So here's a new story idea I had. Yeah I know, I said I wouldn't write another one but here we go. Prompto didn't go with Noctis and the others when they left. However he'll still get himself involved in this whole story one way or another, don't you worry about that. There's going to be a whole lot of different things going on, mostly because I'm giving Prompto the ability to sense other MT's and such.

Basically the Scourge is a living thing that's going to be effecting a lot more of the world than before. Its more than just demonic energy, its a fearsome creature that can utterly destroy its host. Basically there's a reason why Prompto is one of the few people (like Ardyn) that isn't immediately destroyed by the scourge in them, and that'll be something that we'll be exploring eventually.

Chapter One: Oblitus

Prompto stood off to the side, knowing that he should have been standing there in front of the throne with his friends. Now, he was standing beside the throne next to the king, once again aware of how the crystal had aged him. The man shouldn't have looked nearly eighty years old, not normally, but the ring was a terrible power gifted to be protected by the kings of Lucius. Noctis would have to bear that power one day too. Prompto's blue eyes flicked to the ground again. He didn't want to look him in the eye. He probably felt betrayed by him in some way, knowing that he should have joined them on this journey.

Prompto had never really felt like he fit in here, though there were several reasons for that. One of them namely being his appearance. Most Lucius he had ever met had some form of either black or brown hair, which made him stand out like a sore thumb. Blonde hair wasn't unheard of here, but knowing where he really came from, where lighter colored hair was more normal, it made the fact that he was a foreigner here even more obvious. He was thin, lanky and swift but not strong. He had good aim but that's about all he had going for him. He had blue eyes, pale skin and a constellation of freckles across his nose. He wasn't like his three friends, whose eyes were boring holes into his skull as the silence continued for a while.

What they were doing was important. They were trying to secure peace with Niflheim, his home. However the peace was rocky and involved marrying Noctis Lucius Caelum, the prince of Lucius, to the Princess of what was once Tenebrae, and the Oracle, Lady Lunafreya Nox Fluret. The prince's sworn shield and his adviser were both going with him, and he was supposed to be going too. More for moral support than anything he thought, though the others had assured him that Noctis had made the choice for his own valid reasons.

"The decreed hour is come," the king said, his voice echoing powerfully through the throne room.

Even Prompto felt his eyes drawn towards the man as he heard the words. His face was chiseled with age, but a kindness too. His hair and beard, once black, regally adorned his head and was flecked with a steel gray color. He wore all black, the color of the crownsguard (which Prompto had somehow gotten himself into) and the royal family of Lucius. As if they were mourning, what he didn't know, but the color had always been so sombre. Maybe it was because of the weight of the ring of the Lucii and all the kings who had died bearing it. The man's brown eyes rested a moment on Prompto as Noctis's eyes flicked towards him, full of compassion.

Prompto's eyes traveled towards his friends. Ignis Scientia, as always, looked sharp. A tall and thin man that was lithe and fully capable of handling himself in battle. Unlike Prompto, who was known for being clumsy. There was a reason for that, a terrifying one that he had never shared with anyone. He was tall and had gray eyes, contrasting the brown hair he had styled carefully over his head. He was peering at Prompto with concern over the edge of his glasses. On the other side of the prince was Gladiolus Amicitia. He was basically a living wall. Tall and broad shouldered, full of muscles and covered in scars and tattoos. Dark brown hair and eyes made him look intimidating. Both Gladio and Iggy looked like people meant to protect the future king.

His eyes finally traveled to Noctis, who was staring at his father with a carefully neutral face. He was pale, taller than Prompto (who was admittedly a tiny twenty year old man) and only a few months older than he was too. He had been Prompto's best friend for many long years, and now he wouldn't even look at him. His eyes were blue, a dark color that seemed fathomless, as if he had been born with the kind of eyes that no one could read. They said eyes were the window to the soul, but Noctis's were mysterious to no end. His hair, carefully styled, was pitch black, like the night sky. Maybe that's where his name had come from.

"Set forth with my blessing," the king continued. "Prince Noctis." Noctis bent low at the waist, bowing to his father.

"Thank you," he said, then added as an afterthought. "Your majesty."

"Take your leave," King Regis said, every word he spoke driving his powerful voice home. "and go in the grace of the gods."

