Noiseless Nights - krystian - Final Fantasy XV [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Chapter 1: The Prince of Lucis

Chapter Text

The game had been haphazardly stuffed into the mailbox of his apartment, and Noctis really didn’t know what to make of it. It wasn’t that weird for him to receive games that had not been released yet – most businesses tried to keep on the right side of the royal family, and as heir to the throne, he profited off of that. Noctis just needed to tweet about being excited for a new game, and it was almost certain that he’d receive an early copy months before everyone else could even hope to play it.

But this game in particular – well, it was weird, to say the least.

Noctis had taken it out of his mailbox and up into his apartment without anyone noticing (Ignis would chew him out if he knew how careless the prince was). The cover art seemed neat enough; a tree in full bloom was in the middle, surrounded by fields of baby blue sylleblossoms. The sky was red, coloured by the setting sun, and a light breeze seemed to sway both petals and leaves alike. Noiseless Nights, the game’s title, was written across the tree in cursive, light grey letters.

He turned the game around to read the description, fingers gliding over the smooth cover.

Dive into a world full of adventures, it read, where your wildest dreams may come true as you travel through the medieval Midgard, confront the Gods in Asgard and defy fate in the hellish depths of Helheim.

While it was very vague, it did sound kind of intriguing - although the pictures of the in-game graphics on the back of the cover looked grainy. For a moment, Noctis thought about discarding it (they were in the year 754 after all, there was no excuse why the game wasn’t in 4k), but before he could actually throw it in the trash, something else caught his eye.

Multiplayer was written in the corner in a small font, barely legible, followed by Made in Niflheim and Beta-Version 2.04.

While the first thing sounded like a pretty sweet deal – after all he’d been looking for a game that all three of them could play at the same time, even if Ignis protested that he did not have the time for video games – the second note made doubts cloud his excitement. A Niflheim-made game, delivered directly to his doorstep? What were the odds?

That in itself was a huge red flag; stuff imported from Niflheim usually had to get approved by a thousand different facilities, and then would get a million stickers that showed every single check-up the product had gone through, but the cover of the game was devoid of all sigils. A small voice that sounded an awful lot like Ignis spoke up in his mind, telling him that this could very well be another one of Niflheim's tricks.

Noctis sighed, placing the game back down onto the table he’d been sitting at and resting his chin on the palm of his hand. What exactly would Ignis do in his stead? Probably deliver the game to the Crownsguard and let them take it apart piece by piece to look for malware. Fingers tapping against the wooden table, he clicked his tongue, pushing the game from one side to the other. Should he call Ignis and let him deal with this?

He groaned into the quiet of his apartment. He really, really wanted to try the game, especially if it was actually from Niflheim. It could, after all, tell them a lot about their opponents, and he’d heard that the technology in Niflheim was superior to its Lucian counterpart, which he definitely would have to check for himself.

Maybe he should just call Ignis, let him prod at the game a little and if there wasn’t anything suspicious about it, convince him and Gladio to play it with him. And honestly, how much harm could a single game do? It looked like any other piece of Niflheimian propaganda to him, if he was completely honest.

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he speed dialled Ignis’ number, putting his phone on speaker and placing it on the table. Unsurprisingly enough, Ignis picked up on the second ring.

“Ignis Scientia speaking,” he answered, his voice as calm and collected as always, although he did sound a little tired. “Is something wrong, Your Highness?”

Noctis made a noncommittal noise, shaking his head before remembering Ignis wouldn’t be able to see him. “Nothing’s wrong, Specs,” he replied easily, eyes still on the game. “It’s just- there was a game in my mailbox and, before you say anything, no, I didn’t order it this time, and, well, it’s from Niflheim and I don’t know what to do with it?”

Ignis was silent for a few seconds, obviously thinking about the best course of action. “And you’re sure you didn’t order it?” He didn’t sound as if he disbelieved Noctis, more so as if he didn’t want this game to actually be from Niflheim. “You didn’t already put it into your game console, did you?”

He snorted and rolled his eyes, glad that Ignis couldn't see him. “How stupid do you think I am? Obviously not.”

Not answering his question, Ignis continued. “In any case, if this game really is from Niflheim, we ought to let professionals handle it. We simply don’t know how it has been tampered with and how dangerous it actually is.”

Noctis must have made a disappointed noise, because Ignis put on that exasperated tone again. “Noct-“ he started, probably rubbing the bridge of his nose with his index fingers, but Noctis cut him off.

“If we get it checked and there’s no virus or other malware on it, can we play it together? Please?”

On the other side of the line, Ignis sighed. “I don’t know if that is such a good idea, Noctis.”

Sometimes it was a good thing that Noctis knew how to convince people when he really wanted to; a technique he’d learnt from no other than Ignis himself. “But if it’s actually from Niflheim we could learn a lot from it, y’know? It’d give us insight into what they’re thinking.” When Ignis didn’t immediately answer, he continued, “C’mon Ignis, it’ll be cool. Just you, Gladio and me, playing some crappy Niflheimian game. It’d make me super happy, too."

If Ignis had been having doubts before, the points he’d delivered would surely convince him.

And it seemed that he wasn’t wrong.

Ignis sighed again, the sound full with static. “Alright, Noct. But only under the condition that you send it in right now without testing it yourself.”

He agreed, mainly because there was no point in contradicting Ignis, as he picked up the game and descended the stairs of his apartment, pressing it into the hands of a bemused looking guard stationed at the door. “Could you take this back to the Citadel for me and get it checked for any viruses?” he asked loud enough so Ignis would also be able to understand him. The guard nodded, carefully placing his game into their jacket’s pocket. “Happy now, Specs?” he muttered into the phone, not bothering to take the stairs back up but instead deciding to wait for the elevator.

“Very much so,” came Ignis’ response, “I’ll notify you if you will be able to pick it up after it has been examined.”

Ignis called him a few days later, just as Noctis had been stewing over another report he was supposed to study. Thankful for the distraction, he picked up the call. “What’s up, Specs?” he greeted his friend.

“Not much,” Ignis’ voice came through a thick wall of noise, almost as if he was outside or-

“Are you driving right now? Should you be calling me?”

He could almost hear Ignis rolling his eyes when he replied, “It’s a hand-free device, Noct. I am, in fact, not committing any felonies.” Ignis cleared his throat, the sound cut off by someone revving their engine. “In any case, I’m on my way over to your apartment, and I’ve got the game with me. It’s – surprisingly enough – completely clean. Anything I should pick up that you’d like for dinner?”

Noctis inclined his head. “Can we just get take-out for once? It’s faster. Oh, and can you pick up Gladio on your way if he’s free? I wanna try this game with both of you here.”

Ignis muttered something into his non-existent beard. “That should be… arrangeable, I suppose. How does sushi sound to you? As for Gladio – I don’t know his exact schedule for the day, but I’m sure he’ll be free, seeing as it is Friday evening.”

Humming, Noctis thumbed through the report on the table, his other hand still pressing the phone against his ear. “How come that you’ll let me indulge in so much stuff today, Specs? Did I do extra well in my princely duties or what?” He snorted in disbelief.

On the other end of the line, Ignis chuckled quietly – a rare sound, and one that Noctis relished. “I merely think that we all have earned ourselves a break, Your Highness. As for the game, well, I have thought about what you said and despite it sounding like an excuse at first-“ he skilfully ignored Noctis’ indignant ‘Hey!’ to continue- “I have come to the conclusion that there might be a grain of truth in what you said. We may be able to learn from our opponents, after all. And if we can’t learn from them, we will surely learn about them.”

“Sure,” he agreed amicably, picking at his nails. “When’ll you be here?” Noctis picked up his phone and wandered over to the cupboards, beginning to take out plates and glasses.

Clicking his tongue, Ignis ignored the commotion on Noctis’ end. “Maybe in another 40 minutes. Think you can wait that long, Noct?” His tone was teasing, and Noctis found himself smiling despite the little jab.

“Oh, I don’t know what I will do without you.” He put down the tableware on the coffee table in the living room and threw himself on the couch, draping his arm over his eyes.

“How about you finish the report I have left you that you surely have started already?” Ignis’ voice was still amused, so he couldn’t be all that mad, Noctis decided.

He stretched a little on the couch, back sinking into the soft cushions and his joints popping. “Actually, I’ve already started it, Specs. You can quiz me later on it. First food, then games.” Yawning, Noctis listened to Ignis' calming voice as he kept talking about whatever political stuff was in the report. Not realizing he was nodding off, his phone slipped out of his hands and hit the ground.

The smell of fresh sushi wafted over to him, and the couch he was resting on dipped down at the end where somebody was settling down, patting his leg with a warm hand. “You finally awake, princess?” Gladio asked as Ignis plated the food and set down a bottle of juice on the table. As long as it wasn’t tomato or carrot juice, Noctis didn’t care all that much about the beverage.

He yawned, sitting up and swatting Gladio’s hand away, who only laughed in response. His phone was laying on his chest; Ignis must have hung up on him some time ago. "Took you guys long enough,” he grumbled, his voice still raspy, and looked at Ignis with bleary eyes. His advisor was crouching in front of his TV, inserting a disc in the game console, humming in approval when no error message popped up on the screen. “They didn’t actually play the game, did they? They just, like, checked it, right?”

Ignis nodded, picking up three of the VR goggles and controllers on his way back to the couch and dropping them into their laps. “Don’t worry, Noct, I won’t be able to spoil the story for you. I couldn't even find out anything about it on the internet.”

Gladio beside him socked him in the shoulder, gesturing for him to power up the console. “C’mon, wasn’t this what you’ve been waiting for?” he edged him on, slipping his own goggles over his head.

“Gladio, shouldn’t we eat first?” Ignis intercepted with an amused glance in his direction, settling down into the armchair next to the couch.

Grunting, Gladio shrugged and turned towards them with half of his face hidden behind the ridiculously large device. “Not like the food can get cold, and besides, I want to see what kind of battle techniques the Niffs have included in their game.”

Both of them knew that they couldn’t change Gladio’s mind even if they tried, and so Noctis started the game, watching as Ignis took off his glasses and put on the goggles, pushing them up so they wouldn’t slip down his face.

Adjusting his own, he waited as it synced up and calibrated before he leant back into the couch. Noctis was immediately greeted by the title screen, the same tree that was on the cover lightly swaying in the breeze and a field of sylleblossoms stretching out into the horizon.

“Already doing the character creation, Noct?” Gladio asked him from his left side, his thumbs swiftly moving over the buttons of his controller from what he could hear. When he answered in the negative, he could see Gladio smirking from the corners of his eyes. “You pick your gender first; what do you think, care playing as a girl?”

Noctis spluttered, fumbling with his own controller as he ignored the Load Game option to click on Character Creation, immediately greeted by the choice Gladio had just talked about. “What? No way, man.”

From his right, Ignis piped up. “There’s nothing wrong with trying new things, Noct.”

He knew they couldn’t see it, but he rolled his eyes behind his goggles, choosing the standard male avatar that both of his retainers had probably chosen as well. “I’ll play as a girl if Gladio puts on both cat ears and tail,” he answered instead, omitting the fact that he’d already picked an avatar.

He felt Gladio’s rumbling laugh more than he heard it over the relaxing music coming from the headphones. “Cat ears? For real? That all you got?”

“What, are you scared?” Noctis snickered, the corners of his mouth curling into a soft smile as he browsed through the different body types. Should he choose someone really jacked or would that just give Gladio another opportunity to make fun of him? Indecisively, he shuffled through each option, settling on a learn but not overly muscular guy at last.

Gladio nudged him in the side with his elbow. “Me, scared? Pft, you wish.” It was silent for a few seconds, only the clicking of buttons and the soft piano music audible in the room until Gladio snorted. “Damn, didn’t know you’d get to choose a class,” he commented, “when are ya ready?”

“Patience is a virtue, Gladiolus,” Ignis reprimanded him, although there was no bite to his words, “although I suppose you would not be the Gladio we know if you were truly patient.”

Trying not to laugh out loud, Noctis took one look at the hairstyles and picked one that resembled his hairstyle in the front but was longer in the back, pulled up into a ponytail. He quickly adjusted the character’s face, changing the width between his eyes, his eye colour and his nose as well as mouth until he was sure that it at least resembled him.

When he reached the clothing section, he stopped short, glaring at the shirts (that had really weird, old-looking styles) and pants and whatnot in front of him. It wasn’t that he disliked the designs per se, it was more so the fact that all of them were… well, red, white, or some variation of either colour. “Did they not have enough money to provide more than two colours when it comes to clothing?” he asked no one in particular.

Ignis chose to answer first. “It’s a wonder that we were able to choose between different hair colours at all,” he commented, reaching for his glass on the table. “Red and white, as you surely know, are the main colours of the Niflheimian Empire; I highly doubt they would offer Lucian Black as a clothing option if this game is set out to defame us.”

Noctis sighed, choosing a burgundy tunic that hung off his slim frame and dark grey cotton pants that... looked really weird (all fluffed up above the knees and then getting thinner below it) as well as a light cloak that his character threw over his shoulders. At least they offered some variation in colour. He picked out high boots, watching as the character on the screen slipped them on, his movements stiff.

Now came the hardest part; choosing a name.

Biting down on his lower lip, Noctis let his fingers rest on the buttons for a second, eyes staring at the screen. How should he name himself? Just Noctis? No, that was too boring and simple. Caelum would serve for a good first name as well, but using his surname as that seemed weird to him. Maybe a nickname? Was Noct too informal? “Guys, how did you name your characters?”

“I gave him the name Ignis,” his advisor replied at the exact moment Gladio said, “Oh, you’ll see.”

“Thanks, very helpful, guys.” He rolled his eyes once again for good measure before getting an idea. How had he not thought of this before? Quickly, his fingers danced across the controls, and the game asked if he wanted to keep the name 'NoctGar', to which he simply replied 'yes'.

Satisfied with his outstanding creativity, Noctis was sent into another loading screen that – thank the Gods – finished rather fast. The next menu must’ve been the one Gladio was talking about. Presented with multiple options, he clicked through them. Assassin, Axeman, Swordsman, Archer… Noctis frowned. He hadn’t expected any kind of magic to appear in this game, so he didn't mind that. What irked him, was that the player could choose only one kind of weapon at the start and then had to stick with it for the rest of the game – especially because there only were four classes.

He shook his head a little, focusing on the game once more. Assassin sounded pretty neat to him, but the stats were, as far as he could tell, not that good, and while he didn’t detest fighting with daggers, he didn’t embrace it either. Axemen had a pretty big pool of HP, but the weapons were classified as slow which put a damper on the good stats. As for the Archer-class... given that he had no idea how well the game worked as of right now (it was a beta-version after all) he didn’t really feel like taking any chances.

In the end, he went with the boring route of Swordsman. The stats weren’t that bad, he had a decent amount of HP and stamina and the sword he’d start out with seemed alright enough.

Gladio and Ignis, who hadn’t said anything during this whole ordeal, turned their heads towards him when he sighed, clicking on the arrow that would take him to the actual game. He supposed he’d kept them waiting long enough. “You done, princess?” Gladio asked as a dull loading screen consumed his entire vision. A few words, written in a slanting font, flashed over the black screen:

Fear death, for it is eternal

Noctis paid them no mind. It probably just meant that he had to restart completely if his character ever died in the game, which was... a little bothersome. He'd played games like this before, but all of them had had difficulty settings. This one did not. “Yeah,” he replied, “I’m joining the game right now. Have you already started?”

Ignis reclined in his seat, picking up the controller resting in his lap. “No, we were not able to start without you. As it seems-“

He was rudely interrupted by Gladio’s snort and exclamation of ‘Holy sh*t, what the f*ck’.

“Language, Gladio,” Ignis started, but neither of them were paying attention to him.

The world they were dropped into was dark; stars glistened in the ink-black sky above them but the moon was bright enough to keep most of the darkness away – a convenient way to set the mood, Noctis guessed. Was this the tutorial area? Did this game even have a tutorial? He moved around in the virtual world, eyes flitting over the barren landscape until finally resting on both of his companions.

He groaned.

“Really, Gladio? You couldn’t have picked a more revealing outfit?” he asked, scrutinizing his Shield. Above Gladio’s head was a small nametag that simply read ‘Gladiator’. “And what’s with the weird name? Who the f*ck names themselves Gladiator? Couldn't you have named yourself something normal like... Gladio?”

Affronted, as if Noctis had just insulted his entire family, Gladio’s character looked back at him, eyes narrowed.

“How interesting,” Ignis muttered under his breath. “It seems that the game is advanced enough to somewhat accurately interpret the players’ emotions and apply them to the avatars.”

No matter how much he wanted to see Ignis’ creation, Gladio’s appearance had transfixed him completely. The older man wasn’t wearing a shirt, only a pair of light, linen pants and canvas shoes. Intricate patterns decorated his somewhat tan, taut skin, rippling with every movement. What really demanded all of his attention, though, was the Cup Noodle hat on Gladio’s head. “Please tell me you’re taking that thing off.”

Other than that, Gladio had been able to create himself quite well; his hair was the same brown colour, cascading down his back, and his face was spot on.

Ignis walked up next to him, and Noctis turned his head to the side to see him. His nametag read – as promised – ‘Ignis’. Noctis would be disappointed if he hadn’t already expected it. “As much as I loathe to agree with someone named NoctGar, he does have a point, Gladio.”

Noctis wanted to retort something witty, defend his honour or the like, but Gladio was already grumbling under his breath, accessing his inventory by the looks of it and getting rid of the hat. It disappeared not even a minute later. “I didn’t know they had Cup Noodles in Niflheim,” Noctis commented, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Why wouldn’t they?” Gladio answered gruffly, looking a little less ridiculous without his hat.

“Dunno,” he replied, shrugging, “it just seemed weird to me, that’s all.”

While they had been squabbling, Ignis had moved away once again, running his hand over the bark of a nearby tree. “It’s astonishing,” he started, turning towards them, “I did not expect Niflheim to be this technologically advanced; but it seems that I may have underestimated them.”

Noctis co*cked his head to the side, joining Ignis at the tree and reaching out to touch it himself. It felt… well, like a tree beneath his fingertips, rough bark and all. “It feels like an actual tree,” he commented, his gaze finding Ignis’ who only nodded.

Behind them, Gladio hummed slightly, unstrapping his axe from his side. Ah, of course he’d have chosen the Axeman-class. The weapon looked almost flimsy in Gladio’s hands as he came closer to them. “So what else’ll feel real?” He asked them, brandishing the axe in his right hand and eyeing them.

Ignis shot him a sharp look. “We will have to find out, I presume,” he answered, stepping back.

Noctis wasn’t so perceptive of Gladio’s true intentions.

Gladio hummed again, and before the prince could reach for his own sword, Gladio was already swinging at him, aiming for his left arm. He made to move out of the way, but Gladio was faster than him, and Noctis closed his eyes to brace himself against the pain that… didn’t come?

When Ignis exhaled sharply, he pried his eyes open, expecting to see his arm mangled or something of the like, but instead, Gladio’s axe was clipping through him, the blade halfway through his chest without affecting him.

His Shield sheathed his weapon once again, leaning backwards. “So no friendly fire then? Or is it just a bug?” His eyes flitted over Noctis’ unharmed form.

Ignis shrugged, for once not having an answer either. “Most likely the former. In any case, we should not stand around here but instead focus on grasping what exactly this game is about and what we are supposed to achieve. Finding a map or something of the like would be a great asset as well.”

Huh.

Noctis accessed his own inventory, cycling through his empty item slots and almost empty armoury before landing on the page called ‘map’. A black square greeted him, only lit up by three blue dots that blinked in and out of existence – probably him and his friends.

He closed the pop-up page, Gladio and Ignis coming into focus once again. “Shouldn’t we wait until the sun rises so we don’t, like, get lost in the seemingly endless fields of wherever the f*ck we are right now?”

“Midgard,” Ignis spoke up, still burrowed inside his own inventory if his character’s thinking stance was any indication. He was probably looking through the data logs to find any information they could use. “The home of humans, and one of the Nine Worlds that is completely visible to mankind.”

“They went all out on the lore, didn’t they,” Gladio said, picking at his nails in boredom.

“It was plunged into perpetual darkness millennia ago after the ash tree Yggdrasil was stolen from its rightful owners. With the Gods unwilling to help out the people of Midgard, this world has become a place where the sun never rises, its inhabitants thriving in obscurity until it is their time to cast out the Usurper that has stolen what once was theirs,” he concluded, squinting at them.

Noctis snorted, turning his head away to listen to the murmur of the wind in the leaves. “Sounds awfully familiar, if I may say so myself.”

Gladio shrugged. “As long as we have a clear goal in sight, I’m fine. So we just gotta travel around until we find that Usurper-guy, defeat him and then we’re done with the game?”

“That’s the end goal, yes,” Ignis clarified, his hand absentmindedly running over the bark of the tree. “Although I’m certain that, along the way, we will have to help the people of Midgard and the such.”

Sighing, Noctis shifted his weight from his right to his left foot, playing with the sword in its sheath. “So it’s just like any other adventure-slash-action game?” He couldn’t help but let the disappointment shine through his words.

“Do not forget what we are here for, Noct,” Ignis reminded him, shooting him a pointed look over his shoulder as he finally set into motion. Ignis had probably used the time to look at the stars and determine where the four cardinal directions were, if his confident strides were anything to go by.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, catching up to Ignis as Gladio trotted behind them, his axe rhythmically clinking against his belt. “So, where are we off to next?”

“We are heading East. The data logs I accessed did not have a lot of locations in them, so I assume it will fill up during our journey, but one place - Idavoll - was already described. There’s supposed to be a small village in the forest in which we could acquire a map and supplies.”

Behind them, Gladio grunted in approval. “Sounds good.”

Noctis nodded as well, eyes roaming the wilderness around them for any kind of danger. The ground was even and a few trees – although Noctis could not name them – littered the flatland, branches swaying in the gentle breeze that also moved his hair. He pushed his bangs behind his ears, hot on Ignis’ heels. “So, what do you think we will find? It’s just a beta version after all, how well-developed can it be?”

“We will have to find that out for ourselves, Noct, don’t be so impatient,” Ignis chided him, although his tone was teasing. He adjusted his glasses again and then tugged his gloves down, just as he did in real life from time to time.

“This’s a multiplayer game, isn’t it?” Gladio asked, not waiting for an answer. “Multiplayer as in ‘the three of us’ or as in ‘this is an online game and we might encounter other people'?”

Noctis hadn’t thought about that at all. “I mean, the game’s still in its testing phase, so even if it is an online game, it’s unlikely that we’ll meet other people, right?” It hadn't said online on the cover after all - just multiplayer.

“But it did connect to the internet,” Ignis said, one hand on his chin, “it could very well be that we do encounter other players. I highly doubt that we are the only ones playing the game.”

Gladio’s heavy footsteps came closer and a strong hand landed on Noctis’ shoulder. “So chances are that we’ll meet Niffs in here. The game's not out in Lucis as far as we know.” Without waiting for an answer, he passed by Ignis and Noctis, walking a few feet in front of them, grim determination (and a spark of something Noctis couldn’t recognize) written on his face.

They were nearing the edges of a forest, more and more trees clumped together in small groups, and Noctis ducked beneath a low-hanging branch, hand shooting up to keep it from hitting him in the face. “Gladio, don’t do anything stupid,” he warned his Shield, although he, too, was curious. He had never actually met a Niflheimian citizen, and the prospect of playing with one seemed... intriguing, to say the least.

Gladio’s only response was a grunt, and Noctis rolled his eyes, his gaze finding Ignis’, who only nodded at him. Together they sped up, trying to follow Gladio as best as they could through the thicket; the dark certainly didn't make it any easier.

Noctis stumbled over tree roots more than once, having to brace himself either against a nearby tree or Ignis who’d help him up. His blood pounded in his ears as he tried to keep up with Gladio, his Shield always a few feet in front of him. “Gladio, what the hell’s your damn pro-“

He cut himself off as his face nearly collided with Gladio’s back when he’d stopped in his tracks, one arm outstretched to hold both Noctis and Ignis back. “Gladio?”

Exchanging a puzzled look with Ignis, he peered around Gladio’s broad form, eyes straining to see anything. In front of them, almost obscured by the especially dark shadow of a looming tree were two human shapes, stepping forward with uncertainty. One of them held a lantern in its hands, the fire inside it illuminating blond hair.

Noctis squeezed past Gladio and the tree, coming to a halt in front of the two… humans? He guessed they were humans. “Hello?” he called out to them as they ventured ever closer. Behind him he could hear Gladio curse and Ignis ready his weapon.

The person that was holding the lantern was creeping closer, and Noctis could make out more things about the- guy? A boy his age, maybe. His fair skin was speckled with freckles and his eyes seemed a vibrant blue in the dim firelight. A nervous expression adorned his face, gaze flitting between them, not resting on anyone.

Behind him was another boy, also their age. His hair was the same golden colour, but his eyes and complexion were slightly darker as far as Noctis could tell in the flickering light. His lips curled upwards into a soft smile, his posture relaxed.

Before he could say anything else, the lantern bearer opened his mouth, his tongue darting out to lick over his lips. “Are you-“ he cut himself off, clearing his throat and trying again- “are you guys real? Like, real humans?”

Well, at least they had their answer now.

The nametag over the boy’s head read ‘Quicksilver’, the one over his companion's head 'N-iP01360'.

Chapter 2: The Prince of Niflheim

Chapter Text

The game was laying on his completely empty desk inside his private quarters – it was neither wrapped nor otherwise obscured, simply there, almost as if mocking him.

Prompto watched it with wary eyes as he closed the heavy door behind him, settling down on a chair to properly look at it. His white robe billowed out around his feet, the golden bracelets on his wrists clinking together.

Noiseless Nights.

He had heard of the game before; after all, it’d been in development for quite some time now, constantly being updated and changed. Prompto couldn’t recall the first time he’d read the title, but it must have been a few years ago.

The picture on the front seemed familiar to him, although it was so small that he couldn’t quite place it. Taking it into his hands and turning the cover around, he scanned the back for more information, vibrant blue eyes skimming the text. Prompto sighed, pushing his glasses up with his left hand. “A multiplayer game?” he muttered to himself, almost dejected at the prospect.

There was no one around to actually play the game with, at least no one his age. Sure, he could ask Loqi, but the brigadier general would most likely only play it to humour him and then declare it as being too childish when he was out of earshot. Asking Ravus was out of the question as well, and Luna was too far away to be an option either. The next best choice would be Solara, but even that left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth – introducing a child, someone he considered his family, to war and slaughter and everything else a Niflheimian game could contain seemed cruel to him. It didn’t matter how much the girl liked to claim that she was almost an adult and could do ‘adult things’ – whatever that meant.

Prompto sighed, tucking a strand of his blond hair behind his ear and turned the game face-down again, standing up from his table.

He wanted to try the game, and it most likely had been placed there for a reason. They wouldn’t give him a game just because he was the prince after all – his gifts had, more often than not, a political reason. But how did they expect him to play it on his own?

Pacing the room and staring at bare, grey walls, Prompto tried to make sense of it all. But it just didn’t make sense. Maybe the multiplayer part was merely a suggestion and he could play it on his own? He could always try to get someone else – maybe even a guard – to play it with him.

He shook his head, smoothing out the creases in his robe and moving over to turn his console on. Even a plan full of holes was better than no plan at all, he figured, grabbing the disc and inserting it before settling down on his bed. Neither the distance between him and the TV, nor his bad eyesight mattered when he was using goggles.

Prompto selected the game’s icon and tried to get into a more comfortable position as the loading screen flooded his vision. Resting his head on his pillow, Prompto dragged his comforter over himself. It was cold in Niflheim, even during the summers, and although he could just turn the heating up, he preferred the comforting warmth and weight of a cosy blanket.

When the game’s title screen greeted him, he couldn’t suppress the smile that spread over his face. The picture of a tree with leaves swaying in the wind in a field of blooming sylleblossoms was one he’d taken a while ago. It had been a nice evening near the lands of Tenebrae, and Solara and he had been on their way back to the transport ship after a visit to Lady Lunafreya, when he’d stopped in his tracks, mesmerized by the beauty of the night.

The nights in Tenebrae were something else when compared to those in Niflheim, where it always felt as if they lasted for an eternity, as if danger lurked in them. Prompto could only stop staring when Solara had tugged on his hand, looking up at him with her big, warm eyes. He’d scooped her up in his arms, relishing in her giggle as he carried her back to the ship waiting for them.

Memories like that were hard to come by in the icy lands around Gralea, so Prompto cherished what he had.

With a heavy heart (Prompto really hoped he’d see more of the image in the game) he clicked on Character Creation, coming face to face with an avatar that shared an awful lot of his features. He reeled back, almost dropping the controller in the process, pressing one hand against his heart that felt as if it was trying to break out of his chest.

It only made sense – of course they’d model the basic male avatar after him when they’d used his genes for all the Magitek troopers as well. Why use different assets when you already had functioning ones at your disposal? At least the guy didn’t look exactly like him.

He shook his head, trying to get rid of any stray thoughts and went to touch his face up a bit, changing the colour of his eyes to a lighter tone and making his jawline sharper. Prompto picked out a hairstyle he would never be allowed to wear outside; unruly, golden hair that was sticking up from one side of his head. It looked like the avatar on the screen had never seen a brush in his entire life.

Picking clothes wasn’t that hard – after all, he was familiar with the Niflheimian style of dress and the relative lack of colours. Choosing a long, beige linen shirt with a modern cut that was cinched at the waist and a pair of comfortable looking pants, he ignored the rest of the options. He forewent shoes and instead decorated him with golden ankle chains. If he was already breaking dress codes, he could very well go all out on it.

Content with himself, Prompto saved his creation and was met with the game asking him what he wanted his name to be.

Pushing the goggles up, he surveyed the room, trying to find anything that stood out to him. He could just use his own name, but that seemed boring to him. Maybe a variation of some sort? Or-

His eyes fell on the weapon at his waist, half hidden by both his blanket and robe, secured by a holster. Quicksilver. Technically, he didn’t need to carry it around everywhere, but it just made him feel safer. Niflheim had a lot of enemies, and he really didn’t want to be easy prey.

Prompto nodded to himself, quickly typing in the name. He allowed himself a small smile, tugging at the corners of his mouth; this was easier than anticipated.

He leaned back again as another loading screen appeared in front of him, though this one didn’t last nearly as long as the first one, and soon enough he was presented with four different classes. None of them looked all that appealing to him, and he had hoped that the game would offer at least a little more variety.

Sighing, he cycled through them, comparing their stats and weapon types. If need be, he could fight with a sword, although he wasn’t that good at it – he preferred archery, if he was being honest.

Prompto cringed at the low HP as he selected Archer as his main class, watching as the avatar acquired a shabby bow and attached the quiver to his waist. A gun would’ve been even better, but he guessed a bow was as good as it would get in a fantasy game.

He saved again (one could never be careful enough) and finally started the game, eyes roaming the loading screen in barely concealed anticipation. His fingers twitched against the controller when the darkness faded and quiet piano music resounded in his ears, hardly louder than the whispering of the wind in the leaves. So the nights weren’t completely noiseless, then; he’d kind of expected them to be literal about the game’s title.

His character swivelled around and he took in the area, eyes still getting used to the void almost swallowing him whole. Prompto wasn’t in the place that the title screen had depicted but instead in a small area, surrounded by a small iron fence, not even reaching up to his hips. He squinted at the forest in the distance, shielding his eyes (although that did almost nothing) to see better in the dark.

Prompto sighed. What would the best course of action be if one was in an unfamiliar place? Maybe he should try to get his hands on a map and find the nearest village? That seemed to make the most sense, if the number of games he’d already played were anything to go by.

Accessing his inventory, he ignored the empty slots and went straight to the page called ‘map’, groaning when only darkness greeted him. Great, so he had to explore the world to fill the map. And, on top of that, there was no health bar actually indicating how much HP he had left, which kind of irked him if he was being honest. What game didn't have health or stamina bars?

Prompto shook his head and shut the page to check the data logs instead, rifling through the list of locations that was – unsurprisingly enough – empty as well. No, only almost empty.

He stopped at the mention of a place called Idavoll, skimming the short description he was provided with.

Bingo.

A small village inside the woods sounded… well, it didn’t sound perfect per se, but it was just what he needed, given that he was near a forest. Prompto closed his inventory again, watching as something flickered across his HUD. It was nothing more than a shimmer of colour, glimmering in the pale, ashen light of the moon, but it was enough for him to draw his bow.

He waited for a few seconds, and the quiet of the night seemed almost oppressive. The piano music had faded into nothingness, the only thing audible his heavy breathing. Whether that was from the real world or not, he couldn’t tell.

Still, nothing happened.

Prompto lowered the bow, still keeping it in his hands in case he hadn’t been mistaken, but gradually relaxed. It probably had been a bug or something of the like, or maybe a firefly. Wait, did this place have fireflies? He sure hoped so. Maybe it’d even have a photo mode, if he was really lucky. If not, he could try to convince the developers to add one.

Thinking of all the different things he could do (could he cook in this game? It sounded like it was worth a try) he didn’t notice the person appearing beside him until they spoke up.

“Hello!” they greeted him, their voice unnaturally loud in the night, and Prompto jerked back, landing on the grassy ground in his hurry to get away from the newcomer. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“sh*t,” he cursed, raising his weapon again to point it at the boy clad in a dark red robe who was smiling down on him. “What the hell, man? Don’t scare me like that.”

The boy looked like him. No, it basically was him. “Did you forget to change your avatar during Character Creation?” He tried to laugh it off, but it came out rather wobbly. Pushing himself up on his arms, he got up as the boy watched. He didn’t even offer him a hand. “Do players just randomly get matched with someone if they start the game alone?”

“Character Creation? Game?” The guy clasped his hands behind his back, still smiling that wide smile of his, eyes far too empty to be human. “You shouldn’t be alone out here; it’s dangerous. I will accompany you on your journey.” He glanced upwards, before his gaze met Prompto’s once again. “Quicksilver is such a nice and unique name!”

Prompto dusted himself off even though that wasn’t necessary, and scratched the back of his head. “Uh, thank you I guess?” Gods, this guy was weird. “How did you know my name?”

The boy smiled again, white teeth almost glowing in the dim light of the night. “It just came to me.”

A small textbox faded into his HUD, and Prompto squinted at it.

Please access your settings and enable nametag visibility if you have problems with seeing other players’ names.

He didn’t remember turning anything off, but no matter how hard he looked, there was no name above the guy’s head, so he guessed it was worth checking it out. “Gimme a sec,” he sighed, hitting the button prompt to open the settings. He browsed through the different options, finally landing on ‘multiplayer mode’ and, sure enough, the nametags were deactivated.

Prompto scowled, activating them once again before exiting the page. The boy hadn’t moved one centimetre, but now a small, translucent box appeared over his head.

“Oh,” Prompto muttered, his face falling. N-iP01360. “Guess I should have known.” It made sense that the boy, no, the MT or AI or whatever, resembled him. He hadn’t been matched with an actual player, but with a machine. Of course.

“Is something wrong?” the MT inquired, but there was no worry behind his words. He was still smiling, not at all perturbed by Prompto’s display of emotions; emotions he probably couldn’t even comprehend. “You seem troubled.”

“No, nothing’s wrong,” Prompto said, averting his gaze. “So you’ll join me on the… uh, entire journey?” He couldn’t quite keep the disappointment out of his voice; it tinged his words.

The MT hummed, standing stock-still. “It sure seems that way. You don’t seem too happy; would you prefer a different companion perhaps? I could always leave.”

His soulless eyes haunted Prompto, but he shook his head nevertheless. “No, it’s- you’re fine. I was just surprised, that’s all.” He made a point of looking at their surroundings. “What about your name, though? I can’t keep calling you… that, so do you have another name?”

All he got was a shake of the MT’s head. “I… can’t remember. If you want to, you can give me one. Would that make you feel better?”

Prompto sighed. “Why don’t you choose one for yourself?”

Pondering over that for a second, the MT shook his head once again. “I don’t know any fitting names. Please, choose one for me.”

Prompto wandered over to the metal fence and leaned against it. “Alright, alright. So, do you have any preferences?” The boy shook his head again, so he continued, tapping his chin with his index finger. “Maybe a synonym for night? Because it’s, like, night here right now? What about Nox?” He made a face at that thought. “No, that’s part of Lunafreya’s name, can’t use that.”

The MT patiently looked at him, still not moving one bit.

“Okay, so Niflheim’s in the North depending on where you are, and it’s often dark and… hey, what about Arctus? D’you think you could live with Arctus? I think it’s neat.”

His companion inclined his head. “Ah, now I remember. My name is Arctus.”

Prompto nodded, pumping one fist in the air. “Arctus it is, then!” He watched as the MT- no, as Arctus took a small piece of paper and a quill out of his robe’s pockets. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to write my name,” he responded without looking at Prompto, scribbling something on the paper. “But it seems I can’t change it. How strange.” The nametag over Arctus’ head didn’t change either.

Huh. Maybe he should write to the developers to address that issue. Speaking of that, did Arctus even know that he was inside a game? It certainly didn’t seem that way, given that he ignored Prompto’s accidental slip-ups. “Hey,” he started, fiddling with his fingers, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “So, uh, how did you even end up here?”

Arctus co*cked his head to one side, still smiling at him. Maybe he should broach the AI’s weird mannerisms as well if he was already at it. “I heard the Calling; the same as you, I presume. I’ve been travelling the lands of Midgard for quite some time, but now that I’ve found you… it feels as if you might be the hero we’ve been waiting for all along.”

“The Calling? Midgard? Never mind, uh- has it always been-“ he gestured around with his hand, the fence digging into the back of his thighs- “dark here?”

Shooting him a strange, unreadable look, Arctus finally moved, although it was only to rummage through his pockets (inventory?) and extract a small oil lamp. Its soft glow illuminated the ground around him, casting flickering shadows onto his face and painting his robe an even darker red. “For as long as I can remember, yes.”

He forced a smile, hoping it didn’t seem too fake – not that it mattered to Arctus. “Sorry, I’m not from here. But then again, neither are you, huh? No chance in hell you know the way, then?” There was nothing wrong with asking, even if it seemed futile.

But of course Arctus shook his head, shooting him an apologetic smile. “I don’t know the way either. I came from a land very far away,” he started, and Prompto groaned internally. Of course he did, it never was that easy. “All I know is what the Calling told me: that we have to reclaim the ash tree and cast out the Usurper. I’m sorry.” Again, there was no meaning behind his apology, so Prompto brushed it aside, focusing on the meagre information he’d been provided with instead.

“Oh, uh… well, thank you? At least you know more than me.” He adjusted the collar of his linen shirt, tugging it down so the night air could cool his skin. “Maybe we’ll… find out more along the way?”

Arctus was still smiling. “That must be the case.”

“Alright.” Prompto surveyed the dark landscape once again, eyes lingering on the horizon littered with trees. “So where were you headed before you found me?”

Gesturing behind himself, Arctus took a step towards him. “Idavoll, if I recall correctly. It’s supposed to be just past these trees.” He held his lantern up in the direction he was pointing at, face impassive – except that godsdamned smile.

“Idavoll. The same as me, then.” It only made sense after all, Prompto guessed. “So we’ll travel together, yeah?” he made sure again, needing the confirmation.

Arctus nodded curtly, his eyes not leaving the horizon. Prompto only now noticed that they were half-lidded, a glimmer of blue peeking out behind blond lashes. “We should set out soon. It’s not safe out here.”

Prompto gave him a thumbs up, pushing away from the fence and coming to a halt next to Arctus. Grass tickled the soles of his feet. “Do you mind if I take the lantern?” he asked, already holding his hand out.

“No, not at all.” He placed the lantern in Prompto’s slack grip, seemingly having no problem with giving his only source of light away to a near-stranger that shared his face – which Arctus probably didn’t even realize. “It’s only natural for man to fear darkness.”

Laughing nervously, Prompto moved towards the woods, Arctus trailing behind him. “I- I’m not scared. Not of the dark, at least. Are you scared of anything?” he deflected before facepalming mentally. Of course an AI wouldn’t be afraid of anything. At least not a poorly made one like this.

He could feel Arctus’ eyes on the back of his head when he answered, “Nothing. There’s nothing for me to be afraid of here.”

Prompto nodded to show him he’d heard him. “That’s admirable.” He jumped over the low fence that separated grassland from forest, motioning for Arctus to follow him.

The conversation died after that, the only noises that accompanied their uneven footsteps the hoot of an owl or the murmur of the wind in the leaves. Prompto didn’t want to admit it, but having someone behind him made him feel… somewhat safer in the depth of the night, a little less lonely, even if it just was a machine.

He relaxed slightly as they ventured through the forest that only grew denser as they went on, until he had to lower the lantern in fear of setting fire to low-hanging branches. Leaves got stuck in his hair and he had to stop and detangle it from time to time – nothing of the sort happened to Arctus, though.

Something – a stick, his mind supplied – snapped on the ground in front of him, the sound echoing around them, reverberating in his ears before it was replaced with the sound of his heart beating as if he’d just run a marathon.

Prompto whirled around before freezing in place, coming to a halt half behind a tree, Arctus just a few feet behind him. Someone was there.

“Gladio?” A voice resounded in the otherwise quiet forest, unnaturally loud – but Prompto paid it no mind. His attention was on the giant in front of him, and he craned his head back to look up at the man’s face. His arm was outstretched, almost as if to shield the people behind him.

Stupid as he was, Prompto took a step in their direction, raising the lantern once again, watching as a boy around his age pushed the giant of a man aside and squeezed through the gap between him and the tree. The boy’s eyes were wide when he looked at him, and Prompto swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Hello?”

Prompto’s eyes couldn’t focus on any of the three (there was another man behind the giant, he noted, half hidden in the shadows), flitting between them as he took another step closer, his free hand curling around the bow. The clinking of metal meeting metal, a weapon being drawn, reached his ears. Someone cursed. Gods, he should’ve chosen a different weapon.

Behind him, he could hear Arctus’ relaxed breathing. He wetted his lips, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Are you-“ Prompto interrupted himself to clear his throat- “are you guys real? Like, real humans?”

The others stared at him, dumbfounded, their eyes darting upwards and… oh. Yeah, he probably should check out their names as well.

Prompto squinted in the darkness, ignoring their faces for the time being and focusing on the small, barely readable nametags above their heads. That should give him a pretty clear answer to his question.

The one closest to him, with long, dark hair that was pinned-up and deep-blue eyes that stared at him in curiosity was apparently called… NoctGar. Yeah, that probably wasn’t an AI, then.

His gaze wandered over NoctGar’s head and towards the other two; the giant’s name seemed to be Gladiator, while the other man that had been lurking in the shadows behind them was Ignis.

He was still pondering over their more or less weird names when the dark-haired boy (he refused to call him NoctGar) opened his mouth, catching his attention. “Yeah, uh, we’re… we’re real. Definitively.”

Prompto nodded, unsure of what to say, but the boy already continued. “So I take it you’re, uh, not a machine either, then?”

Nodding, Prompto exhaled deeply when Arctus came to stand beside him, studying the newcomers with interest. “No- I mean, yeah. I’m a human as well.”

“Cool.” The boy nodded awkwardly, and then pointed at Arctus with his thumb. “What about him? You two look very… similar. Are you friends or something? He’s got a pretty weird name, though.” His friends behind him stayed quiet, eyeing him with varying degrees of distrust. He couldn’t blame them.

Prompto frowned, taking a look at Arctus. “Oh, he’s… well, y’know. I just call him Arctus.” He didn’t really feel like elaborating with the other right beside him; it somehow felt wrong, even if Arctus was just a machine.

“Oh. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Arctus.” NoctGar waved at them, dropping his hand when Arctus made no motion of acknowledging him. Behind him, Ignis leaned down and whispered something in his ear, to which he nodded. “Right. So, what are you two doing out here?”

The guy named Gladiator groaned, throwing his head back and crossing his arms in front of his chest in what Prompto assumed was annoyance. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, which was… peculiar, to say the least.

“We’re trying to find the nearest village. I just arrived here,” he explained to them, the lantern now dangling near his legs, warm flames illuminating the mossy ground. Arctus hummed in agreement.

Ignis stepped up beside NoctGar, and for the first time, Prompto could actually see his face. The man looked to be slightly older than him, his hair falling softly into his eyes. “Allow me to introduce myself,” he started, his tone and posture rigid and formal, “my name is Ignis. I’m very pleased to meet you.” His hands moved towards his face, almost as if he wanted to push an invisible pair of glasses up, but he caught himself the last second. Prompto could only sympathize. “It seems we have the same goal. Might I propose a coalition for the time being?”

