Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sirens were loud, booming, echoing within the hearts of the angels and the corrupted souls of the demons. It was the siren that said God was angry. He was coming for the offender, ready to do what he had to in order to stop him. The archangels were preparing for the worst of it, drawing swords and spears, trying to hunt the offender so that God didn’t have to do any of the legwork. The problem was they didn’t know who it was. They didn’t know who had taken the Nephilim.

Cor was grateful that the angels in Heaven were naturally trusting fools. He was grateful that no one dared to defy God, keeping their guard down so he could steal the Nephilim away. Holding onto the child, small, blond, and scared, he ran through the corridors of the palace, his breathing labored, approaching the exit. It wasn’t just the palace exit. Instead, it was the exit from Heaven, his way to Eos, and the Nephilim’s only hope for escape.

“Please take him,” Verstael, an archangel that was close to God, had begged. “He is my son. I cannot protect him here.”

Cor had initially ignored the request. He had thought that God knew what was right, that the Nephilim would be locked away until he was sentenced to death. After all, it was forbidden for Nephilim to exist at all. If God willed him to be dead, then no one could disobey him. It didn’t matter that Cor was a reaper, that even God was terrified of his kind. He had been brought there to put an end to the Nephilim, not to take him to safety. If God asked it, he was obliged to honor the request.

But then he saw the Nephilim and immediately changed his mind. He didn’t know if it was his power that exerted his influence on him or something else. When Cor looked at the child, small and scared, his big blue eyes staring at him with curious fear, he knew he couldn’t do it. There was something about him that told him he needed to protect him. His reaper instinct kicked in, telling him that it wasn’t the Nephilim’s time to die. So instead, he agreed to take him, to hide him amongst the humans in Eos and ensure his safety.

Cor had picked up the child, who was only quiet and agreeable as he ran through the palace, hiding in the shadows and avoiding any angel that may be passing by. If he got caught, nothing could save them. The child seemed to understand that, keeping quiet despite his tears, and soon enough Cor was passing through the veil into Eos, carrying the Nephilim in his arms. He almost ran into a passing car as he entered Eos, but he managed to dodge it just in time, stepping onto the sidewalk, wet after a summer rain.

“You okay?” Cor asked the Nephilim, looking at the scared child in his arms. How old was he? Angels were ageless beauties, each one of them, but a Nephilim was different. A Nephilim was only half archangel, half human. They were said to possess powers that not even archangels possessed. Maybe not even God himself. That was a terrifying thought, and Cor wondered if he had just brought the end of the world to Eos because of it.

The child only nodded in response, either too scared to speak or unable to at all. Cor didn’t know, nor could he tell, and he wasn’t particularly good with kids anyway. He was a reaper after all, not a parent. Parent or not, he had to move quickly before the angels passed through the veil and looked for the rescuer. Verstael had already found a family that was ready to receive a child, no questions asked. He hoped for the child’s sake that they were prepared for whatever came their way.

Cor looked down at his phone as he made his way down the street. The benefit of being a reaper was that he could instantly find wherever he needed or wanted to go. It wasn’t like the angels, who were constantly trying to figure out how their phones worked, let alone how to find where they were going. Some were smart, like Verstael. Most were not.

And it definitely wasn’t like the demons, who were too clever for their own good and never needed such talents anyway. They could research anything, find out the darkest secrets, let alone the best restaurants or the decent haunts. They had to be clever to avoid the angels.

All he had to do as a reaper was look at the address and then he was there. Angels could travel at will, their wings moving so fast that they were practically invisible. Demons traveled through smoke, like a bad dream drifting into the minds of humans. And fallen angels, those who truly ruled Hell, could do both. Standing in front of the quaint blue townhouse that had the porch light on, Cor looked at the very human dwelling with a sense of trepidation. If they knew they were welcoming a reaper and a Nephilim then chances were they would not be so inviting.

“You made it,” Verstael said, suddenly next to him.

Cor turned and looked at the blond angel with light freckles and blue eyes. The Nephilim looked so much like him that it shocked even Cor. They could have been clones. The child’s hair was just a bit more golden, his eyes with a slight hint of violet behind the blue, his freckles a bit more vibrant. Nevertheless, it was obvious he was Verstael’s son. Cor wondered which human had been daring enough to have a child with an archangel.

“Will he be safe here?” Cor asked the archangel, looking to the house. “Will they be able to protect him?”

“He will be safe,” Verstael said. He looked at his son and took his hand in his. The boy looked at Verstael as he laid a hand on his wrist. There was a soft glow, the child looked pained for a moment, then Verstael pulled his hand away. A brand, like a barcode tattoo, was on his wrist. “This will suppress his power until he turns twenty. That is when he will have to fend for himself.”

“You won’t be there to protect him?” Cor asked. “Why go out of your way to protect him now, then?”

“I will do what I can, but I doubt it will be much,” Verstael replied. “God is watching me right now. He looks too much like me for him not to be suspicious. While he hasn’t seen the child, he has read the reports. I will be lucky if I survive this.”

“Good luck,” Cor offered, knowing that God was particularly ruthless whenever someone defied his will. He looked to the house. “Is this family a good choice?”

“So much concern from a reaper,” Verstael mused as he looked at his child, comfortable in Cor’s arms. “I can only hope that they will be a good choice. They’re the only choice I could find to take him in. I had some standards when I chose them, but I have no clue if they’ll be good parents.”

“Hopefully they can handle a Nephilim,” Cor considered. He doubted anyone could handle a Nephilim, powers suppressed or not. “Are you ready?”

Verstael nodded and they approached the townhouse. The archangel rang the doorbell, but they didn’t have to wait long. A young couple, both with brown hair and brown eyes, opened the door and looked at them with a surprised smile. When they saw the Nephilim they nearly cooed at him, and Cor definitely had a feeling that it was a protective magic that the young boy was using. All he had to do was will someone to love him and then he was safe and protected. Then again, Verstael had suppressed his power. The Nephilim was obviously just a cute kid. Even Cor felt attached to him to some degree.

“Good evening,” Verstael said to the couple, obviously trying to sound more human than angel. He was trying, and he was failing. “I have brought the child. Please treat him well.”

“Of course,” the woman replied as she held out her arms. Cor handed the Nephilim over, who only looked at them all during the exchange with wide eyes. His eyes settled on Cor’s, and the reaper had the sudden feeling that there was a question the boy was asking that he couldn’t verbalize. “We will take good care of Prompto.”

“That’s the name you’ve settled on then?” Verstael asked with a frown, like he didn’t know how to take it. When they nodded he only sighed. “Take good care of him. He may be a handful.”

“I will check in on him from time to time,” Cor said impulsively. The boy rested his head against the woman’s chest, satisfied with the promise Cor just made. He was far more perceptive than the adults thought. Cor wondered how much of this moment he would remember. He hoped it wasn’t much. Human children were so easily damaged from anything they perceived as trauma.

“That is not necessary,” the man said as he looked at the child. His eyes were loving, but Cor was still feeling increasingly overprotective. “But we appreciate it nonetheless.”

There was nothing else to be said. Verstael had to surrender his child to protect him, and Cor was going to keep an eye on him to make sure these humans didn’t hurt him. The couple thanked them both for bringing them the Nephilim then made their way back into their house. The Nephilim, Prompto, was already falling asleep in her arms like he knew this was now his home. He was more perceptive and far smarter than most angels, even as a child. No wonder God was afraid.

“Prompto Argentum,” Verstael considered as they walked down the sidewalk and away from the townhouse. “He will live as a human until he is twenty. It is better this way. It is the only way he can be safe.”

“Then why do you sound like you’re devastated?” Cor asked as he looked to the archangel. Verstael was crying. It always surprised him when angels cried, their tears shimmering like liquid diamonds mixed with mercury. The tears fell like fresh dew onto the pavement, crystalizing into a rare gem. Cor bent over and picked them up. Humans would kill each other for a gem so rare and precious that they only called it mithril in legends and lore.

“He’s still my son,” Verstael replied. “But it is better this way. Now he will stand a chance.” He paused, listening to the sirens as they erupted in the sky, a booming sound that humans couldn’t hear. “I have to go. If I do not return then they will know.”

“Good luck,” Cor said as he shook the archangel’s hand. “I will update you on your son when it is safe.”

“Thank you.” Verstael nodded. There was the sound of wings fluttering as he disappeared, heading back towards the veil that would allow him safe passage back to Heaven. Cor felt the sirens vibrating in his body, the emergency in Heaven cascading through Eos and into Hell. The King of Hell would soon know that a Nephilim was on Eos.

Cor knew what it meant to have a Nephilim alive, hidden from the angels and the demons. As soon as Prompto turned twenty, the angels would want to kill him and the demons would want to monopolize him. He felt bad for the boy, knowing that he wouldn’t even be aware of his powers until it was too late. It was the best hope for any sort of future that Verstael could give him, though. Twenty years was better than none.

As Cor went back to his work, receiving a message on his phone of the next soul he had to reap, he made a promise to Prompto to watch after him more than just checking in from time to time. He would need to be protected after he turned twenty. He would need help and guidance for a power that none of them knew how to handle. Cor didn’t think he could necessarily help with his power, but he could at least watch over him and make sure that when he turned twenty he wasn’t going to immediately die. He wanted to give Prompto a fighting chance.

For now, though, God was angry. The further he kept away from Prompto until the frenzy died down, the better. Cor disappeared into the night as the Argentums tucked their new son in for the night. Unbeknownst to them, they were harboring a refugee from Heaven itself.

Chapter Text

Today was supposed to be a good day. Prompto had the entire day planned out. He was going to go to work, have a decent day there, come home early, see his boyfriend for their dinner dinner plans, then spend the night entangled in his arms. This was supposed to be the plan for his twentieth birthday, but that wasn’t how things were turning out. Prompto didn’t know how things could go so wrong. He was wondering if he had done something that he didn’t know about. Surely there had to be something. But try as he might, he couldn’t think of anything.

Prompto was working part time as a photographer for an independent journal. He took great pride in his work, and up until today he had been given only the highest praises. There was even talk about putting him on the payroll full time so he didn’t have to struggle between this job and all the other freelance jobs he did. That’s why when his boss called him into work that day to talk, he assumed it was for the full time job offer. He never expected to get fired.

His boss couldn’t really come up with a good reason for his firing when Prompto pressed him for details. Typically, Prompto wasn’t one to rock the boat or to question authority, but he deserved to know the reason why he was being fired. It was due to “budgeting cutbacks” his boss had said. The last Prompto heard, the budget was being expanded upon, the journals flourishing. When he asked about it, his boss only told him to get his belongings and get out.

It was a hard blow to deal with. Prompto was feeling quite a bit dejected by the time he left the building, unable to figure out why he was no longer necessary when just the day before his boss was giving him glowing praises. He stopped at a café for a cup of coffee, wondering just where he had gone wrong, while considering his options. It wasn’t the end of the world, he told himself. All he had to do was increase his freelance work and commissions. It would be a struggle until he found a steady paying job again, but he could do it. His boyfriend would help. He always was so supportive.

After a series of anxious self-reassurances, Prompto decided that he wasn’t going to let this affect his birthday. He still had his boyfriend, who he had been with for about a year now. Nyx was older than him, well established in his job as a detective, and all manner of beautiful with his long dark hair and blue eyes. Prompto had met him at a gay bar when he hadn’t been looking in particular. They hooked up and then decided to give a relationship a go. Now he was grateful that they were in a really healthy and happy relationship. Nyx had even mentioned marriage once or twice, and Prompto was increasingly enjoying the idea.

Sighing, Prompto dialed Nyx’s number, always on speed dial, to see if he was available to talk. He knew that he had off work today, that he was likely in his apartment, planning whatever surprise he had for Prompto’s birthday. It didn’t necessarily shock him that the phone rang then went to voicemail. He knew Nyx would just call him back in an instant and tell him to come over immediately. Instead of waiting for him to call him back, Prompto just decided to set out to his boyfriend’s place. Nyx would be happy to see him. They had a great relationship, and Prompto knew he could confide in him.

Prompto had a key to the apartment even though he had his own place. They were talking about finding a place together once both of their leases were up, something large enough for them both to get started with a new life together. When he approached the apartment after a short walk through downtown Insomnia, he was surprised to see that Nyx had left the front door unlocked. It confused him. Nyx worked in law enforcement. There was no way he would just haphazardly leave the apartment door unlocked.

Quickly, Prompto opened the door and stepped into the well lit apartment, the sunlight filtering through the sliding glass balcony door into the small living room. Nothing looked out of place, but he noticed there were a few things that didn’t make sense. There was a bottle of wine on the coffee table. It wasn’t particularly out of the ordinary, or at least it wouldn’t have been if the bottle wasn’t opened. Prompto stared at the two wine glasses on the coffee table with a frown. One was stained with pink lipstick. A woman? Maybe a friend?

He peered down the hall and saw that Nyx’s bedroom door was closed. There were some clothes strewn down the hallway, pieces of breadcrumbs leading him towards something he knew he wanted to avoid. Prompto heard it then. There were clearly moans coming from the bedroom, Nyx’s voice mingling with a woman’s. A sinking feeling grew in the pit of his stomach, and his heart was painfully telling him just to leave the apartment and remain willfully ignorant. But he couldn’t do that. He needed to face the truth, no matter how painful it was.

With a deep breath, Prompto shakily made his way down the hall. He hesitated, his mind telling him that if he looked at this now then there was no going back. It was his birthday, after all. Just keep the door closed and chalk it up to Nyx watching porn. But he couldn’t just ignore it, not when a larger part of his mind was telling him that he knew the truth already. He just needed to confront it. Tearfully, he grabbed the doorknob and opened it slightly, peering in to see just who was beneath Nyx in the bed they so frequently shared.

Prompto stared at Nyx’s naked body on top of a pretty blond woman, thrusting in and out while they both moaned in tandem to their movements. It confused him. Nyx had told him that he was gay. Why was he fucking a woman? It shocked him as well. Nyx had been hurt in the past, and one of the reasons why Prompto decided to give him a chance in the relationship was because neither of them were looking to get hurt. They had both wanted a relationship for the long hull. Why was he jeopardizing that for some blond woman? Was there something wrong with the relationship that Prompto didn’t realize? Something that made it easy for him to cheat on him on his birthday? Did Nyx decide that women were ultimately better, that fitting the status quo would end up less painful overall?

“Nyx,” the woman moaned in a clear Tenebraean accent. She reached up and touched Nyx’s face as her hips pulsated, Nyx thrusting into her with almost animalistic grunts. Prompto’s eyes widened, his heart stuttering to a near halt, when her eyes found his. She grinned at him like she wanted him to catch them in the act together. “Be mine, Nyx. Only mine.”

Nyx didn’t respond, and Prompto felt his heart shattering. He needed to go. Why was Nyx doing this to him, and on his birthday no less? How long had this been going on? He had just left the apartment less than two hours ago. Was it really that easy for Nyx to turn around and start fucking a woman? His legs were shaking and his knees were about to buckle, but his heart and mind couldn’t take the pain. Numbness won out, and a strange calm came over Prompto.

There were some clothes in the apartment that Prompto kept there. They were in the bedroom, and his mind had shut down his feeling in favor of relying on practicality. He had to get his stuff so he could go home and never have to come back. Ignoring Nyx and the woman, he opened the bedroom door and walked over to the dresser to a small drawer that had been made available for him to use. He thought their relationship was good enough that this wouldn’t happen, let alone on his birthday.

“Don’t mind me,” Prompto announced bitterly as he opened the dresser drawer loudly, angrily. “I’m just getting my shit.”

“What the- Prompto?” Nyx asked. Prompto didn’t even bother to stare at him as he pulled out of the woman, his naked body on display as his surprise turned to confusion. The woman pulled a blanket over her and stared at them both with a smile, clearly unbothered by Prompto’s presence. “Prompto wait…!”

Prompto grabbed the clothes out of the dresser and angrily slammed the drawer shut. He ignored Nyx as he stomped out of the bedroom, his cheeks flushed with his anger and hurt, walking into the bathroom to grab the spare toothbrush he kept there. Nyx was just behind him, grabbing his boxers and pulling them on as he quickly walked over to him. How could Nyx even think about stopping him from leaving when he caught him in the act?

“Prompto, wait,” Nyx said as Prompto continued to ignore him. Nyx stood in front of the bathroom, blocking his path. Angrily, he shouldered past him, not saying a word, trying to ignore the tears in his eyes as he made his way towards the exit. “I don’t know what happened. I swear. I thought-”

“It doesn’t matter what you thought,” Prompto snapped at him as he walked past the living room and kitchen and back towards the front door. “I didn’t realize you were bisexual. No… I didn’t realize you were a fucking pig. What a great birthday present. I’ll drop off your shit from my place later. Lose my number.”

Nyx grabbed Prompto’s arm, forcing him to look at him. “Prompto please… I swear I didn’t mean this…”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Prompto snapped as he pulled away from him and angrily opened the front door. “On my birthday, Nyx? Really? You couldn’t save it for another day? Just… Leave me alone. We’re done.”

“Prompto!” Nyx called for him as he ran down the hall, his heart utterly destroyed. He had to leave his traitorous boyfriend. How could he do something so horrible to him? They had cultivated such a loving relationship that Prompto never expected him to do something like this, let alone with a woman. He didn’t care that Nyx was bisexual, but he had insisted that he was gay when they first met. Why lie about it?

Prompto ran until he was far enough away to know that Nyx wasn’t going to follow him. His arms were full of his clothes in a box containing his work items, his camera around his neck, and his toothbrush in one hand. He had lost his boyfriend and his job on the same day, his twentieth birthday. More than being upset, he was shocked. How the hell did all this happen on the one day where everything was supposed to go right?

He considered calling his parents then thought better of it. They didn’t like that he was gay, let alone that he had a boyfriend who was several years older than him. If he called them then all they would say was that it was God’s will, that he got the punishment he deserved for living in sin. He didn’t need that right now. Right now he needed a friend. But there was no one to reach out to. All of his friends were Nyx’s friends. He was alone.

Sighing, Prompto made his way back to his apartment, his heart aching with each beat. He was going to go home, sit on the couch, watch some trash tv, and likely get so drunk that he wasn’t going to remember anything. That was just what he needed right now, and his one bedroom apartment greeted him warmly by the time he got home. He threw the box down and immediately grabbed the framed photos of him and Nyx and threw them in the garbage. He didn’t want or need to see that right now.

Before Prompto could even get a beer out of the refrigerator, there was a jiggling of the doorknob to his apartment. Pausing, he looked at it, wondering if Nyx had come to try and apologize. He didn’t want to hear any of his excuses. There was no excuse for cheating. The jiggling didn’t stop when Prompto told whoever was on the other side of the door to go away, and that’s when he began to worry.

He panicked when the jiggling turned to a pounding on the door. It sounded like someone was throwing their body against it, trying to get the frame to give way. They were going to force their way into the apartment. Why him? Why was someone trying to break into his apartment and rob him on his birthday? He hated how Nyx was his first thought. Nyx had taught him some self defense and what to do if someone were to break in. Right now, Prompto knew he needed to run and hide. He needed to protect himself.

The only problem was that his apartment was tiny, he was unprepared for this, and the door had already burst in. Two men stepped inside as Prompto took a step backwards towards his balcony. He didn’t know why his instincts told him to do that, particularly because he was on the fifth floor. It wasn’t like he could fly.

Maybe if Prompto wasn’t so scared of the blades in the hands of the men stalking into his apartment he would think that they were ridiculously attractive, which objectively they were. Maybe he would have the time to question why his life had suddenly gone to shit all in a matter of hours. But right now he could only look at the twelve inch blades of silver and steel shimmering in the sunlight that the men were holding. They looked at him with sinister grins, and Prompto took another step back in fear.

“Nephilim,” one of them, a brunette, said as he approached Prompto. They were both dressed in strange outfits, like they were late to a toga party where they devoted a lot of time and money into the authenticity of their costumes. If they didn’t look so dangerous with their oversized muscles and the blades in their hands then Prompto would find the look ridiculous. “You are hereby sentenced to death for crimes against God.”

“This has to be a joke,” Prompto said aloud as his fear turned to full blown panic. His parents had sent him to a conversion camp when he was thirteen years old in an attempt to pray the gay away. As much as his parents hated that he was gay, he didn’t think they would send two men in weird clothes to come and kill him for it. Maybe he was wrong. He hadn’t really spoken to them since he started dating Nyx after all.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t a joke. The men came for him, and he screamed and ran, trying to get as far away as possible. Prompto didn’t get very far. He had only made it to the balcony doors when one of them grabbed him, turning him back around to stab him in the heart. As the man lifted his blade, Prompto looked up at it with a fear and panic that he had never experienced before coursing through his body. His adrenaline was pumping, and he instinctively held his hands over his face to shield himself from the pain he was about to experience. He never expected to die on his birthday.

As Prompto was preparing for his doom, a bright flash of silver light nearly blinded him. He closed his eyes, still shielding his face with his hands, until the light disappeared. Then he waited for his death. And waited. Heart racing, fear still making him very cautious, he slowly lowered his hands in confusion. The men were gone. In their place were piles of ash with the two blades haphazardly strewn across them, and Prompto only grew more confused. Looking down at his hands, he saw them pulsating gently with the silver light that had blinded him. Had he done that? Had he killed them?

“No no no no no,” Prompto said as he stared at the piles of ash. “This isn’t possible. None of this is real. This is just a bad dream.”

“I wish it were kid,” a voice like steel said at the door. Prompto looked up and nearly shrieked. A man in an all-black suit with buzzed dark hair and blue eyes was staring at him. That wasn’t what made him panic. He was panicking because he had dreams about this man throughout his life but had never met him before. Prompto had always thought he was a figment of his imagination. “I’m glad to see the protective instinct kicked in.”

“What… Who are you?” Prompto asked as the man grabbed the door that had burst off its hinges and picked it up. He made a valiant attempt to put it right, but the door was splintered in several areas. Instead he just rested it against the frame. “What is going on?”

“We don’t have a lot of time,” the man continued, ignoring his questions. “Get some clothes together, whatever you need to last a few days. Come with me.”

“What, if I want to live?” Prompto asked incredulously. His chest was heaving, his breathing labored, as he looked at the man to the piles of ash and back. “I’m not in some shitty Terminator movie, am I?”

“That’d be easier than what you’re about to deal with,” the man replied with a grimace. “Be quick about it. More of them are on the way. Can’t you hear the sirens?”

Prompto didn’t hear anything but the sound of his own pulse racing. He was about to say so when he heard it in the distance. It was the sound of a horn, lower than a trumpet and stronger than a tuba, sounding somewhere beyond the horizon. The volume grew until it shook the walls like an earthquake, and Prompto found the low thrum to be terrifying. It was more terrifying than the men attacking him. Fresh tears came to his eyes.

“The horn of Gabriel is what the Bible calls it,” the man said. “If only they knew it was some twink named Loqi in charge of it. Come on. Grab your shit. We need to move.”

Prompto nodded and ran to his bedroom. He hurriedly grabbed his ‘go’ bag. It was something that Nyx had advised him to have since he had a volatile relationship with his parents. He didn’t want someone to come in and try and steal him away to another conversion camp. Nyx had helped him pack a bag with emergency cash and other necessities if he needed to get out quick. Now was the time, but he didn’t expect it to be because he was attacked by two men and had somehow turned them into a pile of ash. He just expected it to be his parents coming for him so he could run to Nyx’s. Now Nyx wasn’t even an option.

“Why should I trust you?” Prompto asked as he came out of the room, his bag on his back, camera still around his neck. “I don’t even know who you are.”

“You can either take a risk with me or you can take a risk with whoever is coming,” the man replied. “And you know they’ll kill you.”

“Fine,” Prompto replied. He had a point. If more like the men who were now ash were coming then he would be doomed if he stayed behind. The man left the apartment, and Prompto was forced to follow him. “Can I at least know your name?”

“It’s Cor,” he replied. They were jogging down the hall as hushed voices echoed from the opposite direction. Whoever was coming for him was already there. “I’m a reaper.”

“A reaper?” Prompto asked in shock. They took the emergency exit down to the bottom floor, skipping over steps as they ran down. Prompto was left breathless, unable to ask any questions while they fled. The siren periodically sounded, causing him to stumble and nearly fall several times. Just what was going on?

“Yes,” Cor finally responded once they were at the bottom. Prompto put his hands on his knees, panting as he tried to catch his breath. “Come on, kid. We can’t stop.”

“What do you mean by reaper?” Prompto asked. He followed Cor out of the building and into the sunny street. When the siren sounded again, he was shocked to see that no one was responding to it. The cars drove by as normal, the people on the street chatting happily amongst each other. How could they not hear it, not feel it? How could they be so willfully oblivious?

“I collect souls as they pass through the veil,” Cor replied. “Haven’t you ever heard of the Grim Reaper before?”

“Of course I have,” Prompto argued. He looked at Cor in disbelief. “That’s a myth, right?”

“You just evaporated two archangels with your bare hands,” Cor snorted. “Keep your mind open to the possibilities.”

Archangels? Evaporated? Prompto felt like his world was being turned upside down as he hurriedly followed Cor through the busy street. A moment later there was an explosion behind them, causing him to jump and turn in panic. His eyes widened as he looked up at the apartment building they had just left. His apartment was on fire like a bomb had gone off. If he had been in there a moment longer he would be dead.

“Did you do that?” Prompto asked, his voice climbing several octaves in his fear.

“I had to,” Cor replied. “Or else they would come looking for you still. They’ll figure it out eventually, but as far as the world is concerned, Prompto Argentum is dead. Come on. We need to move.”

Prompto stared at the building, his pulse climbing through his throat, as he thought about what Cor had said. His world had changed and ended all in the same day. As far as anyone else knew, he had just died in an explosion. This was, without a doubt, the worst birthday Prompto ever had.

***

Nyx stared at the two glasses of wine on the coffee table, dumbstruck and dumbfounded. It wasn’t possible. There was no feasible way that this was happening. He had been walking down the street and thought he saw Prompto. It was Prompto or he wouldn’t have invited him back to his apartment, thinking that he got off work early for his birthday. There was no way he would have poured a glass of wine for each of them, and there was no way he would have had sex with someone else, let alone a woman. He loved Prompto, wanted to marry him. There was no confusing him with anyone else, especially not this blond woman in his bed.

Walking back into the bedroom, he looked at the woman with numb shock, trying to figure out what had happened. When Prompto, the real Prompto, had walked in, it was like the veil had lifted and he saw the truth. He had been with a woman, and his mind immediately reeled from the fact, his body recoiling in terror. There had to be a reasonable explanation for it. There was no way he would have done something like that knowingly to Prompto. Nyx wondered if he had been drugged.

“Oh do stop sulking,” the woman said in a Tenebraean accent as she got out of bed and grabbed the white dress strewn on the bedroom floor. “I hate it when humans sulk.”

“Who are you?” Nyx asked, startled. He was still in his boxers, his body sweaty from the exertion of being with this woman then chasing after Prompto. His heart was racing from the disbelief of his heartbreak.

“My name is Lunafreya if you’re one of those types that must know,” she replied. She pulled the dress on then pinned her hair in a messy pile on her head.

“What happened?” Nyx asked, more to himself than to her. He sat on the edge of the bed and ran a hand over his face miserably. This wasn’t right. None of this was right. Tears came to his eyes as he thought about what he had done to Prompto. From the outside looking in, by all accounts, he had cheated on him. But how could he have when he swore he had been with him all along?

“You were just a victim of circumstance, dear,” Lunafreya replied in attempt to be comforting. It came across as crass and unwelcome. She grabbed her white heels and looked at him. “If anything, I have done you a favor. Just accept that he is gone and move on.”

“You drugged me,” Nyx reasoned, his voice thick with tears. How many times had Prompto helped him through his problems with his past? And this was how he was repaying him? “I wouldn’t have done that. I wouldn’t have betrayed him.”

“Tell yourself whatever you need to,” she said simply. She pulled her shoes on and looked at him with her hands on her hips. “Just be a man and get the fuck over it.”

Lunafreya left him there to deal with his emotions and the fallout as she left, slamming the front door loud enough to announce her departure. Nyx sobbed then, emotionally raw and angry. How dare she do something like this to him then tell him to get over it. He was very masculine outwardly, tough when he was on the force, but internally many considered him to be a sweetheart. Prompto had made him that way through their many nights of learning how to relate to each other.

Prompto had insisted that the concept of manning up was ridiculous. Fortify yourself. That’s what he always said. Everything he had was influenced by Prompto, and now he had hurt him irrevocably. It was no wonder that Prompto didn’t want anything to do with him. His heart broke at the thought, knowing that if he had been more cautious then he wouldn’t be here right now, heartbroken and crying. Then again, if Lunafreya had drugged him, it wasn’t his fault. Maybe that was his one hope. If he could somehow prove he had been drugged then Prompto could possibly accept him back.

The wine. Nyx got up and walked into the living room, looking at the wine glasses on the table. Quickly, he grabbed his phone and sent a quick text to Libertus, his friend and colleague at work. He was a detective, wasn’t he? With his connections, he could find a way to prove his innocence. He could prove to Prompto that he hadn’t done anything intentionally. It would absolve him of his guilt or his misery, but maybe Prompto would accept that and take him back. He loved him and wanted to be with him. He had to try.

Turn on the news. Then call me. Nyx read the text from Libertus, wondering what had happened to be news worthy. If Libertus was telling him to turn on the news then it wasn’t good. It was likely that they would be called into work then. Sighing, he grabbed the remote next to the wine glasses and turned on the television, flipping to the local news channel.

“Fuck, no,” Nyx said as he stared at the tv, his phone dropping out of his hand. Prompto’s apartment complex was on the screen, a fire raging directly in the area where his apartment was. How many times had he looked up at that apartment, seeing the light on late into the night, smiling at it in contentment and relief knowing that his lover was home? Now it was on fire.

Nyx got dressed quickly, grabbing the keys to his bike and his leather jacket on the way out without pausing or stopping. His phone was ringing in his pocket, but he ignored it in favor of speeding away on the sleek black metal bike that easily dove in and out of the traffic of downtown Insomnia like a dolphin on a wave. He slowed when he got closer to Prompto’s apartment, the police blocking off the area while the firefighters attempted to put out the flames. Nyx parked and took off his helmet when he was close enough, weaving through the news reporters as he flashed his badge at the police to let him through.

“What happened?” Nyx asked an officer as he looked up at the building, his heart racing. This couldn’t be happening. Prompto couldn’t be in there. There was no way.

“Nyx!” Libertus called behind him. He rushed up to him, the brown haired man buff but with a stomach. He looked at him worriedly, likely more in the worry of what he would do to others if he discovered the truth. Nyx saw the dread in his eyes and felt his own despair about to overwhelm him.

“What happened?” Nyx repeated to anyone who cared to respond. Libertus hugged him. He didn’t know what Nyx had done, how he had hurt Prompto. If Prompto was gone, then he left this world betrayed by Nyx. But Nyx couldn’t believe that he was gone. There was no way Prompto was gone.

“Gas leak,” the officer replied as he looked up at the building. “Poor guy was home at the time it happened. Cameras show him coming in but not coming out. He’s all but ash now.”

“No,” Nyx said while Libertus gave the officer a look that said it was not the right thing to say. “It can’t be. Prompto.”

“I’m sorry, man,” Libertus said sadly. “There’s really nothing I can say other than sorry.”

“He can’t be gone,” Nyx sobbed as he felt his knees go weak. Libertus caught him as he collapsed onto the ground, his body giving out as his grief and pain overwhelmed him. “He can’t be.”

But Prompto was gone. He was gone, and Nyx had betrayed him. Prompto had left this world knowing that Nyx had hurt him. It was his birthday too. Nyx was going to propose.

Chapter Text

“Fuck me,” he moaned, clutching onto Ignis’s hair, each letter like a five syllable word.

An expert in business and a genius in finance, the man was one of many in Ignis’s black book, a ledger he kept tabs on all the souls he was owed in due time. He barely cared to remember their names. This one, Byron, was coming due for his payment. He had already managed an extension of five years, thanks to his sexual energy that Ignis fed on when the pickings were slim, but it could be delayed no longer. Ignis didn’t doubt that Byron would ask for another, but the succubus could sense that he was aging. His energy wasn’t what it used to be.

“Ignis,” Byron moaned as he attempted to thrust into Ignis’s mouth. Ignis immediately pulled away, looking at the businessman with a warning expression. “Sorry.”

“Mmm,” Ignis only replied as he wrapped his mouth around Byron’s cock, his tongue running from the base to the tip and back down, over and over again as his mouth created a natural suction that made the man moan low in his throat. Ignis was an expert in this, the expert in this, a succubus who was often imitated but never duplicated. Ignis drew up contracts for human souls daily and efficiently to keep Hell going. The sex, the pleasure, was to keep him going, his own way to continue his lifeforce. If not he would wither and die.

“I’m… coming! Ahhh!” Byron came in Ignis’s mouth, the sickly sweet liquid dripping out of the corner. He pulled away and wiped the corner of his mouth with his fingers then looked at the liquid. It was the equivalent of a buffet for humans. Ignis licked his fingers, the businessman staring at him as he remained on his knees in front of the human. Byron was sitting on the edge of the bed so Ignis could do his work, pleasuring the man while he got the energy he needed to carry on.

Ignis stood up as Byron stared at him with lustful eyes, like his penis wasn’t already flaccid after climaxing. Byron was in his forties, but his health had deteriorated thanks to being a heavy smoker and a drinker. It also didn’t help that he snorted cocaine regularly to keep his energy and stamina up. Ignis knew all this because, unlike many other demons, he kept careful tabs on his contracts, even if he didn’t bother to care for them in particular. He could also taste everything in the human when he drained them of their energy. If he so much as dared to try that again right now then Byron would die. Not that it mattered.

“I swear that’s not natural,” Byron said with a dreamy smile. Ignis walked over to the hotel bathroom and grabbed a towel then threw it at him to clean himself up. “When do I get to see you again?”

“Not for a long time, I’m afraid,” Ignis replied. Of course it wasn’t natural, Ignis wanted to remind him. He was a demon, not a human. His sexual prowess as a succubus was what kept humans begging for more. If he didn’t have that talent then he would starve.

He grabbed his leather gloves off the dresser and pulled them on, his hunger sated for another night. When he was in Hell or doing a crossroads deal, Ignis wore a full suit, finely tailored and fitting to his form like he was wearing tasteful lingerie. When he was finding sexual pleasure and needed to feed, he only wore tight leather pants, a black V-neck undershirt, and a leather jacket.

“Aw come on,” Byron tried again as Ignis’s phone went off. It was a very specific chime, one that signaled that the King of Hell was calling. He held up a finger as he answered the phone in his other hand.

“Ignis here,” he said, knowing very well that the king only called with matters of importance.

“Are you busy?” King Regis asked. His voice sounded amenable. Ignis could relax enough to know that he wasn’t going to have to fix someone else’s mistake in the very least.

He was more a father to Ignis than a king, and there were hardly ever any formalities between them. When he was a newly formed demon the king took a particular shine to him and asked him to be a friend to his son. Ignis never realized how hard of a task that would be, but Regis had eventually proclaimed him to be a contingent heir to the throne in the event that his son could not fulfill his duties. It was an honor Ignis never expected, and one that caused considerable envy among the other demons and fallen angels.

“Just finishing up,” Ignis replied as he ignored Byron dressing himself. He turned away from him, indicating that this encounter had since concluded. Besides, Byron had a wife to get back to. Soon enough Ignis would be coming for his soul, and he was being kind enough to give him the extra time with his family. It was the last vestiges of his own humanity.

“Find my son and bring him to court,” Regis instructed. Ignis took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose just under his glasses. “I wouldn’t ask it of you unless it was important.”

“I know,” Ignis replied. Regis truly sounded regretful. Usually his son was wonderfully stubborn when it came to listening to his father. “I imagine he is amongst the beasts yet again. I will find him and bring him there immediately.”

“Good,” Regis replied. “Be as swift as possible about it. We cannot afford a delay. The archangels are already one step ahead.”

“Ah,” Ignis replied simply. He knew what this was in reference to then. “Very well.”

Ignis hung up the phone and put it in his back pocket, his leather pants like paint on his legs. “It looks like I must be on my way.”

“Stay,” Byron insisted as he wrapped his arms around Ignis’s waist and pulled him close. He was attempting to be seductive, but Ignis only found him annoying, particularly because he had already sapped what little sexual energy the man had left. “You never stay the night.”

“There is a reason for that,” Ignis said as he grabbed the man’s wrists and pulled them away from him with inhuman strength. “Go home to your wife.”

“I don’t want to,” Byron said, pouting like a petulant child. “I want you. Come on, Ignis. I can give you anything you want.”

Ignis laughed at that, a dry and disbelieving laugh. “Have you forgotten who gave you everything you do have, down to the very threads in your clothing?” Ignis flicked Byron’s jacket collar as if to demonstrate that Byron owed him his very life. He owed him his soul.

“I got this through hard work and perseverance,” Byron insisted. “Don’t forget it.”

With a heavy sigh, Ignis took his gloves back off and set the back on the dresser. It was always like this. Whenever one of his victims got close to their payment coming due, they would insist that whatever they had gained wasn’t from Ignis but from their own hard work or luck or even God. That was when Ignis knew it was time. It was certainly time for Byron now. His wife would have to find a way without him.

“Fortunately for you, I am in a hurry,” Ignis said as he pulled a dagger out of thin air, the blade flashing blue before it settled in his hand like a spinning compass finding true north. “Unfortunately for you, I am tired of your prattle. I was going to give you an extra day or two, but I think it is time to collect.”

“Wh-wh-what are you doing?” Byron asked. He looked at the dagger with wide eyes, holding up his hands in surrender. “C-come on now, Ignis. You really can’t be serious about the whole selling my soul thing, can you?”

“Did you forget the contract in blood?” Ignis asked. With another flash of blue light his black book appeared in his other hand, already opened to the page where Byron’s name and his bloody thumbprint had been captured when the deal was made. He held it up and showed it to him. “Did you forget that I already gave you an extension?”

“I need another one,” Byron tried as Ignis took a step towards him, the black book disappearing once more. “I need to wrap up some things before you take me.”

“That’s not how this works, and you know it,” Ignis replied. It wasn’t that he was partial to fulfilling contracts, but when the human was particularly annoying he did enjoy it. And Byron was exceptionally annoying. “If you want, I can make this painless or painful. It is your choice.”

“Fuck you!” Byron screamed at him. There was spit flying from his mouth as he looked at Ignis with wild anger to hide his fear. Ignis was only more annoyed by it. “Fuck you and your fucking contracts!”

“I understand,” Ignis replied simply.

With a flash of silver, the blade shot out dangerously, his hand moving faster than Byron could keep up with. It sliced his wrists beautifully, a clever cover that would not heal no matter how much pressure the man applied to the wound. Byron stared at him in shock as the blood began to drip from the wounds, too surprised to cry out in pain. It didn’t take long for his body to react. He collapsed on the bed, staining the white sheets crimson as the blood soaked through them, his hands creating small pools like a river leading to an ocean.

“You shouldn’t have pissed me off,” Ignis said as he flicked his wrist. The dagger turned to a razor blade, and he laid it in Byron’s hand. Whoever found him would think he killed himself. It was what made Ignis the best crossroads demon and the best succubus out there. He was artful, skilled, and always covered his tracks. The last thing he needed was an angel hunting him. “I will see you in Hell, Byron. Or rather, I won’t. I have other things to do.”

There wouldn’t be a reaper coming for his soul. Instead, Ignis retrieved his black book and looked at it, the page once more opened to Byron’s contract. The bloody thumbprint on the page glowed golden for a moment then turned to a dull black as the businessman died, the contract fulfilled. Byron’s soul would go directly to the Gates of Hell, where he would be received and assigned his torture in the pits. If the human was anything like Ignis, then he would eventually become a demon. Those were a rare breed, though, and Byron did not have the constitution for it. No man weak enough to sell his soul for money could cut it as a demon.

“Time to find this prince,” Ignis said with a forlorn sigh, tucking the book into his leather jacket for the time being. He grabbed his gloves and put them on once more before checking his reflection in the mirror.

To all those around him, he was handsome, sexy even, with pouting lips, bright green eyes, and brown hair. Byron had messed up his hair, and Ignis took the time to adjust it. But if Ignis took away the mirage that he created they would see his real image. He had been attacked with holy water a long time ago and suffered the consequences most severely. He was scarred and permanently blind in one eye, and there was a small scar in his lip that could have been far worse. Luckily he hid it well with his own brand of demonic magic, and few knew he had been careless years ago. The prince was one of them.

With little left to do, Ignis disappeared into a plume of black smoke, heading to the prince’s familiar stomping grounds beyond the Gates of Hell. If the king was requesting his son be there for the conversation then it could only mean one thing. The sirens of Heaven reverberating off the walls as he left the hotel confirmed it. They had found the Nephilim.

***

Noctis didn’t really care about much. Well, that was a lie. He cared about a great deal, but it was never what his father wanted him to care about. Regis wanted him to take over, to inherit the throne and rule Hell. It wasn’t like there was a rush, but Noctis knew that as soon as Regis thought he was ready he would insist on it. But Regis also wanted him to be the perfect King of Hell, to be dastardly and dangerous and the embodiment of sin. That just wasn’t Noctis.

In truth, Noctis was a bit too kind to be ruthless like his father. He was a bit too nice, even when it came to doing crossroads deals. It was a point of contention between him and his father. Regis blamed his late mother, Aulea, for the fact, although he never specified why. Noctis just thought that maybe his father hadn’t anticipated a soft-hearted child, or at least soft-hearted for Hell. Sure, he still got the job done, but he was also prone to moments of mercy that his father cringed at.

That was why Regis brought Ignis into the fold. He had introduced him to Noctis when he was still young, still learning the ways of Hell and the ways of humanity. Ignis was a perfect demon, a brilliant succubus, and a great friend. Noctis thought he was much better suited to claim the throne, and his father was apt to agree. If he kept this pace then Ignis would inherit the throne instead of him. That was just fine with him.

Noctis preferred to be among the beasts of Hell instead of on the throne, lost in the meadows of tall black grass while he lazed through much of the day. Hell had a red horizon and a white sun, painting a stark contrast against the black fields of dead flowers and the beasts of Hell chirping and cooing while they preened. He had no clue where humans got the notion that Hell had dangerous hell hounds. The grim, omens of death, were exclusively loyal to reapers. Here they had jet back chocobos, cute and fluffy to him, yet their beaks were razor sharp, their claws dangerous and deadly, their beady eyes glowing red.

Hell wasn’t all fields of dead grass and meadows of black flowers. It had a black palace, obsidian and damask as it towered above the rest of the hellscape, a looming presence reminding all those who resided there who was in charge. Fallen angels, the rarest in the dimension, resided in the palace, the king preferring to keep them close. King Regis was a fallen angel, and so was Noctis. The king had been among the few to rebel against God at the fall of man.

Surrounding the palace were the fields that Noctis enjoyed getting lost in. It was where the chocobos resided, a place where the prince knew he was safe from dangerous demons while also finding the space to be alone. Then there were the demons, who lived in their own domiciles, also black like the palace, although far more like the residences that humans took up. Beyond that were the barren fields, the wastelands. And beyond that were the pits where the appropriate punishment was delivered to the souls who were damned to an eternity in hell.

If the soul was particularly worthy, they would find a way to claw out of the pits. It was a veritable labyrinth of whatever torture the demons could drum up, sometimes literally torture and other times individualized to whatever made the soul suffer the worst. Regis took Noctis to through the pits from time to time to make sure the demons were doing their jobs appropriately and to make sure no major repairs or adjustments had to be made. Noctis was amazed that some souls found Hell losing a loved one over and over again to be their worst nightmare while others found it to be ending up locked in an iron maiden. Humans were fascinating.

Occasionally a soul was particularly damaged and embittered enough to find their way out of the pits, warped into a demon. The type of demon they became depended solely on how their soul was damaged. Ignis was once a human who sold his soul and ended up a succubus because of it. Noctis didn’t know the details, and Ignis refused to tell anyone, so he didn’t press the issue. The humans who became demons were few and far between. They were really the ones who did all the legwork to make Hell run smoothly. Most fallen angels were useless, trying to whisper in his father’s ear to get their own way amongst the court.

Noctis considered himself to be one of the useless ones, particularly because he didn’t have much of an inclination for torture, and half the time he did a crossroads deal he found a way to talk the humans out of it. While the others were always just trying to get their way, Noctis was more inclined to be as far removed from the workings of Hell as he could. It didn’t make sense for him to let people make temporary deals when it meant an eternity of suffering. It was just bad business as far as he was concerned. Then again, when in Hell good was bad and all business was all decent. Regis was particularly proud that his son accidentally invented capitalism while Noctis hated it. It made Noctis wonder if something was wrong with him.

Today was just like every other day for Noctis. Dressed in a black pinstriped suit, his dark hair swaying lazily in the breeze, he laid amongst the black chocobos, sleeping on one while the white hot sun of Hell beat down all around them. It was always hot in most places in Hell, save for the worst parts of it where it was so cold that no one dared to go unless it was absolutely necessary. The worst of the souls ended up in the frozen area of the pits. The chocobos all huddled around him, one resting its head on his leg while another laid close enough for him to scratch his neck. Noctis stayed like that for a long time, sleeping another day of eternity away.

“I thought I might find you here,” Ignis said as he appeared before him in a plume of smoke. He was dressed in leather, looking like he was the reason why “fine as Hell” was a common phrase. Noctis wasn’t going to pretend that Ignis wasn’t sexy. It was his hole modus operandi. But he also couldn’t ignore that Ignis acted like that annoying older brother who tried to act more like a parent than a sibling. And while everyone was attracted to a succubus, Noctis just didn’t have the inclination.

“Of course I’m here,” Noctis said as he closed his stormy blue eyes, closer to a grey right now in the light of the hellish sun. His jet black wings were casually drifting in the breeze, blending with the feathers of the chocobos while he slept. Now that he was waking up, they receded and all but disappeared, leaving a mark on his skin like a giant scar on his back. The fallen angels were the ones who ended with scars where their wings were hidden and extended. The angels in heaven had theirs decorate their skin like tattoos. “I’m tired.”

“The very definition of sloth,” Ignis mused. He was very good at pinpointing all of Noctis’s weak points for his amusement, not out of spite or hatred, but out of brotherly annoyance.

“You know,” Noctis said as he ignored the comment. He was always tired, and he was always tired of hearing shit for it. “My dad has a large stake in the leather industry. You’re probably single handedly keeping him in business.”

“Nonsense,” Ignis replied with an amused tone. He adjusted his leather jacket, like it wasn’t perfectly fitted to his slim waist already. “I am clearly a spokesperson and a model for the industry. Your father pays me.”

“In what?” Noctis asked with a grin. He opened his eyes to see Ignis’s reaction. “Dicks?”

“Oh I don’t need your father for that,” Ignis mused as if thinking about a rather fond memory. Noctis would rather not know. “And I’d much rather have you.”

“No you wouldn’t,” Noctis laughed. Ignis held out his hand for Noctis to take, and he gratefully accepted.

They joked like this frequently, Noctis making a joke at Ignis for being a succubus while Ignis made a pass at him. It was obvious that they were both objectively attractive, but Noctis had never really felt inclined to be with anyone one way or the other. Ignis didn’t take offense to it, particularly because they treated each other more like siblings than like potential lovers. That was something else his father hated. As prince of Hell, Noctis should have been engaging more in rampant hedonism.

Noctis also knew why Ignis would like the opportunity to be with a fallen angel, any fallen angel. While humans were fragile and weak, subject to wither and die from being with a succubus, an angel had the capacity to replenish instantly. They were a source of constant power for a succubus, and the power itself was stronger and lasted longer than a human’s soul ever could. Ignis wasn’t going to deny the opportunity for such power if Noctis if he made a serious pass at him. But neither of them were particularly into each other in such a way, and Noctis never felt inclined to make a pass at anyone. Besides, it would certainly be an awkward conversation after.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Ignis agreed. “Your father is looking for you. He wants us both at court as soon as possible. A matter of great importance by the sounds of it.”

Noctis rolled his eyes. “Everything is a matter of great importance with him.” He sighed. “Fine. Lead the way, chosen son.”

“The only chosen son is you,” Ignis reminded him. “You do not have to like it, but your father does want you on the throne. He would prefer a fallen angel instead of a demon on there.”

“It’s all just political bullshit,” Noctis replied in irritation as they walked through the tall grass and towards the palace. “Just because the angels here are the ones who fell from grace doesn’t mean that a demon wouldn’t do a better job at it. You know if I take the throne I’ll just rely on you.”

“Well it’s good to know that I will hold a place in your kingdom someday,” Ignis smiled. “And it’s good to know who would really be in charge. But for now, we need to stay focused. If my suspicions are correct, the Nephilim has been found.”

“Ugh,” Noctis groaned. He didn’t care about this business with the Nephilim, but since its creation that’s all anyone in Hell could talk about. According to his father it would grant them such power if they could control it. It just sounded like more bureaucracy in a fight for power. “Fine.”

They made their way back to the palace quickly, navigating through the stone black halls until they were in the large throne room. The fallen angels and the top demons of the court were already there, dressed fabulously in all manner of clothing. Most of the demons were stuck in some generation or another, failing to adapt while wearing clothes of bygone eras. Ignis was quick to point out that those who failed to adapt often were the first to die. Noctis was partial to the demons still dressed in baroque clothing. They looked ridiculous.

Sitting on a dais was the king on a throne that was taller and more ornate than any other furniture in the kingdom. The back of the throne was obsidian like everything else, branching out like a tree. Behind that were ornate carvings in black of hellish nightmares, a depiction that was carved by some artist who sold his soul for his talent. Just above the throne was a red stone sun, gleaming down on the king like a crown. The king himself dressed in black, a cane in one hand topped with a skull, his blue eyes excited as he watched his son and the demon he informally adopted approach the throne.

“Your majesty,” Ignis said with a bow. Noctis bowed as well, although his father was smiling at them in amusement. Everyone knew that he spoiled both of them, although the results were drastically different. Ignis was the image of a responsible prince while Noctis was the one who fought the idea of being there at all.

“Thank you for finding the prince,” Regis said to Ignis. “I am glad you are both here. The Nephilim has been found. Currently the adversary thinks he is dead, but I am sure that won’t last long.”

“We should make haste to retrieve him,” Ignis proposed. No doubt that was why they were there. They would both have to be present to formally dispatch whoever the king was going to put in charge of the hunt.

The king nodded, his greying hair falling into his eyes a bit. “That is why I summoned you both here. I want you, Noctis, to bring him to Hell. Convince him to come with you in whatever way necessary so we may use his power and finally win this war.”

“But dad-” Noctis tried, surprised that his father had even proposed the notion at all. Regis held up a hand to silence him, and he stopped immediately. There were times for arguments, and then there was the royal court. An argument that erupted here had to be for a good reason. This was not one of them.

“You are more than capable, my son,” Regis said with a smile. “Ignis, go with him. Make sure he doesn’t do anything to wind up hurt or in trouble. Help him bring the Nephilim here. I have every confidence that the future ruler of Hell is up to the task.”

Noctis wasn’t sure if he meant him or Ignis, but he wasn’t going to ask. It annoyed him that his father was giving such an important task to him, especially since he knew that it was a test. If Noctis failed this then the throne would go to Ignis. That was fine with him, but he knew his father expected great things. Nevertheless, he wasn’t going to press the issue or argue in front of everyone. Right now he was just going to worry about going to Eos for the first time ever.

“We will leave tomorrow,” Noctis proposed. He had only read about Eos in the books they kept in the royal library. While he was fascinated with how varied humans were, he was also terrified of setting foot on human soil. Things worked very differently there from what he had read.

“My son, the very definition of sloth,” Regis joked. “Whereas you, Ignis, have adopted all the seven deadly sins save that one. No, you will leave immediately. We have little time to waste, and it is rumored that if the Nephilim goes into hiding, it might never be found again. Make haste and go. You have the resources of Hell at your disposal.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Ignis said at the same time Noctis said, “Yes, father.”

It was a short summons but an important one. Noctis and Ignis left as quickly as they arrived, officially on assignment from the king, making haste to gather the materials they would need for a trip up above to Eos. They were going to go to Eos and find the Nephilim before Heaven did. They would bring him back to Hell and use whatever power he had that would finally give them the upper hand. And they had to do it before it was too late and the angels found the Nephilim.

Noctis hated that his father had given him the assignment, that he didn’t necessarily entrust him to the task but he wanted his son to prove his worth. It meant that if he failed there would likely be consequences. Ignis would take over as the official prince of Hell, but where would that leave Noctis? He was left with little choice at this point. He had to find the Nephilim and bring it back to Hell.

Chapter Text

The sirens in Heaven were never ending, sounding once every few minutes, reverberating off the walls for all those who were capable of hearing it. Humans were incapable of hearing the sirens, but the angels, fallen angels, and demons could. Anything that was created in Heaven or Hell was capable of hearing such a deeply terrifying horn as it called for the Nephilim’s death. The Nephilim likely heard it too.

Gladio wondered if the Nephilim was running in terror. He would be if the entirety of Heaven wanted him dead. Heaven was beautiful, well functioning, and perfect in its symmetry. There was a palace in the center of everything, tall, white, an omniscient presence for all of Heaven to admire. It was said that God lived there, although no one dared to enter or exit the palace. No one really knew what was inside.

Just outside the palace were sprawling fields of perfect green grass and fields of lavender. The chocobos of Heaven ran wild there, yellow and fluffy, like they weren’t the choice of creature for the angels to ride and fly. Beyond that were the domiciles where the angels lived, cold and silver and small. Much of their lives were spent dedicated to the will of God, to care for the souls of the deserving who entered Heaven for eternal rest.

Heaven wasn’t the clouds and rainbows that humans thought it was. Instead, each human soul had their own room where they spent their personal heaven in absolute bliss, enjoying each and every moment of eternity. The angels, particularly the archangels, did routine patrols of the cold, almost businesslike, buildings where room upon room was lined in long, labyrinthine halls. If a human was particularly devout, they had an option to become an angel. They would have to find their way out of their bliss and towards the halls where the angels were on patrol. It rarely happened, and it was rarer still for an angel to become an archangel. Gladio was the only one to do so in over two centuries.

“Gladiolus Amicitia,” General Glauca said as he sat behind his desk, reviewing the dossier in the shimmering silver folder. The general was strong, masculine, with brown hair and blue eyes. He wore a suit of leather armor, typical of those in his position as a general in Heaven. They were in the archangel’s main headquarters, the epicenter where all the major decisions of Heaven were made. Not much had changed since God disappeared. Not much stayed the same. “Newly appointed archangel.”

“Yes, sir,” Gladio replied awkwardly, standing at attention.

It was evident he was a newer archangel. He stood tall, proud, serious as he was stationary, waiting for his orders. The other archangels were much older, more family and friends with each other than colleagues of the highest caliber of devotion to the Cause. Gladio wore a white suit, typical of all archangels not assigned to the war division, his shoulder length brown hair pulled back, his amber eyes serious and stern.

While it wasn’t abnormal for angels to have their wings out in Heaven, most considered it pretentious. Gladio kept his furled, his wings a long tattoo of feathers cascading down his shoulders and arms. Each angel had a different pattern. The bigger the tattoo, the stronger the angel. Gladio’s were one of the biggest. He considered it both prideful and vain for him to find pleasure in his strength, preferring to devote that attention to his duties in Heaven. His devotion and his strength were the main reasons why he became an archangel.

“You are the first archangel not to be created by God in a very long time,” General Glauca considered while tapping the dossier vigorously. His leather armor was a deep red, unpretentious and unassuming, the material supple and well worn. He sighed as he leaned back into his white chair, the back shifting a bit to support the changing pressure.

Gladio knew that most humans were under the impression that Heaven was all fun and games. For them it certainly was, and Gladio had been one of those humans at one point. But the truth was much more practical. It took angels to run Heaven, to make things work. The work spaces that many of the angels occupied were like business offices on Eos, many of the angels occupying cubicles as they were tasked with certain assignments, whether it was fighting for the Cause or working miracles or anything else they needed to do.

The building they were in was for the archangels specifically. They were the ones who kept things running smoothly, many of them in charge of certain divisions, and the building reflected that. It was only one story, but large and central to the other business buildings, the walls perfectly white. The furniture was white as well, from the desk General Glauca sat at to the large comfortable chairs that Gladio ignored in favor of standing. Everything was white and shiny and beautiful.

Gladio had thought that so much white was a bit much, especially since most of the other buildings used soft hues of eggshell and nude colors, much more relaxing than the stiff white the archangels preferred. The sky outside was a brilliant blue, the sun a gentle yellow, the fields of grass and flowers all vibrant and alluring. It was all so beautiful, and Eos could only hope to one day to look similar to this paradise. There was a reason why Eos was created in Heaven’s image, like a cheap knockoff that didn’t quite make the cut.

“Yes sir,” Gladio replied. He felt anxious, nervous to know what his assignment would be. It would be willful of him to want to work in any particular division, but when he had been an angel he had enjoyed working in miracles. He hoped to be able to continue working there, maybe as a supervisor.

“You can relax, Gladio,” General Glauca commented. “You do like to be called Gladio, yes?” When Gladio nodded, he continued. “Miracles was your last assignment, was it? Hmm… We already have enough supervisors in the miracles division. There is one task… No. It’s too much for even our most senior archangels.”

“I will do whatever Heaven requires of me,” Gladio insisted, his pulse racing. He knew that there were many dangerous tasks and assignments for the angels to take care of. While he was strong and quite capable, he never particularly enjoyed hunting down the demons and putting an end to their evil ways. They always knew how to get into his head, and he preferred to be a protector more than a fighter. But if Heaven required him to be a hunter once more, he would do it.

“Perhaps,” General Glauca mused. He looked at the dossier then finally set it down. There was a slight smile on his face, like he was planning something big. Gladio hoped that he could be a part of it, to prove his devotion. He needed to prove that he was worthy of being an archangel.

Gladio expected it to be a folder on him by the way he was speaking, but he didn’t have a chance to find out. The general closed the folder before he could really get a look at the photo, only seeing the green eyes within. It was obvious that it wasn’t his dossier though, and Gladio realized that the general had picked this assignment for him the entire time. It was a test to see if he would take up the offer, making him wonder just how dangerous the task was.

“I am only devoted to Heaven and the Cause,” Gladio insisted. He wasn’t lying. He had been devoted to God as a human, even in Heaven, and when he had heard about the Cause he had to join the fight. “I will not let you down.”

“It won’t be me you’d be letting down if you fail,” General Galuca explained. “It would be God himself. Alright, I guess we can give you a chance with this if you think you can handle it. It does require going to Eos. A lot has changed.”

“I can handle it,” Gladio insisted. At this point he was curious to know what the assignment was at all. Curiosity was dangerous to devotion, and he quickly reprimanded himself internally. Unlike the other archangels, he had been human once. That meant he still had to deal with the last vestiges of his human emotions. It made his devotion all the stronger. He was an agent of God, and nothing could change that.

“As you can tell,” General Glauca said after a long moment, waiting for the worst of the next wave of sirens to pass. The building shook, and the general looked annoyed. Everyone knew the Nephilim had been found. There was no need for the sirens to continue. “The Nephilim is back in play. Many angels and demons are scouring Eos looking for it right now. It is imperative that we find and kill it before it’s too late. We cannot let the abomination fall into the wrong hands.”

“Yes, sir,” Gladio said, his heart racing. Was the general asking him to join the hunt for the Nephilim? So many had been sent, but they were all far more tenured than he was. The Nephilim was dangerous, after all.

“This is a prime opportunity for us to track down and hunt some of the high-ranking officials of Hell,” he continued. “Sources say that the prince of Hell and his demon brother are going to be on Eos looking for the Nephilim. The demon is dangerous, probably more so than the prince, but they are both on our most wanted list. If you think you can handle it, I want you to find them. Kill the demon, bring the prince back to Heaven.”

“Bring him back here?” Gladio asked in surprise. Why did they need to have the prince of Hell here? Shouldn’t they kill him and just be done with it? And what sources did they have that could have access to such knowledge that the prince of Hell would be on Eos? It would definitely be a risk having the prince of Hell in Heaven. What if it was part of some sinister plot against the Cause?

“If we play our cards right, then we can use him to force the King of Hell’s surrender,” Glauca explained. “For the Cause.”

“For the Cause,” Gladio echoed, the mantra like a prayer for God’s return. He nodded. “I will do what I must to bring him back, sir. And I will assure that the demon is killed.”

“Good,” Glauca asserted. He handed Gladio the dossier, the paper oddly weighing heavily in his hands. “Head to Eos as soon as possible. Today if possible. If not, the sooner the better. All of Heaven’s resources are at your disposal. Take your phone with you. We will be checking in regularly.”

“Yes sir,” Gladio said. He gave General Glauca a bow, dismissed to begin his assignment.

“Oh, and Gladio?” General Glauca said when Gladio was about to leave the room. “The demon is a succubus. Good luck.”

Gladio nodded his appreciation for the information, knowing that it could cause an issue with a lesser angel. He had only ever been devoted to God, even as a human, and that wasn’t about to change now. The succubae of Hell were not going to make him suddenly betray Heaven, God, or the Cause. Nevertheless, he would be careful. Demons often had a funny way of making things so very confusing.

He didn’t have any time to waste. The sirens were erupting all around them still, the air waves vibrating through his chest as he made his way back to his small domicile to grab the necessary belongings. He would stop in the armory as well, ensuring he was well protected against the hellish creatures seeking to find the Nephilim before they did. Holy water should do the trick. If Gladio was successful, then maybe he could stop the prince of Hell from finding the Nephilim. It might even result in him finding the Nephilim and killing it before the hellions got their paws on it.

It was all for the Cause. Gladio knew that Heaven and God came before everything. The Cause came before everything. He would fight for everything that Heaven stood for. No succubus or prince could take that from him. Quickly, Gladio got his gear together, ready to join the hunt on Eos. Only his prey would be those on the hunt for the Nephilim as well. He would do everything that was necessary to find them and fulfill his assignment. Gladio was determined not to fail.

***

“It’s okay,” Cor said in an awkward attempt to be soothing. “Better out than in.”

Prompto ignored him, his stomach heaving painfully as he leaned over the toilet in the bathroom of the shitty motel Cor had rented for the interim. They had run through the streets of Insomnia until Cor had grabbed him. Before Prompto could wonder if he had made a mistake, they were suddenly standing in front of the motel just on the outskirts of the city, the rundown building a seedy place for prostitutes and drug addicts. Prompto was left to wonder how they had gotten there, but he tabled that for the moment. There was so much to wonder about, and Cor’s method of transport was the least of his worries.

“A lot of people get sick whenever they travel with us,” Cor offered unhelpfully. Prompto knew he was trying to be comforting, but right now his entire world had collapsed in an instant. Dealing with someone who saved him but had no idea how to interact with people was only a source of annoyance for him. He just wanted to get sick in peace.

“I’m stressed,” Prompto said miserably, waiting to see if his stomach settled. “The travel didn’t hurt. It’s me losing my job and my boyfriend and my life all in one day!”

As the thought of everything overwhelmed him again, his stomach lurched uncomfortably. A moment later he was heaving over the toilet once more, leaving him to wonder just how much he had in his stomach to expel in the first place. His mind kept telling him that all he needed to go was go to Nyx. Nyx would comfort him. Nyx would know what to do. But Nyx had cheated on him, had hurt him. He had hurt him to the point of no return. He was alone.

Even if Prompto ignored that, even if he said he would take Nyx back anyway, it still was dangerous. He couldn’t put Nyx in harm’s way if someone was hunting him. It didn’t matter how much Nyx hurt him. He still cared about him and had to keep him from getting hurt. Prompto’s heart hurt painfully, a stabbing, sharp pain at the thought of his relationship with Nyx being over in an instant and immediately got sick again.

“Oh,” Cor only replied awkwardly. “Sorry about that. It’s likely that the angels did something to try and get you alone and vulnerable.”

“Angels?” Prompto asked miserably. Tears gathered in his eyes. Whether it was from the pain of heaving or the pain of losing everything he ever cared about, he couldn’t say. This was so much worse than anything he experienced before, and he had experienced enough in his young life. He was supposed to rely on Nyx in moments like these, but right now Nyx was the biggest source of his pain.

He looked at Cor, who was leaning against the frame of the bathroom door, the overhead fluorescent light flickering on and off. The tiles of the bathroom wall were gold and likely white at some point, but now they were a very obviously dirty beige. The bathroom mats were a dirty blue, the sink in disrepair, and the shower wasn’t something Prompto would step in unless he had no choice. The bedroom was much the same, with a brown carpet that hid most stains, a single large bed that looked like it had been used too much, and a dresser that was barely standing.

“The ones who attacked you were archangels,” Cor explained. He handed Prompto a clean towel, probably the only clean thing in the motel, so he could clean up from getting sick. Gratefully, he took it and stood up straight, wiping his face and hoping that it was the last of it. “Why don’t you take a moment to get cleaned up and then we’ll talk?”

Prompto nodded and ran the water in the sink, watching the murky brown water turn to a reasonable shade of clear after Cor walked away. He studied the water, his mind racing, recalling everything that happened over and over and over. There was a ringing in his ears as he thought about how he had almost died, how he had lost his job, how Nyx had cheated on him. Nyx cheated on him. It was something he couldn’t fathom, even though the image of him thrusting into that woman was seared like a scar in his memory.

Fresh tears came to his eyes as he thought about it. Nyx was the one person he could trust, the one person who he could rely on for everything. If he couldn’t rely on him then who could he rely on? He thought about Cor, a man he had dreamt about frequently but had never met. Had he seen him before? Was he a reaper always waiting in the shadows? Did that mean he was going to kill him as well? What was the point in saving him if that was the case then?

Growing up, Prompto had vivid, sometimes terrifying, dreams. Many of those dreams entailed being in a beautiful landscape, but they were full of people trying to hunt him down and kill him. The dreams felt more like memories, like he was trying to recall some part of himself that he had long since forgotten, something that his mind opted to let go of whenever he awoke.

Then there were the dreams about Cor. Dreams where he was just talking to him, having a normal conversation with him like it was just another day. He was checking in, telling him to stay strong. Had those dreams really been Cor visiting all along, trying to guide him towards the truth? Prompto could vividly recall their conversations, and he thought about how Cor had always offered awkward, but ultimately helpful, advice.

And how many times had Nyx held him after having those dreams, telling him not to worry, that there was no truth in them? There was no option now to reach out to Nyx, not since he had walked in on him, and his mind kept coming back to that. All he wanted was to be told that it was okay, that Nyx had really not cheated, that it was just a figment of his imagination. But as Prompto continued to stare at the water running, the ringing in his ears growing like static, he knew that his life had been turned on its head in an instant.

“Prompto?” Cor called after a time, making Prompto jump. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t realize that he had just been staring at the running water with wide, frightened eyes. Quickly, he washed his face, ignoring how dirty the water was, and rushed out of the bathroom to find Cor standing by the window, looking out the small slit in the blinds for any would-be attackers. The sun was already setting, and Prompto wondered how long they had been running.

“Anything dangerous nearby?” Prompto asked nervously, his heart racing in his chest as he ran a hand through his wild blond hair and down his freckled face. He remembered how he had evaporated supposed archangels with his hands and stopped himself, looking down at the hands he had used to kill. It just looked like his normal hands. What had he done? If archangels were real then that meant he had just done something really horrible without even knowing. Did that also mean God was real? Were his overly religious parents right all along?

“We’re safe for now,” Cor said as he turned away from the window and looked at him. “Although it will get complicated soon enough. My associates will eventually start calling when they realize I haven’t done my job.”

“Your job…?” Prompto asked, gulping in worry. “Will your associates come for me?”

“Only if it’s your time,” Cor said as he checked his phone with a grimace. “I wouldn’t worry about it just yet. There is a lot more that I have to explain to you first. Sit on the bed.”

Prompto obeyed, sitting at the edge of the bed that would never quite be clean. He looked up at Cor, his blue eyes with soft hues of violet looking for answers as the reaper leaned against the dresser, his arms folded across his chest. Prompto noticed for the first time that Cor was wearing all black. Black jeans, a black shirt, and a black trench coat. Was it the uniform for reapers or Cor’s personal tastes? The black did suit him, and Prompto couldn’t help but think that he would be quite popular in the gay community.

“I’m not sure how to start this,” Cor considered as he looked down at the ground, his blue eyes trained on something far away, a memory that was difficult to recall. “You shouldn’t have been born.”

“Well it’s not like I haven’t heard that line before,” Prompto said sarcastically, his words scratching at an old wound from his parents. How many times have they told him that he was an abomination for being gay?

“I don’t mean it in the way that false believers mean it,” Cor explained. “I mean that your father made a great sacrifice for you to be born and hidden in Eos safely because it is against the law in Heaven for your kind to be born. That branding like a tattoo on your wrist is proof that he cared. Without that, you would be dead.”

“My wrist?” Prompto asked as he looked down at the tattoo-like barcode on his wrist. It had been there ever since he could remember. “My parents told me that I was a human trafficking victim. I got branded with this to be sold. They rescued me.”

“Your father cared for you greatly,” Cor argued. He looked angry that the Argentums made up such a tale. “He would never have let that happen. The Argentums created that lie to support their belief that being gay is a sin. Which is hilarious considering how most in Heaven don’t give a shit about that in the first place.”

“You keep talking about my birth father in the past tense,” Prompto pointed out. His heart was racing at the thought of someone knowing who his real parents were. Did that mean that he had a home to go back to after all?

“After you were safely hidden in Eos, your father disappeared,” Cor said grimly. Prompto’s heart fell. “He hasn’t been seen or heard from since. He knew that there was a risk he would be killed for protecting you. But there is a rumor that he’s in the palace in Heaven, but that’s all pure speculation.”

“I thought Heaven was supposed to be some wonderful place where it was all farts and rainbows,” Prompto said bitterly. Cor looked at him with an arched brow, and he flushed. “I mean, can you just tell me everything from start to finish?”

Cor thought about it a moment, then nodded. “All the stories of God existing, of there being a Hell, of angels and demons out there? They’re all true. But most of the names, the dates, and reasons for everything, they’re all wrong. And no one knows where God got his power from. But there are some rules that have existed from the beginning that no one dared to defy. One was that angels and humans could not be intimate together. If that were to happen and a child was born, then that child would be a Nephilim. You are a Nephilim, Prompto. Your father was an archangel and your mother was human.”

Prompto couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Him, a Nephilim? Half angel? He didn’t feel half angel, and his entire life he had been told that he was a sinner and condemned to Hell once it was clear that he was gay. How could he have been half angel if that was the case? The men who had attacked him had been sent by Heaven as well. It was obvious that he wasn’t wanted there either. Could he really belong anywhere then? He thought he had belonged with Nyx, but that wasn’t the case anymore, and his heart hurt at the thought.

“My mother?” Prompto managed to ask, the only question that was really clear through all the chaos in his mind. Maybe his mother was still alive. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes when he thought about it.

“They found and killed her before they had you locked up,” Cor explained. When Prompto looked at him tearfully, he sighed. “Sorry kid. I know it’s not something that you wanted to hear. None of this is. I don’t have many details on the relationship your father had with her, but he was adamant on protecting you when you were born. It’s how I got involved. You convinced me to rescue you and take you to safety. Verstael, your father, was the one who found the Argentums to take you in.”

“You rescued me?” Prompto asked. Was that why he dreamed of Cor regularly? He just happened to remember him. There wasn’t anything grand or fateful about it.“How did I convince you?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out,” Cor admitted. “I guess it’s just because you were a cute kid? I’m not sure. Reapers are usually impartial to these things, and I’ve thought about it for a while now. There’s no reason for it.”

Prompto couldn’t help but grin at such a confession from someone who was so stern, someone who was so impartial. “Thanks dad.”

He meant it as a joke, but Cor did something that he didn’t expect. Cor, a reaper, a man who was so obviously stern and focused, blushed. It made him smile wider, remembering all the dreams where they had just sat and spoken, like they were meeting for monthly visitations. “You really have been protecting me all these years.”

“Just to make sure you stayed under the radar,” Cor explained as he looked towards the window with the curtains drawn, although Prompto had a feeling that he had grown attached to him in his own weird, reaper way. “Your father put that on your wrist to suppress your power until you turned twenty. He was hoping that it would give you a fighting chance, but he knew the odds of you surviving were slim. I offered to help and try and protect you, to figure out what powers you have.”

“Powers?” Prompto looked down at his hands. He felt like a bomb waiting to go off. “Like… Killing people?”

“Anyone can kill,” Cor replied. “But how you can do that is interesting. The reason why the Nephilim are forbidden from entering existence is because of the unique powers that they have. It is said that your powers could be strong enough to even destroy God if you so choose.”

“But I don’t want to do that,” Prompto insisted. “I just want to live a normal life with my boyfri-... I just want to live a normal life.” He was so used to having Nyx there that it wasn’t even a second thought to have him in his life. When he caught himself assuming Nyx would be there for him, his heart hurt more. There was no normalcy to go back to without Nyx.

“That’s not an option anymore,” Cor said sadly. “Unfortunately it’s not just Heaven after you, trying to kill you because you’re a danger and a threat to them. Hell is after you too. They think your power can help them win the war.”

“What war?” Prompto asked. “Is it the war of good versus evil and all that?”

“Reality is never so simple,” Cor figured. “Heaven and Hell… They are opposite sides of the same coin. Only the reapers remain impartial. We do our jobs, or I did my job, and then we continue on. But Heaven and Hell have been at war for centuries. Heaven is worried that you will be the one to change the tide and Hell will win out. They call it the Cause like it’s some great big reason to keep going now that God disappeared.”

“God is gone?” Prompto asked. “And if he is then what’s the point of the war?”

“The angels are hoping that if the war is won, God will return,” Cor explained. His expression indicated that he didn’t really think that would happen though. “Basically they’re fighting for power. The details are convoluted, and depending on who you ask you’ll hear two different versions of the same story. I don’t want to overwhelm you even more than you already are.”

“So basically I can’t trust Heaven or Hell?” Prompto asked, and Cor nodded. He sighed and leaned over, looking down at his hands. “So Heaven wants me dead and Hell wants to use me. What chances do I have?”

“That thing you did with your hands?” Cor asked. “Imagine that but on a global scale. You can do that. And you have wings too. And other powers that you will discover through time.”

“Wings?” Prompto asked. He never thought about having wings before. He turned around like he was trying to see his back, but it was just the same as always. He sighed and deflated, his shoulders slumping. “So… I’m a Nephilim, Heaven is trying to kill me, Hell is trying to recruit me, and at some point I will have wings if I live long enough to get there.”

“Essentially,” Cor said. “I’m going to do my best to protect you until we can find a way to make them believe you’re dead for good so you can find some normalcy at some point. I’m sorry, Prompto. You have to leave everything in your life behind you if you want to survive this.”

“It’s fine,” Prompto said numbly. He was still having trouble believing this, but when he looked down at his hands and at the barcode on his wrist, he knew that it was all real. “I don’t really have anything. Not anymore.”

“I don’t get humans,” Cor attempted to be helpful. “But I’ve watched you over the years. I think you care about your boyfriend a lot. I’m sorry that you have been hurt.”

“Thanks,” Prompto replied. “I guess it’s for the best, right? Now he can move on with his life and be happy without me. So where do we start?”

“We need to get you somewhere safe,” Cor thought. “Right now Eos isn’t particularly safe. But there is one place where we might have a chance of hiding you while we figure out a game plan. It… Getting there will be the hard part.”

“Where is it?” Prompto asked, feeling a jump of terror in him. Where was this place that was so dangerous that even Cor was hesitant? He was a reaper, right? Nothing should scare him.

“Purgatory,” Cor said after hesitating. “If you want a chance of surviving, at least until everyone believes your dead, then we have to get you to Purgatory.”

Prompto had a sinking feeling in his gut. He didn’t know much about Purgatory, the real Purgatory, but from the look on Cor’s face, they were on the verge of doing something particularly insane. Just how did his life become so chaotic? He put his head in his hands and cried, knowing that life would never be the same. And without Nyx there to guide him, everything felt a whole lot more difficult and a lot less worth it.

Chapter Text

“I didn’t expect to see you back here just yet,” Crowe said as she stood across from Nyx on the other side of the desk, ignoring the phone ringing. She was standing behind her well-worn desk, looking out the window at the streets of Insomnia below. Her office was kept dark, barely lit, preferring that to the fluorescence of the open office space for all the other detectives and officers down below.

She was the same age as Nyx but had focused more on her career than he had. Well, Nyx had focused solely on his career before meeting Prompto. After that, he realized there were more important things than just spending his time at work. Prompto was more important. How many times had he left work earlier than expected because it meant he got to hold Prompto in his arms? Now that would never be an option. His heart ached painfully and consistently, but when he thought about Prompto’s death, it was just a stabbing pain that made him feel like he was having a heart attack.

“I have questions,” Nyx explained, his voice dripping with grief and misery. It was the day after Prompto’s death, the day after his world ended. He was sitting in the chair where Crowe would bring in those under her command to offer a commendation or to yell at them. She dressed like any other undercover detective, preferring jeans and a shirt with a leather jacket. Her brown hair was a mess piled on her head, and her brown eyes finally turned from the window to look at Nyx in concern.

“About Prompto’s death?” Crowe inquired. She walked around the desk and leaned against it, her hands gripping it for support. “It was a gas leak, right?”

“Something’s not adding up,” Nyx replied. He looked at her, tears in his eyes, knowing that he sounded like a grieving widow. But he had thought about it a lot. Something wasn’t adding up, and he needed to figure out what was going on. “I think it was a setup. I think someone was trying to kill him.”

“Who would try and kill him?” Crowe asked skeptically. “His parents? I get that they are religious zealots, but come on, Nyx. They’re so stuck in that idea that following the law is akin to Godliness that there’s no way they would kill their son.”

“They sent him to a conversion camp for six months when he was thirteen,” Nyx pointed out. How many nights had he helped Prompto through the nightmares? How many times had he been there for him after a particularly rough therapy session to help him cope with the trauma? He wouldn’t put it past his parents to do anything, especially since he knew they never really treated him like their real son. After all, he was adopted, and they made him feel it each and every day.

“Well there’s no way they would do it and potentially harm others then,” Crowe conceded. “My point is that it was a freak accident, Nyx. It sucks that it was on his birthday, but it happened. We all loved the kid and are sad to see him gone.”

“Did Libertus tell you that I was date raped just before it happened?” Nyx asked. Crowe looked at him in shock, the news clearly just breaking to her. “This woman drugged me. It was some sort of hallucinogen that made me think I was with Prompto. I didn’t realize it until Prompto walked in on us.”

“Shit Nyx,” Crowe said as she held a hand to her mouth in shocked contemplation. “Do you know what kind of drug it was?”

“They’re testing the wine now,” Nyx replied. “She said some things that I’ve been thinking about. I swear she knew what was going to happen. Or that something was going to happen. She told me that she did me a favor and to accept that he’s gone. It’s like she knew that he wasn’t coming back.”

Crowe was silent for a moment, strumming her fingers on her upper lip while she thought about it as a detective and their unit chief, not as his friend. She had to weigh whether or not Nyx was lost in his grief, but Nyx knew that if she was just as good a detective as he was then her cut would tell her that something was wrong. He knew that they would reach the same conclusion.

“What do you hope to gain out of it?” Crowe finally asked, folding her arms across her chest. , “Justice? Revenge?”

“Answers,” Nyx replied. “And to arrest whoever did this to him and to me. I want to give Prompto closure. There’s not…” He stopped, his voice choking as he thought about the explosion. “There’s not even a body to bury, Crowe. Please. Let me do this. For my own sanity. If I’m wrong, then I will admit it, but I don’t think I am. There’s something that isn’t adding up, and I need to know what it is.”

“One week,” Crowe agreed finally. “You have one week to find out what you need to. If things get out of hand by then and it’s bigger than even you thought, then you involve me. If at the end of the week you don’t find anything, you admit that it was just a freak accident that happened at the worst possible moment.”

“Yes ma’am,” Nyx said, standing. “Thank you, Crowe. Really. I know that this is a lot to ask, but I know that I’m not just imagining things.”

“I know,” Crowe replied. “If you weren’t such a damn good detective then we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. And you need to give a statement regarding the date rape, Nyx.” She sighed. “How are you holding up?”

“How do you think?” Nyx asked her. “The last thing Prompto believed about me was that I had willingly betrayed him. Fuck, Crowe, he saw it happening. He died… He died thinking that I didn’t care about him.”

“Shit,” Crowe agreed. “That is rough. Especially because you had been talking about proposing to him yesterday, right?”

“I had the ring and everything planned,” Nyx said, his heart hurting painfully. He grimaced and rubbed his chest, trying to hope that it would somehow reduce his heartache. It didn’t. “It was supposed to be so different. We should be celebrating right now. Not… Not dealing with all this.”

“I’m sorry, Nyx,” Crowe replied. “There’s nothing to really say other than this is shit. What about his parents?”

“They won’t talk to me,” Nyx said with a shrug. “They never would. But someone checked their social media page and it was what you would expect. ‘He’s in God’s hands now, maybe if he led a less sinful life he would still be here, perhaps he will find absolution and forgiveness in God’s good graces.’ All the typical bullshit that really show how much they cared.”

“Fuck, their son just died and they’re saying that he was a sinner and deserved this?” Crowe looked at him in disbelief. “It must be nice to be so assured of their faith that they can just deal with this by condemning him and blaming him. Fucking assholes.”

“Now you see why I can’t stand them,” Nyx agreed. “They hide behind their faith in an attempt to make themselves seem superior.”

“Pride is one of the seven deadly sins if I remember correctly. Doesn’t seem very Godly to me. Anyway, just let me know if you need anything, Nyx. But one week is what you have. Get to it, and then once you find whatever answers there are, I want you to take a personal leave.” Nyx was about to argue but Crowe held up a hand. “After what you’ve been through, I won’t let you stay on the force without taking some time off to cope with it.”

“That’s the last thing I want right now,” Nyx replied. He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts or feelings about Prompto. He didn’t want to be in his apartment where there were so many photos of them together over the course of the year. The engagement ring he had bought to propose was sitting on the kitchen counter still. It was too much for him to deal with.

“I know, which is why I’m demanding it,” Crowe insisted. “I don’t want you to end up like every other hardened cop that ends up an alcoholic and drowning in their work. Prompto wouldn’t want that.”

It hurt him to think about how Prompto would have wanted so much, how he deserved so much, but he wasn’t here to experience it anymore. “Alright. You have a deal. I’ll keep you updated on what I find.”

“You better,” Crowe replied. “Good luck, Nyx.”

“Thanks.” Nyx left, his misery coursing through him, propelling him to try and find the truth. He needed some assurance that he hadn’t willingly been with a woman, that he hadn’t just had sex with someone other than Prompto. He needed to find out if Prompto had been murdered or if he had been a victim of circumstance. He made his way to his desk, turning on his too-old computer to begin scouring through records of the apartment complex, plan layouts, potential suspects. He needed to figure out who this Lunafreya was and why she had done this to him.

Memories surfaced as he waited for his computer to start, the machine slow and a victim of public funding. Nyx had first met Prompto at a gay bar, a club that was available to those eighteen and older and didn’t particularly card when they were inside. Prompto had been standing at the bar, being chatted up by some guy that he was clearly uncomfortable with. Nyx could tell Prompto was young, but he didn’t expect him to be only nineteen at the time, and there was a beer in his hand which had him fooled.

Instinctively, Nyx had walked over to Prompto at the same time that the guy he was talking to grabbed his wrist. The look of fear on Prompto’s face made Nyx react, and he immediately greeted Prompto like he was his boyfriend, running late and had to meet him there instead of going together. The look of relief and joy on his face had made Nyx’s heart flutter instantly. His eyes were so clear, the blues and violets almost like a whirling nebula drawing him in, and his soft golden hair framed his beautifully freckled face like a halo. The other guy was long forgotten as they spent hours of the night talking, dancing, and Nyx fell for him by the time they left the club together.

Nyx didn’t find out until the next morning, as Prompto was trying to sneakily leave his apartment, that he was only nineteen years old. At thirty one, he knew that was bad, but he had already fallen head over heels for him. Prompto was reluctant, scared, clearly a victim of being hurt by his loved ones as so many in the gay community were. But he must have seen something in Nyx, and he ultimately agreed to give their relationship a shot. Nyx worked hard to prove to Prompto that he was worth loving, and he had been both pleasantly surprised and overjoyed when Prompto admitted he had fallen for him early on.

They had developed a loving relationship despite the age difference, and Nyx had been grateful that Prompto didn’t seem to mind the difference in age. Prompto didn’t really have any friends, but when Nyx introduced him to his, they received a lot of grief for it. Nyx, in particular, was given a hellish time, but they eventually got on board with it when they realized Prompto had to grow up quickly long before he met Nyx. When they saw it was a mutual attraction and not just Nyx taking advantage, they were happy to let them be. Libertus had been with him when he bought the engagement ring.

The machine finally turned on, bringing Nyx out of his painful reverie of simpler times with Prompto. He knew he had to focus on the task at hand if he wanted any answers. Nyx was a good detective because he relied on his instincts to guide him towards the truth. He had been a great detective when he joined the force, and he used that to solve all of his cases he had been assigned. Now his gut was telling him that there was something more, something bigger that he was missing. He was only seeing a few pieces of a much larger puzzle.

His instincts were also telling him something more, something they had never told him before. There was a voice within him, a sinking feeling of dread in his gut, telling him to just leave it alone and walk away. Just believe the lie that Prompto hadn’t been targeted and murdered for whatever reason that was not yet clear to him. His instincts were screaming at him to run away because he was going to be in further danger than if he just left everything alone. If he pursued this then he might die.

But he couldn’t do that to Prompto. Prompto deserved the truth. He deserved justice. He deserved that whoever had done this be held accountable for their crimes. So he got to work, following wherever his instincts propelled him, heedless of whatever danger that would come his way.

***

“Why is it so cold up here?” Noctis whined as they stepped through the veil from Hell and onto Eos.

The employees of the fast food chain looked at them in surprise, a very attractive succubus with a briefcase and a just as beautiful fallen angel in suits seemingly stepping out of thin air and into existence. The smell of greasy burgers and too-salty fries permeated the air, and Noctis could feel his pores clogging already from the sweat and grease in the air. The employees looked just as miserable as it felt in the chain. Of course they would. Any place that had a veil to Hell in it was a particularly depressing place.

“It’s sweltering in here compared to outside,” Ignis advised him.

They ignored the employees watching them and walked out from the back of the chain and towards the front, where the customers were sitting in chairs that were permanently covered with a layer of grease, no matter how many times the employees cleaned it. Everyone there looked like they were ready to give up on life if they hadn’t already. It was the effect of the veil. Noctis felt bad for them knowing that it wasn’t their fault that they were so depressed within the confines of the fast food chain. But Hell needed entryways to Eos and back, just as Heaven did. Hiding in chain restaurants, banks, and other places that were already depressing enough were the easiest places to put the veils.

“I still don’t know why he insisted we come here,” Noctis said with a sigh. Rather, he knew that his father was testing him, but he just didn’t want to admit to it. He didn’t want to acknowledge that his father was testing him to see if he was worthy of becoming King of Hell.

They stepped outside, and sure enough, the air was far colder than what he was used to. The humans were even walking around in light jackets, like they were anticipating weather much more typical of the tundra in Hell. Luckily, Ignis was ever attentive, and he had a black jacket on Noctis’s shoulders before he could complain too much. The jacket itself was thin, made of a material just a bit thicker than the suit he wore, but it was immediately warm when he put it on. It must have had some sort of magic woven into the fabric for demons to deal with the cold of Eos.

“You know exactly why, you just don’t like it,” Ignis chided him. “Come on. I have a motel reserved for us. I sate my appetites elsewhere, unless you really want to see that. I typically don’t bring my food home with me.”

“I’ll pass, thanks,” Noctis replied with a grimace. As much as they were aware that they were both attractive, Noctis was not interested in watching Ignis drain the life force out of some unsuspecting human for his meal.

The sirens from Heaven had long since ceased, but it didn’t mean there wasn’t a frenzy in the air. He could sense it all around him. It was the feeling that there was something stirring, setting even the humans on edge. Several times Noctis caught a demon or two flash a signal, a simple hand gesture showing that they were loyal to their fight in the war. Noctis returned it as expected of him, but he knew that so many demons on Eos wasn’t normal. It also meant that the angelic presence there would also be heightened.

“No doubt they will send someone to kill us both,” Ignis said, as if reading Noctis’s mind. He hurried along, almost stumbling as he followed Ignis towards the hotel. “We must be ever vigilant.”

The blustery autumn air hit his face, but the jacket he wore did it’s job and protected him from feeling too cold. He looked up at the tall buildings, towering high above his head like they were palaces, knowing that was where humans conducted business transactions until they died. Cars occasionally drove past, great hulking hunks of metal that Noctis typically avoided. They didn’t use them in Hell, and the chocobos were more efficient in travel anyway. Plus, driving a car like the ones humans drove just looked terrifying.

Noctis brushed into someone as they walked by, someone that made him stop and stare for a moment. He didn’t catch his face, and Ignis called him to hurry along as they walked by, but his mind went blank momentarily as he watched the blond hair bobbing by quickly, following a stern looking man in a black trench coat. There was something different about them, something that Noctis couldn’t quite get, but Ignis was being impatient, and he ignored them in favor of following his brother-in-arms.

“As I was saying,” Ignis continued as they walked through an area of the city that was clearly the seedier part from where they were just moments ago. “We will be staying in a motel that I don’t particularly like, but we have to lay low. I will make sure the room is actually clean for you.”

“Are humans always so dirty?” Noctis asked as he looked at a pile of trash that was overflowing out of a trash can. The streets were littered with dirt and grime, and there was a foul smell of decaying trash in the air.

“Yes,” Ignis replied honestly. “And the ones who keep their space clean usually hire someone else to do it for them. You would fit in well here, Noct, given your penchant for sloth.”

“I just get tired easily,” Noctis argued. “It’s boring in Hell. There’s nothing to do. And dad doesn’t really let me come to Eos much after the incident last time at the crossroads. I don’t really blame him either. Besides, it’s not like I didn’t try. I was just bad at it.”

Noctis blushed in embarrassment. He had been coming to Eos from time to time, making deals to gain some experience, usually with Ignis or another demon on standby to monitor him. There was an incident with one of the demon’s the last time, though. Noctis had thought he could trust him since his father was the one who assigned him to be on guard.

Instead the demon turned out to be a succubus bent on obtaining Noctis’s life force since it was so much stronger as a fallen angel. The one time he had let his guard down, he ended up fighting the demon for his life. Of course he won, he was a fallen angel after all, but the panic had been real. When his father learned of what happened, he kept him in Hell indefinitely, citing that he wasn’t ready to continue on that aspect of his training. Noctis was sure it didn’t help that the demon had torn off half of his clothes before he was able to gain the upperhand.

“That is in the past now,” Ignis commented as they approached a rather rundown looking motel. The neon light flickered on the front, and Noctis couldn’t help but think that they were going into a rather cliche motel for a demon and the prince of Hell. “You are with me, and I will not let any harm come your way.”

“Thanks mom,” Noctis replied with a grin. Ignis didn’t bristle at the comment. It was no secret that Ignis treated him like a younger brother and, sometimes, a son. Instead, Ignis ruffled Noctis’s hair as they approached the motel desk clerk, sitting behind a bulletproof glass window. Noctis tried to dodge it, unsuccessfully, and he ended up having to fuss over his hair while Ignis checked them in.

“Reservation for Scientia,” Ignis said as he presented a sleek black metal card and his photo ID. The clerk looked at the two of them, well dressed and pristine for their surroundings, and took the card and ID with a shrug. There was no doubt that he assumed the two of them were meeting for a sordid affair. A moment later, he handed Ignis his identification and card back along with two keys on oversized keychains.

“If you lose the keys it’s an extra 100 gil a piece,” the man said as he looked to each of them suspiciously. “Do not get blood or other fluids on the bed or the carpet.”

Ignis smiled at the man, who stopped what he was saying as he stared into the succubus’s beautiful green eyes. He was an older man, balding, and clearly not tolerating anyone’s shit, but when Ignis gave him that seductive look he always gave his prey, he relaxed and smiled. Noctis rolled his eyes.

“You have nothing to worry about with us,” Ignis replied with a smile. “Maybe just a little rough housing is all.”

“Come on,” Noctis said as he grabbed Ignis’s sleeve and tugged him towards the rooms they reserved. Ignis grinned as they walked towards the rooms, clearly revelling in his prowess as a succubus. He must have been hungry. “At least have some taste when it comes to who you pick.”

“I do,” Ignis replied. “But I like to tease. And hunt. For me, it’s just as much about the hunt as it is about the capture. You should try it sometime.”

“No thanks,” Noctis said with an exasperated sigh. They reached the room and Ignis opened the door, revealing a dirty room with only one large bed. “You sound just like my dad.”

“Your father just wants you to be the best future King of Hell you can be,” Ignis explained as they stepped into the dilapidated room. Ignis set his briefcase on the bed and opened it, getting to work rather quickly while he spoke. “I don’t think he anticipated you being so conservative in your values.”

“I’m not conservative in my values,” Noctis replied, putting his hands on his hips. Ignis was using a device he must have used to clean up his messes after his rendezvous with his victims. It looked like a small hand vacuum and removed all of the stains and other materials left behind from previous occupants. Noctis was very thankful that Ignis had the wherewithal to come prepared.

