"What happens now?" Noctis screams into the empty, "what the hell am I supposed to do?"

Bahamut, the giant asshole, does not answer. Noct can't even see him, spinning around like this. It isn't his body that's moving, however, it's his brain. Thoughts run rampant, tripping and screaming for attention. He can't even sort out which emotion he feels. Good, bad, up, down-

There, he and his father are sitting down for his fifth birthday cake.

There, he's meeting his best friend for the first time.

There, Gladio is throwing him on his ass again and again.

There, his fiance has just been murdered.

Ardyn smiles at him.

Ignis is blind.

Cindy greets him with a smile.

His best friend is being tortured.

He's spinning.

He is out of control.

The heat of the sun, as much as Noctis craves it, starts to become too much, so Noct and Ignis start walking back to their room, figuring they'll rest there for a bit and wait for Gladio. Noct knows it's weird, but he's feeling lazy from all the sitting around they've been doing. It's calm, quiet, relaxing, all the things being in the Crystal wasn't.

"I'm feeling antsy," he says to Ignis, who has his face tilted up a bit to the sun as they walk.

"Yes, I don't blame you. It's quite a jump to be fighting for your life in one moment, and then enjoying the morning sun the next. And while I can't say I miss filing starvation reports, I certainly miss doing the work.

"Ignis, I don't think you're going to retire until you're ninety."

"What makes you say that?" Ignis shoots him a glance, one that tells him not to toe the line.

"Dunno, you tell me," Noct nudges him playfully, ignoring the warning.

Noct knows he's right, at least to a degree. He can't ever see Ignis settling down quietly, waking up to sit on a porch and watch the sky. After all, he's been raised with the firm idea that he'll be supporting Noctis for all his life, but since that won't happen, he supposes Ignis will be given the challenge of reforming Insomnia. That's going to take ages. Can Ignis really leave the fate of his home to someone else while he still remains able minded? It's hard to imagine.

"You may have a point," Ignis muses, probably thinking the same thing as Noct.

They open the door to the room, and Noct sees Prompto sitting on the balcony, staring at the sky. He only half turns around when he hears the door, but waves a hand over his shoulder.

"Look who's back," Noct comments, "where did you go?"

Prompto merely shrugs, not interested in giving an answer. The part of his face that Noct sees holds an expression of peaceful drowsiness.

"Did you eat yet?" Ignis asks.

Prompto turns and walks inside, "nah, not hungry though," he smiles brightly, the off mood from earlier replaced with a half-assed attempt at channeling his personality from ten years ago, "where did you guys go?"

"Got food," Noct answers, lackadaisical, "what, too cool to join us?"

Prompto nods thoughtfully, "way too cool."

"You got my sweater?" He asks, seeing that Prompto is just in his tank top now.

Prompto points to the bed, where it's crumpled in a sorry heap of attempted folding. Noctis picks it up, frowning. He gives it a long sniff, "did you wash it or something?"

He gets a look back that basically tells Noct that he's being weird, so he drops it. Prompto will come talk when he's ready, no need to push things, not with Ignis here.

"Hey, Noct," Prompto says, almost shyly, "King's Knight?"

Noct grins, "you're on."

"Cool," comes the reply, "damn, forgot how much I missed this game."

Noct glances at his friend, distantly aware of Ignis moving things in the kitchen, "what? No downtime for it?"

Prompto's face gets tight, like Noct knows it does when he's thinking about things he doesn't like, "nah, just, you know. Lost my phone when... the train and stuff."

'Train and stuff' means Ardyn, so Noctis drops that line of conversation, instead focusing on the digital beasts they have to defeat. Prompto's dreadfully out of practice, so they lose most of the games. Neither of them mind, more so enjoying the time with each other. It's just been so long. After about a half hour Ignis interrupts them with grilled sandwiches.

"Eat," he urges when Prompto begins to shake his head, "you'll need your strength for tonight."

"No thanks," he says, waving Ignis off, "really, not hungry."

Noct sees Ignis looking at him for help, so he says, "you haven't eaten all day, dude. There's no way you-"

"Hey," Prompto snaps, "drop it. Not hungry, 'kay?"