He bristled at Ignis’ cold tone, but nodded nonetheless. Playing with other humans - even if they were intimidating - was still better than playing with a machine. “Yeah, sure. You’re also headed for Idavoll?”

“Yup,” NoctGar chimed in again, his hand resting on his sword’s hilt. “So we’re a team for now, then. Nice to meet you, uh-“ his eyes flicked upwards- “Quicksilver.”

Prompto smiled sheepishly. “Nice to meet you, too. You can just call me Prom if you want.” There was nothing wrong with giving strangers his nickname; it’d only end badly if they knew his full name and title.

NoctGar grinned at him, bumping into Ignis’ side with his shoulder. His friend shot him a disgruntled look. “Then you can call me Noct.”

Gladiator groaned again. “Great, fine, whatever. Now that the pleasantries are over, can we finally get going? We’re losing precious time.” He rolled his eyes at the two of them, his tone almost chilly when he addressed Prompto.

Intimidated, Prompto nodded, watching as Gladiator took the lead, closely followed by Ignis and Arctus. It seemed as if Ignis was trying to get Arctus to talk, but the other simply smiled and responded with generic answers. Noct and he brought up the rear, the dark-haired boy leaning towards him to whisper something into his ear. He could barely supress flinching back in surprise. “The grumpy guy’s called Gladio, by the way. And don’t worry, he’s always like that. Don’t take it to heart, he doesn’t mean it. At least most of the time.”

Prompto tried a smile, but it didn’t seem to turn out too well considering the weird look Noct shot him.

“Noct!” Gladio barked, turning around to eye them. “C’mere for a second.” Noct shrugged at him, the gesture saying ‘Well, what can you do?’ before he caught up with Gladio, falling in step beside the larger man.

They talked for a while (sounded like bickering), leaving Prompto alone to ponder over what’d just transpired. Had he really made the right decision? He gripped at his hair, shaking his head to will the negative thoughts away. Lost in thoughts that all demanded his attention, he didn’t immediately notice the presence beside him and jerked back when the other spoke up.

It was Gladio, he noted with apprehension, who’d apparently left Noct to take the lead.

“Listen, kid,” he started, his eyes scanning Prompto’s frail form, “I don’t know who you are or where you’re from and I can’t say I care either. But, and I’m only saying this once, if you or your friend-“ he pointed at Arctus, who was still walking next to Ignis, his movements slightly uncoordinated- “try anything funny, I won’t hesitate to get rid of you. Capisce?”

Astrals, he shouldn’t have gone with them, no matter how friendly Noct had seemed or how much he’d missed meeting other people.

Prompto swallowed heavily, his head bobbing up and down. “Yeah, sure, I swear we won’t try anything, I really just wanna play the game like you guys,” he babbled on, scratching the back of his neck until it hurt. “Honestly, Arctus and I can just leave, alright? We won’t make any more trouble for you.”

Gladio shook his head. “Noct’s taken a liking to you,” he grumbled, arms crossed in front of his chest. “But even if he trusts you, that doesn’t mean I have to.” His dark eyes were still on Prompto, burning holes into him and almost making him curl into himself. Arctus in front of him didn’t seem to have any of these problems.

He lowered his head, gaze landing on the ground covered in leaves and moss. “I- alright. That’s only fair.”

Gladio didn’t say anything after that, wordlessly moving forwards to catch up with Noct and leaving him behind. He couldn’t ask for their unwavering trust, he knew that.

It still hurt.

Chapter 3: Idavoll

Chapter Text

Gladio was walking next to him, acting as if nothing was wrong – but Noctis had heard what he and Prom had talked about. “Really, Gladio?” he hissed, giving him a dark look. “We’ve known them for, like, five minutes and you’re already threatening them? Way to go, man.”

His Shield sighed. “We can’t trust them, Noct. They might be Niflheimian spies, for all we know. Just because this is a game doesn’t mean you get to let your guard down.”

Noctis groaned, not slowing down. Sometimes, Gladio really got on his nerves. “Yeah, sure. We’re playing a game, for heaven’s sake, Gladio, what’s the worst that could happen?” He waved his hand around. “Never mind, don’t answer that. And I thought Ignis was the one who worried too much.” As if to prove his point, he looked back to where Ignis was calmly talking to the boy who’d been with Prom. What had his name been? Arctus?

He suppressed a shudder as he fixated his gaze on the blond boy. Even if Arctus was an AI, something about him was off. Maybe it was the weird way he walked, as if he didn’t have control over all of his limbs, or the way a smile was always threatening to split his face in half or how his eyes seemed so empty and he never blinked. Maybe that was just what AIs were like.

Turning around again, he shook his head. “In any case, if you wanted to get any kind of information out of the Niffs, this is your chance. Although – with the way you’re going at it, I think you’re just making them wary.”

He was pleased, allowing himself a small smirk, when he heard Gladio grinding his teeth together. “They look like ordinary citizens to me. Doubt that they know much.”

“But Arctus is an AI, isn’t he? Maybe they’re using a similar technology in their infantry?” He paused for a second, letting Gladio digest his words. It was of utmost importance that he didn’t rush this if he wanted to convince his Shield. “But if you’re really not interested, then we’re only going to cooperate with them until we reach the village, alright? After that, we can go our separate ways and you can look for a higher ranking player that we’ll surely stumble upon by accident. Because I’m sure Niflheimian generals and royalty will be playing this game as well. Totally.”

It seemed to work; Gladio was not meeting his gaze but instead staring straightforward, the hand at his side clenched into a fist. Noctis could almost hear the gears turning in his head as they trudged through the forest, the soft moonlight illuminating the path in front of them, almost as if wanting to show them the right direction.

He set his eyes on the treetops, watching as they swayed in the mild breeze that also ruffled his hair and clothes, and waited for an answer. From time to time, a small animal scuttled away from them and into the surrounding darkness.

“Fine,” Gladio finally bit out after a few tense seconds, sounding defeated. “Fine, you get your way. But if I even have the slightest suspicions, we’re leaving. Got it?”

Noctis gave him a thumbs up. “Fine by me. And now, let’s have some fun.” He grinned before letting himself fall back, passing Ignis and Arctus until he was walking next to Prom again.

“Sorry for what just happened,” he apologized, watching him squirm ever so slightly. This guy was way too nervous for his own good. Noctis really hoped that it didn’t mean he was hiding anything.

Prom simply nodded, adjusting the bow at his side with one hand. The other was still clutching the lantern; his knuckles were a pale white at this point. “It- It’s fine, I guess. I can kind of understand him.”

Humming, Noctis tried to match his pace, peering at Prom’s profile. He didn’t look dangerous or as if he wanted to deceive them. He just looked like a lost, confused boy, and Noctis felt bad for him. “So, where are you from?”

Prom sighed and straightened his back. “Oh, y’know,” he said evasively. “The city outskirts of our ever glorious capital. I’m no one of consequence, though. What about you? You sound as if you could be from the East.”

Noctis snorted, hiding his mouth with the back of his hand. “Ah. We’re from Accordo, actually. Near Altissia.” It was the only Accordian city he knew the name of, even though Ignis always tried to make him remember the other ones for ‘diplomatic reasons’.

Raising an eyebrow, Prom finally turned towards him. “Really? Considering the game isn’t even published here, it’s a miracle you got another beta version.” He stroked his chin with one hand, eyes clouded in thought. “Anyhow, Accordo sure sounds nice. What’s it like, living there? I bet it’s all warm and cosy.”

He thanked the Gods for Prom’s short attention span and naiveté, trying to remember the various visits to Accordo he’d undertaken with his father back when he’d still been a child. “Oh, it’s pretty cool there. I live in a flat right outside of Altissia and we got, uh, nice beaches and… fish? Yeah, we’ve got a lot of fish. What’s Niflheim like? I’ve never been there.”

In front of them, Ignis had deserted Arctus in favour of catching up with Gladio, quietly talking to him. The AI was still stumbling along, looking slightly lost as he followed Noctis’ friends.

Prom must have followed his gaze because he excused himself and jogged up to Arctus, pressing the lantern into his hand. Arctus’ fingers wrapped around the handle, and he sent Prom another smile. He seemed happier (if an AI could be happy) now that he had something to hold on to.

The Niff fell back in step with Noctis, wiping his hands on his linen pants. “Sorry, where were we? Right, Niflheim.” He composed himself and cleared his throat. “It’s kind of cold, I guess, although you get used to it. The days are short and there’s not much to do. It’s just another city of iron, to be honest. I’d honestly rather live anywhere in Accordo than up here.” For good measure, he stuck out his tongue and squeezed his eyes shut.

Noctis laughed quietly as to not attract the attention of Ignis or Gladio. He really didn’t feel like being reprimanded because he ‘let his guard down in front of the enemy’. “And your friend?” he asked, pointing at Arctus.

Prom shrugged, his thin shoulders poking through the soft linen shirt. “I dunno. He spawned shortly after me, saying that he’d be my companion since this is a multiplayer game.” His face betrayed nothing, but Noctis noted the disappointment in his voice.

Frowning, Noctis’ gaze flitted between both of them. “Don’t you have any friends you could play this with? Gralea has a lot of inhabitants, doesn’t it?”

Shrugging again, Prom averted his eyes. “I was home-schooled, so I didn’t really get to make many friends during my childhood, and the only other friend I have… well, she lives very far away, so I don’t see her that often.”

Noctis sighed, crossing his arms behind his back. It sounded all too familiar, with the exception that he’d been allowed to attend a public high school – not that he’d had many friends there. “I know how that feels. I have a friend who lives far away as well, and I miss her terribly.” Then, to lighten the mood, he added, “Hey, maybe we’ve got the same friend.”

It seemed to work, if only a little. The corners of Prom’s mouth wobbled. “Yeah, maybe…” Noctis noted that he was playing with the golden ring on the index finger of his left hand, twiddling with it. Maybe a nervous habit?

They continued to walk in silence for a few seconds, before something else popped into Noctis’ mind. “Hey, by the way, I’ve been meaning to ask this, but… does it have a reason why Arctus looks so much like you? At first I thought you were, like, siblings.”

Prom rubbed the back of his neck before he coughed into his hand. “Ah- No, I don’t know why he looks like that. He’s pretty similar to the base avatar I chose, so maybe the AI companions in this game just look like the defaults.”

“That’s weird,” Noctis said, eyes focused on the boy beside him. “So you don’t look like that in real life? How old are you anyway?”

Prom’s face turned red at his questions, and for a moment Noctis wondered how advanced Niflheim’s technology actually was if they could accurately portray another person’s emotions and facial expressions – if Prom was blushing in real life as well (which he didn’t doubt, given the boy’s awkward, fumbling answers until now). “Nah, I mean- yeah, I, uh, had the facial scan on so the game registered my face and created an avatar that already looked a lot like me and I just tweaked it a little and, uh…” He trailed off, seemingly unsure of what to say next. “What I mean is that I do kind of look like this. And I’m 19.”

“Didn’t know they had the ability to do a facial scan…” He really hadn’t noticed the option; not that he would have chosen it, even if he had. “I’m 19 as well. And my avatar-“ he gestured down at himself- “is kind of what I look like in real life, too. Same goes for the other two.” He nodded towards Ignis and Gladio who were still whispering to each other.

“So are you three good friends in re-“

Before he could finish, Noctis crashed into something, immediately stumbling back. Prom grabbed his elbow, steadying him as Noctis rubbed his nose and squinted at Arctus who’d simply stopped walking in front of them.

“What’s wrong?” Prom asked, although it wasn’t directed at Noctis.

Arctus turned around, still smiling, and pointed to where Ignis and Gladio were standing in front of iron gates that seemed to reach far up into the sky. “We have arrived, I believe.”

Prom let out a relieved sigh, before he remembered that he was still holding onto Noctis. He quickly released his grasp, almost as if he’d been burnt. Noctis decided not to comment on it, simply nudging him in the side.

Together, they caught up to the other two, Arctus trailing behind them. “So that’s it?” Noctis asked, coming to a halt beside Ignis.

“It certainly seems that way,” he commented. “Nothing new has been added to the data logs, however. We should enter and see if we can find anything.”

Noctis nodded before he addressed Prom, whose eyes were fixated on the gleaming metal, illuminated by several torches that seemed like beacons in the night. How they hadn’t noticed them from afar was a mystery to him. “So, what do you want to do now?”

Uncertainty gnawed at Prom’s every motion; the way his brows’ furrowed or how the corners of his mouth turned downwards. “I don’t actually know? I hadn’t thought that far, to be honest…” He worried his lower lip between his teeth.

Beside him, Gladio snorted. “We can deal with that inside the village. Now let’s go, we’ve been standing here long enough.”

Ignis seemed to agree, because he swiftly followed him as Gladio pushed the gate open (both Noctis and Prom paled at the sheer amount of strength Gladio’s class apparently possessed), ushering the rest of them inside as well.

Noctis shrugged, eyes surveying the small village as he entered, Prom close behind him.

Small, wooden huts lined the path that winded through the village. Torches were set up along the way, illuminating the cobblestones on the ground, but far enough away from the houses to not accidentally start a fire. In the distance, near the edges of the wall, were vegetable patches and pots with herbs and what-not.

Ignis and Gladio were already moving toward what seemed to be the market place of the tiny dwelling inside the forest. People were hustling around, clothed in linen dresses and shirts, carrying leather bags and jugs made out of clay. Gladio looked as if he knew what he was doing, weaving through the meagre crowd with ease despite his size, until he came to a stop in front of a board in the middle of the market.

The inhabitants of the village apparently didn’t care about them, or were just used to newcomers barging into their home like this all the time; in any case, they paid them no mind, simply going about their days as usual.

“Noct,” Gladio called out to him, motioning for him to come over. With one last look at Prom and Arctus, he joined his two friends at the board, studying its contents. He really didn’t know what Gladio wanted him to see; nothing but a few notes of gibberish and some amateur sketches of weapons were up there.

Behind him, he could hear Arctus and Prom stepping up to them, their eyes wandering over the board as well. Frowning, Noctis plucked one note from the wooden surface, holding it in his hands. On it was a dark blade that had a blueish tint to it, with golden ornaments decorating its hilt. Weirdly enough, there was no name beneath the simple sketch.

It seemed familiar, although he couldn’t exactly say why that was the case.

He groaned when a sharp pain flashed through his head, instinctively bringing one hand up to cradle it. The character on the screen did the same. Beside him, he could hear either Gladio or Ignis take in a sharp breath, and behind him, Prom’s breath hitched in his throat.

After that, the world went black.

The Noctis in the real world cursed out loud, pushing his goggles up to look at his friends. “Was I not supposed to do that? Did the game bug out or something?”

Gladio, who was still wearing his goggles, shrugged, but before he could launch into saying something, Ignis was already answering his query. “I believe we merely entered a cutscene. If you would put on your glasses again, you could watch it as well.”

Diligently, Noctis pushed his goggles down, just as the screen in front of him lit up once more. He sighed, getting comfortable on the couch, arm bumping against Gladio’s who only grumbled in response.

The first thing he noticed was the sound of metal upon metal, the clashing of swords as they collided again and again in a never-ending fight. The second thing was the unnatural brightness of the place – at first glance, he’d assumed the cutscene would take place in the small village, but that wasn’t the case.

Noctis didn’t recognize where the fight took place, but he didn’t have to think about it very long before his gaze fell on the person on the screen, clad in a dark robe, who was swiftly moving around and trying to evade the incoming attacks. He frowned when the guy turned towards him; Noctis’ own face was looking back at him, grim determination etched into it.

He couldn’t see who he was fighting; the other person was shadowed, moving too fast for Noctis to focus on, and so he concentrated on his double. Was this what was happening in the game right now? Or merely a precognition?

It must have been a precognition, because his avatar pulled out a sword – the sword he’d seen on the note that he’d been holding in his hands – brandishing it as if it was the solution to all problems, and charged forwards in the direction of his attacker.

A glimpse of gold was all he could see before the screen went black again.

He was about to take his goggles off, maybe ask Ignis and Gladio if they’d seen who he’d been fighting, but the screen lit up again, his character still clutching his head, the piece of paper crumpled in his hands.

So it had been a premonition, nothing more than a flash of the future. Were they this painful for Luna as well? Noctis hoped that wasn’t the case.

Noctis swivelled around to take his friends in, all of whom were in a similar disposition. “Did you guys see that too?” he asked into the round, absentmindedly staring at the paper he still held in his hands.

“I’d think so,” Ignis finally answered after a long minute of silence, running one hand through his hair.

Gladio snorted next to him. “Not gonna lie, that kind of hurt. But you gotta admit, I fought pretty damn well.” He flexed his muscles, but Noctis pushed his arms down.

“You? You weren’t even in the cutscene.” Noctis frowned at him, recalling everything that’d transpired during the short cinematographic sequence. No, he was pretty sure that Gladio hadn’t been there – after all, he would’ve noticed him. Wouldn't he? “It was just me.”

Ignis mumbled something under his breath before he addressed Prom. “I believe you witnessed the cutscene as well?” he made sure, only continuing once Prom had nodded. “Were you the only person fully visible on the screen when you watched it?” Prom nodded again, without having to think twice.

“And you, Arctus?” Ignis had turned towards the boy, scrutinizing him. “What did you see?”

Arctus co*cked his head to one side, his longish hair framing his soft features. “I saw myself fighting in this… vision. Fighting against the Usurper, perhaps. It must be a sign that we are on the right track, don’t you think so as well?”

His advisor nodded. “So we all saw ourselves fighting, then?” When no objection came, he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “And we all had a weapon that we don’t have as of yet. Maybe even the one that was on the slip of paper Noct picked up?”

Again, they nodded in unison, watching as Ignis continued to talk. Behind him, Prom rose onto his tiptoes and craned his head to look at the piece of paper, and Noctis ducked slightly to let him see it better.

“Given that we all are different classes, they must have been different weapons as well. I, for one, saw myself wielding a lance or spear of some kind. That means the game-“ he shot one look at Arctus, but the AI didn’t say anything. He was probably programmed to block out these kinds of comments- “is tailored to each player. We might not be seeing the same things from time to time, then.”

Gladio, who had been quiet until now, looked up at that. “And what’s that mean, exactly?” he asked gruffly, apparently not liking the idea.

Frowning, Ignis replied, “I’m not quite sure yet. In any case, it is likely that the weapons we saw are the ones we have to acquire before facing whomever it is that we have to defeat.”

Could the game be any more straightforward? He at least wanted to give it the benefit of the doubt, given that it still was in development and all.

Noctis wanted to ask Prom what he thought of this, but before he could, a soft voice spoke up behind them, interrupting their brainstorming. Well, they were in the middle of the square after all. “Excuse me?” the person asked, and they turned towards the newcomer. “I don’t want to intrude, my lovelies, but I could not help but overhear you talking. Say, are you perhaps the brave warriors that have come to liberate us?”

The woman that stood in front of them was old; very old, in fact. Her dark face was full of wrinkles, and she was holding a small basket full of apples. Her yellow teeth glistened in the light of the torches as she smiled at them.

Nervously eyeing each other (neither of them had any idea if they were the ‘brave warriors’ this woman was talking about), Arctus was the first to speak up. “Why yes, we are. We have come from lands far away, miss. Would you be so kind as to tell us a little about what has happened here?” He smiled at her, and surprisingly enough, it seemed to work. Well, it probably made sense that his unnatural smile worked on a NPC.

She patted his hand before nodding. “Of course I shall. But first, let me accommodate you. I’m afraid my house might not be much to look at, but at least we will be safe from prying eyes. Just follow me.”

Ignis seemed like he wanted to say something, but the old woman had already turned around and, with surprising speed for someone her age, was shuffling down the street, hunched over as if her back brought her pain. Once again, he could only sympathise.

Noctis simply shrugged, following Arctus and Prom who were close behind the woman. Were all Niffs this naïve? He could hear Gladio groan behind him, but ultimately, his Shield said nothing.

She led them through winding paths and narrow streets, along a small, silvery looking river that ran through the village until they reached a tiny hut. With shaky hands, the woman fished a key out of the depths of her woollen dress, opening the door and waving them inside.

The house certainly wasn’t made for a group this large, but the woman didn’t seem to mind. She deposited the basket she’d been carrying (should they have offered to carry it instead?) in what looked like the kitchen and then came back into the living room. “Please, sit down and make yourselves comfortable. Would you like a cup of tea?”

All of them declined, and she nodded, watching as Prom, Arctus and Noctis settled down on a wooden bench, while Gladio and Ignis kneeled by the fire. Once she was satisfied, the woman sat down in the cushioned chair. “What is it that you want to know?”

Ignis was the first to speak up, as always. “What exactly happened here?” He was leaning against the fireplace, the light flickering over half of his face as shadows painted the other half. It suited him, Noctis noted with surprise.

She sighed, resting her sagging face on one hand that was propped up on the armrest. The wrinkles around her eyes deepened. “That, my boys, is a long story. As you probably know by now, it has been dark for a very long time. Once, this world was blazing with light and glory. Oh, I might not have witnessed the days of Sól, but I have heard wonderful stories about it.” She sighed, as though she was reliving a fond memory.

Arctus, sitting beside Prom on the far end of the couch, nodded. “Sól, who reigned far above us all. May she never be forgotten.” It almost sounded like a chant, the way he said it, but apparently it was the right thing to say.

“Oh, her reign should never have come to an end,” the old woman said, her words laced with sadness and regret. Her eyes were on the flames that licked at the firewood, slowly devouring it.

“If I may ask, who was this Sól you are speaking of? And what happened to her?” Niflheim had worshipped Solheim, that much Noctis knew – and if Noctis knew about it, then Ignis did as well.

She shot Ignis a sly smile, sinking deeper into her chair. “Sól, my dear boy, was the sun. She lit up the world for us each day and gave us her warmth so we could flourish. But alas, she was stolen a long time ago. Only the Gods know who took her.” A small, sarcastic noise left her mouth and accompanied her words, but she seemed to catch herself before it became a full-on sneer. “Her brother, Máni, should have been taken as well, but he was spared as to not plunge the world into total darkness. A compromise, the Gods called it. He still sometimes walks among the humans, always searching for his sister.”

Quiet befell them, and Noctis tried to inconspicuously look around the hut. Not a lot was in here, but he could make out a small map in the corner of the room. Should he steal it? They certainly needed it more than she did.

“And what has this got to do with Yggdrasil?” Ignis asked. “I thought the reason why it is always night was because the ash tree had been claimed by the Usurper?”

The woman nodded sagely, as if any of what Ignis had just said made sense. Maybe it made sense, and Noctis just didn’t understand. “Let me finish, boy. When Sól disappeared, the Gods were not happy.” Her long fingernails tapped against the wooden armrest. “They got angry and blamed us humans, although we had nothing to do with it. They said we were hiding him who had taken her. The Usurper used the commotion and stole that into which she was sealed. He descended into Helheim, seduced the goddess Hel so she would do his every bidding and claimed the ash tree, using it for his own gain and making the night a dangerous time. Now he is waiting there, with both the tree and Sól. The Gods have forsaken us, unwilling to help.”

A snort resounded from left, and at first Noctis thought it was Prom (because, really, this entire situation was kind of laughable) but the voice that followed didn’t belong to Prom. “Then let them abandon us. No divine being deserves my gratitude.” It was the first time that Arctus’ voice didn’t sound totally impassive. If Noctis hadn’t known better, he could’ve sworn that Arctus was sneering.

He exchanged a look with Ignis, mentally asking him if it would be wise for them to stay longer, but the old woman was already continuing. “We needn’t grovel before the Gods no longer, my boy,” she said, giving Arctus a warm smile. Prom beside him was awfully quiet, not moving a muscle but even he didn’t seem to mind the blasphemy. Maybe it was just different in Niflheim.

Ignis cleared his throat. “So what is our calling, then? Cast out the Usurper? Defeat the Gods? Find Sól? I’m afraid I don’t quite understand…”

The old woman angled her body towards Ignis, seemingly pondering over the question. “Your journey will be long and arduous, that much is certain. When you fight the Usurper and defeat him, you will also find that into which Sól was sealed. Then you must free her from her chains.” She paused, catching her breath. “Confrontations with the Gods along the way are likely. I doubt that they will like the plans we are scheming.”

She got up from her chair, her old bones creaking in protest and shuffled over to the map Noctis had been eyeing up until now, taking it into her hands and examining it. Then, she slowly moved towards him until she stood in front of the bench. She was barely taller than Noctis, even while he was sitting, but with her free hand, she took his and pressed the map into it. “You have been looking at it for quite a while now, my boy,” she said, closing his hand around the piece of paper. “It will be useful on your journey, I am sure.”

Dumbfounded, he nodded, trying not to crease the paper as he stuffed it into his pocket. “Thank you, miss,” he said, trying to sound as sincere and grateful as possible, which was hard when her face was merely inches away from his own. “But how do you know all of this? Didn’t it happen a long time ago?”

Gladio cleared his throat, pointedly looking at Noctis. “Yes, thank you for the information you’ve been able to provide us with. It was helpful. However-“ he got up, stretching in front of the fireplace- “we gotta go now.”

Ignis followed suit. “Thank you for your hospitality. We will surely bring light and peace back to Midgard.” He extended his hand to Noctis, pulling him up. Inconspicuously, Noctis rubbed his backside. The bench had been uncomfortable in the long run.

Prom was right behind them as they exited the house, the old woman wishing them well, with Arctus lagging behind a little. Noctis realized that they had never even asked for her name.

Gladio stopped once they’d reached the marketplace once again, whirling around with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “So, do we just believe what she’s been telling us? That that’s what we gotta do?”

“Why should she lie to us?” Noctis asked in retaliation, mirroring Gladio’s stance. “She was just an old woman who wanted us to save the world, easy as that. And besides, she’s just an-“ he glanced at Arctus- “y’know-what.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose between two of his fingers, Gladio groaned. “Really thought I’d taught you better than that, Noct, but apparently not.” Sharply, he turned towards Arctus and Prom. “So are you two, like, permanent team members now?” He eyed them with displeasure etched onto his face, looming over them as if he wanted to intimidate them.

Prom shrugged and averted his gaze, but before Gladio could add even more insult to the injury, Ignis cut him off. “Given that they saw the premonition as well and that we apparently are grouped together now, it would make the most sense. I don’t see why we couldn’t work together.” His eyes fixated on Prom. “Or am I wrong to trust you, Prom?”

Arctus was smiling serenely in the background as Prom spluttered, waving his arms around in front of his face. “O-of course you can trust me! I won’t let you down, I swear!” He sounded so earnest that it didn’t even cross Noctis’ mind to think that he was lying.

Gladio snorted. “And what about you, Arctus?”

Not intimidated by all eyes being on him, the boy continued to smile. “I will do whatever Prom sees fit, of course. If that means joining you, then I will gladly do so. You have my word that I will stand by your side; don't worry, I'm not going to stab you in the back.”

“Great, now I really feel like I can trust you.”

Ignoring Gladio’s antics and jabs, Noctis pulled Prom and Ignis aside to show them the map he’d been given, trying to block out his Shield’s bitching in the back. “So where do we gotta go next?” He asked them as Ignis’ eyes darted across the paper.

He hummed a few seconds after, eyes still scanning the map. “Helheim, I would guess. That seems to be our last goal for now, although the place is not marked on the map - we will have to find it on our own." Of course Helheim wouldnt be marked on the map - nothing was that easy. "The other question that remains is, are we actively searching for the weapons we have seen or are we focussing on making our way down there as fast as possible?” Ignis askingly looked up at them.

At that, Prom to his left piped up. “I wouldn’t actively try to look for them, to be honest. It makes more sense to just-“ he vaguely gestured at the map- “follow the path that leads through these villages and what-not and pick up what we can along the way. I don’t know how far developed this game is, so maybe they haven’t even been implemented yet.”

For a Niff, Prom really was quite alright.

Ignis seemed to think so, too. “I guess that does make sense,” he admitted. “Then we will start with this village right here; Alfheim.”

Noctis mouthed the word, let it roll off his tongue. “Alright then. Any objections?” When none came, he pocketed the map once again. “Fine, then we’ll depart now, I-“

Gladio was the one to interrupt him this time. “Hold up, princess. Shouldn’t we buy some stuff first?”

It was Prom who had something to say this time, apparently getting bolder in Gladio’s presence. Which was a good thing, in Noctis’ book. “With what money, though? I’m guessing we’ll have to do quests to get money…”

“Actually,” Arctus spoke up from somewhere behind them, “the old woman gave me some money. And a few apples, but she said we might need them later. Here.” He deposited the money in Ignis’ hand, and Noctis watched as the copper and silver coins clinked against one another. “She was quite nice.”

Ignis took a small pouch out of his inventory and stuffed the coins inside. “What can we even buy here? Ingredients, perhaps? Would anyone care to check the market with me?”

After a few long moments of silence, Ignis pointedly looked at Gladio and Arctus. “Why don’t the two of you join me?” Gladio groaned at that, but Arctus didn’t seem to mind. Together, they went in the direction of one of the stalls.

Prom looked at him. “So…” he started, scratching the back of his neck. “We’re in for this together, huh?”

Noctis nodded awkwardly. “Yeah, I guess so. Sorry for how my friends are behaving, by the way. They’re usually not like that.” Yes, they were, who was he kidding. He kicked up a tiny cloud of dust, watching as it settled down again. “But you’re an alright guy, y’know, for someone from the capital,” Noctis said carefully, his eyes never leaving Prom’s face in case he slipped up.

But Prom didn’t slip up – he was just another Niflheimian citizen, probably unaware of what was really going on around him and influenced by the propaganda. He smiled softly, although it came out a little wobbly. “Thanks? You’re cool, too, for someone from Accordo. I heard that they were all pretty stuffy there, thinking so highly of themselves, but… you’re cool, man.”

Before even more awkwardness could ensue, Ignis and his ensemble joined them once again. “There wasn’t much to look at,” he commented, explaining their short absence, “but I got us a few apples and vegetables. Don’t look at me like that, Noct, I also got a little meat. We will have to be frugal, though.”

Noctis, who was about to pull a face, simply nodded. “Alright, are we ready to head out, then?”

“Hold your horses, princess,” Gladio said, “What’s up with you wanting to leave all the damn time? And anyhow, I think it’s time we call it a day. Whaddaya say, Iggy?”

He could hear Prom suppress his laughter in the back, but ignored it in favour of pouting at his Shield. “Already? We’ve barely done anything at all!”

“No, I agree with Gladio,” Ignis stabbed him in the back. Only metaphorically, of course. “You haven’t even eaten dinner yet, Noct, and you have an important meeting tomorrow as well. You cannot presume to miss it, I’m afraid.”

“I know, I know.” Noctis sighed, shooting Prom an apologetic look. “Hey, do you wanna exchange phone numbers so we can meet up when I’m done?”

“Noct,” Ignis warned him.

He groaned. “Okay, fine then. No phone numbers. Do you play King’s Knight, by any chance?”

Prom nodded. If he thought it was weird that Noctis wasn’t allowed to exchange phone numbers, he didn’t show it.

“We could exchange our IDs and create a group chat on there. No phone numbers involved that way. And we could play during my super important meeting tomorrow.” He glanced at Ignis. “Just kidding.”

Apparently exchanging King’s Knight contact information was permitted in Ignis’ book, because he didn’t reprimand Noctis again, simply watching them with narrowed eyes.

Noctis couldn’t help but feel giddy at the prospect of gaining a new friend, even if it was someone from Niflheim. Someone who didn’t know who he really was, someone whose job wasn’t to cater to his every need. Someone who liked him because he was simply being himself.

And Prom looked happy, too.

He waved at them, standing beside Arctus as Noctis and his two friends logged off, smiling until they were completely gone.

Once Noctis had shut down the game, he immediately created aforementioned group chat, adding Gladio and Ignis so they were satisfied. When he began to type, however, he did it in the private chat.

[11:47PM] NightLight: im looking forward to be working with you, prom. hope my friends didnt scare you off

It sounded a bit clumsy, but it would hopefully get the message across. He exited the chat, joining Ignis and Gladio who’d wandered into the kitchen, taking the plates of sushi with them.

His phone chirped in his pocket.

[11:49PM] ChocoBoy: nice name, dude :P but yeah, me too. And it's totes fine, they seem cool :)

Chapter 4: Alfheim

Chapter Text

Noctis groaned as he plopped down on his couch, pressing his face into the soft pillow.

It was Friday, again. An entire week had passed since the last time they’d played, and he felt guilty for letting Prom wait that long, even though the other had not grown tired of assuring him that it was fine, that he’d been busy as well. They had been chatting all week long (sometimes even during his meetings; not that Ignis needed to know) and Prom’s bad jokes often were the only things that kept him going through his mundane days. Well, the different time zones sucked a little, but it still was acceptable.

“There, there,” Ignis’ soft voice carried over to him, accompanied by a warm hand resting on his arm. “You’ve been doing spectacularly, Noct. And besides, this horrendous week is over now.”

It was true, the week had been horrendous. Meeting after meeting after meeting had been crammed into his schedule, followed by training and even more lessons for both history and etiquette. Not that he wasn’t used to it. “Yeah, that’s real great, Specs. One horrendous week done, just to be followed by another. Boy, am I looking forward to it.”

He could hear Gladio’s rumbling laugh from the kitchen, where his Shield was preparing something for Noctis and himself. Both of them had just come from another training session, and Noctis knew from experience that if he didn’t follow those rigorous hours of exercise with a lot of protein and vitamins, it’d all count for nothing and he’d be sore tomorrow.

Tiredly, he forced himself to sit up, immediately leaning back into the cushions just as Gladio strolled into the living room, balancing a big pot of something steaming as well as two glasses of freshly pressed orange juice. How he was still walking was a miracle to Noctis. “Mind grabbing two bowls and spoons, Iggy?”

Instead of responding verbally, Ignis simply nodded and rummaged through the cupboards to find the requested items, placing them on the couch table in front of Noctis. Then his advisor settled down next to him, helping Noctis move his unresponsive body.

“Aren’t you eating with us, Specs?” Noctis mumbled, blinking several times to keep his eyes open, and then staring at the spoon Ignis had pressed into his hand. It reflected the light in an odd way, he noted, as he turned the spoon around.

“I’ve already eaten,” Ignis said, ladling the contents of the steaming pot into Noctis’ bowl. He then put it on Noctis’ lap, nudging him to take a bite. Or a sip. Whatever was appropriate.

Gladio, seated in the armchair, snorted. “Did I push you too hard? Wuss.” His bowl was already half empty.

Noctis merely grumbled, raising his spoon to his mouth and tasting Gladio’s concoction. Of course it wasn’t as good as Ignis’ cooking, but it was edible. Some sort of porridge, he guessed as he swallowed it down, although he didn’t want to know how much protein powder Gladio had added.

On the table, his phone chirped. It sounded like a chocobo – a ringtone Prom had suggested some time, sending him the audio file only a few hours later. Apparently he’d recorded it when visiting a chocobo farm with his little sister. It kind of made Noctis want to visit a farm as well, even though he hated the smell of chocobos.

He grabbed it with his free hand, ignoring Ignis’ sigh, and checked his messenger app in King’s Knight.

[08:13PM] ChocoBoy: we still on for 2day? booting my console up as of rn, hope to see you soon :P

Noctis grinned, sending him a short affirmation before resuming to eat. He didn’t want to drive Ignis to insanity after all

“Was that Prom?” Ignis asked at that exact moment, eying his phone.

“Yup,” Noctis answered around a mouthful of porridge, rolling his eyes when Ignis shot him an exasperated look, “said he’s ready and we’re free to join him if we want to.”

Gladio, who was now sipping his orange juice, placed his empty bowl on the table and got up to turn the TV and console on. “Then we shouldn’t keep him waiting. There’s still some stuff I wanna ask him. Him and that machine friend of his,” he grumbled.

Ignis reclined back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Weren’t you tired just a minute ago, Noct?” He raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“What? No, I wasn’t.” Noctis suppressed a yawn, straightening his back and popping his joints. “I’m ready to kick some Niff butt.” He grabbed his controller and goggles, slipping them on while starting the game. “C’mon, I wanna know what happens next.”

Probably not seeing the point in arguing with him, Ignis followed suit. “And you say Prom is already online?”

“Yeah. Must be, what, only after 12 there?” Mentally, he counted the time zones. “Wonder what he’s been doing all day.”

“Most likely Niff stuff,” Gladio added, like it was a throwaway thought.

Noctis groaned as the title screen appeared, clicking on Load Game. “And what exactly does this ‘Niff stuff’ include, huh? What do you think he’s doing, planning our demise? For the Gods’ sake, Gladio, he’s just a regular guy from Niflheim!”

He could hear Gladio grinding his teeth together, but it was Ignis who spoke up at last. “Now, now, let’s not argue. I understand that you want to trust him, Noct, but we can’t. As of right now, there are too many unknown factors we simply cannot take into account. Although I do think that Gladio ought to be a little more… hospitable if he truly wants to gain some intel.”

Gladio slammed his controller down on the table so hard that it audibly cracked. “You know, if both of you just wanna take him under your wing, then you can do just that. But don’t expect me to play along. He is the enemy, and he’ll never be more than a dirty Niff. I’m out. Have fun with your game.” He got up from his seat and grabbed his jacket, throwing it over his shoulders before storming out of Noctis’ apartment.

Noctis could only stare in bewilderment at the scene in front of him, an unfamiliar feeling gnawing at his insides. It… hurt, the way Gladio had acted. He sagged into himself, the sound of the door falling shut reverberating in his ears.

Ignis once again placed his hand onto Noctis’ arm, tenderly rubbing the skin there. “He didn’t mean it, Noct. Gladio’s just bad at articulating his feelings, you know that. He’s just afraid for you, that this game will somehow harm you. But he’ll get around, I’m sure. We just have to let him cool off a little.”

Biting down on his lower lip until he drew blood, Noctis shot Ignis a glare, but his gaze softened when he took in his friend’s pinched expression. “If he’s so afraid, why he’s gotta lash out at me like that? It’s not fair…” Noctis sighed, one hand coming up to run through his tousled hair.

“Do you want me to tell Prom that we’re not coming today?” Ignis asked cautiously, almost as if he was approaching a wild animal. “We can still log out and watch a movie or something like that, if you wish. Or I could cook you an actual dinner.”

Noctis hated to be coddled.

“No, we’re playing today, whether Gladio’s with us or not. We don’t need him.” He steeled himself as the loading screen finally cleared up, dropping him inside the familiar environment of the village in Idavoll.

Prom was already standing in front of him, although his smile dropped when he really looked at them. “Where’s the big guy?” he asked, his eyes darting between Noctis and Ignis. “Is it my fault that he’s not here? I mean, I know he doesn’t like me, but still-“

“I’m afraid he simply wasn’t able to come today,” Ignis interrupted Prom’s rambling, exchanging a look with Noctis. “It has got nothing to do with you, Prom, don’t worry.”

“Oh.” Prom was scratching the back of his neck, shifting from one foot to the other, as Arctus sidled up next to him, chiming in with a curt “What a pity” that seemed as fake as always. Not that Noctis had expected anything different. “So it’s just the four of us today?”

“Certainly seems that way,” Noctis said, trying not to let shine through how much Gladio’s words had actually stung. Prom didn’t seem like a bad guy. A little weird at times, perhaps, but not some coldblooded Niff official that was out to hunt for blood. He’d never tell Prom what Gladio had said about him, that much was sure. “We should get going. I want to reach Alfheim today, if possible.”

Ignis silently held out his hand, and for a moment Noctis was confused what he wanted, until his advisor cleared his throat and said, “The map please, Noct”. He took it from Noctis’ hands and opened it without further ado, pointing at a location on it. “It seems to be rather close. Southeast from here, not more than a few kilometres. Although-“ he paused, tapping his chin as if in thought- “we will have to travel through the forest.”

“What’s so bad about that?” Prom asked, watching the map over Ignis’ shoulder. “I mean, nothing’s attacked us on our way here, so we’ll be fine, right?”

Making a doubtful noise in the back of his throat, Ignis pocketed the map. “Maybe. Maybe not. As long as we have our weapons, we should be fine.”

Noctis was already headed for the gates, examining them. Gladio had been able to open them easily enough, but Gladio wasn’t with them as of right now… there had to be some sort of mechanism to open the gates. He crouched down next to them, letting his eyes wander over the iron wall – how far developed was this civilization, in any case? Hands feeling around for some sort of panel or button, he made a soft noise of triumph as he found a small lever, pulling on it with all his might.

The gates opened noisily, metal grinding against stone, but Noctis had already turned towards his companions, grinning at them. “We ready to go now?”

Prom sighed, a small smile gracing his features. “Of course.” He stepped out into the lush forest, beckoning them to join him which Noctis promptly did, falling into step beside the blond. Arctus and Ignis were steadily trailing behind them in amicable silence.

“So,” Prom started, hands clasped behind his back, “you guys have been gone for quite some time. Did anything interesting happen?” Noctis couldn’t quite read his expression in the dark of the night, but his voice sounded relaxed enough. “You said you had to attend a meeting, right? So what do you guys work as?”

sh*t, had he told Ignis that they were supposed to be from Accordo? He was pretty sure he hadn’t. sh*t.

Mentally cursing himself, Noctis tried to laugh it off. “Yeah, not much happened in Altissia, where we’re from.” Nailed it. “I was attending a meeting about… the rapid decline of fish populations around the shores of Accordo? Because, y’know, I’m a, uh, marine biologist. And I really like fish.”

“That’s right,” Ignis chimed in, backing him up. “I work as a private tutor, and Noct here used to be my student, isn’t that right?” He shot Noctis a withering look, to which he could only nod. “Quite a piece of work, if I do say so myself.”

Noctis scoffed. He hadn’t been that bad. Sure, he sometimes blocked out Ignis’ boring monologues about anything even remotely political, but he at least pretended to pay attention. “C’mon Specs, I’m right here. Don’t slander me like that.”

“My apologies, Noct.”

Prom snorted next to him. “Sounds as if you’ve been friends for a really long time,” he commented, something like jealousy in his voice. “Although I’ve got to admit, you don’t look all that much like a rich boy that’d need private tutoring, Noct.”

He bristled, laughing awkwardly. “Oh, uh, yeah, my dad’s loaded, and he wanted the best kind of education for me, so as well as attending a regular school, he made me have extra tutoring at home. It wasn’t that bad since I’ve known Ignis, like, my entire life, but still…” He trailed off, trying to shift the conversation to a preferable topic. “So what do you work as, up there in the capital?”

“Oh, I-“ Prom’s cheeks assumed a bright red colour as he scratched the back of his neck- “I have my own photographic studio. I’m not really well-known or anything, but yeah. It’s cool, although I’d much rather have a farm of chocobos. They’re so cute!”

Arctus hummed agreeably but didn’t add anything. It probably didn’t interest him that they were talking about their real lives.

“In any case,” Prom continued, seemingly not done. He paused shortly to step over a root on the ground. “How old are you, Ignis? I don’t think that ever came up.”

Ignis, whose eyes had been on the daggers in his hands (when and why had he taken them out?), looked up and put them away in his pockets. “I am 21 as of right now.”

“Spoken like the old man you are,” Noctis added with a snort, dodging when Ignis slapped him on the shoulder with his flat palm. “Sorry, sorry!”

Prom seemed to be launching into retorting something himself when someone giggled behind them. Confused, both he and Prom turned around to face Arctus. “Did you just… giggle?” Prom asked.

Arctus only stared back at him, frowning. “No, I did not. Perhaps you misheard?” Arctus couldn’t lie, could he? And besides, what would he gain from lying?

Someone giggled again.

Definitely not Arctus, then.

Noctis whirled around. “Who’s there?” he asked into the depth of the night, eyes frantically scanning the environment. A branch cracked behind him. “Show yourself!” He turned towards the direction the noise had come from, now face to face with a… woman?

Gaping at her, he quickly took a few steps away from her. The woman giggled again, lightly throwing her head back which made her long, dark hair pool on the ground around her feet. Her brown eyes were following his every movement, darting between him and Ignis, who was suddenly beside him.

His advisor cleared his throat, his hand on his weapon just outside of the woman’s view. “What is such a lovely young lady like you doing out here, all on your own?” he asked, and it was only because Noctis had known him for so long that he could hear the cautious undertone that accompanied Ignis’ words.

“Ah,” the woman answered, pushing her bangs out of her narrow face, “how rude of me. My name is Yrsa, and I live in these woods.” Her voice was… surprisingly deep, but it suited her, the sound of it flowing like warm honey. “I am on my way back to the nearest village, why don’t you join me?”