"Right," came the prince's quiet reply.

Noctis turned, without another glance, and began walking out of the room, carefully treading down the stone stairs made of marble that adorned the richly decorated room. Sounding surprised, both Ignis and Gladio sent Prompto confused glances before bowing quietly and making their way after Noctis. Prompto watched him go with a frown on his face. Ever since Noctis had heard the news that the king wanted him to stay here during the signing, he had been avoiding him. Noctis had refused to talk to Prompto for days, and Prompto knew it was because he was angry with him and his father. Prompto was supposed to be leaving with them, for whatever that was worth. And it probably hadn't helped that he had said he felt he could be of more use here.

That much was true. He could barely fight as it was, not like the other members of the crown's guard. Not at least, while he was holding IT in check. But he had always been afraid to simply let it go and let it do the things he had seen the others do when he was younger. So he didn't fight well. Hell, sometimes he couldn't even walk without hurting himself because he was so focused trying to keep it pushed down somewhere deep inside. But he was willing to use it, to help the king and Noctis even if everyone hate him. If he tapped into it, just a little, he would be able to sense the Magitek Troopers and the other various types of machinery that the empire could use. Why had he told the king about this ability (though not how he could do it)? Because Prompto had been raised in the Empire. He didn't believe for a second they wanted peace. Not since hearing them preach about war against Lucius for as long as he could remember.

If he had expected the king to hate him for this knowledge or even ask questions, he didn't. He seemed to simply trust what he said with no complaints. Then, to complicate matters more, he had apparently given him a title. The king's Technical Adviser. It was a clever ruse to hide what he was really doing, he had to admit, but it had people practically in riots. It was already bad enough with Noctis had made him one of his sword sworn, able to use his connection to the prince to summon weapons through the armiger. As long as they were both alive, he would be able to feel if he summoned his weapons to help him through that bond despite any distance between them.

Now he was supposed to be helping the king with peace treaties. He could understand their dislike of him though. His specialty was guns and machinery. The problem was that machinery was almost always equated with Nifflehiem, which had been at war with Lucius for such a long time. They wanted peace? He believed that about as much as he did that Behemoths made good pets. They would bring as many war machines as they could to take down Lucius, and Prompto was going to be here to warn everyone when that time came. It was to protect the king, and Noctis too. Because as much as the prince acted like he hated both of them right now, he would do anything to keep him happy. And he would never forgive himself if something happened to his dad.

And him? Well there was a good chance if he, no when he found out what he really was, that he would hate him. That would hurt. There was no getting around that fact. But he would endure all the pain in the world if it meant that Noctis could continue to be happy. Even if it meant that Noct had to kill him in the end. After all, that was usually the way that MT's went. He had been born a Magitek Trooper, one of the creatures created to make the existence of his friends as painful as possible. At a young age they had injected the very thing that was threatening to tear their world apart, the Scourge, into him. Niflheim was heavily industrialized and so they didn't seem to notice or care, but Lucius could see what it was doing. Prompto was fated to stand on the other side of this war as his best friends, but he was choosing to defy that fate, even if they hated him for it.

At the thought of the scourge, he could feel it deep under his skin. It was bubbling and crying out, gnashing its teeth and weeping. It was a pitiful broken mess that made him even worse that it was. It was always there, trying to creep out and turn him into a monster like the other MT's. He had been fighting it for such a long time, but it was terrible. It felt like a losing battle and that's what made it worse. The thought that one day he wouldn't be able to hold it back and that's when his friends would find out the terrible secret he had been hiding from them for so long.

Prompto hadn't been aware that the king had stood from the uncomfortable looking throne until a steady hand had been put onto his shoulder. It made him jump, despite himself, and he flushed in embarrassment when he realized he had been caught off guard by a cripple old man. The knee brace he used flashed in the light, looking just as regal as the rest of him. The man's eyes were compassionate though, concerned even.

"Y-Your Majesty," he managed.

"Are you all right?" the king asked.

Prompto couldn't help but blink at this. Was he all right? No. He was far from it. He was aching inside from trying to hold back the scourge. He was sad because his best friend wouldn't even look at him before he had left, frustrated because they hadn't spoken in days. Something about this didn't set right, especially not the resigned face of the king. Because they both knew that this wouldn't end without bloodshed. But he was surprised by the question, and a programmed response left his lips before he could help it. He knew that the king knew better than that, that he knew it was a lie.

