#avulsusprinceps

“Be brave. Live. For me.”

--

B/TVS Starters [accepting]

With this, Luna’s duty is fulfilled at last. And what cruel irony that the light of dawn should shine on a world that is lesser for it. When there was night, there was hope. The promise of reunion. Now, there will be nothing. 

 She had kept to Noctis’ side on the walk up, clinging to these final moments they have together in reverent silence. The last time she’d walked these halls was on the occasion of King Regis’ death - now she would guide his son to that same fate. Like his father before him, Noctis shows no fury towards her, and it’s almost more than Luna can bear. It was she who championed the Draconian’s cause all these years, lured forth with the promise of a life with her Beloved. By the time she knew better, it was far too late and all her screaming and fighting would be for naught. 

 By morning light, Noctis will be dead. And yet it is he who chooses to comfort her. She would begrudge that tender, bleeding heart if it were not the very thing she fell for. 

 His touch is gentle. Calloused hands that were robbed of the chance to know her better. She meets them in her own, standing chest to chest and nose to nose, for there has been far too much distance between them for far too long. Savouring these small intricacies that cannot be shared on a page. The warmth of his breath on her face, the sound of his voice. Imploring her to have courage. To live on. For him. 

 Oh, Noctis. But that is all I have done these past ten years.

 She brings her hands to hold his face, his stubble tickling her palms. Would that she could freeze his moment, belay what must inevitably come to pass, and take what they were promised all those years go. 

“Should I question every move I make?”

---

I’ll Show You How I Swing [accepting]

Nagito hums thoughtfully, unbothered by the frantic whispering of the other students. Doubtlessly wondering why the Prince was wasting his time with the weird orphan - and honestly, Nagito has wondered the same. He tries to wear the airs and graces befitting royalty, but he always winds up being just a little too thoughtless, a little too honest. He can’t really help it.

cloud doesn’t really like winter.  the snow makes it hard to want to do much of  anything  ,  not to mention the fucking  cold  .  &  yet  ,  just because noctis asked  ,  he’s out here in the cold  &  snow to walk around because it would make noctis happy.

if tifa could see him  ,  cloud’s  sure  she’d say he’s whipped.

still  ,  he’s quick to pull his jacket off  &  drape it over noctis’ shoulders  ,  pulling on the spare he’d brought.  the one he gave noctis was warmer  ,  he probably needed it more than he was going to admit.

‘ hey, princess. ’ 

cloud clears his throat  ,  quickly stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“...”

It had been a long mission. Cor had never minded long missions before – he’d craved them, in fact. He’d preferred being out in the field where the action was than back at the Citadel pushing papers.

He hadn’t had anyone to come back to though. Now, his thoughts would constantly wander to Noctis. He called the boy when he could, but it wasn’t as often as he’d like. He’d been away for almost a month and fuck, Cor hadn’t known he could miss somebody that much.

Upon returning to the Citadel, he was supposed to meet with Regis and Clarus to give his report but he’d put it off – told them that he was too exhausted. It was partially true, but mostly, he just wanted to see Noctis. He stopped by his own apartment to shower and change his clothes because he was probably pretty gross, then made his way to the Prince’s apartment.

He hadn’t told Noctis that he was back, but he’d sent him a quick text to ask what he was up to because he didn’t want to risk barging in if he was with his friends. He wanted to surprise him though, so he quietly let himself in with the key he had for ‘security reasons’.

Noctis was standing on the small balcony overlooking the city below, which meant he hadn’t seen him walk in. Cor silently closed the distance between them before speaking up.

And he’s warping down the hall. “At least I’m not the height of a fourth grader.”

“Oh you are going to regret that.” He snarls.

“What’s wrong your highness you can’t handle this? Make you all weak in the knees? It could be yours for the right price”.