scrappywriting - Tumblr blog

[scrappywriting]

"...I'm sorry, your Majesty."

The words do nothing. Regis sits on a camping chair, staring into a blazing fire. His shirt is oversized, with a loud, ridiculous logo- some trashy thing that Gladio owns but never wears. Sweatpants, the ones Gladio normally wears for his morning run, somehow hilariously mismatched.

There isn't anything else for him. His casual clothes are in Insomnia; his kingly raiments are stained with blood. Or, were, before Ignis got to them. Now they're washed, cleaned, hung out to dry, and tomorrow, they will be mended. He's seen what Ignis can do, his hands methodical and precise regardless of the world- it'll be like nothing ever happened.

His aching leg stretches before him; his cane is at his side. Eight hours ago soot and ash are streaked across his face, along with dried, flaky blood. His hair was in disarray, rocks and grit tangled within. Eight hours ago Ignis was on one side, and Gladiolus was on the other, and Prompto was frantic, one hand pushing and pushing like he could hurry them up, the other raised and firing a gun that Regis barely even heard. There was roaring in his head, his ears, his heart. It drowned out all else.

Nine hours ago, he watched Noctis die.

---

He doesn't know how to look at Gladiolus and that's fine, because Gladiolus doesn't know how to look at Regis. Of course Gladiolus looks, though, because what else can he do? This is- was- the King of Lucis. The man his father is- was- sworn to protect.

(The man his father died protecting.)

There's a burn of resentment there, but it's half frustration and self loathing. He can hate Regis for getting his father killed, but it was the job, and Clarus did what he was born to do. Gladio, though? Gladio failed. He failed to stop Noctis from rushing back to the citadel, he failed to stop Noctis from-

The kid died. On Gladio's watch. He didn't even die in front of Gladio; he just warped off, impatient and anxious. Things are both crystalline and fuzzy; Noctis had yelled something about his dad. Something about the citadel, and how he'd be just a second. Gladio had yelled something shitty after him- wait? Hold on, you'll get yourself killed?

It hadn't even been a minute, but it was such a chaotic minute. Statues coming to life, the dread clutching his heart. Running, cursing, Prompto's frantic fingers tugging on Gladio's sleeve, his high-with-panic voice asking where Noctis went. Flames, debris, MTs and Kingsglaive and all sorts of shit hitting the fan. They'd booked it, Ignis showing up out of nowhere, prim and proper even with his face streaked in blood.

And then there was Regis, clutching a body to his chest.

---

They left Noctis behind, and Ignis blames himself. It was the logical thing to do- Noctis was dead, and Ignis knew he was dead, he knew because he had prepared for the worst case scenarios on this trip and the phoenix down didn't work- but he blames himself. Regis's grip was a vise; Regis didn't want to let (the body of) his son go. Ignis pried his hands off, dug his nails into the skin of Regis' fingers until he drew blood. Shook the old King, shouting about how they had to run or he would die too.

(Regis had wanted to die, Ignis is certain. But cold, frigid logic had told him that Regis couldn't always have what he wanted: Noctis alive, Noctis well, Noctis in Altissia and getting married. Noctis, safe.)

(Noctis's body, to burn or bury.)

They pulled him away. They saved him, because if they couldn't save Noctis, they had to save Noctis's dad.

(It still feels like they didn't save anything at all.)

---

Prompto isn't even supposed to be there. He's certain he shouldn't be: two weeks fresh out of Crownsguard training. Barely good enough at self defense, only given a gun because Noct thought he'd be good at it. Those were his words, exactly: "I thought you'd be good at it," with the careless, casual feigned indifference of a cat. He'd been over the moon at the rush: being accepted into Crownsguard, being trained, getting to meet Lady Lunafreya, finally, after all these years.

He's not supposed to be here. Gladio and Iggy- they're Noct's Shield and Adviser, the ones who were supposed to protect and guide him since birth. Prompto's nobody, just some loser kid with a barcode. He's heard the nobles talk, because the Glaives are- were- thick as thieves. The Glaives accepted this scrawny kid as their own. The nobles talked of favouritism, pets, a face to show diversity and tolerance.

(His hand covers his covered wrist, for a moment; then he turns it into a fidget, hooking his fingers around the leather band and giving it an anxious tug. Opens his mouth to say something, to joke, but he can't. It's a bad dream. Any moment, he'll wake up. Noctis'll be poking him, smirking, and there'll be a line of drool caked along his chin.)

(He doesn't wake up.)

(Sometimes, he wonders if it's true. If the nobles were right, if Regis and Cor and Clarus all passed Prompto not because he'd passed his training, but because Noctis's only friend couldn't die.)

---

"Ignis," Regis says, and Ignis doesn't flinch. He stands straight, hands clasped behind his back. "Why were you there?"

The response is prompt, almost rehearsed. Neutral and clipped as if he were answering a question about the weather. "The Regalia broke down just outside the walls ten minutes after we departed. Noctis requested your mechanic, and that none of us inform you. While we waited for repairs to complete, we decided to say goodbye to the city."

"...I see."

It's mundane. It's so mundane. Nobody got kidnapped, accosted, or even blackmailed; the car just broke down. But the car is fixed now- and Gladio is awkwardly, stubbornly washing bloody, dirty handprints off the door handles- and everything is different.

"What do we do, your highness?"

