Riona (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rionaleonhart) wrote2017-03-13 08:11 am
rionaleonhart) wrote2017-03-13 08:11 am
Entry tags:
Fanfiction: Break (Final Fantasy XV)
HAVE SOME MISERY. I saw this prompt (Final Fantasy XV spoilers up to chapter 11) on ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ffxv_kinkmeme, and the idea intrigued me so much that I had to give it a go.
Title: Break
Fandom: Final Fantasy XV
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 1,300
Summary: Any summary I could write would suggest Final Fantasy XV spoilers, so I'll just warn that this fic has spoilers up to chapter 11 and was tagged 'blood and misery' on AO3. When I told Rei the concept, her response was 'why would you write that?'
He doesn’t understand, he can’t make sense of what’s happened. One moment Ardyn was holding Prompto at gunpoint and Noctis seized the first weapon he could grab and lunged at him, only then it wasn’t Ardyn, it was Prompto. It’s Prompto now, drawing quick terrified breaths under Noctis’s hands, and there’s so much blood—
“Did Ardyn do this to you?” Noctis asks, desperately, because he needs to pretend he doesn’t already know the answer.
Prompto is trying to squirm away from him, despite his wound. Prompto is afraid of him. Fuck.
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Noctis says, on the verge of panicked tears.
“Any more,” Ardyn’s voice says, low and purring by his ear.
Noctis swears and twists around, summoning a dagger – that dagger, he realises too late, the dagger with Prompto’s blood still shining on the blade.
Ardyn clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Oh, dear, that does look dangerous.”
Noctis drags himself to his feet, shock and the sway of the train making him unsteady. “Leave.”
It’s a vicious rush of a word. Noctis doesn’t want Ardyn to leave; he wants to kill him. But Prompto is whimpering in pain behind him, a sound that cuts straight into Noctis, and Ardyn can’t be his priority right now.
If he turns back to Prompto, though, Ardyn could shove them both off the train.
“Any more,” Ardyn says. “You’re not going to hurt him any more. I was merely offering a clarification.”
It’s like someone has punched him in the throat. He rubs his wrist sharply across his eyes – he can’t cry, he can’t let tears obscure his vision, not when this man is here – but Ardyn is gone when he can see again.
Noctis turns and drops to his knees beside Prompto. Prompto’s eyes are wide and frantic, he’s trying to hold his hands over the wound in his side, but it’s not enough, and all Noctis can see is the blood pulsing between Prompto’s fingers.
He did this.
“I’m going to fix this, okay?” Noctis says, although he doesn’t know if he can. He’s vaguely aware that he’s talking to Prompto like he’s a frightened animal, using soothing tones to get across the meaning of words that won’t be understood. Prompto seems like a frightened animal: no words, just pained noises, just struggling to get away from the person who hurt him.
Noctis can’t afford to think about this.
He uncaps a Potion, gently prises Prompto’s hands away, pours a little of the liquid into the wound. Presses his own hand over it and lets the magic flow through him.
It’s hard to tell whether it’s doing anything. It’s definitely not doing enough.
He isn’t used to treating anything this severe. When Noctis fights side by side with his friends, he’s usually able to shield them magically from serious injury. It’s how they can engage vast monsters and come away with nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix. When they fight without his protection... well, that’s how Ignis lost his eyesight.
And he wasn’t exactly protecting Prompto when he stabbed him.
He tries a little more Potion, then pulls off his jacket, wads it up, presses it hard over the wound.
Prompto isn’t struggling any more, Noctis realises in a sickening jolt of the stomach, and he looks sharply up at Prompto’s face – is he losing consciousness, is he dead?
But Prompto seems a little more alert than before, looking at Noctis through tear-bright eyes. Maybe the Potion did something for the pain, at least.
“Noct,” he says, quietly. He reaches up, grips Noctis’s wrist loosely with one of his bloodied hands.
Noctis swallows. “Yeah, it’s me.”
