TW: Child abuse, verbal abuse, self-harm, mild violence and gore.

1.

The first time it happens, he is eight. He spills a glass of milk at the dinner table, and he watches in horror as the opaque liquid spreads across the particle board and soaks the placemats. His father goes still, his face red, and his eyes shift from indifferent to icy cold.

"You're worthless, you know that?" he says and cuffs Prompto across the cheek. "Can't do anything right."

It leaves a mark that lasts for days. Prompto lies and says he tripped. He's just clumsy. Happens all the time.

He feigns trips and falls at school, drops things on purpose, all to make it seem real. The teachers shake their heads and smile. Poor chubby clumsy little Prompto. Little butter fingers, trips over his own two feet.

By the time he is eleven, the lie becomes habit. His father comes home less and less often, but when he does, he leaves his marks in places the teachers can't see.

The only thing that keeps his head above water is her letter and the long silences between bouts of violence.

Someday. Someday, he will be worthy.

Ignis rubs his temples and tries not to wince at the shouts, giggles, beeps, bloops, mechanical whirring, and pops of simulated gunfire. He's no fan of arcades and their aura of barely controlled chaos. Too much noise, too many people, most under the age of sixteen, gorging on unhealthy snacks and too-sweet sodas. The ever-flashing lights give him a headache, the noise anxiety.

Noctis loves the place and chose it for his first supervised outing with his new school friend, Prompto. Ignis is quietly thrilled Noctis has made a friend, but he has mixed feelings about the friend himself. Prompto is loud, energetic and lacks the social graces expected of a consort of a future king.

It's not that Prompto is impolite, only that he seems unaware decorum is the default among royal associates. He slouches, complains, shouts, and laughs at everything, his manner unrestrained and uncouth. His clothes are clean but ill-fitting and years out of style.

Not that Ignis judges him for that. Not everyone can afford the latest fashions.

"I don't trust that kid," Gladio says. "He's way too familiar with Noctis, and way too common. Doesn't even bother to address him properly."

"This country is built on the backbone of her people," Ignis reminds him. "It will be good for Noctis to be seen not as an untouchable, but down to earth enough to befriend a commoner."

"Yeah, I know, but I still don't think he's the right friend for a Prince," Gladio says. "Kid gets on my nerves."

"Ah. The truth reveals itself."

Gladio shrugs and slurps on his giant-sized cola.

"Give the boy a chance, Gladio," Ignis says. "I for one am relieved Noctis is coming out of his shell."

Across the way, the boys punch buttons on a console. Prompto cackles and shouts something at the screen and Noctis elbows him, a slight smirk on his face. Nearby, a pair of girls watch their game and giggle behind their hands.

Gladio, always on alert for a threat, steps closer, as if they might be a pair of teenaged assassins disguised as school girls. Ignis follows out of habit.

"Hey, check it out," Prompto says. He nudges Noctis in the ribs and angles his head toward the giggling girls. "We've got an audience."

"Yeah? So?" Noctis says and thumbs the joystick rapidly. "What about it?"

"There's only one reason girls come to arcades," Prompto says.

"Yeah? What reason is that?"

"To play games. What else?" Prompto says. He turns and waves at the girls. "Hey, ladies? Care to join us for the next round?"

Ignis shakes his head as the girls wander over, each eyeing Noctis with star-struck adoration. Noctis, as usual, is oblivious.

"So, how we gonna team up?" Prompto asks. "Ladies versus Gents, or Villagers versus Royalty?"

The girls giggle. Gladio crosses his arms over his chest.

"See? That's what I'm talking about," Gladio says. "No respect."

Noctis' classmates treat him either like a celebrity or with extreme deference. Prompto does neither of those things and instead behaves as though Noctis is no different than anyone else. Ignis finds that rather charming, even if Prompto's manners could use some work.

"He's going to be a King before he knows it. Time he starts acting like it," Gladio says.

"All the more reason to let him have his fun now," Ignis says.

"Yeah, well," Gladio says, "when he starts skipping out on training and tutoring to hang out with his new pal, don't say I didn't warn you."

Prompto retrieves a small camera and snaps photos of Noctis and their new friends. Gladio grumbles under his breath.

"Did you look into the matter?" Ignis asks.

"Not much to find," Gladio says. "Father's a low-level accountant for the Ministry of Economy and spends a lot of time at the bar after work. Mom cleans houses and volunteers."

"Rather benign," Ignis says. "Anything else?"

"Well, the kid's grades aren't good enough to warrant a scholarship, and his parents don't make enough dough to pay for an expensive prep school, so there's that," Gladio says.

"Perhaps he has a benefactor," Ignis says.

"Not that I found," Gladio says.

"Dig deeper," Ignis suggests. "What of the boy himself?"

"Never been in trouble," Gladio says. "B-average student. Absent without an excuse a couple times in grade school. Once wandered off the playground to take pictures of birds."