Regis blinks. He looks at the three of them- at Prompto trying not to look at Regis, trying to hide behind Gladio's bulk- and suddenly looks older, wearier than he ever did.

"I trust your judgement."

Ignis was Noctis' advisor. Ignis was the advisor of a child merely two years his younger, and he had felt like he fit the role. Noctis was moody and childish, still growing into expectations. Noctis was prone to impulsive, stupid things, like the time he warped out an open window to avoid his vegetables and literally hit a bird.

Prompto had choked on his spit, then, face turning an astonishing shade of red as he coughed. And Ignis had felt accomplished in his role: guilting Noctis into eating his vegetables, making sure Prompto could breathe. First aid for the bird, even, which had lost a good number of feathers but was only stunned. But regardless: Ignis had felt equipped to deal with Noctis and his endearingly childish friend.

Regis, though. Regis is regal and defined enough that the occasional childish whim is no cause for concern. Regis is more than twice Ignis' age, literally ruled a kingdom. Regis has made hard decisions that Ignis has only imagined. He was signing a treaty, preparing for a double-cross, and the majority of his Glaives are scattered or dead.

There is, simply, no way that Regis needs Ignis' advice. To say so is laughable, and to believe the words, more so.

Ignis pinches the bridge of his nose. Inhales. Exhales. "I will not disappoint you, your highness," he says, certain he's lying.

Regis' raiments need to be mended. He'll start with that.

---

Prompto goes for a run with Gladio, part to keep Gladio company, part to get away from Regis (though it makes him feel guilty, because the dude just lost his kid, fuck), and part because he just needs to run. He needs to turn tail and bolt, away from Insomnia, away from Altissia. Cleigne sounds nice. Mountians, cliffs, forests. He'd get a ton of fantastic nature shots with his camera, and nobody would ever find him.

Not that they'd come looking, anyway. He was Noctis' friend, first, and he's got the feeling Iggy and Gladio only put up with him because Noctis would've thrown a fit if they didn't. Noctis is gone (dead) now. They don't have a reason to keep him around. He doesn't even have a reason to stick around, because... he only joined the Crownsguard for Noct, anyway.

Gladio trips over a rock and swears, loudly. Then he slams his hand against the ground, cursing and cursing, and Prompto bounces from one foot to the other because he doesn't know what to do. Then he kneels, awkward, and says, "We'll figure this out," because it's bigger than the two of them.

It's not just about Noctis being dead. It's also got to do with- fuck- Insomnia being taken, and Regis on the run, and whatever the hell the imperial army is up to. People died. It wasn't just Noctis.

(But damn if he wouldn't trade everyone for his best friend.)

"I shouldn't be here." Gladio's voice is oddly hoarse. Choked. For a moment Prompto pauses, stalling over the words, and then Gladio says, "I couldn't even keep the kid alive."

"Dude," Prompto says, "We couldn't keep Noct alive." It's like, a team effort or something. Crownsguard shit. Him, and Gladio, and Ignis were all supposed to be watching Noct's back. It wasn't just Gladio, and technically, technically, Prompto knows it wasn't their fault.

Noct was reckless. He rushed off on his own. Ignis, Gladio, Prompto- they couldn't keep up. They should have known that he would do that; he was their friend, and they should have prepared for that, but they just. Didn't. Couldn't.

(It feels wrong, to say that Noctis is dead because he did something dumb. Like he's disrespecting his best friend's memory.)

For a second Gladio's lips curl, teeth baring into a snarl. Prompto's bracing himself for some kind of accusation (deadweight, a nuisance) and then Gladio just... crumbles. Leans bodily against Prompto, like one of those huge dogs, shuddering silently.

"Hey," Prompto says, and that's where he stops. He can't say it'll be okay. 

(It probably won't be okay.)

“Hey.”

[scrappywriting]

[23:29:35] <X> FF15 AU where the ring needed 113 kings/queens to amass enough power to do The Thing with the crystal, and Regis knew he was number 113 and that makes Noctis the chosen one upon his death [23:30:00] <X> but noctis dies and the ring accepts that as the 113th spirit hey regis time to go save the world [23:30:50] <X> oh oh and the sword of the father is replaced with the engine blade [23:32:40] <X> regis either 1) getting his old gang back together or 2) sort of inheriting Noctis's squad [23:33:25] <X> Gladiolus being absolutely fucking lost because this is the king it's not the same as a brat prince, Ignis being like... dude... he was supposed to be noctis's advisor, what can he possibly advise regis that he wouldn't already know, Prompto being even worse because this is your best friend's dad and what if he finds out what you are [23:35:11] <X> really hard for Regis to hide because okay, maybe people don't know the scrawny little prince, but they definitely know Regis. goofy glasses and really shitty disguises that don't work but everyone respects him too much to call him out on it [23:35:33] <X> but wait the best thing [23:35:46] <X> will be luna dying in front of regis and he gets to fail her again [23:36:40] <X> he couldn't get her to come with him when tenebrae got wrecked and her mom got killed, and now she also ends up superpowering him so he can face off with leviathan. ahaha. ahahahaha [23:37:00] <X> and then she just gets stabbed by Ardyn [23:37:36] <X> Maybe the train thing with Regis chasing Prompto around blaming him for everything [23:38:42] <X> it starts getting funky there and falling apart so I'll just skip to the fun part [23:39:10] <X> regis has to die to fulfil the Chosen One bullshit and Noctis gets to appear with the engine/ultima blade and stab his dad

[scrappywriting]

(My attention’s been elsewhere; I haven’t been focusing on my own things. But I felt this needed a bit more? Closure, I guess. It’s mostly headcanons and me tapping into that fun anxiety we all live with. Under the cut: Selena worrying.)

