Chapter Text
“I was to be king you know.”
Noctis was born just as Regis received word of his car’s safe arrival to the repair shop. Aulea passed out from exhaustion, leaving him to unsuccessfully calm their newborn’s cries. He eventually came around to them both, after a lengthy, shared rest.
For two years, they were effortless. Aulea and Regis expressed their gratitude at having such an agreeable child that allowed for them to sleep through the night. Noctis met his milestones, babbled socially, and was said by all his nursemaids to be the calmest child they’ve ever handled. The most willful of them joked with Aulea how Regis presented far more boldly, persistently taking matters into his own hands when he didn’t get his way, “just like any other Lucis Caelum”.
Not that Noctis held none of his predecessors traits. Rather, his own sense of taking charge was based in peculiar bouts of exploration, crawling alongside the walls and delighting at finding doors to a new room – no mater how many times he had discovered it.
Noctis was healthy. Aulea was not.
As Noctis’ third year approached, as he began to form his first proper sentences, the damage that Aulea received in childbirth finally caught up to her. Regis needed the open casket, tradition be damned. He wouldn’t deny himself one last look at her, one last touch. During her rites, however, his grief was turned to a sense of personal culpability by his son’s anguished wails, eyes transfixed and arms reaching towards his mother’s unresponsive body even as he was taken away to skip the ceremony.
While still easy to put down, Noctis’ caretakers were quick to note the increasing irritation he greeted them with following the queen’s passing. His pervasively warm personality now waxed and waned in spite of their desire to restore it to its previous consistency.
Regis devoted whatever instances he had between mourning and ruling – the country couldn’t wait on him, after all – to Noctis. He followed the rules of play Noctis chose for them, read any book pulled from the shelf, and reminded him whenever the tears returned that Aulea still loved them as dearly as when she lived.
At first, he suspected Noctis had started a game of sorts. The latest in an ongoing line of imaginary scenarios he would introduce to Regis from day to day. Perhaps he had finally christened a name to the stuffed tonberry he dragged lovingly across the citadel floors wherever he went.
Noctis let out a soft groan at the contact of Regis’ hand rolling over his shoulder, coaxing him awake. His features pinched, ignoring the “good morning” Regis gave him in favor of reaching blindly for the plush that had long since tumbled to the floor. A giveaway of his true level of wakefulness, which Regis could attest to, having checked in to see Noctis stirring prior to preparing himself for the day. His encouragement, all the same, was met with a displeased sound.
“It’s a pity you’ll be staying in bed.” He suggested. Regis made an intentionally halfhearted attempt at pulling Noctis from the sheets, feeling him deadweight under his hands. Entertained, he smiled as he added;
“I’ve been informed your favorite was made this morning, but I suppose I’ll have to eat everything myself-“
He was cut off by a squeal. Noctis’ neutral expression erupted into a grin, eyes still shut tight when he grabbed Regis by the sleeve. He pressed his face into it, unable to hide his laughter.
“Ready?”
Noctis nodded, making a tugging motion for Regis to lift him. He did so dutifully, bending lower so Noctis could grab the fallen tonberry as well.
Days like this were a luxury. Regis appreciated having servants to handle the brunt of childcare, but he relished the normalcy of mornings when he could do the job of dressing and guiding Noctis himself. Eating breakfast with him was completely out of the question for the most part, but Regis had made the effort to do so today. After putting Noctis to bed the night before, another luxury, he was back to reviewing the foreign intelligence passed to him for the following council meeting. Non-urgent matters, thankfully, but the sort of thing that would otherwise occupy his early morning if he forewent it for extra rest.
It was an easy choice to make, how he’d rather start his day.
Having finished his attempt to bury himself into Regis’ shirt, Noctis used his free hand to pull himself past his shoulder, peering around the bedchamber. Regis turned himself in the direction Noctis was watching.
“Looking for something?”
He nodded firmly.
Regis hoisted him, trying to balance his son’s weight. “One of your toys?”
“My friend.”
“You haven’t told me you’ve made any friends.” Regis said curiously. Noctis gave no reply, returning his attention to the plush in hand.
“Your tonberry?”
“No!” Noctis snorted, as if Regis had been ridiculous to even suggest such a thing.
“Where do you think he’s gone to?” he asked, deciding to entertain Noctis’ creativity.
“…Outside?”
“Outside he is than.”
