A/N: With this story, we're all caught up with my works from AO3! To anyone who may have read my series, thank you so much for your kind words and feedback. I'm glad so many of you seemed to enjoy them! This story is something very different: my first AU in the FFXV fandom! This isn't merely a rehashing of the "Sleeping Beauty" story, though. There is going to be so much more to it than that, so I hope you like it! Because this one is much longer than the others I've posted, I'm going to be updating two chapters a day until it's caught up with the AO3 version, which is currently eleven chapters. For the sake of clarification, there is no tie between the king of Lucis and the Crystal here, so Regis is going to be the young, dashing hero we saw in all those old trailers. Enjoy!

Chapter One: New Arrival

For years, King Regis Lucis Caelum and his queen had been praying to the Six that they would have a son who could one day ascend the throne. It seemed, at first, as though the deepest desire of their hearts would never be fulfilled. Each year passed in the same way as the last: childless.

Regis and Aulea were not willing to give up, though. They had been friends since childhood, and the lack of an heir did not drive a wedge between them. On the contrary, it instead made them all the more determined.

So, when the queen finally became pregnant after four long years, it was more than just cause for celebration. Word swept the kingdom of Lucis before they could contain it, not that they wanted to. As the royal family, it was their duty to protect and care for their people for as long as they still drew breath. That responsibility included ensuring that their line would continue to do so for many generations to come, so the conception of a child who would one day rule in Regis's stead was news for all to rejoice.

The Crown City of Insomnia was bedecked with the most beautiful decorations during the months preceding the birth of the royal child. Every time the king and queen left the Citadel, they were showered in brightly colored confetti and driven through streets lined with streamers and flowers. If they didn't know any better, they would have thought that they were in Accordo during the Moogle Chocobo Carnival, where such festivities were to be expected. It wasn't often that Insomnia saw swathes of color fluttering on the breeze, not when the buildings were comprised mostly of white stone and metal and the seal of the royal family was black. It only heightened their subjects' excitement.

How long had it been since they had felt so energized? In Regis's memory, there had never been a time when the weightlessness of ecstasy had reigned more powerfully than any king or queen might. Then again, the war with the empire of Niflheim had overshadowed their lives for more than a century with no end in sight. The last thirty years had seen a dramatic shift in priorities from battlefield politics to economic warfare, but the fact remained that there was little to smile about when an enemy stood on your doorstep. To have been able to provide his people with a reason for lighthearted antics in the face of such an ominous prospect… The only thing that could have made Regis happier was the looming deadline of his wife's delivery.

When the child was born, the entire kingdom held its breath. Would it be a girl or a boy? Would the baby be healthy like its parents or sickly like so many failed rulers of other nations? Myriad questions were left to be answered, but the king and queen paused to consider none of them. They were content to let the masses speculate all they liked: the child would be theirs, no one else's, and factors like gender hardly mattered. This was their baby—not only the future of Lucis, but also the product of their love for one another. They would turn the world upside down if it meant their child was happy, healthy, and safe.

And he was.

The prince was born at the end of August, just before the dawn, and they named him Noctis for the night sky that had welcomed him into the world.

The moment Regis heard his son's cries—his strong, healthy wailing—he ceased to be king. He wasn't the ruler of his realm or the reigning monarch of the Lucis Caelum family. He was nothing more or less than a father.

After the long hours of labor, the agonized shrieks of his wife, and the heart wrenching knowledge that he was of absolutely no use, it was mercifully over. The physicians and nurses swaddled Noctis in soft black blankets with little silver stars embroidered on them, then placed him carefully in Regis's waiting arms. For a few interminable minutes that felt like an age of mankind, he could only stare in wonder. Noctis was so tiny, so helpless; he couldn't even hold his own eyes open much less return Regis's adoring gaze. His survival, his very existence, was reliant on the protection and kindness of others—of his parents. And yet, in the same breath, he recognized that this miniscule bundle of blankets and flesh would one day rule just as he did now. It seemed so impossible and, in a way, such a pity.

His peaceful child, with his innocent blue eyes and chubby baby face, was destined to suffer the weight of the crown whether he liked it or not. The thought wasn't enough to dull Regis's elation, but it did add a sense of sobriety to the occasion.

So foreign was the sensation of carrying his son—his son—that the nurses needed to teach him as if he were the child: how to support Noctis's head, how not to jostle him too much, how to hold him upright after feedings. Everything was new to him, and even though he absorbed all he could, Regis was terrified.

