Ardyn:

Somnus: we’re not allowed to cave

Ardyn: but look at him!

Lil Regis🥺

Ardyn: just one! One can’t hurt surely?

Lil Regis: pls grandad… 🥹

Somnus: fine!

Mors: if you want to put my diabetic son into a sugar coma carry on but you will both go to angelgard together if you do

Uiuiui

That would be a discussion starting around the midpoint of the story. After things start to settle down a bit, the question of Shields start to turn up. Mostly amongst the nobility at first, and Regis and his siblings do a very good job of ignoring them at first. Then either Crowe or Nyx get hurt on a mission and Regis sees himself confronted head on with the Shield Question. (captal letters intended)

None of the three are happy about it. Crowe because she's an independent spirit, Nyx because he's got Libertus and Regis because he knows his siblings won't be happy bending to Lucian tradition.

So no, Regis doesn't really want to do it. Not because he doesn't want to see his siblings protected, but because he doesn't want to contstrain them in the Lucian trappings of propriety and tradition.

There's definitely a chance there that the connection between the Ostiums and the Amicitias will be discovered. Mostly because Libertus might loose his temper and say something about the entire situation. Teh end result of that would be that Lucian high society very firmly sees Libertus as Nyx's Shield.

Dandelion: I burned my tongue once drinking tea.

Milva: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and burned it.

Angouleme: I have a piece of graphite in my leg for accidentially stabbing myself with a pencil in the first grade.

Cahir: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it on my hand and I got a really bad burn.

Regis:

From Lion Hart

This is the beginning of a fic idea that’s rapidly and stupidly expanding.

Noct held a hand in front of his mouth as he yawned. Beside him Prompto chattered happily about the newest update to King’s Knight as they walked and Noctis allowed himself a small smile at his friend’s enthusiasm. It was finally weekend, they’d had a test today and Noct was sure he’d done as well on it as he always did, more importantly it meant it was likely Iggy would come by and cook something delicious for dinner and leave them to stay up gaming all night with only the requisite reminders not to do exactly that.

There was a shift in the air suddenly. He stopped. He felt like all his hairs suddenly stood on end from head to toe and when looked at his arms he saw it was not just his imaginiation.

“Dude, what’s up,” Prompto stopped and looked over his shoulder at Noct. He was saying something more but Noct couldn’t hear it for the static in his ears.

“Something… up…” he mumbled and looked up. The Wall in the sky; it had lost it’s shine, it’s glitter, it’s magic. The many hexagonal plates were clear as glass now. A silent scream built inside of him even as no one else had noticed. This meant- this could only mean.

Prompto followed his gaze. “What’s up with the Wall?”

That was when the first plate fell. It looked like glass and it acted like it, shattering on impact with a building and showering glass shards on the people below. More and more plates fell, there was no longer any will to hold them up. People screamed around him, joining in with the scream inside him.

Hands grabbed his shoulders suddenly and he was pushed bodily into a door. Pain lanced up his back and he gasped, focusing on Prompto’s hair which was all he could see of his friend who pressed him into the relative cover of the doorway. People were desperately running for cover in the street.

“Noct, are you with me buddy?” Prompto sounded desperate and scared and it was enough to pull him together.

“Yeah,” he said breathlessly, mind racing grabbing onto Prompto in return, “I’m with you.”

“What’s going on Noct?”

“I don’t- my dad.” He fumbled his phone and hit the speed dial. He held it up to his ear, waiting for it to connect. It rang, and rang, and rang. “He’s not answering,” Noct whispered voice tight. He tried Clarus yet, it was the same. If Clarus wasn’t answering him… Hands trembling now, he dialled Cor.

Another plate fell right behind Prompto and he pushed Noct into the door again with a yelp of pain. He slumped against Noct’s shoulder. Noct didn’t have time to register his own pain. Phone still ringing in one hand he felt desperately along Prompto’s back.

“Prom, Prom, are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he gasped into Noct’s neck, “just my leg it hurts, the left one.”

Unseeingly he dropped his hand down and he didn’t have to go far to feel the large shard sticking out the back of Prompto’s left thigh, his hand came back bloody.

“Shit.”

“Is it bad?” Prompto asked plaintively, “if it is, please lie to me.”

