Chapter Text
Prompto threw the doors open and rushed in. “Uncle, tell me it’s not true!”
Chancellor Ardyn Izunia glanced at the group of generals around him and dismissed them with a simple gesture. Once the door was safely closed behind them, he turned his attention to the prince. Prince Prompto Aldercaapt, Duke of Gralea - not the flesh and blood of his Imperial Majesty, but a clone of Besithia’s ingenuity given to the emperor to raise his heir. At least, that had been the plan.
“My dear boy,” Ardyn said, gently laying his head atop the head of long, smooth blond hair. “Did you think there would be no consequences for your failure at Fennestala?”
He swallowed the twist of nausea in his stomach. Fennestala. The people of Tennebrae had risen up in rebellion, and it had been his first task to lead the armies of Imperial Troopers to crush it. Instead, the rebellion had succeeded and the former kingdom was now under the leadership of Lord Ravus.
It had weakened their glorious empire’s hold over their domains. Galahd was preparing their own rebellion, aided by its former kingdom Lucis - and Accordo was beginning to venture to ‘renegotiate terms’. All because he had stopped his general’s plan to burn down the manor with all the people trapped inside.
“But… you can’t be serious! They’re saying that I-”
“Are to be wed to the Lucian prince in order to secure a ceasefire to discuss a treaty.” His uncle’s voice was calm. Placid, almost. “That was your father’s decision.”
“I’m being sold like chattel to our barbaric enemies!” he shouted, waving his arms at his sides to try and convey some of the useless anger and energy burning in his belly.
“Prompto, would you kindly calm down?” His uncle said gently. It was soothing, the sound of it reminding he was being ridiculous and gently guiding him back to a calm and reasonable disposition. Once the prince had relaxed, he continued. “The Lucii aren’t as advanced as those fortunate enough to belong to our glorious empire. The territories beyond the crown city are half a century behind our developments. But within Insomnia you will not find life...so difficult.”
“But Uncle… I can’t,” he stressed, anxiety twisting against the soothing calm of his uncle. “He can’t expect me to marry him.”
“Hush, dear boy,” Chancellor Izunia soothed, taming the young prince into his arms. “It is the burden of royalty to bear certain burdens for their people. Your hand in marriage was never to be yours. The late queen’s hand was given as part of the Tennebraen union. You are merely doing what royalty have done for thousands of years. Making a match to secure the well-being of their people. Only fairytale princes marry for true love.”
He hung his head, resigning himself to it. “But uncle… he’s a man. It would make me a sodomite.”
A hand stroked through his hair. “The Six will grant you forgiveness.”
***
Prompto was nervous. His stomach was squirming restlessly like a thousand wasps were fighting in his body. His leg bounced powerlessly, and he felt like the safety harness was creeping up towards his neck to choke him. Commodore Highwind glared at him as he shifted. “Would you calm down, kid?”
He took a deep breath and felt everything settle down. She glared at him again and turned away from him. That’s why he liked her. She didn’t treat him like a delicate prince.
But it was only moments before he was a mess of squirrelly nerves again. The commodore sighed in irritation and swore in relief when the pilot announced that they were beginning their descent. She relaxed. He did not.
Every muscle in his body clenched up, and he could hardly open his chest enough to breathe. He was dimly aware of a hand settling on his shoulder, but he heard the voice at his ear.
“Would you relax, my boy? Breathe...”
His uncle always knew what to say to calm him down. He turned to give him a weak smile. “What would I do without you, Uncle?”
“You’ll have to figure that out soon, kid,” Commodore Highwind announced. The airship had grounded. “Time to face the firing squad.”
The hatch opened, light spilling into the dim interior. Outside, there was a tent set up with two openings - one facing them, and the other the gate of Insomnia. He felt sick.
Chancellor Izunia’s hand on his back guided him into the opening of the tent. The dim interior was comforting. In the centre stood a prim gentleman, hands clasped behind his back. The set of glasses perched on his nose were surprisingly athletic - sporty and functional instead of pretty.
