#hellionholidays

“I’m not hopeless, asshole. I know how to boil an egg,” the prince had said after Nyx did an overexaggerated double take to tease him. Granted, Noctis ended up overcooking the egg but Nyx isn’t allowed to mention that ever again.

Noctis never stops by without telling Nyx prior. The few times Nyx came home surprised at the company were times he was stuck with late night guard duty. Times where Noctis was too caught up in his own head. Times where he was drowning in crippling thoughts and anxiety that made it hard for him to sleep. Otherwise, Nyx is never surprised and always knows what to expect.

At least he thought he did.

“Um, Noct?”

Noctis looks up at him from his spot on the floor with all the clueless innocence of a child. He’s sat in the center of Nyx’s apartment, legs bunched to his chest, phone in hand. Typical, normal Noct things. Except for the mess of glittering white lights he’s tangled in.

Wait, Nyx quickly realizes it’s not a mess of lights per se. It’s a deliberate mess. One string drapes over his shoulders, wrapping neat around his arms all the way down to his wrists. More are around his torso and legs, from his knees to his ankles till the rest piles at his feet. Not the oddest thing. Yet, also one of the last things he expects to come home to. Nyx closes the door behind him and tilts his head. A brow arches as he waits for an explanation, but he can’t help grinning at his—quite literally—shining prince.

“Hi.” Noctis cracks a sheepish smile. The glow of lights isn’t enough to hide the subtle blush in his cheeks.

“Hi. Watcha doing there?”

“You know… just hanging out.”

“Uh-huh,” Nyx nods, “and the lights?”

“It looked like it’d make a good aesthetic shot.” Noctis looks down to his socks and curls his toes among the clutter of lights. Nyx notices the camera open on his phone. “Thought about sending it to Prompto.”

Nyx recalls that the socks themselves happened to be a gift from Prompto. Black with red at the heel and toes. Adorned with snowflakes around the head of a cartoon Chocobo that wears a holiday scarf.

“You wrapped more than half of your body in lights for an aesthetically pleasing picture of your socks?”

“Yep.”

Nyx chuckles and shrugs off the coat of his uniform to toss it onto the couch, stepping around Noctis to sit next to him. “Alright then. Don’t let me stop you from honing your photography skills.”

“I have none.” Noctis readies his phone and hunches over his knees again.

Nyx leans in close to rest his head on Noct’s shoulders, watching him fiddle with camera for the perfect focus. “Don’t be modest. You’re taking this shot so seriously. Prompto would be proud of you.”

Noctis laughs as he takes the photo and prods an elbow into Nyx’s side. “Shut up.”

“You never fully answered my question, by the way. Pictures and aesthetic aside, what’s with the lights?”

Noctis sets his phone down and rests his head against Nyx’s. “Just extras from my place. I put them up every winter. My dad used to help me with it when I was a kid. When he couldn’t anymore, Iggy or Gladio did… but, um, I was putting them up earlier and I thought they’d look nice in here.”

Nyx lifts his head to look over the lights again. The warm, flickering glow reminds him a little of home. Selena was always eager to decorate around the winter holidays and he was the one she pestered about putting up lights. He remembers her mentioning every year she loved how cozy they made their home feel. Though, Nyx never expected to feel a similar coziness again once he left Galahd. Certainly not around this time of year.

Nyx pinches at one of the small bulbs from Noct’s arm with a thoughtful hum. “They do add a nice touch to the place.”

“I know you never really decorate for any holidays, but-”

“First time for everything, right?”

There’s uncertainty in the Prince’s eyes when they meet his own. Nyx has seen it so many times before. He knows it means Noctis is regretting bringing the idea up. Fearing it was stupid or pointless to in the first place. So, Nyx smiles to reassure him it isn't, bright and warm as the lights Noctis wrapped himself in. True, he never bothered to decorate for anything in all his years residing in Insomnia. Not even when it was his turn to host the small holiday get togethers for the glaives. It’s not that he minds the idea or purposely abstains from it.

In truth, Nyx never gets around to it because no one pushes him to anymore. Selena isn’t here to urge him about lights. His mother isn’t here to ask him to pull out handmade, Galahdian styled wreaths from the top shelf of a small storage closet. Libertus and Crowe haven’t waged their classic tinsel war in years. Decorating for the holidays just didn’t hold any significance. Not in the city that would toss him out if he wasn’t such a key asset to its peace.

This time it feels different, though. This time there’s Noctis. Noctis, who Nyx has surrendered his hear to in the past year they’ve been together. Noctis, who’s somehow made this less-than-mediocre apartment feel like their own little haven. Noctis, who’s now the next person in Nyx’s life to make something as simple as decorating significant. There’s no reason not to. Especially since Noctis fucking wrapped himself in string lights for aesthetic.

Noctis averts his eyes down to his lap and tries to hide an embarrassed smile. “I should’ve asked before I brought these over. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Nyx rolls his eyes and traps Noctis in his arms, getting a yelp out of him as he pulls them both down to the floor. Nyx lies flat on his back, squeezing Noctis close to his chest while he kisses the side of his head.

“Babe.” he runs his hands down Noct’s sides to mess with the tiny light bulbs. “I can’t get these lights up if you don’t stop wearing them.”

Noctis bites back a fit of giggles under Nyx’s wandering hands, reaching to grab them. “In my defense…” he tilts his head against Nyx’s chest and looks up at him, “you were never supposed to see me like this.”

“Add more lights and I won’t. You’ll blind me.”

Noctis wriggles in Nyx’s hold, maneuvering onto his stomach to properly face him. That sight right there, the twinkle in the Prince’s eyes framed by the shadow of his bangs. The slow curve of his lips highlighted by the glow between them. Nyx swears that could blind him, too.

“Do you think… while we put these up you could tell me what the winter holidays are like back in Galahd? I liked hearing all those stories about the fall traditions. The festivals, the bonfires… and gods the food at the markets! And-” He blushes as soon as he notices Nyx’s amused smirk and hides his face in the glaive’s chest, peeking at him with one eye. “Sorry. I-”

Nyx shakes his head and brushes a thumb along Noct’s illuminated cheek. “Don’t be. I’m chalk full of stories for you.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Never.” He gives Noct’s back a pat and starts to sit up. “Come on. As much as I like this new look of yours, we need these. Then I’ll enlighten you all on my own.”

Noctis snorts at the pun and starts slipping off the lights around his shoulders.

And for the rest of the night, they talk. Nyx does most of it at first while Noctis listens and asks him questions about Galahd. Once the lights are up, Nyx drags his prince into a dopey, clumsy slow dance with nothing but the hum of his voice. It’s for no real reason other than how gorgeous he claims Noctis looks beneath the tinge of lights around them.

Later, they warm themselves from the drafty chill of the apartment with steaming mugs cocoa. The night ends with Noctis curling close to his glaive’s side in bed.

“Thank you,” Nyx whispers to him, placing a tender kiss to his forehead as he pulls a blanket over them both. Thank you for making this place feel a little homier. Thank you for coming into my life. I love you. Gods, I love you so much.

Unfortunately, others in the group weren't as well versed, or nearly as tactful. “Out with it.” The glare Ignis shot their newest companion could have been daggers, for all the annoyance he held back. While the man was the son of the King’s Shield and would be a benefit in battle, he knew little of the world outside the walls of Insomnia. “So, are ya gonna explain?”

“Since Mr. Amicitia insists I be frank, I shall humor his request.”

“My names Gladio…” He corrected.

“Mr. Amicitia, may I give you valuable advice that may come in handy throughout your lifetime. When it comes to some situations, at times subtly is far better than running headlong without thought.” Hearing the man huff, he brought his attention back to Noctis and shook his head lightly. “I know you are confused, you have been brought to a time and place that is not your own. So I must be the bearer of bad news, your highness. While a temple may have stood there at one time, I am confident nothing exists there but ruins of forgotten wars.”