That had been it. An inconsequential conversation lost to memory as the prioritized details of the afternoon took over. The council insisted on bickering the better part of their meeting away over the conclusions Regis reached last night. A minority of them deeming the obtained Magitek test footage a larger threat than it needed to be. The plan of sabotage that Councilman Daos, nearly as old as the war itself, advocated for would either delay the flimsy project at best, or paint Lucis as an instigator of further violence between nations. It was hardly worth the risking the proposal of ceasefire Regis struggled to find amicable terms for, only to disrupt the progress of a technology that barely functioned if unplugged from its power source.
Watch closely. Wait and see. Don’t act rashly unless they are confident it will pose a genuine threat.
Noctis had been put to sleep before he was able to come home to his private chambers, as was normal. He didn’t wake when Regis checked on him. The tonberry, roughly half Noctis’ size, had managed to worm its way out of his hands in record time. Regis tucked the plush back between his son’s arms, which tightened their hold after registering its return. Lips twitching upward at the gesture, he bent down, ignoring the soreness in his knees as he kissed his Noctis’ forehead. He stayed by his side until his own eyes grew heavy, whispering goodnight before turning in to the adjacent chamber.
“Ardy’s gone.”
Regis was pleased to see Noctis awake before he left. The previous day was a much more typical, albeit extended one, with Noctis waiting till the final minute to rise. He couldn’t help but hurry his step to catch up with him, already wandering around the room.
“Your friend again?” he guessed. Noctis was practically bouncing as Regis approached to lift him, making his head jerk along in confirmation. He gave the bedroom a once over of his own, looking just as it had the evening prior, eventually resting his gaze on the window.
A bird, perhaps.
He found himself with Aulea weekly, if he was lucky. It was difficult to not come, the pain still freshly imprinted on his conscience. The royal tombs were fitted with lighting too harsh for Regis’ tastes, but devoid of other well-wishers, whom were cleared away following word being put in of his intended arrival. Their presence remained of course. The entrance was littered by a steady influx of gifts the city brought. Whether they had been left at the entrance due to a lack of interest or ability to go inside, or had been placed by the staff, was lost on Regis. Likely a bit of both. The crowding noticeably tapered off upon entry, but flourished anew the deeper he went, effectively creating a stream of flowers, trinkets, notes and letters. All given at will by a mourning public. He was no stranger to such a sight. It had been the same when his father and mother had passed.
Mild guilt danced in his chest, strengthened when he reached their place of rest, not at all far from Aulea’s. Their visits had gradually been reduced to an annual affair, admittedly soon after their passing. Would they think him uncaring, disloyal, that the time he had devoted to Aulea in death would soon rival that which he had afforded them?
The thought drifted through like water as his eyes glossed over to her own grave. Barely visible through the excess surrounding it, artfully arranged so her plaque was legible for those paying their respects.
A tourist attraction. It was to be his fate, Noctis’ as well, though he trusted he would not have to see that day come. The Lucian people had a right to their monarchs in death, and it would be selfish to deny them that.
That didn’t stop him from wanting to close the tombs any less.
“You should bring him next time.” Clarus told him as they road back to the citadel. “He hasn’t had a chance to see her since the funeral.”
“He was terrified at the funeral.”
“He still deserves to see her. It’ll be easier, he won’t have to look at…” Clarus trailed off, realizing the sentence was best left abandoned.
“It’s part of healing. It helped the kids a lot in the early days, talking to her now and again.”
“He’s so young,” Regis brought a hand to squeeze at his temples. “Would he even remember going, at his age?”
“He needs to process somehow.” He could feel Clarus regarding on him as he spoke. “I’ll arrange for him to join us next week, alright?”
Regis inhaled, too drained to make a discussion of it.
“Alright."
Clarus was correct of course. Noctis needed more than sympathetic mantras to guide him through this. Regis could admit to himself he was at fault there, but Noctis had seemed strangely fine after the initial shock of death rolled off him. A touch more irritable, yes, but still playful, still talkative, well. There were the bouts of silence. Moments he recalled in which his son would zone out in the midst of play, face vacant, expression stiff as his eyes lost focus on whatever toy he had previously been so attentive to. Regis would have to bring him back, stroking his hair and asking his name until he came out of whatever thoughts he lost himself in, blinking slowly and nodding to himself before finally acknowledging Regis’ attempts to reach him.
Next time, like Clarus said.
The day’s events were to be no more extensive than average, and that meant little more than a glance at Noctis before diving into the thick of it. Regis, expecting a late awakening, busied himself with his routine; trying to recall what business had been lined up him. He was certain, at least, that he didn’t have to suffer any trade reviews that day. Easy work, all but a free ride into maintaining Lucian relations with their allies, but beyond mind numbing.
