Work Text:
Of course it’s raining.
Noctis Lucis Caelum, Crown Prince of Lucis, sits next to his father in the coliseum and waits to see who he’s going to marry.
The marriage tournament is a custom as old as Lucis itself, and while Noctis has always known this was in his future, he’s done a pretty good job of ignoring it – until now. It’s impossible to, what with the crowded, packed coliseum and the sound of cheering loud enough to drown out the thunder.
Noctis looks over at his father, who gives him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Noctis. I am sure that the winner of this contest will be more than worthy of you.” He pats his son on the shoulder. “If not, I have it on good authority that your uncle will see that they’re discreetly poisoned.”
Noctis snorts. He gives the empty seat to his left a significant glance. “Speaking of….”
“He’s late, of course,” Regis murmurs. On his other side sits his consort and Shield, Clarus Amicitia. Clarus, who won the king’s hand in a similar tournament after the death of Noctis’s mother, Aulea – who won it first.
Noctis has seen the pictures. His mom, standing with a fierce grin and a scepter that rests now safe in Noctis’s armiger.
“Dear me, the crowds are simply insane,” a voice drawls, and Noctis looks up and sees Ardyn Lucis Caelum, the embodiment of the Starscourge and Noctis’s immortal uncle, falling into his seat and tugging his hat over his bright gold eyes. “You should be pleased. There have been a few Lucis Caelums who were so unlikeable, they had to pay citizens to even attend the tournament. And offer free beer for all the combatants. For life.”
Noctis knows this whole tournament thing was his immortal uncle’s idea. He wonders why, because as far as he knows, his uncle’s never been married.
King Regis rises from his chair. There’s a loud, heartfelt cheer – he’s well-loved by the people of Lucis, especially in the Crown City – and Regis waves to return the acknowledgment.
Ardyn stretches his legs out in front of him, resting his boots on the edge of the balcony. He doffs his hat to the crowd without bothering to stand.
“Ardyn, really,” sighs Regis.
“What? Everyone here is used to me, honestly, I founded the bloody city. They’re here for Noctis. Go on, Noct. Greet your adoring public.”
Noctis sighs inwardly but rises to his feet. The crowd cheers, and he ducks his head with a shy wave. He’s grateful that the public seems to like him but having them watch him get engaged is weird. Especially since he’s not sure to whom he will end up engaged.
After the royal family greets the crowd, the coliseum gates to the arena are opened and the competitors arrive.
And keep arriving.
“There’s, um.” Noctis clears his throat, running a hand through his hair. It’s already wilting from the weather. Great. His would-be suitors are going to take one look at him and turn right back around. “A lot.”
“You are quite a looker,” says Ardyn.
Regis snorts softly. “Do keep in mind that he's your nephew.”
“What? Oh, come now. He’s my nephew removed by an Astral's curse and a few thousand years.” His uncle waves a dismissive hand. “Surely it’s perfectly appropriate to mention that he’s attractive.”
“Would it stop you if it wasn’t?” Noctis asks, amused.
Ardyn smirks up at from beneath his hat and winks.
Noctis turns back to the announcements. There’s someone who Noctis remembers from school, a girl he thinks he met during his brief part-time job at the sushi place and who used to try and take sneaky pictures of him, and a young man who works at the arcade and blushes every time he hands over his tokens.
Huh. Noctis thought that guy had a crush on Prompto. Shows what he knows.
“Juvenis Fiera!” the announcer calls, and it takes all of Noctis’s training not to let the look of absolute horror show on his face.
There’s no – there’s no way. Juvenis Fiera is a bully and a jerk, and the two of them have never gotten along.
“The son of Counselor Fiera?” Ardyn asks. “Someone fucked him? Even with that terrible voice of his?”
“Ardyn,” Regis hisses.
Noctis really can’t stand Juvenis Fiera, so he’s going to need Ardyn to make good on that whole poison thing, should it be necessary. Fiera has a pinched face and a bad attitude. He’d rather marry the Blushy Arcade Guy or Creeper Pic Sushi Girl any day.
“Prompto Argentum!”
“He’s aware this competition is not conducted via a video game controller, is he not?” Ardyn murmurs, next to him.
