#i was like NO WAY IS THAT CHAOS PORTAL RONIN BACK THE HELL UP

[iooiu]

Hahaha ngl me hearty-- but seeing uncle Jello eating the onigiri Portal Chaos Ronin gave him in the latest propaganda had me smiling <33 Rooting for ya omigosh!! :0 (also these design sneak peeks are banger and I have just started catching up to the story itself!) Hahaha ngl me hearty-- but seeing uncle Jello eating the onigiri Portal Chaos Ronin gave him in the latest propaganda had me smiling <33 Rooting for ya omigosh!! :0 (also thesedesign sneak peeks are banger and I have just started catching up to the story itself!)

ofccc that pizza onigiri is literally the ONLY THING keeping him from leaving LMAO. i think once ronin got out of his glue trap (laughed myself to death with ur post btw) their interaction would go smth like this

[snaurus]

UPDATE: Prescription (2/2)

Pairings: None Ratings: T Categories: Angst/Friendship/Humor Warnings: Blood, Illness, Violence

Maybe getting sick was just the thing Noctis needed.

It’s a Christmas miracle! Today, I received the good news from @glyphenthusiast that the rest of this story was ready for reviewing, so here it is in all its completed glory. If you’re new to the story you can read part 1 here or find the entirety of it on AO3! 

The introduction was supposed to resemble the Omen trailer, since I wanted to include something equally dramatic and action-packed without ripping from the source material verbatim. Readers can probably pick up on the similarities with Noctis losing his weapons recall ability, the overall chaos, etc. Hopefully I did the creative geniuses behind the video some justice.

Have a happy holiday everyone, and enjoy!

The city of Insomnia is burning. Where smoke doesn't obscure the skyline, airships blot it out overhead. Buildings crumble under heavy artillery barrages.

Noctis stands under one of those collapsing structures – the Citadel. An explosion from inside, burning brighter and hotter than the sun, originates from the tallest tower. The blast rockets straight through the entirety of the palace, blowing out windows and supporting structures.

He knows he should move, but both feet stay planted shoulder width apart. His arms dangle at his sides as he cranes his neck back, hair billowing into his eyes. The dark strands aren't enough to block out the incoming stone, glass, and steel falling towards him.

Three sets of hands shove him out of harm's way. Noctis raises his arms to feebly defend himself. All he experiences is a blast of heat. He cracks open an eye to see Lestallum overrun with daemons.

The creatures crawl on top of everything. A Naga's body coils in and out of the doors, windows, and balconies of the Leville Hotel. Goblins are ransacking and vandalizing property. An Iron Giant slams its greatsword into a water fountain, decimating the architecture, before noticing Noctis' presence.

He dodges to the right and rolls under its blade. Noctis motions to summon a sword of his own, but nothing happens. He avoids another swing from the Iron Giant's weapon. In the span where the enemy tries to re-orientate itself, he calls on his arsenal of spears, guns, shields, anything. The sharp stab of light that signifies a weapon materializing simply isn't there.

Noctis sees no alternative; he flees. He rushes into a side street and runs into a Ronin. He slides under the rapid swings of its katana. Without losing his momentum, he keeps running. Another daemon appears, this time through a portal at his feet. It swipes at his pant leg. His ankle and calf bleed immediately. He continues, ignoring the injury.

The marketplace is dead ahead. Daemons swarm the streets here, too. He leaps onto one of the tarps above the closest stall. The monsters howl after him. Some tear down the shops in his wake or spit acid. A wad of it lands on Noctis' shoulder as he races to the end. He stumbles the last of the way, striking the ground with one knee.

He grits his teeth and brushes off his sleeve as best he can. Ultimately, Noctis rips the material away when it doesn't stop tingling. The skin is raw under his glove and fingertips. He limps to the nearest steps, panting up each one. His lungs feel as though they are ablaze. It is hard to breathe as he crests the stairs.

