000

Pride of the Lion

There are areas in the Department of Mysteries off-limits for very good reasons. When Harry stumbles into one of them, he finds himself reborn, literally, into a new world. A new world with a father, and family, and a chance to live. For real. Slash. Ignis/Harry, Noct/Luna

Will probably contain spoilers for the Royal Edition, Kingsglaive, Brotherhood, and various Character episodes.

000

Prologue

Of all things to greet them when they returned to the Citadel, this... was perhaps the most outlandish and alarming of them all.

It was certainly the most surprising.

Prometheus Scientia had the shadow of a grimace on his face as they stared, "My apologies, your Grace, but she refused to wait," he informed them stiffly, even as his arms continued to gently rock the bundle of blankets against his chest. Blankets that whimpered unhappily. The Royal Retainer adjusted his hold and tried to shush the bundle, but the utterly heart-wrenching whimpering continued, snuffling and hiccuping, not loudly, but impossible to ignore.

"And no one could stop her?" Regis asked in dismay as he looked between his retainer, the bundle in his arms, the single box on the table, and the folder of papers beside it.

The Scientia flushed a little, his green eyes sliding to one side, "She was quite correct in her declaration that we had no legal right to do so. She... resigned all of her parental rights to the child's biological father, the paperwork is air-tight, and all in order," he explained with a short nod to the folder on the table that Clarus was eyeing like a still living viper, an expression of disbelief and growing anger on his usually jovial features. He had been actively trying for the last year or so for children with his beloved wife, without success. No doubt the fact that this woman would so completely, and coldly, abandon her child before the sun had even set on the day she gave birth to it infuriated him.

The King was still young enough to splutter in shock behind closed doors, not yet having mastered the same emotional restraint as his bodyguard, "How do you just – resign all right to your own child?!" he protested in growing anger, his expression pained as he looked to the tiny bundle in Prometheus's arms. "Did she even name it?" he asked weakly.

He shook his head, "She left the majority of the boy's birth certificate blank. Filling in only his date of birth, weight, and the name of his father," explained the retainer.

"What kind of woman – what kind of mother just abandons her child?" Clarus growled as he snatched the folder up to look over the papers within.

"Desino was never interested in commitment," Cor explained stiffly, it was only through many years of long friendship that allowed the others to read the confused hurt that lingered on jagged edges of betrayal in his tone, "She avoided entanglement as though it pained her. She... would have never tolerated motherhood," he admitted as he hesitantly approached the retainer, and the bundle in his arms.

"But to abandon your child-!" Clarus flared, only to fall quiet as his friend gently took the bundle from the Royal Retainer, the blond carefully arranging the Marshal's combat roughened hands to support the newborn properly.

The whimpering quieted as father and son met for the first time.

He was so small...

Cor could have held his entire head within the palm of his hand, it was no bigger than an orange. Desino had always been a cold woman, beautiful, but ruthless and aggressively independent. It had been one of the things that attracted him to her, that refusal to be tied down, to be beholden or owned by anyone or anything. The two of them knew there was nothing between them, not even friendship. They were a means to an end, a pleasant relief in a world at war, one that they could trust to watch their back, keep their mouths shut, and move on when the sun rose without attempting to intrude any further on each other's lives. And now this.

A child.

A son. She hadn't even let the nurses bathe him before bringing him here Cor noted as he catalogued the dry crust of amniotic fluids still clinging to soft downy hair. Dark hair. Only time would tell if it were the same shade of black as his, or the deep ebony brown of hers. His face was still red and misshapen from the birth, around his wrist was a plastic hospital tag, he wore only a hospital issue diaper, his blanket being one of the scarves that Cor had bought for Desino years ago, a simple whim during the colder months. She wrapped their child in it when she abandoned him here with nothing else to him, not even a name, just a box of the trinkets he occasionally found to give to her when the whim took him, without even waiting to face him and tell him herself that she had even been with child in the first place.

"He has your eyes," Regis observed softly, hovering over his shoulder.

They were a little darker, but there was no denying it as the infant's eyes cracked open to frown up at them. Big blue eyes too young to focus properly, practically blind if he recalled what little he knew of infants correctly.

They did indeed have the same eyes.

"They could change," he heard himself saying absently as he carefully adjusted his arm to support the child (his son, his son) in one arm before touching his face with the other. Soft skin, so soft. "He's only a day old," his voice pointed out logically, even as his mind was struck by the sudden realisation that his work-roughened fingertips were probably unpleasant to someone who had never felt anything like it before.

Tiny fingers closed on his forefinger before he could pull away, he blinked, startled. His son frowned up at him, gripping his finger in one tiny hand. So small he could barely get his fingers around just the one digit, but his grip was strong.