Nyx, who had only been listening up until now, regarded the blonde of their group as he bounced around the Hammerhead store. Prompto had been sent in to gather the supplies that Noctis had requested on their arrival at the small outpost, while he and Ignis tried to figure out where they were going based off information that was outdated by a few millennia. Observing their companion making his way up to the counter, Nyx glanced over at them before crossing the few steps that separated him from the map and checked the location as well.

“It’s been two thousand years, Ignis. If Noctis says it’s there, it’s there. After all, the King told us to take him where he wanted to go. That is where he wants to go.” Pulling his eyes away, Nyx glanced back at Prompto as he came out of the store, bag in hand. “Did you get everything Noctis asked for?”

“Yep!” His chipper voice echoed under the metal roofing that provided shelter for the gas pumps. Setting the bag in the front seat, Prompto glanced at the prince. “Well, for the most part. Um, they didn’t have candles.”

“We will have to make due,” Noctis answered, bestowing the man with a gentle smile. “After all, if what Ignis says is true, we may find no altar to place them upon.”

Briskly nodding, Prompto paused and gave them a look of confusion. “Huh? So where are we going then?”

“I believe we are off to Keycatrich Ruins,” Ignis replied as he grabbed the map, slowly folding it into a precise rectangle before depositing it into his leather pouch. “If the prince’s recollection is accurate, it seems a temple to the Archaeon once stood upon that spot.”

“Oh cool!” Hopping into the back with Nyx and Noctis, Prompto grabbed the seat in front of him and hauled himself closer to Ignis so the man could hear him. “You know dude; it kinda makes sense?”

“It makes sense, how?”

“Well,” Dragging out the word for a moment, he plopped back into his seat. “I mean think about it. We go on many hunts and always run into those strange buildings that are locked. The um, what were they called?”

Gladio glanced back and smirked. “The Tomb of the Ancient Kings, in general. Usually, each tomb has its own name, after the King who’s buried there.”

“Yeah, those,” Thinking for a moment, Prompto fiddled with his hair. “well it seems like everytime we find one there is something really important near it. But then we go to others, there's like, nothing. So, ya know, maybe at one time there was something important but it’s been destroyed.”

“I, well, yes.” Ignis stuttered, meeting Nyx’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “I believe our little sharpshooter has a valid point.” Nyx could only nod in agreement as they pulled out of the gas station and they made their way to the Prairie Outpost.

A few hours, a bit of rock climbing, and five complaints later the small band stood upon the hill that rose above the ruins. Before them stood a statue in ruins, a building lay close beside it in equal disrepair with another building set further back in a field. Noctis stood there, face pensive, his lips pressed into a thin line as he took the sight in.

Ignis, having never been there, looking concerned. “Noct, is this what you sought?”

A slow nod was his reply as the prince started walking towards the ruins that were set further back. As he did, Noctis motioned to the monument to his left. “He, the statue… was the Keeper of the Landforger. Protector of the Temple of the Archaeon, the first Priest of Titan.” The grass and leaves crunched underfoot as they pushed through the overgrown brush that had flourished since the area had been abandoned. “I remember, back in my time, people would travel for days to reach the temple. There were thousands of tents covering the valley below, their bonfires and torches lighting up the night. The celebrations would last for a week, but it was the equinox that we paid worship to him. When the light of day was equal to that of night, we would come here and honor the God of the Earth.”

“Never heard of a celebration for Titan.” Gladio pushed back a few branches, permitting the group to pass as amber eyes looked over the rubble. “My dad recounted the old stories to me, but none of what you’re saying came up. They are known as the slumbering gods now, and we do worship them, but not like you say.”

“It’s a shame.”

The shield seemed agitated as he released the branches. “What, that we don’t live how you lived? Sorry if we don’t meet your expectations, your highness, but this is who we are now. Ever since you woke up you’ve been judging us, and how we live our lives. Well, our bad, but lot's changed since you decided to take your little nap. Welcome to the future.”

Noctis paused, glancing back at Gladiolus. He beheld the man with, what seemed to be, a sense of disapproval. Yet, upon closer inspections, it was simply a look of sorrow. “While I respect your bravado when it comes to your kingdom, you are correct. Time does indeed change many things. I do not look down on your people for how they are, it’s merely a shame that so much has been lost to time…” Turning, he started to walk again, “and to lies.”

The remaining walk was spent in silence as all reflected on the spoken words of the prince. In many ways, it was hard for all of them to comprehend where Noctis was coming from. While the four of them were of different nationalities, backgrounds, and beliefs they knew of the world around them. They could understand one another.

Noctis was at a disadvantage; he’d been flung over two millennia into the future. Not only did he have to deal with the stark reality of a kingdom, he’d once been destined to rule, very much changed. But of countries, beliefs, and languages he’d never knew existed. Without speaking, all of them accepted they would have to give the man a bit of leeway. After all, any information that was given, even information thousands of years old; was something that could be used.

Pulled from his thoughts as Noctis quickened his step, Nyx hurried to catch up. “Hey now, little prince. What’s the rush?”

“This is it, the seat of the Archaeon!” What formerly was a stately temple, was now little more than a pile of rubble and brush surrounding a single stone room that was roughly two tents wide. He turned to look at Nyx, the excitement in his actions obvious. “What I anticipated lost, remains below!”

“Remains below?” The questioning in Ignis’ voice must have caught Noct’s attention as he looked over and nodded. “Are you saying, the temple is below us?”

An amused expression crossed his features, a light laugh pulled from his lips. “He is the God of the Earth. Where do you think we would worship him,” Motioning up at the stars that had begun to show above, he arched a brow. “the sky?”

While Ignis took that in and realized that, yes, it was indeed logical. Gladio had pushed past the group, a large broadsword appearing in his hands. “Stands back, I’ll clear the door for you.”

Doing as asked, Noctis bowed his head. “Thank you, Gladiolus.”

The man nodded, using his weapon and brute strength to clear the entrance within a matter of minutes. “It’s dark. Daemons?”

“Impossible,” The prince walked over and looked within. “this area is Astral bound, holy earth. Blessed by the Goddess of our star, Eos and her sister the Goddess of Death, Etro. No evil can pass through or desecrate such a place.”

“So in short, were safe?”

Glancing up at the Gladio’s comment, Noctis affirmed his words as a smile ghosted his lips. “We are safe. Though I cannot promise so outside of this building. Much has been lost to time, so the seat of the Archaeon may be all that is left protected.”

As they entered the narrow room, Prompto looked back, noting the sun would be setting soon. “Hey um, guys? This took longer than we thought. If we are gonna make it back, we should leave soon.” But the others didn’t seem to share his concern, more interested in the small staircase leading downwards near the back of the room.

“Recommendation?” All looked at Gladio. “Don’t mind staying here if you know it’s protected. Still, I would feel a hell of a lot better if we check the area first. Any sign of daemons, we hightail it back to the outpost.”

“Agreed Gladio,” Motioning to Prompto, Ignis held out a hand. “I believe a bit of illumination is in order.”

“Yeah, totally.” Pulling out a few extra flashlights, they forged their way down the old stone steps that seemed never-ending. “Wow, how deep does this go? Stairs they go on, forever they go on. On and on and on. ♪”

“Prompto, honestly.” While Ignis sounded annoyed, Nyx couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as Gladio shook his head. Reaching the bottom, Noctis felt a hand on his shoulder holding him back. “Allow Gladiolus and Nyx to check the area first, just to be safe.”

Staying by his side, the prince glanced around and took in what little he could see with the light present. “It seems the old torches still reside, can we light them?”