“Then what is it?” Ignis asked after he finished vacuuming the bed and moving to the other areas of the room. He was nothing if not thorough, and Noctis had to acknowledge that he was spoiled. He would never admit it to Ignis, though.

“I just haven’t met anyone that I’ve thought ‘ah yes, this is the one.’ I’m sure that if that happened then it would be different. I’m not one of those overtly sexual beings like you or the others in Hell are.” Noctis flopped down on the bed and put his hands behind his head, relaxing into the mattress that was too firm. “I just don’t have the desire to go out and have sex with random men or women that I don’t like.”

“So what you’re saying is that you need to have a strong emotional connection with the person in such a way that it cultivates physical arousal?” Ignis asked, stopping what he was doing and looking at him. “Hmm… Well I suppose that it might be different for a fallen angel rather than a demon, although the other fallen angels in Hell seem quite on pace for rampant hedonism.”

“I know it’s a great disappointment to my father,” Noctis commented bitterly. “But I’m not going to have sex just for the sake of it. It’s not me.”

“Your father has only ever wanted you to be true to yourself,” Ignis responded. “That is the nature of what it means to rebel against Heaven. You don’t fit in with the status quo, and that is more than enough to be adequate as a prince of Hell. There are just other tasks that must be done.”

“Like catching a Nephilim,” Noctis pointed out. Ignis nodded as Noctis laughed. “Why don’t you just seduce it and take it to Hell on a leash?”

“You act as if that’s not my plan,” Ignis chuckled. “I am the best succubus out there. If the Nephilim doesn’t fall for me then who would he fall for?”

“Good point,” Noctis agreed. Ignis finished doing whatever cleaning that he had to until he found it fit for Noctis to sleep in. With little ceremony, he began to change into his outfit for the hunt this evening.

Noctis watched in amusement as he pulled on his leather pants, wondering just how he could even fit into something so tight in the first place. Ignis’s shirt was tight, white, and buttoned up save for the top two buttons. It was so tight and nearly sheer that Noctis could see his nipples through his shirt. He was sure that many found it alluring, but knowing Ignis made it difficult not to laugh. He pulled on several leather belts with matte black and silver studs, draping him around his hips decoratively. To finish the ensemble, he had a black leather chest harness over his shirt. Even Noctis raised an eyebrow to that. He was not going to play around tonight.

“How do I look?” Ignis asked as he grabbed his leather gloves and his leather jacket and pulled them on.

“Absolutely ridiculous,” Noctis replied with a smile and a laugh. “You know you’re going to devour many men tonight with that look. Gay club?”

Ignis nodded in agreement. “Anytime you find my appearance to be ridiculous I know I’m doing something right. And the club it is. It’s the easiest place to find the best prey. Don’t worry. I won’t bring them back here.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Noctis replied. “You know I’d kick you out if you did anything like that here. I don’t need to see that.”

“You don’t want to see me bent over in the throes of pleasure?” Ignis asked with a smile. Noctis blushed, and Ignis laughed. “Let mother take care of everything. But first I need to eat. I’ll bring home some food for you too.”

“I don’t need food,” Noctis pointed out. Ignis shot him a glance, and he sighed. “Yes mother.”

“Keep the door locked, and don’t let anyone but me in,” Ignis reminded him as he grabbed the room key. “This place is clean now, so you can use whatever you want. I won’t be long.”

“Have fun,” Noctis called as Ignis gave him a final wave before departing. He turned on the shitty television for a while, watching whatever humans liked to watch, flicking through the channels until he came to a terrible drama about a human woman in love with two men. He hoped that humans weren’t actually this ridiculous, but then again, it did keep Hell in business.

Eventually he got tired of the television and shut it off, preferring the silence and the creaking of the motel to the sounds of noise coming out of a metal box. It was quiet for awhile until he heard sniffling, crying. It came from the other side of his wall, someone trying to be as quiet as possible while they were clearly having a difficult time. Noctis listened to it for a while and considered being annoyed by it or telling the person to stop. Instead, something in him told him to be kind, something his father would have been abhorred at.

Noctis rapped on the wall lightly, knocking three times. The crying and sniffling stopped immediately, and Noctis imagined whoever was on the other side was wondering if they had annoyed Noctis. There was a pause, and then the person on the other side rapped three times in response. Noctis smiled and knocked two more times.

“Can you hear me?” Noctis called to whoever was on the other side of the wall. “These walls are pretty thin.”

“Sorry,” the voice replied. It was a man’s voice, thick with tears yet beautiful, it’s timbre like a symphony orchestra finding the right notes to start. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You didn’t,” Noctis insisted. He paused, considering his next words. He had no reason to speak with this human, but he was bored and liked the sound of his voice. “Want to talk about it?”

“It’s a lot,” the guy said on the other side. “Most of it I don’t really understand if I’m honest. Basically my life has just turned upside down and everything is different. The worst part is my boyfriend cheated on me, and I know it’s pathetic to think that’s the worst of it. It shouldn’t be the worst of it, but he’s usually the one I rely on.”

“You love him?” Noctis asked, wondering why he felt a bit disappointed to hear that the guy had a boyfriend. It wasn’t like he was interested in humans. Maybe he just expected more of him, like he would somehow be different from the rest of humanity. Then again, having a boyfriend wasn’t horrible either. He was just being contrary. “Are you going back to him?”

“I can’t,” he said, sorrow in his voice. “And even if I could, I wouldn’t. I trusted him with everything at a time when I didn’t even want to be with anyone. I can’t go back to someone who would just waste that in an instant.”

“Good for you,” Noctis replied. “Listen, I’m not going to pretend to be the expert on these relationships or anything, but it sounds like you’re doing the right thing. Don’t let someone walk all over you when they’ve hurt you. You want to tell me about him?”

There was a voice within Noctis that told him not to listen to this guy rant about his cheating ex-boyfriend. They had other things to worry about. No doubt Ignis was out there seducing men, but he also didn’t doubt that he was gathering intel on where the Nephilim could have gone. Noctis should have at least been putting forth some sort of effort to look for him. But he found that he wanted to listen to this human, and he didn’t mind listening to the rantings of some guy who was focused on his heartbreak.

“He’s older than me,” the guy said after a long moment of silence. “Well established. Good head on his shoulders. I thought that meant he was in it for the long hull, especially since I really wasn’t looking for a relationship with anyone when we met. By all accounts he was kind hearted, caring. He really looked after me. Yesterday was my birthday, and I got fired from my job for no reason so I went to his place to see him. I walked in on him with a woman. I’m not upset that he’s bisexual, although I am upset that he lied about it. I just wish that every good memory I have didn’t involve him.”

“That’s really shitty,” Noctis agreed, knowing that humans put a great emphasis on birthdays, like they were celebrating that they were one year closer to death. “How old are you?”

“Twenty as of yesterday.” There was a pause, like he was worried that Noctis was going to judge him. “He was thirty two. I know it’s a big age gap, but we really did have a happy relationship up until yesterday. I just don’t know what I did wrong to make him want to do that.”

“Maybe it’s not about you,” Noctis considered. “Maybe he just is wrapped up in his own pain and used it as an outlet. Who knows? I’m sure you’re a great guy. And you’re only twenty. You have a long time to figure out who you are without him.”

“I guess you’re right,” the guy replied. “Thanks for listening. I feel a bit better. Now if only I can figure out what the fuck is going on with the rest of my life.”

“Good luck,” Noctis agreed. “I’m still trying to figure that out myself.”

Noctis heard a rustling on the other side of the wall, the guy standing up and ending the conversation. He sighed and turned the television back on, turning the volume to a low enough level so as not to disturb whoever the person was in the next room over. He told himself that it was to be considerate, but he knew the truth. He hoped that the guy in the next room would talk to him again. Eventually, though, he fell asleep like he always did, ignoring Ignis as he stepped back into the room just a short while later, sated for another night.

Chapter Text

Prompto was grateful for whoever was staying next door in the motel. He had gone out with Cor that day, but ultimately they had opted to wait until they made their way to Purgatory. Cor had shown him where the entrance to Purgatory was, and he was shocked to see that it was a modern museum full of beautiful artworks that often moved viewers to tears. Prompto had been there before, and he had spent hours standing in front of one painting in particular. It surprised him that he had actually been to the entrance of Purgatory without knowing it.

The only reason they didn’t immediately set out for Purgatory was enough to make Prompto’s heart lurch in fear. Cor had pulled him around the corner of a building and pointed out the several very obvious men in beige trench coats walking around the entrance to the museum like they were waiting for someone. Then he pointed out the less obvious but still visible men and women hidden in the shadows, wearing street clothes that blended in better with their surroundings. Angels and demons were both there, expecting to find Prompto to either recruit or kill him.

So instead of sticking around, Cor had decided it was best for them to go back to the motel and regroup. Prompto wasn’t going to argue. He ended up excusing himself to the bathroom and sitting on the toilet to give himself the space to cry. Everything was really hard right now, and while Cor was set on protecting him, he wasn’t much for conversation. Prompto had to give him credit for trying, trying harder than his parents ever did, but he still needed a moment to collect himself.

When the kind stranger next door had talked to him, listened to him, he felt foolish and embarrassed that the worst part of all this ordeal wasn’t that he was apparently some supernatural being that Heaven wanted dead. To him, losing Nyx was the worst part. After he spoke to him, he somehow felt relieved, like things would get better and his heartache would fade in time. He thought about making new memories, finding out who he was as a person without depending on a relationship to guide him through things, and moving on from Nyx. It hurt to think about not having Nyx in his life, but he knew that he had to do it. He just hoped that he could survive long enough to have some sort of normal life.

By all accounts, Prompto had a relatively calm childhood. His parents were never home, and because of the amount of fast food he ate as a result, he had gained a lot of weight. Eventually he was old enough to cook for himself, and he figured out at least the basic meals he had to make that were healthy enough to get him on track. Coupled with an exercise routine that he developed, he eventually lost the weight and kept it off. His therapist had said that it was a classic example of neglect, particularly because by the time Prompto was old enough to get himself ready for school, he hardly ever saw his parents. He had no clue what they were doing, whether it was work or something else, but it was evident that he was not a part of their lives.

When Prompto reached middle school he knew he was gay. He had a boyfriend or two, something innocuous as all awkward middle schoolers were when they were trying to figure out what puberty meant. Unfortunately when he was thirteen, his boyfriend at the time had outed him accidentally to his parents. It was one of the rare times that they were home, and they saw the two kiss. That was when he was sent to the conversion camp, kicking and screaming as he was taken away.

It was a brutal experience, one that Prompto had worked through in his therapy sessions and with Nyx. His parents were religious zealots, so he had done his best to hide his sexuality from them, but when he was sent to the camp there was no hiding anything. They used plenty of torture techniques to get the children there to comply, and Prompto learned early on that the sooner he agreed to their dogma the better. Nevertheless, it took them six months before they told his parents that he was healed of his sinful proclivities.

Of course, it didn’t take. That wasn’t how sexuality worked after all. Prompto hid it well, ignoring his own sexuality while others in school were dating, learning how to be with someone, or just experimenting sexually. When he was fifteen he was asked out by a guy in his grade. Scared but excited, he agreed. Little did he know that his parents were constantly in touch with the administration, asking them for updates on who he was hanging out with. They told them that he was holding hands with a boy, and when he got home from school the fallout had been terrible.

Prompto knew he couldn’t keep up with the charade. He was gay and he knew it. So he packed his bags and ran away from home, leaving a letter explaining that he was not coming back until they were not going to send him away to a conversion camp again for being gay. He wasn’t asking for much, just the knowledge that he wouldn’t be tortured again. They refused to agree to such terms, and Prompto spent the better part of the year couch surfing while somehow making it to school and earning good grades. Eventually, he was able to become an emancipated minor, and he found a job and a place to live.

When he graduated high school he knew college wasn’t in his future. He couldn’t afford it, and he had to work to pay the bills. Instead, Prompto found a niche in photography from a camera he had worked hard to afford. He had a talent for it, and he worked odd jobs until he found his part time job and worked commissions and did freelance work. Through that time he would go to the gay clubs, meeting men and sleeping with them, careful not to get caught up in the life but interested in having fun. He never had the freedom or the finances to just go out and enjoy life, and this was his first chance to try.

That’s when he had met Nyx. He knew that Nyx was older, and he had only planned for it to be another one night stand like any other. But Nyx had woken up while he was trying to sneak out of his apartment and had somehow convinced him to stay. Prompto had to admit early on that he was into Nyx far more than he liked to be, and that had scared him. He was too scared of getting hurt, of something bad happening. He didn’t realize that his suspicions would be so accurate.

When Prompto woke up in the morning he was alone. He expected Cor to be there, but then he checked his phone and saw a text from him explaining that he had gone out for a bit. Cor had rewired the phone so it picked up whatever supernatural network that angels, demons, and reapers used to communicate amongst each other. Cor had explained that they had the technology long before humans did, leaving Prompto to wonder just what else of the supernatural world was so different from all the religious texts. It made him feel like he was drowning, like he was out of his depth in a world he knew nothing about.

Sighing, Prompto got out of bed and got ready for the day. He changed into one of the few outfits he had, brushed his teeth, and began to scroll on his phone absentmindedly. Curiously, he checked his parents social media page and was disgusted that they had even bothered to post something about his supposed death at all, let alone that he was a sinner and deserved what he got. It also made him laugh to think they were right but not for the reasons they thought. He was supposedly some powerful Nephilim that was an abomination to God. Then, his curiosity got the better of him and he checked Nyx’s social media page.

Tears came to his eyes when he saw the photo Nyx had posted of them together. It was one of his favorite times with him. Both of them were exhausted after a long day, but Nyx had taken him around the city to view the holiday lights in the winter. He had done it because he knew that Prompto wanted the photography experience. There, they took a photo under a giant decorated tree, cheeks touching, a smile evident on both of their faces, the light diffuse in the background. It was the happiest Prompto had ever been because, despite their exhaustion, the time they spent together had been perfect.

You were my light and my everything. I never thought I would have to say goodbye to you, and not under these circumstances. I love you, and I wish I had the chance to prove it to you one more time. I will always wear the ring that was supposed to be on your finger around my neck, knowing that the time we had together should have been longer and sweeter. I love you, Prompto, and I will miss you forever.

Ring? Prompto felt a sob in his throat, and he knew that he shouldn’t have looked at it or read the caption. He shouldn’t have checked at all. He was only prolonging the pain, and now he was confused about what Nyx had meant by a ring. Was he going to propose? If that was the case then why did he cheat on him? None of it made any sense.

Prompto sat back on the bed, falling backwards while he put his hand over his eyes to stop the tears. His phone fell out of his grasp but not before he heard the ping of his finger unintentionally slipping on the photo. Gasping, Prompto hurriedly sat up and grabbed his phone, looking at the button that indicated he had liked the photo. He let out a series of curses at himself as he took away the like on the photo, his heart racing knowing that Nyx would get the notification.

Nyx had to think he was dead. If he saw that, then there was no way he would believe it. But would it even matter? Nyx was clearly with a woman as well, perhaps the entire time they had been together. There was no way that they would get back together, and Prompto doubted that Nyx would even come running to him at this point. All the words said on social media couldn’t match the reality. Nyx had cheated.

The phone began to ring, the chime going off, and Prompto felt his heart pulsing as it sank into his stomach. Nyx was calling. He had seen that he had accidentally liked the post and was calling him. A voice in his mind told him not to answer it, and his stomach lurched uncomfortably at the thought. Then another voice told him to pick it up, to tell Nyx that he was okay, that he couldn’t come back because it was too dangerous. Would Nyx just accept that and stay with the woman he was with? Or would he beg Prompto for another chance?

Eventually the ringing stopped before Prompto could lose his nerve and answer the phone. Almost immediately after the call went to voicemail, his phone rang again. This time it was Cor. Shakily, he answered the phone, hoping for at least some good news in his life that had spiraled out of control. He hoped that Cor would just tell him that he could go back to his normal life again, that Heaven and Hell both called off the search.

“Prompto listen to me very carefully,” Cor said. He sounded like he was panting, and there was the sound of thudding and screams in the background. He was in the middle of a fight. “Heaven determined your location. You need to hide. If you cannot hide, you need to fight. I’ll be there soon. Just lock yourself in the bathroom and be quiet. There’s a gun in the dresser. Take it and I’ll be there soon.”

Cor didn’t even wait for Prompto to respond. The call ended, and Prompto acted quickly. His pulse racing, panic climbing, he grabbed the large silver gun that was cool to the touch and ran to the bathroom. He slammed the door shut behind him and locked it, knowing that it would do little to stop a demon or an angel from coming for him. Like a scared child, Prompto got into the bathtub and drew the curtains to hide from anyone looking for him. His breathing was labored and shallow, his panic threatening to give his position away. He laid in the bathtub and tried to make himself as small as possible.

Then he waited. Prompto didn’t know how long he waited, closing his eyes and clutching the gun to his chest in fear. Tears came to his eyes, and he hoped that Cor was safe wherever he was. Right now he was alone, and he had to try and survive whatever was about to happen. Part of him said just to give up, there wouldn’t be anything for him to go back to if he did survive, but he dismissed that thought entirely. He had to fight. If he didn’t owe it to himself, then he at least owed it to Cor for trying to help him.

When Prompto thought no one was coming, he heard it. It was the sound of thudding footsteps, strong and determined, then a pounding on the door to the motel room, demanding entry. He jumped, his heart racing as he thought about how this could be it. This could be the moment where he was killed or abducted or tortured. While he knew he had to try, he also knew that the chances of him surviving without Cor were slim. He didn’t even know how to use whatever power the angels were afraid of him using.

The doors to the motel room burst in, and Prompto tried not to scream out in fear. He covered his mouth with one hand, his other hand still clutching the gun that he barely knew how to use thanks to Nyx showing him how. Footsteps thudded in the room, searching for him in all of the obvious hiding places. When the footsteps drew nearer to the bathroom, Prompto suppressed a whimper, his mind telling him to be quiet while his heart was telling him to scream as loudly as he possibly could. He didn’t stand a chance, and his heart was telling him to prepare for the end.

Silently, Prompto willed whoever was on the other side of the door to just walk away and leave him alone. When Prompto thought that things were definitely going to end for him here, the footsteps suddenly turned away like they didn’t bother to check the bathroom. He wondered if he had used whatever power he had to get the person on the other side to turn away. Heart still racing, he let out a small sigh in relief, grateful that maybe he was able to use his power to some degree.

The phone rang, chiming in his pocket, breaking the silence between him and whoever was tracking him down. No amount of magic could make the person on the other side of the door ignore that. Scrambling, Prompto took his phone out of his pocket and went to end the call from Nyx. Instead his finger hit the answer button in his panic. He didn’t have time to worry about it anymore. The pounding on the other side of the door grew louder as the footsteps drew near.

With a burst of the door creaking off of its hinges, whoever was coming for him broke into the bathroom with little effort. Prompto tried to be quiet, to not make a sound, but he heard Nyx’s voice shouting for him on the line as he clutched it and the gun to his chest. Shakily, he knew he had to use the gun now, and he held it up, pointing it and waiting for the person to draw back the curtains.

“Prompto?! Prompto!” Nyx was shouting into the phone. “Prompto! Please! Tell me where you are! What’s going on?! Prompto! Tell me if you’re in danger! I will come for you! Please, just talk to me!”

Prompto didn’t have time to end the call. The curtains drew back on the tub, revealing a tall, hulking man with bulging muscles and angry black eyes. He was dressed all in beige, like it was part of a uniform, and was wielding a silver blade in his hand like the archangels had been. Prompto took a deep breath, his hand holding the gun shaking, and pulled the trigger. The gun clicked lamely, and he realized too late that the safety was still on.

“Repent for your sin of existence,” the angel said as he held the blade up, ready to strike. “Die, Nephilim, and know that your death will be the result of Heaven’s might.”

“Ignis, quick!” a familiar voice said behind the angel as Prompto let out a scream when the blade came towards him.

Everything happened so fast. Prompto was waiting for his death, but there was a man behind the angel. His vision was only focused on the blade coming towards him. Before he could try and get the safety off the gun, a blade was plunged into the angel’s back, the tip pointing out of his chest, black and oozing blood. Prompto stared in wide eyed fear as the angel looked down in surprise. He stumbled back looking down at the blade in disbelief as cracks appeared on his skin, pieces of light that were splintering through.

The angel suddenly burst into a million fragments of light, illuminating the room with a soft golden glow. Prompto covered his face with his hands, Nyx still shouting on the other line as his phone fell into his lap, and the blade clattered to the ground harmlessly. Fearfully, he lowered his hands and looked at his saviors, not knowing what to expect. He was still huddled in the tub, clutching the phone as the gun was trained on whoever had saved him. It didn’t mean he was safe.

“Prompto?” Nyx called on the phone, pleading, begging. “Prompto, what’s going on? Please. Prompto.”

Prompto ended the call, knowing that he would have to deal with that later. For now he was staring at the young man he had passed on the streets, someone he had ignored in favor of focusing on his own salvation. His dark hair was framing his pale face, his stormy eyes alight with worry. Even from this distance he could see that the man had long lashes, and his pouting lips were turned into a worried frown.

Vaguely he was aware of the man who was too good looking for his own words standing behind the raven haired beauty. For some reason Prompto’s eyes were only fixed on the man who had been the one to plunge a blade into the angel’s heart. He chalked it up to the real fear that this man would easily kill him at a moment’s notice.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice like gravel and stars colliding.

Prompto knew where he heard his voice then. He was the man staying next door, the one who had listened to his woes. Right now he was wearing a finely tailored black suit, something that looked far too sexual on him in particular. He approached Prompto, who was huddled in the tub still, and crouched down. Prompto tried to scramble back, his hands shaking as he tried to hold up the gun at the man.

He only gave him a grim smile and gently touched his hand, looking at him with a quiet worry as he lowered the gun without much effort. Tears were beginning to escape and cascade down Prompto’s cheeks. He was going to lose it. There was no way he could continue to handle this. The man was likely here to kill him as well. He felt like his own death was imminent, that the man’s previous kindness was just a front for what he was really there for.

“We won’t hurt you,” the man said kindly. “My name is Noctis. This is my brother, Ignis. We’re here to help.”

“C-Cor said not to trust anyone but him,” Prompto said shakily, looking between Noctis and Ignis with fearful suspicion. They had just saved him from the angel, but they didn’t look like they knew Cor. Somehow, Prompto had the feeling that Cor was not one to associate with these two who were so young and so beautiful.

“You don’t have to trust us,” Noctis pleaded. “Just let us help. We won’t hurt you. Right, Ignis?”

“Of course not,” Ignis replied with a gentle smile. Prompto knew that smile worked on so many people, got them to lower their guard, but he wasn’t falling for it. Curiously, he noticed that there was some sort of mask the man was wearing, like his real features were distorted in favor of the beautiful facade that he kept on his face. Prompto could almost see scarring, but a moment later it was gone. It didn’t matter. He knew he couldn’t trust them.

“H-how can you help me?” Prompto demanded, tears still in his eyes, terrified of even leaving the bathtub as if it were a safety point for him. His phone was ringing again, and he didn’t dare to look and see if it was Nyx or Cor calling. He couldn’t deal with Nyx. Not now.

“We can take you somewhere safe,” Ignis said. He was standing by the bathroom door, keeping a lookout in the event there were any further intruders. While Noctis’s tailored suit was all black, Ignis’s was a slate grey, making his green eyes stand out even more.

“Cor is already going to take me somewhere safe,” Prompto insisted. His phone went off again and he looked down at it. It was Nyx. He ignored the call.

“Where is he going to take you?” Noctis asked. “We can let you know if he’s being honest.”

“P-Purgatory,” Prompto replied. Noctis and Ignis both looked at him in surprise. “What? Is it not safe?”

“No…,” Noctis said slowly, hesitantly as he looked to Ignis and back to him. “It would be safe there for you. But… There are other things to worry about. I would like to go with you, to keep you safe. Again, you don’t have to trust us. Just let us help, okay?”

Prompto looked between the two of them, the sinking feeling of dread washing over him. What was in Purgatory that made them hesitate? And who were they? How could they so easily just kill an angel with that blade of obsidian? There were too many questions, too much that was overwhelming him.

“Prompto?! Prompto!” Cor called for him as he ran into the room, ready to fight at a moment’s notice.

He had a cut lip, swollen and bloody, and his right eye was beginning to show signs of bruising. There was a bit of a commotion when he saw Ignis and Noctis, but when Prompto insisted that they hadn’t hurt him, he hesitantly stopped himself from attacking them. Instead, he looked at both of them with angry suspicion, ready to cast them out of their lives at a moment’s notice. Prompto knew then that he really didn’t want to be on the receiving end of a reaper’s wrath.

“We understand that you’re going to take him to Purgatory,” Ignis said as he looked at Cor. “As great an idea as it is, I really hope you have a plan in place for when it goes awry.”

“He will be safe there,” Cor insisted as he looked between them. “Thank you for your concern, but it is unfounded. I can take care of him.”

“Clearly,” Noctis said with a snort in his tone. “That’s why we had to kill an angel because you didn’t even teach him how to take the safety off a gun?”

“I know how to do it,” Prompto said as he slowly unfurled himself from the tub. “Nyx taught me how to use a gun. I was just panicked.”

Noctis stood and held out a hand for him to take. Uncertainly, he looked at it, then thought better of it. He couldn’t trust him right now, and it was better for him to just ignore the offer for help until they reached a consensus on what they were going to do. He got out of the tub himself and looked between the gun and the phone in his hand, which was still ringing. With a sigh, he turned the phone off.

“Regardless if you plan to keep him safe, even in Purgatory, he will need guards,” Ignis reasoned. “You know I am not lying, Cor. Allow us to go the distance with you both. If you find that we are unhelpful or false in our sentiments then you can get rid of us.”

“Is that a deal?” Cor asked with an arched eyebrow. Prompto didn’t know what he meant by that, but he knew it wasn’t good.

“No, it’s a promise,” Noctis insisted. “No deals here. No contracts. Just faith.”

“Faith, huh?” Cor chuckled at that and shook his head. Prompto looked at the reaction curiously, his heart still racing, but his panic finally fading. Cor looked to Prompto, his eyes piercing into his soul. “What do you think Prompto?”

“Um…” Prompto hesitated, looking from Ignis to Noctis then back to Cor. “I don’t think the extra security could hurt.”

“Very well then,” Cor said resignedly. “Looks like you have the prince of Hell and his demon succubus brother as your personal bodyguards for the interim.”

Prompto looked at Noctis and Ignis in shock, his eyes widening as Noctis gave him a sheepish grin.

***

“Regis here,” the king said on the phone while Ignis stood in the hall of the motel, looking back at the room where Noctis, Prompto, and Cor were discussing their future plan to get to purgatory.

Cor was sitting on the edge of the bed while Prompto had a clean towel and a bucket of ice, insisting on cleaning the reaper’s wounds. Ignis thought it was cute but ultimately meaningless since Cor would heal quickly on his own without the attention. He wondered why Cor wouldn’t say so and let Prompto take care of him. A reaper going soft was a dangerous thing.

“We have located the Nephilim,” Ignis said briefly into the phone, his tone low, almost a pur, so that the others wouldn’t hear.

“Excellent,” Regis replied with clear joviality in his tone. “When will you be coming back to Hell?”

“There’s been a slight issue with that,” Ignis began, taking a deep breath. There was silence on the other end, and Ignis knew that the king was waiting. He looked back at the room, specifically at Noctis. He was staring at Prompto with wide eyes, his heart clearly on display for all to see. How Prompto couldn’t see it was beyond him. “I think we can make it work to our advantage though.”

“Tell me,” Regis insisted, his tone growing darker, more dangerous. “I will not tolerate failure, Ignis. It doesn’t matter if he is my son or not. We need the Nephilim to win this war.”

“I understand, your majesty,” Ignis replied, taking another deep breath to calm his nerves. It was never a good thing when the king was angry. “Your son may have fallen for the Nephilim. He is insistent on protecting him.”

“What?” Regis asked. His tone wasn’t surprised or loud. It was dangerous, menacing. Ignis expected this.

“We do need the Nephilim safe and sound,” Ignis proposed, his heart thudding in his chest nervously. He had to be careful in how he approached this. “If Noctis develops further feelings for it then we can easily use that to our advantage. All it will take is a little magic and we can get the Nephilim to fall for your son and follow him to Hell. Fear is a great motivator, but I was human once, your majesty. Love is a greater motivator, and the Nephilim is half human after all.”

“Hmm,” Regis considered, his voice no longer as dangerous as it was just moments before. “You may be right. Alright, Ignis. We’ll try it your way. But if my son is unsuccessful then I want you to drag the Nephilim to Hell by any means necessary. Am I understood?”

“Perfectly, your majesty,” Ignis replied. He paused a moment. “Have faith in your son, your majesty. He wants so desperately to make you proud.”

“I know, Ignis,” he replied with a sigh. “He’s too much like his mother. It worries me.”

“Worry not, your majesty,” Ignis said. “I am looking out for him.”

They ended the call, and Ignis turned back to the room. Cor looked at him suspiciously, but Ignis knew that the calls had to be made. If the king didn’t know that they had plans to bring the Nephilim back to Hell then he would send someone else immediately and call his son a failure. Ignis didn’t want that to happen. He knew that Noctis would suffer for it, and he cared about him far more than he cared to admit for him to end up in the pits of Hell if he was unsuccessful.

Ignis knew what was on the line if Noctis was not successful. He knew what awaited him. As much as the king wouldn’t want his son to suffer, there had to be consequences for his actions if he was unable to bring the Nephilim back to Hell. Ignis wasn’t going to let that happen. He wasn’t going to let any feelings of romance or attraction that the prince had between him and the Nephilim compromise their mission.

He had seen the look on Noctis’s face when he first saw the Nephilim. Ignis was half tempted to tell Noctis that the instant attraction he felt, the obvious longing that overwhelmed his senses and demanded that he protect the Nephilim instead of hurting him was a result of the Nephilim’s power. But as he looked between Prompto, clearly not focused on Noctis at all, and Noctis, clearly infatuated with the Nephilim, he knew that wasn’t the case. It was dangerous for the prince to fall in love. It was dangerous for anyone in Hell to fall in love.

That’s why Ignis had to do what he could to protect his brother, to ensure that the prince rose to position of king once the time came. He could not let his brother, his family in Hell, fall apart because of some Nephilim. They had a task, a goal to accomplish. Ignis would ensure that the Nephilim was in Hell no matter what. He just hoped that for Noctis’s sake it happened seamlessly and easily. Ignis didn’t want his prince to get hurt in the process.

Chapter Text

“How could you not tell that it was the Nephilim when you were speaking to him just yesterday?” Ignis whispered angrily to Noctis. His green eyes were shining like emeralds, angry and passionate.

“I don’t know,” Noctis whispered back, just as angry. It baffled him to think how they had been so blind in the first place, especially since they had brushed past Cor and Prompto the moment they set foot on Eos. “How come you couldn’t tell it was the Nephilim when we passed them on the street yesterday?”

“His name is Prompto,” Cor interrupted them both, making them jump in surprise. They turned to look at the reaper, clearly unimpressed by their divine intervention in Prompto’s rescue. “He’s not ‘the Nephilim.’ He’s his own person. Treat him thusly or you can leave.”

“Yes, sir,” both Ignis and Noctis replied, thoroughly chastised. It didn’t matter if they were a succubus and the prince of Hell. One did not cross paths with a reaper and treat it with disrespect. No one was spared from Death, not even the King of Hell. Not even God.

“To your point,” Cor said in a low voice. “You couldn’t sense him because I put wardings up around the motel room and on him so it is hard for angels and demons to find him. Even princelings”

“Then how come they were able to track him down?” Noctis asked, trying to ignore Cor’s scathing tone. It was a strange coincidence that they were staying next to each other in the same motel. Noctis didn’t like such coincidences.

He looked over at Prompto, who had fallen asleep on the motel room bed. After everything that had happened, he didn’t blame him. They had switched to Noctis and Ignis’s room quickly. Noctis didn’t think it was enough, but Cor had shown them just how daft the angels could be. The angels ran into the room where they had found Prompto being attacked in the tub but didn’t bother to check the surrounding rooms and left empty handed.

Looking at him sleeping, his freckles dancing on his face like stars, his soft lips turned downward into a frown, Noctis felt a compulsion to go over and cover him with a blanket and ensure he was kept comfortable. It bothered him how he wanted to give him comfort and safety, how he wanted his frown to turn to a loving smile while he slept. There had never been anyone in his life who he had looked at and immediately thought that he wanted to make them happy. It scared him.

“Apparently the aren’t entirely dimwitted,” Cor said with a sigh. “He was on his phone and they were able to triangulate the signal. I imagine that they hired a human to do the work. Most of the angels don’t even know how to use their own phones, let alone figure out how to track down someone else.”

“So what is the plan then?” Ignis asked a bit huffily. “You have our assistance to get him to safety, although getting him to Purgatory is almost certainly a death wish. And there is no guarantee that he will be safe there, despite what you say.”

“We just have to get him through the threshold,” Cor replied simply. “I have a contact in Purgatory who will be waiting for us. She is someone I can trust.”

Noctis understood the meaning behind that. Cor didn’t trust them. Why would he? Noctis had been in his motel room, lounging while he and Ignis discussed their options to track down the Nephilim, to track down Prompto. They heard the banging next door, and Noctis had acted before he even thought about it. He only had an overwhelming desire to help the guy next door before he got hurt. It was an inexplicable urge to help him, and he wondered if it was part of Prompto’s power to protect himself.

It had never been his plan to actually rescue the one they were looking for from an angel, but when he saw him, he was glad he did. Noctis hadn’t anticipated to find the Nephilim so beautiful either. Even looking at him while he slept was like looking at something sacred, something to be revered and admired. It was obvious why God didn’t want the Nephilim to exist. If any of the others who existed centuries ago looked like Prompto then God easily could have been jealous.

Noctis knew that he still had to find a way to get Prompto to Hell. If he didn’t then it was his own life on the line. He wasn’t fooling himself. No matter how much Ignis reassured him that they would be successful, he knew that having a reaper involved made the situation a whole lot worse. Without Cor involved then they could just have abducted him and taken him to Hell in an instant. They would be there now, successful in their mission. With Cor there, though, it meant that they had to find a way to navigate more dangerous terrain. Going to Purgatory would make it difficult for them both.

When Noctis had first seen Prompto, scared and shaking in the bathtub, he felt his heart skip a beat and his breath catch in his throat. It was unnatural how fast he felt like the universe had aligned so perfectly, and the glowing golden orbs of what used to be the angel did little to make the glow in Prompto’s blue and violet eyes less beautiful. Prompto’s golden hair flowed around him like a halo, and he emitted a natural aura that called out to Noctis. He impulsively had offered to help him and had been thankful when Prompto had agreed.

Noctis knew that Ignis would want to use it to their advantage. While he knew that he should agree wholeheartedly, he felt a strange compulsion to protect him. Eventually he would have to make a difficult decision regarding his and Prompto’s fate. It wasn’t as if Prompto was exactly looking for anything romantic either. Hadn’t he just told him that his boyfriend had cheated on him? And why was Noctis thinking about romance at all? He quickly dismissed the thought, even though his eyes naturally gravitated towards Prompto without a second thought.

“And have you told Prompto what awaits him in Purgatory?” Ignis inquired. “It may be a neutral zone, but it is by no means safe. And what about you, reaper? What do your bosses think of this endeavor?”

Cor glared at them then grimaced, as if thinking of something dangerous. “What becomes of me as a result of protecting Prompto is irrelevant. I made a promise to him and to his father when he was a child. As long as we get him to Purgatory then keeping him safe will be a lot easier.”

“So what is the plan?” Noctis asked. He had an awful feeling that Cor was going to pay dearly for helping Prompto. What hold did the Nephilim have on him that made it easy to abandon his calling? “I mean, I know you can’t trust us as far as you can throw us, but how are we going to get him to Purgatory when the entirety of Heaven and Hell is on high alert?”

“That is something we need to discuss with Prompto,” Cor said as he looked back at the sleeping Nephilim. He paused then turned back to them, his voice low and menacingly. “Do not, for one moment, think that I do not know what you two are up to. There is only one reason why the prince of Hell and his succubus sidekick would be here on Eos. I’m not stupid like you think I am.”

“No one thinks you to be stupid,” Ignis said with his usual suave demeanor. “But what Prompto decides to do with his life is entirely up to him, regardless of what you want for him.”

“Listen here you little succubus shit,” Cor snapped at him, taking Ignis by surprise. Noctis stared in shocked amusement. “You may be able to pull your little twink moves on others, but that shit won’t fly with me. If either of you harm Prompto in any way, it’ll be your heads that I will go after. Am I clear?”

“Y-yes, sir,” Ignis replied, startled by the sudden anger coming from the reaper. Cor gave them another look before he walked over to Prompto to wake him. Noctis chortled, suppressing his laughter at Ignis’s embarrassment. Ignis shoved him, and he stumbled but righted himself. “Shut it, princeling.”

“Hey I didn’t say anything,” Noctis replied. His laughter died out when he turned his attention to Prompto and Cor. Cor gently shook Prompto, and he sleepily rubbed his eyes. It was too cute, and Noctis blushed at the sudden daydream of waking up next to him each morning like that. Prompto seemed to remember what was going on and sat up quickly, only calming down when Cor put his hands on his shoulders and insisting they were safe for now.

Noctis felt bad for him. He probably was raised in a tiny little bubble, sheltered and well cared for his entire life. Now his entire world was turning upside down. His boyfriend left him, he lost his job, and now Heaven and Hell were coming for him. Noctis wondered if Prompto’s parents were beside themselves with worry. He knew that if anything happened to him then his father would be going crazy and would tear all of Hell apart. Prompto’s parents, human and fragile, were likely worse off, grieving him terribly. His life was likely as wonderful as the movies humans made before everything turned out so bad.

“We need to discuss the plan,” Cor said with a softness that was only reserved for Prompto. Noctis wondered just why Cor was so interested in protecting Prompto, but he wasn’t going to be the one to broach the subject. The last thing he wanted was for him to get scolded by a reaper like Ignis just was. It was difficult not to laugh at the shock on Ignis’s face, though.

Prompto nodded and rubbed his eyes sleepily, making Noctis’s heart hammer as Prompto’s hair was tousled haphazardly about his face from sleep. He handed Cor his phone, tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I accidentally called Nyx. Can you do something about it? If I turn it back on he will keep calling.”

“It’s okay,” Cor said as he ruffled Prompto’s hair awkwardly and took the phone. Noctis wondered how a reaper could feel so attached to a Nephilim. Was it the same effect Prompto had on him? If so, that was dangerous. “We will get you a new phone with a new number. This one has been compromised anyway.”

“Oh,” Prompto replied with a shrug. He looked at the phone like he was letting go of the last vestiges of his life. Noctis felt a tugging on his heart that he didn’t anticipate. It was too human of an emotion, and he decided that he most definitely did not like it.

As prince of Hell, Noctis had access to a lot of magic that others did not. It was access that had been granted to Ignis, his brother and one of the few he trusted. One of which was being able to store anything he would want or need in an armiger. His father had access to it, but the others who did were few and far between. Within that armiger he had stored some of his old phones. It was both useful and practical since many of them were like new, a product of his father insisting he have the latest models in Hell. He couldn’t find it in his heart to get rid of them when they worked just fine.

Noctis pulled one out, a pristine black phone that had been wiped clean save for the tracking device on it. That would be something that Ignis would put there anyway, so he didn’t bother taking it off. If Prompto was on the move then Noctis would know. It wasn’t that he wanted to betray his trust like that, but it would come in handy if he was ever in trouble or decided to run. After all, Noctis had to keep his mission in sight. He couldn’t just ignore the task he had been sent to Eos to do, a task that had so easily fallen into his lap yet become so complicated in the same moment.

“Here,” Noctis said as he handed it to Prompto. “It’s pretty new and I’m not using it. You can put all our numbers in there in the event that you get separated from us.”

Prompto looked up at him as he stretched his hand out, his eyes alight with a gratitude that made Noctis’s heart thud painfully in his chest. He took the phone, his fingers brushing against Noctis’s, sending a jolt of electricity through his body. Noctis felt a strange heat in his cheeks that he had never experienced before, and he realized too late that he was blushing.

“Thank you,” Prompto said softly. His eyes were still shimmering with tears, but they were no longer overwhelmed with them. As they glistened, Noctis thought for sure that Prompto could hear his heart thumping so loudly in his chest. “I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it,” Noctis managed, his voice coming out strangled and nearly choked. It didn’t help that he knew that as long as Prompto had the phone then he would be able to track him down. It was a setup, pure and simple, and Noctis experienced a new feeling that made him profoundly uncomfortable because of it. He felt guilty. Guilt had never been something anyone in Hell experienced, or at least not lightly. So why did he feel so guilty now?

“So what’s the plan?” Prompto asked, turning away from Noctis and to Cor. Noctis wanted to talk to him more, to sit there and spend all day and night getting to know him. He wanted to grab his hand and tell him that they were going to run away from all of this, that he would protect him and shirk all responsibilities in Prompto’s favor. He knew that wasn’t an option.

“We need to get into the museum where the veil between here and Purgatory lies,” Ignis explained, regaining his former composure before Cor thoroughly scolded him. “I do hope you have a good plan to get through the heightened security there. It’s crawling with both angels and demons.”

“The simplest way to do it is to disguise you, Prompto,” Cor explained. “I’ve put some wardings on you to be able to mask that you’re a Nephilim in the presence of angels and demons, but disguising you to get you through the museum is a different story. We would have to convince them that you are a reaper.”

“That’s your grand plan?” Ignis asked, his disbelief obvious. “Just disguise him and walk him through the crow of angels and demons waiting for him?”

“We could disguise him as a demon,” Noctis proposed. They all turned and looked at him. “Well, I’m the prince of Hell, aren’t I? Wouldn’t it make more sense that a reaper is taking the prince and his two underlings to Purgatory at the king’s behest rather than two reapers doing so? None of the demons would suspect it in the very least.”

“The prince does have a point,” Ignis offered, putting a finger to his lips in consideration. “No doubt it will be suspicious enough, but Prompto does not necessarily have the constitution to look like a hardened reaper. No offense.”

“He might blend in better as a nervous new demon,” Noctis considered. “I know we’ve seen many of them who have managed to drag their way out of the pits.”

There was a moment of consideration and silence as they all looked at Cor to await his decision. Prompto looked from Cor to Noctis, his eyes worried. Noctis’s heart did another very human-like flutter when Prompto bit his bottom lip as he looked at him. He wondered how Prompto’s lips would taste. Cor caught him staring, and he looked away in embarrassment, blushing bright red. Prompto was either oblivious or was kind enough to ignore it, and they both looked back to Cor for the final decision.

“I suppose that is the best bet,” Cor conceded. “We need to get you to Purgatory, Prompto, so you can learn how to use your powers. In the meantime, you need to have a gun on you at all times. Are you sure you know how to use it?”

“Yes,” Prompto said, blushing bright red. It brought out his freckles, and Noctis imagined him blushing underneath him, entangled in his arms. This was very bad. He needed to get a grip. “Nyx taught me enough how to use it. He said I had a natural talent for it.”

“Then the only thing we need to do is make you look the part so that people believe you have a demon’s powers,” Ignis said. Noctis suspected this Nyx guy was Prompto’s ex, and he really didn’t like how he felt in response to Prompto talking about him. “I believe my expertise may help with that. Cor, with your permission?”

“Of course,” Cor replied. He looked at Prompto. “If they so much as breathe at you in a way that makes you uncomfortable then tell me.”

Prompto smiled. It wasn’t a full smile, but one that was meant to reassure Cor. “Don’t worry, dad. I’ll make sure they don’t hurt me.”

Noctis suppressed a laugh when Cor flushed in pleased embarrassment. Ignis quickly got to work, looking through his belongings and running through the armiger in the back of his mind. Noctis knew how his process worked, and he knew that however he was going to dress Prompto it was likely to be too much.

“Are you using a mask on me like the one you’re wearing?” Prompto asked Ignis as he sat on the edge of the bed. That surprised Noctis, and he hoped Prompto wasn’t being too forward. Ignis paused, taking out a few touches of the leather outfits he had on hand. Noctis knew he hit a nerve, and Prompto flushed in embarrassment. “Sorry. It’s just… You look fine without it.”

“I don’t know how you can see past it, but I appreciate the sentiment,” Ignis replied. That response surprised Noctis. “Unfortunately I am a succubus, and it is impossible for me to not hunt and eat.”

“I thought that succubae were women?” Prompto asked. It made Noctis nearly laugh. There were so many rumors on Eos about how succubae and incubae actually were that it was a common myth that Ignis had to dispel from time to time. Nevertheless, Ignis gave him a wry smile, one that made Prompto blush. Noctis bristled at that, and he sat next to Prompto in an attempt to be close to him. Prompto didn’t really seem to notice.

Cor was sitting nearby in the room, staring out the window while he looked for others coming for him. He turned to eye Noctis, who only sheepishly blushed and looked away. Cor sighed and turned back to looking outside, his attention focused on maintaining their safety. Noctis turned and looked at Prompto. Sitting so close to him made his heart beat erratically. Seeing his freckles up close, the curves of his lips, the furrowed brow that looked permanently worried almost made Noctis forget himself entirely and want to reach out to touch him.

“Succubae are the ones who pursue men,” Ignis explained, snapping Noctis out of his reverie. He turned away from Prompto, and Ignis gave him a warning look. “I am the very definition of a power bottom. In fact, I think I was the one who coined the term a while ago.”

Cor snorted at that and Prompto looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or just stare in shock. Noctis laughed at Ignis’s comment, and that’s when Prompto laughed as well. His laugh sounded like starlight when the universe was first formed.

“Well I guess that makes incubae the ones who pursue women?” Prompto said with a smile.

Ignis nodded. “I tried it a time ago, since some do both, but it is exhausting dealing with women. They take a long time to achieve the climax I need to survive. And I just prefer men, if I’m honest. I did back when I was a human as well. Therefore I must wear this mask so as not to frighten all the little morsels away.”

Prompto nodded in apparent understanding, although he was blushing. It surprised Noctis that Ignis revealed so much, but he hoped it was a sign that the succubus was willing to work with the situation they had been given. Noctis was shocked, though, that Prompto seemed to be able to see through the disguise that Ignis wore to cover his scarring. He had seen the results of the holy water, and while he didn’t mind the look on Ignis, he took careful precautions to hide it.

“How did your injury happen?” Prompto asked, his voice dripping with uncertainty. “Or… Sorry if it’s a personal question.”

“Not at all,” Ignis replied. He seemed to settle on his outfit selection for Prompto. Noctis thought it was unnatural that one person would have so much leather. Then he remembered that Ignis was a succubus and was immediately reminded of why he had it at all. “I ran into a rather dastardly priest once and he saw it fit to attack me with holy water. It is rare that humans have true, authentic holy water, but he did. I let my guard down and suffered the consequences.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Prompto offered. Ignis paused and looked at him curiously. Noctis couldn’t quite read his expression, but it surprised him further that Prompto offered compassion in this moment. The Nephilim certainly was someone that offered far more than what they expected. “If you ever feel like you need to wear the mask around me, then don’t. I like you with or without it.”

“I do appreciate that,” Ignis said, a slight blush on his face. Noctis had never seen Ignis blush like that before. It made him jealous to think about how they seemingly forged a bond without even trying. He hoped that Ignis wasn’t still going to try and seduce him. “Now… Let’s get you dressed and ready for this. We don’t have a lot of time.”

Noctis knew that Prompto didn’t know exactly what he was getting into when he got dressed, but he soon found out. Ignis gave him a bunch of clothes for him to change into, and Noctis silently wished that he had opted to put Prompto in one of his harnesses. Then he blushed at the mental imagery and immediately scolded himself for the thought. Now was not the time, and Prompto took the clothes to the bathroom while Noctis further castigated himself.

There was a long silence while they waited for Prompto to change. When he did come out, Noctis’s jaw nearly hit the floor. It wasn’t fair that someone could be so beautiful standing in front of him. Noctis had a feeling that he did it on purpose.

Ignis put him in leather pants that suffocated his legs and groin, a snug black button up shirt, and a black suit vest with a dark silver backing. Since Cor had insisted on him having a gun on him at all times, Ignis readily supplied him with holsters that hung on his waist, the straps fitting just over his arms, providing a range of motion for him to grab the weapons at a moment’s notice. Ignis rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows then stood back and looked at him in consideration.

“Is your hair tameable?” Ignis asked him when Noctis only stared at him, his mouth agape. When Prompto gave a helpless shrug, he sighed. “Very well then. Now the moniker of a demon is subtle, but usually it’s in how we conduct ourselves. I will put a mask on you that will only very slightly change your appearance. By all means, it will me imperceptible in terms of how you look, but most will recognize you as a demon.”

“How long will it last?” Prompto asked nervously. Noctis understood his worry. No one wanted to be a demon forever, not even demons like Ignis. He thought about how Ignis would want to be a human again if he had the chance and frowned.

“Worry not little half-angel,” Ignis said, making Prompto blush again. It made Noctis bristle with jealousy, and Ignis gave him a wry smile. He knew what he was doing. Noctis hoped that he was only teasing Prompto and not really trying to seduce him. “It will only work for a few hours. I imagine by the time we get to Purgatory, you will be back to worrying about your true identity.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t wear off before then,” Cor said. He turned and looked at Prompto with an approving nod. “Looks like a succubus. But with more refinement.”

Ignis put his hands on his hips and shot a glance at Cor. “Like me or not, I do good work.”

“It’s not a bad look,” Noctis said with a genuine smile at Prompto. It made Noctis smile brighter when Prompto blushed at him a bit, and he hoped it was a good sign. Then he thought about how he shouldn’t be hoping for anything other than dragging Prompto to Hell and stopped himself. He really had to find a way to stop whatever he was doing and focus on his assignment. He couldn’t lose sight of what was important.

“No, it is not,” Ignis replied. He fussed over Prompto’s hair a bit as the door opened but ultimately gave up. “Well. Is he demonic enough for your taste, your highness?”

Ignis pulled twirled Prompto around, making him really and truly look at the Nephilim .Noctis’s eyes got very wide, a blush came to his cheeks, and he felt like he had just seen the sun for the first time in his life. Prompto was attractive, too attractive, and he immediately forgot about what he was planning on doing in regards to completing the assignment he had been given. Prompto shifted, blushing a bit from his gaze, and Noctis felt a certain fire and passion that extended from himself outward. Prompto was pure light disguised as darkness, and Noctis only wanted to take him in his arms and tell him that he would give him anything he desired.

“Wow,” Noctis said, his voice breathless and excited. Cor looked to him, and that seemed to be all he needed to remember himself. He looked at Ignis with a smile, turning his excitement towards his brother-in-arms. “You did it, Ignis. You finally found someone who looks good in your clothes.”

“Ha, ha,” Ignis said wryly, but he was smiling in return as well. Apparently he got the reaction he wanted from Noctis.

“We need to get moving,” Cor said before they could delay any longer. He walked over to Prompto and put a gun in his holster for him. “Sorry. I only have one.”

“I have another,” Noctis offered helpfully. Prompto looked at him, and Noctis ignored Cor’s dark mood. He pulled out a gun from the armiger, selecting something that he thought would suit Prompto well.

Noctis walked over to Prompto as Cor stood back, watching the interaction to ensure that he wasn’t going to harm Prompto. Prompto looked at the jet black gun, the smooth metal, and Noctis hoped that Prompto liked it. It was one from his personal collection, not one of the many he just kept on hand because his father insisted on it.

Before Prompto could gratefully accept the gun, Noctis took a step closer, making Cor tense. He took the gun and put it in Prompto’s holster for him, a slight blush on his face. Noctis had to fully admit that he had a crush on Prompto then. He couldn’t help it as his mind raced at the thought of holding Prompto in his arms. His breath caught as he looked at Prompto, hoping that maybe one day Prompto would forget all about whoever his ex boyfriend was and accept him instead.

“Thank you,” Prompto said with a slight blush on his face. Noctis only smiled at him, and Prompto blushed even more.

“Come on hotshot,” Cor said as he pulled Noctis away. Noctis blushed bright red, his attempt to be smooth foiled by Cor’s overprotectiveness of Prompto. “We have to get going. It’s only a matter of time before we’re discovered here.”

“Quite right,” Ignis said. They were packed and ready to go in just a moment, Ignis muttering to Noctis about him being a hotshot while Noctis embarrassingly told him to shut up.

“Whatever you do,” Cor whispered to Prompto while the two were currently involved in a brotherly battle of the wits. Noctis pretended he couldn’t hear, but his hearing was better than most. “Do not let your guard down around them. They will lure you into a false sense of security before they hurt you. It doesn’t matter how much the prince has a crush on you.”

“I know,” Prompto said, his voice filled with sorrow. “There’s no way I can trust anyone.”

Noctis felt a pain spread in his chest that he didn’t anticipate. Of course Prompto couldn’t, and wouldn’t, trust him. He was the prince of Hell, and no one was fooled in their attempt to help him. They would eventually have to convince Prompto to return to Hell with them or drag him there kicking and screaming. Noctis didn’t want that to happen, but it was the reality of the situation they were in. Nevertheless, as they set out towards the museum, Noctis had a difficult time closing his heart off to how he so instantly and obviously fell for Prompto.

Chapter Text

Gladio had heard that the angels got the drop on him first thanks to the helpful enlistment of a particularly devout human. The other angels rushed in foolhardy and ready for battle at a moment’s notice. It was a futile effort, one that cost an angel his life. While he knew he could so easily track down and hunt the Nephilim before it was on the move again, he had to stick to his assignment. So as the others hurriedly looked for him, he took the time to review his assignment and gather as much intel as he possibly could. Of course they failed in their efforts. They weren’t the brightest.

One of the reasons why Gladio wasn’t like the other angels, or even archangels, was the fact that he didn’t forget his humanity in place of blind servitude. He undoubtedly served God and the Cause, but he didn’t let it dull his senses. If he wanted to be successful in capturing the prince of Hell and killing his succubus sidekick, then he had to remember how he had once been a great warrior and use those skills to his benefit. He had to think when the other angels failed to.

Long before Gladio had become an archangel, or an angel even, Gladio was a warrior amongst the ancients of Eos. It was so long ago that his memory had degraded to a fond fuzziness of his time as a human, but it didn’t change his training, his skills, his ability to make snap decisions that were best for him and for any team he led. He was around when the transition from worshipping six gods to one happened. He had been happy to lead, and die in, the crusades that brought him towards his God. He was righteous in his cause and had died for that cause.

The first night Gladio was on Eos, he was able to figure out that the succubus was hunting at a gay bar downtown. He scoped out the place, looking for any sign of the green eyed demon, that even Gladio had to admit was alluring from his dossier photo. Ultimately he didn’t get there in time, only catching the back of the demon’s head as he walked away with his victim. While Gladio knew he could have easily gotten him then and there, literally with his pants down, he had opted to wait. It was better to get him and the prince of Hell both at the same time. If not the prince would grow suspicious and likely disappear. He was the real target.

Instead, he followed the breadcrumbs, leading him back to a seedy motel. There, Gladio waited. He waited and tried to gather as much information as he could about the area, what was going on inside, and what was going to happen. He only left when he received a call from his superiors, checking in. While he could have stuck around, he didn’t want to risk the exposure if one of them left and discovered him lurking nearby, talking about his assignment. It was during that time that the Nephilim was found, and while he could have easily hung up the phone and joined the hunt, he opted to stick to his assignment. Since it wasn’t part of his assignment, he didn’t ask anyone where the Nephilim had been found.

By the time the succubus and the prince of Hell left the motel, he knew something had changed. There was a reaper with him, leading them, and a scared looking blond in tow. He stuck close to the reaper, but the prince of Hell was keeping him close as well. As jumpy as he was, it was easy to tell he was wearing a mask that the demon likely applied, trying to make him look like one of them. Gladio could see through it, sense that the young man was in trouble. While he hadn’t forgotten his assignment, he knew then that he had to do what he could to save the human. Whatever the prince, a succubus, and a reaper wanted with him couldn’t have been good.

Through his training as an angel and an archangel in Heaven Gladio had learned one simple truth. It was vitally important to protect all of God’s creatures, whether in Heaven or on Eos. If a human was in trouble, being led astray or towards his demise, Gladio was obligated to try and rescue him. It was a rule that superseded the Cause, the most basic and intrinsic rule that came with being an angel. Even if it meant failing in his assignment, the archangels were bound by Heavenly law to honor his decision to protect the human.

Gladio tracked them, keeping them close but staying back far enough away that they wouldn’t see him. He stuck to the shadows, and he refused to wear the same garb that so easily identified him as an archangel. Instead he wore black pants, a belt, and a tank top with a leather jacket over it. There was a large band on his wrist, metal and shimmering, that transformed into his shield when he needed it to. He could easily blend in amongst the humans, and he wasn’t going to let something as simple as his attire give him away. Not when he had an assignment to complete. Not when there was a fearful young man who needed his help.

It came as a shock to Gladio that they didn’t take the young man directly to a veil to Hell. Instead, it looked like they were taking him towards the veil to Purgatory. What were they trying to do with the young man that required bringing him to the land of lost souls? It worried him, and it scared him when they were so easily able to walk into the museum and past the grip of the angels.

Shouldn’t they have been more aware of the obvious mask he wore to make him look like a demon? Were the angels really that inefficient? And why would they just so easily let the prince of Hell past their defenses? Was it because they thought he was too powerful? Or were they so focused on the Nephilim that they didn’t even bother to focus on anyone else? As much as Gladio liked being an archangel, he was not particularly amused by how the other angels followed their orders to a fault.

It gave them little room for thought, making them mindless drones, clones or copies of the next angel. Gladio had been taught early on that thought was a dangerous threat to devotion, but he had objected. Instead, he rather likened it to using the talents that God gave him to be stronger, more devoted, despite knowing what temptations were out there. It gave him the chance to prove that he never wavered from God’s path, never thought so much as a passing fancy towards anyone else but his pure devotion.

Angrily, Gladio followed them into the museum. A hush immediately came over him, a somber reverence filling the air. It was more the effect of the veil and less of the museum itself. Purgatory was a place that was both beautiful and dangerous, commanding deep respect amongst all those who sought it out. The entire air of the museum was like that of what Gladio imagined the River Styx to be like. The very air was permeated with sorrow and soulful longing. It was hard not to be overwhelmed by it as soon as he stepped inside.

Nevertheless, he had a mission to accomplish, and now a young man’s life was likely at stake. Quietly, he followed them towards the veil. It was a painting in the heart of the museum, a large canvas that took up nearly an entire wall. The painting itself depicted a battle between Heaven and Earth, bloody and violent amongst a sea of chaos and turbulence. In the middle of it was an angel, glowing and beautiful with silver wings tipped with black. The artist certainly took some liberties. Angels always had white wings and the fallen angels always had black wings. The painting itself was beautiful, but many people couldn’t stay in the room for long, the sorrow too overwhelming.

“It’s strange,” he heard the blond man saying somberly as he looked at the painting. “I’ve seent this painting before. I never knew it was here, but whenever I look at it, I want to cry.”

“That’s the effects of the veil,” the prince of Hell replied. They almost sounded friendly. Gladio couldn’t let his guard down, though. It was too dangerous and the young man was likely only playing along to prolong his life. Or he was woefully unaware of what was in store for him. He would have to act quickly.

“It’s not as depressing once we’re there,” the reaper offered. Of course he would say that. “Come on. We have to move quickly. I’m surprised we got in that far without any suspicions being raised.”

“Hold it right there,” Gladio said as he entered the large room. The group looked at him in startled surprised. He took out his silver blade from his jacket pocket, holding it defensively, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. “Hand over the young man. Now.”

“And what makes you think that we will listen to you?” the succubus asked. Gladio looked at him, momentarily taken aback by his beauty. He had seen the demon’s photo in the dossier, but his visage in reality was so much more beautiful and all the more dangerous for it. His green eyes were piercing into Gladio’s soul, his brown hair looking like it had been spun from jewels and silk, his frowning lips beckoning him to cave to his touch. Gladio couldn’t let it affect him.

“Prompto, stand behind me,” the reaper ordered the blond. Prompto complied, looking to Gladio in fear. Or was it desperation for help? He knew he had to try and save him. If the prince of Hell was involved, then whatever he was going to do to him was going to end bad. The poor human was in danger, likely not even knowing just how bad it would be.

“Back off our prince, archangel,” a voice said behind Gladio, making him stand sideways, his eyes trained on the demons who were starting to surround him in an effort to defend the prince. They must have seen him following the group and thought something was wrong. Of course they did. Demons were, admittedly, smarter than angels.

“Let the young man go and I will back off,” Gladio snapped as he looked between them. The prince of Hell had a blade of his own in his hands, obsidian and shimmering in the pale light of the museum. Cautiously, Gladio maneuvered towards them, his footsteps slow and decisive. He kept a careful eye on the succubus, but not too careful so that he wasn’t enchanted by his charms.

“Cor, maybe I should-” Prompto began, but the reaper cut him off.

“No,” Cor replied. He withdrew his own blade, a matte dark grey typical of the reapers. “You’re with me.”

Gladio knew then that he had to act. Whatever they were planning on doing was going to end their young man’s life, and he had to stop them before it happened. His overwhelming need to protect the human overrode his assignment. This was his goal as an archangel, after all. As much as he served God, he also had to be there to protect God’s creations. That came before all else and was the main reason he had worked so hard to become an archangel in the first place.

“You really think you can stop us?” the prince of Hell asked as he stood in front of Prompto with a near protectiveness that took Gladio off guard. “We won’t let you get him.”

There was a flurry of motion after that. The demons, the prince’s loyal lackeys, attacked Gladio with a firing of bullets. Gladio was faster, the gauntlet on his wrist turning into his shield, blocking any flying bullets, sending them ricocheting and flying in multiple directions. He was able to use some of the bullets against the demons, the ricochet striking them with deadly precision. For the others, he moved swiftly, faster than a demon could keep up with even without the use of his wings. It was only a matter of time before they were struck down with his blade.

Cor grabbed Prompto, pushing him towards the painting in an attempt to get him through the veil before Gladio could reach him. The succubus withdrew two daggers, one for each hand, and the prince exchanged his blade in favor of a sword nearly as tall as he was. That wasn’t saying much, though. He wasn’t exactly tall. Nevertheless, as more demons filed in, Gladio divided his attentions between the group he was trying to rescue the poor human from and the demons who were firing bullets at him.

Prompto didn’t quite make it to the painting, landing with a hard thump on the ground and sliding towards it. He let out a small whimper, and Gladio stared at him in shock, guilt coursing through him. Blood was pooling out of his abdomen and onto the slate grey floor. A bullet that had ricocheted off his shield had struck the captured human instead. Dread coursed through him, but he had to get through the others to get to the human. Gladio could heal him. He had the power as an archangel to do so. He just had to get there in time.

“Prompto!” the prince of Hell called, noticing at the same time Gladio did that the human was injured. It confused Gladio why the prince was so concerned for him. Was he supposed to be used in some sort of ritual sacrifice? Did he need to be the one to kill him for whatever he planned to take effect?

Gladio didn’t have time to consider it. He used his shield as a weapon, knocking back the demons who attacked him, until he was squaring off between the succubus. There was a wrath to him that Gladio didn’t expect, something dangerous beneath the surface that greatly concerned him. He assumed that all the succubae were just focused on sex and fulfillment and didn’t anticipate the demon to be such a protector of his prince or his assets. Then again, it was Gladio’s fault that he had underestimated the succubus in the first place.

“Give it up, archangel,” the succubus seethed. He gave a nod towards the prince, who took the silent meaning to go and check on the human. “You cannot have him.”

There was a moment of consideration. A brief moment was all it took. Cor, the reaper, was distracted by Prompto’s injuries, the prince was running towards the human to try and save him for whatever sacrificial purpose he had in Purgatory, and the succubus was his main obstacle. He knew what he had to do, although it wasn’t the option he had hoped for. If he could get the human to the other side then he could heal him and hide him until he could get him to safety. That’s all it took. Maybe he could take out the succubus along the way, but his top priority was saving the human.

Gladio unfurled his wings, large and long, pure white and shimmering as if there was a light beating down on them from the Heavens above. The succubus was blinded by it, shielding his beautiful green eyes from Heaven’s light, giving Gladio the opening that he needed. He flew faster than the prince of Hell could run. Screams echoed around him as he grabbed the human, picking him up, and plunging ahead with little thought.

“Prompto!” the prince of Hell screamed for his prey as Gladio plunged them forward, through the painting and into Purgatory.

There were more demons coming to the prince’s aide, giving him little opportunity to find his way out of the museum. The only way was forward. He had to save the human. When the human was healed then he would find a way out, taking him to Heaven if necessary. Then another dangerous thought crossed his mind, one that none of the other angels would so easily think of.

If the prince of Hell was that desperate for a sacrifice then it would make his job easier. Once they were in Purgatory, once the human was healed, he could easily use him as bait to trap the prince and kill the succubus. He could ask the human to repay him, even though repayment wasn’t necessary, to be the bait to accomplish his mission. The reaper was an issue, though, but he would figure that out as he went along.

The screams for Prompto echoed in his ears as he stepped plunged forward into Purgatory, his loyalty to protect and serve all of humanity making him righteous in his cause. His dark thoughts about how he would use the human to accomplish his goal was there, too. He told himself that as long as he was righteous, then it didn’t matter. There was nothing else, nothing that came before protecting God’s creations, nothing that came before finishing his mission.

***

“Ignis,” Noctis said desperately as he looked at the pool of blood on the ground then to the succubus. “We have to get him. We have to help him. Before he kills him.”

“I know,” Ignis snapped, thoroughly disgusted with himself that the archangel was able to get past him. “Cor, we need to go. Luckily his only out was Purgatory, but if we’re not careful then he will just take him through the veil to Heaven and it will be over. We need to be quick about it.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Cor said, although his face looked pale. They were all thinking the same thing, albeit for different reasons. They had so easily let their guard down, thinking that things would just be so easy now that they had reached the veil. Of course there was an archangel on hand. They had been foolish enough to let him gain the upperhand. Ignis had been foolish enough to let his complacency get the better of him.

“Compose yourself, Noctis,” Ignis said as he stood tall, looking at the prince. Noctis’s face was desperate, forlorn, pleading for an easy solution to the problem. “He is not yet gone. We have to pursue. No doubt the archangel will have a difficult time getting through the veil to Heaven in Purgatory. It is not just a simple passage as it is on Eos.”

Noctis nodded, relying on Ignis’s strength to pull them through. Cor didn’t hesitate, didn’t wait for anyone’s permission to continue on. He looked between Noctis and Ignis, his glare turning a bit softer with his worry. It threw Ignis off just how much they all desired to protect Prompto when danger came at them. It had to be the Nephilim’s power, his natural inclination to have him protected at all moments in time. That and Ignis knew that if the Nephilim were to die then both his and the prince’s lives would be at stake.

With little ceremony, Cor passed through the veil and into Purgatory, not bothering to wait for them to catch up. If they lost him now then it would only be to the reaper’s benefit. Ignis wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He grabbed the sleeve of Noctis’s arm and tugged on it, hoping that the prince would snap out of whatever panic he was feeling because of his precious crush being hurt. Now was not the time for inaction, crushes, or anything that would hinder their ability to accomplish their task.

“Let’s go,” Ignis snapped, pulling Noctis to attention. “Do you really want to just sit here and sob while your darling beloved is about to be killed by an archangel?”

“N-no,” Noctis said, shaking his head and blushing.

Ignis almost felt bad for him, especially since he had never really felt anything towards another being in his life. For him to develop a crush on the Nephilim so quickly was a pity. Ignis knew that as soon as the king got what he wanted from him then he would kill the Nephilim. After all, with his inherent power he was obviously a liability. Otherwise, Heaven wouldn’t want him dead. Otherwise, King Regis wouldn’t be so adamant on obtaining his power.

“Then. Let’s. Go,” Ignis said, putting emphasis on each word. Noctis nodded, and the succubus pulled Noctis through the veil before any of the surviving demons understood what they were doing. It was a need to know basis, and the only ones who needed to know were those directly involved and the king.

Plunging through a veil was often a strange experience. Ignis had never experienced walking through one of Heaven’s veils, but he imagined it would be pleasant and welcoming. Walking through Hell’s veils was like walking through a furnace if you were human, but it was comfortably warm for a demon or fallen angel. But going through Purgatory’s veils was entirely different. It was like being plunged into an ice bath only to come up for air and find oneself wrapped in a straight jacket. It was stifling, suffocating, and altogether unpleasant until they were on the other side.

Ignis gasped for breath when they stepped through, opening his eyes to a world of dense fog. He didn’t even realize he closed his eyes in the first place. Noctis was gasping for breath, his hands on his knees, beside him. Ignis understood the feeling, but they didn’t have time to waste. He scanned the area, trying to see through the fog that was so dense that he could barely make out what was in front of him. It didn’t help that he was partially blind, so he trained his other senses to try and find what he was looking for.

He heard it then. Soft footsteps running on meadowed moss, the sound of Cor screaming for Prompto in the distance. They weren’t far away, but the fog was making it difficult to determine their exact location. Ignis grabbed Noctis’s arm and pulled him with him, giving them little time to relax. If Prompto had been hit with an angel killing bullet that the demons had in their arsenal then it was likely he was already dead. Ignis tried not to think about his own eulogy at that point.

They were swift, as swift as a fallen angel and demon could be. Ignis traveled as smoke, leading Noctis as his black wings unfurled and propelled him through the fog and towards Prompto. Every so often, Ignis would stop and triangulate what he was hearing, the fog throwing him off several times. Light refracted and sound was muffled in a fog this dense, but Ignis was undeterred. He would not let some archangel get the upper hand and take what was rightfully theirs. They were getting close. He could sense it. Ignis could hear Cor’s screams for Prompto getting louder. The reaper was not exactly subtle in his attacks and desperation.

Suddenly, Ignis stopped Noctis, holding his arm out and nearly close lining him in his attempt to reach Prompto. They were close, so close that he could hear the angel cursing himself under his breath. The fog had grown denser, like Purgatory knew that they were not supposed to be there, and Ignis held a finger to his lips to indicate to Noctis to be silent. Noctis nodded, and they both moved quietly, slowly towards their target. The moss beneath their feet muffled their footsteps even more, leaving them to be stealthy and quick.

Just as they reached them, there was a soft golden glow that radiated warmth and dispersed the fog around the archangel and Prompto. It took Ignis off guard for several reasons. He thought it was obvious that the archangel was going to kill Prompto, but from where he was standing, it looked like he was trying to heal him. The light permeated Prompto’s body where his wound was, a small golden orb that the angel held in his hands until it sunk into the bullet wound and spread outward. The light flowed through Prompto’s body, warming his heart with a soft glow, and Ignis finally saw why Noctis was so infatuated from the beginning. He really was beautiful.

What caught him off guard the most, however, was the look of concern and love on the angel’s face. It wasn’t that he hadn’t seen an angel, or even an archangel, with that look before. No, what shook him to his very core was the fact that the angel was just so beautiful to him in that moment. His eyes were like pools of honey, and his face was illuminated by the golden light, making his features soft and calming. Ignis had never felt so immediately taken by the sight of anyone, angel or demon, before. Usually he was the one making others feel enamored. It not only scared him, but it down right pissed him off.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Noctis demanded, his sword out and wings unfurled for battle. They fluttered angrily in the air, dispersing the fog around them, creating swirls of grey dew, their clothes clinging to their bodies from the moisture. The angel looked up at him with angry eyes. “Let him go!”

“I will not!” the archangel replied, standing up and between Noctis and Prompto. Ignis caught sight of Cor moving towards them, appearing out of the fog, and he gave an imperceptible nod in his direction. Cor understood. “You cannot have this human, prince of Hell! Get back or I will kill you without mercy.”

“Human?” Ignis asked in surprise. So that was why he was saving Prompto, he realized. The archangel was able to perceive Prompto’s humanity, but they had successfully disguised his angelic attributes. He couldn’t help but laugh in that moment, startling the archangel and making Noctis give him a perplexed look. They were supposed to be fighting, not laughing. “Sorry, your highness, it’s just… The archangel saved the Nephilim, defying the very orders of Heaven, because he thought he was human.”

“Oh,” Noctis said, wide eyed as he turned and looked back to Prompto. Cor came up behind them, ignoring the angel in favor of pulling Prompto into his arms, checking on his wound. The golden light was fading, just as the wound was closing. Ignis grinned wickedly at the knowledge that Prompto would survive due to an angel’s stupid mistake.

“What?” the archangel asked. He looked to Cor holding Prompto, cradling him like a child almost. The archangel looked shocked, terrified even. “What do you mean, Nephilim?”

“We disguised his true identity, archangel,” Ignis said scathingly. “You saw the humanity in him and thought we were going to kill him. Instead, you missed the vitally important piece of information that would bring you to the conclusion that we’re trying to protect him. He’s the Nephilim everyone’s been looking for.”

“What?” the archangel asked again, disbelieving. He turned to Prompto, who was slowly opening his eyes like a prince or princess from the fairytales. Cor was kneeling on the ground, still holding Prompto in his arms, telling him that he would be okay. “That’s not possible. I would never defy Heaven’s orders. I… If I had known.”

“Instead you helped us,” Noctis said with a grin on his face. “I don’t think the uppers would like that too much.”

“This has to be some trick,” the archangel insisted. He was scrambling for some sort of answer, something that ignored the truth entirely. “I would never defy Heaven.”

“You just did,” Cor snapped, his piercing blue eyes glaring at him. “We were trying to get him here to safety where he couldn’t be hurt by the likes of angels like you. You accomplished the task for us and even healed him.”

“N-no,” the archangel looked at them, a strange panic coming over his face. Ignis almost felt bad for him, but he had taken what was theirs, and one did not take from Ignis without suffering consequences. “I-I cannot.”

“What happened?” Prompto asked dreamily, as if he had just woken from a rather long nap. He looked up at Cor then over to Noctis, whose wings were on full display. Prompto’s eyes widened, and Ignis took that to be a good sign. If the Nephilim saw the prince in his full might, then surely he would find him to be even more beautiful than usual. It made their job all the easier. “Noctis?”

“It’s alright,” Cor said, but Noctis ignored the archangel in favor of joining them down on the ground, leaving Ignis to deal with the unintentional traitor to Heaven.

Noctis and Prompto looked at each other, and Prompto did something that no one expected. He hugged Noctis tightly around the neck. Noctis looked shocked, like he didn’t know what to do, and Cor gave him a glare that indicated that if he so much as moved he would kill him. Noctis balled his hands into fists, not hugging Prompto back, then flexed his fingers in an obvious effort to try and avoid hugging the Nephilim in return and angering Cor.

“So you’re a traitor to Heaven,” Ignis mused as he looked to the archangel. “We’re just a band of misfits trying to protect the Nephilim. Welcome to the team, I suppose.”

“I refuse,” the archangel said. “I have only ever been in service to God and the Cause. I… I…”

The archangel’s words became strangled, his voice leaving him. Ignis imagined it was a particularly miserable fate for someone who was so devout and had been fooled into saving the Nephilim, but there was nothing to be done for it. Heaven would catch wind of this, the archangel would stand trial, and then he would be cast out of Heaven and plunged into Hell, his wings turning from a pure white to a jet black. The archangel would have to run and hide from Heaven if he wanted to avoid that.

“You might as well face it, archangel,” Cor said as he looked to him, his eyes angry. Noctis had eventually decided to ignore Cor’s glares apparently, because he had wrapped his arms around Prompto and was holding him tightly in a relieved embrace. Ignis didn’t know if Prompto was being genuine or was just happy to see a familiar face, but he was pleased with the outcome nevertheless. “You have nowhere to go. You might as well join us and hide here, or you can go back to Heaven and face their wrath. We could use your healing talents and skills in a fight.”

The archangel fell to his knees, staring at them all with wide eyes, his disbelief palpable. Ignis walked over to him and looked down, ignoring the strong beating of his own heart that seemed to beckon him to a different future. This was not something he would tolerate of himself, and he closed his heart off immediately to avoid any unnecessary faux pas. There was no way he would let those honey eyes seduce him. Not when he was the one who usually did the seducing.

“What’s your name, archangel?” Ignis asked him as tears fell from the angel’s face like diamonds mixed with morning dew.

“Gladio,” he replied miserably. Ignis felt a pang in his heart for him, a pang he clearly ignored. There was no room for pity, for empathy. There was no need to remember his own fall from grace when he sold his soul. He didn’t need to be reminded of that dark past.

“Well, Gladio,” Ignis said. The others looked to him, even Prompto, waiting to see what he would do. Ignis smirked when he saw Noctis’s arm around Prompto’s waist, much to Cor’s dismay. “Welcome to Purgatory.”

Chapter Text

Prompto was scared, terrified really. He didn’t know how he had ended up in such a strange, beautiful place. His footsteps echoed on the marble floor, making his heart jump. The walls of the palace were made of a light nude marble, the windows showing the bright world of perfection sprawling before him. It was odd to know he was in a palace since he had never been there before, yet he seemed to know exactly where he was. His instincts knew. Why wasn’t the light from outside filtering through?

The palace felt wrong, like there was something there that he shouldn’t see. Prompto knew he shouldn’t be there, and his heart raced at the thought of getting caught. But who would he get caught by? Uncertainly, he stepped through the halls, his feet echoing on the floor with a thudding finality. It worried him to think that if he was caught then something terrible would happen to him. He constantly scanned the area, looking ahead of him and behind him, expecting something to jump out at any moment. Nothing happened.

There was something else there, though. Something, or someone, calling to him, pleading for his help. Prompto had to find what, or who, it was. There was a strange pull, as if there was a thread extending from his chest tethering him to whatever was calling for him. It guided him, pulling him forward. Each time he reached a point in the palace where he had the choice to go in any number of directions, he would pause and wait. After just a moment, he would feel the tugging, pulling at him like someone was pulling on his shirt, and he knew were to go.

Prompto didn’t know how long he was walking. It could have been minutes or hours. It could have been an eternity. Somewhere in the distance he heard screaming, but it was so faint that it felt like it was from another life. If he tried too hard to remember that life, it would only leave him, and he was left to shrug it off and continue on. It scared him to think what could be waiting for him anyway. He had to keep his wits about him for whatever he was walking towards.

The tugging got stronger when he approached a set of large double doors. The marble was ornately carved, a depiction of gods long forgotten. Prompto found it odd that such a carving would be here, but he couldn’t quite place why. All he knew was that he had to open the doors and see what was on the other side. He had to help whoever was on the other side. But Prompto was scared. He would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he was scared, although he couldn’t say why.

Prompto struggled to get the door open. The door was heavy, straining like it hadn’t been opened in a long time. His muscles strained, his body aching, and a particularly intense pain tore through his abdomen. Nevertheless, the tugging was stronger, commanding him to just open the door, and he pushed and pulled until he got the door open enough to see inside. Huffing, he leaned against the heavy door, his labored breathing turning to hyperventilating fear as he saw what was waiting inside.

There was little time. Prompto made to rush in, to overcome his fear and face this head on, but he couldn’t. His legs were trembling, his knees weak, his eyes wide, afraid to blink. He told himself to move, to take a step inside, but he felt like if he did then he would be trapped in there, never able to escape. There was something warning him to stay away, as much as there was something beckoning him forward. It almost felt like a trap…

“Prompto,” a voice whispered to him, calling him home. Where was home again? It wasn’t here, not in this hellish place that was only gilded to look like it was a safe haven. He couldn’t leave, though. Not when this was before him. “Prompto.”

The voice called him again, and a moment later he felt a warm glow within himself that seemed to take all of his pain away. Panicked, Prompto looked inside the room, fearful of what it meant to stay and what it meant to leave. He had to come back. He had to try. No, he had to succeed. But his feet were levitating off the ground, a golden glow glow permeating his skin, and he felt himself disappearing from this realm.

“I’ll come back!” Prompto screamed, struggling to stay behind to no avail. He reached out to grab the door, to anchor him to this place, but his hands slipped through it like he was a specter. “I promise!”

Only silence responded, and Prompto was gone.

Prompto was shaking. He was trying not to let it show, but he was shaking pretty badly. It was difficult to tell why he was so panicked. Was it the fact that he was shot and almost killed? Was it that an archangel had abducted him, only to save his life? Or was it the dream that he had, the dream that felt so real to him that he wasn’t sure he was dreaming at all? What was that place?

The others must have assumed that he was shaken because he almost died, and his dream wasn’t something that he could easily just vocalize to others. Prompto had seen Noctis, his black wings clouding his vision like the dark visage of something beautiful, a shadow over the moon. When he saw him, he had impulsively reached out to him and hugged him tightly. He needed something, anything, to make him feel anchored to reality, no matter how terrible it was. He needed to remind himself that he wasn’t in that palace.

Now that he had regained some sort of center of gravity, Prompto didn’t know if he should regret hugging Noctis or not. Prompto was dense when it came to relationships, stunted in his capacity to relate to others and form bonds thanks to his past. But he wasn’t that dense. It was so obvious that Noctis had a crush on him that he was intentionally avoiding him. Some would think that it was good to have the prince of Hell on his side, devoted to him without a second thought. Prompto didn’t like it at all.

It meant that, even if he did feel something for Noctis eventually, then he would just end up with another heartache, another betrayal. It would be a lie to say that he didn’t find Noctis ridiculously attractive, but Cor’s advice not to trust anyone echoed in his heart. Thinking about Nyx only reminded him of the harsh truth. Noctis was the prince of Hell. He wasn’t fooling anyone, much less Prompto, into thinking that he was helping him. Prompto was well aware that at the end of everything, Ignis and Noctis would try and drag him to Hell. He was aware that Noctis was waiting for the opportunity to steal him away.

“Prompto?” Noctis asked as Prompto looked at the ragtag group, wondering what was going to become of the archangel, Gladio, now that he had accidentally helped him.

By all appearances, it looked like he was going to join them since he had little choice. That was a dangerous option, something that Prompto didn’t like, but Cor had said that they needed a healer in the event that he was injured again. After all, even though Prompto was apparently one of the strongest creatures in the universe, he had no idea how to use his power or how to protect himself. And he was still half human.

“I’m alright,” Prompto replied dismissively, the image of his dream making his heart race again. Noctis was by his side, Cor finally conceding that he needed the prince of Hell to support Prompto while he led the group through Purgatory, a seemingly never ending dense fog that never cleared to reveal where they were going. Ignis was keeping a careful eye on Gladio, like he was trying to determine if he wanted to kill him or eat him, hanging towards the back while Gladio walked dejectedly by his side.

Prompto felt bad for Gladio. He knew he shouldn’t, that Gladio ultimately wanted him dead. Seeing the look on his face, though, the fact that he had been duped into rescuing his enemy, made Prompto’s heart ache for him. Just because he was supposed to hunt him didn’t mean Prompto couldn’t feel some sort of compassion for him. He understood well what it meant to lose one’s home. He understood what it meant to have someone blinded by their righteousness enough to cast him out.

“Thank you for saving me,” Prompto offered to Gladio quietly as they walked through the dense fog. Cor must have known where he was going because he plunged ahead, heedless of whatever direction they were taking. It was strange walking through a dense fog that blinded their senses, walking on soft moss that muffled their footsteps, creating an eerily silent atmosphere around them. Prompto found it strangely calming, like he was being welcomed to the fold. Looking at the others, all save Cor, and seeing the look of anxiety on their faces, he could see that he was the only one who felt that way.

“Don’t mention it,” Gladio replied, his eyes hard. Prompto shrank beneath his glare. He had been hated before, but this was something different. This was pure, strong, and terrifying. Noctis put an arm around his shoulders comfortingly, but Prompto found he couldn’t look away from the angel. “Ever. I still haven’t given up my wings. I will fight to regain my honor and prove my devotion to God.”

“Say what you want, Gladio,” Ignis said, annunciating his name like it was a curse. “But you saved the Nephilim.”

“His name is Prompto,” Noctis said, his arm around Prompto’s shoulder to keep him steady. Prompto looked at him, looked at the prince of Hell, the beginnings of something surfacing. He had to push that back down. Now was not the time, and he couldn’t handle anymore heartache. And heartache with Noctis was inevitable. “He’s not some thing you can just treat like an object to kill or play with because you are a messenger of God.”

“And what do you plan to do with him, prince of Hell?” Gladio snapped. Noctis tensed, immediately removing his arm from Prompto’s shoulders. Prompto didn’t like how his heart fell in that moment, sinking from his chest to his stomach unhappily. “What do you think will happen, Prompto, keeping a succubus and the prince of Hell in your entourage?”

“At least I know that they intend on using me instead of killing me,” Prompto shot back. He was tired of them thinking that he didn’t have a mind of his own, that he could somehow just be pulled along and treated like a puppet being pulled by their strings. “I’m not stupid, and I know exactly what they plan on doing. But right now this is my only shot of staying safe, and I have to rely on someone to navigate this shitty world that you all have made. Quit acting like you’re so righteous in your cause, Gladio. You use your fucking faith to justify murder. You’re no better than my parents. If anything, you’re worse because you set the example.”

Prompto went on ahead, disregarding their shocked expressions or how shaky he felt. He joined Cor, walking next to him angrily, knowing that he would later regret snapping at them. Prompto didn’t like to get mad at people, he didn’t like to stay mad, and he didn’t like to hold a grudge. But he was so fed up with them treating him like some object to be toyed with. Even Noctis’s crush on him was far more objectifying than it was genuine. There really wasn’t an opportunity for them to connect, but the moments that they did have, Noctis spent his time just gawking at him like he belonged in a museum.

While he liked it to some extent, it also made him uncomfortable in how he really wasn’t making any attempts to talk to him in favor of just staring at him and treating him like a damsel in distress. Prompto wondered if Noctis had ever had a genuine relationship, but then he thought about how close he was to Ignis, clearly treating each other like brothers, and realized that he had at least known how to make friends. It made him more uncomfortable that Noctis just preferred to stare at him, making it clear that Noctis would eventually take him to Hell if he had the chance. Just because his objectifying was different, didn’t mean the end result wasn’t the same.

“Good for you,” Cor muttered as he walked side by side with Prompto. “I know that I haven’t been exactly making you feel strong, but you’re stronger than all of us. Once we reach headquarters you’ll be able to rest and recharge and then we can start focusing on your training.”

“I know I’ll regret snapping at them,” Prompto said with a sigh. “But I’m just so angry at everything right now! My life literally turned upside down and all they can think about is killing me, dragging me to hell, or, apparently, fucking me.”

“Are you talking about Noctis or Ignis on the last one?” Cor asked, arching an eyebrow as he glanced at Prompto.

“Does it matter?” Prompto asked with a blush. Cor shook his head, conceding to his point. “You’re the only one who has treated me like an actual person, or being, or whatever. You get what I mean. You’re the only one who has even given me any choice in this.”

“They have been raised to believe that a Nephilim is either something to control or kill,” Cor explained. “It doesn’t make it right by any means, but now they are confronted with the fact that you are more than just a puppet. You have a life, thoughts, feelings, and hopes and dreams. For angels, they have only ever thought that there are humans, those in Heaven, and those in Hell. You are a bit of Heaven and a bit of human. You don’t belong anywhere really. And they’ve only ever been stuck in their righteousness.”

“And those in Hell only think of how anyone outside of Hell can be used?” Prompto asked, hating how Cor was right. He didn’t belong anywhere. When Cor nodded again, he sighed. “Both sides act like they’re so much better than the other, but in reality they’re not. They act the same, just with different methods and opposite end goals. And in the meantime I end up stuck in the middle, fighting for my life.”

“I… I never thought about it that way,” Gladio said behind them, making Prompto jump.

He didn’t realize that he was listening. Then again, Prompto wasn’t exactly being quiet. Maybe he wanted them to hear and know that he was tired of being pushed around. Looking back at the three, he saw that Ignis looked annoyed, Noctis looked ashamed, and Gladio looked despairing. Prompto didn’t think it would solve anything, though. The truth remained that Gladio wanted him dead and Ignis and Noctis wanted him in Hell.

“All of us, save Noctis, were human at some point,” Gladio pointed out. That startled Prompto. Cor had been human? He looked so strong, like he had always been a reaper. “Maybe we need to remember that and be a bit more kind. I’m sorry, Prompto. You have had your life turned upside down in an instant, and we have been fighting over you like schoolyard children fighting over a toy.”

“It doesn’t matter what you say,” Cor said as he stopped walking. Prompto nearly walked into him, but he managed to stop himself in time, although he was a bit ungraceful and nearly fell over. “At the end of the day, you’re still going to try and kill him, and Ignis and Noctis are still going to try and use him. I hope when that day comes I’ll have trained Prompto to be strong enough to kill you all.”

“I don’t want to kill anyone,” Prompto blurted out as he turned to Cor. Gladio looked shocked by such an admission. Even Ignis was caught off guard by that. Noctis wouldn’t make eye contact with him, and Prompto chastised himself for feeling bad about it. He had a right to his emotions and anger. He had a right to be upset that Noctis was objectifying him in his overt lust.

“You may not have a choice,” Cor replied. “Enough chatter. We’re here. I need you all to shut your mouths and let me do the talking. That includes you, succubus. None of you have any political power here. From here on out, I’m in charge. Understood?”

They all nodded, and Prompto took a deep breath to calm his nerves. He didn’t know why they had stopped. It was only fog around them. Cor held up a hand and knocked, a loud boom echoing around him. There was a door right in front of him and Prompto couldn’t even see it. How did Cor know how to navigate through such fog with little effort?

“Prompto, you stick close to me,” Cor instructed as the fog dispersed, revealing a set of double doors that were eerily like the ones in his dream.

These ones had different, but just as ornate, carvings in them depicting a reaper with a scythe kindly guiding a soul towards whatever afterlife awaited them. Instead of being a marble beige, they were grey, blending in with the fog swirling around them. Prompto had the strangest sense that he had been walking through a horror movie without even knowing it. Then again, his entire life recently had been a horror movie. Looking at the door only seemed to remind him since it was so similar to the door in his dream.

Prompto shuffled closer to Cor as the doors opened, and the others behind them stood a little taller, all of them looking at what was awaiting them on the other side. A woman with silver hair and grey eyes stared at them, her eyes angry when she saw Prompto, then angrier when she saw Cor. Prompto noticed how she was wearing a black bodice cut off at the midriff and a long black skirt with a slit that went all the way to her upper thigh. Under her skirt were black knee high boots, giving her the look of someone who knew she was beautiful while also knowing she could easily kick any one of their asses.

“What the fuck, Cor?” she demanded, not letting them through the door just yet. Her tone startled them all. “You said that you had a Nephilim in tow. Now you have an archangel, the prince of Hell, and the prince’s succubus brother? Yeah, don’t look so shocked princeling. It’s my job to know who is wreaking havoc on Eos while I am trying to sort out your shit.”

“I know, Aranea,” Cor replied with a desperation that surprised Prompto. Looking between them two, it was obvious that the one really in charge here was Aranea. It scared him when he realized that Cor’s plan to get him to safety was much less certain than he had promised. “We have nowhere else to go. We have to keep him safe.”

Aranea sighed when she looked at Prompto, like she was staring into his soul and determining if he was worth the effort. “Fine. But the boss isn’t going to be happy about this. You do know that the celestial fates are involved in this, right?”

“What?” Noctis asked in surprise, his eyes going wide. Prompto looked at him in confusion.

“Oh that’s right,” Aranea said with a smirk as she looked at Noctis. Prompto looked between them, his confusion mounting. “Your ex-girlfriend is involved in this. I hope you’re prepared to confront Lunafreya when the time comes?”

Prompto didn’t know who this Lunafreya was, but he didn’t like the way Aranea had said she was involved. And he especially didn’t like how not only Noctis had gone pale, but the rest of them had as well. What was going on? Was she really that dangerous? Or had Noctis’s relationship with her ended so poorly that it caused considerable distress amongst them all? And what exactly was a celestial fate?

“I will do what I have to,” Noctis said, but his voice sounded weak, far away, like he didn’t really want to be confronted with that possibility.

“We’ll see about that,” Aranea retorted skeptically. She looked to Prompto. “For your sake, I hope he’s being truthful. But you know these hellians. All they care about is sexual gratification, power, and control. Better watch yourself around the archangel too. They’re no better.”

“I’m well aware,” Prompto replied, trying to sound braver than he actually felt. “So are you a reaper? I’m guessing these are reaper headquarters if so?”

“Well he’s smarter than the lot of you, I’ll give him credit for that, Cor.” Aranea stood aside, revealing a long hall of white and grey with arches above a multitude of doors leading to rooms that Prompto decided were better left unopened. A grey carpet lined the hall floor, leading to a large set of double doors that mimicked the entrance. “Well, come in. Unless you decided the Hall of Lost Souls isn’t the best place to hide one more. At least for the time being.”

“Thank you, Aranea,” Cor said as he stepped inside. Prompto followed him uncertainly, but Aranea gave him a comforting smile. It oddly was helpful, making him feel like he could breathe once he stepped through the doors. The others followed behind with a lot more nervousness than Prompto felt, and Noctis was fidgeting his hands, constantly pulling out a dagger from nowhere and putting it back.