Prompto has never, never snapped at anyone. Much less Noct. It makes something break in him, wither and die.

"Alright," he replies softly, at loss for words. Prompto looks at him for a moment like he wants to apologize, but he doesn't get a chance as someone knocks at the door.

"Let me," mutters Ignis, clearly wanting no part in the tension. He opens the door to reveal a very tired, grumpy, bruised and worryingly bloodied Gladio.

"Shit!" Noct yelps, surprised as Gladio stumbles in, "what happened to 'small hunt'?"

"Dude," Prompto says, jumping up to help support him, "here, sit."

Ignis is simply staring in shock, which is extremely unlike him. Unfortunately there's also a grim, guilty look in his eyes that Noct isn't sure he wants to decipher.

Prompto, on the other hand, doesn't seem phased, helping Gladio peel off his shirt to get to the worst of the wounds.

"Hey, Noct, you got bandages?" Prompto throws over his shoulder, using Gladio's soiled shirt to try mopping up the blood, "and Ignis, water and towels, now."

This shakes them both out of the paralyzing astonishment. For the sake of the gods- they've taken voreteeth before, millions of times. It isn't fitting in Noct's head how this could've happened. He watches Ignis hand Prompto water and some of the towels from the kitchen, ones they'll have to replace no doubt.

"Thanks," Prompto murmurs, mopping at the open wounds covering Gladio's shoulder first.

"Want to spill what happened?" Noct inquires first, noticing how Gladio is just letting everything pass him, sort of sitting in a dissociative mental state.

"Got out of hand," he manages gruffly, voice hardened by taunt pain.

"Noct, potion-" Ignis starts.

"No," Prompto and Gladio speak at the same time, startling each other.

"I don't need any," Gladio tells them irritatedly.

"We won't have enough for tonight anyway," clarifies Prompto, "they just look bad anyway. You might have some pretty nasty scars though."

He gets a thoughtful nod in return, and Prompto finishes dressing and cleaning the gashes in silence, Noct and Ignis too stunned to do anything. Prompto has it handled anyway, and Gladio is covered in white bandages in record time.

"Done!" He exclaims, turning to the sink to clean his hands, "get some sleep, big guy."

"Thanks, Prom," Gladio nods, kicking off his shoes and laying down.

"Just returning the favour."

"By my count you owe me at least ten more times," Gladio grins tiredly, "at least."

Prompto snorts, "I hope not. Sleep tight."

"Yeah, yeah," and within moments he's snoring lightly.

"What the fuck," Noct says eventually. Since he's come back he feels like there's so much he's missed. Prompto and Gladio's interaction went right over his head, like he was missing some deeper meaning or connection. He can't even read the look in Ignis' eyes right now, and that scares him more than he can say. He's become isolated and out of touch with the people that matter most.

"This is my fault," Ignis clears his throat, "I should not have encouraged him to go, it was too dangerous."

"No," Prompto pulls himself up to sit on the kitchen counter, "he can handle himself."

Noct pulls over a chair, "then what the hell was that?"

"Gladio being Gladio," Prompto says avoidantly, "you'll have to talk to him about it."

Noct frowns, "but you know what's going on?" He can't help but feel a little frustration creep in. They're supposed to know everything about each other, they're family. Prompto not telling him this feels almost like a punch to the gut.

"Pretty sure," Prompto shrugs, "that's for him to tell, though."

Noct looks at Ignis to gage his reaction, but it's shuttered and calculating, something passing through his features that breathes turning cogs and gears.

"You don't suppose this was intentional," he says carefully.

Prompto looks down while Noct stares at his advisor with wide eyes, "excuse me?"

"He's a very capable fighter, Noctis," he explains, "I just don't see how this could have happened."

"But it's Gladio," Noct argues, "Gladio wouldn't do that."

Ignis' forehead creases, like he disagrees. That can't be right, though, because Gladio doesn't let things get out of hand like that. He's tactical, practical and skilled in battle, but that's when Noct knew him ten years ago, but that just is not right. Noct hates to think it, but Ignis may be on to something, if Prompto's careful staring at the ground has anything to do with it. Tension hovers over the three like a thick fog, engulfing them to the point of suffocation.

