Gladio is pissed.

At this point, he isn't even sure what he's pissed at. Maybe at Noct, for not telling them that they're angering Bahamut. And damn, is the god angry. But then he thinks good. Fuck that guy for trying to take his family away from him. So he's mad at Bahamut. And Prompto and Ignis, maybe. Those assholes need to get their fucking shit together. Or at least try. Gladio's at least trying, he thinks.

Some would beg to differ, after his argument with Noctis. Those people had not heard most of his argument.

"You would rather ignore a god and risk all of us dying than give up a few days to relax." Gladio is seething now. How dare he start keeping secrets. Not now, not like this.

"You know damn well this is more than just a vacation." No one says anything when Prompto and Ignis stagger their way out of the room.

"It's a goodbye."

"It's a funeral," Noctis glares at him. It knocks Gladio back a bit, because Noct looks so young. He's reminded of the expression he used to give in training, every time Gladio kicked his ass. Noctis was so young then, and he had the biggest baby cheeks.

Gladio sees that in front of him now.

His funeral.

"I don't want to fight, Gladio." What an old voice for such a young face. What an old expression on it too.

He swallows down his pain, "me neither."

"For what it's worth, I wish it didn't have to be like this."

"Yeah, that's worth nothing," Gladio snorts, "but I appreciate the sentiment."

Noctis laughs. Gladio wishes it didn't sound so heavy. "We need to figure something out."

"Sounds pretty simple to me, we have to go back," Gladio nods. It feels right, to be able to return to his older body. He misses his scars. "What else is there to figure out?"

Noct massages the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, "I- okay, this is stupid but. I feel like something is missing, right? Something big and this trip is supposed to give us time to figure it out."

Gladio frowns, "the trip was your idea."

Noct stares at the crumpled bed sheets beneath him. Gladio looks hard at the other man, and starts chuckling uncontrollably. Not because anything is funny, no. Because he cannot fucking believe this.

Noct looks up, startled, "what?"

"You bastard!" Gladio shouts, "you fucking.... fucking..." he can't think of the right word.

"Excuse me?"

"Who told you to take us back in time?" Gladio pokes a finger in his chest, feeling his anger soar again, "was it a god? Shiva? Ifrit?!"

"What? No!" Noct starts, "I. I don't know who it was."

"Oh dear gods," Gladio is very close to punching Noctis, funeral or no, "man or woman?"

"Uh, woman, I think."

"Young, old? I'm not playing twenty questions here, Noct."

"Young. She actually looked like Luna... but her dress looked like it was from an old painting, that sort of era," Noct shrugs, "I couldn't see a lot of her. She was surrounded with yellow light, again, like Luna."

"And? What did she say?"

"That... that we are mistaken. Our enemy is not the Accursed, but a friend. She said to learn what we could from the 'safety of the past'."

"So this random chick said that Ardyn is not the enemy. And to time travel back to find this... this 'common enemy'. And you listened to her?"

"When you put it like that-"

"It doesn't matter how I put it! We need to go back, now."

"Gladio-"

"Nope. No fucking way, Noct. We can't mess with this shit, do you have any idea what Bahamut could do to us if he wanted to?"

"Yeah, I do, actually."

"Then use your damn head, Noct. This isn't worth the entire world," Gladio stares at the hard line of Noct's mouth. This is hard as hell, he knows. It hurts him too, to say this.

"It is to me," Noctis says quietly. "It is to me."

"What you want doesn't matter," Gladio tries to be understanding, because a vulnerable Noct is so very rare. But he also needs Noct to just accept this and let go, because it'll be easier on all of them in the end.

Noct clears his throat, wiping at his face with the back of his hand, "has it ever?"

"No, it hasn't." Gladio shakes his head, trying not to feel sorry for himself or the situation, "I would start getting my shit together, if I were you."

"I don't have any shit."

"Make up with Prompto and Ignis."

"We haven't been arguing?" Noct looks up at him, making eye contact. Gladio sees the same rage he saw when Regis died.

