#( at lucian's behest. )

[saratogaroadwrites]

Adamantus (7/12)

Adamantus | saratogaroad rating: G+ total wordcount:  15,328 characters: Aulea Lucis Caelum, Regis Lucis Caelum, Noctis Lucis Caelum, Ardyn Lucis Caelum relationships: Aulea/Regis, Aulea & Noctis other tags: Mother-Son Relationship, Character Death, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence warnings: Character Death Starts The Plot

When Noctis is three years old, Regis takes ill. The doctor tells her that he will recover, that all will be well.

It isn't.

Aulea Lucis Caelum is left to raise a son on her own, knowing that a Kingdom depends on her strength and will to survive.

She will not lose him, too.

=

Ardyn is the very picture of nobility and manners, raised with princely bearing and aged into the mindset of a king. He thanks the staff when they bring tea, allows himself to be searched for weapons without complaint, and keeps his hands to himself even without the threat of the Queensglaive in the room. He is settled, patient, calm.

And yet, Aulea thinks, and yet he is something more than human. The golden lights of Etro's blessing cling to him like fireflies on a summer night, death clinging to a man most assuredly alive. How he has lived this long, she does not know. Izunia Lucis Caelum, the founder king, was king nearly 2000 years ago. Anyone who once lived alongside him cannot still be alive. And yet, he has not denied her accusation, not called her words the ravings of a desperate woman. He sits across a small table from her, golden eyes gleaming.

"I will admit," he begins after stirring two lumps of sugar and a little dash of cream into his teacup, "You have caught me quite off guard. You know so very much about me, and yet I know nothing of you." He picks up his cup and almost toasts her with it. "How ever did you come to find me out?"

Aulea's hands tremble as she reaches for her own cup, no sugar, no cream. The china rattles until she can get a good grip.

"You have your brother's nose," She says. Ardyn stops mid-sip and stares at her. She gathers her courage, remembers what she fights for, and continues on, "And the name Izunia is an old name, Lucian in origin." She squares her shoulders. "No man of Niflheim would carry it with such pride."

She sips her tea as if they're simply talking about the weather, as if she's not staring Death personified in the face, and the room grows silent but for their breathing.

Slowly, a minute ticks by. Two. Arydn lowers his tea cup.

"You are a clever one, Aulea Lucis Caelum," he says softly. "The name is quite old indeed, and hails from Lucis. A little hamlet in what is now Duscae, to be precise." His eyes grow distant, perhaps haunted. "My dear twin...would that he could see his line now."

Aulea remembers the whispers within the Crystal, the Kings and Queens of Yore that had thrown their magic behind her when she faced Bahamut, doubtlessly at Regis' behest. When she looks at Ardyn now, she too has to wonder what they would think of this mess she has found herself in.

"I would hope he would be proud," She replies kindly, "But you would know him best."

"...So I once thought." Ardyn replies, coming back to himself. He looks at her again and seems to truly see her. "Tell me, Majesty. What do you know of the Prophecy of the Stone?" He asks her in that same soft tone.

"Enough," Aulea replies, teacup still warming her hands. "The King of Kings is to slay the Accursed and cleanse the Crystal of its blight to return light to Eos." The porcelian clicks against her wedding band, and she loosens her tight grip on the poor cup. "Sacrificing his life in the process. My son is the would be King of Kings, and I am willing to guess you are the Accursed."

Ardyn huffs out something that, in another life, could have been a laugh. Somehow it sounds more like a curse than anything now.

"The sorry end to a most sordid tale, but all true, my clever queen." He raises an eyebrow and sits back in his chair. He runs his thumb over the edge of his cup. "Lucis Caelum I was born, and Lucis Caelum I shall die."

With her son as the weapon. Aulea sets her teacup down before her tight grip can crack it. The Gods did something to this man, perhaps, casting him down from his family. It is his word and his word alone now, and she cannot trust it so easily. Not with something so important at stake. Even so, she tells herself, there is no one left to ask.

"I have no intention of allowing my son to die killing you, so if you wish this plan to go through you'd best just kill me now."

Ardyn blinks at her for what must be the fifth time in as many minutes, lips parted just slightly.

Then he laughs.

"No love lost between you and the Six, hm?"

"Me and mine owe Shiva a debt, but the Gods," She nearly spits, "would see my son sacrificed and my people wasted, all to clean up their own damned mess. If this is at all true, then you deserve peace, Chancellor, but I shall not see my son die to do it."

There's a glimmer of something in his eyes, something he can't name. Respect? Awe? She wants none of it. She wants her son to live into his teens, his twenties, to fall in love and grieve and live until there is more gray in his hair than black and it is only because he has aged that way.

She does not want Ardyn's respect any more than she wants to outlive her child. If he sees that, if he understands that, he does not say.

"And what if I were to tell you, Queen Aulea," He inclines his chin at her, a glimmer of respect beginning to strengthen in his voice, "That there were another way? That perhaps, simply perhaps, there is a way to end my miserable existence and keep your son from perishing in the process?"

She tries to temper the hope in her heart, tries not to pin all her hope on this, on the words of a man who has lived beyond even the eldest catoplebas, and yet...she crosses her hands on her lap, clenching them tightly together.

"What if I were to tell you I would be willing to listen to this...possibility?" She inclines her head. "For the sake of conversation, of course."

"Of course." He tucks a lock of hair out of his eyes, contemplates something just over her shoulder, and then offers her a pensive look.

"Tell me," He begins, "What do you know of the Scourge?"

"It is an illness, of which there is no cure." There was a ward full of patients in the medical wing, and the only reason it is empty now is because they have all passed on. "It seems to spread by contact with Daemons and only the Oracle's magic can clear it."

Lunafreya is fourteen years old. The ritual to crown a new Oracle can only be done with the blessing of the Gods. Unless Shiva steps into the halls of the Citadel herself, Aulea doubts that will happen on Lucian soil.

The line of the Oracles has, perhaps, died with Sylva.

"Also all true, but do you know the source of it, hm?" He leans forward in his chair. "Where it all began?"

"The first Daemon?" She harbors a guess. Ardyn's smile is dark.

"No, my dear. It all began with Eos, Goddess of the Dawn, many many years ago."

He speaks with the air of a storyteller, one who has seen this tale come true. And though Aulea wonders at how much truth is in his words, she does the only thing she can.

She listens.

#ffxv #final fantasy xv #ffxv fic #!fic #series: crystalline shards #fic: adamantus

[sylleblosscm]

@galahdborn:

[ constellation ]   -   for a constellation to appear on our muses bodies as they interact.

---

Soulmate Starters [accepting]

It is said that, as one comes to know the person for whom they were made, their form shall become dotted with stars, shimmering and beautiful. It is different for everyone - the placement, the size, the constellation that forms, foretelling the fate of the pair. If one is able to interpret it correctly, that is. If one is even so fortunate to find their soulmate at all.

For there are many people in this world. And every interaction, however small, might light up a new star. For years now, Luna has been routinely checked for any signs of her constellation to no avail. Her skin remains unblemished, and she is relieved. Her days are fraught with Imperial cruelty - were her soulmate among Nifleheim's highest ranks, she might just die of disgust.

Of course, the matter is ultimately of little concern, and she almost always has it out of her mind. There are more important duties to see to. And so, when she finds that first star shimmering faintly beneath her slip, Luna's heart goes still.

The upcoming treaty between Niflheim and Lucis has brought her all this way, into contact with many Lucian citizens - and many Imperial officers whom she has yet to meet. If word were to get out that the soulmate of the Oracle is within proximity, it may only serve to damage the coming peace. There are...implications, after all, of what a soulmate must surely be - and the Princess's hand is valuable indeed.

She takes care readying for the celebration ahead, ensuring her star shall remain hidden. And it does for the remainder of the night. Once the festivities end she excuses herself to check again, and sure enough, a second star has appeared below the first. She will be too busy to think on it further until after the fall of Insomnia.

Safely escorted from the city at the behest of Regis, Luna and her new guardian - a Glaive by the name of Nyx (a tenacious, good-humoured man who has more than proven himself in her eyes, and thus she does not fear for her safety under his watch) - come to their resting place for the night. The hotel room is small, but she does not mind. It feels safer this way somehow. She bathes first, and as she peels away the tattered remains of her gown, she's struck with a terrible thought.

There is another part of the legend: if one's soulmate were to die then the constellation shall fade into scars upon the skin, remaining forever incomplete. Her soulmate was within the city walls, undoubtedly caught up in the Raid - did they even make it out alive? Or were they killed, like so many others? For the first time in her life, Luna wonders about who her soulmate is, and the state they are in.

She takes a breath, counts to ten, and looks in the mirror, half-expecting to find her constellation in ruins. Instead, several new stars are peppered along her side, their shape still indecipherable.

#( $10 says that even while nyx is the only person she's interacting with consistently #she's still gonna be dumb as shit #like “hmm whoever could it be?” ) #( also heads up i always write ways into these aus to make them uniquely painful muehehe ) #galahdborn​ #⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ – always try to be nice; never fail to be kind / ic #⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ – v: a life in progress / unsorted

[weebsinstash]

Can you describe the chocobros for me please

Oh so you want me to GUSH huh. you wanna see me be a NERD huh. you wanna see me GET SOFT

Noctis is the Crown Prince of Lucis and also the King of Kings (the latter an extremely significant prophecy like, save the world from evil at the behest of the gods themselves significant) and it's left him with a pretty complex personality. He doesn't easily let people get close to him, but he's compassionate, caring, and quick to help others in need with a strong sense of justice and the desire to protect others, especially those he forges close bonds with. He grew up arguably pretty sheltered because he was sickly as a child, lost his mother, his father was somewhat distance as the King, and Noctis was educated at a private academy for the elite in a metropolitan city where no one leaves (magic wall around the perimeter, it's a long story). He's reasonably nervous about becoming the future ruler of his country, but he's deeply devoted to his people and is willing to do whatever it takes, even if it's at his own risk 🥺

Those he becomes close to he's very loyal to, but he's not always the best at expressing his emotions because his upbringing has left him 1) kind of awkward at communicating sometimes like teenage boy awkward 2) feeling like he can't let people get close to him and 3) he feels like he has to keep up this strong demeanor ad the future ruler. He's a really laid back sweet young man though, and he loves animals, and fishing, and posing for goofy photos with his friends. He actually has a very sarcastic sense of humor, but he seems like he's also easy to fluster with sentimental moments ❤

Oh man, speaking of loyal, Ignis is Noctis' childhood friend and also acts as a sort of combination best friend/royal steward. Highly intellectual, Ignis is a skilled cook who prepares the group's meals out on their journey, is a borderline professional biologist with his knowledge of Lucian flora and fauna, skilled in combat, and is jokingly referred to as the 'Mum' of the group (because he's British somehow, you really either love or hate the accent because he's Very British)

He's one of those very organized people, usually the one who drives during the events of the game, keeps tabs of the supplies, and is happily and effectively a caretaker for his loved ones. Ignis will even chide his brothers in arms, helping to keep them focused and on the right track. He'll tuck a scarf around your neck so you won't get cold, but don't get cheeky with him or you'll get an earful~

oh god I want him to kiss me so bad

So this gorgeous fucking adonis nice young man is Gladiolus, or Gladio for short. Another of Noctis' childhood friends, he's actually the eldest son of the Amicitia family, who's been tasked with serving and protecting the Crown for generations, and it's a job he takes enormous pride and honor in. Gladio is Noctis' stalwart guardian ready to lay his life on the line for his King, like a brother as he serves and protects and occasionally helps his younger buddy get in touch with his emotions when the Prince is unsure of himself.

He's an athletic monster who hauls around large greatswords and heavy metal shields, exercises regularly, and even his buddies tease him for being such a muscular fucking hottie who walks around in either tank tops that show off his tattoos or shirts he leaves unbuttoned. Gladio will throw himself in harm's way to protect you but he'll also put his foot down and raise his voice and tell you when you need to get your shit together. God i want to lick his abs.

Prompto is the youngest and is honestly the most normal of the group. He doesn't have some grand upbringing or noble birthright, but he became close friends of Noctis and the others by chance. He's a goofy young man who loves photography and having fun with his buddies, playing little pranks, loves playing games, and is a lover of animals, especially chocobos. When times are stressful and tense, he's the one to lighten the mood and bring everyone's spirits back up.

He had a lot of insecurities as a child, but Noctis inspired him to strive for his ideal self, and he's super attached to all of his friends. He still has some lingering doubts about his own self-worth or where he fits in, but at the end of the day he'll throw himself into the fire for his loved ones. He's also a big dork who gets all clammed-up and embarrassed if there's someone cute he has a crush on.

So yeah I guess that's how I would describe the chocobros 👉👈

#sinprompts

[thevirtualcanvas]

One Evening - Noctis x F!Reader

Noctis is a Prince and as such he is expected to perform for King and Country, that means nothing can be remiss. That’s where you come in – you’re a high class sex educator, ready to teach the young Prince just how to please himself and his bride to be.  Warnings: Hard smut. Mature. Slight subxdom relationship and deflowering 

Your heels clicked against the smooth marble in a metronome of confidence as you pulled the faux fur coat closer to your skin. A man carved of bronze and amber led you in silence across the foyer and to the penthouse floor’s elevator. He held the door and your gaze. You gave him a polite thank you and straightened yourself up as the doors glided to a close; this was probably going to be one of the most important jobs of your career. The door pings quickly as you reach the top and another man is stood at the other side, he’s pristine – clean cut, pressed and fresh. His eyes are sharp, almost hawkish and framed by svelte glasses that simply add to his regal look. He holds out a hand.

“Ignis Scientia, steward to his Highness.”

You take it firmly, disarming him with a smile. “Charmed,” you reply.

The steward hums with an air of conceit, and you notice your guide moving to the side of him, arms folded not sure what to make of you. Were all men in the royal court this dashing?

“I assume everything is in order?” The steward asked, though it was more of statement than a request. Of course it was, you were a professional, and they had sought you first of all. You reached into your clutch, and handed over a sealed envelope. He opened and examined it with scrutiny, taking peeks over the page to analyse you. “Very well,” he concedes after some time. “Just one more precaution before I take you to conduct your business with his Highness. Gladio, if you would.”

The carved Adonis named Gladio steps towards you and speaks for only the second time since your meeting. “Sorry, Miss. Gotta double check you’re not – up to something. Now, if you wouldn’t mind opening that coat.”

You nod in permission and unhook the clasps of the fur coat, revelling in the audible gasps from both men at your outfit. When you were younger your body was a source of contempt, of pain and anger. Yet, as you reached womanhood you realised it was an asset, a tool, a product of boundless beauty that could make great men, and women, bow to your every whim. Now it had proven it’s worth once more, snagging you a delightful Princeling – with long evening of debauchery and deflowering for the Lucian Son. At the Crown’s behest no less. Below the fur coat and draped across your curved form was the requested outfit of the Prince, you could appreciate his desire. Usually the clients tastes were not your own, and you simply complied; the Prince however had a particular taste you could get on board with. He had sent you a halter-neck black velvet romper suit, high waisted, low cut. Thigh high leather boots that were simple, yet devastating. And below all that? The main attraction, sheltered by your risqué outfit and the Prince’s eyes only. His own personal fantasy generously decorated across your curved form. Black lace and purple satin peep hole lingerie – which you couldn’t wait to show your client, it was certain to drive him wild.  

Gladio handled you with delicacy and care, ghosting over your skin as if wanting to take you for himself. He was satisfied with his search quickly and nodded to the Steward – Ignis.

“Well then, follow me.” Ignis strode ahead, you could tell he wasn’t happy about the arrangement, but it wasn’t his job to be happy about it – just to lead you to your client. He swiped a card in a pocket by the unsuspecting front door and it flashed green before clicking open. He led you into a modest bachelor pad, made of chrome, sharp edges and that classic Lucian décor in black. The Prince was attempting to lounge coolly against a steely grey L shaped sofa, but you could see the nerves on his face – they were always nervous before meeting you. “Highness,” he announced your arrival with a little bow. “Your guest for the evening has arrived.”