“Yeah, I don’t see any daemons. Normally a place like this would be a breeding ground.” Making his way back over, Nyx looked at Noctis. “We have to make a fire, I can go back up? Grab some of the brush and dead branches that we passed?”

“If you would Nyx, and Gladiolus can you assist him?” The man nodded as both made their way back up, leaving Noctis, Prompto, and Ignis down in the darkened room. “How long has he sat in this endless night? In my day the torches and candles of worship would have set this place alight. He has truly been forgotten.”

“Not forgotten, as you were told by the King of Lucis upon awakening. He saved us from a cataclysmic meteor that would have destroyed Eos. Titan now sleeps within the Disc of Cauthess, that meteor still sitting upon his mighty shoulders. Those of Duscae think highly of him and worship him for his deeds.” Acknowledging his words, their attention was once again pulled to the stairs as their companions approached once again.

Gladio and Nyx set up the fire to the left of the stairs and lit it. While it didn’t brighten the room up in its entirety, tones of yellow, brown and orange began to shimmer in the darkness. The group was quick to gather any torches that remained, lighting them, before setting them back into the holders along the wall. As the light in the room grew, so did the details carved into the walls. Ancient symbols were written in the astral language, words of protection and prophecy. Great carvings cut into the very stone of the walls, and jewels in varying shades placed with care into the sculptures.

It was exquisite to behold, and the prince couldn't help but catch his breath when he saw what remained at the end of the room. The altar was carved from the same rock as the room, six pillars encircling it, standing taller than any man present. Each was carved from a precious stone, to represent the Six who watched over them. They noted the foremost one was of golden-yellow, representing Titan, himself.

“My word,” Ignis let out a quick breath, eyes locked on the beauty of it. “would you look at that?”

“Now that is amazing, dude. I have to get some pictures, am I allowed to do that?”

“Damn, to think all of this has just been sitting here.” Gladio glanced at Nyx as he spoke. “Thousands of years and we never even knew.”

“Yeah, and to think there are five more just like this somewhere out there.” He responded, looking at Noctis who had moved over to the packs they had been carrying. “Are you ok?”

“Yes, but there is a great deal to prepare. I must cook the ceremonial drink, make an offering and complete the ceremony of blessing before the sun rises once again.”

Kneeling down beside him, Nyx placed a hand on his shoulder which made the man glance up at him. “I got ya, but you’re not alone. The King asked us to bring you here, so let us assist you, ok?” Those words compelled the prince to relax as he nodded lightly. “Iggy’s one of the best cooks out there. He can assist you with the drink. What do you need for the blessing?”

“You wouldn’t understand…” Nyx tender hand cupping his face stopping his words as their eyes met.

“Try me.”

Biting his lip for a moment, Noctis nodded and let out a breath. “Dirt.”

“Dirt?” Gladio snorted, finally tearing his eyes away from the beauty of the place to look at them.

“Dirt.” The word was repeated as he sat back on his heels. “You must give what is most precious to you. A farmer must give from his fields, a blacksmith, from his metal. But I am…” Breathing out, dark eyes glanced over at the altar. “I am nevertheless a Lucis Caelum. I descend from the blood of the crystal that lights the world and will never die. What can we give?” He looked past Nyx to meet Gladio’s eyes. “We devote all we are to our people. So it is our land and our blood that we hold precious, it’s all we possess.”

“Fucking hell.” Nyx stood up, shaking his head as he smirked. “I get ya, little prince.”

“Wait, hold on. What do you get?” Nyx glanced over at Gladio as well. “You seem to understand this kid, so why don’t you clue in the rest of us?”

“Look, I don’t know if he got it from us, or we got it from them. What can a tribe give when all they hold dear is the land below their feet and people they protect? Blood and soil.” Gladio’s mouth opened, then closed as the words sunk in. “Nothing is more precious than the blood that runs through your veins and the lands you protect. Gotta remember, Gladio. You’re playing by rules that are over two thousand years old when dealing with him. Times have changed, but I would think you still comprehend the concept of honor?”

“Of course I do!”

Patting his shoulder, Nyx started for the stairs. “Good. Iggy help him with whatever it is he needs to cook up. I need to get some soil.”

By the time Nyx returned, the scene before him had changed. The sleeping bags had been laid out around the fire, and a collapsible cooking spit set over the fire. Prompto sat beside Gladio on one of the beds, flipping through the pictures he’d taken, after securing Noctis’ permission. The prince and Ignis kneeled beside the two metal pots as they spoke quietly. The smell of roasted stew mixed with the cloves, berries, and oranges of the spiced drink hit the hunter as his stomach growled.

“Hungry?”

“For your cooking, always Iggy.” Nyx made his way over to the prince, setting a cloth pouch tied off with string beside him. “Dirt. Hope you appreciate what I do for you,” His eyes went to Ignis, “and why is the bedding out?”

“Ah yes.” Motioning to the men around him, Ignis went back to stirring the stew. “We spoke during your absence. It seems that Noctis is quite right, and daemon cannot enter here. The majority ruled, and we have decided it would be most efficient to camp down here for the evening.”

“Majority meaning all of you and I don’t get a say, huh?” His words were teasing, and his friend simply brushed them off. Looking around once again, Nyx nodded and sat down on his bedroll. “Well it’s a good plan, and no one comes out here so we should be left alone.”

Soon the smell of food permeated the air, and all of them had moved a bit closer to the fire, awaiting the meal that had been prepared. Noctis helped by dishing out the soup as Ignis pulled out some bread Prompto had picked up in Hammerhead. Once everyone had some, the room fell silent, only the happy sounds of munching could be heard.

“Hey, Noct?” Scooting a little closer, the blonde grinned up at him as Noctis shoved another spoonful of soup into his mouth. “So that drink you made? When do we try it?”

Swallowing, he sat the spoon in his bowl. “It is a special drink that is given before one performs the blessing ceremony to Titan. Are you asking to complete the rite alongside me?”

“Um, sure dude why not!” Seeing that he hadn’t been expecting that answer, the prince let out a laugh. “What? I mean, can you like even do it alone?”

“While it is uncommon, yes you can. Giving the situation, I believe the Archaeon would recognize my position and forgive me. Anyway, you would have to provide an offering.”

“Oh! Can do, buddy!” Yanking his bag over, the blond pulled out a packet. “So like, I guess my thing is pictures. It helps me remember stuff, so I can give him one of those.” There was uncertainty in his eyes as those oddly colored violet-blue orbs met the princes. “I mean, do you think he’d like it?”

Noctis teared up, coughing as he looked down at his bowl for a moment. “I think Titan would find it appropriate.” The words were whispered, but his appreciation was clear as he glanced back up. “The very fact that you wish to learn my ways, I… thank you, Prompto.”

In the end, all four had decided to complete the rite with the prince, seeing how important it was to him. Each finding something of themselves they could offer up to the Astral. Now they stood close to the fire as Noctis finished up the explanation of how the ritual would proceed. “I am no Priest of Titan, but I will perform the rite as well as I can.” Handing each a cup, he filled it with the hot liquid. “Please, do not drink until the time has come. Just do as I do, as I have instructed you.”

Ignis looked at the other three, then nodded. “Understood, we trust you Noctis.”

Bowing his head, Noctis made his way to the altar of Titan as the other four remained a few feet behind him. They stood there quietly when suddenly one of the most lovely tenors Nyx had ever heard exited the man's lips and echoed through the chamber. It created a reverberation within the room that was one of the oddest sounds the man had heard in his life. Orange, yellow and brown gems within the walls pulsed with power. The room glowing bright and dim as Noctis continued the song that had no words, and yet seemed to speak volumes. Then the trembling came, it wasn’t a violent crash but a gentle rocking that seemed to sweep through the room then recede.