Grima is dead, they think. They aren’t sure. Robin vanished but was found alive in a field later. Don’t get her wrong; Selena prefers having two parents instead of one. But Robin was the one capable of containing Grima’s Heart, whatever the hell that meant. Grima’s mark was there at birth, and it grew with Robin. It’s linked to a dragon, but though that dragon is (supposed to be) dead, the mark remains. It’s a part of Robin, forever, and it’s a part of Robin’s children.

The mark on her hand is incomplete: three eyes instead of six, faded in patches as if it were half burned off. Morgan’s is incomplete in a uniquely different way. They’re still Grima’s descendants, and anything with a sense of self-preservation knows it. Animals, faceless, even humans who can’t see the mark- all of them sense something off and leave well enough alone. If asked, nobody would be able to explain why. But it still works, even in Nohr, even worlds away from home.

So Grima can’t possess them. So what? They’re his blood; they’re marked as having the potential to produce a perfect heir. Maybe it won’t be now. Maybe it’ll be centuries in the future. If Grima isn’t dead- then it’s dangerous for her to breed.

But that’s silly, isn’t it? Robin can’t be the only living descendant of the Grimleal; Selena and Morgan can’t be the last of their kind. They aren’t like Yarne or Panne, though. The only thing visibly distinguishing them is the mark. So even if they didn’t-

“Thanks, Selena.” His voice jars her; when she looks, there’s still blood in Laslow’s hair. He looks like he wants to vomit at the very thought of standing, but he’s doing it anyway, swaying slightly on his feet. “I- Odin told me that you saved me. Thank you.”

She can’t see the mark of the Exalt in his eye, just like he can’t see the mark on her hand. Not that it makes a difference- animals and undead still just know.

“We’re friends, dummy. No need to thank me.”

He grins, then winces; he takes a seat beside her gingerly, and then in his most over-the-top voice says, “We’re friends, and that’s why I have to thank you! I know you don’t like… you know.”

“…Are you even supposed to be up?”

“Ha. Well, no- I’m supposed to be resting. But you’re changing the topic, Selena!”

It’s not fair, she wants to say. Naga is, unquestionably, the ‘good’ god. She doesn’t possess vessels like Grima does. She saved all of them. She sent them back so they could save everyone else. Maybe things aren’t clean cut; maybe they can’t say that Naga is the embodiment of good. But she was good to them, and it makes Selena so jealous.

Laslow and Odin are Naga’s blessed and it means little. Creatures know she would never rain godly fire on them, that she will never in person walk the earth. Being hers marks them as royalty and nothing more. There’s no division; their mark is whole when it surfaces.

(Poor Lissa, though- to wonder if she were a bastard and to need a child to prove otherwise.)

But Grima…

Laslow leans against her, full-body, like he’s a second from passing out. She jumps, briefly, and he grins up at her before she glares, pointedly, at nothing. “My hero. Making the best of things. You fight dirty, Selena-”

“Shut up.”

“And we love you for it. Love you despite it.” The words make her pause; it’s too honestly mushy to be Laslow’s usual flirting. She glances down, and his eyelids are drooping. "I know you were afraid she’d send you too far,“ Laslow says, and his words are slow, ponderous with drowsiness. “Naga. You thought she might- send both of you too far. ‘Lose’ you. But she didn’t.”

Was it really that obvious? Did she say it, before?

“So? She’s the good one.”

“No… she could have hedged her bets. Nipped things in the bud. But she didn’t. You’re worth the risk, Selena. A god decided that.”

You’ve got a concussion, she wants to say. Am I supposed to call someone? Xander will kill you. Peri will kill me.

But Laslow’s eyes finally shut, and saying it would be stupid, so she sits, and thinks, and wonders if he meant any of it. If he was reading too far into it, with his brains addled by that rock.

(Can she believe him?)

(She wants to believe him, so, so badly.)

EDIT: Posted on AO3. https://archiveofourown.org/works/20021665/chapters/47409445

Basocally ehat I'm saying with the powers thing either repelling or attracting Faceless is that they've always had this ability to some capacity with Risen, but when they came to the fates world Anonkos canonically messes around with the powers and abilities they had, and since the closest thing to Risen are Vallites and Faceless and the influence of another dragon only increased this effect, whatever spell he used just translates 'Risen' as 'Vallites and Faceless' and made it far more potent

(referring to this ask)

Oh, alrighty! That’s definitely plausible, depending on why their heritage would cause them to repel or attract Faceless/Risen (beyond the general fact that they’re all related to a dragon, I mean). It’s still an interesting concept!

[scrappywriting]

Laslow has a crush on like, everyone, and he knows it. Selena and Odin sit there listening to him gush about the newest person; they're supportive or vaguely teasing because all of them know it won't last. It never does.

They've been in Nohr for three months exactly. They've been in the service of the Nohrian royal family for thirteen days and twelve hours. In those thirteen days they had met up, sometimes in pairs, sometimes the whole trio, but now was the first time they'd been unsupervised.

Laslow checks nonetheless- Niles is already suspicious-looking, and it's clear that not everyone was happy with three complete strangers being assigned to guard two princes and a princess.

