#{ gilded cages } imperial au

[soraeia]

Brain: So Alli can make plants from just her magic alone

Me: Yes

Brain: She can also make more magic out of the energy in existing plants

Me: Yes

Brain: Can she recycle the plants she makes herself into more energy

Me:

Brain: When and how exactly does she run out

Me:

#{ the gods are watching. } commentary #{ gilded cages } imperial au #(( I made a similar post about her being like a portable magical charger #for people she’s with #but now ita dawning on me that she’s a walking power plant )) #(( pun intended ))

[xcouriereight]

So, I've been working on designing a FFXVI AU design for my FFXIV OC,

Remeraux Melret, known to many as the Wild Rose of Sanbreque. The Dominant of the Eikon Halicarnassus. Remeraux was born in the Holy Empire of Sanbreque, in one of the grand capital pleasure houses in Oriflamme, to a courtesan mother who was as lively as she was deeply kind. She was raised with love and came to view the other working girls as a family; yet she never knew who her father was, and her mother didn't care to talk about it. Perhaps she showed magical ability from a young age, perhaps she didn't. Born in the fringes of society as she was, nobody official bothered to check. But, when a few patrons in the pleasure house got more violent than usual and her family's lives were in danger— something welled up inside her that she couldn't name. At the tender age of fourteen, in dramatic fashion, Remeraux Melret awoke to her status as the Dominant of Halicarnassus; the Black-Scaled Wyrm. And the whole town was talking. While the Dominant of Halicarnassus hadn't been seen in nearly six generations at this point... the noble family who claimed that lineage was very much alive; although its status in the Imperial court had suredly waned. But imagine the Viscount Melret's surprise when a little birdie told him that his family's Eikon, his bloodline's Dominant, turned out to be the bastard he'd paid good money once to have discarded. Now though? Now she was valuable. Proof that his family was still blessed by the Mothercrystal. As long as he could massage the facts... and bring his wild oats back in line under the banner of his House. Remeraux's mother had an accident, shortly thereafter. Even as Remeraux grieved, she couldn't help but find the timing all-too-convenient, as a man claiming to be her father appeared to take her into his custody as her next of kin before her mother was cold in the ground. But wasn't this something out of the storybooks? A girl born in squalor, yet chosen by destiny; who at her darkest hour is rescued and brought into the life she was always meant to lead? She'd come to regret being such a starry-eyed fool. For not running away the first chance she got. Her father was a tyrant, her stepmother resented her very existence, and her father's estate was nothing more than a gilded cage. Treated to the rod, showered in neglect, her father attempted to mold her into every inch a proper daughter; a brave protector of the Empire, just as holy and stalwart and beloved as Bahamut himself. And Remeraux resented every last moment of it. For now, she plays her role. A skilled tactician, a fine blade, and when needed to rout the Empire's enemies— Halicarnassus herself. But she hasn't forgotten what had been taken from her, not once. And quietly, she sharpens her sword, and waits for her moment to escape... and to take her revenge.

#FFXVI #FFXVI OC #wildly self indulgent I know #My art #I know I've got room to improve yet but I'm proud of how these came out! #FFXIV OC

[herohikara-wol]

FFXIV Write 2k23 - Day 15

Portentous - Emperor AU

“That sentimental old fool is supposed to be keeping you too busy to interfere.” Lahabrea snarled moments before Thordan’s betrayal. Hero didn’t know who he meant, but it hadn’t been the first nor the last time he’d heard of someone who was supposed to be tugging at his strings.

Before Lahabrea had been Titus, who’s attempted assassination wasn’t exactly unexpected. Titus, like Varis, was supposed to be one of Solus’ heirs. Where Varis chose to become his supporter and give him the full might of the military, Titus tried to undermine trust in his position. Titus was the voice of the nobility, who saw Hero as a commoner, an outsider, and a child with no concept of how to rule. Worse yet, Titus openly considered him a usurper, despite Hero never having asked for his role.

It was little surprise Titus chose to duel him in public, claiming he’d been given a boon that could bring Hero low and make him a footnote in Garlemald’s history. Titus forced Hero’s hand, refusing to let the young Viera show mercy or kindness to his rival. Considering it a grave insult that Hero wanted to let him live, he instead forced Hero to kill him, and dubbed him the prince-slayer with his final words.

Varis spit on his coffin when none but Hero and Regula were around to see it; but Hero offered his apologies to Titus’ only son, Nerva, in private. Nerva mentioned that his father had been chasing a crown that was never promised to him in the first place, and that he’d witnessed his father allowing a black-robed man with a red mask over his face into his office a week before the challenge.

At the time Hero thought it was a normal overlord, but then they caught Illberd on the wall several moons after Lahabrea’s death. He failed in his summoning attempt, yes, Varis stopped him before he could sacrifice himself and finish the ritual. His words were chilling though. “I got the eyes from your predecessor, so you could learn what happens to those who betray their kith and kin for an imperial collar. Your gilded cage won’t protect you from him.” Varis blanched, and Regula reflexively raised a blade to silence the man, but Hero stayed deathly calm. 

The Emperor before him was an Ascian. 

Worse, he was an overlord. 

The empire was created by Ascians.

Those thoughts swirled in his head as he tried to comprehend what he could possibly do about this. What control did he really have? How could he face this threat knowing that at any moment the old Emperor could return from his grave and strip away all the changes he’d made for the good of the people. Hero was dedicated to making the Empire work for the people who lived in it, instead of using the people to enrich himself, and little by little he was making changes to do that. If that was running counter to the plots of the Paragons- they’d make removing him a priority.

What was this summoning attempt on his soil supposed to be, except a message? 

Hero took a deep breath as he poured the second glass of wine and set it across from his seat, then waited. “You know, you could have just talked to me. I may belong to Hydaelyn but I like to pretend I’m not the stab-first-talk-later kind of man.”

A hand reached from the void to delicately take the glass, followed by the rest of the man as he stepped forward to put it to his lips. The spitting image of a young Solus zos Galvus, based on the portraits of him still around the palace. “Mmm, disappointing. A good vintage, yes, but not even a hint of poison.”

Hero chuckled a bit and tapped the bottle with one of his long, near-clawed nails, “I didn’t think the Paragons were susceptible to poison.”

“We aren’t.” Solus sneered at the Viera before him, “however, I came to recognize the taste during my tenure as Emperor, and relished the face of my would-be assassins when they realized their plot had failed.”

“Ah, well I’ll remember that for next time then. I don’t like it much myself, the aftertaste ruined apple cider for me for weeks after the attempt on my life in Ishgard. All it gave me was a bad hangover and a forced echo flashback though.”

“Clearly Ishgard has the inferior poisons then, the ones here you’d barely notice at all. Odds are you’ve ingested several already and shrugged them off as merely feeling under the weather. You’re not as popular in the capital as you’d think, Hero.”

“Oh I know I’m not popular in the capital, that’s why Varis keeps getting upset I refuse a food-tester. He doesn’t understand why I’m willing to risk my life just to protect a hypothetical man from a hypothetical toxin.” His eyes moved from the sneer of the ascian to the room around him. “I don’t belong here, but I’m doing my best.”

Hero didn’t see the Ascian’s face soften, his lip quiver, or his eyes cloud from the memory of a boy with a kind heart and open mind. A black mask on his face as he looked around an office both too big and too small to contain his light. “You were chosen for a reason.” The words came out soft and gentle and kind before the Ascian remembered himself, and that he was not talking to his son from twelve-thousand summers ago, but his shade.

Hero laughed lightly and turned back to him with his trademark grin, “I know I was chosen for a reason, but only you can elaborate on it. You did choose me after all. I can guess why though, it keeps me isolated from the scions. From my friends. You put me in a place where I have to rely on people who ought to want me dead to survive, and I’ve been thriving just enough to become a problem, haven’t I? Illberd was a message, telling me to learn my place and behave.”

“Well if you have it all figured out, why do you need me here? You know what you have to do.”

“I needed to tell you, to your face, that I heard your message loud and clear. However, I am choosing to ignore it. I refuse to be a useless figurehead, I am the Warrior of Light and I will do my duty.” The conviction in his voice reminded the ascian again of another, Elidibus. Then again, Elidibus too was so much like his long lost son in little ways. The pair would debate, and discuss, and fight, and occasionally be found in the Convocation hall closet with hair and robes far too messy to have been innocent. Just alike enough that summoning Zodiark broke them apart forever.

Instead of telling Hero that just looking at him broke the old man’s heart in a million different ways, the ghost of Solus turned his back on Hero. “Then I’m afraid I’ll have to work harder to keep you struggling to hold onto your crown, until either you break, or the world does. The Empire has been so good at invoking calamities to aid the rejoinings, I’d hate to lose a good tool just because a child can’t be taught to utilize it correctly.” The portal opened and the Ascian left, dropping the wine glass to the ground behind him.

“Fuck.” Hero leaned back into his chair and drained his glass, closing his eyes as he let the weight of the exchange settle on his shoulders.

#ffxiv fanfiction #ffxivwrite2023 #emperor au #Yes I write Hero's ancient self as Emet-Selch's son #and Elidibus' boyfriend #Eros was an interesting Azem

[themonotonysyndrome]

Hold on! Au idea!

Imperium Jester Freelancer. Mainly cause Jesters are more than just entertainment. They also are aloud to mock the King/ Queen and are the bringerbof bad news. The King/ Queen also goes to the Jester for advise or to ask the Jester if their plan is stupid or not since the Jester doesnt fear loosing their head. It'll be like Damien and Fl in the Prime universe but Imperium at the same time!

-◇

I love AUs in the REDACTED fandom!

Honestly, I can see the Freelancer as a jester, lol. Since the Jester has more than one role as an entertainer, it kinda highlights the Freelancer's ability to be flexible. To easily adapt to the situation around them.

Imagine if Imperial Tyrant!Damien view Imperium Jester!Freelancer as his good friend. Always send them to his Angel for company. Angel might be a bird living in a gilded cage but at least they have some friends??

#monotony's rambling #redacted asmr #headcanons #imperium au

[shadowsong26fic]

17, 30, 40

17.  What writing habits or rituals do you have?

Not...all that many, haha. When I'm in super productive/creative mode, I tend to have a word document or notepad to write stuff down during slow periods at work, or I'll write in the evenings. A lot of times I'll do sprints on my own (set a timer for ten minutes) and usually I have music playing, but not 100% of the time.

30.  Favourite idea you haven’t started on yet

Oooh, tough question. Here's a couple from different fandoms I keep batting around in my head but haven't done any real work on yet:

The newest one is probably the lovingly entitled Percussive Maintenance; basically Sam's memories get at least partially unlocked from one of the like five concussions he gets during Downloaded [BSG]

A BSG/Star Wars crossover; either the Clone Wars trio (plus Rex and maybe Padme) wind up on a basestar (either during the skipped year or during the first half of S3); the Clone Wars trio has a Mortis-esque experience on Kobol while the first landing party is stranded there; something with the Rebels crew and Sam's people on Caprica...there are others too but those three are generally the most present in my head lol

An Obianidala power/roleswap one-shot that I've been planning for the Year of the OTP meme. [SW]

Shifting Alucard's S3/4 timeline by six weeks (basically what happens in the S3 finale is interrupted/forestalled by Greta's messenger) [Castlevania]

And because five is a nice round number--an Avatar Zuko AU [AtLA]

((my Les Mis ideas i am at least semi-actively working on/have started so they don't count lol. and honestly there's a lot of fun crossovers with either bsg or star wars that float in and out of my head at leisure, and some things that i have been poking at that i don't plan on sharing, and. ...yeah my head gets crowded sometimes lol))

40.  Share some backstory for one of your characters

Going to stick to SW since I think that's the primary fandom you and I share and I will pick........::spins wheel of characters:: Kira!

Okay so Kira is an OC of mine who has hopped worlds like. five times. She started out in AtLA, meandered into one of my original worlds, and also into Star Wars.

Basically, her deal is that she's a seer. In Star Wars, this means she's Force-sensitive, obviously. She's also a bird because birds are cool.

I generally play with her in connection with another OC belonging to a friend of mine who is one of Alex and Zeb's kids; Kira's around her age.

Her people have their own native Force traditions--they call Force-adepts Wise Ones--and not a lot of interaction with the Jedi Order before it fell. Kira is the first Wise One with this level of True Sight in a while. She basically got picked up by an Imperial Remnant officer (or, depending on the timeline, just an Imperial officer) who kept her hidden as his Secret Weapon. Generally in a pretty gilded cage, but still. She either manages to escape on her own or gets found by Alex who's investigating why this particular faction has So Much Intel They Shouldn't. He promptly kidnaps/rescues her and brings her home.

(I also did a fair amount of playing with/building up some details for her species. Primarily seed-eating, although they will eat insects for extra protein as well as vegetables; males tend to have brighter coloring than females; young are generally pretty drab grey-brown, with adult plumage coming in starting around sixteen; some teenagers like to paint their feathers to look older than they are.)

Ask me a question!

#asked #answered #minnarr

[zoryany]

(Of Loyalty and Royalty) "You know, Captain Solo," the Empress said, delicately putting her wineglass down. Han tried not to stare at the motion, or at her, or anywhere. Things were always awkward around her. "I had my doubts, but I am beginning to see what Luke sees in you. I am glad he has you." Han breathed a sigh of relief. Then the Empress *had* to add, "Of course, my husband does not share this response."

Royal Imperial Skywalker AU (parts 1-6)

Send me things!!(always accepting, for this or any other verse, just… slow)

It had taken several minutes of insisting, and some creative thinking on his part, but Han had finally gotten Goldenrod out of his and Chewie’s collective hairs, having sent him off on some convoluted mission to find a very vital component for modifying the Falcon. It was weird enough being in the Palace, even with Luke, so being here without him was absolutely surreal. The night before had not been a restful one, that’s for sure.

At least now he had Chewie with him. Something about that big, walking fuzzball made everyone feel more at ease, it seemed – aside from the moments it was clear he was about to lose his temper. Then? It was best to steer clear, unless you wanted to lose an arm. But… even in the early days, Luke seemed to be comforted by his presence.

Han would argue until the day he died that he was not out of his mind for missing the fact that Luke was, indeed, the Imperial Prince, given just how fumbling the kid was right off the bat. Too earnest for his own good and stumbling over his words, you’d think he’d never spoken to another human being before. Which… well, clearly wasn’t the case, but perhaps he just didn’t have as much experience with the sorts of conversations regular folk might have. And for that, he always seemed so nervous when he tried to talk to Han. It was endearing, of course, and played a large part in winning the scoundrel over, but it absolutely screamed “Outer Rim Crop-Duster” without giving a hint at any form of nobility. And yet, when he was around Chewie, he seemed to just… relax. Words flowed much more naturally, whether he addressed the Wookiee or the captain, and a good portion of the tension he carried in his shoulders would just evaporate.

The ease of interaction between him and Luke had grown over the weeks, of course, but Chewie had always been an effective buffer in any situation. He was also effective when it came to negotiations for that very reason, and it was why Han almost wished his first mate had been around for the previous night’s dinner. True, all parties agreed it was for the best that he’d stayed behind, but still; it would have saved Han a lot of discomfort.

“Well, pal,” Han sighed, flopping down on his overly luxurious bed and sprawling out, “how’s it feel, living the high life?”

Perched awkwardly on the foot of the bed, Chewie gave Han a look absolutely brimming with irony. Given his history, as well as that of his people, Chewbacca had never really been in favour of an Imperial Regime in and of itself, but there was a certain level of respect he’d always held for the newfound freedom the Wookiees experienced under the current system. He would speak ill of the life of his people under the Republic, and the galaxy headed under Palpatine, but he carefully maintained an air of neutrality towards the current Royal Family. Through it all, though, Chewie had never sought a life of luxury. He’d always been content to live day to day, repaying the life-debt he was convinced he still owed Han and doing whatever he could to find his place in the galaxy.

Han supposed that over two centuries was plenty of life lived, and sometimes you just had to find your thrills no matter their source.

“Yeah, yeah, I getcha,” Han conceded, sitting back up and running a hand through his hair. “Can’t say I’m feeling all that at home here, either.”

Chewie took a few moments to glance around the room, taking in the décor and the pure extravagance everything seemed to exude, before he finally rumbled out his opinion on the matter.

As he pushed himself off the bed and wandered over to the balcony door, Han shook his head and sighed again. “Yeah, I agree, buddy. It really is… A lot, isn’t it? No wonder the kid felt restless here. I never woulda pinned him to live in a place like this, either.” He spent a brief moment looking out at the sprawling city below him, wondering just how Luke felt every time he took in the same view, before a wry grin spread across his face. “Wanna see a little more of where your new favourite cub grew up?”

Chewie rolled his eyes. On occasion, Han would complain about how much more Chewie liked Luke than him, a joke which seemed to have worn a little thin, but the fuzzball ultimately nodded, and the two breezed out of the room to get a closer look at the wing in which they were to reside for the foreseeable future.

***

“I know, pal.”

It turned out the Imperial Palace – or, at least the sections of it they had proper access to – was not as interesting as they would have liked it to be. They were in the guest wing, of course, and had encountered far too many droids restricting access to other, more interesting sections of the building. The two could make it past if they so chose, but decidedly chose not to, if only to avoid landing on the Empress and her husband’s bad side, and to not to piss off Luke or land him in any more hot water than he might already be in. So instead, they’d settled onto an elevated veranda, sprawling and luxurious and attended by a number of other droids who sought to meet their every need, feeling every bit as though they had landed themselves in a gilded cage of their own.

“I’m not sure what the next move is either.” Chewie draped a warm, hairy arm around his shoulders, and Han was grateful for it. “I can’t live here any more than you can. It just ain’t gonna happen. Luke knows that too.”

He left the next bit unsaid, and as Chewie finished his thought for him, Han found himself wishing he didn’t understand Shyriiwook nearly as well as he did.

For a moment, he tried ignoring his first mate, but another, more insistent rumble, accompanied by a not-quite-painful squeeze to his shoulder had him groaning. “You’re right, of course. As usual. I can’t stay here, and I can��t just drag Luke away from this place. I’m not sure we get to be happy, yanno? In a perfect world, I’d just take the kid with us, travelling the galaxy, adventurin’ from place to place, non-stop.” He paused and allowed the wry smile to twist at his lips. “Pretty sure Luke wouldn’t be strictly opposed to that, either. But…”

Silence rang heavy between them, even with the bustle of the city-planet below them. On another occasion, Chewie might have chimed in with the missing thought, again, but right now, it was clear there was no need. Han wasn’t avoiding it because he didn’t want to acknowledge it; he was avoiding it because it brought a level of pain he never wanted to confront when he was only just getting closer to Luke.

At the end of the day, it was duty that came into play, before anything else.

“Ah! Captain Solo!” Han nearly jumped out of his skin at the crisp tone of the droid as it interrupted his thoughts. “Here you are. And Chewbacca! I nearly thought I had lost you.”

He had to suppress a groan as he forced a grin and faced the gleaming golden droid. “Nope. Still here. Can’t get rid of us that easily.”

“Well, that is indeed excellent,” Threepio continued, completely missing the irony. “I do believe I have found the component you were looking for. I have placed it with your ship until such a time that you may require it.”

“Well,” Han drawled, genuinely surprised the droid had found anything, given his description, “I guess I’ll just have to take a look at it next time I’m fixin’ up the Falcon, and I’ll let ya know how you did, yeah?”

Chewie chuckled softly from behind him, but the droid carried on. “Her Majesty has requested your presence, Captain Solo. I must request that you follow me.” Request was more than likely putting it mildly.

Chewie raised a brow at the droid, rumbling a soft inquiry in Shyriiwook, but Goldenrod seemed unfazed. “I apologize, Mr. Chewbacca. While I recognize your desire to accompany the Captain, the Empress has asked to speak with him alone. However, if you so choose, I may wait with you outside her chamber while they carry out their business.”

The Wookiee was losing patience with the droid almost as quickly as Han was, but Chewie had always been better at maintaining his composure. Despite his own frustrations, he growled an agreement. Both Han and Chewie followed the protocol droid to the hallway leading to the Empress’ chambers, Han being ushered in while Chewie was pointed to a position just to the side of the doorway.

“Mistress Padmé awaits you inside, Captain Solo. I advise you do not keep her waiting.”

“Yeah?” Han felt his lips contort into a wry, contrary sort of smirk. “Well, I’ll make sure I don’t. I know better than to keep a woman like that waiting.”

“Indeed, you do have some wisdom in you after all, Captain Solo.” Threepio’s voice was chipper and polite as ever, but if he didn’t know better, Han would almost think the droid was mocking him.

“Right,” he replied, face darkening slightly, before turning to his friend. “See ya later, Chewie,” he said with a nod. “Try not to tear off Goldenrod’s arms while I’m in there.” He’d lowered his voice, but not enough to go undetected by a droid’s auditory sensors, and Han took more pleasure than he probably should have in the way Threepio seemed to jump at the comment.

Striding forward, the assured steps he took into the chamber worked to conceal the anxiety that truly roiled beneath Han’s composed exterior. Something about the Empress caused his legs to turn liquid and his wits to escape him. Luke was able to disarm him with his charm and catch him off guard enough to force him into idealism; the Empress disarmed him completely with her ability to read right into the core of his being.

Actually, every member of the family seemed to share that ability. His thoughts hadn’t felt private since he’d landed on Coruscant. The Empress could see right through him, the Princess shared her mother’s eerie personal precision, the father had his own brand of intimidation, and Luke…

Luke had always been able to sense Han’s vulnerabilities. Even when it wasn’t obvious that was what he was doing, it was present enough that the kid seemingly maintained a solid connection with him no matter what. Now that Han knew just what Luke’s connections and abilities were, he couldn’t help but feel just a touch more wary of him. He’d never much believed in the Force, nor did he really know what it did, and he didn’t quite trust it.

But… he did trust Luke.

He knew just how gentle the kid could be. Despite the insecurities they both felt, despite knowing what seemed to eat at him the most… Han held faith in Luke. It made him uncertain. Han was unaccustomed to uncertainty like this. But even though he was entirely unsure what the future held, he knew he had faith. A faith he hadn’t come close to holding for years before this, but faith nonetheless. He was not about to abandon that just because he was about to face the Empress, the most powerful woman in the galaxy, and someone who could very well dismiss his existence on a whim.

“Captain.”

The door closed behind him, and Han found himself in another room that seemed overly lavish and luxurious compared to what any being actually needed. He hadn’t really noticed, but they’d moved beyond the guest wing of the Palace. The droid’s escort had been so seamless that he didn’t even realize the route they were taking was unfamiliar and led past paths that had previously been obstructed. He’d been purposely misled to this chamber, and would be escorted back to his own private room so he could not find this one again, he was sure. It instilled a growing sense of unease within him, but Han would not back down. Holding his own against the Empress was all he could do. It even seemed liable to become his greatest achievement ever.