“None of that, princeling,” Aranea said. “Weapons are expressly forbidden here, save on the training grounds. If you are caught when one here off the grounds then you are immediately sentenced to death. Just keep your guns in their holsters, Prompto. You should be fine for now.”

Noctis immediately tucked the dagger back into whatever void he could store his weapons, looking startled and afraid by the sentiment. Prompto looked to Ignis and Gladio, who both looked nervous and afraid. He didn’t understand the reason for it. There was nothing to be afraid of here. Then again, he didn’t really know why he felt like he was comfortable in this place either. Seeing them so rattled made him feel like he needed to be more concerned to be in Purgatory than he actually was.

“I’ll have rooms made for you all,” Aranea explained as she led them down the hall. She turned when they reached the crossroads, taking them left and away from the large double doors that took up nearly the entirety of the back wall. “Ignis, you will share a room with Gladio. Before you object, I don’t have time to babysit and I can’t trust either of you. I need you both to keep each other under control. Noctis will be fine in his own room. Prompto too. And Cor before you object, Prompto will be safe in his own room. You need to have your own room for what comes next.”

Cor opened his mouth to say something then closed it, thinking better of whatever he was going to say. Ignis was clearly unhappy with his sleeping arrangements, and Prompto didn’t know whether to laugh at that or the fact that Aranea considered Ignis to be more of a threat than the prince of Hell. If he was honest with himself, Prompto considered Ignis more of a threat than Noctis too.

“This is what we’re going to do,” Aranea continued, none of them looking to speak as they walked through the halls that looked almost identical to the next. “We’re all going to go to our rooms and not cause any problems. You’re all going to wait for me to come and get you, and when I do you’re all going to listen to me because none of you are safe here until I sort out the mess that Cor made.”

“Mess?” Prompto asked, looking between Aranea’s grim expression and Cor’s worried expression. What had Cor done in order to protect him? “Cor?”

“You didn’t tell him?” Aranea asked, stopping in her tracks, her hands on her hips. They all stopped walking, none of them daring to speak while Aranea stared at Cor in disbelief. “You said you wanted to protect him, and you didn’t even tell him that Purgatory wasn’t guaranteed? You didn’t tell him what you did?”

“What?” Prompto asked, suddenly terrified. What had Cor done? Had someone gotten hurt because of him? Did Cor do something, knowing that Prompto wouldn’t approve of it? “Cor? Tell me.”

“Yes, Cor,” Ignis said, his arms folded across his chest. His voice was dripping with sarcasm, two simple words pointing out Cor’s hypocrisy more than a lecture ever could. “Tell us. What are you hiding from Prompto?”

Cor sighed and he looked at Prompto, the pain evident by his furrowed brow, his eyes pleading. “I was given an assignment. As a reaper. Prompto… I didn’t want to tell you because I wasn’t going to do it. I refused to do it. And now the future has been unwritten. We have a chance of keeping you safe.”

“No,” Prompto said as he realized what Cor meant. He backed away, panicked, feeling like a caged animal coming to after being tranquilized. He needed to escape. He needed to go somewhere. But where would he go? “I was supposed to die that day. Those archangels were supposed to succeed, weren’t they? You… You were supposed to come for me, not to save me, but to reap my soul. I was supposed to die.”

“Prompto,” Cor tried, reaching out for him. Prompto stepped away, nearly falling backwards. Aranea caught him, steadying him, her touch both firm and soothing on his upper arms.

“Is that why this place feels so comforting to me right now?” Prompto asked him. The others, all save Aranea and Cor, looked at him in shock. “Is that why I feel like this is where I belong?”

“The feeling will pass,” Cor offered. “Prompto, I promised your father I would protect you and guide you. I couldn’t just let you die when I made a promise that’s greater than myself, greater than all of us. Please. Listen to me.”

“Cor,” Aranea said, holding onto Prompto’s arms like she was steadying a child. “You know that’s not necessarily true. There will be a trial. You defied your orders. Prompto may yet die still.”

“You… You saved me only to take me to Purgatory in the hopes they would let me live, didn’t you?” Prompto asked, feeling the puppet strings that Cor held tugging on his heart. Cor had been right all along. There was no one he could trust. Not even Cor. His heart was hammering in his chest, his fingers and toes going numb as his breathing began to get shallower. He was beginning to have a panic attack, and he was powerless to stop it. “That… That was…Your grand plan?”

He barely got the words out, his tears streaming down his face as his hands were shaking, his knees buckling. Aranea was trying to calm him down as she kept him steady, but there was nothing to be done for it. Prompto was spiraling, and the only person who ever knew how to get him out of it was Nyx. How many panic attacks did he have where Nyx held him and just gently rocked him until his breathing was regular, his heart rhythm calm, his eyelids heavy from the exhaustion? Right now Prompto could only think of one thing. He had to get out of here. He had to go somewhere, anywhere else.

“Great,” Aranea said as she looked at Cor. Prompto could barely hear her. Everything sounded muffled, far away, compared to the sound of his shallow breathings, his racing heart. Prompto just wanted to leave, but Aranea was gripping him tightly, not letting him go. “You couldn’t have been honest from the get go, and now he’s realizing that he might die after all?”

“I did what I thought was right,” Cor replied helplessly.

“How did that work out for you?” Noctis snapped. “Sorry Aranea, but I can’t take this anymore. Where is Prompto’s room? I won’t do anything to him. I will even sign a contract or anything to prove that I’m not going to hurt him right now. I just want to help him calm down.”

No. Prompto didn’t think it was right. No one here actually cared about him. Not even Cor. If Cor cared, he would have told him right away that he was supposed to die that day. He would have been honest. And where was he when he was growing up? When he was tortured at the conversion camp? Where was he when he was homeless? What plan did he have for him now that he was in Purgatory?

“I’m fine,” Prompto lied through his hyperventilating. His mind swam with the memory of Nyx holding him, and he realized he missed him terribly. The betrayal of his infidelity stung even worse knowing that he still missed him. “I will calm myself down. Please… Please just leave me alone. Everyone. I just… I can’t. I can’t trust any of you.”

“Rightfully so,” Aranea said. “Come on, kid. Your room is right over here. I’ll check on you soon.”

Aranea shot another warning glance at them all, but Prompto was ignoring her. He was staring at his hands as they went completely numb seizing up to his shoulders from the lack of oxygen due to his hyperventilating. Tears wouldn’t stop flowing, but right now his mind was chaos. He had finally reached his breaking point.

When Aranea opened the door to a large bedroom, she offered to stick around until he got comfortable. Prompto only shook his head. She sighed, apologized, and left him alone. He noticed she locked the door behind him. There were no windows, just bathroom to the left and a closet next to the bed on the right. The walls were white with grey trim, the grey four poster bed with a white comforter and grey curtains. The doors were grey, and the bedside tables matched.

Prompto looked around, trying to gain his bearings while his heart cried for something comforting. He couldn’t trust anyone. He couldn’t reach out to Nyx. He was trapped in Purgatory until they told him whether or not his death would be finalized. Nothing made sense, and yet his sense of dread only seemed to give him the answers that he needed. Chances were he would die soon.

Sobbing, gasping for breath, Prompto opened the closet door. It was large, a walk in closet, bare and empty. Quietly, he walked over to the furthest corner and sat down. Drawing his legs to his chest, he put his head in his hands and cried, pretending that strong arms were holding him and telling him that everything would be alright.

But every time he imagined that, he thought about all the people he trusted who had betrayed him, from his adoptive parents to Nyx to Cor. He thought about how he couldn’t trust anyone, how everyone treated him like an object to be tossed around on a whim. He thought about how he was likely going to die anyway. He thought of his horrific dream.

Prompto cried until his body finally gave way to sleep, his mind screaming for help that wouldn’t come.

Chapter Text

“He’s alive, Crowe,” Nyx whispered as he sat in her office again, his eyes wild with the knowledge. His one leg was shaking anxiously, his body screaming that he had to get up and do something. He had to act. “He’s alive, and he’s in danger.”

“Nyx…” Crowe began, clearly not believing him. She was looking at him like he was losing it. But he knew that he wasn’t. He heard Prompto’s voice. He heard his screams. He would recognize Prompto anywhere, whether he was safe or in danger. He knew Prompto.

“It started with my social media,” Nyx said. He knew he sounded crazy, his speech rapid and his tone breathless. “I took a screenshot of him liking the post I created. I think it was him reaching out to me, telling me that he was still there.”

“Or maybe someone going through his phone to see if there was anything they had to shut down now that he’s gone accidentally hit the button,” Crowe replied. “For all we know his parents have his phone.”

“How, though?” Nyx asked. “Prompto took his phone everywhere. If he died in the fire then the phone should have been burned to a crisp. And he never gave anyone his login information. Not even me. It was a control thing for him.”

“That still doesn’t mean someone didn’t somehow gain access,” Crowe insisted. “Maybe a friend or relative that wanted to post something in memoriam for him.”

“He didn’t have any friends,” Nyx replied, pulling up a file on his phone, his leg twitching in annoyance. “He was a loner, save for me and you guys.”

It didn’t matter. Nyx had already anticipated her questions. He pulled open the audio recordings on his phone. When he had called Prompto each time, he had recorded the conversations as evidence even though it wasn’t strictly legal. The first phone call was him just begging Prompto to speak to him in a voicemail, hoping he would pick up. The second was the important one. That was the one that had Prompto screaming in it. Crowe wouldn’t be able to deny the evidence then. She would be able to tell it was Prompto too.

“Nyx…” Crow tried again as Libertus stepped into the office. She silently demanded he shut the door, and Nyx understood well why he was there.

Nyx looked disheveled, unshaven and unkempt. His clothes were haphazardly thrown on, his eyes red from both crying and trying to trace the call. Nyx had been able to track down Prompto’s call to an area in the boroughs, a slum neighborhood with seedy motels and plenty of prostitution and drug addicts. While he could have just charged ahead, knowing that there was an issue with an attack at a motel just earlier in the day, he knew that this was likely bigger than him. He needed Crowe to authorize him to pursue this.

He was also worried about what it meant for Prompto to be in that area of town. They actively avoided it, and with good reason. Originally when they had met, Prompto had been living there, and he often had calls from him telling him how he felt unsafe. Nyx got tired of it and threatened the property manager to let Prompto out of his lease. He offered Prompto to come and live with him, but Prompto insisted on being on his own. Nyx couldn’t help but wonder if Prompto would still be alive or would they both be dead if Prompto had said yes.

“Hey man,” Libertus began. His tone was calming, hesitant, like he could tell that Nyx was on his way to the psychiatric ward instead of piecing things back together. “Why don’t we go for a rest. We can-”

Libertus stopped when Nyx pressed play on the recording. They listened as Nyx shouted into the phone, begging Prompto to speak to him. It sounded pathetic, he knew, but more than that, they could hear heavy footsteps, labored breathing like someone was trying hard not to speak, the sound of a bathtub curtain being drawn back. There was the sound of a gun clicking, the safety still on, and a panicked whimper from Prompto.

“Repent for your sin of existence,” a deep voice said on the recording, his voice menacing and serious. “Die, Nephilim, and know that your death will be the result of Heaven’s might.”

“Ignis, quick!” a male’s voice called in the recording. But there was something else there. Something that made Crowe and Libertus look at Nyx in shock, the realization that he was right shaking them to their core. It was Prompto’s scream, his terror recorded for all of them to hear. Nyx hated hearing it and knowing that he wasn’t there to protect him.

Whoever else was there, whoever this Ignis and mysterious fourth person were, had apparently taken care of whoever was attacking Prompto. There was a sickening squelch of someone being stabbed, a sound that was only familiar to those who had experienced it or seen it first hand. Nyx was one of them. Someone had saved Prompto. But that didn’t mean that Prompto was safe. If he was then Prompto would turn up at the police station and tell them all what was going on. Nyx knew that in a situation like this, Prompto would at least let him know he was safe.

There was another sound, something that Nyx doubted Prompto knew he was making. It was a series of small whimpers, a sound that Nyx was familiar with in more joyous occasions. This time it was in terror, and he looked to Crowe as the whimpers continued. It sounded like when he had panic attacks, and that scared Nyx. If he was panicked then he wasn’t safe. Yet there was a grim hope to this knowledge, a painful knowledge in the fact that Prompto was alive somewhere but likely still in danger. Time was ticking down, and Nyx had to find him before it was too late.

“I’ve located the sight of where I think this went down,” Nyx said. “I promised to involve you if this ended up being bigger than what I realized. Well, it’s bigger. Crowe, I need to pursue this. Prompto is alive.”

“Holy shit,” Libertus said as Crowe turned towards the window, tears in her eyes and a hand over her mouth in shock. Libertus came over to Nyx and put a hand on his shoulder in disbelief. “Your gut instincts were right. But why would someone take him?”

“I don’t know,” Nyx replied honestly, shaking his head. “But I intend on finding out. The religious stuff makes me think of his parents. But he called him a Nephilim, which doesn’t make any sense. Crowe. Come with me to the motel where I think this happened. Help me look for clues, some evidence that he was there.”

“We don’t have a warrant,” Crowe said softly. “We’d have to get one.”

“No we won’t,” Libertus offered. Crowe looked at him curiously. When she was a detective she had found ways to get information, but now that she was their chief she had to be careful when she toed the line. “If it’s in a seedy part of town then no one will care who comes in and comes out. The money just has to be right.”

“I didn’t hear that,” Crowe said. But she nodded and grabbed her jacket. “Let’s go. If Prompto… Since Prompto is still out there we have to act now before we lose the scent.”

They didn’t have to tell him twice. Nyx was on his feet, bounding out of the police department with Crowe and Libertus following behind, ignoring the officers looking at the three of them in surprise. They took their own personal vehicles, all three of them driving motorcycles that helped them navigate the city better and looked far less conspicuous that their police vehicles. Nyx led the group on his sleek black bike, zooming past the cars on the street, ignoring the street signs in favor of rushing there. A few cars honked at them, but no one was going to pull them over.

There was a motel in the boroughs that had been broken into, a few men searching for someone in particular. Nyx thought that it was the only place to look since the chances of Prompto being attacked and men breaking into a room happening simultaneously in two different locations was slim. The owner of the motel hadn’t submitted a police report, likely because other paraphernalia would likely have been discovered, but word got around through Nyx’s sleuthing. When they arrived, they parked their bikes just in front of the entrance and surveyed the place.

There were a few homeless men and women outside the motel, and he made a mental note to speak with them. Several of them looked like they had been there for a while, claiming the spot at their own. The others, like the man with auburn hair sleeping on a bench with his hat on his face, were more transient and always on the move. Nevertheless more often than not, they had the eyes and ears that could give them information to help solve an investigation. No one paid attention to the homeless, and for that reason they made great spies.

“If you’re looking for information, it’s gonna cost you,” the clerk at the front desk said as soon as they stepped inside. “You think I don’t recognize cops when I see them?”

Nyx took out a rather gratuitous amount of gil and slid it across the counter. The man looked at it with wide eyes, knowing that he had been caught in his own bluff. “Give us the room key and unlimited access as well as any information you have. And any security tapes you might have.”

“Alright,” the man said. He reached across the small opening in the glass partition and took the gil, pocketing it quickly. “Who are you looking for?”

“Blond guy,” Crowe explained. “Blue eyes. Freckles. Looks like sunshine wrapped in a cinnamon roll and served up for breakfast.”

The man laughed at that description, annoying Nyx. They didn’t have time for this. “Yeah, I remember him. Cute kid. He came here with a stern looking guy. Shaved down hair like he was ex-military. Blue eyes. Wore all black. The kid was nervous. When he left, he was dressed like he was mafia and two more men were with him. Guns on him and everything. One was attractive, but damn the other one… I would fuck him and I’m not even gay. The blond looked nervous, but the others looked confident, like they were taking him somewhere and he was along for the ride.”

The man got up and grabbed two keys to rooms just next to each other. “My opinion? They knew each other and were rendezvousing here for something or another. Maybe an initiation into the mafia? Here’s the keys to their rooms. Come back to see the security tapes when you’re done so you can see what I mean. Especially about Mr. Fuckable. I mean. Damn. Anyway, I hope you find the kid. He looked too scared to really know what he was doing.”

“Thanks,” Libertus said, sliding some extra gil towards him. They all looked perplexed by the description of the men that he was with. But they were also worried. If it really was mafia, then this was out of their depth as Insomnian detectives. “Come on guys.”

Crowe put a hand on Nyx’s shoulder steadying him. He didn’t even realize that he was shaking in the first place, his entire body thrumming with fear and anxiety. Why wouldn’t he be? Prompto was clearly abducted by these men and was being hauled away for something horrible. What if he was abducted by the mafia to get to him? Nyx felt his stomach drop at the thought.

“Come on,” Crowe said. Nyx looked at her tearfully and could see she was calculating something. “We need to check this out.”

They found the rooms that the clerk was talking about, following the signs down a dark hallway of dirty brown wood and horribly smelling carpet. One room was obviously the site of something dangerous happening, the door blown off its hinges with signs that someone had torn through the room looking for something or someone. No one had bothered to clean the room since it had been destroyed. The staff’s laziness was to their benefit. Crowe pulled out latex gloves from her pocket and handed a pair to Libertus and Nyx. They put them on, careful not to disrupt anything, focused on looking for something, anything, that would indicate Prompto had been there.

“Prompto,” Nyx whispered as he looked at the pillow on the bed. There, on the pillow, were just a few strands of blond hair, shimmering like gold spun from straw. How many times had he woken up from sleep only to stare at Prompto still in his arms, studying his features like he was afraid of losing him? He could tell the difference between Prompto’s hair and someone else’s in an instant. There had always been something ethereal about him that made his features easily identifiable. Even just a strand of his hair stood out.

“Nyx,” Libertus called. Nyx walked over to the bathroom. He looked into it, both of them studying the room. There were fingerprints on the bathtub, signs that the curtain had been hastily torn off, and a toothbrush on the sink. “You think this is where it happened?”

Nyx closed his eyes, the phone call replaying in his mind. He had listened to it so many times that he had it memorized down to the very quiver in Prompto’s voice. There had been footsteps, a door bursting open, the sound of a curtain being drawn back. It had to have been in the bathroom. Prompto had hidden in the bathtub to try and protect himself. Nyx’s heart ached again because he hadn’t been there to help. Did Prompto wish he was there with him too? Or did he think that Nyx was just a cheating bastard who betrayed him? And where was he?

“Yes,” Nyx replied, nodding as he felt his pulse racing and his mind reeling with questions. “This is the only place it could have happened.”

“We need to section off this room,” Crowe said as she pulled out her phone and dialed a number. “I’m calling the Glaive.”

“What?” Nyx asked, turning to Crowe in shock and dismay. He knew it was likely out of their depths, but he wanted to be the one to search for Prompto. He had to be the one to find him and make things right. “Why would you call them? I’ve got this, Crowe.”

“No you don’t, Nyx,” Crowe replied. “Look at yourself. You’re not only wrapped up in your grief, understandably so, but you’re neglecting yourself in an effort to find Prompto. I get it. Prompto is out there and you want to save him. I do too. But this is over our heads and we need the Glaive to do an investigation. You’re officially a victim in this, not only because of Prompto but because of the other stuff you told me. I have no doubt that you will do everything to find Prompto, and that’s the problem.”

“She’s right, Nyx,” Libertus said with a sigh. “I mean, she should have called in the Glaive when she heard the call. You need to do this the right way. Prompto wouldn’t want you to lose your job or your head over this.”

“Prompto is probably crying somewhere, afraid and alone, feeling like he can’t even trust me,” Nyx said miserably. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room. “If anything, he’s probably just wanting someone, anyone, to help. I need to find him.”

“Let the Glaive do their job then,” Crowe said. There was no argument now. She was acting as his boss, and if he went against her then he would be reprimanded. “They are the best chance at finding Prompto. I’m sure he will be thrilled to see you when they find him and bring him home. You can work out the rest later.”

“Let’s check the other room,” Libertus offered Nyx as Crowe made a call to the Glaives. The conversation was over, and Nyx needed to do whatever he could to be involved still.

Sighing, Nyx followed Libertus into the next room, knowing that once Crowe made a decision there was no changing her mind. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t just abandon his own investigation. He wouldn’t do that to Prompto. He refused to abandon him, not when there was a chance that he was still out there. Would Prompto be calling for him or did he think that Nyx didn’t care about him anymore? He thumbed the ring he had gotten for Prompto, hanging on a chain around his neck worriedly.

The other room where Prompto may have stayed was in a completely different state from the one they were just in. It was immaculately cleaned, removing all evidence that anyone had been in there, much less Prompto. The room was far cleaner than the rest of the hotel, giving Nyx the impression that it had been intentionally scrubbed of all evidence. But there was something that they had left behind, whether intentionally or not. Sitting on the dresser was Prompto’s camera. Nyx would recognize it anywhere. He had worked so hard to afford it, well before they had ever met, but Prompto always carried it with him. It was like an extension of the blond rather than just a tool he used for work.

“Fuck,” Libertus said as Nyx walked over to the dresser and picked up the camera. He turned it on, hoping to see if there were any photos he may have taken to give him an indication of who was involved. His heart was pounding, tears in his eyes, and he could feel himself on the verge of a mental breakdown. Maybe Crowe was right. Maybe he shouldn’t be involved in the investigation. But he couldn’t just abandon Prompto. He refused to.

“Prompto would never leave this behind,” Nyx said quietly. “Not unless he was forced to. This is his livelihood.”

“Is there anything there?” Libertus asked, standing next to him so he could peer over his shoulder and see the photos there.

Nyx pulled up the memory and looked at it. There was a photo of a man with buzzed hair, exactly as the man at the front desk said. He was staring out the window, his face obscured as he turned away from the camera. There was a photo of some of the scenery of Insomnia, time stamped to his birthday before everything happened. And the photo before that was one of Nyx and Prompto together, another selfie that had yet to be developed. It made Nyx’s heart scream out in pain. He had to find Prompto.

“The Glaive are on their way,” Crowe said as she walked into the room. “And the police force is here to declare it a crime scene. Fuck, is that his camera? Give it here, Nyx. It’s evidence.”

Reluctantly, Nyx handed the camera over to Crowe. He knew that he was going to end up pursuing his own investigation, whether or not Crowe authorized him to do so. They waited, blocking off both rooms, for the rest of the police force that Crowe called to arrive. Once the police were sectioning off the area and declaring it a crime scene, Nyx excused himself to continue his own investigation. Crowe and Libertus looked at him in worry, but he just stated that he needed a moment.

Instead of taking a moment for himself, Nyx stepped outside and looked at the homeless man on the street, sitting on the steps to a small building nextdoor. He was dressed in rags, with a long beard and a bottle of vodka in his hand. Not necessarily a credible witness, but one nevertheless. He was a witness that the others would overlook, one that would probably provide Nyx the information he needed.

“What did you see?” Nyx asked as he slipped the man some gil.

The man shifted drunkenly then looked from Nyx to the police moving in and out. “I saw a fallen angel, a reaper, and a demon taking a half-angel, human hybrid out of here.”

“The blond,” Nyx said, knowing that drunken and psychotic people had to be interpreted very carefully. What worried him was the man who had attacked Prompto had called him a Nephilim. Nyx didn’t know what that was until he looked it up. A half-human and half-angel hybrid. “What happened?”

“The half-angel looked afraid,” he explained, his words slurring. “They said something about taking him to Purgatory when they left. Dressed him like a demon, but they weren’t fooling me. I know exactly where Purgatory is.”

“And where is that?” Nyx asked, slipping him more gil. He knew it was a long shot, but it was a better starting point than anywhere else.

“The museum downtown. The one that makes you cry as soon as you step inside. I won’t even go near there. Check it out. You’ll find the angels and demons crawling all over the place.” The homeless man shuddered. “The angels are just as bad as the demons. Trust no one. God is not on our side.”

“I won’t,” Nyx replied. Usually the warnings from the homeless were particularly outlandish like this one. Yet, Nyx felt a sinking feeling of dread in his heart, like there was something beyond what he understood or what he could see that this man had been able to see past. It was impossible for angels and demons to be involved, but he was essentially right. Nyx really couldn’t trust anyone in this matter.

“The half-angel is in trouble,” the homeless man continued. “But if he survives then he’s the only one who can right the wrongs on both sides. God doesn’t want that though. That means God would have to die.”

“Sure thing,” Nyx said dismissively. The man was now beginning to ramble, and he had work to do. “I’ll let him know.”

He turned to walk away, but the homeless man grabbed his arm hard, making him turn around in fear. He tried to pull away, but the man was clutched him tightly, his eyes wild with fear. “I have seen God. He is not our friend.”

Nyx pulled away from him, his heart racing as the man sat back down like he hadn’t said anything at all. It worried Nyx that Prompto could be involved in something so terrifying, so dangerous, that even his heart was racing listening to this crazy man’s rantings. He chalked it up to his concern for Prompto, his desire to find him before it was too late.

With a sigh, Nyx walked back into the building, the desk clerk looking at him in frustration that his motel had been turned into a crime scene. He disregarded the look and found Crowe and Libertus speaking with each other in low voices. They were out in the hall, monitoring the police sectioning off the rooms, leaning against the wall as they faced each other. Pausing just far enough away that they didn’t notice him, he strained to listen to their conversation, realizing that they were talking about him.

“I’m worried about Nyx,” Libertus was saying in a whisper that wasn’t quite low enough to go unheard. “I don’t think Prompto will take him back even if we find him and explains what happens. It was a hard and fast rule that they had. And I’m worried that we are just going to find a body in the end anyway.”

“I know what you mean,” Crowe said with a nod. “He’s becoming more and more unhinged. I’m going to make him take a leave of absence until the Glaives are able to give us some answers.”

“Hey guys,” Nyx said as he walked up to them, interrupting their conversation. He knew what to do now. They looked at him, both of them startled that they didn’t recognize he was nearby. He ignored it. “I think I’m going to take some time off. I had a chance to think about it, and I think it’s for the best that I remove myself from the investigation. You were right, Crowe.”

“Of course,” Crowe said with a nod. “Just let me know what you need, Nyx.”

“I’m here for you, man,” Libertus offered.

“Sure,” Nyx replied with a nod. “I’ll see you all later. Keep in touch, though. Let me know what they find.”

“We will,” Crowe replied, even though Nyx knew she would only give him the vaguest details.

Nyx gave a wave as he walked away. He stopped by the front desk and had the clerk show him the videos that he was referring to. Grimly, he took photos of the men on his phone, his heart racing when he saw Prompto in them, checking in and checking out. He came in with one man and left with three, dressed exactly how the clerk had indicated. It worried him how beautiful the men were, even the oldest man there, making him wonder if Prompto had somehow been captured and turned into a prostitute for the mafia and those men were also part of it.

Once he was out of the motel, he looked at the homeless man, now fast asleep, then out onto the boroughs. A strange calm washed over him as he thought about what he was about to do. There was a danger that lurked in the city that he was growing increasingly aware of, and now Prompto was wrapped up in it somewhere. Every movement, every shadow, looked menacing, like the boogeyman was about to jump out and drag him to Hell.

Turning up the collar on his jacket to shield himself from the fall breeze, Nyx got on his bike and sped away towards the museum the homeless man had mentioned. If they were going to do an official investigation with the Glaive, then he would do his own privately. For once in his life, Nyx forgot that he was a detective employed by the city of Insomnia. Crowe was right. He was going to do whatever it took to track Prompto down, regardless of the consequences.

***

Noctis was worried about Prompto. He had been locked in the room next door, left to his own devices. The pain had been so tangible that Noctis was sure everyone felt it. Cor had looked destroyed by his loss of trust, but it wasn’t as if Prompto was wrong. Aranea had said locking Prompto in there was for his own protection, but Noctis wasn’t sure. What if she was just keeping him a prisoner there until they killed him? That wouldn’t make them any better than the angels. That wouldn’t make them any better than Noctis.

He had heard Prompto’s scathing opinion of him and Ignis, and he couldn’t deny that he had a point. There had been such an overwhelming urge to love and protect him, even to protect him from himself, that he hadn’t even thought about getting to know Prompto. It was as if there was a barrier in his mind telling him that if he got to know him then he would seriously fall in love, that he would be unable to complete his assignment from his father. That worried him, knowing that there would be real consequences if he wasn’t successful. So he only stayed away, afraid to connect with someone he was supposed to be using.

It wasn’t fair to Prompto, and Noctis couldn’t be angry with him because of his reaction to everything. He was growing increasingly curious about Prompto, especially after he snapped at Gladio and mentioned his parents in a scathing light. Noctis had assumed that Prompto was just a sheltered little prince, but after his breakdown it was clear that there was more than met the eye. He had to know more about Prompto, even if it resulted in his own failure. Noctis was willing to take that risk.

Quietly, Noctis left his bedroom, the others in their respective rooms waiting for whatever. The halls were quiet, hushed, as if no one had ever lived there or would ever live there. He walked over to Prompto’s room, just next door, and inspected the lock. If there was some way he could just make it inside, then he could check on him and apologize. He could make sure Prompto was okay. After a moment, he touched the doorknob to see if he could open it.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Aranea asked, suddenly behind him, making him jump. He turned around and saw her standing there, hands on her hips, eyebrow arched inquisitively. “The door is locked for a reason.”

“I’m worried about him,” Noctis explained, not bothering to hide his desperation. “I wanted to make sure he was okay and apologize for my behavior.”

“What, the little princeling of Hell suddenly cares about more than his own libido?” Aranea asked, making him blush guiltily. “I’m sure daddy sent you here to retrieve him for whatever use you fallen angels would have for a Nephilim. Tell me, are you okay with ending up in the pits as punishment for your failure if you seriously fall in love with Prompto? Is he that worth it to you?”

“I…” Noctis had never really considered that would be the consequence. He thought about it with a frown. Of course there would be consequences, but ending up in the pits wasn’t something he had considered. Would his father really do that?

“I’ll unlock the door, but you better be prepared to make the tough decisions when the time comes. Prompto is under no illusions that he will end up being betrayed by you. So you either need to let him know that you plan on betraying him or you plan on sacrificing yourself for him. That’s what you’re looking at for your future.” Aranea unlocked the door for him. “And keep your ex-girlfriend away from him. She’s dangerous.”

“I will,” Noctis said. There were so many reasons why he didn’t want to deal with Lunafreya, but if she was involved then it would only be a matter of time before they crossed paths. That was a thought for another day, though. He paused before he walked into the room. “Why do you care so much?”

“Several reasons,” Aranea replied with a shrug. “First of which is I’m tired to you angels and demons fucking shit up for everyone else to clean up. And second of which is Cor saved Prompto’s life. If he was willing to do that and potentially lose his status as a reaper for him, then there must be a reason. Plus I really like the idea of pissing Ravus off, and this will definitely do it.”

Noctis wasn’t aware that it was possible for reapers to lose their status. He wondered what it meant for Cor if he were to give up being a reaper for Prompto. Would he end up being killed or just turned back into a human to go to Heaven or Hell? Reapers were once humans who died horrifically and had unfinished business. Was this Cor’s unfinished business? If so, what happened when he was successful?

“Go in princeling,” Aranea said, looking at him expectantly. “I have to lock you in there with him. And I swear if you do anything then it won’t be just me you have to deal with. Death wants to speak with him to determine his fate.”

“Death?” Noctis asked, going pale. Aranea nodded somberly, and he took a deep breath before exhaling slowly. “Can I stay with him when Death comes?”

“That’s up to Death,” Aranea considered. “Probably not, though. He’s particular and likes to have an honest conversation. Go in now before I change my mind.”

Noctis didn’t hesitate any longer. He stepped inside, the door closing and locking behind him, as he looked around at the room. It was exactly like his room, but the bed was untouched. There was no evidence that Prompto had even been there. Had he been taken by someone without them even knowing? Had Death already come for him and reaped his soul?

Quickly, trying not to panic, Noctis checked under the bed, in the bathroom, and then in the closet. He was surprised when he saw Prompto in the corner of the closet, his back turned to him, curled into a ball on the floor while he slept. Noctis felt a painful tugging in his chest, his heart hurting when he realized that Prompto had found this small, dark space on the floor to be the safest place for him. It ached all the way down to his bones, and he wanted nothing more than to just hold him in his arms and take away his worries.

But Noctis had no right to do that when Prompto was supposed to be his prey. He had only treated Prompto as an object, and not respecting his space wasn’t going to really help with that. It didn’t help that Aranea was right. He would have to choose between Prompto and his duty at one point, and he just didn’t know if he could pick a guy he had a crush on over his duty as the future King of Hell. Prompto wasn’t deluded, so Noctis didn’t need to be either.

Regardless, Prompto was likely to end up with a stiff spine in the very least and was going to be very sore if he ended up sleeping on the ground like that. Noctis wasn’t the strongest, but he figured he could give it an honest go if he couldn’t wake up Prompto and move him to the bed. Through the process of carrying him, Noctis was sure he was bound to wake him up anyway. Quietly, Noctis walked over to Prompto and crouched down, looking at him with a gentle despair, a painful ache that made his heart race.

“Prompto?” Noctis said gently as he put his hand on Prompto’s arm. That was all it took to wake Prompto. He jolted awake, sitting up quickly and turning to stare at him in wide eyed horror, backing up against the wall of the closet as much as he could. He was clearly on the verge of panicking, his chest heaving as he was about to hyperventilate, and Noctis held up his hands in mock surrender. “It’s okay, Prompto. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“How did you get in here?” Prompto asked, looking past Noctis for some way of escape. Noctis frowned. This was beyond the normal panic that he expected from anyone in Prompto’s situation. He understood that Prompto was worried, frightened even. Having a panic attack just at Noctis’s presence not only made his heart hurt, but it made him worry about what had happened to him that made him react so strongly.

“Aranea let me in,” Noctis explained, his tone soft in an attempt to be soothing. “She was pretty clear about what would happen if I hurt you. But that’s not going to happen. I won’t hurt you.”

“Not yet at least,” Prompto said. There wasn’t an accusation in his voice, just grim resignation. It was like he had just given up.

Noctis couldn’t exactly blame him, and Prompto wasn’t exactly wrong. He didn’t know how to care for someone, especially since he was a prince of Hell. It wasn’t exactly like he had received any guidance on how to interact with someone he felt something for. Noctis’s mother died when he was young, and the memories he had of her was degraded down to all the fuzzy good things that his father told him. She would have been the one to help him in a situation like this and would likely have kicked his father’s ass for putting him in this position.

If you love him, or even just like him, then be patient and get to know him. Earn his trust and don’t betray him. You have to be willing to make those sacrifices, son. Noctis imagined his mother’s voice, echoing in his heart, telling him what he needed to do. Growing up, she had been the one to guide him in the kindness of the world, telling him that just because he was a prince of Hell didn’t mean that he had to be the torturous image of what his father expected. He knew his father thought him too soft because of it, but right now his mother’s voice was what was guiding him.

“Maybe not yet,” Noctis said as he sat down next to Prompto, leaning against the closet wall and looking at the opposite end of the closet like he was looking at something far away. Prompto looked at him, very obviously unsure of what he was going to do in response to Noctis. “I haven’t done this before. Any of this. I’m the prince of Hell, so my life has been pretty gilded and assured. This is the first time my father has overtly tested me. I’m not good at crossroads deals because I hate taking advantage of humans, I don’t like the politics of dealing with the fallen angels, and I have been told time and time again that I’m too trusting and too soft. Most of the time I’m just sleeping in the chocobo fields.”

“Chocobo?” Prompto asked curiously after a moment of silent consideration. Noctis smiled at that and took out his phone, pulling up a selfie of him with one of his chocobos. He knew that Prompto would likely think they were terrifying, but the chocobos were just fluffy lazy birds to him.

“Here,” Noctis said as he showed him a photo. “They’re black in Hell and yellow in Heaven. The myths say there’s dogs and hellhounds and all that. It’s all bullshit. The chocobos are what we use for everything. There are many, demons and fallen angels included, who think that chocobos are horrible and mean and angry. They like me well enough.”

Unexpectedly, Prompto took the phone from Noctis’s hands, sitting next to him against the wall, and looked at the photo like a child looking at a candy shop. It made Noctis smile, knowing that there was at least something that could take Prompto out of his misery. He just hoped that the Nephilim could see that he was being genuine. Noctis figured that if he ultimately did have to bring Prompto to Hell, he would do what he could to protect him and to show him the chocobos.

“They’re beautiful,” Prompto said, as if mesmerized by the chocobo picture. Noctis’s heart skipped a beat as Prompto subconsciously leaned against Noctis, their arms touching. “I would love to see one in person someday.”

“I could show you,” Noctis said. Prompto handed him the phone back and a strange look came over his face. “What’s wrong?”

“My camera,” Prompto said quietly. There were tears in his eyes, surprising Noctis. Was a camera really that valuable to him? “I left it in the motel room. I know it might seem ridiculous to you with everything going on, but that camera was like a part of me. It was the first thing I really saved for after I started living on my own. It was my lifeline really, my source of work, and the one thing I just enjoyed despite everything going on. And now it’s gone.”

“What if we got you a new camera?” Noctis offered, not sure if Prompto would take it the wrong way or not. “I mean, nothing can replace the original and I will do what I can to get it back for you, but in the meantime if I can get you a new camera to use, would you want that?”

Prompto looked at him, considering. Noctis understood why. He was weighing between the desire to see him as someone beyond just his title as prince of Hell, while also having to consider that this could very well be a trap. Noctis just really hoped that Prompto could see he was trying, to take to heart that he was being honest and genuine. He really wanted Prompto to like him, and that was a new and uncomfortably anxious feeling for him.

“I could ask Aranea to try and get your old camera back,” Noctis continued, thinking quickly. “She seems to have a soft spot for you.”

“You… You would do that for me?” Prompto asked in surprise. “Like… Any of it?”

“Yeah,” Noctis said. “I’m not good at this shit, as you can see, but I want to try. You don’t deserve to have us acting like asses and trying to just use you. I want to know you, Prompto. And if that means I end up having to deal with my father later on, then I guess that’s what I have to do.”

“But you don’t know if you’re going to try and take me back to Hell, right?” Prompto asked. He looked hopeful though, like there was some sign that he had a chance of surviving this ordeal.

“I don’t know, man,” Noctis said with a sigh. “I want to say that there’s no way I would do that. But then again, I don’t know if Hell might be the safest place for you either. There’s only one way I can ensure that my dad can’t hurt you, but I don’t know if that’s something you’d be willing to do.”

“What… What is it?” Prompto asked. He sounded nervous, which was understandable. Noctis would be nervous too.

Anytime magic was involved with someone from Hell, it could potentially have dangerous consequences. But this form of magic was something that he had only seen his father use with his mother. It was a deeply intimate affair, a symbol of protection that was only reserved for the royal family when someone they cared for was potentially in danger. Thinking about it, it made Noctis wonder just why his mother needed the protection.

“My dad did it for my mom before she died,” Noctis considered. “It’s a mark, almost like a branding, but it looks like a tattoo. Kind of like the one on your wrist. The good thing about it is that it means you’re under my protection and if anything happened to you then whoever hurt you would end up dying immediately. The flip side of it is that it… Well it binds you to me eternally. It really is only supposed to be used for lovers in really extreme circumstances.”

“Oh,” Prompto said with wide eyes. He was silent for a moment. “I guess this is an extreme circumstance.”

“That’s true,” Noctis replied, a blush on his cheeks while his heart pounded dangerously loud. “Just… Think about it. I don’t think anything will happen to you while you’re in Purgatory. Or at least, I hope not. But I don’t know how long we’ll be able to stay here or where we’ll have to go next. But if you were ever taken to Heaven then it would be some layer of protection. As much as archangels rant about being God’s servants, they’re really worried about their own lives. Probably because no one knows what happens to us when we die.”

“Really?” Prompto asked in surprise. “I thought angels and demons and all that were supposed to have all the answers.”

“For humans, yeah,” Noctis replied. “It’s either Heaven or Hell or Purgatory. From there you either stay a human and suffer or live in bliss, or you are a lost soul wandering this realm. If you’re strong willed enough then you can go from that to becoming a reaper or angel or demon. Very rarely do angels become archangels if they were once human. But once you reach that point, if you die again then there’s no telling where you go.”

“And you were born as a fallen angel?” Prompto asked. His blue eyes were trained on Noctis, and he shifted uncomfortably from his stare. It wasn’t the hard look, the worried look, or the suspicious look he had been getting from him. It was a desire to know him, and while that made him happy, it also terrified him.

“Yeah,” Noctis replied, his heart still thudding in his chest. “I was born in Hell, and if that happens then you’re automatically a demon or a fallen angel. Demons kind of insist on not having kids though. Fallen angels usually do it to increase the ranks. My mom told me when I was a kid that her and my dad did it because they wanted a child to love. I think that was mostly my mom’s influence.”

“She sounds like a really nice woman,” Prompto replied softly. “Can I ask what happened to her?”

“She was killed,” Noctis said simply, his leg aching at the memory. “My mom took me to some place on Eos. I can’t really remember why we were there since I was so young. But we were in a car when someone hit us. She died, and the angel who killed her instantly died too. It was a coordinated attack.”

“I’m sorry,” Prompto replied. He reached out and grabbed Noctis’s hand, squeezing it gently. That surprised Noctis, the gentle touch, the comforting gesture. That didn’t happen in Hell, and it made his heart race as he felt an electricity where Prompto’s smooth fingers connected with his. He wondered if Prompto felt it too. “That must have been hard for you.”

Noctis nodded. “I was injured a bit, but you can’t really tell. I just have a slight limp when I run too much. Otherwise, I’m golden.”

“I’m glad you survived it,” Prompto said, making Noctis’s heart flurry with a series of emotions he couldn’t quite place. Prompto was glad he was alive? “You’re nothing like what I thought. You’re… Kind.”

“I didn’t really give you much reason to believe that I was anything other than some shitty prince of Hell,” Noctis conceded. He noticed Prompto was still holding his hand comfortingly, and his heart soared. “I would just like to have the chance to show you I’m not just some guy trying to drag you to Hell. I… Well, I think it’s obvious by now that I have a crush on you. But I want to know you too, Prompto. Can I have that opportunity?”

Prompto blushed, but he didn’t pull his hand away. Noctis hoped that was a good sign. “I know you like me. I can’t guarantee that I can like you in return like that. I mean, you’re really hot. Like hot as Hell.” He paused and grinned at his own lousy joke, making Noctis laugh through his blush. “But with everything going on, it makes things more complicated and confusing. I don’t mind us trying to be friends, though. Then maybe you won’t drag me to Hell or anything.”

Noctis smiled, knowing that it was the best he could hope for. There was no guarantee that Prompto would like him, and he knew that it was unreasonable to demand he just forget everything going on. There was a lot that Noctis had to do to even gain Prompto’s trust as a friend. He wasn’t going to let the opportunity to know Prompto go and forsake his willingness to at least try.

“Alright,” Noctis agreed. “But you better get ready to deal with my lazy ass. Ignis is always on my case about how much I sleep.”

“Are you sure you’re not just depressed?” Prompto asked. “When I struggled with my depression for a long time, I was sleeping all the time.”

Noctis never considered that before. Thinking about how listless and directionless he had been, and how much he hadn’t felt the need to just sleep now that he was feeling something other than exhausted boredom, he realized that Prompto might be onto something. “I guess… I just didn’t think that was something I would get.”

“No one’s immune to that type of stuff,” Prompto said with a smile. “It doesn’t matter how strong or how royal we are. Anyone can suffer from things like depression.”

“Hmm… I guess I’ll have to think on that.” Noctis smiled at him. “Thanks for that, Prompto.”

“Sure thing, bud.” Prompto said with a tired smile. “Now I have a question now that we’re alone? Is Ignis really going to try and devour me? Cause the eyes he was giving Gladio told a different story.”

Noctis laughed at that, thinking of Ignis falling for an archangel. “Ignis? No way.”

Chapter Text

Ignis kept his back turned to Gladio, knowing that it was a risk to not keep his eye on the enemy. If Gladio was stupid enough to attack him while they were in Purgatory then he had a death wish, nothing more. Right now Ignis wanted nothing to do with the archangel, particularly because he was exactly what Ignis was against. And he couldn’t tolerate how damned attractive he was.

Since Ignis became a demon he had lived well enough knowing that he got his sustenance from devouring men. He suppressed any emotions that came with it, ignoring the last traces of his humanity in favor of embracing his demonic lifestyle. There had never been a moment where Ignis had been attracted to someone like Gladio ever. All the men he devoured had been attractive, but Gladio had been the only one who took him off guard. He was the only one in all these years that made him pause, made him aware of where Gladio was at all times. It took him off balance, took his breath away, and made him consider dangerous roads that he would never fathom otherwise. Ignis hated every minute of it.

He knew that devouring Gladio would be a benefit to him since he was an archangel. Having sex with him, satisfying an archangel, would give him more power that lasted longer than just a human could. It would likely satisfy him through their time in Purgatory. But that meant Ignis would have to sort out whatever he was feeling towards the archangel, and he couldn’t do that. At best he was going to repress it and just be pissed off the entire time he had to so much as breathe in Gladio’s direction. For Aranea to put them in a room with him was practically an insult.

“Is there any way to get out of this room?” Gladio asked as he looked at the door and pulled on it. What was he planning on doing? Escaping Purgatory? The angel had nowhere to go. And the door was locked, of course. As much as Aranea said it was for their own safety, Ignis knew it was also to make sure they didn’t screw things up. Having outsiders in Purgatory was a risk.

“If they want us to leave, then they will come get us,” Ignis snapped, keeping his back turned to the archangel as he opened his briefcase and looked at the tools inside. There was no reason for him to look at anything. He was just starting to feel the pangs of hunger.

It was dangerous with Gladio nearby. Eventually he wouldn’t be able to contain his hunger, and he would pounce on whoever the nearest target was. Once he almost reached that point with Noctis nearby, but when he told Noctis about it they were quickly able to find him a meal. Noctis wasn’t here to help, though. And given Noctis’s proclivity towards Prompto and Prompto only, he doubted that he would be able to help Ignis the way he needed while in Purgatory.

“Can I help you two?” Aranea asked crankily as she opened the bedroom door, stepping inside. There must have been warnings on the doors whenever someone touched it. It made sense. The Hall of Lost Souls didn’t have any place for a demon or an archangel breaking out and wreaking havoc. Ignis considered using something like that on his bedroom door at the palace in Hell.

“When can we-” Gladio began, but Ignis cut him off. The archangel sighed in frustration.

“I’m hungry,” Ignis said, agitated as he turned towards Aranea. He ignored Gladio’s angry muted glare in his direction. “I need something to eat.”

Aranea arched a brow as she looked at Gladio. “I thought this would’ve been enough.”

“You thought wrong,” Ignis snapped. His hunger was going to be out of control soon, and the last thing he wanted was to pounce on someone he was actively trying to avoid. Ignis was more than just angry when he got hungry enough. He was dangerous. “I have standards, you know.”

Aranea rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll send something up in a few minutes. But you better find a way to get over your preferences because eventually you’re going to have to concede somewhere. I can’t supply what you need all the time.”

“Do you really anticipate us being in Purgatory that long?” Ignis asked. The last thing he needed was to either cave or starve. He didn’t want Gladio. Or rather, he wanted Gladio too much.

“If Cor has his way,” Aranea replied in consideration. “Then no. He will stay here with Prompto and you three will go back to whatever realm you came from. If Prompto has his way, then I doubt he’ll let your little princeling out of his sight. He doesn’t even know it himself, but he’s quite attached.”

“Good,” Ignis replied. That was at least some good news that was much needed. If Noctis could somehow ingratiate himself better into Prompto’s life then taking him to Hell would be so much easier.

Then again, it did mean that he would have to find another source of sustenance. He considered his options, glancing over at Gladio, then thought better of it. Perhaps Noctis, or even Prompto, would be willing to help once they understood the circumstances. Noctis seemed so against sex unless it was with someone he loved that he doubted he would be willing. Then Prompto was his next best bet, even if that meant pissing of Noctis. Anyone but Gladio.

“I’ll send someone in a second, but you need to figure it out from here on out,” Aranea offered. “This is a one time courtesy, and you have an archangel here. Figure it out. And Prompto is off limits.”

She withdrew from the room and closed the door behind her, locking it once more. Gladio turned to Ignis angrily, his stature meant to be intimidating and menacing. Ignis could only stare at his refined features, his hardened muscles, his amber eyes so beautiful and enchanting. A fresh surge of anger enveloped him when he felt himself salivate as he stared at the archangel. He was too hungry, he told himself. Nothing more.

“What was that about?” Gladio demanded. “Why did you interrupt me?”

“I am hungry,” Ignis snapped, annunciating each word like it was its own sentence. “Unlike you, archangel, you don’t need sustenance to survive. I do.”

“So you had Aranea send you a fruit tray?” Gladio asked with disbelieving laughter.

“You could call it that,” Ignis replied with a smirk. He furrowed his brow when he thought about what Aranea said. “You’re going to have to learn how to help me once you see what I need for sustenance. Aranea is forcing my hand on this matter.”

“What kind of help do you need?” Gladio asked, his hands on his hips. Ignis stared at where his fingers connected with his hip bones, his mind drifting to what it felt like to have Gladio in him, holding him, caressing him. He turned away before the soul that Aranea was sending became useless. He just needed something now.

“You’ll see, archangel,” Ignis replied with a huff and a sigh. “I do hope you don’t have a virgin’s sensibilities. Otherwise this will be so much more difficult.”

“I have only ever been devoted to God,” Gladio replied. Ignis looked at him in shock, in utter disbelief that someone as attractive as Gladio could possibly be a virgin. Surely as a human he had a wife and children?

“Even as a human?” Ignis asked him. When Gladio nodded he sighed. “Let me guess… You were a religious zealot during the crusades?”

“How… How did you know I was a crusader?” Gladio asked with a frown, his arms folded across his chest defensively.

“Because that’s where all the virgin angels come from,” Ignis snapped. His heart immediately closed off, his mind telling him exactly what he needed to know about Gladio. Even if he did rely on him for sustenance, he would never be with him romantically. It couldn’t, and wouldn’t, ever be a thought that crossed his mind ever again. “I should have known better.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gladio asked defensively. “You don’t even know what it means to be so devoted to someone or something that you would surrender everything.”

“Don’t you fucking dare tell me what I don’t know,” Ignis seethed, his anger about to boil over. The memories from when he was human dared to resurface, and he pushed them down as hard and as quickly as he could. He hated Gladio in that moment for triggering his past that was better left forgotten. “Don’t you dare say I don’t know what it means, or what it takes, to make a sacrifice. I know that better than you and your self-righteous God who would rather see those like me suffer and burn.”

There was a silence in the room as Gladio absorbed Ignis’s anger, his hatred. Ignis wanted him to absorb it, feel it, and never forget it. He wanted him to understand that Ignis wasn’t someone who could just be messed with, one who wouldn’t be hurt so easily. Anger and pain coursed through Ignis’s body, and he felt something that he didn’t want to feel, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. The memories of the past dared to resurface again, and Ignis knew if he continued staring at Gladio so angrily that he would end up crying. How he hated Gladio in that moment for making him angry to the point of spilling over. It was as if he knew exactly how to hurt him in all the right places without even trying.

“Demon-” Gladio began, but there was a knock on the door, interrupting whatever he was going to say.

“My name is Ignis, thank you very much,” Ignis snapped as he walked over to the door. “And I suggest you find someplace to be quiet if you don’t want your virgin sensibilities to be utterly destroyed.”

Gladio looked at him in confusion, but Ignis was focused on other things as the door opened from the outside. A young man, beautiful and smiling, stared at him with dark brown eyes and long brown hair down to his waist. Ignis immediately forgot the argument he had with Gladio in favor of looking at the man’s slim waist, his lithe limbs, dressed only in a thin sheet of grey gossamer that was so sheen he could see through it. He was more than adequate for the time being, and he silently thanked Aranea for at least giving him this last morsel before he had to find some other means of sustenance.

“Aranea sent me for you, I believe,” the young man said, his voice a sweet tenor. “She did indicate that I was under no obligation to come, but I chose to. And she assured me it would only be this one time, unless I intend on making it a regular occurence.”

“Of course,” Ignis said as he stepped aside and let the young man in. “I hope you find me adequate enough to keep coming back for more. Are you one of the lost souls here?”

“Yes,” he replied with a nod, stepping inside and looking at Gladio. “I didn’t realize you had a lover.”

“I don’t,” Ignis replied. “He’s a nuisance at best. We have been forced to reside together for the time being. And if he doesn’t want to see what goes on then I suggest he remove himself to the bathroom or even the closet.”

Gladio’s eyes widened in understanding, finally getting what Ignis intended to do. “You’re not doing it on the only bed in the room. I won’t allow it.”

“Then you could join us,” the young man offered in Ignis’s stead. “Ignis must do this to survive. You couldn’t ever understand the hunger that consumes a succubus. If you have a problem with that, then you are in the wrong place. Go back to Heaven.”

“I…” Gladio sighed and shook his head. “I cannot go back to Heaven. Fine. I’ll be in the bathroom. But change the sheets when you’re done.”

The young man nodded. “There won’t be any mess, but we will regardless. Now get going before he gets too hungry.”

Gladio looked at Ignis like he wanted to say something. Ignis wasn’t having it. His attentions were elsewhere, ignoring the archangel in favor of satiety. He turned to the young man, a finger gently caressing his chin and tilting his head towards his lips. As Ignis pressed his lips against the man’s, their tongues caressing each other, he heard the door to the bathroom slam shut. He wanted to hurt Gladio, but he didn’t think this would do it. If anything, it would just annoy him. He would take what he could get.

Gently, Ignis took the man’s gossamer gown off, leaving his body thoroughly exposed, his hard cock already throbbing like just a kiss from Ignis was enough to send him to the brink. Ignis smirked at that. He had that effect on people. Carefully, his kissed down the man’s neck, to his chest, toying with his nipples with his tongue and hand, thumbing one between his forefinger and thumb. The man gripped him tightly, moaning into his touch, pressing his hips against Ignis until his hard cock was rubbing against Ignis’s through his clothes. Ignis couldn’t help but bitterly hope that Gladio heard every moment of him pleasuring the man.

“They say that a succubus knows exactly what you want,” the man moaned as Ignis grabbed his cock and began to stroke it, his tongue flicking over his nipple as he stroked him gently. He couldn’t have this man climax until he was able to either take him in him or drink him, but Ignis wanted to ensure that the taste of him would be sweet like a honeydew elixir. “You… Nngh… You know what I want?”

“I do,” Ignis purred. He pulled away from the man, reading his intentions so clearly. Slowly, seductively, he removed his clothes, his hips swaying just a bit as he stripped down until he was completely naked. Ignis knew he was attractive. Even when he had been human he was considered beautiful. Now, though, he was irresistible. “You want to be in me, over and over again.”

“I do,” the young man said eagerly, his eyes hungrily taking in Ignis’s visage. Ignis was hard, it was part of the process naturally, and he couldn’t deny that this young man was beautiful as well. It made everything so much easier. “I have never seen someone as beautiful as you.”

“And you’ll never see someone so beautiful again,” Ignis smirked. “Come now. Let me show you the meaning of pleasure.”

Ignis walked over to the bed, climbed in it with a saunter that demanded pleasure just as much as the young man wanted to be pleased. Such was the nature of a succubus. If the young man wanted him to be demure and docile, he would instinctively know to do it. Instead, he wanted him to take charge, to be the one who was overtly in control. Ignis never let anyone else be in control of these situations, but he was happy to let others believe that he was either a scared little kitten or an angry and wild coeurl. Right now he was a happy medium, showing the young man he was in control but not so overly confident that he scared him away.

Carefully, Ignis beckoned the young man forward, reaching a hand out towards him as he was on all fours, ready to be taken. There was no preparation needed with a succubus, not unless his prey wanted it. He was whatever, whoever, his prey wanted him to be until he was fully satisfied and able to replenish for another day. Ignis knew that this man would be so happy with this encounter that he would come to him time and time again. He didn’t need to worry about Gladio anymore, not when he was whatever this young man wanted him to be.

The young man was on the bed behind him, his hard cock positioned just outside Ignis’s entry. He was nervous, Ignis could tell, but he only swayed his hips expectantly, purring a low hum of anticipation. It was exactly the amount of confidence that the man needed. He needed to know that Ignis wanted him. Slowly, the young man inserted himself into Ignis, making them both moan with pleasure. The man’s pleasure was different from Ignis’s though. The young man was receiving pure bliss, and while Ignis certainly felt the pleasure filling him as the man’s girth was absorbed by his ass, it was also the promise of satiety that drove him wild.

“More,” Ignis begged, his hips twitching in tandem to the young man’s thrusts. He knew that this man wouldn’t last long, he could sense it. But he could also tell that the young man was lost in the throes of pleasure, making his fluids even more satisfying for a succubus. It was exactly what he needed and may even last him longer than a day. “Please fill me with you.”

The young man thrust into him, hard and fast, their bodies pulsating against each other as Ignis moaned his desire for the man. He felt him deep within him, ready to climax, and beckoned him onwards for more. The only thing he needed was for this man to be fulfilled and he would be full. He begged for more because he needed more, and the young man wanted to hear him calling for more.

True to form, the young man climaxed quickly in Ignis, filling him and immediately sating his hunger and desire. He stopped pulsating, and Ignis let the man have a moment before he moved, pulling away from him. Unlike humans, nothing would leak out of him. It all was absorbed for his hunger to be satisfied, but Ignis wasn’t an animal like the other succubae. He still preferred to clean up and get rid of the sweat and general sense of disgust he felt afterwards whenever it struck.

It was something he never vocalized, but there were moments when it reared its ugly head. His life as a human had been so different, but the time he spent in the pit had irrevocably warped his soul to turn him into the succubus he was now. While in the moment he felt a great sense of satisfaction, after he had eaten his fill, there were times when he felt disgusted that this was how he had become. Gladio’s words must have hit him harder than he expected, and he bristled at the notion that his own sense of self-loathing could be so influenced by an archangel.

“You didn’t climax,” the young man pointed out with a frown as Ignis pulled away and lay on the bed with a seductive smile. “Was it not pleasurable?”

“Oh, it was more than pleasurable, my dear,” Ignis offered. He held a hand out and pulled the man into a deep, reassuring kiss. “To see you so satisfied makes my heart soar.”

“Really?” the young man asked. There was a soft, warm glow that started from his heart and spread outward. “That makes me so happy. I can finally rest.”

“Fucking hell,” Ignis groaned as the young man was enveloped in the soft white light, his body fading from existence to send his soul to whatever true afterlife awaited him. Of course Aranea had sent a young man who needed to know the love of another man to feel complete. That was his unfinished business. Now that it was over and he was fulfilled, he vanished before Ignis’s eyes, leaving him alone once more. “Fuck you, Aranea.”

He got up from the bed, grabbing his clothes and looking at the gossamer grey gown, the only indication that the young man had even been there at all. It was all so empty, but he refused to allow his heart to soften. Ignis knew that he couldn’t afford to be so soft, not when he would eventually go back to Hell with Noctis and Prompto in tow. It angered him that Gladio had been able to cut through him like a blade, that Aranea had sent someone who was using him as much as he was using the young man, and that he had to now find another source of sustenance going forward.

“You can come out now,” Ignis called for Gladio, still naked and not bothering to get dressed. He wanted to shower, to wash away the feeling of disgust that he felt. If his human self could see him now he would hate each and every piece of him. Ignis did hate himself, but he refused to let it overwhelm him. Instead, it would just propel him to power, just as King Regis expected of him and Noctis.

“What the…?” Gladio asked as he blushed bright red, stepping out of the bathroom. “You’re still naked! And you’re… You’re...”

“I need to shower,” Ignis replied with an eye roll. “There’s no point in me getting dressed if I have to shower. And yes, I’m hard, Gladio. Being a succubus isn’t about my pleasure. It’s about theirs.”

“Oh,” Gladio replied, still blushing. There was something in the way that he said it that was almost pitying. Ignis didn’t need that. He was looking over Ignis’s body in a way that all of his prey did. Perhaps he had a chance of seducing him. It would only need to be once, and then he could deal with whatever fallout that happened afterwards. As much as he hated Gladio, he hated himself more for needing to rely on him. “Where did the guy go?”

“Unfinished business,” Ignis retorted. “Now that you know how I need to sustain myself, you should know that Aranea only provided this one person this one time. She is adamant that I find my own source of nourishment while I’m here. If you would be so obliging then I would only need you to do it once. And I guarantee that you would not regret it.”

“I am loyal to God,” Gladio said like it was an automatic mantra, a response that had been said so many times that it had lost all meaning. Ignis rolled his eyes

“In for a penny, in for a pound,” Ignis replied. “Besides, if you were really that loyal to God you wouldn’t have a thought left in that pretty head of yours. I’m not asking for much. Just a chance to survive. If you cannot do it, then I will find the means elsewhere. But don’t pretend you don’t look at me like you want to devour me. You’re looking at me right now like that.”

Gladio looked like he was about to say something, but Ignis wasn’t giving him the time of day. He didn’t need to know Gladio, he didn’t need to understand him. Knowing that he was a crusader when he was human was all he needed to know. His anger was returning now that he had found his source of sustenance for another day. Without another word, he walked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

Right now Ignis could only think of one thing. He needed to get himself clean, to wash away the feeling of self-loathing and disgust. It had been so long since he felt that way about how his life as a demon had turned out. Noctis had been a brother to him and never treated him any differently as a succubus, and Ignis kept his standards high when it came to satisfying his needs. But right now, when he was left to think about his past as a human, he couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sorrow. All of this was so unfair.

“Fuck you all,” Ignis whispered as he let the hot water from the shower cascade over him. He leaned an arm against the shower wall, his heart aching and pulsating in his sorrow. “Fuck the crusaders, those fucking rapists and murderers. Fuck Aranea, fuck Gladio, and fuck God.”

Ignis did something that he hadn’t done in a long time. He cried. The black tears of obsidian cascaded down his face in soft rivulets, blurring like ink as they mixed with the water and swirled down the drain.

Chapter Text

Prompto finally found rest in bed instead of in the closet once he was certain that he was safe and protected. He wasn’t strong or a fighter right now, and Noctis had only asserted that he would be there by his side to protect him for the time being. While he felt something growing within him for Noctis, perhaps friendship or some sort of kinship, he knew he couldn’t just trust Noctis right from the beginning. At the end of it, there was still a very real chance that Noctis would insist he come back to Hell with him. Prompto would be forced to fight, but he didn’t want to fight anyone.

At first, Prompto insisted that he wasn’t tired and that he didn’t need rest. Noctis must have seen through his charade and told him just to lay in bed and relax then since they would be there for a while. He sat next to Prompto, browsing on his phone while Prompto laid in the bed on his side and looked to Noctis. Within minutes, Prompto was asleep. A few times he jolted awake, thinking that he was in danger, only to realize that he was safe the entire time.

The first time he woke up, Noctis was still on his phone. He stopped scrolling to reassure Prompto that he was safe, gently caressing a strand of hair out of his face. It made Prompto blush, but he was too tired to worry about it and was asleep again instantly. The next few times he woke up, Noctis was asleep next to him, the phone discarded on the bed. The last time he woke up, likely sometime in the morning, Prompto was laying in Noctis’s arms. He must have done it subconsciously, seeking the comfort he used to receive from Nyx.

It shocked him at first that he would just so naturally gravitate towards Noctis to the point where Noctis had his arm around his shoulders as he slept on his chest. It also terrified him that he felt something more than just kinship to be held in Noctis’s arms. He told himself it was because Noctis opened up to him. He saw him more as the prince of Hell so he liked the feel of his fingers gripping his arm firmly yet gently while he slept. Prompto actively tried to convince himself that it wasn’t a pulling desire where he felt Noctis’s hand on his arm.

Carefully, Prompto disentangled himself from Noctis’s arms, trying not to blush too much as Noctis stirred. Quickly, he got out of the bed and walked over to the bathroom, closing the door and taking a moment to still his beating heart. Prompto looked at the bathroom, the pale grey trim, the bare room, and thought about how he shouldn’t have even let Noctis stay in the room. It was dangerous for him to so much as be near Noctis like this, let alone blushing over it. This was a recipe for disaster, and he knew it.

When Prompto stepped out of the bathroom, Noctis was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at him sleepily. There was a sort of adorable cuteness to him sitting there, rubbing his eyes, looking more like a sleeping prince just waking up after being kissed by his true love than a prince of Hell. Prompto immediately stopped that dangerous thought, telling himself it was just because Noctis admitted to having a crush on him. Nothing was going to happen between them, especially since Nyx hurt him so deeply. If Nyx could hurt him like that when they went into the relationship with the intention of being together forever, then how would it feel when Noctis betrayed him? After all, he knew that Noctis would one day have to hurt him.

“Good morning,” Noctis said sleepily. It made Prompto’s heart skip a beat, but then he immediately felt the pangs of heartache when he thought about all the times Nyx had woken up beside him on his day off or to get ready for work. They were practically living together before everything happened. No matter how much Nyx had hurt him, it was difficult for Prompto to just move on from what they cultivated for a year. It was impossible for him to trust.

“How do you know it’s morning?” Prompto asked, looking around for some sign of morning’s light. “There aren’t any windows and everything outside is fog.”

“Just a feeling?” Noctis figured with a shrug. He looked at Prompto. “How did you sleep?”

Prompto found it harder not to blush than he realized at the thought of sleeping in Noctis’s arms. He had slept well, too well for it to be natural. He hoped it was the effects of being exhausted and being in Purgatory. But even then, he didn’t have any nightmares. Nightmares were so common to him that it baffled him that he didn’t have any horrific dreams like he always did. It couldn’t have been Noctis’s presence. It had to be because he was too tired to dream.

“I slept pretty good,” Prompto replied anxiously. His mind felt like chaos, waffling between his heartache from Nyx and convincing himself that he was just caught off guard by Noctis. “How about you?”

“Really good,” Noctis replied. He looked down at his hands and blushed. “I had a dream… Well it was a good dream. Maybe one day.”

Prompto was hoping that he chalked up to holding him through the night to a nice dream. The last thing he needed was for Noctis to remember that Prompto had naturally gravitated into his arms. All he wanted was to forget his faux pas and find a way out of the room. He suddenly felt so much more claustrophobic than necessary being trapped in the room.

There was a knock on the door, making them both stop and stare, wondering who it could be. Was it Cor? Prompto didn’t know if he should even want to talk to him right now, his heartache spreading from all the wounds he suffered in the past, culminating in the knowledge that Cor should have been the one he could trust. If he couldn’t trust Cor, then there was no way he could trust Noctis, no matter how much he found the prince of Hell to be so attractive.

The door opened and an older man walked inside. He had grey hair, an unkempt beard, and blue eyes that were clearer than expected for someone his age. The man wore jeans, a shirt, and a yellow jacket with a baseball cap, looking at the two of them with a gruff sort of friendliness that made him feel immediately approachable. He looked between Prompto, standing at the foot of the bed, and Noctis, sitting on the bed in a sleepy daze.

“Who are you?” Noctis asked the man. Prompto half expected Noctis to know everyone in Purgatory, but just because he was the prince of Hell didn’t mean he was familiar with each realm. It was an odd sort of comfort to know that at least Noctis wasn’t familiar with everything, especially since Prompto really knew nothing.

“The name’s Cid,” he replied. “Aranea sent me to talk to the kid for a bit. Best you get back to your room.”

“If Aranea sent him, it’ll be okay,” Prompto said to Noctis. Noctis stood up uncertainly, but Prompto gave him a reassuring smile. “What is he going to do? Kill me? I wouldn’t have to switch rooms then.”

Cid laughed at that. Noctis offered a weak smile, but it was full of worry. Regardless, if Aranea sent him then there would be hell to pay if Noctis didn’t comply. With a sigh, Noctis walked past Prompto, his fingertips lightly brushing Prompto’s arm with a longing that made Prompto’s heart stutter. There was an undeniable electricity, a burning fire left on his skin from where Noctis had touched him. He had never felt anything like it before. He didn’t like how easy it was to forget what Noctis wanted of him and why he was there in the first place. Just a simple touch was all it took after their conversation last night. Prompt scolded himself for even allowing himself to feel attracted to him.

“Go on,” Cid said to Noctis. “Your room should be open. I’ll come and get ya when we’re done.”

Noctis left, and Cid closed the door behind him, making Prompto startle at the sudden sound, his mind jolted from his self-flagellation. Cid walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of it, his feet hanging over it. He smiled at Prompto and patted the bed next to him, friendly and welcoming. Nervously, Prompto walked over to him and sat down, facing him with one leg propped on the bed while the other hung off the side.

“Aranea told me a bit about ya,” Cid said. “Cor really stuck himself out for ya by going against orders. Now we’ve got to figure out just what to do with ya. I guess that’s what the trial is for.”

“Trial?” Prompto asked, his heart racing. “I don’t know how any of this works.”

“You wouldn’t, would ya?” Cid replied with a sigh. “Whether or not Cor meant something good or not, he broke the rules. You can’t just break the rules without consequences. Now we need to figure out just how much he changed the future.”

“If I was supposed to die, then the future might look really different,” Prompto considered. “But… If I’m a Nephilim then I might do some good? Or I could just go back to my normal life. Someone could erase my memory and I could forget everything.”

“Would you want that?” Cid asked. “With everything that you know now, would you want to just forget?”

“No,” Prompto admitted with a sigh. “I can’t just forget Noc- everyone. Everything. I don’t want to forget any of it. Maybe I’m meant to die, maybe I’m not, but I don’t think Cor should be punished for doing what he felt was right. I mean, who is God to say that I should die just because he’s afraid? Maybe a God that is so afraid isn’t as good or as powerful as he pretends to be. Maybe he’s hiding something.”

“What makes you think that?” Cid inquired, curiously. “You think God’s got something to hide?”

“Well, yeah,” Prompto considered, remembering the room in his dream within the palace. He wondered if that was in Heaven and shuddered at the thought. Looking down at his hands, he bit his bottom lip in contemplation. “If he didn’t have something to hide, then why are so many of his followers so angry all the time? Why do the angels want to kill me without even asking why? It always struck me as strange that God wouldn’t want us to eat from the tree of knowledge in the Bible. Knowledge shouldn’t be against what God stands for.”

“You might be onto something there, kid,” Cid replied. “Truth is, no one has seen God in centuries. Long before the angels started fighting in their so called Cause. They’re hoping your death will bring him back.”

“But there’s no guarantee?” Prompto asked. “And where did he go? Did he just get tired of it all?”

“No clue,” Cid considered. “But I figured he just got bored. I met him a few times. He is a being with something to hide, and I never trusted him for it. But he’s strong and knows that a Nephilim can be the one to kill him. Would you do it?”

“But I don’t have a reason to kill God,” Prompto replied. “Except that my parents are dicks because they hide behind their religion as an excuse to be homophobes.”

“Do you need a reason to kill someone?” Cid asked pointedly.

“Well I’ve never really thought about killing anyone before,” Prompto considered. “But I guess it would have to be a pretty big reason for me to need to kill someone.”

“Funny,” Cid said with a chuckle. “You spend so much time among the angels, demons, and reapers, that you forget what it feels like to be human. You’re a good kid, sweet and kind hearted. But if you want to be able to survive anywhere as a Nephilim, you need to toughen up. The angels and demons won’t be killed by your kindness.”

“I think I’m doing a pretty good job of that with Noctis,” Prompto said with a grin, but then it faltered and he sighed. “I know. I’m weak. I’ve never been a fighter. Nyx tried to show me once but I couldn’t get the hang of it. I was a decent shot with a gun, but that’s about it. I want to fight though. I want to get to a point where I can find somewhere to live peacefully. I don’t know what it’ll look like or what will happen to get me there, but I want to try.”

“Most in your situation would want to give up at this point,” Cid pointed out. “You’ve been chased, shot, abducted, lied to, and cheated on. If they don’t want to kill you, they want to use you. Why stick around?”

Prompto thought about it. For a long time. He thought about what his life was like before, how it wasn’t even that great save for Nyx. And even that ended horribly. There really was no reason for him to keep going, but there was a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach telling him that there was a spark that he just couldn’t see yet. There was a greater purpose for him, beyond what Noctis or Ignis wanted from him, beyond Cor’s desire to protect him, beyond Gladio’s desire to kill him. It was beyond his depression, his anxiety, his desire to just give up and let go. It was strong, a pull like a thread in the center of his chest. He let out a gasp when he realized what it was.

“I can’t die,” Prompto said softly. “Not yet. There’s something I have to do first.”

“Hmm… There are a lot of people who say that,” Cid reasoned. “What makes what you have to do any different?”

Prompto took a deep breath, looking down at his hands. And he told him. He told him everything. Cid was someone he could so naturally open up to that telling him didn’t seem so crazy. He knew it must have sounded like lunacy, but he felt the pull in his chest, the thread attached to him stronger now that he recognized what it was. It had been hard to identify because it had been there his entire life. Now that he knew it was there, he couldn’t rest until he completed his task.

“No offense,” Prompto finished. “But I imagine it’s my unfinished business. If I don’t, I think I won’t be able to rest once I’m dead. It would just be one more soul wandering here… Unless because I’m half angel I end up somewhere else.”

“Who knows?” Cid said. “You’re the first of your kind, really. It’s good that you’ve got a strong will to live. The only reason why I’m considering that you live is because angels and demons have been fucking shit up for long enough. It’s time someone set things right. With what you want to do, I imagine you are going to end up righting some wrongs in the process. Well that and in all my years, Cor has never once disobeyed an order.”

“I know it hurts that Cor didn’t tell me the truth,” Prompto considered. “But he is the only one who helped me with just the intention of protecting me. I’m angry, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t want to be able to trust him. Besides, I could have used my Nephilim powers on him.”

Cid chuckled at that. “You’re not a succubus, kid. You don’t have the power to seduce men to do your bidding. At most you can put up a protective barrier around yourself that convinces people there’s no one there. But you can’t seduce men like Ignis can. That’s all them. But it was a nice try. Welp, better get this trial over with. I can see Aranea’s face when I show up late. Death waits for no one, but everyone waits for me.”

“Wait,” Prompto said, the color draining from his face. His hands suddenly felt very, very cold. “Death?”

“The one and only,” Cid replied with a smile. He stood up and began to walk to the door. “I wanted to speak with you before we got this over with. I wanted to see if you were worth what Cor was willing to sacrifice.”

“And am I?” Prompto asked, his heart beating erratically. He didn’t want Cor to suffer, not really. If he had known that Cid was actually Death then he would have done anything to help convince him that Cor shouldn’t be punished.

Cid only smiled and left the room, making Prompto wonder just exactly what had been decided while they had spoken. He hoped Cor would make it through the trial unscathed.

***

“Cor Leonis,” Cid said as he sat on high, like a judge in a courthouse, late as usual. There were no judges, only onlookers, reapers who wanted to see what would happen to someone who had openly defied Death’s orders. “You have been accused of defying your orders and saving your mark. How do you plead?”

“Guilty, sir,” Cor replied, staring at his friend. They had known each other for so long, but Cid had become Death once the former Death had decided to retire. He had been named the successor, someone who wouldn’t be blinded by rules and guidelines, instead able to follow his heart. They had to ensure they were set apart from the angels and the demons. Cor just hoped now that he was standing trial that Cid would remember that.

The Hall of Judgment was longer than it was wide, creating ample space for those who wanted to watch the proceedings. The floors were white marble, the walls white with grey trim, the judge’s bench a soft grey. In place of windows there were murals of Death reaping souls, some of them kind and peaceful, others kicking and screaming. It was where new reapers were welcomed, where those who were too tired to continue were retired, and where those who were guilty of breaking the rules were sentenced. Cor didn’t ever think he would be the latter, but then again, he didn’t think he would feel an overwhelming compassion for a Nephilim.

Standing in front of Cid, he looked at him with his usual stern stare, his hand cuffed in shackles in front of him. The chains rattled as he kept his attention focused on Death and Death alone. Aranea was somewhere nearby, as was Cindy, Cid’s protege and the next one slated to be Death once he retired. There were many others he recognized nearby, but he kept his attention focused on Death. His opinion was all that mattered. It was the only verdict that would count.

“Do you have anything to say for your actions?” Cid asked with an amused expression. It was like he was toying with Cor. Was there something that Cid knew that Cor didn’t? Or was he just having fun watching the great Cor “The Immortal” Leonis being put on trial?

Cor had earned the moniker when he had been a human, fighting against the crusaders in the War to End All Wars. He hated it, many of his comrades in arms saying that he couldn’t possibly die. But no one was immune to Death. Cor eventually did die in the war, bloody and with more unfinished business than any of them. Cid had been the one to come for his soul, to offer him the opportunity to be a reaper, to guide him and make him strong. The nickname unfortunately stuck as a reaper since he became known for his ability to be both efficient and perfect in his job and to follow the rules without wavering. It was almost contradictory that Cor would be on trial for the very reason why he kept his nickname as a reaper.

“I would do it again, sir,” Cor stated, making the audience turn to each other and whisper in hushed voices. No one openly defied Death like that. Ever. “Prompto has the ability to change the course of the future. We might not be able to go back to how things were before, but he can make it right. He can stop God.”

The whispering began to build, coalescing to a loud roar, to near shouts. That got their attention. Cor remembered what it had been like before God. He remembered how things were easier, how things were much less complicated. There was religion, but it wasn’t like this. Heaven and Hell were so very different, and there were hardly any lost souls. Men and women didn’t have to walk down the street and be worried about being gay, poverty wasn’t a problem, and those with disabilities were provided the resources they needed to thrive. Everything had become so much worse with God in charge.

“Enough,” Cid said in a very formal voice that brought all of them to silence. It was the voice he used when acting in an official capacity, and it was very counter to who Cid was. “Is this an attempt to hold a grudge against the crusaders and the Cause?”

“No sir,” Cor replied honestly. “I have seen so much suffering, so many people dying with unfinished business, that something needs to change. God is gone, and even if he was here then he would need to be the one put on trial. He has failed, and we are left to pick up the pieces while the angels run around unchecked and Hell increases in power. The scales are tipping and the ones who are suffering are the very people God was supposed to protect. God needs to be held accountable.”

There was more uproarious chatter until Cid silenced them once more. Cor had hit a nerve, one that was making the reapers question what they knew to be in their hearts all along. It was what they had all been thinking all along but few dared to vocalize. And no one dared to act on it, knowing that it would mean openly defying the rules that had been long established by the first Death. Cor was the first.

“I see,” Cid mused, stroking his beard with one hand in mock contemplation. Cor had a feeling that he had already made up his mind on the matter. “And what do you suggest we do with the others that you brought along?”

“They can help train Prompto,” Cor replied, even though he wanted to tell Cid that they should be purged from every realm. “As much as I hate to admit it, they’re useful. And by the time they try and hurt Prompto, he will be too strong for them to do it. Give him a chance to make Eos a better place. It will not only help us, but Heaven and Hell will benefit from it.”

“Hmm…” Cid considered. He didn’t say anything for a long time, but when he finally spoke he smiled. “Why not? The kid is already alive. You’re in charge of him Cor. Train him. Make sure he succeeds. And let them out of those damn rooms already. Show them the training grounds and the other parts of the hall. I’m sure Prompto is hungry. He is half human after all.”

“Shit,” Cor replied as Cindy came over to him with the keys to the shackles. The rest of the audience was in an uproar, some excited and others angry, but Cid’s word was law. If he wanted to see how it played out then they would have to let it be. The blonde haired reaper with blue eyes and short shorts and a shirt took the shackles off him with a smile. “Thanks Cindy.”

“Don’t mention it,” Cindy replied. “If I’m real honest? Pawpaw wants to see Prompto succeed. He’s tired of what God and his lackeys are doing to the realms. We all are. Train him well.”

“I will,” Cor promised. “He deserves to be in control of his own destiny for once.”

Cid gave him a wave, dismissing him as the rest of the reapers tried to comprehend what happened. Quickly, Cor left the hall and made for Prompto’s room, knowing that he had to make sure that the Nephilim was okay. He had to ask for his forgiveness, even though he didn’t deserve it, for hiding the truth from him. How could Prompto forgive him when he had just lied to himself and told himself he was keeping the truth from him in order to protect him? When he thought about it, it was really to hide his own discomfort at having to tell Prompto that he was sent to reap his soul.

Cor knocked on Prompto’s door, knowing that it was locked. Aranea had slipped him a key before the trial in an attempt to give him an out to grab Prompto and run in the event that things went the other way. The room that Cor had been staying in was comfortable, just across the hall from Prompto’s room, giving him the benefit of knowing where to run to save Prompto if need be. He was glad to see that Cid was interested in understanding what would happen if they kept the Nephilim alive, if they trained him, if he was able to face off against God. Would they be able to rally an entire team of supporters? He knew that most of the reapers would be willing to hold their own against God.

But what about Prompto? He had been pulled, dragged along since his birthday just a short while ago, giving him little opportunity to even know which way was up. Cor wouldn’t, he couldn’t, make Prompto just fight against God and an entire army of angels just because they wanted him to. That would be no better than Noctis or Ignis trying to drag him to Hell to fight their own war for power. It had to be Prompto’s choice. He couldn’t force him to do anything, not when he had chastised the others for the exact same reason.

“I’m worried about him,” Prompto was saying as he opened the door slowly. Cor paused, listening to Prompto with his breath caught in his throat. “I don’t want him to die.”

“But he did lie to you,” the voice that responded was Noctis’s. How did he get in there? Cor tensed, ready to fight him and protect Prompto from the prince.

“I know,” Prompto was saying. “But Cor did it because he thought it was too much for me to handle. He still wanted to protect me. And he was right. It was too much for me to handle. I collapsed and couldn’t function until… Until you came here and just sat with me. Thank you for that, by the way. I was mad at Cor, but that’s not the same as wanting to see him hurt. That’s how family works, you know.”

Family? Did Prompto see him as family? Cor had been there for him through his entire life, coming into his dreams periodically to give him as much guidance and help as he could. He wished that he could have done more, but if he had tried to directly interfere before now then the consequences would have been so much worse. The angels and demons alike would have discovered that he was protecting the Nephilim before Prompto came into his power. Prompto wouldn’t have even lived to see his twentieth birthday if that happened. And he had to admit, he did think that Nyx would be able to provide the protection he couldn’t when they had met. Cor could tell that Nyx was like he had been when he was human.

“Prompto?” Cor asked when he stepped inside the room. He looked at Noctis with hard eyes, trying to determine if he was a wanted guest or not. Both of them were sitting on the bed, talking to each other as if they were old friends. Prompto looked at him, his nervousness evident on his face. He looked like he had been worrying a lot, but about what, Cor couldn’t be certain. “Are you okay?”

“Cor!” Prompto said as Cor shut the door behind him. There was a surprise to his voice that wasn’t angry or upsetting. It was almost concerned.

When Cor turned back around, he was shocked to see Prompto coming towards him. His shock turned to disbelief when Prompto immediately wrapped his arms around his torso and hugged him tightly. There was a moment of hesitation from Cor, not knowing exactly what to do in this situation. He had never been one to be too affectionate, not even when he was a human, and he never had someone that he treated with such a level of protection. Almost like… a son.

A new emotion, one that he had never felt before, overwhelmed his soul as he hugged Prompto in return, feeling the young man’s thin frame beneath his grasp. It was overwhelming, a gentle ache that was as painful as it was pleasant. It was something that caused him considerable distress but extreme joy at the same time. Cor imagined this is what it felt like to be a parent who has seen their child after a long time away from home. To know that Prompto immediately ran to him and sought out his comfort despite what he had done was achingly pleasant, a relief that enveloped every cell of his body.

“I was so worried,” Prompto said before Cor could even find the words to express what he was thinking. The Nephilim’s face was practically buried in his chest, his wild blond hair nearly tickling Cor’s chin. “Cid came and talked to me and told me about the trial. I didn’t know what was going to happen. Are you going to be alright?”
“Yes,” Cor replied, his voice thick with tears. It was unexpected, particularly because he considered himself so rational and unemotive. But there was an overwhelming sense of calmness mixed with a gentle panic of knowing that Prompto was worried about him that caused tears to come to him, strong and fast. “Cid proclaimed that there will be no punishment and that you will live. Purgatory will be your home for the time being while you train to defend yourself and to use your power.”

“Really?” Prompto asked. He looked up at Cor, his blue and violet irises smiling at him hopefully, making his heart flutter in a desire to protect him like he truly was his son. He had been guiding him, watching him grow since he was a child, that he naturally saw Prompto as if he were his own. “That’s great because I finally know what I need to do.”

“You do?” Cor asked as he looked to Noctis, who shrugged. When he looked back to Prompto, the blond pulled away and began to fidget nervously, like he was unsure of how this would hold up with Cor.

“Well, yeah,” Prompto said. He held one hand in his other, pressing his thumb into the palm as if trying to get his way through what he was about to say next. “I had a dream about my real dad… It wasn’t so much a dream as it was a calling.”

“What?” Cor asked, looking at him in shock. Verstael had been missing since that night that they dropped Prompto off with the Argentums. Noctis looked surprised as well, getting off the bed to walk over to them. This was apparently news to them both at the same time.

“I know where he is, Cor,” Prompto said quietly. “Or at least I think I know where he is. And I’m not strong enough now, but I want to be. I have to save him. I have to save my dad.”

Cor felt something shifting, something changing as Prompto said the words. It was as if Prompto speaking his intentions into the universe made something shift, the tides changing and the winds blowing in a different direction. Knowing where Verstael was, saving him, was one thing. Somehow, Cor had a feeling that this would directly impact their goal to defeat God. That worried him unexpectedly, as he looked at Prompto. It worried him that there would be more danger, more suffering. Not everyone would survive this.

Cor hoped that he was wrong.

Chapter Text

Gladio stared at Prompto as he peeked his head through the door, a smile on his face. Noctis and Cor were behind him, both of them looking happier than expected, albeit there were new worries etched into their features. Prompto had the same sense of worry about him, like there was something that they were all heading towards that Gladio and Ignis were unaware of as of yet, but they looked a bit less stressed than they all had been since they came to Purgatory. He wondered what had changed while he and Ignis were locked in the room together.

“Glad to see you two haven’t killed each other,” Noctis said as Prompto opened the door all the way. Ignis was standing as far away from Gladio as possible, and not without good reason.

Gladio had definitely done something to hurt him, angrily assumed some things about Ignis that had triggered a lot. He had heard the moaning from Ignis while the young man that had been his meal took him, and it somehow made Gladio’s heart ache. Ignis had confirmed why when he had said that it wasn’t about his pleasure. For some reason, Gladio thought that Ignis’s existence was quite hollow, full of malice and anger that came out as scathing hatred when triggered. And Gladio had definitely triggered him without even knowing it.

When Ignis had asked him if he would be his meal, Gladio’s initial reaction was that there was no way. How could Gladio just forsake everything about himself that kept him so pure? He had never taken a wife, never had children, always dedicated in service to God. Even when he had to choose between his family and his faith, he had picked God. Now Ignis was asking him to forsake all that in order to provide his nourishment that he needed to survive? How could he ever consider doing something like that? Saving Prompto had been an accident, one that he was hoping to someday rectify. There was no way he could intentionally give Ignis what he wanted, what he needed. It would be better off if the succubus just perished.

But thinking that didn’t feel right either. It wasn’t Ignis’s fault that he was a succubus, was it? Demons didn’t become whichever demon they were by choice, and Ignis didn’t give him the impression that he particularly enjoyed each moment he was overwhelmed by his need to feed off of men. There was a front to him, about him, that was strong and deeply embedded in his hatred. Gladio felt like he could see past his bitterness and to his insecurities. Just letting Ignis die because of his own beliefs didn’t feel right, and it was giving him a considerable amount of distress that he couldn’t quite vocalize.

There were many sacrifices he had made in his life as both a human and an angel. Giving this up to help a succubus diametrically opposed his morals, but not helping him was also contradictory to who he was. Then again when Gladio had been a crusader, he would do anything in service to God. There was nothing he would have done then to serve and show his devotion. In Heaven it was much the same. So why was looking at Ignis right there, hungry and despairing, so different?

Gladio could only think that there was something to Ignis that he couldn’t get past. It was like he was being pulled in now that he wasn’t in Heaven, that the temptation for him was too irresistible. He had never felt anything like it before. But it wasn’t the desire to have sex with Ignis and just leave him as all his prey did. It was the desire to know him, to learn about him, to understand him. That made him more uncomfortable than just being used for sex. It meant that he was looking at Ignis as someone worth devoting himself to, someone worth replacing his God for. He couldn’t stand for that.

“Glad isn’t exactly the word I would use for it,” Ignis commented, his voice a little hoarse like he had been crying. He was dressed in a finely tailored suit still, his composure exactly what it needed to be. For all those who were looking at him, Ignis looked to be the very symbol of seduction and sophistication. To Gladio, he felt like he was looking past the exterior that he was showing, seeing something that Ignis didn’t want anyone else to see.

There was something just beneath the surface that Gladio had began to see, a crack in the armor that kept him guarded. Part of him wanted to turn away from him, to tell him to just deal with it. He made his bed and now he had to lie in it. The other part of him, the part of him that was far stronger than the anger in him, wanted to know why he was so sad. What had Gladio really said that triggered him so deeply? He hated how he didn’t know, and he hated how it bothered him. Ignis was his enemy, and all he could think about was how it was the charm of a succubus to render him vulnerable and romantic.

Instead of letting it get to him, Gladio resolved to hide it. Ignis wasn’t the only one who could hide beneath a tough exterior. He kept telling himself that he was just protecting himself from someone who took him so off guard that even his anger seemed like a cry for help. It baffled him how others couldn’t see it, especially since Ignis was supposed to be his enemy. He was his enemy. But if he was his enemy, then why didn’t he feel like it?

“So what’s the verdict?” Gladio asked them, trying to put on the tough exterior that he always had in Heaven. Why was it so difficult now that he wasn’t there anymore? Had it always been this difficult when he was a human? “Are we being kicked out or put to death?”

“Not every realm immediately seeks out the death penalty,” Noctis said accusingly. His eyes were hard and he stood behind Prompto like they had somehow gotten closer while Ignis and Gladio had only grown further apart. Gladio told himself he didn’t mind, that he was a servant of God, but that didn’t feel right. Something had changed in him the moment he saved Prompto. Something that he didn’t like at all.

“Yes, your realm will just torture until you’re changed forever,” Gladio shot back. He felt his anger boiling in him. Just because he was starting to question things that he had never questioned before didn’t mean he was going to stand for such blasphemy.

“Oh shut up please,” Prompto snapped. They all looked at him, startled by his sudden change in demeanor. Gladio got the impression that Prompto was always so kind and a bit demure. To see him exactly opposite from how he presented himself was startling to them all. “You can bicker later. We’re all on the same side, whether or not you like it. And if you don’t like it then you can go back to Heaven or to Hell. But if we don’t sort this out then there’s going to be bigger issues down the line. I can’t afford that, or have you guys forgotten that my life is at stake?”

Everyone was silent very quickly. Gladio knew he should have been angry enough to want to take out his blade and kill Prompto, but he just couldn’t do it. Maybe it was just because he was surrounded by the enemy and knew that no matter how he went about it, the chances of him being able to succeed or get out of it were slim to none. Then again, looking at Prompto, he didn’t really seem like the sort that Gladio would immediately think was dangerous. It was hard to build him up to this dangerous Nephilim that Heaven made him out to be.

There was something disarming about being surrounded by the enemy. It made them too familiar, too friendly. Even Ignis’s anger towards him seemed far more justified the more he spent his time in their vicinity. It worried him that he was beginning to lose sight of what his mission was. No, he was already losing sight of his mission. He needed to get it back, but it felt further and further from his grasp the more time he spent out of Heaven.

That’s when he realized what it was. It wasn’t that he was around people who didn’t have such devotion to God. It was because he wasn’t surrounded by people who were devoted to God. When he was a crusader, he fought tirelessly to be strong, to be devoted. When he was in Heaven it was much the same. But now that he was removed from all of his comrades, all those who fought for the Cause, it didn’t seem as important anymore. It was almost like he was seeing just how ridiculous the notion of the Cause was in the first place.

Prompto was the Nephilim, a quiet and scared young man who was terrified of hurting anyone. How could anyone think he was dangerous enough to kill? Then there was Noctis, the supposed fearsome prince of Hell. Looking at him, he could only think about how he was far more quiet and awkward than he was fearsome. Ignis was the more fearsome out of the two of them, but even in his anger, Gladio thought it was just a facade carefully covering up whatever pains he sought to hide.

They were all too real to Gladio now, and that made it difficult for him to find reason to hurt them. Even if it meant forsaking God and the Cause. There was a calling for him to see things as they really were, and being away from those who only saw Heaven and then everyone else, it provided a strange sense of clarity that somehow made everything so much more confused. He needed to continue his mission, but it was impossible to as long as he continued to see them for who they really were instead of just unfeeling enemies.

“Prompto’s right,” Cor said, snapping Gladio out of his thoughts. “We’re being offered a chance here that we shouldn’t squander. We can either let our hatred for each other consume us, or we can be productive and use this opportunity to try and accomplish what needs to be done.”

“And what’s that?” Ignis asked skeptically. “Just keep protecting Prompto like a damsel in distress?”

“No,” Noctis replied with a fierceness that shocked Gladio. The look he gave Ignis told him that he was out of line for the comment, and Ignis immediately withdrew. Noctis softened after that, and Gladio knew in that moment that there was something going on with him. Ignis was too strong to withdraw like that unless he was going through something. He could tell that much. “We’re going to train him. He needs to learn how to use his power so he can save his father.”