Clarus snarled as he slammed the papers down on the table, "She's completely resigned all parental rights to the child. Even gotten herself a restraining order against you!" he exclaimed in outright offence.

Cor wiggled his finger, attempting to gently pull it free.

His son scowled, not letting go.

Regis coughed on a laugh behind him.

"Indeed, she was most thorough in disavowing herself of responsibility," Prometheus agreed disapprovingly.

The Shield sighed in aggravation, "How long until we can get Child services here?" he asked tiredly, throwing the rest of the papers down and leaning back on the couch.

"What," Cor demanded shortly, even as Prometheus answered a succinct 'half an hour, sir'. Everyone paused, and looked at the young man, Cor glared at the Shield. "I'm keeping him," the young man said shortly, tightening his grip on his son.

Clarus groaned, "Cor, please, you're nineteen! You're still a child yourself-"

"You were not saying that when taking me to the front lines, Clarus," the Marshal reminded him coolly. The Shield went quiet. "I am keeping him."

"You sure?" Regis asked softly, Cor stiffened and turned to glare at him, but the King lifted a hand to stall him, concern written on his face, "Babies are hard to take care of, Cor, even for couples on leave. We'll help, of course we will, but being responsible for a life is... not the same as being a bodyguard. You're going to shape this child, everything about them. Their world views, opinions, personality, you will influence all of it. Not only that, but he's going to be completely dependent on you, entirely."

Cor felt his mouth twitch before he looked down at the infant in his arms. His friends were right. He was only nineteen, and in most places that meant he was still a child himself. But – but...

"He didn't ask to be born," he stated flatly, "That's my responsibility. And I will do right by him. As best I can."

Clarus sighed, "Sometimes that means giving him to someone better suited to caring for him, Cor," he explained gently.

The Marshal couldn't stop himself from scoffing, "Tell me that after you hear the stories of the Child services from the mouths of the people raised by it," he declared shortly before looking his King dead in the eye, "I'm keeping him."

Regis huffed a small smile, "Thought you might. Now, hand him over, I wanna see my new nephew!" he exclaimed with a grin, making grabby hand motions to the child.

Clarus sighed in annoyance as the prickly nineteen year old jerked away from his King, starting the most subdued game of keep-away he had ever seen the two engage in. Coupled with the way Regis was whining, and Cor was getting wound up, something was going to break soon – the Shield just hoped that such an incident would remain private.

Having Prometheus witness the Marshal drop kick their King through a coffee table was one thing, having the Crownsguard see it was another.

000

Thank the Six for Antheia Amicita and Prometheus Scientia.

As soon as Clarus's wife learned of his promotion to fatherhood, she practically flew to the Citadel in order to join them. Cor had given up keeping his baby from Regis's grasp, and had sprawled out on the sofa drinking some ebony laced with whiskey to calm his nerves while his King and bestfriend cuddled, and cooed at his son who was quite happy to go to sleep, and grab hold of any finger that touched his hand with surprising strength. Clarus and Prometheus had already begun the administrative process of ensuring Cor's custody was uncontested, moving his residency from the Crownsguard barracks to the Citadel (they said it was so he could continue his duties with minimum fuss, it was obviously done because prying the child from Regis's overly affectionate hands was going to be a nightmare, and it was just easier this way), changing his pay-packet (parents in the Guard received extra stipends for child-care amongst other things), drawing up further paperwork for custody changes should the ever-unlikely possibility of Cor's death occur (Clarus pointedly ignored the wounded yelp from Regis when he struck the man's name off the list of potentials), and drew up lists of things that they would need for the baby.

Antheia burst in, whisked the child out of Regis arms, patted Cor on the head, kissed her husband's cheek, stole the list of supplies, linked her arms with Prometheus, and announced they were going shopping – and that Cor had better hurry his ass up because he was coming too.

He'd had no choice but to follow, and Clarus had no choice but to allow his wife her way. Those two really were a match made in Heaven Cor decided as the Shield opened his mouth to protest, got given a syrupy sweet smile from his wife, and promptly closed it.

And that was his afternoon.

Driving Antheia and Prometheus to just about every baby boutique, mommas and papas, and child themed department store in the Crown City. Between the three of them, Antheia's preprepared knowledge of babies and parenthood, Prometheus's intelligence and foresight, and Cor's ruthless practicality and efficiency, they got everything they needed and a few extras in short order.

They had just stopped for lunch, and to feed the baby who had started to grumble not too long ago, when Clarus called to inform them that his new residence in the Citadel had been finished, and his belongings transferred over. They did not do anything by halves when they needed to.