“Uh.” Noctis has to laugh. “I’m pretty sure he knows, yeah.”
Prompto, following his introduction, raises his hand and does a fistbump.
Noctis definitely doesn’t think Prompto will win, but it’s not because he couldn’t – Prompto is a member of his Crownsguard, and an incredibly competent fighter even if his specialty is guns. But Noctis doesn’t think Prompto’s there to win Noctis’s hand in marriage, as much as he is to keep him from having to marry Juvenis or the Creeper Pic Sushi Girl.
And impress Gladio, since Prompto’s had a thing for Noctis’s Shield for forever and Gladio will be the final test for whoever is the last one standing after the melee.
“Lunafreya Nox Fleuret!”
Noctis leans forward, then gives a delighted laugh as Luna waves excitedly up at him. He waves back. Being married to her will be great – for the three seconds it’ll take before Nyx Ulric stabs him to death with his poisoned daggers.
Like Prompto, Luna’s probably here to make sure that Noctis doesn’t end up married to someone insufferable. And for the workout. She’s in really good shape.
There are a few people Noctis doesn’t know or care about, including a few sons and daughters of noble houses that he’s been forced to make small talk with at parties, and then --
“Ignis Scientia!”
Noctis suddenly finds it hard to breathe. “What?”
“Well,” Ardyn says, as usual more than willing to fill in the silence with commentary. “At least we can be assured that you won’t show up to important state functions looking a mess.”
“Like wearing mismatched patterns and a fedora?” His father murmurs.
“Regis, when you’ve lived two millennia, you can mix your prints, too.” Ardyn clears his throat. “Noctis, lad, you look a bit pale. I thought you were fond of Ignis.”
Noctis would laugh if he had enough breath. Fond of Ignis? Of course he is. But he didn’t ever expect that Ignis would – why would he – he can’t really want to marry Noctis, right? Right. He’s just here because he feels like he needs to be. As Noctis’s advisor.
Who should not be standing calmly in the middle of a rain-soaked arena, getting ready to fight a lot of people for the right to marry Noctis.
But what if Ignis really wants to --
Nope. He’s probably here to make sure I don’t end up with Juvenis Fiera, and he doesn’t trust that Prompto and Luna can keep me out of his clutches or whatever. That has to be it.
Ignis looks right up at Noctis, puts his hand over his heart, and bows.
It’s cloudy and there’s no sun out, but something is making Noctis’s eyes burn like there’s too much light.
The announcer is going through the rules for the sake of the crowd. On the arena, Noctis sees Prompto and Luna taking selfies. Ignis stands there, calmly polishing his glasses.
Noctis is trying to breathe normally. This is okay. It’s fine. So what if he’s had a thing for Ignis since he was sixteen? So what if he can hear people in the crowd, muttering and laughing about Ignis being a competitor, as if he’s just some kind of glorified babysitter. Ignis is competent and deadly and smart, and he’s standing in the rain and it doesn’t even seem to phase him –
“….Noctis?”
Clearing his throat, he looks over at his father. There’s a small smile on Regis’s face. Noctis flushes and slumps a little in his chair, which earns him a Look from his father. He straightens up again and tries to look princely and unperturbed. “Um. What? Sorry.”
“I said,” Regis says, outright smiling now, “Are you ready to begin?”
Oh, gods. Was he just sitting here thinking about Ignis, while the entire coliseum waited for the games to start?
Yes. Yes he was.
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” Noctis says, and gives the signal.
***
The second the competition starts, Prompto and Luna make a beeline toward the two scions of the noble house that Noctis didn’t like. They’re out in about two seconds. Prompto and Luna exchange a high-five, which makes Regis sigh and Noctis hide a grin.
After that, Luna goes for the Creeper Pic Sushi Girl with such a vengeance that Noctis wondered if she had bad customer service there recently or something.
Prompto makes a beeline for Juvenis, but he gets side-tracked by Blushy Arcade Guy. They spar, and when Prompto takes him out, Noctis sees Prompto help the guy up and give him a discreet pat on the back.
Maybe the guy was there for Prompto.
