Chapter Text
Ignis was seven when he shattered the previous top score for the advanced-placement test. He couldn't help thinking the adults were all making a big deal out of nothing, because it wasn't that hard of a test, but he understood that it meant they'd decided he was some level of genius, and he was fully aware that they were going to take advantage of it.
He was placed in an accelerated learning program, and tested out of that several years later, long before his peers.
Ignis was ten when he finished what amounted to secondary school and began working for the crown. He started training to be the king's next political adviser. There was a chance he wouldn't take the job for several more decades, since the current adviser was not all that old and there didn't need to be two of them. There was also a chance that he would never serve as King Regis' adviser, as the man was getting older every day (almost noticeably, on stressful occasions), but it was assumed-- or hoped, at least-- that the king would have an heir, and Ignis would serve them.
In fact, the king did have an heir, when Ignis was fourteen-- a little boy they named Noctis. Unfortunately, his mother didn't survive childbirth, and there was a period of mourning for her, and for the king, and for the prince who would grow up without a mother (as Regis claimed tearfully but vehemently that he would never take another queen). Nobody mourned for the nursemaids who spent the next few sleepless months trying to calm a child who seemed to know that something was wrong. And nobody mourned for Ignis, because they couldn't expect what would come to pass.
What first came to pass was a small family emergency that the prince's current nursemaid desperately needed to see to. She was a dependable sort, and nobody had expected her to shirk such an important duty (though nobody blamed her for it; family was important, after all), so there hadn't been a second maid on hand to take over. The woman hurried into the library, where she rightly expected to find Ignis, and shoved the squirming little baby into his arms before explaining the situation in as few words as possible.
He didn't have the chance to ask 'why me?' because she was gone before he could get the first half-syllable out, but he asked Gladio when he found the young man in the training room, a frantic twelve minutes later.
“Well, you're smart,” Gladio said with a shrug. “She probably figured you could handle it.”
It wasn't that Ignis couldn't handle it-- probably-- since he was, after all, some level of genius, but it wasn't something he'd had much experience with, and he said as much. “Gladio, I have never held a baby in my life. And this is the prince. Shouldn't he be with someone a little more suited to caring for his needs?”
Gladio picked up his sword (he'd dropped it when Ignis had come rushing at him with a baby in his arms) and carried it over to the armor rack before coming closer. “Hey, in an emergency, you take what you can get. Here, let me have 'im.”
Ignis gladly handed the child over and watched in gentle amazement as Gladio cradled him expertly in the crook of his elbow. Noctis even seemed to find the position comfortable, as he stopped squirming and whining. “You're rather good at this,” Ignis mentioned, folding his arms as he tried to study what his friend was doing.
“Comes with practice,” Gladio said. “I've got a little sister at home. Used to have to take care of her a lot, and she always wanted to be held before she'd fall asleep. This guy's not so bad.”
“Huh, I didn't know you had any siblings.” Although Ignis considered Gladio a friend, there were still quite a few things they'd never spoken about. The two had met not long after Ignis had begun working for the crown, when it had been suggested that he start learning to fight, since the king's adviser was a target for assassination almost as often as the king himself. After he'd passed most of the basic courses and a few advanced ones, he was paired with Gladio for training.
The other kid was maybe a year older than him, and the same amount taller, but easily twice as muscular already. At only twelve years old, he'd already looked like he could fend off a few magitek troopers, let alone your average soldiers. It was to be expected; the same way that Ignis was training to be the king's next adviser, Gladio was training to be the king's next shield-- his personal bodyguard. It was a line of work that ran in the family, apparently.
The two of them spent quite a lot of time together after that-- training, of course, but also some of whatever leisure time they had. They were the only people their age who worked this closely with the royal family, so simply by virtue of those two things (age, and their shared understanding of what it was like to be in service to the crown) they were bound to get along at least somewhat well. It helped that Gladio was funny, kind, and far smarter than his looks would give him credit for. He was dedicated to his training, loved to read, and-- apparently-- got along well with children.
Furthermore, he seemed to like Ignis too, which was a surprise to the young adviser-to-be, because adults always liked him well enough, but kids his age didn't seem too keen on being around him. It had to do with how the common description of him had changed as he'd neared adulthood: as a child, he'd been “precocious”, which had turned into “capable” as a young teen. He understood that the next step was something along the lines of “cold”, but apparently it wasn't something that bothered Gladio, as they became friends without much effort.
On this particular day, while they watched over the little prince, Ignis made an effort to ask further questions about Gladio's family, as it was something that hadn't occurred to him (Ignis didn't have much family to speak of himself) but was clearly important to his friend. Gladio happily told stories about his father and sister and various cousins, in between teaching Ignis how to take care of a fussy infant.
The nursemaid came back a few hours later, overflowing with apologies which stopped abruptly when she realized that Noctis was laughing and smiling at the two teenagers, who were sitting on the floor of his room and dancing him around with a moogle plushie. She sighed heavily (relief, Ignis was sure), and thanked them profusely before taking the prince and freeing them of the obligation of looking after him any longer. She must have told someone about the situation, however, because it was not the last time that a nursemaid asked one of the boys to watch Noctis for a while. It became a fairly common event, and although Ignis would never have expected to add childcare to his repertoire, he became rather good at it, and even came to look forward to being interrupted by nursemaids who just wanted a short break. If nothing else, it was an hour per day that he could spend with Gladio, who'd given him express instructions to call him if he needed (or wanted) help with the kid.
Maybe things could have gone on this way, and Ignis would later sometimes wonder how life could have been between the three of them-- a prince and his two older friends; a king, his adviser, and his shield-- but they never had the luxury of finding out.
It was a few weeks before the crown prince's first birthday, which also was to serve as his public name-day, and the two teens were helping plan the celebrations. At the moment, they were making a valiant effort to figure out what Noctis' favorite color was-- a silly and probably-futile endeavor which mostly consisted of them setting up brightly colored toys around the room and seeing which one he crawled towards. Nine times out of ten, it seemed his favorite color was “Ignis” or “Gladio”. The tenth time was never consistent. It wasn't very informative, but it had the three of them laughing.
“Let's just go with black,” Gladio eventually suggested, when an hour of this didn't give them any definitive answer. “It is the official royal color.”
Ignis raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “A little morbid for a toddler's birthday decorations, don't you think?”
“So, what? Another royal color? Purple's royal.”
“Most people would probably choose blue in this case.”
Gladio huffed and leaned back on his arms. “Well that's a little cliché.”
Ignis was about to agree but counter that being cliché didn't necessarily make blue a bad choice, when he caught sight of Noctis, who had toddled off to a toy at the back of the circle (grey) but was now taking wobbly but meaningful steps towards the door-- in Ignis' direction. Ignis was surprised out of his response, almost to the point of complete speechlessness, though he managed a quiet, shocked, “Gladio, his eyes.”