“Sorry,” Prompto mumbles. “I don’t know what I did. But I’ll try to be better, if you’ll – if you’re okay with still having me around.”
“Sorry?” Noctis echoes. He chokes out a laugh. “I’m sorry. I’d never do this to you if I knew – I thought it was Ardyn, he used some kind of—”
But Prompto’s gaze has drifted out of focus, Noctis doesn’t know whether he’s taking any of this in, and no, no, no—
Noctis, his fingers shaking, fumbles his phone out of his pocket with his free hand and calls Ignis. He doesn’t know what else to do.
-
There are medical facilities at Tenebrae. They need to keep him alive until then.
Gladio helps Noctis get him inside their carriage on the train. Prompto is unconscious by the time they set him down.
Noctis stays by Prompto’s side, one hand on Prompto’s and the other on the wound, sending a constant stream of magic into him. Ignis tries to tell him that he’s being foolish, that he’s going to exhaust himself. It’s good advice. Noctis ignores it.
He thinks it might be starting to heal. He doesn’t know whether it’s too late.
He was expecting anger from Gladio, but Gladio is just pacing silently, anxiously. At one point, Noctis falls asleep for a while – or, okay, ‘loses consciousness’ is probably more accurate; he’s been pushing every scrap of energy he has out in the form of healing magic – and wakes to see Gladio crouched by Prompto’s other side, speaking quietly to him, although Prompto won’t be able to hear it.
Ignis retreats into focused practicality in a crisis, and Noctis is grateful for it. They need someone around who can think straight, who can give first aid instructions, who can call ahead to Tenebrae and tell them to expect a stab victim. At first, he asks Noctis for regular updates on Prompto’s condition. Eventually, Ignis shifts closer to Prompto and rests his hand on Prompto’s collarbone, so he can feel for himself that Prompto is still breathing.
-
Prompto stirs and groans when Gladio picks him up to carry him onto the platform at Tenebrae, and Noctis nearly passes out with the shock of hope. Well, that and the fact that he’s completely drained himself.
As they step out of the train, Noctis is looking at the fresh bandage covering the wound; he’s been afraid that moving Prompto might reopen it. But there’s no blood showing through. Ignis was the one who’d had enough foresight to bring bandages, of course.
If he’s honest with himself, he’s checking the bandage because he doesn’t feel ready to look into Prompto’s eyes yet.
“Gladio?” Prompto asks after a moment, sounding vaguely bewildered.
“How’re you feeling, kid?” Gladio asks.
“Um, confused? I mean...” There’s a pause, and when he speaks again his voice sounds a little clearer. “I mean, not that I’m not super honoured to be carried around in your... enormous arms, but, uh, why?”
“Getting you to a hospital,” Gladio says. “I figured you could just walk it off, but Iggy insisted.”
“Walk what o— oh.” Prompto’s voice drops, becomes unhappy, and Noctis feels his stomach tug. “Is, uh, is Noct around?”
Gladio shifts Prompto so he can see Noctis. Noctis gives him a weak smile. He really doesn’t know what the appropriate ‘sorry I almost murdered you’ expression would be.
“Hey,” Prompto says, cautiously.
“Hey,” Noctis says. “Prompto, I’m so—”
“I’m sorry,” Prompto says, cutting him off. “I thought it was you.”
Noctis blinks, thrown.
“It was Ardyn, right? He was the one who stabbed me. Looking like you. I should’ve known you wouldn’t do that,” Prompto says. “I’m sorry. We’re okay?”
Gladio glances from him to Noctis, frowning.
Noctis opens his mouth to say that no, Prompto’s got it wrong, he was the one—
And then he really looks into Prompto’s eyes and sees the fear there. Prompto knows. He just... can’t handle it. He’s throwing out a lie and begging Noctis to agree with it, so it can be real.
“We’re okay,” Noctis says.