“Why, it looks as if your advisor is doing swimmingly,” Ardyn offers.
Noctis makes a non-committal noise. He doesn’t want to look at Ignis because if he does, he’s not sure he’s going to be able to look at anything else.
So he watches Luna instead. Luna is straight-up taunting her opponent right now, in a move she absolutely had to have learned from Nyx. Noctis laughs when she gets one of the competitors down with a leg sweep, and when the guy stands up, he bows. There’s a flash of light as Luna heals him, and Noctis has a feeling the guy is now in love with Luna as he makes his way out of the arena.
“Oh, dear, that Fiera boy just knocked out that chap who works at the coffee shop on Centennial. Let’s hope he doesn’t take his broken heart out on your immortal relations who simply want a passable latte,” Ardyn says, lacing his fingers together across one of his knees.
Noctis watches Luna and Prompto do a complicated maneuver together and take out someone, exchange a fistbump, and then rush into the fray. They’re clearly having way too much fun with this.
Ignis, though.
Ignis.
Noctis sees him moving like a deadly shadow, easily taking down the people who think that he’s going to be a pushover because he spends most of his time in the Citadel. What they don’t understand is that he spends most of his time in the Citadel handling overbearing nobles, the council, and Noctis’s schedule with the same ruthless perfection.
Suddenly it’s becoming very, very real to Noctis that he’s really going to marry whoever wins this tournament. And the field is narrowing to a guy he can’t stand, a girl who’s basically his sister, his best friend who is in love with his Shield and –
Ignis.
Gods. Noctis wants him to win so badly he can’t breathe. Ignis is – magnificent. There’s no other word for it. Noctis’s hands are gripping the side of his chair so hard his knuckles are turning white.
What if Ignis is only doing this because he’s – well, Ignis? What if he thinks it’s part of his job to compete in this tournament just because he’s Noctis’s advisor? Noctis doesn’t want Ignis to have to marry him because it’s his job.
He wants Ignis to want to marry him because Noctis wants to marry him.
And yeah. He didn’t see this coming. He probably should have.
“Ardyn,” Noctis says, looking over at his uncle. “Why did you ever come up with this in the first place?”
“Hmm? Oh. I was besieged by suitors and I didn’t like any of them. So I thought if they simply clubbed each other unconscious I could escape the bonds of matrimony and remain unencumbered.” Ardyn isn’t even looking at Noctis when he answers, but his mouth curves up at the corner.
Noctis huffs and turns to his father. “I still think you should have let me enter.”
Ardyn throws his head back and laughs. "You tried to enter your own tournament? Oh, Noct. You might be my favorite distant relation of all."
Noctis turns his attention to where yet another competitor, one of the ones he doesn’t know, falls beneath Ignis’s implacable resolve. “Didn’t see a rule against it. I thought if I won, then I could, y’know. Pick whoever I wanted to marry because I liked them, not because they beat up a bunch of people in public.”
“And haven’t you already chosen?” Regis murmurs. “I wasn’t born yesterday, son. You’ve barely taken your eyes off your champion, just as I did when it was your mother out there – what’s the vernacular? Kicking ass and taking names?”
And people thought his dad was so serious. “And you made Clarus go through this, too? After Mom died?”
“Well. He offered.” Regis smiles.
Noctis turns his attention back to the ring. He raises half out of his seat as Luna goes down, especially because Juvenis does some stupid arm-wave thing like he’s in an Eos World Wrestling Federation pay-per-view special. And, okay, Luna is a badass so beating her is something one could conceivably be proud of, but the way Juvenis does it is so disrespectful that Noctis feels the power of kings tingling in his veins – and he only controls himself from warping down there and smacking Juvenis himself with the greatest of effort.
Luna is shouting when she’s escorted from the arena. Noctis, for the first time, wishes he could hear what was going on instead of just see it. She’s gesturing and it is definitely something she picked up from Nyx. It makes him hide a laugh behind his hand.
“Even if you don’t marry her, she’d make a very good choice to bear your heir,” Ardyn says, like that’s a thing you can just say.