"I'm fine, sir," he said. The man's hand tightened just a little on his shoulder, before pulling away.

"Go," he said. "Speak to my wayward son before he's gone. I will follow as quickly as I can."

"O-Oh," Prompto said, surprised. "No, I think I shouldn't. I mean, he's already pretty mad at me as it is. I can just...text him later or something."

"Prompto," the man said quietly, with a real ache in his voice. "Do not let this silence stand between the two of you. I know better than most the ache that not speaking to another can cause. You will regret it if you do not fix things now."

There was something in his voice, something that told Prompto that he knew more than what he was giving away. It spoke of pain and agony, at a fate that he knew but he could not speak of. It spoke of things that would happen to all of them before the day was done. And yet Prompto still couldn't think of anything to say. He didn't want to bother Noctis, mainly because they would be parting eventually. There was little Prompto could do against his own coding, and the scourge was another matter itself. There was a lot he wanted to say to his friends, even if only thanking them for giving him a life worth living. But he didn't want to give them false hope that he could be saved. The blonde shook his head and took a step back.

"I'll be fine," he said, making himself sound more cheerful than he was. "Noctis will marry the Oracle and there will be peace. I'll have plenty of time to tell him all the things that happened when he comes back. But if you want to catch him you're going to have to go now. Make sure he isn't already giving Gladio and Iggy fits, won't you?"

The king's eyes were sad and pitying now, but he didn't say anything. Instead he leaned again into his cane and began making his slow way out of the room, another man in hot pursuit of the ailing king to make sure he safely made it to where the prince was waiting. Prompto stood there in silence, thinking to himself of all the things that could actually go wrong when they were parting like this. There was a good chance, a really good damn chance, that he wasn't making it out of here ever again. The silent darkness of the citadel had never felt like a tomb more than anything else. The blonde started chewing on his bottom lip, and pulled out his phone again, opening a message.

To Noctis: Thanks for everything

Prompto didn't wait to see if a reply came, shoving the phone back into his pocket. With how angry the prince had been before he had left he doubted that he would even open the message if he saw who it was from. He couldn't help it. He couldn't bring himself to face Noctis right now, or Iggy or Gladio for that matter, but he couldn't let this just be the end. He had to say something. He hoped that all of the things he wanted to say, all his pain and love for his friends could be conveyed into one single phrase. Hell, it was so out of character that he almost wished that Noctis came barging back into the room, demanding to know what was wrong.

Prompto was the joker. He was always pulling pranks and making others laugh. He was the guy with all the quips and laughs, the silly little man that liked to photograph everything. His usual parting would be something like "see you later dork" or else really similar. The fact that he had texted something so formal, so final, his friends would know right then that something was terribly wrong. Honestly he didn't know if it would make it worse or not, saying something so simple after all the time he had spent not talking to the prince here lately. But he at least felt better knowing that he had done something to tell Noctis how much they all meant to him.

"I guess I finally got the last word, huh?" Prompto laughed humorlessly to himself.

There was no response. He was alone in the throne room, which mournfully echoed his words back to him. Prompto shivered, looking at the cold gray stone around him. The whole citadel, huge and full of so many rooms. Would this be his tomb? The dark thoughts refused to go away, letting the scourge sink its teeth more painfully into his mind. But he just turned and left the room to try and get some rest before everything went to hell later. He was going to need to be on top of his game if he was going to make sure as many people survived as possible. For a while at least he was staying in the citadel, close enough to be useful when the time came.

If there was one thing that Prompto hated, it was how fast the hours seemed to fly by when something terrible was approaching. As he had thought, Noctis hadn't replied to his text. Hell, he probably hadn't even opened it. But maybe that was for the best right now. It was better that his friends got as far away from here as possible. He probably wasn't going to be so lucky, but he was perfectly fine with that. He just had to take it one step at a time. One more step. It was surprisingly easy, he found, to focus on the ailing king than himself. Especially since that King walked so slowly and with such an obvious limp. Some might see it as weakness, but Prompto really knew that it was because he was so strong. Who else could uphold the power of that ring? Not even Noct could do that, not for a long while. The thought of his friend brought a tight pain to his chest that he tried to ignore. He was doing this for him. Nothing else mattered.

