Chapter Text
The door shut and suddenly the room was quiet.
You were alone again.
It was not long before your smile fell from your lips following the realization that you stood solitary in your large bedroom. The walls seemed so far away from you; you may as well have been standing in the grand ballroom. Iris insisted you keep the dress and it could not have been a better gift from the amateur designer. You made a mental note to give her something in return for her generosity and willingness to work on such short notice.
Gladiolus had mentioned she had exams and you figured she must have been swamped despite agreeing to design you a dress. That made you frown. You hoped this would not affect her academics in a negative light and made another mental note to ask her if there was anyway you could help the next time you saw her. (You silently hoped it would be soon; Etro knows you could use some friends.)
You glanced at the clock on the wall. Dinner had passed by a while ago and you supposed you were fine without having anything to eat. You had eaten lunch with Aranea before and recently you hadn't much desire to chow down anyways. Your hands rested on your hips and you stared about your room and the vibrancy had already left its walls; it was dreary again. All that life and laughter had gone now and you were left to your own devices once again.
But this time when I wake up, Aranea will still be there, you thought to yourself. It left you with a lighter feeling in your gut knowing you'd have your cousin there beside you in the when the dawn arrived.
A yawn overcame you, your body became aware that it was tired from the sudden and unexpected change of pace in your daily routine. A shower sounded heavenly and you reached behind you to undo the zipper in the back. The small metal dangled precisely in the middle of you back—right where your fingers couldn't reach. You tried the over hand approach and then the double-handed, crouched position before your shoulder began to cramp and you quickly retracted out of the contortion.
"Oh, please don't do this to me..." you mumbled to yourself as you attempted to pull the fabric down in hope the zipper would come into reach. "I feel you...c'mon!" You started pacing around as if it would help with you cause. It would be your luck that you'd get stuck in a predicament in which you'd need another person after everyone had left. The universe really was gunning to get you.
It wasn't even as if you couldn't feel the stupid thing, either! The metal zipper was small and tucked into a seam and you remembered Aranea clasping something in the back and who knows where that was located.
"I should've asked her how to operate this death trap, for Etro's sake...C'mon..." you grumbled to yourself, your hair falling more and more out of place as you hopped around and stomped your feet in frustration. You didn't want to rip the dress. Iris had worked so hard on it, that much was obvious, but she also made it impossible (at least for you right now) to get out of. You slapped your hands to you hips and groaned out, "Why me? Why? What did I do to deserve this?"
It was futile. Aranea would have to come back in, you would have to rip the dress, or you would sleep in the damned thing. You were trapped in this dress and there was nothing you could do about it! All because you couldn't stand up for yourself at a dress shop, and Aranea yelling at the designer and Iris stepping in for your convenience, and—
"Oh, stop it! Stop it!" You slapped your hands to your cheeks and shook your head hoping to shake the impending pity party away. "Breathe, you're smart. We can figure this out!" You said to yourself a little shaky. You went over the mirror on the vanity and lifted your arms, it was strapless, you could slip down out of it. It was just a bit snug up top, but once you got your shoulders through, it would be smooth sailing.
You nodded in determination. You just needed to breathe and calm down. Aranea's voice echoed in your head like a record on repeat, "Keep your head up and on straight, okay?"
You lifted used your hands to pull the dress up and it took a bit of shifting before you could get it up to your chin. The dress's corset was tighter around your shoulders and it was painful as your shoulder blades crushed closer together as your arms stuck out awkwardly up over your head, but you were getting somewhere at least.
A fear of ripping the dress began to overcome you as the fabric felt far too tight around your body as your vision became obscured by the fabric. (Now, you were flying blindly through this mess. Great. Because you were doing so well with vision.) You shifted again and you took in a breath before pulling up the dress once again so that your shoulders could slip down out of the tight corset. There had been a moment you'd wriggled a little too aggressively and almost lost your balance before you quickly regained your footing, berating your own lack of caution.
Then, tragedy.
"Shit..." The curse slipped out. You didn't usually curse, especially not around anyone other than your cousin who had been the best rebellious role model for you in your youth. Truly, she had taught you ever word in the foul language dictionary because she thought it was just hilarious how you sounded. An image of an already feisty, thirteen year-old Aranea teaching you how to say bad words underneath blanket forts you two had made in her room ran through your mind. It was the only thing you could say because you were stuck. Stuck in an even worse position. Hands above your head, dress hiked all the up to you mid thigh and vision completely cut-off, and you couldn't even figure out where you were without fear of tripping and ripping Iris' hard work.
