#ADULT LUCIAN WITH LONG HAIR SAVE ME

[g0ttal0ve101]

PICK YOUR FIGHTER 💥

Felix: “I messed up the recipe again…”

Lucian: “Kai, do you need help reading the recipe?”

father and son duo 🤭 tap now when the skrunkly!! 💞

[yabai-korra]

Rhysand's "problematic" behavior towards Feyre in ACOTAR

I have just finished reading A Court of Thorns and Roses. I have been in book fandom for a while so I've heard criticism towards this particular relationship and author, so here I am debunking/explaining why that criticism isn't justified. Not saying you can't dislike the book obviously, but a lot of bad things said about this came from a place of ignorance and not reading in between the lines nor with full attention.

Now, if you're a passionate anti with no chance for changing your opinion, please do turn around and look at posts about something you enjoy :) Let's all stay in line and be civil, I am merely going to explain something a lot of people seemed to have missed in this book.

Words in blue are quotes.

First of all, lemme say that I totally understand why someone would think this book is "problematic", it seemed that way to me as well at first but when you read carefully and in between the lines it's not problematic, dark yes, hence why it's new adult and not young adult, but not problematic.

Rhys definitely does bad things to Feyre and comes off as an asshole at first, which is why I hated him, but if you approach it more carefully you'll see that there is a lot more beneath the surface.

Feyre has two moods while Under the Mountain - depressed and angry at Rhys. Rhys, as he states himself, is on Feyre's side, because he, much like everyone, hates Amarantha and wants Feyre to succeed in freeing them.

Something I haven't noticed immediately is how Feyre is sinking deeper and deeper into depression and some dark corner of her mind, and every time she bounces back is with Rhysand. He makes her angry, because that is the only emotion he is capable to provoke in her and the only one that would keep her from falling apart. Being lovey-dovey or friendly or sad, as we have seen Tam and Lucian were with her, didn't help, it just made her more depressed.

By keeping her angry he is keeping her alive: "It took me a long while to realize that Rhysand, whether he knew it or not, had effectively kept me from shattering completely."

To be fair I gotta add that it wasn't his only way of keeping her alive; he healed her arm, did one of the tasks for her to keep her from being roasted, and led her to the correct answer on her second trial.

Also, something really important, he forcefully kissed her. When I read that I was furious and wanted to kick him honestly and I am not excusing him whatsoever, and imo he could have been a little more gentle, but he did that in order for Amarantha to believe it was him who kissed her, not Tamlin who was kissing her before. If Amarantha saw Feyre and Tamlin together, which is something Rhys interrupted, she would have gone wild because she is obsessed with Tamlin. Not only did Rhys save both of them (and Lucien, for that matter, because Amarantha kept pushing him in Tamlin's place) through his shady method I in no way approve of, immediately after his mood shifts. He knows Amarantha for 50 years, and he knew he'd take the punishment for kissing Feyre, which was, sadly the thing Amarantha is doing to him all the time, r*pe, which was obviously worse than usual because he was in a very mental state afterward: His tunic was unbuttoned at the top, and he ran a hand through his blue-black hair before he wordlessly slumped against the wall across from me and slid to the floor. “What do you want?” I demanded. “A moment of peace and quiet,” he snapped, rubbing his temples. I paused. “From what?” He massaged his pale skin, making the corners of his eyes go up and down, out and in. He sighed. “From this mess.” I sat up farther on my pallet of hay. I’d never seen him so candid. “That damned bitch is running me ragged,” he went on, and dropped his hands from his temples to lean his head against the wall. “You hate me. Imagine how you’d feel if I made you serve in my bedroom. I’m High Lord of the Night Court—not her harlot.”

Again, I am not excusing his actions because it was not okay, but he took r*pe as a punishment for the forcful kiss so Feyre and Tamlin wouldn't get something worse, which was probably death. He, once again, did a bad thing to prevent a horrible thing, but this time suffered himself as well. I personally, as a reader, can get over that, if you can't that's totally fine.

"If he hadn’t been kissing me, if he hadn’t shown up and interrupted us, I would have gone out into that throne room covered in smudged paint. And everyone—especially Amarantha—would have known what I’d been up to. It wouldn’t have taken much to figure out whom I’d been with, especially not once they saw the paint on Tamlin. I didn’t want to consider what the punishment might have been."

Feyre herself at one point starts looking forward to seeing Rhys and going to the parties with him and drinking glamoured wine, because it is the only rest her tortured mind can get: "A permanent darkness settled over me, and I began to look forward to the moment when Rhysand gave me that goblet of faerie wine and I could lose myself for a few hours. I stopped contemplating Amarantha’s riddle—it was impossible. Especially for an illiterate, ignorant human. Thinking of Tamlin made everything worse."

All he is doing, whether good or bad, is to help her succeed. I am not saying his actions are to be excused, but they are definitely reasoned. He isn't an asshole for the sake of being an asshole. His way of helping Feyre was a messed up one, but it was the only way. He was doing bad things (while also keeping certain boundaries) to prevent a horrible thing, which would be Feyre mentally shattering.

Feyre herself is in a similar situation at the end of the book, the only way to free everyone from Amarantha was to finish the final trial, which was to kill three (actually two) faeries. Murder is obviously wrong and something that can't be excused (except for Amarantha she deserved it), but taking two lives to save thousands was the only reasonable thing to do, and that's why Feyre did it even though she was disgusted by the deed. The same thing happened with Rhys, it just wasn't as clear and simple.

"Regardless of his motives or his methods, Rhysand was keeping me alive. And had done so even before I set foot Under the Mountain."

It is definitely DARK, and definitely not something that could be applied to a real-life situation.

I hope it helped clear that up, I'm not saying you should like Rhys or the series, I personally do enjoy a more dark and complicated story and characters, I hope if you're not a fan that you have plenty of other books to enjoy :)

[secret-engima]

Ardyn doesn't know his own strength and accidentally helps Niflheim topple Insomnia like, eleven years too early. So he scoops his tiny would-be killer out of the rubble and smuggles him to the Nox Fleurets, presumably to stash for a few years--only, Tenebrae soon falls too, with the rumors of them harboring Prince Noctis (who the Emperor rather badly wants dead, as the Crystal still. won't. accept. him). So now Ardyn has to figure out how to semi-raise Noct into something NOT hopelessly (1/2)

alyss-spazz-penedo

said:

(2/2) civilian and strong enough to fight the gods and fulfill the Prophecy, even as he definitely still hates the child and would quite enjoy seeing him suffer. On Noct's part, he totally knows who Ardyn is and what he wants (thanks Luna), and sure he's glad he wasn't cut down in the raid on the mansion but he's SO unhappy to see Ardyn again.

Me: Oh my word do you even KNOW how angsty I could make this ask? DO YOU EVEN KNOW????? Of course you do you just want to see me suffer.

But just- this could get SO DARK. So abusive. So brutal and even though I would not go full dark there’s still so much ANGST no matter how you look at it.

The worst part is I actually have a bby AU very much like this. Does anyone remember the slightly unstable Imperial!Noctis that showed up in my All Nocti Dissidia AU blurb?

This is basically him.

A Noctis who grew up having lost his home TWICE. First Insomnia, then Tenebrae, both to the same Empire and the same Accursed, and then the Accursed had to RAISE HIM and it was- it was hard. It was brutal. Ardyn raised this Noctis to be a weapon strong enough to destroy him, a politician cunning enough to overthrow him, a scientist smart enough to outthink even Besithia. His only light was Luna, who Ardyn allowed to visit to keep Noctis on his “destined path”, and partially Aranea, who drifted into the young “Chancellor’s Nephew” orbit out of happenstance and then later pity, because she could see the brittle sharp glint in the boy’s eyes and knew an abusive situation when she saw it, and if him hiding in her airship sometimes gave him respite, if that was all she could do to help because Ardyn wasn’t someone she could arrest-.

She tried. At least. She did what she could.

And one of the most angsty bits of this is-

In some warped way, Ardyn and Noctis grow to love each other. Because there are days when Ardyn’s sickness loosens it’s hold enough to let bits of the Healer King and Big Brother shine through, and his touch becomes gentle and his teasing words lose their poison, his hands card through Noctis’s hair and do not scrape at his scalp, and when he speaks of Prophecy there is longing there for rest and repentance rather than poison and mockery for the fate that awaits them both. This is the Ardyn that peaks through when Noctis falls sick after climbing up a mountain in a snowstorm for training, or when he’s too sore to move after a night battling in Ardyn’s daemon training arena learning how to forcibly purify the creatures even though purification is Luna’s magic and not his. This is the Ardyn that holds Noctis close sometimes and sobs apologies into his limp, shivering nephew’s hair because he is aware, at least for a moment, that this child-teen-young-adult is not Somnus and does not deserve to be molded into a weapon of Astral and Accursed alike. This is the Ardyn that Noctis calls Uncle and bitterly, angrily loves in his heart, the one he looks for in the Chancellor’s every morning and quietly mourns when he cannot find him.

The Accursed trains and molds a weapon, a politician, a cunning, sharp mind that can rival his own and someday kill him.

But it’s the little bits and pieces of Ardyn that raise Noctis, a king and a nephew and a son that holds on to the morals Luna gives him with an iron grip, that makes sure Noctis is not completely drowned beneath the Chosen King.

And in the end it is the work of both sides, Accursed and Healer King, that raise up the one who saves the world. It is the Accursed who forged the weapon that hunts down the weapons of the Lucii and steals the lost ring, who steps into the Crystal without flinching and comes out ready to kill.

But it is Noctis who spent years stealing away children from Besithia’s labs so they would not become MT units, who fosters the rebellion and organizes the factions of Lucian, Galahdian, Altissian, Tenebraen, and Niflheim rebels so that they become a more cohesive whole that the Empire cannot isolate and crush beneath it’s boot. It is Noctis who sometimes sneaks into Luna’s rooms at night so that they can just- hold each other, so that Luna can run gentle fingers down his back and remind him what it means to be human, not a weapon, not the King of Light, who shows him the innocent people he must protect and proves to him that they are worth fighting for and keeping safe when it would be so much EASIER to just wage his war and not care about the collateral.

It is Noctis who teaches his stolen not-MT units to be people and to stay safe, Noctis who clings to the sunshine soul of the one who names himself Prompto and follows on his heels into the maw of Ardyn’s brutal training without flinching. It is Noctis who finds Lucis’s Marshal Immortal deep in one of Niflheim’s dungeons and arranges for the rebellion (his rebellion) to break him out. Who gives the Galahdians his magic in the dead of night with a ghoulish mask and cloak to keep his identity hidden from them. It is Noctis who finds the Last Amicitia leading a rebel cell and offers him hope and gains in accidental exchange a protector and Shield. It is Noctis that is tracked down by a young man with glasses and green eyes and loyalty in every fiber, a man who says “I know you are our secret leader, let me help you” and Noctis who is still human enough to be grateful and say yes.

It is Noctis who orchestrated the Empire’s downfall long before he stepped into Crystal, and who’s forces have hemmed and imprisoned the Accursed in the ruins of Noctis’s first home during the ten years he is gone.

It is Noctis, not the Chosen King (weapon, war beast, broken tool) who gently pillows Ardyn’s head in his lap and pets red-violet hair and sings ancient, long-forgotten lullabies as the Accursed (his tormentor, his Uncle, his worst nightmare, his parent) breathes his last.

It is Noctis who ascends the throne of an Empire and reclaims the Crystal (with Luna and a Retinue at his side to keep him from becoming as heartless as the Chosen King that was forged from him) rather than rolling over and dying, because Ardyn gave him training and honed his mind and gave him access to all of Besithia’s knowledge, did he really think Noctis wouldn’t look for a way to weaken and end the Scourge without sacrificing himself for it?

(He thinks perhaps that Ardyn didn’t, that his Uncle-captor-Chancellor-father always intended him to find a loophole in the Prophecy so that he would survive, that even when buried underneath the Accursed, the Healer King still fought to protect the last of his family)

(Then he clutches the cane he has to lean on ever since that final battle and goes to find some wine, because he does not want to think those thoughts. They hurt even worse than his limp and his joints and the lifetime of scars he hides under elaborate black tattoos.)

There.

THERE.

ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?

Or do you want me to ramble about how Cor feels the day he finally meets the mysterious head of the rebellion, who is now the emperor and how he’s suspicious and willing to keep fighting if this man turns out to be corrupt, because he’s heard this is the Chancellor’s nephew, only to feel his heart stop when he sees the profile of the man leaning heavily on a cane and thinks for one second it’s Regis’s ghost before realizing this man is younger and clean-shaven and dressed in a way that shows off the elaborate, scar-hiding tattoos on his arms and shoulders. How he makes some noise in his throat and when their mysterious Chosen turns to look at him Cor finds himself looking into armiger blue eyes and Regis’s face if it had been softened by Aulea’s jawline and made borderline feral by a lifetime of intrigue and abuse thinly veiled as training.

And Cor whispers the name of his best friend’s long-dead son, and the new Emperor’s eyes sharpen as he says, “How do you know my real name? I never told anyone outside my Retinue.” And something in Cor twists with realization.