"Prompto," the king said, surprising him and making him blink as he turned to look at him.

They had stopped in a quiet hallway, some distance from the room where the meeting was going to take place. Something about his tone of his voice told the blonde that this was a deadly serious matter. Behind the king stood another man, Clarus Amicitia. He was Gladiolus's father, and an intimidating man to be sure. He was a middle aged man with a shaved head and blue eyes. What parts of his hair visible were gray, like the aging king's. He wore a black and gold uniform, similar to the one they had switched Prompto's normal clothes with. The man's eyes were glancing at the king, a question forming at his eyes as he motioned the other Kingsglaives back.

"Y-Your highness?" Prompto asked. This time, he paused because the man's eyes were filled with pity and sorrow when he looked at him.

"I think its time I admitted to you everything," he said, to both Prompto and Clarus's confusion. "You do not remember much of when you came here, do you?"

Prompto couldn't suppress a wince at the thought of the early years of his life. Years of growing silently inside of a test tube, waking only long enough for the scientists to change his coding, tattoo his wrist with the code that all MT's bore, for the scourge to be administered dose by dose. He could remember being told again and again that he was a unit, not a person, for the glory of the empire's army. He could remember training and conditioning on how to use a gun and where to shoot, even going so far as to use animals, daemons and gods forbid, people as target practice. As for how he'd gotten here...he wasn't sure. He had been put back into his pod for conditioning and when he woke up he was simply here, in Lucius. Aware that Clarus was watching him, and the king had put a steadying hand on his shoulder again, Prompto slowly shook his head.

"I don't recall how I got here," he confirmed. "It was like just...waking up in another place."

"I thought as much," the king hummed lowly to himself, not sounding very pleased about what had apparently happened in this time. "There are few people who know the information I am about to tell you, which you Prompto are already aware of. Those that know are myself, as well as Cor and Monica who were on the mission where you were...retrieved. Clarus, please allow me to finish before you begin doubting our young friend here."

Prompto realized where this was going with a sense of dread that settled into his stomach. How much did they know? Is that why the king had simply not questioned it when he had admitted to his ability to sense the MT's? He had thought that it had been odd that he had a hole in his memory, but he had never expected it to be because they were aware. How long had they been watching him, making sure he wouldn't turn into a monster? If they were aware then why had the king always been so willing to let him near his only son? Clarus's confusion were evident, as was the wide eyed way that Prompto was staring at the king. It was probably really disrespectful and all but he couldn't find a way to care at the moment. Slowly the Amicitia nodded.

"Very well," the king continued. "Then I will explain. During the last war, we discovered that there was a new army being created by the Empire, one made of what we assumed were some kind of robot. We were wrong in that regard. Cor and Monica were investigating one of the facilities where these were being created and they found Prompto here. After learning what they had about the creation of this army, they couldn't leave a child there in good conscience. I will be blunt, as we are running short on time. Prompto is a Magitek Trooper, originally from Niflheim."

"Right," Clarus snorted, which Prompto honestly couldn't blame him for. "I'll believe that when Bahamut comes for tea one day. MT's are well trained, a practically unbeatable army even if only for sheer numbers. Prompto's about as clumsy as they come."

"I do believe," the king continued, stepping between Clarus and Prompto. Whether it was instinctual or not, neither one of them missed it. "it is because he has been suppressing his own programming. Prompto, your wrist, if you will."

The command was quiet, not at all forceful, yet it made Prompto wince as if he had just been struck. Ever since he had been little and first found himself here, he had always made an effort to hide the code that was tattooed into his wrist. He knew why the king had stepped between them, knowing that his shield would hesitate to harm him if he tensed to attack him. Prompto had never let his friends see his wrist, let alone the king. Mostly because he knew many people would recognize what it was. People like Clarus had spent nearly Prompto's whole life fighting the Empire, and they would obviously know that MT's had codes on their wrists. He fiddled with the black band that had hidden it for years, but ultimately decided it would be better to not put it off.