Han was not an Imperial Loyalist. He never had been. He wasn’t a rebel, by any means, just went where the credits were, but most Imperials were fairly stingy with their credits. It was the outlaws who paid the best, and for so long, he’d pledged himself where the fortune laid. But now… well. Was it fortune that drew him to Luke? Or something else? So many could look at his history, look at Luke’s identity, and draw their own conclusions. Han Solo, smuggler, scoundrel, and Imperial Leech.

Luke had never seen that in him, though. And, well, if Luke believed in him…

“I can sense your discomfort.” The Empress’ voice was somehow both cool and warm. She had an inviting air about her, something that begged you to share your every last secret, but she never shed her nobility. Calm, collected, and in control… that was the Empress, and Han wasn’t sure he would ever stand a chance against her in any sort of battle, of the wits or otherwise. And yet, he wasn’t sure that mattered. He would hold his own against her for Luke’s sake. That much felt so certain, no matter what.

“Discomfort, Your Majesty?” Yeah, playing it off seemed like his best bet. What else was he supposed to do? Just admit to the fact that he felt uncomfortable around her? No, that was a weakness he wasn’t about to show off just yet.

It seemed, though, he couldn’t fool her. The Empress wore an expression that seemed far too similar to a predator capturing its prey, though it did not contain the same level of cruelty as one who was about to devour. No, she seemed ready to play with her food before deciding if it should be consumed immediately, or if it was worthy of keeping around for a bit longer.

“You have not shown any signs of comfort since arriving at the Palace, Captain.” Her smile grew, but as it spread, it only became more inscrutable. Han really had no idea whether it carried more welcome or intimidation with it, but he could certainly tell that it carried more. “It is my sincerest hope that you may find some level of ease within our walls. I do not wish you to be on edge for the entire duration of your stay. After all, what kind of hosts would we be if you could find no trust in us whatsoever?”

Han quirked a brow. “I really gotta say, Majesty, it ain’t nothin’ personal. Promise. Your family’s done nothing wrong to me. Got no reason to stand against ya. Plus with Luke around, I’m really not about to do anything stupid like that. But you can’t blame me for being a bit nervous. I ain’t used to dealing with big shots like your family. And I’ve got no interest in kriffin’ things up. Especially not for Luke. Kid’s been through enough. He don’t need me comin’ in to make things even worse. It was his choice to have me here, and if I didn’t think he actually wanted me anywhere near the rest of your family, you better believe I wouldn’t have agreed. Sorry to say it, but my interest in politics is almost negative, so it would take either a huge stack of credits or the word of someone I trust to get me at the Palace at all.”

Did he actually just say all that? In his head it hadn’t sounded that bad. It just sounded like his usual ramblings. But actually saying it out loud…

The Empress clutched a delicate goblet in her gloved hand. It was filled with wine, and she took a long drink out of it before setting it down and smiling at Han. “You know, Captain Solo,” she said as the glass delicately took its place atop a coaster on the end table. Han tried not to stare at the motion, or at her, or anywhere. Things were always awkward around her. "I had my doubts, but I am beginning to see what Luke sees in you. I am glad he has you." Han breathed a sigh of relief. Then the Empress had to add, "Of course, my husband does not share this response."

“Well, Majesty, can’t say I expected him to.” Han hadn’t noticed, but a droid had placed a full tumbler of Correllian Whisky next to him, and he was quick to take a swig of it before he continued. “Can’t say I expected any of you to like me at all, to be honest. Still not sure if that daughter of yours is all that sold on me, either.”

Bright peals of laughter echoed through the chamber. There was genuine joy and amusement in the Empress’ expression, and it was enough to make her seem purely human. It was likely a side of her that only the closest and most intimate of associates would see from someone so regal. He’d seen the holos. The whole galaxy had. She was gentle yet stoic, kind yet solemn, genuine yet guarded… She was what you would expect a beloved Empress to be. But this – this seemed to be who she really was, and an unexpected warmth bloomed in Han’s chest at experiencing it. Maybe… maybe he wasn’t so doomed here, after all, if he’d won over the most powerful woman in the galaxy.

Maybe he’d have a chance at winning over the old man…

“My dear captain, you do understand my children well, I must say.” The light remained in her eyes, and Han could practically feel the tension in his shoulders unwind – though, that could very well be the whisky’s work. “Winning over Leia is no easy feat, but I think you have a better chance than most. She worries for her brother. And I assure you, it isn’t personal.” Clever woman, using his own defense against him. “You took her brother’s attention and caused him to be away from her. She was worried sick and missed her twin. It is not your fault – my son has always been reckless and acts of his own accord – but she resented you before she even knew who you were. Please be patient. Luke adores you. She will come to accept you no matter what. Even if she does not choose to show it.”

Han finished the last of his whisky, grimacing a bit at the thought of the princess. She resembled her mother a fair bit and had been seen in public with the Empress more often than Luke ever had been. The twins didn’t look all that much alike, really, especially when seen separately. While together, though, the similarities shone through. Similar mannerisms, expressions, body language… and they definitely interacted like siblings. Seeing them in this capacity left no doubt in his mind that the twins were, well, twins. But the princess always seemed far more like The Princess than Luke ever did The Prince.

The Empress took another sip from her goblet and her eyes settled on the dark liquid within. “My son has always been more trusting than his sister. He has a gentle heart. I know the dangers he faces because of it. That gentle heart is far too fragile for his own good, and while I know that Luke is strong… well. We all know that Luke is strong. He is not some delicate, withering flower that will crumble to pieces with a strong gust of wind. He is trusting, though, and will offer up that most vulnerable and breakable part of himself far more readily than any of us would prefer.” She paused, emptying the contents of her glass before setting it down and meeting Han’s eyes with a piercing, imperious gaze.

“The unease my family feels around you isn’t personal, Captain Solo. Neither we nor you have any reason for it to be, correct? But our concern stems largely from Luke himself. We know his nature, and when he left Coruscant for such a prolonged period of time, we all worked ourselves into a frenzy of worry about just what harm he might bring upon himself. Physical danger concerns us, of course, our family has guards for a reason, even given our own martial prowess. But Luke’s emotional state, especially when he’d fled searching for freedom… you understand why we would be concerned, yes?”

Han just nodded, wishing he had another glass of whisky.

“My husband may not be swayed just yet. Your status as a smuggler certainly does not help, either.” She really knew how to reassure him when it came to tall, dark and terrifying… “The best way to win him over, however, is to continue as you are. Make Luke happy. That is all we desire for him, first and foremost, and the finer points of status can be discussed at a later date.”

Han met her gaze with gritted determination and nodded sharply. “I will, Your Majesty. Swear on the Falcon. I will not let the kid down.”

“Good,” she replied, humour in her voice while intensity remained in her gaze. “See that you don’t. Farewell, Captain Solo. Until next time.”

#han solo #chewbacca #padme naberrie #Padmé Naberrie #padme admidala #skysolo #han and chewie #imperial royal skywalker family au #c3po #wow it sure has been a while #since I've posted anything #I've had this sitting for a while #it needed heavy editing #and I'm still not sure I'm happy with it #but hey! #han and padme

[starsinmylatte]

A Song Among the Stars Ch 3

Pairing: Grand Admiral Thrawn x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature/Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings/tags:

Slow Burn

Slow Romance

Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con (never by Thrawn)

Sexual Tension

Mix of Legends and Canon

Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo is protective of his muse

Ballroom Dancing

Imperial Officers (Star Wars)

Angst and Romance

Canon-Typical Violence

Masquerade

Imperial style

Phantom of the Opera AU if you squint

Thrawn finds his muse

Summary: Lyra's life was turned upside down the day the Empire took her. Once a renowned singer and performer on the Outer Rim, she is now little more than a songbird trapped in a gilded cage. Forced to perform and used as Imperial propaganda for years, she grew to despise her life until one fateful night and a chance encounter with a certain Grand Admiral.

Author's note: Hi everyone! Please let me know if you enjoy chapter 3 of A Song Among the Stars. I'll have a masterlist soon with all of the chapter links, but here's the link for the first 2 chapters on Tumblr and AO3 here. Tumblr likes to hide my writing, so please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it!

A big thank you to @pala-din-djarin for formatting advice!! 💙💙

AO3 link here for chapter 3 if you'd prefer!

Song Suggestions At the beginning: Thrawn - AtinPiano The dance: Masquerade Ballet Suite: 1. Waltz - Aram Khachaturian

“I am Grand Admiral Thrawn of the Seventh Fleet. I trust you will have no further issues with me asking you to leave.”

The edge in the Grand Admiral’s voice glittered with dark promise, and a tense silence fell. Even in my current state, I could tell that he was definitely not asking; his statement was little more than a scarcely veiled command. Bost stood incredibly still as the oppressive atmosphere continued. I could tell he was carefully considering his options, but there couldn’t have been many, as Thrawn’s commanding body language clearly showed he had no intention of backing down.

Suddenly, the sound of frantic footsteps broke the silence. All my muscles involuntarily tensed as my instincts screamed danger. Three more shadowy figures came running around the corner of the maze behind Bost. Fearing the absolute worst, I physically and mentally prepared to defend myself again. I dropped my weight evenly between my legs and shifted into what I assumed was a passable fighting stance. Apparently, the change in my posture did not escape my new friend even though I was still completely behind him.

“There will be no need for that,” Thrawn’s voice had returned to its original soft, dulcet tone, “excellent timing, Commander Vanto.”

How did he recognize him? It’s kriffing pitch-black out here!

I quickly decided it was a question for another time and relaxed ever-so-slightly as Thrawn acknowledged the newcomers. If he knew them, considering the present situation, it was currently good enough for me. Thrawn gestured back towards me and spoke again in an infuriatingly calm tone for the situation, “Please escort her back towards the ballroom. I will join you momentarily; the Commodore and I have something to discuss.”

I had no idea what Thrawn needed to discuss with Bost, but anything was better than me being chased down.

The three shadowy figures stepped into a patch of starlight. Any relief I felt earlier was amplified tenfold because Dreycolt and Arkmad were instantly recognizable. They stood slightly behind the third man, who I assumed was Vanto. All three of them looked ready for a fight, and their facial expressions flickered between worry and relief. Vanto gave Thrawn a curt nod before pushing past Bost and offering me his hand.

I don’t know him, but I don’t have much of a choice here, and there’s not really any time to think…. I have to trust my instincts.

Tentatively, I reached out and placed my hand in his; he gave it a reassuring squeeze. Vanto’s hands were noticeably calloused, which gave me another sensation to focus on. However, even with those feelings grounding me to reality, my frazzled emotions swooped in like carrion birds as the adrenaline started to wear off. Intrusive thoughts started to slip through every mental wall I had in place as he led me away from the maze and back through the garden.

Stars, what do they even think about this situation… How is this going to be handled? Is the Empire going to somehow blame me for causing a scene? Am I going to be the one punished??

Before I realized it, we had walked about half of the way back to the ballroom. Vanto led me to a nearby bench; I gratefully sat down and stared back in the direction of the ballroom. The flickering lights, laughter, and faint music indicated that the party was still in full swing and would be for some time. There was zero chance of me leaving early because the second part of my job tonight hadn’t even started.

Vanto took a seat on the bench directly across from mine, and I didn’t even have time to open my mouth before words came tumbling out of his, “Are you alright?”

I immediately recognized the accent, and it momentarily drew me out of my melancholy state. “Commander Vanto, you’re from the Outer Rim too,” I noted with as much of a smile as I could manage.

He returned the smile, but his deep brown eyes and creased eyebrows still showed unease, “Yes, I’m from Lysatra, but please call me Eli.”

It was obvious that Eli wanted to discuss the incident, but it was so very rare to meet another person from a world near mine on Coruscant that I actually felt slightly relieved. It was like having a small piece of home nearby.

Another pleasant change was that the starlight shone bright enough for me to fully see in this area of the garden. Eli’s tanned face seemed kind, even though half of it was hidden by a black mask, and his dark hair and eyes were a welcome contrast to Bost’s icy complexion. Maybe it’s a sign that everything will be ok.

I could tell that Eli was trying to find the right words to continue, but he only managed to gesture around like he was trying to pull them out of the air. That alone told me all I needed to know; he had a rather good idea of what Bost tried to do.

Deep breaths, I reminded myself as I nodded with all of the confidence I could muster. You must be strong. “It’s happened before. I didn’t have anyone to rescue me, but I survived then, and I will survive now.” I was reminding myself just as much as I was informing Eli.

His face paled. “This isn’t the first time?” He trailed off before nervously running his fingers through his dark hair. I heard him muttering something under his breath that sounded like a long string of swearing in another language.

Any chance of further conversation was stopped by the sound of footsteps and the arrival of Dreycolt. He was out of breath from running through the garden, but he still managed to get the words out, “I cannot apologize enough for what happened. We tried to get help, but….”

The apology is nice but pointless.

I raised a hand to cut him off. “I’m assuming you don’t know Bost like I do. That conniving bastard would have found a way to dispose of you both so he could get me alone. However, you getting help likely saved me; the Grand Admiral arrived at a very timely moment.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but a pointed look from Eli cut him off. I raised an eyebrow at the two men.

Eli rushed to speak first. “I was the contact if there was trouble, but we weren’t expecting anything like this.

Something doesn’t quite add up here…..

At that point, I noticed both Dreycolt and Eli had the same insignia on the shoulder of their uniform: an extremely stylized black tribal design with three heads. It was emblazoned on a grey circle, and the whole thing was ringed in red. They had to be from the same fleet, and if Thrawn knew them immediately….

Suddenly, everything clicked into place as I locked eyes with Eli. “You’re all from the Seventh Fleet, and Grand Admiral Thrawn is your commanding officer.”

“Quite perceptive.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sudden reappearance of Thrawn’s smooth voice behind me. Unlike with Dreycolt, there had been no footsteps or any other warning of his arrival.

Kriffing hell, why is this man so silent? He may have helped me, but that doesn’t give him the right to scare me out of my mind a few minutes later.

Concern flashed across Eli’s face as he wordlessly reached out to make sure I wasn’t too rattled by the shock. I took a deep breath and nodded slightly in reassurance. My thoughts raced through my previous mantras. You are fine. You are safe now. Eli shot an annoyed look at the man behind me as I composed myself and turned to face Thrawn so I could properly thank him.

It was still dark but I immediately realized that he was tall. Very tall. Even though I was looking up, my small stature combined with my seated position meant my gaze fell on his broad shoulders. I instantly noticed the crisp, white hue of his close-fitting dress uniform and the shining rank bar he wore confirmed his earlier claim. He was absolutely a Grand Admiral.

He smoothly stepped backward and acknowledged me, “My apologies, it was not my intent to frighten you.”

Any words coming out of my mouth died at the tip of my tongue as I finally saw Grand Admiral Thrawn fully illuminated in a patch of shifting starlight. All thoughts of this rank or thanking him abruptly left my mind as one thing became abundantly clear: he was not human.

Where the neck of his pristine uniform ended, his skin was blue. Not merely tinted with blue, but it was truly the beautiful color of a deep pool of water that had frosted over in winter. My gaze continued its path upwards and traveled to his face, which was partially obscured by an ornate mask resting atop high, regal cheekbones and an aquiline nose. From beneath the mask, his ruby eyes seemed to burn into mine like red-hot coals.

Trying desperately not to make a fool out of myself, I did my best to snap out of the shock. Grand Admiral Thrawn was the only non-human Imperial of any significant rank I had ever met, and I severely doubted any others existed. Every Imperial gathering I attended before this one had been filled with countless human guests, but I had only ever seen non-humans used as servers or entertainers. Talle, Kaia, and Ahni had never served a non-human Imperial, but almost all of the other handmaidens were non-humans taken from their worlds.

Why is he working for the Empire in this high of a position?

I fervently hoped the dim lighting hid any sign of my surprise. After all, no matter the reason why, this man was still a Grand Admiral. There was no guarantee that he wouldn’t request some kind of a favor in return for saving me earlier. I knew enough legends about the types of favors high-ranking Imperials often pulled or traded, and I was already way more indebted to Thrawn than I was comfortable with. His appearance may have surprised me, but I refused to let my lack of knowledge show. I fully realized that lack of knowledge was a weapon the Empire had firmly pressed against my throat, and it was marking me as prey like blood in the water.

I took a deep breath, straightened my posture, and mentally berated myself. This was all my fault. I had gotten too complacent and comfortable with the Imperials. I had no idea Bost was even here, but I let down my guard and accidentally gave him an opportunity. Dreycolt, Arkmad, Eli, and now Thrawn…… There was absolutely no guarantee that I could trust any of them.

Think, Ly, you have to think. These people prey on the weak, so you have to seem strong, at least for now. At the very least, use caution. Just get through this night.

It was like flipping a switch mentally; all of my walls flew back up, and my emotions dulled until everything was just numb. The sparkling, faultless personality I used in Imperial society clicked back into place. I inclined my head respectfully and addressed Thrawn, “Grand Admiral, I cannot thank you enough for your help tonight; your quick response to the situation likely saved me.”

“There is no need,” his voice was still impossibly soft as he regarded me. I lifted my head and met his eyes for the second time; the heat of his gaze sent a shiver down my spine. “From the state of his hand, I would say you were defending yourself admirably.”

My face flushed, “Still, I do not know what would have come of the encounter. If it came to a case of my word versus his, especially since I injured an Imperial officer, I doubt anyone would take my side.”

As a “guest” of the Empire, I had everything to lose based on my reputation. If I angered the wrong person or fell from social favor, I would no longer be useful as propaganda……. The weight behind my previous words went unspoken but was understood by all.

An indecipherable expression crossed Thrawn’s face. Krayt spit, he’s hard to read. Most people had tells that let me read their expressions like an open book, but the Grand Admiral seemed to be very different.

“However, I do have one question. What happened to Commodore Bost?” I couldn’t help the tiny falter in my voice when saying his name, but it was small enough to be excusable.

Thrawn’s eyes narrowed and seemed to burn brighter, “I sent him to be treated for his injury. However, I made it perfectly clear that you were a guest and asset of the Empire, so his behavior towards you would not be tolerated.”

I mentally scoffed. So that’s what upset him. Not the injustice committed against me, but the mistreatment of Imperial property. I wasn’t foolish enough to ignore the protection he had provided, but my blood absolutely boiled at his words. However, I gritted my teeth and smiled at him, “Again, I do not know how I could possibly ever thank you enough for this.”

I wasn’t worried about the medics treating Bost; they knew enough about Imperial society to keep their mouths shut on what and who they treated. Most likely, they assumed he was one of the many starting an after-party early. The rumors of the extreme tastes of some officers and politicians often spread like wildfire among the servants and handmaidens. Talle had been unofficially requested at an after-party once before, and she told me stories that made my stomach turn.

Thrawn inclined his head towards me in acknowledgment of my thanks, and I continued speaking, “However, I do need to return to the ballroom. The orchestra will be the main entertainment for the rest of the night, but I was requested to be available as an escort. I’m sure my dance card is already quite full, and I don’t want to keep anyone waiting.”

After all, what good is propaganda if it isn’t thoroughly used, I thought dryly. It honestly did not matter to me if I kept anyone waiting; in my opinion, they could wait for all eternity. Unfortunately, it would matter a lot to my handler if they complained.

“Don’t worry, Captain Dreycolt and Lieutenant Arkmad will still be accompanying you. Both of them are already on your card,” Eli reassured me as I turned around to face him again. “I also took the liberty of placing myself on your card so that I will be close by too.” He pulled out a small datapad and continued, “We are all spaced evenly throughout the remaining time so that you will have someone checking on you often.”

Now that was reassuring. As much as I wanted to be wary of Eli, he seemed to be very kind and it was making it hard to keep my guard fully up.

I thanked him with another smile and reached up to check my hair. Thankfully, all of Kaia’s hard work seemed to have paid off. Not a single pin or gem felt out of place, and I chalked it up to a minor miracle. After a brief inspection, my dress was still pristine, and my shoes were fine too.

I stood up from the bench and turned to address Thrawn once more, but he had stepped off to the side and seemed to be in deep conversation with one of the medics. His current expression was much easier to infer because the poor medic looked terrified. I quickly decided that I didn’t want to know, and it was better that I didn’t ask.

When I glanced back towards the ballroom, Eli offered me his arm, and I accepted the gesture. He signaled to Dreycolt, and the three of us began the short walk back through the garden. Thankfully, it was uninterrupted and uneventful.

Arkmad was waiting for us at the same side door he and Dreycolt had helped me exit from earlier. He was fixated on the small datapad he was holding and muttering under his breath. The datapad looked very similar to Eli’s, but this one was exceedingly familiar.

I peered down at the list displayed on it, “So, who’s on the card tonight?”

“Oh, just the usual mix of the usual senators and high officers. You actually seem to be in higher demand tonight; the performance earlier must have really impressed some important people,” he responded with a sympathetic look. “It looks like your card is completely full for every dance tonight.”

Oh, joy. Sometimes I was lucky enough to escape the last few dances, but, of course, tonight couldn’t be that convenient. I sighed inaudibly and shifted my feet. At least these shoes are comfortable.

Arkmad tapped me lightly on the shoulder and gestured to the far side of the ballroom, “Your first partner will be waiting for you near that column. The next song is about to begin, so I suggest you get started.”

The first thing I did when I stepped inside was signal the nearest server. I took a glass of sparkling wine, quickly glanced around to make sure nobody was staring at me and downed it. I felt the effects of the strong alcohol almost immediately; one glass was nowhere enough to make me drunk, but I hoped it would further dull any remaining nerves. I returned the glass to the tray and ventured off in search of my partner.

The first few songs passed by quickly. The slight buzz from the alcohol lightened my mood and made it easier to tune out any faults of my partners. Some were heavy-handed with flattery or praise, intent on trying to steal me away for the night. Others had already indulged in too much alcohol to the point where their breath smelled of the wine and their steps faltered. At least they all seemed to be decent dancers, and I was skilled enough in social etiquette to politely refuse or divert the conversation.

I truly had no problems dancing; most of the time I rather enjoyed it. My education at the conservatory had included many lessons on the classical styles and different regional dances in addition to my more intensive singing lessons. We were all supposed to be well-rounded performers, so the education contained much more than just singing, even though it was my main focus. When I was taken to Coruscant, it was vaguely easy to learn any dances I didn’t already know. Most of my partners here were higher class, so they had some kind of dance instruction at least once; they weren’t always graceful, but almost all of them were bearable partners that only sometimes stepped on my feet.

As the orchestra played on, the long list on my dance card grew shorter. Some faces were new, but many were the same senators and officers that often requested me. Before I knew it, I had danced with both Arkmad and Dreycolt, and less than half of my list remained.