Something was off. Maybe she was just a little too pretty, the coincidental meeting just a tiny bit too predictable. Noctis wanted to decline, but his avatar’s mouth didn’t open, no sound coming out. He frowned as he took a step in the direction of the woman – the character on the screen didn’t listen to his commands anymore but instead seemed to have a mind of his own. Was it wishful thinking to hope that the controls were just wonky?

He tried to speak up again, but instead of, “Sorry, but we’ll be on our way”, he smiled and answered, “Of course. We’d love to see your village.” Silence followed his words, neither Prom nor Ignis disagreeing with him. This wasn’t good.

Yrsa laughed softly, clasping her hands in front of her slim body. Her dress billowed out around her knees, and her bare feet were dirty from the soil she was walking upon, but Noctis felt as if he’d never seen a more beautiful creature. “Then let us be on our merry way; I promise you, it is not very far.”

She twirled around, her dark hair following her movement and fanning out around her as she rested one slender hand on the bark of a tree, turning around slightly so she could look at them through slanted eyes. “Are you coming?” Her eyes seemed so earnest that Noctis could only nod. His mouth was dry.

Behind him, Prom seemed to be entranced as well. “Sure,” he replied, stepping up to stand next to Noctis and joining the beckoning of the woman

Turning around once she had their attention, Yrsa balanced on the trunk of a nearby fallen tree. Something darted out from under the hem of her skirt, but it was gone in an instant, and for a second Noctis wondered if he’d actually seen it or if the game’s graphics had just glitched out.

He didn’t have to think about it for too long, because suddenly someone grabbed his arm, pushing him aside as a flash of blond rushed past him. “Get back!” Arctus yelled (he could yell?) as he drew his sword. “It’s a hulder! Don’t let it fool you!”

He snapped out of his reverie, shaking his head in disbelief. A hulder? What the f*ck was a hulder?

No, there were more pressing issues than thinking about fantastical creatures right now.

Like defeating said creatures.

Noctis pulled his sword from its sheath, brandishing it in front of his body as he assessed the situation. Arctus was standing in front of him, crouching slightly with the sword creating a barrier between him and the woman.

Yrsa had fully turned around again, although Noctis could now see that she had a long tail, not unlike that of a cow, that was curling around her legs. Her head was thrown back in laughter as bark seemingly grew on her skin until she was nothing more than a hybrid between a human and a tree. “You have seen,” she cooed at them, licking her lips, “you have seen and you have judged. But too late, too late.”

Prom, who was still standing beside him, readied his bow, aiming at the woman-tree-thing in front of them with shaking hands. “I don’t wanna hurt you, miss,” he started, but she only laughed louder.

“Don’t want to hurt, don’t want to hurt me,” she mocked, crouching on the mossy ground. Dirt accumulated under her long fingernails as she scraped at it. “You have to go. Go now.” She bared her teeth in a disfigured smile, or maybe an attempt at intimidation, Noctis couldn’t quite tell.

Ignis’ reassuring warmth appeared behind him, just as the hulder launched into action. She jumped at them as Prom fired off a shot, missing by a hair width. Arctus whirled around, his eyes wide as she easily pushed him aside, and he lost his grip on the sword. His eyes darted between Prom and his sword, and that was all the distraction the hulder needed. She curled her bony fingers around his throat, carving long, red lines into his skin as he tried to grab her wrists and push her away from his face.

Noctis swung around, his sword raised as he aimed at her vulnerable back. It connected easily enough, but instead of screaming or yelling or anything, the hulder simply laughed as pieces of wood fell off of her back and landed on the ground, forever a part of the forest now.

He tried anew, putting his entire weight into the blow and targeting her slim neck – and this time, she dodged, letting go of Arctus who, surprisingly enough, was still standing, looking as if nothing had happened, despite blood still painting his throat red.

Not that Noctis cared, now that the attention of the hulder was on him. He ducked under her angry slashes(doing his hardest not to give in to the urge to just try and phase) watching as her nails scratched at the air where his face had been just a few seconds ago and stumbled back, almost losing his footing.

Ignis was at his side in an instant, steadying him as he parried the hulder with his daggers, the woman’s face now drawn into a grimace of fury.

She hissed, trying to reach them with her claws, but was thrown off balance when one of Prom’s arrows grazed her side. Whirling around, she exposed her entire back to them.

Sucking in a deep breath, Noctis saw an opening and took it, letting his sword glide through the air and hit her shoulder with all the force he could muster.

She crumbled into herself with a mangled scream, collapsing on the ground as almost black blood poured from the gashes that littered her skin. Her chest heaved as she stared up at them with big eyes that shone in the dim light, brimming with tears. She bared her teeth in another attempt at intimidating them, but it faltered when she tried to get up, pain flashing across her face.

Yowling, she sank back onto the ground, her tail twitching on the ground next to her body. She closed her eyes in what looked like anticipation, breathing softly. Her fingers curled into the moss.

It was Ignis who took pity on her, at last. His dagger shook in his hand as he cut her throat in one swift motion, wiping his hands on a handkerchief afterwards. She looked peaceful in death, her face slack.

Noctis turned away, watching as Arctus held his hand out to help Prom up, who’d apparently fallen some time during the fight. The archer was dusting his clothes off, eyes suspiciously wet as he looked anywhere other than the hulder, but he was otherwise unhurt. Speaking of that…

“Arctus?” Noctis asked, waiting until he had the AI’s undivided attention. “What was that?”

Arctus sighed softly, leaning his back against a tree as he stared at the cooling corpse of the creature in front of Ignis’ feet. “A hulder. They are wardens of the forest. This huldra in particular seems to have been guarding something. Maybe a treasure.” He shrugged. “In any case, it’s dead now.”

He frowned. “A treasure?”

“Something that they think is important. I don’t know, I’ve never encountered a hulder either.” He shook his head, running one hair through perfectly smooth, blond hair that fell back into its rightful place as soon as he let it be. “I don’t know,” he repeated.

“And I don’t think we should stick around to find out, either,” Ignis followed up. “May her soul rest in peace.” He nodded at the corpse that was slowly disintegrating at his feet before he tossed an apple to Arctus, who nodded at him in thanks. The scratch marks on his neck disappeared. “If Gladio were here, I am certain that he’d tell us that this is only a game and we should not feel guilty for what we have done and - as much as it pains me - I am inclined to agree with him for once. We must leave now.”

“But… think of it, Ignis. A treasure. It might be one of the weapons we’ve been looking for. What good would it do to abandon it?” Noctis was conflicted; on one hand, he really wanted to get to the nearest village and forget about their weird encounter, on the other hand, the promise of a new weapon was enticing.

Ignis pinched the bridge of his nose between two of his fingers. “Alright, Noct,” he relented finally.

Prom, who’d been weirdly quiet this entire time, was shuffling his feet on the ground, looking into the distance. “I don’t know… I don’t have a good feeling about this, y’know. Maybe nothing’s here, and we’re just wasting our time.”

Nudging him in the side, Noctis passed by him. “Oh c’mon, just think of it as another adventure. And if we find something, we can rub it into Gladio’s face. It’ll be fine.” He kneeled down at the foot of a nearby tree, combing his fingers through the space between the roots. “There’s gotta be something. Otherwise she wouldn’t have tried to lure us away.”

Prom muttered something under his breath but didn’t object, choosing a different tree instead.

They fanned out, systematically checking each and every tree in the vicinity, until Noctis heard a soft gasp coming from Ignis’ direction. “You find something, Specs?” he asked, turning his upper body around to face his friend.

“I believe you should come see for yourself, Noct,” Ignis’ quiet voice replied, and Noctis got up and wandered over to him, crouching down beside Ignis.

“What the hell,” he said without much fervour, staring at the tiny, almost identical cubs that were resting atop of leaves in the hollow trunk of a tree. While the mother (Noctis assumed that it had been the mother) had looked relatively human, the two cubs were more bark than anything else. It covered their skin as they lay there, unmoving except for their round eyes that stared up at them.

He could hear footsteps behind him as Arctus and Prom followed him, wanting to see for themselves. Prom gasped. “So that’s what she was protecting… and to think that we took their mother from them. What will they do without her?” His voice sounded strangely choked – not that Noctis could blame him.

Arctus sighed. “Step aside,” he ordered Ignis and Noctis, “there’s nothing we can do for them except putting them out of their misery.”

“What?” Both Prom and Noctis turned around to face Arctus, watching his hardened face. His right hand rested on the hilt of his sword. “You can’t just kill them! I mean, yeah, the mother attacked us, but they didn’t do anything!”

“But they will grow up to be just like the huldra. They will attack humans and they will kill them. If they even survive their childhood, that is. There’s no hope for them.” There was nothing in Arctus’ eyes; not hatred, not guilt, nothing.

“Can’t we just… leave them be? They’re small, they mean no harm, and they- they…” Prom’s voice faded into the darkness as he wiped at his eyes.

The cubs’ chests rose and lowered again as they watched the exchange with big eyes, still not making any sounds.

“So they can, what, nurture themselves? They’re too small. Weakness means death. They’ll die either way, whether it is by my hands or as a part of the food chain.” Arctus drew his sword, slightly shoving Prom away as he made his way over to where Noctis and Ignis were still kneeling.

Noctis shot his advisor a helpless look, but Ignis only replied with a shrug of his own. “As cruel as it may sound, Noct, it probably is for the best. I don’t like the idea either, but it’d be the most merciful thing we could do for them.”

“Exactly,” Arctus butted in, still coming closer, “so let me kill them.”

It was Prom who spoke up, his resolution absolute. “You can’t.” He stepped in front of Arctus, shielding the cubs with his body. “You can’t,” he repeated, raising his chin defiantly.

Arctus frowned. “Why? Why can’t I?” He honestly sounded confused, and if this entire situation wasn’t totally f*cked up, Noctis might have laughed.

Instead, he replied, “Just leave them be. Please.”

Ignis nodded at him, probably not having the heart to disagree and held out his hand to help Noctis up. His gaze lingered on the cubs a little longer.

Noctis hesitated before he took the proffered hand, watching the cubs as well. Then he ripped a piece of fabric from his cape and placed it over the two cubs, watching as they squirmed beneath the material. They were so small; they’d done nothing wrong. They didn’t deserve to die. He fixated his gaze on Arctus, staring him down instead until the machine sighed and sheathed its sword again.

Because that was what he was, wasn’t it? A machine with neither feelings nor compassion.

He pushed past Arctus, placing his hand on Prom’s shoulder to rub soothing circles into it. “Hey, it’s fine. They’ll be fine.”

Prom nodded, straightening his back as he turned around again. “We should get going,” he said, although his voice sounded a little nasal.

Nodding, Noctis fell into step beside him with Ignis trailing right behind them. He didn’t know where exactly Arctus was, and neither did he care; although, judging by the sounds of his footsteps, he was still following them.

Silence accompanied them; although it was not amicable silence this time. It felt like Gladio all over.

Noctis sighed, running his hand over his face. He’d done the right thing, hadn’t he? They deserved a chance at life too, didn’t they?

Gods, why did all of this have to feel so real?

He was so immersed in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice at first how the forest thinned out and the trees made way for fields of wheat and rye of golden colour that swayed in the light breeze.

Ignis stopped, taking in the farmland around them. “Civilization must be nearby,” he commented, watching the small stream that ran by the fields. “We can’t be far now.”

They hurried up, desperate to see the glow of torches in the night and hear the chatter of humans, and their hasty strides left footprints in the moist earth, made the mud cling to the soles of their feet (or in Prom’s case, his feet). Noctis just wanted to forget the horrors of the night.

And in the distance, at the end of the fields, there were huts of every size.

Prom’s expression of joy echoed through the calm night as he nudged Noctis’ side with his elbow, and even Ignis allowed himself a small smile. Arctus was still behind them, his eyes empty although that annoying smile was still on his face.

They reached the threshold of the village with ease, and as they stepped inside, warmth and light greeted them. Stone arches, overgrown with local plant life, decorated the streets and caught the light.

People seemed a lot livelier here than back there in the village in Idavoll – they were chatting with one another outside their houses, simply leaning against the wood and enjoying the warm air of the night.

He noted almost immediately that all of them were barefooted and dressed in varying shades of green, brown and gold that complimented their light hair. Noctis grinned at Prom. “Hey, look, you’d fit right in,” he joked as they traversed through the village, a million curious eyes following them.

If Idavoll had felt like spring and wariness, this felt like summer and home.

They passed food stalls and small shops that seemed closed for the time being, and although the empty windows could have been disheartening, stags and boars, that were apparently tame, littered the paths of the village, acting as if they belonged here. No one seemed to even bat an eye at the sight of them.

The streets were decorated with lanterns in the forms of sylleblossoms, emitting a soft glow and painting the walls a shade of gold as they neared the centre of the village, where the sound of music filled the air. Laughter and singing, soft like the breeze, accompanied the instruments.

Houses parting on either side of them, Noctis stepped onto the clearing where several people were dancing in a kind of roundelay, obviously enjoying themselves as they swayed to the flute music.

A makeshift stage was at the centre, surrounded by tables upon tables filled with food. On the stage stood a girl clad in a green dress, with long, blond hair cascading down her back as she twirled around on the wooden ground, jumping over roots that wriggled through the ground as if they were alive. Her voice resounded in the night like that of a nightingale.

“ Well, time she did as time she does

She passed along her way

And dawn, she crept like a frightened girl

Out from the night time’s sway.”

The girl laughed as the crowd cheered her on, giving a curt bow before continuing her song.

Noctis let his eyes roam over the people, trying to gauge how they’d react to newcomers. Behind him, Prom let out a low whistle.

“Is it just me, or are all NPCs here, like, too pretty to be real humans? Like, what did the developers even think? Where’s the immersion?”

And it was true – they all seemed like luminous beings, far fairer than even the sun herself. And in the midst of them sat the most beautiful of all. His eyes were on the spectacle in front of him as he smiled at their antics, and the way his lips curved upwards ever so slightly seemed magical in itself.

Noctis forgot to breathe until Ignis placed his hand on his shoulder. “We should try to gain some intel before we do anything else, Noct,” he advised, and Noctis nodded. That seemed to make the most sense.

Ignis guided them to a few empty seats, but before he could sit down, someone grabbed his wrist, their warm fingers right on the place where his pulse would be. He looked up into green eyes and a coy smile.

“Won’t you dance with me?” the girl asked, pushing a strand of her golden hair behind her ear. It looked like silk in the light of the torches, flowing down her back and parts of it were braided, decorated with beautiful flowers that reminded him of the ones inside Luna's notebook.

“Ah, I shouldn’t.” He scratched the back of his neck, imploringly looking at Ignis – who wasn’t even looking in his direction but instead talking to Arctus and Prom. Wasn’t that just great.

The girl followed his gaze before snapping back to him. “Just one dance?” Her hand let go of his wrist to grab his hand instead, squeezing it ever so slightly. “Please?”

He couldn’t say no, could he?

Noctis sighed. “Fine. One dance.”

She laughed, dragging him to what he assumed was the dance floor, and then raising their joint hands above her head to spin him around.

He’d learnt waltzes and all that jazz, sure – but this, this was new to him. Noctis followed her lead, followed her movements as she ducked behind other dancers only to appear again a second later, always smiling and giggling.

His feet moved over the trodden-in ground on their own as the golden light danced over the girl’s face, made the ornaments in her dress shine even brighter than the stars themselves. “What’s your name?” he asked her over the thrum of music that resounded in his ears.

She only laughed louder. “Is it of importance? We're all friends here on this evening, there's no need for names.”

He guessed it wasn't of importance. He wouldn’t see this girl again, after all.

Without thinking too much about it, he enjoyed the time they spent together as they so effortlessly twirled around one another, weaving in and out of the roundelay without disturbing their formation.

It was tiring, Noctis noted after a while, as the warmth of the light crawled into his body and made his limbs heavy and his head spin. “Sorry, I think I need a break,” he said to the girl, fanning his face.

She waved his worries away. “It’s fine. Be sure to come back sometime!” The girl winked and then danced away, forever lost in the night.

He made his way back to the others who were sitting at the end of the banquet, and plopped down next to Prom, sitting on the outer edge of the wooden bench. Ignis, who was seated across him, had just finished chuckling at something Prompto had said and now raised an eyebrow. "Have you already danced enough, Noct? You seemed to be enjoying yourself."

Noctis simply shrugged and ignored Prom's snort next to him. Grabbing a loaf of bread and a few berries to seem less suspicious, he leant towards the man sitting on his other side. “Hey,” he greeted him, hoping that his friends hadn't already asked a million weird question. Although, by the looks of it, they'd just been talking, waiting for him to come back.

The man smiled at him, his face lighting up with joy. “Hello,” he greeted back, his voice enthusiastic. Well, if that wasn’t a good sign. “What brings travellers like you into our modest village? You seem like you’ve come a long way.”

Noctis nodded, playing with the food in his hands. “Yeah, we’ve come a very long way, and we’ll have to leave really soon, too. We just don’t really know where we have to go, so, uh, could you help us?”

If his explanation had been weird, the man made no signs of not distrusting him. “Of course, of course. If you want to know anything, ask him,” he said, pointing at the man Noctis had watched from afar. “That’s our Lord. Just talk to him, and your questions will be answered.” He took a swig from the jug in front of him, his eyes on the girl Noctis had just danced with.

He exchanged a look, heavy with meaning, with Ignis, who’d listened to their conversation. “I’m gonna go talk to him. Anyone wanna come with me?” He made a point of not looking at Arctus, but luckily Prom raised his hand.

“Yeah, I’m coming with you,” he answered. “Or did you want to, Ignis?”

Ignis shook his head. “No, I believe Arctus and I will be fine here. Good luck.”

Giving him a thumbs up, Noctis made his way over to the so called ‘Lord’ the man had pointed at.

He was resting on a wooden throne that was decorated with antlers, sitting upright with his arms braced on the armrests. Entangled patterns, carved into the dark wood, flowed around him, moving as if the throne itself was a living being. His eyes radiated warmth as he watched his people and golden hair framed his face, almost glowing in the dark. His laugh rang out clear like a bell as the stars shone down upon him. Above his head was name tag which simply read 'The Golden One'.

“Excuse us,” Noctis made himself noticeable, grabbing the attention of the man who now looked at him with curious eyes. “Are you the Lord of this village?”

Laughing again, the man motioned for them to come closer. “I am,” he started, “but you may just call me Yngve. What has brought young travellers such as yourselves here, my sons?”

Noctis shared a look with Prom, who just shrugged. The man called Yngve didn’t seem like he was dangerous at all, but they’d learned that appearances could be deceiving. Still, he wandered closer.

“We are on our way to Helheim,” Noctis explained, watching as the man’s happy face fell a tiny bit, “to reclaim the ash tree and bring light back to the world, and we were hoping that you could point us in the right direction.”

Yngve sighed, gesturing for them to sit down on either side of his throne.

It was best to oblige, Noctis supposed, as he plopped down on the gigantic armrest to the left of the man.

“I cannot show you the way,” he said, watching his people once again. His voice quivered as the flames painted flickering shadows on his face. “It is something you must find for yourselves, I’m afraid. And as for the ash tree – I do wish to see light restored to the world.”

There was a but, wasn’t there? There always was. “There’s something else, isn’t there?” Noctis tried his luck.

All three of them watched as the girl on the stage twirled around again, her dress billowing out around her. It was quiet for a few seconds as they waited for Yngve to resume talking. “When the darkness came, I lost something important as well. Someone important.” He looked at Noctis and Prom with sorrowful eyes. “My only wish is to see her once more - my sister. She was stolen, just as the Lovely Wheel was stolen from us.” He raised one hand and let his fingers ghost over the flesh of Prom's cheek, apparently lost in thought.

Noctis cleared his throat. This was getting weird – what was with everyone’s sisters being stolen? Was that a common theme in Niflheimian culture? He’d have to ask Prom.

“So you want us to bring back your sister?” Prom recapped, wringing his own hands in his lap as Yngve withdrew his fingers. “Where can we find her, then?”

Yngve sighed again, rubbing his temples as if weariness was swallowing him whole. “Vanadis will be in the place where the giants reside. And wherever she is; my sword will be there as well. If you find it, it will be yours for eternity.”

Well, that sounded like a sweet deal. “And where do the giants reside?” Noctis asked, hoping that Yngve would be a little more specific this time.

Inclining his head, Yngve let out a small laugh. “Why, Jötunheim of course. To think you would not know what! You truly must be foreigners.” He summoned a small map into his hands and let his fingers wander over its surface before he pointed at a space in the far south of it. “But be careful, my young warriors. The giants are not gentle creatures, and they will not give my sister willingly.” He pressed the map into Prom’s hand, winking at him. “But for now, enjoy your stay here.”

Noctis and Prom got up from their seats and bowed before hurrying back to where Ignis and Arctus were still sitting at the large table. “We know where to go next!” Noctis yelled at them from afar, earning himself a few glares from the villagers; not that he cared.

He plopped down across Ignis, spreading the map on the table in front of him and pointed at the village with the name Jötunheim. “And we’re supposed to save his sister or something. Don’t ask. And also-“ he glared at Prom who had bumped into his side to make Noctis give him more space- “I’m pretty sure the sword Yngve talked about is one of the legendary weapons.”

“That’s great, Noct,” Ignis praised him before studying the map himself. “It seems to be far away; maybe we should get a headstart today.” Finally, Ignis was talking like a real gamer.

Watching as his advisor took a loaf of bread and wrapped it in a piece of cloth, Noctis did the same, and together they stuffed their inventories full with what he assumed were healing items in this game. It wouldn’t matter to these people, after all.

Prom watched them with an amused expression on his face. “Is that what hospitality looks like in Altissia?” he said, raising one eyebrow.

Noctis gave him a disgruntled look. “Would you rather die out there? And Yngve told us to enjoy our stay here. I’m doing just that.”

Arctus watched their entire exchange with a lazy smile on his face, one arm propped up on the table and his cheek resting on the palm of his hand. He looked so peaceful that it made Noctis wonder if the man who wanted to kill defenceless cubs and the boy in front of him were really the same person.

He shook his head; of course they were; nothing more than facets of one machine.

Noctis got up from his seat and Prom followed suit. The three of them made their way to the exit of the village, walking through narrow streets and over stone bridges, stopping shortly to watch the clear water below them, until the lights were a little dimmer and the paths a little grassier. From this side, he could see how treetops replaced what should have been rooftops, and how the walls of the houses looked like living trees, pulsing with life.

Stars twinkled through the canopy above them and the air smelled of smoke and summer. It reminded Noctis of the times he’d been outside of the Wall, and with his mouth agape he stared at the dark sky, unmarred by the barrier. Next to him, he could see Ignis access his inventory.

“Alfheim,” he recited quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, “the meadows of the fey.”

It was Arctus who continued, his voice equally subdued. “A mystical village where the people are happy and worry-free, deep in the thickets of the woods. To think that a place like this could be real…” His eyes were watching the dancing circles of light on the ground, let through by the spaces between the leaves, the size of pinholes. “We should leave at once. We do not belong here.”

Prom nodded, his eyes overcast like the sky on a cloudy day. He averted his gaze when Noctis looked at him. “It looks like-“ He didn’t finish his sentence.

It looked like a place that once had been dear to Noctis.

He turned his back on the village in the woods, so full of life, his eyes on the ever-dark horizon.

Chapter 5: Amsvartnir

Chapter Text

There was a knock at the door.

Noctis groaned from where he was sitting in his apartment’s kitchen, analysing another report about dignitaries he couldn’t remember the names of and proposals that seemed too good to be true.

Ignis, who was standing at the stove, raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you expecting someone, Noct?” he asked, stirring in a pot. “In any case, could you please get the door?”

He groaned again for good measure before dragging himself upwards. There only were a few people whose clearance levels were high enough to be allowed up onto the floor Noctis’ apartment was on. And even then, only a few of them would show up in the middle of the week, completely unannounced.

Apart from his training sessions, he hadn’t talked to Gladio at all. Nothing more than the muttered “Well done” or “Pay attention”. It was really draining, the way they kept avoiding each other, and he hoped that Gladio was here to make amends, and not to criticize him further.

But when he opened the door, it wasn’t Gladio who was standing there, staring sheepishly at him.

No, the face belonged to an unfamiliar member of the Crownsguard, completely still under his unwavering gaze.

Staring at her, it didn’t even cross his mind to invite her in – at least until the Marshal appeared next to her, demanding Noctis’ undivided attention with simply his presence. His face was grim.

That was never a good sign. Had something happened to his dad? Had there been an attack at the Citadel? Why were they here?

Cor simply co*cked his head to one side. “May we come in, Your Highness?” It was more of a demand than an actual request, and Noctis was quick to oblige. He stepped aside, making room for the Crownsguard and Cor to enter his apartment.

From the kitchen, Ignis craned his head to look at the newcomers. “Is something wrong, Marshal?” he asked, a deep line of worry between his eyebrows. Wiping his hands on a towel, he abandoned the food and joined them in the living room.

The Crownsguard positioned herself near the door, almost as if guarding his apartment. Her face was a stoic mask, not even flickering once. If something happened, she would show at least a hint of emotion, right? Or would she be professional enough to hide even that?

Cor – despite Noctis’ gesture for him to sit down on the couch – decided to keep standing in front of the table, his gaze on the view from the windows. Noctis’ followed his eyes; Insomnia was never really dark, not with all the people that lived in the city and thrived in the night. The streets were lit up, populated by all the folk that just wanted a night of fun. No sign of chaos anywhere.

Finally, Cor sighed. “No, nothing is wrong. However, Gladiolus informed us that you were in contact with someone from Niflheim who might be a spy.”

Noctis narrowed his eyes. “A spy,” he repeated slowly as if the words would magically change their meaning. “From Niflheim. Right.” He had talked to Prom a few times over the week – the occasional message here and there when he was free or a picture of a cat that he’d encountered on his way home from the Citadel (he was always careful not to show anything that would expose his actual location) or of the food Ignis cooked for him, and sometimes Prom would send his own pictures back with captions that made – most of the time – no sense.

He sent pictures of the landscape, the view from his bedroom window or a cute puppy that he picked up on the street (more often than not Noctis had to remind him to drop the dog off at a shelter), and Noctis treasured them like they were the most important things ever.

Prom couldn’t be a spy, it simply didn’t make any sense. He wasn’t allowed to have friends just because Gladio was being paranoid?

Noctis snorted, leaning back into the soft cushions. “He’s not a spy.”

“And how can you be so sure, Your Highness?” Cor raised an eyebrow, shifting his stance. “How can you be sure that he is not just using you?”

He remained silent. There was no easy way to prove that Prom wasn’t using him, but it just… Prom didn’t seem like the person to do that. He was kind and caring and just because he was from Niflheim didn’t mean he was a bad person. There were good people in Niflheim, just as there were bad people in Lucis. “He wouldn’t. I know him.”

Cor pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright. If I cannot convince you otherwise, then at least let me ask this of you: do not give him any personal information about yourself, do not, under any circ*mstances, reveal who you really are. And relay all information you have about him immediately to us so we can demask him.” Cor looked at Ignis. “Make sure that he does, alright?”

Ignis nodded before hurrying back into the kitchen, tending to his abundance of pots and pans once again.

Still standing, Cor stared down at him with an unreadable expression. “Will you at least tell me what he’s already told you, Your Highness?”

Noctis knew that it wasn’t a question. “Fine. Want a description of his physical appearance with that as well?”

It was supposed to come off as a sarcastic jab, but Cor only nodded seriously, his face stern. “Do you mind if I record it?”

He sighed; it wasn’t like he had much of a choice. He waited until he heard the tell-tale click of Cor turning on the recorder and stating his name and the date before starting. “His name’s Prom, he’s from the capital of Niflheim and around my age. About the same height as me as well, maybe a little shorter. And he’s blond and has, like, a lot of freckles? Also he works as a photographer and has his own studio.”

“Gladiolus mentioned that you met him in an online game from Niflheim called Noiseless Nights. What was his name there?”

Noctis only had to think for a second. “Quicksilver. His name’s Quicksilver.”

“What are his speech patterns like? Does he sound like a commoner?”

He shrugged. “I guess so? He sounds like someone fresh out of school, or maybe in university. Although…” Noctis tried to remember what Prom had told him, racking his brain. “He said that he was home-schooled.”

“Anything else you would like to add?”

Shaking his head, Noctis declined. “No, I think that’s it. Does my father know about this?” The recorder clicked again.

Was that just him or had Cor smiled for the fraction of a second? Noctis blinked, and Cor’s stern face greeted him once again.

“His Majesty doesn’t know about this as of right now. Gladiolus only contacted me, wanting to keep this relatively private for now.”

Noctis hummed. “Why didn’t you just try locating Prom’s location by accessing his ID and what not from my phone?”

“I’m afraid that’s not how it works, Your Highness, and in any case, Gralea is too large to correctly pin down a single person.”

Huh, he’d imagined that it’d be easier. It always looked so easy in movies after all. “Can’t you just hack his phone or something?”

Cor raised an eyebrow again. “To do that we would need direct access to the device he is using to contact you. So no, we can’t just ‘hack’ his phone from here. It’s also notable that we don’t know if he’s using proxy servers or Tor, and besides, the data that is accessible to us through the game King’s Knight is so miniscule that it would simply take too long. Finding him in data logs after gathering enough information about his person might prove more useful.”

That kind of made sense, Noctis guessed. It still didn’t make him feel better about snooping on his new friend, but well… it wasn’t like Prom had anything to hide and if it made the Crownsguard feel safer, then it was fine in his books.

Ignis, carrying a tray with four cups on them, was joining them in the living room, settling down next to Noctis. “But he will be able to continue playing the game without any repercussions?”

Cor was crossing his arms in front of his body. “As long as there is no harm done and the information that you are able to gather is sufficient, I don’t see why not.”

“I’ll see to that, then,” Ignis said, offering the Marshal a steaming cup with a dark liquid which Noctis assumed was coffee. Cor declined. “Although I have to admit that it is quite hard to gather information about Niflheim in a game like that, even when playing with someone from Gralea.”

Cor sighed again (was he always sighing whenever he talked to Noctis? He’d have to pay attention to that) and nodded. “Just do your best.”

He stepped back and wandered over to the door where the Crownsguard was still waiting, turning around once again. “And remember: don’t share any personal information about your person, no matter how tempting it may seem.”

Noctis rolled his eyes, but only when he was sure the Marshal couldn’t see it – really, he wasn’t a child anymore and he knew about basic cybersecurity. “Of course. I’ll be careful.”

Cor nodded, apparently satisfied with his answer, and opened the door. The Crownsguard followed him, saluting shortly and then closing the door behind her.

“I wouldn’t have pegged Gladio as a snitch,” Noctis grumbled in Ignis’ general direction, sinking back into the pillows as his advisor pushed a cup of tea towards him which Noctis gratefully accepted, closing his fingers around the warmth it emitted.

Ignis was on his way to the kitchen, presumably to finish dinner, but turned around at Noctis’ comment. “You know that he only wants what’s best for you, Noct.”

“Then he has a really weird way of showing that.” He traced the rim of the cup, watching as ripples appeared on the otherwise smooth surface of his tea. Smelled like chamomile. Did he seem nervous or something like that?

“You know how Gladio is,” Ignis commented, his face appearing around the corner. He opened his mouth to add something else when another knock resounded in the apartment.

Noctis groaned, peeling himself from the comfortable couch and dragging his feet over to the door. “Did you forget to ask me something, Marshal?” he asked through the closed door, pressing down on the handle and letting it swing open in a wide arc.

But, to his surprise, it wasn’t Cor who was standing there – it was Gladio, holding a small plastic bag in his hand, the other at his neck. “Hey,” he greeted Noctis, and if Gladio could sound uncertain, this would probably be it.

Raising an eyebrow at his Shield, Noctis leaned against the doorframe. If Gladio thought he could just barge in here like that as if nothing had happened between them, well, then he was wrong.

Gladio seemed to realize that as well, heaving a defeated sigh. “Listen, kid, I’m- just let me come in, alright?” He waited until Noctis stepped aside before taking off his shoes and dropping them on the mat in the entrance area. Then he joined him in the living room, carefully placing the bag on the table and settling down on the armchair across Noctis.

Noctis put his feet on the couch, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “I’m waiting,” he said, ignoring the weary sigh that came from Ignis.

Running a hand through his long, tousled hair, Gladio slightly shook his head as if to orient himself. “I- what I said wasn’t fair to either of you. I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that.” He leant forward and pushed the bag towards Noctis. “I also bought you a new controller. Y’know, ‘cause I broke the old one.”

He nodded, although he didn’t inspect the content of the bag himself. “You told Cor.” It was supposed to sound a lot more accusing, but instead he just came across like a petulant child.

“And I still think it was the right thing to do.” Gladio’s gaze softened a little as he watched Ignis working in the kitchen for a second. “We’re playing with fire, Noct, and it’s better to be safe than sorry. I mean, isn’t it weird to you that he’s the only person we’ve met thus far?”

“Maybe we’ve just got early copies of the game?” Even to his own ears it sounded like he was grasping at straws.

Gladio knew that, too. “Right. The crown prince of Lucis and a random commoner from Niflheim, sure.” He’d probably noticed Noctis’ glare, because he raised his hands in a placating manner. “Anyways, I don’t wanna argue about this anymore. Not like there’s a point in trying to convince you to stop playing with him. But I’m still your Shield, and I’ll damn right do my job well, even if that means having to put up with Niffs. I’ll keep playing.”

“You’ll be able to keep playing under one condition.” Two could play this game, and Noctis wasn’t as stupid as everyone seemed to think he was. “You apologize to Prom and you refrain from making any more hurtful comments or snide remarks.”

He could basically hear Gladio gritting his teeth, but his Shield nodded nevertheless. “Fine. I’ll do it. I will still report to the Marshal, however, if you fail mention anything. That’s my condition.”

Noctis tapped his fingers against the armrest. He didn’t have to think for too long. “It’s a deal, then.”

“And now that we’ve all comported with one another,” Ignis chimed in, balancing three plates on his hands, “I believe it is time for dinner.”

“You knew that he was coming?”

Ignis chuckled, placing a plate filled with meat (as well as carrots and other vegetables, but he ignored those) in front of Noctis. “Why, of course. I thought it was time that you stopped ignoring your little dispute and faced your problems head-on.”

Noctis glared at his advisor with all the fervour he could muster, trying to burn holes into him with his eyes. “Not. Funny.”

Gladio, who had already picked up fork and knife, snorted. “Yeah, whatever. Did you play while I was gone?”

Furrowing his brows, Noctis looked at him. “Of course we did. We even fought some… thing.”

“A hulder,” Ignis supplied helpfully, cutting into his own steak. “I believe it was called a hulder.”

“Bet it was real hard without me, huh.” Gladio flexed his muscles, grinning at them with pride.

“Not at all, big guy,” Noctis said, pushing the vegetables around on his plate. “It was actually kinda easy. The combat system’s really intuitive and easy to grasp.”

“Really? What’s it like?”

Noctis looked at Ignis for help, but the other just busied himself with his food. “I don’t know? You just kind of… fight like in real life? Your draw your weapon and then you forget you’re playing a game. There aren’t even any button prompts or quick-time events.”

Picking at his food, Gladio seemed to be lost in thought for a few seconds, mulling over what Noctis had said. “I didn’t think their technology was that advanced.”

He shrugged. “Eh. It’s not that impressive. And the story’s kinda lacking, if I’m being honest.”

Ignis seemed to agree. “Their exposition and introduction to new concepts really do need an overhaul.”

“I mean, we’re on our second sister-fetching quest and we haven’t even finished the first one.” Noctis groaned, pushing his plate away from him now that he’d eaten everything but the vegetables. “The NPCs are alright, though, I guess.”

Eyeing Noctis’ still half-full plate, Ignis got up to carry them into the kitchen, carefully stacking them in dishwasher by the sounds of it.

He sank back into the cushions, lazily unlocking his phone with his thumb. “Seems like Prom is free right now. Care for a round?” With narrowed eyes he stared at his Shield, who held his gaze with iron stoicism.

“Sure,” Gladio agreed amicably, getting up to turn the console on. “Why not.”

Noctis shot Prom a quick message, telling him that they’d log in right now before closing the app again, watching as Gladio and Ignis settled down on their respective armchairs, trying to get comfortable.

The game was still loading when the screen of his phone lit up with a new message that Noctis skimmed, letting a soft smile play around his lips afterwards. Maybe this day would end up being fine; after all, who knew what fate had in store for them?

Slipping on his goggles, he watched as the landscape of his all too familiar living room morphed into the thicket of Midgard’s woods, illuminated by the warm glow of Alfheim behind him.

Gladio appeared beside him in an instant, head moving around to orient himself. “So, uh… where are we exactly? And why am I here as well?”

Ignis hummed, tapping his chin with his index finger. “It seems that – seeing as we are part of the same group – you have been teleported with us. Which is quite convenient.”

“Don’t worry, big guy, you didn’t miss anything too important. Just some lore, that’s all,” Noctis assured him, waving at Prom who was coming out of the village with Arctus in tow.

Prom broke into a grin as soon as he saw them, his entire face lighting up- and then falling again when his eyes fell on Gladio. “Oh, uh… hey there,” he stammered out, averting his gaze.

Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Noctis fell back into a stance that was meant to symbolize “Well, what are you waiting for?”

Thankfully, Gladio got the hint. He sighed loudly, one hand coming up to scratch at his arm, his tattoos stretching across taut skin. “Listen, kid… what I said at the beginning wasn’t nice. And I’m sorry for that. Wanna try again?”

Well… it was certainly better than nothing?

And besides, Noctis wasn’t the one who had to accept the apology. His eyes wandered over to Prom, who was- beaming? A grin was etched into Prom’s face, bigger than before and almost threatening to split it in half, and even Arctus behind him was smiling softly, the skin around his eyes creasing at the edges. “Do you? Mean it?”

Gladio groaned, extending his hand and – when Prom didn’t say anything – ruffled his styled hair. “Sure thing, kiddo. And now shut up before I change my mind.”

Prom laughed, and the sound reminded Noctis of the laughs of Alfheim’s inhabitants; clear and strumming. For the fraction of a second he wondered if Prom sounded like that in real life as well or if he used the voice modulator of his headset.

Ignis cleared his throat, grabbing their attention, and they huddled around him, listening to what he had to say. “I’m glad that you all seem to get along now, but we need to go. I’m afraid I can’t let you stay up that long tonight, Noct.”

Noctis rolled his eyes, but before he could say something, Gladio was already talking over him. “So, where are we off to?”

“Jötunheim. But it’s a long journey there, and –“ Ignis protruded the map from somewhere, pointing at the route he’d planned for them- “there is this giant lake that we somehow will have to cross. Unless all of you want to take the longer route around it?”

They all shook their heads simultaneously.

“I thought so. In any case, we should leave now.”

Gladio grumbled something under his breath but obliged, leading the group with Ignis giving him directions from time to time. Arctus happily trudged behind them, although there was a slight spring to his steps that hadn’t been there before.

Prom and Noctis, once again, came in last, falling back ever so little so they could talk in peace.

The blond was the first one to break the silence, playing with the quiver at his waist. “You told him to apologise, didn’t you?” he asked, inclining his head.

Noctis sighed. “Was it that obvious? But yeah, I did. Although, Gladio wouldn’t have apologised if he hadn’t seen the error of his ways, so I only had to give him a tiny push in the right direction.” He ran a hand through his long hair, pushing his bangs out of his face. “And besides, you shouldn’t take everything to heart that he says. Gladio has a something of a… protective streak.” To put it mildly, at least.

Raising an eyebrow at him, Prom readjusted the belt at his waist. “Oh. Are you two like… dating or something?”

Noctis coughed loudly, hitting himself on the chest although that did little in a game. “What? No!” he tried to yell, although it came out sounding like a croak. “Me and Gladio, dating? No way in hell.” He shuddered at the thought of it.

“Oh.” Prom’s face fell a little as he turned away from Noctis’ eyes. “Sorry if I offended you or anything…” he muttered under his breath, barely audible above the soft piano music.

“Offended me…?” Noctis repeated, dumbfounded, staring at his friend. “Wait, I didn’t mean it that way! It’s just, y’know, Gladio. I’ve known him almost my entire life and I could never, uh-“ he shuddered again- “Gladio’s just like a brother to me.”

That seemed to reassure Prom – he raised his eyes again, carefully smiling at Noct. “Still, sorry for just randomly assuming things.”

Noctis waved him off. “Really, it’s fine. But speaking of siblings, do you have any?” Wow, hadn’t that been smooth. If he could, he would facepalm himself right here and now.

Prom stalled for a second, and Noctis feared that he’d gone too far, maybe brought something up that was painful to talk about for Prom or that he simply didn’t want to entrust a stranger with (were they still strangers? or were they friends? he hoped it was the latter), but at last, he smiled. “Yeah. I have a younger sister, she’s really cute.”

Would asking for her name be too obvious? Most likely. “And you live together in Gralea?” he asked instead, brushing the stray branch of a tree aside so it wouldn’t slap him in the face. “Do you still live with your parents?”

“Uh, kind of? Not really with our parents, per se, but rather with our grandfather.” Prom scratched his nose, seemingly lost in thought. “What about you?”

“I moved into an apartment, like, a year ago, although I still live pretty close to my parents. Well, my father at least. My mother is dead.” It felt wrong to lie to Prom, it really did, so he tried to weave a little of the truth into his story as well, even if it hurt. That wasn’t forbidden, was it?

Prom nodded, lowering his gaze again. “I’m sorry for your loss. I’ve never really gotten to know my parents, so my sister and my grandfather are all I really have.” He sighed, the sound laced with sombreness that felt like it wanted to swallow him whole.

“I didn’t know…” It obviously hurt Prom to talk about this, so should he really pressure him into talking even more about his past just so the Royal Guard had something to use against him?

Noctis pushed forwards, doing his best to change the topic to a less saddening one. “You said you had a photographic studio in the capital, right?” he asked, trying to sound as curious as possible. “I need some new passport photographs and, to be frank, the studios here in Accordo are kind of sh*t, so what name would I have to look up to get an appointment at yours?”

Prom laughed. “You would travel that far just to have a photo of you taken? Geez, rich kids these days.” He wiped at his eyes, shaking his head. “I don’t have a website yet since I’m still pretty new, but if you’re ever in Gralea, just, well… ah, you know what?” Prompto inhaled, apparently steeling himself. “I’m done with keeping secrets. Just look for someone named Prompto Argentum.” Prom exhaled as if a huge weight had been lifted from his chest.

“Prompto… that’s a nice name,” Noctis commented. “Would you prefer to be called Prompto or is Prom still fine?”

Prom smiled at him. “Prom’s still fine, if you want to use it. Will you… tell me your name?”

It was fine if he told Prom his real name, right? Surely there were a lot of people called Noctis, and besides, it wasn’t like Prom would find out who he was just because he knew his first name. As long as Ignis and Gladio didn’t hear him, all should be well.

Still-

“My name’s… Noctem.”

“Noctem…” Prom let the name roll off his tongue, furrowed his brows at the sound of it. “That sounds familiar.”

Noctis nodded. “Yeah. I was named after the Lucian crown prince, y’know? We were born around the same time and my parents just had to jump on the bandwagon.” Had he really just said that? Six, could he be any more obvious?

“Oh, right!” Prom snapped his fingers, his face lighting up once again. “Noctis! Yeah, I’ve heard about him before! Man, your parents must’ve really liked Lucian royalty, huh.”

Chuckling, Noctis turned his face away, pretending to check up on his sword, and then let his gaze wander of the lush forest they were in. “Yeah, they did.”

“I hope that when he and the successor to the Niflheimian throne are in office a lot more peace talks will take place.” Prom sighed. “I’m sick of this war.”

Noctis hummed in thought. “What if he’s a schmuck who’s too cowardly to rule the country? Or what if he can’t do his job right?”

“I don’t think he will be like that,” Prom offered. He sounded sincere. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen pictures of the royal family, y’know, ever since it’s been forbidden, but he just… had that special something. And that one friend I’ve talked about before, she speaks really highly of him. So I do think that he’ll be able to end the war. In a peaceful way.”

Turning his face away again so Prom wouldn’t notice his red cheeks, Noctis grumbled an unintelligible reply.