"Sounds like a real hell-raiser," Ignis says and casts a glance sideways. "Cor tells me the Argentums are loyalists to the crown. If Cor can vouch for them, I have no concerns."

"Kid bugs me," Gladio says.

The game the boys and their new lady friends are playing lights up and makes a series of beeping sounds. Noctis and Prompto both lift their arms in a victory pose and slap their palms together.

"Who's the man?!" Prompto crows. "Oh, yeah!"

"I demand a rematch," one of the girls declares. "Except, we switch up the teams so it's a fair fight."

"You're on, baby," Prompto says with a crooked grin. "Noct? You up for round two?"

"Oh yeah," Nocits says. "You're going down."

Gladio rolls his eyes, but Ignis can't recall the last time he saw his charge so at ease.

Prompto is reluctant to say goodbye to Calla and Nancy, but he has homework and Noctis is bound for his afternoon training session with Gladiolus and lessons with Ignis.

He casts one last glance at the girls and waves goodbye as they giggle and titter behind their hands.

"Not sure which one I like better," Prompto says as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. "They're both kinda awesome."

"Calm down. They're just girls."

"Yeah, but girls are amazing," Prompto says. "They're all so pretty and they smell nice."

Prompto pauses as he realizes his friend has never expressed any interest in girls before. He's friendly and kind, but he doesn't go nuts in their presence the way Prompto does.

"So... you're not interested in dating or anything?"

"What's the point?" Noctis asks. "In a few years, my father will tell me who I'm supposed to marry, and that's that."

Prompto never even considered Noctis might have no choice in the matter.

"That sucks," Prompto says. "But, doesn't mean you can't have a little fun before you walk that plank."

Noctis snort-laughs and claps Prompto on the shoulder.

"I'll let you have the fun for me," Noctis says.

A fluffy black and tan dog trots down the sidewalk toward them, something strapped to its back, and Noctis' face lights up. He kneels as Umbra sits at his feet, and offers the dog a gentle greeting and a scratch behind the ear.

"You know this little guy?" Prompto asks and crouches down to give Umbra a scratch of his own. They're old pals, but he didn't know Umbra paid Noctis visits, too.

"Yep."

Noctis unstraps the bundle from the dog's back and tucks it under his arm.

"Tomorrow," he tells Umbra, gives a final scratch, and the dog trots away.

"So... You're not going to tell me what that's about?"

Noctis looks uncomfortable, but shrugs. "He belongs to a friend of mine. She doesn't live in Insomnia."

"Ohhh. She's a pen pal," Prompto teases. "Does she have a name?"

Prompto already knows, but Noctis' reaction is curious and deserves a little good-natured teasing.

"... Luna."

"Is she your girlfriend?"

"No. We're just... friends."

"Luna and Noctis, sittin' in a tree..."

"Cut it out."

"K-I-S-S-ooof!"

Prompto rubs his ribs where Noctis elbowed him, but he laughs at his friend's red cheeks.

"Maybe I could write to your good friend Luna," Prompto says. "Send her a picture or two."

"Why would you?"

"I dunno," Prompto says. "Any friend of yours is a friend of mine, right? Gotta let her know someone's looking out for you."

"That's what Gladio's for."

"Come on. Let me send one little picture? Pretty please?"

Noctis rolls his eyes, but he shrugs.

"Fine. One picture."

"Woohooo!"

Dear Prompto,

Thank you ever so much for the photograph and letter. It warms my heart to see the two of you have become such close friends. It is good to see Noctis smile, and I trust you share my desire to see him happy. He's not one to send photos of himself, and I must say, he has grown a great deal since the last time I saw him. I'm also pleased to finally put a face to your name. Some day, I hope we can meet in person.

Though my days are busy, it can be very lonely, as I am not necessarily in the company of friends. Your correspondence is always welcome, Prompto. Never think I'm not pleased and honored to receive your letters. I look forward to them, and you are welcome to write as often as you wish, and I will cherish whatever photographs you choose to send. I promise.

All I ask is that you continue to stand beside Noctis and support him through the coming years. His burden is great, and childhood will soon be at an end. I know he does not say it, but he values your friendship dearly, and you have my gratitude for being there to brighten his days.

Yours,

Luna

Dear Luna,

Yay! I'm so happy you liked the picture! That was the best one, and you're right! It's pretty hard to get Noctis to pose. Never met anyone who hates having his picture taken more than him, so sometimes I have to be sneaky about it, but sometimes, those stealthy pics are the ones that turn out awesome, so I'm not going to complain. He's getting better about it, though. Guess having strangers follow you around taking pictures is kind of a downer, and I guess it would be pretty annoying. But, I'm his buddy so that's different, right? I'm not just some weirdo following him around with a camera. I'm only that guy some of the time. :)

Anyway, the pics I'm sending are from the fishing trip Gladio took us on last week. Fishing's not my thing, but Noct really digs it. I was sort of bored by the whole thing. You just sit there and wait for something to bite. It's the worst, but like I said, Noct's into it and the guy's gotta have a little fun every now and then, you know?

