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The sun was starting its descent when Ignis announced, “This is where the Marshal said she would be waiting for us,” as he spun the steering wheel and turned the Regalia onto the dusty dirt road, gravel crunching beneath the tires. Noctis barely heard the words, staring at her hands, clenched into tight fists in her lap while the Prairie Outpost came into view as the Regalia climbed the hill.
Next to her on the back seat, Gladio glances at her from the corner of his eye next to her on the back seat, jaw pulsing when he clenches his teeth. Noctis had been far from herself since she’d seen the front page of the paper he and Ignis had been so hesitant to show her. Anger and sorrow burbled beneath the surface, Cor’s call shattering the forced calm she’d placed herself in.
Gladio was very interested in knowing what his mother was thinking. Cor Amicitia was nothing if not pragmatic as hell, unlike other noblewomen. Not prone to frivolities or dramatics. Likely because she’d been born on the streets and had to drag herself out of the shit and corruption of the slums. A survivor before she was anything else. Before she was Crownsguard, before she was Lady Amicitia, before she was a mother or the Marshal.
He exhales sharply through his nose, and the leather of the back seat creaks when he shifts, reaching across the lowered centre console to touch Noctis’ wrist softly. The delicate joint jerks beneath his fingers, and her eyes dart up to meet his gaze.
Navy blue, so dark it was almost black. Slanted prettily up at the corners, cat-like. And so very lost. Gladio’s heart aches for her. “Steady does it, Noct.” He settled for being her rock as always. What did he have to be worried about? His parents were both alive, and his little sister was on her way to safety in Lestallum.
Noctis wasn’t so lucky. The only family she had was gone.
Anchored by Gladio’s eyes, Noctis feels her bottom lip wobble. Everything that could have possibly gone wrong seemingly had. Her dad should still be alive, the peace treaty between Lucis and Niflheim should have been signed, and Noctis should be on her way to Altissia for her wedding.
At this point, she didn’t even think she was still betrothed.
Even though Ravus had promised.
The state of their betrothal had been in a weird limbo since Tenebrae’s destruction. But when the peace talks started, their potential marriage was put on the table as a term for peace- a way to formally tie Lucis and Niflheim together, a way to make breaking the peace between them more complicated.
Noctis had been, admittedly, a little gun-shy when her father had informed her that Ravus was, once again, to be her husband. She’d had a puppy love crush on Ravus since they were first engaged when she was eight. Back then, he had been her dear friend’s handsome older brother. A crush she’d tamped out of existence when relations with Tenebrae had fallen apart after the Oracle had been killed and Ravus and Luna had become wards of Niflheim. The crush that had come screaming back to the forefront when Ravus sent her that first letter. A letter that had been nothing but sweet and even a little bashful.
But now…For all she knew, he’d had a hand in her dad’s death.
She bites down on the urge to cry, twisting her wrist out of Gladio’s grasp and grabbing his hand tightly. Squeezing it briefly before letting go and steadying herself.
As Ignis parks, Prompto half-hangs out of the car with her camera, “Is this the hunter HQ?”
“Nah, that’s Meldacio, up north,” Gladio grunts, swinging open his door and hauling his bulk out of the backseat, stretching his long legs with a relieved sound. His boots scuff the gravel, nudging Prompto around the front of the car once she bounces out of the passenger seat. “Why did the Marshal stop here?”
Noctis huffs nosily, “No clue,” she clenches her teeth, still able to hear Cor’s calm voice in her ear. About the King…it’s true… “She said the remains of the Crownsguard were moving your dad here to let him recover and that there were a couple of things she needed to tell me.”
“I am pleased to hear of Lord Amicitia’s survival,” Ignis murmurs, closing the driver-side doors of the Regalia once Noctis moves clear.
Gladio swallows, “Yeah, so am I…I didn’t think there was any way, with the King dead–” He cuts himself off with a cautious glance at Noctis’s face.
Noctis says nothing. She liked Clarus. Growing up, she knew him as a second father, given how often he’d been around as her father’s shield. He was big and bold like his son, albeit a hell of a lot more refined. He had silver hair, where Gladio had black, and blue eyes, where Gladio had amber.
Just as tall, just as fit.
A loyal and devoted shield to her father and one of his dearest friends.
Noctis glances around. Looking for Cor’s familiar, stern visage or a hint of Crownsguard uniform. All she saw instead were a few ramshackle buildings and a handful of old campers in the beds of even older trucks. A couple of newer trailers up the road and a dozen rough and tumble hunters milling around, buying gear, catching up between hunts.
“So where is she?” Her eyes catch on a familiar figure at the same time the woman notices them.
“Highness!” Monica Elshett waves them over to the shell of a barn that seems to be the main hub of activity for the outpost.