Prom laughed, but before he could retort, Noctis was saved by Ignis’ voice. “I believe we are here, gentlemen,” he announced, and Noctis looked up to find himself in front of a gigantic lake that reached far behind the horizon. The forest thinned out with only a few trees having their roots in the muck and mud underneath all the water, and Noctis speechlessly stared at the sight in front of him.

The lake was pitch black, but a small sign at the edge of the water read ‘Amsvartnir’, almost overgrown by the local flora. The name wasn’t familiar to Noctis, and it seemed that not even Arctus was able to recognise it.

“And what now?” he asked, knowing fully well that the others had no answers either.

“We… cross the lake?” Prom suggested, dunking one of his feet into the water and immediately drawing it back with a hiss of “Cold!”

“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Arctus said suddenly, stepping back from the edge. “Can we not go around it?”

Ignis opened his mouth to retort something when Noctis noticed it.

The ripples were small at first, barely noticeable above the natural waves that lapped against the grassy shore, but they were there. He moved towards the edge, kneeling down and watching his reflection in the murky water. “Guys?” he called out as the ripples grew larger, water splashing upwards against his legs. “Something’s coming.”

“No, no, I definitely agree with Arctus,” Prom chimed in, slowly creeping away from the edge. “I really we should-“

“Shut it, blondie,” Gladio interrupted him. “Save the talking for later.” He drew his axe, holding it in front of his body. “Whatever’s coming, I’m ready to take it on.”

He watched as Ignis drew his daggers as well, before he unsheathed his own sword. The clanging of metal behind him told him that Arctus and Prom were doing the same, despite their initial protests.

Noctis inhaled deeply, steeling himself against the inevitable as a long, dark shadow appeared beneath the surface of the water, gliding through it with such ease that Noctis couldn’t believe what he was seeing was true. No fish could be that large…

The giant snake-like thing that emerged from the water took his breath away, and he gasped for air as it drew itself up to its entire height in the sky above them, each of its glimmering eyes as large as a human head.

Near the bottom of the screen, a name appeared. 'Denizen of the Deep.' As always, there was no health bar - not that Noctis had expected one.

“Oh no,” Arctus whispered behind him, his voice barely louder than the waves now crashing against the shore, ready to consume everything in their wake, “Jörmungandr.”

The snake let out what could only be described as a scream as it dove towards them without a second thought, and at the last moment, Noctis threw his sword, trying to warp after it only to realize that it wouldn't work. He rolled to the side, barely avoiding its sharp teeth that pierced the ground where he’d just stood.

Noctis scrambled to get up, gratefully accepting Prom’s outstretched hand after grabbing his sword, and together they sprinted behind a tree for cover. If Prom had just seen his misstep, he didn't say anything. “What’s the strategy?” He yelled towards Ignis who only shrugged in response, too busy dodging the serpent’s attacks to formulate a plan.

Trying to catch his breath, Noctis watched as it moved through the water, its glittering scales reflecting the dim light of the moon. “Arctus!” he yelled again when he was sure that his voice was going to work properly. “You knew its name! Any chance you know its weakness as well?”

Arctus yelped as a loose scale bore into the soil right next to his feet, jumping away. “Maybe its head?” he mused out loud, parrying another scale that was headed his way. It bounced off of the surface of the water before sinking.

Gladio grunted, trying to hit the serpent’s head as it burrowed its fangs into the ground beside him. “That’s not helpful at all!” The snake quickly withdrew its head, hissing, and sprayed some kind of liquid into the air. A liquid that made the plants on the ground wilt in just a few seconds. Poison.

Ignis cursed as it his skin, taking cover under a tree and summoning an apple from his inventory. His wounds closed only to reopen barely a second later, although smaller this time.

Prom, who was still standing next to him, strung his bow. “I’ve got an idea!” he yelled to grab their attention. “Gladio, keep doing whatever you’re doing!”

His Shield only grunted in response.

“Listen, I don’t have much time to explain. Ignis, I need you to distract the big snake together with Gladio. Can you do that?” He waited until Ignis nodded before continuing. “I’m gonna try to hit its eyes. And that’ll be your chance-“ he pointed at Noctis and Arctus- “try to climb onto it and then, I dunno, cut its head off? You can figure out that part later!”

Ignis nodded, joining Gladio in the fray, although Noctis doubted that he’d do much harm with his daggers.

“You two wait here until it’s downed, alright? Don’t let it see you!” Prom whispered to them (it was more of a shout than a whisper, not that that mattered) before leaving the safety of the tree and aiming at the snake’s eyes. “C’mon, you big, ugly freak! Stay still for once!” He cursed loudly as the first arrow missed its mark, shooting past the snake’s head and the tracing an arc into the murky water.

Quickly co*cking another arrow, Prom targeted the snake anew, and this time it hissed louder than ever before, its monstrous body almost creating tidal waves as it swayed in the water, threatening to fall but still clinging on.

It dove forwards, missing Prom by a hair width as he jumped aside.

The smell of sulphur filled the stale air, and Noctis subconsciously scrunched up his nose, digging his fingernails into the bark of the tree behind his back as he slowly edged around it, keeping his back firmly pressed into it.

That was all Ignis needed – the snake was slower than before, uncoordinated and sloppy, and his advisor took the chance to ram his dagger into its other eye.

It thrashed around, its long, split tongue darting out of its mouth and coiling itself around Prom’s leg and the pained scream his friend let loose was something Noctis would never forget.

He left his cover, Arctus a few feet behind him as he ran towards the snake and swung his sword down on its tongue, neatly severing it and helping his friend up. Arctus jumped on the beast’s head just as it lifted it again, losing his footing on its slippery body before regaining his balance by driving his sword into a space between the scales.

It buckled under him but Arctus held onto the sword that was buried in the snake’s head. His blond hair was whipping around his head, and he spat out a strand of it as he yelled down at them. “One shot!”

Prom seemed to understand. He raised his bow, right as the snake threw its head back, still trying to shake Arctus off, and the arrow hit its target at the vulnerable underside of its jaw, piercing the skin there. It fell into the water with a splash, disappearing beneath the waves.

Arctus jumped, landing on the shore with a roll, and brushed himself off although that did nothing to make his clothes any drier than before.

Prom sighed as Noctis handed him the loaf of bread he’d taken from Alfheim. “I should really lower my sensitivity settings, huh.” He chuckled, although the sound was humourless and dry. “Man, that hurt more than I wanna admit.”

Kneeling next to Prom, Arctus let his eyes wander over the injury. “This could all have been avoided if we had just taken the longer route,” he murmured, his hands hovering over Prom’s leg as if asking for permission. “The bread has enough healing energy to knit most of the skin together, but it won’t completely heal it,” he said, fingers probing the still bleeding skin.

Noctis buried his face in his hands, groaning. “Great. Just great. How will we keep travelling if you can’t walk properly?”

Chewing on his lower lip, Prom looked up at him with big eyes. “You could always, y’know, just leave me behind. I wouldn’t fault you for that.”

Noctis scoffed at him, but his expression softened immediately and he dropped down next to Prom, ripping out clumps of grass before throwing them into the water. “No way in hell, man. Don’t even think about it.”

“No man is left behind,” Gladio chimed in, leaning against a tree, “not even a wuss like you.” His breathing was still kind of off and he was panting heavily, but all in all Gladio seemed to be fine.

Prom rolled his eyes, but a smile graced his face. “Gee, thanks.”

Ignis, who had been silent until now, left the shore and joined them as well, tugging his gloves up. The marks that the poison had left on his body were gone. “We won’t need to travel around the lake. Gladio and I have found a boat that we will be able to use – that should make our way a lot shorter.”

And, lo and behold, there was a small boat bobbing up and down on the waves. It was wooden, its planks looking a little rotten, but it probably would do the job. “Can you walk?” Noctis asked Prom, who only shrugged in response.

“I can try,” he muttered, bracing his arms against the ground and digging his fingers into the muddy soil. He got up on wobbly legs, staggering around with an uncoordinated gait, so Noctis supported Prom’s left side while Arctus mirrored him on the other side.

Together they hobbled towards the boat, carefully letting Prom down on one of the benches.

Prom hadn’t said anything but Noctis could see his pinched expression, the way sweat had begun to trickle down his temples and how his breathing had become more and more laboured.

He pushed a strand of golden hair out of Prom’s eyes, lightly patting his cheek. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Already tried lowering the sensitivity?”

Prom shook his head so Noctis left him at it for a moment, coming to stand beside Ignis and Gladio as Arctus climbed into the boat to sit next to Prom.

“There’s one problem,” Ignis finally spoke up, breaking the silence that had settled down like a blanket, only interrupted by Prom’s heavy breathing. “The boat doesn’t have any oars.”

Noctis groaned again. “And what now? We can’t walk the entire way if Prom’s like that. What are we supposed to do? Attach a rope to the boat and pull him the entire way?” Not that he wouldn’t do that.

“Maybe it’s a magical boat,” Gladio said with a snort, clearly not taking this serious enough. “Who knows, maybe it’ll bring us across the lake on its own.”

“It’s our best bet,” Ignis conceded although he sounded doubtful. “They would not just randomly place a boat here, after all. It must serve a purpose.”

Or maybe it was just a forgotten asset.

Noctis shrugged, his gaze finding the moon through the canopy. “There’s nothing wrong with trying.” He stepped towards the boat, slowly lowering himself into it and trying to make as little movements as possible. Tipping the boat over was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment.

Gladio and Ignis followed him, settling down on the wooden bench in the front and then turning around to face Noctis. His Shield opened his mouth to say something (probably something sarcastic) but before he could do so, a wave rocked the boat.

And then another wave.

And another.

They drifted away from the shore as the water pressed against the side of their boat, floating away from the safety of the land and towards the middle of the lake that spanned out in every direction imaginable. Cold water sloshed into the wooden vessel, spraying them from head to toe, and Noctis trembled.

In front of him, Gladio was thrown against the planks, almost going overboard, but he grabbed the bench at the last second to ground himself. Behind him, Prom whimpered. “I think I’m gonna be seasick…”

Gladio whirled around. “Don’t you dare hurl into the boat! Keep it together!”

For a split second Noctis wondered if Prom could even do that – they were still playing a game after all. But then again, he didn’t want to test it.

Prom, who was turning a sickly shade of green, only let out another, pitiful moan and then clamped his hand over his mouth. Arctus patted his back, staring at the horizon as Prom shuddered beneath his fingers.

This thing could be over in three minutes and it still would have been three minutes too long for Noctis’ liking.

At last it was Ignis who alerted them that they were approaching land. “We shouldn’t be there yet,” he noted as the waves carried them towards the sandy shore. The waters were quieter here, a lot less violent, and it seemed to somewhat calm Prom’s stomach as well.

The underside of the boat ran onto ground, and Noctis was jarred by the impact, crashing against the side of the boat. “An island, maybe?” he wearily asked into the round, massaging his temples. Everything kind of hurt at the moment.

Ignis, furrowing his brows if his voice was any indication, hummed in thought. “There wasn’t one on the map…”

Gladio shrugged, jumping out of the boat with ease. “Not like we can change it. Might as well look around while we’re here.” He waded through the shallow water and was completely soaked in just a few seconds. “You coming or what?”

Noctis watched as Ignis got up to follow Gladio before standing up in the unsteady boat, jumping out to help Arctus navigate Prom. He held his arms out, ready to catch him if the other should slip, but with Arctus’ help they somehow managed to get Prom onto his wobbly feet and into the water.

Prom sighed as soon as he made contact with the cool waves that lapped against his skin, caressing him softly. “I turned the settings down a little, but it still kind of hurts. And, y’know, given that we don’t have a HP bar or anything, I don’t wanna completely turn them off,” he explained, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head.

Slinging one of Prom’s arms over his shoulder, Noctis nodded at him. “It’s fine, I get that. And you’re not a liability, I promise.” Together with Arctus he helped Prom stumble towards the beach – if it could even be called that.

As far as Noctis could tell, the island wasn’t that big. It was largely flatland, overgrown with grass and other plants. He could make out some distinct, white flowers that looked almost woollen in the silver light of the moon.

They traversed the lands with Ignis and Gladio taking point, although both of them were walking slower than usual (which Noctis was grateful for). Birds that might have been hawks accompanied them from time to time, circling above their heads before falling back into the darkness of the night.

It wasn’t long before a giant rock appeared, menacingly looming in front of them and blocking their way.

Ignis sighed, resting his hand against its rough surface. “Climbing it seems futile, what with Prom’s leg and all. We need to find a way around it.”

Noctis groaned, slowly letting Prom down so he could lean against the rock. They all deserved a break.

“I could check out the rock and find the best route,” Gladio offered, and to Noctis’ surprise, he sounded completely sincere. He didn’t wait for their answer, disappearing into the blackness that surrounded them. An owl hooted somewhere.

Ignis kneeled down next to Prom, checking up on his leg. Trails of acid had carved intricate tendrils into it, and smears of red sullied his light pants. Sighing, Ignis uncapped his water bag and let it wash over Prom’s skin.

Noctis ripped another part of his cape off, offering it to Ignis who accepted it with a grateful nod, soaking it in the clear water and then wiping down Prom’s leg with it. Could they get infections in this game? Even the thought of it made him uneasy, and he banned it from his mind.

Prom hissed but made no motions to pull his leg away, so Ignis continued silently, trying to get most of the grime and dirt off. The wound had stopped bleeding some time ago, which Noctis took as a good sign.

Washing his hands in a spring nearby, Ignis got up, choosing not to bandage Prom’s leg. Noctis decided not to question Ignis’ medical skills and instead inspected the rock that was shimmering in the dim light. Veins of silver and gold ran through it and runes were carved into its rough surface. He let his fingers wander across them, felt how they dipped and then resurfaced again.

He sighed, wiping his hands on his cape and watched the sky, illuminated by the light of the moon. It was peaceful here, that much was he was sure of.

Noctis wanted to sigh again, but the sound of footsteps interrupted him and he turned around to come face to face with Gladio. He inclined his head. “And?”

“The rock’s a cave,” Gladio responded, “and I think you should see what’s inside.” He didn’t sound too worried, so whatever was in there, it couldn’t be that bad.

From the corners of his eyes he saw how Ignis and Arctus helped Prom stand up, and together they let Gladio take the lead, following him while carefully watching their surroundings.

The mouth of the cave was not too far away, half hidden by bushes and even more flowers, and Noctis brushed the thicket aside to step into. Water dropped from the ceiling, running down his temples, but he paid it no mind.

His breath caught in his throat as he stared at the picture in front of him.

On the lithic ground, bound to it by a silken ribbon, was a wolf, larger than any beast he’d ever encountered. Its ribcage expanded with every shuddering breath it took, and every time it exhaled, a cloud of dust arose. The wolf’s eyes were half lidded, watching him through slits.

Noctis stepped closer, careful to not step directly in the range of the wolf’s snout and crouched beside it, inspecting the ribbon. He jerked back when he saw two other wolfs behind the bound one, both of which were free to roam but didn’t. Something golden was between them, although he couldn’t quite make out what it was. They watched him with wary eyes, their heads resting on their paws, but made no other movements.

“Fenrir,” Arctus whispered, and it sounded as loud as a roaring waterfall in the silence of the cave. “I thought his existence was merely a myth…”

Swallowing, Noctis crept closer, one hand hovering over the wolf’s fur, careful not to make any sudden movements. He waited for as second, but the wolf only blinked slowly, so he let his hand rest on its flank, felt its warmth beneath his frozen fingers. He looked up at Ignis. “We have to free it.”

It just felt… right. As if that was what he was meant to do all along. And maybe the others felt it as well, because no one tried to stop him. Noctis tugged at the ribbon, tried to tear it apart, but it only became tighter around the wolf’s body. Drawing his sword, he tried to cut it in two, but the ribbon barely budged at all.

Noctis frowned, sheathing his sword again when Gladio pushed him aside. “Let me handle this,” he grunted before kneeling down himself and grabbing the ribbon with full force.

Nothing happened.

Gladio scowled darkly, letting go of the ribbon and spitting into his hands before tearing at it again with all the force he could muster.

This time, it seemed to work – the ribbon slowly came apart at the seams as threads began to appear. Gladio’s face turned a weird shade of red as sweat began to trickle down his forehead and his muscles bulged underneath his skin.

The air was filled with tense anticipation, almost crackling with electricity, and even the wolves raised their heads at the spectacle, their dark eyes glistening.

Finally, the band snapped, loosely falling off the wolf’s body.

In a fluid motion, faster than Noctis could ever react, it sprang up and pounced on Gladio, who fell back as the wolf loomed above him, baring its teeth and… licking him across the face. Its pinkish tongue lolled out as it panted, drooling all over Gladio.

“Gross,” he muttered, trying to shove the beast’s head away from him, which – surprisingly enough – seemed to work. The wolf trotted away into the back of the cave where it picked up the shimmering, golden object from before only to deposit it in Gladio’s lap, sitting down in front of him.

Gladio picked it up, turned the item around in his hands and inspected every inch of it.

It was a golden, double-headed axe, with something, a foreign name, maybe, engraved in its hilt. Gladio grumbled something under his breath, running his fingers across the sharp blade. “It’s the weapon I saw earlier.”

Ignis, who had let go of Prom some time ago to shield him instead, kneeled down next to Gladio now that there was no immediate danger discernible. “So this is one of the legendary weapons, then. Fascinating.” He watched as the silver light of the moon reflected in the golden blade, creating colourful patterns on the mossy walls.

But Noctis… Noctis only had eyes for the wolves.

He reached out to the closest one, the one Gladio had freed and slowly laid his palm flat on its head, scratching behind its ear. “Who’s a good boy?” he asked as the wold nuzzled his hand with its wet snout. “What did you call him, Arctus? Fenrir?”

He got up, and so did the wolf, heavily leaning its weight into his body. Noctis stumbled slightly.

Arctus nodded from where he was standing next to an ashen Prom. “Yes, that would be Fenrir.” He bowed before the wolf, letting his eyes wander over to the other two who were now slowly getting up as well. One trudged towards Arctus and laid down at his feet while the other sniffed Ignis’ hand. “And these two must be Hati and Skoll, then.”

He scratched the wolf that was apparently named Hati behind its ears as Prom let out a shaky laugh.

“Don’t tell me we’re gonna be riding on these. Couldn’t they have just included chocobos? I love chocobos!”

Arctus hummed as if deep in thought. “No one has ever tamed them, but I feel that with you-“ his eyes narrowed when he looked at Noctis- “we might have a chance.” He let go of Prom for a second and grabbed a fistful of the wolf’s fur, swinging himself onto its back. Once he was up there, he slid forwards a little. “Seems to work just fine.”

Prom groaned, trying to turn away and hobble out of the cave, but before he could go too far, Gladio had grabbed his waist and hauled him up, effectively throwing him on the wolf’s back right behind Arctus.

In the meantime, Ignis had somehow gotten on Skoll’s back with Gladio climbing up behind him, attaching his new axe to his belt.

Noctis turned towards Fenrir who had kneeled in front of him, looking up at Noctis with expectant eyes. He sighed, swinging his leg over the wolf’s flank and trying not to fall off when Fenrir stood up.

It was a weird feeling, being up in the air like that, but it certainly wasn’t unwelcome. He let his fingers run through Fenrir’s soft fur, feeling the wolf’s muscles working beneath him as they left the cave.

Prom was still whining, however, his arms tightly wound around Arctus’ middle. “I’d really much rather have a chocobo, can’t we try to get one somewhere? Please?”

To Noctis’ surprise, it was Arctus who spoke up. “No. I don’t like chocobos,” he said with such firmness that it shut Prom up for all of two seconds.

“What? Why?”

Arctus turned around slightly to face Prom, his face serious. “Because they smell bad.”

That elicited a laugh from Gladio, and Prom furrowed his brows. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothin’,” Gladio said after his laughter had died down. “It’s nothing.”

It was silent for a moment as they let the wolves carry them across the land, and Noctis felt ready to fall asleep at any given moment. Ignis was studying the map as far as he could tell, and Prom and Gladio were still bickering with each other.

The scenery changed with every step they took. Plains were replaced with small hills and springs appeared from time to time at which they let their new companions drink.

“How peculiar,” Ignis said after a while, staring straightforward at a field of flowers. Sunflowers, to be exact. “How did they survive the dark?”

Noctis shrugged as Fenrir headed towards the flowers and treaded into it, channelling his way through them. “We’ve seen weirder things.” Next to him were Prom and Arctus, and he watched with amusem*nt as Prom plucked a flower from its stem and attempted to tuck it behind Arctus’ ear. It immediately fell off.

Arctus laughed quietly, plucking a flower himself and placing it on the wolf’s head instead, watching as it bobbed up and down with every movement. After that, they were separated from each other by a wall of sunflowers.

It was kind of like being trapped in a maze, although it was a beautiful one. The moon really brought out the colours of the flowers, and Noctis let his fingers brush against their petals, taking in their smell as best as he could.

They beat the fields, and after they emerged from them, pollen clung to every inch of his being, to every little hair in Fenrir’s fur.

He laughed at Ignis and Gladio, who looked way worse than him, and snorted when he saw how Prom and Arctus had decorated Hati with flowers.

Together, they reached the shore.

Chapter 6: Jötunheim

Chapter Text

It was a few days later that Noctis found himself in the strange world of Midgard, still standing at the same old shore.

He’d told Cor everything – not that he’d had much of a say in the matter, and Cor had reassured him that Noctis had done a good job. Noctis should be proud, by all accounts, but truth be told… he felt terrible.

The feeling gnawed at him when he tried to sleep at night, plagued his dreams and weighed on him whenever Prom sent him a message.

Noctis pushed it aside as best as he could, stretching his limbs. It had been a tiring few days, and he was looking forward to a relaxing gaming session with his friends, preferably without any more monsters that would have to be slain. This far, they hadn’t encountered many basic enemies, and he wondered if they simply hadn’t been implemented yet. Which was a weird thought, to say the least.

Yawning, he turned towards Fenrir to stroke the wolf’s head. It was kind of like patting a huge dog, he mused as the wolf panted quietly. Kind of like Umbra.

Next to him, Ignis was probing Prom’s leg again, checking on the injuries he’d sustained the last time. It did look better and a lot less swollen now that a few days had gone by, as if simply time alone had been able to mend his wounds, although scars still remained on Prom’s otherwise unblemished skin.

Deeming it good enough, Ignis got up and climbed back onto Skoll’s back with Gladio, who’d been quiet until now, right behind him.

Arctus got up from where he had been watching the calm surface of the water and joined Prom, threading his fingers through the wolf’s grey fur. Together they’d washed off the sunflowers, watched as they flowed down the current and disappeared into the mist that hung above the lake.

Noctis sighed, swinging his legs over Fenrir’s back. Jötunheim shouldn’t be too far off now, if he was reading the map correctly. Which he definitely was, thank you very much.

He sighed louder when Fenrir stepped into the water, first one paw, then the other, until it reached the middle of Noctis’ calves. It was the same bone-chilling cold as before that crept into his skin and nestled itself somewhere near his heart, and Noctis subconsciously pressed closer against the wolf, seeking its warmth.

Fenrir was swimming now, barely affected by the sub-zero temperatures as he glided through the water with ease. Noctis, burying his clammy hands into the thick fur around Fenrir’s neck, could only hold on and hope that it’d be over soon.

Somewhere behind him, Prom yelped. “Something just touched my leg!”

Gladio laughed, but Noctis could hear the quiver in his voice. It seemed like the cold was getting to everyone. “Prolly just some water plant. Stop bitching.”

It sounded as if Prom mumbled something under his breath, but he actually did shut up on Gladio’s command. Maybe he simply didn’t have the energy to argue; not that Noctis could blame him.

The cold was mind-numbing.

He breathed out, watching as a small, white cloud rose from his mouth, and then tried to move one of his unresponsive hands upwards to drag his tunic-shirt-whatever over his runny nose. It slipped right off again.

Groaning, Noctis contended himself with trying to ignore the cold by taking in his surroundings. Mist still drifted above the surface of the lake, shimmering in the silver light of the moon and forming creatures as pale as ghosts that were gone with the wind.

It was quiet except for the rhythmic sounds of splashing water as they made their way through the lake and the occasional sharp intake of breath. Outside of the villages it always seemed to be quiet. It was as if the world was dead.

The cold still sapped his energy, but it was bearable now, as if he was watching the world through a veil. If he reached for it, would he be able to brush it aside? Would the world assume colour once more?

Everything seemed so grey out here; the water was murky, as if something dark lurked beneath its surface and even the sky above them, usually populated by millions of stars, seemed to have lost its colour.

He tightened his grip on Fenrir’s fur, turning around to yell something at his friends, see if they were still with him, when another sharp intake of breath came from next to him.

“The shore!” Prom yelled with as much excitement as he could muster, pointing at some hazy outline in the distance. “Thank the Gods!”

Noctis exhaled loudly, and even Fenrir seemed to speed up, desperate to reach land. It had been far too long.

As soon as Fenrir’s paws hit the ground, Noctis was off his back, tramping through the shallow water. His clothes were already soaked, so what did it matter? He placed his hand on the wolf’s flank, guiding him towards the solid ground that the coast offered.

Behind him, he could hear the others do the same. No one really talked much. The sound of splashing water swallowed every other noise.

Once they were standing on the grey grass that grew on this side of the lake, Noctis finally turned around to them. “Now what?” he asked, trying to ignore how much his teeth clattered. Next to him, Fenrir shook off the water, completely spraying Noctis. Just great.

“We should warm ourselves up,” Ignis suggested, tugging his sleeves down, leaning into Skoll’s side. He crossed his ankles.

Barely noticeable in the dark of the night, snow started to flutter down, melting as soon as it hit their clothes.

“You wanna camp out here?” Noctis said, trying to his keep his voice level, but a hint of exasperation must have shone through.

Ignis frowned. “Obviously not. We should try to look for a hut or a cave or any kind of shelter at all. We can’t stay out here.”

Gladio nodded. “Then let’s go. I’m freezing.”

Prom snorted. “You’re freezing?” he said, pointing at his bare feet that were a deep shade of red.

Gladio cleared his throat, raising his eyebrows before pointing at his own, naked chest.

“Oh, right. Forgot about that.”

Ignis, who’d been scouting their environment in the meantime, just sighed. “That over there looks promising. We should go check it out.” He nodded towards a small rock formation, not too far away as snow slowly accumulated in his hair, giving it a white glimmer.

It wasn’t like they had any other choice. “Sorry, buddy,” Noctis whispered into Fenrir’s ear as he mounted the wolf, stroking his head. Fenrir only gave a short howl before he began to move, closely followed by the other two.

Slowly they made their way through the relentless terrain, snow scrunching beneath their wolves’ paws as they neared the rock formation. Noctis really hoped that Ignis had been correct, because if not-

Well, there was no point in thinking about that now, was there? They’d simply have to move on and hope that nothing crossed their path.

He turned his head to the side, trying to memorise the landscape as best as he could, but everything looked the same. The only plants that grew here were ever-greens and yew trees, already laden with snow that weighed down on their branches.

With frozen limbs, he climbed down (or rather fell down) his wolf, struggling to keep standing, to keep his knees from locking up and leaving him to collapse into himself.

It was cold, so very cold. The air in front of his face was littered with white clouds whenever he breathed out, his nose had been runny before but now it was just frozen and he couldn’t feel his fingers, his ears, anything.

His teeth chattered, the sound of bones in his body grinding against one another in protest, shifting and moving beneath skin that felt like paper, doing nothing to fend off the cold.

Noctis shuddered, pulling his cape tightly around himself. It was cold. So damn cold.

They had to move, he knew that. So he willed his tired body to obey, follow his mind’s lead as it guided him around the rock, as he brushed snow from its surface.

The snow scrunched beneath his feet, thick and heavy and its icy cold penetrated the soles of his boots, made his toes go numb. He didn’t want to know how Prom felt. Or Gladio, for that matter.

Finally, finally, when squeezing through the gap between another rock and a spruce, he saw the opening in front of him. It was barely taller than him and completely dark, but it nevertheless led to a cave, that much he was sure of.

He felt Gladio’s warm hand on his shoulder as his Shield passed him to inspect the mouth of the cave in case of potential danger. When he shook his head, the others followed him, Ignis slightly crouching to get into the cave.

The inside was – as expected – dark, and although the wind didn’t nip at his face anymore, it was still cold. Ignis kneeled down on the ground, surveying the items that lay scattered there. A pot and several animal pelts, it seemed, as well as a few rocks and charred wood. Someone had made camp here before.

Ignis turned towards them, looking up with serious eyes. “We could stay here until we’ve properly warmed up, but we’ll need some things,” he said, eyeing them carefully.

“Just shoot, Iggy,” Gladio sighed, crossing his arms in front of his chest before deciding otherwise and grabbing a pelt and wrapping it around his upper body. Prom followed him suit, as did Noctis, relishing the warmth. The wolves had laid down at Ignis’ feet, not even raising their heads while they talked. Arctus was still scratching behind Hati’s ears.

“I’d like for Gladio to collect some firewood,” Ignis said, his hands resting on the burnt wood on the ground, “and someone needs to fetch us some meat or the like. Maybe a few vegetables as well.”

Noctis hummed. “I can do that,” he offered amicably, to which Ignis nodded. “Anyone wanna come with me?”

Prom raised his hand almost immediately. “Yeah, I’ll help you.”

“Fantastic,” Ignis said, looking at Arctus. “And you can help me set up camp, alright?”

Arctus’ gaze was lingering on Prom as if he was mentally debating if he should actually leave the other alone, even if it was only for a short period of time, but at last, he nodded. “Alright,” he agreed, lowering his eyes again. Something was off about him, but Noctis couldn’t place his finger on what it was.

“We’ll be right back,” Prom promised Arctus, giving him a thumbs up that the blond hesitantly reciprocated.

Noctis, who was already at the entrance (Gladio had apparently gone when no one was looking) tapped his foot against the ground. “You coming?”

Prom had the audacity to laugh as he caught up to him, his hand on Noctis’ sleeve as he dragged him outside. “Of course. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

It should have been dark, by all accounts, but somehow, it wasn’t.

Instead it was white – purified, holy, angelic.

Noctis gaped at the snowed-in landscape. They had been inside for a few minutes, if at all. No way that it had snowed that much in such a short amount of time.

Next to him, Prom was awestruck as well.

Discontented, he made his way through the piles of white on either side of him, still growing. Noctis shook his head to clear the snowflakes away, and the white danced and shimmered around him. Footsteps behind him.

“I’ve never camped before,” Prom commented suddenly, breaking the silence that the snow had laid above them like a blanket. His voice sounded muffled. “Never really done much of anything, to be honest.”

Noctis sighed into his pelt, pulling it tighter around him until the fur tickled his nose. He sneezed. “I’ve gone camping a few times. With Gladio. It’s not that much fun.” It really wasn’t, Gladio always made sure of that.

“Still…” Prom breathed out, adjusting the bow at his side, “I just- I’m glad I got the chance to. With all of you.”

And Noctis felt the same. He was about to place his hand on Prom’s shoulder, maybe make fun of him a little for his sappy words when a shape appeared in the distance, partially obscured by snow and dark green trees.

He squinted at it. “D’you see that?” he asked, extracting his hand from the warmth of his pelt and pointing at the shape.

Prom hummed. “Is that… a house?”

Well, it certainly did look like one. “Wanna go check it out?”

Not even having to think twice, Prom shot him a grin. “Sure, why not?”

Noctis smiled back. Being with Prom was so easy and uncomplicated. “Then let’s go.” His feet sank into the deep snow as he took a step forward. It still felt as if the cold was trying to seep into his skin and poison his mind, but the pelt did a pretty good job of fending it off.

Extending his hand to Prom, who was lagging slightly behind him, he raised one eyebrow. “C’mon, slowpoke. We don’t have all day.” He took another step forward.

Something cracked beneath him.

The ground under his feet disappeared, falling away as if a rift had opened up where he’d been walking.

No, not a rift.

His eyes strayed down for the fraction of a millisecond, and the sight of shimmering, breaking glass, flashing through the white snow, caught his eyes, the simple way it reflected the light of the stars, so far up in the sky that they seemed unreachable.

The dark was beneath him. It was above him. It reached its tendrils out towards him, and he could feel them on his skin, whipping at his face and it felt as if it was crawling into his body, poisoning his blood until he bled black.

And then he was laying on the ground again, the back of his head pressed into snow that had never felt so soft before. His heart beat against his ribcage as if trying to escape as his eyes stared at the dark sky that wasn’t all that dark. Next to the stars, paths of iridescent lights in all imaginable colours moved across it, coiling around like snakes and intertwining before falling apart again, as if someone had randomly splattered paint on a canvas.

Prom’s cold hand was still on his arm. His breath was shaky. “You alright, man?”

Abruptly, he sat up, running his fingers through his hair before shaking his head to get rid of the snow. Noctis cleared his throat once, twice, willing his mouth to work. “Just fine,” he said at last. A breathy laugh escaped him.

The ground that he’d just stood upon a few seconds ago was gone – in its stead was dark water, sloshing against the ice. “Thanks,” he added hoarsely, almost like an afterthought. “I owe you one.”

Prom laughed, too, even though it didn’t sound as if he thought this situation was funny in the slightest. “Of course. Don’t sweat it, man.” He let go of Noctis’ arm to swipe his hand across his brow. “That could’ve ended badly.”

He nodded absentmindedly, brushing himself off before trying to stand up. His legs buckled beneath him, and he sank down again. Stubbornly, he tried again, frowning when Prom had to step in and assist him. “Sorry,” he mumbled into the pelt. It sounded muffled, even to his own ears.

Prom sighed. “It’s fine. C’mon, let’s give this ugly little lake a wide berth. We can’t stay out here all night.”

He said that as if the night wasn’t endless.

Noctis nodded tiredly, curling his half-frozen fingers around Prom’s biceps as they stumbled rather than walked towards the hut that loomed in front of them like it was mocking them.

Thankfully, the rest of the way was rather unspectacular. They snuck around the lake and past a few trees that looked like their prime time was long over, ready to collapse into themselves should even the slightest breeze decide to sway their branches. Above them, the shimmering lights kept moving, dipping in and out of existence. Noctis silently wondered what they were.

The house wasn’t as large as it had seemed from afar. It was a one-story building completely made out of wood, with snow covering its front, making it blend in almost perfectly.

He let go of Prom for a second and moved towards the door, brushing the snow off on a whim. The wood felt slightly warm beneath his fingers as he ran them across the wood, searching for a knocker or a nameplate or something.

Beside him, Prom hummed, pointing at a small metal plate that was nailed next to the door. “Ullr,” he read out loud, furrowing his brows. “Huh. That’s a weird name. How are you even supposed to pronounce that?”

Noctis shrugged as he gave up on his search and placed the flat of his hand against the door, pushing slightly. It squeaked as it opened, scraping against the floor.

He peeked inside, turning his head around to scan their surroundings for any danger before motioning for Prom to follow him.

Even on the inside, the house wasn’t much to look at. The windows as Noctis knew them weren’t really windows per se but rather small slits through which snow could trickle into the interior, and the entire place was covered in undisturbed dust.

The fireplace seemed to have been out of order for quite some time now, and the only pieces of furniture were a table, barricaded against the back door, and a wooden armoire that Noctis eyed warily. And, he noted, a small basket in one corner of the room, covered with an once white sheet.

Prom came to a halt next to him, shaking off the snow that had accumulated in his hair. “I wonder what’s inside that cupboard,” he said, more so to himself than anyone else, not that Noctis had an answer either.

“Just go look if you’re that curious,” Noctis said, already wandering over to the basket; a sturdy-looking rope was slung around it. It didn’t smell bad or anything, but he was still hesitant to put his hand on the sheet and pull it off.

He could hear Prom’s footsteps fading away as the archer approached the cabinet. The doors opened with a creaking sound, and Prom sucked in a sharp breath. “Woah… you gotta check this out!”

It didn’t sound as if he’d just discovered a corpse, which was good.

Noctis leisurely turned around, eyeing the now open cabinet. In the back, hanging on a rusty piece of a metal was a longbow as well as a new quiver that was decorated with runes and intricate patterns. It glistened in the pale light of the moon that shone through the slits of the wall, almost begging to be used.

Prom stretched his hand out, slowly placing it on the bow’s sleek, metal frame.

Nothing happened.

He slowly took it out of the cabinet, examining it as it lay there in his hands, unassuming. “It’s so pretty,” Prom breathed out, running his fingers over the leather grip and the string that was as sharp as a knife. His eyes glistened.

Noctis allowed himself a small smile before he turned around again, finally pulling the sheet of the small basket in a swift motion; to his surprise, it was simply filled with dried mushrooms. He let out a low whistle. “Seems like it’s our lucky day, then,” he said, lifting the basket and showing it to Prom. “Huh, what are the odds. We should take this back to Specs.”

Prom grinned at him, his head bobbing up and down. “Yeah, of course!” He attached the bow to his back and replaced the quiver at his waist with the new one. It suited his ensemble, Noctis thought, as Prom refastened the pelt around his shoulders.

He took the basket under his arm, opening the door with the other one. “Oh and…” He waited until he had his friend’s attention before continuing. “Don’t tell Iggy about my small, uh, misstep, alright?”

Winking at him, Prom stepped through the door. “Of course, Noct. Your secrets are safe with me.” It was meant as a joke and Noctis tried to laugh along, but an uneasy feeling gnawed at his insides nevertheless. If Prom only knew…

But he couldn’t think like that. Not now.

So instead of confronting any of his problems, they stepped out into the snow storm once again, shielding their faces from the relentless white.

“Right,” he said after the pause had been going on way too long. “Right. I trust you.” And it wasn’t a lie – he trusted Prom, even if he couldn’t share all – or rather any – of his secrets with him.

“I trust you, too,” Prom said, and Noctis could hear the smile in his voice. It only made him feel worse. “You know, I think you might be the first person around my age that I’ve talked to like this in a long time.”

Snow scrunched beneath their feet.

“Oh really?” Noctis answered. “I mean, I remember you saying that you, like, didn’t have a lot of friends growing up, but was it that bad?” Prom was such a nice person, it was hard to believe that he wouldn’t be able to make friends easily.

The blond hummed; the sound muffled by the still-falling snow. “I used to be super shy as well, which only made it worse. Couldn’t talk to people at all. Not surprising that I didn’t have any friends, then.”

He paused for a second, seemingly reminiscing. “But I could always count on my little sister. And I guess now I can count on you as well, right?”

Prom looked at him in expectance, and Noctis put on his best smile, forcing the corners of his mouth to go upwards.

At least it made Prom crack up; he chuckled into his pelt. “Seems like you’re as bad at this as I am.”

They walked in amicable silence for a while after that, just admiring the landscape. Noctis knew the lake from before was coming closer, so he slowed down a little, clearing his throat to grab Prom’s attention. “I think… this is the most fun I’ve had in a while. So, thanks, I guess. And you can count on me. Always.” He gave half a chuckle. “That was super sappy, wasn’t it?”

“I guess it was,” Prom replied, quietly laughing as well. “But I don’t mind one bit. I’m just glad to be here. With you guys.”

After that, they set into motion once again; carefully, Noctis manoeuvred them around the lake (he really didn’t want to embarrass himself a second time, and neither did he want any more memories of sprawling darkness) and towards the place where he suspected the cave was. Everything was a lot harder to distinguish under a heavy blanket of snow, but at least their tracks from before were still slightly visible.

He high-fived Prom with his free arm when he saw warm, orange light spill out from an opening in a rock, speeding up to get inside the warmth. It seemed as if Gladio had hit pay dirt.

Together, they squeezed through the narrow mouth of the cave, shaking the snow off their clothes and ignoring Ignis’ subsequent glare.

Noctis dropped the basket at Ignis’ feet, leaving it to his advisor to inspect its contents before taking a seat next to Gladio. It was then that he realized that they hadn’t encountered even one animal.

He decided not to dwell on it, or what that meant in particular.

It seemed that, during their absence, the three of them had been able to start a fire, and Noctis gratefully stretched his hands out to let the warm flames thaw his fingers. He sniffed loudly, trying to clear his nose.

Prom sat down next to Arctus on the other side of the fire, his eyes on the burning embers. “We also found this bow. I think it might be my designated weapon.” He took it from his back and presented it to the others.

Gladio let out a low whistle, while Arctus’ eyes merely hushed over it before he was staring at the fire again, slowly scratching behind Hati’s ears whose head was resting on his lap.

Ignis shortly raised his gaze from the basket he’d been rummaging around in, loosening the thick rope that was slung around it and stuffing it into his inventory. “That’s very good,” he praised them, and Noctis couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. “But do I even want to know where you got a bow and a basket full of food from?”

Noctis simply shrugged. “It was in an empty house. Didn’t seem like anyone lived there, so we should be fine.”

Ignis hummed, taking a few of the vegetables out of the basket and dropping them into the pot, adding a little water to the mix. “I’m making stew,” he said when he caught Noctis staring, placing the pot over the fire. “Or rather the closest equivalent that there is.” He sighed, procuring a big wooden spoon from somewhere and stirring in the stew-soup-thing. “In any case, we’ll wait until the storm has settled a bit. There’s no use in going out now.”

Gladio nodded, bracing his hands on the ground and leaning back into Skoll. “So, anyone got any interesting stories to share?” he asked into the round, a lazy smile playing around his lips.

“Not really,” Prom said, scratching the back of his neck. “Same old boring stuff in the capital.”

“I’ve got one,” Arctus offered, tearing his eyes from the flames. “A story, I mean. About where I’m from.”

Prom grinned at him. “So you did finally remember, huh?”

Arctus simply nodded. “It’s a story well-known in my homeland. Every child knows it.” With his right hand, he took a branch from the pile of firewood that lay to the side, turning it around to inspect it. “It’s just a story, though.”

Noctis leant forward slightly, settling into Fenrir. His chin rested on the wolf’s head.

“Once – at least a lifetime ago, maybe more – a royal family ruled all of Midgard. They had a son, a small prince that often rested alone in his vast, vast bedroom. He always wished his father knew how much he hated sleeping alone, but he didn’t dare tell him, for the king was very busy and mustn’t be disturbed.” Arctus poked at the fire with his stick. The flames reflected in his eyes.

“And the king, he often sat alone in his vast, vast office, drowning in affairs of state. All he wanted was to see his family and hug his son, but he couldn’t, for his every waking hour had to be spent in service of his people.”

For a second, Noctis wondered if that story was supposed to be about Arctus himself, if he would reveal himself to be some prince or some crap like that, but he decided to wait before voicing his thoughts, see how it would play out.

Arctus’ stick caught fire, the flames slowly devouring the wood. “One day, while eating dinner, the king asked his son what he most desired in the world. He hoped that his son would say that he wanted them to spend more time together, but instead the boy simply pointed at a sword hanging on the wall.”

He threw the stick into the fire, watching as it first turned black before disintegrating into ash. “The ancient sword was considered the sign that one was ready to rule. ‘Someday,’ the king chuckled. His son faintly smiled back at him. All he really wanted was for his father to read him a bedtime story.”

Well… that had been unexpected?

It was silent for a few seconds before Ignis cleared his throat. “How… interesting,” he replied slowly as if he wasn’t sure what to say exactly. His mien betrayed nothing as he exchanged a look with Gladio.

Arctus sighed, before a wide smile graced his face. “Sorry if that was gloomy,” he said cheerfully, the flames still dancing in his eyes. “It’s just a silly story. Don’t take it too seriously.” He laughed it off, as if that would make the tension that had settled around them like a blanket disappear.

The warmth of the room felt suffocating for a moment as if the fire was trying to smoke them out. “In any case,” he started, watching as Arctus lowered his gaze again. “Anyone got some, uh, happy stories?”

“I mean… it’s not really a story,” Prom started, gnawing on his lower lip, “but rather an observation. This place, this… ice desert, for the lack of a better world, it reminds of… of Niflheim.” He sighed, running his fingers through Hati’s fur. “Maybe it even was inspired by it.”

Arctus laughed, throwing his head back. “That can’t be. Niflheim is the world of the dead, and we’re not dead yet. And even if, we wouldn’t land in Niflheim; we’re warriors, aren’t we?”

Ignis hummed in thought. “Certainly. But say, Prom, Niflheim hasn’t always been that icy, has it? You must excuse us, we’ve never set foot in the motherland.”

Motherland- who the hell talked like that?

Prom shook his head. “It’s fine. And yeah, it wasn’t always like this. When the Glacian was slain, it changed the climate to a perpetual blizzard. I was still a child when it happened, but my grandfather, he took me to see the Glacian’s corpse once. It was…” his eyes clouded over slightly, “intriguing. And kind of scary, to be honest.” He shuddered, and Noctis was sure that it wasn’t because of the cold.