He lifted just the edge, enough that the man could clearly see the bar code and the set of numbers that ran along it. As he expected, the shield's eyes flashed and he tensed, as if to attack the boy standing in the corridor. However King Regis stepped in the way again, meeting the Amicitia's eyes directly and placing a hand on Prompto's shoulder, as if to keep him from bolting. Prompto almost did, feeling like suddenly everything he ever was and ever would be was suddenly clearly visible for anyone to see. And that's what made it worse. He quickly tugged the band safely back over his wrist, where the unassuming set of numbers couldn't hurt him.

"Listen to me," the king said, his tone changing to one that clearly sounded like a growl. Whatever it was, it seemed to work and snap the man out of it. Only then did it change to a soft purr again that Prompto usually associated with him. "I would trust Prompto with my life, and that of my son's. He is here of his own free will, choosing to help give us an idea of the Empire's forces so that we'll be able to evacuate as many people as possible in time. He has never, not even once, shown that his programming will harm anyone, let alone the people of speaking, he is not a MT. He is not one of those turned into a daemon or even one of those cyborg infantry men."

"But still," Clarus growled, eying Prompto like he was a bug he longed to squash. "There's no telling how he'll react with the Emperor in the room. It would be better if-"

"He is coming with us," King Regis said. "I have made my decision. If you cannot trust him now, knowing what he is, then you never trusted him to begin with. If nothing else, trust me when I say that I know what I am doing. Please, my friend."

For a long while, there was an uneasy silence. Prompto was almost convinced that Clarus was going to ignore the king and kill him right then and there. His eyes kept flicking between Prompto's wrist and the king, as if unsure what to do for the very first time. Finally though he forced himself to relax and nodded, though his eyes remained carefully trained on Prompto. The blonde didn't dare heave the sigh of relief that he was feeling in his chest. He stared at the floor, nervously shifting as he waited. The king's hand squeezed his shoulder again for the second time that day.

"Argentum," the man continued, his voice sounding more authoritative now. "I want you near Amicitia at all times." The man's eyes flicked between the blonde and his old friend. "Do not misunderstand. I do not know how exactly Magitek Troopers are able to sense one another, but if you open yourself to sense the others, they will sense you as well. I would have as few casualties as possible."

"I understand," Prompto mumbled. Clarus nodded as well, but his eyes were trained on Prompto and it was clear he wasn't going to trust him any time soon.

"Very good," the king said, relaxing finally and removing his hand from Prompto's shoulder. "Then we will be beginning soon. Prompto. Have you sensed anything yet?"

That. This is what he was dreading since he had first revealed his ability, knowing fully well what it was going to meant for him. Did the King know what this really entailed? What it really meant to do this? He wasn't sure, so he busied himself closing his eyes and reaching inside of himself. He could feel it, the dark choir that always sat under his skin, trying to drag him into the shadows where they lay. As he reached out for it, they reached for him too. They snatched at him, scratching at his mind, at his skin, flaying him alive, trying to suffocate him. But there was always a point where they would stop, where they couldn't reach any farther. It made them scream and thrash more, hurting him all the while. He could feel himself wince, hear someone asking something in a concerned tone, but he couldn't really hear them over the screaming of the choir.

Finally seeming to concede that it could not in fact, take him over, it reluctantly allowed him to expand his senses outwards into the city, into the world beyond them. He could feel others, the hundreds of MT's the empire had taken with them. Did no one else hear them screaming? They must not, because everyone else said that MT's didn't even speak, let alone make noises. All they heard was the silence of deadly machines. Prompto could hear them though. Screaming and reaching out, clinging to him like a lost light in the darkness. He couldn't help but shudder again at their unseen hands, screeching at him in pained voices.

WHERE AM I?

WHAT AM I?

I'M SCARED!

HELP ME!

Prompto wished he could comfort them, let them know that he was there and that he knew what they were going through. But he knew better than anyone that empty words held no reassurances. How could he help them when he couldn't even help himself? Why did he, out of millions of MT's created, have the ability to withstand the scourge in his heart? He knew that whatever it was, it had made sure that his father had kept him around as kind of a pet project despite his rebellious nature. Most MT's, when deemed no longer in working order, were "decommissioned". Basically it was a fancy word meaning they were destroyed. And yet here Prompto was.

