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It’s ridiculous how much paperwork comes across Noctis’ desk, especially given how much his omega already does for him. Noctis really does try to keep up with it, far more than he did when he was younger, though there are still times where Ignis will have to taken on even more work and push Noctis into finishing whatever’s left. This is one of the rare occasions where Noctis is pushing relentlessly through it all on his own. He desperately wants the entire day off tomorrow, but that won’t be possible if he doesn’t clear the way in advance.
He’s almost two thirds through the pile when a knock sounds on his door, and before he has a chance to answer, it’s opening—that lets him know who it is even before he catches the familiar scent. There’s only one person who would dare disturb their king unannounced. Ignis slips inside and hovers in the doorway of his office, informing him, “The new omega you’ve chosen wishes to speak with you, Your Majesty.”
Noctis frowns, waiting for more information, but Ignis doesn’t tell him what it’s about. If Noctis had the power, he’d go attend to it immediately, but he’s learned the hard way that a king has too many duties to simply run after the most appealing one. With considerable effort, he answers, “We’ll have all the time in the world to talk after we’re bonded.” Perhaps that’s an exaggeration, but there certainly will be more time—they’ll be able to share quarters, and more importantly, a bed. He knows from his relationship with Ignis that spending one’s nights together can go a long way, even when most days are still spent apart. The fact that there will be more than one omega in his bed shouldn’t change that—most of Lucis’ kings have had whole harems by Noctis’ age.
Satisfied with his solution, Noctis looks back down at the immigration report he’s halfway through. He expects Ignis to quietly leave, understanding the burden of his work, but instead, Ignis says, “He wishes to speak to you before then.”
That gives Noctis pause. His frown deepens. If Prompto’s having cold feet...
Beneath his desk, his fingers curl into his thighs. Surely that can’t be it. Prompto has seemed so happy with him—he can vividly picture the enormous smile that met him when he asked for them to bond. He can’t imagine being turned down now. Besides, it took him forever to find another omega he actually wanted, and if he loses this one, he knows half the Citadel will be on his ass again. He’s the first Lucian king in nearly a century to not make use of the harem room, and both his own staff and the tabloids love reminding him of that.
When Noctis really looks for it, he thinks he can see a hint of worry in Ignis’ face. Even though he knows the answer, he asks, “You like him, right?” If Ignis didn’t, Noctis probably wouldn’t be able to go through with the bonding ceremony. He wants his omegas to get along and care for one another. It’s just one more thing that makes Prompto invaluable.
Ignis nods. “Quite a bit, actually. But I don’t think this is something I can fix for him—he was adamant about speaking with you.”
With a tight nod, Noctis accepts it. No amount of paperwork can be as important as looking after a man he intends to swear himself to. He pushes the papers before him aside and orders, “Send him in.”
Ignis leaves. It doesn’t take long before he’s replaced with a shorter, wiry blond with a smattering of yellow freckles and bright blue eyes, now dressed in royal black. Prompto tentatively closes the door behind himself, Ignis evidently back to his own work elsewhere. For a moment, Prompto remains there, fidgeting and looking wholly nervous but still utterly delectable. All Noctis can think is that can’t wait to make the young man his.
When it’s clear that Prompto’s not going to move on his own, Noctis gestures over, and then Prompto lurches to life. He comes towards the grand desk, pauses at the chairs before it, then swallows and comes around to the side Noctis is on. He sinks to his knees there, perched at Noctis’ feet. He looks up at Noctis with big, almost watery eyes, then looks down at the floor and gulps, “I’m sorry. I... should’ve done this sooner. But... I never thought the king would actually choose me, and then when you asked, I...” He trails off. A wave of sympathy courses through Noctis. Sometimes when he’s with Prompto, he loses himself in the raw fun of it, enough that he forgets how intimidating his title must be. That’s one of the many reasons that he’s so enamoured with Prompto.
He reaches a hand out to card through Prompto’s soft hair, brushing back the styled spikes, and tenderly tells him, “How could I not, after you so soundly beat me in King’s Knight? You won my hand fair and square, Prompto.” The memory isn’t that old and still thrums fondly through him. When he’d snuck out to the arcade that first time, done up in the most ridiculous of disguises, he’d mostly found himself out of place and feeling awkward, until he’d run into an adorable, bubbly omega not afraid to soundly kick an alpha’s ass all across the virtual universe. Not that Noctis didn’t have his fair share of victories. Exchanging King’s Knight friend codes that night was the best decision he ever made. Prompto peeks up through his lashes, smiling weakly.
The hesitation there makes Noctis ask, “Is it because of my title? Or because I’m older...?”