Oh, fate really did have it in for you.
And she is a cruel bitch.
The door opened.
Sweat gathered on your brow and you could only imagine that Aranea had walked back in, forgetting something meaningless and seeing your sad state of affair. You whimpered out a defeated, "Aranea, help me..."
If the world had stopped right there and then, and the ground cracked open, swallowing you into its depths as the cold embrace of death encased you, you would not have shed a single tear. No, you would have gladly jumped out of the window, dodge rolling into traffic and running off if it meant that you didn't have to be standing in that bedroom. Fate was a heartless wench. And you hated her.
"Who?"
You gulped, a deathly chill running down your spine, "P-prince Noctis?"
"What are you doing?" Noctis asked, probably still standing near the door as you heard it shut promptly afterwards.
You crossed your legs, shifting around as to give yourself some sort of decency and cover to your lower body. You laughed nervously as you moved about towards, what you hoped was, the direction of the bathroom. A table corner banged into your kneecap and you let out a loud, "Ow!"
He scoffed, "You know what? I don't want to know."
You could hear him move around the room, probably getting ready to fall into the bed that you both end up in every night. (He'd probably turn the light off, too, knowing your own luck.) Banging your legs and stubbing your toes on every piece of furniture, you felt his eyes on you the entire time. Etro only knows how badly he was judging you right now.
Lady Lunafreya probably never looked this stupid in her entire life. You fumbled about praying to the Gods that you would make it without falling headfirst into a glass table or the hard flooring.
"Sorry!" You suddenly apologized as you were bumped into a plant, attempting to prevent it from falling. You spun around on your feet and tried to find something familiar with your toes and you just wanted to disappear into the void. Just let one of the Gods smite you now. You hit the corner of the chaise lounge and tumbled over the side of it, flailing all the way over as your ` flung into the air and your scream of surprise was deafening in your corseted confinement.
You rolled around and fell onto the ground before scooting on the floor, trying to get away like an inchworm, towards a corner so that you could die of embarrassment.
"Of all the things...of all the people...why me? Why me?" You whispered, completely horrified, to yourself as you struggled to get up to your feet, not without knocking something that sounded like books onto the ground and probably that stupid fern, too. It took a minute before you found yourself on your knees so that you could shuffle around to the nearest exit.
However, you did not get very far before a pair of warm hands hoisted you up from just under your arms. (Oh, right! Noctis had just seen you tear the entire room apart like an angry blind animal! How splendid!) He steadied you as your feet found purchase with the floor, their grip on you pressing into a sensitive spot ushering a mixture of a laugh, a snort, and a strange yelping noise.
His hands retracted and you could have just collapsed back onto the ground, hoping that a blow to the back of your head would kill you or knock you unconscious. You quickly and nervously apologized, "I-I—sorry! I'm...ticklish there..."
He cleared his throat, "Um, it's...fine."
Well, this could have gone smoother.
In an attempt to escape towards the bathroom, probably to sit on the floor and cry because you had made an absolute fool out of yourself. Or maybe, if you were somehow able to get the bath going you could just dive right in and drown yourself. Anything to get away from the utterly embarrassing situation you were in. With a shaky little side step, you slowly walked away, hoping he had decided to ignore you and continue on with his own night routine.
"Ow!" You yelped as you banged into the wall. You sighed. There was no way you were going to find this stupid bathroom without assistance. Swallowing hard, you sighed again, "Would...would you mind helping me?"
"Are you sure? You seem pretty capable so far."
You were silent. Was he...? Was he telling a joke?
"Er, nevermind," he added. "Is there a zipper somewhere?"
You snapped back, "Yeah, it's—" you turned around and used your hand to feel around before finding the top of the dress where the zipper was hiding. "—somewhere over here—"
"Here?" He asked as his hand grabbed the fabric and pulled down a little making you stumble a little backwards. His hand had brushed against your own and you flinched away as if it had been burned. He fiddled for a moment before finally you heard the sound of the zipper sliding down through the teeth—
"Ow! That's my hair! It's stuck in my hair!" You hissed and he pulled a the zipper up, further entrapping more of your hair. You shifted around and he pulled the fabric down so he could see, but it only made the pain worse.