Nodding, Ignis handed Prom a bowl of stew that the other gratefully accepted with a small smile. He handed Gladio and Noctis as well as the three wolves bowls before taking one for himself, settling down around the fire.

They ate in silence, only the crackling of burning wood resounding in the cave. Noctis listlessly picked at his food, scooping up a spoon full of stew only to watch it trickle down into the bowl again.

“It’ll warm you up, Noct,” Ignis chastised him although there was no heat behind his words. “Eat up.”

He stuck his tongue out in retaliation, narrowing his eyes to slits. “But I hate mushy food, Iggy, you know that.”

Gladio’s laugh rumbled through the otherwise quiet cave. “Stop being such a damn picky eater and listen to the guy.”

“Alright, alright,” Noctis conceded, playfully rolling his eyes just to spite his friends. It was easy to let his guard down, and if Gladio knew how relaxed he was, he would most likely criticise him for it. He shoved a spoon full of soup into his mouth before pulling a face. “Are there carrots in there?”

That elicited a laugh from Prom who pushed his own bowl aside (which was only half empty) so it stood right in front of Hati’s snout. “I think it tasted good, if that’s any consolation.”

Ignis sighed. “Thank you, Prom. I just hope that Noct here will one day think the same as well.”

He scoffed, following Prom’s idea and giving his scraps to Fenrir who happily licked out the entire bowl.

Ignis only sighed louder.

“We should get going,” Arctus interrupted their bickering, getting up from his seat and taking one of the pelts that was still on the ground. His bowl stood near the fire, almost completely untouched. “We’re close to Jötunheim. I can feel it.” He threw the pelt over his shoulders.

Gladio just shrugged, stacking the bowls and handing them to Ignis who let them disappear into the depth of his inventory before collecting the now empty pot as well.

The light flickered, throwing shadows on the walls. It felt incredibly warm on Noctis’ skin, and when he stood, he shifted from one foot to the other, sweating under the pelt that hung off his frame.

Prom helped Ignis put out the fire, which now was nothing more than burning, glowing embers. “So what’ll await us there, in Jötunheim?” he asked into the round as he slowly led Hati out of the cave.

Noctis and Fenrir followed him. “Dunno,” he said. “Does it matter?”

The snow storm had died a little while they’d been regaining their strength, but the wind still whipped at his face and tore at his clothes, chilling his skin in an instant. He mounted Fenrir, clinging to the wolf’s warm fur. Fenrir turned his head slightly, licking across Noctis’ outstretched hand with his rough, pink tongue.

“I guess not,” Prom replied, doing the same with Hati. Arctus sat behind him, his arms loosely on either side of the blond.

“We should worry less about what exactly waits for us in Jötunheim,” Ignis started, climbing atop of Skoll who was licking his paws lazily, “and more so how we’ll get there. The snow doesn’t seem to let up.”

Gladio grunted in agreement. “We’ll get there somehow. At least we have pelts now.”

They set off, Ignis and Gladio (as always) leading them towards their supposed goal.

He knew that Prom and Arctus were somewhere beside him, but the snow was almost as thick as a wall and he could barely make out their contours through the relentless white that filled every of his senses and crawled into his skin.

His lips felt chapped, and Noctis licked across them, but the skin only split open even more. He frowned. It didn’t hurt, but it was an unpleasant feeling either way.

Everything looked the same out here. White mounds of snow decorated the landscape, only now and then interrupted by a lonely tree or a snowed in bush. No animals were out here, nothing. It was dead quiet apart from the falling snow and the howling wind.

The tap-tap-tap of snow beneath paws, of frozen fingers against metal.

Then, Skoll growled.

His entire body tensed up as he ducked slightly, suddenly frozen in place.

And finally, Noctis could see it too.

It was nothing more than a silhouette in the distance, moving around with slow, deliberate steps. As tall as a tree, it moved through the snow as if it was its second nature. Each step it took was like a small earthquake, only slightly muffled by the snow.

He sucked in a sharp breath, trying to make himself as small as possible on top of Fenrir who’d taken a defensive stance as well.

Ignis held his hand out, motioning for them to stay behind. “Don’t move,” he whispered, just barely loud enough for them to hear him above the scurry of snow. There was an edge to his voice, one that Noctis didn’t like.

No one dared to say anything, no one even dared to breathe too loud.

The shape – humanoid, but way, way too tall – pushed past a tree, disappearing into the misty snow.

Noctis breathed out as Fenrir relaxed. “The hell was that?”

Arctus’ voice was hoarse when he answered. “I believe we have reached Jötunheim, home of the giants.”

There was nothing here, nothing that pointed towards a civilization. They couldn’t possibly be in Jötunheim.

“All this time we thought Jötunheim was just another a village,” Ignis whispered, comprehending without needing many words, eyes still stuck on the horizon as if he feared the thing would appear again. “But it labelled the entire terrain instead. The realm of the giants…”

“There’s no point in dwelling on that now. We can’t stay here,” Gladio insisted, pressing his heels into Skoll’s sides so the wolf would move. “Really don’t wanna be here if the thing decides to come back.”

Noctis could only agree.

They began to move again, albeit slower than before this time. Visibility was poor, and trusting their hearing was no better.

He drew his pelt tighter around himself, teeth clattering against one another as they made their way through the white landscape. It could’ve been pretty any other time, the twinkling of the stars reflected in the shimmering snow and the ice that hung from the trees, in every little snowflake that dared to fall.

It didn’t snow in Insomnia. Prom may have been familiar with the snow, but all Noctis got were a few hazy memories from his childhood, long buried beneath rubble and the burden of adolescence. The air felt incredibly clean out here, sharp like a thousand pinpricks, but it was a welcome change. Whereas Insomnia felt suffocating, hidden behind the Wall, this felt like freedom.

They passed something that resembled a wall of ice, and Noctis let his fingers run over its surface, watched his own face in the frozen surface in front of him. His hair was tousled and sticking up at weird angles, his face paler than usual although his cheeks and nose had a reddish tinge to them.

His hand left the freezing wall and he looked up, his eyes meeting Prom’s for the fraction of a second before the blond averted his gaze once again.

Noctis opened his mouth to say something, maybe crack a joke, but Arctus beat him to it.

“This is it,” he simply said, craning his head back to get a better look at whatever was in front of him.

Whatever it was, it was tall.

He half-expected another giant, but Arctus was only pointing out some kind of watchtower that connected directly to the wall Noctis had just been inspecting. Noctis looked up as well, his eyes falling on the giant gate that separated the outer, icy lands from the inside of what he presumed was a city. “Well, at least we found something.”

“We should leave our wolves here and go by foot,” Arctus suggested. “We’ll be less visible this way and can hide better if need be.”

He had a point, Noctis conceded, climbing off of Fenrir and patting him on the head one last time. “We’ll be right back, buddy,” he promised as Fenrir licked across his face before sitting down.

The others followed him suit, and soon they set foot into the icy city of… well, wherever they were right now. Larger than life gates, completely made out of ice, welcomed them, and Noctis eagerly looked around.

It was… empty.

Not in the way that there were no houses or anything; dwellings made of ice and snow littered the streets. There simply weren’t any people. The city was completely deserted, the ice on almost every wall and rooftop already breaking off.

It was a ghost town.

Steps led up onto a plaza, and Noctis followed them just to see where they’d lead him. With every house that he passed, every street that lay vacated, his unease grew. There were no signs of a fight or anything… no, it seemed as if the inhabitants had simply left sometime and never come back.

He really didn’t want to know what could make a giant leave.

The path that was engraved with snowflake-like patterns continued, and to his surprise, they glowed in all colours imaginable.

Prom nudged him in the side, pointing at the sky. So the streets were simply reflecting the colours… “Northern Lights,” he whispered, his breath forming little white clouds in front of his face.

Noctis nodded. “They’re beautiful…” It reminded him of the Wall, just a million times prettier. For a split second he wondered if his dad had ever seen Northern Lights.

Then, Gladio let out a low whistle and Noctis’ attention snapped back to the ground.

He immediately came to a stop, staring at the woman sitting in the middle of just another empty place. She was slouching in her seat (a throne made of ice) and the snow had melted around her, leaving a perfect circle behind. She looked at them with calculating eyes. “What are you doing here in Utgard?” she asked, and her voice was like warm honey.

It didn’t fit.

Prom cleared his throat, averting his eyes and… oh. Noctis could understand why he did that. The woman was wearing nothing but a sheer, white dress that left nothing to imagination with the way it clung to her body, fitting perfectly. He instead focused on the name the game gave her:Lady of the Slain. “We’re, uh, here because we’re looking for someone? And we were told that this person might be in Jötunheim so we came here and, yeah, we basically-”

She sighed, resting her feet on a statue made of ice that stood right in front of her throne. It looked eerily humanoid in the dim light. “And who is it that you are searching for?”

Ignis, who was kneeling down (it was probably a smart idea to show that they weren’t hostile), inclined his head. “We were told to retrieve a woman named Vanadis. Her brother wants her back.”

The woman laughed, twirling a strand of her blonde hair around her finger. It shone like gold in the light of the moon. Her eyes were unreadable as she stroked the ginger cat that was sitting on one armrest. “Vanadis! You must be favoured by fortune, for she is sitting right in front of you.” A falcon landed on the other side of her throne, but she paid it no mind.

Noctis kneeled as well, lowering his gaze. “Then will you come back with us?”

He was surprised to hear Vanadis laugh again, this time louder. “No.” Her answer didn’t leave much room for question.

Gladio groaned. Noctis could hear the annoyance in his voice. “Listen, Lady, this doesn’t need to be any more complicated than it already is. Just come back with us and all will be well.” He stepped forward in what Noctis assumed was supposed to be a placating, yet determined manner.

Vanadis held out her hand, motioning for him to stop, and then tilted her head to one side. “I said no,” she hissed, narrowing her eyes and pointing at a row of icy statues. “I am not coming back, even if I could. Neither to him nor anyone else of my… tribe.”

Arctus’ breath hitched in his throat. “I know what you are,” he whispered suddenly, glaring at the woman. His body was tense. “You’re one of them. A God.”

"My dear boy,” she said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, playing with the golden, delicate necklace around her throat. Noctis was sure that pieces of ambers were embedded into it, with the way it glittered in the night. “My worshippers, they called me Freya.”

Well, didn’t that name sound familiar.

Prom next to him breathed in sharply.

It was Ignis who spoke up first, still kneeling. “Why won’t you come with us, if I may ask?”

Freya smiled at him, and for the first time Noctis could detect warmth in her eyes. “You are a polite young man. If you stay here, I will tell you why. I will tell you all the secrets you could ever wish to know,” she cooed, extending her hand towards him. Her fingers were slender, decorated with golden rings.

He didn’t need to hear Arctus’ whispered ‘No, don’t trust her’ to know this was a bad idea. And if he knew that, Ignis knew it as well.

“I’m afraid I cannot, my Lady. We are on our journey to bring the light back to the world. Won’t you help us to find the right path?”

Freya inclined her head, the smile still present on her face. “Very well, then. For your politeness and bravery, I will reward you. I do wish to see the light restored, after all.” She hummed quietly, crossing her legs.

Next to him, Arctus was grinding his teeth together.

“You have to know that I was but a price to be paid, a token to be exchanged.” Her voice was as calm as before, but something lurked beneath the surface, beneath her beautiful façade. “I feel betrayed by the Gods, though I may be one of them. I was to go into the land of the frost giants without a say in the matter, to marry one of their own; the sun was to be plucked from the sky and the world plunged into eternal darkness, and all of that just for a wall. A wall to protect cowards from fate.”

“And that’s why you don’t want to go back?” Ignis asked softly.

“That is why. I have no desire to face them ever again. Though I may love my brother, he, too, was responsible for my fate. I am forevermore bound to this place by blood.” She lowered her gaze. “Say, do you really think you can bring the light back to the world? Free me from this place?”

Noctis tried a reassuring smile. “We will try our best, but we do need your help with that. Is there anything you can tell us about the Usurper, or about where this Helheim might be?” His hands, resting on the frozen ground, felt cold.

“Knowledge in exchange for a favour,” she said, her sharp nails tapping against her icy throne. Tap-tap-tap. “Everything has its price.”

Arctus laughed a mirthless laugh. “What reason do we have to trust you? You left this land alone when it most needed you, and now you’re pretending to have a change of heart? There’s no guarantee that you’ll actually come out with the truth if we do what you want.”

Prom tried to clasp a hand over his mouth to shush him but Freya waved him away. “Let him speak,” she ordered, her eyes blazing cold.

“You have no right to talk about being wronged or wanting to escape your fate! It was also your fault that this world met such a terrible end!”

She listened to him with a straight face. “You have every right to be angry. And I will atone for my sins, I promise you that. But for now, I cannot do any harm; the one you have to be wary of is my husband. He will wait for you at the top.”

“Your husband? You mean one of the giants?” Gladio asked.

“No, I have disposed of all of them already. Almost all.” She kicked the statue in front of her and it tipped over and the head fell off. It rolled away before stopping dead in its tracks. “I could not stand to be in their presence any longer.”

Ignis got up, bowing before her. “So what do you want us to do?”

Freya inclined her head, her sharp gaze piercing Noctis. “Bring me the blacksmith Surt’s head. It will be payment enough.”

He stepped forwards, his gaze still lowered. “I have another question, my Lady. Your brother, he said that you knew where his sword might be. Do you?”

“My brother’s sword…” she repeated slowly. “It is not here, if that is what you’re asking. You will have to find the fire. It will show you the way to Muspell. There, the sword will be. Together with Surt. He is the only wretched creature that resides there, the last of his kind.”

Noctis didn’t mention the giant they’d seen outside the walls.

“And Helheim?” Prom threw in as an afterthought.

Freya’s shoulders dropped. “I don’t know the way there,” she admitted. “If that is all, I would like to rest for now.” She fixed the golden headpiece, strongly resembling a stylized sun, that rested on her hair. It glittered, just like the snow. “For now, you must go. Travel safely, brave warriors.”

They bowed before her, one by one (even Gladio and Arctus, who apparently were trying to outdo each other in the category ‘sour facial expressions’) and she waved them off.

Noctis climbed down the icy stairs, careful not to slip, as his eyes fell on the rows and rows of statues that littered the frozen city. He hadn’t really noticed them before, but now that Freya had called attention to them, they stood out to him like beacons in a dark night.

He stepped closer to one that was holding up a torch in its hand, almost as if praying to a God, and scanned its face.

The creature’s mouth was wide open in a silent scream, but its eyes were shut tightly. A lone tear carved its path down its cheek, forever frozen.

Noctis shuddered, stepping away quickly.

The way back to the entrance felt much shorter than before, as if several areas they’d passed had just… melted away while they had been talking to the Goddess. Their wolves were waiting just where they had left them, and Fenrir whined loudly as Noctis ruffled his fur.

Mounting the wolf, he turned back to his friends. “So what do we do now? Just try to find Muspell?”

Ignis, who’d taken the map out and was now trying to pinpoint their exact location, looked up shortly. “It’s the only lead we have. Although Muspell doesn’t seem to be too far away from here. There’s a small mountain range dividing us, but that should be manageable.”

Arctus laughed, and when Noctis looked over to him, his eyes were narrowed. “You’re just trusting her like that? As if she isn’t some almighty being that could probably crush us in an instant if she felt like it? Have you seen what she did to this city?”

Shrugging, Prom held his hand out to help Arctus climb on Hati. “We can’t do much. Either we do what she wants, or we’re not getting that info.”

Gladio sighed. “As much as I loathe to agree, they’re right. We don’t have a choice. And now let’s get going, we don’t have all day.” He saddled Skoll with Ignis right behind him, still scanning the map. “Which direction, Iggy?”

“Just go west,” his advisor instructed, never once raising his gaze.

Noctis sighed.

The mountains were rocky and probably hard to climb on their own, but with the help of their companions, it was actually easier than anticipated. Wolves didn’t easily slip on frozen, slippery rocks, after all.

They reached the top, the landscape sprawling out beneath them. One the one side was icy cold Utgard with its high towers and walls, guarded from whatever lurked in front of its gates. On the other side was, well… Muspell, Noctis guessed.

And whereas Utgard had been ice, Muspell was fire. Everything there glowed and burned, soaked in red. The land was aflame with the roaring heat of the blacksmith’s fire, and Noctis could see nothing but sparks and spurting heat, molten rocks and burning embers.

In Muspell, at the edge of the flame, where the mist burnt into light, where the land ended, stood a burning figure, a flaming sword in his hands; the bubbling lava and the freezing mists were as one to him.

Ignis and Gladio stopped next to him, their eyes on the spectacle. “A world of falling flames,” Ignis murmured, and the heat that welled up almost swallowed his words.

It was hot up here, Noctis noted, shedding his pelt before draping it over Fenrir’s back; they’d need it later. Sweat was already trickling down his temples and pooling at his chin, dropping like tears.

His friends didn’t look much better; Prom’s face was a deep shade of red, almost like a cooked lobster, and Gladio’s hair was permanently stuck to his skin, his face shiny in the silver light. Ignis and Arctus seemed to somewhat fare better, although even their hairstyles had wilted in the heat, strands of wet hair clinging to their faces.

“We can’t take the wolves with us down there,” Ignis said, tugging at the neckline of his shirt. “It’s almost too hot for them up here, I don’t think they’ll be better off in Muspell.”

Without the wolves, they’d be slow. Slow and vulnerable.

Noctis took one look at Fenrir before determining that Ignis was right.

“Alright,” he conceded, flattening Fenrir’s fur that stood up in spikes. “Alright, we’ll leave them here.”

“Or,” Gladio butted in, “we could just not do it at all. I’m sure we’d get by without her divine advice.”

“Gladio,” said Ignis warningly. “She might just have the intel we need. And we do need that sword, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Chop-chop, my friends,” Noctis added with a grin, just to see Gladio’s left eyebrow twitch. It was so easy to rile him up. “We don’t have all day.”

He took one step downwards, careful not to slip on the rocks. The heat they emitted almost burnt the soles of his shoes, and he bit down on his tongue to suppress a hiss. “This better be worth it.”

“Dude, if it isn’t,” Prom panted somewhere next to him, swiping one arm across his forehead. “I’m so gonna kill you.”

“Seconded,” Gladio chimed in, passing by them. Noctis envied him for a second as he watched the muscles beneath Gladio’s skin move, not obstructed by any kind of clothing.

“Let’s just get going,” he sighed, furrowing his brows.

And to his surprise, the descent wasn’t that bad in itself. He’d experienced worse before, like that time Gladio had taken him hiking somewhere not too far away from the capital. The sun had burnt its way into his head, had made his clothes stick to his body, and when he returned home, it was with a sunstroke as a souvenir.

Sure, Noctis could feel the heat and flames lapping at his skin like tender fingers that just wanted to caress, but it wasn’t as if it boiled him alive, either. Which was something, to say the least.

He really wished he’d left his shirt and cape with Fenrir as well.

Stumbling over another completely black rock, Noctis caught himself at the last second. He turned around to face his friends. “So we just gotta take him out asap and then we’re out of here, right?” he asked, trying to keep the hopefulness out of his voice.

“That’s the plan, yes,” Ignis confirmed, brushing wet strands of hair out of his face. Weird, red patches had appeared on his cheeks, giving him an almost feverish look.

He nodded, too tired to continue talking.

The lands were barren down here; there were no trees, no houses or huts, no people. Nothing but charred stones and flames that seemed to reach upwards for an eternity. Not even the stars were visible down here – thick, black smoke filled the sky.

And in the midst of the chaos, waiting for them as if he’d always done that, stood the man with the flaming sword.

Noctis came to a halt, willing his feet to endure the heat of the ground.

“I really… don’t wanna fight him,” panted Prom, ramming his bow into the ground and leaning onto it with his full weight.

“For real,” he agreed, “were they trying to kill us by sending us here?”

No one could give him an answer to that.

“The Gods work in mysterious ways,” Arctus said, as if that explained anything. At some time, he’d apparently tried to pin his hair up, with the emphasis on tried.

Noctis groaned. “It’s too hot. I don’t wanna fight.” He didn’t even have the power to raise his sword, let alone attack the giant

Grunting, Gladio clasped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. “Stop bitching, princess. We got a job to do.”

“Oh yeah? Weren’t you the one who didn’t want to come?”

Gladio gave him the side-eye. “Doesn’t matter. We’re here now, so we gotta deal with it.”

He shook Gladio off, trying to orient himself in the red-orange-yellow-black mass that surrounded them. “Alright,” he grumbled, wiping over his face. Sweat and grime coated his hands. “So what’s the plan? We just need his head and the sword, right?”

“The plan?” Gladio grinned at him, drawing himself up to his full height. “Don’t get fried.”

The flames blazed away, hot-white.

“You sound awfully full of yourself,” he commented, eyeing his Shield.

“What can I say, I don’t half-ass things.” Gladio drew his axe, pointing it at the shape in front of them.

Surt, Freya had called the giant that nested in Muspell, the blacksmith giant.

There was nothing in their way, nothing that obstructed the path between them. Surely, Surt had seen them as well.

But he simply stood there, the tip of his flaming sword resting on the ground. A crown of fire rested atop his head.

Noctis followed Gladio’s example, popping his back. His tunic clung to his chest. “Then let’s get this over with.” He flashed a grin at Ignis and Prom, who looked at him in exasperation. “You coming or what?”

“We ought to take one step at a time,” Ignis reprimanded him weakly, but his resolve was firm.

A flame shot up from the ground next to him, disappearing into thin air. Ignis discreetly stepped aside.

The heat was suffocating. It made his head swim and his body ache. This had to end – he had to end it.

Noctis moved forward, dragging his sword on the ground beside him. The earth was crumbly beneath his feet, streaked with cracks through which he could make out the tell-tale orange glow of magma. The air glimmered right above the surface, sweltering hot.

His friends followed him, their footsteps barely audible over the crackling fire.

“Surt!” he yelled towards the giant, defiantly raising his chin as best as he could. “Your reign ends here! Now and forever!”

To his utter surprise – really, Noctis couldn’t fathom why the giant didn’t simply attack – Surt all but stared straight ahead. “And what shall a God like me gain from defeating vermin like you?”

It was unpleasant.

Surt’s voice resounded in his head, ringing in his ears as if the giant had shouted at them, when he hadn’t even opened his mouth.

“I have no desire to fight you. Leave at once and you will be spared.”

It ground against his mind like sandpaper, smoothing out every fold and crease. Noctis gritted his teeth.

“Like hell we’ll leave!” Gladio shouted back, voicing his thoughts. One of his hands had come up to cradle his head, but he appeared fine otherwise. “We came here because we’ve got a job to do, buddy!”

“You know nothing of this world.”

A volley of flames pierced holes into the ground in front of Noctis’ feet. He didn’t budge. He’d faced worse, after all.

“This is your last warning, mortals. Head back to whence you came.”

Surprisingly enough, it was an arrow from Prom’s bow that hit the giant’s chest and shut him up for good, embedding itself in the soft material before being swallowed whole.

“Oh sh*t.”

Noctis couldn’t agree more.

They scattered as torrents of blue flames headed their direction. Surt had raised his sword, directly pointing it at them. “Instructions?” he yelled at Ignis who dove out of the way of another gust of flames.

“Evade the fire?” his advisor quizzically yelled back, trying to pat the fire on his tunic out.

“Thanks, Specs, would never have come up with that on my own!” He slid across the red-hot ground, ramming his sword into the earth and using it as leverage to heave himself up and hide behind another rock.

Arctus crouched next to him, his own sword poised in his hands. He looked to be waiting for something, his brows furrowed. A burn mark scarred the skin beneath his left eye. “We can’t get close to him,” he commented, tightening his grip.

Gladio, suddenly coming up next to him, pointed at a flat stone slab protruding from the ground a few feet away. “With this baby-” he patted his golden axe, reflecting the light- “I might be able to get his head. Just distract him for me.”

Noctis and Arctus both nodded as Gladio made his way over to the slab, crouching so Surt wouldn’t immediately notice him.

The giant was advancing slowly, brandishing his burning sword more as a defensive measure than anything else. From this close, he didn’t actually appear all that tall, but he held himself with such grace that it made him even more imposing.

Prom, on his knees right next to Ignis, waved at him, saying something, but Noctis pointed at his ears and shook his head. The roaring and crackling of the fire was simply too loud to understand anything.

Ignis seemed to realize that as well, tugging at Prom’s sleeve to catch his attention and pointing at the giant’s feet. Then, he held up a thick rope; where he’d picked up that one was a mystery to Noctis.

Well, it didn’t matter that much, he guessed. Working with Ignis for as long as he had, he knew what the other was getting at.

He turned around to Arctus who nodded as well, understanding what Noctis wanted to say even without words. The flames reflected in his eyes.

Arctus opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to say something, but shut it again after a few seconds, averting his eyes. “I hope this works,” he mumbled under his breath.

“It will,” Noctis reassured him, before diving out of his cover, giving Ignis the sign to do the same.

Immediately, Surt’s eyes were on him, and another stream of blue fire followed him as he ducked behind rock after rock, trying to get closer to the giant without being set on fire. Surt swiped at both him and Ignis with his sword, and Noctis had to roll out of the way to avoid it. It grazed his skin, nonetheless, and sharp, hot pain seared through his arm.

“Hey!” Prom yelled behind him, aiming at the giant and shooting off arrow after arrow. “You want fire? I’ll give you fire!”

Diving out from behind his cover, Arctus overtook Noctis, who was still gritting his teeth, and sped up to take one end of the rope Ignis was holding out to him. His sword lay forgotten on the ground, and Noctis picked it up, deciding that if he couldn’t be of much use there, he at least could distract the damned thing. He ignored his throbbing arm.

Ignis and Arctus wrapped the rope around the giant’s legs. It caught fire quickly, and Noctis exchanged an alarmed look with his advisor. If this didn’t work-

No, it had to work.

Their movements became faster, more erratic as if they’d realised their error, and they ran into the opposite directions, tying up the rope until it got tighter and tighter around Surt’s ankles.

When the giant fell onto the stone slab, he did it with a grating noise. It almost sounded like frying bacon in a pan, but a thousand times louder. The noise almost deafened Noctis, and he dropped Arctus’ sword to clasp one hand over his ear.

“Gladio, now!”

Noctis didn’t know who yelled it; maybe it had been him, maybe Ignis or Prom, maybe even Arctus. His throat was raw, and it was painful to swallow. The heat seemed to be trying to crawl into his body and settle down, but he wouldn't allow that.

The giant struggled to get up, bracing flaming arms against the ground, but Gladio had already taken a run-up. The blade of his axe flashed in the light as he swung it, coming down directly on the giant’s neck.

There was a pop and some sort of cracking noise as if someone had broken a glowstick, barely audible, and then it was silent.

(No, it wasn’t.)

He could hear the hiss of blood pouring onto a hot object and then evaporating immediately. He could hear the plates shift beneath his feet. He could hear his friends’ ragged breathing.

The stench of blood and burnt flesh was overwhelming. It permeated throughout his mouth, and he couldn’t get rid of it.

Prom turned away. “I think I’m gonna be sick,” he whispered, before faint retching sounds came from his direction.

Noctis swallowed, ignoring everything else (the pain in his arm, the stench, the sounds) and stalked towards the sword Surt had dropped.

It was unusable.

Now that the fire was gone, its blade remained broken and shattered, glittering in the dim light. He kicked it with his foot, listened to the metallic sound as it skidded across the ground.

A hot hand was placed on his shoulder. “Are you all right, Noct?” Ignis asked him, offering him one of the few supplies they still had on hand. It mitigated the pain, made it more bearable, but a small scar remained on his arm, red and raised.

It seemed that, even in a video game, he’d never be rid of his scars.

The thought made him chuckle darkly.

“I’m alright,” he responded. “It’s just- this was supposed to be my sword, wasn’t it? Am I the only one who doesn’t get a cool weapon? What a load of bullsh*t.”

“Language,” Ignis warned him, but his words lacked the heat they usually held. “We’ll figure something out, I’m sure. For now-” he raised his eyes towards the carcass- “let’s see if we can bring the head back.”

Noctis nodded, defeated. What other choice did he have?

Together they climbed on the stone slab. He could see Prom and Arctus crouching on the ground not too far away; Prom’s head was in his hands as Arctus awkwardly patted his shoulder.

Gladio was already waiting for them. He’d secured his axe again and was simply standing there, right next to the giant’s head.

Or rather the place where the head had been.

Strands of dark hair curled around Gladio’s hand like flames as he suspended the severed head by its hair, holding it up so they could see it as well. The giant’s eyes were still open, glowing slightly.

Noctis averted his eyes, staring at the ground. “Can you put that away, maybe?” he asked, an edge to his voice. Taking off his cape (really, why had he worn it at all? The damn thing was almost completely shredded anyway) he threw it in Gladio’s general direction.

Gladio sounded as if he was rolling his eyes. “Sure thing, princess.” He heard the rustling of fabric as Gladio presumably wrapped the head in his cape. He’d never wear it again, that much was certain. “Happy now?”

He dared to look back. The head was nowhere in sight, but now Gladio had a round object, wrapped in his red cape, tucked under his arm. “I guess.”

“Great. And now let’s get going.” Gladio jumped off the platform and onto the flat ground, flashing everyone a grin. His hair was mussed up and sweat trickled down his exposed torso, but he seemed somewhat… happy.

Jumping down as well, he helped Prom up before chancing a look at Arctus. From this close he could see that Arctus’ left eyebrow was split in the middle, a break in the continuity. Had that always been the case?

It didn’t matter, he thought as he placed his hand in between Prom’s shoulder blades. “Yeah, let’s go.”

The way back was a lot shorter and a lot less troublesome than the way to Muspell, and Noctis dearly hoped that they’d never have to come back ever again.

Snow traced patterns on the ground, and every time one of their wolves left a paw print in it, more flakes fell to fill them up. That was just how these things went, he mused, trying to push his bangs behind his ears.

It was a lost cause.

As soon as they’d left the sweltering heat of Niflheim, the sweat that clung to their hair and skin had frozen completely. His hair was more of a solid mass of white than anything else, and every time he opened his eyes, tiny, glittering crystals that clung to his lashes obstructed his view.

They arrived at Utgard and left their wolves at the entrance once again, walking towards the middle of the city that shimmered around them like it wanted to prove something.

All of them were running on autopilot by now, Noctis was sure of it.

When they came to a halt in front of the throne, Noctis couldn’t do much more than fall to his knees in front of the Goddess, barely able to even keep his head up.

Gladio continued, unperturbed, and as the woman raised her hand he threw the bundle at her. She caught it with ease, her lips a thin line.

Freya unwrapped his cape and held the severed head in her hands, watching as its eyes still glowed with an ever-burning fire. “Magnificent,” she whispered as a smile appeared on her face. “I will pay you well for your obedience.”

She rested it in her lap, running her long, slender fingers through the dark locks as her face took on a wistful expression.

“The Usurper… I saw him once, when he came here to steal the Sun.” She seemed lost in thought for a second, swaying on her throne. “They say that at the start of time, in a distant kingdom, there lived to princes. The son of the queen consort was clever of mind but weak of flesh. The son of the king’s second wife was dimwitted, yet charming, and quite gifted in the art of war. What you do with this information is up to you.” She propped one arm up on the armrest. “You will have to find the others; they might know more than me.”

They had done all of that just for her to give some cryptic answer? Really? An answer that didn’t even relate to their journey?

Noctis groaned. “And where should we go, huh?”

She looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Where is your sword, young warrior?”

“It broke,” he pressed out between clenched teeth.

“Then I advise you to go to the place where the skilled ones reside. There you might be able to acquire one that is to your taste. They are master blacksmiths, after all.” Her smile was as cold as the ice around her. “Your noble deeds will not be forgotten.”

She inclined her head for what felt like the fiftieth time, giving a curt bow of her own. “And if you do meet my brother again…” Freya paused, seemingly trying to find the right words. “Tell him I will come back. Someday, perhaps. And that I am not angry with him.”

It seemed that she wouldn’t say much more.

Freya smiled serenely as they made their way back to the entrance, exhaustion tugging at their bodies and minds.

Noctis yawned. “I think we should call it a day.” His eyes drooped terribly, and all he wanted to do was fall into his bed and sleep for an eternity.

“Agreed,” came Prom’s response. He seemed to be fiddling with the menu, close to logging out. “Sorry guys, but I’m beat. See you around?”

“Sure,” Noctis said, giving him a tired smile, already accessing his own menu.

Someone was staring at him. He closed it again.

Arctus’ eyes were unreadable, his fingers brushing over the burn mark on his cheek. “We shouldn’t have done that,” he said.

He didn’t know what Arctus meant by that, so instead of answering, Noctis logged out as well, closely followed by his retainers.

He woke up to the sound of rain pelting against his window.

The tap-tap-tap of tired feet on wet pavement, of fingers against a marble counter followed him into consciousness.

A knock at his door. The night was black.

“I’m sorry to wake you, Noct,” Ignis’ warm voice came through. “The Marshal wants to talk to you.”

He got out of his bed, running a hand through his tousled hair. He groaned in annoyance.

His feet slapped against the warm floor. Tap-tap-tap, they made.

Cor was sitting at his kitchen table, a tablet in his hands. It lit up his face.

Ignis stood at the counter, a cup of coffee in his hand. Dark bags were beneath his eyes. One strand of his hair was out of place.

Cor raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m sorry if I woke you up, Your Highness, but I’m afraid this can’t wait.” He paused until Noctis had taken a seat before sliding the tablet over to him. Tap-tap-tap, his fingers made against the wooden table.

“We found multiple people named Prompto in Niflheim.” So that was what this was about.

The tablet was unlocked, the gallery opened. He swiped through the pictures, watching the faces appear and disappear.

He stopped at one face. There was no name beneath it. The boy’s hair was blond, his eyes blue. Freckles dotted his nose and cheeks. He looked serious. Sad.

Nothing like Prom, yet it was still him.

“This one, this is him.” He showed the picture to Cor.

Cor frowned. He didn’t look happy.

Taking the tablet from Noctis, he opened another program. One with a lot of writing.

He sighed. “Your Highness, there is no Prompto Argentum in Niflheim.”

“Yes, there is,” he said, but Cor didn’t listen. No one ever did. Not when it mattered.

“This here,” he started, turning the picture to Noctis once again as if Noctis could ever forget his friend’s face, “this is Prompto Aldercapt. Heir to the throne.”

A mug shattered on the ground.

A sharp intake of breath.

Noctis’ blood froze in his veins.

Prompto wouldn’t lie to him.

Would he?

Chapter 7: Bifröst

Chapter Text

Light streamed in through his open curtains, painting his living room in varying shades of red and orange. The rising sun only seemed fitting.

“Gods, get off my back, Ignis! I told you I didn’t know!” Noctis’ voice echoed through his apartment. If the flats above and beneath him hadn’t been bought for ‘security reasons’ by the royal family as well, he’d probably be getting noise complaints by now. He ran a hand through his hair before dropping down on the couch. “How the hell was I supposed to know?”

Ignis wasn’t listening to him. “This must’ve been very well-orchestrated…” he muttered into his hand. His eyes were narrowed as he stared out of the window, past both Gladio and Noctis. He could wave a hand in front of Ignis’ face and the other wouldn’t notice.

“Oh, please,” Noctis retorted, “you can’t really think that Prompto of all people would do something like that. I mean, have you even met the guy? You know him!”

“I called it,” Gladio chimed in, but despite his words there wasn’t an ounce of smug self-satisfaction in his face. “I told you something was fishy.”

Cor had left a few hours earlier with the promise that they’d keep away from Prompto, and as soon as the Marshal had disappeared, Gladio was standing on his doorstep. Noctis had let him in without another word. Not that he needed to explain anything when Gladio already knew everything.

“Even if Prompto is not the one actively using us, we can’t exclude that the others won’t!” He’d never heard Ignis this angry. Not when it was directed at him. Probably directed at him; it was hard to tell with the way Ignis’ eyes kept darting between him and the TV. “Noctis, I need you to understand that this isn’t some commoner we’re talking about! This is a member of the royal family!”

“Don’t you think I know that?” he said, raising his voice. “I- Gods, I never asked for this!” Burying his face in his hands, he tried to block the entire world out. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, loud and unsteady.

“We know, Noct, but you need to understand that it can’t go on like this. It’s simply much too high a risk.” Ignis’ voice sounded cold; clinical. As if he was completely detached from the situation at hand.

Sinking back into the cushions, Noctis shook his head. “So what do I do, Ignis?” He hadn’t expected this, any of this, to happen. “What do I do?”

It was Gladio who spoke up, conviction in his voice. “Just stop playing the game. It’s that easy.” And it did sound easy when Gladio told him that; just like everything else did. In Gladio’s books, everything was always so godsdamned easy.

But Noctis wasn’t Gladio. “But I- I can’t.”

“Why?” Ignis asked him softly. “Why can’t you, Noct?” Noctis didn’t dare look at him in fear of what he’d see; pity, perhaps. Misguided anger. Repulsion.

“I just-” Truth be told, he had no answer. There was no logical reason why he couldn’t just stop playing. And still… something irked him. “I don’t believe that Prompto’s like that. Really.”

Gladio rolled his eyes. “We’ve already talked about that. Get a grip, kiddo. This is the real world.”

“He said he wants the war to end.”

Clinging onto loose threads of an old conversation, barely even there – it was the only hope he had.

His Shield laughed. The sound was like thunder in the quiet room, accentuated by the soft rain that was still falling outside, despite the sun peeking through the gloomy clouds. “Don’t all the Niffs want that?”

“Peacefully,” he added belatedly. “He said that he wanted to end the war peacefully.” Prompto wasn’t a spy for the empire, that much he was sure of. Even if Prompto was a liar in regards to some aspects of his upbringing, well, wasn’t Noctis one as well?

“Noct, that doesn’t matter,” Ignis said, taking his glasses off and rubbing the bridge of his nose. Noctis knew that he only did that when he was really, really tired; it didn’t feel good to know that he was the cause of that fatigue. “He may still be only an asset to them, whether he knows it or not.”

“I know that!” Noctis didn’t mean to raise his voice. “I know that,” he repeated, softer this time. “It just- it feels wrong, to simply stop playing just like that. Just because he’s a little different else than we thought.”

Prompto still was his friend, wasn’t he? Even if he was the prince of Niflheim, he was still very much the same, awkward boy he’d met a few weeks prior, lost in the dark and afraid of his own shadow.

“Noct…” Ignis started, wringing his hands. His face looked troubled. “We simply don’t know Niflheim’s motives. We can’t be sure what they’re trying to do. Please, you’ve got to understand this.”

He slammed his hand down on the couch table, fingers slipping on polished wood. “I do understand! More than any of you give me credit for! And still, I-” Noctis cut himself off. No matter how angry he was, Ignis wasn’t the one at fault. “I-”

“Stop acting like a spoiled brat for once, Noct! This isn’t just about you; this is about the safety of the entire kingdom!” Gladio interrupted him. “We’re cutting off contact immediately, and you don’t get a say in this, got it? The game will be confiscated and checked again!”

Narrowing his eyes, Noctis reciprocated Gladio’s glare. “No! You listen to me for once! This is my life and I get to decide what I do! You can’t just always take all of my friends from me! Gods, I’m sick of this! I’m so sick of all of this!” He tugged at the roots of his dark hair until it hurt. It didn’t matter that he looked like a petulant child. It didn’t matter that they thought of him as childish.

He’d never been able to have friends of his own accord – despite his father’s best efforts to allow him to have a relatively normal childhood, he still hadn’t had many friends. To be friends with the prince (that certain kind of prestige) simply wasn’t worth the trouble. Or rather he wasn’t worth the trouble.

“You know what?” Gladio snapped finally, rising from the chair he’d been sitting on. Well, not really sitting – his entire body had been tense, taut as a bowstring. “Fine. Pout all you want.” He strode over to Noctis’ TV where the game lay, picking it up.

“What are you doing,” Noctis hissed through clenched teeth. “Gladio, I swear to the Astrals, if you-”

“If I what, Noctis? What can you do to stop me, huh?” Gladio’s expression could only be described as a sneer as he held the game above his head. “It’s just a stupid game; you have so many others that you wouldn’t even notice if this one’s gone.”

“Gladiolus, that’s enough!” Ignis intervened, straightening his back. “Stop this instant, both of you! You’re acting like children!”

Noctis whipped around to face Ignis. “He started it!” he said, pointing at Gladio whose face had lost some of its smugness.

“Ignis, if we don’t take the game from him, he will play again. You know that as well as I do. Same goes for both his phone and number; he’ll need new ones, unless we want another ugly surprise.”

Ignis looked positively tired, glasses slipping down his face. “I know,” he answered, calmly. “And I’m afraid that Gladiolus is right, Noctis.”

He inhaled deeply. Closed his eyes and emptied his mind. Back then, right after the Marilith attack, he’d had to do a lot of those exercises, mainly to calm himself after the nightmares that haunted his mind. Those mechanisms had become ingrained, there whenever he needed them. He seldom did.

When he opened his eyes again, the world looked a little clearer. He sat up straight. “I understand that. However-” Noctis tried to keep his voice from wobbling, letting no emotions shine through- “I do think that it’d be beneficial for us to keep playing. If Prompto truly is a prince, he will be able to tell us intel that we could not acquire from anywhere else. It would be a golden opportunity.” He hated that he had to use his friend (friend?) like that. It didn’t feel right.

But it was his only chance now.

His fingernails dug into his soft palm, leaving crescent marks in their wake as he feverishly awaited Ignis’ answer. Ignis always had an answer. Ignis always knew what to do.

“Noct,” Ignis sighed, letting his fingers run over the smooth countertop. No dust clung to his fingertips. “You heard the Marshal. There’s nothing we can do. I’m sorry.”

Noctis’ heart sank in his chest and the darkness spread inside him. “Specs- Ignis, please.” He didn’t care that he was basically begging at this point. None of it mattered. “Please,” he repeated, his voice nearly breaking. When he tried to catch Gladio’s gaze, his Shield looked away. “He’s the only real friend I’ve ever had. He understands me probably better than anyone else. Please, I just- at least let me say goodbye, if nothing else. Let me talk to him one last time.”

“I don’t know, Noct,” Ignis replied hesitantly. His arms were crossed over his chest as he looked over to Gladio. “What do you think?” If he was asking Gladio for his opinion, it meant that he wasn’t completely averse to the idea.

Noctis held his breath as Gladio’s eyes narrowed. “One last time,” he repeated, taking in Noctis’ dishevelled look. Then, after a long silence, he sighed, defeated. “Fine,” Gladio grumbled under his breath. “But we’ll come with you. For damage control. And no word of this gets out to the Marshal.”

It didn’t matter. Noctis nodded before exhaling loudly, sinking back into the soft cushions as his heart threatened to jump out of his ribcage. It didn’t matter that they’d come with him. He’d be able to see Prompto again, and only that counted.

He wiped the back of his hand over his eyes, smiling at his friends. “I- thank you,” Noctis croaked out

“Yeah yeah, whatever, just do it before I change my mind,” Gladio answered, although Noctis could hear the fondness in his voice.

Diligently he slipped the disc in and turned the console on, shooting Prompto a quick message that he’d be online now. The chocobo emote Prompto sent back in response made his heart ache, but he pushed the feeling away and decided to focus on the task at hand.

“Thank you,” he whispered once again as Ignis settled down next to him.

His advisor only nodded, tight-lipped, before looking at Noctis with heavy eyes. “I hope you know what you are doing, Noct. And that you are aware of the dangers this poses.”

Noctis’ grip on his controller tightened. “Of course. I won’t let it be in vain.”

His answer seemed to suffice and together they watched the loading screen fade into the familiar landscape of Midgard. It was quiet, both in his room and the game. Only the scurry of snow interrupted his thoughts.

He took in the world around him as he stepped up next to Fenrir who was wagging his tail at his sudden appearance. Noctis scratched him lightly, still looking around. Prompto wasn’t there yet, but Arctus sat on the ground with his back against a pillar of ice, wearily looking up at him.

Snowflakes had settled on the crown of his head, painting his golden hair almost white. “You’re back,” he said, keeping his voice flat.

Noctis nodded. “Prompto isn’t here yet?”

Shaking his head, Arctus averted his eyes. “No. I’ve been alone.” It sounded somewhat resigned. “Listen, I-”

“Hey, Noct!”