Putting government aside, Regis made his way to Noctis’ room to see if he could wake him before heading down. Just before his hand touched the door handle, he paused. The sound of heaving could be heard, faintly, from the other side. Muffled but heavy gasps for air that sent warm dread across Regis’ gut.
Frowning, he twisted the door open and strode straight to Noctis. He could see his frame stressed from irregular breathing, cheeks raw with tears, and hands clinging tightly to bits of blanket that were pulled along when Regis lifted him up.
“Shhh, you’re alright. Everything’s alright.” He soothed, gently wrangling the blanket loose to make Noctis more comfortable. He only cried louder when he felt it moving, trying to keep it close.
Regis maneuvered them to the chair kept at bedside. He could feel Noctis shaking, frightened by whatever nightmare had afflicted him. They stayed that way at first, Regis rubbing one hand down Noctis’ back, bringing his breathing back to normal, save for an occasional loud sniffle.
“It’s okay. Tell me what happened.” He reassured, keeping his demeanor soft.
Noctis tried to respond, gasping when he attempted to get the words out.
“He’s sc- ary.”
“Who-“
Noctis let out another wail, barely legible in his attempts to conceal himself in Regis’ chest. Regis gently pried him away, straining his ears to make meaning of the toddler’s slurred speech.
“Noctis, who-“
“Ardy!”
That name, the one Noctis had been using with increasing frequency in the past few weeks. A small but unique detail that had begun to solidify its place in his life, Regis had accepted the excerpts from Noctis’ head would simply be a new element of their talks. There was a sweetness to the way Noctis’ eyes would widen as he bounced with excitement, just to be able to share more about his imaginary – Regis had assumed at this point imaginary – friend. He himself would barely be able to contain his amusement when Noctis pouted that Arty had gone missing every other morning.
Right now, he found little humor in it.
“You’re okay. Tell me what happened with… Arty.”
Noctis grimaced, tucking his head in. He wasn’t hiding himself completely anymore, relaxing his previously tight grasp on the blanket. Regis continued running his hand, encourging him to speak.
Speech laced with shame, Noctis told him.
“Ardy pushed me.”
Regis pressed his lips together, uncertainty running through him.
What kind of child made up someone hurting them?
“You’ve had a bad dream, that’s all.” He began, but Noctis frowned, voice raising in protest.
“No, he pushed me!”
“Don’t worry, you’re awake. No one-“
“He hurt me!”
“But,” right when he thought Noctis was calm enough to talk, it seemed he had triggered him back to the state Regis had found him in.
“He hurt me! It still hurts. Ardy pushed me!”
“Where,” Regis indulged, flabbergasted. “Show me where he hurt- you.”
He stumbled through his last sentence as Noctis presented his arm, averting his vision as fresh tears sprouted from his eyes. Regis took it in hand, easily able to encircle his fingers around its width. There were no discernible blemishes, no bruising of any kind. He gave the wrist a gentle squeeze, met instantly with a loud sniff and weak pulling from the action.
“It hurts.” He whimpered again, sucking in a breath when Regis moved upward, testing the forearm. Noctis grew tenser under his hold, reacting to each minimal prod at tender muscle. Clearly in pain to some degree, though no true harm done.
“Arty did this?” It was ridiculous, but Noctis nodded quickly, continuing to do so as Regis pressed forward.
“Last night? But he’s gone now, isn’t he?”
“He’ll come back. He’s still angry.”
“How do you know he’ll be back?” Noctis ignored the question, curling in on himself.
“Noctis?”
“Nighttime.” He answered miserably.
“You see him at night?”
“Every night. He’s gonna be mad.”
Regis froze, a wave of heat coming over his face.
“But he’s made up, isn’t he?”
“No!”
“Who- has someone been in your room?”
Noctis looked ready to say yes, already nodding in confirmation, but switched to shaking his head.
“I don’t know?” He spoke as if it were a question, as if he were worried the answer was somehow wrong.
“It’s okay, you’re not in trouble.” Regis said slowly, breathing in deep.
It had to be a dream. Some reoccurring… not a nightmare. Noctis had never given any impression of fear, so undoubtedly fond in the beginning. Arty was just a playmate, someone Noctis could imagine with him during the day. A way to pass the time when whoever was supervising him couldn’t engage fully. Certainly not some monster in the closet by any stretch.