“Nu mañ vaju jachu fax chadañ!”

The deep voice seemed to come from everywhere, and yet there was no presence other than the five of them. Looking upon the altar, Noctis held the cup up with both hands. “It is I, Noctis Lucis Caelum. First son of Regis Lucis Caelum, the Third King of Lucis. Blessed of Shiva, Beholden to the Goddess Etro, who reigns over life and death.” A rumbling occurred once again as the four looked at one another, but the Prince didn’t falter in his words. “Chosen of the crystal to become the King of Kings, that our light may forever shine and see the scourge, and the accursed be abated!” His words were greeted with silence, dark eyes closing. “I have come seeking your blessing upon the fall equinox, as all of my blood have done since the rise of Solheim. Will you accept?”

It seemed as if they were holding their breath, the stones around them continuing to pulse with power. But it was the silence that reigned.

“Noctis.” Nyx went to move, an odd feeling filling him, telling him that he should be at the man's side. Seeing the prince shake his head, Nyx stayed where he was.

“I have done all you urged.” His words were a whisper, but the room amplified them. “I know I have failed once, and the Gods saw fit to take all I knew away!” Noct’s voice hitched, eyes squeezing closed. “I have nothing left but the prophecy that the Gods placed upon my shoulders as a child. I will fulfill my calling, but you must have faith in me!”

Once again there was silence, and then a rumbling. “Gud…”

Letting out a shaky sigh of relief, Noctis nodded and drank from the cup in his hands. The other four did as well. “God of Earth, Archaeon, mighty Landforger. I beseech you to recognize this offering for it is all I am and all I will ever be.” Setting the dirt on the altar, he opened up the cloth it had been wrapped in, then grabbed his knife. “The land that I preserve, the people that I have been sworn to safeguard.” Wrapping his hand around the blade, he pulled quickly as blood flowed from his closed fist onto the dirt. “The blood of my line, the name of Lucis Caelum that was granted to us by the crystal. This I give to thee, Titan Lord of the Lands.”

Bowing, he stepped back as the others went up to the altar and uttered their names. They, also, left their gifts but Nyx seemed more concerned with Noctis than trying to win over an Astral's favor.

As they made their way back to the fire, Nyx held out a hand. “Let me see the wound.”

“I’m fine.” Noctis seemed tired, drained now that the rite had been concluded.

“That wasn’t what I said, or even asked.” Hauling him over to their camp, Nyx pushed the prince down onto his bedroll and rummaged through his bag. Grabbing a potion, he saw Noctis shake his head. “Let. Me. Help. You.” When it was obvious the prince wouldn’t oppose him further, Nyx started to clean the blood away. “So, wanna explain all that?”

“Not really."

"Fine, then suffer in silence." That got Nyx a look, but the younger man soon gave in.

"Some Gods are harder to convince than others. Due to what occurred before I… slept, It is obvious a few may feel my failures are not yet forgiven. They may not be as willing to speak or recognize my words.”

“Fuck em.” Noctis hissed as the hunter pressed the cloth against the cut. “You do what you need to do, don’t let them hold you to some higher standard. You’re never going to please a god, and you’re smart enough to know what has to be done. Anyway, the King asked us you help you out for a while… and until he says otherwise I plan on doing that. Not that I needed a great deal of convincing, it’s obvious that you need someone to watch over you.”

“Do I?” He was amused, and a bit flatter as well. Not that he would admit the last. “Your concern and continued help are appreciated, Nyx Ulric.”

“Good. You’re stuck with me, little prince.” Seeing that the wound was clean, Nyx poured a bit of the potion onto a fresh rag and pressed it to the wound. “Stop hurting yourself to make them happy. Understood?” Hearing a light yawn, Nyx glanced over at Noctis as he nodded.

Moving a bit closer, the prince curled up against his side as Nyx continued to clean the myriad of cuts on his palm and fingers. “I hear your words, and shall follow if you wish it.”

“Stubborn brat.” Taking his time to wrap each cut, Nyx allowed Noctis to fall asleep against him.

Nyx village laid on the opposite side of the island. It was far from the noise and vibrancy of, what many considered, a tourist town and Noctis couldn’t help but be grateful. The holiday decorations that covered the homes here were subtle, yet more heartfelt. Sprigs of an evergreen mounted across doorways and wrapped around windows. Family colors hung from the branches or laid entwined among the greenery as ribbons and colored beads caught the light. Doors remained open in welcome, despite the chill in the air, as the fire's heat poured out onto the narrow streets and people came and went.

Noctis took this all in, dark azure eyes were hidden by equally dark fringe, peaking in the homes and watching the ensuing chaos that came with it. A few villagers had stopped them, greeting Nyx, and welcoming him home for the holidays. He’d found dried fruits and warm drinks pressed into his hands, making Prompto giggle as Ignis commented on the friendliness of the villagers. Throughout the walk, the Lucian Prince had remained silent, minus a few whispered words of thanks. It was understandable, Nyx knew that the Galahd Noctis expected and the one he saw was different, so he let the man soak it in. If he had questions, they would come in time.

When they had made it to his home, his mother had greeted them with surprise at seeing her son, but joy, nonetheless. Hours later, after she’d fussed and filled their stomachs with rich stews and warm drinks. After she had straightened up the few extra rooms, with Ignis’ help, despite her scoldings and insistence that he rested. And they had agreed on the sleeping arrangements, finally feeling at ease with their surroundings. Once the others had laid down, and he had placed a tender kiss on his mother's forehead as she made her way to her room; that was when he’d grabbed a fire-warmed blanket and gone looking for the prince who’d slipped out at some point. It hadn’t taken long for Nyx to locate him beyond the house, standing on a hill that overlooked the ocean.

Wrapping the blanket around his shoulders, they both stood there silently for a time as Noctis pulled the warmed material closer. “... Den her helligdag?” His words were breathy and soft, kept low, cautious. Perhaps he was afraid someone would overhear them, question the language he spoke, and Nyx could understand why.

Noctis had habitually spoken in Nyx ancestral tongue when they were alone, though the Lucian tongue had changed little and he could speak it fluently. In his homeland, they called it the language of the ancients, of the original tribes. A dialect that had slipped through their fingers as time had passed; as Galahd had become part of Lucis and their words became influenced by a foreign kingdom that had formed over the generations. Considered a dead language, it was a part of Lucian history. Studied by those who would recreate the past, as young scholars came seeking primeval relics to prove theories and facts. It was something they taught in the villages of his people, so the newest generations wouldn’t forget where they’d come from. All born on the islands knew it to some extent, and small children used it as a secret language in their games. But, as they grew and found little use to hold onto the old tongue, most had let it slip away.

So, to hear those words spoken fluently, full of confidence and without relent? Well, it had been eye-opening to see. His mother’s tongue had flowed like the rivers of his homeland, calm and serene. Noctis spoke, and the words were likened to waves crashing into the rocky cliffs below. It was awe-inspiring to hear the language of his forefathers spoken as it would be thousands of years ago, and Nyx, well he couldn’t deny the words falling from foreign lips were anything but beautiful…

"Nyx, fortæl mig hvad denne helligdag går ud på?"

Pulled from his thoughts, the hunter turned those words over in his mind and smiled. Somehow with his, somewhat vague, recollection of his childhood studies and Noctis grasping how Galahdian had changed; the two had come to an understanding. “This holiday is the winter solstice. Replying to the question asked. “Didn’t you have anything like this?”

“Similar, but not like this… our focus lay on the Astrals.”

“Ah, I don’t know. I guess it’s more a celebration of Shiva if you want to look at it like that.” He spoke slowly, knowing that like himself, Noctis would have to take in the words to understand his own tongue.

“Shiva?” Lips pressed together into a thin line as dark eyes glanced back to the ocean. “For Shiva?”