Arctus’ soft mumbling was interrupted by Prompto’s greeting as the blond materialised in the snow beside him. “I’m surprised that you’re free already! You’re really busy around this time, usually.” Prompto grinned at him.

Gladio cleared his throat.

His mouth was dry. Noctis licked over his lips as his eyes darted around, frantically looking for anything to settle on that wasn’t Prompto. “We- we need to talk, Prompto,” he said, avoiding Prompto’s eyes. “Can you three give us a few minutes?” he addressed his friends and Arctus. To his surprise, Ignis was the first to nod, pulling both Arctus and Gladio a few feet away to give them space.

Noctis appreciated the sentiment.

Prompto’s voice cracked. “So… what did you want to talk about?” he asked, the snow scrunching beneath his bare feet as he shifted his weight.

“You’re not gonna like it,” Noctis murmured into his pelt, letting the soft fabric muffle his words. Soften them, if possible. “I can’t finish the game with you, Prompto. Nor can we keep talking. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t feel brave enough to look up and watch Prompto’s face fall, so instead, he stared at the ground.

“Why?” Prompto whispered into the dark night. “What changed? You’re just, like, too busy, right?” He chuckled nervously, as if he didn’t believe the words himself.

Noctis didn’t want to lie. He’d hidden so much of the truth already that Prompto deserved to know why Noctis couldn’t spend any more time with him. “No, that’s not it,” he responded, carefully choosing his words. “I- you’re, uh, part of the royal family, aren’t you? The Niflheimian royal family.” As if he needed to clarify.

Prompto’s breath hitched in his throat; it was nothing more than a small, defenceless noise. “How do you know that?”

So it was true. Noctis had allowed himself to cling to the foolish hope that maybe this Prompto had just chosen the Niflheimian prince’s face as his own, that he was just a fan of the royal family. Maybe things would’ve been different then. “Doesn’t matter now, does it?” He let out a pitiful, mirthless laugh. “But if you want to know, we checked your background. It wasn’t that hard to find you.” The way his fingers took on a blueish tint after just a few minutes was fascinating. He couldn’t look up.

“And that changed your mind? Because I am royalty?” Prompto asked, plopping down on the snowy ground. “You felt different about our- about this when I was just commoner?”

“I did. As a mere commoner, you weren’t responsible for the suffering of my people.” It was unfair of him to say something like that, but he needed Prompto to understand. Kneeling down himself, Noctis drew patterns in the white snow. “But as it stands right now, I…” he paused, trying to find the right words.

“You blame me for the annexation of Accordo?” Prompto whispered, horrified. The snowfall had never sounded so loud.

“No!” he said forcefully, quickly glancing over to Gladio and Ignis before lowering his voice. “No, of course not,” he assured Prompto. “You had nothing to do with that. It’s just- you have to understand that… Ugh, this is hard to explain. I’m from one of Accordo’s noble houses, and as part of that society, directly communicating with people who are labelled as enemies isn’t really reputable. It’s got nothing to do with you personally.”

Prompto didn’t look convinced, not that Noctis could blame him. Snow was resting on his shoulders and head, and he had that faraway look in his eyes that Noctis sometimes saw on his father. “I- why did you have to dig?” He sounded accusing.

“It wasn’t me who wanted to do it,” Noctis said with a sigh, watching a cloud of white mist rise into the dark sky. “Ignis and Gladio, they’re kind of my bodyguards, you know? They found out about it first. And since we’re in contact with the royal family of Lucis, I can’t possibly become a security leak.” Lying always came so easy to him when he wanted it to, it was kind of horrifying.

Prompto drew his legs up to his chest and rested his chin on his knees, looking into the distance. “Yeah, I get that… it’s just- I didn’t want you to find out. I thought I could be normal here. Myself. But it seems that I can’t.”

“Hey,” Noctis said softly, scooting closer. “It’s not that I don’t want to be friends or that I think less of you for belonging to House Aldercapt, it’s just that I’m not allowed to stay in contact with someone…” He nudged Prompto’s thigh with his own.

Doing nothing to push him away, Prompto buried his face in his hands. “Someone like me?” he finished Noctis’ sentence. When Noctis opened his mouth to say something, Prompto shook his head in response. “No, I get it. It’s alright, you’re just doing your duty, I understand that. It was-” his voice broke- “nice to meet you. Really, I enjoyed our time together.”

Noctis nodded, not trusting his voice to work, either. “So this is it,” he said, finally. “You wanna say goodbye to the others as well?”

Prompto hummed in affirmation, getting up before extending his hand towards Noctis who took it gratefully. He dusted himself off, powdery snow clinging to his clothes.

Ignis and the others were not too far away, huddled close together to keep the cold away, but his advisor turned around to face him when he noticed they were approaching. “Are you ready to go, Noct?” he asked.

Noctis shrugged, wrapping his arms around his upper body. “Yeah, I guess.” He nudged Prompto in the side with his elbow, and the blond gave the small circle a sheepish smile.

Gladio raised an eyebrow.

“I just… wanted to say goodbye, that’s all. It was nice playing with you, and I- I had hoped we could finish the game together but I-” he inhaled deeply, steeling himself- “I understand your suspicions.”

Ignis’ gaze softened, and even Gladio had the decency to look a little sad. “Of course, Prompto,” Ignis said, giving him a small smile. “Good luck on the rest of the journey,” Gladio added, slapping Arctus on the shoulder, making him stumble.

“Oh- I won’t finish the game. I don’t think I want to, to be honest. Not without you guys, at least. Playing on my own sounds tiring.” Prompto rubbed the back of his head, focusing on Arctus. “Hope you don’t mind?”

Arctus shook his head. “Of course not. It’s your decision, after all, and I can’t blame you for not wanting to.” He inclined his head, his blond hair falling into his face and obscuring his eyes. Noctis couldn’t tell what he might have been thinking. His hand was resting on Hati’s back, curling into the grey fur. “I wish you good luck, wherever you might go.” The corners of his mouth twitched.

Prompto nodded, closing his eyes shortly before turning towards Noctis and the others. “I- I just want you to know that I’m not angry. And that I can kinda understand it. Maybe we’ll see each other sometime. Who knows.” He gave each of them a wobbly smile, seemingly curling into himself. His shoulders shook. “I really liked you guys.”

Noctis didn’t have to think long before pulling Prompto into an awkward hug. He heard Prompto’s breath hitch in his throat as he rested his chin on the boy’s shoulder, his own arms wrapping around Prompto’s waist. “Hey. It’ll be alright,” he murmured softly. “After all of this is over- we’ll see each other again, yeah?”

Not even he knew what he meant by ‘all of this’ – the war, perhaps. And hadn’t Prompto said that he wanted to end the war peacefully? Maybe, if Prompto had already been on the throne, it could have worked out for them. Maybe.

Prompto’s hands rested on Noctis’ shoulder blades, fingers digging into the soft material of his pelt. “Yeah,” he said, his voice weak. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.” He sniffed before pulling away and his eyes glistened in the dim light.

He faced Ignis and Gladio, tilting his head to one side. “Can I-” he started, before shrinking into himself. “Ah, never mind.”

Gladio heaved a heavy sigh, stepping forward and rubbing his knuckles over Prompto’s head who only yelped in response, trying to push Gladio’s hands away and flatten his hair. The Shield only laughed.

Rolling his eyes, Ignis joined the fray, tugging at Prompto’s clothes until they were in order again and then brushing the snow off him. Take care, Prompto,” he answered carefully neutral. “May we meet again, sometime.”

Prompto grasped his hand, squeezing tightly. “You too, Ignis. I wish it could’ve ended differently.” He shot Gladio a smile, letting go of Ignis to puff up his chest, arms akimbo. “Someday, I’ll find you and challenge you to a duel. And I’ll win,” he said, his eyes sparkling with renewed enthusiasm.

“Sure, kiddo,” Gladio snorted, haphazardly waving his hand around. “Whatever you say.”

Playfully glaring at him, Prompto turned to Hati and Arctus, stroking over the wolf’s soft fur. “You take care, too, yeah?” he said, and Arctus simply nodded, neither moving forwards to embrace Prompto nor doing anything else. “And please don’t be mad at me.”

“Of course not,” Arctus answered. “Good luck.” He seemed distant, not even the hint of a smile playing around his lips.

Snow scrunched on the ground as Ignis came to stand beside him, resting a warm hand on his shoulder. “It’s time to go, Noct. We’ll have to deliver the game shortly.”

With tired eyes, Noctis opened the menu, his gaze straying immediately towards the log-out button when something changed. He didn’t know what it was at first; white on white, it was a miniscule change, barely noticeable. Noctis frowned. “Did you guys see that?” he asked.

“See what?” Gladio asked before muttering a soft curse, probably accessing the menu as well. “What the hell?”

Right there at the top of the menu where the settings-option used to be was a new textbox. Larger this time.

Please don’t go. I’m scared.

Then, beneath that box was another one. Deep red handwriting, a stark contrast against the white of the still falling snow.

Don’t leave me here. Stay, just for a little while longer.

Noctis didn’t close the menu but instead just glanced at Ignis. It wasn’t as if the pop-up covered the entire screen. “A bug?” he asked into the silence that surrounded them, even if he already knew that it wasn’t.

The writing changed once again.

Don’t take this from me. This is all I have.

Gladio groaned. “Great. Really fantastic.”

The log-out button was right there. They could just leave and be done with it.

I have what you’re looking for. I know something you don’t. I could tell you. But I won’t. Not yet.

“Oh c’mon,” Noctis grumbled under his breath. “Who the hell would fall for that?”

Ignis next to him shook his head. “Just a crude joke,” he said, but no made no move to do anything else. Whoever they were talking to, the person was playing with them.

I know who you are. I know who all of you are. Hidden names and places of birth, I know it all.

That was a threat if Noctis had ever seen one. Black writing on a white background. Ebony on snow.

“Right,” Gladio said with a snort, waving his hand like he didn’t believe whoever they were talking to, although there was a slight edge to his voice. A crack in the surface, perhaps.

“Gladio,” Ignis addressed him quietly as if he was afraid of raising his voice, “don’t do anything stupid.”

Prompto, who’d seen the entire thing happen from the side lines, cleared his throat. “What’s going on?” he asked, apparently not seeing the writing if his lack of knowledge was anything to go by.

Noctis hummed in response, still focusing on the writing in front of his face. “It’s weird,” he relented at last, motioning for Prompto to open his own menu as well.

Prompto only made a confused noise. “So what am I supposed to see? Everything looks the same.”

“Maybe it’s their Calling,” Arctus said, lips twisting in a smile that didn’t seem natural, “for trying to abandon their covenants.” He had dropped down onto the ground, bracing his hands against the cold snow. “Maybe it means that you’ll have to finish your duties before being granted the opportunity to leave.”

Do not fear death, the screen said, fear the knowledge acquired by foes.

Another subtle threat. Noctis clenched his hands at his side. “What do we do?” he asked Ignis, hoping that his advisor would have caught on as well without Noctis having to spell out everything to him.

As always, Ignis seemed to understand. “I’m afraid we have little choice other than to comply,” he said as a matter of fact, although his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Simply abandoning the game seems to have… negative consequences.”

Gladio groaned. “So we have no other choice but to play along? The others won’t be thrilled to hear that, y’know.”

“It’s not like we’ve got a choice,” Noctis argued weakly, rubbing his temples. “Either we do what the game wants, or we’re screwed.” He laughed mirthlessly. “Can’t believe we got tricked by a sentient game.”

Ignis shook his head. “It’s not a sentient game,” he retaliated, “it’s a game developed by Niflheim. Whatever we will encounter at the end, it’s apparently crucial that we bear witness to it. I don’t believe that the game was sent to you randomly, there’s something that they want us to see.”

“Even then,” Gladio cut him off, “how do we know that our personal information isn’t shared with the Niffs? There’s nothing holding this thing back, after all.”

The writing on the screen changed again as if it had been listening to their conversation all along.

No harm may come to you if you do what I say.

“That’s what you want us to think,” Gladio grumbled, furrowing his brows and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “It’s a ruse. You don’t actually expect us to believe it, do you?”

“Standing here and doing nothing won’t change anything,” Noctis said, throwing his hands into the air in exasperation. “Let’s just get this over with, please.”

If you decide to destroy the game, if you take the disc out of the console, if you let anyone interfere with the hardware, if the location changes, then, and only then, will the data I have gathered be transmitted to Niflheim.

The tone changed.

“We can only take its word for what it is,” Ignis sighed, sounding displeased. “We simply do not have a say in the matter. I completely agree with Noct.”

He breathed a sigh of relief himself as he closed the menu. Ignis waved him closer and Noctis complied, leaning towards his advisor to listen what he had to say.

“This is, without doubt, a trap, Noct,” Ignis said, keeping his voice low – not that that would matter in the grand scheme of things. “Information about our whereabouts and our true identities will be shared – has most likely already been shared. They’re just trying to make us stay longer to gather more intel. I’ll excuse myself shortly and alert the Marshal; perhaps, if we can keep the game running, the security team will be able to track the perpetrators and pinpoint their exact location.”

Pondering over what Ignis had said for a second, Noctis puckered his lips. “So we’re the bait?” he asked finally, to which Ignis only nodded. “Alright, then. But isn’t it even riskier if we keep playing?”

“That might be the case,” Ignis answered, letting his eyes wander over the others. Snow covered his pelt and hair. “We simply do not have any other choice, though. It’s best we just do what they want for now.”

Noctis nodded, stepping back once Ignis was done. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

Ignis shot him a quick smile, directing his attention towards the others. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a call to take.” He exchanged a quick glance with Gladio who seemed to understand without needing words and then logged out himself, pointedly adding an “I’ll be back shortly” before disappearing.

Gladio snorted. “So it’s just the four of us now, huh,” he stated as Skoll nuzzled his hand. “Or the seven of us, all right.” Dutifully, he scratched the wolf behind its ear.

Prompto looked positively bemused, inclining his head. Snow fell from his hair. “What just happened?” he asked. “I thought you wanted to stop playing?”

Tugging his pelt down, Noctis made an uncertain noise in the back of his throat. “Yeah, about that… something else came up, so we’ll finish the game with you.”

The corners of Prompto’s mouth twitched as he tried to suppress a smile, but he nevertheless clasped his hands together in front of his body. “I- this may sound selfish, but I’m kind of glad.” He grinned down at Arctus, holding one of his hands out to help the other boy up. “Isn’t that right?”

Arctus took it, effortlessly hoisting himself up. Snow clung to him. “I guess so,” he said, his tone neutral although the lines between his brows had disappeared. “I’m glad you changed your minds, of course.”

Noctis nodded, crossing his arms in front of his chest and tapping his fingers against the pelt. “So… where are we off to, next?”

Prompto, leaning back against Hati, scratched his chin. “Well… Freya said that we ought to acquire a sword from the skilled ones, so we should go there, I guess?”

Gladio sighed, holding his hand out. “Hand over the map, Noct,” he commanded, raising an eyebrow when Noctis didn’t move. “Well?”

Patting down his clothes, Noctis frowned. Looked at Prompto. “Do you have the map?” he asked to which Prompto shook his head. “Crap. I think Iggy’s got it.” Because of course Ignis had the map – between the five of them, only Ignis and Gladio were able to read maps. Maybe Arctus as well; he hadn’t asked.

Cursing, Gladio turned around. “So we have to wait here until he gets back?” he said, sounding incredulous.

“I’d advise against waiting here,” Arctus chimed in, hands folded in front of his body. “The cold works against us.”

And he was true. Noctis had felt the frostbite for quite some time now, gnawing at his bones and chilling his face with its icy cold. They couldn’t stay here forever unless they wanted to end up like the frozen statues in the imprisoned goddess’s city.

“So where do we go then, huh, wise guy?” Gladio bit back. Arctus didn’t even flinch.

“North, I would presume.” His eyes narrowed imperceptibly. “Unless you have any better ideas?”

Before the two of them could start to brawl, Noctis decided to intervene. “Alright, we’ll go North.” He whistled, drawing Fenrir’s attention to him and mounting the wolf. “Now then, we have no time to lose.”

The others followed him and together they set off, not wanting to spend even another minute in the frozen valleys of Jötunheim. Despite the snow’s beauty, Noctis certainly wouldn’t miss it.

Snow scrunched beneath the wolves’ paws as they traversed the lands, each and every tree looking exactly the same. There still were no animals around; either they had hidden themselves quite well or there simply were none left.

He shuddered at the thought.

And it was quieter than unusual without Ignis around. No matter how much he groaned at his retainer’s endless trivia or bad puns, he still enjoyed them, and it felt strangely empty knowing that Ignis didn’t have his back for once.

He decided not to think about it.

Their trek was otherwise uneventful – Ignis didn’t show up again, most likely caught in a heated discussion with Cor, and nothing else crossed their path. At last, the snow slowly cleared, bleeding into grey grass, wet with water and glistening in the light of the moon.

The air was warmer here, almost like that of a night in spring, and Noctis dared to take off his pelt and drape it over Fenrir’s flank, enjoying the night air that still had a slight chill to it on his skin. It felt rejuvenating, and he inhaled deeply, savouring the clearness of the atmosphere.

It seemed livelier here as well; small animals like mice and an occasional rabbit darted away when they drew nearer, hiding behind bushes and tall grass. The sound of flattering wings filled the night.

Noctis had no idea as to where they actually were right now. The forest seemed somewhat familiar, although that could be said about a lot of forests. It wasn’t as if he could tell them apart even if he wanted to.

He’d never really been one for the woods – there simply were too many bugs for his liking and every time Gladio had taken him camping, it had ended in a disaster. Not to mention that, as the prince, he wasn’t actually allowed to diverge from the Citadel all too often. Noctis silently wondered if it was the same for Prompto.

Letting himself fall back a little until he Fenrir was keeping pace with Hati, he cleared his throat to grab Prompto’s attention. “So,” he started, at a loss as to what he should say next.

Prompto simply smiled at him; a smile that was almost as warm as the rays of the sun. “Yeah?” he asked.

Noctis scratched the back of his neck. “Ah, never mind. It’s nothing. Nothing of importance, anyway.” He watched as Prompto pursed his mouth, seemingly not believing him, but he brushed it off like he brushed off everything else that bothered him.

Something flashy, glittering in the pale light of the silver moon caught his eye. He frowned. “Did you see that?” he asked his companions.

Gladio grunted. “Of course. Wanna go check it out?”

Instead of answering, Noctis dug his heels into Fenrir’s sides and guided the wolf towards the place where he’d seen the shimmer. Fenrir obeyed without as much as silent huff; he’d really miss the wolf once the game was over, that much he was sure of. He simply reminded Noctis too much of Umbra.

The shimmer was still there, drawing his gaze to it.

At first he thought it to be a small dagger, embedded in the bark of a tree, but the closer he got, the more he realized that it was too small to be a dagger. Noctis narrowed his eyes, trying to make out further details.

“Oh,” Prompto breathed out, his voice thick with something Noctis couldn’t quite name. Disappointment, perhaps.

An intricate, golden hairpin was stuck in the tree’s bark, piercing right through a red piece of cloth that flowed in the soft breeze.

Noctis gaze wandered downwards to the roots of the tree, but nothing was there.

The air seemed stifling for a moment, the too sweet scent of flowers filling his nose. And then it was over, as fast as it had begun.

He averted his eyes.

“You knew it was going to happen eventually,” Arctus said, his voice flat. He spoke what none of them wanted to even bring up. One of his hands was resting on Prompto’s shoulder who made no motions to shake him off. “That’s the way of the world.”

Prompto didn’t answer.

Gladio seemed like he wanted to say something, maybe ask what exactly was going on, but Noctis shushed him, planting his index finger over his own lips. His Shield simply nodded. It seemed that even Gladio could be tactful.

“Let’s go,” Noctis said, brushing his hair out of his face. If Ignis had been here, maybe he’d handle the situation better. But Ignis wasn’t here. He cleared his throat. “So, we’re back in Idavoll I guess? It’s weird, I thought the world would be larger,” he tried to lighten the mood.

Shrugging, Arctus took his hand off Prompto’s shoulder and let it rest on the wolf’s back again. “Maybe we’re supposed to be back here. Fate might just be guiding our hands.”

Fate. Not for the first time, Noctis wondered what that word that everyone liked to throw around so easily actually meant. Was fate what had brought him here? Was fate what dictated his every move and the burden that had been placed on him? Was fate what had cursed him and his bloodline?

He shook his head to get rid of his stray thoughts. There was no point in dwelling about that now; there was no one who could answer his questions. At least no one he could talk to on a regular basis.

“Yeah, we should check the area out,” Noctis finally replied, ignoring both Prompto’s and Gladio’s eyes on him. “Maybe we missed something the first time around. We-”

He was cut off by the sound of laughter resounding in the otherwise quiet night. Noctis whipped his head around, eyes frantically scanning the area for the source of the noise. Beside him, Gladio’s posture was tense, his hand resting on the hilt of his axe.

“What was that?” Prompto asked, trying to keep his voice level, but Arctus simply shook his head, motioning for him to remain silent. It was quiet for a few seconds, only the sound of their heavy breathing filling the air.

The laughter returned from right behind one of the trees, and Noctis slowly slid off Fenrir’s back to approach it by foot, fingers itching to just grab his sword. Leaves crunched beneath his feet as he placed his hand on the rough bark of the tree and angled his head so he could look behind it.

To his surprise, a pair of green eyes greeted him, staring at Noctis in curiosity.

Noctis stumbled back, defensively throwing his arm up to shield his face. Gladio was at his side in an instant, pushing him away to position himself in front of Noctis, but he lowered his axe after a long second.

“A child,” Prompto whispered, jumping off the back of his wolf and crouching down to meet the boy’s height. “Hey, don’t worry. We’re not gonna hurt you.”

The boy looked like he wanted to cry for a second, but he seemed to have a change of heart the last second and instead laughed loudly. One of his incisors was missing, Noctis noted.

After waiting until he’d calmed down a little, Noctis nudged Gladio so he’d fully put his axe away and crouched down as well, raising his hands in surrender. The boy had to be young, but even if that was the case, he was rather small for his age and quite burly. Light brown hair fell in braids over his shoulder.

Then he raised his hand to his heart and curled his fingers into the fabric. “Ye shoulda seen yer faces!” he said with a grin, wiping the back of his hand over his nose. “Ye'r foreigners, aren't ye?”

Noctis had heard his share of weird accents; Ignis’ posh and proper one, Gladio’s rough drawl, but this one – this one was completely new to him. He stared at the boy in bafflement. “Uh… yeah,” he answered belatedly. “Wait, what are you doing out here on your own?”

But the boy had already pushed past him and was admiring the wolves, rummaging around in his pockets and fishing something out to give Fenrir. His wolf devoured it and nuzzled the boy’s hand, asking for more.

“I can take care o' myself,” the boy answered, warily looking up at Arctus who was still sitting on Hati’s back. “The beast o' the woods is no more. Can I pet yer wolf, sir?”

The beast of the woods must have been the creature they’d defeated at the start of the game. He explained as much to Gladio who looked like he didn’t understand anything, which was fair. Watching as the boy patted Hati’s snout, Noctis frowned.

“Hey, don’t you think it’s weird that he’s out here on his own?” Prompto said quietly, leaning on his bow. Gladio grunted in agreement. “What’s your name?” Prompto asked him, smiling sweetly.

“Eitill,” the boy answered, shoving his hand that held some sort of snack into Hati’s face. “Ye'v got some crakin' wolves!”

Prompto mouthed an exaggerated ‘What?’ to him, but Noctis paid him no mind. “Great, uh, so… you’re form around here, right? Any idea where we might find weapons?” He held his own sword up for emphasis.

Eitill tilted his head. “Sure.” A smile graced his face, and he looked towards Fenrir. “If ye let me travel on yer wolves with ye.”

Noctis pinched the bridge of his nose, looking at his friends. “What do you think?”

Both Gladio and Prompto shrugged. “He’s just a child. What’s the worst that could happen?” He looked to Arctus at well, but the blond wasn’t taking his eyes off of Eitill.

“Alright, buddy,” Noctis turned to the kid. “If you tell us where your village is, we’ll safely bring you there.”

“Stoatin!” Eitill exclaimed, pumping a tiny fist into the air and digging his fingers into Fenrir’s fur to try and heave himself up.

Motioning for Gladio and Prompto to mount their wolves, Noctis grabbed Eitill by the waist and lifted him up so he could swing his legs over Fenrir’s back before joining the boy on the wolf, placing his arms on either side of him so he wouldn’t fall off on accident. “How come you’re not scared? Or at least wary?”

Eitill slightly turned around to him, and his grin was almost blinding. “A've heard the stories they tell,” he said as if that would answer anything. He pointed a thick finger towards a deeper part of the woods, so Noctis followed his lead.

“Stories?” he inquired instead, glancing back towards his friends.

“Mhm. Stories,” Eitill repeated, running his fingers through the wolf’s fur. He was surprisingly gentle for a boy his age, which Noctis was immensely grateful for. “O’ wolves 'n gods.”

He was quiet for a second. “Eitill? Do you know anything about… about the Usurper?” He hastily shook his head. “No, of course you wouldn’t. You’re only a child.”

“I ain't a child!” Eitill protested, shuffling around on the wolf’s back. “I know a lot o' things!” He tapped his chin with the hand that wasn’t grabbing fistfuls of Fenrir’s fur. “Ye know that there once were two princes, right?”

He waited until Noctis nodded before continuing. “None knew which prince would succeed the throne,” Eitill said as if he was telling a kid a bedtime story. Maybe it was one to him. “When speirins o' the king's death came, both men say themselves the chosen king, forcing the folk to take sides.”

Noctis paused in case Eitill wanted to add anything else, but the boy kept quiet. “Thanks,” he sighed, patting him on the head. Eitill batted his hand away, flattening the unruly locks once again. “Is it far?”

“Not far,” Eitill responded. “See the lights between the trees? That’s Myrkheim.”

And now that Eitill had mentioned it, he could see the light shining through the leaves and catching in the boy’s golden ornaments. He turned around to alert his friends, but the boy tugged at his tunic and forced him to look straightforward.

“Show no fear,” he said in a sombre tone, his back straight, “'n do not bargain.”

Before Noctis could ask what that was supposed to mean, they passed the threshold, diving into a world of glittering colours and warm fire. He shielded his eyes against the bright light as Eitill hopped off the wolf and led it to an iron fence. “Ye comin’?” he asked, patiently waiting until all four of them had climbed down.

Noctis opened his mouth to answer as someone suddenly snatched Eitill’s wrist and pulled him aside. It was a corpulent albeit small woman, shielding the boy with her body while insistently talking to him. “I told you not to talk to strangers!” she whispered loudly, her voice almost a hiss. “Not to speak of bringing them here! Have I taught you nothing?”

He held his hands out to show that he meant no harm, frozen in place. The light of the torches flickered around him, casting shadows on the ground. “We’re- it’s not his fault.” He ignored her glare to continue. “We’re looking to restore the light to the world but we fear that we are lost.” That wasn’t the entire truth, but it seemed better to leave a few things out for now.

Frowning, the woman assessed their wolves before letting her gaze fall on them. It rested on Prompto and Arctus for a long time. “Restore the light, you say?” Her frown deepened, and for a second Noctis feared that she’d throw them out of the village. It was then that he realized how desperately he’d always relied on Ignis to solve all of his problems; neither Gladio nor him were that good at sweet-talking people, a fact he sorely regretted now.

But to his surprise, the woman simply nodded before turning around. “Then follow me,” she said. “I’ll bring you to Dain.”

Eitill freed himself from his mother’s (it must have been his mother, even if she didn’t seem to share his accent) grasp and fell back, walking directly next to Noctis, tugging at his sleeve to get his attention. “Are ye really here to restore the light?” he asked.

Noctis fought a grin that threatened to settle down on his face, raising an eyebrow instead. “Wasn’t that why you helped us in the first place?”

He shook his head. “Ye seemed lonely,” Eitill simply said, slipping his small hand into Noctis’ and pointing at the buildings to their side that were let into the stone wall. “We've lived here for an eternity. We don’t need the light o' the sun to survive.”

It was a weird thing to say, but Noctis decided not to question it. They left their wolves at the entrance and traversed the village by foot, ignoring the glares that were thrown their way. If Alfheim had been radiating hospitality, his place hated foreigners.

He kept his eyes on the woman in front of them as she led Noctis and his friends through the winding paths of the village, keeping her head down as if afraid to be seen with them. “Dain will not be able to show you the way, but he will make your path easier.”

“Are you sure we should do this?” Prompto whispered behind him before Gladio lightly punched his shoulder. “I mean, they don’t seem all that friendly…”

Arctus hummed in thought, letting his eyes wander over the old village. “They’re dwarves,” he noted, “the most skilled craftsmen that there are. Not hospitable, but they’ll be able to help us out. For the right price.”

Noctis loathed to ask what that price might be.

The woman stopped in front of a rundown blacksmith’s shop, before turning around and clasping her thick fingers around Eitill’s arm, ripping him away from Noctis. His own hand felt slightly sticky and he wiped it on his pants.

Eitill waved at him. “I will see ye again,” he said with a soft smile as his mother dragged him away. Noctis could only wave back.

“Let’s get inside then, shall we?” Arctus said, pointing at the entrance of the shop.

The charred door felt hot under his fingers as he pushed it open and stepped into the dimly-lit room that was almost as hot as the entirety Muspell. The air was heavy here and sweat immediately started to trickle down his temples. “Hello?” he called out, not actually expecting an answer. No one could possibly live in this heat.

But the answer he got was a grunt, coming from somewhere farther back in the room, and he followed the sound through the black smoke that obstructed his sight. “Craftsman Dain?” he asked again as he came to stand in front of a hunched creature that vaguely looked human.

Dain looked up at him with weathered eyes, squinting through the smoke. “Go away.” He turned around again, watching the still glowing embers of a once raging fire in the furnace.

“Craftsman Dain, we’re here to seek your aid.” He bowed slightly, just as he’d seen Ignis do many times before. The dwarf didn’t even acknowledge him. “We are looking for weapons.”

Something that resembled a croaky laugh escaped his throat. “A weapon. All everyone wants is a weapon. But they’re not willing to pay the price. Never.” He spat on the ground.

Gladio’s hand was even hotter on his shoulder than the air that weighed down on him as his Shield pushed him aside. “Let me handle this,” he said with a crack of his knuckles. “Listen, old man. Either you help us out or-”

“Or what?” Dain asked, knowing fully well that they needed him. His gaze fell on Arctus and he raised a bony hand, pointing at the blond. “You there, boy. Come here.”

Arctus dutifully stepped forwards and kneeled before the old man, his head lowered. He looked demure. Meek. As if there was no life behind his eyes.

Prompto seemingly wanted to follow him but Noctis held his arm out to keep the other back.

Dain tipped Arctus’ chin up with his spindly fingers, studying his eyes. “A weapon,” he repeated as the dying flames painted one side of his face a sickly shade of orange. “A weapon for vanguards of the sun. Don’t you know that there have been people before you? What makes you think you are so different from them?”

Arctus didn’t raise his head. “Nothing sets us apart from them; nothing but our willingness to do everything that it takes.” Noctis could see his hands tremble in the faint light. “To bring back the light is our true calling. One that will not be lost in the darkness.”

The dwarf sighed as if he’d heard the speech a thousand times already. “Have it your way, then. I will grant you one weapon.” He let go of Arctus’ head to creep over to a table, picking up something that was covered in cloth.

He passed by Noctis and handed it to Arctus who took it in both of his hands, holding it up as if making a sacrifice to a deity. Soot and grime covered his face where the dwarf had touched him.

Noctis frowned. “And I don’t get a weapon?”

The old man ignored him. “Uncover the blade,” he instructed, and Arctus pulled the piece of cloth away from the sword, revealing a warped, red blade. Dain ran his fingers along the sharp edge. “The Dainsleif,” he said (had he really named a sword after himself?), “it is imbued with magic so that whenever it is drawn, it cannot be sheathed again until taking a life.”

Arctus was frozen in place, suspending the blade into the air as Dain continued to caress it like a grandfather might do when seeing his grandchildren after a long time. Not that Noctis would know - he'd never gotten to know his grandparents.

“Are you for real?” Gladio asked after a long stretch of silence. “Isn’t that a super bad idea for a sword?”

“Totally,” Prompto chimed in, “I really don’t think we should accept-”

“What is the price?” Arctus cut him off. “You aren’t giving me this out of the goodness of your heart.”

Don’t bargain, Eitill had said. If Ignis had been here, maybe he would have been able to alter the course of fate.

But Ignis wasn’t here.

Dain smiled, showing off rows and rows of black teeth. “Return once you have won and be ours for eternity to come. Just you. None of the others. If you can even do it.”

Noctis frowned. Even if Arctus was just a simple part of the machine, it still felt wrong to condemn him to an eternity of that. “We’re bringing back sunlight and you still want more? Another sort of compensation?”

“It’s fine,” Arctus said, standing up and sheathing the sword.

“But-”

“I said it's fine, Prom,” Arctus interrupted him again. “I will pay the price – as must we all.” He seemed to have made up his mind, and his answer sounded final. There was no doubt in his eyes. “I accept.”

Dain shook Arctus’ outstretched hand. The light painted their hands red, and Noctis swore he could see right through the flesh, could see every single vein pulse with life. “Of course you do. They all do. For their mettle is also their curse and downfall.” With the finesse of a warrior, he swiped his long fingernails across Arctus’ palm, drawing blood and watching it drop down onto the hot floor and evaporate.

He laughed in their faces as they left the shop that wasn’t really a shop, stepping down the stairs without looking back.

“We coulda just killed him,” Gladio said once they were outside and the door was shut behind them. “Looted the place and left without anyone noticing.”

“And have them resent us and all of humanity for eternity?” Arctus shook his head, letting his fingers glide over the red metal of his new blade. “I’d think not.”

Prompto raked his fingers through his hair. “And what now? You basically sold your soul, dude! There’s no going back on this one, is there?”

Arctus shook his head. “We made a blood pact. I am till kingdom come bound to him. But it was worth it – this is a blade to hunt gods with.” He chuckled softly, raising his bloody hand to cover his mouth. “How funny. It seems I have gotten myself in the same mess as our imprisoned goddess. But I will not cower in front of fate.”

He accepted the piece of cloth that Prompto handed him, using it to wipe the blood off his hand and the soot off his face. “We shouldn’t remain here. Let us leave at once, I don’t want to spend even a minute longer in this gaol.”

Whispers and glares followed them on their way out, but no one dared to approach them.

Ignis still hadn’t shown up and Noctis was beginning to worry.

If something was wrong, he would have told them, right? Noctis liked to believe he would.

Sighing, he stared at the monotone landscape in front of him that seemed to stretch out endlessly. Everything looked the same in the dark, and Noctis had a hard time telling sky from land.

And there was something else… it was quiet. He could hear his own ragged breathing and the leaves beneath Fenrir’s paws. He could hear Prompto and Arctus chatting and hear could hear Gladio’s fingers tapping against the blade of his axe.

“Where are we even going?” Prompto finally asked when he couldn’t stand the silence that surrounded them any longer. As if Noctis had any idea.

He shrugged, keeping his eyes on what he assumed was the horizon in front of him. Northern Lights hushed across the night sky, gone in an instant. “We got the sword. Now…” he sighed louder this time. “Now I don’t know. We look for the other gods, maybe. Someone who can show us the way.”

Noctis had never second-guessed the gods; what reason was there to do that? The gods only did what was best for humanity. They were kind and benevolent. But this was a game and Noctis’ task was to finish it.

“And where do you wanna find the gods, huh?” Gladio sneered, not even raising his gaze. “Just wanna wander the world and see where we end up? That your grand plan?”

It was best to just ignore him. Noctis rolled his eyes, hoping that Gladio wouldn’t see it in the dark. The air was cold on his skin. He didn’t know what to do.

“I might know where we can find what we’re looking for,” Arctus said. “The city of the gods, Asgard – it’s usually unreachable for humans. They could… help us to find a path to Helheim.”

“Great,” Gladio snapped at him. Even Skoll bared his teeth. He looked more than a little annoyed now, but Noctis paid him no mind. “An unreachable city.”

“And where do we find that city?” he asked, trying to keep the hope out of his voice. “And what exactly do we do once we’re there?”

Arctus pointed at the sky where the Northern Lights were slithering around like snakes in water. “We follow the light,” he said, “it’ll lead us to the bridge. At least that’s what I’ve heard.”

Noctis turned to his friends with a quizzical look in his eyes.

Prompto shrugged. “It’s our best bet. Unless any of you’ve got a better idea?”

He didn’t. Neither did Gladio.

It was almost completely dark at this point; no stars and no moon graced the sky in this night, only the colourful lights that seemed almost ethereal. Waves crashed against a faraway shore.

It wasn’t the first time that Noctis had heard the murmuring of the sea, but the sound was amplified a thousand times by the night. It was nothing like the sunny beaches of Galdin Quay that his father always spoke so highly of, nothing like the city atop the waves where the Tidemother slept.

A wave of finality hit him, and although both the Northern Lights and the sea fought to enrapture him with their beauty, Noctis could only stare up at the night sky with heavy eyes. “Do we have to?” he asked into the silence that had been placed upon them like a heavy blanket. No one answered him.

Fenrir suddenly stopped and kneeled so he could let Noctis crawl off his back. The ground was firm beneath his feet.

He heard another pair of feet hit the ground and turned around to face Arctus. The white of his eyes shone in the darkness. “Pretty, isn’t it?” he asked, and Noctis was taken aback by the calmness in his voice. The boy lifted a single finger and pointed at the sky. “Some call them Determiners of Fate, because they lead us to where we are needed.”

Noctis raised an eyebrow, absentmindedly patting Fenrir’s flank. “Really?”

“No.” Arctus gave a short smile. “I was merely making a joke. The Lights have nothing to do with fate.” He watched as Arctus’ eyes darted across the night sky as if seeing it for the first time. The lights reflected in his eyes. “But I like to think that they do.” He sighed. “The darkness has been here for so long, I’d almost forgotten how beautiful the night can truly be.”

The way he said it, it reminded Noctis of all the nights during his childhood that he’d spent in his room, cowering beneath heaps of blankets and pillows. Back then, he hadn’t thought of the night as pretty. It had just been another gruesome thing, especially after the accident.

He remembered Ignis checking up on him late at night, crawling into his bed beside him and holding him until Noctis finally fell asleep, combing through Noctis’ dark hair with his fingers, and he remembered spending sleepless nights with Gladio, playing games and talking about insignificant things.

And he briefly thought about a world where he might have met Prompto earlier, where they’d both been normal. They could’ve been friends, he was sure of it.

Arctus huffed a little laugh, staring out at the calm sea. “There can only be light where there is dark. To chase the moon away only for it to return is our fate, and it is one I will accept with pride. As should you.”

Noctis nodded. He wanted to help the people of this world, really- but to challenge the gods? He wondered if that would accomplish anything, and his heart sank at the thought. He stepped towards the cliffs, listening to Gladio’s heavy footsteps behind him.

The water was dark beneath him and almost tranquil. There were no waves anymore. He turned around. “So what do we do?”

Arctus inclined his head, his eyes twinkling in the dim light. “Only those who truly know what they want may pass. Are you sure, Noct?” He lightly flicked Hati’s snout and then whispered something in the wolf’s ear, watching as it ran off.

Fenrir and Skoll followed him, and soon they were nothing but tiny specks in the dark.

He averted his eyes. “I know what I want,” Noctis said in the dark. Gladio placed his hand on his shoulder but didn’t squeeze; the gesture felt comforting. “I want to change the fate of this world, even if that means defying the gods.” Because who else would help these people when even the gods had forsaken them? Wasn’t it his duty to help them?

And the clouds – he hadn’t even known that they’d been there – lifted, one by one. The stars twinkled around them in the colours of the Northern Lights, up in the sky and on the water, a thousand tiny, glittering pinpricks, inconsequentially small and cold but beautiful nonetheless.

The sea and sky seemed to be whole again, seamlessly flowing into one another.

Noctis stepped back as the lights descended from the sky and placed themselves on the highest part of the cliff, reaching up into the darkness above.

“May our prayers not fall on deaf ears,” Arctus whispered into his folded hands as they watched a tall man step down the unusual bridge. He was clad in golden and white robes that billowed out around him, holding a horn in his left hand.

Above his head was a nametag: Son of the Radiant World.

Right where the grass met the sky bridge, he stopped, looking down at them. His voice was like the wind that swept through the grasslands as he spoke to them. “I see. Humanity does strive to surpass the gods, otherwise thee would not have cometh.” He folded his hands in front of his body.

“’T is the duty of mineself to protect mine own people,” he continued when neither of them dared to say anything, his calculating gaze still on them. The moonlight illuminated him from behind, casting a halo around him. “To cometh here is a sin thee ought to be execut'd f'r.”

Arctus’ hand on his sword twitched; so did Gladio’s.

Noctis and Prompto both held their hands up in a placating manner, hoping that that would appease the god. He must have been a god, if the way he talked and held himself was anything to go by. “We don’t mean to intrude,” Prompto started hesitantly, “and we certainly don’t mean harm to, uh, your people.”

“Yeah, we just want to talk to them, see if we can get their help,” Noctis took over when Prompto fell silent, “y’know, to, uh, vanquish the dark and all?” He pointed at the sky.

The man in front of them (Noctis was not going to repeat that godsdamned long title every time he thought of the man) blinked, his face softening. “Talk, thee sayeth? Thee haven't cometh to slay those folk?” He brushed aside a strand of his almost white hair that had fallen in front of his face.

His accent was giving Noctis a headache and he really hoped that not every god would talk like that; although, if Freya was anything to go by, even gods had different manners of articulation it seemed. That certainly was an interesting thought.

He yelped when Gladio dug his elbow into his ribs. It seemed he’d been silent for too long. “Ah, yeah, uh… talking, right. We seriously just wanna talk, so it’d be neat if you could let us pass.” He could hear Gladio facepalming behind him.

The god didn’t look fully convinced, still blocking the entire way. The only way. Maybe if they could just…

“A boon, “Arctus suddenly whispered in his ear, and Noctis shuddered at the proximity, “he demands a boon.”

Noctis nervously patted down his pockets. “What kind of boon?” he whispered back, trying to ignore the god’s eyes that seemed to follow his every movement.

Arctus shrugged, relaying the message to Prompto and Gladio so they could search their pockets as well.

Holding his hand out with his findings when he’d searched each and every pocket, he watched his friends do the same; Gladio came up with some kind of yarn, woven into a thin rope while both Arctus’ and Noctis’ hands were empty except for some breadcrumbs. Prompto was holding one of the apples they’d acquired at the start of the game.

They turned around to the god once again, presenting their gifts under the man’s critical gaze.

This wouldn’t work; it couldn’t work. Noctis just knew it, there was no way the god would accept any of this.

A gasp cut through the silence of the night as the god snatched the apple out of Prompto’s hand, clutching it close to his chest. “Whither did thee findeth this?” he asked almost breathlessly. His hands holding the apple shook. “Oh, ’t does not matter, I suppose…”

He stepped aside in a welcoming manner, gesturing for them to pass. Noctis had expected somewhat of a fight, but it seemed that this god would be happy with as much as a simple apple. Not that he minded, of course.

Passing by the god, he stepped on the bridge made of light, hesitantly at first in case it wouldn’t support his weight. But it did, shimmering a million different colours beneath his feet.

He extended his hand to Prompto, pulling him up on the bridge as well and steadying him when he stumbled. The sea roared under them, white spume on black water as if it was angry that they were so far up and out of its reach. Gladio and Arctus were right behind them, both of them still eyeing the god.

But he paid them no mind; the apple in his hands seemed to be more important, and for a second Noctis wondered if there was something else to it. Maybe he should’ve read the item description after all.

With heavy hearts, they left the god behind and climbed the sloping bridge that seemed to reach into the sky.

Chapter 8: Asgard

Chapter Text

His apartment was becoming a technophile’s dream.

Wires were all over the floor, connecting his console to various technical devices that blinked in a thousand different colours. People he’d never seen before, clad in Crownsguard clothing, sat around his kitchen table, watching monitors and screens that lit up half of their faces and cast the other half in shadows.

Ignis, prim and proper as he was, had taken to preparing coffee and snacks, relentlessly working in the kitchen that was relatively empty compared to the rest of the apartment. Gladio, on the other hand, was talking to Cor with his arms crossed over his chest. He nodded from time to time, his face a stoic mask.

Noctis sighed, cushioning his head on his forearms as he watched the bustle around him. It reminded him a lot of the days spent at the Citadel, back then when everyone would always fuss over him and watch his every move.

