the late afternoon sun spilled golden light across the white marble floors of the citadel, casting long shadows through the towering stained glass windows that loomed over the grand hall. the air was thick with the scent of polished wood, fresh flowers, and the faint, cool trace of steel—a quiet reminder that even royalty never strayed far from the reality of war.

noctis stood beside his father, king regis, at the top of the wide ceremonial stairs that led down into the reception hall. he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, long fingers tapping restlessly against his arm where they crossed over his chest. he’d already been waiting for what felt like hours, dressed in formal black with the lucian crest pinned to his chest, his sword sheathed at his hip in a show of ceremonial readiness.

despite the grandeur of the occasion, his expression was one of thinly veiled boredom.

“i trust you’ll make a good impression,” king regis said quietly, his voice deep and thoughtful as his eyes lingered on the entrance. “they’re composed, well-mannered—quite refined. i think you’ll find them agreeable, if not admirable.”

noctis turned slightly to glance at his father, raising an eyebrow. “so basically… they’re everything i’m not?”

regis gave a quiet chuckle under his breath but didn’t deny it. his gaze returned forward, eyes narrowing as the distant toll of the great bell echoed through the palace. the sound resonated deep in noctis’s chest—a signal that the arriving delegation had reached the outer gates.

“they’ve arrived,” the king said, his voice shifting into that formal, composed tone that noctis had come to recognize as his public persona—the voice of a monarch.

reluctantly, noctis straightened, brushing a hand through his dark hair and letting out a barely audible sigh. he descended one step and waited beside his father, casting his gaze toward the ornate double doors that were slowly swinging open.

servants stood at attention along the hall’s edges, their heads bowed. from outside, the sound of footsteps and rustling silk filled the air, accompanied by the low murmur of palace guards exchanging protocol confirmations.

through the open doors entered their family—your parents first, regal in the formal colors of their kingdom, their cloaks trailing behind them. then you followed: poised, elegant, yet unmistakably young, with the kind of quiet power that made you stand out more than any crown could.

your steps were steady, your chin lifted, and your gaze—clear and composed—met the room without flinching. the sunlight caught the subtle shimmer of the embroidery in your formal attire and the gleam of the circlet nestled in your hair. you looked like you belonged here already, as though the throne had been waiting for you.

king regis’s eyes found you immediately, and a faint smile curved his lips as he leaned slightly toward noctis.

“that’s them,” he murmured. “your betrothed. same age as you, but don’t mistake that for softness.”

noctis didn’t respond at first. his gaze tracked your approach, studying you without much expression—he was practiced at hiding what he thought. but something in his posture shifted. maybe it was curiosity. maybe it was the weight of inevitability settling deeper on his shoulders.

he exhaled, slowly, and muttered under his breath, just loud enough for the king to hear.

“can you not hover while i meet them?” he asked, not quite irritated but undeniably uncomfortable. “i can handle it without the royal commentary, your majesty.”

regis chuckled again, this time with amusement. but he said nothing more, allowing noctis to take the lead as your family came to a halt a few steps away.

now face-to-face, your eyes locked with his. he studied you—your calm demeanor, the strength in your presence, the mystery behind your silence. and though he tried to appear unimpressed, a flicker of something—perhaps interest, perhaps respect—glinted in his eyes.