Feeling the need to break the silence, Noct asks, "did, uh. Did he get the money from it?"

Ignis pulls out their collective wallet from the Armiger and checks it, "appears so."

"I saw some good weapons at one of those corner shops," Noct crosses his arms, "thought I might check it out."

"No, wait," Prompto butts in, "there's the old guy, the one who made us those 'legendary' weapons, remember?"

Ignis frowns, confused, but Noct sort of remembers, "oh yeah. The bald dude... what was it? Randy? Rudolph?"

"Randolph," Prompto corrects him, sliding off the counter, "if you want good weapons, go to him. He said he's got one last thing for us."

"How do you remember that?" Noct stands as well, assuming that the last time he would've seen Randolph would've been ten years ago.

"I was wandering, earlier. Happened on him, where he gave me the whole lecture over again about the importance of something-or-other. I wasn't really listening, but new weapons, so."

"Worth a shot," shrugs Noct, "think you can handle staying here for a bit?"

Ignis nods, "I think I can do that much. Be safe," he walks to sit beside Gladio's bed.

"Will do," he replies, gesturing to Prompto to get his shoes on. The absence of voices that follow makes Noctis miss the way the four of them used to fit together. They're like the missing pieces of four different puzzles now, all living in different worlds, "lets go, Prom."

Prompto smiles stiffly and nods at him. Noct takes a moment to appreciate just how much better he looks ten years younger. Despite his tired expression and the defeated way he carries himself, he doesn't look so run down and thin, he's missing scars and bruises. He looks maybe twenty pounds heavier, and, best of all, he's missing that horrific facial hair. Noct will have to make fun of him for that later.

"Stop staring into space, dude," Prompto urges, "not getting any younger here."

"I'm not- nevermind. Let's just go."

The walk out of the room in near silence, Noct buzzing with questions. What happened to Gladio? Why is Ignis acting so weird? What aren't you telling me? Did you actually wash my sweater?

"Spit it out," Prompto says when they reach the lobby, "and stop giving me that thousand-yard stare."

"What-" Noct starts, then cuts himself off. How best to phrase this. He slows down and Prompto turns to face him, small frown on his face.

"Noct, it's been ten years. You missed so much but. But you don't have to be afraid to ask questions. Even if I can't answer them."

He nods and swallows, "right. Um, what happened to Gladio?"

Prompto just shakes his head, "that's his story, man. What we went through, all of us, it was pretty... hellish, to say the least. We all have our issues."

"I'm sorry," Noct says quietly, searching his best friend's face for... anything, really. Other than carefully guarded indifference.

"Don't be," comes the expected response, "not your fault."

He turns around and Noctis follows him, but he can tell Prompto has something else he wants to say. He keeps opening and closing his mouth, eyebrows creased. They pass a few open shops and friendly people before Prompto finally decides to talk.

"Is... is there some sort of afterlife, you know, for us?"

Noct frowns, caught off-guard, "uh, I'm pretty sure. Yeah."

Prompto swallows, and his throat clicks, "cause, well. I might be there pretty quick after you."

The pause the follows is thick and heavy, Noct not really grasping the meaning of the words for a few seconds. When it sinks in it brings his heart down with it, "what?" He manages.

The answer comes quick and unfiltered, like Noct remembers him doing if he was ever nervous, "I haven't told the guys yet. I didn't want to- you know. Just cause you're gonna go soon and I wanted to tell you right? No don't- don't look at me like that, what? It isn't as bad as it sounds I-"

"Prompto," he hesitates, struck by the helpless look on Prompto's face, "what happened?"

He sighs, "well, you know how I'm. I'm basically an MT, right?"

"You're not-"

Prompto stops him, "no, it's true. Cause MTs don't live that long. And because of, well, because I'm me, I guess I don't either."

Noct doesn't know what to say to that. It make sense, and he supposes that's the worst part. If Prompto started rambling about something a little more ludicrous it might be easier to take. "How long?"

Prompto doesn't answer, keeping his head down like he didn't hear as they pass a more abandoned section of Lestallum.