After decades of war and making decisions that would impact millions of people, Regis Lucis Caelum was afraid. Of a baby.

No, that was untrue. He did not fear Noctis. His only concern was that he would not be a good father to the beautiful creature that slept calmly in his arms. He was frightened that the needs of his kingdom would have to come first, even and perhaps in spite of the fact that he wanted his son to remain his foremost priority.

In that instant, that fleeting speck of time, Regis made a solemn vow. He walked with Noctis to the chair beside his sleeping queen's bed and cradled him against his chest in an effort to preserve that closeness that he would lose as soon as he relinquished his boy, whether to his wife's arms or a cradle or the inevitable destiny of his heritage. Brushing jet black strands of hair away from Noctis's forehead, he whispered a promise, one that he desperately hoped the Six would allow him to keep.

"I will be with you…always."

Regis frowned as he pored over the map Clarus had laid down on the table before him. Despite his Shield's best efforts, there was little that could be done in arranging their next course of action. Niflheim left them few choices, but they still had a decision to make about the imperial blockade. Their usual shipments of food to Accordo were due to be exported before the end of the week, and the latter was meant to deliver their biannual supply of textiles within the month. The empire's insistence that Lucis comply with their demands or face economic ruin should have been a farce, yet Regis was discovering that they were growing increasingly reckless by the day. Either they had orchestrated some sort of plan that the Lucian council had yet to discern, or they were simply acting in the heat of the moment.

Knowing Iedolas Aldercapt the way Regis did, neither would have surprised him any more than the other.

"If the blockade isn't lifted in the coming days," Clarus summarized while Regis kept his eyes trained on the little black dots outlining the boundary of the embargo, "our trade bargain in the Altissian Accords will be voided, as will their responsibility to us. That must be what Aldercapt is intending with this foolishness."

With a nod of agreement, Regis attempted to placate him, "Our friends in Accordo will be understanding should our shipments fall behind. They are well aware of our difficulties."

"For how long is the question, Your Majesty."

"We shouldn't concern ourselves with Accordo just yet," reiterated Regis, sighing wearily.

They always came back to this same argument, and as much as he respected Clarus for his sworn Shield's wisdom and astuteness, there was no denying that he tended to worry more than was strictly necessary—not that he would ever acknowledge that.

"If we do not consider the possibility of their secession from the treaty and the lifting of sanctions against Niflheim, we may very well find ourselves in a precarious position later," Clarus pointed out in a tone that clearly indicated he was reading Regis's thoughts. Perhaps their long friendship might occasionally work against the king, after all.

"There is no reason to believe that a negation of our bargain with Accordo, how ever unlikely, would send them falling into the arms of the empire, Clarus."

"Should they require the goods that they will no longer be receiving from us, their desperation may cause them to take drastic action."

"Assuming," he reminded his Shield, narrowly resisting the urge to roll his eyes in search of a more noble reaction, "that our agreements are indeed nullified at all."

"A course that we can neither take for granted nor rule out entirely," rejoined Clarus immediately. At times like this, it was almost unbearable how unwilling he was to cede ground even to his monarch. Appealing to him in such a state was always an exercise in futility.

So, Regis merely raised an eyebrow before inquiring of their other, less narrow-minded companion, "And what is your opinion? Do you believe the Altissian Accords to be so fragile, as well?"

There was a moment of silence before Noctis sneezed.

"As I suspected," cooed Regis, poking his son's nose with an indulgent grin. "Neither do I."

He didn't miss the way Clarus rolled his eyes and scoffed. Being king meant he could simply ignore it in favor of prodding his finger into Noctis's palm and watching that tiny fist close around it in a surprisingly tight grip for one so small.

"Regis, if you do not take this threat seriously—"

"I take it quite seriously, Clarus," interjected the king. He kept his tone light so as not to upset Noctis and bounced the latter up and down gently in his arms. "And I do not seriously believe that Accordo will abandon us. They have never proven to be any less than our friend and ally, even without the guarantees outlined in the Accords. For as much as we must remain cautious of the enemy and vigilant with regards to their movements, it is imperative that we do not begin to suspect our friends lest they grow reluctant to remain by our side."

There wasn't enough time for his Shield to form a valid rebuttal, and the king was pleased to have gotten the last word in their debate. His relief was short-lived, however. As fortunate as it seemed that they were interrupted at that moment, particularly since Clarus appeared to be losing his patience at last, a glance at the door told Regis that he was not to be so lucky after all.

