#look at the multiple cliff hangers this story could've had

[lialox]

Gifted Blight AU

Episode Prompto Spoilers. Full story below. :D 

Rating: Teen, but with trigger warnings

Pairings: None. Maybe Promptis or Noctis/Luna if you look hard enough.

An AU where the complications of Prompto’s birth actually causes him to be very sensitive to the sun. (You know why.) The sensitivity doesn’t just show itself in freckles and sun-burnt skin.

It shows itself as cancer. 

The doctors say it’s caused by the UV light from the sun. There’s no cure. His body rapidly heals what the light seems to decay, forcing his cells to grow unnaturally.

Growing up, it was hard for him to make friends. He knew he was going to die, so what was the point? People always acted different and weird when they found out and he hated that.

But Noctis was different. After telling him of his doomed fate, Noctis only gave him a sad, understanding sort of smile and said:

“Some things are just out of our control. Decided before anyone could have a chance to say otherwise. Everyone’s gonna die at some point--only difference is that, some people know when. Might as well live life to the fullest.”

Then he takes the fourth nap he’s had in a day because they’re going fishing early tomorrow morning. Typical Noct, “living life to the fullest”.

Fast forward to the day they leave Insomnia. Despite Prompto’s failing health, the bros think it’s a good idea to have Prompto see as much as he can before... before he can’t anymore.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to come with?” Prompto asks. He’s playing with his fingers again. “I mean, with my sickness and all.”

“Of course it is,” Noctis replies. “I’ll take you around everywhere I go. It’s good to get out.”

So they take him around Lucis. Through the deserts of Duscae and the rolling hills of Leide. The peaks of Ravatough and the depths of ancient ruins. Prompto records it all in his camera, because he’s not sure if he’ll ever have a chance to see it again. They let him stay, even when Insomnia falls and the Empire is hot on their tail.

Noctis, Ignis and Gladio all do their part in taking care of their friend. 

Until they reach Altissia.

In summary, there are two types of MTs: "Imperials” (Niffs who have been powered by Magitek like cyborgs, or use Magiteknology) and those androids who have “Magitek” in their names and have glowing red eyes. People are not commonly aware of it, but those androids have no organic parts to them.

Not anymore, at least. The process goes like this: A human is infected with the Starscourge at a young age. Starscourge is a parasite that develops this thing called miasma (the thing that blocks out the sun later in the game) within its host. Miasma is then harvested from the people as an energy source, at the expense of their life. This energy is then stored as what we know as a Magitek Core. **Reference**

Verstael has spent his entire life studying this process. His most recent project is focused on being able to transfer the will of a human being into these cores--a process that should be completely feasible. After all, the entirety of a person’s being converts into miasma before it’s placed into a core.

By the time the events of Episode Prompto occurs, he’s on the brink of death. It’s been weeks since he’s had his medication as he’s got all of the signs--all of the worst ones anyways. His vision is blurring, he’s got massive headaches that escalate into seizures and the halls he’s wandering all blend into one. He’s coughing up blood the entire Episode, leaned on the walls for support. It’s a wonder he made it through so far, but he had to. 

His friends are waiting.

Aranea tries to save him, at the part where she’s supposed to. But it’s not the same, because Prompto... Prompto can’t go on anymore. He’s too sick, and no matter how good of a fighter Aranea is, she can’t escape the facility while dragging a near-unconscious body along with her.

So she makes a call, and damn is it one of the hardest things she’s ever done. 

She leaves. Not without leaving some sort of hope though--no, Aranea isn’t that type of person. She hooks him up to some whatever medical equipment she knew how to operate, and disguises him as an MT. A part of her wondered if she even needed to do that in this particular side of the facility. As she turned away she promised him: 

“Listen kid. Hey. Hang on tight, you hear? I’ll be back with back-up, it’s just... things are gonna get ugly from here on out. ...Hey, are you even up? I’m coming back, and I’m counting on you to be here so I’ll have something to come back to.”

Prompto doesn’t--can’t respond. He lies there, on an unsettling operation table trying to contain his pained noises. Then a patrol passes by. The magitek unit doesn’t seem to see him as an enemy. It’s as docile as they come, and Prompto gets one of his brilliantly stupid ideas.