Prompto smiles, shakily, but his eyes haven’t changed. Noctis wonders whether they’ll ever really have him back.
ffxv_kinkmeme, and the idea intrigued me so much that I had to give it a go.Title: Break
Fandom: Final Fantasy XV
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 1,300
Summary: Any summary I could write would suggest Final Fantasy XV spoilers, so I'll just warn that this fic has spoilers up to chapter 11 and was tagged 'blood and misery' on AO3. When I told Rei the concept, her response was 'why would you write that?'
He doesn’t understand, he can’t make sense of what’s happened. One moment Ardyn was holding Prompto at gunpoint and Noctis seized the first weapon he could grab and lunged at him, only then it wasn’t Ardyn, it was Prompto. It’s Prompto now, drawing quick terrified breaths under Noctis’s hands, and there’s so much blood—
“Did Ardyn do this to you?” Noctis asks, desperately, because he needs to pretend he doesn’t already know the answer.
Prompto is trying to squirm away from him, despite his wound. Prompto is afraid of him. Fuck.
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Noctis says, on the verge of panicked tears.
“Any more,” Ardyn’s voice says, low and purring by his ear.
Noctis swears and twists around, summoning a dagger – that dagger, he realises too late, the dagger with Prompto’s blood still shining on the blade.
Ardyn clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Oh, dear, that does look dangerous.”
Noctis drags himself to his feet, shock and the sway of the train making him unsteady. “Leave.”
It’s a vicious rush of a word. Noctis doesn’t want Ardyn to leave; he wants to kill him. But Prompto is whimpering in pain behind him, a sound that cuts straight into Noctis, and Ardyn can’t be his priority right now.
If he turns back to Prompto, though, Ardyn could shove them both off the train.
“Any more,” Ardyn says. “You’re not going to hurt him any more. I was merely offering a clarification.”
It’s like someone has punched him in the throat. He rubs his wrist sharply across his eyes – he can’t cry, he can’t let tears obscure his vision, not when this man is here – but Ardyn is gone when he can see again.
Noctis turns and drops to his knees beside Prompto. Prompto’s eyes are wide and frantic, he’s trying to hold his hands over the wound in his side, but it’s not enough, and all Noctis can see is the blood pulsing between Prompto’s fingers.
He did this.
“I’m going to fix this, okay?” Noctis says, although he doesn’t know if he can. He’s vaguely aware that he’s talking to Prompto like he’s a frightened animal, using soothing tones to get across the meaning of words that won’t be understood. Prompto seems like a frightened animal: no words, just pained noises, just struggling to get away from the person who hurt him.
Noctis can’t afford to think about this.
He uncaps a Potion, gently prises Prompto’s hands away, pours a little of the liquid into the wound. Presses his own hand over it and lets the magic flow through him.
It’s hard to tell whether it’s doing anything. It’s definitely not doing enough.
He isn’t used to treating anything this severe. When Noctis fights side by side with his friends, he’s usually able to shield them magically from serious injury. It’s how they can engage vast monsters and come away with nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix. When they fight without his protection... well, that’s how Ignis lost his eyesight.
And he wasn’t exactly protecting Prompto when he stabbed him.
He tries a little more Potion, then pulls off his jacket, wads it up, presses it hard over the wound.
Prompto isn’t struggling any more, Noctis realises in a sickening jolt of the stomach, and he looks sharply up at Prompto’s face – is he losing consciousness, is he dead?
But Prompto seems a little more alert than before, looking at Noctis through tear-bright eyes. Maybe the Potion did something for the pain, at least.
“Noct,” he says, quietly. He reaches up, grips Noctis’s wrist loosely with one of his bloodied hands.
Noctis swallows. “Yeah, it’s me.”
“Sorry,” Prompto mumbles. “I don’t know what I did. But I’ll try to be better, if you’ll – if you’re okay with still having me around.”
“Sorry?” Noctis echoes. He chokes out a laugh. “I’m sorry. I’d never do this to you if I knew – I thought it was Ardyn, he used some kind of—”
But Prompto’s gaze has drifted out of focus, Noctis doesn’t know whether he’s taking any of this in, and no, no, no—
Noctis, his fingers shaking, fumbles his phone out of his pocket with his free hand and calls Ignis. He doesn’t know what else to do.