Still. The way Noctis shrank back when Regis checked his arm. The clear pain he was in. The fact that every day he had a new story of sorts for him. He thought back to when it started, hardly remembering the details, but for Noctis searching for that friend.
Absurd. He would have been able to see, or at the very least hear something. They were separated by just one doorway; Noctis’ bedroom had been converted from a sitting area connected to his own, smaller, but appropriate for a child. He and Aulea selected it for that reason, and for the easy access to the rest of the living quarters, so servants could come and go without disturbing either of them. Astrals, there were guards placed at the chamber’s entrance, one on either side of the doorway at all hours. They were required to alert him to any unusual activity.
Unless…
It was always ensured that at least one of the guards at their living space was of senior rank, and both required a pristine record to qualify for the post. Necessary measures in a time of war, and to prevent instances like this. Only those with which the crown held its highest confidence.
And yet, someone had been in his son’s room.
He had to forcefully swallow the wash of horror rolling through him. An anxious mind would lead to a rash response, a legitimate risk considering the plausible escalation of the… Arty Situation. It wouldn’t do to interrogate anyone straight away; more likely if one of the sentry’s were responsible, they would pull back the moment Regis made his suspicion apparent.
Noctis had calmed greatly while Regis reviewed his words. His body was relaxed, no longer statuesque, blinking at the dryness his tears had left behind.
“Noctis,” he tested, pausing for a reaction. He shifted in Regis’ lap, indubitably beginning to ache from staying in the same hunched over position for an extended period. “How did Arty hurt you?”
Thankfully, giving time had given Noctis security as well. He spoke, timidly at first, but grew more sure of himself as he continued.
“We were playing. He went away and I, um. He got mad and scary and I tried to help but he was mad and he pushed me.”
A bare account, but better than nothing. Regis nodded, hoping to spur him further.
“How did he get in?”
“Um.”
“In your room.”
“I don’t know. When, no! When it’s bedtime?”
“Did he say you to what he wants?” Regis was aware his tone had begun to deepen, falling into his “regal voice” as Cid had coined it, which was meant for public appearances and quelling heated debates with diplomats and councilmen. Ill suited for a conversation between father and son. Although he was fidgeting again, Noctis had gained back the confidence he formerly displayed with the subject.
“We play, and talk.”
Though not the verbosity.
“About what?”
“I forget.”
“Noctis, this is important.” It was probably too much, to ask so many questions at once. Noctis was still a toddler, and, if what Regis concluded was true, he was unaware just how dangerous it was for him to have endured this on his own for so long.
For all Regis knew, this “friend” had been around well before Noctis had revealed him.
“Please tell me, is Arty real, or is he imaginary?”
Noctis’ response was immediate.
“He’s real.”
Regis shut his eyes, not wanting to betray his own fear.
“When did he start coming, Noctis?”
“I don’t know.”
“Try to think harder. When did he start-“
“I don’t know! All the time.” He squirmed, working to fight the blanket loose.
“What does he look like?”
“I’m hungry.”
“Noctis, please.”
“I wanna eat.”
“Noctis.” Regis said, more sternly than intended. He knew he was losing him quickly, but at least needed a picture of sorts to build off of. He strengthened his hold instinctively, keeping him in place as he tried to slip to the floor.
“Let’s go.” His son complained.
“We will. You just need to help me know he looks like.”
Noctis whined unhappily, not letting up his efforts to break free.
“Noct-“
“He’s big.” He dragged the word out, blatantly exhausted with the questioning. “Purple. Red hair.”
Another jerk and Noctis was gone. It was clear that giving Regis the basics was enough to put him under duress, but it would do as a jumping point. He’d have to head straight to security, those he was close with, inform them on everything he had found out so far.
The jittering of the bedchamber door alerted Regis back, Noctis already disappearing through as he called for him to follow.
Wordless, Regis obeyed.
“So, who’s our suspect?”
“It was hard to get a description, I’m afraid.”
Clarus’ brow creased deeply, growing grimmer at each detail Regis provided. He had prepared himself for a leisure day when he took his post that morning. The afternoon prior, Regis mentioned casually the dull affair he was to review – something regarding trade, which Clarus happily played no part in – leading up to what was hoped to be a final decision by the council that afternoon. Clarus would have the honor of absence, at that point being replaced by a member of the Crownsguard that would relieve him of his position for several hours.
Plenty of time to attend Gladio’s soccer game. Jared promised to bring Iris along, so he could spend the afternoon with her as well. It was a really more of a belated, but lengthy, lunch break, and he would return promptly to the citadel for the evening shift, but the planning he put into the day was worth it.