"Say what you want to say to them is what I mean. You won't have another chance."

"Fuck," Noct drops his head, clearly upset. Some petty, bitter part of Gladio thinks he deserves it for hiding things. Ten-years-older Gladio sees a man who has been shattered again and again until he can finally obey.

"That about sums it up," he supplies, unsure now what else to say. It's probably for the better, if he had too much to say he'd never get it all out. "Go get the others. Please."

What a concept. Him, saying 'please'.

Things really have changed.

As his charge leaves, Gladio stands and starts picking up things from around the room. Ignis and Prompto's torn, bloodied Kingsglaive coats and vests. Ignis' glasses. Noct's knee brace and cape. A bloody towel from Prompto's chest and side. His own bloody bandages. Ignis walks in soon after Noct leaves, watching him make piles of things for a while.

"Going to just stand there?" Gladio asks, "or are you going to give me a hand."

"May I remind you I dislocated my shoulder?"

"Suck it up."

"Saving you. "

Gladio laughs, "alright, so I owe you one. Jeez."

"More than one, by my count," Ignis smiles at him. Gods, Gladio missed that damn smile, the one where he can see his eyes crinkle at the corners, eyes bright with mirth.

"How about I do laundry and we call it even?" Gladio moves over beside Ignis, trying to take in his face at its happiest.

Ignis studies him back, committing his face to memory for different, more permanent reasons, "I suppose that's fair," he hesitates, always a bit too perceptive, "something on your mind, Gladio?"

"You could say that." He frowns at the floor, picking out specks of blood on it. He can't tell if it's his, Prompto's or Ignis'. Probably a combination of all three. But not Noct's, not yet. "We have to go back."

Ignis stares at him and raises an eyebrow, "oh?"

"We're messing with shit by being here," Gladio grabs his friend's good arm. For support or to comfort, he's not sure.

"Bahamut, I understand. What did Noct have to say?"

Gladio coughs out a laugh, "you're okay with this? Iggy, you're going to lose you sigh-"

Ignis cuts him off with sharp words, "I am well aware of what will happen. I knew what I was walking into, you know."

Deciding to let his guard down, Gladio moves his hand to Ignis' face. He's always looked good without glasses. He cups his jaw gently, feeling the tight muscles there, "you don't have to be strong all the time."

The lines of Ignis' face waver, confusion, then sadness, washing over his features like a wave. Slowly, he leans into Gladio's warm embrace, shaking ever so slightly, "I can't lose him, Gladio," he breathes, "not again."

Gladio rubs soothing circles around his back, chin resting on the top of his head, "all we can do is keep going."

"And do what?"

Gladio's wondered the same thing. Their entire purpose is to protect that man, and once he's gone... it isn't a fun thought.

"Get a job, I guess."

Ignis sniffles, "that's the best you can do?"

"Hey, it's a start."

"Where would we work then? Reconstruction? Government?"

"Nah, I was thinking more mundane. Like a little business or something."

Ignis makes a hum of approval, "a little cafe, then."

"I could make coffee, you could make the food. Sandwiches and stuff. Prompto could wait tables."

"Yes, let's do that," Ignis whispers. Gladio feels tears soaking his tank top, but he doesn't mind. His own roll down his face with the knowledge of everything they're going to lose. Going back was a mistake, like ripping off the bandaid as slow as they could when they could've just got it done with.

"'The Lazy Prince'."

Ignis actually snorts, "yes, that's suitable."

They stay like that for a good few minutes, Gladio's face buried in Ignis' hair. Ignis wrapped tight in his arms and clinging for dear life with one arm. Eventually Gladio pulls away, hands moving to grip either side of Ignis' face, whose own hand snakes over Gladio's.

"You guys," he starts, but abruptly stops. He isn't sure why, but this is feeling like goodbye to a lot more than just Noct. "You guys- gods. You made my job worth having."

Ignis looks up at him, "did we?"

