Chapter Text
One thing was abundantly clear: something had gone horribly wrong somewhere along the way to defeating the Scourge-Bringer, and it's most likely entirely his fault if past experience is anything to go off of. He doesn't know when or how, but the evidence is literally staring him right in the face as he looks at the horrified reflection of the very much twenty-year-old version of himself, on an inappropriately beautiful day, in a hotel room in Galdin Quay.
No daemons ravaging the beautiful resort and tearing the buildings to dust. Coctura's clothing is still immaculate and, more importantly, on her body (Noctis had dared jerk open the hotel room door just long enough to stare at her wild-eyed before slamming the door shut again,) and no magical dogs are present to deliver decade long-awaited notes to him. Everything was back to normal. Everything is as it should be.
Everything is horribly, horribly wrong.
Noctis' clammy grip on the porcelain of the sink has been slipping steadily from where he's been white-knuckled clutching at it for the past ten minutes, and he finally releases it to instead run shaky fingers through his (shorter, once again purposefully styled in a way that was TOTALLY COOL regardless of what Gladio had always thought) hair, attempting to take a breath before he actually threw up.
Kings didn't throw up. At least not from pure, mind numbing anxiety.
They also didn't scream, though, which had ABSOLUTELY happened when he first caught his reflection in the mirror, but at least he was one point up as he manages to force down the bile that's been trying to claw it's way out of his throat since this nightmarish hellscape of confusion had started.
Once he's finally confident that his kingly stomach contents are safe remaining where they are for now, he slowly moves his jerking hands across his body, touching lightly over his sweaty face, patting down his chest, and sliding down his legs, the physical confirmation of what his eyes are reporting some small grounding force as he continues to force breaths into his lungs. Nothing out of place on his body, though once again finding himself slimmer and leaner (he had JUST gotten used to fighting in a heavier body, too,) was rather unnerving. He slips his hands into his pockets to check the contents next, surprised to feel the smooth glass of his phone against his fingertips and quickly pulling it out to take a look at it. To his shock, the screen actually flickers to life as he raises it to his face, the fleeting feeling of elation at discovering that his phone was still functional almost immediately drowned out by the ice cold dread that swirls inside of him as his eyes settle on the date.
A strangled grunt forces it's way out of his throat before he swallows, clenching his eyes shut for a moment and shaking his head once violently then staring back at the date again, finding it resolutely unchanged in it's impassive confirmation of his fears.
Ten years.
Ten fucking years backwards, and why? What the fuck had happened?
Noctis once again swallows down the sensation of panicked vomit and shoves his phone back into his pocket, taking a deep breath and holding it for several seconds. At least there was one thing to be grateful for in all this: due to his phone working, he wouldn't have to stumble out of the room and grab random passers-by to ask what year and day it was. How embarrassingly cliche would that be? Prompto would think it was hilarious.
Speaking of Prompto though...
He may have the date, but he still doesn't have the story of what's going on. Where the hell are his friends in this tangled mess? He eases himself onto the bed, flicking his phone screen back on and bringing up a webpage before hesitating. What is he even doing? As advanced as Moogle's search engine is, he somehow doesn't think that typing what the fuck is going on oh my gods what the fuck what the FUCK is going to bring up a lot of results.
Well, maybe it would. Probably none pertaining to being a thirty-year-old man stuck back in his twenty-year-old body, that really feels more appropriate for him anyway since he essentially went through a time warp and hadn't felt quite right in his older body yet anyway, and good Gods above what the hell was his life at this point? He suddenly feels dizzy.
Just as he decides to start simple by typing in his own name, the door flies open and a maid comes bustling in, pushing a vacuum in front of her. She jumps with a gasp as she spots him- a sound that he echoes before elegantly choking on his own saliva- and immediately grabs him by the arm.
After demanding to know who let him in (Noctis responds with a helpless strangled noise noise that can only be translated as "?!",) asking if he's trying to cause trouble (to which he attempts to say, "n-no!" only to have her verbally steam-roll straight over him,) she relents and instead shoves him through the door, ignoring his stutters and hands raised in a silent bid for peace before slamming the door in his face.
Coctura seems no more pleased to see him as he finds himself in front of her bar, her face stuck in a really rather frightening mask-like rictus of synthesized joy at his presence as her words ask if she can help him with anything, but her tone VERY clearly says, "please get the fuck out of my restaurant before I call security, I have seven more hours left on my shift still and I am not paid enough for this shit."
Noctis stares at her with his mouth open for a few seconds before he finally grunts rather noncommittally, still desperately trying to pull the remaining shards of his sanity and understanding of the universe back together before mumbling a quiet "sorry," and then totally not tripping over his own feet as he stumbles blindly towards the pier. He just... He just needs to think. He just needs somewhere peaceful and quiet to sit down and THINK for a second...
He makes it as far as the dock before his shaking legs start locking, buckling over with his clammy hands on his knees. He's breathing too quickly and he knows it, vision starting to turn black at the corners and limbs beginning to tingle from lack of oxygen, but he just can't seem to stop hyperventilating. The sound of the waves gently lapping at the pier sounds like a roar in his buzzing skull, and he swears he can actually feel the wood giving way under his feet and the sky falling in on top of him over and over again, despite finding himself still firmly planted in place every time he dares to open his eyes.