It also made shivers run down his spine. He’d always hated the attention.

He pushed the thought aside and focused on the task at hand despite the fact that he didn’t have one. Cor hadn’t said much when he’d shown up, so Ignis must have done a good job of convincing him; not that Noctis had ever doubted him.

Watching as the tech-guys set up their equipment, he fished his phone out of his pocket, opting to shoot Prompto a quick message. It wasn’t like anyone would mind, right?

[10:24AM] NightLight: hey, just checking in to confirm we’re still on for today?

He’d doubted that Prompto would even read his message that early in the day, but to his surprise, the three dots that indicated that the other was typing appeared. Noctis watched the screen for a few seconds before placing his phone face-down on the table.

Cor was still talking to Gladio, gesturing at the computers and whatnot that had been hooked up to his console. Probably explaining some difficult process that the IT-guys had to undertake. Gladio nodded again.

His phone vibrated on the table and he picked it up again to check the received message.

[10:27AM] ChocoBoy: yeah, of course! i’m up anyways and i doubt i’ll get much sleep, so we can start right away if you want :P

Noctis chuckled, typing back.

[10:28AM] NightLight: how are you awake this early? whats your secret?

Prompto typed again, and Noctis patiently waited for his answer. At the same time, Cor finished his conversation with Gladio and walked towards him, bowing curtly in front of the crown prince. “We’re ready,” he announced, keeping his voice down. “We’ll move into the kitchen to monitor the game’s activities from here, so you’ll be… undisturbed while playing. Good luck.” His face was carefully blank.

Noctis nodded, getting up from the table to drag himself into the living room where Ignis had already prepared everything. He slipped under the blanket that lay on the couch, gesturing for Ignis to come over and settle down beside him.

His advisor complied with a deep sigh, starting the game while Gladio got comfortable on one of his armchairs.

Noctis could hear the humming of the machines from the kitchen, a low noise in the back of his head. He checked his phone again.

[10:33AM] ChocoBoy: ah, my sister woke me up. she said she had a nightmare so i let her sleep in my bed, but she always takes up all the space (and blankets) so i have to freeze :( you logging in rn?

Noctis chuckled again, earning himself a suspicious glance from both Ignis and Gladio and typed back with one hand. He didn’t have any first-hand experiences with siblings, but if his years-long friendship with Gladio and Ignis had taught him anything, it was that no one was trustworthy when sharing a bed with them.

[10:34AM] NightLight: condolences, lol. yeah, we’re logging in rn, so see ya soon

He let his phone drop onto the soft cushions beside him and put the goggles on, willing his eyes to adjust to the sudden dark that surrounded him. The stars were the first to blink into existence, closely followed by the winding path that lay in front of them, curling upwards.

Turning to Ignis, he opened his mouth to explain what had happened while he’d been gone, but Ignis simply raised his hand and shook his head. “No need to explain,” he said, “Gladio filled me in on the details already.”

Noctis furrowed his brows. “When?” he demanded to know.

Gladio laughed, a deep, rumbling sound from the back of his throat. “You do sleep a lot, princess.” He nudged Noctis in the side with his elbow, almost prompting him to fall off the narrow path.

He grabbed Gladio’s biceps to regain his balance before sending his Shield an annoyed look. Gladio simply grinned in response.

Someone cleared their throat behind them.

“Hey,” Prompto said, rubbing the back of his neck. “So… I’m here.” He shifted from one foot to the other. Arctus stood motionlessly next to him, eyes on the horizon.

They had looked so similar when the game had first started, but now that time had passed, Noctis could see the differences – a slight variation in the colour of their hair, Prompto’s bluer eyes in comparison to Arctus’ grey ones, Prompto’s ridiculous hairstyle and Arctus’ split eyebrow. Prompto’s ever-present, awkward smile and the permanent frown that was etched into Arctus’ face.

“Yeah,” he answered belatedly when he noticed that Prompto was – most likely – expecting a reply. He forced himself to smile. “It’s good to see you.” And it wasn’t a lie. Noctis was dreading the moment that they’d have to part ways forever, so he decided to ignore it for now, like he always did.

“We should get going,” Arctus said, interrupting the almost awkward silence. There were shadows beneath his eyes – Noctis hadn’t known that even AIs could get tired. Maybe it was just a trick of the light.

Nodding, Noctis turned towards the sky once again as the sea roared beneath them. Not too far off in the distance, the silhouette of an intricate city of white stone and great archways graced the dark sky. It looked so tranquil that it almost stole Noctis’ breath. The sight reminded him of stalagmites, reaching up from the sea – almost like Insomnia with its skyscrapers, but prettier, somehow. Softer and more natural.

It felt as if they were close enough for him to simply reach out and touch the cold marble, but he stilled his shaking hands before they could move on their own.

Together they ascended the endless bridge in silence. There wasn’t anything to talk about; everything of importance had already been said. It felt like the end, Noctis noted. The air tasted of salt.

The gate that stood at the end of the bridge and blocked them from entering the city was nearly as large as that in Jötunheim, connected to an off-white wall that covered the entire city. It probably was the wall Freya had talked about.

“What now?” Prompto asked when they stopped in front of the closed gate, staring up at it in awe. His hair was tousled as if the wind had run its spindly fingers through it. It wasn’t a bad look on him.

“We enter,” Arctus said in response, pushing past them and letting his hand rest on the giant doors. Against the pure white it looked like a dirt smudge, and Noctis fought the urge to bat it away. “They have been expecting us after all.”

He didn’t need to ask to know who ‘they’ were; everything had built up to this. But Noctis was ready to face them, once and for all. To help the people of Midgard. It was the right thing to do, he was sure of it.

And to his surprise, the gate opened in front of them, beckoning them inside with open arms. The city of Asgard lay silent, the white architecture a stark contrast to the dark night. The air was neither warm nor cold up here, it simply was, as if existing in a liminal space.

Stars and moon were hidden behind clouds this far up in the sky and only the shimmering Northern Lights peeked through, shining down upon them.

A thousand different paths sprawled out from where they were standing. Noctis scratched the back of his head. Wandering around in a strange, desolate city wasn’t his idea of fun. “Where do we go from here?” He turned towards his friends, but Gladio just shrugged.

Ignis frowned at the map, stuffing it in his inventory shortly after. “The map has become obsolete,” he said to them, shaking his head all the while. “We’re on our own now, I’m afraid.”

Gladio snorted. “As if we haven’t been on our own the entire way.”

Prompto looked like he wanted to retort something, but the clanging of metal cut him off. Together, they stared into the darkness that wasn’t all that dark. Copper replaced salt; it tasted like the eternal winter in Jötunheim, cold and unrelenting. After a few seconds, a woman appeared, her head tilted towards the ground.

She was dressed in bronze armour and a winged helmet sat atop her head. Her eyes were closed.

Gladio drew his axe, but the woman only paused for a moment, raising her head. She regarded them with closed eyes and it almost felt as if she could see right through them, but before Noctis could think about it any longer, she’d turned around again and was walking back into the darkness.

He exchanged one look with his friends before hurrying after her.

The woman’s voice rang out in the otherwise silent city. It was both quiet and loud at the same time, accompanied by a strange feeling of melancholy. “In the midst of the princes’ coronation battle, a third man appeared claiming to be a prince.”

She turned around a corner, and Noctis almost slipped on the marble floor as he tried to follow her, when suddenly a hand shot out from behind him and grabbed the back of his shirt, making him lose his balance and fall onto the ground, hard. He cursed.

Gladio stood behind him, panting harshly. “You got a death wish or something?” he asked gruffly, pointing at the hole in the ground through which the rough sea was visible.

Noctis paled instantly, scrambling away from the gap in the street. He gratefully accepted Prompto’s hand as the other pulled him up and dusted off his clothes.

“That could’ve ended badly,” Prompto said with a lopsided grin, the corners of his mouth twitching.

Nodding (it was all he could do) they retraced their steps, the woman momentarily forgotten – until the shimmering light above them was reflected by metal once again. Another woman, this time clad in silver armour, was perched on the rooftop as if waiting for them. If it wasn’t for her armour, he would have thought these two women were one and the same person.

She stood up when she noticed that they’d seen her, walking towards the edge of the roof before jumping to the next. This time, Noctis looked at where he was going.

Once again, the woman’s voice resounded in the night, caught by the crosswinds and spread over the entire city. “Bright, capable and brave, he dispatched the two foolish brothers and went on to become a wise and just king, beloved by all.”

He frowned. This didn’t fit at all with what they’d heard about the Usurper before. Noctis exchanged a look with Ignis, but his advisor didn’t seem to have an answer either. Waiting for the woman to continue – because this couldn’t be the end, could it? – he watched her back as she moved away from them.

She jumped on top of a pointy roof that looked kind of like a cathedral before inclining her head. After that, she was gone.

The city was a maze of white walls; it was impossible to navigate through it without a map.

“Are they trying to lead us astray?” Noctis asked into the silence of the city, not really expecting an answer. He had no idea where they were, and he doubted that the others did either.

“I wouldn’t think so, no,” Arctus said, simply because he always had something to say. “Those were choosers of the slain. I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to die here.” He laughed, the sound like sandpaper in Noctis’ ears.

“So do we just throw ourselves through these conveniently placed holes in the ground?” Noctis asked, rolling his eyes.

Ignis sighed from somewhere behind him. “It would probably be a better idea if we just checked out that building there,” he said, pointing at a tall, cathedral-like house that loomed almost in front of them. How Noctis hadn’t noticed that before was beyond him.

“If we’re already here,” Gladio grumbled, “then I guess we can check it out as well. Wouldn’t make sense to ignore the obvious boss arena.”

A staircase led up to the open gates of the cathedral, and another woman, this time with golden armour, stood at the bottom of the stairs. She, too, inclined her head when they drew nearer. Both Ignis and Arctus bowed as well, with Prompto shortly behind them. Gladio and Noctis simply watched from the side lines.

She didn’t speak as they passed by her, and neither did they ask her anything. There was no need to.

From this close, the cathedral seemed taller than ever. Noctis paused somewhere in the middle of the stairs and looked back at the city. There was nothing above him and nothing below him. Nothing but the roaring sea and the darkened sky.

No one inhabited this city anymore. No one but the one they were to face soon enough.

He sighed. Looked back at his friends. “Are you ready?” he asked them. This felt as good a moment as any.

Gladio only shot him a grin, patting the axe at his side. “As ready as I’ll ever be. C’mon, don’t make that face, I can feel that we’re gonna win.” He pushed past Noctis, flexing his muscles.

Ignis placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly before joining Gladio. “I agree, Noct. We mustn’t wait here but instead face whatever awaits us in there head-on.” He extended his hand to Noctis who grabbed it and pulled himself up.

Arctus and Prompto were right behind him as he climbed the stairs with renewed vigor (or at least as much vigor as he could muster). He didn’t feel ready; but maybe, just maybe, he didn’t need to. This wasn’t the end, after all.

The gates were still open when they reached them. Dim light poured out onto the steps, making the marble shimmer in warm colours. Runes were engraved in the doors, but they looked old and weathered, almost as if the sea had carved them into the stone.

Two ravens flew into the hall that lay ahead; the first animals they had seen in a while. It felt like a bad omen.

Steeling themselves, they followed the birds.

The hall was a lot brighter than he’d first assumed; light painted the walls and floor in varying shades of white. Midnight blue cloth covered the thrones that were arranged in a semicircle, adorned with golden ornaments. All of them were larger than life, their fabric flowing in a breeze Noctis couldn’t feel and each throne was pierced by a large spear. Interlocked triangles were embedded in the walls.

Inside this holy place (because it surely must have been holy some long time ago), it reeked of salt and wet dust, floating in the air and clogging his nose.

It wasn’t particularly disgusting or anything like that, no, it was more of a thing that gradually took over everything else until he couldn’t even remember the scent of the fresh sylleblossoms that Luna used to send him. It was an all-consuming stench.

Noctis walked towards the middle of the room and then paused, looking around. Something was off about the room, but he couldn’t really place his finger on what it was.

And then footsteps resounded in the otherwise quiet hall; they were too heavy for even Gladio. Noctis turned around again, watching as the entrance grew dark. A humanoid, taller than any person he’d ever seen but still not abnormally tall, blocked the doorway.

Royal blue fabric covered him from head to toe. His face was old and rutted; dark grey hair fell over his robes and he squinted at them with one eye. The other was closed. In his hand was a golden spear that had runes carved into its tip. The sharp edges glinted in the light, throwing prisms of colour against the walls.

No one moved; it was deathly silent.

Beneath him was the expected title: Patriarch of Mankind.

So this old man was the god they were looking for; the one they’d been warned about. Noctis stepped forward, opening his mouth to speak to the man, but Gladio’s hand on his shoulder held him back.

“Don’t, Noct,” he said lowly as if he didn’t want anyone to overhear. His entire body was tense. Ready for combat, perhaps, if Noctis’ own experiences with Gladio were anything to go by.

The man strode past them without paying them any more attention than strictly necessary; it was as if he didn’t even notice they were there. Or maybe he simply didn’t care. Maybe that was what it was like to meet a god – he wondered if the gods of his own world would react like that as well. It wouldn’t surprise him.

Noctis watched as he propped the spear against the wall of another high throne, shrouded in darkness. His footsteps reverberated in the open hall, but were swallowed by the void-like night above; and it was then that Noctis noticed that the cathedral had no roof. At one time or another, the clouds had lifted and made way for the stars shining down upon them in all their icy glory.

The god turned around, the two ravens from before landing on each of his shoulders. He stood tall in front of what Noctis assumed was his own throne, his eyes as cold as the stars. It was as if he was waiting for them to say something first.

His heart pounded in his chest as he took in the situation; this god didn’t seem hostile at all. Maybe everyone had been wrong about the gods and they’d get away scot-free with the knowledge they so desired to learn?

Noctis opened his mouth once again, his eyes fixated on the god in front of him, completely oblivious to the clouds that gathered overhead once again. Lightning struck the cathedral.

Throwing his arms over his head to instinctively shield himself from any falling debris, Noctis could only watch in awe as the god ascended his throne – well, that was until Gladio pushed him out of the way. A rock the size of his hand buried itself in the ground where he’d stood a mere moment ago.

“Guess that’s our cue,” Gladio growled into his ear, pressing Noctis’ head into the ground and shielding him with his body until the hail of stones was mostly over. “I don’t think he wants to talk to us.”

Noctis nodded, parting ways with Gladio when another part of the ceiling that wasn’t there made its way towards them, missing him by a hair width; from down here, it looked like falling stars. The marmoreal ground was cracking beneath his feet, crumbling into fine dust as the god towered far above them. Thunder growled in the distance.

When he looked to the side, Arctus was staring right at him, horror painting his face in varying shades of white and green. “That’s Odin,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “The All-father.”

As much as Arctus liked to claim that he hated the gods, it seemed that not even he was immune to their might.

Noctis was ripped out of his own thoughts by the sound of lightning crackling close by. He could almost smell the ozone as another thunderbolt struck the ground beside him. “And how do we defeat him?” he yelled at Arctus. “We can’t reach him if he’s up there!”

Arctus, who seemed to be busy with dodging the lightning himself, gave Noctis a curt smile. “Well, then we’ll have to lure him down!” Before he could elaborate, a volley of ice shards shattered on the marble. For a second, Noctis wondered why the god wasn’t using his spear.

“Noct!” Ignis tried to get his attention. He was crouching behind a broken pillar, waving at him. Neither Prompto nor Gladio were with him, and he couldn’t see them anywhere else either.

He hurried towards his advisor, trying not to get struck by the thunderbolts that lit up the dark night. Panting by the time he got there, Noctis squeezed himself next to Ignis, trying to take cover behind the pillar. “Any idea, Specs?” he asked. It was tight, but they managed somehow.

“Just one,” Ignis replied carefully, measuring his words. His eyes were unreadable in the barely-there light. “One of us will have to get up on his throne while the others distract him. We have no other choice.” Smart thinking; it would be easy if he could warp.

“Who’s it gonna be?” he asked, chancing a look at the throne. “Prompto doesn’t have the right weapon for climbing, and neither do Gladio nor you, so…”

“It has to be either you or Arctus,” Ignis agreed with him, his eyes as hard as steel. Icy cold that crackled like electricity spread inside Noctis’ body at the mere thought of having to subject himself to even more lightning strikes.

He averted his eyes and tried to find Arctus with his gaze, which was easier said than done. Trying to make out anything in-between the blinding flashes of white and yellow was nearly impossible, and it took some time until his eyes had adjusted to it.

Noctis spotted Arctus a few feet away from where they were, clutching his pulsating red sword in his hands – they were trembling slightly. When Noctis met Arctus’ eyes and saw the fear in them, he’d already made up his mind.

Patting Ignis on the leg, Noctis dashed out from behind the pillar, skilfully evading the thunderbolts that hailed down upon him. But something else was approaching him, something with such a high velocity that he was afraid it would bury itself in his chest before he could even reach the throne.

He raised his sword to deflect it, but before it could reach him, the thing stuttered, toppling out of the air like dead weight. It was one of the ravens they’d seen before; a golden arrow stuck out of its chest. “Thanks!” he yelled in the direction where he assumed the arrow had come from, grinning to himself when he saw someone giving him a thumbs-up.

Resuming his dash through the arena, Noctis slid behind another broken pillar as a second shower of ice rained down above him. He shielded his head and body as well as he could, trying to evade the biggest shards before leaving his cover and heading for the throne once again. To stay in one place for too long was a death sentence; Gladio had taught him that.

The air was colder here, almost frigid to the point of hurting his lungs whenever he drew a breath, but Noctis simply dug the blade of his sword into the throne, ripping through layers of fabric that covered it before sinking into the rather soft stone.

He took a run-up, trying to heave himself up to the nearest sort of leverage and grabbing onto the cloth when his fingers couldn’t find anything. Sweat was trickling down his face, soaking the collar of his tunic when he heard the fabric rip as if in slow-motion.

Noctis tore the sword out of the stone and blindly stabbed further above his head, hoisting himself up. His fingers just grabbed air for a few disorientating moments before scraping against stone, curling around the ledge of the giant throne. From the corners of his eyes, he could see flashes of silver and gold, arrows raining from above, fast as lightning, all while the tell-tale smell of ozone still filled his nostrils.

He heaved himself up, panting when he finally – although wobbly – stood on the way too large throne, face to face with Odin himself.

Nothing in the god’s face betrayed his emotions; he didn’t seem surprised or upset or anything else at all. His eyes stared right through Noctis as he lunged forward, trying to push him off the throne, but Noctis danced around him, carefully avoiding his attacks.

The sound of metal on metal reverberated in the cathedral, as loud as the thunder had been, and it was this tiny moment of distraction that allowed the god to materialize a sword. Its sharp blade grazed Noctis’ side, and he suppressed a surprised hiss at the sudden pain that rolled in waves through his body.

He dodged the next attack, moving underneath Odin’s arm at the last second and appearing halfway behind him just as he whirled around. The armrest of the throne was behind him, cold marble against his back as he ducked to evade another swing of the heavy blade that could most likely behead him.

It burnt hot and cold where it passed by his skin; Odin had imbued the blade with both fire and ice.

As Noctis drew his arm back, the god took the chance to take another swipe at Noctis’ now exposed torso. Noctis tried to block the blow, but as soon as his blade connected with the god’s, his sword went clattering to the ground, bending his wrist in an unnatural manner. He was defenceless.

Odin’s expression still hadn’t changed, even now that he had Noctis cornered. Instead, he advanced slowly, not even flinching when an arrow flew past him, mere inches away from his face and embedding itself into the soft marble.

Without thinking twice, Noctis grabbed it, swinging it through the air as he slashed the god in front of him, staining the white throne red. Odin lost his footing, stumbling closer to the edge.

But as he stumbled, his hands still somehow found Noctis’ shirt, and he was dragged along by the toppling god. They were dangerously close to the edge already, the god tilting slightly backwards.

And then both of them were falling, the air cool against Noctis’ overheated skin.

For one horrid moment, it reminded him of the dream he once had. Of misjudging a warp strike and simply falling as the world slipped through his fingers, no matter how hard he tried to hold onto it; when the only thing that accompanied his fall was the cool night air, running its long, slender fingers lovingly through his hair.

It had only been a dream, back then. A dream of bottomless pits and void-like matter.

But now the approaching ground was a blur of colours; all he could make out was the god’s impassive face, his darkened eyes that looked as if lightning flashed through them from time to time.

The impact resounded in his ears, made his head hurt even though the god had taken the brunt of the fall. He was dizzy for a second, blinded and grabbing around for his sword as the others rushed to come to his aid.

Someone picked him up by the collar of his shirt, hoisted him up in the air and slammed him against a nearby wall. Noctis swore he could hear his ribs cracking as he slid down the hard stone. The back of his head felt wet.

He sucked in a sharp breath as the god stooped over him, his gnarly face mere inches away from his own. His only visible eye was dark as he reached down and grabbed Noctis by the collar, pulling him up once again as if he weighed nothing.

Noctis tried to claw at his arms, tear them away from him as his feet uselessly kicked at the ground, but he was just no match for the god. Behind Odin’s shoulder, he could see something glint in the dim light of the now visible moon.

The taste of iron and copper lingered on the tip of his tongue, sharp and pungent.

It tasted of winter, of cold nights spent in the snow, talking about nothing and everything; but somehow, it also tasted of blood. Had he bitten down on his tongue? It certainly felt like it.

There was something else, though; sweet, just barely there, a fragment of a memory.

Embers, glowing hot, coated his lips.

Odin’s body rocked forward, his eyes becoming empty almost immediately.

By all accounts, Ignis’ throw shouldn’t have hit the god square in the chest; but somehow, it still did. The tip of the spear came out on the other side of Odin’s torso, slick with blood. It coated his hands red as he pushed the god’s corpse away from himself, letting it fall to the ground with a thump.

A small ping resounded in the otherwise quiet room. Noctis snorted as he disbelievingly stared at the banner that said ‘Trophy acquired’ in the far left corner of his screen.

THE SECOND GODHUNTER.

Well, if that wasn’t a title, all right.

He stumbled over the god’s corpse, trying to get to his friends without aggravating his injuries further. His legs were shaky and the ground felt uneven, so it didn’t come as a surprise to him when he stumbled, his legs simply giving out beneath him.

What surprised him was the pair of strong arms that caught him mid-fall. “C’mon, princess,” Gladio laughed loudly, “don’t wanna faint like a damsel in distress, do ya?”

He laughed with Gladio, although his own laugh sounded more like a wheeze than anything else before it turned into a coughing fit. Tugging at Gladio, he inclined his head to let his Shield know that he could stand on his own now.

Gladio didn’t look fully convinced but he didn’t say anything else either. He helped Noctis sit down before whistling loudly, his eyes straying from his protégé.

Noctis had to crane his head to look at what was going on.

Ignis was standing over Odin’s disintegrating corpse, ripping the spear out of what was left of his body and curling his fingers around its hilt. At Gladio’s whistle, he turned towards them and smiled softly. “Gungnir,” he clarified at Noctis’ questioning gaze, “one of the legendary weapons. Apparently-” Ignis opened the menu- “it is so well balanced that it never misses its target, regardless of the skill of the wielder.”

“Got yourself a really good weapon there, Iggy,” Gladio commented before turning away again. “You doing okay, Prompto?”

Prompto, who looked a bit shaken but otherwise unharmed, just nodded. Arctus was partially behind him, eyes fixated on something on the ground that Noctis couldn’t see from this angle. “Yeah, I’m okay. Actually, I think we-”

The sound of threads being torn apart, the hiss of metal as a sword slashed through the air. Droplets falling to the ground. So incredibly loud in the otherwise silent room. Tap-tap-tap, like pearls bouncing off stone; the sound of footsteps on marble. Noctis knew it by heart.

Blood trickled down Prompto’s chin as his body slumped forwards. His hands shook.

Noctis jumped up immediately, catching his friend before he could fall. Prompto’s head rested on his shoulder, his laboured breathing next to his ear, as Noctis stared at red, pulsating sword that was sticking out of Prompto’s back.

“Why did you-” Prompto started, but he had to cut himself off with a cough. Blood sprayed Noctis’ shirt. “I don’t…” His hands grasped at Noctis’ arms, fingernails raking across the fabric as he slowly slid down.

He could only stare in horror.

Arctus’ gaze followed Prompto for a second before snapping back up to meet Noctis’. His eyes were dark, nearly unreadable. But only nearly; a tiny glimpse of the emotion Noctis had seen on his face during the fight was there, as well as something else. Something akin to hope. “I’m sorry, but this is the only way,” he explained, wiping the blade on the hem of his own tunic. Vermillion stained his clothes.

“sh*t,” Gladio cursed, but he wasn’t fast enough.

It was as if it happened in slow motion, and yet he still couldn’t stop it.

Noctis crumbled to the ground, clutching his abdomen where the sword had pierced him. The metal felt cool on his skin, and – surprisingly enough – it didn’t hurt as much as he had expected it to. Not that he had any idea how much a stab wound actually hurt. He looked up, watching Arctus’ left eye twitch.

“I’m sorry,” the blond repeated once again before ripping the blade out of Noctis. Blood pooled around his feet and everything went unnaturally bright for a few seconds, almost as if the sun had come back, before darkness started to gnaw at the edge of his vision.

The last thing he saw before it fully took over was golden metal glinting in the dim light of the cathedral as Gladio’s axe came down on Arctus in a perfect arc. He had to close his eyes (it didn’t matter; everything was dark either way) to block out the sound of liquid splashing against the marble floor. Not that it did anything.

It smelled of copper and winter.

Ignis’ worried shout and Gladio’s enraged yells followed him into the darkness as he heard someone else slump down beside him.

“I don’t understand,” Arctus’ soft voice resounded from next to him. He drew in a rasping breath before continuing, his voice barely above a whisper. “This isn’t supposed to happen, is this-”

He didn’t know how – or if – Arctus finished that sentence. He didn’t want to know either. Bile burned in his throat as the audio suddenly disappeared and his screen went entirely black.

Noctis swallowed. It seemed that his first death had been quite anticlimactic, albeit a little disappointing.

Maybe Prompto wasn’t the one they should have been wary of.

Chapter 9: Náströnd

Chapter Text

“What the hell?” Gladio cursed softly.

Noctis could feel Cor’s presence behind him as he stared at the dark screen. “Is something the matter?” the Marshal asked, his voice suspiciously neutral. That was never a good sign, he knew that by now.

But it was Ignis who answered first. “No, everything is fine, I believe. We’ve just run into some… minor complications.”

“Complications, my ass,” his Shield barked out a laugh. “Who would’ve guessed that the guy was a godsdamned player killer?” Noctis could make out Gladio shaking his head in disbelief. His screen was still black.

Speaking of the screen-

“Where are you guys right now? Like, in the game?” He wondered if he’d respawn in the same area as them or if he had to travel the entire way there again; not that they knew where to go from there, either. There had been no clues.

“Still in the cathedral,” Ignis answered. “But there’s nothing here; it’s completely empty. What about you, Noct?”

He could hear the Marshal leave them once again as he shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “I dunno. Stuck on a loading screen, maybe?” Noctis pushed the buttons on his controller, but nothing happened. “It’s literally just a dark screen.” As he said that, the black turned into a dark grey, slowly fading away.

“Never mind, then.” Furrowing his brows, Noctis squinted at the screen. He couldn’t make out any details at all, but from what little he could see of his surroundings, it didn’t look any area they’d been in already. “I think I’m loading in somewhere, but it’s- I don’t know where?”

Ignis hummed next to him. “Do you see any landmarks, perhaps? Or can you find Prompto?”

He could try, at least, if nothing else. “Alright, I’ll scour the area, then.”

Noctis watched as his character got up and dusted himself off. He was standing on a beach, the waves lapping against the shore. The sky was a dark grey; as was the sand, he noticed. And he wasn't wearing any shoes, for some strange reason.

Raising his gaze, he looked at the clouds marring the sky. Beams of light lit up the water from time to time, but the churning sea looked murkier than anything he’d ever seen. He shuddered at the thought of even stepping into it. There certainly were no fish left in it, that much he was sure of.

Most important, though, was that he was alone- well, not really alone.

His breath hitched in his throat when his gaze fell upon the- well, it was hard to describe. As far as he could look, the beach seemed to be littered with what he assumed were corpses, their unresponsive bodies curled up on the sand.

And despite the horror of death that was so close to him, this place… it felt like floating through a liminal space – horrifying and at the same time incredibly calm. If this was the afterlife, he’d never imagined it to be this… well, serene.

It was so quiet that he didn’t dare disturb the shallow silence.

So instead, he just wandered over to one of the bodies closest to him, nudging it with his toe. To see if it was really dead. Maybe he’d been mistaken. Hopefully.

He hadn’t been. The person’s head (it was a woman, not unlike the one he’d seen in Alfheim) lolled to the side, a large grin forever etched into her face.

Mist crawled across the ground, covering her form as he stepped away again. It felt cold on his skin, chilling him to the bone.

He sighed, a dejected, unnaturally loud sound in the silence of this limbo. Almost-silence; soft piano music accompanied him. It felt out of place.

There was something else in the distance, though. A dark silhouette, barely shining through the opaque mist that had settled on the beach like a heavy blanket. He could barely hear his own footsteps; they seemed muffled, even to his own ears.

The farther he walked, the more the scenery changed; it got lighter around him by the minute, as if an invisible sun was illuminating the world in this timeless, boundless place, casting shadows behind him and filling him with warmth.

But there was no sun above, and there was no warmth left in this place. It was nothing but an illusion.

He only stopped when a soft voice rang out, cutting through the mist like a knife.

“My lovelies, my lovelies. I won’t let anything bad happen to you, ever. Never.”

For a moment, Noctis was confused; the voice sounded familiar, yet he still couldn’t quite place it. He opened his mouth to call out to it as a dark, misty shape rose from the ground in front of him. He stumbled back, hand immediately reaching for the sword that- wasn’t strapped to his side anymore.

But it didn’t matter; the dark shape didn’t attack. It simply stood there, its face turned away. Dark hair fell over its shoulders, and it had its arm raised in a weird manner, holding something Noctis couldn’t see.

“My lovelies, you are safe with me. I will always take care of you. My treasures, my treasures. None shall hurt you for as long as I am with you.”

When he was sure that the thing wouldn’t attack, he slowly circled around it, watching it for any erratic movements, but nothing happened. It simply stood there, cooing at whatever was in its arms.

His breath hitched in his throat when he was finally able to see its face.

It was the creature they’d encountered in Idavoll, the woman with bark on her back who’d so desperately tried to protect her children. Guilt churned inside of him as he watched her smile at the bundles in her arms.

So this was the afterlife, after all.

Noctis averted his eyes; if the woman was there, then Prompto must have been around as well. And Arctus, probably. But he didn’t want to think about that possibility yet.

He left the mother and her children behind, silently wishing them at least a peaceful afterlife and wandered along the beach. His journey was quiet, just as it had been before, but now something else weighed on his mind.

How were they supposed to escape? Could they even escape?

Noctis knew that it was no good to dwell on the past and the what-if’s; there was no way but the one forward now.

And it just was a fact that his path was littered with corpses. Sometimes, they piled up in small heaps, contorted and disfigured. Sometimes, he could see dark shadows scurry around, hiding behind dunes of sand. One of them looked like a small boy. He averted his eyes; the corpses weren’t quite as detailed as he’d thought they would be, which he was glad for, but it was still disconcerting to see.

And then the ground gave way as he lost his footing, his hands grasping sand as he stumbled and fell, and it slipped through his fingers. Noctis turned around to look at what had made him topple down: a bony hand with long, spindly fingers was curled around his ankle, tugging him towards the- the thing.

Its face was sunken in, cheekbones way too high to be normal, and it stared at Noctis with empty, blind eyes. “Won’t you stay?” it whispered, its voice like splintering glass, screeching and just-

Noctis kicked at it, trying to get rid of the hand that was holding him down and then sprung up when it finally let go. He shuddered at the feeling of its yellow fingernails raking across his skin for a brief moment. He whirled around, not looking back once.

The faster he could leave this place, the better.

Now that he knew what to look for, Noctis gave any suspicious-looking corpses a wide berth, stepping over their bodies with the fear that they’d come alive any moment.

They didn’t, though. He was completely alone, apart from the things hiding in the shadows. But he didn’t mind them, as long they stayed away.

Slipping through the place that looked like a desert but wasn’t one, always on edge, it didn’t take long until he reached a rather large crossing, overgrown with dark green moss. Small pillars of stone jutted out from the ground in a semi-circle, but Noctis only stepped closer to the gap it spanned across, staring down into an empty abyss. Nothing but darkness was down there, and he shuddered again, stepping back ever so slightly. Wherever it led, it must have been the right direction.

Warily he walked over to the ramp-like part of construct that led up to the makeshift bridge. It felt slippery beneath his feet, as if it might give in any moment. He took a steadying breath, calming his erratic heartbeat.

Afraid that he might just fall into certain death, he kept his eyes on the path right in front of him. Something metallic glinted in the distance, reflecting the light. Noctis narrowed his eyes ever so slightly so he could see it better; well, if that wasn’t anything to look forward to.

His feet slapped against the old stone as he marched across the bridge with his head held high. Deep cracks crossed the stone, marring its smooth surface; but the deepest cracks were filled with glittering gold, reflecting the dim light that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. The bridge had a somewhat weird shape as well, a little cylindrical, and he tried to balance his weight evenly.

There was nothing below him that he could see; it was completely dark. A feeling of vertigo hit him, and he whipped his head up to keep it away. It didn’t help much, but it was still better than staring right into the darkness.

At least the thing, embedded in the lithic bridge, was steadily coming closer.

Noctis sped up a little, wanting to get this over with as fast as possible. His footsteps echoed in the dark valley beneath him; the void amplified them instead of swallowing them. He didn’t know what it was, but something, just something felt wrong; his skin prickled, as if a current was flowing through his veins instead of blood.

Sticking out of the crumbling stone was the hilt of a sword. His eyes widened at the sight of – it was the same sword he’d seen in the vision. It had been so long ago that he had to do a double take, but there was no doubt about it.

His fingers clenched at his side, completely out of rhythm. He could feel the cold hilt in his hands, the weight of the blade as it soared through the air. And then the lack of it as it slipped through his fingers, its blade breaking. It was all gone in an instant.

It glinted dark in the dwindling light, tempting him.

At last he’d arrived; the bridge was thin here somewhere around the middle, and from time to time he could hear small stones breaking off and falling into the abyss below. There was no reverberation.

Noctis sucked in a sharp breath as he slowly inched closer, hand outstretched to grab the sword. The tips of his fingers were mere inches away when he stopped short of grabbing it. This was too convenient; everyone else had to do at least something for their weapons, and he could just pull his sword out of the proverbial stone?

Drawing his hand back, he was prepared to just ignore it and continue, when he caught sight of the reflection on the blade. It was hard to make out in the dark, just a flash of colour on a backdrop of black, but it wasn’t his mirror image, although it certainly looked like him. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was that differentiated them.

Noctis narrowed his eyes, stepping closer once again, and this time, he curled hesitant fingers around the sword’s hilt. Pausing for a second, he waited for something to happen. Everything was silent around him; he could hear his own heartbeat, fingers clicking against keyboards, scraps of a conversation he wasn’t meant to hear.

He pulled on the sword; it slid out of the stone with ease.

He had but a split second to admire its sharp edge before the cracking started.

The bridge beneath him was crumbling at an alarming rate; the sword had been the final straw, most likely. With swift fingers he sheathed it in the place where his old sword had been, dashing forward as the first pieces started to fall behind him.

Ground disappearing beneath him, he focused on the other side of the bridge that now seemed so, so far away. His breath was getting shorter, stamina depleting rapidly as the dark void closed in around him; there were no stars above, no stars beneath, nothing. Light was fading as fast as it had come, it seemed. The illusion was gone.

Something else, something golden shimmered in the distance, though. A lone beacon in the darkness. His only hope.

He had no chance to slow down as he went hurtling towards the thing when the bridge suddenly sloped up in what seemed to be a right angle. Everything was coming closer, way too fast way too soon, and he slammed into both the golden thing and the sloping bridge at full speed. It was a human, the first living being in what felt like ages, he noticed, squished beneath him and the stone pillar, and after orienting himself for a split second, he hastily grabbed the person’s hand and dragged them off the collapsing bridge and down onto even more black sand.

Dust rose around them as Noctis rolled to weaken the collision, shielding both himself and the other person with his arm; not that that would do much. Still, he stayed out as small pebbles rained down on him, pattering against his back.

Sand had gotten in his mouth, and he coughed, once, twice. He was still alive; that was all that mattered.

When the dust settled down again, he could finally see the other person’s face: and to his surprise, it was Prompto, trapped beneath him and staring up at Noctis with big eyes. Well, at least until he seemed to catch himself, his arms shooting up to crush Noctis in a hug. He patted the blond’s back softly.

“You’re alive,” Prompto whispered into his ear, disbelieving, and Noctis almost laughed as he got up onto his knees, Prompto always following him as if he was afraid that Noctis would just up and leave if he let go.

“Shouldn’t I be the one saying that?” he asked, tightening his grip on Prompto as if his friend might disappear at any moment. “It’s good to see you.”

Prompto nodded into the crook of his neck, still not letting go of Noctis. “I was so afraid I wouldn’t see you ever again.” He shuddered slightly.

Noctis didn’t say anything. He just let Prompto hug him until the other had calmed down a little, before softly pushing against Prompto’s shoulders. They sat across each other in silence before Prompto’s eyes strayed down to the weapon strapped to Noctis’ waist. “Where’d you get that?” he asked curiously, inconspicuously wiping at his eyes. Noctis didn’t comment on it.

“Back there,” Noctis said, pointing back at the now destroyed bridge. “Guess we can’t go back now either. But at least we’ve got this,” he said, unsheathing the sword to let its dark blade glint in the light that shouldn’t be there. It felt sharper than any of his other swords. “Skofnung,” he said, accessing the menu to look at the item description. Something he should’ve started doing way earlier, probably. At least Ignis would say that, if he were here.

“It can-” he frowned a little, falling silent until Prompto prodded him slightly. “Apparently it must never have the sunshine upon its hilt. So it’s basically useless up in the real world.” He sheathed the sword again, not reading the last sentence aloud.

Like the Dainsleif, Skofnung causes wounds that can never heal.

Great; so he had the counterpart to the sword that had killed him- them.

“I dunno, the sword does sound pretty good to me,” Prompto threw in casually as if it was completely normal for a sword to never be able to have sunlight on its hilt. Maybe it was like that in Niflheim, who knew; he’d heard that the nights were pretty long over there. “And hey, you’ve got your special weapon! Wasn’t that what you wanted?”

Noctis hummed absentmindedly as he closed the menu. “I guess so. But in any case, where are we right now?” His eyes followed the stone bridge sloping up towards the sky; he hadn’t really paid any attention to it before, what with the run for his life and all, but now he realized that it was the giant statue of a woman, her lithic skin cracking and broken in places. The bridge had merely been her arm, now destroyed and lost in the abyss forever. He could only see one side of her face (the right side, if that mattered) from here, but she looked serene, if a little sad. He looked away, casting down his eyes; the sight of her made him melancholic, despite the small smile playing around her lips.

Prompto shrugged. “Land of the dead people?” he made an educated guess. “I sure saw some corpses around here.” He shuddered at the thought, hugging himself. “At least I think they were dead. I didn’t check. Should I have done that?”

He silently got up, offering his hand to Prompto who took it with gratitude. Once both of them were standing, he let go of his friend’s hand to brush the dark sand off his clothes. It still clung to his skin, slimy and wet. “It doesn’t matter. If we’re here, then Arctus must be around as well. Let’s find him.”

Chewing on his lower lip, Prompto regarded him with an uncertain look. “I don’t know, Noct… Maybe it’s best if we just look for a way back up?”

“Maybe,” he answered indecisively, knowing that there was no way back up. It never was that easy after all. “Then let’s just-” Noctis vaguely gestured around- “go wherever. I have no idea where we are, you have no idea where we are. Not much we can do about it at this point.”

This, Prompto couldn’t argue with. He sighed, falling into step next to Noctis as they traversed the dunes of black sand, glittering dimly in the light of a non-existent moon. “What- what happened after I was gone?” Prompto’s voice shook ever so slightly.

“Nothing much,” Noctis replied after a short pause. He couldn’t- wouldn’t lie to Prompto, not about this. There was no point in doing that now. “He killed me. Gladio killed him. The usual. Did you know about it?”

“Know about what?” Prompto snorted, disbelieving. “That he’d betray us? How could I?”

“I guess you’re right.” Noctis raised one hand to rub his temples; the twilit light wasn’t good for his eyes, he had a hard time focusing down here. Nevertheless, he could still make out the small tombstones that jutted out of the ground at random intervals. At least he assumed they were tombstones; he really had no idea what else they could be. He didn’t want to come close enough to find out, either.

Because down here, it smelled of death.

It was a peculiar stench, hard to describe. Kind of like rotting things and mold. It was wet, always on the back of his tongue whenever he breathed in.

Sometimes, just sometimes death smelled sickly sweet; like a flower that wasn’t supposed to bloom yet, withering away and turning to ash. Sometimes it smelled of blood, of cold iron and winter. Noctis had only encountered these kind of smells once or twice in his entire lifetime, but these short instances had been enough. He didn’t need history to repeat itself.

If Noctis had to take a guess, they were in some sort of graveyard – at least if the tombstones and the corpses were anything to go by. Prompto seemed like he’d come to a similar conclusion. Even in the dim light, Noctis could make out his pale face. Small droplets of sweat rolled down his face, despite the mild temperatures.

Something rattled in the distance. Like breaking sticks, maybe. Or splintering bones. It was hard to tell.

The tangy, acidic stench of something burning was so putrid now that Noctis had to cover his mouth and nose with his shirt as not to gag. From the corners of his eyes he could see Prompto do the same, his face twisted into a grimace.

Dark sand swallowed the sounds of each of their footsteps; every little sound that was audible in the otherwise deathly quiet desert. It wasn’t this quiet, never.

Cracking, again. As if somebody was cracking their neck. It was right behind him, but he couldn’t turn around. The sound was in his ears, filling his mind until he couldn’t tell if it was just close to his ear or already inside his head.

Something grabbed his hand, squeezed it, and he wanted to jerk back until he realized that it was Prompto, seeking comfort. He squeezed back lightly, not letting his eyes stray from a fixed point in the distance.

Prompto could hear the cracking, too.

Noctis felt warm, hot breath, right on the nape of his neck, could feel his skin prickle with discomfort as he relentlessly dragged Prompto along. If they stopped now, they were as good as dead.

He knew that, Prompto knew that. The thing that wasn’t a human knew that.

He could feel its movement behind him, the crunching and grinding of its slick bones as it followed them through the sand. There was no water here, but with every step it took, it seemed to step into some sort of liquid. He didn’t dare look down.

But the cracking was by far the worst. It was always right behind him, like a susurrant, grotesque melody. It was rhythmic, in a strange way. Almost hypnotic, perhaps.

His hand – the one not occupied by Prompto – curled around the hilt of his sword, but as soon as his fingers made contact with it, the hilt started to burn white-hot, and he drew his fingers back with a hiss.

The thing just kept on cracking. No one acknowledged his reaction.

Off to the side, barely visible with the way he focused on the distant horizon that was just as dark as everything else, he could see something glowing. It looked vaguely familiar, but it was over so fast that he had no time to dwell on it.

Hot breath on his neck. The sound of nails scraping against something solid.

And then there was nothing.

Noctis felt all the air leave his lungs, his mouth going dry. He licked his cracked lips. Squeezed Prompto’s hand.

If they ran now, they were as good as dead.

He knew that, Prompto knew that. The thing that wasn’t a human knew that.

It had been a mistake coming here, it had been a mistake letting the thing follow them this long. Everything, every little thing they’d done had been wrong. And it was all catching up to them.

He closed his eyes, counted to ten. Felt spindly long fingers cradle his face as the thing circled them. He didn’t know if it was Prompto whose fingers were sweaty, or his own.

Hot breath on his face. He didn’t dare open his eyes.

The cracking was back behind him, and Noctis let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding in. Air rushed back into his lungs. Cold air. It burned, but in a good way. Even if it tasted of fire.

He turned his head ever so slowly, his curiosity getting the best of him, and he could hear Prompto’s hiss, could feel the way his friend’s grip tightened almost painfully. His eyes caught a glimpse of dark hair before he snapped his eyes forward once again.