Where he expects to see the meteorite is a gaping, dark hole. The metal platform that was once the sole access to the power plant is mangled beyond repair. It was broken off at the end, as if a Behemoth had chomped down and gnawed on it.

"Noct?"

Growls and hisses from behind him have Noctis whirling around. Daemons close in on all sides. He steps backwards, startling when the heel of his boot floats over open air. Noctis stands at the edge of the bridge and stares into the divide. There is nowhere else to go.

"Noct!"

He faces forward. The monsters are closer. A Hobgoblin swings a giant fist at him, knocking him square in the chest. His body goes flying.

"Will you quit it? It's just me!"

Noctis' plummeting into nothingness stops, like a puppet caught on its strings. His breathing remains erratic, but he isn't inhaling ash, or fumes, or death. What he smells is muskier, with hints of wood smoke and tree sap. Noctis doesn't know how long he's suspended there. Eventually, the natural scents calm his panic. He eases downward, righting himself. His eyes flutter open to see nothing, at first. Situated across his forehead was something damp. Pulling a face, Noctis sat up. What turned out to be a washcloth fell into his lap. For now, he disregarded it.

A small lantern was switched on, but some last vestiges of sunlight filtered into the tent. He couldn't figure how long he'd slept, but Noctis knew it was much later in the day and that Prompto was gone. To be replaced by Gladiolus' guardianship, apparently.

The other man was lying on his side, head propped on his left hand and leafing through a history textbook. Noctis didn't comprehend why, exactly, but seeing Gladiolus whole and present calmed the remainder of his frantic heartbeat. It was dumb, needing to feel safe with him right then, but it wasn't like he'd admitted the fact aloud. He could go on pretending that everything was normal.

Without breaking from his reading, Gladiolus reached behind himself and proffered a bottle. Noctis' arms felt like the consistency of a wet noodle, but he managed to accept the offering. The plastic top was loosened for him, so he chugged what turned out to be a flavored drink. He didn't stop to check its contents until two-thirds of the liquid was gone and he needed to breathe.

Noctis gasped when he finished. He examined the exterior, turning the container in his hands. Kenny Crow stared back at him, promoting the orange-infused sports drink. Greedily, he finished what was left. Some spilled out the corner of his mouth, so Noctis wiped the excess off on his sleeve.

"What time is it?" he croaked.

"Dinner time," Gladiolus said curtly. Reaching behind again, he presented a stainless steel thermos. It was the simple variety where the top popped off to serve as a café mug and the secondary was a twist cap. Like before, the seal was broken for him. Not enough to spill, but Noctis didn't have to exert himself to open it.

Inside was leftover soup. The idea of eating another helping didn't appeal to him, but he was starving. Noctis forewent the faux-mug accessory and drank right from the thermos. The soup was lukewarm and all broth; this made it easy to choke down. Although he'd been ravenous, Noctis only managed to finish a fraction of his meal.

He capped the thermos, fumbling twice in the process. His coordination was next to useless, but a quick glance over to Gladiolus revealed him too absorbed in his book to have witnessed his flub. It could be an act, since very little ever got past the other man, but Noctis didn't want to risk bringing attention to his lack of skill.

Noctis hesitated before handing the container to Gladiolus. He wordlessly took it. The prince cleared his throat, it backfiring when a pinch formed in the back of his throat, but he managed to ask, "I miss anything?"

"Well," Gladiolus started, with the air of an apex predator that'd just found its opening to go for the jugular, "someone gave us one hell of a scare earlier. He was kind of a dick about it."

He scowled, immediately on the defensive. Gladiolus tended to have that effect on him. Afterwards he appreciated the honesty, since transparency was hard to come by in his royal life, but getting steamrolled in the process was never a pleasant experience.

"I know." Noctis side-eyed the other man and caught Gladiolus staring him down, chin resting in his palm. He wasn't yelling or posturing, meaning he might not be mad yet. This was something altogether worse. Gladiolus' disappointment didn't often supersede his temperament, but when it did, he upheld anyone's bullheadedness.