“Yeah, I guess that's enough reason to choose blue,” he said. “It's kind of a dark blue though. Might be nicer if we went with something brighter.”
But Ignis was hardly aware of what Gladio was saying. He scrambled to his feet in a hurry, eyes still locked on the little prince, who was making his way to the door, arms outstretched-- as if he were chasing something-- eyes glowing a brilliant pink.
Gladio picked up on Ignis' fear and rushed to him, turning to face whatever he was looking at. He gasped through his nose when he saw what had his friend on edge, and took the few adult-sized steps across the room needed to intercept Noctis before he could let himself out into the corridor.
“Whoa buddy,” he said, scooping the toddler up into his arms. “I don't know what kind of spirit you're talkin' to, but you can't go wandering off by yourself.”
Ignis joined him before he even had Noctis properly situated. He came up close to the prince's face and watched as the light faded, leaving his eyes their normal deep blue. “What in Eos was that?” he asked faintly.
“I didn't really think it was true,” Gladio began, shifting Noctis to better accommodate his squirming. “But my dad told me once about the kings being able to talk to gods and things. Said he saw King Regis do it once, and his eyes glowed. I thought he was pulling my leg, but I guess not.”
Quite a few thoughts ran through Ignis' mind at that explanation, not least of which was surprise that there had apparently been a god in the room, but what he said with a shaky laugh was, “Well, then. Maybe we ought to pick magenta for the decorations.”
Gladio had about two seconds to laugh at that before they heard the first explosion.
What followed was chaos.
Instinctively, they rushed from the room, out into the hallway, hoping to find the source of the commotion, or someone who had answers. Everyone they passed on their way out into the courtyard was as confused as they were. Soldiers were rushing about, most in the direction of the sound, and it wasn't for another minute and a half that they heard the second explosion. This one was followed quickly by a third, a fourth, another, until it was a cacophony of ballistic noise coming from all directions.
The screams mingled with the detonations and echoed throughout the city, though they were muffled slightly inside the palace where Ignis and Gladio stood, momentarily frozen as they frantically tried to decide what the protocol was for such a situation.
“Shit,” Gladio said, looking at least as stricken as Ignis felt. “Shit. Ignis, what do we do?” He looked down at the baby in his arms, who was trembling and crying thinly. The little prince may not have understood even as much as they did, but he knew it was distressing. “Should we take him somewhere? A safe room or something?”
“I don't know, I'm not sure,” Ignis said, glancing around at the madness around them. They could see smoke rising from buildings a few blocks away, and even as they watched, airships came onto the scene, sporting Imperial insignias. The kingdom of Lucis had never been on particularly good terms with the Niflheim empire, but there'd been no talk of hostilities any time recently that he could recall. He wondered if he'd been kept out of those meetings, still considered too young? “If it's come to this, we can't stay here. We need to get Noctis out of the city.”
Gladio didn't argue or second-guess Ignis' decision. “Right,” he said, and began to lead the way.
Even as he followed him, though, Ignis wasn't sure of his own choice. Did it show a lack of loyalty? A lack of faith in their king and their soldiers to get them through this attack? Their grand city was both beautiful and strong, and the kingsglaive should be able to fend off Imperial soldiers, enough at least to secure the palace. But he could see them rushing about, Imperials surging up the steps to the castle, crownsguard running to meet them, civilians darting this way and that, trying not to get caught in the fray. There were too many, too many Imperial soldiers and their frightening Magitek companions, too many airships hovering above them, half-obscured in the black smoke pouring from the cityscape, already too many of their own fallen in crumpled heaps out in the courtyard.
Maybe he could have trusted the city with his own life, but not with the prince's.
On the south-west side of the castle, Gladio took them down into a passageway hidden behind a heavy tapestry. He gave the prince to Ignis as he moved it aside and ushered them in. A group of servants huddled in the dark corridor inside, and they gasped when the two young men joined them, fearful until they recognized them-- and the little baby Ignis held.
“You've got the prince!” one of them cried. “Thank the gods! They're already inside the castle-- We didn't know if--”
Sure enough, several sets of heavy clanking footsteps passed. Ignis held Noctis closer, silently praying to any god that would listen that the little one would stay quiet. When the danger passed and all that could be heard beyond the shaky, terrified breaths of the eight of them was the muffled echo of the chaos outside, Gladio stepped forward into the pathway and motioned for them to follow.
“C'mon,” he said, standing straight and trying to appear strong for the small group. “It's not safe to stay. Let's go.”
The servants seemed unsure about leaving the relative sanctuary of the hiding spot, but they followed Gladio (and Ignis, who stayed just a step behind him), if only because they believed he'd never willingly put the prince in danger, at least.
The passageway ended at a small door that brought them out into the gardens. The fighting was going on in full force out there too, but they had no choice. They hurried into the yard where soldiers clashed with one another between rows of trampled shrubs, Gladio leading the way, winding through the confusion as best he could. He fell back when an Imperial soldier jumped out at him from beyond a corner, and they grappled with each other for a long tense moment (the servants watching on in horror; Ignis terrified, wondering what he'd do if Gladio went down while he had no way to defend himself or Noctis or the others), until Gladio managed to disarm the soldier of his shortsword and bash him in the face with its pommel. They didn't wait to see if the soldier was dead; he was on the ground and that was enough for them to continue on.
The shortsword served them well, though it wasn't Gladio's preferred weapon in the slightest. He used it to take out two more Imperials that blocked their path as they left the palace grounds and ran down back alleys towards the city's north gate. From one of these downed soldiers he snagged a greatsword, and hurriedly passed the shortsword back to Ignis.
“I know,” he said, before Ignis could even protest. “But, just take it.”
Ignis was fairly certain that nothing in any of their rules would approve of sword-fighting while carrying the infant crown prince and that it was potentially the worst idea imaginable, but he took the weapon and felt better for its solid weight in his hand. It was a little bigger than the daggers he was used to, but it was sharp, and it would kill any Imperial that tried to take the prince from him.
Thanking his lucky stars, Ignis found that he didn't need to use the shortsword at all. After leaving the inner city, the small group had joined the throng of civilians fleeing toward the city's exits. There were far too many people for the soldiers, either friend or foe, to pay much attention to any one of them and, after all, the Nifs likely hadn't come to slaughter common citizens so much as to kill or capture the royal family. They traveled undetected all the way out to where the pristine Insomniac highway met the less cared-for strip of road leading out into the greater expanse of the Leiden desert. The only danger they found themselves facing was the threat of being separated by the scurrying crowd.
“Gladio!” Ignis called, when he and the prince had been pushed back out of sight of their vanguard. Hearing his name, Gladio immediately turned back and came for them, shouldering his way backward through the stream of bodies until he was at Ignis' side.
“Want me to take him?” he asked, huddling closer to shield Noctis from the crowd, sandwiching him between the two of them.