“Yeah,” He thought for a moment, of the old stories and tales his father had told him and his sister when they were young. “I know what you’ve told me.” Walking over to a log, he sat and patted the space beside him. With hesitance, Noctis made his way over and sat as well. “When I was a little brat and don’t say anything… believe me, I was a brat.” Nyx saw a hint of a smile as the prince buried his face in the blanket. “I was told stories of Shiva’s wrath and that all of this was done to honor and placate her. Offerings for the winter to be kind, that her ill favor wouldn’t fall on our people.”

His nose scrunched up as those words hit him, tilting his head to meet icy eyes. “Why would Galahd incur her ill will?” To him, it made little sense but he now knew of the histories recorded. The lies that had spread across Eos and Nyx could read it in his eyes.

At times the Lucian came off as cold, unmoved by the world and people he met. But those eyes, like the clear night sky, enveloped in stars. He had marveled at the pure emotions that his eyes alone could hold once he’d learned to read the man. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, but that the world around him was so unfamiliar, he was unsure of the proper way to react. “You know why, due to the fall of Solheim. Ifrit had given the humans fire, knowledge, allowed them to prosper and grow. Then betrayed them, destroyed them. Shiva, who loved the people, cursed Ifrit and his followers… we are the people of Ifrit. Many are superstitious that her wrath will fall on us if we do not show her we regret what Ifrit did.”

“Mm, you are the people of Ifrit.” He repeated the words, thought on them for a time while they sat there. In all honestly, Nyx figured that the conversation between them was over at that point. So when he finally spoke, the hunter had jumped before looking back at him. “Do you believe? Believe that Shiva would do such a thing, that Ifrit did such a thing?”

“I know what you have said, and you were there.” Noctis bit his bottom lip but didn’t look away from Nyx gaze. “I have been raised to believe this my whole life, Noctis. Ifrit, Shiva, the fall and the Astral’s war… it’s in my blood, in the very person I am. So you tell me? Should I believe?”

“No.” Noctis didn't hesitance in his answer, watching as the man, the hunter, the Galahdian beside him relaxed. “Ifrit was honorable, and Shiva benevolent. She would never bring her wrath upon those that her beloved adored.”

Nyx allowed those words to take hold, running them over in his mind. It seemed odd to hear that everything he’d ever thought true, was a lie. At the same time, it brought with it a strange sense of relief. “We should get inside.” Standing, he brushed off his pants and held out a hand for Noctis. Feeling the chilled hand slide into his own, Nyx took his other and placed it on top. “You’re freezing, and it looks like it might rain so we should get in. I guess it’s a good thing we are sharing my old room, won’t wake anyone up.”

“Yes, it seems you desire to keep me close by.” While he’d meant as a comment, Nyx could hear the question lingering below the surface. Noctis’ curiosity, an inclination to understand him as much as Nyx was trying to understand this prince that had become entangled in his life.

But, he didn’t understand his own feelings and knew he wouldn’t be able to explain the whys of what he did. Not now. Not when he was looking at him like that, so he laughed and brushed it off. “You want to know the ironic thing about winter solstice?” He was rambling, avoiding the question he didn’t know answers to. Trying to ignore the warmth inside himself that inevitably pulled him back to the pale beauty before him. “It never snows. I mean, we do get snow a month after but mostly it rains. Shame, we won’t be here long and I haven’t seen much snow since leaving home.”

As the last words left his lips, a drop of water hit his face, but it wasn’t what he’d expected. It was soft, chilly, and melted against his skin before running down his cheek and soaking into his shirt. His eyes shot up, widening as fat white flakes cascaded from the sky at a slow, lazy pace. For a moment he thought he was seeing things, it hadn’t been cold enough for snow. Yet there was a sudden drop in the temperature, and he could feel the chill run through him.

“Snow.”

Nyx turned on the smaller male, mouth opening and closing a few times as tried to properly form the words he wanted to say. “Did you do this? Shiva, she saved your life, right? Did you ask her to do this?”

“Do you see Shiva?” Nyx gaze fell to the little smile playing at the corner of Noctis’ lips. “It must be a change in weather patterns.”

Nyx shook his head, knowing he wouldn’t get anything but that from the man. Watching the snow reminded him of stars tumbling from the sky, and he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. A puff of white, foggy air, left him as Nyx continued to stare in awe at the puffy flakes. “Thank you.” He barely registered the whispered ‘you’re welcome’, as Noctis took his hand and moved closer to his side.

By morning the ground was pure white with a good foot of snow. The clouds above continuing to drop soft fat flakes throughout the day into the following night in a slow, but a steady storm. A fire burned throughout, keeping the house warm as Prompto dragged Ignis outside and played with the other children that had gathered. Gladio took it as the time to catch up on the book he'd been wanting to read, and Nyx and Noctis? They sat side by side, sipping on warm spiced teas and continued to watch the snowfall.

-

He’d made it so much more complicated than it needed to be. He’d been so afraid to show himself from behind the shadow of his name. It was all he had ever wanted, all he had ever begged for to the phantom deities that kept him company in his dreams. But he’d never been brave enough or strong enough to take it for himself in the morning. When he awoke, it was always to an empty room, too big for one person. It was always to silence and cold – no matter the state-of-the-art systems, no matter the season.

All he ever wanted was a companion. All he’d ever wanted was his father to smooth a warm hand against his face when he couldn’t sleep and to be there when he woke up to know he didn’t abandon him to the daemons during the night. All he’d ever wanted was a friend, was Ignis, for a long time. A pillow for all of his aches, a tissue for all of his tears when the scars hurt too much, a confessional for fears even scarier than the Marilith and the MTs – fears of whether or not his father still loved him, fears that the world he’d wanted to explore so badly wanted to hurt him, fears that no one would want to be his friend if he couldn’t stand up to play with them.

Beds had been his nightmare. They were supposed to be his haven.

He would try to sleep anywhere but in bed once he had his own place. Even though the apartment was smaller than his suite at the Citadel, the bed still felt too big. Too lonely. And he craved an intimacy he couldn’t find the courage to ask of anyone. Not Ignis, not Gladio, not Prompto. They already did so much for him. He couldn’t ask them for any more.

He wanted a guardian, and he knew he was too old to be so scared of his nightmares that he couldn’t sleep alone.

It had been winter when he asked a stranger in the hallway to sleep with him.

Just next to him.

Just sit with him until he fell asleep.

Just stay with him long enough to dream.

Never once thinking it would happen again. Or again after that. He slept so well that he would make any excuse to sleepover at the Citadel more than his own apartment.

He knew that it was silly. He knew that they could both be condemned for it, in one way or another. But it was all he wanted. Just a little thing. Little king.

Warm lips grazed his neck. And he heard his voice closer than the distance of time since that first night. It had taken him so much to ask then. Now, it took nothing.

“You’re too far away,” Nyx groused against his throat, the tickle of his scruff a timeless scrape of satisfaction for his skin. “Where are you?”

“A long time ago. Yet, not at all.”

“Is that supposed to be some kind of riddle? I’m a humble foot-soldier, don’t expect too much out of me this early in the morning.”

Noctis smiled, tilting his head to the side so Nyx could kiss where he liked. There was snow on the city. It was framed like a picture in the tiny window. Winter was kinder now than it had been. It was warmer in the little apartment than in his too-big rooms.

And the bed was theirs. Not his. He wasn’t alone when he tried to escape the world each night. He wasn’t scrambling for more covers, wasn’t sweating when they were too much, wasn’t jerking up in the middle of the night and tearing at his hair because he wanted someone to touch him and tell him it was alright, but all he had was his own hands. He wasn’t clawing at the pillows to bury his screams and dry his tears and hugging his knees to his chest to try and make himself too small for the daemons to find.