And there’s also the realizations of Ignis and Gladio years earlier, who don’t KNOW at first who Noctis really is to them until he trusts them enough to reveal his magic and they realize THIS IS THEIR PRINCE. This is their long lost charge who they thought was dead, but has instead been raised by the man who hates him most and yet loves him dearly by turns and all that entails.

And there’s also LUNA. Luna who doesn’t die, but who grows up watching the gentle, smiling boy she first met in Tenebrae get shaped and sharpened and molded into a Chosen King and a beast of war and a tool of destiny, who could so easily become a monster just like the Accursed in all but name, but who FIGHTS it every step of the way even as his light falls away and Luna becomes his only cornerstone for years. His only reminder that there is a life and a purpose outside the Accursed’s plans and the Prophecy that Luna grows to hate, because if it did not exist then the Accursed would have no interest in her friend.

Luna who cries with relief the day the not-MT named Prompto glues himself to Noctis’s side and refuses to leave, because there is an innocent, stubborn light to the boy’s eyes that gently draws Noctis out of the armor that is the Chosen King even when Luna is not there. Luna who rails at the Astrals (at Bahamut, who prevents Shiva and Ramuh from acting) because they can SEE what is happening, yet they will not step in to rescue him, because even now Ardyn is pushing Noctis toward his “destiny” and that is all that matters.

Luna who, years after all is said and done, after the Accursed is laid to final rest and Noctis slowly dissolves the Empire back into free and healthy kingdoms, still has to hold him when he shakes and still has to talk the icy, too-sharp glaze from his eyes when he forgets to be human rather than weapon. Who pushes golden magic into his body even though she knows some scars can never be healed, and who has to talk Noctis down with Ignis’s help from the heights of his utter, visceral horror the day she tells him she is pregnant and Noctis realizes he’s going to be a father, but that he doesn’t know how, because what role model for fatherhood has he ever had and remembered that wasn’t the very man who took his real father away and made him the fractured mess he is?

...

There I think I’m done being brutally angsty now.

Happy notes for an AU like this would be-

Noctis and Luna both live. Ignis does not go blind.

Noctis and Luna have like- five kids and Noctis adores them all once he gets over his visceral panic. He is the gentlest, kindest father. Luna and Ignis and Gladio have to do all the disciplining because Noctis will not raise a hand or voice to them ever, and he has never looked more peaceful then when he is napping with his children in the garden.

Prompto has like- several hundred brothers because Noctis stole bby MT’s whenever he could. Prompto is the unofficial “oldest” brother of them all (even though chronologically he isn't) since he has the ear of the king, and all the clones have fun making themselves unique via hair and accessories and tattoos and clothes and weird names.

Gladio and Aranea are snark buddies, and neither are entirely sure how they got married but they’re pretty sure it was Biggs’ and Wedge’s faults and that Ignis officiated (which isn’t too far off).

Cor gets to spoil all of Regis’s and Clarus’s grandkids like crazy.

Galahd gets rebuilt and gets to be it’s own country. Nyx Ulric and Crowe and all our other fav glaives live and aren’t traitors.

Titus Drautos was one of Noctis’s most loyal double-agents during the rebellion, and frankly he isn’t sure how his retirement still involves him braincelling his Galahdian idiots, but their islands are pretty and its far, far away from any and all Niflheim/Lucian politics so eh, he’ll take it. Now if Nyx would just STOP using him as a babysitting service for the adorable adopted bby Ulrics of his newly remade Clan, that would help his blood pressure so much.

[moonlight-at-dawn]

Sneaking Out Together - Lunoct Week 2020 - Day 1

Late as usual ^^; But here’s my fill for day 1 of Lunoct Week 2020!! :3

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Title: The Gravity of Longing LUNOCT WEEK 2020 Day 1 Rating: T Genre: Romance Summary: The group arrives at Altissia, and all but Noctis and Lunafreya are exhausted. The two sneak out for an unchaperoned night in Eos' most romantic city. For Lunoct Week 2020, day 1 prompt "Sneaking out together." Set in the "My Strength Lies in You" 'verse, but no prior reading required.

Can be found on AO3 with the same title under the pseudonym Altraya

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-==-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The outside air was cool and fresh, the scent of salt on the brisk breeze that roiled through the Altissian harbor. Noctis leaned back in his seat on the balcony overlooking the canals and walls of water, phone on his lap as he absently tapped away at a mobile game. His hotel room was dark inside, his friends already abed after the day's travel, leaving him to his own devices as sleep was not yet his to claim. The boat ride had been relaxing for him at least, and he had slept most of the ride between Cape Caem and their destination.

A door slid open nearby and he looked up. Not behind him, but the next balcony over, Lunafreya stepped out and went right to the railing, crossing her arms on polished wood and looking out over the scenery. Her eyes closed and she took in a deep breath. He smiled as he watched her, her golden hair loose and fluttering in the gusting wind. She ignored the face full of locks, turning her face up to the full moon, thoroughly enjoying the calm of the night. When Noctis rose from his seat, she looked towards the sound, tucking back her mess of hair, her face lighting up when she saw him. He came up to sit on the ledge, and she moved closer so that they would not need to speak loud to be heard across the small drop between balconies.

"Can't sleep?" he asked, slipping his phone into his pocket.

"Not at all. The sea is so invigorating, and the music down on the streets so inviting."

He loved her sweet voice, so calming, lilting along like the waves of wind and water. He grinned broadly and turned so that both legs hung over between them, reaching out to test the distance between their rooms. "Want to go out, then? I got plenty of sleep earlier, but the guys are all wiped."

"I imagine so. How is Prompto? He was looking a touch green."

"He was the first to crash. Shoulda taken that motion sickness medicine before we got on the boat, not after, not sure what he expected." Shrugging, he stood up on the ledge and hopped neatly across. It helped that he had nothing to fear from a fall, as a quick bit of magic would save him if his athletic build did not. She stepped back and held a hand out for him to hold as he steadied himself and slipped down from her banister to join her.

"Well, there's no reason for us to stay in with them, is there?" she asked with a sweet smile and a hint of mischief in her voice.

He chuckled, grinning at that, reminded of the times they would sneak out of the manor or citadel during visits to each other's homes throughout their childhood. "Nothing but their usual complaints, anyways. 'You're royalty, you need guards,'" he mimicked Gladio, puffing out his chest and pitching his voice deep.

Luna laughed softly, covering her mouth demurely. "I do believe we're quite capable of defending ourselves. Let me change from my nightgown, and then we can go. Wait here." She went back in and he heard the rasp of metal sliding along metal as she closed the balcony curtain for privacy. He set a hand on the railing and looked down to the street below, listening to the lively music from buskers down the way, and the quiet but excited chatter of those enjoying the warm air and cool breeze. It had been quite some time since it was just the two of them. The months on the road as a group of five was fun, and they were growing ever closer. His longing for something more tangent between them left his chest feeling strained. The prospect of a night in the romantic city, escaping the watching eyes of their ever present escort, left him feeling giddy.

A few short minutes later, he heard that metallic scratch again, and the door behind him opened once more. Lunafreya stood there in one of the few outfits she had brought that did not make clear her status. A bright red sleeveless dress that was little more than a long and ruffled shirt billowed below her waist, flower patterned leggings and a comfortable looking pair of flats finished out her outfit, alongside a small looped over her shoulder and tucked under her arm. He felt underdressed beside her, and conspicuous in all of his black, still wearing his fatigues that marked him as beholden to the Lucian royal family. He didn't want to slip back into the room he shared with the guys, lest he disturb anyone and have them demand a chaperone or to stay in for the night.

She seemed to sense his worry, tilting her head as she looked him over and tapped her lip. With a soft sound he recognized as her 'ah-ha!' noise, she spun around and turned back inside, and he followed her in, locking up behind him. Rather than going to her unpacked luggage, she went to a locked chest and rummaged around, coming out with a large paper bag that had been folded over. From inside, she retrieved a shirt of bright blue, shaking it out and holding it up, revealing the subtle navy patterns of flowers that he hadn't noticed when it was still folded and in shadow. "I purchased this back near Cape Caem for you, as a gift for the winter holidays. But why don't you take it now?"

He flushed faintly at her thoughtfulness and smiled warmly to her, nodding with gratitude and reaching out for the shirt. The fabric was soft under his callused fingers, far softer and smoother than he had expected. "Thanks, Luna. Sorry you had to give it to me so early."

Shrugging, she smiled and didn't even bother to politely turn as he slid off his jacket and shirt. She had seen him without often enough, especially with how much swimming they had done across Lucis over the last few months. Even so, he felt a bit of excited shyness as he changed his shirt. Perhaps it was the setting, alone in her hotel room, the lighting low, and the playfulness of her manner as they schemed to escape their minders. He didn't often think of his friends in such a way, but when it came to spending time with her, so often he found he found their presence intrusive. His breath caught in his chest when she laid hands over his ribs and smoothed out the shirt, tugging on the hem and straightening it out properly. She took a step back and looked him over, nodding with satisfaction, her smile widening into something of a smirk. Even after all this time on the road, she still reserved such honest expressions for him alone. "It looks wonderful on you. I had hoped it would match your eyes well, and it does."

"You've got a good eye," he managed to say without a hitch in his voice, though he was sure the tightness in his chest would warp his tone.

"I do, don't I?" she grinned, tapping his nose playfully. She spun towards the door, her hair flicking across his chin before settling partly over her shoulder and down her back.

He chuckled at her comment, following her out of the room and taking position beside her. They stepped out onto the streets, took a deep breath of air, and before he could ask what she wanted to do, she took his hand and tugged him towards the music. The group had moved to a livelier song, and Luna took a moment to enjoy the music, her eyes alight with joy, and she clapped with an almost childish glee. His hand captured once more, she tugged him into the open square and gave a gentle yank and a graceful twirl so they came face to face, both of his hands held in hers as she began the unmistakable steps of a dance. He grinned broadly, always happy to oblige her, enjoying dance only when she was partnered with him.

The quick and bright music guided them through steps they had never learned through court instructors, allowing joy and freedom to lead them. Their steps were quick, Luna's brilliant red shirt bouncing and flaring with her joyous footwork, making her a glimmering flame under golden lights. Their eyes were locked on one another's as they danced, lost in the moment, the excitement, just two people enjoying a beautiful night in the world's most romantic city. They weren't royalty in this moment, they weren't burdened with expectations and duty. They were Luna and Noct, two young adults with a love of life and a pure excitement for each moment they experienced.

A few songs came and went before Luna gave a tug on his hand, her cheeks flushed, a few strands of hair stuck to her forehead from the exertion of their dance. She led him away, across a bridge, laughing breathlessly as they went up a set of stairs. Halting there, she turned and reached up to push his messy hair away from his eyes, "Can you even see like that?"

He grinned in return, unreserved, caught up in her excitement, heart still racing from their shared dances. He swept fingertips across her brow, laughter soft and ragged as he still recovered from so much dance. "Can you?" he challenged,  threading fingers through her hair and easing out a few knots. Gods, she was beautiful. The streetlights brought out the green ring in the center of her bright, hazel blue eyes. Her cheeks were still flushed a pretty pink, and the way she seemed to lean forward, her hands resting on his heaving chest as they each regained their composure, he would swear she wanted him to kiss her. How desperately he longed for that, hoped for that, but had so hard a time believing could possibly be true. She was so wonderful, and his breath caught once more as his longing hit him hard.

She broke the spell by resting her forehead to his shoulder, wrapping him up in a familiar hug, unabashed, holding nothing back, squeezing him tight to her in that way that reassured him nothing could be wrong in this world, not when there were arms like hers to lean into, strong and soft. Her laugh had more breath to it now, short but excited, and she pulled back, gripping his arms and looking at him with a wide grin. "Come. I saw a sign for gelato further up. I think that's just what we need!"

Letting her lead the way, he wrapped his hand around hers as she pulled him along once again. Not since their childhood had she taken him by the hand so fervently, and he wished this night would never end. She did not let go even as they stood in line. She leaned against him, even hugged his arm to her side as they waited their turn, and they seemed to any onlookers to be just another of the many young couples enjoying the warm summer night. They claimed a bench that looked out over the canals to rest as they ate their frozen treats. Luna sat close to him, her leg pressed to his, and she gently jabbed him to get him to let her try his chocolate and raspberry treat, and then she gave him a bite of her sweet wine flavored gelato.

They enjoyed the rest even after their treats were done, and he wrapped his arm around her when he felt her give a faint shiver, her head resting on his shoulder. She snuggled against him, reassuring him and encouraging him to tighten his hold and rub his hand over her arm where goosebumps began to rise. "Getting cold?"

"It's just because we went from so active, to eating something cold. Let's get moving again, that will warm me up." She smiled up at him, and any chill he felt melted away under the warmth of her expression. He returned her smile and rose, helping her to her feet. They walked along, taking a look at the shops they passed, ducking into a few. He bought for her a shawl that complemented her leggings, wrapping it around her shoulders when they exited the store. She gripped its edges and looked down at it in surprise, then gave him another of those dazzling smiles. She was always so reserved when they were in company. Though they were out in public now, no one knew who they were, and so she was simply herself. Cheerful, mischievous, energetic, Luna was the girl who always got them into the best kinds of trouble.

