Tag: ffxv imagines

Three Brothers – Imagine

Imagine for a moment that, though Noctis is the child the crystal chose, he is not Regis’s only child. 

Rather there was a young Galadian girl, with eyes that were the envy of Leviathan and hair the color of raven’s wings, the strands even changed in the sunlight light much like the feathers of the creatures. A hunter and fighter, fluid as the sea and no less forgiving. 

He’d come back for her as he’d swore to do, but he was too many years too late. She had burned in the fires of war with a girl that looked too much like her, and much to young. He’d only been able to save her son, one who’s hair didn’t change color with the light, but was a dusty black. 

Regis could recognize it from the mirror. 

(But those eyes were not lost to him no. Her eyes still stared back at him from behind a Kingsglaive mask, and every time he saw them, he’d offer a silent prayer to the woman for forgiveness, for turning her son into his weapon.)

The second great love of his life was a retainer of his. Her wit was sharper than anyone in the room with her, and her composure was second to none. Fair of hair and with eyes as green as the Duscaen forests. He was married, but his wife had been friends with him and only friend before this, and both had their romances on the side. 

But then she had to end it and married a lord, another retainer of his, and stepped down as a retainer. The timing of their first child was off. “Premature by a month” they’d claimed. Part of him always wondered if the hurried wedding had anything to do with the fact that his hair, though fair like hers, was dusty like his.

(And as the child grew, with her sharp wit, sharper even, but with the face he’d had when he was young, he knew. For the first six years of the child’s life, he watched over him, and decided that this one, this one at the very least, would be kept as close to himself as he dared.)

The third came when the friend, seeing age and stress killing her king, offered her heart to him. She was the one who could stay. Who he wouldn’t have to leave behind. He accepted, loving her until her last breath when illness took her away. And the loving their child enough for the both of them, a child with his hair, and the blue of the crystal in his eyes once he was chosen as the crystal’s heir, but her face in his cheekbones, and an innocence that held onto him even into adulthood. 

(How he’d cried when the crystal chose him for another fate. Was he cursed? Couldn’t he keep at least one of them safe? Couldn’t he hold at least one of the close?)

When death came to him, he welcomed it, sending a young girl with his first son, praying that they’d live. 

When death came for the first son, he didn’t regret it. He’d always had a connection with the king’s magic, and knew in the back of his mind that’d he be worthy of the ring, for only long enough to get it and Luna to safety. But he never knew why he was worthy until he was dead, and the kings had to deal with a stubborn ghost of a man, hell bent on cursing them in the after life for destroying the men that could have been his family. 

Death couldn’t take the second son. No. Ignis couldn’t see the spirit of Nyx holding his left wrist, keeping the kings from taking his younger brother’s life, holding the burning at bay. He could at least save one of them, now that he knew. But it still took it’s price, leaving the second in the darkness forever, even when the light would return. He had his guesses why it didn’t take him, from having seen a picture of the former king when he was younger. And it made the vision from the messenger almost too much to bear. 

How he’d wished Noctis had agreed to stop their adventure, to refuse to go to his fate. 

When it was time for Noctis to enter the crystal, Bahamut told him all. The god did not offer him pity, but rather begged for understanding. The gods made a mistake with Ardyn, one that he’d pay for. They were too weak to help him, they hadn’t meant for him to fall. And Noctis, with the compassion of his mother aiding him, forgave Bahamut and the gods. He forgave his wayward uncle.

He was family too. 

…What if Cor had been more like Prompto after he faced Gilgamesh. Like, imagine a happier bubbly Cor rather than the hardened level headed one he became. Like, he’d settle down eventually probably after saving Prompto from being an experiment and seeing the horrors that the empire was willing to perform on infants I mean what?, but just imagine. 

Regis and Clarus, rather than being surprised by the maturity Cor displays after he recovers to being surprised by Cor ACTING HIS AGE.

Cor that still manages to do his job, but regularly runs off to arcades or gets into trouble. 

Pranks from him would be scarily well planned. Like. All his training and experience turned against his friends. (Like Regis’s cloak is replaced with one that’s a dark blue instead of black, but only a few people can manage to tell the shades apart. A perfectly timed water balloon falling from the ceiling of a hall while Clarus was only passing through and ends up late to a meeting with Cor.)

Nervous tics. Maybe he chews on his thumb when he’s in social situations. Like, he’s trying to be social but he just never learned how or cared to before. But he would like more friends.

Young Cor actually SMILING. 

Dares. He comes up with the worse dares. 

“Regis, I dare you to jump from your balcony onto the library roof while you’re only allowed one warp.” 

“That’s absurd why would I do that?” 

“Knew you couldn’t do it.”

“…Hold my coat Clarus.”

“Regis NO.” 

Surprise, he loves sleep as a teenager just like everyone else. And often naps in odd places. (Clarus found him on the top of the citadel with an arm hanging off the edge once. Nearly killed the shield with a heart attack.)

Cor staying up too late and texting his friends at odd hours, from even odder places that only someone with his skills could have gotten to. (A 15 year old with crownsguard training, who thought THAT was a good idea?) Like, imagine the conversations.

“Clarus, look, aren’t those thunderbombs cool looking above the water?”

“How in the infernian’s wrath did you get out of the city Cor?” 

Clarus trying to do damage control by tiring him out in training, but the kid, despite his childish antics, has lost absolutely no skill in combat and still gives him a run for his money. Often back fires.

Fist fights. He gets into fist fights with other soldiers regularly over the Immortal nickname. 

Pfft, hell, Clarus just ends up being responsible for him in general, and Cor unofficially gets an older brother. 

Actually lets people know when he’s scared of something. They never let him live it down that he’s afraid of GRASSHOPPERS. But they also make sure that he’s never burned too badly if caught in a fire attack when they find out he’s afraid of fire.

Keeps candy in his pockets and will throw pieces at unsuspecting people who look like they need a smile. Most often ends up being Regis and Clarus. (Regis mostly gets pelted in the back of the head.)