“His father?” Gladio asked. He tried to think about who Prompto’s father was, but there was nothing there. Was it a human in trouble? Or was it an angel?

“My father has been missing since I was left with my adoptive parents,” Prompto explained. “When I was shot, I went somewhere. I think it was Heaven. I was in a palace and I saw him there. It was… It was horrible. I have to try and save him. He sacrificed a lot to save me. It’s the least I can do.”

“But he’s a traitor to God if he created you,” Gladio insisted. This was wrong. Very wrong. If Prompto had been in the palace then he had been in the most sacred part of Heaven. A Nephilim should not have been there. “We should just leave him wherever he has been left to be punished.”

“Do you really think he gives a fuck about whether or not his father is a traitor to God?” Ignis snapped. “All you crusaders are alike. Let me guess? You abandoned your family for God? Not everyone can do that for blind faith in something so intangible. And in case you haven’t realized, Prompto is exactly what Heaven is fighting against. If he wants to find his father and save him then what’s the problem?”

“Ignis is right,” Cor replied. “He doesn’t have any reason to believe in God, and God surely doesn’t believe in him. You all need to decide what you’re going to do now. You can either stay with us and help him train so he is ready for a fight or you can leave. Where you go is up to you, and no one will judge you or stop you.”

There was a resounding silence as everyone turned to Gladio. Of course they would. Noctis had clearly made up his mind to stay with Prompto and try and ingratiate himself into his life. Wherever Noctis went, Ignis was sure to follow. The only way that Gladio would be able to redeem himself in the eyes of Heaven was if he not only completed his mission, but he would also have to kill Prompto as well. He would have to kill Ignis. He really didn’t like that thought, and he kept telling himself that he needed to maintain his devotion to God. Gladio had to do whatever he could not to lose his status as an archangel. He refused to abandon his morals and principles just because of one mistake.

“Fine,” Gladio said with a sigh. This was going to end poorly for him. He could already tell. But if he wasn’t successful in his mission, then where else could he go? “I will stick around and help. But I’m just warning you. I am, and always have been, loyal to God.”

“Thought you might say that,” Prompto said. Cor walked over to Gladio and took his hand. Curiously, he looked down as Cor’s other hand hovered over his wrist. It burned brightly for a long moment, making him wince in pain. When he removed it, there was a barcode on his wrist like the one Prompto had. It was a branding, a spell. “Cor suggested I do this to you three. It prevents you from trying to kill me while we’re in Purgatory.”

“What?” Ignis asked in disbelief as Cor walked over to him. He pulled away like Cor had already burned him. There was a real fear in his eyes that made Gladio want to reach out and protect him. He had to remind himself once again that Ignis was the enemy. “No. I’m not doing that.”

“I’ve already done it, Ignis,” Noctis said as he held up his wrist. There was a barcode on his wrist like it was obvious that they needed to do it. “It’ll only work in Purgatory, and it’ll wear off by the time Prompto’s done his trading. If you want to stick around, you have to do it too.”

“Fine,” Ignis agreed reluctantly. He held out his wrist and Gladio watched as he remained stoic despite the pain of the branding. When Cor walked away, he looked down at the branding in abject horror. Noctis had asked him, commanded him, to do something that caused him considerable distress. “Well if I’m doing this for you, Prompto, then there’s something else we must discuss.”

“What is it?” Prompto asked. Gladio couldn’t help but find his naturally curious features disarming, like he had some sort of charm to naturally throw them off guard. There was too much that was disarming about these three.

“As you know, I am a succubus,” Ignis commented. Gladio caught his glance in Gladio’s direction, but he ignored it and looked back to the others. “I need sustenance and reapers are not an option, as you know. Well, Prompto, now you know. Gladio is unwilling to do it, so that leaves you two as an option since Aranea informed me that she would not be supplying me any souls to have my fill. Now, Noctis, I know you are fairly against sex without emotional connection, but this is a matter of me being able to survive while we’re in Purgatory. If not, I will be required to leave.”

There was a long silence in the room, Noctis glaring at Gladio angrily, and Prompto looking at Ignis in shocked contemplation. Gladio felt uncomfortable by the conversation, not because Ignis was discussing sex, but because he had so obviously stated that he wasn’t interested in helping. But how could Gladio sacrifice his morals and values just to let Ignis feel nourished for such a short period of time? It didn’t matter how much he was thrown off guard by the three of them, Ignis most of all. He couldn’t just give up such a huge part of who he was, could he?

“How long does it normally last with an angel?” Prompto asked with a blush. “I mean, how long do you stay full?”

“For a long time,” Ignis replied. “It would only have to be once, and we wouldn’t even have to have sex. I could drink it, and it would work just fine. For a Nephilim, it could go either way. It could have the same effects as a human or be very strong and potent. I suspect it’s somewhere in the middle.”

“Alright,” Prompto said with a nod. There was a brief moment of silence as Gladio realized what he was going to say. His heart stuttered, a sense of dread filling him. “I’ll do it.”

“No!” Noctis and Cor said at the same time. Noctis looked at him, a desperation and longing in his eyes that made Gladio’s heart ache. Cor looked angry, upset that Prompto was even given the option in the first place. “Prompto, you can’t. I mean… I…”

“I know you like me, Noctis,” Prompto said. He gestured to Ignis. “But this is a matter of life and death for him. Do you really want someone you consider your brother to suffer because you have a crush on me? It’s either me or you, and your sexuality would make it too difficult and uncomfortable to do anything. And I’m not asking anyone’s permission either. It’s my choice.”

“Thank you, Prompto,” Ignis replied with a grim frown. It obviously wasn’t his first choice either, although Gladio didn’t think it had anything to do with attraction. “I wouldn’t ask unless it was necessary, and I’m afraid it is. I am already beginning to feel the pangs of hunger settling in. Apparently lost souls are not as nourishing as live ones.”

“S-sure,” Prompto said with a sudden nervousness that made Gladio feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Regret. Guilt. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. He suddenly felt like he had to be the one to do it. It wasn’t supposed to be Prompto. “Just let me know what you need from me, and I’ll do my best.”

“No,” Gladio said suddenly, his mouth forming the word before he even knew what he was doing. He paused and looked at Ignis, his heart thudding loudly in his chest. This was the moment, he knew. The moment where he was going to forsake everything. But he hated the alternative, though he couldn’t really say why. “It really will only be this once. But I’m not going to put Prompto through something that obviously makes him uncomfortable too. It’s not like I don’t find you attractive. In for a penny, in for a pound, right?”

“I don’t want you to do anything if you’re uncomfortable,” Prompto tried, but Cor and Noctis both looked relieved. Ignis looked irritated. He had already committed to what he needed to do, and now Gladio was changing it on him once again. There was no mistaking that Ignis only thought Gladio was trying to have his way with him. Gladio wasn’t even sure himself what he was trying to get out of this.

“Just this once is all I need,” Ignis replied with a nod. There was a reluctance and anger there that was unmistakable. Ignis was hiding something that hurt him behind that. “And if you agree to doing this then do not take it back. I don’t want to reach the point of hunger where I attack anyone. That is not a pretty sight.”

“I won’t change my mind,” Gladio affirmed, his heart racing at the thought. Why was he sacrificing his morals and values for a Nephilim? No. It wasn’t for a Nephilim. It was for a succubus. The thought of Ignis being so hungry that he would attack someone frightened him, although for a reason that surprised him. There was a fear that made his pulse race at the thought of Ignis starving himself to the point of attacking someone. What had Ignis gone through to know what that hunger felt like?

But when he looked to Prompto, clearly shaking at the idea of being with Ignis, he couldn’t bring himself to let him do that. The attraction wasn’t like what it was for Gladio, and he knew it. For Gladio he wanted to know Ignis more, despite his anger and hatred towards all things that came from Hell. While he spent so much of his time being dedicated to God, the sudden onslaught of meeting Ignis and being near him took him off guard so much that it was so easy for him to forget everything about God. Seeing Prompto so obviously upset at the idea made him cave into his desire for Ignis that he pretended wasn’t there.

That was the simple truth to it. Gladio was attracted to Ignis, and it went beyond the physical attraction he felt. He wanted to know Ignis, to covet him. It scared him to think that he would so openly defy his faith for someone he just. Seeing Ignis angry at him, seeing him triggered, made him only want to reach out and apologize for whatever he had done. If a demon could do that to him, if anyone could do that to him, then maybe he wasn’t as righteous in his cause as he thought. If he could be so easily compromised by Prompto, then it was easily a slippery slope that he was on to reach Ignis.

“Then it’s settled,” Cor said before anyone could say anything else. Prompto jumped at that, his anxious demeanor a bit more relieved that Gladio had opted to be the sacrifice. “We will begin to train tomorrow, so you all better get as much rest as you can. We will be back in about an hour to take you all on a tour. Prompto needs to eat as well. Do what you need to do in that time.”

At that, they closed the door and left Gladio and Ignis alone. There was an awkward silence between them as Ignis looked at Gladio. His pulse racing and his mind reeling at what he just committed to, Gladio tried to think of what was coming next. Why did he agree to this again? And why was Prompto so uncomfortable with Ignis? Gladio felt like he was trapped, like this was a plan that Ignis had enacted to entrap him.

But the only entrapment was his own, unable to let Ignis be in the arms of another man, even if it was only for nourishment. Gladio was startled to realize he was jealous. He hated it. Jealousy was an emotion that was better served in Hell or on Eos. It did not suit an archangel to be thinking or feeling like that. Maybe he did belong in Hell. Maybe the moment he had saved Prompto he had forsaken all that made him holy and he was deluding himself to think otherwise.

“If you’re uncomfortable with this, then I will call for Prompto,” Ignis offered. It wasn’t a threat. It sounded defeated, like this was the opposite of what he had wanted. Gladio had angered him, had triggered him in some way that he couldn’t understand. He wouldn’t understand unless Ignis let him in. But did he even want that, and would Ignis even let him in?

“No,” Gladio said impulsively. He sighed, trying to find the words to say. “Listen, I prejudged you and that was wrong of me. I just thought you were a succubus and did everything you wanted without any consequences. I didn’t realize that you might not actually want to be a succubus.”

“Of course I don’t want to be a succubus,” Ignis snapped. He paused a moment, as if contemplating that Gladio had finally conceded that he would help him. “No one chooses to be a succubus. It’s something that is done to us slowly over the years.”

“Just as being an angel is done to us as well,” Gladio considered. “Although I’m sure the experience is much better for us than it is for you.”

“Clearly,” Ignis said. He paused again. There was something on his mind that he wasn’t saying. “I am not here to make friends or open my heart to you. I’ve already said my peace and if you are unable to handle this then I have no problem getting Prompto to help me. He was nervous, likely because it meant he would hurt Noctis, but I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity for a meal. You don’t understand just how difficult it is when the hunger sets in.”

“And you said you’re getting hungry now?” Gladio asked, his heart racing. “I… I know you don’t want to get to know me, but I want to get to know you. If I’m going to be intimate with you, I would like it to be gratifying for us both.”

“Let me make myself clear,” Ignis said, an edge to his voice that nearly scared Gladio. “I am not being intimate with you. I am taking in your essence so I can survive. I am not finding any emotional comfort in this, I am not trying to be with you, and I am not hoping for anything beyond giving me sustenance for what I need. If you are looking for something else, then I will get Prompto.”

Gladio felt something uncomfortable deep within him. Ignis clearly delineated between when he was trying to nourish himself and when he was with someone because he wanted to be. And he was making it known that would never happen between the two of them. Gladio didn’t know why he felt so hurt by it. Perhaps it was because when he was a human he had learned that being with someone sexually was supposed to be to further and deepen their relationship. That’s what his parents had taught him, even if they were blasphemers.

For Ignis, it wasn’t just that he needed to nourish himself, it was that he refused to cultivate any sort of love or affection towards another being. And why would he? If he made himself vulnerable while in Hell then that was a recipe for disaster. Thinking about it, Gladio couldn’t make himself vulnerable in Heaven either. It left him open for attack, for him to be taken down, and Ignis was likely the same. But now they were in Purgatory. Gladio would never be allowed back in Heaven, not after this. If he was going to do anything with Ignis, he would at least like the chance to be friends with him.

“I’m not asking you to be lovers or anything like that,” Gladio said, choosing his words carefully. “But I would like to at least know you, the real you. I don’t want you to just take what you want from me and for me never to know you. That’s not how I am. If you cannot handle it, then maybe you should get Prompto.”

Gladio was bluffing. He knew he was bluffing. There was no way he was going to let Ignis take that from Prompto. It wasn’t even about Prompto, as much as he tried to say it was. For him, it was the knowledge that Ignis was going to be with someone else, taking from someone else in a way that his prey desired. Gladio didn’t want that. He wanted to monopolize Ignis’s time and his mind, but he also wanted Ignis to reach out to him. He was curious and needed to know why Ignis had been so angry and upset with him before.

“I think I can do that,” Ignis said tersely. He might be able to do it, but it was clear he didn’t want to. “You might not like what you find, though. You might not like who I am.”

“Noctis likes who you are just fine,” Gladio pointed out. “He might be the prince of Hell, but he acts more like a human, if anything.”

“Noctis has always been an exception,” Ignis replied. Gladio cursed himself internally for feeling jealous because of what he said. “He doesn’t see me as a sex object because his sexuality prevents him from doing so.”

“And I don’t see you as a sex object because I know that there’s someone real beneath that hard exterior,” Gladio replied honestly. Ignis stared at him in surprise by the admission. “Just give me a chance to know you as friends if we’re going to do this.”

“Fine,” Ignis said with an eye roll, but Gladio felt like there was something beneath that exterior that was struggling to break free. “But I am not fooled into thinking you’re not trying to kill any of us. Your end goal may be redeeming yourself by killing the Nephilim. However, I think it’s pretty obvious that if you are going to redeem yourself in the eyes of Heaven, Noctis and I have to die as well. Mark my words, I will make it as difficult as possible for you.”

Gladio knew that he had to kill the three of them, but looking at Ignis, he didn’t really want to. Maybe it was the succubus’s power, maybe it was Purgatory, or maybe it was because Gladio had already fallen from grace without his wings changing from white to black. In for a penny, in for a pound, right? Then again, Gladio had already reached the point where he felt like he was forsaking God and his faith just to help Ignis this far. He doubted he would be accepted back by Heaven at all, and even if he was, there was something in him preventing him from hurting Ignis alone.

“Then I will look forward to you making it difficult for me,” Gladio replied, setting aside his conflicting emotions for the time being. “Now what do you want me to do to make sure you’re fed?”

Ignis paused a moment, looking at him as if startled by the question. “What do I want you to do? The question should be the other way around. What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know,” Gladio replied honestly. “I haven’t really done anything before. You’re in charge. Let me do what you want me to.”

“Well since you’re a virgin you obviously couldn’t handle everything I would want you to do,” Ignis considered, a smirk on his face that hid a pain in his eyes that didn’t go unnoticed. “But I know what you would like. I can sense it. Sit on the bed, Gladio. Not all the way. I need to keep myself on the floor.”

Pulse racing, Gladio obliged, sitting at the edge of the bed, not really knowing what to expect. Ignis knew what to do, but he didn’t just want him to do whatever he thought Gladio wanted. Gladio didn’t want to just have a relationship based off of sex, even if it was with a succubus, even if it wasn’t a romantic relationship. There were just too many conflicting emotions, the desire to know Ignis and the desire to want to please Heaven, the knowledge that he would become a fallen angel and the knowledge that he could still find redemption.

It was all culminating in this one decision that would change everything, even if Ignis assured him it was only for his nourishment. To Gladio, it meant something more. It meant he was turning his back on Heaven and that he was going to be giving into everything he opposed for so many centuries. For him to fall victim to a succubus was too much, but when he looked at Ignis, there was too much not to fall victim to. He wanted to let go yet resist the temptation as well. Whatever magic Ignis had, he wove it well.

Ignis knelt in front of him, his eyes not meeting Gladio’s. His hands ran along the length of Gladio’s inner thighs, the feel of his long fingers sending a gentle wave of anticipation and desire to his loins. It was instantaneous, and Ignis was quick to pull at the zipper on his jeans. Embarrassed and excited, Gladio stared at the fire in Ignis’s eyes and he looked at Gladio’s hard cock, large and throbbing in front of him.

For a moment Glaido wanted to just take Ignis in him, to grab him and fuck him hard and fast. Instead, he reached out a hand to Ignis and caressed his cheek before Ignis could do anything. Ignis stopped what he was about to do, shocked by the gentle gesture. Gladio could see the shock and fear plain on his face. It was a vulnerable touch, and intimate moment, one that Ignis had said was off limits. Somehow, Gladio felt like it was what Ignis wanted, even when Ignis reached out and grabbed his wrist, his nails digging into his skin.

“Don’t do that,” Ignis warned. Gladio knew that he had touched something within him that he wanted, something that was dangerous and off limits. He pulled his hand away and leaned back on the bed, complying with what Ignis needed, his hands propping him up on the bed. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Gladio made to say something, but Ignis had his cock in his mouth, the warmth of his tongue making Gladio moan from the touch. He had never experienced anything sexually before, and having Ignis take him in his mouth was making him shudder beneath his touch. Gladio was fairly certain that Ignis was going to ruin him for anyone else if he ever even met anyone else in the first place. Somehow he didn’t mind. The pleasure was overwhelming, waves of electricity pulsating in tandem with Ignis’s mouth running along his cock from base to tip and back again.

“Ignis,” Gladio moaned his name, gasping for breath between his moans as Ignis moved his mouth up and down quickly, the tip of his cock hitting the back of his throat. “Mmnn… Ahh-”

Ignis didn’t say anything, didn’t moan, didn’t make any noise. He only continued to work his mouth quickly, his attention focused on getting Gladio to climax. It wasn’t going to take much. Gladio wanted to reach out and pull Ignis into his arms. Just as he felt Ignis’s loneliness, Ignis did something with his tongue that Gladio didn’t quite recognize. It made him gasp and moan louder than before, and within moments he came. Ignis took it in his mouth, drinking it all in, not leaving one drop to go to waste.

“Thank you,” Ignis said after he drank it all, leaving none for even any cleanup. He looked like he was nearly glowing, his skin practically translucent. It was different from how he was with the man before. This was stronger. He stood up and immediately straightened his suit jacket, back to his reserved demeanor. “This should last me a long time, likely the entire time we’re here in Purgatory.”

Gladio could only nod in sheepish embarrassment. There was a silence between them, unspoken words that made Gladio uncomfortable. He needed Ignis to know that while he climaxed, it wasn’t the same as if it would have been if Ignis had enjoyed it too. There was something about it that was almost lifeless, knowing that Ignis was doing it for food rather than enjoyment. To Gladio, sex and intimacy went hand in hand. It wasn’t about one person’s pleasure over the other. Both of them should have felt pleasure at the same time. But there was no convincing Ignis, and right now there was no need for him to have any sexual contact with anyone. Gladio was only going to gently prod the topic, gauging Ignis’s reaction.

“Tell me,” Gladio said finally. “Have you ever found pleasure in what you were doing as a succubus?”

Ignis tensed, considering it for a moment. “I think I know what your problem is,” Ignis said, changing the subject, his voice quiet but not necessarily menacing. It sounded almost sad. “You’re a terrible archangel.”

“What?” Gladio asked in surprise. That wasn’t exactly what he expected to hear in response.

“You’re too soft,” Ignis replied. “Too human. You were destined to fail and whoever sent you to track down Prompto knew it. You’re too soft, too kind. Even to a demon like me.”

“Is that so bad?” Gladio asked Ignis, an ache spreading in his chest when he realized Ignis was right. There was no way he could win against someone like Ignis, not when he knew that he started caring for him without even realizing it. Had Heaven known? Were they just trying to get rid of him? “And I have a feeling you’re secretly a terrible demon beneath that charming exterior.”

“So you do find me charming?” Ignis asked him. There was almost a hint of a smile in his expression, and Gladio couldn’t help but beam at him. Ignis did something then that he never anticipated. He blushed.

There was something beginning between them, something neither of them noticed through the conflicting emotions that were sending them both into whirlwinds of chaos and fear. But it was silent and strong. It was enough for Gladio to forsake his faith and for Ignis to forget his past, although neither of them quite knew it just yet.

Chapter Text

General Glauca looked down at his paperwork, a sigh dancing on his lips while he tried to contain his own frustration. He should have heard from Gladio by now. He had bets on the newly formed archangel that he would be able to handle this. Then again, he was the only one who thought it was possible. It wasn’t that he had any faith in Gladio. No, he had faith that Gladio had faith in God and the Cause. But if his radio silence was any indication, it was obvious that he had already been compromised. The succubus was too good for any archangel to combat.

Considering his options, Glauca leaned back in his chair. It wasn’t the first time an archangel had been compromised. It was the entire reason why they were in this mess to begin with. If Gladio was among those he hunted, then there was still a chance that he could use it to his advantage. Looking out the window at the palace, he thought about God. God had been gone for so long, leaving angels like him in charge. It was the blind leading the blind, and the turmoil that they caused could be felt all over the realms. Glauca hardly knew what he was doing when he sent Gladio. He just knew that the prince of Hell needed to be used as bait, and that the succubus had to die.

Still, there was a war to fight, a Nephilim to kill, and the Cause just. Their cause was just. They had to find a way to bring God home at any cost. It didn’t matter if it meant that he had to forsake his sanctity in order to do so. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to bring God back to his former glory. But where was he? No one knew, and no one dared to check the palace that existed right in the middle of Heaven. Somehow, Glauca didn’t think God was there. There was something else, something they weren’t supposed to touch, there. God himself would ensure they didn’t go there, and he wasn’t about to be the first one to take the risk.

There was a knock on the door, interrupting his thoughts. Glauca called whoever was asking for an audience inside, his gaze still focused on the palace outside the window. It made him curious what was in there, knowing that there were so many wardings God had placed there to scare away each and every angel. As beautiful as it was, he considered it a blight on Heaven. If no one could go there then what was the point? Everything else here radiated peace. The palace seemed almost like a vague torture device that they didn’t authorize. Nevertheless, God’s will could not be questioned.

“General Glauca,” a woman’s voice called to him in greeting, voice dripping in an accent familiar to Tenebrae on Eos. Glauca turned and tried not to frown.

Lunafreya was standing on the other side of his desk in a simple white dress, clinging and only reaching her upper thigh. She had a white cape of the same length on her shoulders. It was criminal how beautiful she was, her blond hair nearly floating around her face instead of just framing it. She stared at him with her clear blue eyes, her gaze harder than normal.

“Lunafreya,” Glauca replied, swiveling his chair to face forward. He was trying not to be concerned by her presence, knowing that she could have just as easily come to collect on their original agreement. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I failed to do what was necessary to ensure the Nephilim’s death,” Lunafreya expressed. She looked annoyed, irritated. It was rare for her to fail in the end goal, but as far as Heaven was concerned, she had succeeded. She got the Nephilim alone and vulnerable. They just didn’t anticipate outside intervention. They didn’t anticipate a reaper getting involved.

“I know,” Glauca stated simply. There was a calmness to him, an indication that he wouldn’t be intimidated. It was a bluff. Everyone was terrified of the celestial fates. He wouldn’t be surprised if God was terrified of her and her brother. “Your failure was unexpected, but you did what we required of you. You will still be adequately compensated. I think it was five thousand souls?”

“I am not here to collect,” Lunafreya replied, her mouth twitching at the reminder. “I am here because I have left a job unfinished. It is a point of integrity at this juncture. I think I can be of help. I can get the Nephilim here at the very least. And you might end up with the prince of Hell in tow as well.”

“I’m listening,” Glauca encouraged her. She explained her plan, and Glauca smiled. This was exactly what he needed. “And what do you require in compensation?”

“I was insulted and slighted,” Lunafreya explained. She looked angry, and there was an energy around her like she was about to summon some divine intervention that went beyond the power of an angel or a demon. Glauca reminded himself that he had to be careful not to cross her. “I consider a failure in the end result a failure on my part. My involvement should have ensured success.”

“Get to the point,” Glauca said, knowing that the celestial fates were rather winded. Lunafreya wasn’t as bad as Ravus, but the point remained. They were both vain, obsessed with each other, and focused singularly on getting their own way. There was a reason why Heaven and Hell only hired them when it was absolutely necessary.

“I want to watch the Nephilim fall,” Lunafreya said with a devious smile. “I want to be the one to make sure that it knows that it is truly alone in the world. It needs to know that when it crosses me, it means that everyone else will abandon it. And I want to make sure it’s done so systematically and thoroughly that there is no hope for redemption.”

“Done,” Glauca replied. What did it matter to him how it suffered? As long as the Nephilim was taken care of, he was more than happy to oblige her whims. Lunafreya didn’t wait after that. She had a task to do. As she left, Glauca turned back to the window, looking out at the palace. “Nephilim, your time is coming.”

The flurry of movement outside indicated that there was a change in the wind. Angels began to move about, the ranks of soldiers preparing for war. As soon as they killed the Nephilim they were set to embark on their conquest against Hell. They wouldn’t lose, and Glauca knew it. They were righteous in the Cause. God would have no choice but to return.

The palace loomed in the distance, an ominous reminder that not all was certain.

***

“Your majesty,” Clarus said to Regis, pulling him out of his reverie. He was worried about his son. No matter how much he tried to hide it, no matter how well he put on his kingly raignment sitting on the throne, he was worried. Noctis had never gone to Eos before for such a large task, and the last time he had been had ended horribly. Perhaps it was too much for him. He thought, for sure, with Ignis in tow they could handle it. Maybe they couldn’t. Maybe Noctis was far softer than even Ignis could handle.

“What is it, Clarus?” Regis asked as he turned to his sworn shield, a demon turned best friend. The man was stern, but there was a softness to him that even Hell couldn’t touch. The pits couldn’t destroy that which kept him holding onto his humanity, even after he became a demon. There was an integrity to him that couldn’t be denied. His silver hair was kept shaved down in the style of the human military, and his blue eyes were always searching for danger. Tall and proud, Clarus was one of the rare demons who Regis knew he could trust. Ignis was another one. Or, at least, he hoped Ignis could be trusted.

“You’re too worried about the prince,” Clarus offered. He wore a black and silver suit, a sword kept on his side even though he had access to Regis’s armiger. Clarus had said that he didn’t want to lose even a millisecond of time if it was the difference between life and death. He had been well trained when he was human and fighting the crusaders. “Have faith in him. He will be successful.”

“Faith?” Regis asked with a laugh. He thought of Aulea. She would almost certainly yell at him and scold him for even involving Noctis in the first place. Why had he fallen for her? He swore she had some sort of power that not even the King of Hell could defy. He missed it every day. Eternity seemed so much emptier without her. “It is hard to have faith when I am the King of Hell.”

“I have faith in you, your majesty,” Clarus explained. That meant more coming from Clarus than from other demons or loyal subjects. When Clarus said it, it was the truth. “You were able to recognize my value when I was still in the pits. You were able to recognize Ignis’s value as a confidant to Noctis and a son to you. And you can see that Noctis has the strength to bring the Nephilim back to Hell.”

“I hope you are right,” Regis said. He paused, considering how he should explain this to Clarus. Ignis had worried him with his update, and since then he hadn’t heard from them at all. It did not suit him to be kept waiting in the dark, but he had to trust in his son’s ability to bring the Nephilim home. “Ignis indicated that my son may have fallen for the Nephilim.”

“Really?” Clarus asked in surprise. Regis nodded. It surprised him as well. Noctis had never been interested in being with anyone. For him to fall so hard and fast for the Nephilim was as much as a surprise as it was terrifying. It gave the Nephilim power over Noctis that didn’t suit well with Regis. “This could work to our benefit.”

“Or to our detriment,” Regis pointed out. He sighed. “The only thing I can do is wait and see what the future will bring. I do not like it.”

Regis’s phone rang, as if Ignis could sense that Regis was upset that he was being kept in the dark. He took it out of his jacket pocket and answered it, trying not to sound as annoyed at he felt. He had to trust in his sons, whether or not one was unofficially adopted. Ignis had proved to be more adequate in his ability to make snap decisions anyway. This was as much a test for him as it was for Noctis. If they succeeded then Regis was going to determine if it was due to Noctis’s strength or Ignis’s. The result of this would determine who ended up on the throne.

“Regis here,” the king answered the phone, as if Ignis didn’t know he was calling the King of Hell. “Please give me some good news.”

“It’s not bad news,” Ignis said with a reluctance that made Regis pause. “The good news is that we are all safe in Purgatory. Noctis is sticking close to the Nephilim, and we are beginning to train him to hone his powers. I suspect that by the time we’re done, the Nephilim will be thoroughly devoted to your son.”

“That is good news,” Regis considered. He wondered how Ignis was holding up in Purgatory without a supply of men to keep him fed. “And what is the bad news?”

There was a pause. A slight hesitation that indicated things may not be going as well as Ignis was letting on. “I suspect your son will be equally devoted to the Nephilim. It doesn’t necessarily mean that we won’t succeed. There just may be… complications. And the celestial fates are involved.”

“The fates?” Regis asked in surprise. He drummed his fingers on the top of his cane in contemplation, a tick that he developed after his injury. “Heaven must have hired them to do a job. If they’re involved then this will be complicated enough without my son falling for the Nephilim. If he does then… I hope the Nephilim is strong enough to fight them off. Lunafreya still holds a grudge against Noctis. Tell me, Ignis. How do you see this going?”

“With enough patience and time, I suspect that Prom-... The Nephilim will follow your son anywhere,” Ignis advised. So he was on a first name basis with the Nephilim. Dangerous, indeed. “He is half-human after all. There is a strong possibility that he will fall for him. I can already see it happening.”

“Good,” Regis replied. “Keep me updated on how things progress. And if Lunafreya does get involved and it gets out of hand, let me know. I have no qualms about going to Purgatory and intervening.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Ignis replied. There was something in his voice that Regis picked up on. Something strained and painful. He was hiding something, but it wasn’t anything to do with their assignment. It was a personal pain.

“How are you holding up?” Regis asked him, his concern switching from one son to the next. “Have you found a way to keep yourself nourished?”

“I have it handled,” Ignis replied stiffly. As much as Regis considered him a son, Ignis was far more reserved and closed off than Noctis was. Over the years, Regis had been able to tell when Ignis was putting on a front. He knew that Ignis needed a reminder from time to time that he truly did care about him. His sons were his weak spot, and he knew it.

“Ignis?” Regis said into the phone. “Tell me you’re doing alright. We may have a mission ahead of us, but I do not wish to see either of my sons suffer for it.”

“I am doing well, your majesty,” Ignis lied. It was so obvious that he was lying, but Regis wouldn’t press the issue. His demon son was not one to appreciate it, and Ignis would tell him if he needed to. “Thank you for asking.”

“You can reach out to me,” Regis reminded him. “You are my son as much as Noctis is.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” Ignis replied. “I will keep you updated as things progress.”

The call ended, and Regis put his phone away with another sigh. Clarus looked at him expectantly, waiting for a verdict. It was difficult to determine what the future was going to hold, but he knew that if things progressed the way he was concerned about, which they almost certainly would, he would have to get involved at some point. It wasn’t even Noctis’s or Ignis’s failure at that point. Wherever the celestial fates went, chaos followed. Why did he think it was such a good idea for his son to date Lunafreya at one point? Not all grabs for power were good decisions.

“Your majesty?” Clarus asked when Regis stayed silent for an exceptionally long time. He was lost in his thoughts, trying to determine just what the correct course of action would be.

“When your son defied you,” Regis asked, knowing he was touching on a sensitive topic. “What did you do?”

Clarus was silent for a while. Regis felt a bit bad about it. He was digging up a past that Clarus wanted to forget. He never told him the full story, but there was something in the way he looked out on the throne room with such pain that there was more that Regis didn’t know. He wondered if it was why Clarus had been the one to support Ignis’s unofficial adoption into the royal family. Maybe he was just reading too much into it. Then again, losing a son was never an easy task, and it terrified Regis to think about losing Noctis or Ignis.

“I didn’t want him to, of course,” Clarus replied finally. The pain in his eyes was reflected in the black tears that gathered at the edges. Regis hit a sore spot, but he needed his friend’s guidance. “But I couldn’t stop him. I had to respect it. I can only hope that he’s in a better place because of it. I made many sacrifices to ensure the safety of his soul in the end.”

Regis nodded in understanding. “A parent would do anything to protect a child.” He thought back to Aulea, about how she had protected Noctis while on Eos. Just what was she even doing there with him in the first place? There were too many questions that went unanswered about her death. Perhaps in time he would find some clarity.

“Do you really think you’ll throw Ignis and Noctis in the pits if they’re unsuccessful?” Clarus asked him. “I apologize if the question is too forward, your majesty.”

“It’s quite alright, Clarus,” Regis replied with a smirk. “If it was anyone else asking, I’d throw them in the pits.” He sighed again. There had been a lot of sighing regarding his two troublesome children. “I don’t know, Clarus. I know as a king I should. But as a father? A slap on the wrists and my bitter disappointment should be enough.”

“You are correct, your majesty,” Clarus agreed. “There is nothing more horrifying than disappointing a parent when set upon a task required of them.”

“True,” Regis considered. “Then again, they don’t need to know I won’t throw them into the pits, do they?”

“No they do not, your majesty,” Clarus replied. “I just hope, for all our sakes, they are successful in their mission.”

“As do I, Clarus.” Regis thought about his son falling in love with a Nephilim. He thought about Lunafreya being involved. It would only be a matter of time before he had to intervene. He could feel it in his bones. “As do I.”

Chapter Text

Purgatory wasn’t the horribly damning place that it felt like when they first arrived. Well, Prompto never felt like it was horribly damning, but now that he knew that he wasn’t going to die there, he felt a sense of relief that he didn’t know he needed to feel. It was like he could breathe, and the feeling that he belonged there in the Hall of Lost Souls passed fairly quickly. It was as if he had heard the call of the void, the call of Death beckoning him towards the future that had been written and undone. Now that he was granted his life, the feeling passed, and he was feeling like he was waking from a bad dream, the dense fog only outside and no longer clouding his thoughts.

Of course his reality was still pretty difficult. There was still so much to contend with, but now he had direction. He had intention and a path to pursue. As much as he knew that things were going to be difficult going forward, as long as he maintained his momentum towards his goal then he knew he could achieve it. It was difficult to think that Prompto knew he had to rely on those like Noctis for help, but it also gave him a strange sense of satisfaction. He had never had friends before. Nyx had been the only one in his life, and his friends weren’t exactly Prompto’s friends.

Then again, he couldn’t really consider these three his friends. There was a longing that was growing in Prompto, a longing to know Gladio, to befriend Ignis, to be near Noctis at all moments. He didn’t like it, how his eyes naturally followed Noctis whenever he was in the room, and he hated it even more how his eyes and heart searched for him when he wasn’t there. He had voiced his concerns to Cor, knowing that he was being foolish. Cor had only reassured him that he was just seeking comfort through this difficult time. It wasn’t anything more than him trying to form meaningful connections since he lost Nyx and everything else in his life.

Taking that to heart, Prompto knew that he couldn’t just be with anyone after everything that happened. He needed the space to heal, to figure out who he was, and to determine if Noctis would really betray him. There had been a shift in Gladio and Ignis’s personalities after they connected with each other. It was as if Gladio had softened his opinion of all of them while Ignis closed himself off to the world. He was still kind, as far as a demon could be kind, but there was a wall that was put up between them that not even Noctis could break through. Prompto knew that wall well. It was the wall of protection. He didn’t want to get hurt.

Prompto ignored all of the personal emotions in place of focusing on what he had to do. His dream propelled him forward, and when Death had taken him seriously he knew it wasn’t just as simple as a nightmare. He had seen his father, was tethered to him, unable to tear his eyes away until he found a way to free him. Cor was supportive of his decision to find him and save him, especially since he had a pretty good idea of where he was. There was a lot that Cor wasn’t saying, just as there was so much the others weren’t saying, but he wasn’t going to let it deter him. It was odd to think that Noctis, literal prince of Hell, was the most trustworthy person in his life.

Training started bright and early every morning for the next three weeks, making time pass in a sleepy blur. Promtpo found that he was awake soon enough when Cor had him running drills to build up his stamina. Noctis showed up the first day, thinking he would get a pass alongside Ignis and Gladio. None of them got a pass. Prompto was lucky that he ran for exercise, even running faster than Ignis with his legs that never ended, but the rest felt like it was impossible. There were situps, pushups, chinups, and so much strength training that Prompto thought his arms and legs were going to fall off at the end of every day.

Noctis seemed to struggle more than the others, much to their surprise. They all expected Prompto to struggle the most. Prompto pointed out that he had lived as a human his entire life, having to deal with the struggles that went with it when it was necessary. All but Noctis conceded that Prompto had probably fought harder than Noctis ever had to. Noctis took offense to it at first, but when Prompto smiled at him, he only blushed and ultimately agreed. On the third day, when Gladio had to force Noctis out of bed angrily, making Prompto laugh and Ignis crack a rare smile, Noctis had to admit that he may not have been trained as hard as the others.

That was why Cor treated them all like they were all undertrained. And they were. Gladio was great at brute force and strength, but his cardio was lacking. Ignis was lithe and fit, but his brute force was a weak point. Noctis was clearly great at his tactical abilities, as he demonstrated with a flourish on the first day, and then there was Prompto. Prompto could run, and that was about it. He wasn’t particularly graceful or strong or tactical. He was just helpless and fast. It was something he noticed as they worked out, even just doing all the strength training exercises and cardio that Cor put them through.

It made him overly self-conscious each time he showed up at the training center, wearing the workout shorts and tank top he was provided. The day Death had declared that they would all live was the day that their rooms were made abundant with clothes for their stay, most of it varying shades of grey. Prompto had gotten used to wearing the tight running shorts and tank tops daily, and he had almost gotten used to Noctis staring at him each and every time he bent over while he was wearing them. He wasn’t used to Noctis wearing the same style of shorts in the least.

The four of them spent the first three weeks going through a different level of hell that Prompto was sure that Cor secretly knew about. Even Gladio was wondering what they had done to deserve such pain, but Cor only smirked and said that if he couldn’t keep up then Heaven would welcome him home. They all knew that they were guests in Purgatory, but none more so than Ignis, Noctis, and Gladio. The branding on their wrists to prevent them from hurting Prompto reminded him up it every day. Prompto felt terrible about it, but what he didn’t tell them was that Cor was the one who demanded it. Prompto would have been fine to just trust them.

Now that they had spent the first three weeks being ran ragged, Cor decided it was time for Prompto to start learning how to use his power. This was where Noctis and Gladio were absolutely essential. Gladio seemed hesitant to help Prompto learn how to use his power, but he agreed pretty quickly when Ignis had advised him to do it. It was obvious that Gladio was trying to reach out to Ignis the more Ignis pulled away, and the more Ignis wanted him to do something, the more Gladio agreed. Without them, Prompto would be left in the dark on how to even access his power, let alone use it. He thought it would be easy to follow their directions. He didn’t realize just how wrong he was.

That morning they started out like any other morning. The training grounds were huge and sprawling, a center for anyone and everyone in Purgatory to hone their skills. Kept in the center of the Hall, the sprawling fitness arena was kept in the open air. There were the core physical training centers where the four of them had been strength training for weeks. Then there were training mats for sparring with every practice weapon imaginable, including a gun range for them to practice their marksmanship. Prompto really wanted to try that area. Then there was the area for reapers to hone their magical abilities, the place where they would end up spending much of their time in the coming weeks.

Cor had decided that they had gotten into the training routine well enough for them to keep the morning hours for their strength training while moving onto honing Prompto’s powers after lunch. Prompto was the only one who needed to eat, but they had all taken up the routine of eating with him so he wasn’t embarrassed or felt awkward. There was even a small dining room area that had been reserved for their meals. Prompto suspected that Noctis had something to do with it, but when he was asked, Noctis only blushed and said he didn’t know what he was talking about.

The lunch hour was spent with Prompto and Noctis chatting excitedly, getting to know each other as friends often did. Even Gladio and Ignis chimed in, making it feel much more like they were friends rather than the three of them wanting to use Prompto for their own nefarious purposes. Ignis was still fairly closed off, but as long as the conversation wasn’t about him then he was fine. Prompto wasn’t going to push it, especially since he was obviously avoiding any topics that concerned his personal life. They didn’t need to be burdened with such tales of misery.

When they finished lunch, all of them aching and sore as was the new norm, they made their way back to the training grounds. Prompto’s excitement at getting to know how to use his Nephilim power was nearly overwhelming him. He was practically jumping up and down, even making Ignis smile, at his delight. Despite the real danger that was looming on the horizon, Prompto knew that this was a great opportunity to find his own power and no longer feel so weak and inadequate.

Cor was waiting for them when they stepped onto the training grounds. It was odd, seeing him standing there, alone in the sprawling expanse of the arena. Prompto had never see the arena completely empty, save for now. There was an eerie feeling to the field that set Prompto on edge for a reason other than his excitement. It made him worry about what was going to happen. Was he going to end up hurting someone?

“We should start with the wings,” Cor offered as they approached them, all of them hushed and quiet. “I asked for the time alone in the event that things get dangerous.”

“You’re afraid I’m going to hurt someone,” Prompto said softly, his heart racing. This was the last thing he wanted.

Cor nodded. “A young angel, whether fallen or not, is a dangerous thing. While we have an idea of what powers you might have, there are clearly going to be some powers that we haven’t seen before. It is better for us to be safe.”

“Sure, I get it,” Prompto replied with a nervous laugh. “Better safe than sorry. I guess I should figure this out on my own? I don’t want to hurt any of you guys.”

Ignis looked a bit surprised by that statement, as did Gladio. But Noctis only looked pleased, like he was excited to know that Prompto didn’t want to hurt him. Prompto thought it was cute that Noctis was so excited for each thought that Prompto had for him. He blushed when he realized that he thought Noctis was cute. It was a thought that wasn’t helpful to him right now, something that he would have to tuck away for a day much later on.

“I’m sticking around,” Noctis said stubbornly, puffing out his chest a bit. Prompto stifled a giggle. “I can take care of myself. And someone’s got to help you with this. It’s not like Cor knows how to just make your wings appear on command.”

“We’re all staying,” Ignis said. Gladio looked pleased that Ignis had spoken for him. “I will be on hand to make sure no one does anything foolish. Even Cor. And Noctis learned how to harness his power as a fallen angel when I was around. I think I could provide some advice from time to time.”

“Thanks,” Prompto said, shuffling and looking down in embarrassment. It was awkward being the only one not even knowing how to access his power. “I’ll try my best, I guess.”

“I just don’t get it, though,” Gladio considered. “For angels, our wings are hidden as tattoos on our arms. For fallen angels, it’s a scar on their backs. But you don’t have either, do you?”

“Maybe it’s his freckles?” Noctis asked, making Prompto blush at the consideration. He was so self-conscious about his freckles, but Noctis only looked at them like he wanted to kiss each one of them. Prompto wouldn’t allow himself to wonder what Noctis’s lips felt like against his skin.

“His father has freckles too,” Cor countered, contemplative and considering. “I wonder if it’s just suppressed from the spell on your wrist. We might need to find a way to bring it out of you.”

Prompto didn’t like the sound of that. It sounded a lot like torture under a different name. No one really said anything against it, though, meaning they all were in agreement. Instead, they all looked contemplative like they were trying to figure out just what would draw out a Nephilim’s power. If getting shot, almost abducted, and nearly killed several times didn’t do it, then what would?

“I think you need to think of something that really pisses you off,” Noctis considered. “Like it makes you angry beyond words. Whenever I need my wings to come out, I think of the anger and rage that’s inside me, and I just let it go.”

“It’s more than a bit emo,” Ignis said with a teasing smirk. Noctis pushed him, making the succubus laugh at his plight while Noctis blushed bright red.

“That’s the opposite of what I do,” Gladio argued. “I think about my love for God and my devotion to him and the love overwhelms me and my wings just come out. Love it what does it for me.”

“Sounds ridiculously cliche,” Ignis groaned with an eyeroll. “It’s even worse than just love. It’s your love of God.”

“Well I don’t love God,” Prompto considered. He paused, blushing bright red in the memory of his pain. It was embarrassing to think that, to remember all the times he had been hurt. They didn’t need that burden and would likely only think of him as someone to be pitied. “And, well, all the loved ones in my life have either abandoned me or hurt me to some extent. It isn’t like I have a lot of positive memories around that. And I’m just not the type to get angry. Hurt, yes, but not angry.”

“We could always try the method of letting him sink or swim,” Ignis proposed. He looked at a climbing wall in the strength training area, tall and terrifyingly high. “Have him climb to the top and just jump off.”

“What?!” Gladio and Noctis said at the same time.

“Not a chance,” Cor replied sternly. “We’re trying to help him, not kill him.”

The conversation devolved quickly, all of them arguing about how best to provoke Prompto’s power. It began to escalate from simple arguments to anger and the four of them snapping at each other. The more and more they argued, the more Prompto was forgotten in favor of whatever squabbling they had been holding over the course of the three weeks, and he had the sudden notion that they had been nice in an effort to appease him. Whether it was for him or because Noctis asked them to get along, Prompto couldn’t say. All he knew was that it just meant that they were hiding their true feelings from him, just as he had been lied to before.

Frustrated, Prompto looked at the climbing wall that Ignis had pointed out. He stalked off, loud to make it known that he was walking away. The others kept arguing, their bickering escalating as Prompto walked further and further away from them. They didn’t care about bringing out his power for him to be strong, to do what he had to do, or to even just not be powerless anymore. It was entirely for them to find ways to use his power later on to their advantage, or just kill him when he wasn’t looking. He felt hurt, embarrassed, and tearful to know that he had been foolish enough to believe that they actually wanted to help.

As Prompto approached the climbing wall, he didn’t hesitate even though his heart was pounding erratically in his chest. Carefully, he climbed the wall, his arms aching from training in the morning. Nevertheless, he kept going, higher and higher, not daring to look down at the bottom while he kept going upward. His embarrassment and hurt at the knowledge that none of them really cared propelled him upwards until his hand was touching the very top of the wall.

Sighing in relief that he made it that far, Prompto pulled himself up to the top and sat on the climbing wall, his legs dangling off dangerously, swinging back and forth dramatically to try and get their attention. The others were still bickering until Noctis finally looked around for him. Prompto gave an angry smile and a wave, feeling like a fool for even thinking Noctis liked him enough to want to actually help him just for the sake of it. He was still the prince of Hell, no matter how different he was from what he expected. He was still trying to use him for whatever purpose the King of Hell had for him.

“You’re such an idiot, Prompto,” Prompto said quietly to himself through gritted teeth. Noctis was ignoring the bickering around him in favor of walking over to the climbing wall. The others caught his gaze eventually, and all of them looked panicked to see him so high up. It was difficult to see that far down, but Prompto could at least see that they were shocked. “They’re upset that their most valuable asset is out of their reach.”

“Prompto?!” Cor called as they all reached the base of the climbing wall. “Get down from there! You don’t know what’s going to happen if you jump!”

Prompto stood up and wiped the dust from his shorts as he looked down at them. “Sure I know what will happen! There are three possible. The first is that Ignis is right and I spread my wings and fly. The second is that I fall to my death and I’m done for. And the third is that one of you catches me because you can’t help but see the thing you’re trying to use and control break.”

“Prompto!” Noctis called. “I’m coming to get you! Hold on and I’ll be up in a minute.”

Prompto saw Noctis’s beautiful wings begin to unfurl, large and black and shining like an obsidian dagger. They overwhelmed Noctis’s frame so that even in his exercise clothes he looked so beautiful and dark and everything that made Prompto think so many dangerous thoughts. It wasn’t enough to make Prompto any less angry at himself and hurt because of them. Looking down, it was suddenly so much scarier to think about jumping and just seeing what happened, but it wasn’t going to help if he didn’t try. And what was the worst that could happen? He died? Right now that seemed like a better option than being used, ignored, and treated like an object.

Before Noctis could get off the ground, Prompto turned around, spreading his arms wide at his side, his heart racing knowing that he could just be making a stupid mistake. The others down below screamed, all of them worried that their precious Nephilim would die before they had a chance to get what they needed from him. With a deep breath, and maybe a death wish in his heart after all, he fell backwards, falling downward in a whirlwind of air blowing through his hair and ruffling his clothes.

At first it was a freeing feeling, falling into the wind giving him a lightness to his body he hadn’t experienced before. Then there was the fear, the panic, as the ground began to race towards him faster than he anticipated. His wings weren’t coming. There was a possibility that he wouldn’t even have them in the first place. And it was obvious that he wasn’t going to make it to the ground without some sort of injury. This was it. It wasn’t going to go well, no matter how he looked at it. Prompto closed his eyes to enjoy the last moments of the fall before things ended for good.

Before he could hit the ground, there was the sound of wings around him, behind him, coming towards him. They weren’t Prompto’s wings, but someone else’s. Strong arms wrapped around his arms, pulling him into the body of his rescuer. There was a moment where Prompto had the opportunity to look behind him, just for a split moment, and he saw Noctis holding him, his black wings fluttering rapidly as he looked like he was desperately trying to save Prompto. It made Prompto’s heart stutter, seeing his beautiful features so up close, to be wrapped in his arms, to see his wings beating so tirelessly around him, their black feathers as dark as the void of the universe.

There was little time to think from there. Noctis couldn’t fly fast enough to stop their downward trajectory. It was too sudden, too quick, for an angel to correctly catch, calibrate, and save them both. He managed to stop their downward spiral just enough to make it so the impact wasn’t so hard, but they hit the ground hard and Noctis let out a groan from taking the brunt of the impact. Prompto immediately felt guilty for jumping, not thinking about how it would have hurt Noctis. He didn’t want that. He just wanted to prove a point.

“I’m sorry,” Prompto immediately said as they both lay there, panting. He felt fresh tears come to his eyes, his heart aching at the thought of hurting someone else. There was no way he could just willingly hurt anyone, even if they treated him like less than them. Noctis’s arms stayed around him, holding him tighter, nearly squeezing him, as Prompto laid on top of him. His heart was racing as he felt Noctis’s arms around his, feeling both comforted and afraid by it. He was terrified that Noctis was hurt. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Noctis replied with a groan in his voice. “Just a few scrapes. I’ll heal from it quickly. Puts an entirely different meaning to fallen angel though.”

Noctis wheezed at his own joke as the others ran towards them, looking at Prompto in both anger and concern. Cor looked the angriest out of them, and Prompto avoided his gaze as Noctis finally released him and they both sat up. Noctis’s legs were sprawled out in front of him with Prompto sitting between them, both awkward and blushing at their proximity. Prompto couldn’t quite remember why he was so upset in the first place. Noctis had that ability to throw him off guard so easily, and he kept reminding himself that it was because he was just trying to form some sort of connection through all this madness.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Cor shouted at Prompto. His eyes were vividly blue in his anger. “You could have been hurt, or killed! You could have gotten Noctis hurt! Is that what you wanted?!”

Prompto shrank back from the sudden anger. He expected something, but he didn’t expect this. It was terrifying, and he thought of all the times he had been his and hurt when he was at conversion camp. There was always a counselor standing over him, shouting at him like this, ready to strike him at a moment’s notice for being gay. It brought him back to a point of cowering, his fear gripping him, making him freeze from the overwhelming anticipation of pain and torture that he had endured when he was a young teen.

“Cor,” Gladio tried. He reached out and put a hand on Cor’s shoulder. “Stop it. You’re scaring him. We get it. It scared you. It scared us all.”

“He needs to know how serious this is!” Cor screamed, making Prompto shrink back even more. Noctis wrapped his arms around him protectively, pulling him towards a safety he knew he couldn’t trust. There was no safety to be found anywhere. He was alone, and it didn’t matter how strong or comforting Noctis’s arms felt around him, holding him tightly.

“Enough Cor,” Noctis snapped while Prompto was left shaking. “Can’t you see he’s terrified? And it’s not because of the jump. He’s afraid of you.”

Cor stopped then, taking stock of Prompto. But Prompto wasn’t paying attention. He was looking down at his hands, shaking in his terror. To him he wasn’t in Purgatory anymore. His mind was taking him back to the conversion camp, to the bright sunny campgrounds that weren’t at all like they appeared to be. He was alone, in a room with one of the counselors, being screamed at for being an abomination before he was struck with a belt. Tears came to his eyes as he remembered the feel of the sting of the belt on his skin, the welts where he had been hurt, the small scars that were almost imperceptible amongst his freckled skin.

“Prompto,” Cor tried as he reached out to him. Prompto screamed, shielding his face with his hands, waiting for the belt to strike him again.

Only this time, there was no pain. A soft silver light began to glow in his chest, spreading out warm and echoing in his heart. It was strong, comfortable, pain free. The warmth spread from his chest to his back, the ache both gentle and sweet, like he was being held by a lover trying to take his pain away. It was almost like how it was when Nyx had held him through the panic attacks, only this was purer, full of kindness and gentleness that Prompto had never experienced in his life.

Noctis stood up quickly and moved away as the others took a step back. Prompto wondered why at first until he heard it. There was the soft fluttering of wings, and he looked around, coming back to his strange reality. Growing from his back, giving him the opportunity to fly away from the grief and pain, were wings that were large, larger than Noctis’s. They were beautiful, pure silver and shining like fabled ore of old, save for the tips of the feathers, as if they had been dipped in liquid black. In awe, Prompto stared at how wonderful, how amazing they were to him.

The wings had formed out of a need for him to protect himself from the hurt, so deep and scarring that it would never quite go away. Prompto stared at them, realizing that they were exactly what he always sought. They were an escape from his pain, they were created out of the need to run away. To fly away. And right now, Prompto wanted nothing more than to fly away. There was something in him that told him to run away from all the madness, to fly away from the pain, to escape the falsehoods, if only for a short while.

Prompto’s wings, beautiful and soft, moved behind him, pulling him upwards until he was hovering just off the ground, bobbing gently, his feet grazing the ground beneath him. The others looked at him in awe and shock, a pain etched in Cor’s face as he seemed to realize the reason why Prompto’s wings had suddenly sprouted. Noctis stared at him in awe and admiration, like he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Gladio and Ignis both looked on in shock at his divinity.

No one was quite as surprised as Prompto was. It felt like there was a power overwhelming him, his wings only precipitating what he truly was capable of. There was a moment where he looked around at the towering steeples of the Hall of Lost Souls. The decision came to him before he even knew it, his wings moving before his mind could tell them to. The others screamed for him to come back, but Prompto flew away quickly, hoping no one would follow. His body felt as free as if he were falling in the air, but there was more joy in knowing that he wouldn’t just fall. He could hold himself up and never have to worry about others protecting him.

Prompto found a comfortable spot amongst the dense fog atop the Hall of Lost Souls, a small part of the roof that was a corner where one wall met another. He sat on the roof, looking out into the void of fog, his wings fluttering behind him as his heart began to think about how he had been so foolish to even believe that any of them really cared like he thought. Prompto chastised himself for thinking that three weeks would erase all the things he had been willfully ignorant about.

At the end of the day, he was only valued for what he could do for them. Their bickering, their arguing, had proved that they had only been superficially been trying. Would they ever stop lying to him? Would they ever stop trying to cover up what they were thinking or feeling just for the sake of making sure he came into his power, harnessed it, then became what they wanted him to be? Cor’s screaming still echoed in his mind and heart, everything so painful and hurting so clearly.

Prompto had never felt so alone before, and his silver wings tainted black only curled around his body protectively, as if he were giving himself a hug while he cried, seeking a comfort that he could never quite reach. It had never quite been real, and the wings he had were a product of him trying to find it. He was always running, always trying to find himself while he was lost in the memories of his pain and torment that he thought he had a chance of escaping. There was no healing from this, no trusting anyone. He had been foolish to think he could focus on his goal and save his father. He had been so stupid.

The wings curled around him tighter, his tears cascading around him as Prompto sat on the roof, waiting for the day that his pain would somehow end.

***

“Someone needs to go after him,” Cor said as he stared up at the roof, all of them hoping that Prompto hadn’t flown away for good. He had been so wrapped up in his worry and fear, making him miss what the others could so obviously seen. Prompto was terrified of him, and Noctis could see the pain etched on Cor’s face at the thought.

“I’ll go,” Noctis said. He looked at Cor, trying not to be angry at him. It was difficult.

He felt Prompto trembling beneath his touch, some painful memory evoked now that Cor had been so vicious towards him. Prompto had only talked about the good things, never mentioning his past or his pains, never opening up to any of them. As much as he discussed things that he believed in, hopes he had, and things he liked and wanted to do, he never once mentioned anything personal about his life experiences. This must have been the reason why. There was too much pain and agony behind it.

“I should,” Cor began, but he stopped, frowning. “I didn’t mean to hurt him. I was so worried.”

“We get it,” Gladio said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We were all being too pigheaded, and like idiots we let our emotions towards each other get in the way. It’s not like we’re human. Prompto is fragile, and we need to take more care.”

“No he’s not,” Noctis replied. Why did everyone think that Prompto was so powerless and helpless? Noctis had seen it the first moment he spoke to him through the wall of the motel. There was so much strength to him that even through his pain and fear, he still found a way to want to find the strength to continue on. He buried his pain and fear so none of them could see it. “I’m going after him. Don’t wait for us. We’ll come back when he’s ready.”

Noctis took off before they could stop him, his wings beating around him in a rush of air that always took him out of his fear and worry and brought him a sense of delight and happiness. But right now he had to find Prompto. His back ached from where he hit the ground, his arms and legs scraped and bruised, but none of it would matter until he found Prompto. Why was it that he wanted nothing more than to protect and hold Prompto, but it seemed like they only ever found a way to push him away?

The fog was still dense and difficult to navigate through as he looked for Prompto, trying to find him somewhere on the roof of the Hall. It was nearly impossible to see anything in front of him, but then he saw it. It was a soft glimmer of light refracting off Prompto’s wings, too beautiful and inviting. Noctis’s wings were black, full of anger that he had been taught to harness from an early age. He suspected Gladio’s were pure white due to his loyal devotion and love of God, as most angel’s were.

Prompto’s were something else, something beautiful and aching at the same time. They weren’t happy or sad, more like a whisper of a wish for what should have been in his life. Without knowing anything about him, Noctis knew that his wings were the product of so much pain that he successfully hid. How could he know about it when he never bothered to ask? Prompto wasn’t going to openly divulge anything when it was obvious that he didn’t trust him. There was only one way to make him trust him, and Noctis knew that he had to do it no matter the cost.

Carefully, Noctis flew towards Prompto. He was within his line of sight, nestled between two pillars where the Hall came to a corner, his wings wrapped around him like a cocoon. The wind that Noctis’s wings created made Prompto’s wings flutter, the silver and black dancing like jewels of Prompto’s soul calling to him. Carefully, Noctis landed on the roof, his feet gently touching before he found a sturdier foothold. Prompto looked up, startled and frightened.

“I’m sorry,” Noctis said quickly, his heart aching. “I thought about how you were when you first came to Purgatory, and I didn’t want to leave you alone like that again. I know you might want nothing to do with us right now, but I didn’t want to leave you alone if that’s what you need.”

Prompto looked at him tearfully, contemplating what Noctis had said. His eyes looked so beautiful, but the quiver in his lip made Noctis’s heart break. “Y-yeah. I know you don’t really care, but I don’t want to be alone. Even if it’s fake, and you’re only doing this to make sure I come back to Hell with you.”

There was a heartbreak deep within Noctis that made tears come to his eyes. Of course Prompto would think that. He had thought he was taking an interest in him, but when he thought about it, there was little that he knew about Prompto, the real Prompto. He knew Prompto liked the idea of seeing chocobos in person, that he was in love with photography, that he was an avid runner at one point in his life. But what about his parents? What about his relationship with Nyx, as much as Noctis hated to think about it? Where was the evidence that Noctis actually cared about him?

Noctis sat next to Prompto, his wings folding behind him to give him space next to Prompto. Prompto kept his wings around his body, like a protective barrier, and Noctis couldn’t blame him. He sat as close as possible, but he also wanted to honor his space and respect the distance that he needed. Noctis knew that there wouldn’t be another chance to show him that he truly cared, that he wanted to know about him. He was just so bad at it that he didn’t really know how to go about it outside of making grand gestures that he had watched his father make with his mother. Prompto didn’t want grand gestures, though. That much was clear.

“Cor was really worried that you hurt yourself,” Noctis offered, knowing that saying he cared wasn’t going to help. “It doesn’t help with the anger, and it was uncalled for, but I just thought you should know that not all anger is out of hatred and a desire to hurt. Sometimes it’s out of worry and fear that someone important is going to be lost.”

“I know,” Prompto replied quietly, looking into the dense fog in front of him. It sounded like he really didn’t know, like he was just saying it because he was too afraid of broaching the topic beyond that. “Yelling like that, anger like that, it really scares me.”

Prompto opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then closed it like he thought better of it. Noctis knew he had to be the one to ask the question. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Prompto sighed, looking down at his feet covered by his wings. There was a moment where Noctis thought he was going to say no, but slowly his wings began to unfurl and fold back into him, like he was taking a risk but knew that it just might be worth it. Prompto was giving him one last chance for Noctis to betray his trust. For Noctis to prove he could be trusted. He refused to let this moment go.

Noctis stared at the pattern the wings left on Prompto’s arms. It was beautiful, a design of something that Noctis had never seen before. Instead of it being a tattoo of wings, it was a tattoo of swirling patterns of vines, thorns, like his wings were both protecting and scarring him. It didn’t just cover his arms, but descended down his back, starting at the base of his neck like the point of a dagger. Noctis suspected that it covered his spine entirely. It was so beautiful, so alluring, that Noctis knew he was in love with him in that moment. There was nothing to be done for it. He was hopeless and devoted to Prompto and Prompto only. If that meant being in the pits for the next thousand years, he would do it.

“Growing up, my adoptive parents were religious zealots,” Prompto began uncertainly, drawing Noctis out of his reverie at Prompto’s beauty. “I was a gay kid trying to hide it while still trying to figure out who I was. They found out that I was dating a boy in middle school, and they sent me to a conversion camp. It was the worst experience of my life, worse than anything that had happened recently. They beat me mercilessly just for being who I am. I learned quickly that it was better to pretend that they had suddenly turned me straight. Even then, it went on for six months until I was sent home.

“After that I tried to hide it,” Prompto continued while Noctis listened to his past in shock and horror. How could any parent do that to their child? “But how can you hide who you are? When I was fifteen I ran away from home and eventually became an emancipated minor. Since then I’ve been on my own. Well, until Nyx came along. I think he was the first person I didn’t feel like I had to hide that from. And he was the first person to just hold me without expecting anything in return when I was upset or panicked. Now it’s just me, and I don’t know how to handle it.”

“Can I… Can I hold you?” Noctis offered, trying not to blush. Prompto looked at him, clearly wondering if he was coming onto him. As much as Noctis wanted to hold him romantically, it wasn’t his intention right now. “If you want to be held right now and feel that comfort, I can give that to you. No strings attached.”

Prompto thought about it, the silence between them dragging out until Noctis was sure that he had asked the wrong question. But then he nodded, and Noctis opened his arms to him, his heart beating erratically but his mind sure of what he was offering. Prompto sat next to Noctis, his legs draping sideways across the prince’s thighs. He leaned in as Noctis wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into his chest, letting his head rest on him while he put his hand on Prompto’s waist for support.

Noctis’s heart was beating erratically fast, there was no doubting that. But there was also a comfort to holding Prompto, to giving him the space to get what he needed instead of just taking from him. Prompto wrapped his arms around his neck, making Noctis’s heart flutter and his stomach churn with a sweet discomfort. His black wings wrapped around them both, and he just held Prompto like that, letting him find comfort in the touch he so desperately needed without demanding anything of him. While his body lusted for Prompto, his heart had fallen for him and was more than content to hold him like this forever if it meant Prompto was going to be safe and feel the warmth and comfort he needed.

They stayed like that for a long while, Prompto’s lips nuzzling into Noctis’s neck. He doubted Prompto even knew he was doing it, how it made Noctis’s body buzz with an electricity that could only be desire and love. Noctis thought about how he could protect Prompto. No, not protect him. How he could ensure that Prompto knew he could trust him. Prompto was clearly capable of protecting himself, even if it wasn’t what they expected.

There was only one way to ensure his safety in Hell and to convince Prompto that he wasn’t going to betray him. While he had to do something to make Prompto believe he could be trusted, he didn’t know if Prompto could handle or would want such a gesture. For the time being, he just held the Nephilim for as long as he wanted him to. It had to be at least an hour, and Noctis’s arms were aching, but he didn’t let him go to the point he thought Prompto had fallen asleep.

“Thank you,” Prompto muttered finally, his breath tickling Noctis’s neck and sending a chill up his spine. Noctis felt so comfortable with him that he wondered if there was some sort of magic that was being woven without them even knowing it. “I don’t know why, but even knowing that you’re going to betray me one day, I just can’t not trust you. Am I just stupid for thinking that?”

“No,” Noctis breathed, his heart soaring. Prompto trusted him. He was angry at him, but he still trusted him. “Prompto… I can give you the mark if you will let me. I want you to always trust me. I want you to always know that I am here for you. And if it means I have to forsake the rest, I would do it. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. And I’m sorry for all the hurt I’ve already caused you.”

Prompto tensed at the offer. It was a confession. They both knew it. If Prompto denied it now then it meant that avenue would be closed to Noctis, but he had to give Prompto the option to have this and know that he could at least trust him. Accepting wasn’t a promise of a relationship, it wasn’t a hope for the future. It was just Noctis’s desire to know that Prompto trust him and he trusted Prompto. If Prompto accepted then there might be the possibility of something, or at least Prompto wasn’t just rejecting him entirely. It was a lot, so soon, but Noctis wanted to make sure Prompto knew he didn’t care about the rest of what was expected of him. Prompto was more important.

“Alright,” Prompto agreed. Noctis almost didn’t believe him, his heart soaring at the thought. “I mean…”

“I know, I know,” Noctis said quickly as Prompto finally released him, pulling his arms away from his neck. Noctis immediately missed it. “It’s not like we’re going to be dating or anything. I’m not demanding anything from you. I just want you to know that I won’t ever hurt you. You can trust me.”

Prompto nodded, but there was a blush on his cheeks, like he was reading into it like Noctis was trying not to. “Where… Where should we put it?”

“Well, it’s usually wherever you want,” Noctis replied. “Maybe at the base of your neck? The pattern of your wings kind of come to a point there, so it would look pretty decent there. It would blend in too, so only those who know what it looks like would be able to tell.”

“S-sure,” Prompto said in surprise, like he didn’t realize the pattern on his body from his wings. He looked at his arms, startled by the design, but there was a pleasure there that made Noctis smile. After a moment of admiring the pattern his wings left, he pulled his legs away, his blushing face turning away as he put his back to Noctis, pulling the wild strands of his hair out of the way. “Will it hurt?”

“No,” Noctis replied. He looked at the base of Prompto’s neck, his heart beating rapidly. His father had only ever told him how to do it. If he did this, there was no going back. Even if Prompto decided that he wanted to be with someone else in the future, he would be bound to him forever. It was worth the risk. “Just stay still.”

Noctis put his hands on Prompto’s shoulders gently, the blond tensing beneath his touch. With a deep breath, Noctis summoned the magic within him that his father said only to share with those who were more important than himself. Prompto was that to him. He didn’t need to be with him forever to see it. Leaning forward, Noctis pressed his lips against the base of Prompto’s neck, making Prompto shiver. Noctis tried not to think about just how much his body came alive at the feel of his lips against Prompto’s skin. This wasn’t romantic. This was about trust.

A black pattern blossomed on the base of his neck. It was a pattern that he had only seen on his mother, on the palm of her hand. It was a geometric circle with a simple but beautiful pattern within it, a line extending down in the center like a protective sword. Across the middle of it was a design, ornate and yet vague, a pattern that called back to the beginning of their bloodline. Whatever meaning it had before had been lost to them years ago. His father had called it the Ring of Lucii, that it had a power to it that even he was unaware of. Noctis only understood that it was what Prompto needed to know he could feel safe with him.

“It’s done,” Noctis breathed, his fingers brushing against the design, an electricity where his fingers touched his skin. He felt a warmth on his chest and looked down as he released Prompto, tugging on his shirt a bit. That was a surprise to him. The exact same patterned had blossomed over his heart. “We’re both connected to each other now. I didn’t expect that. I thought it only worked one way.”

Prompto turned around, blushing in such a way that made Noctis feel both embarrassed and excited. It wasn’t that Prompto was just bound to him. He was just as bound to Prompto. HIs father had never mentioned that. “Thank you… I know what this means to you, and I cannot thank you enough for allowing me this to find the faith I need to trust in you.”

Noctis didn’t need to tell Prompto that he held his heart in his hands now. That was obvious. He hoped that through their time together, they could find a way to cultivate a close relationship that could help Prompto find the strength he needed and the focus that was necessary to help him save his father. Noctis was not unaware of the need for Prompto to find his birth father, and now he had someone to confide in, someone who wouldn’t reject him no matter what he told him. He always wanted to be that for him, but now Prompto was sure that he would be.

“I guess we should go back,” Prompto said after a moment. Noctis realized he was staring and blushed. “They are probably worried. Um… How do I get my wings to work?”

Noctis laughed at that, a light laugh that wasn’t making fun of Prompto, but relieved to see him no longer so sad. “I got it. Just hold on tight. We can figure the rest out later.”

“Yeah,” Prompto replied with a breathlessness that sent Noctis reeling. It almost sounded like a promise that Prompto would address whatever Noctis was feeling for him, hopefully for the better. Noctis told himself that he was just reading too much into it.

Noctis didn’t say anything to that, though, knowing that he would likely just kiss Prompto if he did anything. Instead, he just wrapped his arms around Prompto’s waist as Prompto wrapped his around his neck, his body alight with a passion that wouldn’t go away anytime soon. A moment later, they were flying towards the training arena where Gladio, Ignis, and Cor were waiting for them worriedly. Ignis looked at Noctis with not one, but two, raised brows, noticing the Ring of Lucii on Prompto’s neck immediately. Noctis only blushed and ignored the stare as he released Prompto once they were firmly planted on the ground.

“Prompto,” Cor said as he took a desperate step towards him. He paused, but Noctis nodded and he approached cautiously. “I’m sorry. I was so worried, I didn’t think-”

“No,” Prompto said shaking his head. “You didn’t think. And I didn’t either. We all really need to figure this out. If we’re going to be training together, we really need to trust each other. I’m not saying we divulge our darkest secrets, but let’s not pretend everything is golden when we know it’s not?”

“Thank you,” Ignis said with a sigh, like he had been holding things in for a while. “I can’t just be happy go lucky like everyone wants me to be.”

“It’s pretty tiring having to put up with his ass all the time,” Gladio said with a grin, making Noctis and Prompto smile. Cor gave a weak smile when Prompto looked at him reassuringly.

“Oh please,” Ignis laughed. “You couldn’t handle this ass even if you tried.”

Gladio blushed, but they all laughed. For now things were unstable, uncertain, but there was a beauty in that. There was a goal that they all had, and while it didn’t necessarily line up with each other’s, at the end of the day the truth of the matter was that they were there to help Prompto. Noctis was there to help Prompto. Hurts wouldn’t just easily go away, wounds just wouldn’t easily heal, but they couldn’t just ignore it in favor of pretending things were okay. They had all seen how that would end in disaster for them all.

Noctis looked to Prompto as he smiled at them all nervously, apologizing for his earlier antics. While they were all worried, they all were readily able to admit to their own mistakes, knowing that it was hard for Prompto to trust them when they weren’t giving him much reason to. But now there was a pattern, a symbol that at the very least, Noctis and Prompto could trust each other. It was the mark that would only reveal to his father, to all those who doubted his loyalty, that he wanted to have Prompto trust and believe in him.

Something was changing between the two of them that was developing without Noctis even realizing it. He knew that he loved Prompto, that he would do anything to prove that to him, and his desire to know him outweighed his desire to covet him. There was an aching reminder in his heart, on his chest, that he was always going to feel something towards him, even if things ended so horribly for them in the end that there was nothing left between them. The mark on his chest let him know that no matter how much he tried, he could never be free of Prompto. And it had nothing to do with the Ring of Lucii.

Chapter Text

Nyx sat in the museum for what seemed like the millionth time, trying to figure out just what had happened. It was like Prompto disappeared off the face of Eos, like he had been there and then suddenly vanished. The museum personnel only indicated, and only when ardently pressed, that Prompto had been there, but they couldn’t say where he had been and when he had left. No one was offering any details, all of them saying that they hadn’t been there for it, but the men dressed in black suits and the others in beige all seemed to be lurking in the area as much as Nyx was. They had to have seen something

There was evidence of a fight there when he first showed up, and he knew that someone had gotten hurt based off of the pool of blood by the painting. Nyx’s heart stuttered and nearly stopped when he thought about how it could have been Prompto’s blood. It scared him to think about it, to think that Prompto could already be dead, and any investigation that he was doing was fruitless. He couldn’t let himself continue with that train of thought, and he quickly collected a sample, always prepared as a detective, and sent it off to the crime lab. They were willing to do him the favor since he had a decent reputation within the department.

It would take a little while to find out what the results were, but there was no guarantee they could even narrow it down to Prompto’s blood. Nyx didn’t take a sample of his blood or anything to add to the database when they had been together. He wasn’t a stalker. Still, he wondered if a sample was available since he had been adopted. Regardless, Nyx was forced to wait, and he spent his time sitting in front of a particular painting in the museum where the fight had taken place, contemplating his options and looking for clues. For the most part the museum was quiet, but there was an eerie sense of urgency around him that made him think that not everything was as it seemed.

“Nice painting, huh?” a woman said next to him suddenly. Nyx turned and looked up at the silver haired woman with a black leather jacket, a grey shirt, and black jeans. She was pretty as far as women went, and there was a smile to her that said she knew more than she was letting on. In one hand was a camera in an evidence bag. Prompto’s camera. “I heard I could find you here.”

“Well you found me, Aranea” Nyx replied, not interested in a conversation.

Since the Glaive took over, Nyx had been closed off from any word into the investigation, save for the interrogations. The Glaive were the governmental team sent in for the larger investigations, the kidnappings, the murders, the crimes that were networked beyond just one city in Lucis. They were swift and strong in their team, and Crowe had informed him that Aranea Highwind would be the lead investigator. Since then it had been radio silence regarding the investigation, and Libertus and Crowe had only checked in on him regarding how he was holding up. How did anyone expect him to hold up okay when he knew Prompto was lost out there, potentially being hurt?

As with any investigation, they looked to the friends and family first, the ones who were closest to Prompto. Nyx was the first to be interrogated, and he had provided them every detail that he could remember, including the date rape and how he had been drugged. Aranea had been in charge of the line of questioning, and she pulled out the results of the drug panel they did on the wine. There was nothing in it. But Nyx knew beyond any reasonable doubt that he was drugged, and when asked, Nyx admitted he didn’t think to run a tox screen on himself. He had been too worried about Prompto to think about it. Ultimately, Aranea saw just how much Nyx cared for Prompto and let him know that she would be in touch with any further questions.

When Nyx was leaving the precinct to continue his own investigation of sorts, he passed by Prompto’s adoptive parents. They were being called in next, and the police force did not look upon them as kindly as they did Nyx. Everyone there knew that Nyx had been dating Prompto. Everyone knew what kind of people Prompto’s parents were. They had tried to admonish Nyx for being with Prompto, but Aranea stuck up for him and informed them that they were being questioned by a lesbian Glaive, quickly putting them in their place.

Since then it had been just darkness. Nyx spent his days at the museum, his nights researching anything he could that would help find Prompto. He had even researched the painting in front of him, titled The Nephilim, which took him down a dark rabbit hole of religious iconography. The homeless man had gotten to him a bit, and it made him wonder if Prompto had been taken by a cult. There were too many things that were lining up coincidentally with what the homeless man said and the evidence he had found in the room where the painting was on display.

“Thought I’d stop by and see how you were doing,” Aranea said with a shrug. She sat next to Nyx, the camera in the evidence bag still in her hands. “I heard you’ve been coming here a lot.”

“It’s peaceful here,” Nyx replied vaguely. “Helps me take my mind off things. Why do you have his camera?”

“Part of the investigation,” Aranea said. “I’m taking it to a specialist to see if there’s any forensics we can get from it. Here.” She took out a flash drive from her pocket and handed it to him. “For you. I figured you would want a copy of all the photos he took of you two together.”

“Thanks.” Nyx took the flashdrive from her and thumbed it in his hands. “Have you found anything?”

“The investigation is still ongoing,” Aranea replied, the same reply he got any other time. She sighed. “Nyx, it might be a good idea for you to let Prompto go. Even if he is out there somewhere, there’s no guarantee that he will want to come home to you.”

“What makes you say that?” Nyx asked in confusion. It sounded like there was something that she wasn’t saying, something that she knew that was part of the investigation. “Why wouldn’t he come back to Insomnia?”

Aranea paused. “Did you ever consider that this was all staged and he ran away? Maybe someone helped him fake his death after he caught you with someone else. After the day it sounded like he had, I wouldn’t be surprised. Listen, we’re not going to give up the investigation, but there’s a point where we’ll have to concede that either Prompto doesn’t want to be found or whoever has him has kept him so well hidden that he can’t be found.”

“Prompto wouldn’t do that,” Nyx argued. “I know him. He wouldn’t just disappear off the face of the planet. He loves… Loved me.”

“The last he saw of you, you had cheated on him,” Aranea pointed out. “I know it’s not your fault, but did you ever think that Prompto has it in his mind somewhere that he has been hurt by you and doesn’t want to come back?”

“You sound like you know where he is,” Nyx argued. He looked at her, but her expression was unreadable. She had been trained to handle these situations. “Do you?”

“If I did, would it matter?” Aranea asked him in return. “Would you give up the search or would you keep looking?”

Nyx didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. Aranea knew that he would continue searching until he found Prompto. Whether he was safe and sound somewhere or hurting and bleeding, it didn’t matter. He had to find him and see for himself that Prompto was okay. Aranea didn’t ask him anything else. She didn’t need to. Instead, she left him alone there, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder before walking away. Nyx was convinced that she knew exactly where Prompto was, that she was trying to tell him that Prompto was moving on and he should too. How could he do that knowing that he was out there without him to protect him?

“Women, am I right?” a man with a Tenebraean accent asked as he walked into the room. He sat down next to Nyx, looking at the painting in front of them. Nyx only vaguely was aware of the man, his auburn hair and flashy suit of leopard print. He looked familiar, but Nyx couldn’t quite place it, and he had the sense that this man was more than what he appeared. “Why can’t they ever just give us what we want?”

“I’m sorry?” Nyx asked, finally looked at him. The man was only looking at the painting straight ahead, his eyes smiling and his mouth twisted into an almost dangerous smirk. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

“Just a humble stranger passing through,” he replied. He gestured to the painting in front of him. “They always paint these Nephilim as beautiful creatures meant to bring light to the world. As if God isn’t doing a good enough job.”

“Maybe he’s not,” Nyx offered, not particularly interested in the conversation. If God did exist then he was doing a shitty job.

“Oh, I can guarantee you, he’s not,” the man replied with a laugh. “God doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself.”

There was a silence resonating in the room around the man’s laughter, making Nyx’s hair on his arms stand on edge. He felt like the man next to him had suddenly spoken such a truth that it made him worry. He thought about everything that had happened and couldn’t help but think that of course God wouldn’t care. If God cared, then Prompto would be in his arms, he would have never been date raped, and Prompto wouldn’t have been through any of the torturous things he had been through in his life. But the way the man had said it made his skin crawl, like he knew who God was and it wasn’t pretty.

“What does God want out of all this then?” Nyx asked as his phone rang. He took it out of his pocket and looked at it. It was from the crime lab. “Nyx Ulric.”

“Hey Nyx,” a lab scientist said on the other line. The man was waiting with an amused smirk that made him uncomfortable. “So get this. I ran the blood panel for the blood you sent me. Then I had to pull it up under a microscope because there’s no freaking way this can be real. But it is! I don’t know where you found this, but this is probably the coolest discovery ever. Unless you’re just pulling my leg.”

“Slow down,” Nyx replied. The lab scientists were always over enthused. “What are you talking about?”

“Well,” the scientist said. “I have never seen blood like this before. It’s human, but it’s also distinctly not human. It’s like there’s some weird chimera running around out there, mixed with a species that we haven’t even encountered yet. Or maybe we have, but we just don’t know it.”

“You sound like you’re talking about aliens or something,” Nyx said skeptically.

“I know!” the scientist replied excitedly. He was practically screaming into the phone. “And Nyx, I know how crazy this is, but if this has anything to do with Prompto, then is it really so crazy? I mean, he just supposedly died in some weird explosion and now we have some Glaives here looking for him? Maybe it’s aliens or something.”

Nyx paused and looked at the man, still smirking at him like he had a secret that he couldn’t wait to tell him. “Or maybe it’s God,” he replied. The scientist sounded confused, but Nyx ignored him. “Are there any results for Prompto’s profile in the system?”

“That’s where it gets weirder,” the scientist said, whispering as if he was going to get in trouble for discussing this. “Usually with adoptions they run a blood panel to screen for any potential blood borne illnesses. But there’s nothing in the system for Prompto Argentum. I don’t think he was adopted by legal means, if you catch my drift. In which case, did his parents know or did they take him in without knowing? Listen, has Prompto ever been sick?”

“What?” Nyx asked, a bit thrown off by the question. His mind was racing. How did Prompto’s parents adopt him exactly? Did they know about what was going on with Prompto, why he had disappeared? From what Prompto said about them, he didn’t think that it was possible. They seemed oblivious.

“Has Prompto ever been sick?” the scientist asked. The man next to Nyx was practically vibrating with excitement. “I bet he hasn’t. If this is his blood then it explains why. I mean, the way whatever this extraterrestrial blood is, then well… Genetically, he’s perfect. At least from the research I’ve done. Like, I doubt he’ll ever get sick. I can see that much from the tests I’ve done. I’m going to conduct more to see what happens.”

“Just… Keep me updated,” Nyx said lamely, not knowing what to say. He thought about Prompto. He had been hurt and abused, but in the time that he had known him, Prompto had never once been sick, not even when Nyx had the flu pretty badly. “Send me whatever you find.”

“Will do!” the scientist said excitedly before hanging up. Nyx frowned as he looked down at the phone, wondering just that was all about. The blood he collected was only partially human? How was that possible? The scientist was thinking aliens, but as Nyx looked at the painting in front of him, the power of the man next to him practically rolling off him, he thought of something else entirely.

“Where are you Prompto?” Nyx whispered to himself. He looked at the Nephilim in the photo, the wings dripping with black, the silver almost fluttering in a breeze like it was going to come to life at a moment’s notice.

“You spend so much time looking at this painting,” the man said as he stood up. “You might want to try looking through it. Good luck. Let’s hope you get your paws on him before God does. It won’t be pretty.”

The man smiled as he sauntered away, his hips moving languidly like he was beckoning Nyx to follow him. Nyx didn’t pursue, the sense that he was going to die if he did so almost overwhelming him. Just what did he mean by looking through the painting? And what exactly was Prompto?

***

“Okay,” Prompto said as he sat flopped down onto the bed haphazardly, looking at the three of them with a smile that made Gladio feel uncomfortable. He was leaning on one arm, half lying on the bed while his legs were hanging off it.“Since we really don’t know each other, except for Ignis and Noctis, we’re going to play a popular game on Eos.”

“What kind of game?” Ignis asked as he took his spot on the bed next to Noctis, clearly upsetting the prince as Gladio sat on Prompto’s other side. He was laying the same way Prompto was while Noctis sat up straight like Gladio. Gladio had a feeling it was intentional, but whether it was because he didn’t want to be near him or he didn’t want Noctis to be near Prompto, he couldn’t say.

“It’s called twenty questions,” Prompto explained. His arms were decorated with the most beautiful vines and thorns that Gladio had ever seen. There was a mark on the top of his neck, a geometric design that seemed to complete the wing marks on his arms and back. He wondered if that had always been there. He didn’t think so. “Usually it’s only played with two people, but I figured we could adapt it. We each go think of a question and when we reach twenty, the game is over or resets.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a game,” Gladio pointed out. Noctis nodded in agreement, and Ignis didn’t seem particularly interested.

“It’s not the kind of game with bets or stakes,” Prompto said with a sigh. “It’s the type of game we play on Eos to get to know each other. So then maybe we won’t be suspicious of each other each and every day.”

“And you won’t feel the need to endanger the prince because of your own impulsive decisions,” Ignis said with a slight bite in his voice, making Prompto blush and shrink back a bit.

“Prompto and I already worked that out, Ignis,” Noctis explained, sticking up for Prompto in a way that made Ignis’s nostrils flair. The other two didn’t seem to see it, but Gladio did. He had noticed a lot about Ignis in the past few weeks. It was like since he had been with Ignis so intimately, yet so reservedly, that he was noticing him wherever he was.

“Let’s do it,” Gladio agreed with a smile, leaning against the frame at the foot of the bed, crossing his legs under him. It gave him the chance to know more about Ignis. Recently, the only thing on his mind was the succubus, whether awake or asleep. While it concerned him, he knew he was already past the point of no return. It was little comfort. “Unless you two are afraid?”

“Me? Afraid?” Noctis asked as he sat a little bit straighter, winking at Prompto. Prompto blushed, and Ignis only looked a bit more upset by the gesture. He was definitely jealous that Prompto and Noctis were getting so close. “Not a chance. How about it Ignis?”

“Fine,” Ignis replied, glancing at Prompto with a sense of anger and bitterness that usually was reserved for Gladio. Prompto obviously picked up on it at that point, shifting uncomfortably in his spot, but he continued on anyway.

“Does anyone want to start?” Prompto offered. When there was a silence, he thought about it for a moment. “Okay. How about this? Who was your best friend growing up?”

“Ignis was mine,” Noctis said with a smile at the demon. “Still is. He was a demon long before I was even born. When I was born, dad and mom had him watch after me. Sorry, Ignis. You had to stick with me.”

“And Noctis was mine,” Ignis replied shortly. There was a release of tension in his shoulders though, like hearing those words made him relax just a bit. Ignis likely never had to contend for his adoptive brother’s attentions.

“That doesn’t count,” Gladio said. “You were already an adult by then. You had to have a friend or two before that. Mine was my sister, Iris. We had a pretty close knit family. Before things changed, that is.”

“What about you, Prompto?” Ignis asked him, clearly evading the question. Gladio was about to point it out, but Prompto only shrugged in response.

“I never had any friends growing up?” Prompto considered. “Even the boys I dated were just like… Holding hands but never really knowing each other? It was weird. I think you three are the first friends I’ve ever had.”

“That explains why you are so desperate for Noctis’s attention,” Ignis said with an irritation back in his voice that made Prompto blush and Gladio feel bad that he had to be at the brunt of his bitterness and anger.

“It doesn’t explain why I’m so desperate for you attention, though,” Gladio said, knowingly embarrassing himself to take the anger off of Prompto. It worked, and Ignis glared at him while Prompto looked surprised. Noctis looked amused, like he had just lost a bet. “Alright my turn. What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve done?”

“Besides my general existence?” Prompto asked with a laugh. “Ummm… Jumping off a climbing wall and thinking I could fly was pretty embarrassing. Or it could’ve been the time that Nyx and I…” He paused then blushed, looking forlorn like that was a fun memory but a sad one as well. His voice was more reserved when he spoke again. “Well we went to a coffee shop and as soon as I got my coffee I tripped. It spilled all over the front of Nyx’s shirt. It was pretty embarrassing.”

“Yeah,” Noctis considered. “The climbing wall definitely has that beat. For me… I don’t know, Ignis. What do you think?”

“There’s so many,” Ignis considered with a smirk. “I think the most embarrassing for me was ever thinking I could make a dastardly prince out of you.”

“Oh, most definitely,” Noctis said, mocking Ignis’s Tenebraean accent. He laughed. “Sorry, Iggy. I failed you pretty hard.”

“There was that one time that you were approaching the throne in your royal raignment and tripped and fell face first on your cloak,” Ignis said with a laugh, making Noctis blush and Prompto and Gladio smile. “That was pretty bad.”

“That’s almost as bad as me,” Prompto laughed. “Oh man, Ignis you are lucky you got to see that.”

“Ignis saved me that day,” Noctis said. Ignis looked pleased. “He got me on my feet quickly and smoothed it over. I think I would have died without him there.”

Ignis smiled at that, as if he were pleased to hear Noctis say something so warming. “What about you Gladio?”

“Hmm…” Gladio considered. “When I first became an angel it was pretty embarrassing. I mistook one of the archangels for a grunt. That… That was a bad day.” He laughed at the memory, wondering where the archangel was now. It had been a while since he saw him. He couldn’t even remember his face clearly. “Luckily the guy was really understanding. If it had been the general then I would have ended up in Hell in a split second.”

“Alright, alright,” Noctis said after the laughter died down. “My turn. Who, if anyone, do you guys like? Romantically speaking, that is.”

“Ugh, Noctis,” Ignis said with an eye roll. “You’re so obvious.”

“Hey, Prompto knows I lo-... have a crush on him,” Noctis said with a grin and a blush. Gladio wish he had the confidence of the prince of Hell. “Time to find out if Ignis is capable of romance.”

“You know I’m incapable,” Ignis retorted, making Gladio’s heart ache at the thought. He hoped he was lying. “What about you, Prompto? Are you still crooning over your ex?”

“Well it still hurts,” Prompto said sheepishly. “But it hurts less every day. And I’m looking towards a future where maybe I can find love again.” He looked at Noctis when he said that, and Gladio couldn’t help but smile as the both of them blushed. Ignis looked annoyed.

“What about you, Gladio?” Noctis asked him. “Anyone you like?”

“I think so,” Gladio admitted with a smile, a heat on his cheeks that he didn’t anticipate. Ignis glared at him. “He’s stubborn, though, and refuses to let me in.”

The line of questioning went on from there, all of them asking each other a series of questions that went from the more serious to the more ridiculous. Prompto had been right. It was a good way for them to get to know each other, and even Ignis was opening up by the end of the twenty questions. Gladio felt more at ease, knowing a bit more about them, even though that took him further and further away from Heaven. It was his own undoing in the making, but the more time he spent with the three, the more he knew that he couldn’t see them as evil anymore. Ignis was particularly on his mind, and he knew there was more to the demon than he could fathom.

Towards the end of the game, Gladio’s phone rang. It worried him at first, especially when he realized that he hadn’t reached out to Heaven once since he had been there. Part of it was his fear that Heaven would be able to tell that he had so quickly and so readily fallen from grace, largely in part due to his desire to save the Nephilim without realizing he was the enemy at all. The other fear was knowing that he would eventually betray either the three or Heaven, and he couldn’t be entirely sure which was the obvious choice now. Not with Ignis so present in his thoughts at all hours.

“Answer it,” Ignis offered. “Put it on speaker phone so we know what we’re up against.”

Gladio conceded to that, knowing that it could be to his detriment to answer the call from General Glauca at all. It would be far worse if he knowingly ignored the call. Noctis looked curious and Prompto looked scared, but Ignis looked like he was testing him. He was always testing him, Gladio knew. There wasn’t any doubt that Ignis would not readily trust anyone, save for Noctis.

“This is Gladio,” he said into the phone as he answered it, putting in on speaker so that they all could hear the call from Heaven.

“Gladio,” General Glauca said. “I haven’t heard from you in weeks. What is going on soldier? Why have you not reported?”

“I am currently deep undercover,” Gladio said. It was less than a half truth and closer to a full lie. There was no charade. They all knew his intentions. It was obvious that they were gradually moving towards becoming their own allies. They were all increasingly against each and every intention that the rest of the universe had for them. “It has been unsafe to call without risking being compromised. If I am successful, I won’t just have the prince and the succubus taken care of, but I will have the Nephilim as well.”

Ignis and Noctis both looked at him in shock. It was the first time since they had met serendipitously that Gladio admitted his real target wasn’t Prompto. The brothers shared an exchange, a silent conversation that only brothers could understand, and turned back to Gladio in an understanding that was beyond him. This could very well be the end for Gladio ever attempting to get close to Ignis. He hoped it wasn’t.

“Very good, Gladio,” General Glauca beamed. “Although it might not be wholly necessary that you go for the Nephilim. I am sending someone to help with the issue of the Nephilim. Once it is taken care of, kill the succubus and bring the prince to Heaven. It will be the prime opportunity to make our move on Hell.”

“Yes, sir,” Gladio tried. The more details he could get, the better. “May I ask who you’re sending so I can confer with them?”

“That’s irrelevant,” the general replied quickly. “The less you know, the better. It won’t compromise your position and blow your cover. Report in more frequently when you can. I want that succubus dead. And we need the prince of Hell here for our plan to work.”

“Yes, sir,” Gladio replied. The call ended and they all looked at Gladio in silence. “Well that was unhelpful. But at least we know that he’s sending someone after Prompto. We should let Cor know so we can be on our guard.”

“I’m surprised, Gladio,” Ignis commented, a slight smile that was not a smirk like it usually was. “You so beautifully lied to him, or you’re so perfectly lying to us.”

“And we were your target all along? And what does he want with me?” Noctis asked. “That explains why you healed Prompto then. ”

“I couldn’t just come out with it,” Gladio said honestly with a shrug. “He said something about taking you to Heaven to lure your father into a trap. But he refuses to give me the details. Besides, I couldn’t just admit that the succubus I was supposed to kill is the same succubus who thoroughly seduced me.”

