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since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;
wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world
my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
In hindsight, she shouldn’t have assumed things were going as well as they seemed. She had no great experience in taking lovers, after all, having devoted most of her thirty-odd years to fighting the Scourge in one form or another. She's lost so much time, first to her injuries after Altissia and the coma that followed, and then to the terrible fear and lethargy that gripped her once Ardyn was dead and her purpose in life (seemingly) fulfilled.
Not to mention that Noctis and Prompto were Lucian, whose upper-classes still ascribed to all sorts of prescriptive rules about romance and marriage. She should have been more vigilant – Prompto in particular still regarded Noct and the sunlit world with nervousness bordering on dread, as if they might be ripped away from him at any moment. So what if she had danced with Noctis and Prompto at the ball held for the New Dawn’s first anniversary last week? So what if she had kissed Noctis outside her room, when he very courteously escorted her to her quarters? So what if Prompto had given her a gift of watercolor paints and cold-pressed paper at breakfast, asking with a flirty smirk if she had a model for her newest painting?
And most of all – so what if they had made plans to celebrate Noctis’ birthday with a trip outside the city, where they would sleep (hopefully together) beneath the stars (her first test of her new resolve to walk in the dark without fear). So what? They hadn’t said anything out loud, hadn’t made any promises. She shouldn’t have assumed. She should never assume. It was such a terrible risk, forgetting to be afraid. She should have known….
It’s when she lays her hand over his, resting on Noctis’ chest, that she realizes they’ve been having two separate conversations. “He’s here to stay, Prompto,” she says, pressing gently. “I promise.”
“I know, I know.” Prompto clears his throat, forces a rough little laugh. “It’s not that.” He sniffs.
It gives her an ugly jolt to see him so distressed. They’d only been watching Noct sleep, praising his handsome features and planning how best to tease him when he awoke. Umbra is snoring cutely at Noctis’ side and Pryna is probably still in the field, chasing butterflies. Everything had seemed perfect.
Prompto glances skittishly at her frown and then begins to babble. “I just, uh – got used to checking, you know? Making sure he hadn’t stopped breathing or started bleeding inside or something. It’ll, uh.” He shakes his head, tries to pull his hand away. “It’ll be weird not being able to check, you know, but I won’t – I mean, I know you two – I won’t get in the way, I won’t make things difficult, I promise–”
“Prompto,” Luna interrupts gently, struggling to follow. “I don’t understand what you’re–”
Prompto rakes his free hand over his eyes, smearing the hint of tears around. “You guys are gonna be great, you know?” He smiles bravely, props his head on his fist like they’re still chatting idly and he isn’t weeping openly. “You’ve waited for each other for so long. I guess destiny can be kind after all.” He tries to smile.
But he can’t keep the bleakness out of his eyes, and it’s clear that Prompto doesn’t believe any of this kindness has been reserved for him. “Prompto,” Luna bursts out, fumbling, confused, “are you – breaking up with Noctis? Through me?”
Prompto recoils, or tries to; she still won’t let him get away. “O-of course not,” he stammers, “we weren’t – I mean – not really, we haven’t, not since – he wouldn’t lie to you like that–”
Luna untangles this with some effort. “Do you mean you two aren’t together?” Confused, she reviews their interactions from the past few days, and then from the last time she saw them, after the final battle. “You haven’t been – Prompto Argentum, you two haven’t been refraining because of me, have you?”
Prompto gapes at her. She gapes back.
“You have!” Astonished, Luna leans back to peer at the sky. “Why in the – Prompto. Dear, dearest Prompto.” She checks on Noctis, in case their spirited conversation has woken him, but he sleeps on obliviously. She’ll have words with him later.
Prompto tries to sit up, retreat again, and this time Luna tugs him quite firmly back into place. “Don’t you dare,” she orders, and he freezes. “Prompto, you and Noctis love each other. You’ve been part of each other’s lives for so long, have supported and believed in one another through the worst of–” She finds she can’t find the words to continue, and tries again. “I would never, will never, seek to separate the two of you.”
Prompto’s lower lip is trembling. Luna starts to shift forward, cup his cheek, and then realizes such a gesture might be unwelcome. Dear gods, she has misread this. Such a fool she is. She’d thought–
“Quite the opposite,” she finally continues, quietly, despite the cold terror creeping through her veins. “So long as the two of you have one another, I may have peace in my heart, for I know that one good, true thing prevails.”