They couldn’t fit in Nyx’s little hole-in-the-wall underneath the city. They wouldn’t find him in the featureless façade at the fringes of the royal district. And even if they did, there was Nyx, who fought daemons as if they were mere insects, who grinned at the darkness and reined it in hand, who held him through everything without him ever having to ask.

He knew his heart as if it were his own, as if he’d held it in his chest since the beginning of time. Arms folded around him, tanned and inked and scarred and marked by his love. He pressed him so close every time he held him. As if there was always too much space, even when there was none left between them.

“When you’re ready to come back from wherever you are, there will be coffee.”

He ended his long line of scruffy kisses at the hollow of his throat, huffed a hot sigh against his jaw and squeezed him back against his chest in a promise that he would feel him again soon, before climbing out of bed. Even in his absence, it was still warm. It still smelled like him. Smokey with the heat of the magic shared between them, spiced with the exotic flavors of his kitchen, a little woodsy with the remnants of the cologne he sometimes liked to wear just to drive Noctis a little wilder than he could on his own.

Dawn was just cresting over the horizon, a pale, thin blush between the skyscrapers. The sky was still black, dotted with stars, and the city was still alight with the adornments of winter décor. Insomnia was slowly becoming the City of Stars. The more that people returned, the more lights lit up the skyline, the more strings of festive bulbs he saw strung up in the windows, the more lampposts he saw bound up with them.

They used to celebrate Shiva with the lights. The tradition was an ancient one for appeasing the goddess with beautiful lights in exchange for a temperate winter. Ten years of darkness didn’t feel very benevolent though. He’d heard people in the streets saying that the lights were to celebrate just that: light. They’d gone so long without it. The season meant something different to them now.

People were closer than they used to be. He could see that in how quiet the streets were this time of morning. He remembered when the city never slept. He remembered wondering if they were as afraid of the dark as he was. But now, it was quiet. Not a horrible, vacant, empty silence. Just quiet. Soft. Gray and twinkling in the slow spread of light. He felt closer to it now, safer than he used to.

He looked at Nyx in the dawning gloom. Watched how the muscles of his back moved as he reached up into a cupboard for mugs. Watched the scars travel along the movement of his bones. Imagined what else he could do to that skin to try and conquer all those old hurts like he’d done for him, time and time again.

He found Nyx’s coat slung across the end corner of the bed and pulled it to his chest. Warm, rough, deep and dark. He fit his arms through the sleeves, and no matter how much age the Crystal had put him through, or how much his body changed, it was always a size too big. He never wanted to grow into it. He clutched the collar in his hands and pressed it to his mouth, breathing, tasting, closing his eyes and thanking whatever cosmic force had awarded him this decadence.

“There’s a sight I’ll never get tired of.”

Noctis opened his eyes to the molten silver of his stare, low and dark with a devotion that Noctis had never thought he would ever be good enough to deserve. Bared for him, as open to him as Noctis allowed himself to be with him, the tangle of his braids sliding along his naked shoulders.

“Likewise.”

And then there was that smile. The careless crook into his cheek. The roguish lift of his lips that made Noct’s blood set ablaze. Little things that made him feel. He gave him every desire he’d been too afraid to want. He was careful with them, patient, yet amorous. He kissed him like Noctis was everything he’d ever wanted and more. He touched him like he was something beautiful. He made him feel wanted with his smile, with his kiss, with his touch. He made him feel like his name was the only one meant to be drawn from his lips.

And it was his name. His true name. Not his title, not his lineage, not anything but Noct. His little king. Just his. He was “Your Majesty” to everyone but Nyx. Here, he was just himself. And he was loved completely for it. And it was so easy. It was so easy to breathe, so easy to set aside the Crown at the door of Nyx’s apartment. So easy to forget his burdens and just made to feel human in the careful caress of his arms. Made to feel safe and dangerous all at once.

And none of that had changed.

The whole world did, drastically, yet this simple refuge was still the same. It took a little effort, a little time, but it was still theirs. Still made for their voices, their bodies, their love. And yet, it always felt new. He was never sick of it, never wanted anything else that Nyx couldn’t give him. When he thought he’d lost it, when he thought he would never have this happiness, this purity of contentment again… He didn’t like to think about it. Nyx didn’t either.

“Come on, come back. There’s coffee, just like I promised.”

He lifted Noct’s hands, all lost in his over-sized sleeves, and wound his fingers around the warm mug. He swept a hand through his hair to find his eyes. He’d left it long for him. Nyx liked to pull. He liked to tease and tangle and make a mess of it for the whole world to see. There was nothing to hide from now.

Nyx settled beneath the covers, coffee at his lips, and Noctis just watched him for a moment. He found the little speckles of gray in his braids, the ghost of burns along the hollow of his eye that only Noctis could get close enough to see. Only he could remember the differences in his skin. Only he was allowed to know his sacrifices, the depths of his hurts, the details of how he loved him.

“What are you thinking about?” Nyx asked, his hand in his hair, petting along tireless, secret routes that only he would ever know.

“You know.”

He smiled. His smile. Their smile. And he kissed him, coffee and cayenne on his tongue. He always made his hotter. He was always an inferno, always warm to the touch, always hot against his skin, always made his blood boil like it was the first time.

Noctis carefully set his coffee on the little box of a bedside table behind Nyx, keeping his kiss as he moved. Nyx’s arm slid around his back, pressing him to sink against his chest while blindly trying to get his own coffee to safety. Noctis smiled and helped him, sliding a hand along his arm to guide his cup to the table and angle him down to the mattress once it was securely steaming away beside his own mug.

“Did you wake up early just so we would have time for more of this?” Nyx chuckled against his lips.

His hands teased beneath the hem of his coat, encircling Noct’s hips and pulling him flush against him. The lean planes of his abdomen fit into place along his, chest fit to chest, scars old and new kissing as sweetly as they kissed each other.

“Maybe this is your gift,” Noctis intoned, leveling a hooded stare at him. He stretched his arms along the pillows on either side of his head, feeling as lazy and languid and loved as a kitten as Nyx stroked idly down his hips and along his thighs and back up his sides and everywhere he could reach. “Maybe I thought it best not to share it with the whole Citadel when we go back to celebrate later.”

“You’re truly a wise and just king.”

There were gifts to exchange and a feast to indulge and lights to admire when the rest of the city awakened. He had raiment to don and some toasts to make. There would be as much ceremony as there would be reveling, but he didn’t dread it so much as he used to. He wasn’t as afraid to be seen as once upon a time. Still… it was hard to get out of bed nowadays.

Noctis kissed him again… and again… and one more time for good measure, gently squeezing him between his thighs and cradling his head in his arms and trading breathy, coffee sighs for every slow, torturous touch.

“Is this going to be our new tradition?” Nyx gasped quietly when he was allowed to breathe. “Morning of the Feast of Lights, just you and me and coffee?”

“I could get used to that if you can.”

“I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to you.”

He smiled still, smooth and loose and following it with a hand drifting up Noct’s back, cupping his neck, his jaw, thumbing back a lock of hair from along his eye.

Sometimes he was afraid that none of it was real. That he’d felt too good, been touched too much, been so ardently loved that it couldn’t be true. He could never be this complete. He could never be brave enough to let someone venture into the parts of himself he was too afraid to show himself. He was only that young and alone and afraid of himself not that long ago, ten years never felt in between. It had only been little more than a year for him since the first night. A lot had changed in little more than a year. And more was still the same.

Noctis smiled without looking at him, pretending like his balance was entirely dependent on his sight. A wicked notion skated in and out of Nyx’s thoughts, considering if the only way to get him to elaborate was to release his hand and send him flailing off of the fallen tree and into his arms. He smiled at the mental image, but refused to enact it. Betrayal wasn’t his idea of romantic… Though the indignant look of exasperated rage on Noct’s face would definitely be adorable.