He takes it down. Rips out its core. And gods, does he show his mechanical ingenuity when he hooks up the offline MT into the initializing machinery with an empty core. 

Then, ever so slowly, crashing into various instruments along the way, he makes his way to where the tanks were. Where the “series” he was from were.

It feels like he’s on several levels of inebriated when he steps into one of the tanks. There’s blood dribbling down his chin and, and gods, he can’t stop coughing.

And the gears start to whir. A pale, viscous fluid begins to pool at his feet. 

For a moment, Prompto thought he was going to drown in the fluids that began to fill the tank, but the fear was overwritten by pain as it shot up from his legs first, burning up through his thighs and eating away at his gut like he’d stepped into a pool of acid. He looks down and--oh god, his legs are gone. They’re gone, they’re gone, they’re gone, and all that’s left was a wisp of particles making their way higher, and higher and then there’s ringing in his ears, and he really is choking on that fluid now, and he’s trying to grasp, claw at at his throat but there’s nothing, where are his fingers, and--

Darkness.

It feels like a million years have passed when Prompto’s vision flickers back, and the first thing he sees is himself. Or what looks like him. Then he realizes that it’s impossible for that to be him. He’s looking at a clone. His actual body should’ve faded into miasma.

He takes a deep breath--finds that he can’t... and looks down on to his hands.

They’re made of steel and circuitry. All hard casing and neutral paint.

Prompto almost found humour in the way that a part of him thought he couldn’t do it. Of course he could. He’s the clone of the damned genius who invented all this in the first place.

He’s traded his dying body for an MT’s and he’s never felt better. Now that he can really fight back. Now that he feels nothing at all. 

The first thing thinks of is Noctis. He can finally help him now. He’ll stop being dead weight, and they can stop taking care of him all the time. Finally, he can stop being useless.

Prompto has to find out if Noctis is okay. But now that there’s so much that’s changed, he’s not sure if he can face them anymore. 

The next time he sees Aranea, it’s at a cave just outside the facility and the meeting came with a spear pointed at his throat.

“Aranea?” Prompto blurts out, his voice a mess of static from a damaged voice box. He’s sitting by the fire, back turned to the water’s edge. He hasn’t had the guts to look at his reflection. 

She gives him a similar pep talk to the one they had in game. Of all the tough love Aranea throws at him, one thing in particular struck him right at his heart:

“This is what you wanted, kid. You wanted to help your friends, and for you to do that you gotta live. There’s no shame in wanting to live.”

These words almost carry him to the pinnacle of the Keep, searching for Noctis. He was so intent on helping him from a distance, if he ever saw them. Even with Aranea’s words, he can’t just walk up to Noct as a bucket of bolts. He just can’t.

But it doesn’t go according to plan. Ardyn captures him; binds him in that metal frame. 

Prompto’s screaming at Ardyn to let him go the whole time because the only thing scarier than pain and death, was the thought of Noctis rejecting his existence. His existence, which was now truly nothing but Magitek.

Ardyn finds it hilarious. So he guides the whole gang to Prompto.

When Noctis walks into his cell, he’s furious. There’s fire burning on the ring on his hand and magic flaring within his eyes. 

“Don’t you get fucking tired of the same joke, Ardyn!?” Noctis spits, turning around and looking for cameras. “Where the hell is Prompto?” Silence. The MT on the frame chose not to stir. “WHERE IS HE?”

“Oh, how awful,” the voice on the intercom coed. “You’ve come all this way, only to fail to recognize the very thing you’re looking for. It must hurt your dear friend Prompto’s feelings.” The voice paused, letting the words sink into the frantic mind of Noctis Lucis Caelum. “Isn’t that right? Prompto?”

And when Noctis speaks, he doesn’t sound angry anymore. He sounds broken. “What the hell did you do him?”

They could almost hear the shrug in his voice. “Hm, nothing at all.” And the voice cuts out.

Noctis extends a hand towards the steel mask. Pries it loose. There’s nothing but metal and wiring on this inside. Of course. They’re called “MT” for a reason.

“Prompto?” Noctis whispers.