The Princeling rose to his feet, as straight as he could and offered you a hand. “Hey – glad you could come.”

He was cute, really. Just entering manhood; that awkward in-between stage where he wasn’t quite handsome and still very pretty. Alabaster skin, piercing blue eyes and unruly indigo hair that hadn’t quite learned how to behave. You took his hand in yours, noticing how much bigger it was, but just as soft, bar a few callouses on the inside of his palm. “Thank you for the invite, your Highness.”

You could see his face cringing slightly. “Noctis, please.”

Ignis tutted from beside you. “Alright,” you appeased. “Noctis. I look forward to getting to know you this evening.”

“R-right.”

Gods. He was fucking adorable.

Ignis cleared his throat. “Well, Sire if you’ll excuse myself and Gladio. Dinner is prepared, wine is in the cooler.” He walked towards his Prince and cast you a searing look. “Just remember, while tradition, if you change your mind at any point – myself and Gladio are a phone call away.”

His concern for his ward was touching, but it narked you a bit. “You have my word that he is in full control. Nothing will happen without his unwavering consent. If he needs to stop at any time, all he has to do is say the word, and that’s it – no questions asked.”

Noctis turned to his Steward/friend and clapped him against the arm. “I’m fine, Iggy, quit worrying. Go enjoy the rest of your night off.”

Resigned, Ignis bowed and took his leave. Leaving you alone with the Prince and his desires. Noctis readjusted his shirt and ran his fingers up his bare forearms. He cleared his throat and hummed to himself, he was clearly not used to the company of women.

“So – uh – would you like some dinner, before we start?” He gestured to the set table.

You shrug off the fur coat and throw it over the back of the sofa. “I appreciate the effort, but that’s not what I’m here for tonight. Though I’ve no doubt that your Steward’s cooking is fantastic. I can wait for you, if you like.” You take a seat, flicking one knee over the other, feeling the leather crunch around your thigh.

The Prince shook his head, and took a seat next to you. “No – it’s fine. I don’t want to make you wait.”

You bopped him on the nose with your finger and cast him a bright smile. “And that’s lesson one learnt. Your blushing bride to be will not be willing to wait for your affections. You need to learn to read her moods, and her wants. So pay close attention Noctis and you might just learn something.”

He sat up straight, like a rod was shoved down his spine, a warm blush danced across his pale cheeks. You twisted your body to face him, giving him a great view of your ample curves, watching as his eyes greedily pulled you in.

“Now then, what do you think I want first?”

He stuttered, pulling his lips tight into his mouth. “ I – uh – hmm –”

You lower your voice and reach for one of his tightly coiled hands. “I want to be touched, first. In every place you can think of. Start some where small. My knee, my shoulder, the back of my wrist. You think erogenous zones are just my tits and my clit? No – with the right touch you can get a woman turned on in any place. So go ahead, touch me.”

Noctis shuffled on the sofa, pulling himself as close as he dared, fingers trembling; his mind in over-drive and not sure where to start. He settled for your thigh, a swath of exposed flesh between the velvet and the leather, guiding soft fingers against softer flesh.

“Good,” you praised. “Keep going.”

They trickled across to your plump hand that rested on your knee, caressing in small circles up your arm and to the top of your shoulder; Noctis’ side pressing against you as he found himself more involved. He touched your neck, your collar, your soft, round cheeks, anything he could get his hands on or under.

“Is this the one I asked for?” Noctis asked, playing with the satin strap of your peep hole bra.

“Would you like to see it?”

He smirked.

“Soon… not yet.”

Without guidance he began to use his lips, in the comfort of his own home – drunk on the desire of you his lips grazed your flesh in accordance with his deft fingers. He had a remarkable smell, rich cologne, soft soap, a heady musk that would no doubt drive his bride to be to a lusty frenzy – but you were professional and while his cute face and naïvety would drive some mad, you would not be – Oh. Noctis nipped at your neck, fingers under your chin, giving him freer reign of your form. His tongue dragged the length of your neck up to your ear lobe, his soft moan vibrating down your ear canal. His lips smacked against your rounded jaw, warm tongue darting out to taste your flesh.

“Now, what do you think I want?” You asked, eyes focused on the evening thrum of Insomnia.

His soft chuckle reverberated through your throat, his fingers guided your chin to his face. Soft pink lips, glistening and puffy. “If I were you, I’d want to be kissed.”  He tilted his head, and found your cherry red stained lips. Connecting and pressing with expert ease.

He tugged on your bottom lip, licked the top, trying to part them to tease at your tongue as his hands cupped your face and played with the tresses of your hair.

You pulled away and grinned. “You’ve practised that one, Highness.”

His bliss filled eyes creased with a smile. “I happen to have a very liberal best friend who uses kissing as a punishment. He’s a good teacher….”

You chuckled, scoring your fingers along his carved, pale neck. “Maybe I need to hire him… or maybe he needs to hire me.” Noctis huffed out of his nose, a little jealous perhaps? You reached for one of his lanky hands, pulling it from your hair, to your face, suckling on the tip of his finely manicured fingers to pull him from his jealous funk. “I apologise, that was unprofessional. Your bride would never talk about other men in the bedroom – which is where you should be leading me. Making love in the living room is great, but your first time should always be in the bedroom. Do you have everything I requested?”

Eyeing his slicked finger Noctis was dazed for a moment, probably imagining the other things your pert mouth could do. “Yeah,” he replied eventually, leading by the hand to the master bedroom, his palm a little bit clammy. He opened the door and gave you a sheepish look as he entered his domain. “Is this alright?”

“Perfect.”

He had done as requested, you noticed as you lured him to the silk sheets. Scented candles were dotted around the pitch black room like fading stars. On the night stand was a box of condoms, lube and baby wipes. On an out of place chesterfield armchair was a set of impeccably folded white towels and dressing gowns. The mood was serene and amorous, at least it was for him in his humble naivety. You guided Noctis to the edge of the bed, running your hands over him, pushing unruly hair away from his scalp to see the unfettered lust in his royal eyes. His hands came to your wide hips as you unbuttoned his shirt, fingers digging into the velvet and your luscious flesh. You stood back from the Prince in a moment of admiration and almost jealously for his soon to be bride, imaging watching that precious face come undone every night? Lucky girl.

“Watch me,” you commanded as he pined for your touch from his place on the bed. “It’s just as important to look as it is to touch. You’ll need to make your bride feel like she is the only woman in the world you’ll ever lust over. She needs to feel revered. Desired. You’ll need to worship her every move, every touch, every smell. When you fall into bed with her, consume and be consumed by her. Do you understand?”

His hands balled into the expensive sheets, his perfectly crafted body heaved as he watched you. The Prince gave the barest of acknowledgement, so you continued.

The halter-neck was held together by a clasp and a zip, you undid the zip first, the material hung snug against your skin. You kept Noctis in your focus and your fiddled with the clasp, watching as in one fell swoop the one piece fell away, revealing your bra and with a quick sweep of your hands fell into a puddle on the floor giving the Prince a peek of his prize. You loved the way the underwear made you feel. A graceful femininity in soft lace, and sleek satin. With a skein of slutty in it’s slits at the nipples and gaping hole of your thong. The thong itself was a work of beauty, your pubic bone mostly hidden behind the material, then it just gave away, framing your pussy with rows of pink pearls; with four strings that held it together by the meat of your hips, drawing the eye of your grateful liege to your greatest weapon.  

You could see his tented erection, painful against his slacks. One of his tightly coiled hands from the sheets to his hair, dragging it back against his scalp. Noctis was drowning in desire, the need for a sticky, sweet release, and he wanted to find it within you.

“Fuck. You look amazing,” he grunted, biting his bottom lip from pastel to white. “Can I touch you again?”

You took the steps towards him, one thigh each side of his knee. You ran your hands over the length of your own curves, gently teasing over the gash of the thong, a shiver down your spine as the Princeling licked his lips. “You’d better.”

His long arms reached for you, clawing into the meat of your arse; his eager fingers hooked in pulled to you to him. Noctis settled for you kneeling over him, your heavy chest in his face and exposed pussy over his aching, clothes erection. He played with the bountiful flesh of your arse cheeks, sharp fingers grabbing handfuls at at time as he opens his mouth wide and feasts on your expansive stomach.

“Gentle!” You hiss, yanking him back by his hair. “Take your time.”

Violet eyes dipped in hazy lust looked at you. “Right, sorry. I just –”

You planted a rewarding kiss on the Prince’s clammy brow. “It’s fine, keep going.”

It didn’t take long before curious fingers and an inquisitive tongue played with your nipples beneath the brocaded lace. He slurped greedily, humming in pleasure as his lips smacked against your sensitive nub. Noctis reached back, grabbing for the special lube on the night stand, before covering his hands and your nipples in chocolate flavoured lube. Lapping up every last bit with eager satisfaction.

Chest heaving, Noctis gave you a shy look. “I want more…” He whispered, hands resting on the inside of your warm thighs, looking at the glistening mess on his slacks. “Can I touch you there?”

His question was almost reserved, you’d say yes, it’s what you were getting paid for, but there was nothing as sexy as consent.

“Yes, Noctis.”

The Prince stored incredibly strength within his taut body; within seconds you went from domineering him to being domineered by him. He’d flipped you on to the sheets, and then rested between your thighs. He took off the once crisp shirt and threw it to the floor into the heap of clothes. Noctis almost looked embarrassed as you viewed your Prince in a state few saw him in.

“The slacks come off too,” you advised.

He agreed with a nervous hum. Noctis slid off the bed, and fumbled with buttons, eyes flitting between you and the tailored slacks. Like a teenaged girl on Prom Night he stood before you, a bundle of nerves at his almost naked body. He held his arms across his chest, as you viewed him. He really was beautiful. Toned legs and arms, taut chest, calves and a decent sized cock, peddled away in expensive, designer briefs. Throw it all in with that signature Lucian look and he was easiest one of the most stunning creatures you’d every seen.

“You want to keep going?” You asked, and he affirmed with a quick nod.

“Am I – okay?” The question came from an adolescent fear, one you supposed everyone went through, even Princes.

You smirked, prying your legs apart for the Princeling to see. “Come between my legs and find out.”  

He was an eager learner, you could give him that. Happily nestled into your cunt, an ear listening out for your direction or your delight. You weren’t getting paid to lie, he needed to be ready to please his bride after all. You were pleased with his ability to ‘get stuck in’, not all of your clients were wiling or capable of pleasing a woman with their hands and mouth alone. Most of these royal brats only wanted to pump you full of seed and parade you as their mistress, which didn’t happen and they either learnt how to pleasure their partner or you dropped them like a brick. Noctis was a star pupil in that respect, hair sticking to his brow, his nose pressed against you clit and his tongue trying bury itself into your walls. You came not long after that, Noctis supping up your spend like his life depended in it. He raised himself to his haunches, punch drunk on his own lust and rubbed at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Was that, enough?”

You laughed at the Prince and brought yourself to your knees to reward him with a kiss. After all if he was ready to go down on you, you had to be ready to taste yourself on his lips. “You have a real talent for it. With some practice your lovely bride will be quivering and squirting from your fingers alone.”

You could see the thought crossing his mind, his face between the lovely oracles creamy thighs, watching her angelic voice crying out in sinful delight, he liked the idea of it, so did you.  

“I’d like to be able to do that… for her. If she wants it.” Noctis thought out-loud confiding in you. You’d have no doubt even the oracle would like to get her rocks off every now and again. “Now what happens?”

How cute.

You rub his shoulders, down his shoulder blades, along some scar tissue near his spine, back up along his arm and cup his cheeks. “Well, any number of things. I suppose, she could tease you, give you a blowjob, a hand job, tease your ass, use toys, use food, ice play, tie you up, blindfold you, or even just stick to the part where you fuck her silly.” He shuddered, as you placed a light kiss against his bottom lip. “Or she might not want to go any further, and you’ll have to respect her decision, regardless of your own need for her. Understand?”

He nodded.

“However, I’m here for your practice. So, why don’t you be a dear, take off your underwear and fuck me?” With a tug of his lip you let him go and he raced from the bed, his nerves suddenly vanished and he dashed for the condom box and ripped into the packet. You rested against the bed on your side, elbow keeping your head up. “How confident are you, using one of those?”

It was a legitimate question, you’d had many clients who thought they would just ride you raw and then you would spend the first session teaching them how to have safe sex, which would ruin their mood but not yours. But you needn’t have worried, the Prince was perfectly capable it seemed.

“I – uh – practised,” he said with a deft 'ask no questions’ shrug before lubing himself up with another bottle on the night stand – this time a water based lube.

“Aren’t you bothered about your expensive sheets?” You asked with a cheeky smile and the Prince crawled onto the bed and back between your thighs.

“No?” His face scrunched, as if that was such a strange question.

“Next lesson, sex doesn’t have to be scary and serious, it can be fun and silly too. We’ll make strange sounds, get cramp and get tired. So just take it at your own pace, alright?” You grabbed him by the base of his cock and guided him to your waiting entrance. “Just remember to keep my pleasure in mind, you pounding into me isn’t going to finish me off.”

He swallowed hard, a wealth of information was trying to lay claim in his brain but all he could think of was his cock being clamped around your glistening, pink walls. The mood was set, the room smelled of 'Lucian Summer’ whatever that was; he was in the company of a beautiful, experienced and resourceful woman. Noctis was ready. With a strained gasp he inched himself into your warm body. You urged him to breath as he reached his zenith. Rocking your hip to reach his. He buried his hands under your hip and moved. Slowly. Carefully. Just feeling the new experience and the way his body felt.

The Prince filled you up, that was for certain. But that would mean nothing if he forgot about your own pleasure. Thankfully some of his brains remained in his skull and he readjusted. One hand honed in on your clit and the other gave him some leverage against your thigh. He gave a cautionary thrust, trembling as he went.

“Yes, Noctis! That’s it keep going!”

He moved a little faster. A little harder. Rotating his finger softly against your engorged clit.

“Aw, fuck you feel so good.”

He grunted, it was borderline feral. His fingers coiled around the thong, pulling it tighter as each thrust rippled through your body. One of the strings snapped under his tension. He looked at you in surprise, stilled for a second, before tearing the thing from your heated body, exposing your full pussy to him. Running his fingers through your pubic hair he began to pound you again, thong in the other hand.

That was unexpected from the little Prince.

He moved from your very stimulated pussy, to the heavy breasts that were taunting him with each jiggling thrust. He took both into his mouth at once, his thrusts becoming erratic as he did, but you could still feel it throughout your whole pelvis. He suckled, nibbled and bit, causing waves of painful pleasure to course through you.

“I’m so close, Noctis!” There was a fury in his eyes, born of new desire and a strange need to appease you.

He let go of your swollen tits and found your pussy once more, rubbing firm circles into your clit with tight, little thrusts to accompany each rotation. His face tightened, muscles rippled under taut skin and you knew he was right there with you. You moaned, and writhed, giving him as much visual fodder for his end as you could. Lightening shot up from your core and flashed through your whole body. With a scream, your orgasm came, the strongest it had been for a long time, and with the tightening of your walls Noctis followed suit. Letting out a hoarse, strangled moan as he bucked his hips into your heat, feeling as his seed filled the latex sleeve, wishing it was pouring straight into your womb.

As he rode the aftershocks, he pulled out slowly and fell to your side, full condom still latched onto his dick. He gasped for breath, marbled chest covered in a dewy sheen, strands of wiry hair stuck to his forehead. You moved it away from his brow and he thanked you with a small smile.

“How are you?” You asked, normally it would be bad form to ask about performance, but it was his first time.

“Is it always this tiring?” He gasped between heavy breathes as you caressed his arm.

“Not always,” it was true sometimes he won’t have to lift a finger, you can imagine him bound, gagged and begging for release.

“Will you stay for a little bit?”