There are medical facilities at Tenebrae. They need to keep him alive until then.
Gladio helps Noctis get him inside their carriage on the train. Prompto is unconscious by the time they set him down.
Noctis stays by Prompto’s side, one hand on Prompto’s and the other on the wound, sending a constant stream of magic into him. Ignis tries to tell him that he’s being foolish, that he’s going to exhaust himself. It’s good advice. Noctis ignores it.
He thinks it might be starting to heal. He doesn’t know whether it’s too late.
He was expecting anger from Gladio, but Gladio is just pacing silently, anxiously. At one point, Noctis falls asleep for a while – or, okay, ‘loses consciousness’ is probably more accurate; he’s been pushing every scrap of energy he has out in the form of healing magic – and wakes to see Gladio crouched by Prompto’s other side, speaking quietly to him, although Prompto won’t be able to hear it.
Ignis retreats into focused practicality in a crisis, and Noctis is grateful for it. They need someone around who can think straight, who can give first aid instructions, who can call ahead to Tenebrae and tell them to expect a stab victim. At first, he asks Noctis for regular updates on Prompto’s condition. Eventually, Ignis shifts closer to Prompto and rests his hand on Prompto’s collarbone, so he can feel for himself that Prompto is still breathing.
Prompto stirs and groans when Gladio picks him up to carry him onto the platform at Tenebrae, and Noctis nearly passes out with the shock of hope. Well, that and the fact that he’s completely drained himself.
As they step out of the train, Noctis is looking at the fresh bandage covering the wound; he’s been afraid that moving Prompto might reopen it. But there’s no blood showing through. Ignis was the one who’d had enough foresight to bring bandages, of course.
If he’s honest with himself, he’s checking the bandage because he doesn’t feel ready to look into Prompto’s eyes yet.
“Gladio?” Prompto asks after a moment, sounding vaguely bewildered.
“How’re you feeling, kid?” Gladio asks.
“Um, confused? I mean...” There’s a pause, and when he speaks again his voice sounds a little clearer. “I mean, not that I’m not super honoured to be carried around in your... enormous arms, but, uh, why?”
“Getting you to a hospital,” Gladio says. “I figured you could just walk it off, but Iggy insisted.”
“Walk what o— oh.” Prompto’s voice drops, becomes unhappy, and Noctis feels his stomach tug. “Is, uh, is Noct around?”
Gladio shifts Prompto so he can see Noctis. Noctis gives him a weak smile. He really doesn’t know what the appropriate ‘sorry I almost murdered you’ expression would be.
“Hey,” Prompto says, cautiously.
“Hey,” Noctis says. “Prompto, I’m so—”
“I’m sorry,” Prompto says, cutting him off. “I thought it was you.”
Noctis blinks, thrown.
“It was Ardyn, right? He was the one who stabbed me. Looking like you. I should’ve known you wouldn’t do that,” Prompto says. “I’m sorry. We’re okay?”
Gladio glances from him to Noctis, frowning.
Noctis opens his mouth to say that no, Prompto’s got it wrong, he was the one—
And then he really looks into Prompto’s eyes and sees the fear there. Prompto knows. He just... can’t handle it. He’s throwing out a lie and begging Noctis to agree with it, so it can be real.
“We’re okay,” Noctis says.
Prompto smiles, shakily, but his eyes haven’t changed. Noctis wonders whether they’ll ever really have him back.
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Gladio glances from him to Noctis, frowning.
Noctis opens his mouth to say that no, Prompto’s got it wrong, he was the one—
And then he really looks into Prompto’s eyes and sees the fear there. Prompto knows. He just... can’t handle it. He’s throwing out a lie and begging Noctis to agree with it, so it can be real.
MY MOUTH IS JUST HANGING OPEN NOW, RIONA! THIS IS TOO WOW, WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS, I'M GOING TO CATCH FLIES!
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(That's a lie. I can absolutely believe it.)
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...I deserve that look.