Ignis, with his purposeful stride, is the first to reach her. “Monica, glad to see you in one piece.”
She smiles gently, hands clasped in front of her, “I’m glad to see you four in one piece as well.” She meets Noctis’ eyes, adding in a quiet voice, “I’m sorry, your highness.”
Noctis swallows and crosses her arms over her chest. “Uh, yeah. Thanks, Monica.”
Sensing her discomfort, Gladio interrupts, “Where are my parents?”
“One of the hunters was kind enough to let Lord Amicitia use his trailer to rest in.” She gestures over her shoulder up the hill, “The red one. The Marshal just went to check on him a few minutes ago.”
Gladio nods, switching his weight from one foot to the other, “How is he?”
“Healing, but he was in rough shape when we got him out of the city. It’ll be at least another week before we can move him further. We’ll bring him to Lestallum once he’s able, to rendezvous with Lady Iris.”
“Has Iris made it there yet?”
“Dustin called half an hour ago. They’ve checked into the Leville and are resting.”
Noctis, sick of wallowing in her own misery, latches on to that bit of good news, “Glad they made it out of Insomnia safely.” With Monica at their heels, the Princess and her retinue climb the hill towards the trailer with the red door.
“Go on in. Quietly, in case Lord Amicitia is sleeping.”
Gladio eases the door open and steps up into the cool dimness of the mobile home, the trailer rocking slightly with his weight, Noct half a step behind him, Prompto and Ignis staying just outside the doorway. He scans the interior, finding the bed taking up the back half of the trailer, eyes first lighting on his mother sitting on the edge of the mattress next to Clarus’ head, his dad’s arm hooked around her waist, the hem of her tank top hitched up just a little, Clarus’ thumb stroking the soft, scarred skin of her belly. His eyes are closed, head nearly in his wife’s lap.
Cor looks up, fingers carding through Clarus’ short hair, the furrow between her eyebrows disappearing and a slight smile curling the edges of her mouth, “Hi, Gladdy.”
Gladio moves to her side, alongside the bed, and grasps her fingers when she holds out her free hand, “Hey, how’s the old man doing?”
“You know how he is. Doesn’t sleep well unless I’m beside him.” She keeps her low voice quiet, fingers never stilling their movement. She was at her softest. The wife and mother, not the lady or marshal. “But the hole in his gut has been healing nicely.”
Despite her whispers, Cor’s voice causes Clarus to stir. First looking up at her and then looking for who she was talking to. Seeing his son, he grins, “Hey, kid, you made it. Took your time getting here.” With much difficulty, he raises himself into a seated position, Cor cautioning him with a soft hiss. He examines Gladio for a moment before finding Noctis.
Noctis winced when the quilt pooled around his hips, and the bandages wrapped around his abdomen were revealed, spotted with blood. Her eyes darted to his face, landing on the freshly stitched cut just below his right eye. “Highness.”
Noctis’ brow furrows, and her heart gives a sharp throb, unable to stop herself from asking, “How?” How was Clarus, her father’s shield and protector, alive, but Regis was not? She doesn’t mean for it to sound the way it does. Accusatory. But Clarus doesn’t look offended.
Mostly, he just looks tired, touching the bandages on his waist lightly. “I don’t know…I was certain I was dead. I probably should be dead, but…I think your old man must have healed me just before he died. Felt his magic as I was passing out.”
Noctis’ hands turn into fists, twisting the material of her pants, tears pricking her eyes. Her voice cracks a little, “That does sound like something he would do.”
Cor’s eyebrows are drawn low over her bright eyes, checking whether the edge of the bandage is still tied at Clarus’ hip. Fussing over him in her stoic way. Clarus catches her hand, tucking it against his side. She looks at Noctis, “There’s something you should know, Highness. The King knew that the signing ceremony would likely end up being a trap. It’s why he sent you away when he did. It’s why he…” Cor trails off, her words catching in her throat. Her head bows and she covers her eyes with one hand.
Clarus sighs, squeezing her fingers, “It’s why he said goodbye to you the way he did. He wanted your last memory of him to be as your father, not as your King.”
Noctis’ gaze darts between them. Half of her mind knew they were right. Her father had always been that sort of person. He was King with his daughter only when protocol demanded it. At every other moment in her life, he had just been her dad.
And sure, she’d gone through that phase at fourteen where any sort of parental affection had been embarrassing. But even at his most embarrassing, he’d still just been her dad.
And her dad had always been exactly the sort to send his daughter off with gentle encouragement one moment and save his best friend’s life in the last seconds of his life the next.
Noctis bows her head, hiding her face as tears spill down her cheeks. It’s not unlike what Cor was doing behind the broad expanse of Clarus’ back, she thinks.