He shivered, pulling his mind away from the ancient, swirling mass and the others. When he went to open his eyes, he felt a familiar feeling of dirtiness in them. It was one of the true signs of a MT, the black gunk that poured from their mouths and their eyes. He had to rub at his eyes to hide any traces of it, but swallowing the gunk that began to pool in his throat was more of a challenge. He took a deep, steadying breath before opening his eyes again and turning to look at the king. Clarus looked unnerved, as if he had witnessed something he had never seen before, and the king looked extremely concerned. His hand was on Prompto's shoulder again, as if to steady him despite the fact that his posture never wavered. It did help to ground him though.

"Low level MT soldiers," he said, his usual chipper voice now sounding crisp and like a soldier's. Clarus visibly flinched, as if to reach for his sword. "Ranked two to four. They're carrying weapons of all makes and models. Not exactly a threat though, considering they're so few. They're programmed for self defense."

"Anything else?" the king asked in a careful tone. This is where some of Prompto's humanity reappeared, making him frown slightly.

"There's something," he said, sounding as confused as he felt. "Outside the wall? I can't really get a good read on it."

"That's good enough for now," the king said, seeming to breathe a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Prompto." Here however the man paused, the concerned look passing over his face. "Are you sure you're all right? What exactly-"

"Your majesty!"

They all turned their attention, surprised, as a clearly distressed man came running into the room with exasperated guards following him closely. As he made his way into the room, he quickly dropped to one knee in front of the king, and Prompto recognized his uniform as belonging to one of the Kingsglaive. That's right. Most of the crown's guard were outside, barely on duty, and not really here in the citadel. Prompto was the only member of the crown's guard (and not even Regis's, but Noctis's) that was even in the citadel at this point. The rest of them were all elsewhere, enjoying some time off, or so they thought. He knew that the king had most likely ordered them all out of the way, in hopes that they could survive. He had kept only his elite by his side, making sure that the battle remained here instead of elsewhere. And he also kept Prompto.

Prompto stood there awkwardly, unsure what he was supposed to be doing. He was outmatched and outclassed by a long shot, part of the new generation of the crownsguard and not the old, which had faced untold battles. It was like standing next to Cor the Immortal (he had to reign in his inner fanboy there for a moment), and expecting to come out anywhere near the same level. True, he had his training as a MT, but he had suppressed that for about as long as he had existed. That wasn't really the same thing. If anyone was going to die here, it was most definitely him.

"The Empire has taken the Oracle Hostage."

Of all the news that Prompto had expected, this wasn't it. She had just been at the party the night before! Well, Prompto hadn't been there. He wasn't allowed to go, but still he had heard about it from the king! He felt the choir surge at this, rising and screaming louder than ever and enough so that he was kind of surprised that no one else could hear it at this point. He winced again, but nobody was looking at him as he fought down the angry swell. What was so different this time, out of so many times Lady Lunafreya had been mentioned, that it made the choir scream so much? By the time he had reigned it in, he was only able to hear the king give the man permission to deploy the kingsglaive to save the Oracle.

"Seems that things are becoming more exciting than we had hoped for," the king mumbled. Prompto, unsure if it was meant towards him, simply nodded.

He couldn't help but send a quick prayer to the astrals, despite not knowing if they would answer prayers of someone like him. He couldn't help it though, feeling both overwhelmed here.

Sure hope your travels are going better, buddy. 'Cause things are going to hell here.

So there's the end of chapter one. Things are going to get a little more hectic from here on out. And since I have no talents at translating latin I went with (fuck it) Google Translate. The story's title is "Fatal Dreams" and the title of the chapter is "Forgot/Forgotten". Now in the next chapter we'll be meeting Ardyn and shit's going to get really chaotic really fast. Espeically if the chapter title's anything to go off of. Next chapter is Cadere, or "Fall/Fallen". Gee, I wonder what that's a reference to. No idea at all.

Anyway, I hope you guys are eventually looking forward to badass Prompto, because that is going to happen a few times over the course of the story. I have no idea how many times that's going to be. The story is based around Prompto (later chapters will have less of a serious writing style and more of a funny one since its from his point of view) and for a while he won't be traveling with Noct and the guys, but two other characters that may or may not surprise you. Anyway this is another fix it story. So a lot of people live.