But they must be in the clear because the first thing out of Laslow's mouth is "Lord Xander is amazing!" and it's higher-pitched than normal. Like Laslow is trying to contain his enthusiasm and failing, badly.

"Oh my gods," Selena groans, rolling her eyes in the most exaggerated way. "Laslow, not again!"

"Lord Leo's gone on about Lord Xander," Odin muses from his books. Nohr's library has as many as (present, not Future) Ylisse's. Odin devoured all of them for his theatrics, and simply because he loved to know things. How can he resist an entirely new world with entirely new lore? "The Crown Prince of Nohr. The eldest, most responsible sibling. The genius who excels in nearly everything, and only fails to outpace Lord Leo in magic."

"And he told you this much?"

"No, he told Niles. Lord Leo noticed and asked me to find a lodestone "imbued with the essence of darkness" immediately."

Selena looks at Odin. Laslow looks at Odin, too.

"...and did you?"

"Of course! How could the great Odin Dark fail to acquire a lodestone whose twin soul called out to him? I travelled long and far- buuut that's not the point." Maybe his backtracking has something to do with the look his friends are giving him. "From how Lord Leo spoke of his elder brother, fondly, but with envy dripping off every word, even my dark aura couldn't help being impressed."

"Now that you mention it, Lady Camilla spoke of Xander as well. But Lady Camilla is fond of all her siblings, and most of the castle, too."

"Even you?" Odin teases, and he leans back in his chair as Selena swipes at him.

"Especially me. I'm her favourite retainer." It's been under fourteen days, so who knows if that's true. But Selena seems proud, and then she stops, looking at Laslow expectantly. "What makes Lord Xander is so great, Laslow?"

Laslow's eyes light up. His whole face lights up, and he spends the next thirty minutes telling them.

Camilla hugs him. She hugs everyone, so Laslow's really nothing special. The interaction is only three minutes at most, and a lot of fawning over Selena, not her "handsome little friend" (who she's surely heard all about from Xander, because the siblings are close). Eventually Camilla leaves and tells them to relax while they can, and to take care of themselves.

Selena turns, maybe to apologize for how huggy Camilla was, or maybe to smugly tell Laslow that Camilla really is the best Royal. But his eyes are wide and bright as he stares after Camilla, and all those thoughts scatter. She's seen that look. Odin's seen that look.

He's head over heels with adoration, and it's not even new. But for some reason it makes her embarrassed to think of: Laslow is going to be padding after her, asking her to have tea. Camilla will put up with it, maybe even coo over him.

"Laslow!"

"She's amazing," he breathes, and his voice- catches? in his throat? "I'd seen her training before, but now? Beautiful, caring, strong; you've told me of her threats to enemies, how she adores her allies. She truly is a goddess!"

"I mean, well, yeah. Lady Camilla is something special."

"She truly is! I can see why you adore her-"

Selena's cheeks go as red as her hair. Her voice squeaks, just a little. "Excuse me?" 

It's not as sharp as it usually is.

Laslow talks, on and on, about the little things he's noticed from their interaction. About how Camilla really isn’t just a pretty lady; she wields a battleaxe with ease, and her hugs could break bone. (Maybe.)

For some reason, Selena doesn't tell Laslow to be quiet.

Odin calls Laslow to the library, then begs off for some epic quest. That's the only reason Laslow is in the library in the first place- the books Odin's been reading are good, but dense. The view from the windows is nice, though, and it's peaceful enough: occasionally castle staff wanders in and out, sometimes using it as a shortcut between other rooms.

Someone's left a chess board.

Lord Leo appears looking for Odin, then looking a little put out that the astounding Odin Dark has vanished into thin air. He’s undeniably pretty, and Laslow says something he doesn’t remember in the end: about difficult missions and grand adventures, and how Odin will likely be back with some tall tale to excuse the wait. Can he help?

Helping, apparently, is by playing chess.

He isn't terrible at it, but he isn't great, either. They talk as they play but in the end Leo beats him soundly. He thanks Laslow, then excuses himself politely; the assignment he has really cannot wait. Only when his footsteps have well faded and Laslow has put away, then unpacked the chessboard, running his fingers over the pieces, does Odin pop out from behind a bookshelf.

Odin is grinning, wider and smugger than usual. He must have heard everything- and only then does Laslow realize why Odin call him, then fail to appear to his new liege’s summons, even with the promise of some new and exciting adventure.

"You set me up!"

"Indeed! I heard you met Lady Camilla, but Lord Leo is... not quite a people person. But never mind that! What do you think?"

"He's very private and intelligent. Lord Leo plays long games to save as many pieces as possible, while Lord Xander balances time and sacrifices." He pauses to glance at the board, then grins ruefully. "I can't seem to match wits with either of them."

"And you're crushing on both of them! And Lady Camilla!"

"I know!" Laslow covers his face, and his ears go bright red. "I think it's because they're royalty; they're just, different from a normal per...son..."

He stops. Odin's smug grin goes even wider.

"No! I didn't mean it like that! Odin!"

"Remember that time-"

"Odin!!"

EDIT: Well. I posted this on AO3. Right now it’s just an edited version of this draft, but I guess I could edit this post to have some behind-the-scenes / author confirmation stuff with each new chapter? Assuming I don’t hide under a rock and try to forget about this.