"Quit moving," he tried to pull the dress back down on your body so that it was at a manageable height but you hissed out, "Ow! Stop, that hurts!"
He mumbled, "I wonder if I cut it..."
"No!" You lurched forward and felt your hair pulling at your scalp.
He grabbed the dress again and said, "I'm kidding. Just stay still."
You felt as his hands straightened and readjusted the fabric and every time he pulled down, you bit your lip to stop any curses from flying past your lips. That was the last thing Noctis needed to know. Cursing would make you look even more like an idiot. He sighed, "Can you get down so I can see what I'm doing?"
Without any words, you kneeled and his hand snaked past the top of your head and down through the back so that he could find where your hair was trapped in the zipper. His sleeved arm slid past your own and if you reached out, you'd probably feel the rest of him standing so very closely above you. It was so unfair. His fingers were long and sometimes brushed through your hair and to the scalp. The small meaningless action set your senses on edge.
He moved your hair out of the way and his fingertips grazed the junction where your neck met your shoulders. You shivered a little and he went to forcing the zipper down as he tried to hold the hair out of the way. You just couldn't help but lean in towards his warmth. You just wanted to be near it and you could smell the cologne on his shirt sleeve, and you could melt away in that moment. His hand in your hair, his scent around you, and on your knees, you couldn't think of a more heavenly way to expire.
"Hey, can you move your head forward so that the hair doesn't get stuck again?"
Well, he definitely knew how to kill a mood. You sneered, Not that this was going to go anywhere but in your head…
"Sorry..."
You could feel his hand retreat as the zipper continued to fall down through the teeth, free you. The dress slid back down your torso and your hands gripped it close to your chest. You held the front up with one hand and shuffled around to get back onto your feet. He moved from behind you and you assumed he would get on with his own nightly routine, but instead he stuck out his hand to you. "Here."
You stared at the appendage as if it was a trap and he frowned, "Just take my hand."
Your hands go to grab his own, a small part of you thinks he is going to let you drop and humiliate you. You almost expected him to do something like that. On your knees, one hand pressed to your chest, and the other extended towards Noctis’s, you blushed. If someone had told you, you were going to end up in this situation three months ago, you would have laughed yourself silly.
“Iris! I told you to make sure everything was packed!” Gladiolus’s lecture grew louder and louder and suddenly the bedroom door was flung open, spilling out three of Noctis’s (and you could probably say they were your friends, too, now) back into view. Iris had her cheeks puffed out, obviously irritated that she was being lectured. Prompto had his hands behind his head, a grin on his face as he listened to Big Bro Gladio scoldings. Iris flung her hands up, “I already said I was sorry! Geez, lay off already!” Clearly, they hadn’t noticed you yet…
It was also Iris who had turned to fully apologize for her sudden intrusion and her face flushed red, before a sly grin spread on her features from ear to ear.
The two men turned in unison. Prompto rushed over to Iris, nearly knocking over the vanity bench, throwing out his hand over her eyes, exclaiming, “Iris, don’t look! You’re too young!”
She ducked out and Prompto screamed. Gladiolus crossed his arms, delivering Noctis a wink, “Nice one, Noct.”
Noctis looked in horror (and realization) down to his current state of dress (his shirt untucked, his belt gone...) and then to the disheveled girl at his feet...on her knees...hair a mess...face flushed...dress practically falling off of her—
“I swear it-it is not what it looks like! I-I...her dress!” Noctis blubbered out as he slunk away far, far, away from you. He put his hands up in defense, and continued to deny everything that Gladiolus was implying with his eyes. He tilted his head forward, unconvinced and completely tickled by how hilariously serendipitous his little sister’s negligence was.
Iris’s less serious, and completely amused, “Damn! I. Am. Good!
Noctis crossed his arms, “There is no way I’d ever...with her! No!”
Your face drained from any blood and you felt like running away, but gods forbid you trip and land face first in front of everyone. That would the cherry on top of the shitty sundae that was shaping up to be your life, right about now. Of course Noctis wouldn’t want to be mistaken for being with you, you were the other woman. He loved Lunafreya and you were most definitely not the Lady Fleuret.
