Work Text:
Day 20: Resilience
“How was your session today, Noct?”
Noctis straps himself into the front seat of his sports car, knocking his head against the seat. He sighs, taking the deep, measured breaths that he’s been practicing for months. “It was good,” he answers.
“Really? I’m glad,” Ignis answers, warmth blossoming in his chest. “Would you care to talk about it?”
A yawn, then; “Maybe later, I’m pretty wiped.”
“Of course, Majesty.”
Noct’s lips tick up just slightly at the corners. It’s taken him a long time to get used to the title; still, even after all these years, he thinks the term majesty should refer to his father, gods rest his soul. But he’s getting better with it, even letting his husbands use the term casually as endearment.
Another yawn hits him, and he settles into a wave of fatigue as Prompto navigates the familiar streets.
He’s only thirty-five, and he shouldn’t feel this weary .
“You ready for a nap, Noct?” Prompto asks.
“Mmmm, yeah.” He lazily watches the Citadel grow smaller and smaller in the review mirror until it finally disappears when Prompto merges onto the eastbound freeway.
“So, good session today,” Prompto repeats, smiling. “I’m glad, buddy.”
“Me too,” Noctis says, letting his eyes flutter closed. He takes a few more deep breaths, and then— “So I was thinking...and I wanted to get your opinion.”
“Mine?” Prompto asks.
“Both of yours,” Noctis says.
“What’s on your mind, Noct?” asks Ignis, leaning as far forward as his seatbelt will allow, squeezing Noct’s shoulder. His sight’s still fuzzy, but with the bargain Noctis struck with the gods, he’s beginning to see more and more. It’s blurred, but tomatoes are solid red spheres now, and the sunset comes to him in pretty dull hues of orange and purple. And he can make out the outline of his king’s slumped form in the front passenger seat, and Prompto’s tufts of blond in the driver’s seat, dutifully taking on the task that he can no longer fulfill.
“I was thinking,” Noctis continues. “That I should...make this public.”
Prompto blinks. “Make what public?”
“The therapy.”
Ignis clicks his tongue. “Noctis, your reputation--”
“My reputation is already shit,” he says, clearing his throat. “Even if people begrudgingly accept that I saved the world from the Starscourge or whatever, they still hate me, because I abandoned them in their time of need .” He uses air quotes, frowning. “I mean they’re not wrong. With Luna dead, and me in that stupid fuckin’ rock, everyone’s connection to the gods was--”
“Dude no offense, it was the gods who put us in that position in the first place,” Prompto spits. “Not to be sacreligious, but fuck ‘em. The only good thing Bahamut ever did was allow you to live.”
“In exchange for my magic,” Noctis mumbles, flexing his fingers. “Feels weird. I kinda’ miss warping.”
“I understand the point you’re trying to make, love, but you’re still the king, divine connection or no. If your people think you weak, then...”
“Specs,” Noctis says, with that quiet authority he’s had since he was a child.
Ignis swallows hard. “My apologies.”
“I know you care about me, and about what people think. But I already told you, I’m the last. When I get too old for this, I’m giving up the throne. And I’m putting in motion what they have in Accordo, and what the survivors in Niflheim and Tenebrae started, too. Elected officials, democracies. The people ruling by voting, where it’s not just one guy calling all the shots.”
“The rulers of Lucis did traditionally have a council, with the monarch’s shield being the head,” Ignis offers.
“Yeah, like that, except, that’s it. No king or queen above them. Multiple people deciding on the best course for our country and moving forward.”
“But what if not everyone agrees with each other?” Prompto says, flicking the blinker so he can turn off the overpass that leads to their quiet little suburb.
Ignis snorts. “Wouldn’t be much deviation from the traditional court. If I recall correctly, nary a bloody one of Regis’ council members agreed with each other, or with him, for that matter.”
“My point is,” Noctis says, eyes fluttering open. “What did they used to call me? The prince of the people . I know I’m not the only one struggling with depression. This shit’s been going on my whole life, and I was lucky; I got to sleep for ten years. You guys, and everyone else...you had it so much worse.”
“Aw, it ain’t a pain competition, man,” Prompto says. “Don’t downplay what you went through. All that stuff as a kid…shit’s rough.”
“So my thoughts are,” Noctis continues, “is to do a commercial for the meds I’m on, and maybe a couple of magazine spreads.”
“Hold on, hold on ,” Prompto says, rolling to the first stop sign before their street. “Noctis Lucis Amicitia Scientia Argentum Caleum is volunteering for an interview? Didja hit your head or somethin’?”
“It’s called growth, bitch , ” Noctis laughs. “Anyways…what do you think? Like someone who’s struggling would see me, or read about it, and say, ‘well if the king goes to therapy and takes meds, then so can I.’”
“I think that’s very big of you, Majesty,” Ignis says. “I still worry about what some people might say, but…”
“Let them,” Noctis says, heart fluttering as Prompto pulls into their driveway. Gladio’s truck is there, and he can’t wait to snuggle into his shield. Hell, he can’t wait to snuggle into all of them later in their giant five-sleeper king bed.
“Says more about them than it does Noct,” Prompto nods, killing the engine.
“Will you guys help me draft like, a biography? Help me organize my thoughts and what I wanna say before I reach out to people.”
“Course!” Prompto quips, grabbing Noct’s hand. “I’m really proud of you. And hey, if you wanna mention that the Captain of the Kingsglaive also goes to therapy, I won’t mind.” He winks.
Noctis beams, squeezing Prompto’s warm hand. “I’ll let you do that yourself, if you wanna.”
“I’ll get in touch with the proper channels as soon as you’re ready,” Ignis says. “Of course we’ll help you, Noct. If this is what you want to do, then I’m behind you.”
“It will help destigmatize it,” Noctis says. “I wanna leave a good impression on my country. I care about these people, and I always have. If this gives even one person courage to reach out for help, it’ll be a success.”
“Gah, I love you so much,” Prompto sniffles.
“You’re so incredibly kind, Noct,” Ignis coos. He unfastens his seat belt and climbs from the back seat, reaching to open the passenger door for his liege.
“Not today, though,” Noctis says, yawning again. “I need a nap. And food.” He climbs out, stumbling into Ignis’ waiting arms.
“Gladdy’s on cooking duty,” Prompto says, stepping out onto the driveway. He slams the door and beeps the key, locking the king’s fancy sports car.
“Oh boy, cup noodles, I can’t wait,” Noctis laughs.
“He better not have, I’ll be quite cross,” Ignis says, looping his arm with Nocts as they meander the path to the front porch.
“Twenty bucks says it’s some kind of noodle dish, anyway.”
“There’d better be at least one vegetable,” Ignis murmurs.
Noctis giggles as he waits for Prompto to unlock the front door. These men who have been by his side for decades…he’s not sure he could have survived, or done any of this without them. Affection threatens to overwhelm him, and he lets the warmth rise up in his throat, shivering as goosebumps ripple along his skin. Noctis knows he’s got the best support system in the world; and if he can give others the confidence to seek out the same help for themselves, then he’ll consider himself a true king of the people