King or commoner, there was one facet of married life that proved to be rigid and unchanging: the power dynamics between a husband and a wife. Whatever sway or influence the former thought they had, it was truly the latter whose word was law. Regis needed to craft bills and sign decrees to rule over his country—his wife could legislate with a glare or a smile. That, apparently, would be his downfall today: Aulea was standing framed in the doorway of the council chambers, her hands on her hips and looking uncannily similar to old images of the gods when they were in a towering temper.

This time, it was much more difficult to overlook Clarus's smug grin.

"Regis," Aulea began, her tone deceptively sweet, "what have I told you about involving our son in affairs of state?"

Ah.

That had indeed come up on quite a few occasions in the last week—often enough that there was no pretending he didn't know what she was talking about.

"He will make quite the statesman one day, my love," evaded Regis as he placed a series of playful kisses on Noctis's temple. He was granted a sleepy cough he would classify as a laugh in reward of his efforts.

The look he was subjected to for his flippancy clearly indicated that his status as king was not enough to exempt him from sleeping on the sofa in their chambers, however. Indeed, he was nothing more than a man when considered within the confines of his marriage.

"Thank you, Clarus," Aulea pointedly directed at his Shield, who immediately bowed and vacated the room. Like Regis, he knew better than to oppose the queen when she was adamant. Once the door closed behind him, though, her expression shifted to one of weary resignation as she relocated to a seat at the table. "He is a month old, Regis. I would prefer that he learned how to walk before you engage him in political matters."

Regis inclined his head and offered her a remorseful smile despite his prior joking. "Apologies, dearest. Unfortunately, to see him is to do both."

Humming, Aulea nodded. It was difficult for either of them to spend time with Noctis while simultaneously fulfilling their roles as the leaders of Lucis. Admittedly, it was easier for Aulea than Regis, however, and he frequently felt envious of the quiet moments she shared with their son when he was expected at one meeting or another. For him, hardly any business in the Citadel could be conducted without his presence, or so it seemed. The council constantly wished to have words with him, and given their perilous position regarding their rapidly deteriorating relations with Niflheim, he found himself spending more of his evenings examining documents and formulating plans with his chief strategists. If he did not bring Noctis along with him to some of these gatherings, he doubted very much whether he would be able to see him at all some days. He knew what reputation he would garner as a king for such devotion, but his fears of what kind of father that made him had grown increasingly present in his mind.

"You're thinking too much."

Aulea's voice dragged him from his thoughts, and Regis smiled wanly at the concerned yet sympathetic gaze she leveled at him.

"My father once told me that thinking too much came with the throne," he mused. Glancing down at Noctis, Regis idly tucked his blankets tighter around him. "My thoughts seem inescapable no matter how hard I try."

"And what do they tell you?"

Regis paused. He had never hidden anything from his queen, not in all the years they had known one another and especially not since they were married. Dishonesty felt unnatural in her presence; her judgment had always been what he sought in his darkest hours.

"That I will be a terrible father," he whispered after only the briefest hesitation. His heart already beat faster with the embarrassment of his confession.

It was no use avoiding Aulea's gaze when her soft hand closed over his where it rested on Noctis's chest. He could find no scorn in her eyes, nor had he expected there to be—she was an uncommonly compassionate person, perhaps the kindest he had ever known. As he stared into her soul and let her see into his, the weight that had been pressing against his shoulders for the last month began to ease somewhat.

"You will never be a terrible father," she assured him, her tone conveying all the conviction of an avenging angel. There was no time to contradict her before she pressed on, "Your world revolves around Noctis."

"For how long?"

Frowning, she inquired with an exasperated sigh, "What do you mean?"

"I am king, Aulea," Regis shot back with sudden and admittedly unwarranted impatience. He immediately regretted it when Noctis squirmed restlessly in his arms, whining quietly, and paused to rock him back into a calm half-slumber. When he continued, it was in a whisper. "There may come a time when I have to choose between what is best for my kingdom and what is best for my son. We both know what I am honor bound to decide."

"Why are the two mutually exclusive?"

"You know why."