“Just for a moment.” Ignis almost had to force himself to relinquish his hold on the little prince, even though it was only to his trusted shield, but he handed him over just long enough to tuck his sword into his belt before taking him back. Gladio nodded and turned to continue their hectic jog to safety, but before he could get any further away, Ignis used his newly unoccupied hand to grab hold of Gladio's. He didn't explain himself when Gladio glanced back at him curiously; he thought his reasoning was obvious enough and apparently so did Gladio, as he simply nodded and led them on.
It took the better part of two hours to get out of the city. All the while, the chaos continued behind them, and Ignis tried not to dwell on it. There was no use in wondering if the king was alright, if his meager family or the other people he'd known had gotten out unharmed or if they'd already fallen to enemy fire.
Once past the city gates, and out onto the long stretch of Leiden highway, the panicked crowd's energy began to flag. Droves of people who had scurried tirelessly now staggered to the side of the road and dropped to their knees in the dirt, finally allowing themselves to cry, to throw their head in their hands, to catch their breath and their bearings. Ignis wasn't going to be one of them, determined to find somewhere truly safe rather than just out of reach of the danger, until Gladio tugged him off the craggy asphalt path and to a small boulder some yards away. He pushed Ignis down to sit, then swiftly removed the little prince from the crook of his arm, which had grown stiff while he'd been ignoring it.
A noise of protest left his mouth, but Gladio cut him off before he could say anything. “Your arm's gonna fall off if we keep at it like this. Then what good'll you be to him?”
“Fine, you can hold him a while,” Ignis conceded, pushing himself up from the rock. “But we should keep going.”
Gladio shook his head and nudged Ignis back down, then sat beside him. “Go where?” he asked. “It's gonna be dark before too long. Noct's probably already starving.”
Indeed, the baby was whimpering, as he'd been doing for the past half-hour, since he'd become too tired for full-on crying. Ignis couldn't help but deflate, some of the tension going out of his arms and legs in the absence of the need to carry Noctis or himself anywhere immediately. He didn't feel at all relieved, though. The lack of tension was just making room for doubts and fear to set in, so despite how tired he was, he stood again from the rock and began to pace, just out of reach of Gladio.
“We shouldn't stay this close to the gate,” he said. He took eight steps in one direction, turned, and retraced his path, thinking, looking at his mental map of Leide. “There's bound to be a campsite somewhere nearby, some hallowed ground. Others will likely have found it already. We can gather anyone we find along the way and form a hunting party. There will be safety in numbers.”
Gladio stared at him for a moment and appeared to consider something, but he didn't seem to have a problem with the plan or any better suggestions. “Alright, let's go then,” he said.
Ignis stopped his pacing. He nodded, and then held his arms out. “I'll take the prince back.”
“Nah, it's cool. I got 'im,” Gladio said, standing and picking up his sword from where he'd leaned it against the boulder. He slung it over his shoulder and started in the direction which the other citizens were still slowly heading. Ignis followed after him, feeling rather irritable and not sure exactly why, other than that things were obviously not ideal at the moment. With nothing better for his hands to do (and feeling slightly apprehensive about letting Gladio potentially try to wield a massive greatsword in one hand while protecting a baby in the other), he pulled his own smallsword out from his belt and jogged ahead to guard their tiny procession.
There was indeed a campground not too far from the gate, but far enough that they felt they'd have time to escape from the Imperial forces if they showed up. (Whether or not escaping was actually likely, nobody discussed, happy enough to have a little bit of optimism, even if it might be false.) Already at least a hundred people were crowded on or around the rock, and more in little groups dotted along the surrounding landscape. Others still pushed on, hopeful of getting to the nearest town before the sun fell and left them vulnerable.
Ignis spearheaded the formation of a hunting group, and was a little surprised to find so many willing participants. He supposed, though, that they all had hungry families to feed as well, a fact that took priority over their safety, no matter how untrained or ill-equipped they might be.
He was about to head out with the group in search of some meaty beasts to slay, but Gladio held him back. He handed him the prince; Ignis took him automatically, eager without meaning to be. “Why don't you stay here with Noct?” Gladio suggested, setting his free hand lightly on Ignis' shoulder and trailing down his arm as he pulled away.
“I could come with you,” he said. “I'm more than capable.” But while they both knew this to be true, they also knew that keeping Noctis safe was far more important than providing the hunting party with another sword, and that there was no way they were going to either take him on the hunt or leave him at the camp, no matter how many free arms there were that would happily hold him.
So Gladio just shook his head and gave Ignis a look that was probably supposed to be confident and reassuring but still managed to be a little sad. “Be back soon,” he said, and set off with the others.
Noctis was truly exhausted now, and so beyond stressed that he couldn't even manage to whine anymore. He turned his face into Ignis' chest and held onto his button-up shirt with what little strength he had left. Ignis sighed heavily and found them a spot on the crowded rock to sit cross-legged, hunched into himself, and cradled the prince under his chin.
For the most part, the people around him minded their own business, too caught up in processing their own fresh wounds, but several brave souls were attempting to strike up light-hearted conversation with those around them, which slowly stretched the tension until it broke. A young woman who was also carrying a small child came to sit near him, apparently figuring to distract him from his woes by talking about their presumed shared experience.
“How old is he?” she asked, not bothering to indicate that she meant the baby in Ignis' arms because any parent would have heard the question often enough to know exactly what she was asking without a second thought.
Ignis processed the question almost immediately, if not quite as fast as a parent might. “Just shy of a year,” he replied, before he thought better of it. People knew when the prince's birthday was; it was nearly the only thing they knew about him, really. Even his name was not common knowledge except among the Citadel staff who'd most frequently handled him. That was going to have been revealed on his first birthday, as was tradition. It was a date which many citizens looked forward to, and not a date Ignis thought they ought to associate with the child, if they wanted him to remain incognito until they escaped the Empire's reach. So he corrected himself. “Exactly a year, actually.”
The woman had no reason to expect that Ignis was lying to her, and every reason to be sympathetic. “Aww, poor thing,” she cooed, reaching forward to pat Noctis' head. Ignis had to restrain himself from pulling away, aware that that wasn't a normal reaction.
They commiserated a while over the mess they found themselves in and talked about their children, though luckily the woman didn't ask many questions after the first one. Ignis was happy to let her make assumptions, even if those assumptions placed him in the role of father. It was safer that way anyway, and removed from him the need to explain why he was carrying around a little child that didn't belong to him.
Later than Ignis would have liked, but earlier than he expected, Gladio and his group returned about an hour after they'd left, toting behind them several spiracorns. Ignis rushed to meet him, edging his way down the rock and doing his best not to step on anybody or jostle the prince too badly. He didn't think to feel embarrassed until he was nearly level with Gladio, and he realized that he was one of only a few who had run to meet the returning hunters (the others having done so mostly to offer help), but having the prince's shield near again made Ignis too relieved to be bothered much.