Yeah, well. Noctis was disappointed, too.

"I was doing so much better," Noctis seethed. He took up the washcloth in his lap and wrung it between his fingers. "The fuck am I getting sick for, at a time like this?"

Gladiolus let his book slip shut. He reasoned, "It's not like you've been exposed to these kinds of stressful conditions before. You gotta take it slow. Besides, you might as well take advantage; this is the only chance you'll get where I'm willing to go easy on you."

"Easy?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yes, easy! Iggy was worried about you, you know. We all are."

"So?" Noctis mumbled, still unable to look him in the eye.

"So get better. We can't afford for our fearless leader to be out of commission for too long."

Gladiolus sat up and took away the washcloth making Noctis' fingertips all wrinkly. He replaced it with a new, cooler one. Contrary to his tone, he then ruffled the prince's hair and smoothed the bangs out of his face. Embarrassed by the care, Noctis showed him his back and squished the compress over his eyes.

"Fine. We done?" he asked.

"If you feel up to being a decent member of society," Gladiolus said. He was already returning to his book, the creak of its spine sounding as he resumed where he left off.

Ass, he thought. At Noctis' best it was like arguing with a brick wall, and he especially wasn't feeling up to competing with Gladiolus in his current state. He reluctantly conceded, instead. "Maybe later."

Gladiolus grunted and said, "Good enough."

It didn't take much for them to come to terms, which was a relief for Noctis' anxiety. His shoulders eased as the tension left him. The washcloth smelled earthy where Gladiolus had held it, reminding Noctis of…he didn't know what, but it lulled him further, regardless. Noctis awakened not with confusion or mild terror, but an off-ness that he can't explain. And it was completely dark. All their lanterns were off, but enough firelight from their campfire shown past the tent that he could see enough.

There was a huddled lump beside him. Prompto had cocooned himself in his sleeping bag, curled into a tiny ball. The sole part of him that remained visible were some blond tufts of hair that stuck out the top.

Noctis, lying on his back, needed only to turn his head to observe Gladiolus on his other side. His form was more distinct in the dark, body stretched out and one arm thrown over his eyes. He snored softly in his sleep.

He didn't spot Ignis, causing Noctis to lift his head a little higher in an attempt to find him. His advisor's bedroll was empty. Ignis' missing presence might explain the odd sensation that'd enveloped him while he slept.

With an effort, Noctis pushed away all but one bed covering. He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders like a shawl as he exited the tent. He almost tripped over Bon Bon on his way out. She raised her head from the crouch she was in and he gave her an idle scritch under the chin to dissuade her from making any unhappy sounds. She clicked her beak softly at the treatment and lowered her head once he was done, but watched him like a hawk.

He surveyed the rest of the outside. Their chairs encircled the fire, which cast warm hues that intermixed with the blues of the haven wards. Some rustling by the portable grill drew his attention, where Ignis busied himself cleaning up for the night. Silky was hovering over his shoulder, probably begging for leftover scraps.

Noctis walked closer, disturbing some loose stones on the ground. Ignis straightened in place. His hardened expression faded to concern as he realized it was Noctis making an approach and not an enemy.

"Noct! What are you doing awake?" he asked. He gently brushed Silky away and intercepted Noctis halfway. The blanket was wrapped tight around Noctis' shoulders, but Ignis fussed with the covering anyway and drew it closer around his front. "Is everything all right?"

"I'm okay," Noctis said. The reassurance sounded like a singular word rather than two. It was an effort to talk, although surprisingly not because of a sore throat. The soup and electrolytes from his drink earlier had started to aid his wrecked immune system, but his sinuses hadn't gotten the memo yet. The congestion in his nose made conversation a challenge.

"…Of course." Ignis' ministrations slowed, the change in demeanor not immediately apparent.

An arm curled around Noctis' hunched back and guided him toward a seat near the campfire instead of insisting he return inside. "Come-come, then. It's late. At least get off your feet."