Noct was surprised when she expressed interest in the arena of Totomostro. Gambling, especially on any kind of fight, was not something he expected her to find entertaining. But she did, pushing through the crowds, cheering excitedly with them all as they watched the beasts fight. When he asked her about it, rather than shout over the noise, she lifted up a brochure which explained how they came to have these creatures, mundane and daemon alike. It seemed that none were without Starscourge infection, and they all were dangerous and captured by hunters, many having human casualties under their claws. The games were a way to continue to pay the hunters to keep Accordo safe, and to give recompense to those that had suffered from the attacks, and he couldn't find much fault in that.

In the excitement of it all, he placed a few wagers, losing a little in the beginning as he figured it all out, and winning some solid gil by the end of their time at the arena. When they left, Luna asked the gondolier to take them on a scenic course. She held her new shawl close against the wind that blew cool over the water. She looked down and enjoyed the lights glittering on the chopping waves kicked up by their passing. Noct slid his arm around her waist to catch her as she began to lean over too far, and she let out a surprised and laughing shriek when she almost fell in but for his embrace. Their guide laughed and teased them gently, and neither contradicted him when he made comment on what an endearing couple they were.

Noct had expected them to return to the hotel, as the night stretched on, he was surprised she was still ready for more exploration. They continued on, to another shopping strip however, stores open late in this port city, where people came and went at all hours thanks to the lights that kept them safe. It wasn't until the sun started to peek up over the mountains that surrounded the city that they tiredly returned to the hotel. Noct went into her room with her, energy still humming through them both, even as they yawned. Luna laughed as she flopped back on her bed and spread her arms wide. It certainly was an indecent pose, only her opaque leggings retaining her dignity. Noct sat heavily on the plush chaise, kicking off his shoes before propping up his legs along the gilded frame of the back.

"That was wonderful, Noct."

He grinned at turned to her, his response interrupted by a yawn. She giggled at that, slipping off her own shoes before turning to lie on her stomach, her face towards him, those eyes glittering with such brilliant emotion. He reached into one of his large pockets on his leg, pulling out an elegant box and tossing it without due grace to land on the pillow above her head. She picked herself up curiously, her legs curling under her as she sat upright and opened the box. Within was a golden bangle of delicate design, which she held under the light to see better.

The cuff had thin ribbons of metal swirling within it, a pattern reminiscent of both waves and of flowers, depending on how she looked at it. There were six small gems spaced out with carefully planned asymmetry, and as she noted each one, she saw a pattern to it. The deep black of onyx stark against gold, the illusory depths held in a blue sapphire, a ruby red blazing bright, the subtle light of an icy blue aquamarine, a smoky brown topaz blending well among the gold, and the brightest citrine she had ever seen. "Oh," she breathed in admiration, holding it close as she realized each stone had been precisely picked to match the Astrals. "It's lovely, Noctis. However did you pick this up without my noticing?"

"Now, if I give away my secrets, how could I do it again without you noticing?"

She looked up at him, a pout on her lips, ready to argue, but her objections died on her lips. His expression held such tender care and boyish charm and shyness. His words may have held that touch of playful arrogance, but his face did not. Seeing that, her own expression turned from a teasing annoyance to one of pure gratitude and joy. She slid the bangle onto her wrist and turned it over in the dim lighting of the room. Each gem glittered in turn, and she smiled in wonder. The crafter must be quite pious indeed, to put such loving care into such a piece, and she admired it all over again. "Thank you, Noctis," she murmured, always using his full name when her emotions felt so high and strained, not knowing fully how to express herself. "I'll treasure this. It's the most beautiful piece I own now, for certain."

He felt a swell of pride at that, at knowing he had picked something that would mean so much to her. "Well, you were good luck back there, at the arena. I heard you're supposed to reward your lady luck, else it'll turn ill."

The tone of his voice made it clear he was trying to bring some levity back to the moment, as emotion laced tightly between them and seemed to weigh down the very air. She didn't mind. It was his way, when he was feeling shy or embarrassed, to deflect some of it away, to make things easier. She smiled, clutching her adorned wrist to her chest as she moved from the bed to kneel down on the floor beside the chaise. He started to move to sit up, to let her take seat beside him, but her hand on his chest stopped him. Her smile warm, she leaned in and kissed his cheek, petal soft lips lingering before moving to his other cheek. She felt the tension under her hand, the halt of the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the loud silence of his held breath.

Pulling back, the smile she gave him was heavy laden with such emotion, it seemed to pull him in, as all things with such weight had their own gravity. His hand reached out slow, timid, but steady, until he gently pushed hair from her shoulder to run his fingers along her neck. He leaned forward ever so slightly, eyes locked with hers in question. The nod she gave was slight, and had he not been so close, watching her with such intent, he may have missed the inclination. His face leaned forward at the same slow but unrelenting pace, and he felt her breath as her lips parted in invitation and her eyes began to flutter shut.

The kiss they shared was without reservation. Lips pressed firm to one another, whole conversations passed between them without a word. She knew his adoration, his longing, his worries, and his conviction. He learned of her devotion, her trust, her pride in him, her tender and unrelenting care. Their lips moved slow yet an electricity seemed to flow between them, bringing their hearts to a hammering race. Her hands laced through his short hair, his fingers brushed down her face and her neck. Without parting, they shifted into more comfortable positions, until he had joined her on the floor and she sat on his lap with her legs to one side, arms wrapped around his shoulders.

It was a knock at the door that brought that languid moment to a halt, though they did not leap apart. Lost in each other though they were, they also had expected such an interruption, and they ended their kiss slowly, eyes opening, meeting each other's gaze and smiling. This had been building between them for years, slow but inevitable, and the joy of the moment was not something which could be taken from them, even by untimely interruption. Ignis' voice at the door was urgent enough to bring them both to quiet laughter, and Luna extricated herself from Noct's hold with a chiding finger sliding down his nose. He grinned at her and stole another quick kiss before she stood, unsure when they would get another so private moment, but looking forward to the creative ways she was sure to find for them.

[fallintosanity]

the common fandom interpretation of mts is that they’re half-daemonified people inside suits of armor, which isn’t true according to either the main game or episode: prompto

but what the actual fuck besithia was doing with the clones is really hard to work out. 

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15

“C’mon,” Future Prompto said over his shoulder as he sauntered toward the ramp down the side of the haven. “It’s a twenty-minute walk out to the water tower and if we take too long we’re gonna get sunburned.” 

“Right,” Prompto said, and scrambled after him. 

They walked for a few minutes in silence, following a faint track along the sun-hardened ground. In the distance, Prompto could see a short, squat water tower, probably their destination. His future self, despite what he’d said about sunburn, was walking at a lazy pace, his face tilted up to the sun again. Prompto trailed behind him, feeling awkward and unsure. How did you start a conversation with your future self, anyway? 

He picked at the gauze that wrapped his right wrist in place of the familiar wristband Ardyn Izunia had sliced off. He couldn’t see his future self’s wrist; the crisp sleeves of his Kingsglaive uniform jacket covered it. The uniform looked surprisingly good on him. Prompto had never thought about joining the Kingsglaive, or even the Crownsguard, not seriously at least. The Crownsguard was for people like Gladio and Ignis, who’d trained since birth in all kinds of crazy fighting arts, who were muscular and powerful and brave. Prompto figured the former out-of-shape, shy kid who’d been too chicken to even talk to the other kids at school wouldn’t stand a chance.

No, Prompto had just planned to get through high school and find a job taking photos for magazines or something. Maybe see if Noctis wanted a royal photographer, though he’d known that was unlikely. Not that the Lucis Caelums didn’t have royal photographers, but like the Crownsguard, that was a prestigious role reserved for the country’s best. Not some nobody orphan with a barcode on his wrist. 

But apparently his future self had ended up a Kingsglaive. He looked good, too - other than the unhealthy sunless pallor of his skin, which all four of the future adults had because apparently the sun went away in the future too, what the hell. But he was a couple of inches taller than Prompto, and while he was no Gladio, he’d filled out with muscle. Prompto’s own arms and legs were basically twigs, all skin and bone after a growth spurt he hadn’t planned for in his diet, and he felt constantly awkward and clumsy. His future self moved with easy confidence, the way Gladio did, the way the guards who followed Noctis everywhere did. 

As if sensing his scrutiny, Future Prompto met his gaze. His mouth quirked, a small expression that wasn’t quite a smile. “Go ahead,” he said. “Ask.”

“Ask what?” Prompto said, nerves making his voioce less steady than he would have liked.

His future self waved a hand vaguely. “You have questions, right? Ask ‘em. It’ll be easier like that than if I just start babbling, you know?” 

“Uh, right,” Prompto said. He rubbed at the gauze over his tattoo, took a deep breath, and blurted, “Your Noctis knows, doesn’t he? About… about the…” He waved his wrist. “Does that… does that mean you know, too?” 

Future Prompto nodded. “Yeah.”

“So…” He almost couldn’t get the question out. He hadn’t thought he’d ever know the truth, and definitely hadn’t thought he’d learn it like this. “What is it? What does it mean?” He didn’t have to say what am I? If anyone would understand, it was his future self. 

For a long moment Future Prompto said nothing, his gaze turned up toward the sky. Then he sighed and stopped walking, turning to meet Prompto’s eyes again. “You sure you want to know?” 

Prompto opened his mouth to say Of course I’m sure, but the words didn’t come. Future Prompto wouldn’t be asking that if he didn’t think Prompto had a very good reason not to want to know. Instead he asked, very quietly, “It’s… it’s bad, isn’t it.”

His future self didn’t answer, which was answer enough. Prompto swallowed hard, looking away, eyes skating over the bright yellow desert landscape without really seeing it. But there really was only one option he could take. The barcode had haunted him his whole life; he couldn’t let it keep being a phantom holding him back. He said, “I’m sure. I want to know, even if it’s bad. Especially if it’s bad.” 

Future Prompto started walking again. “Have you had that world history class yet, the one with, what’s his face, that one teacher who hated Noct?” 

Prompto frowned at the non-sequiter, hurrying to catch up. “Mr. Malazan? Yeah, we have him this year, why?” 

“Have you done the Niflheim module yet?”

“Yeah, last semester.” 

“So you know about the origin of MTs.” 

“Uh. I guess?” Prompto tried to remember what they’d covered. He hadn’t paid much attention to the lessons; he hadn’t thought he would ever need it, for one, and for two the whole idea of robot soldiers wigged him out. It wasn’t fair, Niflheim fighting with robots they could build and replace, while Lucis had to send humans to fight and die. “They were first created like thirty years ago by some Niff scientist, but didn’t start showing up in combat for another ten years or so.” 

His future self nodded. “Thirty-two years ago from now. Forty-four from my time. The name of the scientist was Verstael Besithia. They didn’t show you a picture of him in class, did they?” 

“They did, but it was some old grainy thing,” Prompto said. “All I remember was he was bald on top and kinda spotty. Why are you asking about this?” He wanted his future self to get to the point. 

Future Prompto snorted. “Spotty,” he muttered, and shook his head. He held out a hand; blue magic shimmered between his fingers and suddenly he held a small, battered notebook. Prompto watched in amazement - even Noct didn’t use the magic of the royal Lucis armory that freely, and it was strange to see his future self treat it with the casualness of reaching into a pocket. Future Prompto handed him the notebook. “Take a look.” 

Prompto frowned at him, but flipped through the book. The pages were covered with his own neat handwriting, and various newspaper clippings and photos had been wedged in between. Most of the handwritten blurbs were marked with the words “Transcript”, dates - all between ME 757 and 763 - and strings of letters that might have been abbreviated place names. The newspaper clippings were much older, dating back to 721, mostly from Niflheim and talking about Besithia and the production of magitek troopers. 

Then he flipped a page and found a photo of himself staring back. 

Except it wasn’t him. For a second he thought it was his older self instead, but that wasn’t right, either. The man in the photo was probably in his mid- to late forties, his blond hair fading to grey around the edges, his freckles turning into age spots above his beard. His outfit was ostentatious, brightly colored with a tall collar and broad shoulder pads, and matched the arrogance in his expression. 

Prompto looked up at his older self in horror. “Who…?”

“Verstael Besithia,” Future Prompto answered shortly. His eyes had gone dark and shuttered, the way Noct’s did the rare few times someone mentioned the daemon attack he’d suffered as a child. 

“But…” Prompto looked at the picture again, then up at his future self. They were damn near identical save for age. Even Gladio didn’t look that much like his dad. “He’s - he looks like—” 

“Yeah,” Future Prompto said. “Noct mentioned where daemons come from, right? Last night?” Prompto nodded, not trusting his voice. Future Prompto continued, his voice flat, “Besithia needed daemon miasma to power his MTs. But using regular daemons didn’t work well, and when he tried using people who were in the process of turning, that didn’t work either because of something he called ‘ego death’. So he figured, why not use babies? They don’t have egos.” 

His voice was bitter and sharp enough to cut, and Prompto flinched. His future self noticed and took a deep breath, visibly reining himself in, before continuing. “He cloned himself. He eventually figured out a way to speed up the babies’ aging without actually letting them develop as people enough to have egos. But before he did… some Lucian spy stole one of those cloned babies.” 