Noctis grabs him arm to stop him, ignoring the flinch in response, "how long, Prompto." His voice cracks at the edges. He's filled with an emotion he can't quite name. This isn't how the story is suppose to go. He's meant to pass and save the world from eternal darkness, he's meant to see Luna again and find happiness the with her he couldn't have in life. His friends are suppose to rejoice in the rising sun, be together and have long lives. They are not fated to be unhappy and traumatised, or meet untimely ends. It fills Noct with rage. There, that's the emotion weighing in his gut. He's angry. At Ardyn, for killing Luna and blinding Ignis. At Besithia, for not giving Prompto a longer life. At Bahamut, for promising a happy ending. And at himself, for believing any of it.

There is his shield, who is broken from overuse.

There is his advisor, who is lost in the dark.

There is his sharpshooter, who is dead before he can live.

This is his family, and this is all his fault.

"It's not important," Prompto eventually forces out, "can we just spend this time not talking about depressing shit? Please?"

Noct is about to argue back, but Prompto looks up and at him, and he sees all the anger and frustration reflected in his face. It dissolves his resolve, "yeah, okay. This discussion is not over, though."

Prompto laughs then, and it barely moves his face, like someone forgot to animate in the emotion, "you got it, buddy."

They finally find Randolph where he always seems to be, alone in a shady back street. He eyes the two of them as they approach, looking at them like they're fresh meat, waiting to be devoured. He crows at them as they reach him, "legends! I see legends in you, boys, yes. Get me the last of what I need and I will forge you legends of your own!"

Noct glances to the side and sees Prompto struggling to keep a straight face, so he says, "uh, yeah. What do you need?"

Randolph's hungry eyes try to bore a hole in him, "are you sure you're up to the challenge?"

Noctis almost laughs aloud. He's just spent ten godsdamned years in a bloody crystal, yeah, he thinks he's qualified.

"We're ready," Prompto says, with more confidence than he probably feels.

Randolph spends and uncomfortable time just looking at the two of them, back and forth. "Yes, yes," he says sadly, "I see fate has already grasped your souls. The two of you must collect for me the bones of a beast of great strength, and the blood of a lost soul."
"Uh, alright," Noct blinks, "how much and where exactly?"

"Also what are we looking for?" Prompto adds.

"So many questions, so little time," Randolph shakes his head sadly, "find me what I need!"

With that, Randolph, whom Noct is sure may be a few screws short, hobbles away.

"So I'm thinking Bussemand," Prompto starts, "they're pretty strong, right? Do daemons even have bones and blood?"

Noct shakes his head, "I've got a bad feeling about this, Prompto. I don't trust him."

Prompto snorts and turns around, gesturing for Noct to follow, "no one does, but what do we have to lose, right?"

Time. Noctis thinks, mind skipping back to Bahamut and his biting words. "Is it worth it?" He asks instead.

"Maybe?" Prompto laughs, "you never know, it's worth a shot, at least."

"Back to the room then?"

"Sure."

"Hey, Prompto?"

"Yeah?"

"You know you can, like, talk to me. About anything, right?" Noct shuffles, foot to foot, "I'm here."

Prompto smiles, placing a hand hesitantly on Noct's shoulder, "thanks. And, um, that goes both ways, 'k? I know being in the crystal would've been shitty on your own."

There is Bahamut, telling him to stay longer, accept his fate.

There are his best friends, aged past their years.

There are ten years of his life stolen in a game of good and evil, gods and men.

This is Noctis, King of Light, who is still afraid to die.

"I've got pretty thick skin," he nudges his friend, "but yeah, thanks."

"Thick skin," Prompto snorts, "I've seen you nearly start crying when Ignis told you he put zucchini in his cake."

This earns a punch to the shoulder, "to be fair, that was betrayal on Iggy's part. It was my birthday, for Shiva's sake."

"He's just looking out for your health, dude."

The banter goes on and on, and before the two of them know it, they're back at their room, and Noct's heart is just a little lighter than before. He watches Prompto fumble with his key fondly. He's missed this. He's missed them. And the longer he stays here, the more it feels like he's really been gone for ten years.