Sometimes I worry about him. He doesn't talk about the stuff that bothers him but I know it weighs heavy on his mind. Heavy lies the crown, I guess, but I'm doing my best to keep his spirits up. No worries on that account. I got this end covered.

Gotta run, but give Pryna a scratch for me, okay?

Your buddy,

Prompto

"So, you wanna hit up the arcade on Saturday?" Prompto asks.

"Can't. Got a volunteer thing at the children's hospital," Nocits says. "Then some dinner thing with my dad."

"Oh, right. Cool," Prompto says. "Hey, you think I can tag along? I'm pretty good with little kids."

Noctis blinks at him and shrugs. "That really how you want to spend your day?"

"Why not? Sick kids need to have fun too," Prompto says.

"They're sick. That's not a lot of fun."

"Yeah, I know, but we can make it fun."

"Sure, if you want," Noctis says. "I guess."

"You don't mind?"

"I don't if you don't," Noctis says. "They can always use extra help."

They part ways on the sidewalk outside school in front of a sleek luxury sports car that costs more than everything Prompto owns three times over.

"Wow, sweet ride," Prompto says. "Your dad's?"

"Birthday gift," Noctis says.

Prompto's gift of a collectible Justice Monsters action figure suddenly pales in comparison. Noctis seemed pleased, but what was a cheap plastic toy in comparison to a car?

"Um, can you drive yet?"

"I'm learning."

Ignis gets out of the driver's side, polished and poised as always.

"Hey Specs," Noctis says. "You ready to do this?"

"After our last lesson, I'm content to drive you myself until the day you die."

"That bad?" Prompto asks with a laugh.

"Worse."

Prompto cackles and shoves Noctis' shoulder.

"Think you drove him over the edge, dude."

"Indeed," Ignis says. "It gives new meaning to the phrase hell on wheels."

Prompto cackles again. For as stiff as Ignis can be, Prompto enjoys the dry salt he comes out with from time to time. Especially when directed at Noctis.

"We'd offer you a ride, but I fear you won't make it home alive."

"I'm not that bad."

"It's all good," Prompto says. "Gotta stop at the market on the way home anyway. Nothing in the fridge but wilted lettuce and soy sauce."

"That does leave something to be desired," Ignis agrees, but he eyes Prompto for a long moment. "Perhaps you could join us for dinner, if your family is still out of town. I'm making Lucian Bass with grilled squash and roasted potatoes."

Prompto's stomach rumbles at the thought. He should stay home, just in case, but he can't resist Ignis' cooking. The man has a gift.

"Never had that, but it sounds good," Prompto says.

"Squash?" Noctis asks. "You trying to kill me Specky?"

"Merely trying to diversify your tastes."

"Count me in," Prompto says.

"It's settled then. We'll pick you up at six," Ignis says.

"Sure. I'll meet you on the corner, okay?" he says. "See ya!"

Prompto picks up a few items from the grocery anyway, in case his parents actually come home and feel like eating. Loaded down with bags, he trudges up the steps to the apartment, unlocks the door, and is surprised to find his father on the couch.

He can't remember the last time anyone was there when he got home from school. Most days, no one is there when he goes to bed.

His father's eyes are bloodshot and he smells of booze. Prompto cringes at the memory of the last time his father stumbled home drunk and angry about something that wasn't even Prompto's fault.

"What'cha got there, kid?"

"Just some groceries," he says.

"Spendin' all my money is what you're doing."

"No, just the household money," Prompto says. "It's one of my chores. Remember?"

"Buyin' junk and crap."

"It's just salad stuff and some toilet paper. Honest."

His father stands and Prompto swallows around a lump in his throat. He's never seen his father look at him with so much hatred. Most of the time, they ignore him, even when he's right there in front of them.

"Never should have taken you in. You don't belong here."

He grips Prompto by the wrist and tugs down the athletic band that covers the tattoo Prompto has no explanation for. All he's ever known is that it makes him an outsider, that he has to hide it. He drops the grocery bags and goes still.

"You know what you are?" his father asks. "You know what this means?"

Prompto pulls his arm away and receives a backhand slap in return. It stings, and Prompto's eyes cloud with moisture.

"It means you're a Nif, kid. I'm harboring the enemy in my own home, and what thanks do I get for it?"

"I'm not," Prompto says. "You're lying."

"That mark on your arm says otherwise, boy," his father says. "That's what the Nifs brand their robots with. You know that?"

"No."