I put in the notes of this post that it was supposed to be 10, but things change and I’ll explain why later. Anyway, each chapter is supposed to have 3 crushes, loosely related/connected somehow, and will be posted when I’m either satisfied with them or sick and tired of seeing them.

Chapter/Section 1: Nohr Siblings (Xander, Camilla, Leo)

"I think it's because they're royalty" - Intended as a noodle incident in which Laslow had a crush on any (or all) royal(s) in Ylisse's family. Despite being dorks, FE royalty tends to be good-looking and just "better" than common folk, yeah?

This chapter was the easiest to write, since I didn’t actually commit myself to the story. It’s been mostly done for a while, and just edited a bit since. Once I kind of committed myself to this being a 12-part (4 part?) story, this became the part I was kind of dissatisfied with: not really a “story”, because it wasn’t.

Chapter/Section 2: "Close Acquaintances” (Peri, Corrin, Felicia)

Odin and Laslow are both freaked out by Peri in their supports. I never understood that- they’ve dealt with the loss of their parents, and jumped back in time, and fought in a war they shouldn’t have been born for, and defeated a dragon who was also a god. Peri’s small fry.

I wrote the middle section envisioning Odin misfiring a spell and burning his arms up to his elbows. Magic’s energy, injuries are physical, so he’s totally wiped. If you assumed Laslow helped him to a cot and just threw him facedown, good! (Edit: He’s awfully chatty for someone who’s wiped, and that’s based on my personal experiences with injuries and general illness. Barring sore throats, I sound totally fine up till I conk out. I know it’s not the case for everyone, but Odin seems the type.)

Felicia reminds me a lot of Cynthia, and I imagine Selena would remember how she underestimated Cynthia and could only tie with her in competitions. Also, I believe Selena’s the best at giving people silent treatment until they cave. (Though, it doesn’t work on Beruka or Camilla.)

Chapter/Section 3: ??? (66% 'done’; aiming for March 12, 2019)

Alright, I obviously haven’t managed to update this as intended. Do I have a good reason? Nah. I managed to cut my pinky finger, which doesn’t super affect my typing. If I typed for longer than a few minutes it’d start to feel odd and tingly. But good news; the cut’s finally closed up and the tingling is dying down, so things should be back on track soon! 

Further update: Turns out your pinky is actually important to grip strength and there’s minor nerve damage to the tune of “Hm, it’s a little difficult to bend it in a claw stretch”. 

Chapter/Section 4: ??? (66% ‘done’; aiming for March 19, 2019)

[scrappywriting]

This was supposed to be a fic about Ignis growing up in Tenebrae. I might finish it, but in the mean time, here’s a few sections.

At the time it wasn't obvious. A Marilith had attacked the Lucian royalty, slaughtered the servants, and injured Noctis. A Marilith, in Lucian walls? Impossible. An attack, clearly, and one with the simple goal of ending someone's life. It didn't matter if it was the king or his heir; Regis was getting old and a second heir was unlikely to materialize before his death. One would be as good as the other, and the other would be easy pickings.

But neither died and they counted themselves lucky. Yes, Noctis was injured to the point they feared he would never walk; yes, he had a touch of the scourge, but clearly they had thwarted their enemy's plans and could rest easy.

"You will go to Tenebrae, where the Oracle can heal you." Already Ignis was making preparations for Noctis' return: he liked cats and fishing, hated vegetables, always wanted to play (but had learned early that Regis could not set aside kingly duties, even for the prince). Perhaps with Clarus's help-

Noctis squeezed his hand tightly. Or, as tightly as he could, weak and pale as he was. "I don't want to go alone," he whispered, despite knowing he wouldn't be alone. "I want you to come with me."

Tenebrae is safe was on Ignis's tongue. King Regis isn't even bringing his shield. The two of you, because a bigger party would make a scene. The knowledge of how you've been injured is being covered up.

None of that made it off his tongue. If Noct wanted Ignis to go with him, then Ignis would go. Like a brother, Regis had said, though it was obvious Ignis would never be King.

What could be the harm?

It only became obvious when Tenebrae was aflame and the Oracle was dead: the attack wasn't meant to kill, it was meant to injure, and it was meant to drive Lucian royalty to the only one that could heal the Starscourge. After that attack, they would only go to Tenebrae.

In the chaos, Regis meant to flee with whomever he could. Noctis was cradled against his chest; Luna was grabbed by the wrist and pulled, stumbling, away from the body of her mother and her sobbing brother. Ignis was... he was trying to get Ravus on his feet, trying to get the other boy to come with him. He was too far away.

Luna was Princess of Tenebrae and the future Oracle. Logically, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret would be the one to rescue, and if not her, Ravus. Fighting was not an option; King as he was, even Regis couldn't off an entire invasion while protecting children.

But Luna wrenched her wrist free and turned to face them. Luna chose to stay, and Ravus begged in vain for Regis to help, and in the chaos, Ignis was left in a strange land under Niflheim's control.

There was a guard, Ignis would learn later: the brave Kingsglaive, Cor the Immortal, all deployed under false pretenses. They'd been expecting an ambush, had been prepared for it.

Somehow, Niflheim slipped past half and slaughtered the rest.

General Glauca took a special interest in Ignis while the bodies burned and Ravus knelt, swearing vengeance. Luna, on the other hand, did not. "The child adviser to the Prince," he was called, and he knew better than to tremble. "A valuable bargaining chip of House Scientia."