He wanted to believe it still would be, but didn’t expect much luck. Even if he was able to see his own children, there was no doubt his mind would be occupied with the safety breach Regis reported.
“He seemed confused about the hair color, at any rate. Red or purple. I assumed he’s an adult.”
“Safe enough assumption. It’ll be easier on all of us if you give more information to Crownsguard though. Skin tone, eye color, body type. Hair color and gender really isn’t anything to go off of. We can do a search for an Arthur, any names sounding similar, but it could be a fake for all we know.
“I’m going to refrain from any suspensions for now. We won’t want to draw attention to our investigation yet, especially if it’s an inside job.”
“I trust your judgment on who to involve.”
“Cor.” They said in unison, with minimal pause between their conclusion and tepid laughter.
“You’re,” Clarus asked, watching the flicker of bleak humor fade from Regis’ face. “Confident he’s not making it up?”
“He’s been so insistent these past weeks. And his arm. He was obviously in pain.”
“There weren’t any bruises?”
Regis hesitated, turning his gaze to the window.
“No, but he talks about him every day. He was so frightened this morning Clarus.”
“He’s three, Regis.”
The aforementioned snorted, ignoring him in favor of the skyline.
“Your majesty,”
“Don’t.” Regis warned, monotone.
“Regis. Are you sure you’re not a little paranoid? I understand being protective of him. I’ve been the same ever since-“
“Do you expect me to do nothing?” Regis snapped.
“No,” Clarus said. “I don’t. I just don't want you to rule out any mundane conclusions either.”
No response, but Clarus didn’t expect much, recognizing the rare shut down. Regis was good with anger, skilled at concealing it from public and politics alike. It hinted its presence with the twitch in his jaw, nothing more. Subtle, speechless, powered through until he was either alone or rid of those he wouldn’t allow to bare it witness. Clarus was one among those permitted to see those breaks, far and few as they were. Regis was manageable in such a state, but short tempered and only willing to rationalize if whoever was speaking to him delivered their reason like a slap to the face.
“I’ll have security review hallway footage from the past couple of weeks. And arrange for them to closely monitor tonight as well. I’ll pick the unit myself.”
He made to do so. Setting up a team, explaining the situation, and ensuring confidentiality, was going to occupy the remainder of his time before leaving for the afternoon.
“Clarus,” Regis called as he had reached the doorway. He turned. Regis had not moved from his spot, still focused on the outside.
“Yes?”
“Could you have someone watch his window? If they aren’t getting through the doorway. It’s high up, but…”
“Of course. My most trusted.”
“Thank you.”
Noctis perked up when Regis joined him that evening, smiling widely from his spread of toys. He was dressed for bed by a servant, who politely acknowledged Regis with a deep bow, before squatting back down to where he had been playing alongside Noctis to bid goodnight.
Regis looked the man over. He was a regular presence in their living quarters, assisting Noctis through his routines for roughly half of the week, and sticking around to be a companion when his workload allowed it. Aulea insisted on keeping the caretaker count minimal, so Noctis would be able to bond with a small number of consistent faces.
“Good evening, your majesty.” He said from the floor. Despite his age – the man couldn’t have been over twenty-five – he was one of the most casual attendants Regis could recall. Typically the younger they were, the more nerve rattled and stringent the servant, until experience eroded formality into familiarity with the royal family.
Regis preferred it that way, in need of reprieve from court-like mannerisms once home.
Youthful, average build. Blue hair, likely dyed.
“Remind me of your name?”
“Esau, your majesty.”
How might his hair appear if the lighting were brighter? The moon had already risen, but in the morning, the sun came in early enough that Regis was permitted to sleep through it, while oranges and reds beamed through the glass, painting themselves across the floor and the walls and any other surface within their reach
“You’re dismissed, Esau.”
“Yes your majesty. Enjoy your evening.”
Regis waited for the man complete his exit before kneeling down before Noctis’ assortment of toys, watching as he stumbled on his feet to meet him. He wasn’t quite able to leave his sitting position, but was unfazed by the failure.
“You're home!”
“I am. Were you having fun?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Good.” Regis had to lean over the sprawl Noctis had created to hug him. “Are you ready for bed? It’s getting late.”
“No it’s not.”
“It is, it’s past six o’clock.”
“I’m staying late.” Noctis replied brightly.
“You are, are you?” Regis teased, latching on to the cheerful energy. “But we have to go to bed, don’t we?”
“We can’t.”
“Why ever not?”