Gladio does what he does best and changes the subject, saving the dignities of two of the toughest women he knows in the process.
Noctis could have kissed him, sniffling and lifting the collar of her t-shirt to wipe her eyes.
But she wouldn’t...because it was Gladio. Yuck.
“Noct said you mentioned you had a couple of things to talk to her about, Mom?”
Cor peeks around Clarus’ shoulders, wiping her eyes discreetly, “Yeah. It’s about the royal tombs.”
Clarus shoots her a pointed look, and she flashes him a brief frown, her fingers flexing on his ribs beneath his palm. He says, “Tell them,” in a low murmur that Noctis and Gladio couldn’t hear.
“Where do I even start?” For the first time in years, Cor looked terrified.
Clarus blinks and glances across to where Noctis is composing herself. He shrugs and decides to push Cor by saying. “Noctis, Gladio, did you know Queen Aulea wasn’t able to have children?”
Silence follows that bizarre sentence, Gladio’s eyebrows jumping up, and Noctis gapes at Clarus as though he had a Cactuar growing out of his head.
“Uhh, you mean after she had me? Yeah, I knew that.”
“Not exactly.”
“Huh?”
“Clarus, this is not helping.”
“I thought I was being very helpful. I’ve broken the ice.”
“With a fucking sledgehammer.”
“If I didn’t, you’d avoid having this conversation.”
“There were better ways than this!”
“Slower ways. Giving you far too many avoidance opportunities in the process.”
“Hold on!” Noctis shouts, and the bickering couple both snap their mouths closed. Once she has their attention, she asks, “What exactly is Cor trying to avoid telling me, and what does it have to do with my mother?”
Cor scowls at Clarus but straightens her spine and narrows her eyes like she’s about to stride into a fight. “A few years after Regis and Aulea were married, they discovered that the Queen couldn’t conceive. At all. Shortly after that, a few months after Gladiolus was born, they approached me…Or well, us, really…” Looking at Clarus, she falters and clears her throat, “They approached me to ask if I would be willing to help them conceive a child.”
Noctis’ eyes widen with every word Cor speaks. Gladio is completely frozen beside his mother.
Cor continues, determined now, “And I agreed. After discussing it with Clarus and reading the details of a very thorough contract.”
“The discussion took months. I wasn’t exactly keen on the idea,” Clarus grumbled. Gladio steps back and bumps into the wall behind him.
Where Gladio seemed to be questioning everything he knew at that moment, Noctis wasn’t nearly as frozen, “And, I can’t believe I’m about to ask this: how exactly was I conceived?”
“Ovulation tracking and vigorous effort on mine and the King’s part.”
Clarus grunts, frowning at his wife, and Noctis has to agree, “Ew.”
“Mm.”
“So, you,” Noctis points a trembling finger at Cor, “are really my mother?”
“Not according to the contract I signed and your birth certificate, but yeah, my egg and oven.”
“Well, that explains my severe sexual aversion to Gladio,” Gladio snorts as though agreeing with her. Noctis shakes her head, “Why tell me now?”
Cor sighs, her eyes dropping, “Because Regis made me promise to tell you in the event something happened to him so that you would know you weren’t alone.”
“You never said anything before.”
“How do you tell someone that you are actually their mother and the woman they knew as their mother wasn’t?”
“I–” The shellshocked Princess stops, “Yeah, I suppose there’s never really a good time to explain that, is there?”
“Not really,” Cor nervously traces the lines of Clarus’ bandages, avoiding looking in Noctis’ direction, “Regis wanted to, a couple of times when you were younger, after the Queen died, but even he couldn’t find a way to explain it.”
Gladio speaks up, finding his voice, “I have the vaguest memory of you being pregnant, but I was too young for it to have been Iris.”
“Yeah, you would have been just about two. I didn’t think you would have remembered that at all,” Clarus muses, “We didn’t exactly hide it from you, but we didn’t ever really acknowledge it either.”
“We had to pretend like I had a stillbirth. And then we spent a couple of months in Galdin Quay afterwards.”
“Well, shit.”
Cor gives a short, bitter laugh, “Sounds about right.”
Clarus sighs explosively, “Listen, it’s getting dark. Why don’t you guys go make camp at the haven on the east side of the outpost, and we’ll worry about the tomb in the morning.”
Noctis nods, “I’m probably going to have more questions later.”
“Me too,” Gladio hesitates before adding teasingly, “Little sister.” Noctis surprises herself by giving a short bark of laughter, allowing him to push her out of the trailer.
Clarus audibly sucks his teeth and lowers himself back down, “That went well.”
Cor almost punches Clarus.
Interfering ass.
She’d get him later once he was healed completely. “You piss me off sometimes, did you know that?”
He tugs her bodily down beside him, pulling her tight against his side, “You love it.”