"None are more valuable than I," Luna had countered. She hadn't dared to shoulder in front of Ignis, but her voice was strong, and her gaze was cold. Princess of Tenebrae. Future Oracle. The only one able to soothe the Scourge, now that her mother was slaughtered. "King Regis tried to take me," she said, "Not my brother, not that boy."

A blade at Ignis's throat; he didn't dare breathe. "Garbage, then? A body for the fires?"

They had set Sylva's body aflame, thrown unfortunate corpses on the pile. They would tell the public she and some servants had perished in a fire. Ignis tried not to look, tried not to remember the smell of burning meat.

Distantly, he wondered how Noct was. If he was well. How they would get him to behave, with Ignis gone.

He wondered if Noct would find out what happened to him.

"And what good would that do you?" Luna had asked. "Look at him. He's a child, abandoned by his 'family'." Abandoned. Left behind. The statement hurt, burned, stabbed into Ignis's chest. He blinked, and the image of Regis's back played across the insides of his eyelids. "No more bloodshed, General. Please."

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This was supposed to be a fic about Prompto being really lucky, but I never got around to finishing it. Also, it only loosely stayed on the ‘luck’ train of thought later on. Also, I changed tenses too often, then stopped trying to fix it.

He was kind of stunned the one dog he adopted turned out to belong to Lady Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, Oracle and former Princess of Tenebrae. 'Kind of' was an understatement: what were the six-damned chances of that? What were the odds Prompto, late from school and on the last of five detours, being the first and only one to worry about a puppy?

What were the odds that Prompto would've used the only handkerchief that had his name on it instead of Season's Greetings or some dumb smiley face? The odds that Lunafreya cared enough to scour Insomnia for him? It's amazing. It's unbelievable, given the watch she was under in Tenebrae.

When he thinks about it, that was what set him on his path. If it weren't for Tiny (Pryna) he wouldn't have talked (tried to talk) to Noct, and if he hadn't. Well. He'd still be that lonely kid in the back of the classroom. He wouldn't have the best friend in the whole damn world, wouldn't have been capable of going anywhere outside of Insomnia, honestly.

Maybe Noct would disagree. Maybe Noct would look back on that moment and wish he'd never met Prompto, never dragged him into this. Maybe Noct would hear from Luna and blame her, which Prompto really hopes won't be the case, because there's so much danger, anger, pain already. They don’t need more. So maybe it was pure dumb luck that made him find his way. So what?

If Prompto wasn't a friend of the Crown Prince of Insomnia, he would've been there for Insomnia to fall. It's another place he could have died, and he really, really doesn't think he would've stood a chance if he hadn’t been Noct’s friend. 

Small blessings. Or big ones, if you think about it.

When Noct asks him to come to the wedding, Prompto says yes. Immediately. Nothing about clearing it with his parents (they wouldn't be home), or how he doesn't have money for the trip (he barely has money for rent), or even clothes (he's pretty sure he'll need something brand new). Noct is his best friend. Of course he'll be at the wedding. He isn't sure how, but he'll do it.

Ignis, though, raises a perfect eyebrow at Prompto's quick answer. He says, mildly, "Should you join Noct's Crownsguard, a uniform would be provided, and none would question your attendance."

With Iggy, Prompto's learned to read between the lines. It's kind of how the king's adviser is supposed to be, he thinks. A Crownsguard uniform is as good as a Kingsglaive one, military issue, definitely suitable for a special occasion. If he showed up in a Crownsguard uniform he would be both protection and a guest. It might be an obligation, but honestly, he would protect Noct uniform or not. And he's pretty sure the Crownsguard doesn't pay for travel, since it's like, their job. And he was kinda thinking of picking up another job, so joining the Crownsguard is two (three? four?) birds with one stone. The perfect plan.

But, raising money would be doable. Buying proper clothes? That would be doable. Joining the Crownsguard might be the one thing Prompto can't do. They must know it's a long shot at best.

"I'm not Gladio, dude," is what he says instead. "Are you sure?"

Ignis looks like he might say something about being called 'dude'. Ignis isn't dude material. He's a beautiful, perfect genius of a man. Prompto can absolutely get away with calling Noct and Gladio dudes, but Ignis?

"Sure's sure." Before Ignis can say anything Noct grabs Prompto and gives him a rough noogie, making him squawk as he tries to wriggle free. "We've got it all figured out."

"You mean Iggy's got it all figured out," Prompto says, voice muffled into Noct's wrist and hip.

"Your words wound me!" That sounds like Noct is trying to mimic Ignis’ accent. He’s pretty good at it, actually. Must come with the childhood friends thing. "I don't need Specs' help all the time!"

Ignis, of course, sighs and chooses not to say anything.

"It's alright Iggy," Prompto says, still caught in the headlock. His hair is sticking up and Noct’s hands are really, really warm. "We both know Noct needs your help for, like, everything else."

"Hey!"

Crownsguard training, to be completely honest, sucked. It was like trying to cram for finals of advanced courses he'd never taken prerequisites or attended any classes for, and he was given all of a week to do it. Self defense, sure, he could manage. He had some survival instinct. But when it came to wielding a greatsword like Gladio, or daggers like Ignis, or literally every weapon under the sun, and magic, like Noct?

He doesn’t measure up. It might have something to do with their training from birth, or maybe he just sucks.

"Dunno," Noct says. Prompto'd begged him hard enough to get a training partner instead of a video game player two, and they’d been practicing in a park close to Noct’s apartment. "I think you almost had that one."

