Noctis is only eight, still a young child when he's nearly killed by a Daemon. The wound is deep, the damage severe. The Lucian physicians manage to stabilize him, but that is all. The queen of Tenebrae offers the services of her people. The healers of Tenebrae are without parallel, but even they cannot undo what has been done. Noctis improves, he wakes and smiles, and it is all Regis can do to hold back his tears as he smiles back. His son, his only son, who must also somehow redeem the world from darkness, will never walk again.

Then the drop ship comes. Tenebrae braces for battle, even as its queen goes to see what the intruders want- besides the obvious. Niflheim has long desired all of Eos, gobbling up smaller countries and principalities like sweets left unattended. The chancellor is flamboyantly dressed, but his face grave. He makes a sweeping bow to both monarchs and offers an impossible ultimatum: Regis' country for his son's health.

Six, how does one answer that? He cannot. Not at once. Shock and hope and outrage wage a battle in this throat, rending him mute. Queen Sylva steps forward and replies for him: what are their terms? What guarantees will they offer? If the boy does not recover, what then? Sylva does most of the talking with Regis making a comment here or there. At length, it is decided. Lucis will submit to Niflheim control if- and only if- Noctis' health is fully restored.

Months later, when Noctis stumbles smiling and laughing into his father's arms, Regis knows that the hard choice might have been the selfish one, but it was the right one for his son. Noctis can walk- not well, not far- but enough to get around. He cannot run, cannot hop or skip, but he can move under his own power. It's something. He will never be physically strong, never be able to defend himself, always be fragile, but at least he's alive and mobile. It's more than Regis had hoped for, really. They return to Lucis under Imperial guard to give their subjects the good news, and the bad news: Noctis is well again, but they must all bow to a greater rule. To say that Regis' popularity drops is something of an understatement.

Fenestala remains untouched. Only the one drop ship had ever arrived. Although this strikes Queen Sylva as both strange and suspicious, she is not the one who brokered a deal with the devil in exchange for a child's life. She holds her own children close, and weeps for dear friends and a country now captive. Perhaps with the Crystal and True King in their grasp, a small pocket of religious fanatics is of little consequence. She is Oracle, but she cannot heal this self-inflicted wound. She can only pray the Empire yet respects her status as Oracle enough not to raise a hand against her family and what little remains of her country. Ravus and Luna are not yet old enough, not yet learned in all they need to know. It is her dearest wish that they remain children just a little while longer. Niflheim withdraws for the moment, but she knows with dreadful certainty that they will return all too soon.

Niflheim provides a companion for the young prince to aid in his recovery. The boy is roughly Noctis' age, and somehow manages to be both shy and exuberant. Like Noct, he bears magitek enhancements himself, but to a much greater degree. They call him a cyborg. He's a plant, a spy, eyes and ears for the Empire, but Regis finds it hard to resent a child. Prompto may be half robot, but he's still a human, and seems utterly devoted to his arranged playmate. Noctis has so few friends outside of his caretakers and the palace staff, Regis cannot begrudge him this. Prompto might be a spy, but it is supremely unlikely that an eight-year-old is also an assassin.

Noctis tries. He does. His friends might chide him for being lazy, but they all know the real reason he sleeps so long and so often. Magic is draining, and Noctis' already compromised body requires more time to recover than average. Too delicate to take the stress of the recoil of a gun, far too weak to lift a sword or spear, Noctis' only offensive option is magic. So he trains, trains to the point of exhaustion and past it. He knows what he must do, and Regis wishes every second of every day that the burden might be his own and not his son's. Noctis has enough to deal with as it is. But he is so proud of his son; of his strong will, his determination. By the time he's eighteen, Noctis has three times the magic reserves of most adults.

Despite it all, it could be worse. Niflheim allows them some autonomy- not as much as Regis would like- and a crippled boy is no good to them as a soldier. By and large, they let Noctis and his friends be, and Regis is glad he can put himself between his son and the Empire for a little while. Still, as Noctis matures, Regis doubts his own ability to keep him safe. Perhaps reading between the lines of his intentionally dull letters, Queen Sylva proposes a match between her daughter and the crown prince of Lucis. Noctis and Lunafreya were- and are- friends. They are fond of one another, if only as friends at present. But it would provide a means of escape for Noctis, and some much-needed leverage against Niflheim- not that Tenebrae would leave them to founder on their own, but a single city against the entire Empire would not stand good odds.

Noctis blinks at the second-hand proposal, thinks about it, and nods. Yes. Yes, he'll marry Luna. Regis breathes his first sigh of relief in many years. They make plans to smuggle him out of the city. It won't be easy. Noctis isn't fast on his feet, and there are literally guards everywhere. Regis at first tries to exclude Prompto, but the boy shakes his head.

"My priority is the prince," he says in his slightly mechanical tone. "All else is secondary."

They make him swear an oath of loyalty to Noctis, exploiting a loophole in his programming, allowing him to bend his allegiance to Niflheim. Prompto does so willingly, and makes several suggestions regarding secreting Noctis to safety. They include Noctis beginning his pilgrimage to collect the weapons of his ancestors as a method of getting him out of the city. It's something the Empire has been actively discouraging, disliking the idea of even a crippled prince amassing an armory. Regis explains that the Ring of the Lucii is in one of the tombs, but he has no idea which one. Indeed, many of those tombs have been lost to history. The imperial army cannot just go barging in robbing graves; the royal catacombs will only open for those of the Lucian bloodline. This is something Noctis must do on his own- or nearly so. Chancellor Izunia very graciously offers to accompany them, but Noctis assures him they do not need a chaperone for a simple road trip. Gladio mumbles something about tying Izunia up and stuffing him in the trunk and Noctis doesn't quite manage to suppress his smile.

They cannot escape an Imperial entourage, not at first anyway. It means Gladio bodily carrying a longsuffering Noct in a few instances, but they make it to the car Regis has put in position for them. They drive and leave it, obtain another, and keep driving. Noct wonders dimly if the Empire can track the magitek in Prompto and himself? It's a risk they'll have to take.

Regis does not regret the decision; the match, the escape, his role in all of it. The empire accuses him of going back on his word, and Regis does not deny it. He only remarks offhandedly that Niflheim has not exactly lived up to their side. They are both guilty. It does not come as a surprise when they try to kill him. The first few attempts are insultingly amateurish; poison, assassins seemingly hired from the want ads, staged 'accidents'. Regis calls them on it and is at least granted a warrior's death in return. They send one of their robots to kill him. Regis has the satisfaction of knowing that he went down fighting, and that his son his safe. He would have liked to see his son married, to hold his grandchildren. One, he muses, cannot have everything.