“Can we jump back six steps to the engagement, first?” Noctis asks. He can’t think about anything else, though, because Prompto – clearly enraged at Juvenis’s cocky behavior – goes off, flying at Juvenis like a blond tornado of rage.
It’s pretty great. Noctis doesn’t want to marry him for it, but he’s totally buying Prompto a Switch or something for Midwinter.
Juvenis doesn’t stand a chance. He goes down and Prompto, who will crow in glee when he beats Noctis at Mario Kart – with controller-waving and a little nah nah nah song that involves a dance -- simply turns his back and walks away.
“Oh, snap,” Noctis murmurs, and his grin is fierce and delighted.
Then it’s just Prompto and Ignis left. Prompto is a good fighter – which he’s proved several times over already today – but it’s not a long fight.
Prompto goes down laughing. When Ignis helps him up, Prompto’s smile is probably visible from space. He hugs Ignis, even. Then he gives a wave up toward Noctis and jogs off toward the arena entrance.
He gets a pretty loud cheer from the crowd. People like Prompto. It’s hard not to.
And then it’s just Ignis, standing alone, cleaning the mud off his glasses as he waits for what’s next.
***
What’s next is Gladio.
Noctis’s Shield strolls into the arena, his sword casually resting on his shoulder. He’s not wearing a shirt, and with the tattoos and the muscles, slightly damp from the still-falling drizzle, an audible sigh goes through the crowd.
Gladio raises his sword in response. Then he turns and bows to the dais where Noctis, Regis, Clarus and Ardyn are watching.
He and Ignis face each other, and they exchange the barest of nods. They’re friends, good friends, but you’d never know it from the way they’re greeting each other. But Noctis can feel the respect there, and he’s happy about that.
“To win Prince Noctis’s hand in marriage,” the announcer says, “Ignis Scientia will face the Prince’s Shield one-on-one.”
The crowd roars, and the bell tolls, and the fight begins.
This isn’t hand-to-hand combat like the melee. This is Ignis and his daggers versus Gladio and his broadsword. This is a fight between Crownsguard, and the crowd goes silent almost immediately after the fight starts.
Noctis has watched Ignis and Gladio spar since he was a child who first got handed a wooden sword. But he’s never seen them fight like this.
And it becomes clear, immediately, that Ignis is not fighting to keep Noctis safe from bad suitors. Ignis is fighting for Noctis, and it makes Noctis’s entire body shiver to watch him. Ignis’s daggers flash. At one point, he backflips out of the way of Gladio’s sword.
It’s – incredible. Noctis’s heart is beating so fast he can’t seem to catch his breath. He’s leaning forward in his chair, and he’s resentful every single time he has to blink because he doesn’t want to miss anything.
Gladio swings his huge sword and Ignis rolls out of the way, coming up with his daggers slashing and his leg kicking out. Gladio stumbles but doesn’t go down – the crowd gasps anyway.
Honestly, if this weren’t determining whether or not he gets to marry Ignis, Noctis would be enjoying watching these two fight because the gods know they’ve kicked his ass enough.
When Gladio gets a hit on Ignis and he stumbles back, Noctis does almost stand up, his heart suffused with terror at the thought that Ignis might lose.
He really will warp down there and put a stop to this. Even if he has to fight Gladio himself.
But Ignis doesn’t go down. He regains his balance, draws that singular focus of his around himself, and Noctis expects him to retreat and strategize because Ignis is always saying things like Noct, sometimes the best offense is defense.
Ignis does not do that.
Ignis goes after Gladio, full on berserker attack mode, like he’s just picked up some kind of status boost in a platform video game. He’s all limbs and daggers, backing Gladio up in a steady, relentless parade of badassness and Noctis is seriously considering the fact he might swoon. Actually swoon. Partly because he’s not breathing, but also because Ignis is just that awesome.
Gladio doesn’t fall beneath Ignis’s assault, but he clearly isn’t expecting it and has to fight him off with a lot of wide, arcing swings.
One swing comes really close to hitting him. Too close.
Noctis turns and punches his uncle in the arm, hard. “Why did you ever come up with this? What is the point? Why can’t I just ask Ignis to marry me without watching him and my Shield try and kill each other?”