Prompto stared at his future self, horror curdling his stomach; he was suddenly glad he hadn’t eaten anything since lunch yesterday. “That was—You mean—we were—”

Future Prompto nodded. “We were just one of thousands of clones meant to be infected with Starscourge and harvested for daemon miasma to power MTs.” He reached out and flipped the pages in the notebook Prompto’d forgotten he held, stopping on a page that had nothing but a photo taped to it.

A photo of tall narrow glass tubes, each one holding Prompto. A Prompto, a clone, one of many in a row, each with Prompto’s face and a barcode stamped on its right wrist.

“I was taking photos of every room I went into,” Future Prompto said tonelessly. “I figured the intel might be useful. I didn’t realize what I was looking at until after I took the shot.” 

The world swayed and for a second Prompto had to focus on staying upright, on not collapsing to the hard desert rock and throwing up or passing out or screaming. The notebook fell from his fingers, shattering into blue crystal light before it could hit the ground. “But… but…” 

Future Prompto said nothing. When Prompto looked up, his future self was staring at him, his expression grim. Prompto managed, “Noctis - your Noctis - knows? He knows?! And Gladio and Ignis?” 

Last night, in the van, Future Noctis had said, It’s nothing to worry about. You’re fine.

Except Future Noctis had been wrong. How could Prompto be fine, how could he ever be fine again when he was—was that?!  

His future self just nodded, and said softly, “They don’t care. They’re—It’s rare, people that good.”

“Does anyone else know? In the future?”

Future Prompto’s expression darkened and he gripped his own right wrist. “Everyone.” At Prompto’s horrified look, he added grimly, “Ardyn thought it would be fun to spread the news.” He met Prompto’s gaze, eyes cold and sharp and deadly. “He’s probably gonna do it again. He hates Besithia damn near as much as he hates Noctis, and Besithia’s dead in my time, so guess who he’s taking it out on. The guys are okay—” with a tilt of his head back toward the haven to indicate Noct and Gladio and Ignis— “but from now on, you don’t turn your back on anyone. Not strangers. Not people you think are friends.” His eyes closed for a moment, his fingers tightening around his wrist so hard the leather of his glove creaked. “Especially not people you think are friends.” 

Prompto shivered. Despite the desert heat, a chill had seeped down into his bones, one he doubted any amount of sun or warmth could dispel. It was too much to take in all at once, too much to process, to understand. He couldn’t think, the photos of Verstael Besithia, of the clones in their tubes - him in a tube, hairless and placid and stamped with a barcode like the property he’d been created as - spinning through his brain. He doubled over, hands on his knees, breathing hard like he’d just finished a run, like he’d pushed himself past his physical limits only this time it was his mental limits, his ability to comprehend his own freaking existence, not who he was but what he was— 

His future self hooked an arm around his shoulders, jolting him back to awareness. “Sorry,” Future Prompto said ruefully. “I didn’t…” He sighed. “I fucked this up. You need to know, but… it’s a lot to take in at once.” 

That startled a laugh out of Prompto, watery and maybe a little more hysterical than he’d have liked. “A lot. Yeah.”

“C’mon,” his future self said, and ruffled his hair. “Let’s get to that water shed before we both get burned crispier than the steak when Noct’s cooking.” 

Prompto snorted another almost-laugh, nearly choking on the hysteria before he wrangled himself under control. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Okay.” 

[nikatyler]

Look at that, I’m doing replies after...more than a month? I don’t know. I didn’t check. I also won’t reply to every single thing because 1) my activity feed doesn’t show it all, as always and 2) it’s too late to reply to some things, it would be pointless now. However, thank you all for commenting from time to time, it makes my day. And well, I was against it at first, but I might start replying directly under the posts, I’ll only do replies posts for things I want to talk about more.

Life updates? I’m doing good. My life, surprisingly, didn’t turn upside down when I started uni. My social life also didn’t change too much. But I have a few friends that I talk to in the classes we have together. It’s not a friendship friendship if you know what I mean, but hey. It’s only the beginning, things might change. I’m not losing faith that I’ll walk out of this school with at least one friend.

Played Roses a bit in the past three days. The random gameplay part was boring, I didn’t know what to do, my heart really wasn’t in it, most of the time I just left the game running and interfered only when it was needed, so I cut down on that and went straight to the storyline. I’m not discontinuing this legacy before Regan gets a happy ending. Once Regan is happy, it’s Golden Days time...which means even more intense storytelling. Yay. I’m already exhausted just thinking about it but also, it’s exciting. I love that story so much and I can’t wait to bring it to life.

So yeah. Here are some replies from the past month!

dandylion240 replied to your post “Also apparently on this day one year ago I started creating my ts3...”

I sometimes feel guilty too. I seldom open my ts3 game. But I don’t want to remake my ts3 sims into ts4 because then I know I’d never open the game again

elisabettasims replied to your post “Also apparently on this day one year ago I started creating my ts3...”

I don't play TS3 anymore because it often took up to an hour for my game to even decide it was going to open.

And that was with a GOOD computer.

berrybbbies replied to your post “Also apparently on this day one year ago I started creating my ts3...”

yeah its just a trade off i guess lol but having not played sims 3 for a long time makes me miss it and actually enjoy playing it instead of go in to take pics only! plus loading times are not that bad if you merge everything (but thats a problem on its own haha)

Yeah, creating your ts3 sims in ts4 can definitely lead to not wanting to open ts3 because hey, you have them in this other game that loads a lot faster! And I mean, I do love ts3, but...I’m not going to spend an hour or something just on trying to get into the game to do a random photoshoot.

I have a lot of my stuff merged, but I should probably do it again because I got a lot of stuff since then. Right now, it takes about an hour to load my legacy saves...and that’s quite a long time because by the time it loads, I start working on something else and I don’t feel like playing anymore. I’m usually writing while waiting for it to load and of course, when it loads, I’m in the middle of something I can’t put off - a good dialogue, a fun scene or just something important that I was dying to write and now I finally got to it.

elisabettasims replied to your photoset “Sunset: “Dad! Let’s take a selfie!” Ross: *contemplating the meaning...”

Hey, Ross? Remember that time you took a selfie flexing your non-existent muscles?

Never forget

what an icon

elisabettasims replied to your photoset “Yeah, she’s cooking in your house. Don’t be so upset.”

I bet she doesn't have the "always welcome" trait. It's the first thing I buy, it's only 500 points, LOL

Thank you for reminding me these bonus traits exist! I totally forgot about them.

fataleromeo replied to your post “The character ask meme thing for Ross please ❤”

"This post has so many opportunities to be ruined by tumblr" OMG I feel that so hard ��������

Sometimes I’m surprised by all the ways tumblr can go wrong...and then I’m surprised that tumblr can still surprise me.

elisabettasims replied to your photoset “Oh look, your stepfather still has moodswings of a teenager. That...”

Half the vampires in young adult fiction behave this way. :D Growing old is inevitable. Growing up is optional. LOL

fataleromeo replied to your photoset “Oh look, your stepfather still has moodswings of a teenager. That...”

Lmao Edward oops I mean Caleb.....

I’d pick Caleb over Edward any day but yeah you’re not wrong lmao

elisabettasims replied to your photoset “Sooo…I don’t know what happened (actually I think I might have an idea...”

One of my sims was an elder and her hair kept going between grey and her natural color when she was younger. Sometimes in the same sitting. She'd come visit, I"d look and it would be grey. I'd look again a few minutes later and it would be red.

Interesting...I think this happened because I had a separate recolour for his red hair, it had only that swatch and no other. When he got older, I switched to a WMS file with all the colours, but I think the game left the original file for his other outfit.

dandylion240 replied to your photoset “Sooo…I don’t know what happened (actually I think I might have an idea...”

I miss his vibrant red hair

Then I might have a pleasant surprise for you in...the distant future. 👀

poisonfireleafs replied to your post “Yup, looks like the German class is destined to always be my biggest...”

Ooh, learning German can be so hard. Good luck!

I found that I actually don’t have trouble with the grammar. The grammar seems quite easy to me, everything has its place. When I’m reading something, I often understand what’s in the text. The problem comes when I hear someone speak German lol. I understand very little. It was fine in high school, my teacher spoke slowly, but my teacher here speaks so fast...it’s fun. D:

Also my vocabulary sucks to be honest...I need to work on a lot of things.

toxoplasmajuice replied to your photoset “Okay so you guys might remember that Eliza is a vampire in this save....”

can i just say that the way you wrote this post's caption is perhaps THE funniest way to phrase this

That was my intention, thank you for appreciating it!

desira-sims replied to your post “spoiler”

We don't accept death. They must all live forever. ��

I wish I could promise that...but hey, I’ve turned one of my heirs into a vampire, I could give in with every generation and they could all be immortal...hmm...it’s tempting.

dandylion240 replied to your photo “So I opened the Rose Legacy save for the first time in four months...”

I saw this and thought he'd been abducted by aliens lol

I thought aliens were involved too and it scared me haha. They’re a big part of this legacy (or of this blog in general) but their time to shine is over. We can’t make everything about them, can we?

fataleromeo replied to your photoset “Lucian: “They’re doing it again, aren’t they? They’re kissing. Dang it...”

Haha! Ross, in fact, probably CAN'T control himself, being a rose gen ��

You are absolutely correct haha.

Actually, they used to be able to control themselves. Back when Sunset was a child, they made sure to not have woohoo until they were sure she was away haha. But I guess times have changed and they care less now lol

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: Nocturne (30/30) - Ao3 Link

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Pairings: Mostly Gen

Summary: In which Cor Leonis loses his temper, accidentally acquires a kid, and tries to single-handedly dismantle the Lucian immigration system – and that’s before he and his lawyers find out about this Prophecy business. If the Astrals think Cor’s going to let his kid’s best friend die without a fight, they’ve gotten the wrong cheetah ‘taur.

(a young adult novel set in @kickingshoes’ ‘taur AU)

—————————————————————————————— ——————————————————————————————

“You know, maybe I ought to be the one in charge,” Aulea says, reclining on the bed to stretch out her hindlegs and forelegs, smirking at Regis as she does. “If we’re putting a regency in place anyhow…”

“My love,” Regis says, lifting her hand and kissing it. “You’re already in charge.”

She laughs. “Maybe I want formal control,” she says mischievously. “You can be my Prince Consort, how do you like that?”

“Does that mean you can take afternoon court and I can – oh, wait, you attend afternoon court with me as it is,” Regis sighs dramatically as Aulea snorts. “For shame. And here I’d been imagining a life of leisure.”

“Fat chance,” she giggles. “But look on the bright side: I could shake all the hands and sign all the formal documents, while you could be in charge of hosting all the parties.”

“I’ve seen your parties,” Regis says dryly. “I’ll take the shaking and the signing.”

Aulea hums in agreement. “It’ll only be worse now that we’re making peace with Niflheim, you know. There’ll be food requests. Weird new customs to adjust to. Seating charts.”

“You’re not making this whole Prince Consort business sound very appealing, you know,” Regis tells her. “What must a ‘taur do to get a nice, stress-free position in this government?”

“Not be in government,” Aulea laughs. “For a start.”

“Think we can get Clarus to do it?”

“Regis!” Aulea smacks him lightly with a pillow.

“We are discussing a regency!” he laughs. “We could put anyone there – after all, I’ve abdicated! I’m an ex-king!”

“You know, I think you’ve already found what may be the one government position in which you don’t have to do anything. And yet here you are, giving it up.”

“I’ve clearly gone mad,” Regis says.

“Clearly,” Aulea agrees. “Which means, of course, that it’s only right for me to take the throne.”

“I’m sorry, my dear,” he says, catching her around the waist and pulling her closer. “I’m going to coup you and seize power from under your fingertips in order to put myself in as regent.”

“You monster!” she mock-gasps. “Stealing the power away from your only son!”

“Mmm,” he says, nuzzling her cheek. “You know, ever since the Ring was destroyed in that final confrontation with Ardyn, I’ve been feeling positively peppy – we could always see about fixing that ‘only’ business –”

“Why, Regis, you old tomcat–”

“I think that’ll do it,” Clarus says, putting his pen down and looking at the newest version of the peace treaty that he’s marked up with satisfaction. “We’re getting close to something that may even be sustainable.”

Cyrella snorts, flicking her tail in his direction. “Really, Clarus? Optimism?”

He shrugs. “It’s a new age. I don’t see why not.” He grins. “Besides, if they disagree, our armies are in a far more equitable posture at the moment, and with Tenebrae demanding actual independence in exchange for refereeing this agreement, even if they do pull a draft, we’ll have early notice of it.”

“There is that,” she says, smiling. “But a preliminary question: do you think they’ll sign it?”

“That may take a bit more doing,” he concedes.

“Well, if they don’t, I’ll hit them with the Sword of the Tall until they agree,” Cyrella says, sounding very pleased with the idea.

“Not very diplomatic of you,” Clarus says. “Also, shouldn’t you give that back at some point?”

“I don’t see why.”

“Cyrella.”

“Don’t you ‘Cyrella’ me,” she says, pointing at him. “I just helped save the world. The least I deserve for my active participation is a sword as long as I am tall that is absolutely badass.”