It still stung hearing him say it, though. It made it real. It brought reality crashing back into you. That you could play dress up, blush at the feeling of him being anything close to civil towards you, but in the end, you were still the wrong girl.
And it...hurt.
Sensing the shift of atmosphere, Gladiolus grabbed Prompto and Iris by their arms and began to drag them out of the room, proclaiming, “Out, out! Everybody out! Leave these two alone!”
When the door shut again, you couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe really. Forget about the fact that you had embarrassed yourself in front of Noctis; you had embarrassed yourself in front of your newfound friends! You might as well just take a bath with a toaster, now. And they’d all seen him blatantly reject you, as if it wasn’t bad enough…
Not knowing what to do next, you slowly lowered yourself back down to the cool floor, muttering a very inaudible, “Please, Etro, take me away...” You brought your hands to cover your face. You could hear the slow, cautious footfalls of the Prince coming closer to you, and you wished he would just ignore you again. At least until your fragile composure returned and you could pretend you weren’t fazed by everything that was happening to you. (At least, it wasn’t Aranea that had come back, though…)
An awkward, “Hey, you, uh, I’ll explain to them that um...that it was nothing…”
You mumbled a response.
“What?”
Moving your palms for a better angle, your voice cracked, “Can you just leave me alone now?”
“Did…are you really upset about it?”
You slowly, slowly moved your fingers to peek through them, you trailed your gaze up his pants, almost searing a trail into the fabric, tears rolled to the side with gravity.. You could feel your jaw tighten, and it took everything in you not to start screaming. Wouldn’t anyone be upset in your position? Wouldn’t anyone want to sink into the empty void to escape shame and embarrassment? Was it so strange that you were crying about being completely vulnerable in front of people you were still getting to know? Your voice was shaky at best, “Yes, I am…”
Noctis looked taken back, unsure of where he was stepping now. He tried again, “It harms my reputation more than yours.”
“Who's going to know anyways?” You muttered with a bitter taste on your tongue.
Noctis grumbled, frustrated, “You're impossible.”
Ha! Impossible?!
“Just please leave me alone.”
“You can’t lie on the ground all night.”
You mumbled into your hands, “Watch me.”
He shook his head, scoffed and stared at your unmoving body for a few more seconds. He slapped his hands to his side before he eventually conceded in saying, “Suit yourself…”
The door slammed shut and you pushed yourself off the cold ground, frowning. A pretty mess, you sat before gathering your skirts—it wouldn't be fair to Iris if you dirtied her hard work—and with as much divinity as you could, you wouldn't back down to that stupid Noctis and his perfect hair. If he wanted impossible, then you'd show him impossible.
•
Noctis threw himself into one of the empty guest bedroom a corridor over. The nerve of that spoiled little aristocrat…
What was she playing at?
There was no logic in your thinking! You played many faces—the naive girl, the dutiful self-sacrificer, the whimpering mess, the stubborn child. Irritation arose where sympathy should have at the thought of your presence where Luna’s should have been. A month had gone by and you'd seemingly charmed everyone into pitying you as you played your many faces around them. Prompto had damned near nagged his ear off as he vouched for you with a sureness that only further fueled Noctis’s annoyance. He had seen you wander about aimlessly like you were some hollow shell of a person, barely an interesting notion about you. The perfection the Royal Council liked to preach in the media was far fetched enough to make his stomach churn.
He was quick to fling himself into the plush mattress, toeing off his shoes to retire unceremoniously into the darkened room. When he had walked in on you—gods know what you were doing—stumbling and cursing, he couldn't help but be reassured that you were a pale comparison to his Luna. You were graceless and the moment he figured a way to restore faith in Tenebrae and Luna, he'd jump on the chance to annul your marriage. The sooner that happened the better.
He missed Luna ardently. The way her skin felt flushed against his and although their encounters had been mostly innocent, he longed for the day when she would give herself entirely to him. It was hard to be around her for long, hard to look at her for long—she was the sun despite her namesake. Noctis had never really considered himself very forward in the likes of flirtation, but something about Luna made him feel like he could be anything. She was better than any replacement.
