It seemed that no sooner had Prompto’s head hit the pillow than his forearm was shaken and he woke instantly. For once he hadn’t dreamed, he had been too exhausted to dream. Nonetheless, he was confused for just a second; while an unfamiliar bed didn’t bother him, the method of waking was unusual. Usually in the dorms lights out meant sleep and lights on meant wake, and out in the field a kick to his boot was the sign to wake up. Then he remembered: caravan, being healed, being able to drink, sleeping.

  “Good evening, Prompto. How are you feeling?” Ignis asked when he saw he was awake.

  Prompto swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. “Achey, but otherwise fine,” he answered honestly.

  He looked around the room and saw both the prince and his body guard sitting at the table, the prince playing something on a phone, the bodyguard watching Prompto intently. He got the feeling that the man wasn’t impressed by Prompto’s presence in the caravan. There was something cooking in the oven and, smelling it, his stomach gave a rather audible rumble.

  The heat rose to Prompto’s face when Ignis chuckled, hearing his stomach. “Clearly hungry, too. Well, I made enough for everyone and there’s time for you to have a shower first. Now, before that, I want to check your shoulder.”

  Prompto nodded and Ignis helped him remove the sling and pull his shirt up over his head. His torso was a mass of bruises, his shoulder even more so. Prompto watched as Ignis frowned at it and pressed the skin slightly. He rose an eyebrow slightly when Prompto didn’t react to the poking, but didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he said, “Have a shower, but try not to let this shoulder get too hot. We’ll ice it when you get out to take some of the swelling down.”

  “Thanks,” Prompto said, sliding off the bed and standing.

  “There’s clothes on the sink for you,” the prince said without looking up from his phone.

  “Clothes?” Prompto asked, confused. He hadn’t brought any clothes, he wasn’t supposed to be staying long enough to need them.

  “Yeah. Figured you were about my size and Iggy was complaining that I packed too much anyway. It’s just a t-shirt and pants, but better than putting smelly underthings back on,” he continued, still apparently mesmerised by his phone.

  Prompto just stared at the back of his head, at a loss for words. The prince of Lucis, who had every reason to hate him, gave him his own clothes to wear just because he didn’t have anything else to wear himself.

  He jumped when Ignis placed a hand on his good shoulder. “Go have a shower,” he said, his voice gentle, a small smile on his lips. “Dinner will be ready by the time you get out.”

  “Right. Thank you,” Prompto said again before making his way to the shower and closing the door behind him.

  -l-l-l-

  “I don’t trust him,” Gladio said as soon as they heard the water running.

  “So you’ve said. Multiple times,” Noct replied wearily, still absorbed in his game.

  “Perhaps because you’re not listening!” A fist slamming into the table punctuated his words and finally caused Noct to look up from his phone.

  “I hear you!” he said, “But you never say anything new, or anything I don’t already know. You’re like a broken record repeating the same shit over and over and over and-”

  “Noct,” Ignis said in his warning voice, not bothering to look at them, trying to focus on cooking.

  “I wouldn’t have to repeat myself if you would just show some responsibility-”

  “Gladio,” Ignis said, his warning voice getting a little louder.

  “Responsibility? I thought it was the responsibility of the king not to judge someone by where they come from, but by what they do! I-”

  “Right! Both of you! Out!” Ignis snapped, turning and rounding on the two of them. Both Gladio and Noct stared at him. “You heard me, get out. Go train with each other, work off that steam in something more productive than shouting at each other in my kitchen.”

  “But… what about dinner?” Noct asked.

  “I will call you when it’s ready and you can both shower after eating. Now out!”

  “Fiiiine,” Noct said, leaving his phone on the table and slinking out of the caravan into the lit evening.

  Gladio didn’t move.

  “Really, Gladio, you want to try me?” Ignis asked, his voice low, an eyebrow cocked.

  Gladio looked like he wanted to argue the point, but the truth was he was just a little bit afraid of Ignis when he got angry. And he looked really pissed.

  Meekly, he slid out of the seat and out of the caravan.

  Ignis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Sometimes it felt like he was the only adult of the three of them. Still, he thought as the sounds of the two of them training and shouting at each other outside reached him, at least they seemed to listen to him even if they didn’t listen to each other. And now he could return to his cooking in relative peace.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  -l-l-l-

  Prompto had heard them arguing over him, even if the water had been running. He hadn’t expected that. The way they fought enemies together, he had thought the three of them to be perfectly balanced, perfectly in sync, a unit of their own, albeit a small one. But what surprised him most of all was the lack of deference both Ignis and the bodyguard, Gladio, showed their leader. He couldn’t understand that, couldn’t comprehend how it was even possible. A soldier obeyed his superior. That was it. There were no ifs, buts, or maybes. They obeyed, or they died.

  He shook his head, trying to put it out of his mind. At least it confirmed his suspicion that the bodyguard didn’t trust him. Not that he had any plans to do anything that would prove him right—he didn’t have any plans at all—but he knew where he stood.

  Carefully, he kept his mind blank as he worked at cleaning the dirt and sweat of the past few days (week?) off him. It felt good to be clean, but he couldn’t even dwell on that feeling without a nagging headache forming, so he tried to think of nothing at all. Watching the water was good for that. He watched the way it fell, the way it bounced off the glass door, how it ran over the discolouration of his bruises. His breathing slowed, and he felt tight muscles begin to relax. His skin seemed to go at least one shade lighter after all the scrubbing he did and when he turned off the water, he felt a lot more refreshed.