Gladio dropped the leg of the beast he'd been hauling and plucked Noctis out of Ignis' arms. “Hope you like horse,” he said. “I wanted to go after a dualhorn, but it woulda been a lot harder to drag back.”
Ignis glanced down at the beast. He wasn't sure how spiracorn meat cooked, but he'd guess it was edible; he wasn't really concerned about the quality of dinner when there were so many other things going on. “This will be fine,” he said, and went back to looking over Gladio, checking that the monsters hadn't done any real harm to him. His eyes flitted down from his head to his toes, and only got caught on a few rips in his shirt before he remembered that those had come from his tussles with the Imperial soldiers earlier and had already been checked and signed off.
As if he could read the worry in Ignis' eyes as clear as printed text, Gladio rolled his shoulders and stretched, a sign that he was feeling fine. “Maybe I'll grab a dualhorn next time. Those horses didn't stand a chance against me.”
Ignis was about to remark that he'd rather Gladio not fight monsters just for the challenge of it, but one of the other hunters came up behind him and nudged Gladio in a companionable sort of way. “It's true,” he told Ignis, grinning. “This guy handled more than half the fight on his own.”
This was no surprise, given Gladio's extensive training. What surprised Ignis was the way the other hunter looked at him-- at the three of them: he and Gladio and the prince-- and smiled at Ignis as if to say, 'you should be proud of him'. He was proud of Gladio, of course, much as he was proud of himself for his exemplary service to the crown, but why any random citizen who didn't know who they were should think so eluded him.
After the beasts had all been hauled in and cleaned and set to cook over several large fires, Ignis pulled Gladio aside.
“Did you tell the hunters that you were crownsguard?” he asked, still puzzling over the interaction from earlier.
“No. Why? Someone ask you about it?”
Ignis shook his head, not sure how to explain why he thought some of the others knew. It was just the way a few people had looked at them, not any sort of quantifiable data. “No, I just think we ought to be careful with that information. For Nocti-- for Noct's sake.”
“I was thinkin' the same thing,” Gladio said, and of course he was. Ignis knew that Gladio was just as aware of their situation as he was; he held the prince just as close, had a protective gleam in his eye that transcended that of just a bodyguard. They were both willing to do whatever it took to protect Noctis, and they both understood that that meant keeping secrets.
They didn't devise a detailed plan right then (both still hoping the danger would be over soon enough that they wouldn't need one), but Gladio's agreeing to be careful with the information they divulged to the others was enough to satisfy Ignis, at least for the time being. They returned to the center of the camp to help ready dinner, passing Noctis back and forth between them over the course of the evening, to whichever of them wasn't currently busy assisting others.
It wasn't that anybody had named them leaders, and they certainly hadn't volunteered for the position, but as the night progressed both Ignis and Gladio found themselves helping the citizens whenever possible. Sometimes that meant carving slabs of meat for children and elderly folks, and sometimes it was helping people find the friends they'd lost in the crowd, and sometimes it meant reminding people not to wander out in the darkness because, unlike most of the city's inhabitants, Gladio had actually spent time out in the desert, and he knew what kinds of nasty creatures came out when the sun went down. But mostly it was being something for people to look to when the quiet of night began to settle in and they remembered how bad things were.
Neither of them were dressed in uniform, and they hadn't said a word about working for the crown, but still the others seemed to see them as a sort of authority. Perhaps it was because Gladio cut such a figure, matching or surpassing the average adult in height and width, even though he was only sixteen. Maybe it was the way he'd lead the hunters, how he slung his sword over his shoulder like it weighed nothing at all and grinned like there wasn't a problem in the world. People wanted to follow someone with that sort of infectious confidence, especially at a time like this.
And probably the others assumed they were adults, because it was unlikely they'd have listened much to them if they knew that Ignis and Gladio were little more than children, no matter how well-prepared. Gladio had looked full-grown for over a year now, and although Ignis was maybe not quite so grown, he always had been tall for his age-- and remarkably well put-together. The two of them together certainly didn't look like a pair of average teenagers.
But their appearances aside, it was Noctis who likely made the others perceive them as mature-- because why would two teenagers be sharing the care of a small child, a child who they both looked upon as if he meant the world to them?
Honestly, there were plenty of reasons why that could happen; as many as you could imagine, and Ignis could imagine quite a few. But he knew that none of those were what the people surrounding him defaulted to, when they saw the care with which the two young men treated the child, the way they cradled him as if their lives depended on it, and how when night had fully fallen and their slapdash dinner was over and everyone was huddled on and around the glowing rune-covered plateau, the two of them sat so close they could hardly get closer, leaning their heads and shoulders together and twining their arms around the child to shield him from the chilly desert air. When dawn began to break and Ignis woke from his shallow sleep, slumped over on to Gladio's chest, head tucked beneath his chin with Noctis tucked under his own, each with their arms wrapped around the next like a living nesting doll, he knew what their fellow refugees would think, and he knew the best plan to keep Noctis safe was to play into it.
It wasn't really necessary to mention this to Gladio. The way Ignis didn't jerk away or bother to look ashamed at falling asleep on him was enough to express to the shield what he was planning. Gladio, for his part, went right along with it; he casually hugged Ignis (and Noctis) to him as he stretched his back and his spare arm, a gesture that would have looked natural to any onlookers.
With the sunlight returned and bathing the dusty desert in its optimistic glow, the refugees roused from their uneasy sleep and began their journey anew. Without the threat of daemons, the others didn't seem to look to Gladio and Ignis for guidance as much, leaving them with some privacy as they joined the procession. They spent the majority of the day walking quietly along the road, passing the prince between them at intervals.
It was well past midday when they reached the next point of interest. The truck-stop was already overflowing with people, many of whom had apparently pressed on the previous day and had all night and all morning to set up camp. Tents littered the parking lot and much of the road in front of the business, leaving only enough space for cars to squeeze through when they returned from down the road to pick up more travelers. In between the tents, people sat and laid on sleeping bags or blankets or jackets laid out to cover the hot concrete. But despite the clutter, the whole scene was fairly well organized, and many people were lined up to get into the shop or the diner.
A girl maybe a little younger than Ignis was standing in the middle of the two lines, calling out orders to people and giving directions. As busy as she seemed, she was obviously one of the people in charge, so they approached her in hopes of gaining some insight as to the state of things there.
“Hey, y’all,” she said, giving them a smile that was a bit harried but comforting. (It was the ‘diner at rush-hour’ smile, though they didn’t think of it as such.) “We’re clean outta tents, but there’s still some space in the grass behind the diner, if you just need a place to hunker down for a while.”