“You’re absolutely badass enough on your own, you know.”

“Thank you. Still not giving it back.”

Thinking to himself that it would be wiser to withdraw from this field of battle, at least for now, Clarus decides a change in subject is called for. “You know, when this is done and Regis is re-installed as monarch – or, at least, as regent until Noctis is appropriately of age –”

“Which, if we leave the choice up to Noctis, won’t happen until he’s at least forty,” Cyrella opines.

“…you’re not wrong. But as I was saying, when this is done, Reggie is going to be reigning over a peacetime kingdom for the first time in his life.”

“So?”

“So, my dear, that means he doesn’t exactly have much immediate use for his War Minister, does he?” Clarus asks, arching his eyebrows at her. “Or, for that matter, his Shield.”

“Clarus Amicitia,” she says. “Are you suggesting that we might take a vacation?”

“I am indeed,” he says.

“And what exactly did you have in mind?”

“Well,” he says, smirking. “You did seem like you liked the way I described Galahd…”

Her tail flicks again, this time with interest. “I did,” she says. “Gladio sounded like he liked it, too.”

Clarus arches his eyebrows at her. “Are we lacking for babysitters now? I was thinking we’d leave him here.”

“With who? Regis and Aulea are going to be thinking the same thing, you know; you so much as as hint at a vacation and they’ll sign up right alongside.”

“Yes, they will,” Clarus says patiently. “But you know who isn’t?”

“…Cor.”

“Cor,” he agrees.

“He’s going to kill you,” she predicts.

“Well,” Clarus says. “Luckily for me, my wife’s just come in to ownership of this sword – long as she is tall, I’ve heard it said – ‘absolutely badass,’ even –”

Cyrella laughs.

“I cannot believe you!” Libertus bellows. He’s gotten pretty good at it. “You were supposed to be at training! You were supposed to be leading training!”

“I’m sorry!” Nyx yelps. “I didn’t – I was just –”

“In the storage shed?!”

“It was a spur-of-the-moment thing!”

“With Aranea Highwind?!”

“Hey, I’m a member of the Crownsguard Aerial Corps,” Aranea says, flicking her tail smugly. “You have no authority over me.”

“And yet, oddly enough, you’re on the Kingsglaive training field right now,” Libertus says. “Besides, weren’t you going out on a date with his sister the other day?”

“…maybe.”

Libertus crosses his arms. “Stop screwing my lieutenants. Or else.”

Aranea crosses her arms. “Or else what?”

“Or he’ll hand you over to me,” Cor says mildly from behind her, causing both her and Nyx to jump into the air. “Or would you say I also don’t have authority over you, Crownsguard?”

“Um,” Aranea says.

“I have more pamphlets,” Cor adds cheerfully.

She turns pale.

“You seem to have gotten the idea behind the whole asexuality thing,” Cor muses. “But maybe a few on healthy sexual practices –”

“I’ve changed my mind,” Aranea says hastily. “Libertus, I accept whatever punishment you choose to bestow.”

“I thought I ‘had no authority’ over you?”

“I’m willing to put that aside!”

“Oh, one thing,” Cor says. “Before you impose punishment, Captain –”

Libertus winces.

Cor smirks.

“– I think you should consider expanding that punishment to three.” He reaches down with one forepaw and stamps on the ground.

There’s a yowl and Hemera leaps into the air, clutching her tail.

“You too?” Libertus howls.

“I wasn’t doing anything!” she signs quickly. “I came to argue with Nyx!”

“Over?”

“Well, see, I thought it was my turn, and he thought –”

“You’re all on punishment duty! Now!”

Luna’s having a pretty good day so far.

School’s let out early, she’s going to meet her girlfriend for a nice lunch, and – she’s never going to get over this – they’re not at war.

She has a delightful spring in her step as a result, kicking up her heels cheerfully as she trots along, turning the corner to go around the Kingsglaive training grounds – she likes taking that route, even if it is a bit longer, because it provides such delightful eye candy.

(Yes, she’s dating Cindy, but Cindy of all people understands the importance of some good eye candy.)

“Hey! Luna!”

Luna blinks and looks around when a new Kingsglaive trainee appears in front of her in a burst of warping.

Dark hair, dark eyes –

“Crowe? What’re you doing here?”

“They opened a junior wing for the Kingsglaive, since it’s still building up,” Crowe says, beaming at her. “We come here for the last few years of school and part-time with the Kingsglaive, getting us ready to join on the officer track. They’re hoping to expand.”

“That’s – great,” Luna croaks.

She hasn’t seen her in years.

Crowe’s grown.

She’s lean and dark and her eyes are flashing and her cheeks are flushed and her maned fox hindquarters are lean and sharp and –

Oh dear.

She’s very attractive.

Luna, you have a girlfriend, Luna reminds herself desperately. And Crowe is dating – uh –

“How’s your girlfriend?” Luna blurts out. “Back in Galahd?”

“No idea. We grew apart and ended up breaking up,” Crowe says cheerfully, totally unphased. “It happens. How about you? You seeing anyone?”

“Uh – yes – there’s this girl –”

“Heya, bambi girl!” a familiar voice trills out. “You ready for lunch?”

“Cindy!” Luna exclaims, relieved. Show, not tell; that will surely make this conversation easier.

Right?

Cindy hops over. “You were running late,” she says with a grin. “Oh – and who’s this?”

“Crowe Altius,” Crowe says, sticking out her hand, her eyes going a bit round in appreciation, which is pretty much everyone’s usual response to Cindy. “Nice to meet you.”

“Cindy Aurum,” Cindy purrs. She’s got a surprisingly good purr for a jackrabbit. “And darling, trust me, the pleasure’s all mine.”

Luna’s in trouble.

Good trouble, bad trouble, she’s not sure yet – but definitely trouble.

“You’re – you’re serious?” Ravus says, staring at his mother over the dining room table.

“That the ruler of Tenebrae has always been the Oracle is more tradition than any legal requirement,” Sylvia says, smiling at her son.

“Trust me, I’ve checked,” Scientia interjects. “At length. With some difficulty, because your libraries are still being reconstructed.”

“It’s unseemly to brag about doing your job,” Sylvia jibs back, rolling her eyes.

Scientia sniffs. “I didn’t have to take the job.”

“Why are you even here?” Sylvia complains. “I know we agreed to have joint family dinners, but Luna’s off on date night and the younger children are all sleeping over somewhere –”

“I always could go, you know,” Scientia says. “I’ll just be taking the food I brought with me.”

“You can stay,” Ravus says quickly.

“Ravus!”

“Sorry, Mom. But the food is really good.” He shrugs when she glares at him. “It is!”

“Well, yes, it is,” Sylvia concedes. “But we’re getting away from the point.”

“That you still owe me one?” Scientia coughs into her hand.

“One day you two will have to explain that,” Ravus says. “But first – you actually want – you want me to inherit the throne of Tenebrae?”

“You’re my eldest son,” Sylvia says. “And you love the blue hills of Tenebrae as much as I do. Luna – well, Luna’s young. She may yet grow into the role, but I don’t think so. Right now, she wants to explore, to travel – she wants to be a healer, not a queen, and she’d never have the patience for all of hard work of ruling a country. You do.”

“And you don’t – what I did –”

“You need to learn to forgive yourself,” Scientia says crisply. “Accept your failures, understand them, decide not to do them again, and move on.”

“Are you the one with experience ruling a country here or am I?” Sylvia asks acidly.

“Were you going to give him any other advice?”

“That isn’t the point –”

“What would I have to do?” Ravus interrupts, looking at his mother with wide eyes. “Going forward?”

“Not much different than what you do now,” Sylvia says. “You stand by my side, you watch and you learn – Tenebrae’s going to be independent now, and that’ll be a learning experience for both of us. You’ll have a lot more classes in a hundred different subjects – but you’ll have me to guide you through it. Is that something you want?”

“Yes,” Ravus says, smiling so hard it looks like it hurts. “Yes. I do.”

“All right, you’ve got the set up down, right?” Noctis says into his headset microphone, looking around him to confirm that everyone else on his side is set up, too.

Prompto gives him a thumbs-up and Gladio grins.

Ignis just stares at his screen, but that’s okay; he always does that right before they go in. Prompto likes to joke that he’s calibrating.

Noctis doesn’t really care, since whatever it is, it seems to work. Ignis is deadly.

“Yeah, we’re good, assuming your pathetic connections can keep up with ours,” the voice says over the headset, snotty and arrogant as always.

Ugh, Noctis can’t believe they’re friends with this jerk.

“I wouldn’t worry about that, Loqi,” Gladio replies. “We’re gonna kick you and your friends’ hindquarters even with you Niffs tearing down all our towers to get yourself a leg up.”

“Yeah, right,” Loqi snorts. “You just want an excuse to explain how bad you’re going to lose.”

“You wish.”

“Enough chatter on the lines,” Ignis says, his voice dark and somehow incredibly intimidating. “Let’s get started.”

“What Iggy said,” Noctis adds, to help fill the cowed silence in the wake of Ignis’ declaration. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

“I’m just happy that they finally expanded this MMORPG to be cross-border,” Prompto says happily. His tail is wagging like mad, but then, he’s always been remarkably unaffected by Ignis’ unparalleled skill at trash talk. “It was getting boring just fighting Lucian teams all the time.”

“No kidding,” one of Loqi’s friends – Noctis doesn’t know her name, just her user handle – says. “The league in Niflheim has been dull as dust ever since Gralea basically dropped off the usenet for a while there.”

“Consider less censorship,” Gladio recommends.

“Says the people who weren’t allowed on the network at all for how long?”

“We were on a different network, moron.”

“I still think we should be allowed to bring in an electronic avatar version of the Kaiser Behemoth,” one of the other Niff kids says.

“You’re not allowed to,” Prompto says. “You just be glad we let you keep the Kaiser Behemoth. The real one, I mean.”

“The Kaiser Behemoth’s pretty awesome,” the Niff – presumably from Gralea – concedes.

Noctis decides to ignore them all and click on the loading screen. Everyone quiets down as soon as they see it, mentally planning their first moves once their avatars all get dropped into the same landscape – chosen at random, as is only fair.

The best part of this, he thinks happily, is that he can even tell his parents that he was ‘fostering a further relationship with peers in Niflheim’ or whatever they’re calling it nowadays.

The screen finishes loading.

“Glory to the empire!” Loqi shouts gleefully, his character leaping forward.

“Long live Lucis!” Gladio shoots back, his own character jumping up to intercept.

"Long live Eos!" Noctis laughs.

And the game begins.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: And that's all she wrote, folks! (Literally.) I hope you enjoyed the story!

[yamijay]

Well... I’m getting ideas for a fanfic

It all started with the following:

What if Cor was Prompto’s real biological dad?

I love the the idea that Cor is Prompto’s dad. So, hear me out.

Cor and his wife were expecting a baby boy. His wife (I don’t have a name yet) decided to visit her family with some friends before she became too heavily pregnant. On their way back, they got ambush by Nifs. All of them died except her; she got kidnapped because she had something the Nifs scientist wanted (AKA baby!Prompto). Cor founds out and threw himself in his work has a Crownguard (honestly, with the carnage that was the scene, no way in Hell she survived...). His wife gave birth to Prompto in a Nif lab and a few minutes after they took away Prompto, she dies from childbirth.

Fast-forward 2 years after the kidnapping, Cor inflitrate the Lab and founds about the experiments. He finds the clones in various evolutions. He even finds the toddlers. One in particular catches his attention: blond hair, violet blue eyes and some features that screams HER. In a moment of weakness, he takes the baby away and flees.

The details as of why Prompto is put in adoption is unclear, but it has to do with some of the other adults (mostly Clarus) telling him that it’s not his son, that the kid is like the other ones: a future MT. And that he really need to grief properly. He decides to let go and do as the other suggest, even if his instinct tells him that it’s really his son he saved.

A lot of the rest is pretty much respect canon, except that at some point, Noctis and Prompto are dating.

And Prompto finds out about this eventually. Not at the best time. So, after Noctis gets suck in by the crystal, the rest of the group decides to search around. They find the Archives, where EVERY INFORMATION is stored. I mean, every information about what’s going on in the Empire, including a copy of all the experiments and files about each MTs. They decided, by searching with Prompto’s barcode, his files. They found out that Ardyn was lying; Prompto was Lucian all this time, his mother had been kidnapped and died in childbirth. There’s also details of what they’ve done to him.

At this point, Prompto is a mess. After a week or so, they decide to leave to rejoin with the others. On they way back (or around it), Prompto just crashes; he got separated from his boyfriend and friends, he found about his origins, got tortured and his boyfriend has been sucked in the crystal and doesn’t know when he’ll come back. PTSD much?

So, when they rejoin with the others, Cor is there. Gladio and Ignis set Prompto in a room so he can rest (or sleep as much as he can) before they tell what happened in Graela. When they revealed what they found in the files, Cor’s reaction is to ask for the files, which they did give him. Ignis is smart enough to figure something is up.

After that, Cor and Prompto have a long talk about what’s in the file and Cor tells him about his mom. Pretty much telling him that they are family. And why he was put in adoption. Takes a while for Prompto to come around all of this because he’s mess up, but during the 10 years, it’s getting better.