“I meant that, um…”

Noct’s brow wrinkled beneath the tousled fall of his bangs, lips pursed behind the blue-and-black plaid pattern of his scarf. He was hiding from something, but Nyx couldn’t tell what it was. Some censure from Nyx for whatever he was asking forgiveness for? As if Nyx could ever refuse him such a thing.

“I’m sorry about Galahd,” Noctis finally said, as careful with his words as he was with his balance. “It sounds like it would be really nice this time of year. And I’m sorry that Insomnia’s so…”

He waved his hand upwards at the divisive ripple of the Wall sneering between the trees, leaves on fire with the autumn chill and so close to convincing Nyx that they were anywhere but Insomnia. Guilt curdled sour in the pit of his stomach though. This time, he did stop walking, giving Noct’s hand a squeeze to warn him before he did so. Noctis gathered his feet beneath him and stood still, arm outstretched to the air in order to hold himself in place.

“I hope you didn’t take my rambling back there as some sort of guilt trip,” Nyx said, framing it in a lighter tone of voice than the seriousness of his thoughts wanted him to.

He’d been talking a lot about home as of late, more than he had any year before. Mostly because he hadn’t had someone asking about it. A couple of his scattered lovers across the years had stuck around long enough and liked him in spite of his heritage enough to be at least a little bit curious. But no one had ever been as voracious with their curiosity as Noctis was.

He would ask one question and Nyx would give him the abridged explanation he’d trained himself to respond with. He’d learned to give just the bare necessities of what someone wanted to know because, if he walked too far back into his memory, he sounded as if he liked Galahd more than Lucis. And many Lucian “patriots” didn’t like that very much.

But Noctis was never content with his rehearsed answers. He always pressed for more in the gentlest, most unobtrusive way, always teasing out a more honest answer, a more heartfelt rendition of his homeland. And he was always so attentive in the way he listened, even when Nyx knew he’d taken the conversation far past his self-made stopping points designed for keeping him in the good graces of his partner. Noctis was a wide, rare avenue for him to travel back along to his childhood, swerving into the skid of every warm memory that knocked him from the present.

Where there were no dangers for Nyx in recounting the fond times of his youth with Noctis, this admission of regret made him worry that the effects of his memories plagued Noctis with a different sort of adversity.

“Listen, Noct, you know that I don’t blame Lucis…”

“Maybe you should.”

He mumbled it, knowing that it was too cruel and untrue of an accusation to make any louder. Noctis winced as if he’d just taken his own fist, reeled it back, and punched himself in the face. He listed to the side and ultimately decided that the ground was stronger footing to stand on for this. He reached his open hand around for Nyx’s, the glaive already prepared with an upturned palm for him to catch onto. Noctis used him as an anchor to jump the little ledge of distance between the tree and the ground, fallen leaves fluttering up from beneath his heels at the impact.

He didn’t let go of Nyx’s hands once he was safe on the ground. He held them a little tighter, in fact. Like he wasn’t anywhere close to being finished falling.

“I mean… Don’t you ever feel like we’re not helping matters by refusing to surrender? We’re the only ones left, and it seems like we’re just making more trouble for the people by not budging an inch. Everyone else in the world is moving on under the Empire. Maybe it’d be safer for everyone if we moved on with them. If we weren’t so stubborn, then maybe… your home wouldn’t be…”

He seemed to realize then that he was walking into a contradiction. Galahd may have not been beaten and burned if Lucis had conceded when Niflheim demanded it, but it would have still ended up the same. They would still be saddled with the same callous ideologies of the Empire that condemned the traditions of the islands – as if they weren’t passed down from a thousand more years of history than Niflheim itself. Their lands would still be reaped for whatever the army could use to strengthen its weapons, their people still abused and manipulated into fighting for a leader that forced their loyalty rather than earned it.

Noctis sighed, fingers weaving idly between Nyx’s. There was a subtle insistence to the movements, a tremor in his pulse that Nyx could feel beneath his palm. Noctis was fidgety by nature. Every little gesture had a different meaning. Nyx could feel his nervousness, his desperation for a merciful wave-off in the barely constrained shiver through his hands.

“Sorry,” he mumbled again. “I just hate that you lost so much and we didn’t do anything to help.”

Nyx had been telling him a lot about autumn on the islands. It was a hard-to-see season in the city, where there were fewer trees to color the passage of time. He’d been telling him about how the autumn season was the festival season, and all the traditions and holidays that the native islanders observed once the vacationers retreated from the coasts.

He’d told him of the big, bountiful harvests from the central farmlands and the pride of the farmers that showed off all their produce at the local fairs. He’d told him a lot about food and tradition, the town-wide pot-lucks, and the bonfires to keep the daemons away with the slow approach of longer nights in the oncoming winter. He told him about carving symbols into squashes to celebrate the lives of those that had passed and inviting their spirits closer to dance in their shadows for one more night. He told him about Galahdian whiskey and wood-carvers, the old weavers and the young bakers.

And the trees. He told him all about how red the trees looked against the slate-blue sea. It took traveling to a whole other district, miles away from the Citadel, to find a park big enough to feel like a forest and with the changing leaves to match. It was a nice and quiet place to breathe and to walk and to think a little too much, in Noct’s case.

“It’s not your fault, alright?” It wasn’t. Not Noct’s. The debate over Lucis’s culpability was a long and bitter one that Nyx never knew which side he stood on. Neither side was Noctis. “We lost a lot, but not everything, okay? And besides, I know that I’ve gotten more than enough to make up for anything I’m missing.”

“Goddamn sweet talker,” Noctis grumbled.

His fingers smoothed up and under Nyx’s arms to pull himself against his chest, pressing his face between the open collar flaps of his jacket. It wasn’t a concession, but a retreat. Nyx knew that he hadn’t convinced him against feeling ashamed of his own countrymen. He knew that Noctis would always carry his own quiet seed of doubt about the state of the world and his part in it. It wasn’t a thought he wanted to let spoil the sentimental peace of their day.

He squeezed Noctis between his arms and teased his fingers through the ends of his hair. He tapped a chastising finger against the back of his neck. “Maybe keep that thought to yourself at dinner?”

Noctis snorted. “I promise not to ruin your holiday with politics. I’m sure just showing my face will be enough to spoil the party.”

Nyx tugged on a lock of his hair, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make Noctis yelp in surprise and lift his head with a wary glare.

“Don’t talk like that,” Nyx ordered. “I invited you, they’ve had plenty of time to get used to it, and they’re going to be on their best behavior. You be on yours, I’ll be on mine, and everything will be fine.”

“Since when are you this optimistic?”

“Since I love you.”

Sometimes, Noctis still looked surprised when he said it. Sometimes, he still blinked like he’d just woken up from a dream. Sometimes, he was still slow to smile and soften and trust that he meant it. He didn’t say it too often in words – he felt that over-use diminished the value of them – so that when he really needed them, when he really needed Noctis to know that he loved him for more than the faults that he presumed to carry himself, he would hear him.

Nyx cupped his face and kissed his head where the Crown was constantly pressing down. “Everything’ll be fine. Just praise Libs’s cooking and you’ll be a member of the family in no time.”

“All I have to do is kiss ass, huh?” Noctis snorted. “I’ve got plenty of practice with that.”

---

His arm was purpling worse than the beetroot in the pot with how many times Crowe punched it. He truly didn’t believe that he deserved half of them, but he supposed he had to trust her objectivity on this one. Gods, when did she go growing up and being the adult of the family?

It was hard. He knew that it would be and everyone else knew that it would be hard for him, too. Which was why Nyx had given him plenty of time to prepare and cope and work through any issues he might have about it in time for the party. He thought he’d been doing pretty good…

Right up until the day arrived.