You pondered it thoughtfully. “How about I give you a hand getting a shower? Then you can call your Steward and let him know you’re alright, so he can stop his motherly panic and I can tell him you’re thoroughly deflowered.”

Lethargy hit you both as you showered, showing the Prince the proper way to clean after your session, and to clean his bride to be. He wanted to take you again in the shower, cock poised after it’s brief engagement in adult pleasure.

“I don’t think so, Highness. Maybe next time.” You laughed as you ran a small towel through his wet hair.

He looked pleased, hopeful even. “So there’s a next time?”

“If you need my services before your departure, then yes.”

“Maybe you could show me other things.”

“Other things?” You enquired putting your romper back on and zipping your boots up.

He’d flung a pair of pyjama’s on at this point as he threw the top coverlet into the laundry basket, looking much more comfortable, but no less handsome. “Yeah, like toys and stuff… my best friend said there is a lot of other stuff you can do.”

You walked through to the main lounge and the Prince followed, finding your fur coat for you and sliding it over your shoulders. “It’s something we can discuss, I suppose, if you’re willing. But not tonight, I think I’ve taught you enough for one evening.”

Noctis ran his hand through still damp hair. “Thank you… I guess. I mean this has been weird but – you’re nice.”

You flashed the young Prince a smile, plastered a pink kiss on his cheek and parted with a hug. “You’re not too bad yourself, Noctis.” You hear the elevator ping and decide that’s your cue to leave. “Keep the underwear, think of it a memento of your first conquest.”

You left the apartment leaving the Prince in a dizzy embarrassment and rushing to hide his prize from his Steward and his Bodyguard. They both greeted you in the landing, Gladio happier to see you than Ignis. A car was waiting as you hit the foyer, heels clicking in triumph as you end your evening, your one evening of pleasure and education with the Crowned Prince of Lucis.

#ffxv #noctis x reader #noctis x you #ffxv fanfiction #my work #Noctis Lucis Caelum

[drakainaea]

@oraclespoken : She sits on the worn sofa with her legs folded properly beneath her. Lunafreya looks to the sleeves of the borrowed sweatshirt that is much too large for her---even for Aranea. But the other woman called it 'comfort clothes'. "Is it truly alright for me to use this?" She asks as he picks up the DVD of a movie the commodore had picked out for the eve. Horrified faces stare back at her as they run from a slime blob of sorts. 

          𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕.  the princess of tenebrae, oracle & the pinnacle of grace & elegance that is bone deep & otherworldly now perches her regal spine onto aranea’s shabby couch, in a black, oversized shirt with some 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 that’s picked up traction over the last decade ( on the back, a rather extensive list of lucian concert venues listed ) & a pair of draw-string sweatpants as per the behest of the commodore: for it was deemed the illustrious, crystalline garb to be inappropriate for a stowaway & for being at rest.

swift steps sweep across coffee table, past tenebrae’s eos-bound goddess (in all but name) to take the pristine disk into her hand ; index finger lancing its circular junction so as not to smudge its prismatic surface.  she takes extra care of her collection as movies & any form of media that is not directly approved by the empire are considered to be contraband.  all radio & tv stations must propagandize that 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒇𝒍𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒎 shall eventually pay off —— characterize the proletariat as a humbling, honorable class of people.  & the kingdom of lucis? lucis is the root cause of all ills, hindering niflheim from being the flourishing, shining metropolis it once was in its heyday.  destroying the enemy is the so-called panacea.  ( disseminate a lie long enough with a media apparatus to back it up & it becomes fact; repetition is the mother of all learning ! ) & aranea?  found ways to forgo the steady diet of indoctrination for something far more paletable.  her illegal stashes are treated with near sanctified levels of respect.

❝ hey, don’t sweat it, ❞ she says, injecting the dvd into a tiny slat of its accompanying player.  watches it devour 𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒓 into a sea of black polyurethane.  the blob. campy in its production, but a cult classic nevertheless!    ❝ i’ve got loads of those tees.  comfy, isn’t it? ❞

moments later taking a seat next to her, also quite comfortable in an 𝐄𝐗𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃𝐋𝐘 loose-fitting onyx-colored top with graphics & a pair of cotton shorts.  remote in hand & admiring her work —— getting the princess to let her hair down.

❝ ever tried caramel popcorn? ❞ 

#oraclespoken #( 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 : grab that cash with both hands & make a stash. ) #[ /CRIES BECAUSE I LOVE BOTH YOU & LUNA ]

[xadoheandterra]

At request over on AO3 I’m sharing the notes I have on the Oaths used in The Path Untrodden. Some people where curious about Prompto’s unique Oath and where it could have come from, so below the cut if you don’t mind potential spoilers (as I don’t know when/if I’ll get a oneshot put out about it, or when/if it’ll come up again more clearly in the story itself) go ahead and give it a read!

I’ll start with the typical Oaths seen between characters to make things a bit clearer for those curious.

Oath of the Shield - Gladiolus’ Version I offer my Life into Service, Bound by Word and Bond and Crystal Light. My Soul to Sacrifice for King of Light, to Guard and Protect from all Threats, both Within and Out, until the Darkness Encroaches no Further. I offer my Life to Shield in All Ways so that this Bond may not be Severed, to Aide King of Light in Their Duties so Divinely Given. I offer my Being in its Entirety for my King of Light, Forevermore.

I chose to phrase Gladiolus’ Oath (and you will see in each of the Oaths shown after this that they are all phrased very similarly) for a specific reason. The Lucis Caelum’s are tied intricately to the Crystal reportedly since it was first ‘given’ to them from Bahamut. However their Magic is an Ancient thing that dates back to Solheim, and the Oaths similar in that respect.

To take apart the Shield Oath it’s pretty simple. Any person Bound to a Lucis Caelum (and then that shares in their magic and armiger) offer’s their life up to that Lucis Caelum. They offer their entire person to the Lucis Caelum that they have Chosen--and the Oathmaker must have Chosen that Lucis Caelum. A Lucis Caelum may have chosen a person, but to become an Oathmaker the person much choose the Lucis Caelum back.

In this respect each Oathmaker and Bonded are intricately wound through their very lives and souls. You will find that an Oathmaker or Bonded can pass before their Lucis Caelum, but no Oathmaker or Bonded will survive long after their Lucis Caelum has passed in this story. Due to the nature of the Bond they will live for as long as the Bond is in place, until its Severing. This is how GIlgamesh has survived the long years!

An Oathmaker makes their Oath always with the Sacrifice of Soul in mind. Their Souls are aimed to stabilize the Lucis Caelum’s power, and to provide a first defense against threats. This too ties back to Solheim and the Astral War actually, when the people of Solheim were being systematically wiped out by the other Astral’s due to Ifrit’s choices to support those of Solheim. This is supposedly when the Scourge arrived on Eos as well, so the Darkness that Encroaches is referenced in two ways here--the Astrals, who want all of Solheim blood to be removed, and in Gladiolus’ Oath and all Oaths to the King of Light it references the Scourge/Prophesied Darkness to befall Eos.

Gladioulus’ Oath references offering of his very life in all ways, meaning that technically of so ordered Noctis could decide Gladioulus’ relationships and things like that. It’s a more Ancient thing that they’ve chosen, but the more Ancient the wording and Bond the more support it provides to their Bonded. Noctis needs a lot of support--he’s got a lot of power packed into a tiny yet damaged body, and without the support he could burn away from the inside out due to the Cyrstal Light. This also ties back to Solheim and Solheim magics and the Lucis Caelum’s specific line within Solheim.

The ‘duties so divinely given’ is a mixed bag of things. In Solheim times it references Ifrit’s direct hand in their Duties, but they don’t necessarily use ‘Divinely Given’ in the Solheim Oath. In Solheim it’s more ‘Divinely Offered’ or ‘Eos Driven’ In Ardyn’s time it references the Duties pushed forward by the Astrals onto Ardyn (and Somnus’) shoulders. It’s the Prophecy and the promise of eradicating the Scourge.

There’s more to that that’ll come up, so I’ll leave that tidbit there.

Oath of the Shield - Gilgamesh and Etras’ Version I offer Life to Service, Bound by Word and Bond and Crystal Light. My Soul to Sacrifice for Warrior-King of Light/Healer-King of Light, to Guard and Protect from all Threats, both Within and Out, until the Darkness be Scoured from Our Star. I offer Life to Shield All Ways so that Bond cannot be Severed, to Aide Warrior-King of Light/Healer-King of Light in Their Duties Divinely Chosen. I offer my Being in Entirety for my Warrior-King of Light/Healer-King of Light, Forevermore.

Etras, for those confused, is a Lady Tenebrae who is Somnus’ Bonded Shield. She shows up in a oneshot that I”m currently writing.

The biggest noted differences here is that it is not specified ‘my Life’ although it is specified ‘My Soul’ - this difference in wording is more due to the times and manner in which Etras and Gilgamesh speak, and also due to the magical natures of being a Lord/Lady Tenebrae. Another major differences is the specification of Warrior-King/Healer-King. Both were considered to be POTENTIAL Kings so their Bonded Named them King in the manner in which they acted. Ardyn as Healer, and Somnus as Warrior....

There’s some more but it’s a bit spoiler-y so I’ll leave that for now.

Next we have ‘until the Darkness be Scoured from Our Star’ - Note that this is different from ‘until the Darkness Encroaches no Further’ which is pretty significant. Ardyn and Somnus’ Bonded made Oaths to eradicate the Darkness, where Noctis and his Bonded (and thus the Bonded of his Father and his Grandfather) all make Oaths to stop the Darkness from going further. To Noctis and his Bonded the Darkness is a typical way of Life. They don’t know about it’s parasitic and viral nature, how it infects and then turns people. This information has been forgotten by the Lucian Kings over time because when they treated it as a Plague they found it spread just that bit faster--or Somnus at least realized that burning the Afflicted didn’t work, just as Ardyn’s Healing of the Afflicted didn’t work. Another solution is needed to eradicate the Scourge, but neither knows how--and so the Oaths over time changed to at least stopping the Scourge from going any further. Until such a time as they can basically neuter it from taking more lives, Gladioulus would still be required to ‘Guard and Protect’ Noctis. In that same manner until the Scourge is eradicated, so too would Gilgamesh be required to ‘Guard and Protect’ Ardyn.

The final differences is ‘Duties Divinely Chosen’ as both Somnus and Ardyn did technically choose their own Duties. They weren’t told go heal or go combat the Scourge, just that one would be Chosen as King of Light to eradicate the Scourge. So in a way both brothers Chose their own paths to defeat the Scourge itself, and the Oaths reflect that Choice.

Oath of the Hand - Ignis’ Version I offer my Life into Service, Bound by Word and Bond and Crystal Light. My Soul to Sacrifice for King of Light, as the Blade to Pierce through the Darkness, until the Darkness Encroaches no Further. I offer my Life to be the Hand in All Ways, the Sword that Defends in Aide for King of Light, to Keep these Bonds Unsevered. I offer my Being in its Entirety for my King of Light, Forevermore.

Much of Ignis’ Oath is similar to Gladioulus with several key differences at play. FIrst thing that anyone should know is the term ‘Hand’ actually came about much later in Lucian history. The original term for the ‘Hand’ before Lucian Royalty became such, and their duties began to encompass essentially being their secretary and such, is to be their Bonded’s Sword. To this end the Oath has always referenced being a Sword that Defends, or the Blade to Pierce through the Darkness.

Hands/Swords are typically assassins at the behest of their King. They put up a pretty facade, but their job is to route out threats and eliminate them. They are the proactive arm of their Chosen, while the Shield is more passive in its nature. In this way a Hand/Sword is the first Defense. They need to evaluate all potential threats, and if they do not eliminate one then the second Defense of Shield comes in to play to protect their Chosen from the threats that slip past.

The ‘Darkness’ referenced the first time is the darkness in human nature. It is the threats created from human hearts and minds to their Chosen. The ‘Darkness’ referenced the second time is the Scourge itself.

Being the Sword is intended to keep the Bonds together, a glue if you will to ensure that none break from their Chosen. In this way a Hand is also the peacekeeper and mediator for any issues that can arise between the Bonded. Their Goal is to keep the group running smoothly. This ties back mostly to Solheim and the Astral War when tensions were high and Bonds could be easily Severed with a misspoken word.

Oath of the Hand - Somnus/Ardyn I offer Life into Service, Bound by Word and Bond and Crystal Light. My Soul to Sacrifice for Warrior-King of Light/Healer-King of Light, as the Blade to Pierce through the Hearts in Darkness, until the Darkness be Scoured from Our Star. I offer my Life to be the Hand in All Ways, the Sword in Defense of Warrior-King of Light/Healer-King of Light, to Keep Our Bonds Tethered. I offer my Being in its Entirety for my Warrior-King of Light/Healer-King of Light, Forevermore.

This is not necessarily the same Oath given to Ardyn as it is given to Somnus. I have a reason for that, but I’m keeping it concealed for now as it will come up in the story at some point. Much of this Oath is the same as Ignis’ as the duties haven’t really changed between the times. They key differences (aside from denoting a Warrior-King/Healer-King instead of just King) are the fact that it references ‘Hearts in Darkness’ instead of just ‘Darkness’ - a part of this is the nature of the times, and the fact that the Oath is closer to its Solheim version which references ‘Pierce through the Hearts Threat’ instead. That version is due to Solheim and I could go into great detail about, but I won’t for brevity’s sake.

Lastly the Hand/Sword in this Oath has the goal to keep ‘our’ meaning the Bonded and their Chosen together. They want to ensure the bonds remain Tethered to their Chosen, which is a little different to ensuring they remain Unsevered. For Ignis’ Oath it means that Ignis will do his damnedest to ensure Gladioulus doesn’t get his fool self killed and sever the Bond to Noctis. For Somnus/Ardyn’s Oathmaker it means they will do their damnedest to make sure the fool Shield’s don’t fuck shit up with their Bonded, and that means ALL Bonded.

This is Important for Reasons I’m going to be quiet about.

Oath of the Brother - Prompto I offer my Life into Service, Bound by Word and Bond and Crystal Light. My Soul to Sacrifice for King of Light, to Ensure They Never be Alone, Forgotten, or Without a Companion in the Moments where Their Steps may Falter. I offer my Life to Befriend and Beholden to Their Light, to Shelter Their Bonds and Prevent Them from Being Untethered. I offer my Being in its Entirety for my King of Light, Forevermore.

Prompto’s Oath is known as the Oath of the Brother for reasons as well, that I don’t want to go too deeply into but suffice it to say the Oath of the Brother was pretty much removed from the Oaths that a Chosen could make for Reasons. It took Ignis to do some digging to even find the Oath, and then Prompto modified a few bits of it to fit the times. The Original Oath is a bit looser where Prompto went for more restricting/more of a sacrifice on his part due to his own insecurities. Prompto has essentially pushed himself into the moral center, their glue between the other Oathmaker’s and their Chosen. When Ignis as Hand cannot soothe and mediate between the Bonded, Prompto is to come in and squirrel away the Bonded to make sure the Bonds can remain in tact. He essentially is the balm to their hurts when things go awry.

With Prompto the whole system for Noctis could fall apart. Gladioulus, Noctis, and Ignis far too easily butt heads, so Prompto is there to ease the way you could say. It’s what he does best, breaking tension and buffering each person in the group.

The rest of it is pretty much the Oathmaker being there for their Chosen, the moral rock and center for their Chosen, the base that their Chosen can stand upon when times grow tough. This does harken back to Solheim and the Astral War as well, as the Brother would be the last of the Bonded to follow their Chosen in to death. They would Record Histories to be passed down, so that their Chosen would be remembered.

Most of the modifications to the Oath are about steps faltering, being a companion and friend. In the older Oath these were a bit different offerings, but I won’t go into that here again for Reasons.

Anyway, if you guys want to know more about the shit I’ve put together for this universe just...ask away!