Ignis and Gladio glanced at each other; they didn’t have to really discuss it (a running theme, this past day, apparently), both knowing full well that they needed to do what they could not only to take care of Noctis, but to assist the citizenry, if possible. “Actually, miss,” Ignis began, shifting Noctis to his other hip. “Is there anything we can do to help?”
She looked sweetly confused for a moment before understanding dawned on her face. “Crownsguard?” She looked at the weapons tied to their belts, the self-assured way they must have carried themselves, then she glanced back and forth between the two of them and Noctis. “And that's--...?” Her eyes went wide.
“Our son,” Ignis told her, pulling him a little closer to hide the infant away from her eyes.
“Right,” the girl said, her eyebrows drawing down in an amount of understanding neither of the young men had anticipated. “But ya are Crownsguard?” They nodded and she grinned. “My paw-paw, y’see, he used to be friends with Regis!”
That was apparently enough of an in for them, and the girl was more than happy to take them up on their offer of assistance, after introducing herself as Cindy. There was much to be done, and too little of it could be handled by the truck-stop’s small staff.
“First things first, if one of ya can help haul stock up outta the store room, we might be able to take care of these refugees a little better.”
Ignis and Gladio shared another glance and Gladio said, “I’ll go. Point the way, miss.”
The rest station was crowded far beyond capacity but it wasn’t so big of a place that they risked being unable to find each other, so Ignis nodded Gladio on with the unspoken agreement that they would meet again before too long.
Once Gladio was on the way, Cindy turned to Ignis and looked down at Noct. “I guess you’ve got your hands full already, huh?” She tilted her head curiously at the baby, as if there were a lot of questions she was only vaguely invested in finding the answers to.
“Noct is my highest priority,” Ignis answered, nodding. “But I’m sure there’s still something I can do?”
Cindy grinned, cheerful either because of her nature or because she was pleasantly surprised by someone insisting on helping. “Reckon there is! I gotta check on things in the diner, but for now do ya think you could get people to move off the road? There’s not as much traffic today as last night but I’d still hate for anyone to get run over.”
“Consider it done, Miss Cindy,” Ignis said, and Cindy’s bright face lit up even more.
It was a simple task, but as with many simple things, not so easily done. He was lucky that he still seemed to be in possession of that commanding aura he’d identified in both himself and Gladio the night before; people paid attention when he asked them to do things. But the overall focus of the refugees was unfortunately low still, as the stress and worry built, and there were still so many people crowded in and around the rest station. Easily hundreds of wide-eyed, tired city-dwellers, some experiencing the dusty Leiden countryside for the first time and none of them especially pleased to be doing so. It was a chore to get them all to move somewhere safe. Probably only the unforgiving sun kept people from resettling on the baked asphalt as soon as the tents moved.
Noctis became fussy as they worked, possibly from hunger but most likely from the heat. He likely hadn’t had occasion to ever really sweat before, and Ignis doubted he was enjoying the new experience. Ignis didn’t like it much himself, though he pressed on in the name of duty until the road was clear. When he was finished, he made his way through the throng to the interior of the diner, hoping he could find Cindy waiting with a task perhaps less likely to give the young prince sun-stroke.
“Miss Cindy?” he called, just loud enough that he might be heard over the combined murmurings of more people than could really safely fit inside the building. He found a clear square-foot of tile near the counter, hoping that he might find her behind it, back where only employees were supposed to tread. (So far, most of the people had respected the sign posted on the wall that requested patrons keep out.)
“She’s over on the other side of the lot, helpin’ Cid,” said a cheerful-looking man who was arranging plates full of food on the counter, and stacking up the used ones as they came back empty. “You must be the crownsguard she mentioned? If ya don’t mind, I could use some help here until she gets back? Maybe just collect the dirty dishes for me?”
“Certainly,” Ignis said, though as he readjusted Noctis in his arms and glanced around at the crowd, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. Balance them in one hand and risk shattering the whole stack?
There was very little chance that he would deny the man his request though, so he did just that, collecting the plates and then the bowls in stacks of four, which was the most he felt he could trust himself not to mishandle. Luckily, someone took pity on him before he had to strain his wrist too much.
“Dear!” a middle-aged woman called as he picked up dishes from a nearby booth. He glanced over at her, unsure how he even knew it was him she was calling to. “That looks terribly dangerous! I can hold on to the little one for you while you do that.”
Ignis hesitated a moment. He was not planning to give Noctis up to a stranger (even though it was about time for his next outburst), but the idea was still tempting, at least to his tired arm. His shoulder especially ached from holding Noctis at such a stiff angle for so many hours.
“No, thank you,” he told her, in lieu of some sharper protestation or declaration about not letting strangers handle his precious charge. “I really couldn’t.”
The woman smiled knowingly. “I understand,” she said. Ignis didn’t respond that she couldn’t possibly. “But your arm must be on fire. It wouldn’t do to hurt yourself. I have an idea.”
Generally speaking, Ignis didn’t feel that he needed to rely on anybody else’s ideas. Usually, his own were sufficient. But this woman clearly had more experience than him in this particular case. (He was loathe to admit it, but probably most of the women in this room had more experience than him, when it came to child-rearing.) Despite his pride, he nodded and came to stand in front of her for whatever her idea was. He knew that to keep Noctis truly safe, he was going to have to learn from whoever was willing to teach him.
The woman plucked lightly at the collar of his shirt, and he stiffened, but she only spent a moment checking underneath. “We can use your overshirt as a sling,” she said, prompting him to take the garment off and hand it to her.
He froze for a second, knowing he couldn’t do this while Noctis was still cradled in one arm, but the woman’s kind yet no-nonsense expression finally broke something in Ignis, and he carefully but quickly handed the baby over into her arms. Then, as fast as humanly possible, he divested himself of the long-sleeved button-down and traded it for Noctis. The woman stood from the booth and made quick work of circling Ignis with the fabric and tying it quite expertly into a sling, into which she nestled the baby.
“I’d be more comfortable if he was at my front instead,” he said, grimacing when he realized she’d situated Noctis tight against his back. It was nerve-wracking to think that he could fall out of the sling, or that someone could steal him while Ignis literally had his back turned.
“The back’s better,” the woman explained, gesturing at the way the arms of the shirt tied around Ignis’ chest. “This way you control the ties. You wouldn’t be able to undo it as easily if it were around the back. Anyway, you’re less likely to drop plates on him like this.”
He could see her point, as much as he didn’t want to. Abashed, he nodded and thanked her very much, lingering only another moment before he got back to helping.
It ended up being a better solution than he could have anticipated. His arms burned from the sudden lack of strain, but it was a relief to have full use of both of them again. He could hold a veritable mountain of plates this way, stacking them like he had once stacked library books.
The man at the counter looked beyond relieved at the sight of so many gathered plates, even though it meant more immediate dishes to do. “That’s a real help,” he said. “Thanks so much.”