Noctis and Prompto smiled brightly while Ignis blushed. Occasionally, Gladio could get him to blush, like there was something just beneath the surface that he was trying to hide and failed to from time to time. Gladio only smiled wider at it, putting his heart on the line in ways that he hadn’t ever done before, not even when he was human. It was the final betrayal of Heaven, the final act that would ensure his very demise. No one fell in love with a succubus and stayed in Heaven.

“There are worse ways to fall from grace,” Ignis said with a hint of embarrassment. It gave Gladio hope that he was slowly breaking through his armor, that there was a hope to know him now that he had put everything out there on the line. They knew he could be trusted. Ignis knew. He hoped that he could trust Ignis in return.

And Gladio had to admit, there were far worse ways to fall from grace than falling for Ignis.

Chapter Text

“Again!” Cor called to them, making Ignis grit his teeth and wonder just when this training would be over. He didn’t understand why they all had to train with Prompto when he was the one who needed the help, but they had spent the better part of the last several weeks helping him train. He figured that once Prompto was able to get a handle on his powers then Noctis would realize it was time to bring him to Hell. Now, though, he bore the Ring of Lucii, changing everything that Ignis had planned. Why didn’t Noctis just listen to him?

“Can we take a break please?” Noctis begged, collapsing onto the ground and looking up at Cor’s stern features. Prompto was doubled over, hands on his knees as he gasped for breath. Gladio was still upright but panting, and Ignis felt like his lungs were on fire. They had been running drills to help the four of them coordinate together, as if they were going to somehow end up fighting side by side. The weak link in the chain was still Prompto, who had been spending more time than the rest of them trying to hone his power as a Nephilim, but there wasn’t much improvement from when he had first got his wings to come out.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. Prompto had gotten used to having his wings unfurl and retract, but that was about it. Noctis and Gladio were trying to get him to use his other powers, but Ignis was beginning to suspect that Prompto was either being worked too hard by Cor or that he just had different abilities than angels did. He was only half angel, after all, and was considered to be the most powerful being in all of creation. If he didn’t have the same powers then of course it wouldn’t work the same as theirs did. What was the point of having more power than anyone else when they didn’t know how to access it?

“It’s not working,” Ignis pointed out to Cor before he could tell them no. He was glad that they weren’t in Hell. King Regis would have been sorely disappointed to see this lack of progress. “This strength training and working together for us to fight as a team is fine, but Prompto is not getting it. You need to change your tactics.”

Prompto blushed bright red in embarrassment. Ignis didn’t mean it in a mean or scathingly judgmental way, but it always seemed to come out like that. He knew that he was jealous of how close Noctis and Prompto suddenly were, how he had been given the Ring of Lucii. Ignis didn’t expect to receive it since it was something that only lovers shared, but Noctis and Prompto weren’t even lovers. It worried him that he was going to be replaced by this Nephilim so quickly, and it bothered him to think that Noctis cared about Prompto far more than he cared about him.

“Ignis is right,” Gladio said with a sigh. Ignis could almost see the words dripping off of his lips, beautiful and enticing. Each time he heard Gladio speak, the gruffness of his voice made his heart beat faster. “Prompto has his talents, but we haven’t found them yet because we’re all so focused on what our talents are. You’re expecting him to have the same strengths as us, but he’s a Nephilim, not an angel or a demon.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Cor admitted. He stared at Prompto, his arms folded across his chest. Prompto looked down at his feet, like he was ashamed of his inability to be what they needed him to be. “Alright. Let’s take a break so I can figure out what our next steps are.”

“Sorry guys,” Prompto said as he looked down at his feet. Ignis was reminded of how he wanted to find and save his biological father. It must have hurt him to think he was incapable of saving him. “I guess I’m not really useful in a fight.”

“We just haven’t figured out how to tap into your power,” Noctis offered. The prince was always so helpful and guiding with Prompto. It annoyed Ignis how the two of them naturally gravitated toward each other, but then he thought about how he had Gladio seemed to have fallen into the same rhythm. Noctis looked at Ignis, a smile on his face. He had been smiling a lot since Prompto came along. “I mean, Ignis is a succubus. Can you imagine me trying to use that power?”

Ignis couldn’t help but laugh at the mental image. Noctis as a succubus was a hilarious thought. “Noctis does have a point. It would be horrible to see him try to do anything that I can do.”

“See?” Gladio added as he clapped Prompto on the back. “We’re not saying you’re useless or anything. If anything, we’re the useless ones cause we’re just assuming that you’re going to be the same as us.”

“Prompto, Noctis,” Cor called, interrupting their conversation. “Let’s confer for a moment. Gladio and Ignis, keep practicing. I know you two know your strengths and you can play well off of each other. Keep at it.”

Ignis watched as Noctis and Prompto followed Cor towards an area of the training grounds so they could figure out their next game plan. It had been like this for the past few weeks now. Wherever Prompto went, Noctis always followed. It annoyed Ignis that there seemed to be a clear delineation between Noctis and Prompto and then everyone else. Ignis had never once felt like he wasn’t enough for Noctis, that he wasn’t good enough to be his brother since he was a demon. But now that Noctis had clearly fallen for Prompto, he wondered if he was really far less adequate than he realized.

“It’s tough when our siblings find someone they love,” Gladio commented. Ignis turned, his face burning hot when he realized that Gladio had caught him staring. “It means we have to allow room for someone new into our lives as well.”

“I don’t particularly care,” Ignis lied. Recently he had felt thrown off guard by Gladio as well, which didn’t really help matters. Every time Gladio asked him a question, every subtle glance, every passing gesture or longing look. It all kept Ignis’s feelings just below the surface, about to break free. It was too much, too human. In Heaven that may have been acceptable, but in Hell it was dangerous. It was a recipe for disaster and a great way for Ignis to get hurt. Just because they were in Purgatory where it was safe didn’t mean that Ignis was suddenly going to magically open up to anyone.

“Yeah, and I’m God,” Gladio said with a laugh. Ignis glared at him. How could he always tell when he was lying? “You know Noctis obviously thinks you’re his brother right? If he didn’t, then he would likely be more worried about you and how you’re dealing with the attention he’s giving Prompto. He trusts that you’ll always be there. It’s kind of obvious.”

“Since when did you become a master on brotherly relations?” Ignis snapped, angry and upset that it had been so apparent to Gladio that he was jealous of Prompto that he cut to the heart of the matter right away. Gladio always seemed to know what he was thinking, what he was feeling, even though he did everything possible to hide who he was. How did Gladio so clearly know who he was?

“I had a sister when I was human,” Gladio explained. He had mentioned his sister before, but he didn’t really talk about his human life that much. Ignis couldn’t trust it. He was a crusader and that was dangerous. Were his family members also crusaders? “It’s the sort of trust that naturally develops in siblings. We get jealous, angry, and upset, fight it out, and then end up laughing and trusting each other at the end of it. It’s a bond that can’t be broken, even if a cute Nephilim comes along.”

“So you think he’s cute,” Ignis pointed out with a smile. Gladio looked flustered, upset that Ignis had taken the worst possible meaning from what he had said. He laughed when Ignis continued to grin at him, an indication that he was joking. Ignis hated how Gladio could so easily fluster him, but at least he could do the same to the archangel.

“I think he’s cute like a little brother,” Gladio laughed as he reached out to playfully shove Ignis’s shoulder.

Ignis smirked as he grabbed Gladio’s wrist and twisted it around his back. Gladio laughed and tried to twist out of it, but Ignis was faster. As Gladio was about to maneuver out of it, Ignis grabbed his other wrist and pulled it behind him, grinning as he did so. He snaked his foot around Gladio’s ankle and pulled on it, sending him down with a yelp of surprise. Ignis let out a scream, a rush going through him that wasn’t entirely unpleasurable, as Gladio managed to pull him down with him. He hated how much he enjoyed falling with Gladio.

Somehow, Ignis wasn’t exactly sure how, he ended up bracing his hands against Gladio’s chest as he fell on top of them, one of the angel’s legs pressing in between his as he landed on top of him. Ignis looked at him in shock, another feeling entirely coming over him, something he had been trying to ignore and deny since he saw him. But now it wasn’t something he could just forget, not when Gladio had his hands around his waist, resting on the small of his back. He blushed at his own body coming alive, recognizing that Gladio was more than just a sexual conquest. It made things all the more dangerous.

Ignis felt like he was at a point where if he pursued this now, he wouldn’t be able to return from it. Gladio was dangerous, an archangel and a crusader at that. It should have been obvious that trusting him was an impossibility. Instead, Ignis felt his eyes searching for him as he hid behind a thin wall of sarcasm and bitterness. Ending up like this, looking at his beautiful eyes of honey and full lips, Ignis knew that he was on the verge of falling off a precipice.

“You’re beautiful,” Gladio said as he reached up, touching Ignis’s left cheek. It was the scarred side of his face that he kept carefully hidden by his mask, the spell he kept on his face to ensure that no one saw just how he truly looked. Gladio smiled at him as his warm fingers held his face, looking for permission to kiss him.

Ignis tensed when he realized that Gladio would never find him so attractive if he knew just how hideously scarred he really was. He pulled away from him, and Gladio let him go without a fuss, looking at him in questioning despair as Ignis stood up and turned away from him. That’s what the truth of the matter was, the reality that Ignis denied. Even if he could afford himself the reality that he liked, even loved, Gladio, there was no feasible way Gladio would love him in return. Not when he saw how he really looked. Not when he knew just how much he had been hurt by the crusaders when he was a human. He would always side with the Cause. There was no coming back from that.

“Ignis?” Gladio asked as he sat up. He could hear the pain in his voice, making Ignis’s heart ache. It was entirely unbecoming of a demon to feel anything. The only acceptable thing that was acceptable for Ignis to feel was darkness, anger, bitterness. Love had never been an option for him.

“I’m not beautiful, Gladio,” Ignis said quietly, quiet enough that he didn’t know if the archangel could hear him. “If you could see me, the real me, then you would know that I am not beautiful.”

“A mask?” Gladio asked simply, like his heart was breaking at the thought. Of course it would break if he even did feel anything for him. He was looking for the beautiful succubus that Ignis presented himself as, not the hideous demon he really was. Ignis was exactly what anyone wanted him to be, and for him to think that Gladio would embrace him for who he was regardless of his power was a foolish thought.

“Of course,” Ignis replied as he looked to Gladio. The archangel was despairing, like he wanted to reach out and hold him instead of hurt him. Ignis only smiled sadly at him, his mind made up and his eyes swimming with black tears. He could only see out of one eye, but that one eye was trained on Gladio so perfectly, knowing then that he had fallen for him against his better judgment. Even if he could have been with him, he couldn’t trust a crusader. Gladio would sooner reject him, as was the nature of men like him.

“Ignis-” Gladio began, but Ignis cut him off. He was done. He couldn’t handle the disappointment that would inevitably come.

“What did you expect?” Ignis asked. “I’m a demon, Gladio. Not some blushing maiden.”

Ignis walked away, ignoring Prompto and Noctis calling for him. He couldn’t be seen right now, couldn’t be dealt with. If he so much as glanced at anyone, Gladio or otherwise, he knew he was going to become far more upset than he already was. And when Ignis was upset, he acted in anger instead of sadness. Anger was a safe emotion for him to express, and he refused to let it get to him. Hell had turned him hard, and there was no going back from that hardness.

It wasn’t long until he was back in his room, angry and embittered that he had to share a bed with Gladio. He blamed the nights of comfort, of getting used to having Gladio by his side while they slept like they were lovers. He blamed Gladio for being so kind to him, for waking up with the archangel’s arm around him, pulling him close so many times throughout the night, his body warm and gentle despite his large frame. He blamed his own foolishness for letting his mind and heart forget all about how Gladio had been a crusader and was now an archangel.

Angrily, his heart aching, Ignis walked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. He stepped up to the sink, looking at the long mirror along the wall. With a sigh, he waved his hand over his face, the mask disappearing in an instant. The scarring over his left eye was fully visible, his left eye glassed over and unseeing. Hideous. The slight scar on his lip made his otherwise beautiful pout look sad and pathetic. Beyond all the heartache and pain he endured as a human, on Eos and in the pits, this was the worst of it. Even if he did admit to himself that he loved Gladio, once he saw what Ignis truly looked like, he would only reject him completely.

The door to the bedroom opened, but Ignis didn’t hear it. He was too lost in his own despair, his own rage. This was worse than his time in the pits, he realized. At least in the pits he knew there was no hope. His rage and anger directed inward grew until he couldn’t take it anymore. The disgust he felt towards himself, the pain he felt knowing that he could never be with anyone, not the way he had been when he was a human, only mounted inside him until it spilled over. Even when he had been human it had only ended horribly.

Ignis let out a scream, his rage roiling off of him in waves, as he punched the mirror in front of him. Glass shattered and pain coursed through him where the broken shards embedded into his skin. It was pure, a physical pain that he could understand. It was something better handled than the self-loathing he felt, the disgust, the anger, the pain knowing that Gladio was a fucking crusader and an archangel and he had dared to fall in love with him. He was so disgusted with himself that he needed the fresh black blood to draw his emotions out of him, closing him off once more in a reminder of who he really was. What he really was.

“Ignis?!” Gladio asked on the other side of the door while Ignis looked at the shards of glass sticking out of his skin on his hand. Rivulets of black blood dripped down his hand and arm, falling into a painful pattern that looked like black ink. Gladio knocked on the door, banged on it, demanding entry. “Ignis?! What’s going on?! Talk to me!”

He didn’t say anything. Instead he just stared at the blood, feeling the pain coursing through him, waiting for it to block out the pain he felt in his heart. It was so close, so close to completely taking away any love or pain or loathing he felt. Instead, when it reached the point where Ignis would sure he would be closed off for good, the ache he felt in his soul only came back with a fiery intensity. Angrily, he screamed again, pounding his already injured fist on the sink, demanding that the physical pain take the place of his emotional despair.

“Ignis let me in!” Gladio demanded, banging on the door. His desperation nearly matched the desperation Ignis felt in his attempt to get rid of his emotional turmoil. “I will force my way inside if I have to! You know I can do it!”

“Leave me alone, Gladio,” Ignis snapped, his voice thick with tears. He looked at the shard of mirror embedded further into his skin. That would likely scar. Good. He needed to remind himself of the pain that he would be owed if he pursued this ache in his heart, if he ignored his deformity thanks to a priest and his holy fucking water.

“Ignis,” Gladio said softly, his voice so close through the door. Ignis could hear him leaning against the door, his forehead pressed against it. “Please let me in. I cannot help you if you don’t let me in.”

Ignis wanted to let him in. He wanted him to see the truth, to know that he was hideously deformed and would always be that way. He wanted Gladio to just reject him, to tell him he could never be with someone so hideous. Yet his heart was also aching for him to reach out to Gladio and find some way to allow himself to open his heart to him. But he couldn’t do that, not when he knew that he could never trust a crusader or an archangel, not when he knew that he couldn’t trust himself. There would be no salvation for him, and in the end he would end up heartbroken and in far worse pain than he already was.

“Please leave,” Ignis replied, his voice far more pained and far less strong than he intended. “Please, just go. I cannot give you what you want.”

“I-I’m going to get Noctis,” Gladio said after a moment, like he was considering his options. “Just… Don’t hurt yourself in the meantime. I’ll be right back.”

Ignis almost laughed at that, like Gladio actually cared about his well-being. He was growing weak, tired of all the pain, weary from all the bloodloss. He wasn’t an angel, he wasn’t going to heal quickly until his wounds were treated and cared for. The world was spinning and his vision in his only good eye was blurring. Ignis took a step towards the door, reaching for a towel that he wrapped around his hand. In the process, his legs wavered, and he fell onto the ground, collapsing as his knees gave out from under him.

“Fuck,” Ignis whispered, leaning against the sink cabinets, his vision blurring. Unconsciousness sounded so nice right now. It sounded far better than his pain at knowing that his torment did not end just because he was out of the pits.

***

“What the fuck, Ignis?” Noctis asked as he broke the doorknob and stepped into the bathroom. He shut the door behind him, not letting Prompto or Gladio in so he could give Ignis his privacy. There were shards of the broken mirror strewn across the sink and on the floor, and Ignis was leaning against the sink cabinets, his eyes closed. It looked like a crime scene. “Ignis. Wake up!”

He shouted it, commanded it as a prince, demanding that his subject obey him. Noctis didn’t like to use the power, but when Ignis’s eyes fluttered open, he was grateful for it. The demon looked at him, only one eye seeing him. There was a towel wrapped around one hand, soaked with demon’s blood. Panic and fear gripped Noctis tightly, thinking about how Ignis had hurt himself so thoroughly. What had Ignis done? Why?

“Ignis,” Noctis said as he hurried over to him, crouching down so he could assess his wounds. His mind was numb, blank, trying to figure out what to do in the panic. “What the fuck? What happened?”

“I was angry,” Ignis replied, his voice weaker than normal. He had lost a lot of blood. “Mostly at myself. I had to channel it somewhere.”

“Let me see your hand,” Noctis insisted, his worry for his brother growing by the minute. Ignis held up his hand for him, and he gently unwrapped the towel, looking at the shards of the mirror embedded in his skin. “What the fuck? I can’t just heal this, Ignis. I need to take out the shards first. I need to get Gladio.”

“No,” Ignis insisted as Noctis was about to stand up and go get the archangel. “I can’t, Noctis. Anyone but him.”

Noctis looked at him, at his pained features. What had happened between him and Gladio? Ignis was so volatile in his self-loathing, making him far more fragile than others realized. He had known it for so long and tried to avoid hurting him since he had seen just how deep that loathing went once growing up. “Since when did you fall in love with an archangel, Iggy? Come on. You know better than that.”

“In my defense, you left me up to my own devices,” Ignis mused with a chuckle. “You should know better than to fall in love with anyone but me, Noctis.”

“Fuck, Ig,” Noctis seethed, feeling both angry that Ignis hurt himself and upset that he hadn’t been paying attention to him. “You’re my brother. Of course I love you. You think I’m going to just leave you alone now that I actually have someone that I love romantically? There are different types of love, you know.”

“I know,” Ignis laughed as Noctis looked down at his hand, trying to figure out just what he could do about the shards. There were so many shards, so many broken pieces. “That’s my problem. A demon… And an archangel. Fuck, Noct, he’s a crusader.”

“You never did tell me about that,” Noctis commented, taking out his cell phone. He just needed Ignis to keep talking while he reached out for help. “I’m not going to get Gladio. I’ll get Prompto instead. Maybe he can help.”

“How can he help?” Ignis asked as the door opened. “He’s a Nephilim who never learned to use his powers.”

“Hey don’t count me out just yet,” Prompto said as he closed the door behind him. He quickly assessed the situation, but he didn’t say anything about it one way or another. It was as if he had seen a mess like this before. Noctis knew about his past a little, but Prompto kept the grisly details to himself. “I know this pain pretty well myself.”

“You’ve smashed your hand in a mirror before?” Ignis asked skeptically. Noctis looked at Prompto in worry as he sat by his side, taking Ignis’s hand in his. He was reminded that Prompto had always seen Ignis’s face beyond the mask he wore and never treated him any differently because of it. Couldn’t Ignis tell that he wasn’t some horrible creature without his mask? But he was also a demon, and by nature demons were supposed to be horrible creatures. Noctis always had a feeling that Ignis wasn’t cut out to be one, no matter how well he excelled at it.

“Something like that,” Prompto replied with a smile. “Okay, this is going to be pretty shitty for a while, but I think I can help.”

“What magic are you going to do?” Noctis asked hopefully. Did Prompto figure out how to help him so quickly? “Did you figure it out?”

“Yeah,” Prompto replied simply. He was being so calm in this situation, far calmer than Noctis was being. It was likely because he had been through such emergencies before, that he had been able to stay calm through all the pain because he had to act or someone would get hurt or stay hurt. “I’m going to take out the shards using a magic called tweezers.”

Ignis laughed at that, a real and genuine that that gave him hope that he was coming out of his self-destruction. Prompto smiled as he stood up, leaving Noctis with his brother. He was gone a moment then back in another, this time holding tweezers. Gladio tried to worm his way into the room, but Prompto told him something about how Ignis needed his privacy. Noctis was grateful for the discretion. Ignis’s features were something he had difficulty with since he had been scarred.

“This is going to take a while,” Prompto said to Noctis. He sat down in between Ignis’s legs, holding out his hand for Ignis to hand him his injured one. The demon complied, looking at Prompto with a strange gratitude that Noctis hadn’t seen in him in a long time. “You don’t have to stick around for this. Just let Gladio know that he’ll be okay.”

“S-sure,” Noctis replied. He looked at Ignis, his heart aching. “You’re still my brother, you know that right?”

“Of course,” Ignis replied, but Noctis wasn’t convinced. “Who else is going to help Prompto with your pain-in-the-ass self?”

“Thanks for that, by the way,” Prompto joked, clearly trying to keep Ignis in good spirits. He was already working, pulling out the larger shards, making Ignis wince in pain. Noctis had a feeling that he was particularly good at calming people down in these moments. “He’s insufferable without you, you know.”

“Well it’s a good thing that my immortal soul isn’t going anywhere,” Ignis said with a smile. He looked so sad though, and Noctis felt like he had been a terrible friend for not paying better attention to him. “Sorry for being such a bother.”

“Aren’t you supposed to yell at me for not working faster?” Prompto asked with a smile as pulled out another shard. He smiled up at Noctis, who looked at him with a pain he couldn’t quite express. Ignis never apologized for anything. “It’s okay, Noct. I got this.”

“Okay,” Noctis said awkwardly. He walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him as Gladio looked at him in tearful worry. “He’ll be alright, Gladio. Prompto’s handling it because we’re apparently too stupid to figure out some fucking tweezers will help.”

“What happened though?” Gladio asked. “We were just goofing around and then I told him he was beautiful and then…” Gladio gestured at the general situation.

“Oh,” Noctis said, realizing the problem. “He likes you, Gladio. Probably too much, and he’ll never willingly admit to it. And he probably can’t stand that knowing that he thinks he’s hideous. Fucking succubus. Even without his mask he’s beautiful, but he won’t ever think so.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” Gladio tried, running a hand through his hair. “Shit. I swear that every time I try, I just end up pushing him further away. How did you do it, Noctis? How did you convince him to trust you?”

“I didn’t,” Noctis replied with a shrug. “I just kind of stuck to him until he got fed up with it and caved. You just have to really try and respect his wishes if he needs space. And if he gets that angry again, don’t let him out of your sight. He’s a demon, and by nature they’re chaotic. Their souls are tortured and scarred. I know he likes you, Gladio, otherwise I’d tell you just to fucking leave him alone. Just don’t break his heart. He’s already been through enough.”

“I won’t,” Gladio reassured him. Noctis looked at him skeptically. “I promise I won’t. If I do, then I’ll tear my own wings out.”

Noctis nodded, knowing how serious of a promise that was. He never anticipated that Gladio would love Ignis to the point that he would give up his wings to be with him. “You really fell from grace, you know.”

“I know,” Gladio said with a sigh. “I was always so devoted to God, even at the sake of leaving my own family. All it took was a succubus to drag me down.”

“No,” Noctis replied. “That’s all Ignis. I mean, when you think about him, do you really just want to fuck him? Cause if that’s the case then get laid and move on.”

“What? No,” Gladio insisted. He looked shocked by the question. “I just want to… I want to make him happy. I don’t care about myself.”

“Well, there you go then.” Noctis gestured to him as if proving a point. “If you were just obsessed with a succubus then you would just want to fuck him and leave him. That’s how his power works. It’s Ignis you fell for. Sorry to break it to you.”

Gladio smiled brightly at that, like it had been weighing on him heavily that he had just been seduced by a succubus. There was a knock on the door before he could respond, and Noctis looked to it, wondering if they had made enough noise to alert one of the reapers. It had been a while since they saw Aranea as well, making him wonder just where she had gone off to. Sighing, Noctis walked over to the door and opened it, surprised and more than a little anxious about who was waiting for him.

“Hello Noctis,” Lunafreya said, looking like moonlight and starlight as she smiled at him. She wore her standard white dress, her hair nearly floating around her head. “I have come to visit Purgatory for the time being. I was bored with the rest of the realms. Imagine my surprise when I heard my former beloved was also staying here.”

“It’s… Good to see you Luna,” Noctis replied awkwardly. It was anything but good to see her. “You… uh… You still mad about how things ended?”

“Mad?” Luna asked with a smile. “Of course not. We always were better off as friends. After all, I don’t think you ever really fell for anyone? I should have seen it from the beginning.”

“Y-yeah,” Noctis said, unsure. If Lunafreya was here then it could only mean one thing. There was something she wanted in Purgatory. She wasn’t evil, nor was she necessarily good. Like her brother, she was an agent of chaos that didn’t care about Heaven or Hell. It made her and her powers particularly dangerous.

“What is that? A new tattoo?” Lunafreya asked as she pointed to the mark on his chest, just barely sticking out from the tank top he was wearing from their training that was quickly interrupted by Gladio’s desperate pleas for help.

She held out a hand, her lithe fingers pulling on his tank top. He blushed as she looked at the Ring of Lucii, branded on his chest as it was on Prompto’s neck. He knew that she wanted it at one point, and he wasn’t entirely sure that she still didn’t want it. There was no indication that she was upset or angry, but Noctis had a feeling that the news didn’t suit her very well. What would she do when she met Prompto? He didn’t want to find out.

“The Ring of Lucii?” Lunafreya asked, no longer smiling. The Ring of Lucii was something that could only be given once and could never be taken away. If she had wanted it, then she had lost the opportunity forever now. “You… found someone?”

“Hey Noct!” Prompto called, as if on cue. Noctis turned and looked at the bathroom door, his stomach dropping at the sudden feeling of dread he felt. He didn’t want the two of them to meet. He didn’t want Lunafreya to be jealous and angry that she wasn’t the one he had picked. “You have to come see this!”

“I, um… I have to go,” Noctis said as he looked back at Lunafreya. Her eyes narrowed just slightly then went back to normal, like she was trying hard not to take it as a slight. It was obvious that Prompto was the one he had gifted the Ring of Lucii to. “We’ll catch up later, Luna. It was good seeing you.”

“Yes,” Luna said slowly, calculatingly. What, exactly, was she plotting? “It was good to see you as well Noctis. We shall catch up soon.”

“Noct!” Prompto called in a singsong voice, like there was something good happening. “Come see this!”

“You really must,” Ignis called as well. “It’s quite beautiful. Gladio, you too.”

Noctis smiled awkwardly at Lunafreya before he closed the bedroom door, knowing that she would likely make things more complicated later on. But Prompto was calling, and the way that he called filled him with such a gentle ache that he couldn’t help but follow him. He had started to think that maybe, just maybe, Prompto was starting to like him too, and he hoped that soon enough he could work up the courage to ask him how he felt.

“That’s your ex?” Gladio asked in surprise. “She’s beautiful, but… Hmm… How do I put it?”

“My dad set us up, hoping it would result in a marriage,” Noctis said with a shrug as he walked to the bathroom door. “She’s nice enough, but when I broke it off with her, she didn’t handle it well. I think she wanted the Ring of Lucii. Dad was vague on the details, but there’s some power in it that she wanted. I can’t help it that I didn’t really feel anything for her.”

“So basically we need to keep Prompto away from her,” Gladio considered. “Especially if Heaven sent her.”

“Basically,” Noctis said with a nod. He sighed, not even thinking about how she could have been the one sent by Heaven. “Better tell the guys about this.”

He opened the bathroom door and they both stepped inside. Prompto was beaming while Ignis looked at his hand with obvious pleasure, his mask back on. His hand was no longer bleeding. Instead, there was a pattern of feathers and thorns, as if he had been tattooed where he had been injured. It was the same beauty that had been patterned on Prompto’s skin that he had from his wings. Noctis was simultaneously both pleased by Prompto unlocking his power to help Ignis and jealous that he hadn’t witnessed it or been the one to be permanently marked by him.

“I can heal!” Prompto exclaimed triumphantly, practically squealing. He was sitting next to Ignis now, no longer focused on pulling out the shards that were scattered on the ground, bloody and black. It was like their previous worries between each other had instantly vanished. “Sorry about the mark it leaves, Ignis, but I did it! I wonder what else I can do!”

Noctis really wanted to walk over to him and kiss him then, but he resisted the temptation. He didn’t want to scare Prompto, let alone hurt him. And Prompto was so happily staring at Ignis, pleased by his sudden progress, that Noctis didn’t have the heart to disrupt the moment. Sometimes things didn’t have to be about how much he loved the Nephilim.

“I think I figured it out,” Ignis considered as he looked at the pattern, clearly impressed by the design on his skin. “Prompto’s wings only came out after Noctis was hurt trying to help him. His healing powers only came out when I was injured. I don’t think it has anything to do with his pain or pleasure. I think it entirely has to do with your desire to help those you care about.”

“So by that logic,” Gladio considered. “It should go the other way too, right? If Prompto was kissed by someone he loved then it might unlock all sorts of powers.”

Prompto and Noctis looked to each other, both of them blushing brightly at the thought. Did Prompto possibly feel the same way that he did? Was that why he looked at him? Or was it because of something else? Maybe he just felt pity for him. Noctis really wanted to know, even though he had only been with Prompto for a few weeks since he had given him the mark. He just wanted so desperately for Prompto to love him.

“It’s awesome that you can do that Prompto, but we’ll have to figure it out as we go,” Noctis said, changing the subject. Prompto nodded, both of them grateful that Noctis had changed the subject, turning it away from the thought of kissing him. “For the time being we have other things to worry about. Lunafreya is here. She just stopped by the room. And she knows I’ve given Prompto the Ring of Lucii.”

Ignis’s smiled immediately faltered. “That… Is something to worry about. Does her brother know she’s here?”

“Probably not,” Noctis replied with a shrug. Ravus wasn’t as goal-oriented as Lunafreya was, more likely to reel her in and prevent her from doing anything particularly harmful. “But either way, we should be a bit cautious. From now on, we only travel in pairs. I’d like to stay with Prompto as much as possible, if that’s alright with you two.”

“Of course,” Ignis said. Noctis wondered what they had talked about that made Ignis suddednly relax his anger that had been directed at Prompto since they arrived there. What had eased his jealousy? “But I would suggest one of us taking over should Lunafreya demand your attention.”

“W-will she?” Prompto asked uncertainly, like he was worried that Noctis would start dating her again. Noctis felt more than a little bit hopeful at his reaction, giving him the thought that there was a chance they could be together.

“Probably,” Noctis considered with a shrug. “But I’m not really interested or anything. She’s not my type.”

He winked at Prompto boldly, making the blond blush brightly. Noctis’s heart soared, his stomach doing so many flips and flops in that moment. There was hope. It was undeniable. There was no way Lunafreya could come between them, no matter how upset she was that she didn’t receive the Ring of Lucii. It had to mean something that Prompto was so conscious of his presence.

“Either way,” Gladio said as he looked at Ignis, who was clearly not looking at him. Instead he wrapped a brotherly arm around Prompto and pulled him close. Prompto blushed, but Ignis grinned. Noctis had a feeling it was solely to make Gladio jealous. It was working, and Noctis felt himself feel more than a bit jealous at the gesture as well. “We have a direction to go in so we can work with Prompto’s power. And we know we have to be careful. There’s a celestial fate plotting.”

“What exactly is a celestial fate?” Prompto asked sheepishly. Ignis rested his head against Prompto’s, making Noctis think that maybe Prompto’s power also had some means of causing euphoria to take away any pain. He really liked the idea of Ignis being a bit more playful and less reserved.

Everyone looked to Noctis, waiting to see how he was going to respond. Apparently it was his job to tell Prompto exactly who his ex-girlfriend was. Dread overwhelmed him as he thought about his past, knowing that it could either make or break his relationship with Prompto. It all hinged on what Lunafreya was going to try and do. There was no way that Noctis would let her hurt Prompto or come between them, though. Not without a fight.

Chapter Text

Gladio wasn’t going to let this go. Ignis liked him. Noctis had indicated as much, and Gladio wasn’t going to let that go. He couldn’t, not after being so terrified of Ignis hurting himself. He had experienced fear before when he was a human, worried about his family, worried about the crusades. But this was different. This fear was beyond anything he had experienced before. When he had been a crusader he had been worried about losing his faith. Now, he was worried about losing the one he had faith in.

It was a sudden shift that happened all at once, rapid like a storm tearing through a town and leaving nothing in its wake. Gladio had always considered himself a man that was singularly devoted to God, someone whom Heaven could rely on for anything. But knowing Ignis, wanting to know Ignis more and more, had changed his perspective suddenly and in every wonderfully terrifying way he could think of. His faith shifted, and knowing that God was gone only made it easier. God was gone, but Ignis was here. Gladio had faith in Ignis, someone who was real, tangible, and worth his devotion. He loved him.

There was a barrier to convincing Ignis, though. Ignis was closed off since he had smashed the mirror in the bathroom, his hand now covered in beautiful markings instead of the scars that he should have ended up with. Something happened between Ignis and Prompto to the point that they were not only getting along really well, but he was also spending an inordinate amount of time with him. It was difficult to get any time alone with the succubus now.

Noctis was left a bit perplexed, but he was busy trying to deal with Lunafreya’s seemingly constant presence as she tried to find her way closer to Prompto, presumably due to the Ring of Lucii. Gladio was left alone frequently because of it, and he suspected that Ignis was very intentional in that fact. Several nights in the past few weeks Gladio found himself alone in the room that he shared with Ignis only to discover that Ignis was staying in Prompto’s room for the evening. He knew he had to do something or he would lose any slim chance he barely had with him in the first place. Prompto looked a bit worn out by it, and Noctis was clearly annoyed by it as well. Something had to change.

“Hey Gladio,” Noctis said to him one day as they were walking down the hall towards the training arena. Prompto and Ignis were walking ahead of them, his arm around Prompto’s shoulders, chatting with him about something that Gladio couldn’t hear. “Can you do something about this? I mean, I’m glad they’re getting along finally, but he’s cock blocking me at every opportunity. I even think Prompto’s a bit put out by it, but he won’t say anything. And I’d really like some time alone with Prompto so I can talk to him about… Well, you know what I want to talk to him about.”

“Alright,” Gladio said with a nod. He had been thinking the same thing the prince of Hell was thinking. “I will do what I can. Just grab Prompto and go after training today. Let me handle the rest.”

“Thanks,” Noctis replied. “I’m trying to figure out if Prompto likes me. It’s been what? Three months since we came here? Do you think that’s enough time to ask him or he needs more time?”

“With the way he looks at you?” Gladio asked with a laugh. “No, man. He doesn’t need more time. If anything, I’m worried that something’s going to happen with Lunafreya that’ll make things more difficult on you guys.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Noctis said with a determination in his voice that made Gladio instantly believe him. He grinned as Prompto turned to look at Noctis with such desire that Gladio got secondhand embarrassment from it. There was no way they were fooling anyone, let alone each other. Prompto liked Noctis.

“I’ll make sure you get a chance to be alone,” Gladio offered, his heart skipping a beat at the thought of being alone with Ignis. “Wish me luck. I don’t want to lose Ignis.”

“I’ll put in a good word,” Noctis replied. He smiled at him warmly.

Gladio found it strangely warming that he had become so close to Noctis. He blamed Prompto for even making him think that the prince of Hell was someone worth talking to. Prompto was such a good-natured guy that if he was friends with someone, anyone really, then it was hard not to go along with it. Now that Gladio had so obviously fallen for Ignis, he had to accept that Noctis would be a part of his life. They had spent the better part of their time in Purgatory getting to know each other, and it made things a lot easier while making them all closer than they used to be. Gladio knew he should have been worried about it, but he wasn’t. It was like they found each other, a group of misfits just trying to do what was right, with little regard to the consequences of Heaven or Hell.

The training had also gone exponentially smoother than it had before Ignis had hurt himself. Prompto knew how to tap into his power now, and he was proving to not only be exceptional in harnessing the powers they had, but there were other powers that he had a knack for that they didn’t. One such power was the ability to use pure light to kill or seriously maim someone. That power scared them all, but none more so than Prompto. He was adamant about not wanting to hurt anyone, but that didn’t necessarily match the reality of the situation.

Prompto was pretty sure that his father was being held in the palace in Heaven. That was more than just a little dangerous, even if Gladio went there by himself. There were charms and enchantments to keep archangels away, let alone a Nephilim. Gladio knew that the chances of them getting into Heaven, let alone making it out alive, were slim. Doing so without hurting or killing anyone was pretty much impossible. Prompto was going to have to understand that sooner rather than later.

“So this is the Nephilim that everyone’s all worried about?” a cold voice asked as they stepped into the arena. Noctis stopped in his tracks next to Gladio, cursing under his breath, while Ignis tensed. Gladio and Prompto were confused. Standing next to Cor was a tall man with beautiful silver hair and one blue eye and one purple eye. He wore all white, save for the splash of purple and black on his suit, giving Gladio the impression that he was born of stardust. He had a feeling he knew who this man was.

“Hey Ravus,” Noctis greeted him, confirming his suspicions as they approached the celestial fate standing next to Cor. “Long time no see.”

“My sister was quite adamant that I come to Purgatory and assist her with whatever it is she is plotting,” Ravus affirmed as the four of them approached the celestial. Noctis and Ravus shook hands like they were old acquaintances, not necessarily on bad terms but not particularly friendly either. “I think she still harbors some feelings towards you and is trying to rekindle the flame.”

Noctis looked like he was about to say something, but he never got the chance. Cor, ever the enthusiast for training, turned to Ravus. “You wanted to see the progress we’ve made. Are you looking to spar with them?”

“Not with them,” Ravus said. His eyes swiveled to Prompto and he nodded at him. “With him.”

“Hold on,” Ignis offered. “Ravus, as good as it is to see you, I doubt that Prompto is ready to fight a celestial fate. You have had centuries to train. He has had only a few months.”

“It’s alright,” Prompto said shakily. Gladio knew he was in over his head, so why was he taking him up on the offer? Was it because Ravus had indicated that Lunafreya was still interested in Noctis? That shouldn’t have mattered, especially since Prompto was the one Noctis was in love with. “I need to know if I’m ready to rescue my father. This will be a good test.”

“Just don’t tell me you’re doing this because Luna asked you to kill him,” Noctis said as Prompto turned around and walked away to prepare himself for the fight. His wings began to unfurl, beautiful and shimmering in the misty air that was ever present. “He’s got the mark.”

“I know,” Ravus replied as he took off his suit jacket and handed it to Cor. “That’s why I want to see who won out over my sister. Is he really worth your love, prince of Hell?”

“Not all worth is measured in strength,” Ignis said, his marked hand twitching from where Prompto had healed him. Gladio looked at him, wanting a kind word from Ignis to be directed at him for once. He ached for the succubus each moment of the day and all through the long and lonely nights.

“I didn’t expect you to be so gentle, Ignis,” Ravus said with a smile. “Losing your touch, succubus?”

“If anything, he’s stronger now than he ever was,” Gladio interjected. Ravus looked at him, an archangel defending a demon, in surprise. It was likely this would come back to haunt him, but he wasn’t about to let Ravus talk down to Ignis just because he was a demon.

Ravus broke into a brighter smile as he looked from Gladio to Ignis. “Really? I would have thought you’d pick me in the end. An archangel?”

“I’ve chosen no one,” Ignis replied stiffly, folding his arms across his chest. The snide comment wasn’t actually anger or derision. Ravus was flirting with Ignis. Gladio was surprised and very jealous. Just what relationship did he have with Ravus?

“Sure,” Ravus said with a grin. He looked at Gladio as if assessing a prized possession, his hands on his hips and clear chagrin on his face. “I never would’ve taken you for someone who likes beefcakes.”

Noctis lost it at that. He doubled over laughing, his hands on his knees while Ravus gave Ignis the most rueful grin Gladio had ever seen. Ignis was blushing, looking anywhere but at them. If even a celestial was able to see that Ignis liked him then why wasn’t Ignis letting Gladio within his trajectory? Something was going to have to change, and Gladio would have to be the one to do it. And it wasn’t so bad to be thought of as a beefcake either.

“Now if you’re excuse me,” Ravus said as he looked to Prompto. “I should make quick work of this. He does know what a celestial fate is, doesn’t he?”

“Vaguely?” Noctis replied with a shrug. Ravus looked at him, perplexed. “I told him that you two are agents of chaos and can create and destroy entire planetary systems?”

“Close enough,” Ravus replied with a shrug. “My sister is the worst of us, but you already knew that. Just be careful around her, Noctis. She’s clearly upset that she was not given the Ring of Lucii.”

“It’s not my fault that she can’t take no for an answer,” Noctis grumbled as Ravus walked over to Prompto. He stared at them intensely, like he was trying to decide whether or not to intervene before they even had a chance to spar. Ravus brushed his fingers against Prompto’s wings, making the Nephilim jump in startled surprise, and he turned to the celestial with a blush. Gladio noticed Noctis looked ready to hit someone.

“Steady, Noct,” Ignis said as he put a hand on Noctis’s shoulder. “Ravus isn’t going to hurt Prompto. He’s not his sister. He’s much kinder than Lunafreya has been to those who slight her. He might hit on him, though.”

“I didn’t slight her,” Noctis insisted. “She just thinks I did. And Ravus better not.”

“Either way,” Gladio interrupted. “It sounds like Ravus isn’t going to try and just kill him because of Lunafreya’s jealousy. Although you might want to make it clear to Prompto that you don’t like her. He looked about to cry when Ravus pointed out that she was going to make a move on you.”

They stopped speaking when Ravus and Prompto took their marks. Ravus looked tall, graceful, sure of himself as any ancient being would be. Gladio knew that Prompto didn’t stand a chance. Judging by how uncertain and scared Prompto looked, he had a feeling that the Nephilim knew that as well. With a flourish, Ravus attacked Prompto, not giving him a moment to think. Prompto moved, swift and far more graceful than he used to be, but Ravus was too skilled for him to out maneuver him.

Ravus had him by the throat quickly, Prompto’s feet not touching the ground. When Gladio tensed, ready to intervene, Prompto gripped Ravus’s hands and used his chest to kick off and free himself from his grip. He didn’t land on the ground, his wings propelling him through the air. They both flew around the arena, Ravus a ball of pure purple and white light chasing Prompto while Prompto flew so fast it was difficult for Gladio to keep up with him. It seemed like there was no way that Ravus could catch up to Prompto, but suddenly and unexpectedly he was in front of him, and Prompto was trying to stop quickly and turn the other way.

With a shriek, Prompto was caught by the wrist and pulled out of his flight path, Ravus back into his corporeal form. He whirled Prompto around and flung him onto the ground, making the Nephilim land with a rather painful sounding thump. Gladio didn’t like that, and he wasn’t the only one. Prompto looked up at Ravus as he came for him, swift and sudden, ready to strike. It didn’t take much for them to react.

Gladio had his shield out and was standing over Prompto as Ravus brandished a dagger, coming down to hold it to Prompto’s throat in submission. Instead, he struck the weapon on Gladio’s shield just as Ignis was on one side, holding a dagger to Ravus’s throat while Noctis had a sword pointed at his abdomen. Prompto was looking at them in both shock and fear, but Gladio could only grin at the celestial.

“Your first mistake was challenging Prompto to a fight,” Gladio said with a laugh. “Your second was assuming we don’t fight as a team. And your third? Flirting with Ignis in front of me.”

Ravus looked at him for a long moment then pulled his dagger away with a laugh. Ignis and Noctis relaxed, and Gladio lowered his shield. The celestial held out a hand to Prompto, who took it with a wide eyed look on his face. “I guess you have bested me then. As celestial fates, we really only have each other to rely on.”

“I guess I’m lucky,” Prompto said as Ravus pulled him to his feet. He smiled sheepishly, his cheeks red as his wings retracted and turned back into the beautiful pattern on his skin. “I have a long way to go, though.”

“You didn’t even try to use your Nephilim power,” Ravus pointed out. “Why not?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Prompto replied. Gladio rested his arm and on his shoulder like an older brother hanging on his younger and shorter sibling, not giving Prompto the chance to be so wrapped up in his insecurities. “I can only hurt people with this, I think.”

Prompto looked down at his hands like he was a ticking time bomb. Gladio understood that feeling well. When he had first become an angel, let alone an archangel, he had struggled. Noctis and Gladio had tried so hard to teach him how to control it, but he was just so different as a Nephilim. It was hard not to feel like he had failed as a mentor and archangel since he couldn’t help Prompto in the way that he needed.

“Hmm,” Ravus considered, a hand on his hip while he held his hand up to his mouth, thinking. “I think I can help with that. I’ve known Nephilim before and know what the power looks like.”

“You mean, there are other Nephilim out there?” Prompto asked. This was the first Gladio had heard of it too.

“They have long since been killed by Heaven,” Ravus explained. Prompto’s expression fell. “You’re the last of them, I think. But if you don’t want to kill anyone, I think I can help you learn how to control it.”

“Yes, please!” Prompto said immediately, his eyes hopeful. “I really want to be able to save my father without hurting anyone permanently.”

“You’re too soft,” Ravus said. He eyed Noctis. “Some people will take advantage of that. Be careful. Most Nephilim have been soft and have died because of it. Too much humanity in them.”

“I can do this,” Prompto insisted. Gladio ruffled his hair supportively, and he smiled up at him, making Gladio’s brotherly heartstrings tug and pull. It made him feel guilty for not being a better brother to Iris. There was a lot he had to atone for, and he looked at Ignis in despair. He had done a lot as a crusader, all in God’s name. All for the Cause. No wonder Ignis had difficulty trusting him.

“Sure,” Ravus agreed with a shrug. “I don’t see how it could hurt.”

He eyed Noctis again like he wanted to say something, almost like he didn’t quite trust Noctis enough for him to be near Prompto. Did he know something that the others didn’t? Perhaps Lunafreya had told him something about the prince that they didn’t know. Gladio hoped not for Prompto’s sake. It was so obvious that the kid had fallen for Noctis. He didn’t think that the Nephilim would be able to recover from his heart breaking. Not again.

“While they’re working on it, I’m going to steal this guy away,” Gladio said as he walked over to Ignis and threw an arm around his shoulders. Ignis tensed, looking like he wanted to run away, but Gladio wasn’t going to let him go. Not until he was able to clearly convey what he needed to say. If Ignis rejected him after that, then at least he knew that he tried.

“Great idea,” Noctis offered with a grin in Ignis’s direction. “If we need your help, I’ll give you a call. But I’m sure Prompto could use the time to focus on his training.”

*“You heard the prince,” Gladio said as he began to walk away, pulling Ignis with him. “Looks like we’re not needed right now.”

Ignis didn’t say anything as Gladio walked out of the training grounds with the demon in tow. Instead, his anger was rolling off of him in waves, clearly not happy that Gladio had taken him away from the others. He didn’t want to be left alone with Gladio, but Gladio couldn’t stand to be without him. If he rejected him after Gladio laid it all out in the open for him then he could accept it and move on. But if there was one inkling of a possibility that Ignis wanted to be with him, then he had to try.

“Do you mind not touching me?” Ignis asked angrily as Gladio led them towards their room. He looked like he had been burned by Gladio’s touch, making Gladio’s heart ache painfully. Was he wrong? Was Noctis mistaken? Did Ignis really just genuinely hate him and that’s all that was to be said for it? He was going to find out soon enough.

“Yes, I mind,” Gladio said as he opened their bedroom door and stalked inside, sending Ignis in before him. He slammed the door shut behind him and locked the door before looking at Ignis with an exasperated sigh. Ignis stood in front of him, his arms folded across his chest, but there was something beneath the surface that Gladio could see. It was something that longed to be held instead of being used. “Ignis, I need to tell you something before I regret not saying anything at all.

“No,” Ignis replied. It wasn’t the same sharp reply he always got. It was gentler, a sigh on his beautiful lips that made Gladio’s heart ache. “I know what you’re going to say Gladio. And before you say anything, I need to tell you something. I need to tell you the truth. About me, about my face, about why I can’t trust a crusader no matter how hard I try. When you know, then you can tell me what you were going to say. It’ll give you a chance to walk away.”

Ignis walked over to the chair sitting in front of a vanity, sitting on it and looking down his hands like he couldn’t look up at Gladio. It made Gladio want to reach out to him. He knew that Ignis would only shut down if he did, so he sat on the edge of the bed, as close as he could get to Ignis, just able to reach out and touch him if he needed to. Ignis’s shoulders slumped, like he was trying to fold into himself, and Gladio braced himself for whatever he was going to say.

“When I was a human,” Ignis began, his lips downturned and his brow furrowed. Gladio’s heart was racing at the thought of hearing about Ignis’s past. “When I was human, I was devoted to the Six. They were the Gods before God took over, as I’m sure you know.”

“I know,” Gladio affirmed. He thought about his own past. His family had been devoted to the Six. Gladio had been the one to convert to his belief in one singular God, the only one of his family to join the crusades against the Six for God’s righteous cause.

“I was raised in Tenebrae,” Ignis continued. “I was devoted to Shiva and belonged to a temple that worshipped her in particular. The women there were the ones who were devoted to spreading her word through their travels, their good deeds. The men spent their time in the temple, chaste and pure. I was one of those who lived there, worked there, and breathed in everything about Shiva. I never wanted to marry, never wanted to have a family of my own. I was content being the beautiful devotee to Shiva, providing my assistance and following her teachings.”

Gladio was shocked. He never expected Ignis to have been young, chaste, and so very different than what he was now. Try as he might, it was difficult to imagine Ignis as a young and innocent man without a desire for anyone. How, exactly, did he become a succubus then? Gladio had a feeling that it wasn’t good, whatever the reason, and the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach began to grow.

“When the crusaders came into town, things changed,” Ignis explained. He didn’t glance at Gladio, but there was a slight tremble in his voice. “They attacked men, women, children. It didn’t matter. All in the name of their one all-mighty God. The temple of Shiva was attacked. We all were attacked, vulnerable, alone.”

There was a silence in the room. Gladio’s breathing was rapid, knowing where this was going. Ignis’s breathing was slow, deep, like he was focused on maintaining his composure while the horrible memories resurfaced. Gladio had never been a part of the crusades that treated nonbelievers horribly, but he knew they had existed. If Gladio had been there, he knew he would have stopped it. He would have tried to help Ignis.

“The crusaders came to the temple all at once,” Ignis said quietly, black tears cascading down his face and dropping onto the palm of his hands. “I was able to hide in a room, but they found me eventually. They… They took their time and not all of them took turns. After a long time, I was given an out. A demon came to me and said he would give me ten good years of power to ensure that I wouldn’t be hurt again and could take my revenge. I was broken, scarred beyond repair, and had an out as I was taken again and again by men who claimed to be righteous in their cause. Of course I accepted.”

Gladio stared at him in shock. It was not something he anticipated hearing, but it explained why Ignis hated crusaders so much. Disgust and horror coursed through his veins. If he had known that crusaders had been doing such horrific things he would have stopped them. But knowing that Ignis associated him with those people made his self-loathing grow, strong and ugly. No wonder he couldn’t trust Gladio. If that had happened to Gladio then he would have done the same. Gladio had the sudden and intense desire to reject everything about his past, the need to show Ignis he was anything but that.

“Those ten years were the strongest and most powerful I had ever felt as a human,” Ignis said with a bitter smile, looking up at the ceiling, his tears descending on his face painfully. “Six, I swear I was so powerful then. Even more than I am now. I was on a personal vendetta to kill every fucking crusader in all of Eos. I was tireless, and I made it all the way to Lucis.

“The last day of those ten years, I was in a village in Lucis. The crusaders had come. They were attacking a family who was fighting with all their might. But their daughter was crying for her brother, who was nowhere to be found, likely already dead. She was so small, so petite. The last thing I did before my soul came for collection was to save her and her family. I never did find out what happened to them. I hope she found her brother.

“When I woke up in the pits, I knew that my time was up,” Ignis continued, looking back down at his hands. “I didn’t demand more time, I didn’t ask for any mercy. I accepted my punishment. Until I found out what it was.” He paused, his voice breaking. “I screamed and begged for anything but that. Do you know what it takes to make a succubus, Gladio?”

Gladio shook his head slowly when Ignis looked at him, his black tears staining his face with such beautiful sadness that he could feel the answer. It was so unfair to him. Ignis had been a decent person, he still was a decent person. His soul was irrevocably altered for the rest of eternity all because those who claimed to love God had hurt him and tortured him until he couldn’t see any way out but making a deal with a demon.

“In Hell, you relive the worst moment of your life over and over again,” Ignis explained. “For me, it was that moment in the temple with the crusaders. After long enough, you forget everything but the agony. But I held onto my righteous anger. I kept a firm grasp on it, letting it be my anchor to my sanity. After enough time, I was powerful, a succubus now instead of just a human soul being tortured.

“I escaped the pits, crawled my way out, and ended up in the palace where King Regis took me in as his own son. It was the first time since that moment in the temple that I received any kindness. I would have done, I did do, anything for him. Crossroads deals, watching after Noctis, attending to Aulea. Whatever it took, I would do it. He didn’t treat me like a succubus, only as a son. Unfortunately, I got hurt on a mission to put an end to a priest who had real holy water. The king didn’t demand so much of me after that, preferring to have me stick to the crossroads, the politics of the court, and being a brother to Noctis. I was injured pretty severely and scarred. My appearance finally reflects the hideous nature of my twisted soul.”

Wordlessly, Gladio got up and stood in front of Ignis. Ignis looked up at him, his eyes aching and pained, all of his fears finally on the surface. All save one. Gladio needed to see for himself, to see just why Ignis was so worried about him rejecting him, why he hurt himself because of his appearance. He knelt down in between Ignis’s legs as he remained sitting on the chair. Ignis leaned forward as Gladio reached up and touched his cheek with his hand, caressing the skin that felt so smooth to him. They were so close to each other that Gladio could feel his breath on his lips, his black tears smearing under his touch.

“Show me,” Gladio nearly whispered. He was crying, he realized, his pain at Ignis’s torment taking hold. “Let me see the true face of the man I love. Let me see you, Ignis.”

Ignis sat back, a sigh barely exhaling out of his lips as he looked down at Gladio. “You won’t like what you see. I promise you. And you won’t love me after all this. Not… Not really.”

“Leave that decision up to me,” Gladio insisted. He touched Ignis’s cheek again before putting his hands on Ignis’s thighs. “Please, Ignis.”

Ignis waved a hand in front of his face, revealing what he truly looked like. The left side of his face was scarred over his eye, the flesh like he had been badly wounded by an acid burn or a fire. His left eye was glazed over, unseeing and the pale blue that indicated he would never regain his sight in that eye again. There was a small scar on the left side of his lip, making his usually perfect pout look far more sad than he usually looked.

Gladio stared at him, his real features, taking him in, absorbing what he looked like. Ignis sat still, but the longer Gladio was silent the more uncomfortable he was becoming. It was difficult for Gladio to say anything, not because of any sort of disgust or revulsion. When he looked at Ignis, truly looked at Ignis in his natural form, he could only think one thing. He could only stare at him, wanting to take in every facet of his features.

“You’re so…” Gladio said in awe. Ignis let out a sigh, and Gladio knew he expected the worst. “You’re so beautiful, Ignis.”

“What?” Ignis asked as Gladio reached up and touched his scarred face. “You… You’re just saying that.”

Gladio pulled Ignis’s face down, and the demon didn’t fight him this time. He was scared, Gladio could feel him trembling beneath his touch, but he didn’t resist. Ignis’s forehead pressed against Gladio’s, and they stayed like that as Gladio cupped Ignis’s face in his hands. Gladio felt his heart hurting for Ignis. He wanted to take away that pain for him. He had to find a way.

“You are beautiful, Ignis,” Gladio whispered. “I wish I could take away all the pain that you have ever felt. I would take it all on me if I could. The only thing I can do is promise to find you more and more lovely each day, for you and who you are. The only thing I can do is promise to love you each and every day. I love you, Ignis. And I want you to love me too so I can take care of you. Please let me take care of you.”

Ignis let out a sob as he nodded into Gladio’s touch. “I love you, Gladio,” Ignis pleaded, like it was a prayer on his tongue. “I love you. I don’t want to, but I can’t help it. All I want is for you to love me.”

Gladio didn’t need to hear anything else. He pressed his lips against Ignis’s, his heart reaching out to find what Ignis wanted from him, so that he never had to live with such pain or anger or hatred as long as he was with him. The only thing that Ignis would receive from him was pleasure, love, and kindness. He refused to be someone else that would seek to use and hurt Ignis anymore. He willed Ignis to believe and feel it as their lips refused to part, a burning desire for each other growing with each passing moment.

The feel of Ignis’s tongue on his was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It wasn’t the feeling of a succubus seducing his prey. Instead, it was Ignis reaching out for comfort, begging Gladio to take away his pain before it spiraled. Gladio stood, refusing to let go of Ignis’s lips as he pulled the demon with him, his hands tugging at Ignis’s shirt, his workout shorts, undressing him with deliberate love and gentleness. Ignis made to take off Gladio’s clothes as well, but Gladio only pulled away and shook his head.

“This isn’t about me, Ignis,” Gladio said as he gently guided Ignis to the bed. “If you want this, I want to satisfy you. I want us to be built on a mutual satisfaction. Let me take care of you.”

Ignis looked terrified of the notion. He looked ready to run away, like he hadn’t mixed his own pleasure and love with sex in so long that it was a foreign notion to him. Gladio was reminded about how Ignis had been devoted to chastity before he had been so horribly violated. He had been like Gladio was, only his choice had been forcefully taken from him. He had likely never experienced sex as a pleasant or comfortable experience, not truly.

“I’m afraid, Gladio,” Ignis admitted. “I’m afraid of what this means. If I am with you now… I don’t know how I can keep being a succubus.”

“Well it’s a good thing I’m an archangel,” Gladio reasoned with a smile. “And then I suppose I’ll end up a fallen angel eventually. So you have me forever, I guess.”

Gladio smiled at Ignis as he sat on the bed, looking at him with eyes wide, one unseeing while the other was solely focused on him. He was so beautiful to Gladio, from the curve of his collarbone to the flat toned muscles on his chest and abs, to his beautiful waistline down to his hard cock and long, lithe limbs. Everything about him was so lovely, so desirable, that Gladio could only think about giving Ignis the love and pleasure that he deserved. He deserved to know what it felt like to be given everything instead of taken from over and over again, doomed to relive his trauma for all eternity.

“Forever is a very long time,” Ignis pointed out as Gladio took his own clothes off, his heart beating rapidly as he thought about being with Ignis so intimately.

“Then I guess we better get started,” Gladio replied with a gentle smile. Ignis only smiled at him and opened up his arms to him, beckoning him to join him in the bed. It was not the seduction that Ignis always did. This was different. This was Ignis welcoming him home with open arms.

Ignis moved backwards on the bed as Gladio joined him, his head resting on the pillow. Gladio was on top of him, his arms on either side of Ignis’s shoulders, his aching body pressed against Ignis’s as their lips connected, their tongues caressing each other with a hungry and gentle ache. Their cocks were rubbing against each other with a sweet ache spreading like fire, their hard abs pressed tightly like they were trying to find a way to become one without any remembrance of pain or agony. Ignis moaned into Gladio’s kisses, his arms snaking around his neck and pulling him close into him.

“Please,” Ignis whispered when Gladio pulled away, looking at his beautiful face, wanting nothing more than just to give him anything he wanted. He was defying Heaven for him. He would do it over and over and over if he had to. “I just want you, Gladio. Please give me all of you.”

“Anything for you,” Gladio replied. He positioned his cock just outside of Ignis’s ass, looking at him with gentle concern. “Tell me if you need me to stop. I will.”

Ignis reached up and caressed Gladio’s lips with his fingers, cool and fiery to the touch all at once. “To hear you say that is more than I ever thought possible. All I can think about is having you.”

Gladio nodded and gently entered Ignis, the demon gasping and shuddering from his touch. For a moment Gladio was concerned. When Ignis let out a low, pleasurable moan that made the hair on Gladio’s arm stand up in pure delight, he knew that Ignis was only overcome with pleasure. He pulled out slowly then inserted himself again with the same amount of gentleness as before, using only a little more pressure and force this time. Ignis let out a moan again, louder and more demanding than before.

“Gladio,” Ignis panted as he clutched onto Gladio’s back, his nails digging into his skin. “I can’t… Please. Don’t stop. Gladio.”

He kept repeating Gladio’s name, like it was a prayer that was willing away all his pain. Gladio was concerned. Ignis was crying, clearly overwhelmed by the pleasure of it, but he kept begging Gladio for more, his name dancing on his tongue. There was something in him that needed this more than Gladio realized. He needed to know that he was loved far more than he ever believed possible. Ignis needed to know that Gladio didn’t think he was so scarred that he could never love him the way he so obviously did.

Gladio thrust into him again, gently rocking back and forth, pulsating as Ignis drew him in deeper and deeper. There was a deep, throaty moan that escaped Gladio’s lips while Ignis breathlessly panted his name, his hips twitching underneath Gladio. They rocked in tandem to each other’s moans, Ignis’s hands trailing down to Gladio’s ass and gripping it tightly pleading for more with his body while he couldn’t vocalize his desires. Gladio understood what he wanted.

He wrapped an arm around Ignis’s arching back and pulled him up. Gladio was strong, and he wanted to prove to Ignis that he was strong enough to handle his love. On his knees, he thrust in and out of Ignis while he was on top of him, a pressure building in him demanding release. He wouldn’t allow it. Not until Ignis was thoroughly satisfied. Ignis clung to him, his arms around his neck, his face buried into his shoulder, his lips pressed into his skin as he cried out for more from Gladio.

Thrusting hard into Ignis, but not without tenderness, he found that sweet spot in Ignis, the one that had been so denied and kept from him for so long. Ignis arched into the pulsating rhythm hitting deep in him, his chest pressed against Gladio’s as he moved on top of him. Gladio kept one hand on the small of his back and the other between his shoulder blades, pulling him close to him as Ignis came, his seed spilling out onto them both. Gladio lost his control at that. Knowing that he had pleased Ignis had sent him over the edge, making him climax within him.

That’s when Gladio noticed it. A pattern was forming on Ignis’s shoulders and arms. It was the same pattern of feathers that Gladio had on him. It was wings. How was it possible? Was there some sort of magic ritual they had just done, something they had successfully completed now that Ignis had found the space to heal from the pain and torment he had endured for an eternity? Ignis was unaware of it, clinging onto Gladio, pantining, his body shuddering and heaving as he cried into Gladio’s arms. Gladio only pulled out of Ignis then held him tightly, letting him cry as much as he needed to. There was a time for words and a time for silence. This was the latter, a time to let Ignis feel the love that he felt for him without the pain of his past.

“I don’t feel it anymore,” Ignis whispered into his neck, his lips caressing his skin, making Gladio feel a pleasant chill through his spine. “I don’t feel like a succubus anymore. How is that possible?”

“Look at your arms,” Gladio said as he gently gave Ignis the space to pull back and assess his own condition. Still in his arms, Ignis looked at himself in shock and surprise. “I think… Well, are you still a demon?”

Ignis was quiet for a moment, and then it happened. Wings unfurled from his back. They weren’t black or white, not the wings of an angel or a fallen angel. They weren’t even the black and silver of a Nephilim. They were a red, a deep and vibrant blood color that illuminated Ignis’s features like a dark halo. Gladio had never seen anything like it before. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

“I’ve never seen this in reality,” Ignis whispered as he looked at it. “I’ve only read it in lore. I didn’t think it was possible. Gladio… Did you know that it was possible for a demon’s soul to repair just enough to still be damned to Hell yet gain the power of an angel?”

Gladio looked at him, eyes wide. “You mean… You’re no longer a succubus?”

Ignis shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think… I am now a different type of fallen angel. One that is born from the pits and healed by Heaven.”

Gladio beamed at that and pressed his lips against Ignis’s excitedly, ignoring his shocked expression. “Ignis, do you know what this means?” Gladio asked in breathless excitement. Ignis shook his head. “It means you don’t have to rely on life essence to survive anymore.”

Ignis paused, his mind clearly not even considering that option. Then he kissed Gladio deeply, his lips causing a new wave of pleasure to go through the archangel. Ignis’s blood red wings wrapped around Gladio’s frame as they lay on the bed, entangled in each other’s arms for another round of pleasure that they would both enjoy. Gladio had Ignis, and Ignis was free.

Chapter Text

Nyx was overwhelmed, overloaded by the pain of knowing that the investigation had all but stalled, coming to a jarring halt. Aranea had said that the case was inevitably going to go cold, that they hadn’t been able to find a trace of Prompto or the woman named Lunafreya. Somehow he doubted that. He knew that Aranea had an idea of where Prompto was and was likely keeping him somewhere safe. But the notion that he was somehow alone, afraid, potentially in danger or in trouble, caused Nyx such distress that he couldn’t just leave it alone. He had to know where Prompto was, and four months of not knowing was beginning to eat at him hour by hour.

There was so much time that was wasted, and Crowe and Libertus both were trying to convince him to come back to work. They said it would take his mind off things, but he knew it was impossible. Without Prompto everything was so dark, so damning and confusing. His mind was struggling to get used to life without him. If he just knew where Prompto was then he could tell him that he was sorry and let him go. But if Prompto was hurt, or worse off than that, then he had to do what he could to rescue him. He had to do what he could to bring him home.

The painting in the museum called out to him, the Nephilim in it beckoning him forward. What the man had said to him was almost like he knew something that Nyx didn’t know, and he stared at the painting, trying to understand what he was missing in this entire puzzle. It was all too much for him, and he had to find a way to put each hint together, to figure out what so many had hinted at but he had missed. How did one stare through a painting exactly?

Nyx could only think of just touching the painting, but there were alarms that would go off if he did that. So he spent his time sitting in front of the painting, looking at the Nephilim in it, trying to figure out what about it was so different. Did the Nephilim in the painting always have such blond hair? Did it always look so much like Prompto? Nyx could have sworn that it was dark haired when he had first come to the museum. Now he couldn’t be sure at all. He was losing it and he knew it.

Frustrated, Nyx finally had enough. The museum staff wasn’t paying attention to him now that he was a regular, and he needed to know exactly what the man had meant by looking through the painting. The worst they would do is arrest him and ban him from the museum, and he knew Crowe and Libertus would get him off the hook. He stood up from the bench that had become his best friend over the course of the months and walked over to the painting. Looking around, he ensured he was alone before reaching out his hand and touched the Nephilim.

Nyx expected nothing to happen. He expected to touch the painting, the alarms to go off, and for him to be kicked out of the museum for being too obsessive over it. Instead, his hand went through the painting, reaching into something that felt like icy air. Shocked and terrified, Nyx pulled his hand back like he had been burned or shocked and looked at it with wide eyes. There was something on the other side. Had Prompto crossed through the painting? Is that why the blood was there? Was he trying to get to safety and this was his way out? Was he alive on the other side of the painting? What was exactly on the other side of the painting?

He stared at the Nephilim, its eyes closed as if it were resting peacefully amid the chaos, his heart racing, as he thought about what he could do. There was still no one in the room with him, and he had the sudden compulsion that came on strong and fast. Nyx knew what he had to do then. If there was even the slightest hope that Prompto was on the other side of the painting then he had to pursue this. If this was what the man was talking about then he had to know something about where Prompto was. There was no reason for him to stay behind, even if it meant never returning. He had to find him. He had to try.

With a deep breath, Nyx walked through the painting, the feeling that his lungs were freezing over and that there was something within him that was changing as a result of passing through the threshold taking over. His limbs were so very cold, his heart so very tired, and his lungs felt like they were on fire even though he was still breathing. It felt like what Nyx imagined death to feel like, both comforting and horrifying. But he was on the other side of the threshold before he knew it, standing in the middle of a world of swirling fog and soft mossy grass. It was impossible to see anything in front of him, and he took a deep breath when the feeling of death passed. It was like he could breathe again.

Was Prompto lost in this world? Was he suffering? Did he get up injured and bled out on the other side, unable to find his way towards safety? Nyx took a step forward, unable to determine which way was towards certain doom and which way was towards safety. He looked behind him and noticed that he couldn’t see the back of the painting. It was as if Eos had never existed. He had just stepped through a veil into a different world where things were so calm. His vision was obscured by the dense fog permeating everything.

“Prompto?!” Nyx called into the fog, his voice echoing around him. The fog muffled his voice, making it harder for the sound to travel. It was a lonely feeling, sad and terrifying when he felt like he was the only one there. He took another step forward, knowing that there was no going back now. He had to try and find Prompto. And if he didn’t he would die and be rid of this pain once and for all. “Prompto!”

Nyx screamed for him again, running through the fog with blind abandon. His panic and fear was taking hold the longer and more he ran, but he had to do what he could to find Prompto. He wouldn’t stop, even if it meant running in circles until he died. Prompto deserved to have someone coming for him, running after him. After all the pain he had been through, Prompto needed to know that there was at least one person out there who still loved him, who still cared. Nyx didn’t care about himself anymore. There was only Prompto.

Eventually, Nyx wore himself out. He ran so hard and so long that he knew his body was going to give out. He collapsed onto the soft moss, the sense that he hadn’t gotten anywhere making him scream for some reprieve. For all he knew he was just wandering in the same radius, ending up at the starting point over and over again. The fog wouldn’t cease, and Nyx was pretty sure it was the end. He let out another scream, loud and guttural, his fist slamming on the soft moss in an attempt to make it known to the universe that he was bitter about everything that had happened. He just hoped Prompto was somewhere out there, strong and smiling.

A soft light, white and purple and pulsating in front of him drew his attention up from the ground. It permeated the fog, clearing the air around it, and he strained against the glow, his eyes having difficulty adjusting to the beauty of it. Nyx was weak, and he collapsed onto the ground, consciousness drawing him away. He reached a hand out for whoever was stepping out of the light, his eyes straining to stay open as he looked at the man with two different colored eyes. He looked down at him with a frown and said something, but Nyx couldn’t make out what he said.

Consciousness left him, and he drifted into darkness, wondering what was going to happen now that he had been lost to the void. The last thing on his mind was Prompto’s smile, but even that faded from his memory, leaving him empty, unconscious, but not entirely alone.

***

In some ways, Prompto was feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time. He felt like his heart was healing, that he was finally moving on from the pain he felt over losing Nyx, and that he was getting stronger with each passing day. Cor still didn’t think that he was ready to go and find his father, but there was a growing feeling of anxiety that told him he had to leave Purgatory sooner rather than later. If Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio were going to be fighting alongside him, then he felt like he might actually have a shot at finding and saving him.

When Ignis and Gladio finally revealed to Noctis and Prompto that they were in love, he had been relieved and overjoyed. But when Ignis had shown them his new wings, blood red and beautiful, he had been in awe. Prompto knew without a doubt that he had fallen in love with Noctis when the prince cried in his joy and happiness that Ignis had found some kind of healing and grace. It was an unexpected moment of joy between brothers, and Noctis had hugged Ignis tightly telling him that he was beyond overjoyed that he no longer had to live as a succubus in order to survive. Prompto knew that if Noctis was too kind, too wonderful, for him not to love him. It didn’t matter if he was the prince of Hell or not.

Unfortunately, he didn’t get a chance to be alone with Noctis. Lunafreya had taken up all of his time, and Noctis had insisted on him staying away from her as much as possible. It was difficult for Prompto not to think that maybe Noctis really did want to be with Lunafreya instead. They had dated before, and he had only come into Noctis’s life very recently. The fact that Nyx had cheated on him with a woman was creating a new anxiety in him, something he never thought he would encounter before. What if he just wasn’t good enough for Noctis as a man?

He put that energy into his training and ignored his heartache, taking up practicing with Ravus while Ignis and Gladio were off being a grossly cute couple together and Noctis was entertaining Lunafreya. Prompto was painfully aware of the mark on his neck that Noctis had given him, wondering if maybe Noctis had been a bit premature. Perhaps he was regretting it, but was there even an option to take it back? And if he did, where would that leave Prompto? He didn’t know, and he was too afraid to ask.

Ravus was very helpful and guiding, helping him build on the foundation that Cor and the others had laid for him. He had insisted that Prompto try the gun range, and that’s when Prompto realized his talents were truly not with a sword or a shield like the others. Once he got past his anxiety, even Cor found himself impressed by his marksmanship. More and more Prompto was training with Ravus, learning how to shoot and control his power as a Nephilim. Less and less he was seeing Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio. Something was changing, and he knew that he was going to be hurt in the end. He tried to tell himself that it wasn’t going to happen, but the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach told him otherwise.

Prompto had felt those moments in his life before. Those were the times that he knew that life wasn’t going to go the way he wanted, that he had to find a way out before the hurt and pain could be greater than what it would be if he left of his own volition. The first time he really acted on it was when he ran away from home and never returned. Now he felt like he was going to have to run away from a new home that he had created before the others left him for good. Maybe it was Lunafreya’s plan to get Noctis all to herself, which was obviously working, but Prompto knew he couldn’t handle that heartache. Not after Nyx. Not after Noctis had been so obvious in his desire for him.

Maybe Prompto had assumed that Noctis would always be there for him and would patiently wait for him to figure out if he wanted to be with him or not. Prompto now knew he wanted to be with Noctis, and there had been so many times he tried to tell him, but getting Noctis alone these days was far more difficult than Prompto realized. Noctis claimed that it was to keep Lunafreya away from him, but he had spent so much time with her and so little time with Prompto that it was beginning to make him think that something else was going on. Maybe he was reading too much into it, but Ravus telling them that Lunafreya still harbored some emotions towards him made him think otherwise. Prompto had a feeling that Lunafreya was trying to take Noctis from him before they even had a chance to be together.

While Gladio and Ignis were off together and Noctis was with Lunafreya, Prompto had decided to explore the library of the Hall of Lost Souls. Ravus joined him on more than one occasion, friendly and helpful in his exploration of all things Nephilim. He decided that he liked Ravus, that he wasn’t the terrifyingly dangerous being that everyone made him out to be. There was no doubt that he was strong, but when he was alone with him it was clear that whatever reputation Ravus had earned was mostly because of his sister. He had even voiced on more than one occasion that he wanted to one day find his own happiness. Gladio and Ignis had given him hope, and Prompto was going to support Ravus on his quest.

Today was another day that Prompto was on his own, his heart aching when Noctis had left him to his own devices after asking if they could spend some time together. Even Ignis and Gladio had noticed that Prompto was left alone frequently now, but he just shrugged it off and waved bye to them before heading towards the library as usual. At this point, he was planning where he was going to go next, and he wondered if Cor would help him find a safe place to go now that Purgatory no longer felt as welcoming as it once did. There was little to be done for it. Prompto had spent his life as a transient, never really belonging anywhere, and he had been foolish to think that maybe he could belong with Noctis.

Turning a corner, head down, and heart aching, Prompto nearly collided with Aranea. She grabbed his arm and steadied him to keep him from falling, a smile on her face that quickly turned to a frown when Prompto looked at her in surprise. He didn’t even realize he had been crying, and he rapidly wiped his tears away, not wanting anyone to be concerned with his stupid emotions. That’s when he noticed the camera in her hand. It looked like… His camera?

“I heard from someone that you lost this,” Aranea said as he offered it to him. He gently grabbed it, holding it as he looked at it in awe. It was cool and smooth to the touch, a part of him that he thought he had lost. “It was difficult to steal it out of the evidence room, but I got it.”

“Evidence room?” Prompto asked, looking back to Aranea. What had happened on Eos? He thought of Nyx, and his heart ached for him. He hoped he was okay and thought about him frequently, even if he had fallen in love with Noctis. Just because he was finding the strength to move on didn’t mean he didn’t want Nyx to thrive and be happy without him. Just because he broke his heart didn’t mean that he no longer cared.

“Demons and angels are idiots, Prom,” Aranea explained. “They don’t think about things like security cameras or evidence. So, of course, the Glaive was called in when you were magically caught on camera at the motel when you were supposed to be dead. I inserted myself into the investigation and it’s on its way to becoming a cold case. Us reapers have to clean up after them a lot.”

“Did you… Did you see Nyx?” Prompto asked. Aranea frowned, clearly an indication that she had. “Is he okay? I know I can’t go back to him, and I’ve moved on, but… I don’t want him to suffer because of me.”

“He’s… Fine,” Aranea replied in a way that made his heart ache. It was a lie, so obvious and evident for even Prompto to see. He thought about Nyx suffering alone and wanted to cry for him. “What about you? Why were you crying before we collided?”

“Oh that?” Prompto asked. “It’s nothing, really. I’m just… A little lonely I guess. But I have to do research in the library on the Nephilim stuff so I can get better at my abilities, so it works itself out.”

“What do you mean lonely?” Aranea asked with a raised brow. She folded her arms across her chest, clearly not happy with the notion. “What about the princeling and his succubus brother? And that archangel?”

“Gladio and Ignis are lovers now,” Prompto explained, his heart aching because he didn’t have that with Noctis and likely lost his chance already. “I’m really happy for them, but they’re always off on their own whenever they’re not training. And… Lunafreya is here. I think Noctis is going to start dating her again, if he hasn’t already. I don’t know. I haven’t really been able to see or talk to him outside of training. He’s always with her.”

“What?!” Aranea asked, fuming. “First, Lunafreya is here?! And you were left alone with her wandering around? And then… Noctis, you fucking idiot. I have to go Prompto. I need to see a princeling about his stupid choices.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Prompto tried, but she was already taking off down the hall, leaving him there with his camera in his hands. He didn’t want to cause any trouble for anyone, but Aranea obviously had other ideas. Sighing, he put the camera strap around his neck and walked to the library so he could continue his research. At least he had his camera.

Recently Prompto had been researching everything he could about the Nephilim. He felt like he was getting close to what he was looking for and hoped that he would find a way to get into and out of Heaven with his father in tow and without hurting anyone. It was increasingly likely that he would have to do it on his own, but he was prepared for it no matter how much it would hurt. He just had to get strong enough to be able to fight on his own, and Ravus had been helping him grow exponentially in power since he had first demonstrated how unprepared he was.

The time spent in the library was always beneficial, mainly because it was so large and vast that Prompto always found something new. He was woefully ignorant of most of the realms, whether it was Purgatory, Heaven, or Hell. Some of the time he studied on the realms, trying to understand just why they hated each other. Most of the time he was just trying to find answers to why he was considered an abomination. Today was no different, and he entered the vast library of towering grey bookshelves, the walls white and bright around him, picking up from where he left off.

Prompto didn’t know how long he was taking in the library. It was easy to lose track of time there, and today was no exception. The constant reading, skimming, looking for materials to understand himself and his existence, all gave him the opportunity to not focus on the general feeling of heartache that was growing more and more each moment he was without Noctis. It was a hollow ache in his chest, knowing that he had been too late and had to now concede to Lunafreya’s presence.

The mark on the back of his neck was too much for him at times, giving him the sensation that there was something clinging to him that no longer belonged. The more Noctis wasn’t in his life, the more he knew that Noctis had made a mistake by giving him the Ring of Lucii in the first place. It was only a matter of time before Noctis asked for it back. Prompto would give it back freely, even though it would tear out his heart to do it. Then again, it just seemed to indicate that Prompto was really not meant for love or relationships, and being denied by the prince of Hell was further indication that he didn’t belong to anyone or anywhere.

“Hmm, that’s interesting,” Prompto said to himself as he took out a book on God. There had been few books available on God himself, so he had to take what he could get. God, the ever mysterious being, was the entire reason Prompto was marked as a villain to Heaven and a powerful weapon to Hell. Only the reapers of Purgatory seemed indifferent to his abilities. They were, at best, gently chastising of the rest of the world.

Carefully, Prompto pulled out the large leather bound book, looking at the brown binding and worn pages. It was an old book, and when he turned it open, a painting of God was depicted on the right hand side. Next to it was a description of God’s power. And how he obtained that power. Prompto read it, his heart beating wildly, disbelief driving him to the brink of panic. How was that even possible? He read the page again then turned it. There, on the next page, was a step by step guide on how to kill God. And who could do it.

Tearfully, Prompto looked up, searching for someone that he knew wasn’t going to be there for him. Not anymore, not like he had promised to be. If he couldn’t reach out to Noctis, then he knew he had to reach out to Cor. Did Cor know about this? Was it the entire reason why he was protecting him? And what did that mean if this was more like an instruction manual and less like a biography on the all-powerful creator? Prompto was terrified, and he needed to talk to someone. The only people he could think of were off in their own world, in their own lives, disregarding his existence. Cor was the only one.

The library worked on the honor system, and Prompto had become very familiar with taking a book out and returning it in a timely manner. Clinging it tightly to his chest, his camera around his neck bumping against it, he made his way out of the library and towards Cor’s room. If he wasn’t there then he would likely be in the training arena, continuing to tailor his own instruction to better suit Prompto’s needs. Cor would know what to do. He always knew what to do.

Rushing through the hallway, his panic gripping him tightly, he stopped before he rounded a corner. Prompto heard Noctis’s voice, talking to someone about something he couldn’t make out. Maybe he could talk to Noctis. Noctis didn’t really expect anything from him, not anymore. But even if he was dating Lunafreya he would surely be able to provide some sort of guidance. Right? He leaned against the wall, book in his arms, biting his bottom lip in anxious worry, unsure of whether or not it would be okay to so much as talk to him now. Ravus had said Lunafreya was the jealous sort. He didn’t want to hurt Noctis and cause an argument between them.

“I have to go,” Noctis said loud enough for Prompto to hear. Prompto thought he heard anger in his tone, but it could have been his imagination. Maybe he was angry that he had to leave Lunafreya alone.

“I have enjoyed each moment of our time together,” a woman replied in a Tenebraean accent. Prompto peeked around the corner, his eyes going wide, the blood draining from his face. “I do hope to see you very soon.”

Lunafreya caught Prompto’s eye as she grabbed Noctis’s shoulders, his back turned to Prompto, and pressed her lips against Noctis’s. Prompto was no longer hiding behind the corner. He stared at them, knowing that the likelihood of them dating was a possibility. He felt his heart tear to shreds as he had to admit to himself what the hopeful part of his heart had been denying. Noctis was with Lunafreya. It was even worse to know that Noctis was dating the same woman who had come between him and Nyx.

The book fell from his hands with a loud clatter, startling Noctis as he pulled away from the kiss. The kiss itself only lasted a few seconds, but to Prompto it felt like an eternity. He had been so blind, so daft in his refusal to fully believe that Noctis was no longer interested in him. The Ring of Lucii burned on his skin at the thought, his heart a broken and tattered mess as it pulsated painfully in his chest. Noctis looked at him in equal surprise, but the tears in Prompto’s eyes blurred his vision and made it hard to make out anything going on.

“Prompto,” Noctis said as he took a step towards him. Prompto took a step back, tripping over his own two feet, and fell on the ground. Lunafreya laughed, a light and airy laugh that sounded like church bells. He couldn’t believe this was happening, but the stabbing pain in his chest told him it was. Prompto knew he didn’t even have a right to be mad. They weren’t dating after all. Perhaps that was why the pain was so much worse than when Nyx had done it. Perhaps he just expected more of Noctis.

“I…. I have to go,” Prompto said, scrambling to his feet. He picked up the book and ran in the opposite direction, knowing that he was heading away from where he needed to be. It didn’t matter. He didn’t care. He just needed to be somewhere, anywhere that wasn’t near Noctis. Several times he stumbled, but he kept running until he was near the trial room. The only reason he stopped was because there was a commotion going on there, a group of reapers arguing.

“We cannot just let him in here!” one snapped, all of them with their backs turned to Prompto, standing in a circle and looking at whoever it was they were arguing about. “If he is a lost soul then he needs to go where they reside here!”

“He’s not a lost soul,” the voice was distinctly Ravus’s, a harsh and scathing tone that he got only when others defied his wishes. “He stumbled into Purgatory looking for the Nephilim. By the laws of nature, he is now a celestial. I will take responsibility for him while he recovers here.”

“Like you’ve taken responsibility for your sister?” Aranea snapped. Prompto wasn’t listening to their argument. His heart was beating rapidly for another reason now. Ignoring the stares of the reapers, he wormed his way through the crowd and looked at what they were all arguing about.

Ravus was kneeling on the floor, holding Nyx in his arms. Nyx was unconscious, his skin beautifully clear and nearly translucent like Ravus’s was. He looked like he could have been dead, but there was a glow about him that indicated otherwise. Why was he here? Prompto knew as soon as he asked the question. Nyx was looking for him, trying to reach him, and he had found his way through the veil to Purgatory in his desperation.

“Nyx,” Prompto whispered as he knelt down, his heart aching. There was the sound of running behind him, but he ignored Noctis’s breathless presence as he took Nyx’s hand in his. Right now he ignored his own pain, wondering just what had driven Nyx to such a point of desperation that he would wander into Purgatory to reach him. “I’m sorry.”

Nyx’s eyes fluttered open, his eyes immediately fixated on Prompto. There was a long silence as everyone stared at them, the pain blossoming in Prompto’s chest threatening to overwhelm him entirely. “Prompto?” Nyx asked as he looked at him with a smile on his face. “I thought I lost you.”

“You did,” Prompto replied, his heart breaking at the thought of what had happened. He had lost Nyx to Lunafreya, and now he had lost Noctis the same way. But how could he lose something he never had in the first place? Nyx was a part of his life, on his radar as a source of love and comfort for a year, but he was a Nephilim and doomed to be apart from him. Noctis was the prince of Hell and was only using him in the end. It was only a matter of time before Prompto got hurt again. He knew it. So why did it hurt so much more than when he had been with Nyx?

“But I found you again,” Nyx said with a weak smile. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Prompto. I thought you had died.”

“What did you do Nyx?” Prompto asked desperately. “Tell me what you did.”

“What I had to,” Nyx replied. His eyelids fluttered, unconsciousness calling to him. “And now I’ve found my way back to you.”

Nyx slipped back into unconsciousness after that, and Prompto looked at Ravus tearfully. “I cannot be with him,” Prompto told him. “It’s too dangerous, and I am too hurt.”

Ravus nodded, still holding Nyx in his arms. “I will take care of him. When he is awake, I will call for you. I will need your help to ensure he gives you up for good.”

Prompto understood what he meant. He didn’t want Nyx to give up anything, but if it meant his sanity and safety then he was willing to do what it took. If Nyx’s pain was anything like what he felt right now, then he was willing to even go so far as to find a way to make Nyx forget each moment he had with him. This was his life, and letting Nyx suffer because of him was unfair, especially since he had already moved on. And now he was heartbroken all over again because of it.

“Take him to your room if you’re assuming responsibility for him,” Cid said as the group parted for him. Death had his own presence about him, and it wasn’t something to be ignored. “Keep him there until you can figure out a way to take care of the problem. He’s a celestial fate now that he has willingly stepped through the veil. I hope you remember what that means to become one.”

“I do,” Ravus replied as he looked down at him. Prompto was confused about what they meant, but right now he let things be as they were without asking questions. He would get answers soon enough. “I’ll protect him with my life.”

There was something soft about the way he said it, and Prompto couldn’t help but feel a tugging in his heart at the thought of Nyx being well cared for without him. It wasn’t jealousy, per se, just the knowledge that they once had a chance to have that and suddenly they didn’t have it anymore. He would never, could never, have it with anyone. The truth had been so obvious, and he had been so dense that he didn’t see it until there was no turning back from it.

“Get back to work now,” Cid commanded them as Ravus stood up, holding Nyx in his arms with unnatural strength. “The show’s over.”

The reapers dispersed, leaving Prompto alone with Ravus, Nyx, Noctis and… Lunafreya. She was standing behind Noctis, a bright ray of moonlight in contrast to the efervescent darkness of Noctis’s features. Prompto felt like he was going to lose himself to his pain if he stayed near them. His heartache was going to kill him. It was so much worse knowing that Noctis and Nyx had both betrayed him for Lunafreya. It was so much colder, so much lonelier than he anticipated it to be. He held onto the book tightly, his knuckles white as he clenched it in his hands hard.

“Prompto, can we talk?” Noctis asked as Ravus gave them a look then walked away, carrying Nyx with him. Prompto turned around and looked at Noctis. Lunafreya rested an arm on his shoulder possessively, a pleasant smile in her eyes. She was triumphant, successful in her mission to get Noctis back. Of course she would be. Prompto could never compete with her.

“Um… I know that you probably want the Ring of Lucii back,” Prompto said quickly, looking down at his feet and away from Noctis. He couldn’t look at him, not when Lunafreya was by his side. “I don’t know how to give it back, but I’m sure there’s a way now that you’re with Lunafreya. If you don’t know, then I can try and find an answer so you two can be happy together.”

“What?” Noctis asked. It almost sounded like he was surprised, but the blood was rushing to his face, and Prompto felt like everything sounded so muffled right now, beneath the sound of his breaking heart. “No, that’s not what I want to talk to you about. I-”

“I understand that you’re with Lunafreya, Noct,” Prompto said, tears cascading down his face. “I am sorry that I had been so willfully ignorant, thinking that we had a chance. I’m… I’m just surprised it’s with the same person Nyx left me for. I think I need some time to myself. Forgive me.”

He left before Noctis could say anything, knowing that he couldn’t be in their presence for much longer. Instead, he rushed to his room, ignoring Ignis and Gladio as they walked by, hand in hand. They were so perfect together, such a natural fit, that Prompto couldn’t be around that. Not when he knew that the moment he had admitted to loving Noctis that he lost him. No, he didn’t lose him. He never had Noctis in the first place.

Prompto collapsed on the bed when he got to his room, his tears and heartbreak overflowing now that he was alone. He cried, letting his pain overwhelm him, knowing that this was the end of what he had foolishly thought he had a chance of obtaining. Everything had been a trap, a way for Noctis to make him believe that he was loved and cared for. Even now, if Noctis asked him, he would gladly go to Hell to protect him. It hurt him to know how foolishly and thoroughly he had fallen for Noctis’s gimmick, his heart so completely destroyed even though he knew that there was a chance that he would be betrayed. He didn’t expect Noctis to hurt him, and that had been his greatest mistake.

The door to his bedroom opened, but Prompto ignored it. He didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, let alone Noctis, or Ignis, or Gladio, or any of them. He didn’t even want to talk to Cor or Aranea. The only thing he wanted was peace, for the pain to stop, and for his tears to dry. Prompto didn’t want to feel again. He just wanted to be numb, for his heart to stop breaking each time it beat.

“Poor thing,” Lunafreya said next to him, making him freeze. She put a hand on the back of his head, fear gripping him tightly as her fingers caressed his hair. “It must hurt to know that Noctis doesn’t love you. But he chose me instead of you, dear. Did you really expect anything different? Now give me the Ring of Lucii so he can forget about you completely.”

“I don’t know how,” Prompto said as he attempted to sit up. Lunafreya knocked him over so he was lying on his back, staring up at her as she straddled him. His mind went to all the dangerous recesses possible, thinking about how she had been with Nyx and now Noctis. What was she trying to do? He found out soon enough.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Lunafreya demanded angrily. She put her hands on his neck, squeezing his throat tightly. He struggled, flailing underneath her as the air from his lungs left his body and he clawed at her hands to let him go. Panic gripped him as he fought against Lunafreya’s unnaturally grip. “Noctis is mine. He always has been. You will give me the Ring of Lucii or we will both die.”

“I… can’t,” Prompto wheezed, his legs flailing, fighting for freedom as he struggled to take in any sort of air he could. She was closing off his windpipe, making it impossible for him to breathe. He was going to die by the hands of Noctis’s lover. Pain blossomed in his chest at the thought. He could have accepted death if it came from anyone but her. “Help.”

“There is no one here to save you,” Lunafreya seethed through gritted teeth, her one beautiful face contorted into an angry display of jealousy. It was going to be the last thing Prompto saw as he struggled for breath. “Just hand it over already.”

“It doesn’t work like that, dear,” an unfamiliar voice said behind her. Someone placed a hand on her shoulder, the voice both menacing and commanding. “Now let him go before I make you.”

Lunafreya looked behind her then down to Prompto, her hands still clasped tightly around his throat. Prompto was no longer flailing, his vision going dark and his hands falling limply to the side, knowing that this was going to be the end of it for him unless she surrendered now. It didn’t seem like she was going to stop, and whoever was there to intervene must have thought the same. With a sickening whoosh, Lunafreya was flung off him, slamming into the wall as if she were little more than a piece of paper in the wind. She slumped to the ground, her chest rising and falling as she wheezed in pain, quickly losing consciousness.

Prompto sat up, rubbing his throat with his hands, looking at the man who had rescued him. He was tall, strong, his hair greying, and his blue eyes looking at Prompto with both a concern and a gentleness that was quite unexpected. The man wore a black suit and had a cane in one hand, his fingers drumming along the head as he looked at Prompto in consideration. Prompto could tell immediately who he was. He looked so much like Noctis that it was impossible not to know him from appearances alone.

“Prompto, I believe?” the King of Hell asked as he looked at him with a smile. “My son called, saying that he may need my assistance. It’s a good thing that I came here, and not a moment too soon.”

“Thank you… your majesty,” Prompto said, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper from nearly being strangled to death. Tears were streaming down his face, his heart beating rapidly as he breathed a deep wheezing breath. He knew why the King was there. Noctis had achieved his goal and sent his father to collect. “You’ve come to take me to Hell?”

“Yes, I have,” the king replied simply. “Tell me, Prompto. How are you with heat?”