"Do you want us to do anything specific in the baby's room?!" they heard Regis ask from where he was probably trying, and failing, to get the phone off his Shield.

Both Antheia and Prometheus stared at him.

He froze, arm filled with baby, bottle in hand, like a chocobo in the headlights.

What was appropriate bedroom décor for a child?

What did his mother do for him?

"Rocking chair," he decided, remembering how she told him about reading to him as a baby on her rocking chair, stories about Knights and Kings and warriors, stories that influenced him into being who he was today. "And a bookcase," he added, because he would need somewhere to put those books within easy arm's reach while he was on said chair.

Antheia cooed as Prometheus passed his request on. "Have you thought of a name yet, Cor?" she asked brightly as the Royal Retainer added a few other suggestions (as well as informing them of the deliveries being driven over).

The Crownsguard shifted the bottle of formula his son was greedily sucking down (was this the first thing he had eaten? Had Desino even fed him before bringing him to the Citadel? Had the hospital?). "I had... some ideas. My mother wanted a large family but, after me, couldn't. She kept a list of names. I liked Anima."

She hummed, sipping her ebony, "Anima Leonis, Soul of the Lion, hm?" she asked, referring to his last name as well.

"It compliments you, Marshal," Prometheus told him as he put the phone down and returned to his own drink.

"Heart and Soul. Yes it does, doesn't it?" Antheia chirped happily as Cor forced back his faint flush and returned to making sure his son was fed, unable to stop himself from smiling ever so slightly as blue eyes blinked peacefully up at him from amidst the scarf still wrapped around him. It would be a few months before he could do anything but eat, sleep, and cry, but Regis wasn't much different at the start of their journey five years ago, he could handle it.

Anima Leonis, his son.

He bade goodbye to the two once they returned to the Citadel, Antheia promising to visit him again tomorrow and help him settle in properly with the baby, bring him a few of her parenting books to prepare him for what was to follow. Thankfully they left him to his own devices after that, he was generally quite a quiet and reserved person, having this much attention focused on him was new and unsettling, he needed some alone-time to adjust.

His new rooms were three times the size of his apartment at the barracks. Living room, kitchen, separated toilet and bathroom, a small laundry room, and two bedrooms – one of which was fairly neat and plain in shades of grey, blue, and white, obviously his despite the bassinet sat at the foot of his bed, while the other was pale green and gold with white and blue, chocobos painted onto the walls, all of the furniture they had bought on their little excursion, and a rickety old rocking chair a good fifty years old that someone must have found in an antique store in the slums and tried to fix up as best they could. It was perfect, and fully stocked at that. He would have to think of an appropriate thank you to both Antheia and Prometheus for their care.

He also happened to find a certain Royal pain in the ass eagerly waiting for him in the living room, ready and willing to snatch the sleeping Anima from his grasp. Given how his forearm was beginning to cramp from being in that position for the last several hours, he didn't protest the abduction of his son, merely went into the kitchenette and grabbed himself a glass of water. Looked like he wasn't going to be getting that alone-time, though, given how thoroughly he was being ignored for the baby, he supposed it still kind of counted? Regis was like a piece of furniture in his life by this point anyway.

So.

Fatherhood.

He could think of worse things, though he dreaded to think of what the tabloid headlines would read tomorrow. He snorted a little, no doubt he would become the public face of the rising teen-pregnancy problem or whatever it was they were blaming the youth of today for this time.

000

Despite careful and discreet inquiries and searches, Desino Sterpis was never found.

0000

Chapter end.

Daddy!Cor is now abound, with multiple instances of Uncle Regis and Clarus.

During the game, it's mentioned that the Amicitas' are traditionally Shields for the Royal family, and that the Scientia family are also traditionally retainers for the Royals too. But aside from Clarus, Gladio, and Iris, no other Amicita is named, and Ignis' parents also remain unnamed.

Ta'dah, thus I give to you, Gladio and Iris' mother Antheia, so named for the Greek Goddess of gardens and flowers, and Ignis' father, Prometheus, whom is credited as being the Greek God who gave man Fire (which on Eos was actually Ifrit but let's ignore that).

I ain't even sorry about this. I am full on FFXV garbage right now. You can blame Reighost entirely for that. I've always been Final Fantasy trash, but she insisted on my playing the game, the episodes, and watching both Kingsglaive and Brotherhood, and a bunch of Final Fantasy Peasant videos on youtube so, yeah. Bye bitch, I have no regrets. Welcome to my WIP hell. You think it's bad being the reader? Try being the writer XDDDD