Gods of Lucis Book One: Origins

Chapter Six

Prompto was no stranger to nightmares, but the one that always came to him... it had a way of reducing the fun-loving god into a scared child. It had a way of digging its claws into him. It wasn't that the images were particularly harrowing or gruesome -- far from it, actually.

The people were always the same, even if Prompto could never discern their faces. Their voices were always the same. Their actions never changed.

They were always attacking him -- with sticks, stone; anything and everything under the sun. And no matter how much he struggled, Prompto could never escape -- he was always strapped to something, be it a chair or exposed beam.

"Useless."

"Freak of nature!"

"Your kind should just disappear!"

"We don't need you self-proclaimed 'gods'!"

Ah, that's right. They abused him with physical objects just as much as their words. They would abuse him until his skin blossomed with welts and bruises, until the scars were more than skin deep. And it always hurt, no matter how many times this nightmare repeated itself.

"I never loved you. Why would I love you -- why would I love a monster?"

***
You lay in bed, gnawing on your bottom lip. You hadn't seen or heard from the blond-haired god for nearly a full week -- not like you expected him to make himself known. Yet, what he had said before parting stuck with you.

We'll see each other again, soon.

With a grumble, you rolled onto your side. Your expression turned sour as the realization hit.

He's a god -- immortal. 'Soon' means something completely different in his world.

A small sniff as you huddled under the covers.

I shouldn't have gotten my hope up after all.

***

Freak!
Monster!
Worthless!

Those same three words rattled around in your head the next morning. They brought a frown to your features. You couldn't remember anyone calling you such names in your entire life.

"Hey, are you okay, (Y/n)?" your sister asked as you walked into the small kitchen. When you didn't respond, she continued working on breakfast, and you plopped into a chair. Holding your head in your hands, you released a groan, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep. "You were tossin' and turnin' all night."

"I'm fine," you grumbled. "Just a rough night at work."

Your sister's lips were pressed into a thin line as she placed your food before you.

"Are you sure that's all it was?" she asked, taking your hand lightly. "Earlier, it sounded like a nightmare/ (Y/n), if you're having nightmares, then--"

"Not another word," you growled, ripping your hand from hers. "I'm fine."

Her features twisted with hurt, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care as you stabbed at the eggs and toast she had prepared.

Along with fear of gods, your mother's family firmly believed that having nightmares were a sign of the end -- at least, for those having nightmares. You really didn't need your sister running her mouth to your mother, telling her you were having nightmares.

I'm not, you scowled. They're not nightmares.

***

When Prompto woke, he was in his bedroom -- as were half of the residents of the Citadel. Noct sat to the right of Prompto's bed, shoulders hunched and fingers steepled. Regis stood behind his son, a hand on the prince's shoulder. Ignis and Gladio stood on either side of the door, both with arms crossed over their chests, while Cor was leaning against the wall opposite Prompto's bed.

A warmth on the blond's hand had him looking down to see Iris's head resting on the comforter. Blond brows furrowed, Prompto sat up slowly, startling both Noct and Iris.

"Prompto!" Noct shot to his feet, fingers splayed across the bedsheets as he eyed the blond.

"How are you feeling?" Regis asked, clasping his son's shoulder once again. Noct seemed to calm down somewhat as he sat back in the chair he had occupied. But his steel gray eyes never left the god who, just hours ago, was in too much pain to walk on his own.

"What... happened?" Prompto hissed in discomfort, a hand coming to massage his temples once again.

"You relapsed," Iris spoke out, pouting. "Right after you left me, you--"

"Iris, enough," Gladio's gruff voice interrupted his sister as he approached the bed. A hand plopped onto her hair, Gladio turned him amber hues to the blond. "What matters is that the kid's fine, right?"

While his words had been soft -- filled with a friend's worry for a friend - the look he had given Prompto was anything but. Prompto could only nod, watching Gladio with wide eyes as he gulped.

"Y-yeah, I'm good," Prompto sputtered, voice cracking. He really didn't want Gladio beating his ass for making Iris cry.