collateral damage of limbs’ bewilderment tightens a snare about the pallor of prompto’s neck ( all the better to fall with ). his executioner, not the disputed allure of the chancellor, but the sightless retaliation of his beloved noctis. deception transfigures reality, a smear of compelling illusions counter the wrathful descent of their future king. footwear lands; the boy stumbles and charges — onyx features suspending all manipulative interjections from ardyn ( “ prompto ” ). identities reversed, sentences overturned — “ ardyn ” assumes submission of the pistol before him yet again. ‘ noctis help me , ’ his eyes plead; irreverence for the duo painted over by layers of exterior, artificial fear ( of “ himself ” , how comical ).

“ prompto — !! ”

certainty fractures, and within the last instance of opportunity — a passing retreat — ardyn bows beneath noctis’s projected assault. to underestimate the boy’s ability to “ see ” inspires swift curvature of a height not his own, as perhaps the caelum had overcome his crafted, fraudulent visions. no such luck allayed the little gunman. he fell for it. this was only the beginning of your suffering.

the prince dishonours himself, taking the offensive against that of an innocent — an ally. the incursion of pain to possess the blonde’s body as armiger meets flesh, a fortune most familiar to the accursed in observance, rivals that of the mind’s capacity to damage. ‘ yes —— well done , noct . you make it so easy for me . it is astounding , how naïve you are to our world’s dishonesty . you have far to go , before you will ever be king . ’

ruinous judgment elicits poise of dominance ( the act is his , draw the curtain ). ardyn shifts within leisure, a method of gratified ankles, to the proximity of noctis’s trauma. only now as the mirror to authentic perception ruptures before him — gazing at the plummeting grief of a lifelong companion — do the roles return.

“ how long were you in the dark —— ? ” as though history sneers upon them, accenting the blunder of the crystal’s second choice, ardyn belittles. with revolver in hand, a token of punishment collected from the depths of noctis’s oversight ( the platform beneath their feet ), he clouts its rigidity over tenderness of the upper neck.

paralysation concludes their skirmish; limbs holding no ground to the kingdom, only weight as the heir drops. ardyn neglects catching him, for what purpose would it serve to ease his pain? he was not the one to have been shoved off a train.

“ —— we will meet again , your majesty . ” a nudge from solitary boot is the extent of his civility in departure. “ i must be off collect your abandoned toy . if he survived your little push without so much as a scrape on his knee , i will be sure to give him a few cracks for you . ”