"You gave me something worth protecting."

"I love you too, Gladio."

"Yeah, yeah. Alright," he leans his forehead against Ignis', nose to nose, "we'll get through this. We always do."

"I know."

The sound of the door opening pulls them apart, and they go back to standing at the counter like nothing had happened. Gladio doesn't know why he finds it so easy to open up to Ignis. Whether it's because their common interest in Noctis or because they just click, he'll never know. But Ignis is closer to him than anyone, and he knows they're something special, something rare.

Noctis helps Prompto shuffle through the door. Both of them are staring at the floor, red-eyed. Huh, maybe Noct took his advice and talked to Prompto. He watches as he gracelessly dumps his friend on the bed.

Probably not.

Gladio grabs Ignis' hand and squeezes.

"Back to Caem," Noct says, voice flat, "where we began."

No one says anything. Gladio watches as Noct tries to help Prompto into his shirt. He can't let go of Iggy. It feels too much like goodbye and he hates it. He hates how afraid he is of losing these three people.

"I'm going on a walk before we go," Gladio announces, releasing Ignis' hand and moving away with little warning.

"I'm in," Prompto stands, balancing himself on the bedside table.

"No way, you can't even stand."

"I'll manage," he insists, "one last time, c'mon."

Gladio sighs but gives in, "fine, but don't hold me up."

"I won't," he says, hobbling painfully over to Gladio. He wouldn't let him come with, but it is a chance of a lifetime, so it seems a little cruel to leave him behind.

Ignis and Noct say nothing as they leave. Just as Gladio shuts the door, he sees Iggy crack open a can of Ebony with shaking hands. His hands almost never shake.

"So, big guy, how are you holding up?" Prompto says after almost a minute of silent walking.

"You join me to pick my brain?"

"Maybe a little," he admits sheepishly, "but mostly to get some air."

"Smoking does not in fact count as 'getting some air'."

Prompto rolls his eyes, "o', ye of little faith."

"Am I wrong?"

"...no." Smiling sweetly, Prompto takes a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket along with a lighter, "I'm sure you won't mind."

"Oh, I will," Gladio frowns as his friend lights one and takes a drag. He'd never say it, but he worries about the kid.

"You didn't answer my question," he points a finger at Gladio's face, "stop avoiding things."

"Hypocrite."

"Gladio."

"What?"

Prompto sticks his tongue out, "I want to know what your whole 'I'm gonna be and idiot and nearly get myself killed' shtick was about."

"I had it handled," he tries.

"Yup, you did. So why let them have a go at you?"

Fuck, it seems so stupid now, looking back. How is going to explain to Prompto how gods damn weak he feels in this body? None of the battle scars he should have, a simple reminder of the people he failed to protect. Prompto's looking at him curiously, yet another person he couldn't save. Now look at him, cigarette dangling from his lips, sunken eyes and, well, he has his own scars. Even if Gladio can't see them now, he sometimes catches Prompto rubbing his nose where it broke (blaming Ardyn for that one), as if now marvelling its current straightness.

"Felt like I was missing something," he answers gruffly.

"Immense, constant pain?"

Gladio's face twitches in amusement, "no shortage of that."

"Scars?"

"You got a pretty perceptive head on those shoulders, you know."

"Thanks!"

"Now shut up," Gladio nudges him, feeling only a little bad when he stumbles, "and walk."

For once he listens, and the two of them take in the sights they've seen only a thousand times before, but barely like this. Gladio tries not to recognize the cars they end up using in the barricade. He tries not to see some of these people as bodies in bags, missing arms and legs and- nope. It only reminds him of how far they fell.

They end up at the outlook, the midday sun making a truly stunning scene. It takes his breath away, more so than the first time he saw the underwater ceiling in the Vesperpool. He's distracted enough not to notice the presence behind them.

"Well, well, well. Fancy meeting you here, hm?"