I told both men the same thing when they checked on me: the rest of the night was going well. They each seemed satisfied with that answer and moved to the balcony overlooking the dance floor. As Eli’s lively dance was finishing, he pushed his stray hair back into place with a gloved hand, “Miss Lyra, it was a pleasure.” He gave me a small bow as an excuse to lean in close and whisper, “Are you doing alright?”

I responded with a curtsy and an almost imperceptible nod. “The pleasure was all mine, Commander.”

He seemed satisfied with my answer as he walked off to join the other men on the balcony. I had turned to grab another glass of wine before my next partner found me when an all-too-familiar voice turned my blood to ice.

“I do believe that I have the pleasure of claiming the next dance. It seems the man on your card….. won’t be able to make it.”

I whipped my head around and stared directly into the cold, glacial eyes of Commodore Bost. Somewhat vindictively, I noted that his injured hand was bandaged and slung across his chest. He had also donned a plain, white half-mask that covered the scarred side of his face since our last encounter.

My heart raced in my chest; I scanned the upper balcony for Eli, but he was nowhere to be seen. I caught Dreycolt’s eye and he raced off with a panicked expression at the sight of Bost standing in front of me. Even though my heart was racing and panic rose in my throat, I knew that as long as I stood inside the ballroom he couldn’t harm me; even Imperials dew the line somewhere.

Bost reached out to seize my hand and I snatched it away from his grasp. “I refuse to dance with you. You aren’t the name on my card and I have no reason to accept your request.”

He clicked his tongue at me mockingly, “So defiant…” He leaned in to whisper in my ear, “However, I am a very patient man. I can be here all night if that’s what it takes.”

Another shiver ran through me at Bost’s chilling words. I closed my eyes and winced at the foul feeling of his breath on my neck. Suddenly, a looming presence appeared behind me and Bost quickly stepped backward. Assuming Eli came to my rescue, I turned around and gave a low curtsy in greeting, but I instantly realized my assumption was profoundly incorrect; the figure standing in front of me was dressed in white.

Still in my low curtsy, I raised my head and stared directly into the smoldering gaze of Grand Admiral Thrawn. His red eyes remained fixed on mine as he bowed and offered me his hand. “May I have this dance?”

Thrawn’s request rang in my ears. Did he actually want to dance with me, or was he just guarding an Imperial asset? Either way, I was incredibly grateful for his second timely arrival of the night. There was no other choice for me but to take his hand.

Before I could, Bost made a small noise of protest behind me. Thrawn rose from his bow and silenced him with a single look. The Grand Admiral’s voice had the same dark, commanding edge as it had in the garden, “Commodore Bost, your presence here is not required. I will be claiming the rest of Miss Lyra’s dance card tonight.”

My thoughts raced again at his statement. Sometimes a particularly wealthy or powerful person would request multiple dances a night, but someone claiming the rest of my dance card was absolutely unheard of. However, I highly doubted anyone would be willing to argue about it with Grand Admiral Thrawn if he was serious.

Bost must have realized the futility of his position; he glowered at me, turned away with a flourish, and exited the ballroom. I sighed audibly, “Thank you for stepping in again. However, I don’t wish to be a burden on you for the rest of the night.”

The corner of Thrawn’s mouth twitched into a smile, “Not at all. I believe it will provide an enlightening distraction.” He offered me his hand again, “May I?”

Kriffing hell, he was serious then. I gently placed my right hand in his left, and he wrapped his long, elegant fingers around mine. The orchestra played the beginning notes of the next song, a waltz, and he seemed to recognize the dance immediately. Thrawn murmured appreciatively, “ah, an excellent choice,” as he pulled me in until our chests were almost touching.

My cheeks colored slightly and I prayed he couldn’t tell. The familiarity with which he moved me was almost seductive when combined with his velvety soft voice and the lingering effects of the wine.

The dance began and we glided across the ballroom floor to the music. This was one of the more difficult dances of the night, so many stepped off to the side and watched the braver couples attempt it. I knew it by heart, but Thrawn led us with an intensity that told me he did too.

Some of my previous partners could dance very well, but none moved with the same warrior’s grace that he exemplified in every step. The feeling of his broad chest against mine and his strong arms firmly around me made my mind spin. He was so unlike anyone I’d ever danced with; he seemed to move with the same strength and confidence with which he commanded.

No, no, no... you are not doing this. It’s just the wine and your overcharged emotions running all over.

I distracted myself from the dance and his burning touch by studying the intricate pattern on his mask. It was white, but under each eye a thin strip of red in a slightly darker shade outlined the openings and made his gaze even more intimidating. An intricate pattern of entwining, golden snakes bearing their fangs delicately wove their way around the mask’s rim.

In the back of my mind, I came to a sudden realization: Thrawn was testing me. As the song progressed, he began using more and more complex movements. It was as if he was trying to see if I could keep up with his brutal pace.

Kriffing blue bastard. I’m not some little thing for you to toy with.

Well, two could play that game. I locked eyes with Thrawn, gave him the most stubborn look I thought I could get away with, and switched my step pattern up. If his gaze was smoldering before, now it was blazing. He flashed me a grin that was absolutely feral and twirled me out on his arm. As he brought me back in, he pressed me against his chest and dipped me low. He murmured in my ear and his breath smelled faintly of the sweet wine, “Very enlightening, thank you.”

The rest of the night passed in a similar fashion. Thrawn led and I matched his pace step for step, challenging him the entire time. By the time the final note on the last song rang out, we were both breathing noticeably harder. A single strand of his neat, dark hair had fallen into his face and I knew some pins had fallen out of mine. This was the first time a dance partner had made me break a sweat since I was at the conservatory.

He released me from his arms, and the loss of contact was more disappointing than I cared to admit. The Grand Admiral bowed one last time as Eli, Dreycolt, and Arkmad appeared behind him. His voice seemed to have the slight accent from the garden as he addressed me, “You dance quite artistically; thank you for indulging me.”

Thrawn turned away and shared a quick word with Eli, who had an expression of shock on his face. Their conversation lasted for a few minutes before he addressed me again. However, this time his accent was gone. “I’m afraid I must take my leave now, but Commander Vanto will see you safely home.” He reached up to push the stray lock of hair back into place and walked off the dance floor and out of the building. Dreycolt and Arkmad shared a look before following closely behind him.

Eli still seemed to be in a state of surprise. He shook his head like he was clearing out his confusion and offered me his arm, “Miss, if you’re ready, we can head outside. I have a speeder waiting for us.” I smiled at him as we walked out of the ballroom and into the crisp Coruscanti night.

Tags: @mittheresabosen @pretty-with-andorian-shingles @handbaskethell

#grand admiral thrawn #thrawn x oc #thrawn fanfic #thrawn #mitth'raw'nuruodo #star wars rebels fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #please tumblr stop hiding my work #original character #original female character #my oc character #thrawn fanfiction

[starrysnowdrop]

Earthlystar 🌎💫

FFXIV OC x NPC Shipping & Light RP Blog

Since October 2019

About Mun 1 | 2

About Muses

Yume Aino

Wife of Cid Garlond

Lover & Future Wife of G’raha Tia

Mother of Mirai Garlond & Hikari Raha

Tag = oc: paint it black

Female Hingan Raen Au Ra WoL

Main Jobs = Samurai & Reaper

Original Character Profile

Character Survey

Character Features (Symbolism)

Character Voice

Mirai Garlond

Daughter of Cid Garlond & Yume Aino

Stepdaughter of G’raha Tia

Older Half-Sister of Hikari Raha

Tag = oc: wings of time

Female Half Garlean / Half Raen Au Ra

Canonverse Job = Time Mage

In Game Jobs = Astrologian & Sage

Born - Post 6.0

Character Profile

Mirai Garlond (Cid & Yume’s Daughter) Headcanons

Hikari Raha

Daughter of G’raha Tia & Yume Aino

Stepdaughter of Cid Garlond

Younger Half-sister of Mirai Garlond

Tag = oc: last allagan

Female Half Seeker of the Sun Miqo’te / Half Raen Au Ra

Main Jobs = Summoner & Scholar

Born Post 6.0, Approx. 1 Year after Mirai

Character Profile

About Ships

Yume Aino x Cid Garlond

The Original OTP

Tag = otp: always you

First met Pre-Calamity during 1.0

Officially a Couple since 2.1

Engaged during 4.0

Married since 4.2

G’raha joins the Relationship Post 5.3

Yume x Cid Ship Timeline

Athena x Daedalus (Amaurotine Yume x Cid) Headcanons

Canonverse: Memories Like Scars Part 1 | Part 2 ((Rewrite Coming Soon!))

Imperial Cid AU: The Gilded Cage Intro | Timeline | Part 1 | Part 2 ((Coming Soon!))

Yume Aino x Cid Garlond x G’raha Tia

OT3 Tag = ot3: evermore

Yume x G’raha Tag = ship: my inspiration

Cid x G’raha Tag = ship: undying promise

Exclusive Polyamorous Throuple

Relationship began Post 5.3

Yume is Pregnant with Mirai during 6.0

Mirai Garlond, Yume & Cid’s daughter, is born shortly after 6.0

Hikari Raha, Yume & G’raha’s daughter, is born approx. 1 year after Mirai’s birth

Yume & Cid marry G’raha approx. 5 years Post 6.0

Cid x Yume x G’raha Ship Headcanons

Miscellaneous

Cid Garlond Headcanons

Cid in the Eighth Umbral Calamity Timeline: A Shread of Hope

Masterlist for Jan 2021 Sea’s WoL Challenge

Collection of my Fics on Ao3

Additional Information

Find me In Game: Yume Garlond, Mirai Garlond, Hikari Raha, and G’raha Tia- (All on Jenova Server, Aether DC)

Yume’s Apartment: Aether/Jenova, Shirogane, Kobai Goten, Ward 24, Room 62

Yume’s Studio: Aether/Jenova, Goblet, Ward 17, Plot 5, Room 15

Twitter: @/yume_aino

Discord: earthlystar#5675

Ask me for an invite to the Discord group: Garleholics Anonymous!

Slightly NSFW Tag: a little touch of spice

NSFW Tag: spicy stuff

**UPDATED: 10/24/2021**

#pinned post #yume aino #yume garlond #oc: paint it black #mirai garlond #oc: wings of time #yume x cid #otp: always you #yume x cid x g’raha #ot3: evermore

[dudeandduchess]

Affairs of the Heart: Chapter 1 [Knight!Sanemi x Princess!Reader](Royalty AU, Westernized Plot, SFW/NSFW Scenario)

Summary: Sanemi is a knight for the (L/n) Empire’s second princess; only, their relationship isn’t simply that of a princess and her retainer. Behind closed doors, they’re merely a man and his lover. At least, until the day they dreaded the most comes: the day when (Y/n) finally gets engaged to another man.

Note: Yes, this is for the 2,666 promo. 😅 Sorry it took so long. It’s also for the 3,666 milestone now. 😂

Chapter: 1/3

Warnings: Smut, Secret Rendezvous, Forbidden Love

***

Heavy breaths rasped against (Y/n)’s ear, just as she felt the warmth of familiar lips drifting against the shell of it; trailing down the side of her neck, as her lover whispered, “You feel so fucking amazing, (Y/n).”

He knew that he shouldn’t have been addressing her by her first name— that it would count as blasphemy, and would amount to his death if anyone had ever heard him— but Sanemi couldn’t care less. Every thrust, and every drag of his cock against her walls had him melting further against her.

Meanwhile, (Y/n) dug her nails into her lover’s back; raking them down the broad expanse when she felt him dig deep and deliberately begin thrusting against her cervix.

Every move felt so heavenly, to the point where she could feel her legs shaking with so much pleasure. “Harder, Sanemi. Please. I want you to ruin me.”

Her whispered plea only spurred the knight on, having him move faster and harder against her even though he was beginning to feel a bit winded himself. After taking her three times before, it was to be expected— but he really couldn’t get enough of her.

A part of him believed that he would never get enough of her. So he had to get his fill of her while he still could.

It wouldn’t have been a problem had he been born to nobility, even a lowly Baron family would have did him some good as he’d wanted to stay with (Y/n) forever. But life wasn’t fair, and fate wasn’t taking his side on anything, so he’d had to work his way up to the palace from being a commoner.

At that thought, he screwed his eyes shut and lost himself to the feel of his lover’s body welcoming him so wonderfully. Her moans and mewls right softly echoing within her room drove him even hotter with need for her; it had him wanting to fill her up one more time, even if the consequences of him getting her pregnant would be catastrophic.

Still, he wanted to be selfish; as selfish as she was. Especially when he felt her legs lock around his waist and pull him closer than before.

“Cum inside, I want to feel your cum inside me. Please.” (Y/n)’s words were punctuated by a sensual bite to the silver-haired knight’s neck, and it drove him absolutely crazy for her. His thrusts began to get rougher than before, even as his arms shook from having to hold himself up.

(Y/n) was so close to screaming in pleasure; with every brush of Sanemi’s cock against that one spot inside of her that had her back arching. He was so warm, but the heat she felt building up inside of her had very little to do with his body heat; it was because she was undeniably close to cumming for the nth time that night.

Sanemi was the only lover she’d ever had, and she couldn’t have asked for a more selfless lover than him.

And when he gave in to her request— dipping his hips low and burying his cock in her to the hilt, she knew that he was the only one that she would welcome into her arms, and right between her legs— for the rest of her life.

Even if she still had the threat of being married off looming above her head.

His cum filled her up deep inside, warming her even further and making her feel as if it was the rightest thing in the universe. Being with Sanemi was just that; right and natural.

“I love you so much, (Y/n).”

***

The moment that (Y/n) was fast asleep, Sanemi had taken it upon himself to dress her back in the night gown he’d slipped off of her body before. There was nothing more that he wanted than to lay in bed and wake up next to her the following morning, but he was nothing more than her personal soldier.

Tasked to guard her throughout the night, and to keep unwanted guests from disturbing her.

With a heavy sigh, he got up from where he sat on the edge of the bed; giving the slumbering princess one last, longing look, before making his way out of her room.

It was their usual routine, but he’d be damned if he didn’t admit to how much it hurt him each and every time he was forced to leave her.

Still, he had no choice. Because, no matter how hard he tried to turn and twist the world in his favor, the fact remained: they were still worlds apart.

***

“Your Imperial Highness, it’s time to start the day,” One of (Y/n)’s handmaids uttered gently, keeping her head low and her stance small as she waited for the young lady to turn her gaze towards her.

Those eyes, the color that was only possessed by the members of the royal family, narrowed into irate slits; not even bothering to hide the displeasure that their owner felt, while she sat upright in her bed and let her covers pool at her waist.

She could still feel Sanemi on every inch of her body; his touch leaving behind a warm feeling, that still lingered on her skin. It was the only thing she clung to, in order to keep herself sane in her gilded cage.

“What’s on the agenda for today?” (Y/n) asked flatly, giving up on her irritation and settling for defeat instead. No matter what she did, she was sure that she wouldn’t be able to get out of her royal duties.

After all, she was no longer sixteen and irresponsible. She was twenty two, and well ensconced with the day to day tasks that were supposed to fall on her mother and sister.

Only, her mother had long since passed away, and her older sister had already been married off to the neighboring kingdom’s prince. So, all of the tasks of the lady of the house fell to her.

“Her Highness has the morning to approve of the castle’s Autumn budget, as well as plan out this season’s harvest festival.”

(Y/n) barely resisted the urge to scowl at that. “And in the afternoon?”

“His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor, is requesting you to join him for tea in his office.”

“After that?”

“Her Highness has no more scheduled engagements after that.” The maid bowed her head once more, stepping back a little to make way for (Y/n), as she got out of bed and held her arms out for the aforementioned maid to slip her silk robe on her.

Getting ready for the day was such a tedious task, but she had no choice but to go along with it.

All because it was all that she knew. (Y/n) had been born into that life and, had she not met Sanemi, then she would still be trudging through the same routine in the most miserable manner.

The mere thought of him had her mood lightening the tiniest bit; and, for the briefest moment, she found herself smiling at the memories of her silver-haired knight.

He made things much more bearable, even as her other maids hemmed and hawed at her to make her even more presentable for the day.

And once the grueling task was done, she surveyed her reflection in the mirror— eyeing the lilac colored jewels that adorned her throat; chosen specifically to match her paramour’s eyes.

“Where’s Sanemi?” (Y/n) asked, her gaze flickering over to one of the maids through the mirror. She was not cruel by any means, but it made her lips twitch up into a smile when she saw the unlucky woman bristle up at the sudden attention she gave her.

“S-Sir Shinazugawa is right outside, Your Highness,” the small woman answered, bowing her head low as a sign of respect. “If it pleases Her Highness, should I summon him?”

(Y/n) lifted a hand up to touch the jewels at her throat. “Yes, send him in. And all of you are dismissed. Leave us.”

A soft chorus of “Yes, Your Highness”— partnered with all six of her maids curtsying— answered her. And, without much fuss, all of them filed out of her room; only to be followed by Sanemi entering the expansive space and closing the door behind him.

“Good morning, Your Imperial Highness,” The silver-haired knight greeted with a courteous bow of his head, as well as a fist laid over his chest; a customary way to greet nobles in the (L/n) empire.

It irked (Y/n) to no end, making her grit her teeth and blatanly scowl as she marched over to where Sanemi was.

And, without much thought or hesitance, she cupped his face in her hands and brought their lips together in a searing kiss; if only to get her irritation across without snapping at him.

“I told you never to call me that when we’re alone, Sanemi.” Her words sounded soft and pouty, even to her own ears. But she couldn’t care less about putting on a composed front, as Sanemi was her solace; the one person with whom she could be herself with.

After all, they had been lovers ever since he’d become her knight when she was sixteen; and with her being much older at that point, he had seen every facet of her personality— even the worst ones.

And he still loved her for them; not despite them.

Slowly, a smile tugged up at the corners of the young man’s lips; making him seem years younger without that trademark scowl on his face. He then lifted his own hands up, encircling his lover’s wrists and bringing her hands down to his lips— pressing kisses to her fingertips, before laying her palms flat against his chest.

“It’s what’s proper, (Y/n).”

(Y/n) was silent at that, refusing to validate his words with a response. Because she knew that dragging things on would just upset both of them, and she didn’t need another misunderstanding between them.

Sensing the damper in her mood, Sanemi pursed his lips and sighed at his gaffe. So, to make up for it, he pulled (Y/n)’s arms up to rest on his shoulders, and closed the distance between their lips; claiming hers in such a soft and lingering kiss that had her smiling into it.

She responded to his advances readily, opening her mouth and welcoming Sanemi’s tongue to play with hers. He tasted like tea, and something mildly sweet and tangy; which made her enthusiastically suck on his tongue to taste more of it.

When they parted, both of them panting lightly in an effort to catch their breaths, Sanemi found himself grinning at the brazen move that (Y/n) had pulled on him. “Did you really have to suck on my tongue, Princess?”

With those blatantly hanging in the air, (Y/n)’s cheeks inevitably warmed up with a blush. “I... I liked the taste.”

Sanemi could only quirk an eyebrow at that, as he dug into his right pocket and pulled out a piece of candy wrapped in cellophane. He then made quick work of the wrapper, crumpling it up and putting it in his pocket, after holding the sugary treat up to his lover’s lips— gliding it along her bottom lip to entice her, before letting her have it.

“I shouldn’t be eating sweets so early in the morning,” (Y/n) whispered with a laugh, yet still leaned forward to brush a chaste kiss to Sanemi’s lips— all while letting her hands delve into his hair.

A laugh bubbled free from the knight’s lips at that, as his hands anchored themselves to either side of (Y/n)’s waist, just as he gently pressed his forehead against hers. “You shouldn’t be doing a lot of things, Princess— like being with me. Yet here we are...”

#sanemi shinazugawa x reader #shinazugawa sanemi x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #sanemi shinazugawa #kny sanemi #demon slayer sanemi #sanemi x reader #shinazugawa sanemi #kny imagines #demon slayer scenarios #jen writes

[but-first--tea]

LFRP: Omori Kaya

THE BASICS

Full name: Omori Kaya

Pronunciation: Oh-Moh-Ree   Kay-Uh  (Omori is her surname, Kaya is her given name)

Nicknames: n/a

Height:  5'6" (quite tall for a midlander hyur)

Age:  “A lady never reveals her age.” (adult)

Nameday: 32nd Sun of the 3rd Astral Moon

Languages: Doman, Common

Occupation: Not getting caught.

Current Residence: "Traveling abroad.“ (Basically living a tourist’s life in Eorzea, hoping to never be called out as the fraud she is. She’ll spend time as someone’s guest here, staying in a hotel elsewhere the next month, etc…)

Relationship Status: While she has never actually been married, the identity of the woman she pretends to be is a young widow and heiress. (Single)

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS

Hair color: Black

Eye color: Pale, silvery grey

Skin tone: Fair

Body type: Slender, athletic but not in an obvious way.

Scars: none

Accent: Doman

Posture

Poised, athletic– though she’s no master shinobi, she is her mother’s daughter. Her training began at the age of four, and it’s still evident in the way she moves, observes, and behaves. Others who have trained would likely notice it easily. She carries herself with quiet dignity, and moves (or refuses to) deliberately, as if she expects each action to be read for significance, and takes great care not to reveal too much unintentionally. Though, in the very rare instances when she lets down her guard, this facade can fade away, revealing that she’s still a girl who can be amused, and charmed, and is easily mesmerized by beautiful places and things.  

Accessories

She’s almost never seen without jewelry, though all of it is merely decorative– the trappings of the life she’s stepped into. None of it is personal, or carries meaning beyond appearing as she’s expected to.

Apparel

Her taste ranges from the classically dramatic to the outright exotic- not out of a sense of vanity, but in an appreciation of what is more or less wearable art.  She most frequently wears black and white, though she also favors blue and occasionally red. In keeping with her heritage, she tends toward modesty in her dress. Of course, most of these clothes once belonged to a woman whose identity she has stolen, and she’s begun to add Eorzean fashions to her wardrobe to stand out less.  The more she blends in, the fewer questions about her past she needs to dodge...

CHILDHOOD

Place of Birth: Doma

Siblings: none she knows of

Parents: The samurai Masanari and an Imperial Shadow named Harue, though Kaya has never known her biological father, as she was still less than a year old when he disappeared.

Upbringing: Raised initially by her mother, and later trained by grandmother once her affinity for magic became apparent. (More details can be found in her character history.)

PERSONAL

Personality

Outwardly, she is polite and mysterious, with a demeanor ranging from businesslike toward strangers, to an unexpected sort of mischievous and rebellious streak around the rare soul she’s begun to feel comfortable around. She’s evasive and distant. She rarely connects with others easily, which leads to most people assuming she’s either very shy, or rather snobbish, at first impression. She doesn’t trust easily, isn’t prone to showing any emotion in public if she can avoid it, and is often the one who, from an outward appearance, seems to be just another quiet wallflower enjoying the view.