“Um,” Noctis looked about the room, searching for an excuse. “I have to work.”
“Work?” Regis declared, dramatic and disbelieving. Noctis gave an affirmative noise, picking up the stuffed tonberry that sat at watch by his side. He dragged his arm across the floor, bringing several of the colored blocks closer.
“It’s important.”
Regis watched in amusement as Noctis selected one of the hand sized, rectangular ones, pantomiming a scrawl across the pile he had amassed.
“Hmm, you may have to wait until tomorrow to finish.”
“I can’t. I have to.”
There was no sense in appealing to him logically. Regis waited for Noctis to bend closer to his “work” before tugging him away. The yelp he let out burst into a fit of giggles. Regis saw his opening, a sensitive spot where the base of Noctis’ neck met his hairline, and struck, prompting further shrieks of laughter. An adequate distraction for Noctis to forget that he was being carried from the floor to Regis’ personal chambers. He fell gleefully on his back when Regis placed him on the bed.
“Ready to get settled in?”
“No!”
“I thought so. That’s why,” he stopped short, waiting for Noctis to quiet himself in anticipation.
“I’ve decided that because I’m home, we should have a sleepover instead.”
Regis smiled at the over the top reaction. Noctis’ face opened, eyes popping and mouth stretching apart with excitement.
“Really? Read?”
“Why don’t you go get tonberry and pick a book?”
Noctis jumped off the bedspread in an instant, wobbling on his feet as he hurried to retrieve the necessities. Regis watched him vanish into his room. The enthusiastic demeanor was such a departure from the anxiety they had both experienced that morning. As if Noctis had taken it completely in stride, whereas Regis had worried himself out of focusing on anything else for the remainder of the day.
Noctis was back after some delay, the reason becoming apparent when he revealed not only plush and book in tow, but his own blanket and bed sheet struggling behind, tangling more stuffed faces in their grasp.
“This one!”
Regis laughed again, and went to carry the bundle the rest of the way.
Noctis resisted sleep as best he could, at one point trying to get up when he caught himself nodding off. He was easily corralled, being trapped by an extra layer of bedding and Regis’ arm, which he had willingly snuggled under.
Regis himself stayed up the entire night, not staying in place of course. His legs grew numb with the lack of activity he committed himself to once he was finished his duties for the evening. The exercise was a must, had been for many years if he was to keep himself in a shape similar to what men his age should be. Even if he didn’t consider himself old by the years, his body insisted on sticking to any position he sat in for beyond an hour.
As was expected of a Lucis Caelum.
It made a long night feel all the longer, and he gratefully drank his first cup from the large coffee pot that had been brought in earlier. He expected it would be the only time it would be appropriately temperatured, and thus savored the bitter heat, grimaced, and swallowed. A shame, how overpowering the drinks that could keep him awake were.
When he could feel the caffeine take affect, he came back to bed, pulling his son close. As always, he slept deeply, squirming at initial contact, but showing no signs of wakefulness besides that. He was entirely free from stress, face smooth, calm, and peaceful.
Regis felt guilt. He had spent any moment he could with Noctis, and there weren’t many to begin with, and how much had that amounted to? A couple meals, a brief window of play every few days?
Reports from nursemaids on new words he wasn’t there to hear. First steps he had to watch on video. A heavily vetted Crownsguard meant to protect him. Guards Regis had approved of and forgotten. He had missed, allowed, someone to slip into his child’s room.
He refused all distractions. No books or tablets or entertainment of any sort. Cold coffee to keep himself ready for any sounds through the cracked open doorway to where Noctis usually slept.
Caught between restlessness and exhaustion, Regis took the dawn in the chair at Noctis’s bedside. Black gave its way to brightening blues, purples, yellow and oranges streaks, and red, red tints splattering the room.
Nobody came.
With the sun now aligning too closely with the glass for Regis to look without stinging his eyes, he returned to check on Noctis, finding him sprawled out and, in an effort to avoid overheating, having shoved one of the blankets into a tangled mess half way off the bed.
Enough of a mess for Regis to be able to tell.
He betrayed himself further when Regis brushed fingers through Noctis’ hair, mouth splitting into a smile too big to hide.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Mhmm. Dad!” To his surprise, Noctis didn’t endeavor to burrow under, instead kicking back the sheets so he could come closer.
“Awake already?” Regis asked, more than happy to take him in his arms.
“Guess what?” Noctis exclaimed. “Ardy said sorry for pushing!”
All the warmth vanished.
“When-“
“Last night!”
“It’s just a dream, Regis.”