“It’s… it’s gonna be okay.”

“I’m going to die.”

“You’re not, you hear me!” Noct grabbed his shoulders angrily, phone still awkwardly held in one hand and shook him. He wasn’t loosing anyone - anyone else. Prompto looked at him with blue eyes shiny with tears and finally gave him a little nod, “okay, Noct.”

He suddenly heard a noise from the phone and he quickly held it to his ear. Prompto’s head fell back on his shoulder and he could tell from the tight line of his body that he was doing his best to bite down the pain.

“Cor! What’s going on? My dad is he-” Noctis voice broke, and he swallowed a sob. “What’s going on?”

“Highness, where are you? I will send someone to pick you up.”

And no that was not the response Noct wanted, this was not the response any mundane reason the Wall had fallen would give, this was not his father suddenly falling ill or collapsing or his time having run out because the Ring of the Lucii took, and took, and took. This was the response an attack would provoke.

“Tell me!” He growled.

There was a moment of silence on the other end, then a sigh.

“His Majesty is missing.”

And that, that wasn’t what he’d expected either.

“Missing?” he repeated weakly. Missing, not dead. Missing. How could he be missing? He was the King, he was the most well protected person in Insomnia. He never left the citadel. Clarus was glued to his sides at every waking moment, it was simply inconceivable.

“Noct, you there?” Cor demanded, and he realized he must have spaced, but missing?

“Yeah…” he took a breath centering himself, “yeah, I’m here.”

“Will you tell me where you are now?”

“I don’t-“ He looked around at the previously busy little street with it’s abandoned vendors and the layer of shattered glass like an awful parody of snow. “I don’t know the name of the street, but my GPS is on.”

“Alright Noct just hang on, I’ll find you.”

Oooo, Dissidia AU!

Okay, bear in mind that the only bits I know of Dissidia are what @secret-engima has rambled about, but based off that-

-Sola doesn’t get called to Dissidia. No, during Sola’s life it’s Noctis and Ardyn who are called as Champions.

-No, instead it’s Phoebe who finds herself tripping into the middle of a dusty, dry red desert that’s honestly nothing like Leide. Finds herself sidestepping the decapitating strike from a silver haired man with cat-slit green eyes and a blade longer than the swordsman is tall. Finds herself following the man - Sephiroth, he calls himself - to the glowing red tower in the distance, the only spark of magic in a world on it’s last breath.

-Phoebe would very much like to know what the actual Pyre is going on, and she’s more than a bit insulted that she’s been lumped in with a bunch of nutjobs and murderers. Sure, Snow is less villainous and more... jaded and broken, but after him the next decent is Sephiroth, and he gives off an air far too similar to Sola’s memories of Ardyn. 

-It doesn’t help that the other Champions have been summoned in their various finery, while Phoebe is in her battered Hunter leathers. And while Phoebe is fairly certain she’s nowhere near the oldest, she certainly looks it, pushing fifty as she is. Though Phoebe does admit, side-eyeing some of her fellow Champions, at least she isn’t under-dressed.

-Then Phoebe learns of Materia and her Champions, of Order and Harmony, and Phoebe remembers enough of Noctis’ various video game rambles to realize that she’s essentially on the Villains’ side. 

-And she’s pretty sure she knows why. Which, okay, fair, but that doesn’t mean she has to like it.

-Now, to find out which poor sod got dragged into this mess as Materia’s Champion.

-Regis is not happy when he finds himself in a dusty desert that is most certainly not his office. He’s even less happy when he hears about why he’s no longer in the Citadel, and he has no compunctions making it clear to Materia his exact feelings on the matter. He has a kingdom to run, and a newly wedded wife and premature, newborn daughter to get back to!

-It’s his worry for Sola - born too early, born too small and monitored around the clock because the doctors don’t know if his little Sun will survive - that brings Regis’ fatherly instincts to the fore and by the time Materia’s Champions head out to find and battle Spiritus’, Regis is fussing over the half of Materia’s Champions who are eighteen and younger. The eighteen years olds - Firion and Terra - try to protest the treatment, but look, Cor is eighteen so there’s little they can do to stop Regis from slotting them into the ‘must protect’ category.