Beneath the surface, however, she feels everything perhaps far too much, watches everyone with the wariness of someone who knows all too well what people are capable of, and deeply craves the connections to others she doesn’t seem to be able to form easily. She’s always searching for the few who can see the world the way she does- as something equally beautiful as it is deadly, meant to be lived in, not just endured. She’s a powder keg of passions always kept under a tight lid, hidden away for safe keeping.

Still, she is difficult to anger, and it’s a cold anger when it happens. She knows that engaging in violence and revealing her training would likely break character entirely, and being discovered as a fraud wouldn’t end well for her. As a result, she’ll try to think her way out of any situation, instead.

Motivations/Goals

If asked what she wants more than anything else in the world, she’d probably say to be able to do what she wanted, not what she was told, or allowed, or expected to. She craves freedom in all its definitions, but nearly always denies it to herself out of fear or pragmatism. While playing the role of a young, noble heiress she feels the restraints of her gilded cage all too keenly. She must behave in the way one raised to the role would be expected to. As a result, she finds small ways to rebel that aren’t likely to be noticed. Her fierce and defiant nature, thus repressed, will see her doing seemingly pointless things like rearranging the furniture in hotel rooms, stealing small items she could easily afford, or finding ways to secretly get even with those who have behaved poorly.

Financial Status

Ostensibly wealthy, though not one gil of it was ever truly hers. Still, she feels no guilt in obtaining the Omori family’s accounts considering they would have otherwise been seized by the Garlean government following Lord Omori’s assassination.

She has been quietly seeking a way to invest ‘her’ money in a way that would  divorce it from her stolen inheritance, make it more truly hers, and greatly reduce the risk of losing everything should her false identity be uncovered.

Weapons

While she was raised to the blade and bow for most of her childhood, she hides her training and doesn’t carry a weapon openly, if at all. If cornered and forced to defend herself, she’d mostly likely attempt to disarm an opponent and steal theirs, or improvise.

Vices

Seemingly none, as she has striven to present herself as a woman of proper graces. However, she is prone to self-indulgence and spending far too much gil merely because she can, which she considers a vice in herself and tries to resist.

Likes

People who are intelligent, interesting, vibrantly passionate and alive. Watching people do things that require specialized skill, especially combat training or constructing something.

Constructive debate and interesting challenge. Trying/learning new things.

Music, dancing. She’s often wished she could play an instrument, but has never learned to.

Nature, gardens, fireflies, birds, waterfalls, the ocean/seaside. Traveling to anywhere with a spectacular view or vibrant culture. Learning about said cultures.

Exotic spiced foods or just about anything she hasn’t tasted before that doesn’t look absolutely disgusting. Tea. Fruits, chocolate, and spiced cider or tea. Have I mentioned tea?

Unusual crystals and/or gemstones. While she’s generally unfazed by wealth or status, she appears to be positively mesmerized by sparklies.

Dislikes

Politics, rumor mongering, cattiness, insults, and general poor behavior.

People who think getting drunk is the best kind of fun to be had.

Addictive drugs, and those who sell them.

Being forced to do anything, feeling not in control over her own life.

Overly objectifying unwanted attention, awkward social situations/obligations/expectations.

Being cold, biting insects.

Hobbies

Reading, especially the arcane.

Learning the history of different places and cultures.

Collecting small, easily transportable items (generally clothing or jewelry) in local styles from each new place she visits.

Pets: None, currently.  She once had a magpie as a pet when she was younger, and maintains a fondness for birds of all kinds.

RP HOOKS

She’s looking (quietly) for a way to launder, er... invest her money to gradually eliminate the need to rely on her stolen identity and foreign contacts for access to funds. Have an opportunity?

A trusted lady’s maid, retainer, or guard type to help her maintain appearances. 

It’s possible that someone from her past in Doma might recognize her, or perhaps have known the real Omori Kaya.

The woman she is impersonating is an ill-fit for her. She is fierce, independent, and rebellious... the exact opposite of the demure and soft character her stolen identity demands. But, her mother risked everything to secure her new identity, and she won’t cast it off unless forced to. Still, she isn’t perfect. Someone could catch her in a mistake, and become curious...

The Lady Omori Kaya appears elegant, mysterious, ...and wealthy. Potential suitors aren’t unlikely. (Romance is an option, though she’ll be hard to pin down at first, for obvious reasons.)

She has a (stolen) soulstone in her possession, and has been working to unlock its secrets. 

Open to brainstorming other connections, past associations, or jumping into -your- existing plot!

OOC

I make my own schedule. I can be available pretty much any time from 8 am to 9pm CST. Sadly, I can rarely do late nights because I need to do that sleeping thing.

OOC communication is a priority for me.

I have been RPing for 20+ years. I am comfortable with both in game or Discord RP, and anything from short, quick posts to multi para. I do this because I enjoy writing!

I am not interested in random ERP outside of a long-term character interaction. I do love writing ships as long as there's strong chemistry between the characters, and both the character and the writer of said character are mature adults. However,I will not consider ships with alt or AU characters, as this is my one and only RP character. (No multi-shipping.)

I prefer a RP style that works with what is plausible within the scope of the lore. I'm open to creativity, as long as it makes sense. I prefer to stay away from void-heavy, AU, inserts from other universes, and anything involving cross-breeding with non-playable races/beings. (These are only my personal preferences, and everyone else is free to do whatever they like!)

Absolutely no: rape, harm to children, or graphic torture.

I do enjoy game content as well, and prefer company over doing so alone! I am currently sitting in my own personal FC house, but would consider joining a real FC if it makes sense for my character. 

Confession: I probably spend way too much time decorating virtual houses. 

#ffxiv rp #updated character sheet #Omori Kaya #hyur midlander #Doman

[soraeia]

I'm having trouble writing today so I decided to doodle a cute gal!

The cutie of the day: The Darling of Meriburn (@sansloii)

#{ Satanic Scribblings } #{ gilded cages } imperial au

[revasnaslan]

WIP Wednesday

Thump!

Hec-Tor immediately froze in place, his ears twitching uneasily. As he listened, one of his ears swiveled up towards to the ceiling, where the ventilation system was located. The initial sound had been quiet enough that Hec-Tor could have gone on assuming that he hadn’t heard anything at all, that it had just been… air being forced through the vents by the Velvet Glove’s life support system, or—or an echo from Attendants working on the ventilation system in another part of the ship.

But then there was another thump, much louder and far closer than the first one had been. And then a third, a fourth, a fifth…

Any scrap of his attention that had been lingering on the strange piece of tech in front of him was immediately gone. Warily, he peered up towards the ceiling, and caught a flash of bright magenta through the grate there. His throat went dry as thin tendrils of shadow snaked out of the vent, curling around the screws holding the grate in place and loosening them. Wariness gave way to fear as the grate was sent crashing to the floor, mere feet away from where Hec-Tor was standing.

A shadowy figure lowered itself from the vent, settling itself on long, stilt-like legs, and Hec-Tor’s heart seized in his chest. He knew a shade when he saw one.

Thankfully, the figure didn’t immediately notice him standing there, looking around the sanctum with large, bright magenta eyes. Hec-Tor remained frozen in place, unable to will his limbs to move. He wanted to make a run for it, to scream for help—there were always Attendants in the Imperial Wing, one of them would surely have heard him and come running to defend him—but then the shade’s gaze locked onto him.

It was between him and the door.

Hec-Tor nearly tripped over the skirts of his dress as he scrambled backwards, trying to put as much distance between himself and the shade as possible—until his back met the edge of his workbench. His heart hammered in his chest as the shade followed after him, letting out a sound that he could only interpret as one of delight.

This was it. This was how he rejoined the Eternal Light. Strangled to death by a shade in his own sanctum.

“Oh, hey!” the ‘shade’ said excitedly as she finally emerged from the shadows… and Hec-Tor found himself nearly nasal ridge to nose with an alien he had never seen before in his life. She perched herself atop a shelf of what seemed to be her hair and smiled at him. “Do you happen to have a six-sided hex driver I could borrow? I’ve been looking everywhere for one… I think I left mine back on Etheria by accident.”

… ah, so she was one of those Etherians his brother had brought back with him the previous evening.

—

A/N: from an upcoming entrapdak fic i’ve been working on since june, takes place in an au where prime and hordak are blood-related brothers and hordak’s been kept in an gilded cage his entire life because of his health problems.

i only have two chapters left to finish, so i figured it was time to start teasing the fic for when it gets posted in the coming weeks :3c

#entrapdak #hordak #entrapta #rev's writing again #where one fell tag

[mmysbathotw]

this Prompto/Ignis wip has been dying on my computer 

Prompto goes through hell only to find himself in gilded cage of his country’s most bitterest of enemies. Amongst lies and enemy secrets will he finally learn the answers he had been asking for his entire life? Slow Burn, AU - Prompto never left his home country and had to grow up in secret, Low Magic, T for now for references to jerkin it and a lil kissin, but I just need to write the M stuff, I tend to jump around in writing A LOT so missing ‘scenes’ abound   Act. I - A Cage

Prompto awoke cold and aching, the same way he has for days, now turning into weeks. The fluid he's submerged in catching him off guard again. It feels so wrong being able to breath in it, but he has to. He forces himself to be okay about it.  The alarm has been set off and soon he'll be put to sleep. He takes the opportunity to look at the pod across from him, at the other prompto. The other him looks dead, paler, no sun marks or scars to speak of, shorter hair, but he guesses they were actually now the same on that front, and barely moving, the worst part.

"Don't move." That militant voice had told him. "Don't speak." “Don't blink.” "Don't breathe." "Follow orders."

That one voice had repeated to him, caning his back, and wrists until he obeyed. Day to day life became less about finding out why this was happening to him, and more about surviving. But one day it was different with no warning he was shoved into this room, the one with the tubes and liquids and...bodies. His body specifically, repeated over and over. At first he couldn't comprehend it. His face, his wrists, his everything, floating, motionless, dead. The thought of dying in the same way all the others did broke him, but in the end something pinched his neck and he was forced in all the same.

Turns out he didn't die.

But every time he woke up was the same. Panic,

realization, ache, sleep.

Sometimes he was peered at, by men in uniforms he didn’t recognize. He didn’t dare move. In this moment acting like those dead Prompto’s seemed to be the safest thing to do. Once his pod had been drained and opened. Petrified he stayed perfectly limp while the uniform had scanned his wrist. He strained to keep his eyes dead, his weight limp. Things that came more naturally to him than before, but still felt wrong.

The light at the end of the hallway turned on. A huge clang, and the pressure inside his tank shifted. It was new and it terrified him. All the tanks were draining.

A large shadow stretched in front of his tank.

The Prompto in the other tank snapped to attention. He attempted to mimic him. The other one stepped out , he did too. It was a fucked up version of Simon says. Getting worse by the second as he realized there were many heads in front of him, and many feet getting out behind him. He still felt groggy, he always felt groggy from whatever they pumped into him. So he was morbidly grateful to give into the new instinct that was beaten into him. His eyes began to glaze over his surroundings and his movements became stiffer. Even taking in the vague shapes he didn’t recognize anything, there were security of some sort everywhere, but he would have to wait for a moment when he was alone to really understand what was going on.

All of them were taken inside a large building with non descript walls and armored guards everywhere. Then escorted into what Prompto assumed was a large storage closet. His captors shut the door on them and then he was alone in the dark. Terrified prompto waited until he was sure no one would come back, then he allowed himself to move. The other Prompto’s were deathly still. Faced forward with no breath or movement to give them away. Still Prompto felt compelled to reach out, what if he wasn’t the only one here, who was scared. He turned to the body next to him and attempted to speak, his voice creaking from lack of use. A soft “Hhh...” that sounded deafening in the silent room. There was no recognition of noise. “Hey...” he whispered. Gingerly he reached out to touch the back of his wrist. The skin was cold and clammy, springy where he touched it. There was no reaction. Looking into its face there was no recognition of life. He pushed harder, still nothing. What the hell was going on?

As silently as he could he moved through the bodies, every slight touch sending goose bumps down his skin. Other than himself there was no other movement in the room. The copies all standing silently in their lines. The door, that looked fairly standard, was locked, and on the other side no movement could be heard. He didn’t dare knock on it, this could potentially be one of the Empire’s work camps, and exposing himself would be a death sentence.

The rest of the room was equally as telling. No vents big enough that he could use, no writing anywhere that he could read. All the while the copies stood obediently waiting for their next orders. With no indication of time Prompto tried to give his legs a rest. But when a pair of footsteps approached he realized there was no time to get back to where he was, he went back to where he was standing. Despite his legs starting to cramp.

With no way to tell the time Prompto faded in and out of his awareness. The only indication of time passing being the cold stiffness creeping up his legs. Eventually the sound of boots alerted Prompto to more people coming. He did his best to assume the position.

They marched silently through the grand stone halls. Prompto did his best not to twitch trying to take in everything he was seeing.

"Halt" the guard commanded.

[Detail walking into the room]

He read from the note he was given, "Prince Noctis, please accept this gift in honor of our two countries blessed union. We are happy to present you 12 base Magitech infantry for your own personal use.

Signed,

His imperial lordship, (insert name here)"

The room was thick with silence. Prompto stilled his aching body to compliance. Bound and chained in the same room with the tyrant king of Insomnia and his son. Anything that would call attention to himself would be a death sentence. But what did they mean Magitek, there were none of those soldiers here? He focused all of his will into stareing at the neck in front of him.

"How kind." Said a dry older voice.

"Shame Ardyn isn't here to present it himself." said a younger bored sounding male.

"I imagine the investigation of defectors is more pressing to him." another pause, "What will you do with them?"

"Me?"

"They we're gifted to you after all. A future king must learn how to properly handle foreign gifts, even if they come from rather tenuous allies."

"There's no way these are broadcasting any signals out, is there?"

"No, your highness. Our NDK fields prohibit and radio or magiteck signals from being sent." A third, more formal, voice said.

"To think, this is what we've been fighting for all these years..." The king mused. Prompto's head felt light, we're they really saying what he thought they were?

"How many do you think we would need operational, in order to... I don't know convince the Empire that we actually wanted these stupid things."

"Noctis." His father warned.

"I think four would suffice your majesty. Have them milling about during a party or event would be sufficient evidence that we are utilizing them as intended."

"Fine, destroy six citing mechanical failures, two should be given to our engineering department, and four we can keep in storage. Are there any instructions for these things we need to know about?"

Prompto's pulse hammered in his ears. So all these things were Magitek. He was magitek? But magitek was... just mechanical right? That wasn’t him. But maybe... No one knew what he was. No one knows. They are going to treat him the same as all the rest of these copies. He was going to be killed, or dissected, or locked away to slowly starve in the dark. He needed to do something. He was going to die, he needed to do something he was going to die. He felt like someone had grabbed his spine and began to shake. His heart pounded in big booming thuds, constricting his whole chest, his breath coming in thin strips, his jaw chattered uncontrollably.

"What is that?" the words cut through the air.

"Your Highness?"

"That noise."

Prompto knew it was him. His body betraying him out of fear and exhaustion. He clenched his jaw and tried to breathe through his nose, but the shaking would not stop.

"It appears to be the third unit sir, a malfunction of some sort."

Said a voice behind him. He was going to die, they could shoot him down right now if he didn't do something. The blood was pounding in his ears. He needed to do something they were going to find out.

Without time to think of a plan or second guess, he lurched his body around to the source of the voice. He opened his mouth in a cry for help but nothing came out, same as before days of not being used had taken their toll.

The guard clearly unsure of what to do raised a rife at Prompto.

“Stand down!” He shouted.

"Please!" Prompto cried again, mind overwhelmed with the hope someone would understand that he was not the same as these things.

Something grabbed the back of his neck, and he nearly shook from shock.

"Stay calm." A voice said warmly into his ear. Faster than he anticipated he was being steered away from uthe group. And spun around to face the voice.

Blearily he recognized it was a man that ustood in front of him, glasses, knives, kings guard.

Prompto clenched his jaw and tried to breath through his nose. He closed his eyes he didn't want to look at this man who was a hairs breath from killing him. He settled on the stareing at a floor tile.

"Can you speak?" The man said.

He opened his mouth and nothing came out. He nodded one, twice, erratically. "...es...yes"

"Who do work for?"

He could only shake his head. Work for? Work for. He wasn't here because of work. "I don't... I don't."

“Where are you from?”

His legs were screaming at him. His whole body aching for relief. He knew they wouldn’t like the answer but he could give them nothing but the truth, he could hide nothing in this position.

“Em-Em-…The Empire.”

“Spy!” a voice shouted.

“No! No no nonono…” he protested.

"Enough of this." A gruff voice tore across the room. "He asked you a question!" It roared.

Prompto instinctively glanced up, enough time to register the dark blur swinging at him.

He was on the floor.

His head was a blossom of pain. An unfurling pulsing creature that wrapped around his head.

He coughed up something hot and the creature wrapped tighter.

And despite feeling like there was nothing left of him give, he began to cry.

A coughing sputtering wetness that was leaking from his being.

And then suddenly. The pain began to ease. The coldness in his bones and joints replaced with a warmth. That felt so good he could only cry harder.

That's when he noticed he was the only thing he could hear. In a panic he opened his eyes. A man was standing over him, black hair, black clothes, touching him, looking at him.

"A man. Phoenix downs don't work on anything else."

----

Prompto awoke to an unfamiliar ceiling. He sat up and immediately regretted it, a low sharpness in his head alerted him of a persisting migraine. He also registered the feeling the new texture of clothes , that had been placed on him. He was absurdly grateful for the small comforts. He was still cuffed and collared which he wasn't surprised about. But now that he was no longer in immediate danger he had time to think about how bad things actually were.

He had been shipped with a bunch of MT units that looked like him, directly to the Prince of Insomnia, neck deep in a foreign country that hated the Empire's guts. Yeah things were bad. They probably thought he was a spy or some sort of plant. The only thing he had on his side was the truth, which didn't amount to much.

His room was deathly sparse. A tray of water and Empire standard rations.   A padded mattress, and bedding set, a small bathroom with what looked to be toilet and sink. There was evidence that it used to be furnished. Discolored carpet and walls where furniture used to sit. Not to mention the bars crudely set into his door which were probably added in a hurry.

"Hey." The same gruff voice from before spoke again. Prompto's skin crawled. "The prince is coming, you might want to get up."

The man speaking was outside his door, his profile was strong, there was a scar crossing his eye.

As a prisoner Prompto was acutely aware that defiance could mean the end of him at any moment, so standing it was.

He kept his eyes deferred as more people filled the room. He wasn't sure what to do so he attempted a bow from the waist and hoped it was good enough.

He heard a half scoff, "you can stop that."

Prompto unfolded himself, now seeing he was in front of glasses, the scar, and in the middle, the black haired man, Prince Noctis.

"What is your name" the man in glasses asked.

"Pr-" he once again found himself hoarse, “prompto, prompto argentum."

"Do you work for the empire?"

"No, but I live there."

"Where did you get that bar code."

Prompto flushed, he hated that damn thing.

"I've always had it..."

"What is your involvement in the Gene Sequencing Magi Technologies Project?"

"I... don't... I don't know what that is?"

"Why did you come here?"

"I didn't. I was kidnapped-" Scar let out a bark of a laugh. "And...and drugged. I was told to obey orders...and I guess pretend to be one of them."

"One of them? You mean the Magitech vehicles?"

"Yes." He recalled the face floating in the tube in front of him. His own face.

"Have you never seen an MT unmasked?" The prince finally spoke up.

Once when he was young he had seen a trashed magi engine being torn apart by some teenagers. Early on you were taught assaulting an engine was a class 6 felony punishable by hard labor. They had always scared him, even seeing one torn apart didn't diminish that. The boys had crushed its face in. "No."

"He's not lying." Glasses confirmed. Consulting something, whatever had been tucked into his palm

"I don't know why I look like those things. I never- I don't know anything about this."

"Even if you weren't involved," scar drolled, "You're still enemy eyes in our capital."

"You’re suggesting locking him up?" the Prince asked.

"Correct, but I'm almost hesitant to move him. We don't know what he could report if we placed him with others from the Empire." Glasses answered.

"Hey-" Prompto started but the others didn't even register him.

"We also don't have the full story. He should stay here until we know exactly who he is and why he's here. Wouldn't do us any good if the people who put him here grabbed him back up again."

“And if he breaks out and somehow finds himself in the kings chambers ready to strike?”

“Chain him up then,” the man in glasses said almost dully “or do whatever you need to see to it that your men feel confident he will never leave this room. We can increase security around his majesties chambers until further notice.”

The prince sighed. "We should talk about this somewhere else." He looked pointedly at Prompto. "Think hard about what got you here. I want a full story the next time I see you."

On that he turned and walked out, the two kings guards following close behind.

Two new guards filled in the space outside his door, "Hands." One of them barked opening a slat in the door.

They unlocked his hands and closed the slat with finality.

“What day is it?”

There was no response, which wasn’t surprising really, but still stung all the same.

Prompto  with nothing else to do, sat on his cot, opened his rations, and thought about the day he was kidnapped.

He had come home from university late, his parents weren’t home. But that wasn’t unusual. He knew they worked for the government and were often gone for weeks at a time. He had taken the train home, he don’t think anyone had followed him. The Magic Tech soldiers had been out, but that wasn’t unusual either. They were there to enforce the curfew, he had sprinted home because he was cutting it close as the trains had been out. He walked in the house and set down his bag, and someone pressed something sour against his mouth.  He twisted around, tried to get out it, but the attacker was too strong. He didn’t say anything, no threats, but no voice to identify them either. And he felt heavy, his knees buckled beneath him, and he hit the ground.

And then he was in the room. A dark room, it was chilled constantly, maybe it was underground?  It was all concrete, a stairwell leading up to a door in the corner, a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, and equally disturbing a chain bolted to the floor which connected to him at a collar, and a drain. He thought at first he was going to die. He had been stripped down, and his hair cropped short. For hours that first day he waited. Hoping that the police, his parents, anyone would come down those stairs and save him. But that didn’t happen.

From then on his life turned from days, into moments. He lived to do whatever the man in the mask said. He was quiet, and obedient. Because if he wasn’t he was beaten. Hard. Taught to make his movements mechanical. Stiff. Jerky. Devoid of life. To think someone was trying to train him to act like a Magi Tech was insane. And he broke down 24 hours within the capital. Whatever the masked man wanted, prompto must have failed at it. But if he had wanted Prompto dead there were easier ways to do it. And its not like the death of a magi tech trooper was heresy here.  Why him? Why did the other MT’s look like him? He wasn’t anyone of importance. His grades were average. He was one of 20 guys in his class. He just wanted to have a life, it didn’t have to be spectacular, he just wanted it to be his.