Aulea had no answer for that. Neither of them could easily utter the words: if the kingdom required their lives, they must submit. That meant any number of things—their time, their attention, their presence, even their deaths. Little care could be afforded to thoughts of what the implications would be, especially the idea of leaving their son an orphan who knew next to nothing of his parents. Perhaps Aulea would be spared as a queen not born into the Lucis Caelum family, but Regis would never be free. He was doomed to remain forever tethered to his throne, one foot stepping forward to serve while the other was shackled to the black marble floor. When Regis had discovered that his wife was pregnant, a new image had been painted upon the inside of his eyelids, and the throne room that once represented nothing more than his destiny seemed now to be a sepulcher. It was where he lived, and he doubted that he would have the pleasure of dying anywhere else.

To have a son destined for the same fate was unnerving. To realize that he might not get to know that son as a result of his own duties was agonizing.

They both were aware of the risks and always had been. It was impossible not to be, yet they had conceived Noctis regardless.

Such was the duty of a monarch.

As if in response to his uneasy thoughts, a little foot pushed against the inside of his arm, making him smile wetly. Noctis's brilliant blue eyes were open, and they stared up at him as though he was the only person on the planet. It warmed Regis's very soul, shining a light on all his inner demons to quell their hold on him, and he stroked his thumb lightly over Noctis's forehead. In that one shining moment, his fears seemed diminished and all felt right in the universe.

Then Noctis began to fuss.

"You see?" Regis chuckled with a sad sort of resignation. "I'm already doing this wrong."

"He's hungry, and you're doing the best you can," Aulea's soft voice assured him, tainted by no small measure of amusement.

Oh. Of course. The physicians had been quite clear on what to expect in the first few months: a lot of sleep and frequent feedings. Suddenly, his misgivings came rushing back and Regis felt quite incompetent indeed. He was the king—he had developed economic plans, traveled the length and width of his kingdom, sent men out to die—but couldn't even tell the difference between when his son was hungry or tired or merely unhappy…

"Stop."

A gentle kiss was pressed against his forehead in stark contrast to the way the warmth evaporated as Noctis was removed from his arms. Regis knew it was necessary even as his son's soft whining and whimpering grew in volume, but that didn't keep his own heart from mourning the loss.

"No one said this would be easy," she murmured once Noctis was settled and nursing. It had been her decision not to use a wet nurse, preferring to nurture that bond with their son herself, and Regis found that he admired her all the more for it. How could it be possible to love someone more each day without end?

"I'm quite sure we were told the opposite, actually," agreed Regis, slumping back in his seat in perhaps the least dignified manner possible.

With a slow, thoughtful nod, Aulea mused, "You know…"

Regis raised a curious eyebrow when she trailed off. It wasn't her habit to be nervous just as it wasn't his to hide things from her, and she wasn't. There was no apprehension in her expression, only a wary excitement. He hadn't seen that look on her face since their wedding night. It went without saying that he wasn't certain whether he should be enthused or concerned.

"Go on," he gently prompted when she continued to survey him without speaking. Her smile widened in response.

"Noctis is to be christened next week," observed Aulea in that same pensive tone.

Regis merely nodded. That was hardly news to him; after all, he had been feeling guilty for his lack of involvement in the preparations just that morning. There were some things that he had been consulted about, like flower arrangements and guests, but the vast majority was done without him. Aulea had seen to nearly everything with the help of her attendants, and he had no doubt the affair would be a beautiful one. He couldn't deny that not holding much of a role in the process rankled, yet he refused to let his own insecurities ruin what would surely be a perfect day all the same.

"Perhaps we are due for some time away from the Citadel afterwards." Seeing his immediate discomfort with the idea, she hastened to explain, "A few days in Galdin or a journey to Accordo might be beneficial to us all."

"Aulea…"

She was apparently not going to tolerate any interruptions and continued over him, "You have worked day and night recently. I hardly see you, and Noctis cannot attend all of your briefings."

Regis had no argument against that, but he still had to ruefully remind her, "We are at war, my love."

Would that it were not so.

"We have always been at war," she scoffed, though not without some sympathy. It was impossible not to comprehend the stakes of their conflict with the empire. Regardless, she persisted, "The war will be here when we return. It may very well remain that way forever. Your son's youth, not so."

As if to emphasize her point, Aulea spread a small cloth over his shoulder and settled a much calmer Noctis against his chest so that Regis could lightly pat his back. It shouldn't have been so comforting to hear his son's post-feeding gurgles and hiccoughs beside his ear, yet it was all the same.

That, apparently, would be his undoing.

"Very well," he capitulated, nuzzling Noctis's cheek and basking in the glow of that tiny smile. "We can revisit the idea after his christening."

It honestly wasn't fair that his queen's grin was so infectious.