Prompto's used to looking up at Noct. It happens. Literally, that first time, when he tripped and Noct tried to help him up. Then there were all the times Prompto'd been so tired from his jobs that he'd nearly flunked tests, and only passed because Ignis’ disappointed stare jogged his memory. But with daggers useless in his hands, the point of Noct’s sword gently pressed against his throat, and three very sharp rocks digging directly into his spine, this is a whole other thing. This drives home that Noct is fantastic: he's really a prince, and he's really, really cool.

It's easy to forget when you've seen how far he'll go to avoid eating his vegetables. No warping indoors, except for avoiding vegetables, apparently. He'd warped directly out of a window once and damaged some property in his escape. Nobody realized for a week.

"Think you need to get your eyes checked." Noct extends a hand to help him up (and this time, Prompto grabs his wrist instead of trying to hand him what he's holding). "You kicked my ass."

Noct ruffles Prompto's hair, grinning. "You're making progress."

"Not enough progress."

"Wanna head to the arcade, instead?"

It's a poor attempt to change the subject, and when the daggers and sword vanish, Prompto has to swallow his urge to beg again, one more time, I don't want to get left behind. They practiced. Noct was expecting video games anyway, something fun and not at all sweaty. They deserve this.

"You bet," he says, and he's honestly excited. "You'll never beat my high score, and I'd like to see you try!"

"You're on. Which high score?"

"The zombie shooter one! I never miss!"

When Noct actually sees Prompto's high score, he gets an interesting look in his eyes. It's like Iris, when she's got an idea on how to ambush Gladio, mixed with Ignis, when he's thought of a new way to sneak vegetables into Noct's diet. Prompto doesn't mention it. It's probably Noct thinking he's figured out some way to win, but he doesn't come close to Prompto's score, though he tries, and tries, and tries.

That look stays in Noct's eyes when the arcade closes and they go back to Noct's place. It stays when they play more video games, commit culinary crimes would probably give Iggy an aneurysm, and stays when they finally pass out from exhaustion. Prompto drifts off thinking maybe it wasn't Noct figuring out how to win in an arcade game, but he can't for the life of him guess what'd had him so proud.

But the next day, when Noct hands him a gun for Crownsguard training with that smug half-smirk on his lips, Prompto thinks: Oh.

Oh, man. Maybe he can make this work after all.

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Okay but, specifically:

Henrietta says Gustav was a lot like Alfonse when he was young, always running around to save people. He changed because he was to become King, and the king has to think of the bigger picture.

Thinking of characters meant to be rulers- Emmeryn, Xander, Ryoma; I haven’t played many Fire Emblem games- they know their future. They’re going to rule a continent or nation; they’re the eldest. They don’t run around saving people right in front of them because they have to think of the greater good. As far as I know, they never had the freedom to.

Gustav likely had an elder sibling who died or forfeited their title, and he had to learn to take on a role he never expected to have.

You would think Gustav would look at his past and go, “I need to prepare Alfonse to be King. I need to make sure he’s aware of his future from an early age.” But the thing is... Alfonse isn’t like that?

Alfonse runs around saving people in front of him. He disappoints his father by doing so. He takes risks, doesn’t think of the bigger picture, and even left Askr thinking he was unwelcome and shouldn’t return. That doesn’t sound like someone raised to be King. That doesn’t even sound like someone entitled to that role regardless of what he did. You’d think if Alfonse was unfit to rule, they would try to teach Sharena. They didn’t. She’s much the same.

But if Alfonse and Sharena had an elder sibling it would make sense. They’d have the freedom to run around, and they’d be close with each other, but not the eldest. The eldest would be ruler, after all. It’s only natural that expectations would be different. An elder sibling would be a repeat of whatever happened with Gustav: a sudden shock if they abandoned Askr or died, and then Alfonse being the spare to the throne.

Could Alfonse measure up to someone born to rule? Could he put aside the freedom he used to be guaranteed, the freedom to save people in front of him, and simply... grow up? In mere weeks or months, could he match someone who had lessons like that drilled into them for years?

Of course not.

anyone else playing FEH and getting serious “Alfonse and Sharena had an older sibling” vibes…?

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anyone else playing FEH and getting serious “Alfonse and Sharena had an older sibling” vibes...?

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(Selena knowing Faceless, Risen, and generally anything that fears the wrath of gods, dragons, or god dragons will avoid her, and why? So much fun.)

Laslow doesn’t scream when his Faceless opponent gets a good blow in. There’s a grunt, the sound of armor ringing against rock, and the heavy thump of a body hitting the ground. He must hit his head because he doesn’t get up, doesn’t move, and Selena curses because he always picks the goddamned worst times to be careless: right in the thick of the fighting, almost boxed in by enemies.

(Blaming him is unfair, but what’s the alternative? Thinking he’s tired or he’s injured enough that his best isn’t good enough? No. That opens up so many different doors with worrying possibilities. It’s easiest, safest, to tell herself Laslow was careless.)

“Odin!” Selena yells, because shrieking would mean she’s worried and Selena never shrieks. His head whips towards her and he takes in the situation quickly: when she ducks and runs straight towards Laslow, the familiar crimson glow of his magic sears the corner of her vision. Her Faceless turns its attention to its new opponent, and Selena always hated this part.