--

Fear kept him awake. His mind had been sluggish from when he first woke up. And he slowly rolled through the events that brought him here, the kidnapping, the basement, the transport, the castle. Over and over he tried to remember something, anything important.

There were footsteps. Many of them.

“You!” A guard barked through his door, “on your knees hands behind your head!”

Prompto complied as quickly as he was able, once again his legs felt like they could collapse beneath him. In quick succession two guards entered the room guns trained on him from both sides.

Next, a man entered surrounded by even more guards. Prompto had seen propaganda posters of him but they could never capture him grimness.

Knees shaking, Prompto complied.

His son may have laughed at the attempt of respect but Prompto wasn’t about to press his luck with the tyrant King. He slowly lowered himself into a bow until he was afraid that he would topple over by going any farther.

A set of footsteps accompanied by a cane unevenly clacked into the room.

“At ease.” The cold voice said.

Prompto eased himself up slightly, but couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“What are you doing in my kingdom?”

Prompto licked his lips, that was a good question he himself would like to know.

Something Hard touched his temple and he could only assume it was the muzzle of a gun, “start talking.”

Prompto didn’t need to be told twice, “I-I-I was kid-kidnapped when I came home from sch-school. They locked me up some-somewhere and...and beat me. Beat me until I complied, until I acted the way they wanted me to.” It was still so raw to say out loud, in his head he didn’t need to define what happened he lived it. But saying it out loud seemed like there was no denying it was what actually happened to him.

He felt the muzzle push into him again.

“I was put in... into a tank. And when I woke up I saw another me.” He grit his teeth in frustration, “I was so scared I just, I acted like I was taught. I didn’t know where I was going, I just wanted it to end.”

“You must know we have a tenuous relationship with the Empire, it might be considered an act of good will to return a defector.” The king said this mildly, but the weight hit Prompto like a slug. Defectors were killed, he didn’t have his papers, he couldn’t tell anyone why he left. The government wouldn’t blink at taking an innocent man to their internment camp. His parents secretly always taught him to be wary of the government, and being thrust into their hands made him feel sick.

“Please.” He shakily breathed, “kill me then.” He raised his head. “I have no home to return to. They’ll kill me, slowly, and I- I don’t know...” his eyes became hot and blurry as he broke down at the uselessness of it all. He should have thrown himself in front of one of the guards. There was no ending where he ended up okay.

“Enough.” The king said simply, and Prompto did his best to quiet himself.

“If there truly no home for you to return to. Is your loyalty to the state also abandoned as well?”

Prompto hesitated, he knew what the king was asking, would he truly turn traitor and talk about their hermit kingdom. But...his parents still lived there. He had friends and animals he relied on. He needed to be honest, that was the only thing he had.

“I have a mom and dad and friends, I don’t want them to get hurt.”

———

Prompto waited. And waited. From the last time they spoke he had assumed the prince would want to speak to him right away. But now that seemed naïve. He was a prince, he must have things to do. Things bigger and grander than dealing with a stray Empire scum who didn’t know why they were there in the first place.

None of the guards were particularly talkative. He did learn that he was going to be reciving regular meals, the guards changed shifts, but no, they weren’t going to tell them who was filling in next. A friendlier guard shared that she had never met anyone from the Empire before, and she smiled when she said it so Prompto counted her a potential friend. But even she wouldn’t tell him what the day was.

Six days later, Glasses shifted into guard rotation. Even stranger he knocked on Prompto’s door.  The sudden courtesy rattled him, “May I come in?”

“Y-yes” He hated that. His voice shook and broke, unexpectantly now.  Even trying to use it more, talking to the guards or even himself didn’t seem to make it any stronger.

Glasses stepped inside, the tell tale sound of the heavy lock being replaced followed him in. He stood by the door because really, Prompto had no place to offer him to sit.

He was...pretty. He was too scared to really look at him that first night, but it was true. He had a spikey sort of sand colored pompadour and rectangle glasses that sat on a very straight nose. He looked like a well dressed clerk or assistant, but Prompto figured anyone working for the prince could afford to look like that.  

“I thought we could have a chat.” A neutral statement, his face displayed no emotion. Prompto couldn’t exactly say no. He nodded.

“I have been asked to see to your dietary and comfort needs. Do you have any allergies or dietary restrictions I should know about?”

“Ah...no. Not that I know of.”

The man with glasses wrote something on his phone, “Do you have any medical needs we should be aware of?” Prompto licked his lips, 6 days seemed a little late to be asking if he had any life threatening medical issues. “No. I don’t.”

The man nodded

“And do you have any personal requests that we may grant?” He looked up, “Within reason of course.”

Personal requests? He could feel his own eyebrow arching to a ridiculous degree. What was this a day spa? What the hell was he talking about.

“We could grant you an additional blanket, or-”

“What day is it?” Prompto blurted out. The one incessant inane thing that had been bothering him since he woke up. And if these people really wanted to grant him something they could at least tell him that much. Tell him how long had passed since this all began.

If this had surprised or taken aback Glasses he showed no sign of it “It is 17th of Ifritian, year of our oracle 2192.”

It had been 4 months.

He had gone for 4 over months. His parents, his classes, his friends, all the animals he would feed on his way home.  Did they know? Were they looking for him?

“What was the last date you remember?” Glasses asked with surprising tenderness.

“The 4th of Shivaros.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” And he genuinely sounded apologetic. “I can attempt to field any other concerns….within reason.”

“The prince wanted to talk to me… and I,” It hurt to say, to admit that he wasn’t strong enough, “ I was drugged so often… I’m afraid if I don’t say what happened , if I don’t write it down or something I’m going to forget. Can I speak to him now, er well soon I guess…” He dug his fingers into his scalp, hateing the course bristleing hair that he found there.

“I am not at liberty to divulge the princes schedule, but I believe we can find a solution that works for everyone.”  

"What happened to the other MagiTech units?" Maybe asking wouldn't look too good for him, but he was still worried. As terrible and cruel as the circumstances were he still felt some sympathy for those things that looked like him.

"I'm not at liberty to say."

He bit his lip, it was fair. After all what if Prompto was a spy and he needed to those engines for some nefarious scheme. Not that he didn't have hours alone with them before, but I guess they were still afraid of what could happen.

Slowly another question rose from him, an idea that hadn't occurred to him "Was I...Am I the only-" this was so hard to ask. The mess of his life these past few month had been a blur. But the possibility still lingered that he could have missed it. So blinded by his own terror he never saw somebody else's "...the rest are all machines right? Nobody else was human."

He looked at glasses who seemed to remain neutral. A small twitch of his eyes betrayed his interest and Prompto really felt

"The rest were all machines. You are the only human."

"Good." He said suddenly. And because this was the first time someone had paid attention to him he kept going, "it's strange enough to know that the soldiers I would pass every day of my life had the same face as me. They're posted on every street corner, to keep the peace. I have passed at least one probably every day of my damn life. It-It- It's like some bad dream that the harder you think about it the worse it gets, you know?" He licked his lips, maybe it wasn't smart to be blathering so much but he needed someone to listen to him, "I mean what if soldiers were just the start? What if- if- if -if there were other tests? experiments? clones too or like slaves?" The thought tore through him like a physical hit. "Maybe I'm not even the original... Maybe I'm just someone else's spare. Or some sort of failure..." The barcode now felt like an ugly overwhelming truth. Maybe he just a cheap imitations of someone else. The original would never be branded like he was. The original wouldn't need to know.

"Surely your parents-"

"I was adopted. I don’t know where I came from." He looked at the man in glasses. He felt torn raw, and he needed someone anyone to show him some empathy. Reassure him that this was all some sort of mistake, that he was real.

But the man didn't know him, and while he wasn't particularly expressive the slight wideness of his eyes from shock, and the furrow in his brow said he was confused and maybe a little annoyed that his grasp on this conversation had slipped away from his control.

"I don't think there is anything I could say that would give you comfort right now." He said clinically "Something terrible seems to have happened to you, and hopefully once we understand the situation better his majesty will do his best to- well help you, granted everything you're saying is true."

That's right, if. IF he was telling the truth, because on top of everything, he was still a criminal. And these hysterics were helping nothing.

"Thank you..." he muttered "for listening. At least."

Glasses nodded, probably eager for the conversation to end.

“Do you have any other requests that I could potentially fulfill for you?” “Could I have a hat, just something to cover my ears?” He felt embarrassed to ask, but seeing his own short hair made him feel so unlike himself. Covering it would make him feel a little more comfortable in his own skin. “And maybe...a book. I guess.”

Glasses nodded. He lingered for a moment. “Do you have a favorite food, by any chance?”

The question hung awkwardly between them.

Prompto looked at this man, someone who maybe believed him. And maybe wanted to help him. He couldn’t afford to doubt anyone who gave him hope. He would break if he felt completely alone here.

“Meat pies...I’m not really picky about what goes in them.” He tried to smile. A joke, a small one but

“

He nodded.

From then on Prompto began to be regularly interrogated. Never by the same people and never the same tactic. He was honest as far as he could be. Everyone seemed to be interested in the same things, what did he do in the Empire, who were his parents, and where did his tattoo come from. But unfortunately even after the 100th time asked he still didn’t know all the answers. They spent a lot of time on his appearance and why he happened to look like an unmasked magitek trooper. Which again, Prompto had no answers for. The questions about the Empire were easier. He didn’t feel like he knew enough to say anything that could get his parents in trouble, or get people hurt. And at this point there was no going back, he had left illegally, and that made him a defector. Beca

The questioners were never violent, which he appreciated, and even if the sessions went on for long periods of time he was still fed and kept moderately comfortable.

____ visit from Noctis

Prompto was aware of someone talking. He had curled up in his bed for the night, he hadn't quite fallen asleep, more of that erratic dozing that happens when you try to sleep somewhere new. Just as his eye had begun to burn from tiredness a voice broke through the silence. It was clearly coming from outside his room, so the words were indistinguishable, but the tamber recognizable. It was the prince.

Slowly he turned to the door to find himself already being stared at. He started to roll back, but the prince stopped him, "hey!"

This was unreal why was he here? Even stranger he didn't have Glasses or Scar with him tonight. But he didn't have any reason to not talk to him, so he got up and cautiously approached the door.

"Hey..." the prince said again, awkwardly this time. Prompto hadn't noticed before but they might have been around the same age. He looked like he might have just gotten out bed too.

"Hey...your, uh, majesty." He replied.

The prince looked nervous, and had a hard time looking him in the eye.

"Iggy told me about what you said to him the other day." He licked his lips. "Do you really think that? That there may be other clones of you?"

Prompto was a little taken aback. He had said those things a little recklessly sure, but he guessed everything he said was going to be scrutinized now.

"I...I don't know... I said that because I was scared..."

Prince Noctis pressed on, "So you don't have any evidence?"

"No I guess not."

The prince looked him up and down as best he could. “What about your barcode. That’s what the troopers use on all their models.”

“I’ve always had it.” He held it up near his face, “I had no idea that the troopers had the same thing, I was always told it was dangerous to show people.

"Well I mean I am telling the truth, I don't know if I'm the only human me out there...also just throwing it out there, if I was a spy it's pretty shitty of me to have an emotional breakdown in just about the stupidest place possible."

Noctis smiled, a small genuine thing "we talked about that too, though you were dehydrated and incredibly sleep deprived."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, you slept for 13 hours after you collapsed. We had an IV in you for 6."

"No way..."

"So for a spy you were actually holding up pretty well."  

"If you really thought I was a spy wouldn't-"

"Hey!" A loud bark shattered the conversation.

"Aw crap..." Noctis said, before backing away from the door. Prompto followed his lead as he heard the heavy steps come closer.

"The hell are you doing? you know you're not supposed to talk to him alone." Scar head chided.

"I wanted to ask him about the clone thing he said." Noctis replied. He sounded bored and maybe a little annoyed at having to explain himself. Probably isn't used to it being a prince.

"Then do it when your advisor is awake."

The prince rolled his eyes.

[Maybe some more banter in here]

"Have you done it yet?"

"Done what?"

"Apologized?" The prince looked over at Prompto, "He feels bad about hitting you."

Prompto looked from the prince to scarred man, and back. "Why?"

He stunned both of them into looking at him. Scar head looked particularly offended, "Hitting someone when they can't defend themselves isn't honorable." He huffed, "but I don't regret it."

"Well yeah you didn't even know I was human right? you thought you were punching a machine. I mean I get it." He shrugged. "You could have shot me; no doubt you could have filled me full of lead before I hit the ground." He shut his eyes, tired of once again thinking about another way he could have died. "But you can feel bad, if you want, it did really fuckin hurt." He said with a smile to try and take some of the sting out.

"Yeah...yeah..." the scarred man trailed off.

After his talk with glasses his food had begun to improve. Fresh fruit and tangy sweet pudding he had never had before. Lots of vegetables and rice and a small portion meat for dinner. He honestly wasn't used to eating so well even when he was home. One night they had given him a big dish with chicken all mixed up with egg and rice. Prompto could have cried. Someone had managed to make it even better than his mom did.

He also received a visit from a doctor. The doctor checked his range of movement, blood tests, vision, he was even fingerprinted and photographed. All the while Glasses stood in the corner. Allowing him at least some privacy.

Aside from the food, prompto's other adjustment was dealing with the boredom. He had been given one book, and told he would be given another when he finished that one. He had even started to exercise.

His excessive amount of free time gave him ample opportunity to assess what the months had done to him. He was thin. Months without proper use made his muscles protest even the most mundane tasks. He started everyday with stretching, something to at least warm up every part in his body. It was relaxing too, his mind buzzed constantly with what was going to happen to him, why he was in this situation, what was going on at home. But there weren't any answers so anything to take his mind off of in was worthwhile.

So things

A few days of nothing later Prompto began to exercise. Because there was nothing else to do, and staying inside his own brain wasn’t doing him any favors.  He could feel those months on his body now. He was weak, he never had too many problems running or just keeping himself fit, but now, his arms barely felt like they could support him.

------ ambassador

“You’re going to be moved.” Glasses said to him one morning.

“Oh when?” Prompto asked. Unlike his other jailors Glasses like to act like he was a person and have a conversation with him.

“Soon, probably as soon as you’re finished eating, we’ll be ready to move you.” He seemed distracted this morning. Concentrating on his phone, pushing his glasses back into place.

“Why?” Prompto asked.

“We’ve deemed your need for constant supervision to be superfluous, so we’re going to be housing you in a more controllable room.”

Oh, less people to talk to.

“I meant to come here earlier but,” He consulted his watch,”We should still be able to do this efficiently. Do you mind pretending to be one the machines again? I'm afraid this late in the day it's either that or sticking you in a box.” He sounded like he though both ideas were ridiculous, and Prompto didn't hate him as much for asking.

“I can walk like them...it's fine.”

Glasses stared down at him. Then he was done, and back on his phone. Probably just a quick cursory check to see if he was lying.

“Then the last thing I will ask of you is to put on these.”

He handed Prompto a folded pair of clothes that were immediately apparent as the ones he had been presented in. Once they were handed off he turned his back to Prompto for some slight privacy.

Prompto hesitated, staring at the other man’s back. Was he really just giving Prompto this opening? If Prompto was really the scheming outsider everyone thought he was, wouldn't this be the perfect opportunity to attack him.

“If this is uncomfortable for you we can find another solution, but you will need to decide quickly.”

The polite way to ask him to hurry up, Prompto began to get changed, “No, I just don't get why you actually trust me not to attack you.”

The mans back began to shake, he then realized he was being laughed at. “I don't actually. However I did carry you to this room and have a full report on all your vitamin deficiencies. Not to mention several martial arts titles under my belt.” Prompto defensively pulled the pants on a little faster. “Also, maybe I'm a bit naive... but I like to think that you don't have a reason to attack me.”

Prompto stared again at his back, a little peeved he wasn't really considered a threat, even if it was 100% true.

“Yeah... “ Prompto admitted “Okay, do I need the cuffs too?”

“That shouldn't be necessary, the ones you wore were for ease of transport.” The man looked him up and down, “I'm going to need your hat as well.”

Oh right.

Prompto removed the last bit of self that felt like he owned and held it out.

It was warm in his hands, the knit was loose and soft.

Another hand closed around the cap. “I’ll take good care of it.”

He felt dumb for being sentimental. But he had given up so much these past few months, he was starting to feel like there was nothing left. He just had to trust glasses

He couldn't afford to question kindness.

[They leave and start walking]

Prompto had put himself into a rhythmic state. The monotony bleeding all the black shapes into nothing. So perhaps thats why the a certain voice cleaved through his consciousness so clearly.

“Ah Mr. Scientia, so good to run into you this morning.” That smooth voice sounded incredibly familiar. “Grand Ambassador Izunia, it’s good to see you as well.” Glasses had stopped, and Prompto had barely registered it in time nearly crashing into him.

“Please, you must call me Ardyn. We’ve become so close these past few months, it really seems a shame we are still on such formal terms.” Prompto had never seen the ambassador in person, only the occasional speech or appearance on the National news network. He was afraid to try and catch a glimpse not that his vision had blurred out to focus on nothing. He registered a brown red shape coming toward him. “As you wish, Ambassador Ardyn.” “Good,” Just seeing him on screen Prompto had always felt there was something about him that rubbed him the wrong way. And in person that feeling was only multiplied, “and I see you have one our little friends in tow. Tell me is the prince enjoying his new toys?” “Yes, Ambassador. He is very pleased with the gift. Now if you’ll excuse me I have an appointment.” “Such a rush! I am curious where you are off to with a single unit in tow.” the Ambassador was now very close, sidling up to both of them. “Engineer Wing. The unit has a sporadic neural delay for commands.”  

“Ah” Out of the corner of his vision a shape was rapidly coming at him. A firm but soft touch had grabbed his chin and started to move it. “Such a shame, those are often fatal.”

As his face turned, Prompto stomach dropped and fear tamped down every twitch and breath that he could have drawn at that moment. The worst was trying his damnest to keep his eyes still, allowing his focus to glaze over the face in front of him. “Ambassador.” Glasses said in a clipped voice, “I really must be going.” and with that he started walking, doing his best to remember the pauses and movements that had been ingrained into him, Prompto let his head slide back into place and mechanically tried to follow behind.

“Yes, yes... Well, here’s hoping its not a lost cause.” the Ambassador called behind them.

Wherever they were going it was a very tense walk. The Ambassador had touched him, for sure he would realize that Prompto wasn't a machine. The Ambassador was tight in the Kings inner circle. There is no way that this was the first time he would have touched a Magitech unit. Glasses, had also probably realized this.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, that name was nagging him. Where had he heard it before?

They walked and walked zig zagging around the castle. Possibly to confuse him, or more likely the Ambassador. But eventually the arrived to a nondescript metal door with a key card and number pad. Scientia scanned his card and entered some numbers out of prompto's sight. Quietly they both entered the darkened room, and as soon as the door was closed Prompto dropped his act.

“I think he knows.” The other man had yet to turn on the lights, but Prompto was somewhat thankful for the dimness, “I'm sorry, I really tried to-”

“Stop.” Scientia’s voice had taken a rough edge, and a cold fear washed over Prompt. There was a heavy sigh and with a click the lights went up in the room. His jailer looked...sad. “Don't apologize. This fiasco was entirely my fault. I had no idea Izunia had returned prematurely, but honestly I should have accounted for anyone seeing you. Even the worst case scenario such as this. And for that I apologize Prompto.” His delivery was rushed in what seemed like irritation of himself. He adjusted his glasses and stood a little straighter as if he was expecting a scolding.

Prompto was a little surprised to say the least.

“I really didn't want to make life any harder for you...”

“Hey it's...” It wasn’t alright, or even fine. It was a shitty situation. The ambassador probably had a pretty good idea what an up to date magitech unit looked and felt like. If there was any reason to suspect that Prompto was anything but a machine, Insomnia would be in a shit storm of trouble. “...I appreciate what you were trying to do, and I don’t want to make life harder for you guys either.” He offered the other man a smile, he didn’t want to be anyone's enemy, or annoyance, he wanted to get back to some semblance of a normal life. “What was that he called you?” “My name...” He sounded annoyed, Glasses seemed to be one of the few remaining guards trying to keep his anonymity in tact. “Ignis?” “Scientica. At your service.” He had pulled out his phone, and rapid fire had begun typing something in. “Unfortunately, this outcome is very bad for both of us. I need to do damage control, and see to it our story is more believable to the ambassador. I will attempt to reconvene with you before the end of the day, but- “ He very forcefully concluded his text and shoved his phone in his pocket. “We will see.” Glasses, or Scientica, entered accessed a similar looking pin pad and left before Prompto could say another word. ------------------New Digs The new lodgings weren’t really too much different, he was still alone. The only real change was the amount of room he was given. This space seemed to be a barracks of some kind. Multiple bunk beds, a multi-shower head bathroom with lockers, and a few trunks and desks, all empty of course. What he had lost in windows he had gained in paper and a pen. They had given him a small sketchbook and pen. First he wrote everything down, everything that had happened to him since the kidnapping and then in the castle, as many facts and possible important clues that he could remember. Next he wrote letters, one to his parents of course, one to his friends, one to the animals he left behind. Spilling all the things he wished he had said, and things he was afraid he could never say. Prompto had not seen Ignis for the rest of the day. Or the rest of the week.

His new rooms looked to be part of some sort of dormitory. There were several bunk beds and a large combination locker and communal bathroom. Everything was empty though, no signs of being used anytime soon.  And Prompto wondered if rich people ever simply forgot they had extra rooms sometimes.

Food was delivered three times a day, but prompto could tell this was unlike what he was being served before. His things, if he could call them that, were delivered later along with a pencil and paper which he used to greatly alleviate his boredom.

He first wrote down everything he could remember about the abduction. He figured this was the easiest way

------------ put in something here about all the writing prompto was doing.

——————— raid

Something was wrong. Despite not having a direct window or a clock, Prompto had a vague idea of what time it was thanks to his stomach. He had either missed one meal service or both and the sun had definitely set by now. He was about to turn in when he heard something. Something he hadn’t heard in months. Footsteps many of them all coming down what sounded like his hallway.

.

He moved to his feet unsure of what to do with himself. As the foot steps grew closer his heart began to pound.

The was two loud commands. Then the loudest bang he had ever heard. Something slammed into the door.

“Again!” The voice yelled clearer this time. Bad this was bad, Prompto had less than a second to throw himself under one of the beds.

A second slam and the door swung open on its hinges. From his vantage point he could see a flurry of boots swarm through the door.

“He should be in here,” a feminine voice said. “Search the beds.”

There boots began to move, and Prompto prayed to anyone who was listening that someone, anyone, would help him.