#fanfic #final fantasy xv #ff15 #oaths and bonds #fic: the burning of solheim #fic: the path untrodden

[charlottedabookworm]

So, this is that regisson au where absolutely nothing changes until Nyx puts the ring on that y’all convinced me to write. Hope you like it and tell me what you think

“Show yourselves, Kings of Lucis.”

The darkness lit up as, one by one, spectral kings appeared around him. He forced himself as upright as he could manage with a bullet in his chest and gods knew how many broken bones – refusing to have this conversation while flat on the ground.

This wasn’t exactly how he’d wanted to meet his ancestors, but he’d make do.

(Though, to be fair, Nyx would have preferred to have never have had to meet them at all. From what Nyx knew, the majority of his ancestors on both sides of the family were complete dicks)

He looked around curiously as the Lucii spoke, telling himself that he wasn’t looking for Regis – for the man who had been his king, who he had been forced to watch die, who had been his—

No, Nyx wasn’t looking for Regis.

“How long,” he gasped out. “How long will you do nothing whilst Insomnia burns?” Nyx tried to force himself to his feet – the Lucii might be spectral giants but Nyx had always felt better about arguing with powerful beings who could easily kill him when he could stand – but ended up doubled over in pain instead. Fucking bullet. Fucking Luche. Fucking traitors. “Old or new, or whatever it is. Summon your wall!” Because what sort of kings were they, that they refused to even defend their city as it was being destroyed, that they would prefer to watch their people die rather than help.

Nyx hated his ancestors.

“You do not command us. Yours is not royal blood.”

And, at that, Nyx blinked. Really. Really? Did they seriously still not know?

So much for being all-fucking-knowing. This entire situation was almost enough to make Nyx laugh, if he wasn’t in so much pain. He hated broken ribs.

“It does not fall to us to guard your city.” Another of the Lucii said and Nyx turned with a look that he hoped portrayed the depths of his scepticism.

Seriously?

“Man is a fool creature, clinging to his past and cowering from his future. Wasting his strength on bygone days.” Yet another of them said, and really what was with all of the leapfrogging? Couldn’t they see that he was dying here? It hurt to have to keep turning to look at whoever decided to speak.

Wow, he thought, staring up at the king with raised eyebrows, bitter much?

“And what future are you wards of?” Nyx forced an elbow beneath him to prop himself up, his voice echoing around him as he questioned these so-called kings who preferred to stand back and do nothing.

Nyx decided that he really fucking hated his ancestors.

“So short-sighted. And cursed to never rise above it.” That was the Mystic, he was sure of it, and it made him want to snarl.

Nyx didn’t need to listen to that from him of all people.

“Wait.” A new figure called out and Nyx froze at a voice that he knew well, the voice of a man that he’d watched die mere hours ago (was it hours, it had seemed like it but now Nyx wasn’t sure). “I have seen what this brave soul is prepared to do.” King Regis, Nyx’s—The King said. “He, too, seeks to safeguard the future.”

“Your Majesty,” he whispered, holding back everything else that he wanted to say by sheer force of will.

Here and now, having watched the man in front of him be murdered by someone who Nyx had trusted, Nyx regretted. He’d never spoken to the King because he didn’t know how, because he’d feared being rejected, because he’d tried to convince himself that he didn’t need or want a… He’d never spoken up because he’d thought he had more time.

Nyx laughed silently at himself. He always thought that he had more time than he actually did, and he never managed to say what he needed to to those that he cared for before it was too late. He was just cursed that way, he guessed.

“Very well, young king. We will weigh your warrior’s worth. But our boon does not come cheap. The cost is a life. His or hers.”

The world itself was still faded away, but Libs and the Princess both sharpened into focus – frozen in the same moment that Nyx had last seen them – and he refused.

“No.” He wanted to scream, but he was so tired. Nyx took a moment just to breathe, drawing on his reserves and pushing the pain from his mind – he was dying anyway, it wouldn’t matter in the long run. “To hell with your power!” He yelled. “I’m not here for it.” Nyx didn’t want the Lucii’s accursed power, wanted nothing to do with the abilities that had been granted to them by Bahamut.

Nyx would reveal himself to be what he was before he did that.

“I only came to tell you,” he said, starting to laugh, his eyes bright with mirth. “You are no kings.” And he laughed, and he laughed, and he laughed.

Nyx couldn’t breathe, and his ribs were killing him – or maybe that was the bullet – but he still couldn’t stop.

He didn’t even know what it was that he found so funny, just that right now it was either laugh or cry and he refused to cry in front of these kings.

“Your worth has been weighed and found wanting.” The Mystic thundered, but still, Nyx couldn’t stop.

Just, the sheer irony.

The irony of this man, who usurped his throne and murdered his own brother at another’s behest, calling him unworthy. Nyx couldn’t even be offended, the mere idea of it was hilarious.

“Now, burn.” Somnus Lucis Caelum ordered, and pain flooded through him like a tidal wave, yet still, he continued to laugh.

Rolling onto his back, Nyx tipped his head back and laughed even as his hand burned. “Unworthy, am I?” He asked between gasps for breath. “Not of royal blood, am I?”

Nyx shook his head, tilting his body so that he could look directly up at the supposed Founder King of Lucis. “Are you really so unable to recognise one of your own line, Great-Grandfather?”

Silence.

His hand stopped burning, the flames gone, and Nyx continued laughing.

“What?”

“I asked you, o’ false king, if you were really so senile so as to not notice one of your own blood.” He gasped out between laughs.

“You mean to barter for your life.”

“No,” he shook his head again, his laughter finally silencing. “No, old man, my life is my own. If and how I die matters not, at this point. I merely wish to speak with the man who sired me.”

And, with that, Nyx let his magic – already boiling under his skin, begging to be used – rise to the surface and stain his eyes green, proclaiming his heritage to all who could sense it.

“Sir Ulric. Nyx…”

He turned his head to look at the figure who spoke, propping himself up once more with what little energy he had left. “King Regis.”

Father, Nyx didn’t say, because his use of that title depended fully on the other man’s decision. Nyx had known of Regis his entire life, had always known of his heritage – even if he’d sworn off of it entirely for a short period of time while young, after learning the truth of the Mystic, and even if he had done his best to keep it hidden from the Lucians – but Regis had just had a second child dumped on him, shortly after his own death, and one that he might not even want in any case.

This, any of it, all of it, was up to Regis.

“Why did you not say anything?” Regis seemed almost sad, or maybe Nyx was just imagining things that he wanted to see.

Nyx shrugged. “It wasn’t my place, your majesty.” He said with a small, sad smile, trying to meet his sires’ eyes behind the new helm. “Besides, I’m just a bastard-”

“You are my son.” The king interjected vehemently. “The circumstances of your birth change nothing.”

He paused, stunned, and blinked slowly. That- that was actually a far better reaction then he had ever dared hope, and even if it was only due to the fact that the man had died, Nyx still couldn’t help but wish…

Shaking his head to dislodge thoughts of could-have-beens, Nyx smiled again, brighter this time but still sad. “I think, your majesty, that I would have liked you as a father.” He dropped his eyes. “I’m sorry…” He trailed off, not quite certain what he was apologising for.

Not trusting the man enough to tell him years ago, maybe. Or not giving them the opportunity to have a relationship as father and son, instead of a King and his glaive.

Or even letting him die, doing nothing but watching as Glauca killed him.

Or maybe it was all of that and more. Maybe it was everything – every missed opportunity, every never-had conversation, every lost chance.

Yeah. Yeah, everything – that seemed about right.

Nyx was just. He was sorry.

Wasn’t all that different from his ancestors in the end, after all, was he?

Regis shook his head, attracting his attention and drawing him out of his thoughts. “No, Nyx, it is I who is sorry. I am sorry that you never felt as though you could tell me.” Nyx went to interrupt, only to fall silent at the look that the King gave him. “Know that I love you and that I am proud of you, Nyx. And tell Noctis that the same is true of him, when you see him once more.”

“Good luck and Godspeed, my son.”

And then, before Nyx could say anything in response, the world flared back into focus and Nyx reacted – tossing Drau-Glauca aside with lightning that came as much from his own magic as it did from that of the ring.

He glanced down at the ring that twinkled on his finger and pulled it off, rolling it in the palm of his hand. “Thank you, father.” He said quietly, clenching his fist around the ring momentarily.

“Nyx?” A familiar voice asked, and Nyx turned to look at his oldest friend and brother.

“Hey, hero, have I got a story for you…”

#my fic #ffxv #snippet #regisson au #nyx is regis' son #nyx ulric #regis lucis caelum #not sure if this is sad or not tbh

[ooc-but-stylish]

Now that FFXV is Officially Dead I’d like to reiterate that every good tragedy is earned, not forced through the plot, and FFXV earned absolutely goddamned none of its tragedy throughout its entire story, least of all its “canon ending”.

A well-done tragedy makes sense with the character’s actions; if it has to happen, it happens because of ( or despite ) the character’s best efforts, which requires their best efforts to actually be shown on screen rather than them acting like a bunch of shoddy horror movie teenagers taking stupid action after stupid action. The tragedy makes the audience sad for the loss of a character they’ve come to care for, but ultimately the audience can nod and say “it makes sense”, as the character would have taken no other route because their action is part of who they are and therefore consistent with their character. And again, FFXV has none of that.

FFX had Yuna want to defeat Sin at the cost of her own life because she thought the smiles on other people’s faces was worth the sacrifice, and as she went on her pilgrimage and witnessed the events in Kilika and Mi’ihen, it only strengthened her resolve to defeat Sin so that no more people would die, even if that peace only would last for ten years. Near the end, she turned away from the sacrifice option because she learned it would cost not only her own life but the life of one of her friends, meaning she would sacrifice an additional person that wasn’t aware that they would die beforehand and wouldn’t have made that choice themselves up until that point.

FFX also had Tidus, on a personal quest to return to the Zanarkand he left behind supposedly one thousand years in the past. He learned close to the end of his journey that he was a “Dream of the Fayth”, basically the figment of self-sacrificed religious figures from the actual Zanarkand of a thousand years ago, and that the permanent defeat of Sin would also end his own existence. He was allowed to come to terms with it while he continued to interact with the other characters he was traveling with, then broke the news to everyone in the end and disappeared exactly like he said ( and it was told to him ) he would. Then FFX-2 happens, but whatever.

Noctis, on the other hand, is traumatized and guilt tripped into the sacrifice by a God ( see: BAHAMUT ) that never showed up to help the people/country He was supposedly the patron of ( see: INSOMNIA ) and can’t even land a single hit of its ultimate attack against the One Astral that it’d fought against in a war 2000 years prior ( see: IFRIT ). Then Noctis is held hostage for ten years, unable to interact with anyone else he knows until he “comes to terms” with the fact that he “needs to” commit suicide before ever having actually done anything for his country and the rest of the world. He’s not even doing it to save a specific person in his group that would die otherwise, he’s dying because he owes it to already dead people who gave their lives for him that he’s not even aware of. And even their sacrifices are the result of a lie. 

Would Nyx have put on the Ring if he’d known beforehand that Luna would die weeks later anyway in a completely preventable death ( see: GENTIANA ), and the young king he was telling to “rule well” would lose ten years of his life then die anyway not having ruled a damn thing? 

Would the citizens of Insomnia have accepted this if they’d known that Regis agreed to a treaty he knew was suspect and sold them out for one person who would die anyway ( see: NOCTIS ) and whose greatest act would come only after the world was turned into a hellscape for ten straight years? 

Would Luna have even bothered with all this nonsense if she weren’t being told to do so since the age of 4 by a goddess that proceeded to do absolute fuck all to save her from the worst events in her life ( see: GLAUCA, CALIGO, ARDYN ), and only ever showed up to reaffirm her connection to a boy she first hadn’t even met yet and then later didn’t even know all that well, with all affirmations happening absent the presence of any other adult/elder figure ( see: SYLVA, REGIS, RAVUS, “UNNAMED VIA/NOX FLEURET DAD” )?

I’m not even going to ask about Ignis putting on the Ring, because, here’s the Hellfire take, the “canon” route was him acting a whole fool thereby turning himself into Male Luna, complete with keeping the truth from Noctis about the fact that he’ll die sooner than he thinks, and featuring other hits like letting Gladio act like a socially maladjusted five year old, especially in a train full of people where Gladio’s oh-so-mature rant against Noctis thereby reveals the Prince of Lucis's location among potential enemies in plainclothes as opposed to keeping a low profile. The V2 route was Ignis actually remembering he's the strategist of the group that thinks with his head, bides his time, makes plans, and gathers knowledge before acting, and gets rewarded for that work. Considering he puts on the Ring in both the “Canon” and V2 routes, that he’s willing to give his sight and his life for Noctis is not in question. It’s whether he takes the action too early and effectively wastes it at the behest of Scaly Asshole God and the idle threat of Trash Hobo Jesus that’s the matter.

So in case it needs restating, the “tragedy” in FFXV wasn’t earned in the least and every retcon they kept adding to it, short of negating the deaths entirely, made the “sacrifice” even less sensible.

Luna held Ardyn’s hand for an entire half-minute in Altissia while she was talking to him. Ardyn didn’t seem the least bit affected and slapped her. She died. Then later she showed up from nowhere, despite no evidence or foreshadowing that she would be in the Astral Realm/the Beyond, and touched Ardyn for only one second, which seemed to be enough to significantly weaken him. Again, no evidence she would be there or that that realm was someplace she was allowed to have an actual presence. Then the Retcon Edition decided that she would appear in the realm of the living with her powers perfectly intact, to summon all of the Astrals, even the ones she didn’t personally meet or awaken ( see again: BAHAMUT ). 

So uh, what gives? How is Luna more powerful as a spirit than she was when she was alive? If she could show up on Eos instead of being confined to only the Astral Realm, why didn’t she show up while Ardyn was laid out after his and Noctis’s Battle of Kings to purify him then? Or couldn’t she die earlier than Chapter 9 ( say, during the Invasion of Insomnia? ) and remain in ghost form the rest of the game, if she can do the exact same things in either state anyway?

No problem, she shows up, summons the presence of Astrals she isn’t actually needed for since Noctis had all their Marks already and could call upon them himself. Disappears conveniently, doesn’t show up for anything else her powers could actually sensibly be used for, allows her betrothed to undergo an overblown suicide ritual by ancestor. The game tells us this sacrifice absolutely needs to happen, not really because Noctis wants to and he decided to for the good of everyone, but he’s told he owes it to people. He’s obligated to pay a blood price brought about by actions and events prior to his even being born.

Did this suicide-by-ancestor need to happen at all? Until “Episode Ardyn” comes out, the general consensus ( I su-fricking-ppose ) was that he was supposed to give his life the same way Noctis eventually had to, and simply chose not to and circumvented the sacrifice with unintended use of whatever special Oracle-like gift he had on him. Evidence doesn’t bear that out, though, because the Starscourge was not as bad then as stated in the official timeline of Eos ( “Epidemic disappears with the King’s success” / “the plague subsides by the King’s hand” ) and the fact that the Scourge comes across as a “new life form” to the people of Eos. That, and the Kings that Noctis needed to perform elaborate suicide-by-ancestor literally did not exist in Ardyn’s time for him to be killed with. One of them is his brother, and all the other ones are great/grand/nieces and nephews of his thereafter. So it would be impossible for him to have sacrificed himself like Noctis, but the Scourge was still reduced to such a negligible phenomenon that it needed to be rediscovered in some ancient ruins almost 300 years prior to the start of the game and it still wasn’t weaponized or a huge problem until around 30 years prior to the start of the game, at which point the plague spreads rapidly to the extent that the very soil is infected and mutating frogs and other local wildlife, according to one researcher studying the Scourge ( see: SANIA YEAGER ). 