The door swings open with a loud screeching noise, making Noctis jump. Prompto shoots him a questioning look before mumbling an apology.

"We're back," Prompto calls into the seemingly empty room.

"Over here," throws back Ignis' accented voice, and Noct sees him and Gladio enjoying the porch, both looking rather mesmerised at the bright, cheery look of mid-day Lestallum. Him and Prompto make their way over, not saying a word. The four of them basking in the profoundness of the early sun. And it is profound, because it means different things to them in little ways. It's something they've all lost.

And it's something they're going to get back.

Noct wakes at the end of the day in a cold sweat. Beside him, Prompto dozes blissfully. Gladio and Ignis are both asleep as well. He almost wishes one of them were awake, so he could distract himself from the image of Bahamut's face, eyes burning into him with their intrusive scrutiny. He just wants someone to talk to, because his heart is racing like it was in the crystal, pounding while his brain fires a thousand thoughts per second at him.

Then he chides himself for being selfish. This whole trip is suppose to be lighthearted. He can't go ruining this for the others. Besides, this will be all they will have after he's gone. He rubs at his eyes, trying to rid them of the sleep that clings like spiders.

"Damn it," he whispers, feeling angry tears prickle his eyes. Why can't this be easy? Why can't Bahamut get off his lazy godsdamned ass and kill Ardyn himself? Surely it isn't that hard for a god to do.

The Draconian. Like draconian law. The name suits him well.

Stupid, stupid. This whole fucking thing is so ridiculous. Bahamut basically made Ardyn into what he is, and now he's trying to get Noct to fix his giant fucking mess. For what? So he can play his little game with all his broken little toys? What's the fucking point?

Maybe he just won't go back. Maybe this King of Light will be a coward and spend the rest of his days in the past, living the life he deserves. Maybe someone with less to lose will take this for him and end the darkness.

Maybe he's just being wishful.

Noct knows he's just being wishful. Just like he knows none of that will happen. He'll march off and lay down his life for his people, like he's meant to.

And it fucking sucks.

"Hey, buddy?" Asks a soft voice from beside him. Noct turns from where he is sitting up and sees a half-awake Prompto staring at him with concern, propped up on one elbow, "you alright there?"

Damn it, he should have been quieter. He nods, "go back to bed, Prompto."

"Not until you tell me what's going on," Prompto says, mindfully keeping his tone even and low.

"Just a nightmare," he lays back down, refusing to look his friend in the eyes.

"Me too. Wanna talk about it?"

Noct rubs his hands over his face and sighs, "not really, no."

Because how do you tell your closest friends that a big, angry god is threatening to strike you down if you don't time travel right back to the future and die? Exactly, you don't.

He only realizes that he's shaking when a warm, comforting hand starts rubbing circles into his back, "we'll figure it out. It's okay."

"No, it isn't," Noct shakes his head, "I'm not ready. I'm just not ready."

Prompto stays quiet, but wraps him in a tight side-hug while Noct mutters apologies into the air. Eventually, he wiggles out of the embrace, avoiding eye-contact, "this was supposed to be an easy trip."

"If things were easy, we wouldn't be here at all," Prompto's eyes are fixed on the thin sheet of light reaching through the curtains as he speaks.

"How'd you do it?" Noct asks before he can think better of it, "when Ardyn had you. How'd you make it out?"

He smiles tightly, "easy," he says, "some grumpy prince and his friends found me."

Noct gives him a look, "not what I meant."

"Noct-"

"Truth, Prompto. Please."

Prompto huffs out a breath, "fine. You want honest? I never made it out, not really. I still go there, to Zegnautus, to the infantry facility, whatever. I couldn't hunt for the first year after 'cause the flashbacks were so bad and vivid, and I nearly got people killed. I can't sleep without seeing his face. Gods, Noct, I can't even say his name."

"But you're still here," Noct insists, trying to catch any beam of hope he can, "you're still living."

Prompto looks at him with something too close to pity. "There's a line, between 'living' and just... 'surviving'. I think I know where I am."

Noctis hunches over. He can't do this. He can't do this anymore.

This is Noctis, King of Light, who is still afraid to die.