A pair of boots knelt next to the bed and the face that appeared made his blood run cold. It was a magiteck trooper mask.

Wordlessly the trooper reached under the bed to grab at him, worthlessly he tried to kick back his attacker but without feeling pain the trooper continued to pull him free.

“Oh you found him.” The voice said almost board.

More hands grabbed at him, strong hands, his hands he thought morbidly, and stood him up to face what was apparently their leader.

“Let’s see,” the woman wore a full helmet, but he had seen her weapon of choice before, a spear which could only make her a dragoon. “Gimme his wrists.” Obediently his hands were presented, and  she pushed up his sleeve to see the barcode. “Yep he’s the real deal.” Nonshalontly she produced a pair of wrist cuffs and cuffed him. “He’s pretty cute when he’s terrified. Alright boys pack him up let’s head out.” She turned around to leave.

“Hey hey?! Don’t do this!” Prompto finally found his voice, but the woman wasn’t stopping, “You don’t have to do this?!”

“Gag him too,” she called over her shoulder. And obediently some sort of cloth was forced into his mouth. One of the soldiers picked him up like a sack of potatoes, throwing him easily over one shoulder.

This was it, barring some divine event he was going to get taken back to the Empire. He started to struggle as the hoard of magitech units walked into hallway.

There was another loud boom. From somewhere above him, another attack? Prompto could see very little from his position.

“Alright fall into line, we’re moving out.” The woman called. And they began to move.

Prompto continued to struggle as the group hauled him further and further from his room. When a familiar voice cut through the hall.

“They’re over here!” Yelled Ignis.

“Shit.” Said the dragoon, “Protect the asset at all costs, proceed to the rendezvous point.”

The magtechi units straightened into position with more units swarming around Prompto.

There was a violent clash of sounds. Steel on steel, grunts of pain and effort, Prompto hoped Ignis had brought reinforcements. He tried struggleing one more time to have his efforts rewarded by falling heartily to the floor.

“Prompto!” He heard Ignis cry out. Casting around he saw Ignis engaged in combat with the dragoon. Prompto got his knees out from under him, struggleing as his hands were still bound, shakily getting to his feet as chaos continued to erupt around him.He saw Ignis push the dragoon back, frantically looking into the frey for him. He finally spotted him, and they locked eyes for a fraction of a second, the crashing of bodies erupting around them. Ignis stood there looking right at him. Prompto cast about, there were magitech units everywhere. But there was an opening, a large gap behind him. Leading away from the fighting, and Ignis. I he looked back at Ignis, then turned around and ran.

He heard all hell break loose as he made his escape. The dragoon was screaming, footsteps pounded after him, he thought he heard his name again. But he couldn’t stop.

He had no idea where he was going, barreling pell mell through the halls he lucked out in finding a stairwell which caused the troopers a bit of trouble. But from there he was running blind. He occasionally saw other people, all preoccupied with their own issues but he didn’t dare ask for help.

He was breaking down a long hall way when something knocked out the back of his knees.

He fell ass over tea kettle sprawled out over some ornate carpet. He wrenched his head back  In a panic, and there was Ignis, barreling toward him.

The closer he came the worse it was. He looked like he had crawled out of hell itself. Bruised, bloody and pissed. His expression was practically murderous.

“You.” He all but growled as he stalked up to him. He reached down and grabbed Prompto by the front of his shirt and hauled him up. “Don’t EVER do that again.” There was no time for any other words as the unmistakable sound of a dozen combat boots trampled into range.

“Come on” Ignis switched his grip to a vice like hold on his arm, which Prompto didn’t dare try and break from.

Ignis tried several doors in the hallway, the majority of which were locked, until finding one his security card worked with.

He shoved Prompto into the dark room and closed the door on both of them. Prompto backed up as far as he could before he started running into things. The room was small and cluttered, and Prompto soon found himself pressed against a shelf with Ignis very very close to him.

“Hold still.” Ignis said somewhere next to his ear. With one hand he pulled out his phone and with the other he was fiddling with his collar. Promptos heart was pounding out of his chest. “Ig-“

“Not now.” He couldn’t see Ignis’s face but he could feel the anger coming off of him in waves. Outside the footsteps came closer and both Prompto and Ignis stilled. Prompto could feel the other mans breath on his cheek and every point of contact between their bodies.

As tense and horrific as the situation was Prompto couldn’t help but feel Ignis against him. Prompto tried to focus on the troopers, and on staying silent, but the more he noticed Ignis’s warmth the more he craved it. His knee gently pressing into his thigh, the hand on his upper arm, the breath on the side of his face, not to mention Prompto’s bound hands pressing into what was probably his stomach. He smelled like blood and spice he couldn’t name.

As the footsteps passed, Ignis backed up fractionally and resumed whatever he was doing with his collar. Prompto tried not to think of the worst case scenario for whatever he was doing or how close he was.

Finally with a small chirp and a click, the collar clicked open, and was removed. Astonished, Prompto reached up and touched the sensitive skin there.

Ignis immediately retreated and from the dim glow of his phone seemed to be frantically typing.

Prompto wanted to say something, an apology? A thank you? Ignis probably didn’t want either and Prompto wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say.

“Get ready to move,” came Ignis’s voice, as he repeated his strong grip on his arm. They slowly walked towards the door, then with no warning Ignis burst through and began to sprint through several halls. They all looked more or less the same to Prompto but of course Ignis would know what he was doing.

At one point they approached the elevators, Ignis called one, then tossed in Prompto’s collar and sent it down stairs. It finally hit Prompto that it was possible it was used for tracking. He was then incredibly thankful Ignis had found him first.

After a few more instances of running and hiding, they were in another stairwell, this time moving up. Prompto’s adrenaline had finally wore off and he found his side to be in stitches, and his breath coming in big wheezing gulps. His mouth felt heavy and sour and his head was light. Ignis was still silently gripping his wrist, occasionally checking his phone. Their steps echoing in the dark concrete well.

Ignis stopped suddenly on the steps. “Are you having trouble?”

Prompto nodded.

“We can slow down, but we should keep going.” He said more gently.

They took a few more steps.

“Why did you run...That was so incredibly stupid” Ignis said more to himself than anything. He didn’t even look at Prompto.

Prompto didn’t even know himself. There was chaos all around him. He saw an opening and he took it. As much as insomnia had not killed him on sight they were still not his friends. He just wanted to go home, and that was the first opportunity someone wasn’t telling him what to do or where to be. So he took it. Even if it was stupid, he would have hated himself more for not taking it.

“Will I... go to jail?” Prompto asked in between heaving breaths.

“That depends. There’s a whole counsel now dedicated to your well being and this fiasco may change some things.” Ignis said as they climbed . Prompto bitterly noted he wasn’t out of breath at all.

Exiting the stairs the walked in silence as Ignis led him through more of the building. They turned a corner and suddenly there were dozens of Insomnia guards.

“Hold. It’s Iggy!” The soldier with a scar and two others ran up to meet them.

“Take him and put him somewhere safe.” Ignis commanded falling back into full business mode. Two of the men immediately put their hands on Prompto and steered him towards a room.  “And the perimeter is lax I was able to get this far with no issue.” he heard Ignis shout behind him. The room they took him to was someones very nice apartment. Kitchen and living room connected in a nice lofty space with big windows that occasionally flashed as Prompto assumed search lights were scouring for the intruders. And there were kings guards everywhere strategizing over a kitchen island and posted at every door. Someone sat him in a chair against a wall and out of the way, and that was that. Everyone looked tense and on alert, communicating in quick bursts of code that didn’t mean anything to Prompto. He abstractly wondered if the prince and king were okay, and if Ignis was going back out to fight.

—————- nightmare

He was panicked. The pop of gunfire so close the sound thudded through his chest. He was on the ground, but not in his house. He had to leave before the secret police found him. Despite his eyes adjustment to the darkness nothing looked familiar, odd lights blinked in and out of his vision, what the hell was going on? Fear propelled him to a window where keeping his head low he peered several stories down into a maintained courtyard. Where the hell was he?! The buildings around him made no sense.

A noise sent him behind a large chair, praying more gun shots weren’t going to follow. His ears trained for any noise strained against the ringing of adrenaline and fear.

“Prompto?”

That voice belonged to someone, someone he knew? He stilled his whole body hoping whoever this was gave up soon.

“Prompto”? The voice called again louder this time. A moment later the room was illuminated.

Rationalizing with the police were not an option if he was caught somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be without even his papers, he wouldn’t even be detained. Where were his papers? Where had he left them?

The man began moving around the room, coming closer to the window. Prompto’s spine seemed to be shaking from the sheer effort to keep himself upright. Maybe he could bargain them off, he did have some contraband that was worth something.

“Prompto what are-“

The man was standing above him, not the police. He was someone he knew. Different but the name wouldn’t come. This man didn’t want to hurt him.

“The gun shots.” Prompto whispered as loud as he he was willing to speak, “They were close.”

The man seemed to finally understand, and lowered himself to a crouch beside him. “Are you hurt?”

Prompto hadn’t thought to check, patting himself down, looking for anything thing hurt. “No.”

Igni,s the man was Ignis, pulled out his phone and sat down next to him. “Hello Cor? Any reports of gunshots fired in the north east sector?” Ignis waited for an answer, “no no...false alarm I believe just wanted a confirmation. Affirmative. Thank you.”

From his side of the conversation it didn’t sound like there was bad news.

“Ignis where are we?”

“We are in my apartments. We moved you in today remember? You’re staying in my living room, we are currently behind my recliner.” He spoke slowly, calmly.

“The gunshots?”

“A dream most likely. Our chief of security said there was not activity, our guards in this sector confirmed it. We can look outside if you wish, when you’re feeling better.”

Slowly prompto’s thoughts began to focus, his breath slowing down and the static from his ears receding. That’s right Ignis brought him here a few days ago. The lights were the new security systems the guards put in place. The gunshots he heard were from earlier in the week. It had been four days.

“Breath in from your mouth then out through your nose. And place your hands behind your head if you’re still having trouble.”

Ignis said quietly, and Prompto managed a shakey nod and placed his wrists above his head.

As the panic subsided embarrassment took its place. Of course he was in igniss apartments. He hadn’t been home for months. While gunshots are still something to worry about, Ignis would protect him.

He snuck a glance at the other man only to see him staring back.

“Ah, feeling better?”

“Yes.” His breathing had slowed but his heart still felt a little fast. “Good enough”

“Would you still like to look outside?” Ignis asked delicately.

“No, no I believe you.”

Ignis stood and offered his hand, which Prompto gratefully accepted.

“Your hands are like ice.” Ignis wrapped his arm around him, guiding him back to the couch. Normally Prompto would protest the coddling but the warmth felt good. And he maybe leaned a little harder than he should, but God’s if he could just have this.

Ignis set him down on the couch and grabbed the blanket off the floor. Prompto wasn’t sure if he could get to sleep after everything, maybe he could count sheep or try breathing deeply. The lights dimmed and Prompto settled in.

Only to feel something settle down beside him. In the dim light he could see Ignis with his own blanket sitting next to him. “Just for a moment, I want to make sure you can get back to sleep.”

“And if I can’t?” “Then I’ll keep you company.” he said very matter of factly.

“Does that happen often?” Prompto murmured into the dark. “Attacks on the royal family?”

“Thankfully, no.” Ignis whispered back, he was close. “But we have more than enough staff to deal with these things...”

Prompto curled up into the blanket. His eyes burning a little from exhaustion.

“Do you get scared?” He asked, A hairs breadth above a whisper.

“When you’re trained for these things you can forget to be scared, but I still do. sometimes.”

“Im not sorry...that I ran. I just...” the thought vanished like smoke, he wanted to go home. He wanted things to return to normal. But that was impossible. His life was in Insomnia’s hands. He just thought... this was his only chance. His only chance to escape them both, the empire and his captors. And he was just so tired.

“Try and get some rest.” Prompto rolled over on his side. Taking one last look at Ignis. In the dark, his profile looked serious and plaintive. Act II - The Collar

————- 1st day

Ignis was hovering by the door. Prompto couldn’t blame him, he was leaving his home in a stranger’s hands.

“There is a pre made sandwiches in the fridge if you get hungry, your welcome to the vegetables as well. Anything you can’t cook or doesn’t require cutting I suppose...” he trailed off. Adjusting his jacket folded over his arm.

“And if you don’t understand the technology you won’t touch it, right?”

Ignis had already made this clear, twice, that he shouldn’t touch anything he didn’t understand.

Prompto almost rolled his eyes, instead he placed one fist over his heart, “On my eyes and soul, I will not touch anything I do not understand.” An old empire saying that you could still supposidly collect on.  

Ignis made a face, clearly not what he expected and left.

And then Prompto was alone, for what felt like the first time in weeks. It reminded him of when they moved him to the bunker, but at least this time he knew Ignis had to come back at some point.

He helped himself to a little snooping, he had access to the kitchen, the living room, and a small bathroom with only a sink and toilet. Everything dangerous, or even potentially dangerous had either been removed or looked to be locked with some sort of tech to keep the drawers and cabinets closed.

The fridge was open, so Prompto helped himself to one of the sandwiches left for him, only to end up eating over the sink to make as little of a mess as possible.

There were books a plenty, a lot of them centered around self help and organizing, but there were a few spy novels and fiction books as well. And cook books, lots and lots of cook books.

Opposite side of the room looked like a large stereo system. True to his word he didn’t touch the the top devices, they had loads of buttons and displays he had never seen before. But on the bottom shelf was a record player, that, Prompto was familiar with.

He gingerly pulled it out. It seemed like it hadn’t been used in a while, no dust, but it was unable to be used where it had been. He flicked the power switch but no dice, finally something to do. His family’s record player, was ages older than this one and he had fixed that one plenty of times. Ignis probably wouldn’t mind right?

Well no. Ignis probably minded a lot. But gods, he needed something to do with his time.

Prompto sat down and began to work, the model was only slightly different than the one he was used to, a lot more pieces seemed flimsier than he would like. But he managed to get to the root of the problem easily, a disconnected wire and a piece of poorly fitting plastic, taking only minimal snack breaks he managed to have the whole thing reassembled and working by sun set. Ignis didn’t have a lot of choose from in terms of records, lots of what looked like somber instrumental or old style music, some still in the plastic. But he did have a few that were bright packaging, a band with both women and men called Aida.

While he had never heard of them before Prompto took to them instantly, bright poppy songs about love and dancing, plinky pianos and a whole host of other instruments he didn’t recognize.

Prompto was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a door unlocking. He stood up, immediately feeling guilty for not putting the record player back sooner. But there was nothing for it now.

Ignis walked in and immediately noticed the music. Wordlessly he strode over, his face a blank mask. As he came closer he opened his mouth and then promptly shut it, peering at the record player and then back to Prompto.

“You fixed it.”

“Ah-“

“And you’re playing Aida?”

Prompto had no idea what Ignis meant by that. So he decided on telling the truth, “The record player was the only thing I recognized, but when it wasn’t working I just fiddled with it until it was.” He ended with a shrug.

This gave Ignis pause. “Well ...I suppose I should thank you. I originally bought the thing on a whim, only later did I realize it was broken, so thank you.” This seemed sincere. But it was hard to tell. Now that he was living with the man he would have to get used to his closed off expressions.

“S-sure.” He felt awkward. This was awkward. They both stood there a moment. Prompto unable to leave with any authority and Ignis choosing to stand there.

“You can go back to what you were doing. Though I would prefer if you put those back where you found them.” Ignis seemed to relax fractionally, turning away to head back to the door.

“Yes sir.” Prompto mumbled immediately dropping down to stack the record folders he spread around him.

“There’s no need for the ‘sir’ if you’re living here. it seems a bit arbitrary to keep thinking in jailer and prisoner terms if you get to watch me eat oatmeal every morning.” There. Again there was a hint of annoyance hidden behind his neutral demeanor. But that was understandable, Prompto was invadeing his space, making his down time more stressful by being here.

“Speaking of, what do you prefer? I suppose I’ll be cooking for the both of us.” Ignis wandered into the kitchen peering into the fridge.

“I don’t know, I can eat anything really. All the food here has been really good.” Which was true, empire food was not as fresh or as plentiful as they liked to say it was.

“Mmm clearly. Did you eat all of the tomatoes I had in here?” The tone wasn’t accusing but the way Ignis was staring at him made him feel guilty.

“I- um...yes.” He could feel his face flushing “I’m sorry if wasn’t supposed to.”

A hint of a smile quirked on Ignis’s lips, “Its fine. I should have been more specific with what I prefer you to eat when I’m not around. I was going to use them for a sauce but I can improvise. Did you eat them raw?” The quirk was back although it sounded like he was teasing him.

“Yes... Is that weird?”

“‘No not particularly.” Ignis began taking ingredients out of the fridge.

While being alone was

————- doggos

“Specs~” The prince called as he walked through ignises front door. He seemed comfortable enough barging in, but maybe he just did that with every door he opened.

“You really shouldn’t be walking in without warning your highness.” Ignis said not looking up from his book.

“It’s not barging if I own the place.”

Prompto who usually tried to stay out of conversations he wasn’t apart of, was immediately distracted by the unmistakable scratches of paws walking across a hard wood floor.

Sure enough a medium sized dog was padding behind the prince, well trained and happy.

“Is that your dog?!” He said before he could stop himself.

The two it seemed had been talking, because they both looked at him as though a lamp had just just shouted.

“Yeeah, this is Umbra.” The prince said.

“Can I- can I pet him?” Prompto could feel his face heating, he was a little embarrassed at acting like a kid. But gods, he missed his own dogs so much. And there was one here, right here, in the room with him. He had to pet that dog.

The prince gave Ignis a questioning look, which was met with a vague hand guesture which Prompto could only assume was, ‘its your dog dude’ or whatever approximation of ‘dude’ Ignis used.

“Uh sure-“ that was all the permission needed by Prompto. He practically lept out of his seat and started purposefully walking over. Only slowing to make sure Umbra didn’t find him threatening.

“He doesn’t really like new people so ah, don’t get your hopes up.”

He knelt down to one knee and put his hand fingers side out to let umbra smell him when he was ready to, “hey buddy, want to say hi?” He softly cooed.

The dog looked past him toward his master, but then slowly trotted over. Pausing to gently sniff his hand, Prompto waited until the dog came even closer before slowly scratching behind his ear.

“Yeah you’re a good boy, aren’t you? So soft. What a good boy.”

He went a little rougher on the scratches, “So fluffy ahh! Fluffy fluffy boy.” The baby talk was a little silly but Umbras tail began to whip around faster and he open his mouth in a big puppy grin. Prompto fully indulged taking both hands to scratch the dog, which earned him a playful lick. “So good so good!”

Prompto turned around, “I really like your dog.”

Both the prince and Ignis were staring at him, the prince skeptical, Ignis vaguely unreadable as always.

“What’s up?”

“I’ve just never seen umbra take to anybody so quickly.” The prince said, “he’s pretty picky.”

“I probably just smell like Ignis, and I don’t mean to brag but I’m pretty good with dogs. I have four back home. I mean they weren’t technically mine, but I still fed them and taught them tricks. I’ve really missed them”

He was still absent mindedly scratching umbra when he remembered his manners, “oh uh, thanks by the way, your highness.”

The prince waved it off, “Noctis is fine. You good with animals?” He asked.

“Yeah I’d say so...”

The prince smiled mischievously, “Have you ever seen a chocobo?”

The big riding bird? “Yeah, you mean a picture right? They went extinct awhile ago...” He looked from Ignis to Noctis.

“Noct.” Ignis interjected, “I know what you’re thinking and it’s absolutely out of the question.”

“Oh is happening Specs. I mean you saw how good he was with Umbra, he’d get a kick out of it.”

“Get a kick out of what?”

The two continued to bicker over him.

“Absolutely not, you know he can’t go wandering around outside.”

“He won’t be wondering, we’ll be with him the whole time.”

Slowly Prompto put the pieces together, “Are chocobos real? Do you actually have one?”

“We have a full stable.” Noctis said with the biggest grin.

“Your highness as your advisor I have to say that this is by far one of the stupider ideas you have and I cannot condone it.”

“Noted. We’re doing it anyway, so do you want to help make a disguise or not?”

Noctis it seemed was very proud of the chocobos and thought it was extremely necessary that Prompto see them as soon as possible. He grabbed some clothes from his own closet and made a makeshift disguise. Ignis pitched in and lent him a handkerchief to hide his collar as well.

“Okay now that he’s over accessorized let get going.” Noctis said with a smile.

They walked single file, with Ignis leading. Based on the path he took, it was to prevent Prompto from getting to familiar with the layout of the palace. But still it was nice to see something, anything different than the same four walls. He did his best not to gawk openly.

After a long series of stairs they made their way outside and Prompto nearly lost his breath. The air was crisp and cool. The sky was dark but what stars he could see were bright. The glittering lights of the y’all skyscrapers peaking over the high security wall speckled the horizon. He could have stared at it all night. Gods the things you miss.

“Prompto.” A hand fell on his shoulder, it was Ignis. “We should keep moving.”

He could only nod as they approached an field that appeared to be attached to the very metropolitan castle. But still within high castle walls. Their destination looked to be a large building nearby. They passed someone who seemed to be closing things for the night.

“We’ll only be a second Adrian, no need for anything.” Ignis supplied.

It was as surreal as most of his time here. Walking next to the prince of a country he was supposed to hate. Treated like a pet that contained government secrets that even it didn’t know about. Going to meet an extinct bird in borrowed clothes. Strange strange strange.

“I can’t believe you said chocobos were extinct. What is the empire doing?” Said Noctis.

“They said it happened in the initial clash, insomnia militia rounded up hundreds of them and rode them hard or ate them during the war to survive.” Prompto answered. “They said you brutalized them.”

“Harsh.” He replied monotonically..

The prince was kind of a hard person to read. But he seemed alright, nothing like the hellion the empire painted him as.

At the barn the prince took the lead, “prepared to be amazed.” He said sliding open one of the large barn doors. Inside it looked like the stalls were empty. But it was only a moment when one pure white feathered head stuck out its head, trilling inquisitively.

Prompto could feel his cheeks hurting in a too wide grin, he cast a glance to Ignis, happy to know he wasn’t the only one seeing this.

This time he didn’t ask for permission but cautiously walked over to the stall.

It was big. Bigger than he thought. It’s an easy thing to think oh people could ride them, but to actually see them up close, it was beyond his imagination.

“That’s Queenie, she was bred as a gift for Luna.” Noctis supplied.

“She’s beautiful.” Prompto held out a hand for her to smell, “gods those eyes. So big.”

Queenie seemed to be getting more used to him, letting out what Prompto thought were excited chirps. He reached up to brush down some of her feathers as she stared to nip at his hair.