Gladio and Prompto whip around. Ardyn stands behind them, hands on his hips and exuding lazy confidence. His face and tone says something different, though. Ardyn's brows are slightly drawn, and his posture is a little stiff.

Unimportant, Gladio's brain tells him, he should be in Altissia right now.

Distantly, he notices Prompto back away and summon his gun behind his back, scowl on his face. Gladio is two seconds away from calling his own sword, but not wanting to cause a scene.

"What the hell do you want," he growls.

"Oh, such malice! Fear not, I mean you no harm. Now, where is the rest of your posse?"

"None of your damn business. What. Do. You. Want. " Gladio moves to cover Prompto more, not entirely sure why he feels the need to. Prompto can protect himself, after all.

"I've merely come to deliver a message," Ardyn spreads his hands, shooting them an amused look, "I do so wish our dear prince was here to receive it. It is for him, after all."

"Spit it out."

"It says to, ahem, 'realize that The Sword is a weapon not of peace'."

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" He says, stepping into Ardyn's space, "message from who?"

Ardyn doesn't move away, shaking his finger back and forth in Gladio's face, "ah,ah,ah. I can't tell you yet, it would ruin the surprise."

"You're lying," Prompto's voice sounds out, small but without wavering, "you don't know who it is either."

All of Ardyn's attention turns to him, and he brushes past Gladio to see him better, "bold statement." His eyes flicker to Prompto's wrist, which isn't covered. Prompto seems to realize this too, but doesn't do anything about it. Ardyn's hand reaches out to touch Prompto's chin, "sure you want to stand by it?"

Gladio grabs Ardyn's wrist before he can make contact, "don't," he warns, eyes catching Prompto's, who stands stiff as a board. "Tell us the truth."

Pulling his hand away, Ardyn grins smoothly at the two of them, "forgive me, I was merely curious."

"Well?"

"The little gunman is correct, sadly, I do not know who wants this delivered," he cocks his head to the said, a distant and nostalgic expression crossing his face, "but she did seem oh-so familiar."

Gladio frowns, mind flashing to his conversation earlier, "what? Blonde, young. Looks like the Lady Lunafreya?"

The look in the Chancellor's eyes is old and haunted, and he takes a few steps back, "Aera."

"Who now?"

Regaining his composure, Ardyn says, "none of your concern."

"She was your betrothed," Prompto blurts, immediately looking like he regrets speaking.

"No- how do you know that?"

He shuffles aside, uncomfortable, "does it matter? I'm right, so what does she want?"

"I leave you with that, do what you will with it," spinning on his heel, Ardyn starts to walk away, "and it was so good to see you again, wayward clone."

As soon as he's gone, Prompto sinks to the ground, head between his knees. His cigarette fallen beside him. Gladio kneels beside him, placing his hand gently on his shoulder, which is shaking and heaving with the rest of his body.

"Shh... it's alright, Prom. He's gone, it's okay..." Gladio mutters to him for a good chunk of time, glaring at anyone who comes too close.

"Sorry," he croaks, not raising his head, "I thought I could... I thought..." he makes a sound of frustration.

"Take you time."

Prompto tilts his head just enough to peek at Gladio, eyes red and guilty, "sorry."

"You gotta stop saying that, kid," sitting down properly, Gladio puts his arm around Prompto, "look, I don't know what he did to you, but that was some tough stuff, standing up to him."

Prompto snorts, "thanks, dad."

"Someone needed to say it. You okay?"

"Yeah, uh, no. I can't get his face outta my head," gripping his hair, his breathing uneven, he laughs, "I don't feel strong when I think of him. I feel like I want to crawl in a hole and die. What's tough about that?"

"What's tough is the fact that you didn't do that."

"But I almost did, and I would've, I just got caught," he's shaking again. Gladio pauses, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach.

"When was that?"

"U-uh... like, three years after Noct."

Fuck- just. Damn it.

"Who stopped you?"

"Aranea."

Gladio pulls him into a proper hug, surprising both of them, "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. We are now- me and Ignis, okay?"