Chapter Text

Aranea had been the one to point out to Noctis that he was making a huge mistake, but it was too little too late. She had come to him, angrily interrupting yet another boring conversation that he had to endure, listening to Lunafreya prattle on about something that was completely tiring. All he wanted to do was be in Prompto’s arms, and his heart ached when he told Prompto yet again that he had to spend time with Lunafreya. It was all an attempt to protect him from the celestial fate, but the pained expression Prompto gave him made him second guess his actions. When Aranea came to him and demanded that he find and talk to Prompto, that Prompto had been crying because of him, he immediately knew that he had messed up.

Expecting Lunafreya to follow him was a given. He had told her to leave him alone several times, his heart beating painfully in the knowledge that Prompto was alone and upset because of him. There had only been one solution that he was too blind to see. He had to tell Prompto that he loved him, knowing without a doubt now that Prompto had felt the same way. When Lunafreya stopped him and kissed him, he had been both shocked and disgusted. When he had seen Prompto staring at them, his expression so pained that he knew that things were over before they had a chance to begin, Noctis felt his own heart break. This was the last thing he wanted, and he had fallen right into Lunafreya’s trap.

Noctis had done everything to keep Lunafreya from hurting Prompto, but he hadn’t considered this. He hadn’t considered that he was playing right into her trap, taking him away from Prompto gradually until it was so natural for Prompto to assume the worst when Lunafreya had suddenly grabbed him and kissed him. It had been even worse when Prompto had mentioned that she had been with Nyx, tearing them apart the same way she had taken Noctis from him. He had been so angry at her, at himself, that he was nearly violent with her when he screamed about how she had destroyed the one chance at happiness he had.

When Lunafreya walked away, he had a bad feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. Things were out of control, and he didn’t know who to reach out to. In the end, he called his father, crying, telling him everything that had happened. He told him about how he had fallen for Prompto, how he had given him the Ring of Lucii, and how he had messed up so badly that Lunafreya had somehow come between them. His father had only told him to remain calm and that he would be there shortly to help him. Noctis worried about what that meant, but he didn’t know what else to do. He was too emotionally destroyed, and it wasn’t as if his mother was alive to help him.

Pained and broken, Noctis made his way to Prompto’s room, hoping to talk to him and tell him what had really happened. He needed to tell him the truth. But if Lunafreya had somehow seduced Nyx and done the same thing, would Prompto even have the space to forgive him? And what was going on with Nyx’s sudden presence? Did that mean that Prompto would ultimately go back to him, seeing that he was a better option than the prince of Hell? Or would he just think that being with anyone was too much trouble?

Noctis had been shocked to find Lunafreya slumped on the floor, her chest wheezing as her eyes were closed. He had been even more shocked to see his father standing there, looking at Prompto on the bed, fresh bruises patterned along his neck. Prompto looked afraid, ready to run, but there was something else on his expression that concerned Noctis. It looked like he was ready to give up, like he had recognized that his future would be what others demanded of him instead of trying to find and save his father. Noctis had the sudden feeling of dread that he had made a mistake by calling his father. But what else was he supposed to do when Lunafreya had so delightfully destroyed everything?

“Prompto,” Noctis said, taking a step towards him. His heart stuttered and nearly came to a stop when Prompto looked at him with an expression of betrayal. Did he think he called his father so that he would take him back to Hell? That was the furthest from what he had wanted. He just wanted his father’s help to protect Prompto and keep him safe, to help him correct the situation and explain to Prompto that he was loved and wanted. He gave him the Ring of Lucii. Surely his father could explain what that meant to him.

“Prompto!” Cor said, suddenly behind Noctis. He looked angry, his eyes accusatory as he looked from Noctis to Lunafreya to the King. Shouldering past Noctis, he ran over to Prompto and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Prompto clung to him like a scared child clinging to their parent. Noctis knew then that he had made things worse. “What do you want King Regis?”

“I saved his life, you know,” King Regis replied as he looked at Prompto. Noctis felt his heart beating rapidly, wondering how he had let things get to this point. Prompto was staring at the king in fear, his hands practically clawing Cor’s arm for safety. Whenever he dared to look at Noctis, it was with such betrayal that he felt his heart breaking like glass was being shattered from within.

“Thank you,” Cor seethed. “Now what do you want?”

“My son called me because he needed my help,” King Regis explained. “I think it’s time to admit that Purgatory is no longer safe for Prompto, here. I have come to take him to Hell where he will be-”

“Safe?” Cor snapped. He looked at Noctis with a vile anger that made Noctis shrink back. It was like a dagger being plunged into his heart. This wasn’t what he intended. “I warned him that you would betray him. I thought… I was a fool for believing in you, for letting Prompto trust you.”

“I didn’t mean-” Noctis began but Cor cut him off.

“It doesn’t matter what you meant,” Cor retorted. Prompto was crying his face buried into Cor’s chest as Cor kept a tight hold of the Nephilim. Why wouldn’t anyone listen to him? He didn’t want this to happen. He only wanted Prompto to be safe and for them to be happy together. Why was everything being turned on its head so suddenly? “You betrayed him. I should have known.”

“Now now,” Regis said like he was scolding a child. Cor glared at him, his anger more frightening than anything in the pits of Hell. “My son has given the Nephilim the Ring of Lucii. That is no small gesture.”

“But you both still are trying to drag him to Hell,” Cor pointed out.

“We are,” the king replied tersely. “Let’s not make a big deal of this. It sounds like you both knew this was coming. My son was just stupid enough to give him the Ring and now we are stuck with each other.”

“If I don’t go,” Prompto asked, his voice hoarse from nearly being strangled. Noctis assumed it had been Lunafreya who hurt him, and his chest ached painfully knowing that Prompto had been attacked at all because of him. “Will you throw Noctis and Ignis into the pits?”

“I will,” the king affirmed. Noctis looked at his father, who was only staring at Prompto. He did that anytime he was lying, his focus and attention on who he was lying to. Noctis stepped forward, trying to say something, but the king held a hand up, bringing him to silence as Prompto spoke.

“Then I will go,” Prompto replied. Noctis and Cor both exclaimed their protest, but Prompto pulled away from Cor tearfully, looking down at his hands. “I don’t want Noctis or Ignis to suffer because of me.”

“Then it’s settled,” King Regis said triumphantly, his eyes alight from the decision. Noctis looked from his father to Prompto, his pain and confusion rendering him speechless. Why didn’t his father just tell Prompto what he had told him? Why wasn’t he letting him speak and clear the air? He was lying about throwing them into the pits if Prompto didn’t come with them, so why couldn’t he just at least tell him that Noctis loved Prompto? And why couldn’t Noctis just say anything?

“Prompto-” Cor began, but Prompto shook his head, his mind made up.

“I just need to make sure Nyx is okay before I go,” Prompto said. He looked at Cor tearfully. “Thank you for helping me through this. I know this is the last thing you wanted, but maybe one day I’ll be able to save my father. I’m sorry I failed you.”

“You didn’t fail me,” Cor said. “The only one who has failed us both is Noctis.”

“My son did exactly what was expected of him,” Regis insisted, bristling at the notion that Noctis had failed anyone. “He is the prince of Hell. It is your fault for assuming he wouldn’t fulfill his duties.”

“You’re right,” Prompto said as he stood up. Noctis looked at his father, black tears cascading down his face. Why was his father doing this? He had given him the Ring of Lucii. Why didn’t his father tell them just how meaningful that was and how he could never think of being with anyone other than Prompto? Why was he letting him believe that he was being betrayed? “I need to attend to Nyx. I won’t run away. I don’t have anywhere to run to. Cor, do you think I would be able to take this book with me? I think I need it if I’ll ever get the chance to save my father.”

“S-sure,” Cor said, his expression as pained as Noctis felt. “Prompto, let’s talk about this for a second.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Cor,” Prompto said as he walked towards the door. “I was a fool to fall in love. I’m a Nephilim, after all, and only worth what I can be used for. Excuse me.”

Noctis looked at his father angrily, questioning why he had just fed Prompto’s insecurities to get what he wanted. “What the fuck, dad?” Noctis snapped angrily, shocking his father. “You know that’s not why I called you. Why the hell are you feeding into Prompto’s insecurities? Why are you letting him believe that I betrayed him?”

“Because you have lost your objectivity, son,” King Regis replied with equal anger. “Have you forgotten why I sent you to begin with? The Ring of Lucii? What were you thinking?! I should have known that you were too soft to complete this task. You’re too much like your mother.”

“So what?!” Noctis demanded. Cor was staring at their argument, trying to get the gist of what was going on, while Noctis glared at his father angrily. “So what if I am soft compared to your impossible standards?! I fell in love with him, dad, or did you just think I was playing around?! How would you have felt if someone did the same thing to you and mom?!”

“That is a different story,” Regis replied, his voice deadly calm, his eyes narrowed as he looked at his son. “You will mind your manners or-”

“Or what? You’ll throw me in the pits?!” Noctis was breathing heavily, his heartache turning to anger as he looked at his father. “Do it already! Anything is better than letting Prompto believe I betrayed him! I’d rather be there then have Prompto in Hell, suffering because of me! And how is it any different between you and mom? Because she was a fallen angel too? So what! I love him, dad. I love him. And now you have all so wonderfully made him believe that I betrayed him.”

Noctis stalked off before his father or Cor could say anything else. He felt terrible, his heart shattered into so many broken little pieces. Why did this have to happen now? Why couldn’t Prompto just believe in him? Was it because there were so many insecurities in the back of his mind that he knew he couldn’t trust anyone? Had he been waiting for Noctis to let him down?

He couldn’t blame Prompto, though. Not really. They were in the middle of opposing sides trying to pull them about for their own gain. Lunafreya had been assured in her ability to pull Noctis away from Prompto, and he had played right into that trap. And when he had nowhere to go and no clue about what to do, instead of his father leading Prompto to believe that he loved him, his father had only instigated his fears to get Prompto to agree to go to Hell. Could Prompto ever think that he was someone worth trusting again? All of the months of proving himself to Prompto had been erased in a single moment.

Hearing Prompto’s voice down the hall, Noctis followed it, compelled to follow him and try and explain what had happened. He paused when he realized that Prompto was talking to Ravus and… Nyx. What was going to happen? Was he going to just go right back into Nyx’s arms and tell him that he wanted him back? With a start, Noctis realized an awful truth about his own love for Prompto that he had tried to deny. He had difficulty trusting that Prompto would want to be with him. Was it his own insecurities or was it because there was still unfinished business between him and Nyx?

“Prompto,” Nyx breathed, his name like a prayer on his lips. Noctis stood in the doorway, thoroughly ignored as Prompto sat on the edge of the bed that Nyx was resting in. He was holding Nyx’s hand, looking at him tearfully, his beautifully patterned shoulders slumped over in a forlorn defeat. There was a book next to him that he was taking with him everywhere, making Noctis wonder what was so important that he even asked Cor to take it to Hell. Ravus was standing in the corner, arms folded across his chest, his eyes only glancing at Noctis. “You’re alive.”

“Hi Nyx,” Prompto said quietly. He sniffled, crying now that they had been reunited. It worried Noctis that Prompto might still have feelings for him. It always worried him when they first met, but he didn’t realize it was still a fear that he harbored. “Why didn’t you just let me go?”

“I needed to apologize,” Nyx explained, his voice desperate and weak. “You… The last time we spoke, you believed I betrayed you. I didn’t. That woman… She drugged me, Prompto. It’s the only explanation for it. I thought I was with you.”

“Lunafreya has the power of illusion,” Ravus explained. Prompto and Nyx looked at Ravus, Prompto’s back turned to Noctis. Nyx caught Noctis’s gaze, his eyes flickering with a recognition that made Noctis’s heart stutter. How did he so instantly know why he was there? “She likely made him think he was with you.”

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” Prompto said as he turned back to Nyx. “But I cannot be with you, I. I’m sorry.”

“But I’m here now,” Nyx argued, sitting up in bed. “Prompto, I didn’t mean to hurt you or betray you. You heard Ravus. So why-?”

“Because I cannot let you suffer anymore because of me,” Prompto interrupted with a sigh. “Nyx… You deserve to have a happy life with someone who can stand on equal footing with you. I’ve never been that for you, and right now I’m being pulled in so many directions that it would be impossible for us to have any happiness.”

“Then let’s run away,” Nyx pleaded, his grip on Prompto’s hand getting tighter. “Please, Prompto. I can’t live without you. I love you so much that I can’t imagine life without you. Forget the rest of the world. It’s just us.”

Ravus came over to the bed and stood next to Prompto. He put a hand on Prompto’s shoulder, looking at him with a sympathetic kindness that made Noctis’s heart ache. Nyx seemed like such a nice guy, an obvious victim of the circumstances they were in. He had a vision of Prompto and Nyx living a happily married life together, perhaps with a couple of kids, until they both died of old age in each other’s arms. That would have been the life they had together if Prompto wasn’t a Nephilim. They would have been happy together, and Noctis would have never even met him, much less fallen in love with him.

“Nyx, this is Ravus,” Prompto said as he looked from Ravus to Nyx. “He’s going to make sure that you don’t hurt anymore.”

“I’d rather hurt for a thousand years than forget about you,” Nyx argued, looking between the two of them. His eyes caught Noctis’s as he stood in the doorway, an angry understanding coming over his features. “Is it because of him, Prompto?”

Prompto followed his gaze, his eyes swimming in tears as he looked at Noctis. There was a tension between all of them, and Noctis felt his heart aching as he thought about what his father had told Prompto. He wasn’t trying to drag Prompto to Hell, not anymore. Why couldn’t he see that? Was it because of the time he had spent with Lunafreya? Was it because his father had played into his insecurities so perfectly?

“Yes,” Prompto replied as he looked back at Nyx. “But not in the way you think, Nyx. I am a Nephilim and will either end up trapped and tortured or dead. I don’t want to put you through the pain of losing me. Not again.”

Noctis wondered if Prompto still felt something for Nyx. Why wouldn’t he? They had been on their way towards marriage if their lives hadn’t been so interrupted. Seeing them here, now, it made Noctis want to forget his own selfish desires for Prompto and find a way for them to be happy together. If Prompto asked it of him, he would help them both run away and escape this life so they could find some sort of happiness amongst the stars. It created a painful ache in his chest, making him realize that the depth of his love for Prompto went beyond his own desire to be with him.

“I want you, Prompto,” Nyx insisted. “I don’t care about the rest. If I am with you, then it doesn’t matter where we are.”

“Put your hands over his eyes,” Ravus instructed, ending the conversation. He put his hands on Nyx’s shoulders, holding him down as he struggled against the celestial fate who was far stronger than he looked. Prompto did as he was told, a soft sniffle escaping in his despair. “Just focus on what you need to do. You have this power.”

At first nothing happened, and Nyx continued to struggle against Ravus’s grip. But then there was a soft glow that emanated from Prompto’s hands, something beautiful and frightening all at once. Noctis watched as Nyx began to struggle more then stopped struggling entirely, collapsing onto the bed beneath their grip on him. When the glow receded, Prompto pulled back and looked at Ravus, who released Nyx onto the bed. He laid there, unconscious but still breathing.

“He will remember you,” Ravus said as Prompto sobbed, his chest heaving as he cried over Nyx. Noctis felt like he was watching someone let go of their lover who had died suddenly, and he felt a painful ache knowing that Prompto still felt something for Nyx. “It will just seem like a good memory to him now. You can both let each other go.”

“Th-thank you,” Prompto sobbed as he buried his face in his hands. Noctis wanted to reach out to him, but he knew that Prompto would only reject him right now. He couldn’t handle such pain. Not on top of everything else. “This is for the best.”

“You still loved him, didn’t you?” Ravus asked him. Noctis didn’t want to hear the answer. He wanted to forget all about Nyx and have Prompto tell Ravus that he loved Noctis and Noctis alone. But this was a moment of grief between Prompto and Nyx, a place for them to finally say goodbye and go their separate ways after they were torn away from each other under horrible circumstances. It didn’t matter how much it pained Noctis for Prompto to admit he still felt something for Nyx. Prompto deserved the space to finally let Nyx go.

“How do you immediately forget the love from someone who helped you heal before it was all ripped away from you?” Prompto asked Ravus in return. He let out another sob, then wiped his tears away, collecting himself and his thoughts in a single moment. Noctis felt like he was watching Prompto hide his pain away for what was about to come next. “I’ve moved on, but this moment… It was hard for me.”

“I understand,” Ravus replied. He put a hand on Prompto’s shoulder supportively. “Please keep in mind that what Lunafreya has done is not a reflection of who Nyx or Noctis are. She had her own reasons for making you feel like you’re alone.”

Prompto turned and looked at Noctis, the silence between them creating a widening gap that he couldn’t close. If he hadn’t called his father in his despair then maybe there would still have been a chance between them. But now that his father was insistent upon taking Prompto back to Hell, now that he was insistent on making Prompto believe he didn’t love him, there was no way Noctis could convince Prompto otherwise. He felt himself on the verge of giving up for good. He just needed to be what his father wanted him to be so that the pain wouldn’t persist.

“It’s hard not to admit that she knew what she was doing,” Prompto said, as if he were speaking to Noctis and not Ravus. “She wanted to get me alone and vulnerable. She succeeded, but… There was a reason why I trusted you in the first place, Noctis. Did I make a mistake in trusting you?”

“No,” Noctis said as he stepped into the room. His heart was beating rapidly through its ache, the desire to have Prompto believe him overwhelming his despair telling him just to give up. “Prompto, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I wanted to protect you, but instead I hurt you. Please believe me. From the first moment that I spoke to you, through the wall of the motel, I knew there was something different about you. I would give my soul to take back everything and make you happy.”

Prompto looked at him hopefully, as if he were trying to believe what Noctis was saying, but King Regis stepped into the room at that moment, looking at Prompto in triumph and at Noctis in bitter disappointment. Prompto stood up, creating a barrier between the king and Nyx as if he were trying to protect the unconscious ex-lover. His father moved towards Prompto, but Noctis stood between the two of them, looking at his father in defiance.

“I didn’t call you to drag Prompto to Hell,” Noctis announced, more for Prompto’s benefit than for anyone else’s. “I love him, dad. If you take him, it’s because you’re doing it against my wishes. He has the Ring of Lucii. You know what that means.”

“Be reasonable, son,” King Regis said sternly. “He has the Ring of Lucii because you made a rather stupid decision. We have a war to win. This is the only way we can do it.”

“Are you trying to defeat God?” Prompto asked. Noctis noticed the book he kept on him then as the Nephilim reached for the bed and held it tightly. He noticed the camera around his neck and realized that Aranea must have gotten it back for him. Did she tell him that Noctis had begged her to get it back for Prompto? Or did she just let him believe it was a friendly gesture from her and her alone?

“I am trying to defeat Heaven,” Regis replied confidently. “God is superfluous as he has vanished entirely. I shall create a new Hell there where I will rule over all.”

“My father is trapped in Heaven,” Prompto explained as he held the book close to his chest. “Can you help me save him if I agree to fight in your war?”

“Why not?” King Regis replied dismissively. “I am not so unkind that I cannot grant you such a request. You will be well cared for, young Nephilim. My son has ensured that with the Ring of Lucii.”

Prompto nodded in understanding, but Noctis didn’t want him to just comply with his father. Why couldn’t he see that he should fight and insist on staying in Purgatory? The threat of throwing Ignis and Noctis into the pit was an obvious lie, so why couldn’t Prompto see that? Noctis felt so betrayed by his father, but he knew that he had no one to blame but himself. He was the one who called him to Purgatory, thinking that his father could actually help him like his mother would have.

“Then I guess I have nothing to fear,” Prompto said with a helpless shrug. “I guess we should go.”

“Make no mistake, you are still my prisoner,” the king said with a flourished wave of his hand. Shackles appeared around Prompto’s neck and hands with chains connecting them together. Prompto looked at them and to Noctis in fear, and Noctis made to protest, but his father silenced him. “I am being very gracious by being kind thus far. He will be well tended to and his life shall be preserved. But things have gotten out of control here in my absence, and I cannot allow my son to continue to delude himself into believing in such notions of love. I refuse to allow you to end up like I have.”

Before Noctis could say anything, his father moved towards Prompto to grab him and take him to Hell. Prompto looked to them both in fear, and Noctis reached out for him to try and protect him. He thought that Prompto wasn’t going to reciprocate, that this was the end of their time as he knew it, but Prompto’s chains rattled as he grabbed his hands and clasped them tightly. Noctis turned to Prompto, standing so close to him that their lips were almost touching. His heart was beating rapidly at the thought of Prompto’s lips on his, but he hoped that his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him.

“I’m trusting you,” Prompto whispered quickly as the king walked towards them, ready to separate the two of them. It was like a prayer on his lips, making Noctis’s heart flutter and beat rapidly. “I’m trusting you. Please don’t hurt me.”

“I won’t,” Noctis insisted. His father’s hand was on his shoulder, trying to pull him back. “I will not let your faith in me be unfounded.”

“Come now,” King Regis said with a near-gentleness that was almost fatherly. “It is time for us to depart. Noctis, I anticipate you and Ignis returning to Hell promptly. We have a war to fight.”

The king pushed Noctis away, not unkindly, and wrapped an arm around Prompto’s shoulders. If Prompto wasn’t shackled and chained, Noctis would think that his father was just taking him for a leisurely stroll. But there was an anger and bitter disappointment in his gaze as he directed Prompto out of the room, leaving Noctis alone and wondering just how things had gone so wrong so quickly. Why couldn’t his father just concede that he loved Prompto? Why was he so adamant against his desire to be with Prompto?

It was so difficult not to feel defeated, but there was one thing that kept him going. Prompto was trusting in him still. He was holding out hope in Noctis, and he couldn’t just let that go to waste. There was little time, and he had to get to Hell and ensure that Prompto was kept safe. He would find a way to get him out of his father’s clutches and convince his father that this wasn’t just a passing fancy. He refused to let his father use Prompto for his own devices, knowing that his father would be happy to allow Prompto to die for his war against Heaven.

“Take care of him,” Noctis said to Ravus as he made his way out of the room. “Don’t disappoint Prompto anymore than I have already.”

“I will ensure he is well cared for,” Ravus replied. He sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at Nyx. “He is the hope that I have been looking for.”

Noctis didn’t know exactly what he meant by that, but he didn’t have time to think about it. Quickly, he ran down the hall, looking for Ignis and Gladio. He found them quickly enough. They were running towards him down the hall, apparently aware that something had shifted and changed. Noctis let out a yelp in fear as Gladio grabbed his shirt angrily, slamming him against the wall.

“Traitor!” Gladio seethed as Ignis tugged on his arm, trying to get him to stop. Noctis struggled against his grasp as Gladio lifted him into the air by his shirt. He put his hands on Gladio’s arms, trying to get him to release his grasp. “Cor told us everything!”

“I called my father because I was afraid and didn’t know what to do!” Noctis insisted, struggling against Gladio’s grip. “I didn’t call him to take Prompto to Hell! I swear it!”

“Gladio, let him go,” Ignis insisted forcefully. “He wouldn’t betray Prompto. You know better than that. We all do.”

“Then why did we see Prompto walking by in chains with your father?” Gladio snapped angrily. “Why was he being taken back to Hell in the first place?!”

“Because my father won’t listen to me!” Noctis snapped. “He thinks I’m being too soft because… Because I love him! Let me go! We’re wasting time and I promised Prompto that his faith in me wouldn’t be unfounded!”

Gladio released him, and his feet hit the ground with a jarring pain. He stood there for a moment, panting, while he tried to collect his thoughts. “My dad thinks that I made a mistake giving him the Ring of Lucii,” Noctis explained, his voice shaky. Gladio’s anger was frightening. “I know I haven’t. He’s worried about me being too soft.”

“Then we have to convince him that we’re stronger together than we are apart,” Ignis pointed out. “He doesn’t know I’m no longer a succubus. He needs to see that these changes are only going to serve you once you become king. We must be swift about this. I’m worried that Prompto will give up hope in us if we wait too long.”

“I am too,” Noctis replied, his chest aching. “He already saw Lunafreya kiss me.”

“Lunafreya?” Ignis asked in surprise. “Have you rekindled the old flame?”

“You know I haven’t,” Noctis snapped. “She did it to make Prompto upset and hate me. It almost worked… Well it might have worked, but Prompto has no one else to trust in right now. I can’t disappoint him anymore than I already have, Ignis.”

“Then let’s go,” Gladio said. “We have to get to Hell before it’s too late and we lose Prompto to your father for good.”

“Next time don’t call your father,” Ignis advised Noctis as they made their way towards the veil to Hell within the Hall of Lost Souls. Aranea had pointed it out to them as a method for threatening to catapult them to Hell in an instant if they pissed her off. “What were you thinking, Noctis?”

“I was thinking that I couldn’t lose Prompto,” Noctis said. “I was thinking that I could rely on my father to set aside his own ambitions for once.”

“Instead you gave him exactly what he wanted,” Gladio snapped. “I don’t know how you could think that the King of Hell wouldn’t put himself first.”

“He’s my father,” Noctis retorted. “I thought maybe I could have faith in him for once.”

“I have to agree with Gladio on this, Noct,” Ignis said as they approached the room that kept the veil to Hell sectioned off from affecting those who resided in the hall. “Your father is a wonderful man and a great king. But he wouldn’t just forget his mission in favor of your emotions.”

“I know, I know,” Noctis groaned. “I fucked up, okay? The only thing we can do now is go to Hell and convince my father that he’s wrong about my feelings towards Prompto.”

Noctis had messed up. He knew he messed up, and it wouldn’t be far fetched to consider it reasonable that Prompto wanted nothing to do with him. But Prompto had told him that he was trusting him. Whether it was because Prompto felt something for him or because he had no one else to trust, he couldn’t say. Regardless, he knew that he had a lot to make up for. But was he even going to have the chance? Or was it already too late?

Chapter Text

Gladio didn’t want to go to Hell, but he didn’t have a choice. At this point their lives were woven together inexplicably, the four of them against anything that Heaven or Hell wanted of them. But Noctis had called his father for help, not Ignis, not Gladio. If he had called them then they could have intervened and worked things out in Purgatory. Why did he call his father? Did he have a death wish for Prompto, or was he really fooling them all into believing that he thought his father would honestly help him? It was hard to believe that Noctis wouldn’t know that his father would drag Prompto to Hell.

When they stepped through the veil, Gladio thought his lungs would catch on fire. Everything was so intensely hot, but as an archangel he got used to the heat surprisingly fast. Would Prompto be able to get used to it? He was half human and on his own right now. There was no telling how he would react to Hell, let alone without their help. Gladio knew Prompto was strong and he would find a way to survive. He always found a way to survive. He just didn’t know for how long. Hell was an entirely different playing field than Eos or Purgatory.

They stepped through a veil on the outskirts of the domiciles where the demons lived. The veil itself wasn’t used regularly. Most of the demons and fallen angels preferred to pass through the veils that took them directly to Eos. Ignis had explained as much to him, and Gladio understood the looks of surprise from the demons as the three of them stepped onto the obsidian stone streets. It must have been a sight to see an archangel, the prince of Hell, and Ignis stepping through.

No one was sure of what to call Ignis now. He wasn’t a demon, not anymore. And he certainly wasn’t an angel or even a fallen angel. His wings were red, a completely different color from anything Gladio had seen before. Ignis had scoured the lore in the library in Purgatory, but the only lore they had read about it indicated that while it was possible for a demon to heal from the wounds of the pit, no one really knew what to call them after. It required the work of an archangel, but other than that, no one really knew what the end result was. For now, they were content with just referring to Ignis as a demon-angel hybrid.

Hell wasn’t exactly what Gladio thought it would be. As they raced through the streets, their wings unfurled and flying towards the black castle just ahead of them, Gladio found it surprising just how beautiful the landscape was. Everything was black, the soft ground was a yellow almost like rusted dust, and the sky a blood red that reminded him of Ignis’s wings. The hot white sun made it unbearably hot to those not used to it, but Gladio adapted quickly and easily. It scared him how easy it was to get used to the landscape, making him wonder if he was destined to fall all this time.

They came upon the palace quickly, their speed from their wings far faster than any demon could travel. Gladio couldn’t help but find Ignis’s grace beautiful as he flew by his side, following Noctis to the palace, so swift that it caught him off guard each and every time he glanced at him. His wings seemed far more a natural extension of himself than Gladio’s or Noctis’s, like he was always meant to have the blood red wings that were so perfectly fitted to his frame. He was lighter and more expedient than Gladio thought possible, his wings as graceful and lithe as his body.

Gladio felt what Ignis was no doubt feeling as well. They had failed Prompto while they were too busy, involved in their newfound relationship with each other to focus on much else. Gladio had thought that Noctis was spending all of his free time with Prompto and was shocked to discover that he was spending it with Lunafreya instead. It wasn’t a far leap for them to figure out that Prompto felt alone and abandoned, nor was it a far leap to assume that Noctis had given up on him and decided to pursue Lunafreya again. With the King of Hell coming in, it was the ultimate betrayal, and they had all just let it happen without knowing it.

By the time they got to the throne room in the palace, the inside just as black as the exterior, Gladio was worried that they had lost Prompto for good. Even if they did find him and convince the king that Noctis really did love him, would Prompto ever trust them again? Gladio didn’t think it would be that easy, and he highly doubted that he would be willing to trust them if he were thrust into Prompto’s position. Glancing at Ignis, he thought about how he would react if he thought Ignis had betrayed him. Whatever he imagined, it wasn’t good.

King Regis was already sitting on the throne, as if he had never left. For a moment, Gladio thought they had been wrong, that they were actually fooled and Prompto ran away or was taken by some cruel doppelganger. But the slight change in expression on the king’s face, Gladio knew that they weren’t mistaken. The king looked past his two sons and right at Gladio, both inquisitive and admonishing. Gladio wasn’t looking at him, though. He was looking at the man standing next to him. It was impossible, wasn’t it?

“I see you have brought-” the king began but Clarus cut him off before he could say anything.

“Gladiolus?!” Clarus exclaimed in just as much surprise as Gladio felt. His eyes had to be deceiving him. What was his father, one of the kindest men that Gladio had ever known, in Hell? Why was he at the king’s side? “What are you doing here?!”

“Father?!” Gladio replied in equal surprise. That threw everyone off guard. The king, Noctis, and Ignis all looked between them in surprise. “I could ask you the same thing! We’re here to save Prompto from certain death. What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” Clarus replied. “I am the king’s sworn shield. Son, who is Prompto? Why are you not in Heaven where you belong?”

“I belong with Ignis,” Gladio said as he reached out and took Ignis’s hand in his. The king looked at Ignis in surprise, glancing between the pattern on Gladio’s arms and the identical pattern on Ignis’s, assessing what had changed. “And we are both here to see Prompto, the Nephilim, free and safe.”

“The Nephilim is safe,” King Regis expressed, his eyes both angry and unamused. “What are the chances of my sons letting this go?”

“Not a chance,” Noctis said while Ignis said, “Slim to none” at the same time. The king sighed and looked from Clarus to Gladio, trying to decide what to do about the fact that there was now an archangel in Hell who had captured Ignis’s heart and was loyal to both Noctis and Prompto. Gladio didn’t envy him in that instance, but he also knew that the king was in the wrong for taking Prompto away.

“I will have some rooms prepared for you,” the king said to Gladio finally. “I expect you to be on your best behavior while in Hell. You may be an archangel, but that doesn’t mean you can do what you want here.”

“There is no need to have rooms for him prepared,” Ignis declared, making Gladio’s heart fall. Was he kicking him out of Hell? Gladio didn’t think it was possible. “He will stay with me in my rooms.”

“Ignis-” the king began, but Ignis cut him off. It must have been a daring thing to so openly defy the king who considered Ignis his son. Gladio couldn’t help but feel pleased to know that Ignis was comfortable in such defiance to be able to stand by his side.

“With all due respect, your majesty, but Gladio is a part of me,” Ignis interrupted. “I cannot fathom an empty bed, as I imagine that Noctis cannot fathom a life without Prompto. You sent us to Eos to find the Nephilim. We have found him, and we are demanding him back to us. Otherwise, you must be prepared to lose us all.”

“Ignis is right,” Noctis insisted. “Gladio is my brother as much as Ignis is. And I love Prompto, father. I won’t let him go just because you want to win some sort of war.”

“You don’t even know why the war is raging on, son,” the king said with a sigh. “If you knew, then you would be far more willing to let this half-angel go. If your mother was here she would talk some sense into you.”

“If mom was here then she would be telling you to stop being so stubborn and just let Prompto go,” Noctis argued. “And you know it.”

There was a tense silence between them that filled the large throne room, the king drumming his fingers on his cane in annoyed consideration. Gladio just wanted him to concede that things were different now, that his son had fallen for the Nephilim and deserved a chance at happiness. Somehow, he knew that the King of Hell was not going to give in so easily. He seemed the sort to demand that his son prove himself instead of just giving into him so readily.

“Go to your rooms,” the king commanded. “Wait there until I say otherwise. I need to figure out what I need to do with both of my unruly sons. Have I made myself clear?”

Noctis made to say something, but the king gave the three of them a look that said not to argue. They would either follow the command the king gave them or they would end up in the dungeons or worse. Angrily, Noctis turned around and stormed off. Ignis and Gladio followed him, Ignis’s hand still gripping Gladio’s tightly. He was thankful that he had Ignis to hold onto. If he had to deal with the King of Hell on his own, he likely wouldn’t have been as successful in standing his ground.

The halls of the palace were confusing, all of them looking the same as the last. Gladio wondered how Ignis and Noctis knew exactly where to go, even if Noctis grew up in the halls that they were passing through. Everything was so black and dark that the lights from the lanterns cast an eerie glow and made him feel like they were walking through a dungeon instead of a palace. It was difficult for Gladio not to be afraid when they stopped in front of a large door with ornate carvings of the pits of Hell in the same black obsidian that the rest of the halls were made of.

“This is shit,” Noctis said miserably as they paused in front of the door. He sighed in frustration. “I know dad is keeping Prompto somewhere, but I can’t believe he won’t even tell us where.”

“Your father cannot believe that you have genuinely fallen for him,” Ignis replied sternly. “Or there is something he is hiding that he will make clear to us.”

“It’s not going to change how I feel about Prompto,” Noctis explained. “I still need to find him and get him out of here.”

“You’re right,” Ignis agreed. “But for now, we need to wait. We will find him, and I highly doubt that your father is keeping him somewhere uncomfortable. He may be stubborn, but he isn’t about to put something precious in the pits. He needs Prompto, and that is keeping him safe. That and the Ring of Lucii.”

“So now we wait,” Gladio said with a sigh. He considered himself a man of action. Waiting wasn’t one of his strong suits.

“Now we wait,” Noctis agreed. He let out a low groan. “Man, I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Ignis said with a nod. “But we will do everything in our power to get Prompto to safety. Things have changed, Noctis. Your father needs to see that.”

Ignis opened the door, revealing a beautiful room of black adorned with splashes of red. The carpet was black with a fireplace of obsidian to the left. A large four poster bed with black silk sheets and red curtains sat across from the fireplace, and there was a balcony that overlooked the fields surrounding the palace. Even the wardrobe was black, the vanity next to it reflecting the green and blue fire flickering in the fireplace as it ignited in the instant the doors were open. As terrifying as everything in the palace was, dim and eerie in its darkness, the darkness of this room felt more sensual and seductive.

“Just be prepared for anything,” Ignis said as he stepped into the room that was so obviously his. Everything about the room seemed like it had been so strategically placed by Ignis that Gladio felt like he was walking into a reflection of his soul. It was sensual, beautiful, and slightly sad in its darkness. “And don’t go looking for him without us.”

“I won’t,” Noctis agreed as they looked at him still in the hallway. “Keep your phone on you so we can stay in the loop. You know dad will try and keep us apart to pit us against each other.”

“Divide and conquer,” Gladio mused. “Do you really think your father would do that?”

“It’s hard to say,” Ignis replied. “He’s very adamant about fighting this war. Even if we are reunited with Prompto, we might not have a choice but to fight.”

“If we have to fight, then I won’t let Prompto fight on his own,” Noctis insisted. He looked around like he was waiting to see someone to interrupt their conversation. “I guess I should just go and wait.”

“Be a good princeling and run along now,” Ignis said with a wry smile. “Unless you want to watch what we’re about to do.”

Gladio’s heart skipped a beat at the thought. Noctis gave them a wave, making a bunch of noise about how he didn’t want to see his brother doing anything like that, especially because Gladio was almost like a brother to him as well. It was good that they were so close, but Noctis did not need to bear witness to any of the intimate moments that Gladio and Ignis had together. When Ignis shut the door, Gladio wondered if it really was the time or the place for them to be intimate together. One thing that never decreased since Ignis had gone through the transformation was his sex drive, but Gladio had a feeling that had nothing to do with him previously being a succubus.

“Gladio,” Ignis said with a sigh as he looked at him. “That man… He is your father?”

“Yes,” Gladio replied, his mind wandering back to the shock of seeing his father in Hell. How was that even possible? His father was the best person he ever knew. When Gladio had left home, he knew he was turning his back on all the virtues that his father taught him in favor of the crusades. His father was the last person who belonged in Hell.

Ignis laughed, a disbelieving sort of laugh that caught Gladio off guard. He walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of it, his arms folded across his chest, one leg crossed over the other. He looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it, only to look like he wanted to say it again. Gladio knew that conflict in his eyes well. Ignis always looked that way whenever he had something personal he was going to reveal.

“Tell me,” Gladio said as he sat next to Ignis. He pulled him into his arms, the tension immediately leaving Ignis’s shoulders. Gladio loved how he could do that, how he could just make Ignis feel comforted and at ease so naturally with him. “What is bothering you?”

“You know that family I told you about?” Ignis asked. “The one who were fighting against the crusaders the day that I was taken to Hell? I caught a glimpse of the father before it all happened. Clarus, your father, was that family.”

“What?” Gladio asked, tense. He knew that his family had been devoted to the Six, but for them to have been attacked by those who were on the same side that he was once on was difficult to hear. To know that Ignis had saved them in his final moments on Eos gave him pause. What were the chances that the man who saved his family would end up his lover?

“I suppose that is why Clarus had convinced the king to take a chance on me,” Ignis mused, curling into Gladio’s arms more. “I never thought… Well I never thought that I would one day end up falling in love with his son.”

“Do you know what happened to my mother? My sister?” Gladio asked, trying not to sound too tearful.

“No,” Ignis replied as he shook his head. “All I know is that Clarus mentioned to the king a few times that they were safe and sound. I imagine they’re in Heaven right now.”

“I hope they’re not suffering,” Gladio said. His heart ached for his family, knowing that the last moments he had with them weren’t necessarily good memories. He let out a long sigh, trying to imagine what all this meant. “Do you think destiny and fate are a thing?”

“I’m not sure,” Ignis replied honestly. “But I have been questioning it more and more since I met you. Knowing that you are the son of the man’s life that I saved, only to have him convince the king to have me as a brother to Noctis just to end up meeting you and falling for you… That does sound a lot like fate.”

“What does that say for Prompto and Noctis then?” Gladio asked. “Cor already defied fate by refusing to kill Prompto.”

“I don’t know,” Ignis conceded. “But I doubt that if fate exists, refusing to kill Prompto was the wrong choice.”

“Then what is the right choice?” Gladio asked. “Letting Prompto be used to stop Heaven? Fighting against it all? Taking whatever this team of the four of us are and finding our own path?”

“That sounds like too much for us all to consider,” Ignis proposed. “There are some pieces of the puzzle that are missing that make it difficult for us to make any good decisions. And it is difficult for me to trust my instincts when half the time they’re telling me to run away from you and the other half the time they’re telling me to run into your arms.”

“The times it tells you to run to me are the times you can trust,” Gladio said as he tilted Ignis’s head to look at him. He couldn’t get enough of the moments with Ignis, especially since he knew that each and every moment Ignis chose to be with him and trust him were the moments that he was afraid of being hurt. Gladio was happy to prove those fears unfounded. As long as Ignis was with him, he would do everything in his power to make him happy.

“I’m beginning to see that more and more,” Ignis crooned, his voice like a black pool of desire. Gladio braced himself as he pressed his lips against Ignis’s, the sweet desire that continued building between them taking hold, threatening to bring him to a point where he lost himself as Ignis’s tongue caressed his.

There was a knock on the door, firm but not harsh. Gladio released Ignis as he stood up, calling for whoever was waiting to come in. To Gladio’s surprise it was King Regis, looking between the both of them with considerable concern. He had assumed that the king would take his time before he decided to speak with them.

“Ignis,” the king said as he looked to them both. “I need a word with you and Noctis. Alone.”

There was something in the way he said it that didn’t beg for any room for argument. Ignis looked at Gladio, a concern blossoming on his features that made the archangel frown. He stood up and walked over to him, touching the scarred side of his face with a gentleness that Ignis immediately leaned into. Gladio ignored the king and pressed his lips against Ignis’s, gently reminding him that he would be waiting for him.

“I’ll be right here,” Gladio whispered. “I love you, Ignis.”

“I love you,” Ignis replied. It was the first time since they had become lovers that Ignis was going to be without him. Gladio wasn’t worried for himself, knowing that whatever happened in Hell would be likely to occur with or without Ignis. Instead, he only worried about Ignis and if he would be okay without him. Ignis was strong and had made it so long before without him, but it wasn’t the same now that Ignis had embraced a gentler side of himself to be with him.

Ignis walked out of the room with the king, leaving Gladio alone in a room that filled Gladio with Ignis’s presence. He laid on the bed and inhaled Ignis’s scent deeply, his mind worried about what they were going to discuss without him there.

***

“I think you both deserve to know the truth,” King Regis said as he sat on a vanity chair in Noctis’s room, his injured leg stretched out in front of him while he put both of his hands on the head of his cane between his legs. He looked between Ignis and Noctis both, and Ignis had the sudden sense that this was something that would alter the decisions that they would both make in the future. Ignis had the thought that both Gladio and Prompto deserved to be with them to hear this.

“The truth about what?” Noctis demanded. He didn’t sound angry, just forceful enough to let his father know that he wouldn’t be changing his mind about Prompto. Ignis hoped that was true.

“About why we’re at war with Heaven,” Regis replied. “About why we need the Nephilim to win this war.”

“His name is Prompto,” Noctis pointed out. He crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. Ignis remained quiet, assessing the situation, trying to take things in before they had to reach any decisions.

Regis sighed. “Prompto, then. Please listen to what I’m about to say. If at the end of this you still want to release Prompto and not use him then I will concede. I don’t care about taking over Heaven. I just want to avenge your mother.”

“What does this have to do with mom?” Noctis asked. Ignis heard his breath catch in his throat, and his heart beat a bit quicker at it. If Noctis’s mother was involved then there was no telling what he was going to do. He always had a soft spot for her, and he always was adamant about trying to avenge her death. Ignis had a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. Would Noctis readily betray Prompto just for the memory of his mother?

“Everything,” Regis said with a sigh. Ignis stood next to Noctis as the prince sat on the bed, staring at his father, waiting for him to continue. “Before your mother died, Heaven and Hell were at peace. It was a shaky peace, but it was peace nonetheless. Angels and demons fighting but nothing major. But one day she took you to Eos against my wishes. She said it would change the tides, that we would be able to live peacefully. It was for the good amongst all the realms. We wouldn’t have to pretend there was some sort of false peace there. It would be something so big that we could unite all the realms. You know how your mother was. She was always too hopeful.

“But Heaven got wind that she was going to be on Eos with you,” he continued after pausing a moment. Ignis frowned. He remembered advising Aulea not to go to Eos, that it was too dangerous without an entourage. He remembered Regis bringing home a bloody Noctis, young and injured, and a dead Aulea. “They orchestrated an attack, a plot to kill her and you with her. I thought we got there in time, but… We didn’t. The Ring of Lucii saved you, but Aulea died that day. And I remember who did it.

“It wasn’t the archangels,” Regis said as he looked at the both of them. “It was God himself. He killed Aulea. I swore revenge, and the war between Heaven and Hell started. But God disappeared again, vanishing into thin air. I’ve been searching for him ever since. I needed to know why he killed Aulea and why he wanted you dead. I think it had something to do with how to defeat God once and for all. And now I know why.”

Regis pulled a book out of the armiger that Noctis immediately recognized. Ignis could see the recognition on his face, and his frown only got deeper. “That was what Prompto kept on him,” Noctis said. Ignis didn’t like where this was going. “Why do you have it?”

“This is a step by step instruction manual on how to defeat God,” Regis said as he looked at it. “It tells of a prophecy, something that cannot be done without the Nephilim. Noctis, if I let him go now, then God will get away with murdering your mother. If I don’t use him, then our only hope of justice is lost forever. God must pay for what he has done. We need the Nephilim to do this.”

There was a silence in the room as Noctis looked at his father. Ignis looked between them, his heart racing at the notion of what Regis was proposing. If God was directly responsible for the Aulea’s death, how could they ever hope that Prompto would be able to help? Did they really think Prompto was strong enough to stop God? What did the prophecy say in reality? Was there really more to it than what the king was letting on?

“So what you’re saying is, if we don’t use Prompto then the war will continue to rage on until we lose,” Noctis said finally. Ignis felt his heart dropping into his stomach, the notion that Noctis was even entertaining the idea making him sick to his stomach. What had happened to his surety that he would always be by Prompto’s side? “What you’re saying is that it’s God that must be stopped and only Prompto can do it.”

“Yes,” the king replied. There was something he wasn’t telling Noctis. Ignis could see it in his eyes. “So do you want me to just let this opportunity go, knowing that we have the means to exact revenge on God himself? Or do you want me to use the Nephilim so we can rest assured that the one responsible for killing your mother is brought to justice?”

“That is such a loaded question,” Ignis interjected finally. He looked to Noctis, his heart racing at the thought that he was the one who was going to try and talk sense into the prince. “Noctis, think about this for a moment. It’s Prompto we’re talking about. I doubt he even has the power to do what your father is proposing he do. Do you really want to betray Prompto’s trust like that?”

“I…” Noctis began, tears in his eyes as he looked between Ignis and the king. “I… I need to think about this.”

Ignis was shocked. He had been the one to be so ardently for completing their mission, not Noctis. And now it felt like things had been reversed, flipped on its head. Noctis had been so insistent on taking Prompto away from his father just moments ago. Why was it that whenever his mother’s death was mentioned that Noctis suddenly turned into someone else entirely? He looked from Noctis to the king, his mind made up.

“I refuse to betray Prompto,” Ignis snapped at them both. His hand that had been marked with Prompto’s healing capabilities twitched at his side. “You taught me the meaning of trust, how to be a friend and a brother to him despite everything. If you betray him like this, then it really must mean you never loved him the way you claim to. You’ll be just like everyone else in his life who has hurt him.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Noctis shouted at him. “Just let God get away with killing my mother?!”

“If that’s what it takes to prove your devotion to Prompto, then yes!” Ignis seethed, his voice raised. He walked towards the door, angry that he would be considering such an option at Prompto’s detriment. “If you choose this path, then you have sentenced Prompto to death. You might as well just kill him yourself then and do us all the favor of getting it over with. You know, I always thought I would be the one to betray the ones I love. I guess I underestimated you.”

Ignis slammed the door behind him before Noctis had a chance to respond. He was angry, fuming, when he stepped into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him forcefully. Gladio looked at him, his face etched in concern. It had been a while since Ignis had been so angry before. Even his anger directed at Gladio when he was trying to hide his own emotional turmoil wasn’t this bad.

“What happened?” Gladio asked as he looked to him for the answers.

Ignis sat on the edge of the bed, his disbelief and pain coursing through him. Prompto had been the one to convince him not to hurt himself anymore, that it was okay to rely on others. That day in the bathroom when he had hurt himself so spectacularly, Prompto had admitted to Ignis that he would never try to get in the way of him and Noctis, that he would always respect their space as brothers. He told Ignis that he admired him and his capacity for kindness despite being a demon. He treated him like a person instead of a sexual object. It made Ignis realize that Prompto was far better than any of them were. If Noctis was going to use him the way his father demanded of him, then it was clear to Ignis that Noctis never deserved him from the very beginning. He had to find a way to warn Prompto.

“We’ve lost,” Ignis replied. “If Noctis makes the choice it sounds like he is going to make, then it means we’ve lost.”

There was a silence that permeated the room. Somewhere, Prompto was in the palace, afraid and alone, waiting for the verdict regarding his fate to be delivered. Ignis hoped that he could find a way to get to him and help him escape before it was too late. Deep down, though, he knew that they had already passed the point of no return. Prompto’s fate was in Noctis’s hands.

Chapter Text

Prompto waited. He didn’t know if he was waiting for his demise or for his rescue, but he waited anyway. The king had put him in a tower, like some sort of damsel from the fairytales awaiting a brave knight or prince to come to his aide. He had released him from the shackles around his wrists but had tethered the shackle around his neck to a chain on the wall. It gave him the freedom to move around the room, but he couldn’t quite reach the window or the door. It was both a sign of a generous king who provided comfort to all those in the palace and an indication that Prompto was still a prisoner. It was difficult not to feel a sense of impending doom because of it.

The room itself was made of black obsidian, much like the rest of the palace. It was circular, with a bed next to the window and a vanity across from it. There was a wardrobe with a mirror on the left door, but Prompto opened it to find it was empty. He was alone in a bare room that was gilded in a display of comfort without any of the kindness to make it feel warm or inviting.

Prompto didn’t regret agreeing to go with the king if it meant protecting Ignis and Noctis from the pits. He just hoped that this belief in Noctis was not unfounded. It was difficult not to feel betrayed, not to think that he had been set up this entire time. Noctis was a fallen angel and the prince of Hell. Did he really expect him not to deceive him and betray him like he had? But Noctis’s fear when his father took Prompto away made him pause, giving him reason to believe that Noctis could be trusted.

It was why he had put so much faith in Noctis before he was taken away. He felt lost in his grief. The pain of losing Nyx once and for all put Prompto into a feeling of despair, but more than that the thought of Noctis betraying him was more than he could handle. When he had grabbed Noctis’s hands and told him that he was trusting him, Prompto had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Part of him believed that it was only due to his history of being hurt and betrayed by the people he was supposed to trust. The other part of him was so worried that he was setting himself up to be hurt once more.

The only thing that Prompto could do was wait. Wait and see what would happen. He felt something so strongly for Noctis and hoped that his fear was unfounded. It was obvious that Lunafreya had done something to Nyx to force him to betray Prompto, and now he was wondering if Lunafreya hadn’t done the same to Noctis. While he was holding out hope and trust in Noctis, it was hard not to waver. Over the past month he had seen Noctis so little that he was prepared to leave Purgatory on his own before all this happened.

Prompto couldn’t help but wonder if Noctis really did want to be with Lunafreya instead of him. He told himself it was his paranoia, but the image of Lunafreya and Noctis kissing kept repeating itself over and over in his mind. It was easy to believe that Nyx had been thrown into this unwittingly, and he had suffered greatly because of it, making Prompto feel guilty for all the terrible things he had said to him. But Noctis knew Lunafreya to the point that they used to date. He knew what he was doing, didn’t he? Prompto felt like he was too late, and now he was suffering the consequences of his decision to put his faith in the prince of Hell.

He didn’t put complete faith in anyone, though. He couldn’t. There was a danger in not knowing whether Noctis would actually come through for him or if he really intended to call his father and have Prompto taken to Hell. By all accounts, it appeared that Noctis had really betrayed Prompto, but he was holding out on the hope that Noctis truly didn’t mean for that to happen. Nevertheless, he knew he had to be cautious in his hope. In Prompto’s experience, everyone around him had a wonderfully horrid way of taking his hope and turning it into a knife in his back.

Prompto took out the pages from the book that the king had taken from him out of his pocket. The king thought he had a sacred text that had a step by step instruction on how to kill God. Prompto had seen the hunger in his eyes when he realized what it was. But he didn’t see that Prompto had taken the pages from it that spoke of a prophecy, the thing that the king actually needed if he wanted to be successful. It didn’t take any amount of magic to understand that King Regis wanted to kill God. Prompto didn’t know exactly if their goals were aligned, but he had a feeling that if he wanted to save his father then he would end up teaming up with the King of Hell whether he wanted to or not.

There was a dreadful thought that came over Prompto as he read the pages, looking at the text so that he could memorize as much as possible before the king discovered he had torn them out and demanded them. The prophecy couldn’t possibly be about him. If it was then it meant that Noctis wouldn’t betray him, that Ignis and Gladio would treat him as a brother. He didn’t doubt that Gladio was likely shocked by Noctis’s betrayal, but what about Ignis? It didn’t give him much hope as he read through the pages. What was worse, having a prophecy about the man Prompto loved or having it not be about him at all?

It intrigued Prompto that so many thought that he was the one who was destined to kill God. If the prophecy was any indication, he would play a vital role in helping Noctis come into his power, but it was a far cry from the truth. Maybe the lie was created to hide the truth. The only one who could kill God was a prince of Hell, someone who fell in love with a powerful Nephilim that could change the tides of fate. It made Prompto wonder if all the rest depicted in the prophecy was true about Noctis, but he had other things to worry about, namely if he would even survive his time in Hell. Would Noctis even know what he was if he asked?

There were so many questions that came from the pages that Prompto clutched in his hands. Everyone said he was powerful, but he didn’t feel like he was at all. Was Noctis aware of what he potentially was? Was he aware of what he could be? Was Prompto prepared to accept his fate if the prophecy was really about Noctis and him? Maybe it would have been better for them all if he just rejected Noctis before the prophecy could mean anything to them. But what would that mean for the rest of the world when someone like God was in charge?

Before Prompto could really figure out what he should do, there was a knock at the door. Quickly, Prompto tucked the pages back into his pocket as the obsidian door opened. The man who stood by the king’s side came into the room, looking both concerned and stern in his gaze. Prompto took several steps back, afraid of what the man was going to do to him. But there was something soft about him, something that reminded him of Gladio. He couldn’t quite place it.

“My name is Clarus Amicitia,” the man said after he shut the door. He stood tall between Prompto and the door, his stance guarded but not afraid. “I have some questions for you.”

“I… I don’t know how much I can provide you,” Prompto replied honestly. “You’ll have better luck talking to Ignis or Gladio.”

“I want to talk to you about Ignis and Gladio,” Clarus replied. He paused, choosing his words wisely. “Gladio is my son. I need to know why he is with a demon and not in Heaven where he belongs.”

Prompto stared at him in shock. No wonder he reminded him of Gladio. Looking at him closely, he could see the features that the two shared, how they were so familiar to each other. They even had the same body posture and stance. Prompto had the sense that much of who Gladio became was due to this man in front of him. This demon in front of him.

“Ignis isn’t a demon,” Prompto said. Clarus looked surprised by that statement. “Not anymore. Gladio accidentally saved my life and kind of stuck around because he didn’t have anywhere else to go. He and Ignis fell in love. It wasn’t like a succubus seducing an archangel or anything. This is real. Genuine. Gladio healed Ignis because of it and now he’s no longer a demon. We’re not really sure what he is actually.”

“How can I trust that when I’ve seen Ignis in action?” Clarus asked him. “My son deserves to be happy, at peace. At rest. It’s the entire reason I sold my soul in the first place. To see him in Hell, suffering-”

“He’s not suffering,” Prompto interrupted. He flushed, his fists clenched as he thought about someone assuming Ignis had just used Gladio. It wasn’t like that. Prompto saw how Gladio had helped Ignis find the space to heal from his wounds, he had felt an ache in his heart wanting the same but never quite getting there with Noctis. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know the full story, but… I’ve never seen anyone as happy as I see Gladio and Ignis when they’re together. It’s mutual. I promise you.”

“You’re very protective of them both,” Clarus considered. “Why?”

“It was tough at the beginning,” Prompto sighed with a shrug. “But now they’re like my brothers. I trust them.”

“Do you trust Noctis?” Clarus asked him. There was a silence between them, the chains around Prompto’s neck rattling uncomfortably as he shifted nervously. “From what I understand, you are here because Noctis summoned his father.”

“I am,” Prompto said, trying to ignore the painful ache in his chest. “I… I am holding out hope that Noctis can be trusted.”

“And if I told you that he can’t?” Clarus asked. “What would you do then? If I told you at this point in time Noctis is talking to his father about how to wage a war against God using you as bait?”

Prompto felt fresh tears come to his eyes, knowing that it was a very real possibility and Clarus was telling him to prepare for his hope to be torn away from him. He thought about Ignis and Gladio, about how Ignis likely knew what Noctis was thinking when he called his father to Purgatory. Did that mean Gladio knew too? Was Gladio in on the plan now, leaving Prompto the only one out? Was that why they were isolating him when they were in Purgatory? Was it the plan all along to leave him vulnerable to make his capture all the easier?

“I would ask for your help to escape,” Prompto said. He was tired of his heart hurting and wondered if it would ever stop. “But I would understand if you can’t. I have never had friends or family that I can trust, but I am trying so hard to trust them right now. I keep telling myself that just because I have been hurt before doesn’t mean that I should expect it of them. Even if Noctis is the prince of Hell.”

Clarus stared at him, assessing him. Finally when he spoke, it wasn’t what Prompto wanted to hear. “If I help you escape, please take Gladio with you.”

Prompto knew then that Clarus expected Noctis to betray him, if he hadn’t already. He ignored the pain in his heart, focusing on the task that Clarus was giving him. If Noctis was going to betray him then Clarus would be his only hope to get out. “Gladio won’t go without Ignis.”

“Then take Ignis with you. If Ignis really wants to be with him the way you say, then he will follow. Noctis cannot be trusted. Not when his mother’s death is concerned. I’m sorry that I have to be the one to tell you this, but I will do what I can to hel-”

Clarus was cut off by the sudden knocking on the door, making them both jump. Whatever Clarus was going to suggest was too little, too late. Prompto backed up as far as he could as the door opened and Noctis stepped inside with his father. He looked so beautiful in his black suit, like sin and temptation with dark hair and stormy eyes. The way he looked at Prompto made his heart ache, tears coming to his eyes and spilling down his face. Was it the look of betrayal that he saw in his eyes? Was Noctis here to tell him that he had decided to join his father’s forces after all?

“Clarus, what are you doing here?” King Regis asked as Prompto continued to stare at Noctis, his heart aching as Noctis only looked away from him. This was it, Prompto realized. He was going to be betrayed just as Clarus had warned him about. Cor had warned him too, didn’t he? Why didn’t he listen to anyone?

“I wanted to speak to the Nephilim and find out why my son was in tow with him,” Clarus lied. “Forgive me if I have overstepped my bounds.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” King Regis said amicably. He turned his attentions to Prompto. “Son, are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” Noctis replied, his voice like a knife in Prompto’s heart. “I know what I need to do. It is the only choice I can make.”

Prompto stared at Noctis, waiting for his downfall. He had trusted Noctis, even after everything. Why was he such a fool to trust in someone who had so obviously made it known he would betray him? Why did he think it was a good idea to fall in love with Noctis?

***

The pain of Ignis’s words were sharp, scathing, and not untruthful. Noctis knew that if he was going to even care about Prompto then he should immediately have told his father that it didn’t matter what happened in the past. Prompto was more important. But he had hesitated when he knew it was all about his mother and her death. There was so much he didn’t know about her death, so much that he had repressed from that fateful day, that he couldn’t just let it go so easily. Surely Prompto would understand his hesitation. But if he chose to betray him, what would that mean for Prompto? What would that mean for him?

King Regis knew exactly where to hurt Noctis, where to make him hesitate and pause. He knew that Noctis would have been unable to immediately say no, not when it meant avenging his mother’s death. His mother, Aulea, who was so beautiful and kind to everyone. She never belonged in Hell. She was a gentle and guiding presence, a wonderful soul that coveted the king and her son. Prompto would have to understand, especially since he needed to save his father. What was salvation but vengeance before death?

Noctis had a dream that night, Ignis’s words twisting in his heart like a dagger. It wasn’t so much a dream as it was a memory, something he had repressed from the trauma of watching his mother die. Ignis’s words must have triggered something in him to make him remember what happened. It felt like his mother’s spirit needed him to know the truth. He remembered why they were on Eos in the first place. It made him remember everything so clearly that he knew exactly what he had to do. There were some who wouldn’t like it, and he knew that many would end up hurt, but he had to do what his mother wanted him to.

That morning he woke up, dressed in his best royal raignment, and told his father he knew what he needed to do. Noctis ignored the looks Ignis and Gladio gave him. They could judge him as much as they wanted to for his trespasses, but he knew now what was right and wrong. It wasn’t because of his father or Prompto or anyone else. His mother’s voice had echoed so painfully in his soul that he couldn’t stop himself from making this decision. Noctis felt like he was almost too calm when his father asked him if he was ready to deliver his verdict.

Noctis’s heart was beating rapidly as he was directed up the long flight of spiral stairs to the top of the highest tower in the palace. Of course his father would be so cliche as to put Prompto into the tallest tower of the highest peak. The imagery, nor the lack of subtlety, was lost on him. He made a mental note of what he had to do, trying to keep his breathing even. He knew that there would be disappointment and despair. It wasn’t his fault. He had a job to do.

Surprise and fear crossed Noctis’s mind as they heard voices, muffled and incomprehensible as they approached the black door separating Noctis from his inevitable fate. He thought about Prompto being attacked, alone and imprisoned as a demon assaulted him. Would he be able to fend for himself after all the training they went through? When they opened the door, Noctis was shocked to see that Clarus was there, speaking with Prompto. When he saw the fear and pain in Prompto’s eyes, he couldn’t help but think that his fear wasn’t unfounded. And it was all because of him.

“Son, are you sure about this?” King Regis had asked him, the rest of the conversation lost on Noctis as he stared at Prompto, his heart beating rapidly at what he knew he had to do. Maybe one day he would be forgiven.

“Yes,” Noctis replied, staring at Prompto intensely. Prompto stared at him in fear and trepidation. Noctis couldn’t blame him. “I know what I need to do. It is the only choice I can make.”

Prompto was crying, no doubt anticipating the worst. Noctis wondered if Clarus had told him that he would be coming to use him, insisting that he didn’t trust the prince of Hell over his own intuition. Maybe Clarus was even trying to help Prompto escape, although he couldn’t imagine his father’s sworn shield betraying him. Whatever he was trying to do, it was too little, too late. Prompto’s fate had been sealed long before his father had even told him about what had really happened.

“N-Noctis?” Prompto asked uncertainly, pleadingly as Noctis took a step towards him. He looked like he was about to collapse, the chain attached to the shackle around his neck rattling as he took a step backwards, pressing himself against the wall. Tears were glistening in his eyes, his voice quivering as he spoke. “It’s okay, Noctis. I trust you. If you have to do this, then it’s okay.”

The words hurt Noctis’s heart and his soul, the fear and pain in his voice stinging worse than anything Ignis could ever say. It was worse than any disappointment that he could anticipate from his father. The trust that Prompto had in him despite everything made his heart ache more than the pain of knowing the truth. Noctis couldn’t hesitate anymore. He had to get this over with.

Noctis didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arms around Prompto and pulled him into a kiss, his lips pressed against the Nephilim’s in a way that made his own knees buckle. Prompto let out a surprised whimper at first. Noctis only continued to hold him tenderly in his arms, willing him to believe that he loved him more than his own selfish desire to bring God to justice. After a moment, Prompto put his hands on Noctis’s shoulders, their bodies pressed together as their kissed, Noctis’s hands gripping Prompto’s shirt on his back tightly as he held him close.

All of the pain, all of the fear, was lost on them both in a single moment. Noctis had lost sense of his father staring in shock and disappointment, of Clarus’s surprised but not wholly disapproving gaze. Prompto seemed to be of the same mindset, their tongues dancing in a harmonious waltz as the fire and passion between them coalesced now that Noctis had chosen his path that was so clear to him from the start. Prompto’s arms wrapped around Noctis’s neck as he pulled him further into the kiss, a surge of fire and electricity building within them that took them far from the worries and demands of others.

“I think he’s made up his mind, your majesty,” Clarus finally said, breaking the silence. “You may not like it, but then again, your family wasn’t too pleased when you fell for Aulea, were they?”

Noctis and Prompto stopped kissing, but they didn’t pull away from each other. His heart beating erratically, a blush on his cheeks, and the taste of Prompto on his lips, Noctis smiled at the Nephilim as they pressed their foreheads together. Prompto was staring at him with a blushing uncertainty melded with desire, his trust in Noctis clearly shaken but not broken after what had happened to him. Noctis didn’t know how he was still holding out hope for him, but he was certain that he could never hurt Prompto again.

“I love you,” Noctis whispered, ignoring his father’s disapproving stare. “I’m sorry, Prompto. Please forgive me. For everything. I never meant for this to happen.”

“Son,” the king said, interrupting Prompto as he opened his mother to reply. Noctis turned and looked at his father, giving him the most insolent smile that he could muster. “I thought you had more common sense than this.”

“Well that’s what you get for thinking,” Noctis replied, making Clarus chortle in laughter. He kept his arm around Prompto’s waist, holding him close. “Sorry dad, but I made my choice long before I even realized it. I love him. I can’t just let you use him for whatever plans you have to stop God.”

“Son, think about what you’re saying,” King Regis said, trying to reason with a fool who had so obviously fallen in love. “You’re giving up the chance to defeat God because of some crush-”

“I think we’re past the point of crush,” Clarus pointed out. “Look at him, Regis. Think about how you felt when you gave Aulea the Ring of Lucii. I think it’s time to give in now.”

The king looked between Noctis and Prompto. Noctis kept his arms around Prompto as they both faced the ruler of Hell, waiting for Noctis’s father to concede once and for all. Regis strummed his fingers on the head of his cane, clearly frustrated that his son had deceived him into thinking that he was going to side with him in his quest for revenge. To Noctis, there was nothing more important to him than being with Prompto and hoping that he would someday forgive him for everything that had happened.

“Why does my son seek to defy me at every turn?” Regis finally groaned, looking up towards the ceiling as if there were an answer waiting for him there. “A rebel in Hell is far more inconvenient when it’s your own son.”

“Mom would agree with me,” Noctis pointed out. “Can we just let Prompto out of these chains now?”

“Fine.” Regis waved his hand and a moment later the shackle and chains collapsed to the ground before disappearing altogether. “We still have a war to fight. Your mother was still murdered by God, and I still have to protect my realm.”

“Your majesty,” Prompto interrupted, his voice both scared and strong. “I don’t think our goals are that far off. I am searching for my father, and I think he is trapped in Heaven. I… Maybe we can get along long enough to stop Heaven and save my father.”

“Even if that means you will die in the process?” the king asked, his eyes piercing into Prompto. Noctis made to protest, but he held up his hand, calling for silence. How did his father always have that ability to make him silent without so much as a word?

“I don’t think I have a choice in the matter,” Prompto said finally. Noctis looked at him, wondering what Prompto knew that Noctis didn’t. “If I live or if I die… I will fight until I can’t anymore, but I don’t think it’s up to me what my fate is. Whatever will happen from here on out… That’s all up to destiny.”

Noctis had the sudden feeling that Prompto knew and understood something that he wasn’t telling him. It was the first time that he had been the one kept in the dark, particularly from Prompto. He decided he didn’t like it, but the way that Prompto shifted anxiously as he looked between Noctis and the king indicated that it wasn’t something he was willing to talk about. Just what did he know that Noctis didn’t? And why did it worry Noctis so much that Prompto wasn’t telling him? It would be hypocritical of Noctis to demand anything of Prompto, so for now he had to let it go.

“Destiny, hmm…,” King Regis considered. “You may be right. Well, as my son is incorrigible, perhaps we can find a way to work together. Please accept my humble apologies for-”

“Chaining me, imprisoning me, and threatening to torture your sons if I didn’t comply?” Prompto asked, his accusation not lost on Noctis. He sounded far more defiant than he usually did, as if he was finally coming into his own. Or perhaps he was as drunk on love as Noctis felt. Maybe it was a bit of both. Either way, Noctis decided that he most definitely liked this side of Prompto.

“Ah, yes, that,” his father replied, thrown off guard by Prompto’s sudden tone. “Well, then, now that we’ve got that out of the way… Noctis, please show our most esteemed guest around. I imagine you two will be sharing my son’s bed? You know what? I don’t want to know. Knowing Ignis is in love with an archangel is one thing-”

“Careful, your majesty,” Clarus warned. “That is my son you are speaking of.”

The king looked at Clarus, fully comprehending the magnitude of how things had changed at last. “Fuck, Noctis,” Regis said as he looked at his son. “Just what the fuck happened while you were in Purgatory?”

“A lot dad,” Noctis said with a laugh. The king decided his questions were better left for another time, acknowledging that Noctis’s arm around Prompto’s waist wasn’t going to disappear anytime soon. He left, taking Clarus with him, but not before Clarus gave Prompto a long look that made the Nephilim hesitate and nod. They must have had some sort of silent conversation that couldn’t readily be discussed aloud.

When they were finally alone, Noctis turned to Prompto with a smile, but Prompto was frowning and pulling away from him, looking out the window at the hellscape spread out on a vast horizon. Noctis felt a painful tugging in his heart, wondering if there was something he had missed in that confrontation. Had he been so blind to miss something so important? Or was there something that Prompto was going to tell him now?

“Thank you for rescuing me from your father,” Prompto said as he looked out the window. The Ring of Lucii stood out on the base of his neck, a red ring around his throat from the shackle. It made Noctis’s heart hurt. “I know you didn’t have to do that, especially if it meant getting revenge for the death of your mother.”

“It was the obvious answer,” Noctis said as he took a step towards Prompto. Prompto turned towards him, his eyes pained and sad once more. Noctis felt his heart break, wondering just what he had missed in their kiss. “Was I… Was I wrong to kiss you?”

“I will always remember that kiss,” Prompto said, making Noctis wonder just what he planned on doing. “I will never be able to forget that moment when everything felt right.”

“Prompto,” Noctis said slowly. “Do you think I kissed you because I was trying to get you out of danger?”

“What else would there be?” Prompto asked. Noctis couldn’t believe that he still doubted him after such a proclamation. Then again, within such a short time Noctis had been caught being kissed by Lunafreya, called his father, and didn’t say a word when Prompto was chained and taken to Hell. He didn’t really have much going for him. “Did you… Did you actually mean it?”

“Of course I meant it,” Noctis said as he took a step towards Prompto. Prompto looked shocked, scared almost, like it was easier to believe that Noctis had just been fooling his father into believing that he loved Prompto. If only he knew the truth. But would that only scare Prompto away?

Carefully, he reached out and took Prompto’s hand, pressing palm against palm before intertwining his fingers with Prompto’s. His heart was beating rapidly as he pulled Prompto close, his breathing shallow as he felt Prompto’s body heat so close to his. He looked at the Nephilim, his freckles painted on his face, biting his bottom lip nervously, his cheeks red under his blue and violet eyes of swirling nebulas drawing Noctis in.

Noctis was just as nervous Prompto was, all power displays of dominance gone now that he no longer had to prove himself to his father. It was just to two of them, and Noctis held up his other hand, waiting for Prompto’s palm. Prompto looked at it then pressed his palm against Noctis’s before intertwining his fingers with his once more. Prompto pressed his forehead against Noctis’s, tears streaming down his face, with a longing despair in his eyes that made Noctis feel guilty and fearful that he had been too late to repair the damage he had caused.

“I fell in love with you the first moment I saw you,” Noctis whispered, his heart beating and breaking in the same instance. “That hasn’t changed. There is a lot that I need to tell you to fix things. But I need to make myself clear. I did not kiss Lunafreya. She and I are not dating. Lunafreya saw you coming down the hallway and kissed me in an attempt to hurt you. And it worked, because I’m dumb enough not to see what she was doing.”

“That was pretty dumb of you,” Prompto said with a slight smile. His smile wavered. “I’m not going to lie, Noctis. My heart hurts. A lot. I was sure that you were going to abandon me. Everyone else has, so why wouldn’t you? And then you called your father. I just assumed the worst.”

“Of course you did. I would have too,” Noctis said as he looked into Prompto’s eyes, both of them standing so close that their bodies were nearly pressed against each other. Noctis wouldn’t do anything without waiting for Prompto’s say so. He would kneel and beg for Prompto to accept him if that was what it took. “I built you up for months then tore it all down in an instant. How long will it feasibly take for me to even have you forgive me for this?”

“I guess a lifetime?” Prompto asked, making Noctis’s heart flutter and skip erratically. Was he saying what Noctis thought he was saying? “Maybe two? I was once told that without trust there is no love… I’m trying really hard to trust you, Noctis. Trust doesn’t come easy to me, but loving you is so simple. I don’t get it.”

“I think that’s bullshit,” Noctis said, startling Prompto. “Sometimes we love and get hurt. If we just trusted anyone we were attracted to from the start then we would only get hurt over and over again. Love can come easy, but it takes real effort to wake up in the morning and decide to trust someone once we’ve learned that it’s effortless to break it. I’m deciding to trust you each and every day, and each day it gets a little bit easier. I hope that one day you can wake up in the morning, hopefully with me by your side, and not have to put as much effort into trusting me.”

“There will be times that I disappoint you,” Prompto said, frowning. “I disappoint a lot of people.”

“Maybe you’ll upset me,” Noctis said. “Maybe I’ll get angry. You won’t disappoint me. But I will remember that I have made the decision to trust you so that we can work past all our hurts and pains. Together. Because that’s what love is. It’s the everyday effort to wake up and trust when our minds are screaming at us to run away.”

“It’ll take more effort for me to trust,” Prompto offered honestly. “All the people in my life have betrayed me at some point… You haven’t, though. Not really. You’re just an idiot and I love you for it.”

Noctis smiled and laughed at that. “Yeah I am an idiot, and I’m sorry for it. I-... Wait. You said that you love me.”

“Took you long enough,” Prompto siad with a smile dancing on his lips. They were still so close to each other, their lips hovering mere inches apart, their hands intertwined as they pressed their foreheads against each other’s. “I love you, Noctis. Against my better judgment and every fiber of my being telling me that you’ll hurt me. I’m making the decision to love you and to trust you.”

Noctis couldn’t contain himself anymore. He pressed his lips against Prompto’s, allowing his desire to course through him in a tumultuous wave of love and pain. His heart ached for the pain he caused Prompto, but the sweetness of Prompto’s tongue told him that things were going to be okay. They had each other, and for now they had to celebrate this one, rather large, triumph. Prompto pressed his body against Noctis’s, their hearts beating as one, both loving and hurting.

As he continued to kiss Prompto, there was a burning sensation that began to spread from the Ring of Lucii on his chest outward, not unpleasant but strong and pulling. When Noctis looked down, he saw the Ring of Lucii was glowing, a bright white light surrounding him. He made to say something to Prompto, but when he looked up he saw that Prompto’s eyes were glowing the same vibrant light, as if he were consumed by the beauty. Or perhaps the power came from Prompto and emanated outward.

Noctis tried to take a step backwards, but Prompto was gripping his hands tightly. The warmth began to spread out from his the Ring of Lucii and from Prompto’s eyes through his body and to Noctis’s fingertips. He struggled, but Prompto was far away, and Noctis was trapped. He thought about screaming for help, about what was going to happen to him if he just surrendered to Prompto. This was new, frightening, and he didn’t know who to trust. Then he looked at Prompto and knew.

“Prompto,” Noctis said as the light threatened to take them both. He looked to Prompto and pressed his lips against his, willing his heart to trust when it was so hard. For all he knew, Prompto’s power was going to kill him. “I trust you, Prompto. You won’t hurt me.”

The white light engulfed Noctis and Prompto both, a scream emanating from Noctis’s lips as the warmth consumed them both, not painful but entirely overwhelming. It was blinding, and he collapsed on the floor, the gentle warmth and loving light receding as his vision cleared. When he looked up, Prompto was laying on the ground, passed out and barely breathing. Noctis screamed for help from someone, anyone, as he reached over to Prompto and pulled him into his arms.

“Prompto,” Noctis called for him, tears cascading down his face. They weren’t black anymore, which would have startled him if he hadn’t been so concerned for Prompto. Instead they looked like jewels and dewdrops, mingled together to create beautiful gems of light and air. “Prompto, please.”

“What… What happened?” Prompto asked with a groan. His eyelids fluttered open, giving him wave after wave of relief. Prompto’s expression turned from confusion to surprise in an instant. “Noctis… Your wings.”

“What about them?” Noctis asked. There was a fluttering behind him and he realized they were unfurled in his panic. Footsteps echoed up the stairwell behind him, and he turned and saw Gladio and Ignis stopping and staring at Noctis in shock.

Noctis understood well why they were all surprised, but no one was as surprised as he was. His wings were pure white, nearly glowing in stark contrast to the dark world that they were in. He had been born with black wings, as dark and as twisted as any soul that the fallen angels in Hell had. When he thought back to his mother, his heart began to beat erratically, both in panic and wonderment.

“The prophecy,” Prompto whispered as he looked at Noctis. There was silence in the room, but everyone turned to him in fear and questioning.

What prophecy?

Chapter Text

Aulea knew that she was limited on time. The Ring of Lucii ached and itched in her hand, as if warning her that her time was coming. She felt the change in the air, the tides of fate sweeping her along on a swift current that threatened to take her away permanently. Looking down at her son, small and tender, she knew she had to find a way to change the future before it was too late and Regis lost himself to grief. There had to be some way that she could protect this child who was not cut out for Hell.

“Come Noctis,” Aulea said as she grabbed his hand, the Ring of Lucii disappearing in the small child’s grasp. “We must be swift. They are waiting for us.”

“Who is waiting?” Noctis asked, always the inquisitive child. She ignored the question, pulling him along the hall of the palace, her long dark hair following her like a black veil. She was adorned in a tight black dress with gold trim, something far more befitting the attire expected of a sophisticate in Eos. Her eyes, a glowing purple unfamiliar to the angels and demons amongst Heaven and Hell alike, were searching for some sign that she would be caught before she could bring Noctis into Eos and change the fate of the universe. God wasn’t the only one who could redesign the cosmos.

“Your majesty,” Ignis called as soon as she turned her back, stopping with as much grace as if she were merely taking her son in his small black suit for a leisurely stroll. She wasn’t fooling anyone, let alone Ignis, caretaker and brother to Noctis far more than any other person in the palace. He approached her, his face bandaged and still healing from the holy water attack he had endured. Aulea’s heart hurt for Ignis.

She and she alone knew why he had become a demon. When Clarus had insisted he join the palace retinue, she had equally insisted on knowing the man who would care for her son when she was busy. Ignis had been honest and had also asked her to be discreet about his past. She had been only too willing to oblige and had held him in her arms as he cried, promising to treat him as a son just as she would Noctis. Because of Aulea, Ignis was now considered a likely candidate for the throne if Noctis was not up for the task. Or if the prophecy came to fruition.

“Ignis,” Aulea said, standing tall as Ignis approached her, his black and silver suit shimmering beautifully in the lamplight. It was so dim in the palace, her eyes glowing so eerily like a nocturnal creature stalking its prey. But Ignis wasn’t prey, and she wasn’t a predator. She was a warrior, a protector, and a prophet. She would do what she needed to save her son and the future of the universe, even if it meant disobeying her husband. Especially if it meant disobeying Regis.

“I would urge caution, your majesty,” Ignis said as he looked between her and Noctis, staring up at him with inquisitive eyes. Noctis had been so cute, crying for Ignis when he had been injured. They knew that the wounds would take time to heal, turning into a scar he would likely hide, even though Aulea nearly had him convinced he didn’t need it. Nearly, but it wasn’t enough. There was too much pain scarring his soul, and she wasn’t the one capable of healing it. That would be left up to Clarus’s son, and he wasn’t ready yet. “I know I cannot convince you not to go, but please be cautious.”

“You’re right, Ignis,” Aulea said. She reached out and touched his uninjured cheek, smiling at him softly. “You cannot convince me not to go. Please tell Regis at the time I asked of you. It is vitally important that you do so.”

“May I ask what will happen if I do not?” Ignis asked, looking at her with such loving concern that it was hard to believe that he was a demon at all. He wasn’t meant to be a demon, though. Aulea knew it, and one day he would know it too.

“Take care Ignis,” Aulea only said in response. She took a step back, knowing that Ignis would follow her commands perfectly. He was always fantastically punctual and loyal to a fault. One day he would be more devoted to Noctis than to Regis. One day he would be more devoted to himself and his own healing. When that happened, they would be ready. “Remember the time.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Ignis replied uncertainly as Aulea turned, pulling Noctis along with her. “I will await your return.”

Aulea didn’t respond to that, and she didn’t need to. Ignis’s tone betrayed his belief, knowing that she likely wasn’t making it back at all. She knew what her future held. She knew what marrying Regis, having Noctis, taking in Ignis, what it all meant. It didn’t change a thing, especially as she looked down at her beautiful son’s features, both scared and inquisitive about what it meant to go on an excursion to Eos with his mother. He usually asked so many questions, but today he was quiet. She didn’t have time to answer his questions, and he understood that.

“Come now, Noctis,” Aulea said as they passed through the veil from Hell into Eos. They ended up exactly where they needed to be, the veil in the palace leading her directly to a mystic shop that was a cover for renegades, demons, angels, and others who eschewed the rising tensions of Heaven and Hell that called for a war. It was a veil that Aulea had kept secret from Regis, telling him that it had collapsed long ago. As much as she adored him, she also knew that he wouldn’t be able to handle this knowledge. Not yet.

The shop was quiet, peaceful, a bubbling fountain nearby and meditative music creating a relaxing ambiance. But no human dared step foot into the shop, the veil to Hell creating a natural warning to stay away. Occasionally a daring soul got curious, but those were usually the ones very intuitive and likely to be some of the only humans who had any sort of capability to tap into the old magic before God took over. Aulea pulled Noctis through the narrow shelves of the multitude of beads and charms, the candles and incense all blending together to create the scent that was natural to metaphysical shops. A black cat sat in the corner of the front window, sleeping peacefully while a reaper acted as the shopkeep behind the worn wood counter.

To the right was a table blocked by a black curtain, a place that was designated for those seeking to have their fortunes read through the tarot or runes kept on hand. No one ever came, and it was the perfect place for anyone to meet privately. Aulea checked the clock on the wall. She was running behind by two minutes. That didn’t bode well for what needed to happen. Heedless of the danger, she stepped into the surprisingly well lit space behind the curtain, looking at the two waiting for her already.

“Verstael,” Aulea said grimly as she looked at the archangel sitting at the table, the child no older than Noctis clinging to him, half asleep in his arms, his blond hair wild and unruly like a halo that had somehow gone awry. The Nephilim child looked at Aulea and Noctis, not saying anything, his blue and violet eyes like universes within themselves.

“Aulea,” Verstael said as he stood, holding the child in one arm and he embraced her with the other. “Thank you for meeting me here. We do not have much time. Please, sit.”

“This is the child,” Aulea said. It wasn’t a question. She pulled Noctis onto her lap, the small child staring at the Nephilim like he had just discovered the meaning of life. This was good. This was what needed to happen. “Does God know yet?”

“Most likely,” Verstael replied. “They will send the archangels first and imprison him in the hopes that God will return to deal with him. I am trying to prevent that from happening.”

“We will take him,” Aulea said as she smoothed a hand of Noctis’s hair. “Noctis, this is your new brother, Prompto.”

“No,” Noctis replied simply, the way children did when they were so sure of themselves and the knowledge they had. It was often nonsense, but occasionally there was some truth that broke through the garble of childish flights of fancy. “He is my husband.”

Aulea smiled as she looked down at her son and then to Verstael. “From the mouth of babes,” she said. “Noctis, I want you to protect Prompto with your life. The future of the universe relies on it. Love him and cherish him forever.”

“Will he be safe?” Verstael asked, his lip quivering as he looked at his son. Aulea could only imagine the pain of letting go of a child in the hopes that they were safe and lived a better life than the one they could provide. “In Hell?”

“There are enchantments and masks we can use to disguise him as a fallen angel or a demon,” Aulea replied, checking the time as she looked up to the clock on the wall behind Verstael’s head. “And Noctis will be prepared to give him the Ring of Lucii when the time comes.”

But Aulea was late to the meeting, and she knew it. The one moment she spared on her love for Ignis made all the difference. Aulea’s eyes glowed brightly as she glimpsed into the future, seeing what the tides of fate would sweep them towards. It was full of suffering and pain, particularly for the poor Nephilim that could only stare at Noctis and Aulea as if absorbing them into his memories. But there was also hope and a chance for a brighter future. She wouldn’t be there to see it, but she knew that her life and death was superfluous in comparison to what the future brought them.

“We’re too late,” Aulea said as she heard the door to the shop open, sure and steady footsteps echoing on the floor around them. “We have one option to get out of here successfully. Find the reaper named Cor Leonis. He will help.”

Verstael nodded, their panic and fear turning to action as the future was laid out before them. That was the benefit of being a prophet. No one dared to ignore her warnings. Heeding her advice would bring them the future that they needed, although it may not have been the future that they wanted. She stood, holding Noctis in her arms as she dialed Ignis’s number on her phone.

“Now, Ignis,” Aulea said simply when he answered, languishing in Noctis’s arms wrapped tightly around her neck. It was the last time she would feel that affection from her son. She hung up the phone and stepped out from behind the curtain. There was a man at the front, petting a cat, his auburn hair covered by a rather tattered and torn hat. She ignored him, in favor of making a swift exit, knowing that stopping to speak with God was a terrible idea. If they left this way then there was still a chance that Verstael could save his son.

There were just too many uncertainties that made fate so volatile. Fate was an ever changing ebb and flow, making it nearly impossible to determine which was the True Fate. Aulea felt like she had a good idea, and that was the fate that God was trying to prevent. She couldn’t let him succeed, so she rushed to the sleek black metal of the vehicle waiting for her, the demon driver not questioning exactly why the Queen of Hell and her son were in Eos.

“Drive,” Aulea said as she cradled her son in the backseat while the demon got behind the steering wheel. With a screeching of tires, they sped off, the bright sun of Eos not as warm but just as glowing as the white hot sun of Hell. She kept hold of Noctis tightly as she heard an explosion behind her, knowing that God was coming for her once he would lose track of Verstael and the Nephilim. She just hoped that Verstael had the wherewithal to hide his features from him, to have a better chance at saving himself.

It wasn’t long until what she prophesied came to fruition, although the fear in her heart remained. God caught up to them, striking the vehicle and flipping it. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion as she pulled Noctis into her chest, her white wings unfurling within the vehicle and wrapping around him protectively. Suddenly things moved so much faster than she anticipated, the vehicle rolling several times until it crashed into the buildings nestled in a row just off the street.

Pain coursed through Aulea’s body as she and her son were thrown from the vehicle. She landed on her back, hearing a sickening crunch as her spine was broken. Noctis let out a cry and she realized that his leg was badly broken. Better a broken leg than a lost life. She could accept that. When she opened her arms, her pristine white wings now stained with blood, she looked at Noctis in shock and fear. There was a gash on his forehead, large and gushing, threatening to rob him of his life before he had a chance to change the fates.

Footsteps echoed around her, the crash of the metal muffling the sound as she struggled to look around for the source of the noise. Noctis collapsed next to her, and Aulea knew she was far too weak to save him. The crash had wounded her, and all it would take was one swift slice of a blade to end her life. She looked up as she saw God approaching her, his grin full of malice and spite.

“And just what do you think you’re doing, your majesty?” God asked her, his accent sauve, but his presence making her skin crawl. “Did you really think you could stop me?”

“No,” Aulea said with a cough. Blood came up with each cough, and she knew that she was going to die. This was the end for her. She glanced at Noctis, bleeding out beside her. This was not what her power had predicted. Then again, it was always left up to chance when God was present. “I have come to give others the means to kill him. You can fool Heaven, but you cannot fool me. Ardyn Izunia. I know what you have done and you will pay for your crimes.”

Ardyn looked at her, his golden eyes narrowed in defiance at her insolence. “I swear I will make sure each member of your family suffers, you insolent little cun-”

A flash of white light, swift and strong, struck Ardyn, sending him flying away from her at breakneck speed. He collapsed at least a hundred feet away from her, his body falling into a seemingly lifeless heap. Aulea looked up at her savior, startled to see that it was the small Nephilim child, staring at her curiously. He moved over to her to heal her, but she stopped him.

“Not me,” Aulea gasped, feeling the pain coursing through her. There was the sound of rushing footsteps, wings beating in all directions. Hell was quickly approaching, but so was Heaven. If Noctis had a chance of survival, then Prompto had to heal him quickly. “Heal Noctis. Remember his name and trust him. He will guide you and the rest of the world towards salvation.”

Prompto didn’t say anything. He stared at her then nodded and walked over to Noctis. Kneeling over him, the small blond hovered his hands over the gash on his forehead. It healed it instantly, leaving a small mark of thorns and flowers like a crown on his forehead. Aulea didn’t doubt that Regis would find a way to permanently conceal that, at least until Noctis was ready. It didn’t matter, though. Noctis would live.

“You really are a fool, aren’t you?” Ardyn said, suddenly behind her. He lifted her with one hand, grabbing her where one wing met her back. She screamed painfully, as he pulled her close to him, whispering in her ear. A blade was placed beneath her throat, the blade that would take her life. “I will see that your son suffers the most.”

“You can try,” Aulea snapped. “But you will fail. They will be your downfall. The Nephilim and-”

She didn’t have time to finish. Ardyn dragged the blade across her throat like a bow across a violin. Her words left her as he released her, the blood flowing freely onto the ground as she collapsed into a pool of her own blood. There was screaming around her, and she watched as God laughed before disappearing, leaving an archangel to grab Prompto to take him to the prison in Heaven. Noctis was awake now, crawling towards her, his hand outstretched as she looked at him, her vision going dark.

With the last ounce of strength she had, she used the power of the prophet to see into the future. She saw Noctis, older, his wings white and beautiful. She saw Prompto, pained yet willing to trust her son, the Ring of Lucii on his neck. Things would turn out exactly how they needed to go. It was just up to fate as to whether or not they would survive God’s wrath. Aulea offered a prayer to the Six, the original Gods, the True Gods, hoping that her son would live to see the beauty of the universe that he would one day save with the Nephilim at his side.

Aulea prayed that Prompto wouldn’t forget Noctis, that they would find each other and fulfill the prophecy once and for all. She prayed that they would have the strength to fight where hers had failed her. She prayed that, through it all, Ignis and Noctis would find the happiness they so desperately needed to make the fight worthwhile. And she prayed that Regis had the fortitude to allow destiny to take shape, that the tides of fate would bring them to the future that the universe needed to keep going. She prayed that God would be defeated, once and for all.

Chapter Text

Nyx felt comfortable, at peace, like he knew that there was something that should have been bothering him but it couldn’t anymore. He opened his eyes, the soft light of the room greeting him in warm welcome. In the corner of the room was the man with silver hair and different colored eyes, though he couldn’t remember how he knew they were different hues. His eyes were closed currently, his arms folded across his chest, his chin tucked as he slept peacefully in a comfortable looking chair. Nyx had the sudden compulsion to get up and cover him with a blanket, but he hesitated.

There was something, someone, he was supposed to be looking for. He tried to think about who it was, but it was difficult, like there was a wall that he just couldn’t see over. Nyx thought about it hard, so hard that his head hurt and he winced in pain. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to remember just why his heart had been aching so painfully before he fell asleep. He remembered soft hands in his, gentle tears, blond hair, eyes that were pools of nebulas drawing him in. But the more he tried to put together a face and a name, the further and further away the image got. The wall got taller the more he tried to remember who he was looking for.

He knew that he was supposed to be worried about it, that he should be screaming for answers. Yet each time he thought about demanding the truth, his mind felt comfortably numb, like he shouldn’t remember and it was okay to let it go. There was a memory that Nyx was holding onto, but it was beyond the wall, unable to be accessed until his distress went away. Maybe that distress would never recede. The more Nyx thought about it, the more he decided that it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to let it go. After all, if he was destined to forget then it must not have been that important in the first place.

Shifting in the bed, Nyx sat up. A necklace with a ring on it clattered as he moved, making the silver haired man sit up in bed. He instinctively reached up to touch the ring, wondering why his heart hurt when he thought about it. This wasn’t his ring. It was too small and not his style at all. There was someone he was supposed to give it to, wasn’t there? But that memory was behind the wall too, and no matter how much Nyx tried to access it, it slipped from his grasp. He could see the back of someone’s head, and as much as he felt like he was running towards him, he also felt like he was getting further and further away from him. Why did it ache? And why did that ache immediately go away whenever he thought too hard about it?

“You’re awake,” the man said as he came over to the bed, sitting on the edge of it and looking at Nyx with a fiercely intense gaze. Nyx’s breath caught, thinking about how beautiful this man was, forgetting his pain and agony of not knowing just who he was trying to remember. “How do you feel?”

“Confused,” Nyx replied honestly. “I’m… Where am I? Why am I here? I thought I was looking for… someone?”

“You found me,” the man replied, although he didn’t particularly indicate if Nyx was looking for him or someone else. “My name is Ravus Nox Fleuret. I am going to help you adjust to your life now, Nyx Ulric.”

“What do you mean, my life now?” Nyx asked in confusion. “Where am I?”

“We need to take this slow,” Ravus replied. “What is the last thing you remember?”

“I was… stepping through a painting?” Nyx asked. When Ravus nodded he knew he wasn’t crazy. The memories felt strange, like they were someone else’s, some of them on the other side of the wall while others were coming back to him rapidly. “I was wandering around in fog and shadow… Looking for… Someone. Who was I looking for?”

