Chapter Text
"Real love is always chaotic. You lose control; you lose perspective. You lose the ability to protect yourself. The greater the love, the greater the chaos."
~Jonathan Carroll
Cras es Noster
Prologue: Lucis.
Four Years Earlier.
Noctis jumped back to avoid a potentially lethal thrust to his chest only to trip on a book on the library floor to fall full length on the carpet, uttering curses as he did. After a short pause his opponent stood over him in the incandescent light, the tip of Noctis' own sword hovering just above his throat.
"Yield," they said, re-holstering their gun blade.
Noctis' frustration left him as suddenly as the battle had ended. He was surprised at voice he heard—so gentle and soft-spoken and female; a stark contrast to the brute strength he had heard tale of and had scrambled to defend against earlier on. Then again, l'cie were not known for their conversational prowess.
He stared up the length of the sword now, more fascinated than afraid, and a tiny bit embarrassed because despite him initiating the ambush, it was he who had been caught unawares. His l'cie was a woman?
"Yield," came the quiet command again. "Please."
Please?
Noctis nodded, conceding to defeat. "Yield."
The sword in his face was replaced by a gauntleted hand, and he was pulled upright. The knight handed back his sword before going down on one knee, bowing her head. Noctis saw a few wayward strands of—pink, the colour was unmistakeably pink—hair poking out from under her helmet and felt his curiosity pique even further. She spoke.
"Your highness if I may be so bold…"
After years of being accustomed to hearing statements like that precede remarks he always took offence at, Noctis immediately moved to re-assert his authority. It was a tactic he'd picked up from his father, and eighty per-cent of the time, the comments made became easier to endure.
"Remove your helmet first." He ordered.
"Sire?"
"If I'm going to entrust my life to you I at least deserve the courtesy of being able to speak to you face to face. And rise, knight. You're the victor here—no one should be celebrating on their knees."
The last part he felt it was necessary to add because after witnessing her prowess in battle, anyone with half a brain would be smart enough to want—no, need to be on good terms with her.
The l'cie of the isolated isles of Bodhum were the last of a great race of humans who had been bestowed with Etro's power. Maintaining an indifference to worldly affairs, their only concern was protecting the crystals—Etro's lasting legacy left to the humans in the aftermath of a great war that had resulted in the fall of Bhunivelze the Destroyer.
Since Lucis' founding the l'cie custom had been to gift the heir to the throne (or rather, the future stewards of the country's crystal) on their eighteenth birthday with one of their own, to protect them until they breathed their last breath. Such a diplomatic gesture, Noctis' father had taught him, could not be afforded to taken lightly as the l'cie had ceased doing the same to the other countries long ago, and just recently, Tenebrae. Noctis had no idea what Stella's father could have said to offend them, but he had no intention of following in his footsteps…
...which was why the uncertainty in the woman's eyes after she removed her helmet and bowed her head, as if mortified, scared the ever living shit out of him.
"Sire I…" She spoke to the ground, and he could see an evident blush on her cheeks as a pink fringe of hair curtained her eyes. "This is highly unorthodox."
Noctis had always found it difficult to talk to women, but her overwhelming nervousness somehow inspired the nerve he found it difficult to muster in daily life.
"I said rise, didn't I?" He offered a hand, but she refused to look at it. He cleared his throat expectantly, and for good measure wiggled his fingers in front of her face.
"Sire I can't—"
"Up we go." Noctis' sword de-materialized in a twinkling cloud of crystal dust, and then he reached for her arms, praying she wouldn't break his.
His conscience was screaming at this point to stop but it was too late to care anyway. The next few seconds were quite comical: she seemed torn between fighting to stay on the ground and not wanting to reject a royal's help.
"Sire wait—I can stand on my own. No, don't trouble yourself I can—"
"There we go," Noctis finished, once she was standing to her full height in front of him. "Now then, what was it you wanted to say to me?"
"I was going to say—"
"I don't know how things go in the Bodhum Isles, but here it's considered polite to look someone in the eye when they're talking to you."
She almost raised her gaze at that statement, but at the last moment relented.
Noctis was impressed. The l'cie's zealousness for rules and decorum really was legendary. Except...somehow, with the tiny display of hesitation, he sensed there was a bit of a rebel in his midst. And it had him thinking that maybe, just maybe, the l'cie were a lot more human than the world had led him to believe.
Just a little push, he decided. "Am I too ugly to look at?" he asked.
"Sire?" The knight was aghast.
"I knew it." Noctis continued, pretending as if he couldn't hear her and his conscience screeching at him at fever pitch. "I knew I couldn't trust my father's advisors. Thank you for your honesty, honourable l'cie. It shall be rewarded."
"W-what? I wasn't implying that! Sire—" She sounded so horrified, it took all Noctis had to smother the laugh threatening to leave his lips and bury it deep.
"Sire you're not unattractive at all—"
"Oh?" His eyes flickered her way, but just as quickly her gaze returned to the bricks beneath her feet. He let out a dramatic sigh. "I suppose I'll have them all beheaded tomorrow morning for their insolence—"
"Sire," she sounded exasperated. "There's no need for that—"
"You're right." He agreed, banging a loose fist into his palm. "Incineration's much cleaner. Good thinking."
"I didn't say that!"
Noctis smiled. She was looking at him, finally. "Then what were you saying?"