The Faceless Laslow was fighting rears back. She could fight it. She wants to fight it. She’s supposed to kill them anyway, and if she doesn’t Odin (and Laslow, when he wakes the hell up and stops slacking off) will. But there are four- five?- six in the immediate area that are slowly noticing an easy kill, and that’s too much.

She practically throws herself over him, snarling as her hair whips wildly around her face, onto the ground, sticking to the blood on the side of Laslow’s head. It catches on her teeth and lips. She doesn’t want to think of how animalistic she must look, like a rabid beast. One of her hands grabs his limp arm and throws it over her shoulder. The other points her sword at the closest Faceless.

It freezes. It takes a step backward, then forward, two different impulses telling it what to do.

Avoid Selena: get away, choose an easier target. But Laslow is the easier target. But Selena is in the way. But Laslow hurt it-

It’s enough time to half-drag Laslow a few feet back. Then Odin buys them time to retreat further, to get reinforcements, to drop Laslow off for medical attention and get back to the fighting. They get to finish the battle relatively unscathed, and she has the time to clean up and hate it.

The back of her hand is free of Grima’s mark. Nohr isn’t Ylisse and the only ones who know what she is are Laslow, Odin, and the Faceless.

If only Laslow and Odin knew-

No. Stop.

If she wasn’t (what) who she was, and if the Faceless couldn’t tell at a glance, Laslow would have more than a bump on his head and Selena would’ve been forced to watch it happen.

But she hates being reminded of it.

Basocally ehat I'm saying with the powers thing either repelling or attracting Faceless is that they've always had this ability to some capacity with Risen, but when they came to the fates world Anonkos canonically messes around with the powers and abilities they had, and since the closest thing to Risen are Vallites and Faceless and the influence of another dragon only increased this effect, whatever spell he used just translates 'Risen' as 'Vallites and Faceless' and made it far more potent

(referring to this ask)

Oh, alrighty! That’s definitely plausible, depending on why their heritage would cause them to repel or attract Faceless/Risen (beyond the general fact that they’re all related to a dragon, I mean). It’s still an interesting concept!

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uses my unused side blog to butt in

Instead of Selena being protective of Chrom!Laslow and Odin, the boys like the idea of retainers for the royal family. Chrom only had Frederick; the rest were his Shepherds and along for the ride, not appointed guardians. It’d be a practical change!

The moment they’ve got some time to themselves Odin checks for eavesdroppers (Niles first, Beruka second), turns to the others, and yells “I call Selena as retainer!” She’s capable, and smart, and she doesn’t fawn over him because he’s royalty. Hell, she called him on being a weirdo back in Ylisse and ended up giving him a pep talk. 

“No, I call Selena, because… I’m older?” Laslow’s protest is feeble; he’s taken off guard because Odin where did that come from, no never mind, of course you’d blurt that out. Anyway! He agrees, Selena is excellent and skilled and gave him a verbal lashing for his flirting. Multiple times. Arguably he was more of a pain than Odin was, so that counts for something.

(Bringing up Cordelia’s feelings for Chrom is Not Mentioned, Ever. Same for ‘My dad’s the Exalt so I’m more in line for the throne than you”; neither are actually going to be Exalt. And she wouldn’t take kindly to him bringing up physical beauty in this case, he’s not stupid- but that doesn’t give him a lot to work with. Odin technically called dibs, darn.)

Selena shoots them both down immediately. “Neither of you can call me. I’d be Lucina’s retainer. That way I won’t get dragged into nonsense.” 

(But the truth is, assuming she’s closer with Laslow and Odin than Lucina, she doesn’t want to favour one over the other. They can’t be each other’s retainers because they’re both princes, so unless Selena is retainer for both of them, it’s gotta be neither.)

consider: a laslow that is also chrom's son who puts zero effort into hiding that he and odin are cousins and who sees parts of his sister in xander, while selena goes around insisting that he and odin be treated with the UTMOST RESPECT without revealing that they're foreign royalty

:00

I have a bit of a hard time imagining Selena insisting Chrom!Laslow and Odin should be treated with that much respect when the point is to keep on the down-low and she doesn’t exactly fawn over Lucina all the time either (though she definitely respects Lucina a lot! Plus Inigo and Owain are from another timeline, so I don’t think they really have a claim to the throne in the new Ylisse?) but I have seen fics where after the Trio returns to Ylisse, a NotChrom!Inigo and Severa become Owain’s retainers instead, so I could see Selena letting a comment like “When this war is over, there’s no way I’m being your retainer just so you can flirt like an idiot all day” @ Chrom!Laslow or something and somebody else overhears and gets all “???” about it. (But also if it makes you happier to consider your version of events, definitely feel free to disregard all that I just said! I may be too literal to consider certain aspects of AUs sometimes, lol)

(Truth be told, I actually love the fact Inigo has his Brand of the Exhalt in his eye opposite Lucina, and any mention of that at all gets me so fast your head would spin, so I can definitely get behind Chrom!Inigo/Laslow in the “being marked as royalty” trope if that secret got out in Nohr at all)

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Poli’s wise words: Your whirl is the whirl that will pierce the heavens.

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When you’re on the last day of a palace (click for audio).

Edit: Here’s a gif, per request.

EDIT 2: With the exception of my youtube channel (PixelPulp), all other Youtube uploads are stolen content.

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NO!

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Money spell! Reblog to charge it with your intent; the more people see it, the more powerful it becomes. Magic should be fun!

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what the fuck ethan