Chapter Text
Gunfire rang out. Gladio dove over innocent partygoers as they ran for cover, looking for any sign of his charge. He glanced once to his father who had thrown his own body over His Majesty.
Ignis was still on the other line.
“Gunfire on the rooftops. Get to safety and try to contact Noct,” Gladio barked, pocketing his phone without waiting for a response.
During the scramble, he met Clarus’ eyes. He furrowed his eyebrows, overhearing Gladio’s message to Ignis, in a silent question of “where’s His Highness?”
Gladio looked away, entrusting His Majesty to his father and sprinted off to the elevators. He frantically tapped the button as the numbered lights above lit up one by one. It felt like centuries, yet somehow faster than leaping down the staircase, searching each floor one by one. The glass walls of the elevator would allow Gladio the perfect vantage to search for his missing Prince.
The elevator arrived with a chime. When the doors opened, Gladio’s mouth dropped and heart sank. Blood flooded the floor of the elevator and painted the walls.
He shook his head, refusing to assume the worst as he rode the splattered elevator, praying that none of the blood was Noctis’. The only good thing to come from the red coated chamber was the definitive fingerprint on one of the buttons, the floor where Noctis’ suite was located.
Gladio counted seconds, but decades of panic built up as he descended. The elevator slowed to a stop, and the doors opened to the sound of Noctis’ screams.
In a fraction of a second, Gladio saw one man, a blade through his neck, staring blankly at the ceiling. In the next second his eyes caught another man, blood pouring from his head, with his foot pressed into Noctis’ bleeding abdomen. And in the third second, his eyes snapped to Noctis, pinned under the man’s foot, crying out, clawing at the man’s leg, kicking at the ground, doing anything he could to get away. These three seconds of observation ignited Gladio.
The man smiled as he placed more weight on the foot that pinned Noctis down, reveling in the torture.
“Gladio!” Noctis used the remaining strength that bled from his body to scream out for his Shield, a desperate summon for a man he didn't know was even nearby.
Regret, guilt, rage, and fear all boiled within Gladio then as he reached full sprint emboldened by his Prince’s cries. Summoned like an Astral, Gladio tackled the man. He had no idea where they landed and he didn’t care. The sounds of his fists pulverizing the man’s already weakened skull mixed with Noctis’ desperate gasps fueled Gladio even more until what he punched was no longer solid, a sure sign that the attacker would not be getting up again.
Not giving himself a moment to catch his own breath, Gladio ran back over to Noctis, who was wheezing, holding his side.
“I got you, I got you,” Gladio repeated, gently cupping Noctis’ face, searching for signs of pain. Noctis opened his mouth to speak, but only uttered soft yet pained noises as he held his side.
“Shit,” Gladio swore, replacing Noct’s hands with his own against the wound. Noctis choked out a cry, his hand shooting up to tangle itself in Gladio’s shirt, seeking relief. Teeth clenched, he huffed through his nose, trying to blink the tears away before they fell. Gladio recognized that look as one Noctis wore when he desperately tried and failed to suppress all the fear building within him.
Gladio repeated, “I got you,” for himself.
“We gotta get out of here,” Gladio said, ignoring any protests as he slid his arm under Noctis’ knees, the other cradling torso close, being as mindful as he could of his wounds. But there was no spot on him that seemed untouched.
Gladio ran to Noct’s nearby suite, juggling the keycard from his pocket to open the door, wincing at the groans suppressed behind Noctis’ teeth that spilled with every movement. The room was quiet, empty, devoid of panicking party goers and gunmen. The blanket was still discarded on the floor and the sheets wrinkled from their nap earlier.
Gladio lowered Noctis onto the bed while fishing out his phone at the same time, throwing his phone on speaker when he called his dad. The phone rang and rang and no one picked up.
“Shit,” Gladio swore again, peeling Noctis out of his jacket, and navigating through the layers of fabric to expose his wounds, using Noct’s gentle hisses as feedback to find his injuries.
Through shuddering breaths, Noctis managed to ask, “Dad?”
“My dad’s got him, don’t worry,” Gladio hoped, guiding both Noctis’s hands to press onto his side. Sensing his weakness, Gladio kept his larger hand over them, for extra support. With his free hand, Gladio surveyed the stab wound in his leg, the gashes on his arms, and the bruises on his jaw.
“What did they do to you?” Gladio said to himself as he ripped cloth from the pillow cases as makeshift bandages.
When it felt too quiet, Gladio looked up. “Noctis?”
Noctis’ expression was slack, his hands were slipping off his side.
“C’mon, kid,” Gladio cupped his head gently, relief washing over him when he heard Noctis hum. “Stay awake for me, yeah?” He felt Noctis try to nod.