But then Ardyn also has a plethora of Royal Arms, including the Sword of the Father, and Arms that Noctis doesn’t get at all, so he must have acquired them after all those respective Kings lived and died and were buried with their Arms, but before Noctis could embark on his own trip to gather the grand total of 13. It’s already acknowledged that there were more tombs scattered around Lucis but that they and their Arms are lost for whatever reason. But there’s really no way Ardyn could have had the time to do all that--

oh no, wait, Episode Ardyn’s trailer shows that Ardyn was discovered by a young Verstael about 30-something years ago, and from that point he was free enough to make the presumable trek across Lucis to get all those Arms and vandalize the tombs so that Noctis couldn’t get the same, awaken Ifrit despite not being an Oracle, infect Ifrit with Space Malaria ( see: STARSCOURGE ), and eventually challenge Regis in a Lucian standoff, the same Regis who then has a senior moment in Kingsglaive and forgets who Ardyn is and needs an introduction ( ????? ) to the guy that attacked him years ago when that same guy traipses into the throne room and makes an impossible demand. 

The gods allowed that to happen because of bullshit “Prophecy” instead of letting Ardyn rot or leading the Oracle and King of the time ( see: REGIS AND SYLVA ) toward Ardyn’s prison so they could purify him while he was still weak and emaciated. The gods let the Accursed Enemy fall into the wrong hands ( see: NIFLHEIM, VERSTAEL BESITHIA ), come into power, awaken one Astral ( see: IFRIT ) and kill another ( see: SHIVA ) and gimp their only chance to save the world they claim to care about so much -- again, Ardyn has more Royal Arms than Noctis does, even ones Noctis couldn’t acquire and the player is unfamiliar with ( dat scythe ). Niflheim’s control over the daemons was also bolstered enough by Ardyn’s presence and his contributions to their research, that they released the Marilith to attack Noctis when he was a child and give him a near-fatal injury, which crippled his ability to harness the Crystal’s power to its full potential. This isn’t even speculation, you guys. This is actual ( extended ) canon. Ardyn was allowed to make shit worse for everyone.

Anyway. Noctis had to be stabbed by his ancestors to take in their spirits and then painfully get them out of his spiritual form when he made it to the Beyond … except for the fact that he already had their Royal Arms within him ( he acquired them painlessly the first time around, I should add ), and that the Ring should have all their spirits already within it ( including the Mystic/Somnus who is the Founder King/Ardyn’s Brother and part of the Old Wall ). They shouldn’t even need to enter him twice– they did it the first time when he got all of their Arms, and the weapons are as ghostly ten years later that they were in the beginning, so how are they actually killing him, again?

But, sure, let’s assume they needed to get into the Astral Realm/the Beyond, and had to use Noctis’s corpse/spirit as a ferry ... except not really, because Noctis spent ten whole years inside the Crystal, whose realm is identical to the Beyond where Noctis, Ardyn, and Luna ended up in when they died. They only needed to hitch a long enough ride until Noctis went into Crystal sleep, leave him, then wait for Ardyn there whenever he appeared so that they could stab him to pieces instead of being absorbed into Noctis and then ejected painfully. It’s not like their actual spirits were needed for the Ardyn battle in Insomnia; they didn’t do jack shit to help Noctis in the “Battle of Kings” and they didn’t do anything against Ifrit beforehand either -- and the Astrals didn’t do anything for either fight as well, and mobilized better to take down one measly shield over the Citadel! Lazy jackasses.

But sure, let’s assume they couldn’t simply leave the Ring of Lucii while Noctis was in Crystal sleep ... except the ending clearly shows that part of the suicide ritual involves the Astrals’ spirit forms converging into a portal, connecting the throne room to a realm that the deceased Kings descend from ( you mean like a ... Beyond? ) so that they can then stab Noctis to death with their respective weapons. So the Kings came from this spirit realm ... to kill Noctis ... to then go into the spirit realm ... the same realm that they were already in and that the Astrals had access to ( you could call this, the, I don’t know, the Astral Realm, then? ) ... instead of staying exactly where they were while Noctis transported himself into this Astral Realm/the Beyond via some other method, such as… maybe…. going through the exact same fucking portal the Astrals created that bridged the gap between living and spiritual worlds to begin with, seeing as that’s what it does.

I mean, considering these dead spirits were corporeal enough to stab a living person to death, and then both Noctis’s and Ardyn’s spirits could somehow suffer an additional death while there, dying in the same way living bodies would by either disintegration or repeated stabbing and dissolution, it doesn’t matter if the body in their ghost realm isn’t dead going in, because both ghostly and living things have the exact same level of corporeality and therefore physical effectiveness on the environment around them! 

But sure, let’s assume they needed to appear to Noctis and kill him so that all of them would meet Ardyn in the Beyond ... except for the part where killing Noctis means his spirit is trapped in the Ring, and in the same place all the other Kings are, which is identical to the inside of the Crystal, which is identical to the Beyond, where Ardyn was waiting. So that realm was already in the Ring to begin with, and somehow the Kings could not go into that realm themselves at literally any point during the game even though their spirits were absorbed into the Ring post-mortem and their Arms were acquired any point before the Chapter 13 time skip.

But sure, let’s assume that there was something special about Noctis that required he be with them– perhaps like the Royal Arm of Regis, the Sword of the Father ... except Ardyn also has the Sword of the Father in his Armiger arsenal even when he left Ravus’s corpse with it for Noctis to get it, and he has more weapons besides, and the Kings apparently let him have it because of their blood relation unless otherwise stated ( I mean, did Ardyn use his Villain Sue powers to braaaaiiiinwash them into giving him their Arms against their better judgment? Why would they do that at all? They don’t seem very cognizant of ... anything, to be honest! ), so ... uh, what was making Noctis special? The part where he’s not Scourged? He was attacked by a demon already and sent into a coma, afflicted by something he needed to be taken into Imperial territory to heal from instead of seeing any doctor ( what doctor? ) or Regis using a King sigil for healing magic ( see: COMRADES ) so he’s not immune to the affliction, but he was healed by an Oracle, which, oh hey, uhm, wasn’t Ardyn eventually purified by an Oracle at the end point of his life anyway? Good golly, a shame that couldn’t have happened at any point prior to any of this bullshit happening! 

But sure, let’s assume that Ardyn possessing more Arms than Noctis does isn’t relevant ... so in a hypothetical scenario where Noctis had Ardyn’s Armiger, or acquired more weapons than the 13 he ended up with, how many Kings would he be stabbed with then? Was he meant to hold out against every single one? What if all 113 Kings had Arms, and he found all of them without fail? How long would that suicide ritual take? He definitively died with the last stab out of thirteen, five score more would be ridiculous, and Ardyn could probably revive himself by that point, so ... ?

Or maybe, we can more safely assume that the writing to get Noctis to this point was contrived as fuck and made no sense, where he neither had a real choice to give his own life, wasn’t allowed to live otherwise, no one around him made their best efforts to save the life of their supposed best friend/brother figure/betrothed even if they weren’t actively lying to him by omission or otherwise taunting him into the act, and any alterations to the details of his death or giving it any more thought makes it fall apart.

#ffxv hate #anti ffxv #ffxv critical #ffxv criticism #final fantasy xv #long post #noctis lucis caelum #gladiolus amicitia mention #ignis scientia mention #gentiana negative #this text is NOT for gladio apologists #NOT for luna apologists #NOT for gentiana apologists #NOT for bahamut apologists #NOT for ffxv apologists who think this game was well written #NOT for ffxv apologists that think the canon ending was the best ending #this text isn't even for people who don't think ardyn's powers are getting ridiculous #and that they're coming from fuckoff nowhere #read at your own risk

[jazzraft]

Grillmaster Glaives

Pairing Nyx/Noctis Rating General Audiences Words 2687 Part of Festive Food Fluffs written in collaboration with @aithilin, this month’s prompt being secret family recipes! Tags Alternate Universe - Everybody Lives/Nobody Dies, Established Relationship, Food Porn, Fluff and Humor, Slice of Life also on AO3 → please consider clicking through and leaving a comment!

Nyx completely forgot that he’d promised to cook for the King. Much to his embarrassment, the King – in his infinitely enduring memory – had not.

“I believe that summer sabbaticals are scheduled to begin soon,” Regis said one evening, idle chatter in transit from one great hall of the Citadel to the next. “I’m certain that Ignis is capable of arranging everyone’s time to coincide for one evening of Galahdian barbecue. Perhaps under the pavilion in the Western garden? The pantry will supply the ingredients, and there’s a fire pit that should suit your needs, but do let me know if you will require anything else.”

Nyx had stared in uncomprehending silence at the King as he shadowed his crooked steps. For a horrible, nauseating moment – that he would kick himself later for even daring to think into the world! – Nyx thought that His Majesty must have been having a stroke. Because he couldn’t understand a single word he was saying.

“Do be sure to invite some of your colleagues,” Regis went on. “Sir Ostium and Altius, perhaps. They are informed of your relationship with Noct, correct? Otherwise, it will be the usual suspects from Hallowtide. The Amicitias, Cor – if I can get him – Ignis, and Mr. Argentum. As well as myself and Noct, of course.”

Nyx nearly came to a halt, nearly cemented his boots to the tiles and careened face-first into the floor with the forward momentum that failed to stop with the rest of him.

Hallowtide. The masquerade gathering of selected Lucian nobility which Nyx had braved in costumed disguise at Noct’s behest. It had nearly been a year since the royal entourage had welcomed his then newly discovered romance with their closely guarded prince.

Nyx remembered that first harvest season with Noctis – soft and unsure, sneaking into each other’s lifelong festivities under hood and mask and nervous curiosity. He remembered the warmth of the bonfires brightening his home district in the dark, with Noct shuffling wide-eyed alongside him; and he remembered the sinful banquet of fine foods shared in a ghoulishly transformed ballroom, with Noct’s hand holding his beneath the table.

He remembered it all like an enkindling hearth whenever he tried to recreate those harvest festival dishes for Noct on chilled rainy nights in his little apartment kitchen.

He remembers it now like the spike of a fever, flaming up to his cheeks in shame that he had, in fact, forgotten his sort of pseudo promise to share the King’s dinner table again at a later, less public venue.

“Will next weekend suffice?”

It took Nyx a moment to fiddle with the starter that was stalling in his brain before his motor-mouth revved up to answer. Dumbly – so, so dumb, what in the world are you thinking? – Nyx smiled, and answered with a cordial, “Sounds like a plan, Your Majesty.”

Sounds like you’re screwed! He’ll end up poisoning them, immolating them all from the inside-out with his chili pepper perversions of traditional Galahdian fare. Clarus and Cor might have let him live for dating the King’s son (for now, always for now), but Nyx was fairly certain they’d draw the line at flambéing two royal figureheads with a single forkful of Crowe’s “Secret Scalding Spice Rub.”

Maybe don’t invite Crowe, he thought to himself, the whole way home. Maybe arrange to be mauled by a behemoth and put on mandatory medical leave that day. Maybe make up some last minute summer plans to visit his ailing mother across the sea – he was sure to get a battering from his well and able mother for that excuse, but it would be a small price to pay for preserving the honor of his family name.

Alas, his fate was sealed with Regis’s wry curl of a smile when he left him to his royal chambers.

“After all this time, you’re not seriously still afraid of my father, are you?”

“There’s a thin line between fear and respect, little king. I’m prescribed a healthy dose of both for your father.”

Noctis snorted, “You make him sound like a disease.”

That would certainly explain the fever pitch playing in his pulse, pounding as wildly as Noct’s thumbs on the screen of his phone in an effort to slay a new raid boss. Noctis slapped his thigh and muttered a curse as the screen branded itself in the big red letters of defeat. He tossed the device onto the tiny dented trolley that served as Nyx’s sorry excuse for a coffee table.

Somehow, the soft patter of sleek, expensive metal on the warped, cheap iron made Nyx feel even sicker. He couldn’t furnish his own apartment to better befit a royal sleepover! How was he supposed to impress a full house of extinguished guests with his amateur, island bumpkin cooking?

“You’re not a bumpkin, Nyx.”

Did he really say that out loud? Really?

Suddenly, Noctis was in front of him, holding his arms to stop Nyx from pacing a trench into his floor. “You’re worrying over nothing,” Noctis promised him. “It’s not as if we’re a secret anymore.”

Publicizing their relationship had been a risk volunteered by the both of them, nurtured by that anticipatory feeling of springtime hopefulness, indulging in the seasonal promise of a fresh start. Being cast in the public image of “royal sweetheart” had been both the proudest and most terrifying moment of the whole affair. Some days, Nyx was still uncertain that the kingdom’s easy acceptance of him wasn’t all some carefully constructed conspiracy of Cor and Clarus enforcing a hundred dissenters into silence under the shadow of the King’s command.

The thought of outing himself as the Prince’s consort used to shave ten years off of Nyx’s life, whereas now, every day spent without scrutiny added one more. He wasn’t afraid of shaming the Crown with his friends’ unfiltered commentary about world politics (okay, he might have been a little afraid of that), nor was he scared of what sitting next to him might do to the peoples’ opinion of Noctis.

“What is it?” Noct asked, as if he could hear both the thoughts Nyx didn’t say, as well as the ones that slipped off the tip of his tongue without his meaning them to. “You’re great at cooking.”

“I’m great at grilling,” Nyx corrected, chuckling at Noct’s cocked-head look of exasperation. “It’s not the same.”

Noctis didn’t argue, merely rolling his eyes and letting it go, lest he distract Nyx from admitting why he was really afraid of cooking for his father. Nyx hadn’t been quite certain himself – aside from envisioning the monarch he so admired spontaneously combusting across from him like a king-shaped kebab. Nyx breathed out a long sigh through his nose, gave a brusque shrug, and the truth of the matter came a little easier when it was just Noctis there to keep it for him.

“Never got the chance to cook for my dad.”

It wasn’t as if it was a rite of passage missing from the hierarchy of ceremonies memorialized on the beads in his hair. It wasn’t as if his mother’s pride hadn’t been enough, or even lesser than his father’s might have been. It wasn’t something he lost sleep over, or anything. The shock of being tasked to satisfy a royal table with his own family recipes had just knocked a few dusty hang-ups back down into Nyx’s head.

Noct – his sweet, unassumingly wise Noct – who was so unsure with his words, yet always seemed to have the perfect one to soften Nyx’s self-doubts – slid his arms up Nyx’s chest to link around his neck. He stood on his toes to reach a kiss against the tip of his nose.

“Mine will be proud of you,” he promised. “Just, um, maybe keep your mom’s crab boil off the menu.”

Nyx had to laugh at that, Noctis wrinkling his nose as he relived his unfortunate unpreparedness for the Ulric matriarch’s fearless use of hot spices the last time he’d visited Galahd. If any Ulric family recipe could fully realize Nyx’s nightmares of searing royal flesh from bone, his ma’s secret spicy seafood soup would most certainly orphan the throne.

Food in Galahd was as sacred as a glaive’s sword. It was more than mere sustenance, each ingredient cultivated for a recipe in tribute to that family’s heritage. The history of the islands was as much kept in their cuisine as it was kept in the blood of their people. A whole clan's identity went into their sauces or their spice rubs or whatever they’d tailored to their lineage through the generations, distinguished through unique and fiercely protected secret recipes.

Which was why Nyx was better once he had a grill in front of him. Because Libs was there to stress enough for the both of them about the sanctity of his granny’s secret sauce.

“Don’t want any nosy Lucians picking apart Gran’s recipe,” he groused, skewering unsubtle glances towards Ignis Scientia, obliviously sipping at wine coolers across the garden.

“Shup up and whisk.”

Crowe’s knife clapped down through the cabbage, a warning to his most valuable appendages should he not heed it. Nyx was happy to have invited her after all, if not for the sake of his own sanity, then for Libs’. He was quiet for a beat, steadily stirring sesame oil into his rice wine mixture until it emulsified. Once he started mumbling more grievances, the point of Crowe’s knife snapped upwards and Libertus nearly dumped the whole vinaigrette across the grass.

