward, resting her forehead on his in a gesture so familiar and personal that Prompto felt nearly uncomfortable. “You’ll always be a child of Lucis.” She breathed those words like a vow before her presence disappeared.
And Prompto was left standing in his bedroom.