Everything is just entirely too much. He can't handle it, he actually CAN'T- so of course that's when everything decides to go ass-up worse.
"Oh my, what have we here?" a voice that resembles both oozing honey and fingernails on a chalkboard drifts up from behind him, and Noct immediately freezes as though Shiva herself had kissed him, eyes bursting open and staring at the wood in front of him. "If you're looking for a ship, I'm afraid you're out of luck."
Noctis jerkily turned around to face the voice, eyes wide and wild and skin suddenly drenched in a cold sweat despite the cheery warmth of the sun beating down on him. Disarmingly calm amber eyes meet his frantic blue ones, staring at him evenly from a frame of wild red hair. Noctis stares into the face of all his agony, the death of his fiance, the death of his father, the bringer of the end of his world as he had ever known it.
He's staring at Ardyn Izunia.
Ardyn smiles.
Noctis opens his mouth to try to speak, gets as far as, "YOU-" and then immediately turns his head and violently throws up instead.
Well, so much for that point in his favor.
---
Brightly colored birds are cheerfully chirping in that way that only the tropical varieties can, a gentle breeze lovingly curling through the air to lift away the heat of the bright sun, and waves are quietly breaking against the picturesque shoreline as Noctis loudly vomits what feels like enough stomach bile to account for five people.
"Ah," Ardyn says helpfully as Noctis retches again into the shallow water, his hands outstretched as if that has ever aided anyone in the history of Ever. "Are you... quite alright?"
"Oh, I'm fucking GREAT," Noctis shudders out between gasps, stomach and diaphragm spasming violently as they decide whether or not they're finished twisting themselves into a noose to hang Noctis from yet. "I've literally never-" he cuts off with a gurgling sound as his stomach heaves once more, though nothing comes out this time and Noctis shivers as he unwillingly pulls in another breath, "-h'ever been better."
They fall into a brief silence again as the cartoonishly joyous day continues on around them for several moments, before Noctis finally begins to slowly right himself, chest still unsteadily heaving for air and hands pressed tightly over his stomach. He can feel his shirt clinging to him, soaked in sweat, hair stuck to his neck and forehead in a way that makes his skin crawl, but it's still a more preferable sensation than having to acknowledge the literal monster standing next to him on this Godsdamned pier. It's several more moments before he can bring himself to drag his gaze back over to Ardyn who has, at least, put his hands down finally.
"Would you like some water?" Ardyn inquires at length, a mocking sort of care in his voice though his lips are still forming that unbearably smug smirk. Noctis wants to punch him, but he's too afraid to make any sudden movements.
"Absolutely not," Noctis responds immediately, because honestly, getting drugged or poisoned after getting unceremoniously thrown back in time and not even making it as far as he did last time sounds like the final nail in the coffin of indignancy that he just isn't ready to deal with. Does he want some water, HONESTLY.
Something is nagging at him though, and he realizes that he's not entirely sure whether or not Ardyn recognizes him. His pose is impassive, his expression mocking yet slightly bored, and to be fair that's how Ardyn-fucking-Izunia (or -fucking-Caelum or WHATEVER) always looks, but still... Ardyn had been very forward about his spite and hatred towards Noct by the time he'd become trapped in the Crystal, and while he has no doubt that Ardyn still hates him just by virtue of being able to breathe still, in this moment he's definitely back to wearing the skin of a friendly, if eccentric and vaguely threatening, transient.
Very poorly, he might add. Somewhat like an alien doing it's best imitation of a human, and only getting it about 60% correct, though perhaps that's exactly what a Starscourge riddled bag of hatred really was. An alien, of sorts.
"Are you quite certain you're feeling alright?" Ardyn presses with his very best Fellow Human voice, "you looked close to slipping into the water there for a moment."
If only he was so lucky. "Yeah," he forces out instead, "I just... Bad fish, you know? Probably? Delicate stomach."
"Really? At the Mother of Pearl? Their food is widely known, I'm surprised it would cause such illness in a person. I'm told that it's fresh of the boat, though I have it on good authority that they get their Sea Bass shipped in frozen."
"Look, I'm sorry," Noctis practically cuts him off, "what was it that you were saying? I- uh- really should probably be resting, or... Something..." He was NOT running away, he was just ending the conversation. He had very important things to be doing, such as literally anything else.
"Ah, yes. Only that the boats bring you here. They shall not-"
"Oh, that? Yeah yeah yeah, I know," Noctis fully interrupts this time, Ardyn's bizarre way of speaking already giving him a headache. He'd heard this once, are the Gods really so cruel as to make him listen to this shit AGAIN?
Ardyn trails off and tilts his head, regarding Noctis intently. "Do you?" He muses, his smirk deepening. "Strange, I had not seen you arrive. Why are you here, if not for a ship, I wonder? I would assume you a tourist, if not for the reactions of the staff."
Noctis fidgets uncomfortably, but forces himself to keep glaring into Ardyn's eyes, not even blinking.