Now, it comes to Noctis coming back. He does his thing. And Prompto, not wanting to let go, runs inside the palace the SECOND the magic kills the daemons (that magic wave does it), followed by the other two. Used all the curatives he had with him to bring back, which works. And they get their happy ending. And Noctis finds out about Prompto being Cor’s kid. And finds out that he is now technically Prompto Argentum Leonis. XD

Yea, it’s a fix-it at the same time.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: Nocturne (23/30) - Ao3 Link

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Pairings: Mostly Gen

Summary: In which Cor Leonis loses his temper, accidentally acquires a kid, and tries to single-handedly dismantle the Lucian immigration system – and that’s before he and his lawyers find out about this Prophecy business. If the Astrals think Cor’s going to let his kid’s best friend die without a fight, they’ve gotten the wrong cheetah ‘taur.

(a young adult novel set in @kickingshoes’ ‘taur AU)

—————————————————————————————— ——————————————————————————————

So, it turns out their prince is in another castle.

Prompto snorts a little, but he doesn't share the joke – all the adults look very grim and unhappy, but maybe that's just because they're all squished together in a very small airship.

"Sorry, folks," the badger 'taur driving the ship, whose name is Biggs (or was it Wedge?), says for the fourth time. "If we'd'a known that we'd need to take guests all secret-like, we'd've booked a bigger plane for a maintenance flight, but..."

"It's fine," Nyx says, but his voice is a bit strained. Hemera is sitting on him; it was the only way to fit them all in. Prompto's sitting on Cor's back as well, but he's small and light in comparison.

"Is it much further?"

"Not to worry, guv," the other 'taur, a weasel named Wedge (or is it Biggs?), says. "It's not much more."

"You said that twenty minutes ago."

"It's still not much more," Wedge says. "In comparison with most flights –"

Hemera bangs her head down on Nyx's shoulder.

Aranea, who is sitting in the captain's seat, snickers. "Stop whining," she says. "It's much worse on the bigger ships – they stuff even more people into even smaller spaces. Just imagine shoving your hindquarters into a tube –"

"Please stop describing it," Nyx says.

Prompto giggles.

"See, the kid's cool," Aranea says.

Prompto beams at her. Maybe she's not as mean as she originally tried to come off as. Most people aren't, really.

"Now, you listen to me –" Nyx starts to say, scowling.

"Yeah, Kingsglaive?" Aranea interrupts to ask, leaning forward with a smirk. "You got something to say?"

"You bet I –"

"We're here!" Biggs the badger announces.

"Thank the Six," Hemera signs. "Me and Nyx, we're still close, but maybe not this close."

"Pity," Aranea murmurs.

For some reason, both Hemera and Nyx turn red.

"Let's go, Prompto," Cor says. "There's some questions I'd rather you not start asking yet."

Prompto frowns. "What type of questions?"

"Why don't you ask Commodore Highwind?" Cor asks. He has that voice he gets when he's finding something funny but has no intention of sharing the joke.

Prompto turns to Aranea, who for some reason has also turned red now, and asks, "Commodore Highwind, what type of –"

"I have no idea what he means," she says very quickly, which means she probably does know but doesn’t want to share. "And I've already told you, call me Aranea. Now let's go – we need to find Ravus, and quickly. Biggs and Wedge will only be able to stay for an hour or so, and if we can time our departure for the same moment, it'll cover our tracks."

"We're not flying out?" Hemera asks.

"No space, for one thing," Wedge the weasel says. "And they check the airships, you know – we'd never be able to outrun them in an old creaker like this –"

"If we leave at the same time, they'll assume Ravus is on the airship and go the wrong way to start with, thereby giving us more of a head start," Cor says. "I understand. We'll try to keep this quick."

Aranea gives him an impressed look.

Prompto is very familiar with that type of impressed look being aimed at Cor.

He sighs a little and hopes for Cor's sake that she's going to be one of the ones that is just too overwhelmed or intimidated to do anything about her crush, but he suspects Cor's not going to be that lucky. He rarely is.

They land somewhere up the big mountain. The snow is everywhere, very thick and packed down, and it makes everything very quiet. There's a big building built into the mountain itself – at first Prompto thinks it's very small, just a shack, but then they open the door to the shack and it's just stairs leading down into a larger complex.

"Prince Ravus is here?" Nyx asks, sounding skeptical. "Why?"

"Because it's secure," Aranea says. "And because he started protesting after he saw some of the laboratories in the Floating Palace. They got annoyed, I think, and decided to send him here – this is the main experimental laboratory. Verstael Besithia’s little home away from home."

"Is Besithia likely to be here?"

"Unfortunately for us," Aranea says, "he's here whenever he's not at court. But we can try to avoid him if we move quietly."

Prompto knows a hint when he hears one.

They move quietly.

There's a lot of laboratory equipment everywhere, but almost no people, and once they put on these big sweeping white cloaks, long protective booties (there's even one for your tail!) and face-masks, no one so much as looks at them because everyone looks more or less the same, no matter what their hindquarters are.

If it wasn't so creepy, Prompto would think that this would make a marvelous guess-who-I-am masquerade at school back home.

Prompto wishes he could get a look at the equipment - maybe take a picture? He's learning photography in art class and he really likes it – but Cor made him walk in the middle of the group, surrounded by adults, and he can barely see anything.

"In here," Aranea says, and leads them through a door.

Prompto crouches down low to try to catch a peep of Prince Ravus. He's seen pictures of him on Luna's wall or during her weekly calls home, of course – tall and gangly and silver-haired, with the hindquarters of an elk like his mother and a scattering of acne just starting to fade on his face. In the pictures or the call screen, though, he usually looks angry or arrogant or condescending about something; he doesn't look like that now.

He looks upset. Maybe even scared.

Prompto feels a sudden stab of sympathy for him. He'd be scared if he didn't have Cor with him to take care of him, and sure, maybe Ravus was rude and sometimes made Luna cry, maybe he'd been really dumb and gone along with Niflheim for a bit for some reason, but he's only a few years older than Luna, just a kid, and he's scared of something and all alone.

"Prince Ravus," Cor says.

Ravus turns to them, his hindquarters all bunched up with stress. "The Immortal," he says, sounding bleak. "I'm surprised that King Regis could spare you."

"Your mother asked," Cor says, his voice dry. "For some reason, she rather wants you back."

For some reason, that breaks Ravus completely. He puts his head into his hands and all four legs sag with tiredness. "My mother –" he chokes. "Oh, mother – what would she think of me now –"

"What happened?" Aranea says sharply. "You weren't this bad off when I left –"

"They told me they would let me save them," he says mutely. He's not even looking at Aranea, and Prompto's pretty sure he's not answering her questions. "Save mother, save Luna – there was no way to win, of course, it was nothing but destruction ahead – it was inevitable – but I could save them, at least; they would give me the power to do that – they lied –"

"Niflheim does that," Nyx says. His voice is cold. "Funny how it's a bad idea to trust the people destroying your country."

"You don't understand," Ravus says, looking not at him, but at Cor. "I thought – King Regis took my sister. She was only ten, and he wanted to use her –"

"To save the world," Nyx snaps, taking a step forward, only for Hemera to put a paw on his, remind him not to do anything rash. Even Prompto’s not too young to realize that Nyx isn’t really angry at Ravus, but that he’s just angry at anything that reminds him of Drautos.

"I thought I could save her," Ravus says. "I thought I could play Niflheim's game and take their power and use it to bring Luna home. King Regis filled my mother's head with stupid stories, with lies, so that she wouldn’t use her own power to bring Luna back and I thought, why not get my own power and do it myself? But Niflheim's worse – so much worse than I ever thought –"

"What's happened?" Cor asks, glancing at Aranea. "What did they do?"

Ravus clutches at his shoulder. "They – the magitek – I asked too many questions when I found the sick ‘taurs in their laboratories – they brought me here and took me around, they showed me it, all of it – and when I told them how monstrous it was, when I told them I wouldn't stand for it – then – then – they injected me –"

"They what?!" Aranea exclaims, her face going white. Nyx and Hemera both take a step back, almost automatically, their eyes going wide.

Prompto frowns. He's not sure what they're talking about.

"I can't leave," Ravus whispers. "They gave it to me, what they give to their soldiers; I can't leave, I can't go home – I can never go home – you don't understand: it's a new strain. They’re the only ones who can slow the process, not even Mother’s healing can affect it –"

Prompto reaches out and tugs on Cor's hand. "What's going on?"

Cor looks at him sharply. "Nyx, Hemera, take Prompto out of here. I need to question Ravus about what happened, about what he's seen, and I don't want Prompto hearing."

"But –" Prompto starts. He doesn't think that's very fair.

"We'll do it," Hemera signs, and grabs Prompto's hand. Between her and Nyx, they usher Prompto out of the room so efficiently that he doesn't even get another word out.

"It's not fair," Prompto grumbles. "Isn't it safer for me to be in there with everyone else rather than out here?"

"We'll protect you," Hemera signs. She looks like she’s feeling sick for some reason. "Better that you not be in there."

"But –"

"Why don't we explore a bit?" Nyx says quickly. "Maybe we'll find something interesting and important. We are at a top-secret Niff lab, after all; it'd only make sense for us to find something cool and possibly even very dangerous."

That cheers Prompto up a bit.

Unfortunately, the majority of the laboratory is deserted and actually really boring – lots of machines with flickering lights and some computers that they can't access and various weird pieces of equipment.

Other than the bleeps and bloops of the machines, there isn't even any sound. It's all muffled by the mountain and the snow.

Except –

“What’s that?” Prompto asks, trotting forward. “It sounds like howling.”

“Probably the wind,” Nyx says. “Don’t go so far ahead, Prompto –”

Feeling contrary, Prompto speeds up abruptly. He’s not much of a sprinter – not much of a runner at all, really, even though he's finally started shedding the last of his puppy fat – but Nyx and Hemera aren’t really expecting it and he manages to get pretty far down the hallway before they realize they should be chasing him.

There’s a door there with no window, made of steel and all marked up in red lights and warning labels, and there’s a little scanner on the side.

The scanner looks an awful lot like the one from the ship Cor flew them home on during the Archead.

“It’s locked, Prompto,” Nyx says, catching up quickly. “We can’t get –”

His voice trails off when Prompto puts his wrist by the scanner and the entire door starts going from red to green.

“Skeleton key,” Prompto says with satisfaction, glancing back at the Ulric twins to bask in their dumbfounded expressions. “I was born in Niflheim, didn’t you know? When I was a kitling. And they gave me this wrist tattoo and it’s real cool ‘cause it means I can get through all of their security –”

Hemera catches his hand and looks at it.

“Nyx,” she signs. “This is a barcode. Like –”

She stops.

“Yeah, must be,” Nyx says grimly. “Fuck, I wish I never got that Niflheim briefing.”

Ugh, Prompto hates it when they go all twin-talk like this.

He does take advantage of their distraction to pull open the door and dart inside, where he finds the source of the howling.

“Uh,” he says, staring blankly all around him. It’s a giant room, absolutely giant, and one wall is a big old metal construct, something like an MT's armor but much more massive, taking up the whole wall, and the other wall is absolutely filled with puppies, canidaetaur kids like him, ranging from tiny kitlings to kids a year or two older than him. Except, unlike him, they’re all in tiny little cages, barely big enough for them to do a full turn around in, and each one of them has a tube attached to them – something like an IV. And they’re all staring right back at him, their howling stopped cold. “Hi?”

They just stare.

Nyx and Hemera come in after him.

Hemera’s hands jump up to cover her mouth.

“What the fuck,” Nyx says. “Ifrit’s flaming hooves, what the fuck.”

The puppies don’t look at them, though. They’re still looking at Prompto.

Prompto tries on a smile. His teacher at school says you can never go wrong with a nice smile.

“My name’s Prompto,” he says. “How about you?”

“So we, uh, might have a problem,” Nyx says. “With leaving.”

“You were gone for fifteen minutes, hero,” Aranea says, scowling at him, even as Ravus starts to look terrified. “How did you screw this up already? Did someone see you?”

“No alarms went off,” Cor points out, calm and in control as always, which Nyx really appreciates right now. “Ulric First, report. What’s the problem?”

“We found the kitlings,” Nyx says. “The, uh…current batch.”

Cor’s face goes hard.

Nyx isn’t really surprised. The briefing they got before they came to Niflheim had lots of top-secret information in it, and part of it involved what’d been recovered on prior missions regarding kitlings and MTs – real nightmare fuel – and based on Prompto having that barcode on his wrist and Cor’s extremely famous multi-year battle to legally adopt him, Nyx is willing to bet that the person who originally located the information (and Prompto) was Cor.

He’s also willing to bet that the infamously increasingly-difficult-to-draw-out-but-if-you-do-it’s-time-to-run-away-screaming temper of the Marshal of the Crownsguard is about to make an appearance over it.

“There’s a lot of them,” he adds, resisting the urge to wring his hands. “Like – a lot. Dozens and dozens and dozens –”

“Hold up,” Aranea says, looking between them. “What’s this about kitlings? What does ‘current batch’ mean?”