“They are gone now,” Ravus said. He touched his hand to Nyx’s forehead as if he was trying to assess if he had a fever. There was a pulsing light that felt warm to the touch, and the worry immediately receded once more. “You do not need to worry about him. When you are able, I will reintroduce you to him and you will not hurt so much for it. But right now you need to worry about yourself. You passed through the veil from Eos into Purgatory. Few humans are crazy enough to do something so foolish and ignore their instincts.”

“Does that mean I’m dead?” Nyx asked, looking around. It didn’t look like Heaven or Hell or any sort of afterlife he would have considered. But he remembered Ravus saving him and a group of people hovering around him as they argued about his fate. Where did they say he was? The Hall of Lost Souls?

“No,” Ravus replied. “It means you are now one of us. You are celestial fate. I am sure you don’t know what that means.”

“Not really, no,” Nyx replied honestly. He had never heard of such a thing in all of time in Eos. But it worried him that he was no longer in Eos, no longer human. Who had he sacrificed all that for? What did that mean to not remember? It was as if the memory was too painful for him to remember for the time being, and the ring around his neck jangled against the chain as a aching reminder of what he had forgotten.

“We call ourselves that, but we’re really just agents of chaos,” Ravus explained. “We are the product of our own curiosity getting the better of us or a call to a higher purpose that is better left forgotten in time. My sister and I passed through the veil to Heaven a long time ago and we became this as a result, imbued with great power while trying to remember what it feels like to be human. Some celestial fates have moved on, but Lunafreya and I have remained behind. She uses her anger and penchant for chaos and power to propel her forward. I… I have been searching for a deeper meaning to keep me going.”

“So you’re powerful,” Nyx considered. “And immortal?” When Ravus nodded he considered it for a moment more. “What kind of power?”

“It depends on the veil you pass through and just who you are as a person,” Ravus explained. “Illusion is Lunafreya’s greatest asset. Mine is light, permeating through anything, giving me the ability to heal or find anyone I need to. It… Lunafreya says it’s a useless power.”

“How is being a force of beauty for those lost in the dark useless?” Nyx asked, looking at him curiously. Ravus looked surprised by the question, almost as if he was embarrassed by the question. “You found me, right? And while I cannot remember much, somehow I think I was lost in the darkness for a long time.”

“You…” Ravus looked nearly on the verge of tears, trying to find the words to say about Nyx’s sudden appearance in his life. “I don’t even care what your power is. You have brought me hope.”

“Hope?” Nyx asked, his curiosity turning to concern. What about him brought him hope?

“Celestial fates live for a very long time,” Ravus explained with a sigh. “We lose sight of our humanity very quickly and easily. My sister is a prime example of that. But you… I can tell you are different. Your humanity is what defines you. I imagine that… That is what brought you here. I hope that my sister and I can learn from you. We have lived so long, and it is hard to remember what humanity felt like.”

“What do you remember about being human?” Nyx asked him honestly. He felt a need to understand Ravus. Perhaps it was because he was the same as Ravus now, the change naturally bringing Nyx into his gravitational pull. Perhaps it was the wall telling him that he needed to connect with someone, anyone, while he couldn’t remember whoever it was that he needed to forget to protect his psyche. Was the relationship really that horrible? “Do you remember anything?”

“I remember a house,” Ravus considered. “A family. I remember… Loving someone. A man, although I was expected to marry a woman and take over the head of the house. I remember running away and my sister coming with me. That’s when we found the veil.”

“You were running from the darkness,” Nyx pointed out. “I suppose that makes sense why you bring light to the world.”

“I never thought of it that way,” Ravus said with surprise etched into his features. “Do you think… Do you think you would want to spend some time with me? I can teach you how to be a celestial fate and you can help me find my humanity. My sister too if you want to.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Nyx said with a smile. The name Lunafreya seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite remember just where he had heard it before. Disregarding his fears and worries for now, he thought about how his life had so suddenly turned upside down to the point where it was no longer strange to consider that he was now an immortal being. Looking at Ravus, he thought about how it wouldn’t be so bad to learn a bit about his future from someone like him.

***

Prompto was nervous, frightened really, but he was put his faith in Noctis as he had told him he would. When he woke up in Noctis’s arms, staring at his white wings, he could only think of the prophecy. When he had been unconscious he had remembered everything from when he was a child, everything he had repressed to protect himself when he had come to live with the Argentums. He remembered his father, the danger, the fear. He remembered Noctis’s mother, dying on the pavement, begging for Noctis to be saved. He remembered Noctis.

He remembered Noctis. From the first moment Prompto had seen him as a child he knew. There was something between them that was pulling them together, something that wouldn’t go away just through time or distance. It was as if they were just biding their time until they could be together again, until they could reunite and fulfill the prophecy. But more than that, Prompto remembered that when he had been a child he had stared at Noctis and just knew what was in store for him in his future. He knew that there was a pulling in his soul to be with him, that Aulea didn’t even need to tell them to trust each other. It was inherent, something that they had to remember while they disregarded everything else.

Prompto didn’t know if it was the pull of the prophecy or something more. But now that he stared at Noctis, now that he remembered everything, it was as if he was seeing him for the first time in a very long time. There was no more pain or ache or agony over whether or not he should trust him and move on from Nyx. There was only desire, love, and a passion that made him look at Noctis’s sultry lips and want to taste them on his again. Prompto had never felt that way towards anyone before, and it worried him how strongly he felt about Noctis. Fate had a strong hand in bringing them together, and he was compelled to honor it more and more.

“Prompto, what prophecy?” Ignis asked, drawing his attention away from Noctis. He blinked, trying to remember what he was thinking before he got distracted by Noctis’s natural light, wondering if perhaps he had been affected by the pure white wings Noctis now bore. He pulled away from Noctis’s arms, kneeling on the ground as Noctis faced him, sitting the same position with his back turned to Ignis and Gladio.

“I…” Prompto began, but he was once again distracted by Noctis. This time it wasn’t because of his beauty, his white wings furling themselves slowly onto his skin. Prompto leaned forward and touched his forehead, remembering how he had healed him when he was a child. “You’re missing your crown.”

“What?” Noctis asked, confused. He was blushing from Prompto’s touch, and Prompto was trying to ignore the racing of his own heart. There was a flicker of recognition that came over him. “Prompto, do you remember what happened? Back then?”

“Yes,” Prompto replied simply. He put his hands on either side of Noctis’s head and pulled him towards him, lightly kissing his forehead, knowing what he had to do. It was as if remembering everything had unlocked all the secrets to his powers that he had long forgotten. Of course it would, wouldn’t it? He didn’t have to repress his memories anymore, including all the memories of learning how to use his power. It would make it easier to try and save his father, to try and fulfill the prophecy.

When he pulled away, the mask that his father had put on Noctis’s forehead disappeared slowly, the wound that Prompto had healed revealing itself. The pattern of thorns and flowers, sylleblossoms, decorated Noctis’s forehead like a permanent crown, small and delicate, yet permanently affixed. Sylleblossoms were the flower that originally grew in Heaven but went extinct, only to sprout up as black flowers in Hell. It was all part of the prophecy. Prompto remembered the prophecy so well. His real father had recited it to him nightly before he had to go into hiding, telling him to remember it as it would be necessary for his future.

The prince of Hell who bears the mark of the Nephilim, the one born of both Heaven and Hell, shall bring about the divine justice of the Six Astrals. The devourer shall be brought to justice at the hands of the prince, and the Nephilim will light the way. Only with the assistance of the Nephilim, the fallen archangel, and the divine demon shall the prince be made king, and God shall be defeated once and for all.

“Remember what?” Gladio asked, exasperated as Prompto and Noctis stared at each other. They felt the same thing in that moment, their minds acknowledging that even as children they knew that they would be integral to their future. Prompto thought of Noctis’s surety as a child and blushed bright red, thinking of how they had both forgotten that simple and sweet moment through the trauma of life. Did Noctis remember too?

“We met as kids,” Noctis explained. When he turned away from Prompto it was as if it was only through much difficulty, like he was struggling to tear his gaze away from him. “My mother took me to Eos to try and take Prompto back home before things went wrong.”

“That was the day she died,” Ignis said, recognition flickering over his features. He reached up and touched the scarring on his face, a memory of Aulea coming back to him. “She was trying to rescue you?”

Prompto nodded, thinking back to Aulea laying on the pavement, the image of her glowing eyes demanding retribution one and for all. It was as if they were staring into his soul, willing him to believe that the prophecy was about Noctis just as much as it was about him. He thought about the end of the prophecy, the part that he wouldn’t tell any of them, and felt a pulling in his heart that told him that it was better to keep it a secret. He didn’t need to tell them that his own fate was uncertain, that the prophecy made it clear that he had just as much a chance of dying as he did of surviving to see Noctis triumphant.

“I didn’t remember until now,” Prompto said, his heart yearning for something that was so tangibly close but he couldn’t just reach out and take just yet. The hurt of the past had made it startlingly clear that trusting anyone was difficult, but when he looked at Noctis and thought about how they were so naturally meant to be together since childhood, he couldn’t help but trust him or desire to be in his arms.

“He ended up rescuing me instead,” Noctis said. Prompto found it hard not to feel a longing as he looked at the crown permanently affixed on his head now. “I remembered it all last night when I was… Thinking about things. Mom wanted me to help him and bring him somewhere safe. She wanted us to trust each other.”

“It’s good to see that your mother can knock some sense into you, even from beyond the grave,” Ignis pointed out, his voice a little sour. Prompto wondered what he was talking about, then thought about what Clarus said. It would be a lie to say that he wasn’t more than a bit hurt that Noctis didn’t immediately know that he should help Prompto, but he tried to see where Noctis was coming from. His mother had died at God’s hands, and his father likely used that against him as a means to try and get him to join his cause.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Noctis snapped at Ignis. “I fucked up, and I am a fuck up. I get it, alright? I was put in a shitty situation where I had to choose between my father’s desire to avenge my mother’s death and the man I love.”

Ignis softened a bit, looking at his brother with a sympathy that Prompto understood. While it was painful to think that Noctis may have actually chosen the other option, it didn’t quite matter anymore. Not since he chose Prompto over everything, and especially not since it meant that they now had a prophecy to fulfill. Prompto put his hands in Noctis’s, both of them still kneeling on the floor as they stared at each other, his heart aching with a sweet pain that told him it was okay to trust Noctis. After all, he did choose Prompto. Being angry about something that didn’t happen was only going to make them bitter and resent each other.

“It doesn’t matter,” Prompto said before Ignis or Gladio could say anything. “He made his choice, and now he’s stuck with his husband.”

“Husband?” Gladio asked as Noctis blushed bright red, looking anywhere but at Prompto. “Did you two get married without us knowing?”

“No,” Noctis said, his voice embarrassed while Prompto grinned and unsuccessfully stifled a giggle. “When we first met I told my mom that he was my husband.”

Ignis and Gladio looked at each other then down at Prompto, both of them decidedly laughing at Noctis’s embarrassed plight. Prompto wasn’t going to let him forget that moment. He had been a quiet child, mute really, and preferred to just absorb the world around him as if it helped his power as a Nephilim grow. His father had been overly protective, and with good reason, so he never introduced him to anyone else, save for Aulea and Noctis. When Noctis had said that Prompto was his husband as a child, he had felt something in him then that told him it really was just a statement of fact. Perhaps it was because of the power that Noctis didn’t even know that he had, but Prompto had immediately trusted that proclamation and accepted it as a part of his reality when he was just a small boy.

“Your father really is doomed then,” Gladio said through his wheezing laughter, making Noctis blush even brighter red.

“Maybe you saw the future,” Prompto said, attempting to defend Noctis, although he was rather enjoying the prince’s embarrassment. “Your mother was a prophet, after all.”

A silence and a hush fell over the room, the reality of their life bringing them back to what they needed to address. Noctis had white wings now, a permanent crown on his head, and a prophecy on the horizon. Prompto had been trusted with guiding Noctis towards his fate, his father teaching him to keep the prophecy close to his heart so that God could be defeated once and for all. He had been right when he told King Regis that their goals were similar. He just didn’t realize how similar they were.

“Why do I have the sudden sense that now that Prompto has remembered everything that he knows more than we do?” Ignis asked as Prompto stood up and pulled Noctis with him. He kept his hand in Noctis’s, enjoying the rush of joy and the flips that his stomach did as he held onto Noctis tightly.

“My father did his best to prepare me for the day that we would have to be separated,” Prompto explained. “Every day he would tell me what I needed to know while he hid me in the recesses of Heaven. He told me about Aulea and Noctis before we even met.”

“Then do you mind sharing what he told you that we might not even know?” Gladio asked.

“Aulea was an archangel,” Prompto said, much to everyone’s surprise. “She was a rare archangel. A prophet that could see the future and determine how to change fate. When she married King Regis it nearly caused a war. But she had Noctis and knew that she had to protect him. My father told me that Noctis has both the power of Heaven and Hell. And he has the power of the prophet. He’s the only one who has the power to stop God.”

“Wait,” Noctis said, looking at him in confusion. “I thought you were the one with the power to stop God?”

Prompto shook his head, the prophecy so clear in his mind that he didn’t even need the pages in his pocket. Everything coming back to him was both wonderful and terrifying. It gave him the assurance to know his own power, his own strengths and weaknesses, while also knowing that there was no guarantee that the prophecy wouldn’t end in his demise. Looking at Noctis, it was hard not to want to see him be able to bring God to justice for the death of his mother and for all of the other horrible things he had done to gain power. It was difficult for Prompto not to want to save his own father, trapped in Heaven, waiting for someone to rescue him.

Prompto had been born not only because his father wanted a son. He was created so that Noctis would fulfill the prophecy and put a stop to God’s horrible deeds. Recalling how God had come into power made Prompto shudder, knowing that Noctis wouldn’t be able to fulfill his part of the prophecy without the help of a Nephilim’s grace. He had gifted that to him when he was a child, though, even though he didn’t fully understand what it meant. The rest of the prophecy was up to Noctis, and Prompto would do anything to ensure that he would be successful and live through it, even if that meant his own death. Of all the pain he had endured, he didn’t think he could handle losing Noctis.

“The prophecy speaks of a product of Heaven and Hell being blessed by a Nephilim,” Prompto said. He looked away from Noctis, unable to tell him that it also spoke of the truth that the Nephilim would have to sacrifice himself for it to be fulfilled. It was unclear whether or not he would survive it. “With that power, and the power of a fallen archangel and divine demon, you can stop God.”

“So I can avenge my mother’s death?” Noctis asked. Prompto could see him thinking about what that meant, and he only nodded in response.

There was a shift in Noctis’s posture, a flicker of something in his eyes that scared Prompto, but for reasons he couldn’t wholly express. Noctis’s eyes flashed a brilliant shade of violet, violent and lovely in the same breath. It was the same color as Aulea’s eyes, and Noctis clutched Prompto’s hand tightly, as if he was seeing something so far away that he needed an anchor for support. Gladio and Ignis looked at Noctis in shock and surprise, but Prompto only held onto him tightly, knowing that Noctis’s power as the son of Heaven and Hell, the direct descendant of a prophet, had been fully realized in a single moment.

“Prompto,” Noctis breathed as the violet color receded, changing back to the same stormy blue that Prompto could easily lose himself in, a tumultuous sky of a hurricane ushering in both his destruction and doom. “I can’t do this without you. Please don’t go anywhere.”

Prompto wondered if he saw something in his future that he didn’t like. It wasn’t something that he was willing to talk about with Noctis, knowing that he had been born for the very reason of helping the prince defeat God regardless of what happened to him. But he knew that he would fight with every ounce of strength that he had in his body. Being without Noctis, even if he himself was the one who died, was too much for him to fathom. Not now, not after they had finally found each other again.

“I won’t,” Prompto promised. He looked at Ignis and Gladio, who looked just as concerned as Prompto felt. “Noctis, I will stand by your side until the bitter end.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Ignis said with obvious worry. His hand that Prompto had healed twitched, as if remembering the warmth of his healing touch. “What aren’t you telling us?”

“N-nothing,” Prompto lied, and he knew that they could obviously see the lie. He gripped Noctis’s hand tighter, knowing that he was giving away something that Noctis could potentially see.

“His part to play in this is technically over,” Noctis picked up for him, surprising Prompto. Did he see the future and know the truth? Or did he only see what he wanted to see? “But I want him to stay with me.”

“Of course,” Gladio said with a shrug, easily believing what Noctis said. “Where else would he go? Especially since you’re his husband.”

“Oh come on!” Noctis groaned. Prompto laughed, and Ignis offered a wry smile eventually, setting aside the worry and fear for a moment. “Why did you have to tell him Prompto?”

“Because I can’t help myself,” Prompto giggled, grateful for the change of topic. Gladio and Ignis were still eying him in concern, but they weren’t going to press the subject.

“I’m sure there’s a lot that we have to figure out,” Ignis considered. “But for now, I think getting Prompto comfortable here and figuring out just how we’re going to broach this topic with your father are the high priorities. While it’s a relief to know your father will likely be glad you are going to set out to stop God, I doubt he will be thrilled to see your new adornments.”

“Yeah…” Noctis groaned. “He’s already so disappointed in me. It’ll only be worse once he sees all this.”

“I’m sorry,” Prompto offered sheepishly, feeling embarrassed that the marking on his forehead was a product of his abilities. He thought Noctis looked rather attractive with white wings and a permanent crown, but he didn’t think that King Regis would particularly care about what he thought in the matter.

“Don’t be,” Noctis said with a smile. He looked at Prompto with a smile that made him blush, making him think about how he could so easily just spend the rest of his life in the prince’s arms. “We’ve all been affected by each other in one way or another. You got the Ring of Lucii, I got a crown. Ignis has red wings.”

“And mine will end up black sooner or later,” Gladio pointed out. That was an uncomfortable thought, particularly to Ignis, and Prompto could see the pain on his face at the thought.

“Well it’s a good thing you have a twink for a boyfriend,” Noctis said with a laugh, making Ignis bristle from the statement. “Twinks do make the fall a bit easier.”

“I had enough of that from Cor,” Ignis pointed out. “I do not need it from you as well.”

“Is it so bad to have a twink for a boyfriend?” Gladio asked as he put his arms around Ignis and pulled him close against his body. Noctis looked like he was about to vomit at seeing his brother being so close to Gladio. Ignis was ready to kill Gladio, but Prompto could see his eyes lighting up in happiness and desire as well. “I would be happy to demonstrate just how much I like having a twink for a boyfriend any day of the week.”

“Alright, I’m done,” Noctis said as Ignis laughed. He pulled Prompto with him, shouldering past Gladio and Ignis as Gladio proceeded to embarrass Ignis by kissing him deeply, partially out of desire and partially to annoy Noctis. Prompto laughed as Noctis made a series of disgusted noises while he pulled Prompto down the steps, rushing quickly so that Prompto was skipping steps to keep up.

“Hold on, Noctis!” Prompto said as Noctis moved faster to get away. “I’m going to trip and-”

He let out a yelp as he tripped over his own feet, stumbling down the stairs. Before he could fall too far, Noctis caught him, his arms around his waist as he swiftly pulled him back and pressed him against the wall to steady him. Prompto stared at Noctis, both of them suddenly so quiet, panting from the sudden rush of nearly falling in a breathless whirl. Noctis’s forearm was leaning against the cool black of the wall just above Prompto’s shoulder, his pants grazing against Prompto’s. The humor was gone now, and desire and passion were taking its place.

“Prompto,” Noctis whispered his name as he leaned in, their lips almost touching. Prompto felt his heart skip a beat and a desire growing much further down that made a heat rise to his face. How long had it been since he had been held by anyone? Too long, he realized too late. How many times had he dreamt about Noctis holding him? Too many. “I love you.”

Prompto leaned forward, almost imperceptibly closer, but Noctis picked up on it. The prince pressed his lips against Prompto’s, their tongues hungrily searching for more than just a passing phrase or a gentle kiss. Prompto was tired of waiting now that he knew he could trust Noctis with everything, including his life. He wrapped his arms around Noctis’s waist, feeling the prince’s curve of his spine, as he deepened the kiss, a flurry of desire and excitement coursing through him when Noctis pressed against him in response. Noctis moaned into Prompto’s pull, and Prompto only felt himself grow hungrier for it.

“I love you,” Prompto whispered as Noctis pulled away from the kiss, the prince gasping as if he had forgotten to breathe. “Will you show me where we’ll be staying? Unless you think I should have my own room?”

“Fuck that,” Noctis grinned. He ran a hand through Prompto’s hair, making the Nephilim blush, as if he wanted nothing more than to touch the unruly mess the entire time. “The only room you’ll be allowed to stay in is mine.”

“Is that an order from his highness?” Prompto asked teasingly. It was hard to see Noctis as a prince, no matter how intimidating his father was. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t tease Noctis for it. “Or from my husband?”

“It’s a begging question,” Noctis said with a quiver in his voice, making Prompto’s stomach do several flips and turns. “I’ve never wanted to be with anyone but you. If you wanted to have me on all fours, begging, I would do it.”

Prompto had a sudden image of Noctis in that exact position, his white wings unfurled, the permanent crown on his head in stark contrast to his cheeks flushed with desire. He had the strangest feeling that if Noctis entertained such a thought, it would awaken something dark and dangerous within him. Despite being a prince of Hell, Noctis was surprisingly innocent for the time being, and Prompto was the more experienced of the two of them. That was not something he could easily entertain with someone as beautiful and virginal as Noctis.

“Don’t tempt me,” Prompto only said, half-joking. The other half of him wanted Noctis to tempt him with the thought very much. “Your room is good enough for me.”

Noctis took his hand once more, this time walking slower down the steps. There was no talk or laughter between them, and Prompto could sense the nervousness rolling off him in waves. It would be a lie to pretend he wasn’t nervous too, but it wasn’t because he thought having sex was something to be nervous about. To him, being with Noctis intimately was far more terrifying than being with a stranger. With Noctis it was more than just a physical act. It was an act of trust that required him surrendering the last piece of his heart and soul over to Noctis while expecting the same thing in return.

Blushing, the tension between them mounted as they hurried down a dark hall that was nearly impossible to navigate through. Prompto tried to pay attention to his surroundings, but he found he could only stare at Noctis pulling him along so decisively. His shoulders were so beautiful, the way his frame so perfectly fit into his suit, the curve of his back down to his waist and hips drawing Prompto forward far more than he cared to admit. He was vaguely aware of a few demons that they passed by, all of them looking at Prompto in surprise and at Noctis with a respectful bow.

Noctis’s room in the palace was behind a rather large and looming black door. It would have been terrifying if Prompto didn’t notice that the ornate carving on it was of a woman, an archangel, protecting a small child, her son. He immediately thought of Aulea and wondered if there was some sort of protective magic behind the carvings on the door. Noctis opened the door and pulled Prompto inside, the prince’s surety collapsing as soon as the door closed behind them. The Nephilim could see the change, and he knew that it would have to be addressed before they did anything.

Prompto looked around at the room, immediately thinking that Ignis had decorated it for Noctis in the event that he invited a significant other over. He tried not to wonder if Lunafreya had ever been there in an attempt to seduce Noctis, one that obviously failed. The dark room of black walls and marble flooring looked pristine in the light of the fireplace, the purple and green flames glowing brightly. The four poster bed was decorated with black sheets and emerald green curtains. There was a wardrobe with amethyst handles and a bathroom to the left of the fireplace. A balcony overlooked the expanse of the area surrounding the palace, and Prompto heard the squawking of birds outside.

“Th-this is my room,” Noctis said as he let go of Prompto’s hand, his back turned to Prompto as he looked around.

Prompto smiled, his stomach fluttering at the sudden innocence and shift in demeanor. Noctis was just like Prompto had been when he was first figuring out what he wanted in a romantic partner, unsure of himself but sure of what he wanted. When he had been with Nyx the dynamic had almost been the reverse, the detective the one with more experience. But Prompto wasn’t thinking of Nyx anymore. It was almost as if letting him go gave him the chance to move on and remember what he was born to do, who he was born to help. It made loving Noctis so natural and easy.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Prompto offered as he walked over to Noctis and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, his chest pressing into the prince’s back. Noctis let out a small squeak, excited and beautiful in his nervousness, making Prompto feel all the more confident that he was where he was supposed to be. There were many ways that Prompto was unsure of himself, but he knew what he wanted when he wanted someone intimately. Noctis was no exception.

“Part of me wants to take it slow,” Noctis breathed. “But then I think about not holding you in my arms for another night, and I can’t stand it. I know it sounds cheesy and lame, but I can’t help myself.”

“You’re right,” Prompto said. Noctis blushed as Prompto pressed his lips against his neck, his excitement returning as he felt Noctis shudder under his touch. “I can’t stand it either.”

“I… I haven’t…” Noctis tried but shuddered again when Prompto continued to kiss his neck.

“I know,” Prompto replied, letting his desire take over for once. “I may be a mess in most situations, but this is the only time I really know what I want and what to do. I’ll help. But please tell me that Ignis had at least the foresight to give you condoms or something.”

Noctis blushed bright red as he walked over to the bedside table and pulled something out of the drawer. It was a box of condoms, never before opened. Prompto tried not to be overly pleased to know that he was going to be Noctis’s first time. He hoped he was the only one Noctis was ever with, preferring to monopolize all of his time forever. As a Nephilim, he didn’t know how long he would live even if he wasn’t fairly certain that everything would end horribly for him, but he hoped that he had far more time with Noctis than alone.

“I know what to do,” Noctis offered awkwardly as Prompto suppressed a giggle, trying not to feel too excited and get way too ahead of himself. It was difficult. Noctis was so attractive, and Prompto was so ready to just be with him. “I just… have never felt like doing it.”

“And you feel like it now?” Prompto asked, knowing that he needed to make sure Noctis wanted to be with him sexually. Prompto was well aware that Noctis wasn’t attracted to anyone really, that he was the exception to the rule. It didn’t matter how much he wanted Noctis, whether physically or romantically. If Noctis didn’t want to be with him sexually, then he wouldn’t force it.

“I do!” Noctis nearly shouted, making Prompto’s giggle escape his throat finally. Noctis blushed bright red. “I’m sorry I’m not some well-versed sexual being like Ignis. I mean…” Noctis threw up his arms in mock surrender, and Prompto felt a compassion for him that compelled him to walk over to the prince and hug him tightly.

“I don’t care if you’ve never been with anyone before,” he pointed out kindly. “And if you don’t want to do everything all at once, that’s okay too. I’m not going to make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

Noctis put his arms around Prompto, making Prompto’s face flush red with desire, his stomach doing all sorts of leaps once more as he felt Noctis’s strong arms around him. For someone just slightly shorter than he was, Noctis was really strong and secure as he held Prompto. It was a feeling that Prompto was safe and where he belonged. If Noctis told him that he never wanted to have sex with him, Prompto would be more than happy to just be by his side. That’s what true love was, he realized. It wasn’t all sexual desire and lust and a relationship that happened to build from it. It was trust and respect and consent.

“Prompto,” Noctis whispered his name as if it were a prayer. “I want to hold you, now. Please forgive me if I’m not particularly good at it.”

“It’s not possible to be bad at it,” Prompto replied. “If you’re the one holding me, then that’s all I need.”

Whatever Noctis found in those words seemed to take away his worries and anxieties. He kissed Prompto, gentle and unsure, but strong and needful in the same moment. Prompto deepened the kiss, their tongues grazing each other’s in an electric desire that was cultivated over a trust that began so long ago even though they only just remembered it. Noctis was going to set the pace, and Prompto was going to direct him but follow simultaneously, knowing that Noctis would be far more nervous and afraid than he would be. He went to say something, but Prompto smiled and sat on the bed, pulling him with him.

“Don’t think about it,” Prompto encouraged him. There was a strong desire growing in him, a pull towards something else that was likely too much for Noctis. Things had to be done one step at a time. It wasn’t like Noctis was a succubus, and it startled Prompto to admit that he had such desired thoughts about Noctis. “Just do what you feel is right. The more you think about it, the more in your head you’ll get.”

Noctis nodded, his eyes widening as Prompto bravely took off his own shirt, exposing his chest, his scars on his back and arms for Noctis to see. It was the product of his time in the conversion camp, the many small scars marking his body almost imperceptibly. But Noctis noticed them. He noticed everything about Prompto, and it made him oddly self-conscious. He had never felt so seen, so accepted, before in his life.

Without thinking too much about it, Prompto received Noctis’s kisses, a gasp escaping his lips as he shuddered beneath Noctis’s lips trailing over his neck and down to his chest. It was as if the prince was trying to take away each scar, each moment of pain that he had endured. Prompto wrapped his arms around Noctis’s shoulders, moaning beneath his lips as Noctis’s hands hungrily tugged on Prompto’s pants. He shimmied out of them, wondering just what Noctis was going to do. It wasn’t a secret to either of them that Prompto was hard.

“Wh-what-” Prompto didn’t get to finish his question as Noctis knelt in front of him, wordlessly taking his twitching cock in his mouth. Instinctively, Prompto put his hands in Noctis’s hair, gripping the soft strands tightly as he moaned from Noctis licking him from base to tip and back again. How the hell did a virgin know how to do that? “Noct…”

Noctis continued to suck on him, sending spikes of electricity coursing through him from his loins outward. It was difficult to believe that a prince of Hell would be so ready to take Prompto in his mouth, and Prompto’s hips only twitched in hungry anticipation. If Noctis kept this up, he wouldn’t last very long at all. But he couldn’t stop him, he didn’t want to stop him, his mind only asking for more from the man he loved.

“Noct,” Prompto moaned, unable to even get out his full name. “If… Nngh… Please…”

Pulling away, Noctis wiped his mouth and looked at him hungrily before pressing his lips against Prompto’s once more as he stood, the force of it pushing Prompto backwards, not ungently. Prompto shimmied backwards onto the bed until he was laying down, staring at Noctis as he was kneeling on the bed, tearing off his own clothes quickly before straddling Prompto. Prompto eyed his quivering member, the girth surprising him, making him blush as he thought about Noctis being in him. He didn’t realize how much he wanted it until now.

“Before you start,” Prompto advised, thinking about how long it had been before he had anyone in him. He grabbed the condoms and took one out, putting one on two of his own fingers. Noctis pulled back, looking at him with blue eyes of chaos and passion. “Let me show you what you have to do.”

Prompto didn’t think he had ever seen Noctis so lustful before. It made him blush, but he proceeded anyway, turning over and getting on all fours. He inserted his own fingers into himself, letting out a small moan as he felt the pressure, on full display for Noctis to see everything. There was something dark in him that enjoyed Noctis watching him as he prepared himself, too embarrassed to look at Noctis just yet as he worked his fingers in himself carefully. It had been so long and it was likely to hurt a bit if he wasn’t careful. When he did look at him, at his hungry eyes, the prince licking his lips like he was about to devour all of Prompto, he moaned loudly, his hips swaying as he begged Noctis to take over.

Noctis grabbed Prompto’s hand, stopping him from continuing on. Prompto obeyed, both of them clear in their sudden and obvious desire that was turning into something darker, more delicious than anticipated. Decisively, Noctis pulled a condom on and positioned himself, looking to Prompto for permission. Prompto nodded, waiting, and let out a shriek in delight as his back arched. It wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t necessarily rough, as Noctis’s girth entered him, the pain turning to divine pleasure in an instant. Noctis’s hands were on his hips as he moaned into his thrusts, wild and disregarding all uncertainty for his desire.

“Prom…” Noctis moaned as Prompto felt his breath catch in his throat from the size of Noctis’s cock. His hips pulsed, a sweet ache in him demanding more growing, knowing that they had both awakened the beginning of many dark and delightful pleasures in that instant. This was only the start, and Prompto decided that he very much wanted more from Noctis in his search for pleasure and fulfillment with him. Noctis’s nails dug into Prompto’s hip as he grabbed Prompto’s hair with his other hand, pulling it forcefully.

“Ahh-” Prompto moaned, the slight pain mixed with the pressure of Noctis being sucked further and further into him with each thrust sending him into mounting waves of delight. There was a pulsing sense of a fire in him building towards a climax, and he arched his back into the touch of Noctis’s nails, his hand pulling his hair, his thrusts growing in force with each moan Prompto breathed. Noctis hit a spot deep within Prompto, sending him over the brink over and over again as he pressed into it more and more, making him cry out the prince’s name in an effortless divinity.

Prompto felt so close and he straightened, kneeling on the bed with Noctis thrusting into him, the change in position hitting the sweet spot so much more that he could barely breathe. Noctis kept one hand on his hip to steady himself through his moaning thrusts, his other hand wandering from Prompto’s hair to his throat, holding it tightly just under his chin without rendering him suffocated. It told Prompto that Noctis was giving into the dark pleasure they both craved, the power between them both trusting and reciprocal. It was too much for Prompto, too enticing, too enjoyable for him to handle as he felt Noctis’s long fingers on his throat, telling him that he trusted him and was being drawn into the Nephilim further and further.

Each thrust from Noctis as he gripped him sent him over the edge, and he screamed the prince’s name as he climaxed, his seed spilling over. Noctis climaxed just after him, letting out a low moan as he stopped pulsating, panting and as breathless as Prompto was. He released his grip on Prompto in favor of tracing his hands over the markings of Prompto’s wings, making Prompto shiver through the sweat and heat of their bodies pressed together.

“Are you okay?” Noctis asked Prompto as he pulled out, looking at him in worry. “Did I… Did I hurt you?”

“Only in the ways that felt good,” Prompto teased, riding the high of the ecstasy he felt. “Damn, Noctis. I knew you were the prince of Hell, but I didn’t anticipate that. All I can say is that you may have awakened something in me that I didn’t know was there.”

Noctis blushed, but he looked particularly pleased, making Prompto wonder what was in store for the two of them in the future. “Me too,” Noctis admitted sheepishly. “I’ve never felt closer to being a succubus than I was then.”

Prompto giggled at the thought, getting out of bed to go to the bathroom to clean up. Noctis followed him, almost like a lost lamb looking for his way home. It was something that was going to have to be addressed later as they continued to spend their nights and days together . They both were a perfect match for each other and in a way that neither of them expected. It was expected of Ignis to be like this, but not Noctis. Prompto didn’t need to admit that he really enjoyed the thought, knowing that things would only escalate from there. Somehow he doubted either of them were prepared for it. Somehow he knew that Noctis was only looking forward to more as they embraced both the Heaven and Hell within each other.

Chapter Text

“I don’t want you to fall for me,” Ignis told Gladio before they had to meet with the king and address the multitudinous issues that were mounting the more they ignored them. He wasn’t fooled into thinking that Noctis and Prompto weren’t currently wrapped in each other’s arms, hopefully making an honest man out of the prince at last. But he also wasn’t fooled into thinking that Gladio wasn’t suffering over the notion of falling from grace because of him. As much as Clarus valued him as a demon in Hell, he was painfully aware of the looks that Gladio’s father gave him when he realized they were together. It would be a lie if he said it didn’t hurt.

“Too bad,” Gladio replied with a shrug. They were in Ignis’s room, both of them changing into clothes that the king would deem appropriate for a more intimate audience where strategy and counsel were necessary. Ignis pretended that he wasn’t eyeing Gladio in his black suit, thinking about how fantastically gorgeous he was and how wonderfully the color worked for him. It made his heart hurt more, thinking about how Gladio should have been wearing white.

“You shouldn’t have to give up your grace to be with me,” Ignis pointed out, his hand twitching anxiously. It had become a nervous habit, like his hand was trying to remind him of the warmth and strength of caring that he had been shown when Prompto healed him. It happened whenever he was anxious and vulnerable, in a place where he could so easily be hurt. “You shouldn’t have to give up anything to be with me.”

Gladio pulled on his suit jacket and looked to Ignis, his brows furrowed in concern. Ignis felt his heart aching, telling him that he needed to just let Gladio go before he hurt him any further. If he went back to Heaven now then he could find a way to lie back into grace. If Gladio demanded it of him, Ignis would sacrifice himself to maintain his heavenly status. It terrified him to think about how he would do something so extreme for Gladio, but he knew that if Gladio demanded it then he would oblige. Then again, he knew that Gladio would never demand it of him, and that was what made him trust his own vulnerability with the man he loved.

“Think about what Prompto gave up to be with Noctis,” Gladio said as he walked over to Ignis, pulling him away from the mirror as he attempted to pull on his suit vest. His progress was impeded by Gladio’s strong arms around him, pulling him into a calm embrace as his chest pressed against Ignis’s back. Ignis doubted he would ever be used to it, and he felt a flush of desire and joy as he looked at Gladio smiling at him in the mirror. “We all make sacrifices to be with the people we love.”

“But you were so devout,” Ignis argued as Gladio kissed the scarring on his face. He did that a lot, like he was trying to convince Ignis that he was still beautiful. It made Ignis’s heart hurt in an achingly pleasant way, his mind at war between the truth that Gladio loved him and the fear that he would one day leave him. “And now…”

“Now I know that just because Heaven is a beautiful place, it doesn’t make it a good place,” Gladio said. “Hell is depicted as an awful place, and I’m sure the pits are pretty terrible, to say the least. Just the thought of you having to suffer there makes me angry. But Heaven has its troubles too, and I can’t ignore that. Besides, Ignis, you don’t realize just how much I love you. You’re worth the black wings. And I think I look good in black, don’t you?”

“Too good,” Ignis purred, thinking of the many ways Gladio looked good, both in and out of his clothes. He had been a masterful succubus, someone who could be whatever and do whatever was necessary to find fulfillment in others while sating his appetites. But now that he no longer felt that hunger, now that he had blood red wings, the only thing he was left with was desire and passion for Gladio.

The archangel had been the only one he had truly felt any desire for, and Gladio had only held him gently. He was the first being Ignis had ever been with that was more concerned with how he felt and if he was being satisfied than his own passions. It was new and extremely terrifying, but knowing it was Gladio somehow made things so much easier and the fear far less than it could have been. Nevertheless, Ignis wanted to give him the opportunity to be free, to be unencumbered to live his eternity as he saw fit.

“I know you’re going to worry about this constantly,” Gladio said before kissing his scarred face again. “But I’m not going anywhere. You can ask me as much as you want, and the answer will always be the same. I’m staying.”

“I won’t be going anywhere either,” Ignis mused, trying not to feel too pleased at the thought of Gladio staying with him for all eternity.

Succubae had to find a source of food, going from person to person in an effort to stay full and satisfied. It was strange getting used to the idea of staying with only one being for the rest of eternity now that he no longer had to do that, but he felt like it was part of who he truly was beneath the layers of the pain and suffering. He wanted to be with only Gladio for the rest of his life. After all, before he had suffered and sold his soul, he had been devout and steadfast as a servant of Shiva. Now he was steadfast in his devotion to Gladio.

“Except to talk to the king about whatever mess we’re in, right?” Gladio teased, releasing Ignis so he could finish putting on his suit. “The king seems a bit… Difficult?”

Ignis nodded, trying not to sigh too much as he thought about what was ahead of them. He didn’t like how Noctis had seen into the future and all but begged Prompto not to go anywhere. There was something that the Nephilim was hiding, something about his future that Noctis so obviously saw that he didn’t like. If defeating God and bringing him to justice meant that Prompto would have to die, then would it even be worth it? Ignis didn’t think so, and that was likely the very reason why Prompto wasn’t saying anything.

“The king has to make difficult decisions but ultimately will crumble if his son really wants something badly enough,” Ignis explained as he finished pulling on his vest and suit jacket. “As much as he wants to see God brought to justice for the death of his wife, he really has a soft spot for Noctis. If that means giving up his vengeance for Noctis and Prompto to be happy together he would do it. He was much the same with Aulea.”

“So the King of Hell is actually a big softy?” Gladio said, clearly amused. “I’m sure he’s got a soft spot for you too. Otherwise I’d be in the pits by now.”

“Don’t let him hear you call him that,” Ignis said with a laugh. “But you are right. He is a good king, probably a better ruler than those in Heaven if I’m honest. Stuck in his ways regarding how Hell needs to run, but not unfair ultimately.”

“I think it’s unfair that humans have to suffer in the pits and be turned into something that they hate,” Gladio pointed out, referring to Ignis’s past without addressing it directly. “But then again, it’s not as if he is the one who created that rule.”

“He is not,” Ignis agreed. “God is the one who decided there be a Heaven and a Hell for the sinners and the saints. We are all just cogs in his machine, and as much as I want to see Aulea’s death be avenged, I want to see this all collapse and all the souls that are suffering released from the pits.”

“I never thought about it that way,” Gladio considered. “I never considered that you would want that to happen.”

“There are many things I have kept close to my heart until now,” Ignis said dismissively. “Shall we? The king and the prince are waiting.”

“With his husband,” Gladio chuckled, making Ignis smile. Ignis had never seen Noctis so hopelessly in love with anyone. He had dated Lunafreya, but he had never been interested in actually being with her. It was no wonder. The poor prince had seen Prompto as a child and immediately declared him to be his future. Looking at Gladio, he knew that if they were put in the same situation, he would likely have declared the same thing about the archangel. It made him blush to think about how abhorrently in love he was. He never thought he would be so disgustingly obsessed with someone like he was with Gladio.

Before Ignis could make it out of his bedroom, Gladio pressed his lips against his, startling him with his surprisingly gentle touch. Ignis was always surprised by how gentle his lover was, but it was exactly what he craved and Gladio knew it. He couldn’t help but succumb to Gladio’s touch each and every time, and this time was no exception. Moaning softly into Gladio’s lips, his tongue grazed his lover’s, his body trembling pleasantly as Gladio wrapped his arms around him and pulled him against his body.

“What was that for?” Ignis asked as Gladio smiled at him.

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m not going anywhere,” Gladio said, making Ignis’s heart feel full to bursting. He never thought that something, someone, like this could be his. Not after everything. When he released Ignis, he kept a hold of his tightly, making Ignis blush. “The king is just going to have to get used to it.”

“Yes,” Ignis replied awkwardly, not sure about what to say in his happiness and elation. “I suppose we should go then.”

Gladio didn’t release his hand as they left the room, smiling at Ignis as if he knew that Ignis enjoyed the attention but hated the embarrassment. As they navigated the dark halls of the palace to go to the counsel room, they passed by several demons and a few fallen angels, all of them looking from Gladio to Ignis in surprise. Instead of releasing his hand, Gladio only squeezed it tighter, a silent communication that they could be strong together like this without having to compromise their love. Ignis returned the squeeze, bristling with an energy he only felt when he was with Gladio.

The counsel room was near the throne room, an unassuming door next to the great double doors that most walked through to receive the king’s judgment. Ignis had been in the room so many times before, but this was new to him. He had never had to go there to listen to what the king may potentially judge regarding the changes he had gone through. It made him nervous, and he instinctively squeezed Gladio’s hand tighter as they opened the door and stepped inside.

King Regis was standing by a fireplace, looking at the red and orange flames flickering beautifully. Ignis had always wondered why there was a fireplace in every room of the palace, but then again the aesthetic of Hell was perplexing in terms of architectural design. There was a long oblong table of obsidian, the walls of the counsel room depicting a battle in Heaven before the angels were cast into Hell. Ignis didn’t know if the tales were true like they were in the Bible. Somehow he didn’t think that God had cared enough to wage a war.

“About time,” Noctis said as he sat towards the end of the table with Prompto. Ignis noticed how Noctis seemed more relaxed than usual, his arm looped with Prompto’s on the table as they held hands. Ignis looked at Noctis, wearing his usual royal suit, and Prompto, wearing all black with leather pants. It was an outfit Ignis would have picked for him as a succubus.

“Leather, Noctis?” Ignis asked pointedly as they approached the table, sitting across from them. Prompto blushed bright red, no doubt given a tutorial on Ignis’s approach to leather. Noctis only grinned as King Regis looked down at Prompto and sighed in exasperation. Ignis had found Noctis’s virginity to be intolerable in his innocence before. Somehow this was going to be worse, much worse. He wondered if the king regretted adopting a succubus as a son for the impact it had on his biological son.

“Let’s just take a moment to sit down and discuss things,” the king said before anyone could say anything. There was a knock on the door as Gladio and Ignis sat hand in hand with the king taking his seat at the head of the table just next to them. “Come in.”

Clarus entered the room, looking to Gladio in a strange despairing hope, happy to see his son but clearly grieving his presence in Hell. It made Ignis’s heart hurt, knowing that he should have rejected Gladio to protect him, but the archangel only squeezed his hand, reminding him that it was his choice and he chose Ignis. Ignis squeezed his hand in return, trying to will him to believe that he was happy he could be reunited with his father, even if it meant his father was now a demon.

“Clarus, please come over,” Regis said as the sworn shield walked over to the table. “Have a seat. You should be involved in this discussion as much as they should.”

Clarus nodded and took a seat next to Prompto, not wholly surprising Ignis. Ignis was the succubus who made his son fall from grace, after all. If he wasn’t upset about it then Ignis would be concerned that Clarus wasn’t the man that Gladio thought he was. Just because he was a demon now didn’t mean he forgot about his humanity. But he saw the anger and hurt etched into his lover’s features and he turned to him consolingly.

“It’s okay, Gladio,” Ignis said softly. He had always gotten along well with Clarus, but this was a different matter. It was his son and his damnation. “It will take time.”

“We need to know what is going on with you four,” the king said as he looked between Noctis and Ignis. “What has happened to my sons?”

“I could ask the same of you, Gladio,” Clarus pointed out. “How long has it been? You were the most devout of them all.”

“Devotions change,” Gladio replied as Clarus looked at Ignis accusingly. “It’s hard not to fall in love with someone like Ignis.”

“Yes because that is the nature of what he does,” Clarus argued with more than a little anger in his voice. “He is a succubus, or have you forgotten?”

“He was a succubus,” Gladio replied. Regis and Clarus looked at Ignis in surprise. “He’s not a succubus anymore.”

“What are you then?” King Regis asked. “Son, show me what has happened.”

Ignis had never heard the king call him his son in such a way, gentle and coaxing. Usually he referred to Ignis as his son when he was exasperated by something Noctis had done, which typically meant Ignis got involved somehow. But right now he sounded concerned more than anything, and Ignis was compelled to oblige. Gracefully, he stood and allowed his wings to fully show them how they were blood red, vibrant yet dark in their beauty. Clarus stared at him with wide eyes, and even King Regis looked surprised.

“That… Isn’t possible,” Clarus said as Gladio smiled at Ignis, making him flush in excited pleasure.

“It is possible,” Regis considered with a wry smile on his face. “It is just very rare for a demon to go through such a transformation. We only have ever called them the Divinity because it is so rare that no one has really tried to think of calling it something else. It happens at great cost to an archangel.”

“I fall from grace,” Gladio said as Ignis furled his wings and sat back down. “I’m not particularly worried about that. Not anymore.”

“Hmm,” the king considered as he looked at Ignis and Gladio. He turned his attentions to Noctis and Prompto. There was a lot he was considering, and Ignis knew he was assessing the entirety of the situation before he passed any judgments. “You have a crown, I see. What else has changed?”

“Oh, yeah,” Noctis said awkwardly. Ignis knew he was nervous to show his father his wings, but he did the same as Ignis, standing and letting them unfurl. There was an even longer silence and even more shock from Clarus and Regis.

“What have you done to my son?” King Regis asked Prompto, startling the Nephilim. “An archangel? Are you serious?”

Prompto shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Noctis’s wings furled and he sat back down, holding the Nephilim’s hand tightly. “He didn’t do anything,” Noctis argued, although Ignis wasn’t sure that was entirely true. “I remembered everything about mom.”

“That’s not exactly true,” Prompto said nervously. He was fidgeting as they all looked to him. “The prophecy… It says that Noctis needs to go through this transformation. I don’t even think I knew what I was doing until afterwards, but… There are steps to fulfill the prophecy, and Noctis needed to come into his power. He couldn’t do that if he was still a fallen angel.”

“The prophecy?” Regis demanded. Prompto took something out of his pocket, several pages, and handed them to the king. Noctis looked surprised, indicating to Ignis that Prompto was hiding it from even him. What did that mean that it was something he was keeping from Noctis as well? The king read through them, his surprise turning to quiet contemplation as he sorted through the pages without uttering a word. “Well that changes things. You have read through this?”

“I don’t need to,” Prompto replied. “I remember everything from my childhood. My father made sure I memorized the prophecy.”

“Even as a child?” King Regis asked. He set the pages down on the table, turning them over so that the others couldn’t read it. “Why?”

“I am a Nephilim,” Prompto said awkwardly. “I was born for this reason. Thinking about my father… I think it is obvious that he cared for me greatly. But he also wanted to see the prophecy fulfilled. He wanted to see God destroyed.”

“Is God really this awful being?” Gladio asked, breaking another long silence. Ignis frowned, thinking about how Prompto was born as a tool to be used by others and he was treated as such for most of his life. It wasn’t fair to him, and when Noctis grabbed his hand and held it tightly Ignis felt glad that someone didn’t want to use him. Maybe that was why Prompto was keeping the full prophecy a secret. Maybe it was because he would have to be used up until there was nothing left.

“God is referred to as the Devourer in the prophecy,” Prompto explained. “My father explained to me why he is called that.”

There was a silence, all of them waiting for Prompto to speak. When it was clear that he was uncomfortable with the conversation, Ignis sighed. He had a strange sense of impending doom, as if they were waiting too long for things to happen and would eventually run out of time altogether. While they were in Purgatory the feeling had been calm, relaxed, like they had an eternity to work out their problems and train. That was likely the effects of the realm though. The truth was likely far close to how Ignis felt now. They didn’t have much time at all.

“He’s called the Devourer because God gained his power by devouring the Six Astrals to take command of the universe and to create the realms we have today,” a voice said at the door, making them all turn and stare. Ignis was aware of how Noctis and Prompto both looked terrified, and the thought that they were out of time grew even stronger.

“And who are you?” Clarus asked as the man with auburn hair and golden eyes sauntered towards them, a smile on his face. There was a power that was exuding off of the man, a strong force that made Ignis feel like they were beating against a strong current threatening to pull them under. It was dangerous, terrifying, and kept them all frozen in place.

“God,” Noctis and Prompto said at the same time, sending a rush of fear through them all. Ignis stared at the man, at God, as he sat on the edge of the table next to Ignis, looking down at him with a smile and a wink.

“At your service,” God said as he grabbed Ignis’s chin, forcing Ignis to look at him through his only good eye. Ignis felt a fresh terror grip him, and Gladio grabbed his hand, ready to attack at a moment’s notice. “Ah, the Divinity. I never thought I’d see one up close. Shame about your face. You are quite pretty even though you’re deformed. I could fix that, if you wanted. I could even fix the fact that you were a demon.”

“There’s nothing to fix,” Gladio seethed, turning God’s attention away from Ignis and to the archangel.

“Ah yes,” God replied, releasing Ignis and standing up, walking over to Gladio. “The archangel who has fallen but still has white wings. I can fix that for you.”

He tapped Gladio on the forehead, almost as if he was flicking him, and there was a shift in Gladio’s demeanor. Ignis watched in horror as the feathers on his arms turned to jagged lines, a scarring that meant the next time his wings revealed themselves they would be black. Gladio pulled away from him, looking at his arms in terror. Ignis knew why. Just because he had told himself and everyone that it was worth giving up his grace, he hadn’t been prepared for it. Not really. Ignis had the sudden, awful feeling that Gladio was going to resent him forever for this.

“And you,” God said as he turned to Noctis, strutting over to him. “What a disappointment you must be to your father to look so… Soft.”

God reached out to touch Noctis, but Prompto’s arm shot across suddenly, startling them all that he was the only one brave enough to stop him from grabbing Noctis. Prompto gripped God’s wrist tightly, glaring at him from across the table. The others could only stop and stare in fear and disbelief. Prompto had been so timid, yet he was the only one able to do anything now when faced with such a power that it rendered them all motionless.

“Ardyn,” Prompto growled as he looked at him. “Just because you call yourself God doesn’t make you one.”

God, Ardyn, smiled at Prompto. It was a smile that was menacing, spiteful, and sensually interested in Prompto. Ignis didn’t like it, which meant that Noctis liked it even less. Ardyn ignored Noctis in favor of approaching Prompto, pulling him to his feet before the Nephilim even knew what to do. He had his hands around Prompto’s throat as they all stood quickly, ready to come to his defense.

“You are the one who can ensure my demise,” Ardyn seethed as he clutched Prompto’s throat tightly. “I should just kill you now, but you would like being strangled just a little too much, wouldn’t you? I can see your thoughts about the things you would like the prince of Hell to do to you. I would be more than happy to entertain those cravings myself.”

“Let… Me go,” Prompto gasped. Ardyn obliged, releasing him with a shrill laugh. The Nephilim put a hand to his throat, rubbing it as he gasped for breath.

“Do you really think any of you can defeat me?” Ardyn said as he turned to the rest of them, his laughing pounding in Ignis’s heart violently. He looked to Prompto as they all stared at him, believing in the lie that Prompto was the one who had to defeat him. “How about this, little Nephilim? If you come with me, nice and quiet, then I will release your father from his prison in Heaven.”

Prompto’s eyes widened, and Ignis felt the desire to free his father compelling the Nephilim to immediately agree. Noctis looked terrified that Prompto would accept the offer, and Clarus and Regis were too stunned to speak. He couldn’t fathom looking at Gladio. It scared him too much to think about what he might find. And for now, he needed to focus on Ardyn and couldn’t lose his focus on his lover, which would assuredly happen if he looked at him. He just hoped that Gladio would still want to be his lover after this.

“He is not going anywhere,” Ignis snapped before Noctis or Prompto could respond. “What business do you have here?”

“I created this place,” Ardyn said with a smile. “I created the reason why you were so beautifully punished and scarred. I see how you love this archangel. Well, he’s not an archangel anymore. I see everything. If anything, you should be thanking me that you were tortured so magnanimously, that all those precious things were taken from you. Otherwise you wouldn’t have met him.”

Ignis didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t say anything. The pain was too great, and his tears were about to fall, Ardyn hurting him so easily at the one place that was too vulnerable for him to mention to anyone. Blood red tears cascaded down his face as Ardyn laughed, a sickening laugh that reminded Ignis of the sound of bones breaking. The truth was there for him to see, and Ardyn was just pointing it out for them all. Now that Gladio had suffered the consequences of loving Ignis, there was no feasible way he would think that the sacrifice was worth it. Not when Ignis was so damaged, so beyond repair.

“What do you want?” Noctis snapped, a blade appearing in his hand, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. Would it even work? Could God even be killed so simply?

“I am here to warn you all,” Ardyn said with a grin. “If you continue this foolish endeavor, I will make sure each one of you suffers so deliciously before I kill you. Tell me, which would be worse for you, Noctis? Watching the Nephilim die or watching me having my way with him?”

“We will kill you!” Gladio shouted, sudden and angry, his body trembling as he stood next to Ignis. “I will destroy you!”

Ardyn laughed at Gladio, a laugh that indicated he was far from afraid of him. “Oh will you?” He looked at Prompto again. “Little Nephilim, I have an offer for you. You have until the sun rises over Hell to make the decision. If you come with me I will not only release your father, but I will ensure your little friends here are kept safe and sound. I’ll even give Gladio his white wings back and heal Ignis completely. It’s your choice.”

Noctis made to attack Ardyn, but God was gone in a flash, leaving them staring at the spot where he had once been. They were all shaking, all of them terrified at how easily Ardyn had just made his appearance and showed them how he was far stronger than they were. How was Noctis supposed to defeat such a powerful being? Was that even possible? Looking at what just happened, it didn’t seem possible that they would even make it through the gates of Heaven.

“I should go with him,” Prompto finally said, making all heads turn to him. “I can’t… I can’t risk you all being hurt because of me. And if he thinks I’m the one who will stop him then we need him to keep believing that. He called me the Nephilim. He knows what I am, but that’s it. He can see you all, but I don’t think he can see me. He doesn’t know my name.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Noctis said forcefully. Ignis nodded in agreement, still unable to look at Gladio. Would Gladio feel the same? Or would he want his wings back? “We do this together, or not at all.”

“Prompto,” Ignis said, intent on making himself clear to the Nephilim. Prompto was so frequently worried about his own insecurities, just as Ignis was. Ignis could just hide them better. “If healing all of my wounds means giving up someone I consider a brother, I would rather stay broken.”

“If God cannot see you, there may be a way to use this to our advantage,” Regis considered, his hand gripping his cane to steady his nerves. “Can you extend that power to Noctis? If so, you may be able to protect everyone with it.”

“Then we can sneak into Heaven and save your father,” Noctis pointed out, his excitement growing as he began to devise a plan. “It’ll likely lure him there, thinking that he can just stop us. But we can sneak up on God and stop him.”

“I… I can try,” Prompto said. “But how will we know it works if I try it? Is there some sort of test we can use to figure it out?”

“Let me work on that,” Regis considered. “And Noctis is right. If we can do that, then we will be able to put an end to all this, perhaps even sooner than we thought. This is good news. Perhaps my son can make a reasonably intelligent choice, at least as far as his choice in partner is concerned.”

“I told you,” Noctis smiled. They were all shocked, scared, and trembling before God’s power. But they had an idea of where to go from here. They had to be swift about it, and Regis no doubt knew that. “He’s worth holding onto.”

“And I am going to pretend that what he said about Prompto’s desires are really just the ramblings of a lunatic,” Regis added, making Noctis and Prompto both blush. “Things are dangerous now, and I fear that nowhere is safe. We need to stay together while Prompto figures out how to extend his power to protect you all. If this prophecy is to be believed… Noctis we will all be relying on you.”

“If anything, God has forced our hand,” Ignis considered. “It’s now no longer a choice. Prompto, I see your face. It is not a choice to let you just go and die for us. We can either all perish or defeat God. Those are our only options.”

Prompto nodded in understanding, his expression worried and sad. “I… I will work hard to protect you all.”

“Go now,” Regis said to the four of them. “Go back to your rooms and stay there. I will come for you when we are able to formulate a stable way to ensure Prompto’s power is working. And then we can formulate a solid plan to stop God.”

There was little left to be said, and now Ignis turned his attention to an unusually quiet Gladio. The fallen angel was struggling, that much was clear. But Ignis had a feeling that the fall from grace hit him harder than he anticipated. It was going to be a challenge for Gladio to adjust, and Ignis couldn’t really say that he knew what it felt like since he had never been an angel before. It was going to hurt him, and Ignis was worried that Gladio wouldn’t be able to handle it. He didn’t know if Gladio would still want to be with him.

The four of them left, Noctis and Prompto hurrying ahead of them as Prompto discussed with Noctis about how he was going to try and figure out a way to extend whatever power he had to hide from God to the rest of them. Ignis walked with Gladio, afraid to look at him, knowing that this was likely the end. Why did he think that Gladio would be able to handle a fall from grace? It was probably a painful experience for him in ways that Ignis could never understand.

Ignis was quiet when they returned to the room that was now theirs, his back turned to Gladio. He knew he had to say something, but it was hard to find the words. How did he apologize for loving him? How did he tell him he was sorry for being too selfish to just push him away? Ignis didn’t know how to say it, especially since he didn’t want to regret loving Gladio. If he said sorry then he was admitting it was a mistake to be with him in the first place, wasn’t he?

“Gladio,” Ignis said quietly, not able to look at him still. “Are you still with me?”

It was the only thing he could manage, a simple question with so much intention behind it. Ignis couldn’t fathom what Gladio was feeling right now, and his silence had said so much that it was making him worry about what it meant for their future together. It was an impossible image to think of, but Ignis knew if Gladio wanted to leave then he would let him go. How could he be so selfish as to make him stay if he would only hate him for it?

“Ignis,” Gladio said, his voice low. There was a pain in his voice that Ignis had never heard before, not even when he had first realized he had accidentally betrayed Heaven. “Look at me.”

Ignis complied, turning around slowly, expecting to see anger, hatred, pain. Instead, Gladio was standing just behind him, his arms already opened wide. He pulled Ignis into an embrace, pressing his lips against his with a sudden passion that was both enthralling and terrifying. Ignis crumbled into his touch, his knees buckling. Gladio only held him tighter, his strong arms keeping him upright as they both cried into the kiss. Ignis was feeling Gladio’s pain, and Gladio was willing to trust him with his pain.

“I am never leaving,” Gladio breathed as he buried his face into Ignis’s neck, his lips nestled where his neck met his shoulder. “Never, Ignis. This is the most painful thing I’ve ever been through, and yet… Fuck God. I just want you and you only. You are worth the fall. Please believe me.”

Ignis wrapped his arms around Gladio, clutching onto his suit jacket tightly, gripping his back in an overwhelming compassion for the fallen angel and the pain his lover felt. Through that he felt the sweetness of knowing that Gladio wasn’t going anywhere, that they were in this together, and that they would only ever be there for each other. Instead of saying anything, they only held each other, neither of them willing to break the silence in favor of using the love they felt, stronger than any pain, to get them through the terror.

For a long time they were silent, just holding each other, until Ignis felt compelled to say the only thing that mattered. He needed Gladio to know it, and he would spend the rest of eternity telling him this simple truth. It was the truth that would get them through any agony, that would aid them in their need to defeat God. It was strong, pure, simple. Ignis uttered the words, soft and longing, clutching onto Gladio for support as he held him tighter. Gladio had to know, and Ignis had to tell him.

The words were soft and echoing in Ignis’s heart, unassuming and vulnerable. “I love you.”

Chapter Text

Noctis knew that they were running out of time. He knew that Prompto was hiding something because he had seen the future and what it meant for their life together. With the way things were going right now it was only a matter of time before Prompto did something foolish, something that meant he would sacrifice everything so that Noctis would be successful. If it was the choice between having Prompto or defeating God, he knew what he would pick. The rest of the universe didn’t matter as far as Noctis was concerned. Prompto was always going to be the obvious choice.

Knowing that they were supposed to stay in his room, he looked at Prompto, worrying about what he was going to do while Prompto sat in frustration, trying to figure out a way to use whatever power he had to stay hidden from God on the rest of them. Noctis could see the weight of the world on his shoulders, could see that Prompto was trying to do everything in his power to protect them and ensure that they could succeed. He wanted to free his father and knew that he was trapped in Heaven. Now that time was running up, he could see Prompto struggling with his need to free him and find a way to protect them all through it.

“Prompto,” Noctis tried as Prompto stood by the window, looking down at his hands as they glowed faintly from his power. It was so beautiful that Noctis could almost see his wings, imagining the soft feathers fluttering somberly behind him. Noctis felt his heart aching painfully, knowing that Prompto felt that everything was hinging on his abilities to protect them. What did he know about the prophecy that he was hiding from the rest of them? What was so serious that Noctis’s own father wouldn’t say anything about it?

“Prompto,” Noctis tried again as he walked over to him. Prompto jumped, startled, as if he had forgotten Noctis was there at all. He looked to Noctis, tears in his eyes, concerning Noctis even more. He put his hands in Prompto’s, feeling the soft glow of the power emanating from him. There was a strength of power in him that had been unlocked when he had remembered everything. It was beautiful, but it also felt dangerous, like it was something that needed to be heeded with great caution or else it would destroy Prompto. “Talk to me. What are you hiding?”

“Did you see the future?” Prompto asked worriedly. “Did you see what was to come?”

“I did a little,” Noctis replied with a frown. Prompto’s hands were trembling in his, the power within him like a supernova about to go off. He didn’t really know how to access the power that his mother had granted him, but he knew that it would be vital to learn if he wanted to stop God. If he wanted to save Prompto. The thought came to him suddenly, terrifyingly, and he knew that it was a certainty at this point. Prompto was going to try and sacrifice himself to save them all. “I’m not letting you get hurt just to save us.”

“The prophecy-” Prompto began, but Noctis cut him off, annoyed.

“Fuck the prophecy,” Noctis snapped. It wasn’t anger directed at Prompto. Instead he was angry that Prompto was taught at an early age that he had been born to be a sacrifice for the greater good, then forced to forget it all and endure so much pain, only to remember it and be set up to sacrifice himself in the end. “The prophecy doesn’t mean shit. If we need to stop God, then we will stop him in our own way. I refuse to do anything if it means losing you. I won’t even think about it until you agree that you’re going to do whatever you can to live through it.”

Prompto looked at him, his eyes flickering in confusion and fear. It was as if part of him was the Nephilim he was before he had been made to forget everything while the other part was the one who had lived through most of his life as a human, suffered, and learned to heal through it regardless. There was a battle between what his father had ingrained him and what Noctis was telling him now.

“You said you trust me, right?” Noctis asked him woefully. Prompto nodded, his lips only slightly parted as he looked at Noctis with the same worried expression that made him want to kiss away all his fears. “Trust me now. The prophecy doesn’t matter if there’s no you.”

Nodding again, Prompto let out a small gasp, his eyes widening. “I figured it out,” Prompto whispered. “Ardyn saw into your heart when he said those things… About my desires and such. But… I think I know how to protect you all.”

“How-?” Noctis began, but Prompto’s lips were against his. It wasn’t a kiss of passion, although he felt the stirrings within him entirely separate from what was happening. It was the type of kiss that was practical, like he was conducting a business transaction, and a moment later there was a soft glow emanating from where Prompto had kissed him. When he pulled back, Noctis had the strangest sense that he had been encased into a warm cocoon, safe and protected. The glow faded, but the feeling remained.

“I did that to my dad once,” Prompto said. “I kissed his forehead and it worked. It doesn’t hold forever, but it should hold long enough. I should be able to do the same for Ignis and Gladio.”

“Wait a second,” Noctis said, bristling at the thought that Prompto would have to kiss Ignis and Gladio. “You have to…?”

“Just a kiss on the forehead or something,” Prompto replied with a slight blush. He winked deviously, making Noctis feel a bit of a rush within him that he tried to ignore. “Unless that’s a turn on for you.”

Noctis laughed at that. “There are many things that are a turn on for me, but you kissing my brother is not one of them.”

“Ew!” Prompto nearly shrieked in laughter, mock shuddering at the thought. “You’re right. That’s… Sorry Noctis. Even if that was a kink, I’m going to have to say no.”

Noctis blushed bright red, thinking about the many desires he had for Prompto, some of them darker than he anticipated. He wondered what Prompto would really think if he told him that he had imagined tying him up, pinning him down, and ravishing him with little gentleness. Would he be afraid or did he know what he signed up for by being with the prince of Hell? From the beginning Noctis had always assumed he would just be typical in his sexual desires, if he ever had them in the first place. Now that he did have them, and only towards Prompto, he was wondering if there was something wrong with him.

“That’s not one of my fantasies, no,” Noctis managed to utter, his mind still thinking about how gorgeous Prompto looked in leather. He thought of some of the outfits that he knew Ignis had in his closet and wondered if Prompto would be willing to try them on.

“I know,” Prompto smiled, his worry temporarily gone as he wrapped his arms around Noctis’s neck and pulled him close, their bodies pressed together. “Can I be honest? You kind of woke something in me that I didn’t think I had a desire for. But… If you want, I’d like to try.”

Noctis gulped. It would have been comical if he wasn’t so turned on right now, and he immediately thought about all the things he would be happy to do to please Prompto. “What do you have in mind?”

“Those shackles that I was bound in are nice,” Prompto mused, a blush on his face but his voice was so very daring. Noctis felt like he was going to pass out at that moment, his mind immediately thinking about what it would be like to tie him up and have him chained. “I’m sorry if this seems a little too… Dark.”

“No,” Noctis said immediately, making Prompto look at him, perplexed but excited. “I mean… I’ve thought the same. Well, maybe not the shackles, but definitely tying you up and...”

Noctis couldn’t finish what he was saying. He looked at Prompto, thought about how gorgeous he was, thought about what he wanted to do with him, and his words failed him. It didn’t help that Prompto was blushing as he pressed his body against him, and Noctis felt like they were on the verge of tipping over a precipice that he wasn’t expecting to face. The only thing he wanted more than to see Prompto safe was to see him bound and begging for more.

“I think we should talk to Ignis,” Prompto said, pulling Noctis out of his reverie. “I’ve been with people before, but not in this way. And I want to make sure we do it safely. I don’t want either of us to get hurt or do anything that scars us.”

“You’re right,” Noctis conceded with a sigh. “The last thing I want to do is talk to Ignis about this. But you’re right. You’re the only one I’ve ever been with. I don’t want us to end up hurting each other because of it.”

“Besides,” Prompto teased. He touched Noctis’s neck lightly, tracing his hands down to his chest. Noctis felt his heart beating rapidly, his desire growing the more Prompto barely touched him, a whisper in a promise of what was to come. Why were they both still dressed? “It will only make our desire grow the more we wait.”

“Fuck, when did you turn into this wild coeurl from the anxious guy you usually are?” Noctis asked, trying to contain his desire with an immense amount of difficulty. His mind was thinking of all the ways he could have Prompto, and it was driving him wild.

“I know what I like,” Prompto said with a laugh. “Honestly, one of the things that I learned early on was to know what to ask for and what I like sexually. It’s one of the only aspects of my life where I’m completely confident and comfortable.”

Noctis didn’t know what brought Prompto to the point where he had to learn what to ask for in the bedroom so early on, and it worried him that he might hurt him even more because of it. Prompto must have seen the worried etched in his features because he kissed Noctis lightly, just enough to make the prince a quivering mess before pulling away with a smile.

“It’s nothing like that,” Prompto explained. He paused, and Noctis knew he was going to talk about Nyx. It didn’t matter if he was in love with Noctis. Nyx had been a part of his life that was torn from him. It was going to hurt for a while. “Nyx helped me find my voice in the bedroom because he refused to do anything I didn’t like. I know what to ask for and when to ask for it. Or when to say no.”

“I’m relieved,” Noctis said honestly, although he was easily jealous over the thought that his lover had been with someone else before him. Could he even consider Prompto his lover? It’s not like he even asked him. “I’m going to do whatever I can to make you beg for more now that you’re my lover.”

Prompto blushed brightly, a smile breaking out as he held Noctis close, whispering in his ear. “Not unless I make my lover beg first. Come on, my prince. Let’s go have a talk with Ignis.”

“Yes,” Noctis breathed, following Prompto like a lost puppy as the Nephilim took his hand and led him out of the room. Prompto pulled him along, an electricity flowing from his hands as they walked just across the hall to Ignis’s room. Noctis felt like he wasn’t supposed to be there, like Prompto deserved to be in the sunlight. He had a sudden thought that made him pause, stopping in his tracks before Prompto could knock on the door.

“Is everything okay?” Prompto asked, looking at him as he turned to him and frowned. “Is this not what you want?”

“It is,” Noctis insisted pleadingly. He wasn’t sure why he had just wanted to stop. It was like there was something telling him that, as much as he wanted to be with Prompto, right now wasn’t the time for him to do it. “I just thought maybe we should do something else right now. Something I can surprise you with. I’m sorry if you feel like I’m disappointing you.”

“Dude, you’re ace, it’s okay,” Prompto said with a smile. “If you want to get into bondage or if you never want to have sex again, it’s fine with me.”

“Ace?” Noctis asked, confused. He had never heard the term before. Then again, he was born in Hell, where everyone was pretty much hypersexual.

“Asexual,” Prompto replied. “Well, demisexual maybe? Basically you don’t experience sexual attraction unless you feel a strong emotional connection?”

“Yeah that’s me,” Noctis replied, wondering how Prompto could pick up on that so quickly. Maybe it was because he had more experience as a human than Noctis ever had. Noctis had never heard the term before, but it was a great feeling to know that there was a term to describe what he was experiencing. “Does that make me weird?”

“Nope,” Prompto grinned, making Noctis feel a rush in him at his smile and his acceptance. He had never had anyone be so accepting of him before, not since he lived in a place where being sexually active was the expected and the norm. “Not weird. There are plenty of demisexuals out there. One of Nyx’s friends is asexual, and she’s a complete badass. I am terrified of pissing off Crowe, to be honest.”

“Really?” Noctis asked. He suddenly felt a lot better about not wanting to follow through with the sexual activity. At least not now, but later was definitely still an option, right? “So it’s not weird that I just want to surprise you with something instead of having sex? I mean, I definitely want to, just not now.”

“There’s no pressure,” Prompto smiled, giving him a hug that was far less sexual than before but still decidedly intimate. It was as if Prompto immediately was respecting his boundary while still letting him know that he craved a physical connection, albeit one that didn’t have to be sexual by nature. “I love you, Noctis. I’m not going to demand you have sex with me because I’m horny. Even if we’re halfway through and you want to stop, then tell me. That’s all it takes.”

He made it sound so simple, so relaxed, that Noctis didn’t really know how to respond. It was a great feeling to know that he wasn’t going to be pressured into having sex or continuing with something if he didn’t feel up for it. How many times had he been told growing up that he would learn to enjoy it and get used to being a sexual being? It wasn’t like he was going to just suddenly want to have sex with just anyone. Prompto was the only one he had ever felt any sexual desire towards.

“Thank you,” Noctis said shyly. He felt a strong sense of gratitude that couldn’t quite be verbalized. “I’ve never had the words to really describe what I felt. How did I get such a good lover?”

“It’s cause you have a cute butt,” Prompto teased with a laugh. Noctis blushed, but he wasn’t upset by the compliment in the least. “Now, what did you want to show me?”

“Oh, right, that,” Noctis said. He grabbed Prompto’s hand and pulled him along, feeling a lot more relaxed into his grasp than he was before. There was no doubt that he had strong urges to do all sorts of things to Prompto and with him, but to know that he could decline the option at any point in time made him feel stronger and more secure in his desires. Growing up he had always learned that sex was a matter of conquest. With Prompto it was different. It was a mutual exploration that could be put on hold at any time. He rather enjoyed the prospect of all of the wonderful things they had ahead of each other. They just had to get through the chaos and havoc first.

“Where are you taking me?” Prompto asked as they walked down a series of passages towards a secret exit that would take them exactly where they needed to go. “Shouldn’t we be staying in our rooms?”

“Yeah but we have until the sun comes up to worry about anything,” Noctis considered, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in his heart. They had very little time before things got out of control again. They had little time before Noctis had to do everything he could to ensure that Prompto didn’t die in an effort to help him. Maybe what he was about to show him would make him more likely to stay and fight and not surrender his life so quickly. Feeling Prompto’s hand in his, how warm and natural it felt to hold it, he hoped that Prompto loved him enough to not sacrifice himself.

Noctis took Prompto out of a secret door that blended in with the back wall leading out to a pasture just behind the palace. Smiling, he looked up at the moonlight in the realm, a beautiful blue that enveloped the world in a night sky that seemed so close he could just reach up and touch it. There was chirping in the distance, and Noctis smiled as he felt Prompto’s hand squeeze just a bit tighter in his excitement. They moved through the field of black flowers and grass, Noctis guiding him as the moonlight cascaded around them, creating a halo framing their shoulders.

“You can let your wings out if you want,” Noctis said once they stopped in the middle of the pasture. He heard the chirping and knew the chocobos would approach them soon enough. It would be a lie to say he didn’t miss the days spent lounging with the chocobos. Now he would be able to spend those days waiting for them on the other side of the pain in the pasture together. He thought about how he would love to lay on a chocobo while Prompto rested his head in his lap, both of them sleeping through the lazy afternoons of Hell.

As they waited, Noctis let his wings unfurl, the white shimmering in the moonlight like they were reflecting millions of stars in each feather. Prompto stared at him, a hush fallen between them, and he let his own wings out. Noctis couldn’t get enough of the sight. The wings were so beautiful, silver and black, a glimmer of light and shadow. When Prompto looked up at the moonlight, his wings stretching like a lazy cat in the morning, Noctis felt a yearning in his heart to capture the moment forever.

“Where is your camera?” Noctis asked, knowing that Prompto had it back in Purgatory.

“I don’t know,” Prompto replied with a shrug. He sounded nonchalant, but Noctis could feel his pain. “When your dad took me here, he confiscated it. I don’t know where it is now.”

Noctis had an idea. He searched in the armiger, looking for something that he thought might be there. When he found it, he pulled it out, making Prompto gasp in surprise and awe. Just as he had thought, his father had tucked the camera away in the armiger for safe keeping. It made Noctis think that while his father expected one thing, he anticipated something entirely different. He knew that Noctis wouldn’t be able to stay away from Prompto. While he may have been disappointed in him as his son and future King of Hell, he at least knew what to expect of Noctis.

“You have it?” Prompto asked before Noctis could even say anything. He looked at Noctis with an expression of gratitude that Noctis wasn’t prepared for. The camera had been something that was an extension of Prompto, something he had been without for months since all this happened. It was almost like it tethered him to his former life, like he needed this piece of himself without ever expressing that it was essential to him.

“Here,” Noctis said as he handed it to him. “It’s in something called the armiger. My dad and I naturally have access to it. The people we trust most have access to it too. You should have access to it, then. I can show you how to put stuff there and take it out later.”

Prompto took the camera from his hands, his mind focused on it instead of Noctis’s words, inspecting it to make sure it was still functioning and pristine the way he had left it. Noctis couldn’t be sure why he felt such a pain in his heart, looking at Prompto gripping his camera so tightly, like he was trying to hold onto the vestiges of who he was. Prompto smiled at the camera with a longing, making Noctis wonder what he was looking at. He stood next to Prompto, his wings fluttering a bit in his jealousy as he saw Prompto looking at a photo of him and Nyx, smiling and happy.

“We had a lot of good times,” Prompto explained, reading his mind. Noctis realized that Prompto was on the verge of tears. “It was hard to see him like that. But I’m glad he’s safe now and not suffering anymore. I don’t want him to suffer because of me.”

“You really loved him,” Noctis pointed out, trying not to feel jealous or aching. Prompto had a long relationship with Nyx. Of course he would still feel something for him, even if he had moved on or gotten past the major parts of his heartache. It was different from just breaking up with someone, after all. With Nyx, it was almost as if Prompto was saying goodbye to him entirely. It was almost like he had died.

“I did,” Prompto said. He smiled at Noctis, a gently aching smile that was both sad for himself and concerned for his lover. “I’ve moved on, but I never got a chance to develop these pictures. I guess I’m going to have to take new ones and create new memories with you.”

“We could start now,” Noctis suggested, hoping that Prompto understood that he wasn’t trying to erase his pain.

Smiling, Prompto embraced the idea, making Noctis’s heart flipped excitedly as Prompto proceeded to take photo after photo of the two of them together, their wings fluttering in the background. Several times Noctis was left blushing, his mind racing as Prompto would kiss him in the photo, leaving him breathless. His retribution was when he did the same to Prompto, and eventually the camera was forgotten in favor of them kissing each other under the soft moonlight, their wings fluttering happily behind them. It was easy to forget any pain and worry when they were together, their feet just barely hovering over the ground as their wings propelled them gently upward to match the lightness they felt in their kiss.

“Is this what you wanted to show me?” Prompto asked as they smiled at each other. Noctis felt so unbothered to be in Prompto’s arms, like this was where he truly belonged. He hoped Prompto felt the same way, that being with him was worth the pain and heartbreak he had endured to get there. While he didn’t want Prompto to suffer at all, he knew that if Prompto had never left Nyx then things would have turned out a lot differently for them both.

“No,” Noctis admitted with a blush. “You just keep distracting me. Damn you, you Nephilim for being so gorgeous.”

Prompto blushed but laughed as their feet touched the ground, their wings settling. “What can I say? Heaven hates me and Hell wants me.”

“But I have you, and no one else can,” Noctis said, grinning. He grabbed Prompto’s hand, the camera around his neck on its strap. “Come on. They’re being lazy tonight.”

“They?” Prompto asked curiously as he followed Noctis. Noctis was excited, hoping that Prompto would like the surprise he had in store for him. He could feel Prompto’s nervousness, but he knew the fear would quickly dissolve as they approached the black chocobos, all of them lazily lying in a circle, looking at the two of them with their red eyes. Prompto gasped softly beside him as they stood still, waiting for the chocobos to move.

“I wanted to show you them before things got crazy again,” Noctis explained as the chocobos got up and approached them curiously. They were familiar with Noctis, but Prompto was new. He didn’t want to say the obvious. He wanted to show them to Prompto to convince Prompto to stick around. “Hold out your hand and let them approach you.”

Prompto obeyed, but there was clear excitement in his eyes, like he wanted to immediately jump on the back of a chocobo and run away with it. Noctis felt a soaring elation as the chocobo approached Prompto and immediately nuzzled its beak in his hand, receiving the Nephilim faster than most chocobos received a potential rider. Noctis nodded, and Prompto immediately began to pet the chocobo, cooing over it and calling it wonderfully nonsensical names. The large bird seemed to like it, nipping at Prompto’s shirt and chirping happily as Prompto proceeded to spoil the bird.

“The more time we spend together, the more you’ll get to know them,” Noctis offered as Prompto laughed at the chocobos surrounding them. They were trying to preen Prompto’s feathers, as they often did with Noctis, as if they were chocobos and were part of their family. “They love you already though. Chocobos are a better judge of character than most give them credit for.”

“I love them!” Prompto exclaimed happily. He wrapped his arms around a chocobo’s neck daringly, and the chocobo only rested its head on his shoulder as if to hug the Nephilim in return. Noctis felt a happiness in him, a contentment, knowing that the aches of the past and the pain of the future were better left for another day. Prompto missed Nyx, but it wasn’t the same sort of love that he felt for Noctis. Not anymore, and Noctis could see that. “Thank you for doing this, Noctis. I needed this.”

“Of course,” Noctis replied, as if there was no need to thank him at all. “I hope you can see that there’s so much worth being here for. I don’t want you to think that you have to sacrifice yourself for some stupid prophecy when there’s so much good stuff in the realms. I know it’s hard to see sometimes, but I’d rather you be here fighting to see it than just giving up.”

“I won’t give up,” Prompto said as he looked at Noctis with loving eyes that made Noctis’s heart ache, still hugging and being hugged by the chocobo. It was a happy ache, an ache that told him he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Prompto. “Not when I have chocobos to be with. Not when I know that you love me.”

Prompto reached a hand out for Noctis to take. His stomach did a series of somersaults as he took Prompto’s hand, squeezing it tightly in assurance that neither of them would be going anywhere. They would fight together or die together. The prophecy meant nothing to Noctis if it meant that he was going to lose Prompto because of it. He would happily forsake the prophecy, the world, all the realms, if it meant keeping Prompto safe. And it seemed that Prompto was willing to do the same to stick around.

They spent the better part of their time laughing and playing with the chocobos. Prompto took photos with them, preserving the memory of their happiness within the camera, the moonlight giving everything an ethereal glow. Noctis was so easily distracted by Prompto’s beauty, like he was more specter than real, the glow from the light drifting over his wings and making the silver and black shimmer in a way that made his breath catch several times. It was hard to believe that he had Prompto, someone so wonderful and kind that still found a way to trust and smile through all the pain and heartache.

“I think I’d like to take you fishing sometime,” Prompto said after a while. They ended up sitting amongst the chocobos, leaning against one who had become particularly attached to Prompto. Noctis felt comfortably elated as Prompto leaned against his shoulder, holding his hand like they had been dating for years and this was just another common occurrence. “Have you ever been?”

“No,” Noctis replied. He knew what fishing was, but it was an exclusively human hobby. It didn’t sound like a particularly intense sport, which was exactly what Noctis liked about the thought of it. “Do you think I would like it?”

“I think so,” Prompto considered. “If this is your speed, then you would probably enjoy fishing. Maybe we can go once all of this is over with?”

“I’d like that,” Noctis said, excited at the notion of going somewhere with Prompto. “We haven’t really been on a real date, so maybe we can make a date of it.”

“We’re on a date right now, aren’t we?” Prompto asked with a smile, making Noctis blush. How could he so easily send Noctis into a spiral of thoughts about how he just wanted to make these moments last forever? Looking at the pale moonlight dancing like diamonds on Prompto’s face, his freckles contrasted against the slight blush on his cheeks, Noctis felt compelled to lean over to him, asking for a kiss. Their lips hovered, just a breath apart, and Prompto kissed him deeply, their tongues dancing in a flurry of desire and love.

Their kiss was interrupted by the chocobo behind them, chirping loudly, its feathers ruffling as it got up quickly, nearly making the two lovers topple backwards. Noctis caught Prompto before he fell all the way backwards, looking around at the chocobos running about, their feathers bristling at whatever had disturbed them. Noctis and Prompto stood, and Prompto looked at them in confusion. Noctis was worried. The chocobos only acted like this when there was something to be concerned about.

“What is it?” Prompto asked as he took a step forward looking at the chocobos running around in excited nervousness. Noctis stared at him, a sudden sense of dread coming over him. Something was wrong. Very wrong. The chocobos didn’t act this nervous or excited unless someone was nearby that they were trying to run away from. They began circling Prompto like they were trying to protect him, and Noctis found that he couldn’t get to Prompto in their nervousness.

“Prompto!” Noctis called for him, worried that someone was coming for them. They had spent too long out there, too exposed. His father had told them that nowhere was safe, but it wasn’t yet sunrise. Did Ardyn come for them before it was time?

That’s when he sensed it. It wasn’t God. There was a sense of power that he knew too well, a power that made him angry and regretful that he wasn’t more cautious. In the distance he could see her approaching, her white dress in stark contrast to the black pasture that she was walking through. She was moving quickly, too quickly, and would soon be on them. Lunafreya.

They hadn’t been cautious enough. Noctis had just assumed that because his father had stopped her that she would give up and leave. But that’s not how she was. She was angry, spiteful, and trying to achieve whatever task she had been given, which likely involved hurting Prompto. The chocobos were chirping angrily and nervously, knowing that Prompto was the target as she quickly approached. Noctis made to intervene, flying towards her as Prompto called for him, unsure of what to do as the chocobos circled closer to him.

“Nice try,” Lunafreya said as Noctis approached, ready to strike. He gasped as she swiftly took out a blade. He tried to move out of the way, but she was fast. Too fast. Pain exploded in him as she ducked low, stabbing him in his leg where he had been injured as a child, right where the pain would be the most severe. He let out a shriek as he collapsed to the ground, both from the pain and from the fear that Prompto was in trouble. Lunafreya moved swiftly, leaving the dagger in his leg behind as Prompto called for him.

Noctis didn’t see what happened exactly. There was a fluttering of wings, a scream from Prompto, the chocobos squawking in fear as the celestial fate made her way through their protective barrier. The commotion suddenly died down, the chocobos dispersing, several feathers of black and silver fluttering about in the air. It was the only remnant of where Prompto had been.

Gasping in pain, Noctis tried to get up, only to army crawl towards the spot where Prompto should be. Instead there was nothing, just a smattering of feathers and blood. His heart burst in pain and fear as he let out a scream of agony, the pain echoing across all of Hell, reverberating through the heart of each soul that resided in the realm. Ignis and Gladio immediately felt it and began to rush to find Noctis, but Noctis could only shriek in the agony that he had been foolish enough to let down his guard, his agony at losing Prompto far greater than his physical pain.

Prompto was gone. And he had no idea where Lunafreya had taken him.

Chapter Text

Gladio felt it in his soul as he and Ignis were discussing what it meant to be a fallen angel. He felt like his soul was being torn in two, like there was a pain in him that couldn’t be fulfilled. When he looked at Ignis, he realized that he felt the same way. They were both crying, but there was an urgency behind their tears that propelled them forward. Still dressed in the room that was now both of theirs, they quickly got up and moved swiftly. Gladio followed Ignis, wondering where he was going, until he realized that they both knew exactly where to go. It was like a summons, a command and a call for action. They had to find Noctis. Something had gone very wrong.

Ignis directed Gladio out of the palace as they rushed towards where they found Noctis, sobbing and injured in the middle of a field with black chocobos. At first they thought his tears were because he was injured, stabbed in the leg with a particularly nasty looking dagger. But then they heard what he was sobbing about, they saw the blood on the ground, they saw the black and silver feathers floating as if suspended in midair. The moonlight cast and eerie glow on the field, as if something dark had happened that it was trying to erase. Where was Prompto?

“Noctis, what happened?” Ignis asked, ever the practical one. He knelt next to Noctis, looking at the wound in his leg without removing the blade. It looked painful, and the blood around it was the silver of archangels.

“Took… Prompto…” Noctis managed through his panicked and fearful sobs. Gladio frowned. Did Ardyn surprise them and take him so suddenly? Did Prompto agree to go with him?

“Who? God?” Ignis asked as Gladio knelt beside him. He wondered if he would ever have the same powers that he had before. Could he heal this or would this require someone else’s talents? Was he even capable of helping anymore? When Prompto had been shot he had instinctively helped him. Now he wasn’t sure.

“Lunafreya,” Noctis gasped, making Ignis and Gladio look at each other in concern and surprise. “Where would she have taken him?”

“Heaven,” Gladio replied immediately, knowing instinctively that she had been the one hired to subdue the Nephilim. She would have taken him to Heaven for punishment. To be killed. They didn’t have any time to waste. “Noctis, I need to see if I can heal you.”

“It’s okay,” Noctis said, making Gladio’s heart hurt. “I’m an archangel now. I can heal myself.”

Ignis put his hand on Gladio’s shoulder, telling him silently that Noctis didn’t mean it like that. It wasn’t as if Noctis knew that Ignis and Gladio had spent hours going over the pain that Gladio felt. There wasn’t just physical pain with the transformation, the scars on his arms aching the first time it happened. It was mostly mental and emotional pain. He had been prepared to face the consequences of his actions, but he never anticipated them to be so soon. It felt like his world had come crashing in on him, no matter how much he knew it was coming eventually.

Noctis looked at Ignis, his brother and comrade, begging a question that needed to be answered. He needed to get the dagger out if he anticipated being able to heal himself. Ignis nodded and held his hands down, looking to Gladio to do the actual dirty work. Gladio complied, feeling both apprehensive and sad that he couldn’t be the one to heal Noctis. What powers did he have now that he was a fallen angel?

Falling had been worth it, being with Ignis would always be worth it, but it was still difficult to get used to such changes after being devoted to Heaven and the Cause for so long. But God was not the being he thought he was, and Gladio had to acknowledge that too much had changed for him to stay loyal to Heaven. He was loyal to Ignis now, and any amount of pain was worth it. Ignis was worth it.

“Take a deep breath,” Gladio advised him as he grabbed the hilt of the dagger. “This is going to hurt.”

Noctis took several deep breaths, his breathing unsteady through his tears. He looked apprehensive, but his fear at knowing Prompto had been taken must have been greater. Gladio was concerned for them both, but Noctis would be okay. None of them knew what was going to happen to Prompto. “Fuck, just do it.”

Gladio nodded. “On three. One…” Gladio didn’t finish. He pulled it out quickly before he could get to three, knowing that anticipating the pain could be so much worse. Noctis let out a scream, pained and cursing, his breathing shallow and rapid. Ignis instructed him to take deep breaths, and a moment later the prince was shakily putting his hands over the wound. There was a soft white light, healing the area slowly, sealing it perfectly as if it had never been there in the first place. A moment later Noctis was moving his leg to test it out and see if it was better, the wound completely closed.

“Thanks guys,” Noctis said quietly. He stood up and Ignis and Gladio followed suit, glancing at each other nervously. “We have to go. We have to save Prompto before it’s too late.”

“Noctis,” Ignis said slowly, hesitantly. “We need to have a plan before we just run into Heaven. If not, we’re going to die before we can even find Prompto.”

“I don’t care,” Noctis said, quickly walking back to the palace. Gladio and Ignis followed him, looking at each other then back to Noctis in concern. This was bad. “I don’t care if we have to get the whole damn forces of Hell to go after him. We’re going. We’re getting him back.”

“Noctis-” Ignis began, but Noctis cut him off.

“It’s my fucking fault, Ignis!” Noctis snapped, looking at them both tearfully. “If I didn’t date Lunafreya, if I didn’t insist we come out and see the damn chocobos, then he would still be here! I have to get him back or… or…”

“We’ll get him back,” Ignis said sadly. Gladio could tell that he wasn’t holding out much hope, and he was apt to agree. If Prompto had been taken to Heaven then the chances were that Prompto was as good as dead now. As much of a fighter as Prompto was, he was no match for the might of Heaven. No one was.

“Then why are you saying it like he’s already dead?” Noctis seethed. Gladio understood his anger. It was one thing to be angry at someone for doing damage. It was another entirely to be angry at oneself for messing up. Didn’t Noctis promise never to hurt Prompto again after he had seemingly hurt him, albeit unintentionally? This was worse. Much worse. “He’s not dead… Ignis… Come on… Gladio, tell him. There’s a chance he’s alive. Right?”

Noctis looked like he was about to cry again, his body trembling from the heartache that Gladio could feel emanating off of him. He reached out instinctively and grabbed Noctis, pulling him into a tight hug. There was a time for action and a time for tears. Right now was the latter, and Noctis gripped Gladio’s sleeves tightly as he let out a sob, crying into Gladio’s chest like he was his younger brother seeking comfort from him. Gladio looked at Ignis with pained eyes, both of them helpless in the situation.

“There’s a chance he’s alive,” Gladio said, although he wasn’t holding out much hope. He kept his arms around Noctis, his chin resting on the top of the prince’s head, letting him sob into his arms. “The sooner we get there the better, but Ignis is right. We need to have a plan or else we’re going to end up dead before we even get through the veil.”

“I promised,” Noctis sobbed, his voice shattered, his words barely comprehensible. “I promised, and he trusted me. How… I need to get him back, Gladio. I can’t just let him suffer.”

“We will,” Gladio said. He released Noctis, watching the newly made archangel wipe his tears away. “Come on. We need to hurry if we’re going to save him. Prompto’s tough. He’ll get through this.”