“Your highness,” he greeted. His voice was cool, calm and accented. He bowed shallowly, almost insultingly so. “My name is Ignis Scientia. His highness’s advisor and privy gentleman.”
“This is Commodore Highwind and Chancellor Izunia,” he offered.
“Quite. Shall we begin?”
“Begin?”
A single elegant eyebrow raised and a look was given to his Uncle Ardyn. The Chancellor explained: “Prompto, in Lucii tradition you must cast off everything from your home and enter your new life with only Lucian possessions.”
“Oh.” That explained why the Magitek Servants hadn’t packed his clothes. When he didn’t move, his uncle stepped forward and began to undo the clasps of his armour.
He was undressed calmly and efficiently and when he stood in his boxers and tank, he turned to Scientia expectantly.
The advisor was calm, but there was something awkward about the tightness of his mouth. “Everything of your homeland must be cast off.”
Oh. Embarrassed and ashamed, he began to take off his underwear. He didn’t want to be naked in front of his uncle, or the commodore, or this complete stranger. But what choice did he have?
That was done, but the gentleman cleared his throat and gave a significant look towards his wrist. Prompto felt panic grip him in icy claws. “Would you like to remove your bracelet yourself, your highness?”
He gave a terrified look at his uncle, fingers reaching up to unclasp the cuff. He turned his eyes away, lowering them to his bare toes. He felt sick.
The gentleman approached with a neatly folded pile of clothing. Even the underwear was black. The high, stiff collar felt like it was strangling him - at least it had long sleeves. He was almost relieved when a white and red coat was brought over to finish the outfit off.
The clothes were all soft fabrics. Nothing like the blended metal fibres of his homeland, protective and functional. But with the colours of the glorious empire, and the metal decorations, he felt a little more protected.
He turned to his uncle with an attempt at a smile. “Are we ready?”
There was something almost pitying in his look. “You are, my dear boy.”
Panic gripped him. He could hardly breathe. “But... you aren’t coming with me?”
“No, my dear boy. You cannot take anything of your homeland with you. I shall visit soon, to begin negotiations for the peace treaty.” He embraced the young prince and murmured into his ear. “Would you remain calm for the rest of the day, my boy? It would not do to have them think you come to this union unwillingly.”
He felt the usual calm from speaking with his uncle wash over him, and could make his goodbyes without tears. He headed out of the tent, pausing for the magic wall to be momentarily lifted to allow him entrance.
A sleek car was waiting just inside the gates. Black, with silvery filigree in the back window. But it had wheels, and it stunk of petroleum. Exactly how far behind were these people?
The journey through the city was long, and he started to get restless. His leg bounced in place against the footwell of the back seat. Scientia glanced at him in the rear view mirror.
“Are you nervous?” He asked, his voice oddly concerned.
He bared his teeth in a sort of grimace. “It is my wedding day. Wouldn’t you be?”
“Quite.” The advisor watched him for a moment longer, then returned his attention to the road. “We shan’t be much longer.”
There was a crowd of people at the Citadel, flanking the red carpet that led up a set of long marble stairs. One of the fancy guards - the Crownsguard - opened the car door for him. He took a deep breath, remembering his Uncle’s parting words, and felt calm wash over him. Then he stepped out.
The crowd was silent, some of the looks almost hostile. But he kept a slight smile on his face as if he didn’t notice, and began to ascend the stairs. A little way up, he noticed a group of shabbily dressed children, looking scrubbed clean and uncomfortable in their clothes.
Orphans, he thought with a swell of sympathy. He noticed a couple of girls at the front of the huddle holding hand-picked bunches of flowers. He paused by them, crouching slightly so he didn’t loom so much. “Are those for me?”