“Call Ignis,” Gladio commanded his phone, letting out an uneven breath he didn’t know he was holding, as he stepped away to look around the room for anything else that could help stem the bleeding, but knew there’d be no potions, no elixirs, and no phoenix downs.
“...-dio?” Noct spoke, barely a whisper.
“Yeah? Noct?” Gladio responded too fast.
“Don’t go.” Noctis’ voice was as soft as his breaths.
“I’m here. I’m right here.” Panic stewed within him. He heard those words before and he wished to go back just hours before when they were napping peacefully in this room. He hadn’t realized how red his hands had gotten or how much they shook.
“Gladio?” Ignis had picked up, his voice urgent but composed. Gladio envied him.
“Igs! Are you o-”
Ignis interrupted sternly over Gladio’s shaken voice. “The Marshall is with His Majesty. The glaives have apprehended the attackers, and have locked down the place looking for more. Where is Noctis?”
Gladio swallowed, “He’s hurt bad, Igs. We’re in his room.”
“On my way. Stay on the line. What should I be expecting?” Ignis asked for all their sakes.
“Stab wound on his side and leg. Shallow cuts across his chest. Deeper cuts on his arms. Looks like he was punched a few times too. Concussion maybe.” Gladio had to remember to thank Ignis later. Survival was Gladio’s specialty and being able to give Ignis the report allowed him to quell the panic.
“Igs is on his way, okay? Noct?”
Noctis hummed softly.
Gladio brushed aside Noct’s bangs sticking to the blood and sweat on his face while he used his other hand to help Noctis put pressure on his wound. He hadn’t forgotten the potential poison in his system either but all Gladio could do was wait. He held Noct’s hand in his free one, pressing it against his forehead in a soft bow as he prayed to the Astrals or anyone that would listen.
The beep of a successful keycard swipe and a muffled “It’s Ignis!” pulled Gladio from his prayer.
Gladio nearly ripped open the door for him. “Please tell me you’ve brought potions.”
“Of all sorts,” Ignis replied, pushing past Gladio to his Prince’s side.
To anyone else, Ignis was as composed as ever. Voice and breathing steady, hands skilled and precise. But Gladio knew Ignis’ robotic movements were a result of struggling to suppress his panic.
“Your Highness? Noct?” He called out, pressing his fingers against his stab wound at Noctis’ side, then moving his hands down his arms and his legs assessing the injuries. Noctis furrowed his brows with the pain but made no noise. “Cor is securing His Majesty and is on the way here,” he reported to calm the behemoth of a man hovering over him.
“This should do in the meantime,” Ignis stated once his assessment was over. He applied an elixir over Noctis’ body. The liquid danced in the air, mixing with Noct’s crystalline power, slicking over his skin in a liquid that somehow looked dry and transient. The superficial wounds began to close leaving thin white lines of raised flesh that would fade within a few days. Bruising returned to their natural color as the blood in his body evened out. The deeper stab wound in his leg closed, albeit slowly, as well as the horrible hole on Noctis’ side. Though, that one would ache for much longer given how deep it was to hit his ribs.
Then Ignis applied an antidote in the same manner. A magical liquid that lifted disease and toxin from the body regardless of the source radiated around his skin. The relief was instant as Noctis gave a big sigh. His skin even felt less clammy.
“Gladiolus, Ignis,” Cor spoke as he arrived, Gladio letting him in the room. “His Highness?”
“We’ve applied one elixir and one antidote. He has two deep wounds that will cause him discomfort for the next remaining days, if not weeks. And the antidote seems to have taken effect almost immediately.”
“What’s the status out there?” Gladio heard himself ask, unsure why when all he could think about was Noctis.
“Five are suspected, three captured, two found dead.” Cor looked pointedly at Gladio. “His Majesty is on his way back to the Citadel despite some difficulty in convincing him to leave before His Highness. We’re fortunate that you were able to secure the Prince here while the assassins were apprehended, Gladiolus.”
Gladio frowned at that, eyes locking onto Cor’s with an unwavering heat, practically offended at The Marshall’s disregard for Gladio’s failure. “I almost lost him,” Gladio confessed.
The lines in Cor’s face tightened, but Ignis and Gladio could tell that was his way of trying to soften his expression. As if someone commanded him to “play nice.” His voice remained devoid of emotion, “Prince Noctis has unfortunately suffered through many life threatening events.” He placed a hand on Gladio’s shoulder and repeated, “We’re fortunate that you were able to secure the Prince.”
Gladio was speechless at the repetition, looking at Ignis then back to Cor.
Cor kept his eyes from rolling and sighed, “In other words, you’re not at fault for the existence of those that would harm our Prince. He’s alive right now because of you two.”