“King and Rook might already be asleep, Bishop might be up but he’s a cranky guy.” Noctis said walking around the stall a little bit. “Oh you should meet Pawn.”

The commotion had also got the attention of a few other birds, these ones were all a vibrant yellow in various states of sleepiness.

Prompto was happy enough meeting Queenie, but wouldn’t turn down any other potential birds to pet. “Let me see if he’s up

After this the prince began to come over regularly for dinner. Those nights Prompto really enjoyed. The prince was actually really easy to talk to and watching Ignis and him talk was a show by itself. Despite being his retainer Ignis acted more like an older brother to Noctis. Prompto never had siblings so he really liked watching their back and fourth. Not that he was left out either. Noctis had taken to teasing him about his gaps in world knowledge and questioning him about the Empire.

“So wait there is no such thing as ‘dating’ in the Empire?” Noctis said.

“Mm not like you guys described it. We have ‘Meet Sets’, like meetings and setup, where our parents arrange an outing for a few people to go on, then they chaperone, everyone. With the hopes that your kid can meet their spouse safely, before they set you up for marriage. Then they report back to the government how they spent their time. It’s supposed to prevent bastards, homosexual behavior, and bad families mixing.”

The two gave him mixed looks, Noctis pitying and Ignis wary. It was like this nearly every time he tried to share some difference between their two nations. I never felt good, but then again he wished things were different in the Empire too.

“Whoa weird, and I thought my retainers were bad,” Ignis shot him a withering look, “but at least I got to be alone with Luna plenty of times.”

“Yes well I trusted Lady Lunafreya to not do anything stupid to jeopardize either of your futures.”

“Luna can get a little stupid.” He shot Prompto a wink, which immediately made Ignis groan.

“So what was the worst meet you ever went on? Any bad date stories to tell?”

“Oh I’ve never been.” He had always wanted to. There were plenty of cute people in his class that he wanted to spend more time with. But... “my parents were never home, so it made it hard for other people to arrange meets with me. And they didn’t really want me on the government's radar, since I was adopted. So...it never happened.”

“Well that sucks.” Noctis said blandly, “I don’t have too many what with being betrothed and whatever, but Iggy’s got loads.” He smirked over a piece of skewered meat.

“Oh?” Prompto was curious, he never imagined his keeper living beyond his job, but that was a pretty lame excuse. He was as much a person as he was.

“Come now Noct, let’s not-“

“Talk about the one that jumped on the roof of your car.” Noctis interrupted.

“What really?” Prompto added.

Ignis expression stiffened as he looked between the two boys, with a sigh he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Very well... even though that wasn’t technically  a date. He was young and just trying to impress me. He waa classmate of mine at university and he was always vieing for my attention, and once he learned that I had martial arts training he got it into his head that I would be impressed with a feat of acrobatics.”

Noctis was very much enjoying the story even though it was clear he had heard it before. Ignis seemed to be holding back. His mask a little harder around the edges than a few moments ago.

“So after classes I head out to my car parked by the wall near the tennis courts. The young man had climbed to the top of the wall and just as I started my car he jumps down and lands on the hood- “

“Yelling ‘How do you like this?!’ And wham! He totally just eats it.” Noctis added with a smirk.

“It’s seemed he didn’t anticipate the landing and rolled his ankle.” Ignis supplied, “fell off like a sack of potatoes.” He added with a small smirk of his own.

While Ignis and Noctis bickered over the exact details of what happened next. But Prompto was still a little confused, “So a guy did this to you? Did he get in trouble?”

“ I put him in a headlock for denting my hood if that’s what you mean-“ Ignis said waspishly.

“No like,” he licked his lips, unnerved for some reason, “He, out in the open, was trying to ask you out. But the school didnt give him a ethics demerit, or give a hard labor assignment, or manditory Good Nation rehabilitation?”

The rest of the table became more or less silent.  Prompto might have well as grown two heads with the way they were looking at him.

“Oh that’s an...Empire only thing...Got it.” Way to make things awkward Prompto...

“Human rights are something we’re pretty proud of here.” Noctis said, “Not really concerned if you’re making babies for the good of the nation or not.”

“I mean that’s... fair. It always felt....bad to me.” Saying dissenting things about the Empire always felt like swallowing nails whether he felt it was true or not. They were always things felt and thought, but never ever said out loud.

“A progressive then.” Ignis said pleasantly holding his glass for a toast. Trying to ease the tension created. “To living how you want.”

“Speak for yourself.” Noct said with a playful bit of annoyance.

“Same.” Prompto replied, which earned a hearty snort from Noct.

“Perhaps I could have phrased that better... how about, Being yourself, even when its difficult.”

Dinners with Gladiolus, also known as scar head, also started becoming a thing. Unlike Noctis who would hang out with the two of them in the living room, gladiolus and Ignis would head straight to Ignis’s bedroom and not come out until it was time to start making dinner. It was....well if possible made Prompto feel lonelier than if they had just gone out without him. He thought he handled it well, only breaking out the vaccuum once in spite.

Dinner was difficult as well. Gladiolus did not like Prompto and he made that pretty apparent. Prompto never pushed back, because deep down he didn’t belong here and he was a big inconvenient blocker in Ignis’s life right now.

Tonight dinner had been okay, it was a cow dish that apparently was one of Gladioluss favorites that Prompto had trouble pronouncing. Ignis was in the middle of telling a story when a ring went off, it was his work tone so he immediately answered, listening intently he made a face, “Excuse me gentlemen I need to take this.” Swiftly he got up and moved into the bedroom, closing the door with a definitive click.

Gladiolus looked at him. Cool. Neat. Always good to feel like a freak show.

“

--------------Cooking Ignis as Prompto was learning spent a lot of time in the kitchen. Preparing things for the week, experimenting, and just cooking for what seemed like the fun of it. If Prompto saw him outside of his room this was what he was doing. This time Prompto could barely concentrate on his book because of the smells coming from the kitchen. “What are you making this time?”

“Bouillabaisse, a type of fish stew,” He continued chopping, going on to explain, “We don’t live quite near enough to the ocean to get the ingredients at their freshest but we will see.” “Have you been there? The ocean I mean.” Living with Ignis had shown Prompto that many of his flat looks had their own nuances, this one meant he was reigning in surprise before thinking about the actual question. “Yes. I have visited Galden Qui quite a few times. A restaurant there is where this recipe hails from. “ He looked like he wanted to say more, but stopped himself. He seemed to be doing that a lot, making small talk then potentially realizing he should treating the conversation like one he would have with a spy. It mostly left Prompto to do the talking then, which he didn’t mind. “Can I help you at all?” And Ignis smiled at him. Prompto had taken to doing any dishes or cleaning the apartment while Ignis was out, but this was the only thing he really looked forward to. Standing in the kitchen, while Ignis patiently explained how to follow the recipe. Tasting and talking about food was the one safe territory of conversation they had. And Prompto cherished it. “Yes, have you ever devained shrimp before?” It was very obvious to both of them, that Prompto’s experience with food was limited to the Empires main staples, and exotic things had never touched his pallet, but it was still nice to be asked.

He shook his head, and Ignis motioned for him to join him. He sidled up standing hip to hip with the man, as Ignis patiently explained the process, going over the ins and outs of the type of animal he holding and why it needed to be done. “Oh and if you would set aside any shells, they have great usage as stock. Now, let me see you attempt.”

With a deft movement he flipped the knife handle first to Prompto.

He had slowly been given more and more privileges but this is the first time he had been given a knife.

“Is this...okay?”  

The knife was retracted and Ignis quickly placed it out of range.

“Prompto I can’t give you this tool if you’re giving me reason to doubt that you can handle it.”

“No it’s just.... you trust me.” Ignis raised an eyebrow that told Prompto ‘No, try again genius.’ He sighed, “to an extent I mean. But like if I’ve shown that I’m non-combatant then why am I still here? In this castle where you would not want someone to overhear...like confidential shit. I just don’t understand.”

Ignis sighed, and turned back to the stove to check on the simmering pot. “There are things...” he said carefully, “in motion to currently determine, who and what you are,” he increased in volume to overwhelm prompto’s protests, “in relation to the government. There are those who would put you in a penitentiary for your own protection.” He paused. “However there are still some others that view you as a potential asset, and having you close and.... under our own hand is preferable.”

Prompto’s mind flashed to the feeling of what he now understood was Ignis hand on the back of his throat, holding him in place, vice like. Knowing that this Ignis was capable of that made his breath catch a little.

“We have made strides...” Ignis ventured cautiously. “But any intelligence related to you is being kept secret.”  He continued a little waspishly,

“Do you have a strong desire to be in prison?”

“What? No, I- I don’t want that at all.” I want to be here with you...his thoughts trailed after. That was something he couldn’t quite say yet. “It’s hard to live this way, not that you’re not a great host or anything, but...” he struggled, “I’m a cautious guy. This is not normal, and I-I don’t know. Im rambling.” His scrubbed his hands over his face. ‘And I don’t know how to tell you that I’m confused about the relationship we have and I’m scared I might be putting my well being in trouble if I say anything and above everything else I don’t want to break anything between us.’

He sighed heavily and shook out his face, start over. New conversation. “Sorry I just don’t have anyone to talk to about this and I know I say it a lot...” he shrugged, “I’m not actively trying to be an annoying.”

“You’re not annoying.” Ignis said flatly. “You are someone stuck in an unfortunate situation and perhaps some of my frustration stems from being not able to tell you more.”

There was a sadness in his eyes, a firm resolution to his duties and pity for Prompto.

“Can I de-vain a shrimp now?” Prompto said a with a hint of exasperation for comedic effect. “All that talk about removing the ‘fecal tract’ made me really hyped up to help.”

Ignis let out a short bark of laughter before returning with the small knife he had originally offered Prompto. This time he took it without hesitation.

“You know one of these days I’m going to really make you laugh, I’m talking a full on belly laugh, tears streaming down your eyes, the works.”

“Oh really?”

“Uh huh! That is my new goal...”

“Are you funny?”

“Ooh ouch, that stings!” He pantomimed a wound through the heart. “Specs always going for the kill.”

“Specs huh?” Ignis said, as he moved closer to oversee promptos work.

It was only then he realized what he had said, “oh um, sorry, I guess I must have heard the prince say that...I can still call you Ignis. If that’s what you prefer.”

Ignis gave him a sad smile, “I think that would be for the best.”

“What about iggy?” “Mmm a no for that as well.” “Igster?” “Now you’re just trying to offend me.” Ignis said flatly but still playing along. “Alright alright, Ignis it is.”

————- drunk

Prompto was awake, startled by the fact that he had fallen asleep in the first place. Ignis had stayed out late, Prompto wasn’t trying to stay up to see him, but had fallen asleep before he did. He rolled over glimpsing a slightly disheveled Ignis fumbling with his shoes, muttering something just under Prompto’s range of hearing. He looked up and paused finding Prompto staring back at him. “Sorry, sorry.” He said a tad louder than prompto expected, “Didn’t mean to wake you.” “It’s alright. Everything okay?”Prompto asked. “Hm?” Ignis didn’t take his usual care in hanging his jacket in the hall closet instead draping it over the back of a chair, “Did something happen?” “No no...are you...tipsy?” In the dim light Prompto could make out the curve of his face, the soft light bouncing off his cheeks and lips. He was smiling, with teeth, and cheeks, and Prompto couldn’t help but stare. “That noticeable?” He brushed some of the hair out of his face, “Would you mind if I made tea? I think it would be best if I didn’t go to bed just yet.” “It’s fine.” Ignis began puttering around, adjusting the lights in his kitchen to a warm glow before placing his kettle on the stove top. “Join me, I think the whistle might make it impossible to sleep anyway.” Prompto’s heart gave a small leap at sharing this moment with Ignis. “Would you like any by the way, it’s a Chamomile blend so it should help you get to sleep.” He held up the canister, “It’s good.” “Sure thanks,” Prompto took a seat at the kitchen island. “If my apartment is cold you should speak up, I’d adjust it.” “Hm? I’m not cold.” Ignis glanced away from the cupboards, “Oh, ah I just thought with the hat...I just assumed. My mistake.” Maybe it was Ignis’ candid attitude or his lack of sleep, but there was less tension in the air. Ignis was making him tea, they were around the kitchen island, together, late at night. It reminded him of sneaking over to his neighbors after curfew, to read books by flashlight and talk and laugh together. “My...ah hair used to be longer. So I guess at first it was because I was cold. I guess I just got used to it.”

“How did you wear it before?” Ignis glanced over taking a few mugs down.

“Oh uh.” Prompto took off the beanie, and raked his hair over. “It’s still not...”

It had grown, a few inches it felt like, definitely longer than the short crop it had been, Prompto was surprised it was actually a lot softer than he remembered. Probably because of all the nice soaps Ignis happened to keep stocked.

Ignis gave him a once over, “it suits you.”

Prompto felt the heat creep over his chest and face. He quietly laughed out of nervousness and hastily put the hat back on.

“You know I never asked but, what were you doing before all this happened, I know you mentioned university...”

The casual brush of the kidnapping punched Prompto in the gut, “it was vocational school. I was training to be a train conductor.”

“Transport Or business?”

“Transport. Importing and exporting is handled solely by the military and that wasn’t going to happen...”

Something against the military? “I thought all Empire citizens participated in a mandatory draft.”

“They do. Well I mean, five-ish years before my service date, the state declared that military service was no longer mandatory, but highly encouraged. Due to the success of the magic tech engines. You can dodge if you have enough money.”

“You did?” Ignis had attempted to keep the question light, but had leaned in close over the kitchen island in his interest.

“My parents did, we lived really skinflint for awhile. Adoption isn’t really something that’s done. So if any of my papers come under scrutiny my parents and I would have been sent to Work camps or worse.”

“ but if adoption isn’t normally practiced how did your parents come by you.”

Prompto shrugged resigned that area of his life would never be resolved.

“I think my mom was my birth mom’s friend? She might have died, or slept with someone she shouldn’t have. Mom refused to say, I was told to never mention it or the police would take me away.”

“And the tattoo...”

“I don’t know. I’ve always had it. If it was my parents or my mom or...”

“Or the government.”

The whistle chose that exact moment to blow. Ignis lingered with a resolved but unreadable expression on his face letting the whistle cut through the apartment before muttering a curse and tending to the kettle.

“But that doesn’t make any sense I’m nobody.” “Really?” Ignis asked sarcastically, “You can’t honestly see that the odds are stacked against you for leading a normal life.” He took a seat besides Prompto and set their mugs aside to steep.

“Mysterious birth. Unknown tattoo. Government experiments.” He ticked off the points on his fingers. “ Are you sure that you’re not some hero in a novel?” Prompto couldn’t help but grin, “Yeah...okay don’t be an ass.” And because he was feeling bold he knocked their knees together. “What were you celebrating?” He said lightly to change the subject.

“The birthday of a spoilt prince. He’s set to be engaged next year so a few of the kings guard thought to give him a proper send off.”

Prompto could only imagine what ‘proper’ meant to a league of highly trained testosterone filled tactical team. But Ignis seemed to be in good spirits so nothing too bad...

“Have you known him long?”

“Since we were boys...” Ignis said a little wistfully. “He’s become a fine young man.”

Sensing there was a limit to how much Ignis would dilvulge Prompto attempted to grab his mug at his tea.

“How about you, how old are you?” Ignis ventured.

“Ignis!” Prompto cried, “I’m hurt, I told you my birthday the third day we met!”

“You told a doctor,” Ignis corrected, “Ignis sciticia, your roommate, has no idea when you were born.” He winked.

If Prompto had any doubts about where he wanted to stand with Ignis they were quieted in that instant. He should hug me, sling his arms around me and pull me close. I want to see his eyes up close, I want to see every angle of his smile, every crease around his eyes. I want closeness.

He settled for taking a longer drink of tea.

“I was born Octavus (look up prompto’s b day) and I am currently 20....well probably.”

“Same age as the prince then...” Ignis mused. “Did you ever do anything special for your birthday?”

“My mom would make candied orange peels, and we would take a family picture. The camera was contraband so it was exciting to look at it up close every year. Sometime my dad would let me take other pictures of things, and then he taught me how to make a darkroom. So I coud develop them myself.”

Ignis was listening very intensely.

“It sounds...like nothing. I mean you guys have phones-“ Ignis held up a hand cutting him off. “It’s not nothing. It sounds lovely. Please continue.”

Prompto flushed. “And that really was kind of it. I really liked that camera. Playing around with the knobs, arranging little things and viewing them through the view finder. I once,” he smiled now recalling the day, “once did a portrait of my parents, sitting together on our couch. I was determined to get it perfect. I arranged them and rearranged them, I wanted to have them together during the golden hour, the one where the light is just perfect from the setting sun. And I, I spent so much time arranging them I missed the opportunity. I was pretty young so I felt bad that I had screwed it up, but looking back I don’t think they minded how crappy it turned out....”

“And that, is a birthday in the empire. Well mine at least. As far as I know birthdays weren’t really a thing? Unless we were celebrating the emperor’s...”

(Expand here his mother singing / point she may not have originally grown up in the empire)

———- masterbation ——

Knowing that he found Ignis attractive made certain things harder for Prompto, no pun intended.

Their cooking sessions, the time spent together, Prompto was hyper aware of his proximity to the other man. He found himself mapping Ignis’ movements as he walked around his bedroom. Imagining the things he liked to do in privacy. One time his mind had ventured what Ignis was like in more intimate moments... and nearly had a heart attack when Ignis walked back into his apartment without warning. After that Prompto tried to limit his daydreaming to days when he knew ignis’ schedule by heart.

Today was (Wednesday) so Ignis would be back late, he had additional hours added to his kingsglave training and would sometimes unwind with Gladio after practice. This morning he seemed to be already running a bit late, ‘damn soap getting in his eyes’, when he got a phone call. He answered his cell phone immediately, “Yes?” He said slightly tighter than expected. “That wasn’t-“ a pause “of course they did. Alright I’m on my way.” He dropped the laundry hamper he had been carrying by the door and quickly walked back into his bedroom. Prompto often felt like furniture or a pet in this instance, watching what was going on but left out of anything important.

Ignis emerged carrying a mid sized bag and a red notebook, cell phone still held up to his ear, he stopped mid-stride “That as well? Yes. Well of course I still have it.” And he turned back into his bedroom.

At this point Prompto figured at least if he was a pet they still knew how to comfort their owners without being annoying.

Ignis emerged from his room, phone still pressed up against his ear. “Did they tell you anything?” He splashes what was his coffee into sink and then headed directly out the door. He looked back at Prompto,as if to say something only to get distracted by who ever he was talking to, “No, that is something we absolutely cannot allow. If he thinks he can undermine-“ and he was gone.

Prompto waited the requisite five or so minutes to account for Ignis forgetting something. Then he started his own day. He was in the middle of vacuuming when he realized that ignis had left his hamper next to the door. And the more Prompto noticed it, the more curious he became. Eventually he gave up altogether on what he was supposed to do and found himself in front of the hamper. There was a smart part of him that knew this was a bad idea. But the dumb human part of him didn’t give a damn, as he reached in and grabbed a piece of clothing. It was a button up that he had worn yesterday, he had to take it off when he spilled a bit of coffee on the cuff. Prompto pressed it to his face and inhaled. It was deep and spicy, something warm and masculin that made his heart race. He had never really smelled the man before, but this was something way deeper than just his detergent. It couldn’t just be his sweat, right? No man smelled like this by himself. Then he felt something he hadn’t felt in a very long time, an erection. As blood raced to his member he felt a mild panic, God’s what was he doing. He clenched the shirt,standing absolutely still. Ears trained to hear any movement, making sure he was absolutely, one hundred percent sure he was, alone. After spending what seemed like ages at the laundry basket he slowly allowed himself to relax.

God this was just like the first time he had got his hands on a black market dirty magazine. He couldn’t stand here any longer.

Prompto all but ran into his small bathroom. Sliding down the wall into the small nook between the toilet and the wall. He buries his nose into the shirt and took in a large breath. Ignis smile floated in front him. The feeling of him touching Prompto. The image of him spread out like that dirty magazine. He pulled out his dick and it was like becoming a new person. He’s own body responding to every stroke. He fell back into his old habits thumbing the slit, as he focused on the image of Ignis’s mouth. Gods those lips on him. His body pressing into his, his knee urging his thighs wider. His face

The feeling of cumming hit him like shove. Immediately gritting his teeth to stifle the groan that clawed it’s way out of his throat. His hips jerked awkwardly as he pulled himself through it. Ignis smiling gently. Ignis presses up against him. His whole body thrummed with aftershocks.

As Prompto’s mind settled down the act finally caught up to him. He had jerked off to Ignis. Ignis the guy who was his jailor. It was kind of fucked up.

He already sort of thought himself in circles if he had a crush on the man or if he was just so incredibly lonely he latched onto the first someone to show him kindness. But jerking off just made it that much more concrete. He was really really into Ignis. Whatever that meant.

—___

“Even if you say that this still doesn’t feel like my life,” he paused licking his lips, “like at any point this all could have gone horribly wrong. I could have been found out or killed by sheer error.”

Ignis was watching him very intently. Prompto could remember his voice cutting through the hall. Singling him out.

“Hell you could have killed me.”

“No.” Ignis interrupted firmly, “No matter what the empire has told you about Insomnia we would never execute someone without just cause. When you were crying out that day you were at worst a defective MT and at best an scared emaciated young man. We are fighting for our right to hearth and Home and unjustly executing those who cannot defend themselves makes us no better than our oppressors.”

Prompto scrubbed the back of his Head

“I believe you. Really.” He

—-

Prompto picked up his phone and opened his video app. Lavigne had set up his phone with not only the essentials but a few fun things as well. The coffee shop was also more quiet this time of day,

—————————/

Act III - The Sentence

---- There was a knock at the door.

A knock wasn’t accurate though. It sounded like the side of someone’s fist on the banging in quick succession. Ignis wasn’t home, and wouldn’t be for quite some time. It wasn’t Prompto’s place to open the door, and he was pretty sure he couldn’t even if he wanted to. “This is the kingsguard, Prompto Argentum you are under arrest under the orders of the high counsel surrender yourself immediately.” Came a loud voice through the door. Prompto, as calmly as he could, set down the dish he was washing and went to stand in the middle of the room. Even if these were imposters, he didn’t have anything to defend himself with, and if they were the real deal, then maybe things were going to get a whole lot worse. There was the small double chime of the security system unlocking. Then black suited bodies flooded through the door. Prompto slowly raised his hands and placed them behind his head. This was it. The end of this play pretend house wife life he was leading. Guns were once again trained on him with laser precision.