"Well, no matter," Ardyn continues, a little too lofty and cheerful to truly be convincing, "we all end up in places we don't belong sometimes."
Noctis freezes, jaw tightening as he stares at Ardyn hard. He KNOWS, a panicked voice whispers in his mind. ... Does he know?
"I must admit though, I'm exceedingly curious. Humor an old man: if you are neither a traveler, nor a tourist, what are you, exactly?"
Noctis KNOWS he shouldn't. Despite what one might think, his survival instincts are actually quite finely tuned to keeping him out of as much trouble as possible most of the time. But as if a particularly stupid ghost has been exorcised from his body in that exact moment, a voice rises up inside of him and snidely answers, "a man of no consequence."
And oh, Noctis realizes quite immediately that he absolutely royally fucked up. The smile that spreads across Ardyn's face is terrifying, and Noctis' stomach sinks. "I see... How very delightful." And probably for the first time in his stupid millenias-long existence, Noctis gets the feeling that Ardyn might actually be speaking truthfully. He looks absolutely ECSTATIC- in a sort of creepy, cruel, calculating way that sends unpleasant goosebumps crawling over Noctis' skin- but ecstatic all the same.
"Very well, then, keep your secrets for now if you're so keen to them." Ardyn gives a shrug with too much dramatic gesturing to look as casual as he seems to think that it does, and pauses to look at Noct curiously as though hoping to read his mind from his eyes alone. ... Could Ardyn read minds? Noctis was PRETTY sure he couldn't read minds, but at this point, he honestly had no fucking idea. Ardyn being able to read minds was just as plausible as all the other shit he'd had seen him do that he'd previously been pretty sure was impossible.
Noctis can't help himself; he stalls for a moment, shifts uncomfortably before asking, "and you? What's your story, then? You just hang out on piers waiting for people to walk up so you can tell them the ships aren't running? Kinda weird, don't you think?"
"Ah, you expect answers, yet give none yourself? That seems terribly unfair," Ardyn says lightly, though he still twirls one hand in the air and paces a bit (the absolute DRAMA QUEEN) before continuing, "I'm an impatient traveler, ready to turn ship." He slowly turns, taking a few steps away from Noctis. "This ceasefire is getting us nowhere."
Something is tickling the back of Noctis' mind. A memory of something that feels like an irritating itch, trying to make it to the forefront of his consciousness. He realizes, a half second too late, EXACTLY what it is as Ardyn suddenly spins on his heel and lifts one hand.
"DON'T-" Noctis begins, but Ardyn has already flicked the coin at him with what seems like inhuman strength, the metal a single flash of literally blinding silver as it reflects the sun into his eyes just to add insult to injury, before it pings hard off his forehead and ricochets off. Noctis' head snaps back at the impact, hands reflexively lifting to the sting as the coin makes an infuriatingly loud "PLUNK" noise into the water.
"Ah... my apologies," Ardyn says, not sounding sorry AT ALL, and procures another coin from who-fucking-knows-or-cares-where in his multi-layered Bag Man outfit. He winds up once more, but to Noct's absolutely indignant fury, this time he does so very, very slowly, pulling his arm back to instead toss it to him underhand as though Noctis is a child with particularly slow reflexes who has also broken both of their arms.
To be fair, Noct still only barely manages to catch it despite the condescendingly careful throw his way, the coin hitting him in the chest as his hands scramble to catch it. He knows it's childish, and the voice in his head is telling him once more that he really, really shouldn't, but the moment his fingers close over the coin, he winds up and flings it back towards Ardyn as hard as he can. In his fury, his aim is terrible. It flies two feet to the right side of Ardyn's head. Ardyn still catches easily without even looking away from Noctis' face, smirk never faltering for a second, the absolute ASSHOLE. "Don't THROW THINGS AT PEOPLE."
"What, you don't want it? A simple souvenir from you travels?" Ardyn steps forward and offers the coin to him again, this time laying flat in the palm of his hand, and Noctis stares at it for a few seconds before something compels him to take a step forward of his own and pluck it from him to look at the design. Something looks slightly different about this Oracle Ascension Coin from his memory of the old ones, but he can't quite put his finger on it before Ardyn is turning on his heel and speaking over his shoulder again.
"Safe travels, Man of no Consequence. I do hope we'll run into each other again."
"Yeah, I'm sure you do," Noctis mutters hatefully under his breath as he watches Ardyn swoosh away like a sentient, theatrical dust mop, coin still clutched tightly in the palm of his hand. For a moment he considers if he should try summoning Armiger and just being done with it, but a nagging fear at the back of his mind isn't sure if all the requirements are still in place to truly be able to kill Ardyn. And he still isn't sure if Ardyn knows for absolute certain who he is- at the very least, he's still pretending to not know that Noctis is the King (Prince, still?) of Lucis, an advantage that he'd rather not blow by revealing his ability to use magic before the time is right. He holds off with a groan, watching Ardyn's back through the crowd and only relaxing when that ugly-as-sin hat finally bobs fully out of sight.
Goddamn he could use a nap. And a shower.
And also a toothbrush. Not necessarily in that order.