Prompto hesitates. It’s only after he realizes that he’s got nothing left to lose that he finally replies: “...Noct.” It sounds like a mechanical whimper. If machines could even do that.

Ignis and Gladio gasp behind him as Noctis pries him free from the metal frame. 

Even after all is said and done, his friends still accept him. Prompto wishes he still had the ability to cry.

When he sees the last trace of Noctis disappear into the Crystal, and fires bullet after bullet into the Chancellor’s back, he felt something deep within wrench and twist. His mind clouded with an emotion he couldn’t release and he understood that even a soul on its own could cry.

As it turns out, being an MT was great in the eternal night that followed. Daemons don’t attack him. He could wander around the world with the same--no, even more freedom than he had before, now that he was’t sick. He took on the most dangerous of missions, taking him to the dens of monsters or from one side of Lucis and back. The missions he went on were impossible for a human. The ability to last for days in a world of daemons without food or water became the most valuable thing on Eos.

He’s never done so much in his life, and he’s never been so lonely. 

A decade passes before he finds his best friend again, only to find out that he has to say good bye.

“What will happen to you?” Noctis asks, curled up under a blanket on the caravan’s bed while Prompto is sitting at the floor. The steel of his back scrapes against the wooden structure of the bed. There’s poorly drawn cactuars all over his steel plates. “Once the sun comes back?”

“I’ll be with you every step of the way,” Prompto replies quietly. “Ever at your side. Remember?”

Noctis does remember. The guilt that’s settled deep within him, surfaces once again when he remembers why Prompto chose to do what he did. He remembers that he was the reason why his best friend’s soul was trapped in an empty shell. He remembers that Prompto should’ve died a decade ago, but only stuck around this long to fulfill a promise made in the name of friendship.

He remembers that, despite this world needing so many more people like Prompto, he has to let him go. So he chocks down any final requests he would have, because the only thing he could think of to ask was for Prompto to live.

But, that thought isn’t quite right. It’s not Noctis who has to let go. Prompto’s already gone ahead, but he won’t move on to the next life without Noctis. He��s waiting for him.

When they reach the throne room, Prompto’s shot with a violet orb he couldn’t dodge--and when he wakes up the battle’s just about over. The only thing left to do is for Noctis to deal the final blow.

“Do you still want to take me with you, Noct?” Prompto asks, fiddling with his thumb.

“My mind hasn’t changed.” Noctis holds out his hand.

Prompto reaches up, hand wavering just above his heart. He unclasps a metal lock just under his left shoulder to reveal a glowing, red orb. Carefully, he unscrews it, and it’s released with the hiss of an engine and a satisfying pop. He’s able to place it in Noctis’ palm just before the red of his eyes dim.

He collapses, one knee first in front of his King. Then his entire body slumps down at the steps outside the Citadel.

“Thank you,” Noctis whispers into the core. Every shade of crimson shifted ethereally. This was Prompto. He treated the core with more reverence than the crown treasures of Lucis.

And it was Prompto he held onto when Kings of Lucis raised their blades. It took thirteen to strike him down, but only one gem in his hands to keep him together. Once Noctis stepped into a realm of void, he saw that his friends and family were with him--but only for a moment. 

It was a fleeting image that didn’t dare to stay. Maybe he wanted to see them one last time that he hallucinated them.

But the ones to stay were Prompto and Lunafreya. The two whose bodies have long since gone, but have found ways to stay by his side. They were both eternally in their early twenty’s, young and baby-faced. They make short work of what’s left of Ardyn, shattering him into oblivion where immortals can’t return.

The battle leaves their ethereal forms in shambles; barely pieced together by each other’s light.

“Okay,” Noctis breathes, when all is done. “Okay.” He repeats again, then looks to Luna, then to Prompto. “Let’s go.”

“Uh. Me too?” Prompts’s eyes flickered to Lunafreya. “I don’t wanna third wheel or anything--”

“C’mon,” Noctis rolled his eyes. “I told you I’d take you everywhere I go.”

The astral plane is long and expansive. There’s no end to the possibilities the three of them can do. Now Prompto isn’t the only one waiting, and there’s a feeling of weightlessness within him now that he hasn’t imprisoned himself into a core.

Dawn rises in Eos.

And their souls are freed.