Sweat trickled down his face, and even the night air did nothing to cool him down. His limbs felt like stone as he set one foot in front of the other, almost too heavy to move.

His heart was pounding in his ears, blood rushing through his veins, and it was almost, almost louder than the cracking, but- he didn’t seem to deserve that small mercy. Or maybe it was a blessing. Maybe it was better to hear the thing. Know what it was doing.

But he didn’t want to hear it.

The constant feeling of abhorrent fear was not something he was familiar with. He’d felt fear before, sure, but never on this level. He faintly remembered the numbness he’d felt back then, right after the Marilith. It didn’t seem too bad now.

Prompto’s hand was clammy in his. It was the only thing that felt real. The only thing that was real in this nightmare of a game.

The darkness that surrounded them crept into his vision; maybe that was what people called a tunnel vision. He wanted to snort, but his throat was closed completely, only allowing shallow breaths to pass through.

The cracking persisted. Because it always did.

Like the tap-tap-tap of tired feet on wet pavement, the incessant noise of fingernails on a wooden table.

But now it wasn’t only behind him, it was beneath him as well. He didn’t need to look down to know that they were walking upon bones, grinding them into fine dust. Liquid, warm and wet, moved beneath his feet, squidging between his toes.

Prompto’s hand was cold in his. He could feel it shaking with every step that they took, the cracking amplified by a tenfold.

Rasping breaths on the back of his neck, goosebumps on his skin. Dread gnawing at his insides. Devouring him alive. He just wanted it to end.

There was a shimmer in the distance, fire nipping at the edges of darkness. They were almost there; Noctis dared to breathe a sigh of relief.

A sigh, promptly cut off by the feeling of long, spindly fingers around his neck. Not squeezing, simply there. Waiting for him to breathe in again. He didn’t dare to.

Prompto choked on a breath beside him, his hands flying up to grab at his throat before he seemed to remember at the last second.

Almost there. Just a little longer.

Cracking behind him, underneath him, next to him.

Nails, sharp and dirty, dug into the soft skin of his throat as he took a shallow breath. Not squeezing, simply there.

Noctis almost slipped on the wet ground, and it made a disgusting squelching sound, but he ignored it, kept going as if nothing had happened. The palm of a hand pressing against his Adam’s apple, fingers searching for a pulse.

And finally, finally the warm shine of the fire painted the ground a shade of orange.

The cracking didn’t disappear; it sank back into the shadows, barely audible above the crackling flames, but still there. Waiting. Lurking.

At the fire, half covered by a white sheet of linen, sat Arctus. It was unmistakeably him, golden hair peeking out underneath the cloth. His eyes were closed; it almost seemed as if were sleeping.

Noctis slowly drew his sword (the blisters on his fingers hurt) and advanced, tipping Arctus’ chin up with the blade.

“I know you are mad,” Arctus sighed softly, cracking his eyes open a tiny bit. His gaze lingered on Prompto, almost a little sad, before snapping back to Noctis. “And you have every right to be mad.”

It was Prompto who gave in first. He always did; sometimes, Noctis wondered how someone that grew up in Niflheim could be this lenient. And then he hated himself for thinking that way. Prompto’s face visibly softened as he regarded the other. “Why did you do it?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. “I thought we were friends. That we could trust each other.”

“I had no choice,” Arctus said. He made no motions to get up; Noctis still kept his sword where it was, at the hollow of his throat. Arctus had proven himself to be untrustworthy once. He’d make sure that didn’t happen again. “Seeing both Odin and Freya, gods of the dead, fallen and humbled like that, I was sure that the only way to reach Helheim was to die.” He regarded Noctis with a cool gaze before it softened, tipping his head to the side. His neck cracked. Noctis flinched only a little. “And I was right. We are- were warriors and yet we still landed here, in the land of those who have died cowardly.”

A sneer made its way onto Noctis’ face. It was ugly, distorted, so unlike him, and yet… “Are you telling me you didn’t die a coward?”

Arctus closed his eyes for the fraction of a second. Warm light painted one side of his face; the other was wreathed in shadows. “If I did or did not die a coward doesn’t matter. And were you not cowards from trying to escape fate yourselves?” he said it with such conviction that Noctis silently wondered how much Arctus actually knew.

The boy reached up and lightly pushed Noctis’ sword out of his face. “If it pleases you, then kill me. If you want to know the truth, let me live. The gods won’t answer your prayers, no matter how much you believe. We’re alone in this world now.” He got up, dusting himself off as the white sheet fell from his shoulders. He was dressed in death as in life, and still, his face seemed paler, sunken in and hollowed. “Someone is waiting for us. We ought to talk to him. I’ll repent when the time is right.”

But now that he knew how Arctus ticked, Noctis wouldn’t fall for his tricks again.

“No, I don’t think so,” Noctis answered for the both of them, hostility open on his face for the entire world to see. “We’re not done here. Not yet. You don’t get to choose how your fate unravels.”

Noctis expected him to look indifferent, cold as always. Maybe he'd even expected the phony smile from back then, when everything had been so much clearer. But Arctus didn’t smile. He just looked at both of them with an unreadable expression on his face. “Is it you or me we’re talking about?”

He didn’t know what to say; Arctus’ voice wasn’t unkind, it was purely factual. There was something calculating in his eyes, a cold glint that seemed out of place in a machine. Maybe they’d never known Arctus, not really. Or whoever the person behind the painted mask was. Too cold to be human, but the flaws – all of them were human. The worst of both worlds.

The flames of the fire flickered, and Arctus eyes snapped towards them again. “In any case, we need to leave. Now. I’ll lead you to him.” Without another look at them, he turned around and towards the darkness. It didn’t matter to him what they had to say.

Noctis was hesitant to follow; whatever had shadowed him and Prompto on their way here, it was still out there. Still lurking in the starless dark, waiting for them. But it was no use; Arctus was their only way out. The only one who seemed to know what was truly going on. “I swear, if you’re leading us astray, I’m so gonna-”

“You’re going to do what? Kill me?” Arctus wasn’t looking at them. “You can’t kill me, I’m not alive.”

Not knowing what to say, Noctis took a steadying breath and simply followed Arctus. He could hear Prompto’s footsteps beside him as they moved through the dark. The cracking wasn’t there yet. It could appear at any given moment.

“One more thing: whatever you do, don’t look back,” Arctus warned them from the front. “And keep quiet.” His steps seemed determined as if he’d walked those paths a thousand times already, his head was held high. There was no fear in his posture. Nothing that betrayed him but his trembling hands at his sides.

Noctis straightened his back as well, ears picking up on the susurrant wind that shouldn’t be down here. He didn’t feel it on his skin.

“Look at me,” it whispered, its breath ghosting over the outer shell of his ear. Noctis’ skin prickled. He kept his eyes on Arctus’ back, not even daring to blink. Beside him, he could feel Prompto tremble.

“Oh please, look at me.” Prompto flinched, his shoulders shooting up. His eyes darted around wildly, almost like that of a cornered animal, but he didn’t look back. Noctis didn’t know what would happen if he did.

It wasn’t far; he could see something glinting in the distance. It was always a glint, never something else. Always had been. It was the only thing he knew for certain in this world, forsaken by the gods.

“I want your eyes to look upon me alone,” it whispered again. Its voice sounded a little like Luna’s; sweet and soft, like the smell of a blooming sylleblossom. He tried to ignore it the best he could.

Noctis squinted at the shimmer in the distance as the thing followed them into the darkness, always a few steps behind, never touching them. It still cracked.

And finally, finally they stepped into the circle of light that the glint formed. It was a giant tree that emitted the soft glow, larger than anything he’d ever seen in life. Its branches rose up, far into the sky, and, coiled around its roots and trunk was a creature, reflecting the light with its scaly body.

It gnawed at the roots with sharp teeth, held them with its claws that were like swords; Noctis had never seen a dragon, but this- this definitely was one.

Beneath it was the usual name tag: Nidhogg, Guardian of the Abyss.

Nidhogg regarded them with a lazy glare before focusing on the tree once more, not bothered by their presence.

It was Arctus who moved first, kneeling in front of the giant dragon. His head was bowed, staring at the ground. “Lord of the Abyss, grant us passage,” he spoke towards the dark sand. Noctis couldn’t see his face from where he was, but judging by Arctus’ voice, he was trying to appear demure. A deceiving act, as he knew by now.

“Passage was taken once, taken forcefully. How does man repent?”

It was like meeting Surt all over; the low voice in his head, the high and mighty tone. Noctis simply closed his eyes and endured it, ignored it grating on his ears.

“Man doesn’t repent,” Arctus answered, deliberately choosing his wording. “Man is foolish and man pales in comparison with the Gods of Yore.”

“And still, man played god,” the dragon continued as if it hadn’t heard Arctus. Its teeth scraped against each other. “Man thought himself clever. The story of the false king is known by the gods, and known by my humble self. Man doesn’t learn from his mistakes.” The dragon stretched, and its scales shimmered iridescent in the pale light. It coiled its body tighter around the tree, as if protecting something. An entrance, perhaps.

“The story of the false king?” Prompto asked aloud, and Noctis almost flinched at his voice being so close to his ear. Arctus’ hands on the ground tightened, his knuckles turning white. “You mean the Usurper?”

“A man of many names,” Nidhogg agreed. Deep claw marks littered the trunk of the tree, and a dark liquid oozed out, languidly dripping down and disappearing into the sand. “A false king who wasn’t royalty at all, but in fact the son of a commoner.” It paused, obviously cherishing the memory as if the entire story was a joke to it.

It was Arctus whose voice rang out in the dark night, as clear as it had ever been. “Upon hearing this revelation, the people stormed the castle and locked their beloved ruler up, let him rot in the cells deep beneath the castle. It was the only punishment that seemed fair to them.”

Nidhogg chuckled; it was a warm sound, echoing in the empty chamber that they were in. “Forsaken by both the gods as well as his people, the king was imbued with hatred.”

Arctus righted himself. His back was still turned towards Noctis and Prompto, but he seemed to be done with cowering. Brushing himself off, he raised his head. “He desired to be a vision all of us could never be, and we pale in the fire of his sins. He ascended-”

“Sacrilege!” Nidhogg whispered, but Arctus simply talked over the dragon.

“- and became something else, something more. Humans and gods are as one to him, and so he waits for ever, both light and eternity at his side.”

“And you have come to challenge him on his throne,” Nidhogg sneered. Astrals, Noctis wished to wipe that disgusting expression off the dragon’s face. “Like so many have done before you.”

Prompto shifted his weight next to him. “Well, it’s not like we’ve got any other choice…”

“You know you will fail and cease to exist, don’t you?”

Noctis would be damned if they failed – he hadn’t poured hours and hours into this game just to fail now. He defiantly raised his chin. “We’re not going to fail, you’ll see.”

The dragon let out a quiet puff of air, lifting one of its shimmering wings. It was tottered, as if something had ripped huge junks out of it, but that wasn’t what the dragon was trying to show. Formerly hidden by the wing, the tree behind it was hollow. The cave shouldn’t have been large by any means, but it seemed to stretch out endlessly, getting darker and darker the deeper it went. “Well, then; I haven’t seen any contenders in a very long time. Do put on a show, if you please.” Malice was dripping from Nidhogg’s words, put Noctis just put on an indifferent face, shooting a pointed look to Prompto who shrugged in response.

Arctus, who’d been weirdly silent until now, gave a curt bow. “We are severely indebted to you,” he pressed out between tight lips, and all Noctis rolled his eyes. Arctus seemed to have the habit of only bringing them trouble with his weird wording and even weirder mannerisms.

Instead, he pushed past Arctus and entered the empty tree; the dragon’s laughter followed them into the darkness as soft piano music accompanied them, barely louder than the whispering of the wind in the leaves.

So this was Helheim.

The fog around them lifted after just a few seconds; it probably was all the time the game needed to load the terrain. They weren’t inside the tree anymore, but instead in what seemed to be a giant palace. Dark marble tiles, glittering like the starry sky, were let into the ground, and large pillars, as tall the walls of Utgard, supported the arching ceiling. The palace looked immaculate, but something was off; maybe it was the ground - it felt as if he was walking on wooden floorboards, despite the marble texture, and they squeaked beneath his feet.

A wide staircase led up into another room, but that wasn’t what caught Noctis’ attention – a chandelier was swinging from the ceiling, its flames a dark shade of blue. It swayed in a breeze that didn’t exist. The sight reminded him of the Citadel, and for a second, he wondered if the giant chandelier that hung in the ballroom was still in use.

Below it, right at the bottom of the stairs, sat a woman, her skin nearly translucent. A spectre, if Noctis had to guess, although she radiated too much warmth and light to be one. She lounged there, lazily crossing her legs as they advanced. A crown of gold sat atop her head, and golden hair flowed down the woman’s back, spreading out on the stairs she sat on.

Noctis frowned at her when Prompto suddenly cleared his throat.

“Might you be, uh, the ruler of this place?” he asked, vaguely gesturing at the palace. “Like, Hel? Are you Hel, I mean.”

The woman smiled, inclining her head; she looked similar to the goddess they’d met earlier, Freya, but at the same time, she was completely different. Her voice was soft and warm, whereas Freya’s had been harsh and cold. “An unsightly beast,” she said, running her fingers through her hair, “have mercy, oh please, have mercy upon her.” She cackled, the sound like splintering glass.

He could hear Arctus’ unease with the way the other tapped his fingers against his arm, how his shoes scuffed on the ground. “You’re not Hel,” he stated. “But if you’re not her, then who are you? Not a servant, that much is certain, so…”

“Neither alive, nor a corpse,” she said in a sing-song voice that grated on Noctis ears, “the same as you. This-” she elegantly raised her arm, the loose fabric draped across it shifting, and pointed at the great doors behind her- “is the resting place of the hated and beloved queen. To enter would be considered a great sin; do you still wish to proceed?”

He stared at her, trying to decipher what she meant. “We, uh, do want to proceed. Will you let us through?”

She let her head fall back, exposing her vulnerable neck. “Oh heretics, cowering in front of darkness. It is not my place to judge or to hinder you. But be wary – her brethren you have slain, and now it is time for you to pay the blood price.”

So another boss fight – just great. As if they hadn’t had enough of them already. Noctis sighed loudly, rolling his eyes when Arctus shot him a sharp look. He sent Prompto – who looked a little green – a reassuring smile. Prompto reciprocated it, although it turned out a little wobbly.

Arctus opened his mouth, probably to reply or ask another question, but the strange woman waved him off. “For now, go. Satiate your curiosity and free the land swathed in darkness if that is your wish.”

Noctis nodded at her, slowly ascending the stairs, careful not to accidentally tread on her long lair that was fanned out on the steps. She moved her head, following them with her eyes as they pushed against the great oaken doors that separated the atrium from what he guessed might be the throne room.

Darkness greeted them when they stepped into it, the doors falling shut behind them and snuffing out the light; well, most of it, anyway. Residual light remained, flittering through the air like dust as Noctis’ eyes adjusted.

The hall was huge, and mostly empty. Near the middle stood a dark throne with a pale person resting atop of it, although Noctis couldn’t make out any details. He frowned.

“Your Highness,” Arctus greeted the person that was probably Hel, “your reign has come to an end, I’m afraid. We shall reclaim the light the one residing here stole once, so long ago, and alter the course of fate.”

The words echoed in the empty room, but either they hadn’t been heard, or she simply didn’t want to answer.

Noctis exchanged a look with Prompto, silently willing him to watch his back as Noctis stepped into the dark room; he didn’t know what to expect, if this was an actual boss fight or if enemies would just ambush them, so it was better to be safe than sorry. He could hear Arctus’ quiet footsteps behind him.

The woman on the throne, Hel, was clothed in a dark blue dress that was more folds than anything else. Long, black hair was spread out around her, held together loosely by a silver piece of jewellery that almost looked like a crown but wasn’t really one. She greatly resembled the statue of the woman he’d used as a bridge earlier that day. Most of her, anyway; on the right side of her face, her cheek was pink and white, her lips full and carmine. She seemed to be sleeping, eyelashes dark against her pale skin.

Noctis sucked in a sharp breath as he circled her; on the left side of her face, the skin was blotched and striated, swollen in the bruises of death, her lipless mouth wizened and stretched over skull-brown teeth.

He slowly reached out, hand barely touching the deathly cold skin of the right side of her face as another voice, one so familiar that it hurt, rang out in the darkness. “A corpse should be left well alone, don’t you think?”

It was a man’s voice, unmistakeably so. It rang out in his ears, staying there long after the voice had faded away, and as if in slow-motion, Noctis ripped his eyes from the goddess that wouldn’t wake and stared towards the place the voice had most likely come from.

His feet were heavy as he stepped around the woman, his eyes set on another, larger throne, half-hidden by the first one. On it sat another person, the man who’d spoken before. His back was straight, his hands resting on the hilt of a sword, tip positioned on the ground.

The closer Noctis got, the more details he could make out. The man’s dark grey hair, a golden knee guard that didn’t seem to fit the time period they were in, a silver, hornlike crow on the right side of his head.

It was his father’s face, Noctis realized, that was staring back at him through the darkness.

He felt sick; bile rose in his throat, and he gagged at the taste of it.

The name tag under Regis’ throne read ‘The Silent Monarch”.

His father’s face. Plastered onto an enemy from a video game.

Noctis closed his eyes for a brief second, breathing in deeply through his nose. His hands on the hilt of his sword trembled so hard that Prompto sent him a bemused glance, already drawing his bow.

He couldn’t- Noctis couldn’t fight father. He wouldn’t fight his father; not for the sake of this fake world.

Abruptly and without another word, he turned around, fleeing the room. Prompto was hot on his heels, trying to catch up to him, but Noctis simply sped up, rushing down the now empty staircase until his back rested against one of the pillars. It grounded him, the cold marble. But with the woman’s disappearance, the warmth had gone out of the room as well. Every nuance of blue was black now, every black tile seemed to swallow all life.

He buried his arms, pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and just- he felt like screaming. He couldn’t scream, not here, not now. A warm hand was placed on his shoulder, and he flinched back, instinctively shaking it off.

He didn’t want to be touched, didn’t want to be comforted. Noctis had always disliked being coddled, as if he was made out of glass and would break at the slightest touch. He hated the feeling of weakness that it brought with it, when no one thought he could deal with his daemons himself.

The impostor looking like his father had seemed so real; every detail was as he remembered it to be; his soft voice, his kind eyes. And yet the world knew him as a corrupt king and he was supposed to kill him.

Even if it was just a game, who the hell had thought of this crude, tasteless joke?

The name ‘Niflheim’ burnt on his tongue, sour and acidic.

“I-” Prompto started, but Arctus, wherever he’d come from, cut him off.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, not even bothering to raise his voice. The disappointment was audible enough as it was.

“Shut up,” Noctis hissed back half-heartedly, no heat behind his words. “Just shut up. You wouldn’t understand.”

He could basically feel Prompto and Arctus exchanging a look. “Then try to explain it to us,” Prompto said after a few beats of silence. And when had Prompto reverted back to ‘us’? He hated it, whatever bond they shared. “What’s wrong, Noct?”

He wanted to laugh. Instead, he took a steadying breath and wiped the back of his hand over his eyes until his eyes focused on a fixed pointed on the opposite wall. “I can’t kill him,” he finally answered. “I don’t want to kill him. I just…”

He couldn’t tell them that the final boss looked like his father; at least Prompto would know that something was up. And Noctis wasn’t ready to blow his cover yet. People just didn’t have fathers that looked like video game bosses, did they?

But Prompto seemed to understand; his face dropped a little as he took in Noctis’ slumped shoulders, the way he curled into himself. And Noctis was grateful for his silent understanding. He didn’t flinch back when Prompto carefully rested his hand on his shoulder this time.

“Do you-” he’d never heard Arctus pause in the middle of a sentence like that before- “do you not want to bring the light back? Help the people? After all you’ve been through?” he sounded hesitant, almost as if asking Noctis for what the right thing to do may be. As if he actually cared about their opinions.

“Cut it out, man,” Prompto whispered back sharply, tightening his grip on Noctis’ shoulder. It was a reassuring weight.

“I can’t,” Noctis answered miserably, casting his gaze on the ground. The starry sky was reflected in the tiles, shining like a million fireflies. He’d seen fireflies once, right before Marilith’s attack. It was one of his fondest memories, despite all the bad that had come from it.

Arctus hummed in thought. “Why can’t you? What’s stopping you? Don’t you want to help?”

“Of course I want to help!” he snapped at the blond; Prompto’s fingers dug into his shoulder, only a little painful. “But I can’t, alright? Not like this.”

It was silent for a few moments, and Noctis probably could have heard the drop of a pin.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Prompto said at the same time as Arctus started with, “There might be another way.”

Both of them perked up at that. “Another way?” Noctis asked, and Arctus nodded.

“I thought I could accomplish something by forcing you to stay. By using you for my own selfish means,” he explained. “But I was severely mistaken. You can’t force your duty upon other people, and you can’t defy fate. I’ve come to realize that there is no escape, no matter what I do.”

Silence settled over them for a few seconds before Arctus laughed a mirthless laugh. “I always hated being alone, you know? And I hated the dark. I just wanted you all to stay, if only for a little while longer.”

Noctis raised an eyebrow, staring at the other in wordless silence.

Arctus drew in a shaky breath; he bit his lower lip as he averted his eyes. It seemed all too human. “I- it shouldn’t have been like this. Ended like this. Something, just something went terribly wrong, and I can’t understand what. But I can fix it. I know I can. I’ll make things right.” He was babbling – it kind of reminded Noctis of Prompto. Just another, weird coincidence in this cruel world.

“Arctus, get to the point.”

“All that we encountered along the way-” Arctus was decidedly not getting to the point, it seemed. And yet Noctis couldn’t bring himself to shut him up. “The pain of the people, their tears and their laughter. It all meant something, didn’t it? Their desperation, their grief. Their hope. I know of a way to help them. A way that doesn’t put anyone in jeopardy.” His hands were trembling, and when Arctus noticed Noctis’ gaze, he clasped them together behind his back, hiding them from Noctis’ view. As if he was ashamed. He had no right to be ashamed. “Because what I did was wrong.”

Machines didn’t feel shame.

Noctis would have laughed if the entire situation wasn’t just way too bizarre. “So what’s your verdict?” he asked instead.

Arctus closed his eyes. Opened them. There was determination in his gaze. “I need you to trust me. Things might get hectic after this.”

Could he trust Arctus again? Probably not.

Did he want to fight his father? Definitely not.

It wasn’t a choice of right or wrong, it was only about choosing the lesser of the two evils. Arctus, the machine that emulated human emotions. Or the thing that was supposed to be his father. It was an easy choice.

“Y’know, I was just starting to trust you,” he said, in lieu of answering the question. It was worth it, seeing the confused look in Arctus’ eyes. “But then I realized that you’d never change. You don’t feel, and you don’t think. You pretended to be to be like us, when you didn’t even know what being alive truly meant.” It was a low blow, surely, but he needed to know if they could at least somewhat trust him. He pretended to ignore Prompto’s hurt gaze, whatever that was supposed to mean.

He could see the way Arctus’ shoulders slumped, the way the corners of his mouth turned downwards ever so slightly. But he was just faking it, wasn’t he? Machines didn’t feel.

Sighing, Noctis shook his head. It didn’t matter – he had no choice.

He agreed. So did Prompto.

A short-lived smile hushed across Arctus’ face. And then he did something that Noctis hadn’t thought he was able to do; he accessed the in-game menu, scrolling through the options.

“What are you doing?” Noctis asked, eyeing him warily.

“Well, what does it look like? I’m severing our connection to the network, of course. Let’s see if it works, shall we?”

Chapter 10: The Tale of Two Princes

Chapter Text

All hell had broken lose, just as Arctus had predicted.

Incessant chattering coming from somewhere in the kitchen, fingers scurrying across keyboards, people yelling computer jargon he’d never heard of before. Someone cleared their throat behind him, and Noctis pushed up the goggles and leaned back, only to come face to face with Cor, who had deep worry lines between his eyebrows. “Your Highness,” he started, looking uneasy, “it seems that we are unable to track the external flow of information; did you, by any chance, disable your internet connection?”

His eyes hushed to the side where Ignis and Gladio were sitting, following their conversation with interested eyes. Was he supposed to lie to Cor? He probably shouldn’t, but if he told him truth, that an AI from Niflheim was interfering with their work, then Cor would become suspicious. Probably more than just a little suspicious; and that meant he could forget ever hearing about what Arctus was planning to do.

Noctis helplessly looked at Ignis, who understood without Noctis having to say anything.

“If I may answer for Noct, Marshal,” Ignis began, taking off his goggles and putting on his actual glasses, “it tends to happen from time to time, no matter what we do. The game we received is a beta version after all, and there still are faults to be found within. I’m sure Noctis will be able to remedy the defects shortly.” His controller lay on the table, completely forgotten.

He could always count on Ignis to bail him out, it seemed. But it was too early to thank him yet.

Cor nodded, his face dangerously neutral. What if he didn’t buy into what Ignis had been saying?

“Don’t worry, Marshal,” Gladio suddenly butted in, adjusting the goggles that sat on top of his head, “we’re already looking for a way to reconnect. It’s gotta be somewhere in the system settings, we’ll just need a little time to find it.”

“Hurry, if you can,” Cor sighed, tiredly rubbing the bridge of his nose. He looked old in the dim light of Noctis’ apartment. Was it the setting or the rising sun? He didn’t know. “We almost had their servers located.”

Noctis nodded, pushing his goggles down once again to focus on the virtual world right in front of his eyes. The world that hadn’t stopped spinning just because he’d been gone for a few minutes.

Beside him, Ignis squeezed his shoulder. “You don’t have a lot of time, Noct. Whatever you’re doing in there, do it fast. And-” he paused. It wasn’t often that Noctis had heard Ignis pause like that- “give Prompto our regards, if you please.”

Giving Ignis (and by extension, Gladio) a thumbs up, he willed his eyes to adjust to the near-darkness once again.

Arctus, who was now leaning against a marble pillar across him, gave a half-hearted smile. “I hope I didn’t cause too much trouble out there,” he said, vaguely pointing upwards. Not that it mattered; Noctis knew what he meant.

He shook his head instead, his eyes straying towards Prompto who was dejectedly staring at a point on the ground. He nudged him slightly, giving his friend a soft grin that Prompto didn’t quite reciprocate. “It’s fine,” he answered after a few, long seconds of silence. “You said you knew of a way to end the game without having to kill the last boss. So what is it?” He figured that, if Arctus knew about their connection to the internet, he’d know about being in a game as well. It only made sense. Maybe Arctus truly was a sentient AI.

He didn’t even want to think about the implications of someone designing Arctus that way; an autonomous AI was still better than one that was just blindly following its orders, at least from a technical standpoint – although the latter was a lot more predictable than the former of course.

(But what if he hadn’t actually been designed with self-awareness? Could machines break their programming? Had mankind played god once again?)

Arctus hummed, leaning back a little further. His eyes glinted. “Can I ask something before that?”

Noctis shrugged in response.

“Why is it that you want the game to end? You could just leave, and never come back. Why don’t you do that?”

Curiosity, he guessed. Something had kept him here, had wanted him to see the end of the game. The hidden threats… maybe that had been Arctus as well, then. It certainly made sense. He decided to try his luck. “You were the one who kept us here, weren’t you?”

A small smile hushed across Arctus’ face, gone in an instant. “I guess I was. But you played along, so I won’t leak any data. For once, I’ll keep my word. There is no reason for you to stay any longer now that the threat is gone, is there?”

He thought about it for a moment, and images of people dancing in the light provided by fire, of the city of ice, and of the small boy who’d taken Noctis’ hand in his, flooded his mind. “What will happen to the inhabitants of Midgard?” he asked instead.

Arctus shrugged, tilting his head to one side. “Truth be told, I can’t rewrite the game’s code. At least not for large-scale events like this one. There is no way to restore sunlight but to fight the final boss; although I’m not sure if the darkness would be vanquished even then. This world, it’s a lost cause. I just told you I knew of a way to get a few minutes of silence, simply to talk. Without anyone monitoring us.”

“Why?” Prompto asked. It was the first thing he’d said in a while, Noctis noticed.

“I wanted to apologize.” Arctus’ tone was nothing if not earnest; either he was really good at emulating human feelings, or he actually knew what remorse felt like. Noctis had seen stranger things happen. “But not here. Come with me for a second.”

And then he was pushing away from the pillar and walking towards the side of the atrium where a curtain was swaying lightly from side to side. Noctis couldn’t remember there being a curtain before, but then again, he hadn’t paid much attention to his surroundings.

He pushed the fabric aside, holding it open for Prompto and Noctis behind him before stepping out of the palace and into the darkness of the long night. The air was chillier out here, Noctis noted, and he could see small, white clouds form in front of his face whenever he breathed out. “Where are we going?” he asked, just to fill the silence with something substantial.

Arctus didn’t turn around; he merely shrugged, leading them deeper into the bottomless darkness.

Still not fully knowing if they could trust him, Noctis lagged behind a little, keeping pace with Prompto instead. “So, what do you think of all of this?” he murmured, his voice low.

Prompto sighed. “I don’t know, Noct. It’s- I really don’t know.” He shook his head a little, the fingers of his right hand curling around his slender left wrist.

He could see Arctus’ blond shock of hair bobbing up and down with every step that he took, glinting in the light of stars that weren’t there. He sighed. “I guess we’ll find out, sooner or later. About the ghost in the machine and all that.” Even if nothing else worked, at least this little throwaway line made a smile appear on Prompto’s face. And that was something.

“We’re there,” Arctus suddenly called from the front, spinning around and spreading his arms. “We’ve arrived at the edge.”

The edge, he’d called it. And it was an edge, all right.

It looked like the rift Noctis had seen earlier, the one where he’d found the sword. The completely useless sword, as he now realized; the one that should’ve been special, but wasn’t actually good for anything. The cursed sword.

He stepped closer to the edge, Prompto right behind him, and stared down into the abyss for a few seconds before letting his eyes wander back over to Arctus. “So what are we doing here?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing in particular,” Arctus said, settling down right at the edge where the darkness seemed to be crawling up the walls, and let his legs dangle down, swinging them forth and back ever so slightly. “Sit,” he commanded, patting the ground next to him in a welcoming gesture.

This could very well be a trap, and Noctis opened his mouth to warn Prompto, but his friend had already left his side and was settling down next to Arctus, their thighs almost touching. His shoulders slumped.

Noctis heaved a sigh, dropping down next to Prompto so he wouldn’t have to sit right beside Arctus and folded his hands in his lap. The darkness loomed beneath him.

“Deep down there,” Arctus started, “is a river. You can’t see it from up here, and you can’t hear it, but it’s there. It’s called Gjöll.” Noctis didn’t know why he was telling them this; the game was over. “And on your way here, you must have crossed a bridge. Did you?”

Prompto shook his head while Noctis nodded.

“That was the Gjallarbru. It certainly is a sight to behold, isn’t it?” No one answered him, and his voice rang out in the cold night. Arctus sighed. “I really wanted to help the people down here, you know? Let them experience the wonders of sunlight again. But I guess all of this has been one grand illusion.”

“What are you going to do now? When we leave, I mean?” Prompto’s voice was quiet. Nothing more than a whisper, swept away by the wind in an instant.

Arctus leaned back, bracing his hands on the rocky ground. “I don’t know. I can’t finish this. Whatever ‘this’ actually means; my calling, or fate, or anything. The objective they gave me. And I can’t really help the people, either. But I do understand your troubles, and why you don’t want to follow your destiny, Noctis.”

He flinched back as if he’d been burnt, but neither Prompto nor Arctus acknowledged his reaction. He’d never told either of them his real name, so… “How did you-”

Arctus cut him off with a soft, almost ironic laugh. “The entire world is at the tips of my fingers, and you think I would not dare to use it?”

It made sense, to a certain degree. But that still didn’t explain why Prompto was just… calm. As if he wasn’t bothered by it.

He opened his mouth, but once again, Prompto was faster than him. “I’ve known for quite a while already,” he said, his voice hoarse. Noctis swallowed heavily. “I never expected you to tell me, although it’d have been nice to hear it from you.”

“How did you know?” he croaked out.

“I just knew.” Prompto shrugged, staring down at the hands in his lap. “You’re a very bad liar.” His gaze hushed upwards for a second, and Noctis swore that a tiny, tiny smile graced his lips before he hastily averted his eyes again. “The entire story about living in Altissia, your name being Noctem. It was all too convenient. The way you looked at the man in the throne room. I’ve seen him before. In the official paintings they printed in the newspapers, way back when they still used to publish them.”

A dry laugh escaped his throat; it sounded bitter. Unlike him. “I-”

“Please, Noct, no excuses. No apologies.” Prompto wiped the back of his hand across his eyes. “I’m not mad at you. Maybe, if I’d been in a similar predicament, I’d have done the same.”

Noctis let his eyes wander over the rift, thinking of an appropriate response. Was there even an appropriate response to this? Probably not.

So instead of facing his problems head-on, he turned to Arctus again. “If you know what is going on, why can’t you just, I don’t know, fix it? Change the code and make sunlight appear again?”

He couldn’t see Arctus’ face from this angle, but judging by his voice, he was smiling once more. “I don’t think anyone should control a universe. That’s what bad guys try to do.”

“But you could change it, if you wanted to?”

Noctis leaned back slightly so he could watch Arctus’ movements better. Tiny rocks pressed against the soft skin of his hands.

Arctus shook his head, his face turned towards the sky. “No, I don’t think so. Everything is external, and I’m just- I don’t know. Somewhere in here, I guess, anchored. Just part of the code. Maybe I’m nowhere at all. I’d love to help the people, really, but I can’t. They’ll have to help themselves.”

It sounded so cruel, but Noctis could kind of understand what he meant. People always, always waited for their saviours, humans that would sacrifice themselves for the greater good; because that was easier than to take matters into your own hands, wasn’t it? It was easier than trying and failing again and again. It was easier just to let others suffer.

Prompto’s voice was raspy when he spoke up again. “So what will happen? When we don’t log in again, I mean.”

“Nothing, probably,” Arctus answered, closing his eyes for a split second. “The people here most likely won’t remember you. They’ll just wait for the next warriors to come and save the day.”

“And what will happen to you?”

Arctus hummed, thinking about his answer for a few seconds. “I won’t rat you out. I can even disable the tracking, if you’d like. That’d destroy most of the data on the disc, though.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Prompto’s hands trembled ever so slightly.

“I know,” Arctus answered. “I can’t tell what’s going to happen. I’ll just stay here, I guess, and try to live my best life. It’s not like I can leave the realm of the dead, but still, I think that anywhere can be paradise as long as you have the will to live.” He inclined his head, a lazy smile playing around his lips. “Is something wrong? You seem troubled.”

“I just-” Prompto cut himself off to clear his throat before trying again- “won’t you be lonely? When we’re gone, I mean.”

Prompto talked to Arctus as if he was an actual human being, as if he possessed a soul and a beating heart.

Noctis gnawed on his lower lip until he could taste copper, staining his mouth crimson. Maybe there wasn’t a formula to being human. Arctus was about as flawed and imperfect as anyone else; maybe that was enough.

“Are you worried about me?” Arctus asked at this exact moment, slightly prodding Prompto’s side, which made Prompto bump into Noctis as a result. “It was nice to have people here with me. And I just wanted to keep you here, at least for a little while. I had so much fun and I was just- afraid to be on my own again. In the dark.”

He forced a grin on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But I’ll be fine. I don’t think I’d have liked what I was becoming had I forcefully kept you here any longer. And I’d like to think that I learnt a lot on this journey. And that is thanks to all of you. I’m not asking for forgiveness or anything, I just think you ought to know that.”

Noctis didn’t know if he was ready to forgive him, either, if he was ready to forgive a simulation in a virtual reality; maybe even the stuff Arctus was spouting right now had been ingrained into him, just meaningless code written by some bored, underpaid programmer.

But Arctus seemed to genuinely like Prompto; and even if he’d never shown the same feelings towards any of them, could he fault Arctus for wanting this much? Someone to spend eternity with after they’d rekindled the first flame of dawn?

Instead of moving away, Prompto leaned into his side, resting his head on Noctis’ shoulder. His hair tickled Noctis’ nose. “If you’d been an actual... an actual MT, in the real world, I mean, do you think that we could’ve been friends?”

“Maybe,” Arctus answered vaguely. “I think I’d have liked that. Maybe we’ll have more luck next time.” His eyes were still fixated on the sky, almost as if he was sunbathing. “And maybe, maybe we’ll see each other again. Then I can punch Gladio in the face for basically beheading me. I think he deserves it.” He laughed softly, the sound lost in the night. “May the gods favour you on both of your paths, wherever they might lead you. Even if you choose to reject the fate they might try to force upon you.”

“So this is it?” Prompto asked. Noctis’ shoulder felt warm where his head lay, and he pressed his cheek against Prompto’s hair.

“That’s it,” Arctus confirmed, pushing a strand of his hair out of his face. “You should probably leave soon. I’ll take care of the rest from here on.”

Noctis nodded, although he wasn’t sure if Arctus could see it from this angle. “We’ll leave it to you, then. Good luck.” Arctus would keep his promise, wouldn’t he?

Even if he was intending to betray them again, well, there was nothing Noctis could do about it now.

Next to him, Prompto fumbled with his inventory, pulling a small oil lamp out of his inventory and handing it over to Arctus who took it with a soft smile on his face. “I’ll miss you. Really.” Prompto’s words stung, even if they weren’t meant for him.

Arctus, playing with the lamp in his hands, was staring into the abyss once more. “I guess it’s only natural for man to fear the dark and unknown. I’ll miss you as well.”

Sometimes, in the deepest and darkest nights during the winter months, when the Wall was as thin as it could be, Noctis stood on the balcony of his apartment. And sometimes, when the people around him turned off their lights, one by one, it felt as if all the stars in the world were simultaneously showering the world with their cold light. It wasn’t often that it happened, and most of the time, Noctis tended to miss those nights by accident; but whenever he had the luck of experiencing one, the feelings were the same.

Noctis had never been one for sunrises; they happened too early in the morning, when he was barely awake at all. And they left him with a strange sense of loss. As if he’d just lost something peculiar, something special. And still he hoped that these strange lands and their even stranger inhabitants might be blessed by both sunrise and sunset.

Next to Prompto, Arctus snuffed the lantern’s light out. The soft, orange glow it had left on his face disappeared, bathing them in darkness. “A new beginning,” Arctus said when he noticed Prompto’s confused look. “It’s over- the sun is finally setting.” He didn’t elaborate, and Noctis didn’t ask. He simply pulled his legs up to his chest, resting his chin on top of his knees. He looked more like a child than ever before.

It was dark, so incredibly dark. No stars shone in the sky, no light reflected off of the surfaces. Everything was pitch black, and all he could rely on was his hearing. Something cracked in the distance, but it was far, far away. Maybe even on the other side of the rift.

Prompto’s head was still resting on his shoulder, the only constant in the darkness of this world. He fumbled with his menu, hovering over the log-out function.

Next to him, Prompto sighed. “I’ll see you on the other side, then,” he whispered into the darkness, “take care.” Noctis wasn’t sure who he was talking to exactly, but before he could ask, Prompto was already gone.

His shoulder felt cold, as if Prompto had never been here at all. He hadn’t relayed Ignis’ message, hadn’t wished Prompto good-bye one last time.

But Arctus already turned towards him, looking at Noctis like it was the first time he could truly see him. Maybe it was. “Please, Noctis,” he said, “promise me to never come back. That you won’t even try to come back. And promise me you’ll be a good friend to Prompto.”

He nodded (if nothing else, he could grant Arctus this little wish) and with one last look in Arctus’ direction, he finally logged out as well.

The soft piano music faded into nothing, and in the kitchen, someone banged their fist on the table.

Noctis pushed his goggles up as Game Over flashed over the screen; which was weird, to say the least. He’d just logged out, hadn’t he?

Gladio snorted from somewhere on his right side. “I’d have won if you’d let me play, Noct,” he said off-handedly.

He ignored Gladio. The console hummed as he closed the application and then restarted it; but instead of the title screen, an error message appeared.

Data Not Found

“How strange,” Ignis mused. “Maybe the IT department can fix the problem?”

Noctis thought about his words for a few seconds before shaking his head with a sense of finality. “Nah, it’s alright, Specs. I don’t think I would’ve wanted to see the ending anyway.”

He could feel Cor’s presence as he stepped behind the couch. “I’m guessing you weren’t able to repair the connection then, Your Highness?” he asked.

Once again, Noctis shook his head. “Is that a problem?”

Cor simply sighed, and even if Noctis couldn’t see him, he knew that the Marshal was running his hand through his hair. “Given the game’s clearly broken state-” he gestured at the error message still flashing on the screen- “and the fact that we couldn’t find any data security breaches, I suppose not. Would you mind if we take the disc for further examinations?”

He shrugged; it didn’t matter now. “Can I-” he cleared his throat- “can I at least keep the cover?”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Cor said, already stepping forwards to remove the disc from the console.

Noctis sighed, reaching forward and taking the now empty cover into his hands, running his fingers over its smooth surface. The picture on the front hadn’t changed – of course it hadn’t.

He opened the case, eyes taking in the intricate drawings on the inside; only to notice something else. There was a small slip of paper in one of the bottom corners, half hidden behind game manuals that he hadn’t seen at first.

With a frown, he took it out of the cover, inspecting its contents. The writing was cursive and fancy-looking, almost a little old-fashioned.

You think a few weeks spent in darkness is a long time? That is nothing to me. I have lived in darkness for ages. And when the time is right, my dear friend, I will welcome the darkness with open arms once again.

Before anyone could see it, Noctis crumpled up the small slip of paper and stuffed it into his pocket. He’d had enough of cryptic messages; no need to add onto the already growing pile.

And one by one, the people filed out of his apartment, until only Gladio and Ignis were left, keeping him company in the dark silence of the living room. No stars shone that night.

His phone vibrated with an incoming message, breaking the quiet of a nearly noiseless night.

Water dripped off the side of his glass as the heat continued to fry him alive.

Noctis sighed, crossing his legs only to uncross them again a second later. Despite the overhang he sat beneath, the heat was already bearing down on him in full force, and although he was dressed in shorts and a loose t-shirt, he didn’t feel ready for Altissia’s summers.

Playing with the sunglasses that sat atop his hair, Noctis watched as the people hurried past, sipping his already warm co*ke from time to time. His right foot tapped against the ground in an incessant rhythm as the smell of freshly baked croissants wafted around him. His stomach growled.

“Sorry, I’m late!” someone yelled from afar, waving at him. Noctis waved back, a smile gracing his face.

Prompto plopped down on the chair across him, raising his arm to get the waiter’s attention. After he’d ordered something, he turned back to Noctis. “Where are Ignis and Gladio?” he asked, co*cking his head to one side. His hair was flatter than Noctis remembered it to be, but that could also be the stifling heat.

Noctis shrugged. “Ignis said he wanted to check something out. Some sort of dish that they sell at the food stands. Thought that I might like it. And Gladio’s probably nearby.” He leaned forward on his elbows. scrutinizing Prompto, whose face was slowly assuming a normal colour once again. “So, what did you want to talk about?"

Prompto smiled and dimples formed around his mouth as he reached into the bag near his feet and pulled out a stack of papers, carefully placing them on the table. “Perfect timing; Luna asked me to give you this.” He leafed through the documents before finding the one he’d been looking for, handing it over to Noctis.

Noctis raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?” he asked, already skimming the text.

Prompto beamed at him, his entire face lighting up with joy as he shifted in his seat. “An early concept for a treaty. What do you think?”

He frowned at the text, reaching over to grab a pencil out of Prompto’s bag. “It’s bad,” he said in an almost bored voice, scratching out chunks of text with one hand while dialling Ignis’ number with the other. “How much of this did Luna write, anyway? Not a lot, I’m guessing?”

Squawking indignantly, Prompto rested his head on his arms. “Not fair! Both of us racked our brains trying to make this work!”

Noctis snorted, only listening with one ear. “Yeah, I can see that. And we’ll make it work, somehow.” He scratched out another sentence, scrawling a note next to the wall of text.

From the waves of the sea, the morning sun emerged, rising slowly upwards, and one by one, the streetlights faded away, flickering like the stars that glittered on the waves lapping against the city’s foundation.

Dawn finally bathed Altissia in warm, golden colours once again, and the sound of music accompanied the waves’ murmur as both night and silence lay forgotten behind them.