“What else can I do for you?” Ignis asked. Truthfully, he was a little bit tired, but he’d never shied away from whatever work his job required of him and he wouldn’t start now. If it didn’t impede his ability to care for Noctis, there was no reason not to keep helping.
The man looked at him like he was offering a miracle. “You don’t happen to know how to cook, do you?”
“I can’t say that I do,” Ignis replied, frowning at his own inability. It wasn’t something he’d ever needed to know, as the king already had more skilled personal chefs than he knew what to do with. At least, he used to. Now, the crown prince had only him. “But I am a quick study.”
His temporary boss’s face broke into a sunny grin. “I can work with that!”
And that was how Ignis found himself in the relatively quiet kitchen, chopping mountains of ingredients, watching from the corner of his eye to see how the cook combined things and at what proportions and temperatures. The man did two batches of fried rice before Ignis nodded to himself and stepped over to hold his hand out for the spatula.
“I believe I can take it from here.”
It looked for a minute as if the man was going to refuse on the basis that Ignis had ‘already done enough’ or something like that, but the front of the diner was still in chaos and he needed to go save his other assistant. He nodded and tossed a quick but sincere thanks over his shoulder as he dashed out the door and left Ignis to practice this new skill.
Never in a million years did he expect he would find feeding panicked refugees fun, but the task was genuinely enjoyable. It helped that he seemed naturally gifted at it (as with many other things. He was glad this was not an outlier; that would have been embarrassing), quick enough that he could satisfy the constant calls for more from the front, and still find a spare moment now-and-again to deal with Noctis.
The child was sleepy for most of the time that Ignis was cooking, which was fine with Ignis because it meant Noctis had stopped squirming. He wasn’t a squirmy child by nature, but he wasn’t used to being confined to one small space for so long, even if that space was constantly moving. Luckily the lower light of the kitchen had lulled him into a doze. Even so, he woke easily when it was time for lunch, going after the fried rice with gusto. More than the lack of complaints from the front end of the diner (so far his only indication that his cooking wasn’t horrible), Noct’s enthusiasm filled Ignis with a reasonable amount of pride.
Most of the afternoon was spent this way, cooking and cleaning, and taking short breaks when Takka, the diner operator, insisted that even he couldn’t handle more than a ten hour shift without a break, if he wanted to be anything more than completely useless the next day. Since Ignis still had no idea what tomorrow would hold, he admitted it was best to be as prepared as possible, which in this case meant resting when the sun began its descent into the dusty horizon.
With two large bowls of fried rice in hand, he shouldered his way out the back of the kitchen and into the evening. He really hoped to find Gladio, now that things were settling down. With any luck, the friendly brute hadn’t gotten wrangled into doing anything too dangerous, or anything that would keep him away from his prince for too long. Yes, Noctis had him, but Ignis knew from the past day (the past year, really) that he couldn’t do this alone. That it wouldn’t be right for Noctis, to have only the one protector.
Luck was on his side; Gladio seemed to have thought similarly, and was already making his way towards the diner-half of the rest-stop from over near the garage. He hurried, but was careful not to trip on any of the campers’ sprawled legs or tent edges.
“Hey,” he said, once only a few family groups were between them and he didn’t have to shout over their chatter. “How’s the p-- kid?”
“Noct is surprisingly well,” Ignis said as the distance between them dwindled down to almost nothing. He turned slightly so that Gladio could see the sleepy princeling dozing on his back. “I’ve had a bit of help from the locals, as you can see.”
“You? Taking help?” Gladio joked, though it was clear that he wasn’t truly surprised. Nobody who knew Ignis (or either of them, for that matter) would ever doubt that they would go to any lengths for their prince, even if that meant eschewing their normal mannerisms and pride. Anyway, Ignis was never so proud as to pass up an opportunity to learn or increase his efficiency, even if it was embarrassing to admit that there was anything he didn’t already know. How else could he have become so adept?
Handing Gladio a bowl, he said, “Stranger things have happened. Though, with any luck, they’ll soon stop happening.”
Now that dinner was in hand, Gladio had a new goal to drive them towards. He glanced around for a place that they could sit, and lead the way to an unoccupied few feet of curb they could perch on. “I wouldn’t count on it,” he said, in regards to those stranger things.
“Why?” Ignis asked. “Have you heard bad news?”
Shaking his head as he chewed and roughly swallowed a mouthful of rice, Gladio said, “No news yet. It’s all still chaos. It’s been twenty-four hours now, and no one knows what’s happened to the king.” He glanced at Ignis’ back, where Noctis was still dozing in his little cocoon until such a time as either of his keepers had a free arm to hold him. “Or the prince. It’s just worried rumors.”
“I would be worried too,” Ignis admitted, his heart stirring his stomach as the concerns he’d pushed down came back up out of their temporary time-out. “I am worried. You would think we’d have seen a few more Crownsguard by now.”
“Well, maybe they’re incognito,” Gladio suggested. It obviously wasn’t an absurd idea. Crownsguard didn’t wear their recognizable military uniforms all the time, and even if they’d wanted to be easily recognizable, there wouldn’t have been time to get changed during the attack. But there was definitely some merit in appearing anonymous; if they had been more obviously Crowsguard, some more clever eyes might not have passed by Noctis so easily. And regardless of what happened to the king and the rest of the royal court, protecting the prince was the number one priority of any of the crown’s servants.
They ate in silence for a few minutes before Ignis said, “I wonder if we ought to change. Clothing, of course, when we can. But I mean… Do you suppose anyone would recognize us?”
“I dunno.” Gladio looked over Ignis, from head to toe. “We weren’t exactly high-ranking officials.”
“But more than mere servants,” Ignis said, not to denigrate the many maids and housefolk that had kept the castle running. “We were in a line of succession not unlike Noct. Suppose the Empire is… looking. Not for Noct, but for us.”
Although they would both have liked to assume that they weren’t yet important enough to be on any Empire hit-lists, neither of them was naive enough to think their sworn enemy wouldn’t be so thorough. “...Yeah. I guess… we’ll just have to be careful,” Gladio said after a long moment of consideration. There wasn’t much else they could do.
There wasn’t much else they could do to protect themselves from the Empire, no, but there was still much to do to help their citizens. It was heartening to see that most of the people who’d settled at the Hammerhead were doing well enough, for the circumstances, and for that they absolutely had to hand it to Cid, who they’d yet to meet. As soon as their bowls were empty (and they’d taken them back to the diner, along with a few stacks collected from other refugees), they went out in search of the truck-stop’s proprietor, to see if he could enlighten them further on the situation. Through the process of elimination, they found him in the upstairs section of the garage, one of the very few places that had remained private, by virtue of it being behind a locked door. It was Cid and Cindy’s living quarters, and as giving as they were of their space and supplies, they’d wisely decided to keep something back for themselves.