Prompto hugs back, not responding as silent sobs rack his body. Gladio can only ask himself how he fucked up so badly. Ignis is blind, Noct is set to die, Prompto has given up, and Gladio can't even get his own shit together enough to help anyone. Some shield he is, full of holes and rusted from use and abuse.

"It doesn't matter," Prompto mumbles, voice quieted by his face being buried in Gladio's shoulder.

"Of course it does," for the first time in years, a well of hopelessness threatens to drown him, "I promise it does."

"No," he head shakes, "because- I mean, what do we even do after this?"

"You can wait tables," Gladio tries, only half joking. No reaction. "We'll open a-"

"Stop it! We don't even know if we are going to survive the next battle Gladio," he pulls himself away, actually looking at Gladio, "how can you be so, so-"

"Optimistic?" He studies Prompto's tired face, "if I remember, that used to be your job."

He looks down, defeated, "not anymore."

"You need to pull yourself out of this hole," Gladio advises, "it'll kill you."

Standing, Prompto sniffles at that comment, "well, maybe I don't care. C'mon, back to the room."

Shaking his head, Gladio rises with him. The usual, tougher tactics he uses with Noct don't work with Prompto, and it frustrates him to no end. Ignis is much better suited with gradual prodding in the right direction. Gladio... well, he likes fast results.

About halfway to the hotel, Gladio pulls Prompto aside, dread still sinking its claws in him, "Prom, I just need to know... you're not going to, ah-"

"Off myself?" Prompto looks at him like he made a stupid joke, even completing the look with a small, amused smile. Only the context of the conversation betrays his true feelings.
"Yeah. That's exactly it," Gladio tries not to sound too... anything. He figures emoting concern, pity or anger will only push him further away. Complete, unbiased indifference is the way to go, without a doubt. "So?"

Prompto pats him on the shoulder, "don't worry about me, big guy. I promise I'll be okay, okay?"

He skips away, as if the joyous act of hopping will convince everyone of a stable mental state. But he probably knows it isn't working, and is just doing it out of habit. Sighing, Gladio reluctantly follows his friend. At least, for a while, it was nice to pretend that things were back like ten years ago. It was a mistake, yes, but Gladio thinks he got some sort of valuable lesson from this. What it is exactly, he doesn't know yet. Something profound, maybe.

The room is quiet when they walk in, Noctis asleep and burrowed in bedsheets, and Ignis sitting and reading one of Gladio's books. Funny, how he always made fun of them before.

Ignis looks up, instantly on guard at Gladio's expression, "what happened?"

"Ardyn happened," Gladio comments, watching as Prompto gently shakes Noct awake.

Ignis is on his feet in a second, " what? Where?"

"The outlook," Prompto supplies, acting like nothing happened, "had some sort of flowery message for us."

"The sword not being a peaceful weapon or something."

Still half asleep, Noct mumbles, "'The Sword is not a weapon of peace. The god plays false, death be upon the naive. Let fires cease-'"

"'-for The Sword is not of peace'," Ignis finishes, "an old nursery rhyme."

"So he's back on that bullshit," Gladio rolls his eyes, "great."

"The hell kind of nursery rhyme is that?" Prompto wonders, "kinda harsh."

"Was this his own message?" He asks, "or was he simply passing it on?"

Gladio sits on the other bed, "nah, lady named Aera sent it to him," he sends a meaningful look at Noct, just beginning to crack his eyes open. "Some blonde who looks like Lady Lunafreya."

Ignis starts pacing the room, "Aera... Aera. I know that name..."

"I think it was his lover or something," Prompto looks started when everyone stares blankly at him, "uh, he let some things slip at, uh, the Keep."

Looking at the floor with great intensity, Ignis finally snaps his fingers in recognition, "Aera Lucius Caelum, the first Lucian queen and founder."

"Married to Somnus," Noct, who has now perked up adds, "brother to..."