“No!” Prompto splutters, looking bewildered at the prospect. “No way; you’re super hot! Really, I always thought you were, but meeting you and being with you, you’re amazing! And then when you asked me to join your pack, I was so excited, Noct—I mean, er, Your Majesty...” Noctis only smiles at the slip. They shouldn’t really be on a first name basis until after the ceremony, but he can’t help but love the way the nickname sounds on Prompto’s lips. Prompto falters, slowly puttering off, “It’s just... I’m not really... um... what you think I am...”
Noctis lifts a brow, confused. He can’t imagine Prompto revealing anything that would change his feelings, but the scent of distressed omega is starting to thicken the air. The longer Prompto hesitates, the more he seems to wilt, until Noctis is worried he’s going to just break. Noctis presses, “Prom...”
Prompto opens his mouth, seems to choke on his words, then lifts up his hand instead. Noctis doesn’t understand, even as Prompto shakily tugs down the black wristband that he’s worn ever since their first meeting.
It reveals a dark tattoo etched across his pale skin, resembling a barcode. At first, Noctis doesn’t understand the significance, but then something registers—remnants of old reports on Niflheim activities.
Prompto mumbles dejectedly, “I... was born in Niflheim. It’s a mark for one of their... programs. I don’t have any allegiance to them, of course—my adoptive parents smuggled me out as a kid, and I’ve been raised in Lucis and love Lucis. But I... I’m still a Nif.” His voice cracks with the word. His voice is so small, so shattered as he finishes, “So... I’d hardly be a worthy omega for the Lucian king. I’m so sorry.”
The realization... doesn’t actually change anything for Noctis. Nothing registers differently. But he can tell what a huge deal it is to Prompto to admit it, and from the way that Prompto’s trembling, it looks like he hasn’t admitted it to many others, if anyone. It breaks Noctis’ heart to think of him holding in something like that for so long and clearly thinking the worst of it.
Noctis reaches out to wrap his fingers around Prompto’s wrist, gently caressing the thick lines. He quietly tells Prompto, “You’re going to be a much bigger help to me than I thought. This king wants to make peace with Niflheim. Having you by my side should show how serious I am about that.” He bends down to kiss the barcode and feels Prompto tense beneath him.
Prompto’s eyes are wet and lost. Noctis holds his hands tighter. “You know, Prom, there have been moments where you seemed to forget I was your king. Remember when we had that cup noodle cooking contest with Gladio, and you spat mine out and laughed at my awful noodles?” Prompto’s pretty face stains pink. Noctis doubts he could’ve forgotten—Ignis berated them all for the mess enough to drill it into their heads forever. “That’s what I love about you—when we’re together, we just enjoy each other as we are. So... if you don’t care how I was born, why should I care how you were?”
Prompto just looks at him, disbelieving. Noctis presses a longer kiss against his shaking hands. “Besides, Ignis likes you, and it won’t be easy to find another omega we both adore. Even Gladio digs you. You belong in my pack.”
Blush deepening, Prompto mumbles, “You’ll... really keep me...?”
Noctis gives Prompto’s arm a little tug. Prompto doesn’t move, so Noctis does it again, tapping Prompto’s shoulder and ordering, “Up.” Prompto rises slowly, and as soon as he’s on his feet, Noctis scoops him forward, pulling him in, and Prompto collapses onto Noctis’ lap. It makes it easier for Noctis to kiss him properly.
Around a slew of butterfly kisses all over Prompto’s face, Noctis mutters, “I feel so damn lucky every day to have found such a cute young thing as wonderful as you.” Prompto snorts, finally smiling and trying to squirm away as Noctis showers him with love. But after the next kiss to Prompto’s lips, Prompto affectionately nuzzles into him, rubbing their noses together. If Noctis could, he’d bond them right there.
But he’s grown enough to wait another day. It reminds him of the work still to do. He hates to shoo Prompto away, because he’d really love nothing more than to throw Prompto over his desk and prove his love immediately, but that just isn’t how life works. Noctis sighs, “If that’s all, I’d better get back to work. I have to finish enough today to justify tomorrow off, so we can go out fishing after the ceremony.”
“I can’t wait,” Prompto admits, still cuddling with him. “I’m going to get so many amazing shots!” Which seems to remind him, “Thank you so much for the new camera, by the way—I love it! I mean, not as much as I love you, of course...”
“I love you too,” Noctis laughs. On a more sobering note, he adds, “And thank you for your honesty. I know that can’t have been easy for you, but I appreciate it. Rest assured that your secret doesn’t change my feelings in the slightest.”
Prompto looks so happy. It’s the sort of thing that makes Noctis’ whole life feel complete. Prompto leans in for a long, slow kiss.
Then he obediently climbs off Noctis’ lap. He bows all the way from the waist, and straightens again to sheepishly say, “Thank you, Your Majesty.” Noctis can only smile.
As soon as Prompto’s gone again, Noctis doubles down on his paperwork with a vengeance. If he can, he wants to get the whole weekend off to spend with the pack of his dreams.