Nyx snorted from his seat by the fire pit while his friends swore and spit at each other over a table strewn with the carcass of Crowe’s cabbage. The sounds of their voices made it feel more familiar, more like home. He could smell Crowe as much as he could see her through the ripples of heat off the grill, flames bursting open the spices that coated the tenderloin beneath Nyx’s tongs. Libertus was a low cologne of smoky flavors painted across the cooking meat, his coveted marinade lovingly rendered into every groove as Nyx brushed it in.

“Smells really good,” Noctis crooned into his ear, having curled his way through tables and chairs and tugs at his elbows to supply Nyx with a bottle of beer.

“Hope it tastes as good.”

“It will,” Noctis vowed – the pickiest of them all, somehow so certain it would be perfect.

All of Nyx’s previous anxieties to the contrary, he was growing more and more confident in his creation the longer he was left to his own devices. Once he could focus, once he could work the ingredients beneath his fingers and breathe in all the scents he knew by heart, he could stoke that nervous flicker inside of him into a flame.

The families he grew up around were master fishermen, bakers, picklers, and briners. Each region of Galahd had a distinct flavor: the salty tang of fresh fish from the coasts, the pungent smokiness of coal-fired produce from the miners’ descendants, and the floral fruits chopped into salads from the families that lived on the edge of the jungles.

The Ulrics were canyon-born. They knew the heat of a hot summer between crimson cliffs baked by the sun. They were born with fire in their lungs, his mother told him. They were born to wield the flames. And wield them they did, taming Ifrit’s ire into campfires and grills to conjure the perfect char, that buttery, fall-off-the-bone consistency, roasted low and slow over the smoldering perfume of carefully selected eaves of wood.

“This your secret family recipe?” Noctis asked, draping his arms over Nyx’s shoulders between the meat’s rotations.

“Oh yeah,” Nyx said, smiling at the backs of Crowe and Libertus. “Very close family, very top secret recipe.”

“So secret that you can’t even share it with me?”

Nyx pressed a palm innocuously against Noct’s pout, pushing his face away from his. “Did Scientia send you over to grill me? Little traitor.”

“You’re the only one grilling, Nyx.”

And he grilled it all beautifully, if he did say so himself. Once it was finished, the noble assemblage of the royal favorites jostled along the picnic benches, murmuring over bowls of cabbage salad and rice peppered with clean cubes of raw fish, cold beers and iced teas, platters of bright grilled vegetables and melted cheese on breads. All the balancing forces to contend with the powerful heat radiating from the cut of meat crowning the table, dark red with its peppery crust and dripping with sauce as thick as molasses. And it cut like luscious slices of cake, his knife carving away deep-hued layers like curls of chocolate off the block.

“Now, I don’t know if Noct’s warned any of you,” Nyx said, as more and more slabs of meat were traded among the plates. “But in Galahd, we don’t mince on heat.”

“Then I like the way you eat,” Gladio boomed, amber eyes glinting like gemstones as he sized up his slice.

Nyx didn’t miss the wicked smirk that speared across Crowe’s face, entirely too expectant of the pride before the fall to her mad concoction. While Nyx had implored her to mild it down just an octave for the sake of all their jobs, it would still rip the sails right off of the most daring Lucian challenger.

“Before we begin,” Regis announced from the head of the salivating table. “I’d like to extend thanks to our hosts for their most generous hospitality.” He lifted a half empty bottle of beer, the cheap glass such an out-of-place object against the primeval craftsmanship boasted by the Ring of the Lucii. “To family. May our table always have room for more.”

A contented chorus of raised drinks and agreements sent Libertus hiding down the bottom of his beer and Crowe looking like she was ready to run and hide lest she was told none of it was real. Reality set itself down though, in a comfortable nest of moving utensils and mouths silenced by forkfuls of food.

Prompto was the first to feel the burn, simultaneously fanning one hand against his tongue and forming a thumbs up of approval from the other. Gladio was short to follow, though he put up a strong façade of clamping his jaw down on a grin so tense with redness that the lines of his throat stood out like telephone poles. Various faces of pretending at unaffected amused the picnic table, none of them fooling the Galahdians exchanging victorious toasts between more generous mouthfuls.

The best poker face of them all was the King’s, as stoic of a figure as carved marble, but Nyx did think it oddly excessive that he took a drink of ice water after each bite. It was after one of those small attempts at subtlety that Regis cleared his throat to compliment Nyx – or keep himself from screaming, Nyx wasn’t sure, but he was preening either way.

“This is excellent, Nyx,” Regis said, perhaps a touch raspier than normal. “I had no idea you had such an affinity for the culinary arts.”

“Can’t take all of the credit, sir. It really does take a village.”

“My compliments to that village. And my sincerest hope that you’re not afraid to bring them more often.”

Nyx nodded and muttered quiet thanks for the praise and promise of future get-togethers. Beneath the table, hidden from the others – old habits – Noct’s hand fit into his, squeezing an “I told you so” between his fingers. The Prince smiled beside him, lips reddening around the edges as the spices lashed from beneath his skin. Nyx would need to be tender with them later, because after all of this, after how unimaginably effortless it was to fit his two families into one, to share his heritage with once-strangers he now met as friends and a man he respected more as a father than a king, there was no secret spice rub hotter than the molten core of his happiness that he wanted to kiss into Noct until they both melted.

That much he would be keeping a secret, too.

#nyxnoct #noctis lucis caelum #nyx ulric #final fantasy xv #kingsglaive #myfic

[theperidotshade]

phoenixwithahoardoflibraries replied to your post “phoenixwithahoardoflibraries replied to your post “Y'know, just...”

I know the information got passed on earlier, but you said that the peace conference is when it comes to light that the secretary leaked it to them, at ardyn's behest. and that you'd written the setup for that.

i think it's in a post from three days ago or so

thanks for the info on Niflheim's team for the conference!

Oh, okay, then I wasn’t losing track of things.  Thanks!

At the start of the conference, the Lucians know it was the secretary who leaked the info, but they weren’t sure if Ardyn directed Loren to or not, to clarify.  It’s after the assassination attempt that Regis et al. learn that it was in fact intentional on both of their parts.

You’re welcome!

#phoenixwithahoardoflibraries #Arranged Marriage AU #my fanfic #ffxv

[antimundi-blog]

royal arms

The secret of the Royal Arms’ make has been a long-held secret of House Caelum. Millennia ago, when the gods were still in close communion with the empire of Old Solheim, it was around this time that the God-forged were begun to be made as the weapons wielded by the Hexatheon and them alone. Prototypes of the royal Arms, in the days when the Forgotten were in proverbial servitude to the Hexatheon who saw themselves as superior, the industrial god Alexander was the blacksmith of the gods. It was said Alexander the Divine’s greatest and pinnacle achievement was the creation of Siderite, a gunmetal blue ore composed of iron sourced from meteorites and the crystal seen in places like Telpar Craig that came from the Astral Shards. Siderite was unique in that, when channeled with magic, they are able to attune to the wielder’s prowess and give them a translucent crystalline quality that especially honed in connection to the Crystal. 

These crystal qualities are said to be forged from Etro’s crystallized blood when she first bled the rivers of life eons ago when the world was created as sacrifice so the Hexatheon could then make humanity. It was in the depths of Pitioss, before it became the Prison of the Gods, that the Forge of the Gods existed beneath Ravatogh that Alexander made weapons of Siderite for centuries. Even after the first Astral War, Alexander continued his work and even made the Pitioss Ruins as tribute to Etro’s story the Hexatheon would rather see forgotten. Alexander made House Caelum’s Royal Arms to be gifted to them at Bahamut’s behest when a Caelum heir came of age. 

This ended when Alexander was summoned in Niflheim, the last blade to be made being Noctis’ in anticipation of the Chosen Bahamut said would come within the coming decades. Summoned forth by Iedolas, Alexander was felled and from his corpse was Zegnautus Keep made.

By modern days, no one knows how Siderite is made, but smiths exist able to work and rework the metal for precious few uses as keeping Lucian Kings’ weapons up to par. Otherwise, the secret to truly making and forging Royal Arms and God-forged has been lost with Alexander’s death.

#headcanon // slivers & fractals #my pagan ass inserting lowkey greek mythology in here? more likely than you think #and bloodborne references #those too--

[atropaazraelle]

A Spell for Happiness: Ch.2

Continued

Also available on AO3

Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8.

It was a long swim back to the kingdom. The waters were dark, but the dawn tides were starting to shift as they approached the Lucian border.

“We did the right thing,” Noct said, finally. It had been a long swim undertaken largely in silence. Ignis found himself struggling to forget the heat of the man's skin in his arms as he'd dragged him to the shore. All other souls on that ship must have been lost, he knew, but they'd saved two. Two too many, by their laws, and yet... “You felt it too, right? They weren't bad men.”

“No,” Ignis agreed softly, “they weren't.” The large one that Ignis had saved had a warmth to him that went beyond his skin. Humans had their own kind of magic, a power they couldn't wield and perhaps weren’t aware of, and the man’s had licked tenderly at Ignis' own, reassuring and comforting. It was the magic of a protector, of one who sacrificed for others. There was strength and power in there, but it wasn't used to attack. It was a shield.

Ignis had spent less consideration on the one Noct had rescued, but he'd put Ignis in mind of tropical currents, swarming with hundreds of brightly coloured fish and flickering shoals. Warm, and light, and easily distracted. Neither of them had been bad people. Ignis didn't honestly think he could identify any of them that had been, any that had deserved to die, but they'd been able to save only two.

“So we did the right thing,” Noct repeated.

Ignis sighed. “We shouldn't have been there to begin with, Noct.” It wasn't a matter of doing the right thing; they shouldn't have been in a position to make such decisions in the first place. If they had been below the surface where they belonged, safely ensconced within the realm of Regis's influence, they would never have known there was a choice.

“I won't tell if you won't,” Noct replied, flashing Ignis a bright smile.

If only it could be so easy. When they reached the palace, there were guards at the gate. Noct hesitated, looking at them, as did Ignis.

“Is something wrong?” Ignis asked, looking from one guard to the other, their tridents barring the doors without doing anything so crass as blocking the way. Unconsciously, he made sure to tuck Noct behind himself.

“Ignis Scientia?” the first one asked.

“Yes,” Ignis answered, feeling his stomach dropping into his tail.

“We have instruction to take you into custody.”

“What?” Noct's indignation broke the tension, and he ducked under Ignis' arm. “What for?”

“The crown prince is to come with me,” said the second guard.

Ignis straightened, drawing himself to his full length. “The crown prince is going nowhere,” he said, “until I see someone of authority.”

“Spoken like a true bodyguard,” came a voice. Ignis turned toward it, and felt his heart at once lighten and sink lower in his gut.

“Marshal,” he said. “What am I charged with?”

Cor was longer than Ignis, and imposing. His tail was a deep red that in the depths of the ocean was less visible even than black, but it was a dull red, not the shining iridescent hues typical among the royal retinue. Cor had earned his place on fighting skill and tactical acumen alone, and he'd earned every ounce of the respect he commanded. “You were seen,” he said, his voice low and resonant, “taking an injured human towards land. As was the prince. What were you doing on the surface?”

Ignis felt his heart hammer in his chest, his gills working to take in oxygen while he thought quickly. “I'd ask the same of your informant,” he said.

“Don't worry,” Cor replied, “we will. Were you at the surface?”

If they denied it, it wouldn't take much for the mystery informant to guide them to the approximate location, and less still for them to find the wreck. Denial would get them nowhere, then. At this point, all Ignis could do was damage control. “We were,” he said. Cor looked unsurprised. “Noctis came at my behest.”

That drew a reaction, not just from Noct, who spun to look at Ignis, wild-eyed and disbelieving, but also from Cor, whose eyebrows raised a fraction. “Your behest?”

“Specky, no,” Noct began. Ignis held up a hand to silence him.

“I was curious,” he said. “Our longstanding currents are becoming flooded with human traffic; we'll need new navigation systems in time. I thought to look for another reference point for navigation across the open ocean, however dangerous the surface may be.”

Cor gave a small nod at that, seeming begrudgingly impressed. “And what did you find?”

“A ship,” Ignis answered, his eyes flicking to Noct, who was wearing the same hopeful look he'd worn as a child whenever Ignis had told untruths to get him out of trouble.

Cor's eyes flicked to Noct. Noct never had been good at keeping the truth from his face, and Ignis knew that was likely to be their undoing. “In distress?” he asked.

Ignis drew himself up. “Not originally,” he said. “Someone attacked them. We felt the magic, and the ship was struck.”

“So you saved the humans,” Cor supplied, folding his arms across his chest.

Ignis bowed his head. “We were in Lucian waters, Marshal. They were attacked by one of our kind. I know the king's policy is non-interference. That attack did not come from Lucian authority.”

Cor sighed. “Be that as it may,” he said, “you saved human lives. That will have consequences.” He dropped his arms again and turned. “The King would see you both. Follow me.”

Noct gave Ignis a wary glance, and Ignis shook his head before he gestured for Noct to go ahead of him. He followed, swimming sedately, his mind roiling with his actions, and its likely consequences. His Majesty could not allow his own son to be seen flouting the laws of their waters; whatever happened, Ignis had to keep knowledge of Noct's involvement to a minimum. Perhaps, if he threw himself on the King's mercy, his punishment might be reduced to imprisonment, or having has magic sealed.

Regis was always an imposing figure on his throne, his black tail gleaming with rainbows of colour where the light moved across his scales. He was bare chested, and scarred, his hair greying with age now, but Ignis could still feel the power that emanated from him. He sat, gripping the arms of his throne, with his eyes on his son as Cor led Noct and Ignis before him.

“Your Majesty,” Cor said, bowing as he moved to the side.

“Is it true?” Regis asked.

“Your Majesty,” Ignis began, drifting forward a little and bowing, with his arm across his chest, but Regis cut him off.

“I was speaking to my son.”

Ignis felt a ripple of dread, and he glanced up to find that Regis still wasn't looking at him. He bowed lower, and drifted back, turning to look at Noct who had gone pale and nervous before his father.

“Is it true?” he repeated.

Ignis saw Noct swallow, and then pull himself to his full length. Noct had so rarely had to deal with his father's ire before; usually Ignis was permitted to speak for them both, but not this time. “They weren't bad people, Father,” Noct said. “They didn't deserve to die.”

“They were humans,” Regis said, his voice low, and steady, and imperious.

“They were under attack!” Noct protested, his voice rising. “I wasn't going to leave them!”

“My own son disobeys my laws,” Regis said.

“Noct acted on my instruction,” Ignis said, interrupting the King, his heart thundering in his throat. His skin prickled all over, and his stomach felt uncomfortably empty, as if his insides had been replaced with a vicious maelstrom into which he might collapse from the inside out.

Regis looked at Ignis, and Ignis felt his every scale recoil from the attention. “I assigned you,” he said, “to protect my son, and in your care he swims through shipwrecks, voyages to the surface, and rescues humans. Do not think your activities these years have gone unnoticed. You are unfit to swim by his side if you cannot keep him from such dangers.”

Ignis felt as if he'd been stung, his tail coiling as he drew back. “It's not his fault!” Noct cried, surging ahead of Ignis, his tail sparkling with the magic that roiled below his scales.

Regis rounded on his son. “I know he didn't tell you to save anyone,” he replied sharply. “He has covered for you too many times, but in so doing, he has never taught you to take responsibility for your own actions. It is high time you learned.” Regis rose from his throne, floating above it, with a flash of colour across his dark scales. “Ignis Scientia,” he said, “you are removed from your duties to the royal household, and banished from Lucian waters.”

The words came like a blow to Ignis' stomach, sending a wave of despair through him. “Your Majesty,” he said weakly, bowing his head and sinking lower.

“Dad, no!” Noct protested, rising higher.

“As for you!” Regis cried, turning to his son again. “You are confined to the palace until I can find you a suitable replacement. Perhaps this way, you will learn that your actions have consequences for people other than yourself.”

Noct swam up to his father, his voice pleading. “Don't do this, please? It's not his fault, he was only trying to keep me safe.”

“A task at which he's been an abject failure,” Regis answered. “Cor,” he said, turning to the Marshal, “escort my son to his rooms. Ignis?”