He’d been coaching and coercing himself into believing he could look at Noctis and not see the Crown. He was just another guest and Libertus had to do his gran proud by making good company and better food for him. Granny Ostium always said that once a person passed the threshold of your home, they left everything at the door. They left their roles, their politics, their demons, everything in the foyer with their coats and their bags and their boots.

He must not have been appealing to his old bat’s philosophies because Crowe’s punches were starting to feel far too personal. It also didn’t help that he didn’t have a foyer to leave all that shit in.

They were having the party at Malbo Smul’s because it was just more convenient that way. And it was more like what they used to do back home. The local restauranteurs and bartenders would open their doors to the streets and there wouldn’t be a soul without a seat to enjoy a hot meal in the bite of autumn wind coming in with the tides.

For most of the evening, Libertus used the grills and the ovens and all the other ancient appliances behind Yama’s bar to lure him into illusions of home. If he just kept his eyes on the cutting board, he could just listen to the familiar noises of home. He could hear the hollow pats of the drums from the steps of each apartment where squatting percussionists raced their palms across taut canvas. He could hear the whoops and cheers spreading throughout the whole district as drinks were downed and games were played. He could hear Crowe jeering someone – probably Pelna – past their limit, and Tredd speaking slurred Cavaughnese to a group of listeners drunk enough to actually understand him, and the clatter of plates and cups as Luche kept the tables clear for even more food to touch down.

And he could always pick out Nyx’s voice from the raucous revels. Which ended up being less of a virtue than it used to be on this particular evening. He tuned in too quickly to the gruff Galahdian translations to forget that there was someone beside him who needed the dictionary. He glanced up too often to pretend like he couldn’t see the Lucian-black shadow huddled to his side.

Libertus found himself caught between two feelings: a justified anger at watching royalty pretend at repentance by standing amidst a people whom their negligence had cost an entire culture, and a more personal, possessive jealousy at seeing his spot at Nyx’s side occupied by another.

It was so pre-school, he knew that. It was like sulking over a toy that he was being forced to share when he wanted it all to himself. Crowe’s unsubtle punishments throughout the evening told him just how harsh of a picture he was making. He knew that he deserved it. He knew that he was being stupid, that he was disgracing the values imparted to him by his family, and spoiling the festivities for himself by narrowing his view to one person.

He was missing all the color to the district, all the lanterns and torches and strings of fiery orange lights to imitate autumn leaves. He was missing the candles in all the windows in place of bonfires. He was missing the nostalgic fashion of the season on all the passersby, adorned with beaded accessories and symbols of their old customs.

He was wasting all the flavors of the food by letting them sour in his stomach with his distaste for the Prince and his false platitudes and his pretend smile and his expensive clothes with the blood of their homeland on the price-tags and…

“Um, hey…”

Libertus froze mid-stir, watching the russet chunks of potatoes and beef churn in the pot before braving a glance up. Noctis tentatively placed two clay bowls against the counter, both swiped clean of harvest stew with the errant crumbs of the flatbreads served with it. Noctis smiled, the smallest wisp of a thing that Libertus had ever seen. It made his bruises ache.

“Is there enough for seconds?” the prince asked, craning his neck towards the simmering stew.

The childish seed of malcontent in Libertus’s gut wanted him to deny a share of his snacks as much as his toys. But he remembered that he was an adult and put that kid in the corner for a time-out just long enough to grunt in reply and ladle more spoons full into the bowls. He could feel Nyx somewhere in the benches beyond the bar watching him, transmitting decades of friendship into his brain as a warning to play nice. Noctis was definitely trying to.

“Is this an old family recipe?” he asked on the exhale of a deep breath. “I’ve heard that you used to be a cook.”

Libertus bit down a less than savory response about roasting him alive with all the chef experience he had, and instead just said, “Yeah. Worked for a bar.”

“Me too. Sort of. Not a bar, but I worked at a fast food place in high school.”

Libertus’s brow scrunched up in confusion. Well, that didn’t sound… real. The Crown Prince, heir to the throne, son of Regis Lucis Caelum the Whatever-teenth, slumming it with the minimum wagers behind the counter of a commercial grease-trap? Nyx must have put him up to this. This must have been another notch in the mockery of their “relationship.” This must have been the Crown further insulting him, and Nyx finally betraying him for it…

He could feel the sharp elbow to his forearm without Crowe even standing there to deliver the blow. He swallowed his disbelief and his disgust and he poured more soup. “Is that right?”

“I wasn’t very good at it,” Noctis admitted. “Definitely not as good as this.” He lifted the one full bowl while Libertus filled up the other one, curls of steam lilting up from the deep brown broth. “Is it hard to make?”

Libertus squinted at the bowl, suspicious of the questions. He shrugged. “Not really. It’s a secret recipe.”

“I figured. That’s what makes it so good, right?”

His smile was different up close, Libertus realized. He’d only ever seen it at a distance, on the rare television appearances or across the training fields or in the rearview mirror when he was delegated to chauffeur duty. There was no screen to filter across it now, no dust kicked up from training, no glare from the mirror. He could see Noctis just how he is, down here in the immigrant district – down in Libertus’s home, of all places.

There was something just… honest about it. It was hard to spot the lie in the soft features and the shy eyes peeking out from behind his hair. Noctis lifted both bowls in a gracious toast before heading back to his table.

“Thanks for this. You should take a break and come join us, okay?”

Libertus didn’t agree nor dissent, and Noctis was in too much of a hurry to escape with his food to wait for a reply. Libertus followed him as he found his seat next to Nyx again, noticing how his shoulders melted and he puffed out a breath. Something else soured in Libertus’s stomach, and it had nothing to do with jealousy. It took all of the kid’s courage to approach him by himself. And he suddenly felt like Crowe’s jabs at him were justified.

He slipped a few more glances at them while he refilled bowls and finished up dishes and worked on regaining his footing as a proper host. He noticed things about Noctis and Nyx that he refused to see before. He saw how his friend softened next to him, opened in a way he hadn’t seen since they were teenagers, dopey on high school crushes. It’s not as shallow as that though. Still just as raw, just as fresh and new with the wonder of love, but there was something more profound to it. Something wiser and warmer.

He caught the way their hands interlocked beneath the table, a gesture so absent-minded that it looked instinctual. Like they’ve been doing it for years, like it’s as second-hand as taking a breath. He saw how Noctis looked at everything and how his lips moved with questions and curiosity that Nyx was immediate with obliging. He saw how Noctis tried to taste every dish and how he pouted at his own limit when he couldn’t fit anything else in his stomach. He saw how his eyes followed Nyx’s arm when he indicated a performer in the streets and the enrapt attention he gave to Nyx’s explanations and translations.

He saw how Nyx’s arm was always around him, saw how he protected him from more wary stares… and something else. Something unsaid between just the two of them.

It’s a different lens, one that he isn’t sure how to trust himself to completely. But it’s real, at least. A truth that he didn’t want to know before. Things aren’t as black and white as he would prefer them to be… And he isn’t sure if he preferred that to begin with.

He sees the color of his district when he glances up. His sight widens from the singular point of black-leathern indulgence that had adorned Nyx’s life. He sees the shadow shade and blend with the reds and oranges and yellows of the fires and the streamers and the food. He sees a winter greeting his fall rather than trampling it with snow.

Later, when the sky is blackened beyond the bright lights of the lanterns strung between the streets, Libertus occupies the seat next to Crowe across from them. He drops a bag of cranberry pastries on the table.

“It’s Harvest Day. It wouldn’t be tradition if someone didn’t smuggle extra dessert out of the kitchen.”

Nyx nudges Noctis and murmurs a smug, “I told you so.”