Noctis didn't argue and dropped heavily into his chair. The heat from the fire felt good on his muscles and he eased deeper into his seat. Ignis didn't join him, fiddling with something over by the grill. At first he assumed the other man went back to cleaning or prepping for tomorrow, but eventually he came over with a steaming mug.

He frowned, at first refusing to accept it. Noctis felt up to his eyeballs in soup and the thought of choking anymore down unsettled his gut. "You didn't have to do this. I'm not hungry."

"It's tea," Ignis said. His hand didn't waver as he continued to hold it out to him. "I added ginger root to quail your stomach and lemon to boost your recovery."

Noctis grunted and unfurled a hand from his blanket to finally take the drink. He held it close to his face, allowing the scent and vapors to radiate on his skin. The initial sip cleared his sinuses with a sudden pop that had him gagging, more so than from the aftertaste.

"I may have brewed it rather strong," Ignis supplied, distinctly unapologetic. Noctis was about to unleash a string of sarcastic gratitude when he felt something rest on his shoulders. He glanced around and saw Ignis' purple spotted jacket resting there, the sight making him clamp his mouth shut.

He stared into the recesses of his tea instead, clutching the mug tighter in his hands. Ignis kindly shooed Silky away from his work area. The chocobo had been pecking at the stew pot in his absence and emptied whatever had been inside. In the tranquility, with his friend not paying attention to him, Noctis said, "You're going to make a cool dad someday."

The advisor's ministrations missed a beat, but the scraping of his brush on the grates resumed before he deigned to reply. "Thank you. Although, as Gladio pointed out, that's a long ways off for all of us."

"I know that. I'm just saying," Noctis mumbled.

His task of cleaning done, Ignis grabbed his own drink – a can of decaf Ebony coffee – and joined him. Ignis folded himself neatly into a chair, one leg crossed at the knee.

"You don't normally discuss these matters. Has it been weighing on your mind?" he asked. Ignis popped the tab on the container of coffee and the bitter smell intermingled with Noctis' tea. The prince didn't much care for either or the combination of smells, but the Ebony was at least familiar to deal with.

"Something like that," Noctis admitted. Fatherhood had been low on his list of priorities, but it was a lesser topic than what was really bothering him. When it came to battle or politics he had no qualms trusting Ignis' wit, but broaching any of his many shortcomings was painful for Noctis. He didn't know how to convey how sorry he was for the way he'd acted, even in private.

Although, now that he needed to face the subject, he wasn't that relieved. It was kind of useless to worry about heirs if he died before reclaiming the throne. "Luna and I exchanged whole books, talking about a lot of things, but…that wasn't ever one of them."

Truth be told, Noctis wasn't sure how she felt about children, either. He could see her surrounded by them. Luna was so full of love and kindness, more than enough to go around. That didn't mean she'd want some of her own, though. Especially if she were sincere about traveling to honor her Oracle duties, on top of being a queen. If anyone were capable of doing it, however, he believed she could.

"Well, perhaps you can start small. Shared custody of a feline, perhaps?" Ignis' smirking around his can of decaf showed how clever he thought his aside, but Noctis' interests were avidly piqued.

"Just one?" he asked.

"Only to decide if the dual responsibility is manageable. Should you two be amenable, you may decide to turn your shared kingdoms into a cat sanctuary."

"I can work with that," Noctis said.

The tea had gone cold in his hands. He set the remainder aside to bury his limb under the layers of protection he had. Ignis finished off his drink and had other ideas, it seemed. He rose from his seat and doused the fire, the embers turning gray and then black.

"If you're feeling tired then let's get you to bed, proper."

"But I'm comfortable," he whined.

Ignis approached and bundled his jacket tighter around Noctis' shoulders, ushering him out of his chair. "Now do as you're told, young man."

They held the charade for all of five seconds until the both of them gave way to laughter. Noctis got to his feet, leaning into Ignis as he guided him to the tent. "There's no way that's going to work on your future kid."

"Then it's best to practice my technique while I can," he reasoned.