“Sir?” Ignis responded. Cor drifted over to Noct, taking him gently but firmly by the arm.

“I want you gone from our borders by nightfall,” Regis said, and there was a note of sadness to his tone. “For what it's worth, I have never doubted your loyalty to my son. I'm sorry it has led you to this.”

Ignis couldn't muster a reply to that. He merely bowed low, waiting for Cor to lead Noct from the room, and then followed.

*****

“It's not fair!” Noct argued, pulling at Cor's steadfast grip. “He shouldn't be punishing Ignis.”

“His alternative is punishing you,” Cor answered, his voice low and firm. “You're his only heir. Ignis gave you both a way out by claiming responsibility.”

“But it was me!” Noct wailed. “He only did it because I made him, it's not right! Who even saw us?”

“The only person who could have seen us,” Ignis said dully, “is the person who attacked that ship.”

Noct stilled at that. “What?”

“He's right,” Cor said. “Had it occurred to you that someone is trying to cause upheaval?” he asked, looking at Noct as he pulled him along. “The crown prince, and only heir to the kingdom, interfering in the lives of humans? It presents your father with the choice of banishing you, or ignoring your crimes. Either would cause problems.” Cor shook his head. “Did you never think that someone might have been waiting for this kind of opportunity? That they may have attacked the ship because you were there, and they knew you would do something stupid?”

Noct fell silent, and thoughtful. “I...” he began, and trailed off once more, swimming limply by Cor's side.

“Your father has enemies,” Cor said, “and you are his weakness. If you continue to give them the chance to harm him through you, there won't be a kingdom for you to inherit.”

Ignis stayed nearby as Cor led Noct to his rooms. He had a set of them within the palace, festooned with silks and pearls and corals, and, tucked away in secret places, things he'd retrieved from human shipwrecks. There were waterlogged books that couldn't be opened lest they be destroyed in the act, the pages more delicate than the brined fish skin used for Noct's ordinary books. There were adornments, and paintings, and things that humans wore on the ends of their twin tails.

Ignis knew about them all, and had told Noct to keep them hidden from sight. Now the sight of them turned Noct's stomach. Someone knew, someone had told his father to try and cause trouble for him, and then Ignis had gone and done what Ignis always did, and bailed Noct out, and his father with him. And for his reward, Ignis was being banished.

Talking wouldn't change his father's mind. His father couldn't afford to change his mind. Noct had caused too much trouble, and now the adults were having to sort it out. A King had to make difficult decisions. He'd heard his dad say that many times, and perhaps this was one of those difficult decisions — banishing someone loyal to save those to whom he had sworn his loyalty. Talking and reason wouldn't change his father's mind.

Noct cast his eyes around the room and grabbed his bag. He picked out human trinkets, and valuable jewels and silks, stuffing them haphazardly inside. Right now, Cor would be taking Ignis to his own rooms to let him gather what he needed, and then Ignis would be escorted to the border. Noct would have to act fast.

He shoved the block of coral that marked his sleeping hollow aside and darted down the small hole. He hadn't used it since he was very young, when he and Ignis had snuck out of the palace together to watch the guard, or the way sunlight rippled across the sea floor. It had seemed larger back then; it was a squeeze now, and Noct felt his shoulders catching at the walls.

He squeezed and crawled until he was through, pulling his bag after him with his tail, and then he swam, as hard and fast as he could. There was only one person in all the oceans more powerful than his father. Reason wouldn't work, but reason wasn’t his only option. If Ardyn couldn't help, then no one could.

He kept low to the ocean floor, staying out of view, until he reached the crevasse at the edge of Lucian territory. The creatures that lurked down there were far more dangerous than any human, and he hesitated. He and Ignis had gone once, with an escort guard, to see the strange fish that lived in total darkness. They hadn't gone too deep; it grew intolerably cold and hard to move, and the water was poor for breathing down there. You could survive it, he'd been told, but it wasn't comfortable.

He thought of Ignis, being escorted away from the safety and light of Lucian waters, and dove down. He seemed to swim for an age, feeling woozy and weak as he combed the crevasse walls for what he was looking for. He could feel it, like it was beckoning him, a magic that tugged and pulled at his own, as if it to direct Noct to it.

He swam below a sleeping pod of whales, all upright, their tail flukes hanging below them, suspended and still, and eerie. They were pale shapes even to his eyes, and Noct dipped lower and kicked past them, following the call of magic.

In one side of the crevasse were lights, like lanternfish, but much, much larger. Here. It was here. He swam toward it, and found a tunnel carved out by unnatural means.

“Come in, dear boy,” called a voice from inside. “I've been expecting you.”

Noct steeled himself. The voice was slimy, undulant, and sent a shiver through Noct's fins, but the thought of Ignis being escorted to the edge of safety to make his way on alone made him press on. He swam into the hole, and followed the tunnel along as it wound up and down and through the rock. At the end, it opened into a chamber suffused with an orange light that came from lanterns along the walls.

A merman busied himself within, his hair an untidy cascade of dull purple, his tail a deep nacreous purple that shimmered with rainbows at his every movement. “Wait there, Prince Noctis,” he said without turning around, “I will be but a moment.”

Noctis watched as the man held up a bottle and swirled his hand through the water. Light poured from his hand into the bottle, and his tail brightened and flashed as he worked, pouring the magic in. It coiled in the bottom like a thread, glowing with golden light. Then he man stoppered the bottle, and the light faded, though the bottle remained somehow luminescent.

“Now, then,” he said, turning around. At first glance, his eyes were yellow, but when Noct looked again they seemed merely brown, and he shook his head. The depth and darkness and lack of oxygen must be affecting him. “What brings the Lucian prince to my little hollow?”

Noct looked the man over. So this was Ardyn. He was powerful, unquestionably powerful, but he was also strange and overly friendly. “I thought you were expecting me?” he pointed out.

Ardyn laughed, a low and dangerous chuckle that sent an unpleasant ripple along Noct's scales. “I sensed your approach,” he answered. “Magic calls to magic, and you call quite loudly. As for what drove you here,” he said, waving an arm and drifting around the table in the centre, towards Noct, “you will have to explain, if you want my help.”

Noct didn't want his help. The man was oily and wrong; he put Noct in mind of deep sea fish, and sharks, the ancient kind with too many gills and dead eyes. He moved wrong, and he was strangely predatory in his every action. Noct didn't want his help at all, but he had no choice; Ignis needed it. “My friend,” he said, “he's been banished for my sake.”

“Ah, yes,” Ardyn said, “that whole unfortunate affair with you rescuing some humans.”

“How do you know?” Noct asked, feeling his skin prickle. Whoever had reported them attacked the ship, Ignis had said, and Cor agreed.

Ardyn just gave him a smile, “Don't you know?” he asked. “Everything sinks down to bottom feeders like me sooner or later. Some things sooner than others.”

“It only just happened,” Noct said, through gritted teeth. His scales flashed, and his colour shone.

“To you, perhaps,” Ardyn said, giving an easy, unconcerned shrug. “How long did it take you to drag those men to shore? How quickly do you think word got back? They were waiting for you, weren't they?”

Noct felt his stomach flip. “Yeah,” he said quietly, “yeah, they were.”

“I heard right before I felt you approach,” Ardyn supplied, waving his hand at the bottle he'd just made. “My last customer makes his payments in information. Banishment is the least of your father's punishments for interfering with humans. It's not difficult to work out.”

“Sorry,” Noct said, sinking down towards the floor of the cavern, “it's just...” He trailed off.

“Someone is out to hurt you,” Ardyn said gently. “I understand. Your friend has been punished in your stead, and that feels worse than if you’d been punished.” He drifted closer, curling his fingers under Noct's chin, and Noct looked up, finding himself caught in strange brown eyes. “I can't change your father's mind,” he said. “If magic could do that, I'd rule all the seven seas.”

Noct felt his heart sink. “There has to be something you can do?” he begged.

“I can't change your father's mind,” Ardyn repeated, “or undo what others have done, but perhaps I can help your friend.” He turned to the walls, and the array of bottle and vials arranged upon them. “Yes,” he said, as if to himself.

“How?” Noct asked, watching Ardyn swim up to his stock of potions and spells.

Ardyn drifted along his serried ranks of vials until he found what he was looking for, and plucked it out. He turned, presenting the vial in both hands toward Noct. “A spell for happiness,” he said. “Use it, and whatever the person most desires will be placed within their grasp.”

Noct reached for the vial, which glowed faintly green. Ardyn pulled it back sharply. “Be warned, however. It comes with a price.” He smiled at Noct, in a way that made him shift uncomfortably, feeling as if he was being scrutinised. “Should that price be too much to bear for your dear friend, he need only surrender the thing he desires, and the spell will be broken.”

Ardyn offered the vial out again, and Noct reached out gingerly to take it. “What do you want from me?” he asked warily.

“Nothing!” Ardyn answered, brushing his fingers under Noct's chin, and then circling around him. “I couldn't bear to think of your friend suffering on your account. You get this one for free.” Noct turned, catching sight of Ardyn glancing at his tail before he swam up and away again. “Of course, should you need my help again, it doesn't come cheaply.”

Noct looked at the vial in his hand. “Nothing ever does,” he said softly.

Ardyn smiled at him like a shark. “You should get going, little prince. Your friend will be nearly at the border by now.”

*****

Cor had been the one to escort him to the border. Ignis was almost grateful for that. At the very least, Cor understood the truth of what was happening, and what had happened.

Regis was right, however. Ignis had failed in his duty. He'd been assigned to serve, and protect, to try and curb Noct’s youthful enthusiasm and keep him safe from danger. These were dangerous seas for one as magically powerful as him, and magic always came with a price. Perhaps one day, when Noct was older, his legacy and power would rival that of his father. Ignis had hoped to guide him there one day, to push him forward, always.

He'd left the border of Lucis with Cor's gentle wishes of luck and safety, carrying a small purse of precious belongings. There was the small coral luck charm Noct had given him when they'd first met, crude in its carving, and clashing in its colour. It was painful to look at, though after all that had happened, it was more painful to contemplate leaving it behind. He'd left his books, unable to decide on any in particular, to Noct's inadequate care. He had a few pearls, and gems, his father's charm, and little more.

The ocean floor dropped away beyond Lucian waters. On one side of the territory was a huge crevasse, deep, and dark, and foreboding. They'd ventured into it for schooling, but it was only ever to be crossed with a guard, and Ignis had never allowed Noct to disregard that. All the rest was flat, featureless plains of silt and sand. In one direction, after enough travel, one would find corals, and fish, and, eventually, the shore and humans. In the direction, there was a vast expanse of ocean, a no man's land until one hit the warmer currents of the Altissian territory.

Perhaps a new life in Altissia beckoned. The thought of leaving Lucis, and Noct, ached in his chest, but with no way back, his only route was onwards. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, he thought, as he swam. He'd spent his whole life, all that he remembered of it, chasing Noct's tail, trying to keep the wayward prince from causing too much trouble or coming to any serious harm. Scraped scales and bruised elbows were unavoidable, but Noct had remained mostly safe, and entirely whole in his care.

Perhaps it was time Ignis found something for himself in life. He enjoyed preparing meals; perhaps there was work to be found doing that? A simple job, one that allowed Ignis to go home at the end of the day and curl up in his own hollow to sleep, and have no concerns until he returned the following day. It sounded fanciful, simple and yet so enticing. Perhaps he would even meet someone, some pretty-faced mermaid with whom to raise a brood of children, or some broad-shouldered merman to hold him at night.

Some broad-shouldered merman, he thought, with dark hair, and a close cropped beard around his jaw. One whose chest was as wide as Ignis' own shoulders, and whose skin was warm to the touch. One whose inner magic burned low, and deep, and protective within him.

Ignis laughed bitterly at himself. As if such things hadn't caused him enough trouble already. He swam on, the waters dark with night; he needed to find somewhere to sleep before dawn. Out here, sharks might chance upon him, and they preferred to feed at dawn and dusk.

“Ignis!” The voice carried through the water, projected at him, and Ignis stopped, turning.

“Noct?” he asked in return, amplifying the sound in his throat to travel over a greater distance.

“Wait up!” came the reply.

He could feel him, Ignis realised, swimming hard and drawing closer. His magic was there, unmistakable, all shafts of light among deepwater currents, depths as yet unplumbed, topped with the sparkle of light across sand. Ignis had spent so long in Noct's company he'd barely noticed the presence of his magic; it was just the background noise to Ignis' life. A noise that would be absent from now on.

“You're supposed to be in your rooms,” Ignis said, when Noct was close. He'd been swimming hard, and for some time, his gills working furiously as he finally came to a stop. His chest heaved with the effort of pushing water past his gills. “What do you think will happen when they find you gone?”

Noct looked stubborn. “They won't,” he said.

“You thought that about going to the surface,” Ignis reminded him, his tail flicking with irritation. “What are you doing here?”

“I couldn't let you go without saying goodbye,” Noct said, and Ignis felt the sadness of it wash over him. “I think I found something that'll help,” he added softly.

Ignis sighed. For all his sixteen years, Noct was still a bratty child, unable to accept that sometimes life wasn’t fair. “There's no help to be had now, Noct,” he said gently. “I wish that there were.”

“Please?” Noct asked, giving Ignis a flash of those blue eyes. “Just try it, please?”

Ignis looked as Noct held out a vial that glowed faintly green. Its contents were unquestionably magical; he could feel it even from here, even without opening the bottle. “Where did you get this?” he asked, reaching out to take it from Noct.

“It doesn't matter,” Noct said evasively.

“Noct.” Ignis said the name like a warning, a command to tell the truth.

Noctis huffed and threw his arms up. “My dad's stores, okay?” he answered. “I snuck out to see if there was anything that could change his mind.”

Ignis shook his head. “Magic such as that would be very dark, Noct. Your father would never keep it.”

Noct huffed, and folded his arms, avoiding Ignis' gaze. “I know, but I hoped—” he began, and then stopped, and shook his head. “It's supposed to grant happiness. It's supposed to make whatever you most desire into something you can get, if you want to take it. If you reject it, the spell breaks. I thought...” Noct swished his tail uncomfortably, daring a glance at Ignis. “I thought, if your happiness was your place with me, maybe it would help.”

Ignis looked at the awkward youth on his prince's face, and swept forward, encircling his arms around the boy and holding him. “I've never wanted anything more,” he assured him.

Noctis hung there in Ignis' arms, sullen and embarrassed. “So you'll use it?” he asked.

Ignis released him and drifted back a little. “Spells such as these are difficult,” he said. “They can put strange events into motion, dangerous ones, even. I wouldn't wish for it to work by endangering you, and forcing your father to rescind my banishment because I saved you.” He shook his head. “All magic comes with a price, Noct. For this one to grant happiness, its toll will be very high.”

“But if it lets you come back,” Noct pressed, “it's easy to break the spell, so it's worth a try, right?”

Ignis almost laughed at Noct’s belief that rejecting something you desired could be so easy. If you desired something enough to endure the trials the spell presented, and pay whatever toll it exacted, then giving up what it offered would be no easier than going through the trials of the spell itself. He was, in the end, still a boy. One who had never known unfulfilled longing.

“I suppose,” Ignis conceded.

“So do it,” Noct urged. “Use it.”

Ignis looked at him, and then down at the vial. The magic within was starting to come alive, sensing that he was considering it. It swirled within the vial, glowing brighter. Perhaps what would most bring him happiness was his place with Noct, he thought, or perhaps it was something else he hadn't thought of yet. Would the magic know? Would it let him choose? No, of course it wouldn't, but a chance for happiness was something he'd be foolish to pass up.

He nodded and squeezed the vial in his fingers. It cracked, and the magic leaked out, swirling around him.