-Regis honestly has no clue who his counterpart in Spiritus’ Champions is supposed to be. He just... doesn’t have an archenemy like the rest of Materia’s Champions, certainly not like the WoL or Cloud. Someone from Niflheim, perhaps?

-It’s not.

-They run into some of Spiritus’ Champions, and Regis is fending off the Champion aiming for young Onion Knight - and trying not to look at how little she’s wearing, but it’s rather difficult when she’s attacking so insistently - when there’s a low, inhuman snarl and a glaive nearly spears the the woman from behind. The shattering of chimes, golden shards of magic and the woman has to dodge the fire and lightning aiming to utterly obliterate her.

-The battle screeches to a halt. Spiritus’ Champions stare at the redhead in battered leathers, their supposed teammate as she snarls at the scantily dressed woman. Materia’s Champions stare for an altogether reason, Regis included, because-

-“Phoebe?” He sputters.

-“Not now Regis.” Phoebe tells him, gaze not leaving her target as she spins her glaive and stalks forward with the lethal grace of a Coeurl. Her Hunter’s uniform disappears in a burst of golden shards, replaced by gilded black leather armor. “I have a would-be childslayer to deal with.”

-Phoebe’s target flees, Phoebe in hot pursuit. And Regis wonders when everything stopped making sense.

-Lightning glances at Regis’ shocked expression. “Not who you were expecting, I take it?” And all Regis can do is shake his head.

-No. Not at all. Not the magic, the oh so familiar pattern of lines tracing Phoebe’s face, a pattern altogether different than Regis remembers seeing on her, and the dark lines dripping from blackened eyes glowing red with the force of her fury.

-But he knows Phoebe. Perhaps not as well as he’d once thought, but regardless of her secrets the woman herself has not changed. Her protective fury is proof enough.

-So when Phoebe tracks them down, unarmed and in her Hunter leathers once more, eyes and face as Regis remembered from their first meeting, Regis waves for the others to stand down.

-“I assume she’s been taken care of?” Regis says after a moment.

-Phoebe’s satisfied smirk is answer enough. But she sobers only a moment later, shifting from foot to foot as she looks away. “I... guess you’d like an explanation.”

-“Not if you don’t want to give one.” Regis refutes immediately. He’s had the time to think about it, to stamp down on the shock and think rationally. Revelations aside, Regis has never had any reason to distrust Phoebe. Not when the woman has done so much for Regis, including facing down Gilgamesh to rescue Cor from the Immortal Shield.

-“Well, I’d like one.” Lightning interjects, crossing her arms and staring at Phoebe with narrowed eyes. The rest of his fellow Champions look no less suspicious. “Who are you?”

-Phoebe hums, and Regis would almost say the Elder looks amused. “I’m Phoebe, Chief of Clan Astrum and Regis’ kin.”

-“And the... incident, earlier?” Y’shtola asks. “Not that we aren’t grateful.” She hurriedly adds. “But it is... odd, for a Champion of Spiritus.”

-Oh, Regis knows the answer to this one. “Phoebe is Galahdian.” He tells them, echoing the words from years back. “Galahdians don’t tolerate childslayers. Or would-be ones.”

- Phoebe’s grin is less a smile and more a baring of teeth. “We execute them.”

-Which is pretty much the same thing Phoebe and Koios told Regis when he asked about it.

-Lightning looks like she has a headache. “So why are you Spiritus’ Champion?”

-“I’m considered Regis’ rival.” Phoebe shrugs. “If you want to be technical about it.”

-“Because you’re a candidate for the throne?” Y’shtola asks.

-“Ah, no. Not that.” Phoebe grimaces. “But the gods would rather Regis try to kill me, given I’m the Accursed.”

harshest possible criticism is just that he expects too much of the Courier's morals, by the time Papa's dead and the Courier shows up like "so about what we discussed" it's too late and he's got to do the best he can with reality

Regis getting woken up at 3am by this courier who’s telling him that Papa Khan is dead and ‘hey so about you signing that alliance with the NCR now that you’re chief’ and he distinctly remembers this same courier asking him if he was chief if he’d sign this alliance like 5 hours ago and he’d said yes because lmao how unlikely is it that Papa Khan is going to actually die?