She cleared her throat though her gaze and voice did not waver in the slightest this time, the subtle clenching of her fists at her sides told him she was far from being assuaged. "I was going to say, with the utmost respect, that despite it being my sworn duty to protect you I do believe you can be more than capable of protecting yourself."
"I should like to think so…" he paused, reflecting on her words. "Wait. You said 'can be', didn't you?"
She nodded and went down on her knee, bowing her head.
Here it comes, Noctis thought, bracing himself.
"I don't mean in anyway to undermine your abilities," she began cautiously, "but I do believe there are a few gaps in your defences that can be remedied, and I can teach you, if you'd like, so that next time you see fit to test my reflexes I will not have to hold back. If it pleases, your grace." She added awkwardly.
That...stung.
A lot more than he thought it would. "I'd be a fool to decline that offer," Noctis said. "I accept, but I have conditions."
"Name them sire."
He began to count on his fingers. "The getting on one knee thing seems like a hassle so it definitely needs to stop. I don't want to be walking around with you randomly dropping to the ground just because etiquette demands it. It's just…" he hesitated. He really didn't want to say 'stupid', but the word he was looking for was definitely in that neighbourhood.
"But it is customary," she protested.
"—for proposing marriage, I know."
The woman flushed. Glad there was no need to elaborate further, Noctis moved to the next item on the agenda.
"Number two: drop the formal speak—at least when you're with me. If you want me to trust you, I have to consider you my equal. No need to mince words when a few will do, plus you look like you're round about my age. You don't talk like that to your friends, do you?"
"No. But we're hardly equals."
"I'll say. You're way ahead of me in that department." Her eyes widened at the compliment, as if she'd never received one before in her life and it made him smile. "But don't let it get to your head," he wagged a finger. "I happen to be a fast learner, and I'm just as stubborn as my ancestors."
"I'll do my best."
"You'd better. And finally, the most important thing of all, I think."
"Yes?"
"What's your name?"
She blinked, stunned. Like he'd slapped her in the face.
Noctis crossed his arms expectantly and waited for her to explain.
"You already know my name. It's—"
"Claire, I know, I read your file, but I'm getting the sense that it's not the one you're used to being addressed by. Lucis is going to be your home for the next couple of years—given how well you manage to do your job—and if it'll make you more comfortable…"
"Comfortable," she repeated hollowly, as if the term itself was foreign to her.
He continued with a shrug. "I've read that by rite of passage l'cie are given a second name, a 'true' name to reflect their true selves and nature. And judging by the way you've reacted just now, I'm guessing you've already earned one, haven't you? Or else your elders wouldn't have sent you here. Tell me. It must be badass."
A smile finally broke through that solemn exterior. "I don't know about badass, but they call me Lightning, sire."
Fitting, Noctis thought. "Well, you can call me Noct." He offered a hand and this time she allowed him to pull her up. She followed him as they clambered awkwardly over the furniture and shelves that had been knocked around in the aftermath of their initial confrontation.
"By the way, thanks for agreeing to meet me in person before the ceremony," Noctis said.
"You attacked me." She sounded accusing.
"Yeah."
"Without provocation."
"As you stated earlier, I was 'testing your reflexes'."
"Was it really necessary? I don't believe it accomplished anything."
"Actually, it accomplished a lot more than I expected. And it's an age-old ritual, so don't ask."
"Expected?" She said worriedly, as he closed the library door behind them. She followed him down the hallway lined with tapestries and paintings of the kings before him while he began straightening his tie. "What do you mean by—"
He stopped suddenly, wondering if he had time to change when she collided into him, falling onto her back. "Sorry," he said, helping her up.
"It's fine. Sire—"
"Noct," he corrected. "Save 'sire' for my father. I'm not that old."
"Noct," she repeated carefully. She looked guilty, like someone uttering their very first cuss word. At least she's trying, he thought, managing to keep a straight face. He indicated to the painting of his grandfather seated on the throne with his own l'cie standing to his right. Both their expressions were mirror expressions of each other and spoke volumes of their reputation. Stoic and immovable stone.
"It was no secret Lightning, that my father and all those other old farts before him despised their l'cie Protectors. It took years for them to accomplish the camaraderie you and I have in just a few minutes."
"Oh..."
"Not bad, huh?"
"Yes sire. Noct," she added quickly, after he narrowed his eyes at her.
As they turned a corner and came in sight of Ignis and the other attendants, he held up a hand to stop them all from rushing at him. He spotted makeup in one of the attendant's hands and tried not to grimace.
I'm a prince, not an goddamn movie star.
"Your highness," Lightning began, seeming to interpret his pause as hesitation.
"Where are you standing Lightning? Tell me."
The ensuing silence was just as heavy as the weight of his words as she took a moment to contemplate them. "Behind you." She answered, resolute.
"Can I trust that you'll be there no matter what happens? No matter what life or 'fate' throws at us?"
"Only if I can trust that you will never try to stop me from fulfilling my duty first and foremost as a l'cie."
There was no hesitation on Noctis' part. "You can."
"Then I trust you. No matter what happens, no matter what life or fate throws at us."
Far in the back of his mind he heard the unmistakeable sound of a door being shut, and a lock clicking into place. As their echoes faded and he came back to the present he realized why. With two words he had sealed his and Lightning's fates. Like his father and his ancestors before him their destinies would now be inexplicably intertwined.
Forever.