The girls looked anxious, almost flinching when he offered a hand to take them. His heart crumpled in his chest, but he merely widened his smile and waited with his hand patiently outstretched. “Or maybe you want me to give them to your prince?”
“They say the prince is getting married today. But where’s the princess?” One of the younger ones piped up, too young to know she shouldn’t ask maybe.
The matron tried to shush her, but he merely knelt down on one knee to reach her level. “I’m the one who has come to marry your prince,” he explained gently. “I’m a prince too. Prince Prompto.”
“Oh.” The girl wrinkled her face in confusion. “I guess you can have my flowers then...” She offered them out to him indifferently.
He still took them with a gentle hand, carefully cradling them in his fingers. “Thank you. They’re very beautiful.” He rose them up to his face to inhale their scent.
The other orphans gave over their flowers too, until he had his hands full and had thanked them all. He resumed his path up the stairs when an anxious thought crawled up his oesophagus. With the long white tails of his coat and the haphazard bouquet it hit him: he was getting married. He was the bride.
The thought made him sick, but he made himself take deep breaths. Calm himself down. Uncle Ardyn had said he should be calm. So he would be calm.
He caught sight of some photographers and smiled as he watched them, admiring their cameras and the different expensive models they had. He wondered how soon he could get his camera sent... or maybe he’d just have to get a new one. At least they didn’t seem too far behind in that technology here in Lucis.
He at last reached the top, and the wide doors were opened. It was blessedly dark and cool inside the foyer, it helped him relax. There weren’t as many people either. Though there was lots of nobles and different guards standing along the walls. They were silent as he passed, moving like ghosts as they shallowly bowed to him as he passed. He was guided by their flanks to the elevator - Scientia had disappeared at some point. But there was a tall, stoic guard in different clothes waiting for him inside the elevator. He bowed. “Nyx Ulric, your highness. I’ve been assigned to guard you.”
Guard, Prompto thought. For his protection? Or for everyone else’s?
(...)
When Ignis came back in the room, Noct was still in his pyjamas, sprawled comfortably on his couch with a controller in his hand. He glanced up from the screen as he felt his advisor’s disapproving gaze on him.
“What?”
“You’re still not dressed.” The advisor disappeared behind a partition to change into his formal Crownsguard uniform.
He shrugged. “Figured you’d only get annoyed if it wrinkled,” he answered. “Hair and make-up’s been and gone. It’ll take me like two minutes to get ready.”
Ignis just sighed, resigned. “You could make some effort to appear not completely indifferent to this situation, Highness.”
He shrugged. “Me being angry about it isn’t going to do anything, Specs. I’m stuck marrying some Niff prince and it’s up to Gladio to make sure he doesn’t suffocate me with a pillow in my sleep.”
“Noctis, really.” Iggy sighed again and came back out, fully dressed. “Get dressed. He will be in the throne room at any moment.”
He rolled his eyes and got up to put his basic suit on, and then let Specs attach the stupid overly fancy cloak and armour. It was his wedding, so the formal regalia was understanding. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.
He hadn’t believed it at first. That his father was selling him off in marriage to a Niff for a peace treaty! He’d tried to argue - the Niff Army had lost Tennebrae. They were vulnerable and they could drive them out of their territories. But his father had been calm.
There is no need to resort to violent measures when peaceful ones would serve the same purpose. He had recited.
It made sense. He wasn't happy though. But he hadn't argued after that. His life was never meant to be his own. Some time or other he would have had to marry someone his father had chosen. But he’d kind of assumed it might be Lady Lunafreya. They had been close as children, until Tennebrae had been annexed by the Empire. They'd just freed themselves, so Noct thought they'd come to his father with an offer of a treaty. But instead the Empire had got there first.
So now he had to dress up fancy and get married to some Niff.
Once he was dressed he headed down to the throne room. Gladio was already waiting at the high landing, and Noct fell into place beside him, Specs on his other side. “You seen him yet?” The Shield asked, looking towards the open doors. They spoke quietly, not wanting to be overheard by the King and Queen only a few steps away.