Noctis stopped in his tracks. His friend didn't pressure him, but he did stare quizzically.

"Thanks. For the soup yesterday. It helped; even if it was just vegetable water." Ignis snorted, but Noctis' forehead buried into the other man's chest. "And sorry. Ya know, for being a jackass."

"Gladio butted in again and let into you, I see," he said wryly.

"He was right, though." He recoiled at the admission. "Gladio can never know I said that. I forbid you from referring to it."

"As you've decreed. Think nothing of it," Ignis demurred. His reassurance didn't have the desired outcome. It wasn't as obvious when Ignis initially evaded mentioning it, but Noctis picked up on his careful choice of words. The prince only had himself to blame, due to his earlier vehemence about his health.

"You're allowed to be annoyed at me," Noctis grouched. He remembered a time when Ignis nagged him daily to do his homework, to keep with politics, to regulate his time wisely, what to eat. Whenever they came to a head it was almost a relief. Noctis wasn't looking for a fight, but he'd relax better knowing what the other man was really thinking.

"Your guilt is evidence enough of your regret," Ignis said, "but if it means that much to you, all is forgiven."

The pardon came so readily, so easily. Noctis lifted his head and turned in Ignis' grip. His hold loosened, but Ignis left his hands in place so they slid along Noctis' body. His expression wasn't open, but it was serene.

"After all, I am well acquainted with your poor mannerisms during these weathered times."

"Theeere it is," Noctis deadpanned, although he slumped in relief. If Ignis was making quips at his expense, then matters really were settled.

"Anymore of my council that you require before we retire?" Ignis asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nope. Bedtime," he announced.

Noctis swept past Bon Bon and entered the tent. He collapsed in the middle of their two friends, elbowing his way and wriggling around to reclaim his spot. Normally he was opposed to sharing his space and threatened to kick anyone who got too close. However, his temperature was fluctuating again, and Prompto and Gladiolus were space heaters reincarnate.

At his insistence, Gladiolus grunted in his sleep and rolled over to show his back. Noctis greedily turned so his back pressed against the wider expanse of his, soaking up the guardsman's body heat. In turn, Noctis pressed his face into the comfort of Prompto's side.

Ignis was more meticulous (and considerate) in comparison. He was careful not to disturb anyone as he took vigilance on the far side of Prompto. Noctis listened to him settling in, adjusting his pillows, before laying down. The soft opening and closing of his eyeglasses case predated the sigh he released as he went to sleep. It was almost too quiet for Noctis to hear, but he did and it was enough to urge him to sleep, too. A sharp prod in the middle of his back roused Noctis from his slumber. He'd assumed that he was alone this late in the morning, but maybe Gladiolus was keeping watch again. And being the big jerk he is.

"Knock it off," he grumbled. Another jab elicited a blind swat over his shoulder. "Quit it!"

"Kweh!"

He yelped at the foghorn in his ear. Noctis got caught in the sheets and sleeping bags as he mad-scrambled to face the loud intruder. His chocobo had shoved her head inside, almost to the full extent her neck allowed.

"Bon Bon, what—" Noctis forewent talking and feebly gave her a firm shove in the direction of the entrance. She answered him with a short string of chirps and clacks of her beak. Laughter outside, most likely at his expense, caused Noctis' cheeks to flush brighter than his fever already had. He pushed harder at her, but she didn't budge. "I'm up, I'm up! Now get out."

His bird was as responsive to moving as a Regalia without gas in its tank: heavy and wily, at best. Eventually there was enough room for him to crawl between her legs and escape. It wasn't his most graceful awakening, but at least he wasn't crowded inside the tent anymore. A click of someone taking a picture with their phone had Noctis' head snapping up. Gladiolus' fingers were already flying across the digital keyboard.

"Delete that!" he ordered and rushed over. Noctis went to snatch the cell phone away from him. Gladiolus, infuriatingly, just had to raise his arms out of reach while still messaging whoever it was he was contacting.