#ffxv #final fantasy xv #gladnis #gladnis week #gladnis week day 7 #fantasy au

[siren-dragon]

Brothers In Arms - Noctis and Prompto drabble *SPOILERS!*

Hey everyone, guess who’s feeling a bit sad today. :(

Anyway, I finished Episode Prompto and was inspired to write this, even though its not Ardyn. Plus, this is my first time writing both Prompto and Noctis for a fic. By the way, this is about a friendship, not a romance; so don’t be disappointed.

Now, this will have SPOILERS for Episode Prompto, so if you haven’t played it; I highly recommend it and also don’t read this fic. Please enjoy.

The icy temperature of the Niflheim tundra seemed to wrap around him like a vice, despite the fire that sat beside him. Prompto stared out across the frozen lake, half wondering if the fish within were as iced over as the water itself. He bet even Noct would cast a line regardless of the frigid weather, eager to see what new aquatic creature he could reel in.

Glancing down at his wrist, Prompto took in the sight of the barcode that was printed upon his flesh; more like a brand then simple tattoo. Quickly he tugged down the sleeve of his coat and wrapped his arms around his knees, staring into the flickering flames as his mind wandered. Even now he thought back to his friend…

“Why did I even talk to him?” Prompto spoke aloud, his voice keeping the horrid silence at bay. “I knew I was…different. So why did I….”

Prompto knew that he was not the…most active kid and his weight certainly took a toll on his self-confidence. But deep down, even at that age; he felt empty. And for a while, he was okay with that. He didn’t really need friends and the loneliness he felt was easier to deal with; so, he kept himself isolated. But then Noct transferred into his class that spring morning and changed everything. It was only when Prompto saw the prince in person that he realized he too suffered from a crippling loneliness.

And it was like looking in a mirror.

Did he truly look just like that? Quietly lost within his own thoughts as he shut away everyone from the outside. Maybe that was why he truly wanted to be Noct’s friend. Not to support him at Lunafreya’s behest or guide and guard him like Ignis and Gladio did. No, it was because Prompto saw himself in the young prince…and he hated the reflection he saw.

“At least changing my body helped.” Prompto laughed, remembering the tiring hours of physical exercise he performed.

Oh, if there was only one regret he had it was delaying his official ‘meeting’ of Noct. If he had spoken to his friend earlier, their friendship would have been longer. What years wasted…

He let his limbs fall limply against the shackles, knowing there was no use to escape. It was unbelievable that he still fell into that Chancellor’s traps; even after everything he went through. But there was nothing left to do but wait. Prompto frowned, feeling a slight trickle of blood slide down his face from the cut on his forehead.

Was he even coming?

He knew Noct was in the Keep, as Ardyn didn’t exactly keep it a secret with his loud boasts over the intercom. But was he coming for the Crystal…or for him? Was there even a point in waiting anymore?...

“Not yet,” he whispered to himself. “I can’t die…not yet….”

And after what felt like an eternity he heard it, the loud thumps of footsteps rushing toward him. He lifted his head and blinked blearily into the light, recognizing the three figures that stood on the other side of the metal gate.

“PROMPTO!” Noctis shouted, immediately rushing toward his shackles to free him.

He couldn’t help but smile, even as he knelt on all fours to catch his breath and strength. They were worried…they came for him…

“I…I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Noct sighed, “for falling right into his trap…and for hurting you like that.”

Prompto turned to face Noct, who was sitting on the opposite side of the bunk. He turned away, biting his lip to keep the tears from falling before giving a small laugh. “I know, right? How could you possibly do such a horrible thing—after everything we’ve been through?!”

Glancing briefly behind him at Noct, Prompto looked away, feeling a sad smile tug at his lips. “Nah, it’s okay. You weren’t the only one who fell for it...”

“…Once this is all over, I say we break down the borders—come together as one nation.”

He spun his head toward Noct, staring in disbelief at the black-haired prince. Noct shrugged, leaning against the bedframe. “I mean, what does it matter, where you’re from anyway?”

It wasn’t a sweeping declaration, or even an out right word of comfort. But that loneliness he harbored disappeared with his friend’s words, never to return. For the first time in his life…he felt content. Prompto knew may not be good with people, or a good cook, or even a true Lucian…but none of that mattered. So long as he had those three…he would never be alone again.

Prompto turned away from his friend, unable to hold his tears back before standing up. “You know…I never thought I’d say this…but you sounded like a real king for a second there.”

“Better late than never.” Noct turned to face him, a small smile on his face. “I’m gonna make this world a better place. You with me?”

“Uh huh. Ever at your side.”

“So…it’s been a while.”

Noctis couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, ten years…May have taken my sweet time a bit.”

“Eh, better late than, never right?” Prompto grinned, leaning back against the plastic chair by the camper.

“I suppose you’ve got a point there.”

They watched the black particles fall from the dark sky, looking almost like ebony snowflakes. It looked almost picturesque in a cold and empty manner. The silence between them was one of comfort despite the task that sat before them. “You know, I always wondered why you wanted to be friends with me,” Prompto spoke.

“I thought it was obvious.”

“Huh? It is?”

Noctis shrugged, “you were the only one who didn’t care I was a prince.”

“W-Well- not exactly. I mean, it was still a big deal but- “Prompto sighed. “I guess, I didn’t care about you being a prince because…I saw myself in you. Sure, you’re a brunette, royalty, and weren’t over 200 pounds at the time…but you seemed lonely. And seeing that in someone else made me hate…that I felt the same way.”

Noctis remained silent, staring at the cup in his hand. “…aren’t we a pair.”

“I guess,” Prompto laughed.

“You know…I’m glad you’re my friend.”

Prompto turned to face Noctis, a sad smile on his face. “Yeah, same here.”

“So, we still have to finish this once and for all…. you with me?”

“Ever at your side, buddy.”

And even as he watched his friend- no, his king walks up the stairs of the Citadel, Prompto couldn’t help but smile. Though his friend was walking toward his death, he knew that everything would be alright. He would stand tall in the years to come and Prompto knew that the loneliness would never haunt him again. Though Noctis was gone, his memories of his friend would never make him feel empty ever again.

“I’ll make the world a better place…. you wait and see Noct.”

There we are. Let me know what you guys think. :)

#ffxv #episode prompto spoilers #episode prompto #fanfiction #prompto argentum #noctis lucis caelum #bros for life #drabble #feeling a bit sad today...

[inevitablesurrender]

... @landofdoom mentioned that I may have accidentally created a Lucian rosary and.  Uh.  Ideas and words.  A drabble follows.  Under a cut because kinda spoilery for the actual game.  I just needed to put this idea somewhere.

The Last King became legend.  People knew they owed the return of the life-giving light to him, the whole of their existence, and so as the stories grew over the decades, centuries, the Last King eventually became worshipped.  He was prayed to, asked for favors; symbols of him could be found in many homes, and later around the necks of many.  There were buildings dedicated to him, shrines.  Some bloodlines were said to be associated with him, were touched by his magic, and a good deal of them changed their names simply to avoid being centers of speculation.  Supposed artifacts held by the king himself were commonly sold or traded privately, and though no evidence of their ownership was present, there was a great deal of faith.

Disaster began so simply.  Easily.  What had once been one nation, at the supposed behest of the Last King, began to splinter over time.  Many groups, many factions, each certain that their ideology was the Right One, was favored by the king, that his Light shined upon them from above--

A particular group took it upon themselves to prove their point.   Some old magic still existed in the world, ready and waiting to be tempered.   And will, a great deal of will, was just as powerful.  Using particular materials crafted in a particular way, particular stones from particular places, they formed the tools they would use to Call Down the Last King so that he may cast his Favor on them once and for all.

(I kind of really want to play with this and I kind of want to bury it in the desert under a phone booth and I kind of want to give it to someone who'll do it more justice because I can't be trusted with it and I kind of think that's the point of playing with it.  Send help/cookies.) 

#Big Gay Road Trip-related #ffxvspoilers #ffxv spoilers #I don't even know what this is #but between this and the ``Crownsguard God Killers`` #I suspect I've dug myself another AU hole

[stringsofstarlight]

Awww, shucks, you know I be loving you always.😉✨🤟🏼💋

        The UMG thing is only going to get more serious as the investors line up to get a seat the boardroom table.   The nearly 5% that the artist control would be an excellent way to get a seat at the table, even if many sell for the sorely needed dollars without touring and such.   The few biggest artists do represent the largest chunk of that %, yours having caught up with the rest after the beginning. (Well played savvy move, btw) It will be the only way for you all to have ears on the ground, kind of like the whispers on the show, otherwise they will distill down what is going to really happen when they inform the true content makers.   It will not be in the interests of the two largest stakeholders, Tencent and Pershing, to care about those things,   Honestly, they will feel like it was some kind of “gift” that Lucian decided and then your clause will be another thing for them to hurdle, yet hurdle they will.   I watched  Ackman in the movie and other deals he has done, Herbalife is a crummy company and super predatory btw, use every single trick in the book to get his way.(you know it’s a hobby of mine to understand the players and the markets)   Do you think having a stake in the “largest music company in the world” (tm) will change his outlook on investing and reaping in profit?  He will be accountable to those shareholders like he has never been before.  They will want to see returns, which I believe that UMG will go up at least 30% from the outset.    The same with Tencent, they have an accountability to the government, in many ways, as you can see what happened to Jack Ma from Alibaba when he spoke out.   It seems no one could find him for a long, long while.   These parties do not see the content creators as equals in any way.   The fact that other companies did not forego the recouped monies and split a smaller percentage will be all they think about.  The percentage to all will be like this Golden Calf sitting there ready to be take to slaughter for a feast of their own making.   You all will not be invited to the party.  They may send some of it as jerky as kibble and nibbles.  Sir Lucian has shown himself to be very honorable, yet when the board of a spun off, publicly traded company comes up with a dictate, the CEO must function at the behest of the board.  Plain and simple.          I know that I am sounding like a scratched vinyl spinning on the turntable right now harping on these points over and over, it’s means a lot to me since you are one of the biggest breadwinners for the whole damn company.  Plainer and simpler.  

     Oh darling, every single solitary day you move me to find the beauty and space in my heart to see life with a grander vision and caring.   It is you, and only you that makes this james break out of the shell that has been so dutifully constructed over all these years.   We are a part walking contradiction when it all comes down to it, so take all of the world with a lightness of being, you’ve gained Legendary status at an age no one thought possible.   With that status there are benefits, go and claim them for they are waiting for you with open arms.

✨💋💘🙏🌎☮️🤟🏼💛🌹😍🔥🧲 💖

eternal love,

james.  11:11

[trolldomblog]

Divination

Divination (from Latin divinare "to foresee, to foretell, to predict, to prophesy ", related to divinus, divine), or "to be inspired by a god", is the attempt to gain insight into a question or situation by way of an occultic, standardized process or ritual. Used in various forms throughout history, diviners ascertain their interpretations of how a querent should proceed by reading signs, events, or omens, or through alleged contact with a supernatural agency.

Display on divination, featuring a cross-cultural range of items, in the Pitt Rivers Museum in Oxford, England.

Divination is a systematic method with which to organize what appear to be disjointed, random facets of existence such that they provide insight into a problem at hand. If a distinction is to be made between divination and fortune-telling, divination has a more formal or ritualistic element and often contains a more social character, usually in a religious context, as seen in traditional African medicine. Fortune-telling, on the other hand, is a more everyday practice for personal purposes. Particular divination methods vary by culture and religion.

Divination is dismissed by the scientific community and skeptics as being superstition. In the 2nd century, Lucian devoted a witty essay to the career of a charlatan, "Alexander the false prophet", trained by "one of those who advertise enchantments, miraculous incantations, charms for your love-affairs, visitations for your enemies, disclosures of buried treasure, and successions to estates", even though most Romans believed in prophetic dreams and charms.

Antiquity

The Oracle of Amun at the Siwa Oasis was made famous when Alexander the Great visited it after conquering Egypt from Persia in 332 BC.

Deuteronomy 18:10-12 or Leviticus 19:26 can be interpreted as categorically forbidding divination. However, some would claim that divination is indeed practiced in the Bible, such as in Exodus 28, when the Urim and Thummim are mentioned. Some would also say that Gideon also practiced divination, though when he uses a piece of fleece or wool in Judges 6:36-40, he is not attempting to predict the outcome of an important battle; rather, he is communicating with God. Communicating with God through prayer may in some cases be considered divination; both are open, typically two-way conversations with God. In addition, the method of "casting lots" used in Joshua 14:1-5 and Joshua 18:1-10 to divide the conquered lands of Canaan between the twelve tribes is not seen by some as divination, but as done at the behest of God (Numbers 26:55).

Both oracles and seers in ancient Greece practiced divination. Oracles were the conduits for the gods on earth; their prophecies were understood to be the will of the gods verbatim. Because of the high demand for oracle consultations and the oracles’ limited work schedule, they were not the main source of divination for the ancient Greeks. That role fell to the seers (μάντεις in Greek).

Seers were not in direct contact with the gods; instead, they were interpreters of signs provided by the gods. Seers used many methods to explicate the will of the gods including extispicy, bird signs, etc. They were more numerous than the oracles and did not keep a limited schedule; thus, they were highly valued by all Greeks, not just those with the capacity to travel to Delphi or other such distant sites.

The disadvantage to seers was that only direct yes-or-no questions could be answered. Oracles could answer more generalized questions, and seers often had to perform several sacrifices in order to get the most consistent answer. For example, if a general wanted to know if the omens were proper for him to advance on the enemy, he would ask his seer both that question and if it were better for him to remain on the defensive. If the seer gave consistent answers, the advice was considered valid.

At battle, generals would frequently ask seers at both the campground (a process called the hiera) and at the battlefield (called the sphagia). The hiera entailed the seer slaughtering a sheep and examining its liver for answers regarding a more generic question; the sphagia involved killing a young female goat by slitting its throat and noting the animal's last movements and blood flow. The battlefield sacrifices only occurred when two armies prepared for battle against each other. Neither force would advance until the seer revealed appropriate omens. Because the seers had such power over influential individuals in ancient Greece, many were skeptical of the accuracy and honesty of the seers. The degree to which seers were honest depends entirely on the individual seers. Despite the doubt surrounding individual seers, the craft was well regarded and trusted by the Greeks.

Middle Ages and Early Modern period

Further information: Medieval magic, Renaissance magic, and Folk Catholicism

The divination method of casting lots (Cleromancy) was used by the remaining eleven disciples of Jesus in Acts 1:23-26 to select a replacement for Judas Iscariot. Therefore, divination was arguably an accepted practice in the early church. However, divination became viewed as a pagan practice by Christian emperors during ancient Rome.

In 692 the Quinisext Council, also known as the "Council in Trullo" in the Eastern Orthodox Church, passed canons to eliminate pagan and divination practices. Fortune-telling and other forms of divination were widespread through the Middle Ages. In the constitution of 1572 and public regulations of 1661 of Kur-Saxony, capital punishment was used on those predicting the future. Laws forbidding divination practice continue to this day.

Småland is famous for Årsgång, a practice which occurred until the early 19th century in some parts of Småland. Generally occurring on Christmas and New Year's Eve, it is a practice in which one would fast and keep themselves away from light in a room until midnight to then complete a set of complex events to interpret symbols encountered throughout the journey to foresee the coming year.

Mesoamerica

Divination was a central component of ancient Mesoamerican religious life. Many Aztec gods, including central creator gods, were described as diviners and were closely associated with sorcery. Tezcatlipoca is the patron of sorcerers and practitioners of magic. His name means "smoking mirror", a reference to a device used for divinatory scrying.[16] In the Mayan Popol Vuh, the creator gods Xmucane and Xpiacoc perform divinatory hand casting during the creation of people.

Every civilization that developed in pre-Columbian Mexico, from the Olmecs to the Aztecs, practiced divination in daily life, both public and private. Scrying with reflective water surfaces, mirrors, or the casting of lots were among the most widespread forms of divinatory practice. Visions derived from hallucinogens were another important form of divination and are still widely used among contemporary diviners of Mexico. Among the more common hallucinogenic plants used in divination are morning glory, jimson weed, and peyote.