“Nah.” He didn’t really care to, anyway. It didn’t make any difference what the Niff looked like. Even if he was scarred and hunchbacked, Noct wouldn’t have any choice about marrying him.
He got a disinterested grunt in response. And then the throne room doors opened.
Well. He wasn’t scarred and hunchbacked. He was almost… pretty. The flawless pale skin of his face was framed by long, straight locks of sunny blond hair. He wasn’t tall, but his stride was confident and calm. It wasn’t until he had stopped at the foot of the stairs and gave a deep bow to the King and Queen that his eyes moved to the man he was supposed to marry.
(...)
Prompto almost stopped breathing. It was lucky he had come to a standstill, because he would have faltered once he saw who it was standing on the upper landing of the stairs to the thrones.
At first he’d been terrified that it was the huge, hulking muscle-man he was going to marry. That man would break him. The serious face was handsome and stubbled, but scarred down one eye. But then he noticed that he was wearing the exact same outfit as Scientia, and let himself relax. That meant… the man between them was his intended.
His breathing almost stopped again. That man was gorgeous. He had a cold sort of beauty, the features delicate and beauty - but arranged in a blank mask. He watched Prompto as if he was some everyday person who had wandered into the throne room.
Calm , he thought. Uncle Ardyn had told him to be calm. Taking a deep breath, he bowed again - to the prince this time. Slightly shallower than he’d offered to the king and queen, but still much deeper than the people had offered to him. The prince inclined his head in acknowledgement, and with another deep breath he began his ascent of the stairs.
Once he reached the lower landing, before the stairs parted to reach the upper landing and the dias upon which sat the thrones, he stopped and waited to be addressed.
“Prompto Aldercaapt, Prince of Niflheim and Duke of Gralea. We welcome you to Lucis, in hopes of the union that will bring peace to our great nations.” The King had a deep, noble voice. Sure and audible throughout the whole throne room.
Prompto bowed his head politely. “I thank you, King Regis Lucis Caelum, the One-Hundred-and-Thirteenth in the line of the Lucii.”
There was a pause as a few whispers died down amongst the gathered crowd.
“Prince Prompto, are you entering upon this union freely and knowingly?” The King asked.
“I am.” Was the term ‘willingly’ purposefully excluded? He felt like it had to be. It was hardly their own will that they were being married today.
The king asked the same question of his own son, whose voice - surprisingly deep and velvety-smooth - was emotionless as he replied “I am” in kind. Prompto felt a shiver down his spine, but didn’t let himself think about it long enough to figure out what it was. At a slight gesture from the smiling queen, he walked up the other side of the split stairs until he was facing the prince. His groom.
Calm .
“Peoples of Lucis,” the king intoned, “we are gathered here today to witness the union between Prince Prompto of Niflheim, and the Crown Prince Noctis. As the ice goddess Shiva and the infernian Ifrit were bound, so shall these two be wed.”
He held up a length of red and blue ribbon and Prompto blinked in confusion. Until he saw the prince raise his left hand towards Prompto. He made a silent ‘oh’ of realisation and raised his in turn so their left palms were touching. He got a weird look from the prince from that, but neither of them spoke as the king and queen wove the ribbons around their hands and wrists until they were bound together.
“May those bound together by the gods not be torn asunder by the will of mankind,” the king pronounced. “Prince Prompto, do you submit yourself to matrimony under all facets of Lucian law?”
“I do,” he answered, making sure his voice was steady.
The queen asked the same of Prince Noctis, who hesitated only the barest moment before repeating the vow. The King and Queen clapped their hands three time, a noise that was echoed by bells high up in the tower. The sound of them struck Prompto right through to his bones.
“Prompto and Noctis Lucis Caelum, I pronounce you husbands bound in matrimony by the laws of this land. Let all feast and be merry!”