You weren't Luna. You were just a wealthy nobleman’s daughter.
You weren't Lunafreya.
You didn't make his heart beat fast and slow at the same time. You didn't consume his every waking thought—he worried about Luna’s safety. Was she safe? Was she thinking of him as he did her? Did she know he still longed for her kiss miles away? Surely. She had to. She had to…
It was driving him mad.
Ignis had told him it was unwise to seek the Princess out in Altissia—it was unsafe. He didn't get that that only further urged Noctis’s desire to see her once again. He had to see that she was safe. Ignis would try to distract him—he should focus on his duties in Lucis. How could he? Noctis had been forced into an marriage he could care less for, Niflheim had invaded Tenebrae and Luna was branded something of a traitor by proxy. He would clear her name. If winning this war meant that, then he would. For her, he would kill Gods.
He could practically hear Ignis’s voice in his head: “That would hardly be necessary, Noct, nor as romantic as you would believe theocide to be.”
The thought, albeit a self-jest eased his nerves. Noctis had a nasty habit of working himself into an anxious mess until he could do nothing but worry and brood, worry and brood, worry and brood.
His forearm came to rest upon his forehead, his eyes closing in attempt to further quell his agitation. He missed Luna’s therapeutic touch. Magic weaving through her fingers as they used trace lazy shapes into his skin. Many nights just holding one another in silent reprieve, relishing in each other’s company. Things had seemed simpler then. Noctis would see Lunafreya again regardless of being married, he would break his vow to be with her once more.
What he would give to taste her lips, feel her flesh under his—velvet under her calloused palms—the mere thought bringing a heat to rise in his belly. Noctis respected Luna’s wishes to wait, and even if he would push and test the boundaries of how far they could go, if she didn't like something, he ceased to do it. That didn't mean his imagination listened. He figured he should have felt some shame in thinking of such compromising positions concerning the Oracle, but he was merely human—Chosen One or not, he fell under the lecherous desire that his fantasies conjured up for him. He supposed there should be a certain shame in feeling himself grow at the thought the Oracle’s lips wrapped around his cock, yet his imagination held little.
Noctis swallowed hard. If he concentrated enough, he could feel the pressure of her fingers on his thighs and the picture of her between his legs. In reality, it was his own hand that had wandered between the covers and snaked beneath the waistband of his own pants, in an effort to relieve the unbelieveable tension that had grown within himself.
He dragged his hand along his length, imagining it to be his beloved, and the thought of her tongue running down it edged him further to release. His imaginary Luna crawled silently over his body, sliding every inch of her body in a delicious friction that Noctis could only dream of feeling one day. He could feel the sweat beginning to bead on his forehead as he worked himself closer to release. Her hands and fingernails taking gently over his chest and her fold rubbed against the underside of his cock, edging them both into ecstasy. He imagined how her lips would part in pleasure and how she would meet his own.
He wanted to know.
The fantasy-Luna came up for air, her eyes meeting his as her hips ground into his own. She would be graceful even in a lusty haze; she would be more graceful than his wife.
Her image faltered in his mind, a poisonous thought snaking in between the pleasurable. Your name. For a flash her hair was yours, her eyes were yours, her flesh was yours like a television that had lost signal. He furrowed his brows, concentrating harder and harder to ignore your intrusiveness in his own fantasy. Her hands raked across his chest again and she went for his lips, but when she came up, you were there. Your face staring at him, lips parted in her ecstasy, as your hips ground into him.
Noctis felt the inklings of frustration building within himself as he could practically hear your sharp gasp, your moans and he could feel himself edging closer despite his own disgust at the thought of you replacing his beloved Lunafreya. He fought your image, focusing so hard that he could feel the sweat rolling down his hairline, bangs sticking to his forehead. Your eyes would be hers for brief flickers of a moment and he groaned in anger. You ruined everything.
With a few final pumps of his hands, he could feel himself spilling into his briefs and over his fingers, he wiped them on his underwear as he panted, opening his eyes to the darkness of the guest room. No Luna greeted him to lay languidly at his side. As he caught his breath, he felt cold, sticky—angry again. Guilt bubbling up in his gut as the image of you above him, bare and moaning his name in Luna’s voice burned into his mind. He grit his teeth. He needed a shower. A burning one.