“We just had a discussion about how the Empire uses people infected with Starscourge to create their magitek infantry,” Cor says flatly. “Put the rest together yourself.”

Aranea looks sick, which raises Nyx’s opinion of her. She plays it tough, but she cares.

“So, the plan…?”

“Show me the kids,” Cor instructs.

Nyx is so happy that he has his boss along. He’s sure that one day he’ll be in charge of his own squadron, and when that day comes he’ll have to make the hard calls himself – calls like deciding how much risk they’re willing to take to potentially imperil their “rescue Ravus” primary mission if they try to free the kids as a secondary mission, and he doesn’t know how he’d make that choice or what he’d choose – but thank the Six today is not that day.

He takes Cor and the others to the room with the kids. Hemera and Prompto are already busily opening the cages and detatching the kids from the IVs – honestly, it hadn’t even occurred to any of them to go get Cor until they’d already started, and by that point they had to keep going – and the newly freed kitlings (puppies all) are wandering around the room on shaky legs, like they're puppies far younger than they are. They’re smiling and yipping and wagging their tails like just being out of the cages is a brand new experience for them.

Nyx’s heart hurts.

There’s got to be a way to save them.

Nyx looks at Cor to try to gauge his reaction.

But Cor isn’t looking at the kids. He’s looking at the other wall.

“What is it?” Nyx asks, glancing at it. It’s scaled, almost armor-like – similar to an MT’s hindquarters, really. He hasn’t been paying much attention to it; the kids have been rather distracting.

“Trouble,” Cor says grimly.

“It’s MT armor,” Aranea says, frowning at it. “Why is it on a wall?”

“Because it’s not a wall,” Cor says. “It’s a tunnel.”

They all turn to look at him, all the adults, even Hemera who’s been keeping an eye on them even while she opens cages. Prompto, luckily, is focused on running down the hallway, opening as many cages as he can.

Cor only has eyes for the wall. Tunnel?

“I don’t understand,” Nyx says. Everyone else looks relieved that he said it first. “What do you mean?”

“All these puppies,” Cor says. “They’re not here for the MT process. This is an experimental laboratory; they already have the regular process down pat.” He nods at the wall. “They’re here to power this.”

“To – power it?” Nyx says. He has a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Project Immortalis,” Ravus croaks. His face is white. “Verstael Besithia – he was talking about something called Immortalis. A suitably glorious form to carry the soul of a ‘taur into a higher plane of existence...his next step towards divinity, he called it…”

“He’s planning on putting himself through the MT process?” Hemera signs, coming over to them. Her eyes are wide. “Why?”

“He thinks MTs are superior to regular ‘taurs,” Ravus says in response, much to Nyx’s surprise; he hadn’t realized the spoiled princeling knew LSL. “He’s – if he’s not mad yet, then he will be. This is just the beginning. He says it’ll take at least a year to fully complete, says that if only he’d gotten the idea earlier, he would’ve been further along in the process – he says that someone, he calls him ‘that bastard’ without any details, he says that that someone didn’t share the idea with him until recently, and he’s been working on building it ever since.”

“He’s feeding it,” Cor says. “He’s building some massive creature, scale by armored scale, and underneath all that armor is flesh, just the way it is for the MTs.”

And the source of that flesh...

Cor nods purposefully at the children, still wandering around. Some of them are touching the walls with looks of amazement. Others are touching each other, cooing wordlessly as their fingers touch the fur of a stranger for what might be the first time in their little lives.

It’s horrifying. Even before thinking about how twisted the mind would have to be that looks upon these puppies and thinks of them as nothing more than fuel for a machine...

"We have to get them out of here," Nyx bursts out. "We have to."

"There's no room, though," Aranea says, but her eyes are on the puppies and she's twisting her hands anxiously around her lance in a clearly unconscious tic. She's trying to be tough, to be practical, but she doesn't want to leave the puppies any more than Nyx does. "Biggs and Wedge – the whole plan relies on them falling under suspicion, but the ship is too small for anyone to believe we've put them all on it –"

"Are there any air movements scheduled for the Niflheim air forces right now?" Cor asks her. "How long would it take them to realize that a mobilization isn't authorized and catch up?"

Cor has a plan. Thank the Six.

"What are you thinking?" Aranea asks.

"I'm thinking that this facility is pretty far out there from Gralea, and in the general direction of Lucis," Cor says. "If you go back with Biggs and Wedge, how long would it take you to order your fleet into the air to come here on a bombing run, and to just keep going towards Lucis?"

"But –" she starts, then stops. Her eyes are still on the puppies. "I can be back in two hours. Three, max. But what about the puppies? They can't here when we bomb the place, and they won't fit in the ship."

"They won't be here," Cor says. "Ulrics, you'll be taking the puppies – including Prompto – and going cross-country."

"To Lucis?" Hemera and Nyx chorus, her hands moving in perfect time with his voice. "But – that's days – they're puppies – the mountains –"

"Not to Lucis. To Gralea."

"To Gralea –"

"The 'taurs hiding in the houses will take them," Cor says. "They'll make sure all these puppies disappear into the one place they won't be looked for, hidden among all the other Niflheim puppies already out there. And we'll tell them all that if they can make it to Lucis, they'd be welcome."

"But –"

"There's nowhere else we can take them, and we're not leaving them here," Cor says. His tone brooks no disagreement. "It will already take you most of a day to get to Gralea, given how the puppies can scarcely walk as it is – you'll need to take sleds, and go slow – and it's the only alternative."

"Won't they see us?" Nyx asks. "The scientists here? They could alert the Hanging Gardens -"

"We'll cut off communications first," Cor says. "I'll go do that myself. Given what I know of the 'taur, I suspect Besithia – who is here, I saw a shadow of him earlier – will send his forces to detain me, if I’m available, rather than prioritizing alerting the main force at the Palace. By the time he thinks to do it, the communications system will be down, and then Aranea's bombing run will destroy the remaining evidence that the puppies weren’t here when the bombing took place."

"Wait!" Aranea exclaims. "If you're here, and the Kingsglaive twins are with the puppies, who's going to vouch for my people in Lucis? We won't have time to change the paint from Niflheim colors if we're running."

"You'll be escorting Prince Ravus," Cor tells her.

"To Lucis?" Ravus says sharply. "Didn't you hear me – I've been infected –"

"Your sister and your mother both specialize in healing Starscourge, for one thing," Cor points out. "Niflheim might have told you that the Oracle's healing will not be able to stop your strain of the Scourge, but remember: Niflheim lies. For another thing, we’re going to destroy this facility, so you can’t just stay here; you have to go somewhere. Unfortunately for you, Tenebrae is occupied by Niflheim: if you go there, as they expect you to, they will simply take you into custody again. Thanks to your own actions, Lucis is your only option."

Chastened, Ravus drops his eyes and nods.

"How will you distract Besithia for so long?" Hemera asks.

Cor glances at the wall of armor. "I'm going to draw him off to chase me, and when I have his attention, I'll attack Immortalis. He'll set everything he can on me to prevent that. But first things first. Aranea, take Ravus and go now. Hemera, go quickly to scout the rest of the facility and see if there are any other kids; Nyx, you start getting everyone here into winter clothing so they'll be able to manage the journey to Gralea. I'll get the communications systems down."

They all split off.

It takes Prompto – who by this point has transitioned to showing the other puppies things on his phone, which somehow still works thanks to the wonders of Niflheim wireless technology – a minute to notice that Cor is missing.

"Nyx?" he asks.

"Time to put on cold weather gear," Nyx says brightly. "Come on, everyone - Prompto, you can be my helper, help me get them all dressed."

Unfortunately, cold weather gear in the size that would fit the kids is not exactly easy. There didn't seem to be any conception that they would ever need to go out for any reason.

Nyx tries not to think about the usual necessity of fire drills, or exactly how young the children are, or whether they've ever seen the outdoors at all.

Seriously, fuck Niflheim. Its insane leadership, at the very least.

(He still can't believe so many Kingsglaive actually fell for all that bullshit...now is not the time to think about that. That's what his Crown-mandated therapy sessions are for.)

Nyx ends up wrapping the kitlings in pieces of the white laboratory coats from the stash they found earlier, tearing them apart to get enough of them, and he drapes the older puppies in the rest of the coats, tying the overly large booties onto their paws with torn-up strips.

Most of the puppies seem positively delighted with this treatment, shyly lining up to stick their paws forward to him. They talk to Prompto, so they clearly can talk – albeit not much, well below their age levels, and Nyx highly doubts they can read - but they're far too shy to say anything to Nyx.

At least at first.

"What about Barbarus? Is he coming?" one of the oldest of them finally asks, ducking their head a bit in fear almost immediately.

"Barbarus?" Nyx asks. "No – don't worry – it's okay. It's fine. You were right to ask. Questions are totally okay. Please stop flinching and trying to hide behind each other. And, uh, please tell me who Barbarus is."

"He's Besithia's monkey."

Nyx hesitates. He has the feeling he doesn't want to know.

"Do – do you want him to come with us?" he asks hesitantly.

Virtually every head in the group immediately shakes in a very clear negative.

"He's mean," one of them whispers. Many others nod.

"Well, then he doesn't have to come, does he?" Nyx tries, aiming for a tone that will inspire confidence. "We don't have to even let him know what's happening."

They all start talking at once.

It takes a minute or two for Nyx to decipher what they're saying, which is that, apparently, disobedient children are put in cages in Barbarus' room for him to torment, and there are a few still in there now.

Fuck. Niflheim.

Hemera comes back just around then, confirming that she only saw one other room with kids – they were in the center of the room, and it looked suspicious to her, so she came back to check with him first. The kids all agree that it was Barbarus' room that she saw.

"Okay," she says. "If it's just a monkey, I'll go get them. Stay here."

Nyx nods.

The kids, who don't speak LSL, panic when she makes to leave the room again. They correctly guess that she's going back, but they're all terrified of Barbarus and they don't want to have to go back to the cages if they don't have to – Prompto's already made promises about their future freedom that Nyx couldn't entirely help himself in confirming – and they swarm her, clinging on her to try to keep her back.

She looks at Nyx helplessly.

"Listen," he says hastily. "How about this: we'll all go, okay? No one will need to stay here alone. And when we get there, you all wait in the corridor while Hemera and I go in. We'll both take care of Barbarus, quick and easy, no problem, and we'll get the other kids out of there and we'll leave this whole place behind right after that, okay?"

"You had to say 'quick and easy'," Hemera signs at him, scowling. "Now it's going to be a nightmare."

It kind of is a nightmare.

Somehow, the phrase 'monkey' conveyed a mental image of something small. Something spider-monkey-sized. About the size of a baby coeurl, maybe.

Barbarus is not the size of a baby coeurl.

He is also not a monkey.

He's an ape.

A giant fifteen-foot-tall mechanically enhanced ape, to be specific.

It leaps, screaming, straight at Nyx's face when he walks in, and it's really just the fact that Nyx is so used to warping instead of parrying that saves him from being a monkey-squashed pancake instead of a 'taur.

Hemera doesn't wait after seeing that: she runs in right after Nyx and blasts it with lightning.

That only stuns it, though, because apparently its mechanical parts are self-repairing like the MTs.

Fucking Astrals above and below, who would build this thing?!

Between Nyx and Hemera alternating warping in for stabs and hitting him from a distance with fireballs and lightning and the rocket launchers that are literally just sitting in crates around the room, they wear it down, and then Nyx sees that one of the walls is loose so he lures it over and pulls the wall right down on top of Barbarus. That finishes it.

Thank the Six.

"That was not subtle," Hemera signs with a sigh, going to collect the children trapped in the cages inside the room – most of them near catatonic with terror and barely stirring now, which Nyx can’t blame them for at all. "Very, very not subtle."

"Hopefully Cor got the communications down first," Nyx agrees, shaking his head. He cannot believe that he just fought a half-mechanical monkey.

Then he opens the door again and the hallway is filled with a few dozen eyes looking adoringly at him, which is a pretty far cry from how they were trying sneakily get as far away from him as possible earlier.

“Uh, hi?” he says. “So...uh...looks like Barbarus isn’t a problem anymore?”

“I told you he could do it,” Prompto says, sounding smug.

“Maybe he can make it through the monster in the snow,” one of them whispers, marvelling.

Nyx’s eyebrows go straight up.

“Of course he can,” Prompto brags. “He and Hemera can do anything, just like Cor can.”

“Hold up, hold up, hold up a second here,” Nyx says. “What monster in the snow?”

Prompto gives his nice warm hat to one of the kitlings – the poor thing doesn’t even have fur, which the other children assure him is actually quite normal for his breed (called a ‘Xoloitzcuintli’ or something) and doesn’t represent, like, the mange or anything – and shows a bunch of the others how to put on mittens even if they have to pull them all the way down to their forearms because they're too big for them.

Luckily, Prompto found some rubber bands.

He also helps explain the concept of sledding to make the others a lot less afraid of climbing into the big crates that Nyx and Hemera strap onto sleds and attach to the back of a pair of snowmobiles.

Honestly, Prompto is being extremely helpful. He’s very proud of himself. And he has all of these cool new friends! Even if they don’t really have proper names, which is a bit annoying.