"Ardyn," Gladio finished grimly. "That's fucked up. Who marries their brother's girlfriend?"

Prompto frowns, "he told me she died, that Sonmus killed her and exiled him."

"Not according to history," Ignis argues, "in fact, Somnus never had a brother according to most modern texts."

"Most..." Noct prompts, for once curious about a history lesson.

Coughing and readjusting his glasses, he says, "ah, well. The rare one mentions something about the exiling of a daemon healer- Adagium. They cast him away to Angelguard."

"Why Adagium?" Gladio questions, "sorry, never bothered with old Solheimien."

"In a basic sense it means 'ignored'," Ignis scoffs, rolling his eyes, "really, the study of any language is important-"

"So we're just assuming that this is Ardyn," Noct interrupts, "sounds right."

Gladio tries to make eye contact with Noctis, to coerce him into spilling where he got the idea to go back in time. The stubborn bastard doesn't even glance his way.

Prompto waves his hands for them to stop, "okay, wait. What's all this have to do with a nursery rhyme?"

"'The god plays false'..." Noct ponders, "Ifrit?"

"Nah," Prompto shakes his head, "these things are always 'go big or go home', I say it's Bahamut."

"Would make sense," Gladio scooches over as Ignis comes to sit beside him, "swords and all."

"You are saying that Bahamut is against us?" Ignis leans forward, glaring at them all, "this talk should not be taken lightly-"

"It's not," Noct says quickly, "but- think about it."

"And what evidence do we have?" He snaps, "a vague story about a missing man."

"That would mean..." Prompto takes a breath, "that Ardyn's a good guy? "

"No." The three others reply.

"Even if he was..." Ignis shakes his head, " wronged in the past, it does not excuse his actions at present. Or ever, as far as I'm concerned."

The four of them stew in that for a while, lost in the things taken from them.

"I say we talk to him," Noct suggests, meeting all their eyes before continuing, "it's worth a shot."

"Hell no," Gladio growls, "after what he's done? No." He can't help but glance at Prompto after speaking. If he notices, he doesn't indicate it.

"We wouldn't even know where to find him," Ignis says, "he seems to exist in very specific locations only when convenient to him."

"I bet Aranea knows where he his," Prompto- and Gladio can't believe this- suggests. "She hasn't defected yet, right?"

"Why the hell are you agreeing with him?" He asks sharply, "you more than anybody should-"

"If there is a shot we can fix this mess, I'll take it," Prompto snaps back, "I trust Noct, and if he says it's worth the risk, then I'm in."

Stop treating me like I'm fragile.

Noct smiles and bumps his friend's shoulder. Prompto nods solemnly, giving Noct a hesitant smile back. It tugs at Gladio's heart, to think of everything else they have left to lose.

Yeah, well. Maybe you aren't the only one who's shattering.

"I don't agree. There is too much at risk."

Ignis places a hand on his shoulder, "Gladio..."

"Nope," he shrugs him off, "not you too, Iggy. Please, someone has to see how stupid this is."

"I don't agree either, Gladio, but..."

"But it might be worth a shot," Noct finishes, and Prompto hums in agreement.

"So you're in with them?" He tries not to feel a little betrayed.

"Well, I-"

"Yes or no question, Iggy."

Ignis glares, "I think it's a long shot, and ill advised. It's doltish, dangerous, irrational and all around asinine-"

"Okay, we get it," Noct mutters.

"But damn it, we have another chance," Ignis grabs his shoulder and looks at him with pleading eyes.

Three against one- damn it. Gladio lowers his head and tries to think about what this might mean.

So they could go back, fight the bad guys, win, Noctis dies and the light comes back. Pretty much a guarantee at this point.

Or they could team up with Ardyn, the bad guy, and attempt to thwart Bahamut, the god of gods, and see what happens. Failure means unimaginable consequences and maybe eternal suffering and pain. Success means Noct lives and they have their happily ever after.

And looking at Noct's face now- hell, there's no competition.

"Call Aranea."