"Too late. Iris says you're adorable. Like one of Bon Bon's little chicks."

Noctis practically scaled Gladiolus' body to grab the device from him, but it was true. The chat screen was full of hearts and kissy-face emojis under a picture of Noctis' gangly escape. He was tucked into the chocobo's downy feathers, all but his face and an arm visible underneath her.

While he fumed, Gladiolus asked, "You're pretty spirited today. Feeling better?"

"I was."

"Let him be," Ignis reprimanded from the background. His was the only other chocobo present, it watching curiously as Ignis sewed buttons and mended holes in their clothes. Noctis wished his fowl acted that docile.

"Yeah, let me be," Noctis said. He tossed Gladiolus' smart phone, aiming for his face, but the other man caught it without breaking eye contact. His smirk had Noctis scowling. "Where's Prompto?"

"Hunting," Gladiolus said. His grin hadn't abated; it may have even doubled in size at the declaration.

The prince stared at him expectantly, but when Gladiolus wasn't forthcoming with more information he turned to regard Ignis for guidance. Still without deterring from his task, the advisor clarified, "Prompto volunteered to go fishing for our breakfast."

"Fishing," Noctis mimicked, albeit disbelieving.

"Yep," Gladiolus said.

"We're going to starve," he determined.

"I can hear you guys!" Prompto called from somewhere behind and below them. He was riding on Silky, with Drumstick tethered to her saddle. The red chocobo was loaded down with two sacks, presumably full of fish.

"Oh, my. This is a pleasant surprise," Ignis said. He folded the shirt in his hands and set it on top of a pile of other completed garments in a basket.

Gladiolus was already hauling one of the bags off his chocobo, Noctis attempting to see around his shoulder. This was unbelievable; whenever he wanted to go fishing, he practically had to beg Prompto to accompany him. Even then, his friend stood around complaining, if he wasn't idling on his phone or fiddling with the settings on his camera. And here his friend was, with a week's worth of trout!

Ignis came over and peeked inside the other bag. He lifted one of the fish by the gills, turning it every which way to inspect the haul. "That's peculiar. These appear to already be partially cooked?"

The reason why came to Noctis. He weakly shoved Prompto in the arm. His friend flinched, although it was out of shame as opposed to pain. "Cheater!"

"Lightning magic isn't cheating!" Prompto sniffed haughtily. "There are no rules to fishing, so fair is fair! You should be thanking me, you know."

"I suppose my work is minimized," Ignis said dryly. He chose a few other specimens for breakfast. "Jerky may be best for the remaining stock. Gladio, if you would?"

"On it," the other man said. Gladiolus grabbed both sacks to begin the process of converting the rest for long-term storage.

Prompto shifted from foot-to-foot as Ignis began to fillet their food. "Um."

"Yes?" Ignis asked.

"The first few I tried to catch… I mean…" He floundered for awhile, before settling on, "You might want to be extra careful? Or we shouldn't chew too hard. Whichever."

Ignis' hand stilled for a second, before resuming with the same skilled and harried pace as before. "Ah. Not precisely how I foresaw us adding iron to our diet. I'll be sure to be thorough while deboning the meat."

"Yeah," Prompto agreed, ducking his head.

During the activity, Noctis meandered over to a chair and sat down. He kicked out his legs and clasped both hands on his chest. After Bon Bon was assured that he wasn't going to choke on his own flem during his sleep she'd dismissed him to go scouring in the grass for bugs, leaving him the first chance to be left alone to his own devices.

"Oi!" Gladiolus voice called over, interrupting his thoughts. "You going to help out here or what?"

"Can't. Too sick." Noctis fake hacked into a fist, which morphed into a real coughing fit.

"Oh. Now you're sick. When five minutes ago you were on the mend, and the days before that you weren't sick at all."

Noctis ignored the guardsman's grumblings. If he'd really wanted the help, Gladiolus would have thrown the prince over his shoulder and made him assist in turning fish into jerky. So he closed his eyes and tilted his head back, at peace.