Nyx is still grumbling about not knowing what the monster in the snow is other than something big and white and it eats you if you go out into the snow without permission, the way Prompto’s new friends have explained. Hemera, meanwhile, has been making jokes about the Abominable Snow Monster from an apparently very old game called SkiFree ever since it got mentioned.

Prompto’s not worried. Nyx and Hemera might not be as cool as Cor, but they’re still pretty cool. Look how quickly they took care of that monkey that everyone was afraid of!

This snow monster’s going to be no problem.

“All right,” Nyx says. “I think we’ve gotten everyone secured, and Hemera just ran another perimeter check and brought back the last few kitlings –”

They were in the labs, apparently. Hemera was scowling when she came back with them, but Prompto’s glad that they haven’t missed anyone. Actually, Hemera was even able to find a list of “all current specimens” to confirm that no one was missing, which she said one of the lab techs had helped her get. She signed that with a nasty looking smile on her face – Prompto was a bit worried that the lab tech would tell on them, but Hemera assured him that the lab tech wouldn’t cause any communications problems or anything, smirking the whole time.

Honestly, she could’ve just said that she killed him. Prompto’s been playing M rated games for years now; he’s not a baby anymore.

Well, that, and Cor doesn’t really think that violence is something that kids shouldn’t see so he doesn’t care what type of video games Prompto and Noctis bring home to play as long as the sexual content is minimal. Prompto agrees: he has zero interest in mating. Ick!

“– so we’re good to go,” Nyx concludes. “Prompto, turn off your phone, we don’t want anyone tracking us that way, just in case.”

It takes Prompto a few minutes to find who currently has his phone – he’s letting the other children play games on it, which is very generous and mature of him – and turn it off.

“Ready to go now,” he chirps. “Everyone who’s ready, say ‘ready’!”

“Ready,” all the other children chorus.

“Anyone who’s not ready, say ‘not ready’!”

Silence.

“We’re good to go,” Prompto reports to Nyx, feeling very important.

Nyx is smiling like he can't quite help himself. “Thanks, Prom,” he says. “You're a great helper. All right, everyone, duck down so that the snow doesn’t splash in your faces or knock you out of the crates.”

He puts on his helmet, Hemera does the same, they get on the snowmobiles and that's it: they’re off.

It’s a lot of fun being dragged behind a snowmobile. All the other children think so, too, giggling and shrieking and trying to touch the snow that gets kicked up all around them, or at least they do once Prompto’s explained again to the particularly young ones who've never seen snow that the white stuff is just cold, it’s not dangerous or anything.

They’re about thirty minutes out – they can still see the laboratory behind them because the day is so clear – when the loud rumbling starts.

“It’s him,” one of the older children gasps, pulling the blankets they’ve put into the crates up to his chin. “It’s the monster in the snow.”

Half the group in Prompto’s crate duck under the blankets at once.

“I don’t see any monster –” Prompto starts.

There’s a gigantic roar, and then he does see it.

“It’s a snow behemoth!” he yells, his eyes gone wide. Cor’s hunted behemoths before, when they became a problem, so Prompto's seen some pictures (including a few hilarious selfies he convinced Cor to take for him) but this one’s different: it's bigger, for one thing, being particularly gigantic, and unlike the others it's all white all over. It’s got a massive pair of front horns and a particularly knotty-looking spine-tipped tail, its four giant paws are all tipped with big nasty-looking claws, and it has even bigger teeth in its jaw. It’s also got giant spikes coming out of its hip and elbow joints, plus spine-tipped wings stretching out above its form.

Prompto’s heard that some people claim that behemoths are named after Bahamut for how hard their armored skin is to get through, and that they call behemoths the King of the Beasts because of that.

For the first time, seeing the creature the size of a double-decker bus barreling towards them, screaming in rage, Prompto agrees.

“Go faster!” Nyx shouts to Hemera, and the snowmobiles start going faster, but the behemoth is chasing behind them, bellowing in rage and sometimes spitting out bursts of icy snow that only miss them thanks to Nyx and Hemera’s evasive driving.

It’s gaining on them.

Prompto gulps and clings onto the side of the crate, watching the creature come up behind them.

He wishes he had a gun he could try to shoot it with, though he doesn’t know if that would have much of an impact. He still wishes he had one.

He wishes Cor was here.

He wishes –

There’s another rumbling noise.

At first Prompto thinks it’s the behemoth, but no – the rumbling is larger, deeper, and it seems like it’s coming from everywhere at once.

It’s the ground rumbling.

He turns back to the behemoth, deeply alarmed – can behemoths cause earthquakes? He didn’t know that! – except the behemoth’s eyes have suddenly gone wide, like it doesn’t know what’s going on either, and then suddenly the earth right beneath the behemoth’s paws cracks.

And then the ground explodes, sending the behemoth tumbling head-over-hindquarters in their direction, a giant wave of snow sweeping forward and catching them in it, crate and snowmobile and everything until they’re no longer driving forward, just coasting along the wave of snow, and looking back Prompto can see that from the ground a gigantic metal snake has appeared.

“It’s Immortalis!” one of the other kids shouts.

And when Prompto’s finally got the snow out of his eyes again, he looks and he guesses it must be. The wall of metal armor – it was just one side of a snake, or something that was going to be a snake, he supposes, sometime down the line. It’s incredibly large, impossibly large – it’s at least the height of a house, maybe an apartment building, and it’s got to be at least a sports field or two in length. It’s clearly meant to be something like a half-mile long, when it’s complete.

But it’s not complete.

It’s only half-built – large segments of it are filled with armor and metal, but other portions are just bare steel skeleton, like something has rotted out large portions of it, all except the frame like some sort of mechanical zombie. There are more skeletal sections as it continues, until it cuts off like the back end hasn’t even been finished yet – suggesting an even larger size was originally anticipated – but the sections around the head are more complete. The head isn’t even really a head, either: instead of a snake head it has something like seven giant antenna-like nodes, all filled with whirling drills going in circles like saws, glowing red at the center, and in the very center of those nodes there is a cage with a ‘taur perched inside: Prompto can just about see from this distance that it’s a white-haired greyhound of some sort, wearing white.

He pokes at one of the few other ‘taur children still sitting up in the crate. “Who’s the greyhound in the middle of the face?”

“That’s Besithia,” the other puppy replies. “He must be driving Immortalis. Who’s the ‘taur on top?”

“On top?” Prompto asks, and turns to look again.

There is a ‘taur on top of the gigantic mechanical monster, crouching down low to avoid the wind pressure, his sword buried into the flesh, basically riding the creature out of its hole as his spots flash in the bright light of the snow-reflected sun.

A very familiar set of spots.

“That’s Cor!” Prompto shouts, pointing. “Look! It’s Cor!”

“Bahamut’s scales,” he hears Nyx say from behind him. “The Marshal’s insane. What the fuck is he doing?”

A pause, then, “Yes, Hemera, I know he’s fighting it. Should – should we go help or something?”

“You can do it, Cor!” Prompto hollers in Cor’s direction, watching his Cor – his Cor, because he’s got the best dad of all of the possible dads – leaping through the skeletal sections of Immortalis, cutting through various parts of the system even as the snake writhes and tries to shoot laser beams at him but mostly ends up hitting itself.

There’s a grumble of sound to Prompto’s right.

He glances over, then does a double-take.

It’s the behemoth.

It’s come to a stop right next to them – none of them are moving anymore, they’re all stuck in the giant snowdrift that came from Immortalis’ escape from under the earth – and it’s staring back at Immortalis with big, wide confused eyes.

It’s clearly never had to deal with something so much larger than it before.

It glances over at them.

Prompto meets its eyes.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding and gesturing at Immortalis. “What the fuck, am I right?”

“Prompto!” Nyx says, a second delayed so Prompto knows he’s probably just calling out on Hemera’s behalf. “Watch your language!”

“You were literally just saying stuff like that!”

“I’m allowed! I’m an adult!”

“Just barely!”

“Still counts!”

“Mmhmmmr?” the behemoth says. It’s sitting down now.

It watches – they all watch – as Cor continues to leap through the giant metal skeleton.

“Yeah,” Nyx says after a few seconds. “We’re going to go help. Prom – just – I don’t know – keep an eye out here? If the behemoth starts to do anything, scream.”

He and Hemera both throw their knives in the general direction of Immortalis, warping from throw to throw, until they’ve made it to where Cor is fighting.

Prompto can see him barking out orders to them, though he can’t hear it at this distance, and they immediately set out in different directions, all three of them. They’re crawling over it like little bugs as the giant snake lashes out, shaking its head and its body like it can throw them off of it.

“Are they going to win?” one of the other kids – they’ve all come out from under the blankets now to watch in amazement – asks.

“Yes,” Prompto says firmly. “Definitely.”

The alternative isn’t worth thinking about, anyway.

In fact, soon enough, some part of the tail where Nyx is starts exploding, and then the part on the other side where Hemera is, and then the next thing Prompto knows, there’s a growing sequence of explosions rippling through the entire frame, tearing it apart.

Prompto can’t see Nyx anywhere in the smoke. Or Hemera. Or Cor...

Then, deep in the smoke and ash of the explosions, he sees the twinkle of warp-light.

He stands up on the very tips of his paw-pads. “C’mon,” he says, begging. “C’mon –”

He sees the warp-light again. And again. And –

“Yes!” he howls, seeing Nyx and Hemera both, working in perfect tandem together the way only the twins or highly trained acrobats can, each of them grabbing onto Cor, one on each side of him, warping steadily in their direction as the snake slowly collapses in on itself. Prompto's tail is wagging like crazy, and that convinces the other children that it’s okay, that they’ve won, that they can be happy, that they can be free –

And then the explosions start from the other direction, too – well behind them, way back where the laboratory used to be. In the air above the laboratory, there's a whole squadron of airships, Aranea’s airships, and they’re doing a bombing run on the factory as they fly over the mountains in the direction of Lucis.

Prompto covers his ears, the other children mimicking his actions.

When the explosions finally stop, the last of the airships having gone past, Cor and Nyx and Hemera have made it back to them.

Nyx and Hemera both drop down onto their bellies in the snow, panting and tails wagging like mad, and Cor is covered in smoke and oil and blood and tar and metal bits, but he’s still standing on all four paws, holding his sword, even if he is breathing a little hard, too.

Best. Dad. Ever.

“My Cor,” Prompto whispers to one of the other puppies. They look very impressed. They all look very impressed. He’s been telling them all about Cor and how extremely amazing he is, but he gets the feeling that they didn’t entirely believe him until right about now.

Cor doesn’t look at Prompto, though. He looks instead at the behemoth.

He raises his sword, arches an eyebrow, and asks, “Are we going to have a problem?”

The behemoth stares back.

And then, very slowly, it drops its head down to its forepaws, its tail up in the air, an obvious gesture of submission and surrender to what is clearly a higher power.

“Good,” Cor says.

The behemoth ends up dragging their sleds – the snowmobiles were totaled – all the rest of the way to Gralea, Cor and Nyx and Hemera all riding daintily on its back.

Monica is there already, with the advance scout of the Crownsguard that were supposed to be sneakily infiltrating Niflheim from the direction of Tenebrae, and she’s got a whole bunch of Gralean citizens with her that are looking in the direction of the puppies like they’re seeing something wonderful.

“Hello, Monica,” Cor says. “I see you got my message.”

“Yeah,” she says dryly. “I got all of them, thanks, and I’ve passed them along to King Regis.”

“Good.”

“He says you’re not allowed to bring that thing home with you.”

“Awwwww,” Prompto whines. He’s moved up to the back of the behemoth (he’s named it Frosty the Abominable Snowman, which means that Hemera loves him forever and Nyx is already moaning in despair about the next generation) to sit with Cor, and he’s already constructed visions of having the world’s best show-and-tell session ever. “Are you sure?”

“I think the Graleans can use his help more than we can,” Cor says dryly. “But nice try.”

“Thank the Glacian,” Nyx says, hopping off and rubbing at his back. He was further back towards the behemoth’s wings, and Prompto gets the impression that he didn’t much enjoy riding. “Let’s go home already.”

“Well,” Cor says.

Prompto immediately brightens. He knows that ‘well’.

“Well?” Hemera signs. She looks wary.

“I was thinking we’d make just one tiny little stop along the way back,” Cor says. “You see, I finally remembered where I’d heard of Succarpe before…”

Monica covers her face. “You just blew up a top secret fortress and killed one of the Emperor’s most trusted advisors,” she says through her hands. “You were already one of the most wanted targets in all of Niflheim, and now they probably want to kill you even more. Just take the win and go home.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cor says dismissively. “I blow up something every time I come to Niflheim. Our cover isn’t anywhere near blown yet.”

“My dresses are,” Hemera signs, amused.

“You can pick up some more when we get to Tenebrae,” Cor tells her.

“Actually,” Monica says. “About that.”

“What?”

“Sylvia’s decided that if you’re taking both of her kids to Lucis, then she’s going to come along too.”

“She’s what?”

“Don’t worry,” Monica says sweetly. “I’m sure the Oracle will be more than glad to make a pit stop in Succarpe on the way to finding her missing and now mortally ill son.”