Noctis nodded, looking scared and so very small at that moment. Gladio had never seen him look so scared, so shattered, before. Not even when he had thought that Prompto hated him. This was different. There was a hope that Noctis could fix it before. This time, though, there was a very likely chance that Prompto was already dead. But Prompto was a fighter, he always had been. How many late night conversations had Gladio had with Prompto about the pain he endured because of the religious zealots who cursed him for being gay? If he could survive humanity, he could survive anything. He was the one out of them all who could make it through.

“Let’s move quickly then,” Ignis suggested. “Your father will want to hear about this as well. Perhaps he can help.”

Gladio wasn’t holding out much hope for that either. Nevertheless, they wordlessly moved back to the palace, preferring to fly instead of walking or running. There was little time to waste. When they got back, the entire palace was in an uproar. They had all felt what Ignis and Noctis felt, and the king was in his throne room, demanding that his son be found and brought to safety. When Noctis entered the throne room with Gladio and Ignis, Gladio noticed the king take stock of how Prompto was missing and he immediately understood.

“What happened?” the king asked, looking to his son for answers. “Where is the Nephil- where is Prompto?”

“He was taken,” Noctis said miserably, but his voice sounded stronger than before. Gladio figured it must have been because he was talking to his father, preferring not to look as vulnerable as he felt. Gladio and Ignis stood behind him as his retinue, strong and silent but supportive of whatever he was going to insist on doing. They had to find and save Prompto. It was easier said than done, though.. “Lunafreya took him.”

“Lunafreya?” Regis asked in surprise. “I suppose she would be vengeful after what happened. Where has she taken him, do you know?”

“She has most likely taken him to Heaven, your majesty,” Gladio said awkwardly. He didn’t know how to feel about the King of Hell now being his king. It was a strange feeling, but it didn’t feel so horrific as he initially thought it would. Glancing at Ignis, he had a feeling that he really was meant to fall all along. What did Prompto say about the prophecy?

“Where is Ravus in all this?” the king asked, turning to Clarus. They all tensed, but the king didn’t catch on as he stared at his sworn shield. “Summon Ravus so we can figure out what to do. We have little time if this is the case.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Clarus said with a bow. He looked at Gladio, and there was a painful tug in Gladio’s heart. He knew that Clarus didn’t like the idea that he had fallen for Ignis. He knew that his father had assumed that Ignis had just seduced him to gain power. But that wasn’t the case. They loved each other, and it wasn’t going to change no matter the circumstances. If Ignis had been the archangel and Gladio had been the succubus, the result would have been the same.

“Now, tell me everything,” the king said as he looked at his son. Clarus left quickly to find Ravus and bring him to Hell. “What happened?”

Noctis sighed and confessed everything. Gladio and Ignis were surprised to learn that they hadn’t been dragged out of the palace but had willingly gone out to the fields. The king looked annoyed, but he must have sensed whatever pain Noctis was feeling because he stopped strumming his fingers on the head of his cane and softened his demeanor. Gladio felt bad for Noctis more than he was upset that Noctis had openly defied the king when things were so dangerous. The prince was just trying to do something nice for Prompto, to show him that there was beauty in the world that was worth fighting for, and it ended up hurting them both in the end.

By the time Noctis was done explaining the situation, Clarus was returning with Ravus and Nyx in tow. The king picked up on the tension then, especially from Noctis, but Gladio felt an unexpected pang in his heart he didn’t expect to feel. It was a pain that told him that Prompto had likely made a sacrifice that none of them really knew that he was making. Nyx was following Ravus like he was fascinated by everything, like he didn’t have a care in the world. Like he didn’t know who Prompto was. What had Prompto done to protect the man from his memories?

“Ravus, please tell me your sister is merely playing some cruel joke,” King Regis said as the men approached the throne. Ravus bowed and Nyx followed suit, clearly unsure of what he was supposed to do. “Please tell me that your sister is going to just return Prompto after a moment of making us worry.”

“I would that I could, your majesty,” Ravus replied with a sense of despair in his voice. “We tried to stop her, but she has been adamant about completing whatever task Heaven has given her. Luckily, she seems to be under the impression that Prompto is better alive than dead.”

“We have to go then,” Noctis said immediately while the king was still taking stock of the situation. “I can’t just leave him there to suffer. I need to get him back. I promised.”

“Isn’t that what they expect?” Nyx asked, looking from Noctis to the king and back again. Gladio didn’t like this. It felt wrong, like Nyx was supposed to know and love Prompto, even if it hurt. But he clearly didn’t know who Prompto was anymore, and he sounded like he was talking about what to have for breakfast. “Forgive me, your majesty, but it sounds like they want to lure you into a trap. This Prompto guy sounds like he’s the bait.”

“This Prompto guy?” Gladio asked in annoyance. They all looked at him in surprise, but none more so than Nyx. “Really? He’s not just some guy. What the fuck happened to you?”

“Gladio,” Noctis said warningly, as if he knew exactly what had happened and it was a decision that Prompto had to make in order for them all to survive. “Let it go. He knew what he was doing. We just need to focus on finding him.”

Gladio wanted to argue, but he couldn’t. Noctis didn’t know about the times that Prompto had come to him, telling him that he needed someone to talk to who would listen to his pain and worries. He had kept it a secret because Prompto didn’t know if he could trust Ignis with his worries, and he knew that Noctis would be jealous. There had been so many times that he had cried about Nyx, fighting to get over the relationship that was torn from him. To see Nyx not even remembering who Prompto was made him hurt for Prompto, and it made him angry for him.

“I’m sure my son will clue me in later as to what this is about,” the king said in annoyance. “But he is right. We need to find him now or we are going to end up burying him. Whether or not this is a trap, we need to be prepared. What options do we have?”

“Honestly, your majesty?” Gladio said, turning his focus away from Nyx for now. “We will need a diversion to get him. Without it, all the focus will be on us. We won’t even make it through the veil.”

“Very well,” the king said with consideration. There was no sighing, no exasperation. It was only the thought that things had to be done, no longer a father to Noctis or Ignis. He was acting as a king. Would he find that going to Heaven was worth the risk? “It is almost certainly a trap. But knowing that might give us the advantage.”

“What do you mean?” Noctis asked, confused. Gladio couldn’t help but think that all of the training in strategy had gone to Ignis instead of the king’s biological son. It wasn’t the first time he thought that Ignis was much better suited to be king, and there was no doubt that Noctis likely felt that pressure. Then again, thinking about how kind Noctis was as a person made him apt to be a king in different ways that was inherent to him.

“They will be expecting a rescue,” the king considered, looking to Clarus. Gladio’s father seemed to understand exactly what he was thinking, and he nodded and left the throne room, preparing whatever the king was planning. Gladio couldn’t help but wonder just how close to the king his father was. He hoped that he would get the chance to speak to him someday soon. “They won’t be expecting an army.”

“Is now really the time to be waging war on Heaven?” Noctis asked while Ignis looked both excited and pale. Gladio thought about how the forces of Heaven would be taken by surprise. They had been planning an attack on Hell, he knew that much, but they hadn’t been anticipating Hell bringing the fight to them. No matter how prepared the forces of Heaven were, taking a fight to the realm would be unexpected. It was a risk, though. Heaven had the upper hand being in their own territory.

“Your majesty,” Gladio said, his worry turning to the innocent souls in Heaven. The king looked at him expectantly. “If we bring the fight to Heaven then I can give you the layout of the realm. I only ask that the innocent souls there be left unharmed. They did not ask to be involved in this.”

“No one is completely innocent,” the king replied, making Gladio’s heart drop into his stomach. “You, of all people, should know that. But I suppose we can make that allowance. I will do my best, but I cannot make any guarantees. This is war we are speaking of.”

“Gladio is right,” Ignis argued, making the king look at him. “The human souls didn’t sign up for this war. We do not need to bring any pain or suffering to them.”

“Pain and suffering is God’s business,” Noctis pointed out. “We are just conduits until we can put an end to his reign. Let’s avoid any unnecessary suffering so we can bring an end to this.”

The king looked to his two sons, to Gladio standing next to them, all of them insistent upon avoiding hurting anymore souls than absolutely necessary. Gladio knew that there was some sort of pain or disappointment in King Regis as he looked at Ignis and Noctis. Noctis had always been softer, kinder, than what was entirely necessary in Hell, but Ignis was a different story. Gladio had helped him heal, and by healing he had become strong in his vulnerability. It was a new experience for both Ignis and the king alike.

“When did my sons suddenly become wiser than I have?” King Regis asked with a smile. “If things go well, then I anticipate one of you to be taking over the throne soon.”

“Give it to Ignis,” Noctis declared, much to all of their surprise. “He’ll be able to make better decisions and correct the mistakes we’ve made. I don’t want it. I just want to be with Prompto.”

Ignis and Gladio looked to Noctis in shock, but the king didn’t seem all that upset. Ravus was frowning, and Nyx looked perplexed, like he was trying to recall something that he had forgotten. Gladio wondered if Nyx found Prompto’s name familiar and was trying to figure out just how he knew him. It was unfair that Prompto had to be forgotten in order for Nyx to heal, but it wasn’t Gladio’s decision. He doubted it was Nyx’s decision too.

“We’ll discuss that later,” King Regis said as the doors to the throne room opened. “Right now we need to move quickly.”

“The sun has risen,” Ardyn said behind them suddenly, strutting through the throne room as if he owned them all. Perhaps he did. Gladio felt the scars on his arms aching painfully at just the sight of him. What had life been like before God had taken over? Before the crusades? If he thought about it, it had been so much more peaceful. Why did he even think that following such a God would be better for the world?

“That’s nice,” King Regis said nonchalantly, looking at God defiantly. Ardyn approached them, looking to Ravus and Nyx with an amused smile. Gladio suddenly had a bad feeling about the way he looked at them, like he knew that Nyx had forgotten all about Prompto and had a fragile psyche because of it. “I think it’s clear that we have made our decision. Be on your way now.”

He said it dismissively, like he was speaking to an unruly child or a cat that was trying to eat his siblings’ food. Gladio wondered just how he had the courage to speak to God that way until he thought about who God actually was. He was really just a man who had sought out too much power and devoured the Six Astrals. Ardyn had called himself God by stealing someone else’s power in an effort to claim it as his own. Even if he created Heaven and Hell, it wasn’t really his power. It was borrowed, stolen, and waiting to go to another who would claim it for the betterment of Eos.

Gladio looked to Noctis, a sudden feeling that he knew exactly what the prophecy was about, but he quickly thought of something else, knowing that Ardyn could somehow see into his mind with the power he stole. Ardyn looked to him at first, inquisitive and wondering just what had flitted across his mind so quickly, but Gladio was intent on not letting him see. Instead, he thought about how Ignis looked very beautiful in the light of the throne room. It amused him to see that it did the trick, and Ardyn moved past his thoughts, turning back to the king.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Ardyn asked, amused. “If you give me Prompto now, then I will let you all go. You won’t have to worry about the pain or fear of the true death after you hand him over.”

“I think the reason why you are even offering this deal in the first place is because you know Prompto is the key to your destruction,” King Regis mused, sitting forward in his throne as he glared at Ardyn. “I think you know that you are no longer the most powerful being in the universe, and he has the means to destroy you. You are afraid. And right now, I know you’re going to walk away because if you don’t, you will likely end up dead before you can make it out of the throne room. We have kept Prompto safely stowed away for that very reason.”

Ardyn glared at the king, deciding on if it was a bluff or not. He looked to the rest of the people in the throne room, probing their minds for the truth, but all of them were insistent on one singular thought. Prompto is here and he will kill you. They all knew that the bluff was necessary, even Nyx who had no clue what was going on. Gladio just hoped that it would work. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Ardyn relaxed and smiled, as if it had been his idea all along to let things go.

“Very well,” Ardyn said. He looked at Noctis and frowned. “I can’t hear your thoughts.”

“Prompto is very talented,” Noctis replied simply. Gladio wondered what Ardyn was talking about, until he realized that Prompto must have found a way to extend his power to Noctis. That did give him some sort of hope. “Better be prepared for him, because he will kill you.”

There was a pause as Ardyn and Noctis faced each other, like God was going to try and attack him at a moment’s notice. But then a lightbulb seemed to go off in Ardyn, and a smile came over his face. Gladio wondered what had changed, but then he looked to the door and then back to Noctis. Noctis looked at him uncertainly, and Gladio was fairly certain that Ardyn knew Prompto wasn’t there anymore.

“I hope you are prepared for what is to come,” Ardyn said with a smile as he sauntered away. “I hope the fight to save Prompto from Heaven is worth it to you. I would be prepared to sacrifice something else in return. And it’s not just sacrificing Nyx’s memories of Prompto. Ta.”

Ardyn left quickly and suddenly, and Gladio knew it was because he knew Prompto wasn’t there. They all let out a series of expletives, none more so than Noctis, who looked at everyone angrily. Gladio hadn’t been the one to give it away, and judging by the faces of everyone in the throne room, they were just as perplexed as he was. It was likely that Ardyn had some sort of way of seeing into Heaven and gaining insight into what was going on there. If he saw that Lunafreya was there, speaking with General Glauca about how she had captured Prompto, then their efforts to keep the truth from Ardyn were in vain.

“Fuck, we have no time,” Noctis said once they had all calmed down enough to know that their bluff had been called. “We have to go there. Now. What are the chances that they’ll just let me through because I’m an archangel now?”

Ravus looked at him in surprise, but they didn’t have time to discuss the changes that Noctis had undergone. Gladio was worried that they were woefully underprepared. While they had spent months training, facing off again the forces of Heaven and God himself were entirely different matters. They hadn’t been able to so much as move when God first made his appearance. Noctis and Gladio both had transformed and were now adapting to new abilities. How did they think they would be able to stop God now?

“Noctis, Ignis, Gladio,” the king said, swiftly reaching a decision. “You three will follow Ravus into Heaven and find Prompto. He will go with you so he can deal with his sister. The rest of us will create a diversion by forcing our way into Heaven through another veil. We have little time. Get in, don’t get caught, and get out. Am I clear?”

“Yes, your majesty,” they all replied, even though Ravus did not seem happy to be commanded by the king. Nyx looked perplexed and confused, like he was trying to remember exactly what Ardyn meant about him sacrificing his memories. They didn’t have any time to think about it now. They had to move.

“Protect each other,” the king said as he looked at them. “Protect my sons, Gladio. You are their sworn shield now. Prepare yourselves for the worst, but work towards the best.”

They were dismissed at that point. All of them bowed to the king, dispersed to plan their attack. Gladio spent the better part of his preparations in the throne room, drawing the schematics of Heaven to give to the king, hoping that it would work in their favor and protect the human souls there all in the same breath. When he was done he immediately prepared for battle in Ignis’s room, switching from the typical suits that they always wore to battle ready attire.

“Here,” Noctis said as he walked into Ignis and Gladio’s room, wearing a suit that made him look far more like a king than he probably wanted to. It was black with a gold brace on his leg, both something to help with his injury and a beautiful adornment. On his shoulders were gold chains and lapels, and his wings were already out, white and pure in stark contrast to his other dark features.

Gladio and Ignis had dressed in outfits that were similar. They were black with kneehigh boots and gold adornments, a military style jacket and pants with gold lapels. Like Noctis, their wings were out, the black of Gladio’s shimmering with a beautiful agony that he felt in his heart in contrast to Ignis’s blood red wings that looked like they were dripping with red ink. Gladio wondered just why they had these outfits at the ready, particularly for him, but then again then king always seemed prepared for what was to come. He had a feeling that he knew his sons better than what Noctis and Ignis had previously assumed.

Noctis handed Gladio a shield, large and beautiful. It was entirely black, just as everything was in Hell, save for the gold feathers and filigree adorned on it. Ignis looked at it in surprise, but he also seemed very pleased in the same breath. Gladio wondered just what this shield meant. It was large, large enough to make it heavy for Gladio to lift, but it felt strangely comfortable and welcoming in his grasp. It felt like the shield had been made for him.

“Dad said you’re now our sworn shield,” Noctis explained, looking to Ignis and Gladio with a shyness that Gladio didn’t anticipate. “You’re part of our family now, and this goes to the sworn shield. You also have access to the armiger now. Basically, you can put whatever you need to in there. It’s kind of like a mental space. If you think about it, you’ll be able to feel it.”

Gladio wondered what he was talking about, but then he felt it. It was like an infinitely vast storeroom, a place where they could put any and everything they needed to. He thought about putting the shield there and it suddenly vanished in a flash of blue light. When he thought about retrieving it, it appeared back in his hands. Smiling, he looked at Noctis and Ignis, knowing that despite the mental anguish he felt over becoming a fallen angel, this was far better than staying in Heaven.

“Thank you, Noctis,” Gladio said, thinking about how just a short while ago he had been ready to capture and drag Noctis to Heaven and kill Ignis. Now he thought about how Noctis was like a brother to him, how Ignis was someone he could never imagine eternity without. He thought about how they had to get to Heaven and save Prompto before it was too late. “We need to move quickly. Heaven won’t wait, and they will be expecting you. The sooner we can get him, the better.”

When they left the room, all of them hurrying with a swiftness in their footsteps that matched the urgency they felt, Gladio had the sudden sense that things were going to drastically change going forward. Whether they made it out or not, Heaven and Hell would both be altered irrevocably. Looking to Noctis, he had a strong sense that if the prophecy was fulfilled, there would be more than one change in king on more than one throne. If things went horribly wrong, they would all end up dead.

“Are you ready?” Ravus asked as they approached him in front of the throne room. He was wearing his own battle armor, dressed in white and purple with black filigree. “I’m sorry that my sister has done this. We tried to stop her, but she was too quick. You know how she can be.”

“It’s not your fault,” Noctis replied. “You have your hands full with Nyx. Thanks for taking us there. I know you’re risking a lot to do this.”

“It’s time for a change,” Ravus said. “We need a change in management in Heaven. God should have been stopped a long time ago. Let’s go. Your father is preparing to mobilize his forces now.”

Gladio realized that the king must have been preparing for this moment for a while. If the forces of Hell were already prepared to move from the realm into Heaven then this was a battle long in the making. It worried him about what it meant for Heaven’s future, but he hoped that whatever happened it would end up creating a better future for them all. If the prophecy came to fruition then maybe they could stop God and change a lot about the realms. Maybe people didn’t have to suffer anymore like Ignis had suffered.

“Wait!” Nyx called behind them as they prepared to move to the veil to Heaven that was rarely used. It was in a room that they kept blocked off, locked and untouched unless absolutely necessary. There was another on the outskirts of a field behind the palace, but both of them were kept tightly guarded in the event that an angel got daring enough to try and get through or to welcome an angel who had fallen from grace.

“I told you already that you’re not coming,” Ravus said testily as Nyx approached them, wearing an outfit very similar to Ravus’s. It was all white, beautiful on him, and he looked like he was ready for battle just as much as they were. “You don’t even know how to use your powers.”

“What he said about Prompto…” Nyx said as he looked to them all. Gladio felt for him, his eyes both pained and longing. It wasn’t the look of a man who remembered. It was the look of someone trying hard to remember but being unable to. “Was it true? Is Prompto the person I’m trying to remember?”

“We’ll discuss this later,” Ravus said. Gladio couldn’t tell if his annoyance was because Nyx was delaying their attack on Heaven or if he was jealous of Prompto’s existence.

“No,” Nyx insisted. He pulled a ring out from around his neck, the small band beautiful and sad as it made a noise like bells banging against the silver chain. “I need to know. Was this ring supposed to be for him?”

“Prompto made you forget because it was too painful for you,” Noctis explained, his eyes just as pained at the notion that Prompto and Nyx likely would’ve married if none of this had happened. “Things ended badly for you both. It’s better that you don’t remember. For both you and for Prompto. We don’t have time to discuss this.”

“That’s why I’m coming,” Nyx said. “I can feel him in the recesses of my mind. If he was willing to go through such pain so that I didn’t suffer, then he must have been very important to me. Please let me help. I was in the military on Eos and worked as a detective. I’m not useless.”

“Fine,” Ravus said, clearly annoyed by Nyx’s insistence. “But don’t expect us to be able to save your ass when you’re in trouble. Heaven is a different realm entirely.”

“I’m aware,” Nyx said. He looked to Noctis. “Thank you for telling me the truth.”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” Noctis muttered. Gladio could sense the bitterness in his voice, and he knew that there was an awkwardness between them that Nyx was unaware of. “Come on.”

They followed Ravus, Nyx walking beside Gladio and Ignis with Noctis just in front of them. Nyx looked confused, and Gladio felt the urge to tell him everything. It was an urge he resisted, but it seemed dangerous to not at least clue Nyx into what was going on and why they were going after Prompto in the first place. It worried Gladio that Nyx was compelled to go after him even when he didn’t remember who he was.

“Noctis and Prompto are lovers now,” Gladio said in a low voice so that Nyx could at least understand the tension between them. “It took him a while to move on, but once he did they fell in love.”

“Oh,” Nyx replied. They stopped in front of a door that was guarded by two fallen angels who let them pass immediately. “I don’t remember him, but my heart aches when I hear his name.”

“It’s better you forgot,” Ignis commented. “It ended badly and for reasons outside both of your control. Just let it go for now and focus on what is in front of us. Otherwise, you need to stay behind.”

Nyx nodded in understanding as they all stepped through the door and into a room that had a singular wall length painting of a beautiful palace shimmering in the sunlight. It was the palace in Heaven. Gladio felt his heart hammering in his chest. This was the moment that they had prepared for. It would be the first time since he had fallen that he would return to Heaven. Ignis grabbed his hand and held it tightly, knowing what it meant for him to be returning to Heaven now that he was no longer welcome there.

“Stay close and stay alert,” Ravus instructed as they approached the painting. “We find Prompto and get out. Leave the rest to the king.”

They all offered their agreement as they followed him through the painting and into Heaven. At the same time they passed through the veil, the sirens of Heaven began echoing through the realm once more as the forces of Hell entered through the other veil. The war had begun.

Chapter Text

“You finally did it,” the military angel said in surprise as he looked at Lunafreya gripping Prompto’s arms tightly wound behind his back. He was barely conscious, Lunafreya exerting whatever power she had over him to keep him subdued. It felt like she was creating an illusion that made him half conscious, that made him believe she was more powerful than he was. Whatever she was doing, it made him feel like he was going to collapse at any moment, yet he somehow was managing to stay upright. It was like treading water after hours of trying to stay afloat.

“Of course I did it,” Lunafreya snapped angrily, glaring at the angel as her grip on Prompto got tighter. Prompto grimaced, his knees going weak, and he began to collapse. The celestial fate grabbed his hair on the top of his hair and yanked hard, making him gasp in pain as she kept him upright. “The prince is going to come for him. Where should we put him? Or can I just kill him already? He gave me enough trouble to last a lifetime.”

“Hmm…” the angel replied as he stood up from his desk, looking at Prompto. “Hand him over, Lunafreya. I will take over from here.”

“You’re not going to fuck him, are you?” Luna asked, surrendering Prompto nevertheless. She let him go and Prompto collapsed, only to be caught by the angel. “Everyone seems so obsessed with him like they want to fuck him. Although it would be fun to tell Noctis that General Glauca had his way with his little pet.”

“No. I will not sully my good name with this abomination,” Glauca said as he kept an arm tightly wound against Prompto’s waist. Lunafreya rolled her eyes as Glauca’s hand just above Prompto’s ass. “No matter how tempting it may be.”

Prompto felt some of his strength returning to him. He tried to regain some of his composure, attempted to right himself by standing up straighter, but Glauca was holding him too tight. He was unable to so much as breathe without feeling himself pressed against the general, and he knew that if he wasn’t careful then Glauca wouldn’t care at all about him being a Nephilim. It was horrific to think that Prompto had been treated kinder in Hell than he was in Heaven. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised.

“What are you going to do with him?” Lunafreya asked. Prompto looked at her, his eyes shimmering with tears in his panic. She wasn’t asking because she cared about him. She wanted to see him die.

“You are so interested in his fate,” Glauca laughed, making Lunafreya bristle in anger. “Did he really get under your skin so much? Or is it because he was able to capture the prince of Hell’s heart?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Lunafreya snapped. “He has the Ring of Lucii. So if you’re going to kill him then enjoy suffering in your last moments. It’s on the back of his neck.”

General Glauca looked at Prompto angrily, his eyes fire as he yanked Prompto’s hair, making him cry out in pain as he spun him around and put his other hand on the base of his neck. At first Prompto thought he wasn’t going to do anything. But then he began to squeeze, and Prompto gasped in pain, struggling to breathe as his oxygen supply was taken away. He gasped and then felt a pulsing heat on the back of his neck. It grew stronger, and a moment later Glauca had released him, letting out an angry yell as Prompto fell to the floor. He rubbed his neck with one hand, panting, looking up at the two of them as Glauca looked at his burned hand.

“Why the fuck did you allow that to happen?” Glauca asked as he looked at her angrily. “How am I supposed to do anything when he has the Ring?”

“He had it before I showed up,” Lunafreya argued bitterly. “Do you really think I would have allowed that to occur? I would have seduced Noctis long before then, but he fell in love with this twink. I brought him here, and the prince is going to follow. It’s your job to figure out the rest.”

Glauca looked like he was about to argue with her, but then he paused, looking out the window of his too-white office. He looked down at Prompto then smiled as if he came up with the best plan he had thought of in a while. It was the look that made Prompto panic, like he was going to deliver a fate worse than death. Prompto was pretty sure that he wasn’t going to get out of Heaven alive.

“I’ll take him somewhere that he won’t ever escape from,” Glauca said with a chuckle. “Even if he did manage to make it out of one room, he won’t make it out of the entire palace.”

“You are cruel,” Lunafreya said with a laugh. “I just wanted him gone because the prince slighted me for him. You just really want to see him suffer.”

“Of course,” Glauca said. “If it brings God back, then that’s all that matters. Trapping him in the one place he can never escape will ensure God has ample time to return and deal with him. I’m sure he will be able to take care of him without worrying about the Ring of Lucii.”

“Ardyn is just a man,” Prompto said in a hoarse voice. They looked at him. “He’s not God. He just is playing at being one.”

Glauca grabbed him by his hair angrily, dragging him towards the door. Prompto was kicking and screaming, his legs flailing as he tried to get a foothold to stand up. The general pulled him up by his hair, forcing him to stand and fight against the pain, until he slammed him against the wall, ready to hurt him if it wasn’t for the Ring of Lucii. Prompto tried to remember how to use his powers, but right now his fear and pain was distracting him, rendering him unable to do much of anything. How could he be so afraid now when he had been able to face off against Ardyn? It was because Noctis was there and he had refused to let Ardyn touch him.

“You dare speak his true name?” Glauca demanded. “I will see that you suffer and die horribly.”

“Good luck,” Prompto spat, gaining some of his composure. It wasn’t like he was going to kill him outright. He had to be smart about it or else the Ring of Lucii would take Glauca with him.

“Come on,” Glauca seethed, grabbing his wrist as he pulled him away from the wall. He twisted it painfully around Prompto’s back, making him grimace and seethe in pain as he opened the door and forced him out into the hall. The general kept Prompto’s arm behind his back, another angrily on his shoulder as steered him down the pristine hall and out into the sunny realm that was Heaven.

Prompto watched as the angels moved about outside, many of them preparing for some sort of battle that had yet to take place. If Noctis was coming for him then he was walking right into a trap. He hoped that Noctis was smart enough to see that, that he wouldn’t be so blinded by his love for him that he got himself killed. It was something that he couldn’t handle. He had promised Noctis that he would try and fight and ensure that he lived, but he wouldn’t do it at Noctis’s expense. He knew what needed to happen. Prompto considered his life superfluous in comparison to the prophecy or to Noctis’s survival.

Glauca took him towards the palace, ignoring the angels who were staring at them as Prompto could only be helplessly dragged along. The palace looming ahead of him seemed so menacing, a blight on an otherwise pristine world, that Prompto couldn’t help but struggle against Glauca. He knew that his father was in there, and he knew that he had to save him, but there was something in him telling him to get out of there as quickly as possible. If he went inside then there was no guarantee he would make it back out again.

It was no use. Glauca opened the front door of the palace easily enough, and he shoved Prompto inside. With a loud thump, Prompto fell onto the beautiful marble floor that was cool to the touch. It was exactly how he remembered it from his dream, and Prompto knew that if he followed the same path he would find his father. Looking up at Glauca, he wondered if saving his father would also lead him to his death.

“I hope you enjoy eternity,” Glauca said, laughing at Prompto’s fear. He continued to laugh until a siren went off, loud and booming over the entirety of Heaven. Prompto looked at the general’s face turn from pleasure to confusion to anger. There was a flurry of movement behind him, but Prompto couldn’t make out what was happening. “They have come for you. I will ensure that they die. Each and every one of them.”

“No!” Prompto screamed, jumping to his feet quickly. He wasn’t quick enough, though. Glauca closed the door to the palace on him, locking him inside before he could make it in time to stop him. Angry and in pain, he pounded on the heavy marble door and pulled on the handle, shaking it vigorously before giving up. He was stuck there, the sirens muffled now that the door was closed. If he wasn’t going to get out then he had to find his father and save him, and he turned his back to the door as he regained his composure.

Prompto didn’t care to admit how frequently his father had been on his mind since he had that dream about him. If he wasn’t thinking about Noctis, he was focused on training and finding his father, of freeing him once at for all. The thought of his father being locked up like he was for the entirety of Prompto’s life terrified him. There had been more than one occasion that he had been frustrated by his inability to be strong enough or ready enough to find and save his father. Even now he knew that he was woefully unprepared, but he had to try. Especially since they had just brought him to where his father was so easily.

Quickly, he looked around and assessed where he was, his dream propelling him to where he needed to go. There was the same tugging sensation he had when he had first had the dream, and he knew that it was his father calling him home. Prompto had felt that tugging in Purgatory and in Hell. He had felt it his entire life growing up, tethered to him to the point where it felt as natural as breathing. He had never paid attention to it until he knew what it was, and now he couldn’t ignore it.

Moving quickly, he made his way down the hall, the same pristine walls from the dream looming around him menacingly. The atmosphere felt angry, like the palace had come to life and didn’t like that Prompto was there. He looked outside the window, but instead of seeing the peaceful Heaven in his dream, he saw that the realm was in chaos. There were angels flying everywhere, some with white wings and others with black. As they drew nearer to the palace, Prompto realized that it was Heaven and Hell facing off, locked in a dangerous battle. He was running out of time.

“Please don’t let Noctis come for me,” Prompto whispered as he hurried down the hall towards his father, locked in that room that terrified him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Noctis again. He just didn’t want Noctis to get hurt because of him. If Heaven and Hell were locked in a battle, fighting for some sort of dominance, it meant that the prophecy was coming to a head. Noctis would have to focus on defeating Ardyn, not on him. It was time that Noctis let Prompto go, no matter how much the thought broke his heart and made his soul ache.

It wasn’t long before Prompto found the room, the doors just as he remembered it. He paused, terrified of what was on the other side. What if there was nothing inside? What if his father wasn’t really there? What if he was there? Prompto didn’t know which was worse. All he knew was that he was past the point of inaction. It was the point of no return, and he couldn’t just let his father continue to suffer because of him.

With a deep breath, Prompto ignored his nerves and pulled on the door handle. It was just as heavy as he remembered it. As he pulled it open, his arms straining far less than he remembered in his dream, the light from outside filtered into the room, casting an eerie glow on the scene inside. Tearfully, he looked in, his breathing labored from the physical and mental effort. It was exactly as he remembered, but now he couldn’t let his fear and panic prevent him from acting. He had to do something. There was no other choice.

The room inside was dark save for the sliver of light filtering in through the door. It was covered in murals on the walls, depictions of the Six Astrals ruling over a kind and beautiful Eos. It was how Eos should have always been, not what it was now. Chains hung from the ceiling, and they rattled as a low groan escaped Verstael’s lips as he opened his eyes weakly. The chains were connected to hooks, and those hooks were embedded in Verstael’s body, painful and torturous as they all were latched into his skin in the direct center of the room. His feet were barely touching the ground, and his arms were held up by chains, the hooks keeping them stationary to prevent him from trying to escape.

Prompto let out a small whimper, knowing that his father had suffered in such a horrific stasis for so many years. He looked young, just as Prompto did, and he was beautiful despite the pain he was enduring. It was no wonder that they knew Prompto was his child. They looked almost identical, like he was really his twin brother and not his father. Were all archangels so beautiful? Prompto found it odd to think his father, who looked almost identical to him, was beautiful. It was almost vain to think so.

“Father,” Prompto called as he ran into the room towards him, looking at his father’s bare chest, arms, and back, all embedded with hooks. He was wearing old and tattered pants but nothing else. His hair had grown long, but he didn’t have any facial hair, like he hadn’t been able to grow it out in the first place. There was a pool of silver blood at his feet, long since dried but still visible. Trying not to let his panic overwhelm him, Prompto looked at his father and knew that he had to figure out where to start. “Father, can you hear me?”

“Prompto?” Verstael asked weakly, his eyes trying to focus on him. He lifted his head for the first time, looking at his son. “Are you really here?”

“Yes,” Prompto said, trying not to let his voice waver in his horror at what had become of his father. “I’m going to get you out.”

“The prophecy,” Verstael began, but his voice was too weak. Prompto had to get him down. Now.

“Noctis is on track to fulfilling the prophecy,” Prompto explained, knowing that Verstael didn’t need to hear about how Noctis would give up the prophecy if he meant keeping Prompto alive. Prompto wasn’t so sure that fate worked that way and could just be ignored. It was more likely that by Noctis saying he would forget the prophecy that he was actually heading towards its fulfillment. Fate had a way of bringing things to fruition no matter how much they fought it. “I’m going to get you down, but I need you to stand up so the hooks don’t hurt you worse.”

Verstael let out a small groan, but he eventually nodded and stood upright, his body weak from the large hooks embedded in his skin for so many years. Prompto didn’t know where to start exactly, but he figured his arms were the best place to begin. Slowly, carefully, he began to take out each hook, grimacing as his father cried out in pain.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Prompto sobbed, his tears blurring his vision. “It’s just a little longer. I just have to get these out of you.”

“Just do it,” Verstael seethed at his own pain. “Do what you have to do.”

Prompto nodded and proceeded, his hands trembling as he carefully took the hooks out, careful to pull them out of the entry wound so that it didn’t cause any further damage to his father’s body. It was tedious work, and Verstael’s screams were not helping, but Prompto continued on at his father’s behest. Eventually his arms were free, then the right side of his torso, then the left. Verstael collapsed into Prompto’s shaking arms, and he held his father as he gently guided him down to the floor.

“Let me heal you,” Prompto said as Verstael gripped his arm tightly. “Your wounds need to be healed.”

“My son,” Verstael said as he looked up at Prompto, his eyes glossy and far away. His hand reached up and touched his son’s face, gentle and coaxing. “Look at the man you’ve become.”

“We can get to that later,” Prompto insisted. He put his hand on Verstael’s forehead, knowing that he could heal his entire body in one go. “Just let me do this first.”

Verstael was still as Prompto focused on healing him. There was a warmth that came from his hands, soft and guiding, and he watched as the wounds on his father’s skin began to heal. They were replaced by soft markings of thorns and feathers, as if he had wandered through a particularly beautiful garden and was stained from the wildlife there. Verstael was growing in his strength as Prompto finished healing him, and he eventually pulled his hand away and looked at him.

“You are so strong,” Verstael said as he sat up, looking at his son with fatherly eyes of longing. “My son…”

He wrapped his arms around Prompto, pulling him into a tight embrace. Prompto was crying, sobbing, into his father’s arms as he gripped him tightly. How long had it been since he had last seen his father? He remembered the night that Verstael and Cor had left him with the Argentums, the family that would raise him until they cast him aside. Would Verstael be proud of the man he became despite everything that had happened? Or would he be disappointed in him for being so weak?

“Where is Noctis?” Verstael asked as he pulled away from him. “The prophecy?”

“I was taken here by Lunafreya,” Prompto explained. Verstael’s face flickered in recognition, and he had the sudden sense that he had disappointed his father. “I need to get you out before Noctis comes for me. He can’t get hurt because of me.”

“You two are close,” Verstael said. It wasn’t a question, more a statement of understanding. He could see it in Prompto’s eyes, and Prompto knew that he wasn’t exactly trying to hide how he felt about Noctis. He loved him, and he wanted to protect him. “We should go then. The palace is difficult to get out of, but it’s not impossible.”

Prompto stood up and helped his father up, steadying him on his feet as he swayed a bit. It had been a long time since Verstael had stood on his own, but he was an archangel and capable of great strength and was already gaining his bearings once more. He looked at his son, and Prompto felt like he was on the verge of saying something important. Would he be mad that Prompto was close to Noctis to the point that Noctis would eschew the prophecy for him?

“Let’s go then,” Prompto said as he took an uneasy step towards the door. Verstael grabbed his hand, walking with him, and Prompto felt his heart on the verge of crumbling. How long had it been since he felt a fatherly touch that wasn’t scolding or catstigating? He realized that he was expecting the worst of Verstael because that was what he had received from the Argentums. Would Verstael be just as horrific as they were? Thinking back to his childhood before he had been left on Eos, he had only been overprotective and warm towards him.

They walked down the hall, Verstael’s strength returning to him rapidly, no longer leaning on Prompto for support. Their footsteps echoed on the floor, and Prompto felt his heart pounding rapidly in his chest as he walked next to his father. He knew he was scared, scared of what his father would do if he found himself disappointed in him. Would he hate that Prompto and Noctis had fallen in love? Would he curse at him and wish that the conversion therapy had worked?

“Why are you afraid of me?” Verstael asked, making Prompto jump from the unexpected question breaking the silence. Prompto looked at his father, his age only reflected in the wisdom in his eyes. “What has happened to you to make you so afraid of me?”

“Oh,” Prompto said, not realizing he was being overtly afraid. They walked in silence for a moment, his father looking at him worryingly for an answer. “The Argentums were kind until… Until they found out I’m gay.”

“What does being gay have to do with anything?” Verstael asked. “I’m pansexual. Most angels are. What of it?”

“Well they sent me to conversion therapy and then I eventually left home and lived on my own,” Prompto said anxiously, looking down at his hands. “I haven’t really had a good experience with parents because of it. Well, there’s Cor. He has helped me since I turned twenty.”

“But that was only a short time ago,” Verstael said looking at him with a pained expression. He stopped walking, and Prompto was left wondering why. They didn’t have time. “You have suffered because of the pain I have put you through.”

“No!” Prompto insisted. “You saved my life by hiding me on Eos. If you hadn’t done that-”

Verstael pulled him into a tight hug, holding one hand on the back of his head like he was trying to cradle him to make up for all the pain Prompto had gone through. Prompto was still for a moment, shocked by the sudden comfort, then found himself hugging him back, crying into his arms for all the pain and suffering he endured. It all coalesced, the pain and fear of being rejected and hurt again by someone who was supposed to protect him, and he sobbed, his heart aching as his father held him and comforted him.

“I am sorry that the world has failed you,” Verstael said soothingly. “I have failed you. We have so much work to do, but know this. You are my son, and I love you. I have endured the worst pains for you. I will never let anyone hurt you like that again.”

Prompto nodded, wiping his tears away as he looked at his father. “I’m sorry that I’m the one crying when you were the one chained up here for all these years.”

“Don’t be,” Verstael replied. He wiped Prompto’s tears away lovingly, a gentle touch that Prompto had never received from the Argentums. Cor had been the only one to comfort him when things were so terrifying. “Sometimes our tears are necessary to move forward. Come on. We have to ensure that Ardyn is stopped.”

Following Verstael, who was now so much stronger than he had been at the beginning, they found their way back to the entrance of the palace. Before they could reach the door they heard the sound of rushing footsteps. Someone else was in the palace. Prompto looked to Verstael in fear, worried about who was coming for them. Was it Ardyn? Or was it someone else? Or perhaps it was the palace’s way of keeping them trapped inside.

The footsteps drew nearer, and Prompto turned to see who was coming towards him. Prompto gasped, his heart thudding in his chest excitedly, his stomach doing many flips as he saw the group of men stop at the end of the hall and look at both him and his father. Noctis was at the lead, looking far more beautiful in the armor he was wearing, his eyes alight as he stared at Prompto. Behind him was Gladio and Ignis, both of them ready for whatever fight was coming their way. Ravus and Nyx were with him as well, dressed in all white. Prompto wondered what Nyx was doing there, his heart aching at how dangerous it was for him to be in Heaven, but his mind was currently distracted by Noctis’s grace and beauty.

“Noctis?” Prompto asked breathlessly, looking at the man he loved. It was dangerous for him to be here. He shouldn’t have come for him. But now that he was there, staring at him, he couldn’t help but think about how grateful he was for his presence. Noctis smiled at him, and he began to run towards him, his feet echoing on the marble floor. Prompto took a step towards him, but his father grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “What are you doing?”

“That’s not Noctis,” Verstael said, his eyes wide with terror. “Look closely.”

Prompto could only see Noctis running towards him, until he noticed that Noctis’s wings were black. That wasn’t right, was it? They were white now. And if his wings were out then he would have flown towards him instead of running. The more he looked, the more he realized that something was off. Noctis had a slight limp when he ran. It was something that he pretended he didn’t notice, but now that he couldn’t see it at all he knew something was off. The smile on his face wasn’t welcoming either. It was menacing.

“Ardyn,” Verstael seethed as he stood in front of Prompto, holding a hand up as if to stop him just by the simple motion. “Drop the act. We know it’s you.”

A moment later the men behind Noctis disappeared and the illusion wavered. Noctis turned into Ardyn, and Prompto was left to wonder if it was because of his father’s power to remove the illusion or Ardyn breaking the illusion himself now that he had been caught. God stopped in front of them, laughing and smiling like he had just been playing like a child in the schoolyard. Prompto stared at him, wondering just what he was going to do to them now. As long as Noctis was safe then it didn’t matter what happened to him.

“To think that I almost had you,” Ardyn said with a laugh, looking at Verstael and Prompto with amusement. “You two could be twins, you know. Or he could be your clone. Tell me, do you really expect to defeat me?”

“It doesn’t matter what we expect to do,” Verstael said as he glared at Ardyn. “All that matters is what is done.”

“And what do you think your little Nephilim will be able to do?” Ardyn laughed. “He’s not even as strong as you, and you were no match for me. Step aside, Verstael. If you give me your son then I will let you go.”

“I will never surrender Prompto,” Verstael snapped. Prompto’s heart was racing. If Ardyn just knew that the prophecy wasn’t about him then his father would live. But then that also meant Ardyn would target Noctis. “He is my son.”

“Somehow I knew you would say that,” Ardyn laughed. He held up a hand like he was going to grab Verstael and kill him. “Say goodbye, Verstael.”

Prompto didn’t hesitate. Not this time. His wings unfurled swiftly and he grabbed Ardyn, one hand on his throat and the other on his wrist as he propelled them both backwards. Ardyn looked amused until Prompto used his power on him, the light emanating from him not the warm and healing light he used to help his father. He flew upward, towards the high ceiling, his power dangerously hot against Ardyn’s skin.

“You’re not a god,” Prompto snapped as he gripped him tightly. Ardyn was struggling against his touch, but he wasn’t letting him go. “You’re just a man who got too greedy.”

“And what does that make you?” Ardyn sneered. “The one who will end it all? The one who will stop me? Don’t make me laugh. You’re weak. Here. I’ll show you.”

Ardyn grabbed Prompto by the throat, instantly flipping the situation around as his own wings, silver and black and red, unfurled. Verstael screamed for Prompto, but Ardyn flew him towards a stained glass window. Pain exploded in Prompto’s wings as they hit the window, the glass shattering around them. The sunlight hit his skin and wings, his body wracked with pain as Ardyn flew him above the battle down below.

He heard shouting, some of it so very familiar, but his eyes and ears were trained on Ardyn. The sunlight overhead beat on them, too bright and pleasant, and Prompto had the sudden feeling that he knew why Ardyn was so afraid of him. Ardyn was a Nephilim. But if he was, then that also meant that angels existed before Ardyn created Heaven and Hell. Did that mean he didn’t create the realms and only took credit for it?

“Nephilim,” Prompto spat out as Ardyn propelled him higher. “You are afraid of me because you devoured the Six Astrals. And you don’t want me to do the same as a Nephilim.”

“Only I was born of a demon and an angel,” Ardyn sneered. “I had the power to devour the Six. I doubt you have the power to do much of anything. Especially not now.”

“If you kill me the Ring of Lucii will take you with me,” Prompto gasped, his wings fluttering wildly behind him in an attempt to get free. Ardyn’s grip was too strong, though. It was a futile attempt, but he had promised Noctis that he wouldn’t give up. He couldn’t give up. Not now.

“Oh I know,” Ardyn said with a sinister smile that made Prompto struggle even more. He heard screaming down below, Noctis’s voice calling for him. But he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Ardyn. Not when his life was in his hands. “I don’t plan on killing you. The ground will do that for me.”

Ardyn grabbed Prompto’s wings with one hand, turning him around until he was gripping them both tightly and painfully. He laughed as Prompto struggled then fighting against the grip he had on his wings, his hands clawing for Ardyn to stop without quite reaching him. With one final cackle, Ardyn pulled hard, twisting his wings, the bones in them crunching and snapping. Prompto shrieked, screaming in the pain that exploded through his body, a blood curdling scream that permeated the sound of the fighting below.

“How can the little Nephilim fight when he can’t even fly?” Ardyn asked, laughing. “I hope you get the chance to say goodbye to the prince before you meet the truth death.”

Prompto couldn’t speak. The pain was too great, too explosive. It wasn’t like anything he had felt before, and he could feel his consciousness leaving him as Ardyn let him go. His wings couldn’t even move now, and he began to tumble downward, the ground rushing up to greet him quickly and easily. He was going to die, and it was because he had successfully saved his father from Ardyn. If he could at least do that much, then the fight had been worth it. The pain was worth it.

Looking up at Ardyn, the sunlight shining ominously behind him, Prompto thought how great it would have been to see the prophecy fulfilled. He closed his eyes, the wind rushing around him, painfully coursing through his broken wings, the last thing on his mind the memory of Noctis holding him in his arms lovingly.

Chapter Text

Noctis followed Ravus into Heaven, ending up in the palace that left Gladio very clearly afraid. Gladio had told them that they weren’t supposed to be there, that the palace had been off limits since long before he was an angel there. But then they heard shouting, the sound of wings fluttering, and the sound of glass breaking. Noctis had the sinking feeling that he was too late. When he saw Ardyn flying outside with Prompto in his grasp, he knew his fears were coming to life.

“Come on,” Noctis said as he took out a battle axe from the armiger. He broke the glass on the window, letting it shatter around them without a concern for what happened to the palace. They shielded their faces from the glass bursting around them. Returning the axe to the armiger, he jumped out the window with little care for his own personal safety. He took flight, knowing that Ignis and Gladio were behind him. Ravus and Nyx likely were as well, but he couldn’t worry about them right now. He had to get to Prompto.

At first, Noctis was focused on the battle raging down below him. There were angels and demons fighting each other, black wings from fallen angels overpowering and being overpowered by the angels of Heaven. He saw his father and Clarus fighting, their swords smattered with silver blood as they fought alongside each other, pushing the forces of Hell forward. Seeing the fight down below told him that Hell was winning even though they were in Heaven. But it would all be in vain if Ardyn was able to destroy them all. It would all be in vain if he couldn’t get to Prompto.

After Noctis took stock of the battle, he looked up to where he heard shouting. It wasn’t hard to find Prompto. He was currently struggling in Ardyn’s grasp, his wings bound by Ardyn’s hands painfully. Noctis looked in horror, realizing what Ardyn planned to do. Screaming for him, he went unheard as Ardyn proceeded to viciously tear at Prompto’s wings, shattering the bones within them. Prompto’s scream made everyone stop, the fighting momentarily ceasing as his screams echoed over the field. But then it resumed again, and the battle raged on, none of them caring about the fate of one Nephilim.

When Ardyn released Prompto, letting him tumble perilously to the ground, Noctis didn’t think. He just moved, flying as swiftly as he could to reach him in time. But he wasn’t the one who reached him first. Instead an angel, bare chested and nearly the spitting image of Prompto, flew past him, catching him in his arms and flying far away from the battle. Noctis followed him impulsively, knowing that it was likely Prompto’s father that had been found and rescued. Had Prompto rescued him?

He found them under a tree in the middle of a grove, the clashing of metal echoing behind them as the battle raged in the distance. Prompto was unconscious, barely breathing, and the angel was leaning over him as he put his hands on his wings to try and heal him. Nothing happened, and the angel let out a frustrated grunt. He was trying to heal him, but it wasn’t working.

“Come on,” he snapped at himself. “You’re weak but you’re not useless. Just heal him already. He’s your fucking son. Why can’t you just heal him?”

“Let me do it,” Noctis said as he hurried over to him, noticing that Prompto’s father had been healed by the Nephilim, marked and beautiful from it. He was likely weak as a result of whatever he had been put through. He knelt next to Prompto, looking at his mangled wings, hoping that he could heal them. Prompto’s father looked at him pleadingly, grabbing Prompto’s hand and holding it tightly.

“Save him,” Verstael said as he looked down at Prompto. “Please. I know he’s not part of the prophecy anymore, but he’s all I have left.”

“I don’t give a shit about the prophecy,” Noctis said as he put his hands on Prompto’s broken and bloody wings. Verstael looked to him imploringly. “If Prompto isn’t in my world then there’s no point in saving it. Let me focus.”

Noctis felt a warm light emanating from his hands, something strange and unfamiliar to him. It was a new power as an archangel, something he would have to get used to. And right now Prompto needed to be healed. If he didn’t heal then he wouldn’t survive this, even if he didn’t hit the ground. So he put all the energy he could into Prompto’s healing, watching as the bones snapped back into place, the sickening crunch of the bones healing just as painful sounding as when they had first broke. Verstael gripped Prompto’s hand tightly, but Prompto wasn’t even flinching. His mind had likely shut down in an effort to save him.

When he was done, he pulled his hands away and looked down at Prompto, hoping for some sort of recovery. His wings were healed, but why wasn’t he moving? Had the pain been so great that it was rendering him unconscious? Or had Prompto just given up? He grabbed Prompto’s hand, holding it up to his lips and kissing it lightly, hoping that his stupid mistake at taking him to the chocobo fields would be forgiven. Why wasn’t Prompto moving?

“Mm,” Prompto eventually moaned, and Noctis felt a wave of relief wash over him. Noctis smiled at him through his tears, not even realizing he was crying until they fell on Prompto’s cheek, highlighting his freckles.

“Go,” Verstael said as he looked at him, his eyes pained. “I will take care of him. You need to defeat Ardyn. It was always you.”

“I know,” Noctis said. He looked at Prompto’s father imploringly. “Please don’t leave him alone.”

“I won’t,” Verstael assured him. “Now go. Kill Ardyn.”

Noctis didn’t want to get up and leave. He wanted to stay with Prompto and ignore the battle raging behind him, but he couldn’t. If he stayed then Ardyn would come for them all and kill them. Something had to be done about it. He kissed Prompto’s hand once more before standing up and looking to his father to protect him. Verstael looked up at him and nodded somberly, telling the prince to go and fight in the hopes that he would put an end to this. Noctis didn’t know what the prophecy said or what they expected of him, but he knew he had to try.

“Just tell Prompto I love him,” Noctis said as he looked at the sleeping Nephilim, just barely stirring. “In case I don’t make it back.”

“You will,” Verstael assured him. “But I will tell him.”

Noctis flew away before he thought better of it and stayed with Prompto. Now that his mind was focusing on the task in front of him, he searched the battlefield for the others. Ardyn was nowhere to be seen, but he found Gladio and Ignis, in the middle of the battle. They were fighting the angels, side by side, protecting Noctis’s father, who had been injured. Swiftly, he dropped down to the battlefield, summoning his sword, and quickly struck down an angel that was trying to overtake Gladio. The angel was screaming something at Gladio about how he was a traitor, but Noctis didn’t give him the chance to finish.

“Where’s Prompto?” Ignis asked as he threw a dagger at an angel, striking him in the heart.

“With his father,” Noctis replied as Gladio used his shield to flip an angel over, slamming him onto the ground before he had a chance to fly away. “He’s safe. Where’s Ardyn? We have to stop him!”

“Ravus went after him!” King Regis declared. “Noctis, do what you must! Take your brothers with you!”

“Come on!” Noctis said as he took off, not waiting for the others to agree. With a fluttering of his wings, he was back in the air, flying up as high as he needed to until he found Ravus and Ardyn on the battlefield. Ignis and Gladio were behind him, both of them looking at the fight down below.

“Noctis, we need a plan,” Ignis said as they looked at Ravus trying to attack Ardyn with a sword. It looked like Ardyn was laughing, as if toying with the celestial fate. “If he is having an easy time fighting Ravus then we need to coordinate an attack.”

“There’s no time,” Noctis said, watching as Ravus attacked Ardyn again, only to have this sword tossed to the side by the God. Nyx was on the verge of attacking, but Ravus was keeping him back, knowing that he couldn’t ever be a match for Ardyn’s power. If they were all outmatched then Noctis didn’t know how they could have a hope of defeating him. “All at once. It’s the only way we can do this. We need to subdue him all at once.”

“Can we do that without Prompto?” Gladio asked in concern. Noctis could hear in his tone that he didn’t think it was possible.

“We have to try,” Noctis replied. There was no choice. If Prompto wasn’t conscious then they still had to fight. “Come on.”

They didn’t hesitate anymore. If they did then that would mean certain death. Noctis flew towards Ardyn, his heart racing as he approached God quickly. Ardyn blocked his attack and Noctis swung at him with a sword, using his own sword to parry his strike. At the same time, Ravus made to strike Ardyn on one side as Ignis and Gladio surrounded him on the other side and behind him. Ardyn stared at them, smiling, as if he knew that they wouldn’t be enough. If Prompto didn’t wake up then it wouldn’t be enough.

“You plan to stop me?” Ardyn snapped with a barking laughter. “None of you are any match for me. And together? Don’t make me laugh.”

“Ignis!” Noctis called for the feint. Ardyn turned to Ignis, expecting him to strike. Instead, Noctis struck him from one side while Gladio attacked from the other. By the time Ardyn parried both of their attacks, Ignis was able to plunge a dagger into his back. Ardyn screamed, angrily looking between them, reaching behind him to take the dagger out. When he couldn’t reach it, he looked at Ignis with a scathing anger.

“I will rape you in front of your lover, your succubus fuck!” Ardyn screamed at Ignis. Ignis faltered, but Gladio didn’t. He screamed at Ardyn, angry and wildly swinging his shield at him for his verbal attack on Ignis. Noctis attacked as well, aiming to strike Ardyn down in an attempt to gain the advantage. Ardyn angrily knocked Gladio out of the way, then parried Noctis’s attack. They fought, swords clashing, Noctis’s anger matched by Ardyn’s malice.

Just when Noctis thought he had the upper hand, Ardyn parried his attack then flew towards Ignis, ready to fight him and kill him. Ignis let out a scream, loud and angry, as he was tackled to the ground, Ardyn on top of him, about to slit his throat. Gladio was on him quickly, his shield shoving Ardyn out of the way, sending him flying backwards. Ardyn regained his balance, hovering in air as he looked at Gladio standing over his lover, who was clutching at his already scarred eye. There was blood.

“I will kill you!” Ardyn shouted at them angrily. He looked like he was going to destroy them at a moment’s notice, although Noctis was beginning to suspect that Ardyn wasn’t nearly as strong as he said he was. “I will kill all of you!”

Noctis ignored his screams. He flew at him, his sword out and ready to strike again. It wasn’t working. They knew it wasn’t working. They had to fight a different way. Swords weren’t doing it. They had to use their power as an archangel, the Divinity, and a fallen angel. And they had to hope that Prompto would wake up and come to them. Noctis knew that he couldn’t do it without him. He needed his help. Throwing the sword at Ardyn, he nodded to Ravus, who was quickly coming back to the fight. They had to do everything they could to stop Ardyn.

Ravus went for Ardyn on one side and Noctis on the other as Gladio helped Ignis to his feet, assessing the wound. It wasn’t as deep as they thought at first, but it still required some healing or else there would be another scar on top of the one he already had. Noctis didn’t bother with his sword anymore. He had to use his hands, his raw power given to him by his parents. It was the only thing that could be done for it, and when he looked at Ravus, he knew that he was aware of it too.

They were on Ardyn at the same time, but Ardyn was faster. He grabbed Ravus and flipped him over his shoulder, slamming him into the ground violently. When Noctis was on him, Ardyn grabbed him by the throat and held him up, both of them hovering in the air as he sneered at him. Noctis struggled against him, but Ardyn slammed him into the ground, and Noctis let out a painful scream as his body was jarringly thrown down. Ardyn kept his hand around his throat, and Noctis tried to keep his composure as he felt his life being slowly taken from him. He put his hands on Ardyn’s wrist and used his power to try and use the natural gifts he had.

A searing pain tore through his head as his eyes turned a violet color, the future folding out before him. He just had to be patient and wait. Prompto was coming and he was going to help. Once he did, Ardyn wouldn’t stand a chance. But it wouldn’t be without a sacrifice. He looked over to the one who was watching him as he managed to wriggle free of Ardyn’s grip, flying backwards quickly as he widened the gap between him and God. It had to be done. It was the only way they could stop Ardyn.

It didn’t mean that Noctis wanted to do it though. He didn’t want anyone to die.

***

Prompto heard the clash of swords and screams of pain as the sun beat down around them. Someone was holding his hand, and there was something wet on his face. He let out a small groan, wondering why he felt the echoes of pain in the recesses of his mind. Opening his eyes, he looked over to his father, who was gripping his hand tightly. The sudden memory of it came back, the pain of his wings being broken, the knowledge that he was going to die soon, sudden and sure. Why wasn’t he dead? Even if he wasn’t dead, why weren’t his wings broken?

“You’re awake,” Verstael said as Prompto sat up slowly, his father helping him as his wings stretched behind him, still aching a bit. “Noctis saved you. I am still too weak to heal you just yet.”

“Noctis?” Prompto asked as he looked around. “He’s here? I have to go.”

“You were gravely injured,” Verstael argued as he stood up, his wings fluttering achingly behind them. They had been broken painfully just a short while ago, hadn’t they? Now they were completely healed, hurriedly reassembled before Noctis likely went off to fight Ardyn. “He asked me to watch over you. Stay.”

“I can’t,” Prompto replied as he looked at his father, pleadingly hoping he would stay out of harm’s way. “Noctis needs my help. He isn’t as strong and sure of himself when I’m not there.”

“He loves you,” Verstael stated, like he was trying to understand that his was the life that he had been taken from, the life that he would have seen and understood about his son if he hadn’t been locked away for all this time. “Then go to him. Make sure he is successful. No matter the cost.”

Prompto nodded, knowing that Noctis would disagree with such an assignment. He looked out to the field and immediately spread his wings, the silver and black shimmering in the sunlight. For such a beautiful day in Heaven, it was clear that things were going the way Hell wanted them to, the devilish forces close to victory. None of it would matter if Noctis wasn’t successful, though. He had to ensure he defeated Ardyn. There was what the prophecy declared and what Prompto knew to be true. Noctis didn’t need his help, not according to the prophecy. But Prompto knew better. He knew Noctis needed him.

The wind through his wings ached pleasantly as he flew towards the battle. It was as if they knew that he was in pain before and needed to stretch and confirm he was no longer injured. Flying quickly, he looked over the landscape, trying to find Noctis. When he spotted him, his breath caught, his heart dropping to his stomach. Noctis was facing off against Ardyn with… Nyx? Why was he there? Had the vision Ardyn showed him been correct? They should have known better and left Nyx behind, even if he insisted on going.

He couldn’t hesitate. Hesitating meant death for either of them. Prompto flew towards Ardyn, ready to attack him as Ardyn went for Noctis, only to be stopped by Nyx. There was no way that Prompto was going to let Ardyn hurt Nyx or Noctis. Screaming, he was on him in an instant, throwing Ardyn off guard as he threw him to the ground. The triumph Prompto felt only lasted a moment. God was glaring at him, flying towards him with his hands outstretched. Noctis was by his side, attacking Ardyn in his place, sending him flying backwards to try and help him gain distance between them.

Ardyn looked between them, trying to decide who to attack. Prompto’s heart fell when he went for Nyx instead of either of them, flying towards the only innocent one in the battle. Nyx, dressed in white and bracing himself, looked to Ardyn like he was ready for whatever fate came his way. Prompto wasn’t having it. Just because Nyx had forgotten him didn’t mean that he would allow him to get hurt. He flew towards Ardyn, tackling him from the side until they both went flying in a tumbling flurry of wings and punches being thrown.

There was little chance for Prompto to gain the upper hand, but he wasn’t going to let Ardyn break him like he already had. He got a few good punches in until Ardyn was trying to throw him to the ground. Prompto was able to right himself as he was thrown just before he hit the ground in front of Nyx, his feet grazing the grass as his wings kept him hovering in the air. Prompto looked at Nyx behind him, angry that they had thought it was a good idea for him to come here at all.

“What are you doing here?!” Prompto asked him, bracing himself for Ardyn’s attack. “You should go! Now!”

“I can’t!” Nyx replied. He was gripping Prompto tightly, holding onto him in a clear effort to not let him go. “Not when I remember everything!”

What was he talking about? Prompto had erased his memories, hadn’t he? How could Nyx remember everything so quickly? Had he really been so bad at being a Nephilim that he couldn’t even properly take away Nyx’s memory? Or was it something else entirely? Prompto felt a sudden sense of dread as Nyx pulled him close, ignoring Ardyn entirely. Noctis had intercepted him, holding him off, but now wasn’t the time for a private conversation. They had other things to worry about.

“Prompto,” Nyx said as he put one hand on Prompto’s face, holding him close. Prompto’s heart beat wildly fast, the memories that he had to let go of coming back to him in an instant. It was a mix between panic and heartache, of knowing that things were over and Nyx was in danger. “I love you. Please always remember that.”

“What are you-?” Prompto couldn’t finish was he was asking. Nyx pressed his lips against his, making him crumble into his touch. It didn’t matter if he loved Noctis. There was a history he had with Nyx, and this kiss reminded him of it. Nyx had always been so gentle and guiding, so kind and loving to him for the time they were together. This kiss felt different, though. It felt like Nyx was saying goodbye for the last time, like he knew they would never see each other again. Prompto didn’t like it, didn’t like how he felt like he was going to be left alone by him even though he had to let him go once and for all.

Nyx spun Prompto around quickly as Ardyn came for the Nephilim, his sword in hand. Prompto screamed, loud and more pained than when Ardyn had broken his wings. Ardyn angrily drove the blade into Nyx’s heart with a sickening sound that Prompto never wanted to hear again. He screamed for Nyx as Noctis tackled Ardyn again. Gladio and Ignis were on him, trying to pin him to the ground as Ravus called out for Nyx. Prompto could only scream in horror as Nyx began to fall.

Collapsing into Prompto’s arms, Nyx looked up at him with pained but loving eyes. He was bleeding out, his wound sudden and painful, but he managed to reach his hand up and touch Prompto’s face as they both fell to the ground. Prompto held him, crying for him as the others tackled Ardyn, trying to hold him back before he hurt someone else. They were trying to ensure that Prompto could say goodbye to Nyx as he screamed for him.

Desperately, he put his hands on Nyx’s wound, hoping that he could heal him. But Nyx was already gone, and his power knew it before his mind did. Prompto screamed for him, trying to get Nyx to heal to no avail. He felt like his heart was going to burst, Nyx looking at him with unseeing eyes permanently affixed in an expression of love. The ring around his neck glistened brightly in the sunlight, and Prompto called for Nyx again in a painful heartache that he couldn’t fathom.

“Nyx!” Prompto screamed for him, the sound carrying over the battle. He put a shaky hand on his lips, the color already draining from his face. “Come back! Nyx!”

But Nyx was already gone, and there was no bringing him back. Prompto looked up at Ardyn, currently being held back by Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis in a desperate attempt to subdue him once and for all. Anger and pain swelled in his chest, and he felt his power flow through him in response to it. He saw an opening as Ardyn flung Ignis into the air, sending him cartwheeling until he righted himself. With a guttural scream of pain and misery, Prompto flew towards him with the intent to kill.

Ignis managed to drive a dagger into his back, the second of two blades sticking out of him. Gladio had a sword and drove it into his side angrily. Prompto was on him as he flung Noctis away, pulling a blade out of seemingly thin air and plunging it into his chest. Noctis was hovering just in front of them, holding him in place as Ardyn writhed and screamed in pain. Prompto looked at Noctis with eyes of wild bloodlust. Someone had to pay for Nyx’s death, and that would be Ardyn.

“Do it!” Prompto screamed at Noctis, his pain threatening to destroy him before Ardyn had a chance to die. Noctis nodded, a sword appearing in his hand, as he flew towards Ardyn, driving the blade into his heart. Ardyn let out a scream, far angrier than he was in pain, but they all drove their blades into him more and more, ensuring that he would never escape and would die once and for all.

When the blades were deep enough, they put their hands on him, knowing that this would end him once and for all. Prompto channeled every ounce of energy he had in him to destroy Ardyn, letting the power and hatred flow out of his hands and into him. Ignis and Gladio were doing the same, and Noctis put his hands on Ardyn’s eyes, willingly pouring his power into him to kill him. It was working. Ardyn was dying.

“I will… Kill… You,” Ardyn struggled to get out, gasping his final words. At first he hung there, limp and unmoving, and Prompto thought that it was a rather anticlimactic ending to a prophecy they had been fighting hard to fulfill without even knowing it. But then it happened, sudden and forceful. All four of them were affected, the power spilling out of Ardyn in waves of blue light dancing around them. They all released Ardyn, but he stayed in the air, lifelessly hanging as if transfixed to the spot.

“What is going on?” Noctis asked Prompto as they all hovered, watching as the light spilled out of him in one, two, three, and then four arcs.

Prompto was about to respond, but he let out a scream as one of the blue arcs of light came directly for him, spilling into his body as it directly hit him in the chest. Ignis was struck at the same time, then Gladio, and lastly Noctis. They all let out a collective scream of surprise as a power never before felt flowed through them, dangerous and wild. Prompto felt the blue light pulsing within him, his body shaking violently as it tried to contain it. A moment later, all of them exuded the power emanating from their eyes as they fixed them towards the sky, four beacons uniting into one.

The power faded within them all, the light dissipating, and Ardyn’s body fell to the ground lifelessly. Pained but alive, the four of them looked at each other before they slowly drifted downwards. There was still fighting in the distance, but it wasn’t as strong as it was earlier. The victor was winning out, and the losing side would soon be made known. Prompto thought Hell was the victor, but it was hard to say. Either way, would it matter now that Ardyn was dead?

“What happened?” Noctis asked him. Ignis and Gladio looked to Prompto for answers, but Prompto could only look down at Nyx’s lifeless body. Quickly, Noctis came over to him and averted his gaze, making him look into Noctis’s eyes. “Don’t look at that Prompto. Look at me.”

“Nyx…” Prompto whimpered, his pain coming to the forefront, his tears coming back to him. “Noctis, why did he do that? He can’t be… I… I didn’t want...”

“I know,” Noctis said as he pulled him into a tight embrace, his comfort giving Prompto the space to let his pain go. He sobbed, his heart breaking, shattering into a million pieces as he screamed into Noctis’s arms. Nyx couldn’t be dead. It couldn’t be true. Prompto had let Nyx go in order to protect him, to keep him safe. Why didn’t it work? Why was he not breathing now? It wasn’t possible.

“We’ll go and assess the situation,” Ignis said as he looked at them before flying away with Gladio. Prompto ignored it, his pain too great. He had moved on, but he had done so with the knowledge that Nyx was safe and protected. Ravus had promised, didn’t he? So why was he there in the first place? Why did he sacrifice himself for Prompto? Why did he remember everything? It was too great for him, and Prompto felt his knees go weak from his grief. Noctis caught him, holding him upright as they hovered in the air just above the ground, wings fluttering behind the prince to keep them from completely collapsing.

“It’s okay, Prompto,” Noctis said soothingly as he held Prompto, still sobbing, in his arms. Prompto had his arms around Noctis’s shoulders as Noctis held him by the waist, holding him as tightly as possible without hurting him. “Nyx knew what he was doing. He knew that it was something he had to do.”

“Wh-why though?” Prompto sobbed. “He should be in Eos, happy and moving on with his life. Or with Ravus. Anywhere but here.”

“I know,” Noctis replied, holding him tighter. There was a fluttering of wings around them, as Prompto sobbed into Noctis’s arms. He felt like he was responsible for Nyx’s death, that it was his fault and that Nyx should be alive instead of him. Noctis said something to the person behind him, but Prompto couldn’t hear him. All he could hear was the sound of his mind telling him that Nyx should be alive and he should be dead.

“Son,” Verstael said behind him. Noctis released him only to have Prompto be pulled into his father’s arms. “It’s not fair. I know.”

“He was… He was…” Prompto couldn’t finish what he was going to say. How did he tell his father who Nyx was to him before he met Noctis? How did he explain to him that he had left Nyx to protect him? “I should be dead… I should have been me.”

“It wasn’t you, though,” Verstael replied. “As much as you want to change it, you are here and he is gone. We must suffer through the agony of losing those we love so we can live on and remember them. Look to your future.”

Verstael looked over to Noctis, and Prompto followed his gaze. Noctis was waiting for him, looking at him with the pain of someone who wanted to ensure Prompto’s happiness. Just because Prompto was crying over Nyx didn’t mean that Noctis was going to admonish him. If anything, he understood the pain of loss. But his father was having him face a hard truth. Prompto had to go on. Nyx died so Prompto could go on, so he could feel this agony and heartache over and over again until, in time, it hurt less and less. But right now it was too painful.

“What happens now?” Prompto asked as he looked between his father and Noctis. Ignis and Gladio were coming back with Regis and Clarus in tow, the battle now over. Regis was injured, but he was still moving, and Clarus had his arm around him for support. The victor was now obvious. As soon as God had died, Heaven had given up the fight.

“The prophecy is fulfilled,” Verstael said as he looked at Noctis, Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis. “Though not in the way I expected. The power goes to you four. Four Gods instead of six. Or one.”

“Gods?” Regis asked as he looked to his sons in surprise. He looked at Ignis and Noctis, assessing their worn out features. “My sons… Gods?”

“There will need to be a new rule in Heaven,” Verstael explained, looking to Noctis and Prompto. “Someone to right the wrongs that Ardyn has created.”

“If that is the case, then we need to undo the torture and pain in Hell as well,” Ignis pointed out, looking to Regis. “We cannot have change in Heaven without also having it in Hell.”

“To the victor go the spoils,” the king replied as he looked to the four of them. “This is your victory. You four get to decide what to do.”

The four looked at each other, each one just as perplexed as the next. Prompto didn’t know how to feel about becoming a god, about sharing in equal power and responsibility with the others. It was overwhelming, and he could only think about the pain that Nyx had gone through, only to meet his death so miserably. That’s when he thought about it. What the true future of Eos should have been and could still be. It shouldn’t have to end it a painful death for anyone, and they now had the power to change that. Prompto looked to Noctis, and he seemed to nod in understanding.

“Looks like Prompto and I will take over Heaven,” Noctis said as he grabbed Prompto’s hand and held it tightly. “While Ignis and Gladio will take over Hell. I’m not sure who has their work cut out for them more. Probably us? But we need to make a better future for humanity. We need to make it what it was before Ardyn came along. Besides, I was never cut out for Hell. Maybe Heaven will be easier.”

“It is a difficult road ahead of you all,” Verstael said as he looked to their futures. “But it is what the prophecy demanded, what needed to happen to destroy the Devourer. We must now all work to ensure that the future is better than what was left to us.”

“Well you’re the King of Kings now,” Gladio said as he looked to Noctis. Ignis nodded, a wry smile on his face as if he liked the thought of both of them ending up as kings.

“Why me?” Noctis asked in disbelief. “Why not Prompto?”

“You really think I need to be the King of Kings?” Prompto asked in equal disbelief. “Me? This anxious mess? Nah, Noctis. It’s always been you.”

“Fuck,” Noctis said reluctantly. “I guess we should get started then?”

They all agreed, albeit still confused at the sudden change in rule, and Prompto was left assured that Nyx would be given a proper burial before they went to face their future. Heaven and Hell were going to have to find a way to get along now, whether they liked it or not. There was new management, and they weren’t going to let the fate of Eos turn to chaos and ruin. They wouldn’t let others like Nyx suffer. Not anymore.

Chapter Text

There was a lot of work to be done. Ignis was finding that newfound power was exhausting, and he wasn’t wholly satisfied with being a god as a result of what had happened. Then again, it was better than the alternative, and he and Noctis were working closely to create a better Hell than what there previously was. Heaven and Hell were going drastic and radical changes, the first of which was the end of the demonic torture of the souls there. Noctis had been right, though. Reigning in Hell was easier than the time Noctis and Prompto were having in Heaven.

Drastic changes required a large amount of order and sweeping decisions on the way Heaven and Hell would be run. Human souls in Hell were no longer tortured for the eternal punishment or to be turned into demons. Ignis poured through the sacred texts that had been found in Heaven, a clear and concise indication of what the Six Astrals had intended for the souls after death. Those who died were given a choice. They could join their forces or be reincarnated for the next cycle as originally intended.

Death was more than amenable to help the souls as they progressed back to reincarnative cycles instead of an eternal afterlife. That’s when they discovered that even angels and demons were reincarnated, giving Prompto a new hope to know that Nyx would one day be reborn. Death promised him that it would be a happier life, one without so much tragedy. Ignis was relieved to know that the souls were given a choice now, and some were more than happy to join their ranks to keep Heaven and Hell in service to humanity. It also meant that Heaven and Hell became a lot more similar than they were different.

It was a strange sensation when Ignis watched as Gladio reunited with his family. His sister, Iris, was quick to join her brother amongst the ranks of Hell. She and her mother had been in Heaven, spending an eternity there, until Death had to begin the arduous process of releasing the souls from Heaven and Hell. When Noctis had taken Iris and Gladio’s mother to Hell to reunite with Clarus and Gladio, Ignis had seen Iris eyeing Noctis like she was enamored. He felt sorry for the poor dear, especially since he knew that Noctis only ever had eyes for Prompto.

Ignis had watched from the throne as Gladio reunited with his family, sitting in his perfectly dark red suit with his crown on his head. It was the same crown they all had, one that had been gifted to them by Prompto from his power as a Nephilim, a sign that they were all equals in this even if Noctis was in charge. Gladio had hugged his family tightly, Clarus no longer so upset that Gladio had fallen as an angel. It was hard to be mad when his son became a god, after all.

When Gladio had turned to him, seeing Ignis smiling at him warmly, he called for him, beckoning him to join the reunion. Ignis was unsure, but he complied, his wings unfurled as he flew gracefully over to them. Instead of being able to greet Gladio’s family like the graceful king he was, Gladio had pulled him into his arms and spun him around like they were both princes in a fairytale before kissing him and introducing a blushing Ignis to his family. Clarus seemed to finally concede that Ignis wasn’t a terrible choice for Gladio when Ignis had only laughed and kissed Gladio in return, making him blush just a brightly. Eventually, Gladio’s mother decided she wanted to be reincarnated, even though Clarus had chosen to stay behind to be in service to Regis. Ignis suspected it was because Regis and Clarus had fallen in love, which was later confirmed soon after Gladio’s mother had passed into her next life.

There was so much to do in the process of changing things, the first of which was Ignis and Gladio’s coronation. It was a very regal affair, something that had never been done before, much less to the Divinity and a fallen angel turned into gods. Ignis still didn’t know what part of his power was due to such a transformation and what was due to being a god now, but he did know that he was far stronger than he had ever been. The coronation was also startling because it meant that Regis was willingly giving up his throne to let Ignis and Gladio take over. No one had heard of the king giving up his throne for a demon before.

The coronation happened just after Gladio’s family was delivered to Hell, no longer the horrific place that it used to be, although the landscape wasn’t likely to change. Ignis and Gladio were coronated together with Ignis being the king in charge and Gladio his lover at his side. Gladio was more than happy to give Ignis the rule, but it was during the coronation that Prompto gave them each a crown, smiling at them as the permanent mark appeared on their foreheads. Noctis had been there as well, both of them overseeing Ignis and Gladio’s coronation. Noctis and Prompto were called the Gods on High by the local residents of Hell, and it suited them.

Ignis and Gladio had also used the coronation as their wedding day, both a ceremony of desire and necessity. Ignis had been given a long, dark red cape and Gladio a black one, as they were proclaimed husbands and kings to rule over Hell in tandem with Prompto and Noctis ruling Heaven. Prompto and Noctis had yet to marry, giving Prompto the time he needed to heal from Nyx’s death. Ignis was the one who was given the throne, while Gladio stood by his side, his arm lovingly draped over the back of the regal chair. Regis had passed the throne to his son, and Ignis had embraced the change even though he hadn’t particularly enjoyed all the work that came with it.

It didn’t mean it was smooth sailing, though. Ignis and Gladio had to contend with the demons and fallen angels who wanted to continue what they were doing. There were crossroads deals that had to be terminated, which caused some fallout from the demons who had been working tirelessly to damn the souls of humans on Eos. And Ignis had to help all the demons who were damned and tortured, twisted into something hideous like he had been. That’s where Ignis had discovered where his power truly lay. It was the power of the Divinity.

He had the ability to heal the souls of the tortured, the wounded, the damned, in all the ways that Gladio had healed him. Instead of relying on physical intimacy, though, they were able to heal by just a simple two-fingered touch to their forehead. It was so simple that the first time Ignis had done it, he had laughed. It was almost ridiculous, and he had shown Gladio what he could do by helping a demon. He offered to turn Gladio’s wings back to white, but Gladio had declined, stating that he loved them because it was now a product of his love for Ignis.

Now that they had been working tirelessly for the past year, it was time for them both to take a break. Ignis had a council of those worth being consulted on matters of rule, including Regis, Cindy, and Aranea. Cor was on his counsel, but he spent more of his time in Heaven with Prompto. Ravus was on both counsels as well, but he spent more of his time in Hell than in Heaven. Ignis had the sense that he had fallen in love with Nyx at first sight and had been devastated that he had died, but Nyx had already been reincarnated and was now a baby on Eos.

“Is his majesty ready?” Gladio asked him as he approached the throne. He had been pouring over the plans for what they were turning the pits into. It was a sinkhole of terrible memories where anyone’s worst fears came alive. Ignis planned on filling it with cement or something else. Either way, they were shutting it down, but first they had to get rid of all of the curses, hexes, and other dark magic in there that would keep people tormented as long as they were around the pits. He wouldn’t let it happen.

“Why is his majesty asking?” Ignis replied, smiling at him as he looked up from the papers that had a list of ways they had been successful in removing some of the worse magic in the pits so far. The following page had an even longer list of the things they still had to do.

“Because I would like to take my husband on a much deserved vacation,” Gladio replied. He walked over to Ignis, who remained seated on the throne, his chin tilted upwards as Gladio leaned over and kissed him passionately on the lips. “What do you say? Can I take my husband with me now?”

“Of course,” Ignis replied languidly, with a bright smile. Gladio held out a hand, and he took it, their silver and gold wedding bands shimmering in the lamplight. Since they had taken over, Ignis and Gladio had brought more light, more color, to the palace. Still, there was something to be said for the old aesthetic. “I can’t wait to be wrapped in my husband’s arms.”

“I’m still here, you know,” Aranea said next to him. Ignis was aware. He had just chosen to ignore her presence. “Do you want me to watch the kingdom while you’re gone or not?”

“Sorry Aranea,” Ignis replied as he looked over to the silver haired reaper. “I do appreciate you running things while we’re away. You’re the one one I would trust for the job.”

“Of course,” Aranea replied with a smile. She took a seat on the throne, her hand outstretched for the papers Ignis had been reading. “I’m the only one who won’t take anyone else’s shit. Well besides Cor, and he’s currently upstairs helping Noctis and Prompto.”

Ignis nodded and handed her the papers. “You’re the only one who I trust to kick someone’s ass if they step out of line. Nevertheless, if anything happens, you will call me?”

“Oh don’t worry about that, your majesty,” Aranea teased. “You’ll be the first god I call if everything goes to shit.”

“You won’t call Prompto?” Gladio asked with an amused laugh while Aranea rolled her eyes. Ignis felt bad for her. Since Prompto had ascended the throne and become a god alongside the rest of them, Cor had made frequent trips to Heaven to aide him. Aranea suffered from it when they were both in Purgatory. It was mainly because if Cor wasn’t acting like a doting father to Prompto, he was acting like a doting husband to Verstael.

At first everyone found it strange that Cor would end up with someone who looked so much like Prompto. Over time Ignis saw the differences that were so subtle but so obvious that it made him wonder how he could ever think Prompto and Verstael looked alike. Based on the way that Noctis complained about how Cor and Verstael both were the most overprotective parents of his lover, Ignis was fairly certain that they were a match made in Heaven. Prompto was lavishing in it, never having experienced a tender family before. Ignis was happy for him, even if it was to his brother’s detriment.

“Get out of here before I change my mind,” Aranea said with mock anger. “I’ll call you if I need you, but I’m pretty sure I can handle a weekend without you.”

“You heard the reaper,” Gladio said. Quickly, he picked Ignis up by wrapping his arms around his legs, hoisting him in the air. Ignis couldn’t help but laugh as he was carried away by Gladio, half sitting on his arms while being carried out. Hell had become a much kinder place since they had started to rule, but they had a long way to go. Right now, though, Ignis was going to enjoy the youthful innocence Gladio retained and caved to being carried out like he wasn’t a god or a king.

“Are you going to carry me the entire way?” Ignis asked, amused and not at all unhappy. Gladio smiled up at him before stopping so Ignis could lean over and kiss him. “We might not make it out of the door.”

“I hope they know what they’re in for,” Gladio said with a grin. “At this rate, we’ll be glad we got two tents instead of one.”

“I’m already looking forward to it,” Ignis replied. He kissed him again before Gladio proceeded to carry him out of the throne room and towards their destination. Eternity with Gladio was always a pleasant thought.

***

“Noct!” Prompto called for Noctis, nearly letting it out as a low whine as he stepped into the throne room in Heaven. The palace doors were always kept open now, and much of the palace had been remodeled or was in the process of being remodeled. “Come on! We’re supposed to be going now! We’re going to be late!”

“Your fathers have spoiled you too much,” Noctis replied as Prompto flew towards him. He was always far too attractive for his own good, and his white wings against his dark hair and stormy eyes only made it harder for Prompto to not immediately lose his focus. “You’re so impatient.”

“Oh, it’s not them who did that,” Prompto said with a gleeful smile as Noctis handed a bunch of papers off to one of his many subjects. The angel bowed and immediately left to give them their space. As much as they respected that Prompto and Noctis were now gods, it was difficult for them to accept that a Nephilim was in charge, even after Prompto pointed out that Ardyn was also a Nephilim, leaving more questions than they had answers. He immediately flew into Noctis’s arms, sitting on him on the throne, his stomach churning happily. “That’s all you.”

“Well, I have a lot of reasons to spoil you,” Noctis said as he ran a hand along Prompto’s arm and another along his spine, trailing down to the small of his back. Prompto shivered in delight, thoroughly enchanted by the angel, whether he was on a throne or not. “I have to spoil my fiance when I can.”

Prompto felt a rush and a thrill go through him as he cupped Noctis’s face in his hands before kissing his lips, his tongue tracing over Noctis’s with a sweet delight. Noctis immediately caved, as he always did, and Prompto delighted in feeling Noctis’s hands around his waist, pulling him deeper into the kiss. It was always like this. They had great difficulty staying away from each other, and today was no exception.

“Just because you two are engaged, doesn’t mean I want to see that,” Cor said behind them, making Prompto and Noctis both blush and pull away from the kiss. Noctis put his hand on Prompto’s thighs, holding him on his lap, his other on his lower back as they both looked at Cor and Verstael heading towards them.

“It’s payback for making me watch you two being a grossly cute couple,” Prompto pointed out with a laugh. When Verstael and Cor had met again, it was like they were picking up from something that could have been so many years ago. Prompto had seen how Verstael had been so thankful for Cor’s guidance in his absence, and Cor had only been overly amenable to ensuring that he did everything he could to protect Prompto and Verstael both. It was no wonder that they ended up falling in love, and Prompto had been quick to point out that it was because of him, albeit teasingly. Maybe Noctis was right. Maybe he was being spoiled too much.

It wasn’t as if they hadn’t worked hard though. Prompto had felt a profound sense of relief when Death had taken over again, allowing the souls of humanity to make the choice to either join the ranks of Heaven and Hell, now as one entity, or be reincarnated. The souls of the fallen angels, the celestial fates who have died, the demons who have passed on, were all reincarnated as well, giving Prompto even more relief than he had ever experienced in his life. Nyx had already been reincarnated, and while Prompto was grateful for it, he had also kept a careful eye on his soul. Noctis had assured him that he wasn’t upset by it in the least. Prompto deserved to know that Nyx was having a happier life than the life he had been granted.

When they had both taken over Heaven, they had struggled at first. Noctis had been right. Making changes in Heaven was far harder than it was for Ignis in Hell. It was as if most in Hell were relieved by the change. Everyone in Heaven railed against it. But Noctis and Prompto were in charge now, and those who tried to resist were far from capable of stopping them. General Glauca had tried, but once he saw that Lunafreya had been sentenced to death and reincarnated, he had quickly submitted. Nevertheless, Death reincarnated his soul as well, recognizing that he would eventually try and overtake Noctis and Prompto on the throne. Since then, the changes to Heaven and Hell came swiftly.

After a year of hard work, of trying to right the wrongs that had escalated with Ardyn’s absent rule as God, Noctis and Prompto were ready for a break. They were working tirelessly to help the souls of those who had passed move onto the next stage that they chose, whether it was to help Heaven and Hell run smoothly or to allow them to reincarnate. In a sense, Death had become the true ruler of the cosmos, directing souls to their next stage and cycle. Noctis and Prompto had conceded to only give him the space to do what was natural and what was originally intended before Ardyn exerted his control over the cosmos. They were happy to let things be how they naturally should be. It was less work for them while they tried to wrangle the angels and get them to cooperate.

Cor and Verstael had been more than helpful in their efforts to get the angels to cooperate when they were being disagreeable. Most of the newer angels were ready for the change, not yet fully indoctrinated into Ardyn’s style of thinking. The older angels were more of the difficulty, and General Glauca’s reincarnation made them all nervous. Several of them had asked to be reincarnated, unable to adhere to the new style of rule that was gentler, not as admonishing, and didn’t rely on beliefs that were not only false but were also harmful. Once they saw it wasn’t a painful experience, it helped solidify their decision and Prompto and Noctis’s rule.

Verstael was one of the older archangels, someone who had been there since Ardyn took over. He had seen what life had been like before the fall of the Six Astrals and after, but he had been indoctrinated by Ardyn early in his life as an archangel. After Ardyn’s disappearance, Verstael gradually realized the truth and sought to undo what had been done. That was when he had discovered the prophecy, set forth by one of the prophets on Eos before their untimely demise. Ardyn had a way of tracking down those who sought to end him and kill them before they had a fighting chance. It was the reason Verstael had found Prompto’s mother, had explained what had to be done, and had raised Prompto to be the Nephilim that was needed to fulfill the prophecy. He just hadn’t anticipated being so attached to his only son.

Throughout the course of the year, Verstael and Cor had worked hard to aid Prompto and Noctis to make the changes that were necessary in Heaven and Hell. The impacts on Eos were already being felt. Humanity was seeing less war, more peace, and the establishment of many civil services that brought an end to hunger, homelessness, and other problems. Work still had to be done, but Verstael was leading the cause to convince the older archangels to either be reincarnated or to join Noctis and Prompto. After a shaky year of hard work, it seemed like things were finally calming down.

Now Noctis and Prompto were taking a much deserved break, and Verstael and Cor would be in charge for the interim. Prompto knew that they could handle it better than anyone else could, particularly because Verstael was one of the strongest archangels there now that he had fully healed from his wounds. It was still somewhat of a problem for the older angels to fully accept that Prompto was Nephilim and a god, but Verstael was progressively winning them over. Cor had made matters easier since he was one of the most feared reapers out there, particularly because rumor got around about how he convinced Death not to reap his soul for good.

“What are we going to do with our son?” Verstael asked in mock exasperation. He smiled at Cor as the reaper put his arm around him warmly. “I think the only thing we can do is continue to be grossly cute.”

“I think I could do that,” Cor said with a smile before kissing the ever beautiful Verstael.

“Ew nope. I’m out of here,” Prompto said as he stood up, making Cor and Verstael laugh as he grabbed Noctis’s hand and pulled him along and away from the throne. “Come on Noctis. They’re waiting for us.”

“I’ll see to it that the kingdom is well cared for,” Verstael offered as they walked past them, heading out of the throne room and onto their destination.

“I know you will,” Noctis called back, chuckling as he followed Prompto. “You sure you want to go? We could just take the weekend to ourselves?”

“We haven’t seen them in forever,” Prompto replied excitedly. “Not everyone together and not for fun. We’re overdue. And they promised two tents, not one.”

“Good because we are going to need it,” Noctis giggled, annunciating each word like it was its own sentence.

“Come on you sex fiend,” Prompto giggled as they made their way towards the veil to Eos. “Ignis and Gladio are likely scarred enough as it is.”

“You’re calling me the sex fiend?” Noctis asked, making Prompto blush bright red. “Who was it that was begging to be bound and gagged last night?”

“It’s going to be you if you say it any louder,” Prompto shot back, trying not to let the image of their most recent sexual exploit derail him. He didn’t need to get lost in that thought. “Come on.”

They slipped through the veil easily enough, entering into a forest on the outskirts of Lucis. It was a quiet place, one with a lake so Prompto could finally take Noctis on a fishing trip. Ignis and Gladio had said that they would have everything they needed for the camping trip they had planned for months. It was just as difficult getting the time to get away from ruling a kingdom as it was ruling a kingdom. Prompto was grateful for the break, and he knew the others were as well. For once it would just be nice to be with his fiance and brothers without any issues.

Noctis had only recently proposed, but when he did Verstael and Cor immediately started making wedding plans. It was hilarious, cute, and entirely embarrassing. Noctis embraced it, especially when his father came to visit and threw them a celebratory party with the entirety of Heaven and Hell present. It was embarrassing for Prompto, who wasn’t used to any of that attention, but Noctis had only kept his arm around his waist the entire time and seduced him all through the night. By the end of the celebration, Prompto had completely forgotten about everyone but Noctis. He had that way of enchanting him.

Leading him through the forest, Noctis took Prompto by the hand, the night already descending upon Eos. Up ahead Prompto could see the flickering of a fire, and he heard Gladio’s booming laughter as Ignis said something in his muffled dulcet tones. There was a clearing just up ahead, and Prompto could vaguely make out the outline of two tents. His heart skipped a beat. They were finally going to be able to spend time with Gladio and Ignis for the first time in a long time. Thinking about it, it was the first time they would all be together without any worries or problems. It was the first time since they met that Prompto wasn’t worried about someone trying to kill him.

“What do we have here?” Noctis asked as he stepped into the clearing, the camp already set up for the night. Ignis and Gladio were sitting in two fold out chairs, looking quite comfortable and pleased with themselves. “Two gods sitting in the middle of the forest?”

“Who would have thought two more gods would appear?” Gladio asked him with a grin, speaking in a mock Tenebraean accent. They both stood up and approached Noctis and Prompto, each of them taking turns to hug each other.

“It is good to see you,” Ignis commented as he hugged Prompto. “You look well.”

“You too,” Prompto replied with a smile, still feeling guilty he had never been able to really heal the scarring on Ignis’s face, including the small gash over his already scarred eye. Regardless, he was still ridiculously good looking, and Prompto had teasingly recommended to Noctis more than once that they should have a threesome just to watch Noctis shiver and writhe in disgust. Despite their penchant for bondage, neither of them were interested in bringing Ignis or Gladio into the mix. It was entirely too weird of a thought to involve Ignis or Gladio since they were like brothers to them both.

“Sit down,” Gladio recommended as he pulled out two more chairs. “Relax. Enjoy. We’re just four gods in a forest with nothing better to do.”

“What could four gods possibly have to do anyway?” Noctis joked as they all laughed at the ridiculousness of their trip. Anyone who encountered them might not find anything amiss save for the permanent crowns on their foreheads. When Prompto had given them each one, they had all equally insisted that he have one as well. Luckily, he found that it was an easy remedy and could adorn himself with the same crown that he had given to them.

“Running the realms certainly isn’t on our radar,” Ignis added with a wry smile. When he spoke next, his tone was hushed, serious but happy. “I’m glad we could all come here.”

“I am too,” Prompto added. He sat next to Noctis and sighed happily, sinking into the chair and grabbing Noctis’s hand naturally. It was always so easy to seek him out. “It feels like we’ve been fighting a long, uphill battle and we’re finally there.”

“There’s still a lot of work to do,” Ignis pointed out. He grabbed Gladio’s hand, their wedding bands gleaming in the firelight.

“True,” Prompto replied. He smiled at Noctis and kissed him on the lips, his heart fluttering with a calm contentness he hadn’t ever felt with anyone else. “But for now we’re going to camp.”

The firelight flickered beautifully, casting shadows on the ground, a warm glow on all their faces as they celebrated their long awaited reunion.