Cindy was still downstairs in the garage proper, setting people up with whatever could possibly be used as bedding, and looking so much less harrowed than Ignis would have expected of anyone without Crownsguard training. “There ya are!” she called, carefully stepping over and around rough sleepers. “I wanted to find ya before you collapsed for the night. Paw-paw wants--” She stopped herself, and led them over to a somewhat more private space, where the staircase up to their rooms began. Lowering her voice, she said, “Paw-paw wants you to stay with us for the night.”
Ignis was taken aback, and from the look on his face, Gladio hadn’t exactly expected this outcome either. They’d both expected to be hunkering down with the masses for the foreseeable future, sleeping wherever there was space. But there was some logic to having private (or at least more private) quarters. It would certainly afford the prince a measure more safety, and his guardians a little better rest.
“He knows?” Gladio asked.
Cindy nodded. “I told ‘im earlier and he wanted to find y'all right away, but the two of you were busy as bees. I couldn’t lay an eye on you.”
“Apologies, miss,” Ignis said, although none of them actually regretted that they’d been helping out all day. It was what was needed.
“Ain’t nothin’ to worry about,” Cindy said, waving off any concern. With a nod over her shoulder, she led them up the stairs, to a door she unlocked with a key from her belt. “The little one looks like he’s survived just fine.”
“A bit in need of a bath,” Ignis admitted, “but none the worse for wear, I don’t think.”
Up in the proprietor’s private rooms, Cid was scribbling tiredly at some paperwork at a little desk tucked into the corner. He didn’t look up when the four of them filtered into the living room, intent on finishing his task first. Ignis could see in that small gesture how this man might have been trusted by Regis back in the day. It was only a few long moments, and only as awkward as anything else had been those past few days, standing and waiting, before Cid turned around in his spinning chair and gave the lot of them a good hard look.
“So the pair of ya finally showed yer faces. I was startin’ to think you were just a hopeful rumor.”
“There’s word going around about us?” Ignis asked, cautious but not terribly surprised. He just hoped the word that was circulating was less well-defined than ‘prince’.
Cid cocked a smile. “Even plain folk can tell a Crownsguard when they see one, ‘specially the way you’ve been takin’ charge. Or so I hear. And I don’t need to tell you that Crowns guard are about the closest thing to crown these people have got right now. Figure that’s why you’re the word about town right now.”
“Maybe so,” Ignis allowed. “Is that the reason why you’ve called upon us?”
A silent sort of exchange was happening, between the words the two men were speaking, but Ignis would not ( could not) fully trust Cid until the whole truth was out into the open air, and it was not Ignis who would be putting it there. Cid gave him another long, considering look, and he seemed to understand that.
“That’s the half of it,” he said. Then he nodded at Noct. “The little prince. Takes after his pa somethin’ fierce. Just lucky, I guess, that most nobody else remembers what Regis looked like as a kid.”
He approached them from across the small space and scooped Noctis out of Ignis' arms, which would have caused Ignis to stiffen if he hadn't been so relieved that there was finally someone who, in a way, ranked higher than them and could be trusted to take over for a moment. If nothing else, Cid certainly had the seniority. Ignis may not have known him but he knew of him, knew that the man had been Crownsguard for a time, and had retired for personal reasons, not for any falling-out between him and Regis. That implied that he was still in the crown's good graces, and an old friend of the crown was invaluable at a time like this.
Cid gently bounced Noctis in his arms, a gesture that painted a picture of long years of experience. It wasn't clear if Cindy's "paw-paw" was her father or her grandfather, but he had obviously bounced a baby or two in his time, and just as clearly was pleased to do it again. He gazed down at Noctis fondly, but with a curious sadness that felt all too familiar. "And how did you end up with the little guy?" he asked Ignis, glancing as well at Gladio to include him in the conversation.
"He happened to be in our possession at the time of the attack," Ignis said.
"We were babysitting," Gladio clarified.
"Huh." Cid nodded thoughtfully. "That might'a just been a stroke of luck. If he'd been with his dad, he might notta gotten out so easy."
Both of the young men gritted their teeth. "Does that mean–?" Gladio began, but Cid just shook his head.
"I ain't heard about Regis yet, but it doesn't take a military genius to figure out what invaders are usually after. Or who. Ain't that part of the reason they don't introduce the prince 'til he's a year? For situations exactly like this. In fact, the Empire woulda been wise to wait a few weeks. Who knows what they were thinkin'."
"Could they have been unaware of Lucian traditions?" Ignis mused, knowing that ultimately their enemies' knowledge or intentions wouldn't change the situation they were in. Not immediately, at least, and he still held out hope that by the time it was relevant there would be a clearer chain of command to handle it.
“I’m sure someone knew,” Cid said, “but thank the gods for bad bureaucracy. If we’re lucky, whoever’s running the show over there isn’t clever enough to come looking for the two of you, because it looks like the little prince might be your responsibility for a while yet.”
They all gazed at the little child, clinging sleepily to Cid’s shoulder. Gladio nodded, his expression resolute, as if Cid had just given them a task they hadn’t already taken upon themselves. “We’ll do what we can.”
Ignis couldn’t help but grimace, thinking wildly ahead on into an unsure future. “Though there must be someone to inherit him, ultimately, should the worst come to pass?”
“Should the worst come to pass?” Cid echoed. “It might’ve already. There ain’t exactly a robust royal family, and any cousins who survive this mess will be under watch for the rest of their lives, or however long the empire rules. Who else would he go to? Military generals? Secretaries of state? Ain’t a single person associated with the government gonna have a normal enough life to raise the prince outta sight of the empire. And if they get him? Well, you already know that can’t happen, or you wouldn’t be here.” He shook his head, looking much more tired now. “And you are here. Two baby crownsguard; you can’t be much older’n Cindy?”
Although he hadn’t thought of himself as a child for years, Ignis knew better than to be offended by the old man calling them babies. Relatively, metaphorically, it was true enough. “Fifteen, sir,” he told Cid, glancing at Gladio to see that the more muscular boy didn’t look affronted by the almost comical commentary either.
“And already holding the weight of the world on your shoulders.” Cid shook his head.
To Ignis, it didn’t feel nearly that big. All-encompassing, yes. Larger than life. Certainly the most important thing he would ever do. But Noctis was so small, and when he held him in his arms, everything narrowed down to that embrace. It was nothing like a whole world. It was much warmer and closer to home.
“He’s worth it,” Gladio said, when Ignis didn’t. “Anyway, we would’ve been his personal guard eventually. My family’s been the Shield for generations.”
“Amicitia, huh?” Cid said, nodding to Gladio. “So you’re Clarus’ boy.” He gave him a sad smile, not bothering to mention that his father had probably been at King Regis’ side at the time of the attack. They all knew it, and they all knew that whatever happened to Regis would probably have happened to Clarus first. Such was the lot of the Shield. He did have a piece of advice for the young man, though, if not any condolences. “That’s a well-known family you’re from, and that name won’t do you any favors with the Empire. I suggest you find a different one for the time being.”