“Prompto Argentum came a voice from behind him, “you are under arrest for, illegal border crossing, breaking and entering on royal property, involuntary smuggling of bio weapons, involuntary dangering the royal family and staff. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. “ he bargain to feel the hard metal of hand cuffs clatter on his wrists as the kingsglave rattled off the list of rights he had as a prisoner of the state. Ignis had already prepared him for this scenario, it was supposed to be a worse case type of deal, but....

“Do you understand these rights as they’ve been read to you?”

“Yes.” Prompto answered hoarsely. He would be given an opportunity at the processing center to call his lawyer. Everything was going to be fine.

Two guards took him by the elbows and hauled him to his feet.

“Does Ignis know what’s going on?”

“Scienticia knows.

A heavy weight settled in his stomach.

————

Prompto was enjoying his day off. He had just

After everything Ignis ended up staying. It was a little awkward. the air full of half kept promises and unspoken apologies.

“If you ah...need to go back, you can. Prompto sat opposite of him on his couch, leaving plenty of room between them. Ignis looked like someone who wanted to appear relaxed. But living with him clued Prompto nto all his little subtleties. The position of his hands, the clench of his jaw. He could feel a nervousness coming off of him like an aura.

“I thought we could talk.”

“Oh?” The word came out a little harder than he meant to. He bit back a wince and pushed himself off the couch. He was just starting to feel okay about all the distance between himself and ignis, he didn’t want to dredge that up.

“I want to, explain... somethings.”

Ignis had a hard mask on, similar to the face when Prompto would ask questions he couldn’t answer.

Prompto made a ‘go on gesture’, “right. Well first I would like to offer an apology.”

“I realize now that after spending weeks with someone and then not hearing from them suddenly and violently...isn’t pleasant no matter what the circumstances may be.”

“No shit.” Prompto sighed. He wasn’t angry but his heart felt a little heavier that it took so long for him to realize it.

“Quite. Further I realize that even though I spent weeks fighting as your character witness in court you might not see the value, until you potentially were released.”

Oh.

“But even still that’s not a proper excuse because I could have seen you. I should have. You were kept in the dark for so long and I wanted to tell you, but it was a risk that was potentially too great.”

And when you were released. I thought, he should live life on his own. Learn the world without me in it. I thought that, it would be better...” his shoulders dropped and only then did Prompto see how tightly he had been holding himself, “but I’m an arse. I apologize for my behavior and hope you can forgive me.”

“Are you okay? You seem ... like you’re doing pretty shitty.”

Ignis chuckled lightly, “it’s nice to hear you speak candidly... I often wondered how much you held back.”

“I have been better, I very much thought that you would absolutely hate me by the end of this and...”

He exhaled heavily.

“And?”

“And I’m coming to find out that you are a braver sort than me.” Ignis was shaking his leg in a very visible show of nerves.

This wasn’t making any sense. “Thank you for speaking for me in court. I know you wouldn’t say those things unless you actually believed them. But, I won’t say I’m not hurt, that you didn’t contact me, because I am.” He wondered back to couch to sit down, “I just, didn’t have anyone, and you were kind to me. And I just-“ he looked Ignis in the eyes, “You always had all the power. And I was at your mercy so I mean if it was all in my head that’s on me-“

“It wasn’t.”

Ignis was looking right at him, very intently. “I assure you. The only thing I kept from you were matters of state, things that I couldn’t tell you for your own good. My actions, my feelings, and demeanor were genuine.”

Prompto nodded. A little stunned, his therapist had warned him that it was possible the limited contact could have skewed his vision, but she didn’t prepare him for this.

“When you, said...that you wanted me...was that genuine too.”

Ignis was looking at him with such intensity. Prompto was having trouble reading his expression. Was he worried? Curious?

“Ignis...I wouldn’t lie about that. I don’t want this to be weird between us I-“

There was a hand on his thigh. Ignises hand was on his thigh.

“Prompto the time I spent without contacting you, was also for me. Any way that I had felt abouAt you during your capture had to be put aside. I needed to stay as alert and unbiased as possible. But when you were gone, I missed you. I worked to take everything between us to channel it into workin for your freedom. And when that was achieved? You were gone and there should be nothing in your life that reminds you of that horrible period. So I let you be. Obviously that was a mistake.”

“You missed me?”

Ignis bit his lip,

“Yes. I did.”

“Ignis do...you?”

“I- yes.”

Prompto felt his face flare, “Yes?”

“Yes, Prompto I want to get to know you better in an intimate fashion.”

Prompto was stunned. This was....completely unexpected. The fact that Ignis had thought about him at all like that when he was captive was unreal. And now he was sitting here, asking him to get to know him.

“I gotta say, in terms being asked out...that was just the worst.” Prompto let his face split into the widest grin.

And Ignis laughed. A genuine from gut belly laugh. Bursting out of him like a shot. His hand squeezed Prompto’s thigh and relief washed over him. Happiness bubbled up from his chest.

But as quickly as the laughter started, Ignis reverted to a more serious expression. “As much as I think both you and I want this....it may not be possible.”

“What do you mean?” “I still work for the government and more specifically the Monarchy. And you are still effectively a temporary ward or the state due to your complicated status. Not to mention the legalities of everything that we’re both equally tied up in.” He sighed, this probably had been weighing on him too.

“Listen its probably not a big surprise that I dont know anything about what you’re talking about.” That got a chuckle out of Ignis, “But I mean if we’re both into it and we’re here now, why not just see how this goes.” “Prompto...” “Come on. You see a cute guy like me walking down the street you don’t want to say something?” He leaned back,  “Pretend we’ve never met what would you say?” “Have you always been this flirtatious?” Ignis smiled. “No.” Prompto said with a bit more seriousness, “but I think, if this night is all that we get. Then I want to try my best to have a good time with you.” He really just wanted that, a night where no one was tied up with legalities or rules or lies. Just the two of them, together.

Ignis’s expression shifted from amusement to a quiet intenseness. He licked his lips slowly and Prompto was entranced. “May I kiss you?” It took a second for Prompto to process the question, “I- uh, yes. Please!”

Ignis smiled gently as he leaned in, lightly guiding Prompto’s chin forward to meet his. And they kissed. Ignis’s mouth was rougher than he expected, damp and warm and electrifying. A thrill shot through Prompto’s heart, feeling Ignis move against him. Fingers pressing into his cheek, lips parting and adjusting to better fit against his. Closeness. He pushed back a little harder. Wordlessly trying to beg, please more!

#prompto argentum #ignis scientia #prompto/ignis #promnis #ffxv

[dent-de-leon]

Emperor Keith au i love since that episode

I love this concept so much!!! 

Allura walks Keith through a whole bunch of training for court and diplomatic matters. She and Coran try their best to tutor him in the limited window they have–Keith crams for weeks. History of the empire, Galran high society, intergalactic political affairs–he doesn’t sleep for days. Kolivan and Lotor act as his advisors throughout his reign.

If Lotor’s still allied with Voltron at this time, then he’s actually relieved  because Keith running things back at the empire gives him the freedom to research Oriande and go off to study ancient alchemy. As Hunk said, he doesn’t really have the time to “take a magical vacation” if he’s the emperor. With Keith managing imperial affairs, Lotor’s free to focus all his attention on the rift.

Being at Central Command feels like a gilded cage. He’s never had so much power at his fingertips, yet he’s never felt so restrained. He aimlessly wonders corridors through restless, sleepless nights. Soldiers always ask if he’s alright, and several androids have offered to escort him back to his room or bring him something to eat. But he merely insists he just needs some time alone. 

Keith always looks forward to when the paladins come visit. Diplomatic meetings are an absolute nightmare until they show up. He’s working on his speeches, and his diplomacy’s getting a bit better. But it’s hard to relax until he sees the others playing with the sentries and making jokes about “Emperor Keith.” When they’re all together again, it’s almost like he’s back at the castle ship and nothing’s changed. He often longs for those days.

Shiro visits often. Sometimes under the pretense of delivering intel or aiding in the empire’s reconstruction. But Keith knows better. He doesn’t want Shiro to worry. But every time he returns, Keith’s heart starts to race. Shiro standing by his side while he presents his plans for the future feels right. Shiro holding his hand and talking him through it all is a much needed comfort. Shiro promising to support him, to stay by his side no matter what–it’s everything. And whenever he leaves on another mission, Keith makes him swear to stay safe. He can’t bare the thought of losing him. 

The other Galra around Central Command are always pretty happy to see Shiro. He usually put their emperor at ease and his warmth is a much welcome presence. Especially when the other paladins accompany him and start running around rampant–though it does interfere with their work. Shiro’s still reeling from all the times he’s been called “Emperor  Consort” though, and he still hasn’t managed to form a coherent response to that. 

#keith #voltron #sheith

[threecardtrick]

💐 au where Ari is happy

The Imperial Divine (or to those outside of Tevinter, know as the Black Divine), had attended the meeting at the Conclave. Wolsey would not miss such a monumental event —heaven forbid he be left out of the pages of history. Certainly, he would not let the Andrastian Divine be the one to represent all those faithful across Thedas. Though they did not acknowledge each other, the current issue was too great to let that squabble overshadow things. It felt like the fate of mages was what was at hand. So, why not form a little alliance while one happened to be there? Thomas Cromwell, a recently made magister (orchestrated and purchased by the Black Divine), whose low born roots would keep him as an outsider in Tevinter society. Part of the nouveau riche who could only hope to buy prestige. And for her family, their hold could be expanded past Orlais, the beginnings of roots in Tevinter, and perhaps in a few generations they might become a formidable force there. It is no different than the tactics of kings and queens. And of course, for now, they would gain a great ally in the Black Divine, who served as a makeshift father figure for Thomas, whose well-being he had looked after since he was a young boy. As he stood there, signing the marriage contract, knowing it was for the greater good (his grand aspirations), he cannot help but feel he was signing his life away. He stole a glance at his bride to be, a beautiful young woman who looked so very unhappy. A sad songbird placed in a gilded cage.

#epheemere #you get one au at a time not both lol

[omgkatsudonplease]

*KICKS DOWN DOOR* ROMAN HOLIDAY AU

HOLD MY BEER WRATH -CRACKS KNUCKLES-

His Imperial Highness Crown Prince Yuuri Katsuki of Japan is floating.

He’s not sure exactly what Minako had put into his tea. His housekeeper (minder, Yuuri thinks vaguely) had sworn it was a tonic for his nerves, but it tastes like alcohol and it burns through him like alcohol, and maybe he’d wrested an entire bottle of whiskey from her because there is a Jack Daniels bottle discarded at the foot of his bed. And at some point he’d given up on a teacup.

He wants out of this stuffy hotel room, wants to drink in the night lights of the city below. His Eastern European diplomatic tour had taken him from Moscow to Saint Petersburg, and from there he’d eventually go on to the Ukraine, Romania, Bulgaria, and a list of other countries and cities that he can’t be arsed to remember right now. It’d been nothing but meetings and greetings, hand-shaking and ribbon cutting and baby kissing until his lips felt chapped and his fingers ached. The only time he’s had to himself were the ten-minute respites driving from location A to location B, and these lonely nights in penthouse suites of fancy hotels in the heart of cities he was never meant to explore as an ordinary person.

His penthouse suite has access to the roof. Yuuri stumbles along, telling the bodyguards that he needs some air. He can hear them following at a distance, though, as he climbs the stairwell up to the roof of this grand hotel.

Out on the roof, Saint Petersburg spreads out below him, a brisk sea breeze blowing wildly as he breathes in the night air. His hair stirs in the wind; it’s getting a bit long, but he hasn’t had the heart to cut it in a while. Below him the bright glow of streetlights accentuate the cars speeding along the streets, accompanied by buses and trams. Yuuri longs to be one of those people on the streets, driving the cars, sitting on the trams. Ordinary, easily lost in a crowd.

Instead, he shivers in his t-shirt and sweats, his hands gripping at the railing of the roof as he looks out at the distant green-blue dome of a cathedral lit in the night, and all the surrounding elegant buildings that feel like bars in an elegant gilded cage. He needs just a day off. One day without people shepherding him into place and speeches about ‘peace and prosperity’ and ‘fostering good relations between Japan and Russia’. He has lunch with President Baranovskaya tomorrow, a tour of the new Mitsubishi plant on the outskirts of the city, a meet and greet with the press corps. And yet just the thought of each of these things makes him want to scream.

He sways slightly on his feet, and then he notices the staff stairwell on the other side of the roof, and he has an idea.

Viktor Nikiforov is late on his story for the History Maker gossip tabloid, and based on the near-emptiness of his bottle of vodka, he knows that fairly well.

The problem is, this is his only bottle and it’s not nearly enough. So he puts on a light coat, nearly tripping over the slumbering form of his poodle Makkachin on his way out his apartment.

Just down to the corner store for another bottle. Not even a big bottle. He just needs to be the right amount of buzzed for this article to get out of him. Never mind the fact that when he started out in journalism he hadn’t needed to drink to do his damn job.

(Never mind the fact that when he started out, he had been writing for publications of actual repute. But that’s neither here nor there.)

Once he reaches the bottom landing, however, just nipping down for a bottle and then returning to his apartment of solitude suddenly feels like a terrible idea. With the sudden urge to take a walk along the embankment of the Fontana burning brightly in his mind, he rushes back up to his flat to wake his poodle, clipping on Makkachin’s leash and leading him out the door.

Makkachin’s tail wags cheerily as they head out into the brisk city night. There are no stars visible out here, but Viktor pretends that they are wheeling overhead as the two of them make their way through familiar cobblestoned streets. He’s content to let his dog do most of the leading, and Makkachin is just as eager to wander down trails of interesting new scents.

Their joint meandering takes them to the front steps of the local church with its spires and domes topped in gold. There’s a man in the park out in front, fingers scrabbling against one of the benches as he sways, humming a tune to himself. Viktor pulls at Makkachin’s leash, trying to lead him away, but the man’s face breaks out into a wide grin at the sight of the poodle. And Makkachin has always been a sucker for friendly-looking strangers and the prospect of pets.

“Your dog is adorable,” simpers the stranger with a giggle. “Can I pet him?”

Viktor nods, since Makkachin is already upon the stranger anyway, licking him all over. The stranger doesn’t seem to mind; his hands come up, fingers curling in Makkachin’s fur with a giggle. “His name’s Makkachin. He’s a standard.”

“I have a toy poodle,” says the man. “He’s back… back.” He gestures vaguely in a direction Viktor’s not quite sure of. “Home,” he finishes. His English has a soft American twang to it. Viktor likes it.

(He then stops that train of thought, because surely it must be weird to think that some random drunken stranger one stumbles upon in a park in Saint Petersburg while walking one’s dog is cute with a cute voice.)

(The man is still very cute, though.)

“I’m Viktor,” Viktor offers. “And you seem like you need help getting home.”

“No,” says the man vehemently. “Don’t wanna. I live here now.”

“Here? At Vladimirskaya Church?” Viktor’s eyebrows arch. “I doubt it.”

“Don’t wanna go home,” repeats the man, punctuating it with a giggle and a determined rub along Makkachin’s back. “Not tonight.”

“Well, I can’t just leave you out here,” says Viktor. “The police will come fetch you. You wouldn’t want to spend the night at the police station, I assure you.”

“I’ll come with you, then,” says the man, grinning.

Viktor’s first instinct is to refuse. He’d just met this guy, after all. Number one on the ‘list of things not to do in order to stay alive’ would definitely be ‘let a stranger into your house’. And yet there’s something in this man’s expression that makes Viktor’s resolve crumble like a deck of cards.

Really doesn’t hurt that the man is adorable. It’s a bad idea to think of him that way, yet it’s an irrefutable fact. This man is clad in sweatpants and a loose tan jacket over a black t-shirt, a light blue scarf lightly draped around his shoulders. His shock of messy black hair is barely contained by a cat-eared beanie, and he has blue-rimmed glasses sliding down his nose. And he is adorable.

“Well, my mama always told me not to let strangers into my house,” Viktor says, “so you should tell me your name, so we’re not strangers anymore.”

“I’m Yuuri,” says the man, drunkenly shaking Viktor’s hand.

Viktor makes sure he makes it all the way to his apartment.

In the morning, Viktor wakes up to the blinding light of the morning sun in his face. He stretches, and yelps in pain when his head collides with the arm of his sofa.

Frowning a little, he swings himself up into a sitting position on his sofa, wondering how he’d ended up here when he clearly knew better from other drunken nights that his couch is the worst place to sleep on. And then he notices an unfamiliar coat discarded in the hallway, and suddenly everything comes rushing back.

Yuuri.

Yuuri had discarded that coat. And that scarf. He’d stumbled, like a newborn giraffe trying to do ballet, into Viktor’s arms just short of the bedroom, and Viktor had to carry him to the bed and tuck him in with an aspirin and a glass of water.

That’s why he’s on the couch.

“Shit.” Viktor scrubs at his face before clambering to his feet and padding down the hallway to his room. The door is closed; so he slides it open a peep. Makkachin immediately comes out, panting for his breakfast. Viktor sighs, and pokes his head in.

Yuuri is asleep still, lashes long against his pale cheeks. Viktor feels his heart seize a little in his chest at the sight, which is all he needs to close the door and beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen to fill Makkcahin’s bowls and start breakfast.

He’s halfway through making toast and eggs when his phone pings with a message from his editor, Yakov. He nearly drops his phone when he reads it:

The press conference with HIH Crown Prince Katsuki is cancelled due to his sudden and unexplained illness.

It’s followed by a picture of the Crown Prince. And Viktor would recognise those eyes anywhere.

Those are the same eyes belonging to the man currently sleeping in his bedroom.

(He had no idea Crown Prince Katsuki usually wore glasses.)

Viktor’s throat is dry; his hands are shaking. At this rate he’s going to burn breakfast. He quickly scrambles to plate the food, rushing everything to the counter just as Yuuri Katsuki (Crown Prince of Japan) comes shuffling into the room, rubbing at his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” says Yuuri after a moment. “But where am I?”

Viktor sets down the spatula and frying pan into the sink, and then slowly turns around to face him. “How much of last night do you remember, Yuuri?” he asks.

The man startles a little, as if he’d expected Viktor to call him something else. But then his cheeks flush pink. “I didn’t… do anything untoward, did I?” he asks.

Untoward. Viktor’s insides are squirming with glee at how adorable this man is. “No, you were just insistent on not going home,” he says. “Makkachin and I took you back here, to my place. I took the couch.”

“Makkachin,” says Yuuri, and then the poodle insinuates himself by Yuuri’s knee as a reminder. The prince chuckles at that, reaching down to pet the poodle. “A standard. How cute! I have a toy poodle back… at home.”

Viktor nods. “You told me that last night,” he says.

“Oh.” Yuuri bites at his lip. “Well. Um. Sorry. For that, and for imposing. I won’t be troubling you for much longer. I need to return –”

“Home?” asks Viktor. “You seemed pretty adamant about not returning last night. But then I guess you were drunk, so…”

“Yeah. I…” Yuuri trails off. “What time is it? And what was your name again?”

“Viktor,” says Viktor. “Viktor Nikiforov. And it’s actually ten.”

Yuuri freezes. “What.”

“Yeah.” Viktor nods.

Yuuri stumbles onto one of the chairs at the counter, putting his head in his hands. “Can I… borrow your phone? I need to make a call.”

Viktor nods, handing over his phone and opening it to the keypad. He then turns on the TV, just in time to catch a broadcast about the unexpected illness that had struck the Crown Prince of Japan, and how he had cancelled his lunch with President Baranovskaya.

Yuuri freezes with his fingers on the dial key, turning around to see his own face splashed across the news.

“What… happened to that guy?” he asks, gesturing to his own photo as if pretending he just bore an uncanny resemblance to the ‘sick’ prince. “I don’t speak Russian, so…”

Viktor hides a smile. “He’s sick,” he replies. “They’ve cancelled all of his public events today.”

Yuuri nods then, chewing at his lower lip. “I see,” he says quietly. He then sets down the phone and picks up his fork, raising an eyebrow at the plate of toast and eggs.

“Help yourself,” says Viktor. “Do you want tea, too?”

Yuuri nods. Viktor puts the kettle on, then, and it boils in moments. He serves up two cups of tea, then, and Yuuri gratefully takes his with a cube of sugar and a tiny dash of milk.

Viktor then takes his phone, firing off a message to his photographer friend Chris to ask him to stop by. He then sends another to Yakov about getting an exclusive interview with the Crown Prince, before going over to sit beside Yuuri with his own fork.

“So, what brings you here to Saint Petersburg, Yuuri?” he asks.

Yuuri fidgets with his fork a little. “Work,” he says vaguely.

“What sort of work?” asks Viktor.

“Family business,” mumbles Yuuri.

Viktor smiles. “No time for sightseeing?” he wonders.

Yuuri ponders it for a moment. “Well,” he says, “I think my schedule might have just freed up.”

Viktor’s smile broadens. He gets a message from Yakov at that moment: Everyone says they’re going to get an exclusive interview with the Prince. Try again.

He frowns as he replies. No, I mean a really exclusive interview. The Prince as a person, not a crown. I bet other people would kill for a story like that.

Yakov’s answer is almot instantaneous. Can you guarantee this interview?

Viktor looks over at Yuuri, who has raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him. “Work,” he answers.

“What sort of work?” asks Yuuri, a little smile twitching at his lips.

Viktor chuckles. “Boring work,” he replies. “And I just freed up my day, too. So if you want to go sightseeing, we could definitely do that.”

Yuuri’s eyes sparkle, and Viktor’s heart skips a beat. “I’d like that,” agrees the Prince almost eagerly. He sounds so earnest, so trusting, so determined to make the most of his situation. Viktor can feel his gut twisting at the question burning into his phone, and it takes all he can to make his smile reach his eyes.

“Then let’s finish up breakfast and get ready,” he says cheerily, and when Yuuri nods and tucks back into his eggs, he fires off the answer:

I’ll have it on your desk in the morning.

(basically viktor used to do investigative journalism for another magazine/newspaper higher up in the pecking order, but after a scandal or a lawsuit he loses that job and now works at a tabloid. he sees this interview as his chance to regain his reputation. but as the day progresses, he falls more and more in love with yuuri, and realises he can’t sell this story.

chris is his photographer buddy who gets roped in, and also goes along with not selling the story when he realises how much viktor and yuuri love each other.

yuuri, in the meantime, has actually loved viktor’s earlier work for journalists without borders and so when he realises that viktor is actually a journalist he’s caught between awe at having met an idol of his and dismay that viktor was probably spending time with him to write a story on him. but then viktor convinces him otherwise by not selling his story to the tabloid after all.

they part ways but they also stay in touch and viktor gets a job at a better publication with a branch in japan…. and then they become an item and it’s like the biggest news ever 😉 also ofc there’s an army of bodyguards that get completely beat up at a dance 😉)

#yoi #yuri on ice #victuuri #viktuuri #lily's dabbles #roman holiday au #exile wrath #ask