Ardyn’s smile is wicked. “It seems like you might not have realized you were interested in the idea of marrying Ignis until he took out all the competition.”
“Gladio isn’t competition! Gladio doesn’t want to marry me!”
Ardyn pats Noctis on the head like he’s a puppy. “I’ll tell you what I told your father when he got mad at me for the same thing – you’ll enjoy it a lot more when it’s your son.”
Regis laughs. “That’s very true. You were right.”
“Ah! My favorite thing to hear. Come now, Noct,” his uncle says. “Look at your dashing advisor. He’s so overcome with love for you, he hasn’t tried to clean the mud off his glasses even once.”
Noctis makes a frustrated noise and ignores his infuriating family members. That, of course, means watching Ignis. And that is both wonderful and terrible, because Noctis has so many feelings he can’t handle, this rush of emotion at how it feels to watch Ignis – composed and cool Ignis – covered in mud, throwing himself headfirst into a battle to win his hand in marriage.
Specs, if you don’t win, I’m gonna fire you.
He almost asks his father what happens if Ignis doesn’t win – gods, they don’t have to go through all this again, do they? He’s pretty sure someone explained all the rules to him and he probably…didn’t listen. He probably expected he’d just ask Ignis. Because he didn’t expect Ignis to be fighting.
But then, he stops worrying. Even with Gladio and his sword and his impressive physique all but owning the arena. Because Noctis knows it won’t be necessary to find out what will happen if Ignis doesn’t win. Ignis is going to win.
It takes a few more minutes but Noctis can tell when Ignis gets the upper hand. He backs Gladio up, and Noctis knows what he’s doing – restricting Gladio’s ability to swing that monster sword of his. Ignis does some fancy footwork – and okay, fine, maybe after watching this, Noctis understands why he’s always harping on it in training – and gets Gladio backed up into a literal corner.
Then he does a little feint to draw Gladio’s attention and ends up with the tips of his daggers pointed right at Gladio’s throat.
And then it’s over.
The bells ring, and Noctis sits there in stunned silence while the crowd goes absolutely wild. His heart is doing the same thing.
Ignis saunters into the center of the arena and gives Noctis the same bow he did before the competition began. One hand over his heart, deep and respectful.
Noctis doesn’t remember getting to his feet, but then he’s standing and returning the bow, and he’s pretty sure he has the world’s goofiest smile on his face when he does it.
***
Noctis follows his father down to the arena proper, with his uncle and Clarus following behind him.
The crowd is still there, and they’re chanting – his name, maybe? It would probably be embarrassing as all hell if Noctis had the attention for anything right now that’s not Ignis.
Ignis looks a mess. He’s sweaty and mud-splattered, but he’s standing straight and tall, despite Noctis never having seen him even a third this disheveled, including the time they slept in the chocobo stables as children and Ignis ended up covered in hay and sneezing.
Noctis stands in front of him, and Ignis gives him this look – full of fondness and hopefulness, and there’s something so sweetly vulnerable in it that Noctis finds himself returning the look without a thought.
He knows Ignis so well, and Ignis knows him so well, and Noctis can’t for a second remember why he was surprised to see Ignis enter the competition.
Noctis realizes that his father’s already said something and that everyone is waiting for him.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ribbon. It’s Lucian black, edged with little silver skulls, and Noctis’s voice is only a little unsteady as he hands it to Ignis. “For winning the competition, Ignis Scientia, you’ve won the favor of the Crown Prince.”
Ignis takes the ribbon and ties it on the hilt of one of his daggers. And then – he goes down on one knee, right there in the mud with all of Insomnia watching, and reaches out a hand. Noctis can see that it’s trembling, even if Ignis’s voice is as steady as ever. “Your Highness,” he says. “Would you do me the honor of accepting my proposal of marriage?”
Noctis doesn’t hesitate. He grabs Ignis’s hand and yanks, pulling him up. The rain is staring to come down, harder and harder. “Hell, yeah,” Noctis says, and kisses him.
Around them, the crowd cheers. There are maybe rose petals or something floating down around them, or it could be just rain. Noctis couldn't really care less.
It’s one hell of a first kiss.