More than anything, the idea of leaving his name behind seemed to pain Gladio, but he nodded, taking the advice to heart even as it chipped at him. “I’ll do that,” he said grimly.
“Do you have any more advice for us, sir?” Ignis asked, wishing he had a set of orders to follow. “Like, perhaps, where we ought to head now?”
“I don't advise you head anywhere just yet,” Cid replied. He turned and shuffled some of his paperwork into a more even stack with the arm not holding Noctis, then moved it into a desk drawer. “Best to just keep your head down for now. Don't make any big plans before we know what's what.”
“I…” Ignis wanted to argue that they couldn't linger so close to the city, that they needed to get away from the Empire and fast. But the Empire had airships and radios; the other side of the world wasn't necessarily safer than their own backyard. “Of course. That's sensible.”
“Darn right it is,” Cid said. “If nothing else, the three of you need some rest before you go running off. And the little one here could use a bath.” He gently peeled Noctis off his shoulder and held him out to the boys. Ignis was about to reach for him, but Gladio swooped in first.
He laughed and rubbed a hand over Noctis’ head, releasing a cloud of dust from it and slightly rousing the boy. “That's for sure,” he said. “Can you believe his hair is supposed to be black?”
“Could be a good disguise,” Cindy joked, but she clearly agreed with ‘paw-paw’ that he needed a rinse, if not a soak. “I'll go run the water for him.”
“You’re welcome to stay as long as ya need,” Cid told them while they waited on the bath water to warm. “But ya are stayin’ the night, and that’s an order.”
Ignis hadn’t been planning on fighting Cid about the offer, at least not more than a token protest, but this ‘order’ stopped even that, and with the way Ignis’ shoulders relaxed he thought Cid had probably known that an ‘order’ from ‘higher up’ was what he needed right now, even with the quotations.
The bath was helpful too, though he doubted Cid’s insistence on that was for the prince’s caretakers’ sake. It was nice to see Noct having fun, splashing about and making an approved mess. Ignis took point on the procedure, even though Gladio offered his expertise, being the only one of the two of them who had ever bathed a child before.
“Then, of the two of us, I am the one who needs the practice,” Ignis said, trying to figure out how to wash Noct’s grimy hair without getting soap in his eyes.
“Well soak it in,” Gladio replied, crossing his arms and sitting back on the toilet seat. “This’ll probably be his last bath for a while, unless we set up for good.”
Ignis wrinkled his nose at the idea. “I don’t relish the idea of not bathing for so long. Still, I don’t think that’s enough reason to stay here, as close as it is to the capital.”
He could see Gladio nod out of the corner of his eye. Where and when exactly they would go was still something they needed to decide, and it would be a tough decision to make, which was why they weren’t doing it that night. “Your body gets used to it after a while,” he said, and it took Ignis half a moment to realize he meant ‘not bathing’, something he probably knew because of his interest in camping. (He never showed any signs of being unclean while they were in the city, and with all the training he did, there was no way Ignis wouldn’t have noticed.)
“I would like to avoid that,” Ignis muttered, though he knew he might not really have a say in it.
While they were wrapping Noctis up in the fluffy towel Cindy provided, Gladio said, “Hey, why don’t you take one now?”
“That’s alright,” Ignis said, shaking his head. “It’s more important that Noct’s taken care of.”
“Yeah, and I can do that,” Gladio told him with a shrug and a hard look. “Go on. Remember, this could be the last time.”
Ignis ‘hmph’ed, though it wasn’t a protest. “Not the last time ever, I hope.”
Although he didn’t want to admit it, he was glad that Gladio had pushed. The bath helped immensely, both physically and emotionally. There was something calming about being clean and well put together, after a long two days of stress and strife, dust notwithstanding.
By the time he’d gotten out of the bath, dried, and redressed in his less than fresh clothes, Gladio had already gotten Noct read for bed, and was giving him a bottle of milk that Cindy had scrounged up from somewhere. Noct grabbed the bottle greedily and laid back in the pile of Cindy’s stuffed animals. It was quite cute, but it raised a question.
“Where will Miss Cindy be sleeping?” Ignis asked Gladio, who was arranging stuffed animals around Noct like the walls of a plush little fort.
“Somewhere else, I guess,” Gladio replied. He glanced over at Ignis with a look like he knew Ignis was going to be fussy about it. “I already asked if she was sure, and she said she was. No need to second guess her.” He looked at Ignis for a moment, his head tilted just slightly, a faint soft smile on his lips. “Y’know, she’s happy to help him. Cid too. I bet if more people knew who he was, we’d have more helping hands than we know what to do with.”
Ignis frowned. “We can’t tell anyone, Gladio. No matter how much help it might provide.”
“I know.” Gladio didn’t cross his arms, but he put a hand on his hip, like he thought Ignis should have known that he knew. And he did, of course. It was just… there could really be no overstating these things. Gladio continued, “I know we can’t tell people, and that means we probably won’t have much help in the future. So I’m happy to take what help we can get for now. I have a feeling it’s gonna be mostly up to us for a while after this.”
Ignis almost felt guilty for seemingly doubting that Gladio understood the gravity of the situation, when it seemed obvious now that he had put a lot of thought into it. He could practically see how far into the future Gladio was envisioning, and he was impressed with what he imagined was Gladio’s foresight, but it also left him a little apprehensive, because he could see that it was probably true. The future, while perhaps not bleak, was going to be quite a lot different than what they’d been trained to expect.
While Ignis hesitated, Gladio laid down on the floor by the bed, making himself comfortable for the night. Another protest caught in Ignis’ throat, but he was starting to know better than to voice them. Instead he switched off the light and laid down on the edge of the bed, between Noctis and the floor. With the light off, the last of Noct’s energy gave way to a big sleepy yawn, and he snuggled into a stuffed bear and fell asleep, one little foot resting on Ignis’ arm for reassurance. There was silence, as Ignis tried not to move, for fear of waking the child up, but after a few minutes he finally allowed himself to give a weary sigh. He dropped his arm down off the edge of the bed, letting his hand fall on Gladio’s shoulder.
“Thank you for your help,” he whispered. “I don’t know if I could do this without you.”
Gladio patted Ignis’ hand in lieu of offering his usual self-assured smile. “The king needs his shield as much as his advisor. I belong by his side, no matter where he goes.”
There was nothing Ignis could think to respond; he wasn’t sure it needed a response. But he let his hand linger there for just a minute before drawing it back up to himself. Sleep didn’t come as easily as it should have, so he laid there and listened to Noct and Gladio breathe, and hoped silently that Gladio continued to feel that way. He curled onto his side and laid an arm over Noctis. There was no doubt that he would never abandon the little prince, not until his dying day.
If Gladio should ever leave their side, that day could come too soon.