She blinks back a sudden flood of tears. Perhaps they don’t want her. Perhaps she doesn’t have a place with them after all. She wants her room, suddenly, her safe, prison-like room, where nothing grows but nothing can hurt her, either.
“But you guys have been – oh.” Prompto blinks rapidly, and then starts to redden. “Oh. Is this a, uh, Tenebrean thing? Like the triad thing? Oh man, is this what Iggy was trying to – oh, man.”
Luna can’t help it; despite the icy shake in her guts, she bursts into damp, semi-hysterical giggles. Prompto smiles up at her blurrily, and then starts to laugh as well.
“Man,” he says again, suddenly beaming, eyes still tear-reddened. “He is gonna give me so much crap about this. I am literally never gonna live it down. Wow.” He takes a deep breath and squeezes her hand tenderly, overwhelmed. “Is this really – you might have to – I am really oblivious sometimes, but uh, I guess you know that now.” He laughs again, edged, at himself.
Luna starts to nod, changes to shaking her head, and then feels hot, wet tears dripping down her face. She’ll feel foolish later. Prompto sits up, and this time she lets him, because he’s moving to lean closer, cup her face and wipe her tears away.
“Luna,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I misunderstood.” She presses his rough, large hands to her cheeks and feels herself crumple a little more. “No,” he continues. “No, please don’t cry. I can’t – I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Luna takes a deep breath. She isn’t being rejected. You aren’t being rejected, she reminds herself. “No, no,” she says wetly, “I shouldn’t have assumed–”
She stops herself. She’s making an effort to reprimand herself less these days. She is trying so hard to be better. And in a fight for blame, she suspects she and Prompto could go round and round until the sun went down and never came up again, but that isn’t what she wants. For either of them.
Luna takes a deep breath. She refuses to start their relationship in a spiral of apologies and self-blame. She doesn’t want that anymore. She wants to open the door to a rolling world of yellow suns and indigo skies and, eventually, gentle nights that fill her with wonder and comfort instead of fear. She wants to let go of the dread and her desperate need for control – she wants to be free, a part of the world for the first time in her life.
So instead of berating herself, she grips his hands in hers and lets their combined grip rest against their (still sleeping, seriously, Noct?) king’s chest. Umbra is watching them with interest, she notes. And then she takes another breath.
“Prompto,” she says, falling back on an old, formal proposal from a romantic show she used to watch, as a teenager confined within Fenestala Manor. “Will you grant me the honor of your affection and presence, and keep a place for me in your heart for all time?”
Prompto’s lovely eyes widen, full of hope and delight. Pure sunlight. He’s grinning and she’s breathless. All further words fly from her mind.
His fingers squeeze hers as he leans forward for a kiss, and then another, tentative turning into playful, his smile slotting sweetly against hers again and again. Blindly, her hands work themselves free to touch his cheeks, his throat, the rasp of his short beard. He retreats for a quick breath, tracing her lips with hot, hooded eyes, and then devours her mouth in a kiss that raises her onto her knees, toes curled and body tingling. Oh, oh, oh–
“Hey,” Noctis grumbles, exactly like a grumpy cat awoken from a nap. “Uh, did I miss something? I thought we were waiting till my birthday.”
Prompto gasps, wrenching away. “That’s what that’s all about?” he demands shrilly, and Luna bursts into giggles. “The camping trip? Oh my gods, Gladio’s gonna kill me–”
Noctis pushes himself up his elbows, squinting and scowling with the sun in his eyes. “What? You seriously didn’t know?” He sits up, absently guiding Luna to sit at his side in a way that makes her heart warm. “Thought you were kidding about that.”
“–never gonna hear the end of this, crap–”
Noctis looks to Luna, about to ask something – probably ‘what on Eos is happening right now, I was only asleep for thirty minutes’ – but then his expression changes and he makes a wise choice of priorities. “Uh, Luna? Pryna’s after the cheese again.”
Luna yelps and Pryna yips, betrayed, and the dog knocks the picnic basket over in her haste to escape her mistress, wedge of cheese clamped firmly in her jaws. Prompto dives to catch her – “I’ve got her!” – but he doesn’t. Noct fails to catch him and he lands on their legs, trapping them. Umbra runs in circles, barking for the sheer, chaotic joy of it, and Pryna hurries to devour her stolen prize.
And in the sunlit field, with her loves bickering and playing at her side, Lunafreya laughs until she cries for the first time in her life.