His father twists his arm, and Prompto goes to his knees as a bone snaps. The next blow is to his gut, the next his ribs. He can't breathe and he curls up into a ball on the floor and waits for it to end. He loses count of how many times his father strikes him, but if he moves, it will get worse. He stays still until his father's rage dies out.

"Never should have agreed to this," his father says. "You're worthless."

He's been told this his whole life, that he's worthless. That he will never be good enough, never measure up, never truly belong because of that stupid tattoo. He's been told to hide it his whole life, but he never really knew why it matters or what it means.

Maybe there are different answers to the questions floating around on the edges of his misery, but he's not sure he wants them. Those answers might ruin his life and maybe even get him killed.

His wrist and his ribs are on fire. They throb in time with his heartbeat and every breath is hell. The final blow knocks him out cold.

Ignis pulls up to the corner where he usually drops Prompto off when they give him a ride, but he isn't there. He waits for a few minutes as Noctis sends his friend a text.

There's no reply and Ignis begins to worry. Prompto, for all his irritating habits, is a good kid and he's always on time for outings with Noctis.

Noctis calls but it goes to voicemail.

Ignis circles the block, then stops in front of an apartment building.

"Stay here," he tells Noctis.

"You don't know where he lives," Noctis says.

"I have an address," Ignis says.

"Why?"

"You don't think we did our homework?" Ignis asks. "It is our job, after all."

Upstairs, Ignis approaches the door of Prompto's apartment. It's slightly ajar, and the room beyond dark. He knocks and calls out, but there is no answer from the other side. He pushes the door open and peers into a small living room. He notices nothing amiss at first, then he sees a body lying motionless on the carpet.

Ignis pushes the door all the way open and invites himself in to find a semi-conscious Prompto curled into a ball, his arm clutched to his chest. Grocery bags are scattered on the floor around him and a selection of produce has escaped their trappings. A tomato here, a cucumber there. It might be comical, if not for the broken boy they encircle.

He kneels down and gingerly turns Prompto onto his back. Prompto has one hell of a black eye, a busted lip, and if Ignis isn't mistaken, a broken wrist. Ignis pries his arm away from his chest, and spies something etched into Prompto's skin.

A barcode, a number, and a small insignia that sends a wave of loathing and anger through Ignis' chest. He's seen it before. It doesn't make sense, but he knows what it is.

There's no time to ask questions now. That can wait until Prompto is able to answer.

Prompto's phone rings and Ignis answers when he sees it's Noctis.

"Come upstairs," Ignis says.

"What's going on?"

"Come upstairs, Noctis," Ignis says. "Your friend needs your help."

Ignis only has one potion on him. It won't be enough to cure Prompto's wounds entirely, but it will take the edge off the pain until he can get Prompto to safety. He doesn't trust whatever happened here won't happen again. There is only one choice to make and that is to offer Prompto the shelter of his spare room for the time being.

Ignis gathers the groceries from the floor as the potion does it's job and carries them to the kitchen. He notices on the way there are no photos of Prompto, nothing that suggests a teenage boy lives here. The furnishings are drab, well used, but clean, and there's little on the walls except a handful of bland landscapes akin to those found in any two-star hotel in the country.

He returns to the living room and attempts to help Prompto sit, but when he does, Prompto's cry of pain makes Ignis rethink that decision.

"I'm sorry," Ignis says. "Lie still."

"You're not supposed to see me like this," Prompto says, his voice soft but full of gravel.

"Will you tell me what happened?" Ignis asks.

"Fell," Prompto says, and Ignis knows it's a lie, but he doesn't push for answers.

Noctis arrives and stands in the doorway, aghast at Prompto's sorry state.

"Who did this?"

"He says he fell."

"What, from a ten story building?" Noctis says. He stalks over to Prompto's side and joins Ignis on the floor. "Prompto, who did this?"

Prompto covers his face with his uninjured arm and shakes his head.

"He'll tell you when he's ready," Ignis says. "Now is not the time."

Noctis doesn't want to accept that answer, but Ignis shuts him down with a look.

"Perhaps you could pack an overnight bag," Ignis suggests. "For a couple days, at least."

"Yeah," Noctis agrees. "Yeah, I'll do that."

The ride to Ignis' place is nearly silent. Prompto sits in the back, the worst of his injuries on the mend, but his pride has taken a massive blow. He leans against the door, his still-swollen eye against the cool glass, and he thinks about what his father said.

Could it really be true? If the Nif army is branded this way, what does that mean for him?

More important, did Ignis or Noctis see it?

If so, does that mean he can't be Noct's friend anymore?

That thought is somehow worse than all the rest.

"You'll stay with me for now," Ignis says. "I'd feel better knowing you're somewhere safe."

"You don't have to do that," Prompto says. "It's no big deal."

"Humor me," Ignis says.

Prompto tries to nod, but it hurts. He closes his eyes against the light and hopes he'll never hurt like this again.