  Drying himself off, he draped the towel over his shoulders and looked at the clothes the prince had given him. They were, as he had said, a t-shirt and pants. Both were black (he wondered if any of them wore anything other than black), the t-shirt with a grey skull pattern on it, the pants ordinary black denim. Dressing, he examined himself in the mirror. The prince was right, they were pretty much of a size. The shoulders of the shirt seemed a little broader than what Prompto would have normally worn, but that just meant it was comfortably loose.

  Rubbing the towel quickly over his hair one final time, he hung it up, ran his fingers through his hair, trying to get it to sit right, then grabbed his pants and left the bathroom. Outside was just Ignis; he could hear the prince and Gladio training outside, but their argument seemed to have dissolved into wordless shouts and grunts.

  “Feel better?” Ignis asked without looking up from what he was doing.

  “Much, thank you,” Prompto said.

  Ignis waved a hand in dismissal, then said, “Take a seat; it’ll be out shortly.” When he did so, Ignis helped refasten his left arm in a sling and use a bandage to strap a bag with some ice to it. Once it was secure, Ignis stuck his head outside and shouted, “Gladio, Noct! That’s enough for tonight. Come eat.”

  Prompto stared at the two of them as they tumbled inside the caravan. Both were sweaty and breathing heavily, but they were both grinning. They were arguing again, but it seemed good natured this time.

  “It doesn’t count!” Gladio was saying, giving the prince a shove.

  “It does so count!” Noct countered, shoving right back.

  They both sat next to each other opposite Prompto, and continued to shove each other and argue along the same vein (“Does too!” “Does not!” “Ah ah” “Ah huh!”).

  Ignis sighed loudly and put the plates down in front of them, but there was a small smile on his face even as he did so. The arguing ended in silence almost immediately when the two started eating. Ignis sat next to Prompto and placed a plate in front of him as well. Just the sight of properly cooked food that included meat (which Ignis had thoughtfully cut up into bite-size pieces for him) had Prompto salivating. Still, he waited until all the others had started to eat before eating himself.

  “Dis is gud,” the prince said, right after stuffing more in his mouth.

  “Don’t speak with your mouth full, please,” Ignis said, his tone weary, suggesting it was something he said often.

  The prince swallowed, then repeated himself more clearly, “This is good.”

  “Then perhaps you will eat your carrots this time,” Ignis said.

  “Pfft, no,” the prince said, very deliberately pushing them to the side of his plate.

  Ignis didn’t say anything, but he did hum with exasperation. Prompto tried the carrots himself and had to think that the prince was missing out; they were delicious!

  They ate the rest of the meal in relative silence, though Gladio did let off an impressive burp and petted his stomach once he had finished, earning a glare from Ignis and a snort of laughter from the prince. By the end, Prompto was struggling to keep his eyes open, his one hour nap not really having made a dent in his exhaustion.

  “Prompto,” Ignis said, his voice causing Prompto to open his eyes—he didn’t even realise they had shut!—and look at him. “Go to bed. You look like you need the rest.”

  Prompto yawned, covering his mouth, and slid out of the seat. “Do you need me to help clean up?” he asked as he pulled the ice pack from his shoulder, leaving it on the table; he figured helping out was the least he could do after everything the man had done for him.

  Ignis smiled, but said, “No, it’s fine, I’ll handle it.”

  “Dibs on the shower,” Gladio said, making a dash for it.

  Ignis just watched him go before turning an expectant gaze to the prince. Noctis chose that moment to make a huge exaggerated yawn then and say, “I’m tired, I think I’m gonna crash.”

  “Not before helping me with the cleaning up, you’re not,” Ignis said calmly.

  “But you let him go to bed!” the prince complained, pointing to the staring Prompto.

  “And when you get trampled by an Asherhorn, you can have an early night, too. But until then you can help me clean up,” Ignis replied simply. The prince sighed and stood up, gathering the plates as he went. Ignis turned and smiled at Prompto. “Go to bed, Prompto,” he said again. “His highness is just being a drama queen.”

  “Am not,” the prince muttered, but was completely ignored by his advisor.

  “Right. Okay then. Goodnight,” he said, he said turning to the bed once more.

  “Good night,” Ignis said.

  “Night,” the prince called.

  Prompto shook his head in wonderment and lay down. This was definitely not what he was used to, he thought as he drifted off to sleep.

  -l-l-l-

  The next day, Prompto leaned against the wall of the campervan, watching as the royal party packed their belongings back into the car, ready to leave again and be on their way to… wherever they were going. They had been very careful not to say anything about their destination around Prompto.

  And now they were leaving.

  They had given him some gil, some potions, a spare sling for his arm. He had met Cindy, and Cid, and Takka, and been assured that he could take hunts to earn more gil.

  And now they were leaving. The thought circled round and round in his head. Leaving, leaving, leaving.

  Prompto felt his heart begin to race, his breath to quicken. He had been rescued, he was alive when he shouldn’t have been, but now he was adrift once more. He could not return to the Empire, not now, not after what he had done, or rather refused to do. If he were lucky, he would be returned to Gralea for Inurement and reassignment, and even the thought of that was enough for him to break into a cold sweat despite the hot sun. He doubted he would be lucky enough to be awarded that fate, however. Without his unit to support him, without his superiors to order him, he was nothing.

  “Wait!”

  Not allowing him to think this through or even to acknowledge what he was doing or feeling, Prompto ran forward before dropping to his knees and bending over, sole unbound arm in front of him in his best submissive bow.

  The bantering that had been going on between the three of them fell silent instantly and, even though he couldn’t see it with his head bowed, Prompto could feel the stunned stares on his back.

  “Please,” he said, not looking up. “Please, take me with you.”