This is a companion piece that came to mind to Solidarity. Gladiolus' point of view gives me so many feels it's not even funny. I loved the piece Solidarity, but I also wanted to pay tribute to both Somnus (which I had listened to writing this and also recommend listening to while reading because it is ridiculously accurate in this situation) and Stand By Me (which you could also listen to while reading). I wanted to tie up the loose ends that were in Solidarity by bringing it to the end of the story, the "in the after" scene. I also put in a reference to part of the script of Final Fantasy X, so kudos to anyone who recognizes it because it is very loosely incorporated. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy XV

Dawn's soft rays over the city of Insomnia looked like blinding flashes more than the gentle glows they were supposed to be to a world plunged in darkness for so many years. The city lights, generators still working like they used to, sensed the oncoming light and went off, one by one. The stars that had over looked the world for the long years faded amidst the morning; the rose-colored light crept over the sea, spreading into the sky and over the tall skyscrapers of the Crown City.

It was over.

Daemon bodies were littered everywhere in the courtyard, their bodies dispersing into black mist as soon as the morning light touched them, and Gladiolus wiped the sweat off his face and the blood, gore, and guts off his sword before dematerializing it and looking over to his companions. They, like him, dismissed their weapons and held their hands up to shield their eyes from the bright light in the east. The sun had never felt more welcome on his skin, and the eldest Amicitia closed his eyes to savor the gentle, heated kiss.

Everything was quiet. Insomnia was saved. The menace that was Ardyn Izunia, undeserving of bearing the name of Lucis Caelum, was finally defeated; Eos would no longer be haunted by his shadow.

Yet, turning to the two friends at his side, he could see Prompto looking at the rising sun in awe, snapping a picture. Ignis faced the light, his vision having never really improved, but able to see just enough to know the difference from their dark world. It was another minute before all three of them turned to each other, the youngest of them putting down his camera to look up at Gladio, his blue eyes wet with the tears of the new dawn and with the events of the morning still to come.

There was just one thing left to do.

He wasn't entirely sure what he had expected, what the others had expected, but with his heart hammering in his chest like a sledgehammer ramming repeatedly against his ribcage, Gladio walked into the throne room only after hesitating at the doorway for a moment. Prompto had walked in first; his rugged gasp signaling the start of his tears. Quietly, he told Ignis what he saw, and Ignis, too, had tears coming down his face. The eldest blew out a breath, summoning all his courage to command his feet to keep walking, walking into the throne room he had walked into a thousand different times, up the center to hold audience with the King and his son.

Except this time, there was no son. This time, there was no King Regis, smiling kindly at him as he always did. This time, there was the King- Noctis was King- in his rightful throne, the morning light pouring through the wall that caved in on the left and illuminating his figure. The rubble didn't even touch the dias of the throne, the throne upon which slumped his brother, his friend, the last of the Lucii Eos would ever see.

It looked like he was just sleeping, like he had a million times over, whether on the couch in his apartment during his high school years or in the Regalia as Ignis took the wheel, or even in the tent when he was in such deep sleep he didn't realize his head had completely slipped off the mattress and was hanging off the side. Both of Noctis' arms were on the arm rests, his back slumped against the back of the throne, his head hung forward, chin on his chest. The suit he wore that was once his father's was now dirt-crusted, frayed and torn, evidence of the war he had fought- and won. His black hair hung loosely in front of him, a curtain that gently pushed Gladio and the others back to the reality of the situation, but to the Glaive, it felt as though someone had taken a car and drove at him full-speed.

Gladio could see Ignis yelling at him for being such a sleepy King, for sleeping in when he had better things to do in the morning. Prompto would be taking pictures, chuckling at his expense. Noctis would sleepily yawn, stretch out, and give those sleepy-doe eyes to his advisor when he was clearly up, but not awake. Any moment now, he could see that happening, but the voice in the corner of his mind, the one he had been trained to listen to all his life, could only tell him the truth through the haze of sweet lies and hold his heart as it shattered on the throne room floor.

He felt a hand on his arm- Prompto, who had another arm linked to Ignis', ready to walk with him. The three Glaives walked up the steps to the first landing in front of the throne and knelt on one knee, their left hands on their chests and heads bowed as the showed the ultimate sign of respect, each mourning the man history would forever remember as the King of Kings, but more importantly, mourning their brother who had gone before them to pave a way to a brighter future. Just like the campfire they were around last night, the tears flowed freely, each brother leaning on the other for support. Minutes, hours passed by until Gladio felt his eyes were no longer able to see properly with how swollen and sore they were. Prompto's cheeks were streaked with tears hours past, but the wetness in his blue eyes remained, a floodgate ready to burst in a second's notice, his freckled nose red. Ignis' tears had long since dried, only able to put a hand on Prompto's shoulder as he looked in the direction of the throne. Gladio had no idea how much he could see, exactly, but for his sake, he hoped that Ignis would be able to see enough of Noctis to last a lifetime before their time was up. He himself could not pry his eyes away from the figure on the throne in the light of the morning, the bodyguard in him assessing him for any injuries he may have sustained, for each and every mark of battle.

The friend in him could only look and see twenty-year-old Noctis, sitting in a throne that seemed too big for him, a throne he was not ready for then, rather than the King in his final resting place. The young were taken too soon, the good sacrificed to death to herald in the destruction of the bad.

A shuffle of feet caught his attention, and Gladio looked back to see Aranea Highwind walking toward them, her stormy eyes clouded. Behind her were Cid and Cindy, the former rubbing his face with his right hand and the latter covering her mouth, stifling her gasp as she began to cry. Approaching the landing, the dragoon bowed respectfully, inclining her head and putting her left hand onto her chest. She straightened, emotions swirling on her face.

Just as Cindy began to sob, Gladio saw Cid nod his head toward the entourage. Slowly, his eyes traveled back to Noctis on the throne, willing him to wake up once more, knowing that his blue eyes would never open again. He bit down hard on his lip, then gestured to Prompto and Ignis, all three of them standing up. The Glaives all bowed once more like they did when they and Noctis had last parted ways on the steps of the Citadel, and then turned away for the last time to walk out of the throne room.

Gladio's legs felt like they were about to give out at any moment; he knew it was pure willpower keeping him moving. Aranea walked ahead of them, and when she was out of the doorway, she turned to look at the room once more as did everyone else. Cid put a hand on the panel next to the door, and it slowly started to slide shut. It was against Gladio's instincts to simply stand there and not act, but he could do nothing as he took in the sight of the King on the throne, seeing Noctis and how far he had come, of the sacrifices he made, of each mistake and each failure and each victory, letting the pride swell in his chest to have had such a brave friend, a loyal brother, a true King.

The doors were slow enough that the party could see the crystal shards that formed in the air, refracting the light from the new morning all around the throne room, and then Gentiana was on the landing in front of the throne. She turned to look at them, bowing before straightening and giving them a gentle nod before turning to Noctis when a blonde figure with her hair pinned up and dressed in a gorgeous white gown appeared next to her.

Noctis' final resting place was sealed; the doors closed, never to let anyone else in. Gladio could hear the sniffles and taste the salt of tears in the air as his own came pouring forth. Noctis was gone, but Gentiana had let them know that he was now in the care of others that he loved, that he and Lunafreya were there at the end of the road, waiting for them all one day.

The Shield, the Glaive looked to the rising sun and closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. He would not be afraid, not with these people standing by him and his brother, his King waiting at the end of it all.

I will walk tall.