Regis didn't sleep in his own bed, that night. Indeed, he slept very little, but when he did, it was in the chair in Reina and Noctis' room, and when he woke it was to squeals of delight and two children climbing into his lap. He wrapped his arms around them automatically, still half asleep but knowing that he was home and with his heart once more.

Reina was holding the chubby little chocobo that Crea had given her. She stood on his lap and threw her arms around his neck and stayed there for an indeterminate amount of time without saying a word. She might have fallen back asleep, but he couldn't see to check. Noctis, on the other hand, Settled himself comfortably beside Reina and launched into a detailed, meandering, and occasionally incomprehensible story of everything that had happened while Regis was away.

Ignis had taken them out through the gardens and they had spotted a white and orange cat, but it was much too nimble to catch and in the end Noctis had ended up with a tear in his trousers and Ignis had gotten in trouble for it because it was Ignis' job to make sure Noctis and Reina didn't get into any trouble while they were out and about with him. Noctis thought this was the funniest fact. He was going to try for a tear in his coat, next time, and see how much trouble Ignis would get in that way. Regis was too distracted to tell him off for it. He only smoothed his hair back and kissed his head and listened to the full adventures of five year olds.

They were still there, when Jenet arrived.

"Oh, Your Majesty! I didn't realize you were back! I thought it strange that they didn't come wake me, this morning."

"We returned late last night," Regis supplied, and nothing more. "How have they been?"

"As well behaved as can be expected, Your Majesty," she said, which wasn't quite an answer. "There was something of a scrap in the gardens—I'd thought young Master Ignis'd have the sense to keep them from chasing kittens and crawling through bushes, but I guess I was wrong. And… um… Princess Reina hasn't been sleeping so good, Your Majesty."

"Why not?" Regis tilted his head back to look at Reina. She was still awake, fat chocobo clutched to her chest and one thumb stuck in her mouth. She looked up at him with those great big blue eyes of hers, but didn't say a word.

"I think she missed you, Your Majesty… I found her outside your door at night with just her chocobo and her blanket a few times and had to carry her back here."

Regis smoothed her hair back. "My dear, were you waiting for me?"

She nodded, thumb still in her mouth.

"I apologize for being gone so long. Sometimes a king must attend to things outside the Citadel, even if I would rather be here with the two of you." She only blinked at him. It did nothing to lessen his guilt. "Did this chocobo keep you company?"

Her eyes flicked toward the chubby chocobo. She nodded and pulled her thumb from her mouth, petting the chocobo's head with her slightly damp hand.

"Chika," she said.

"Chika…?" Regis glanced between her and the chocobo. "Is that her name?"

Reina nodded.

"Well. You must thank her, for me. It is a very important job, keeping the princess company while the king is away."

"Chika's not a chocobo," Noctis said. "She's too fat."

"Noctis," Regis said severely. "Chika is clearly a chocobo, regardless of whether or not she has overindulged in gysahl greens. Just as you would continue to be a little boy, even if you ate too much cake."

Noctis giggled. "I'm not a little boy!"

"My mistake," Regis said. "You are nearly five, now. A big boy, then. And what did you name your cactuar?"

Noctis glanced back at his bed, where the stuffed cactuar sat amongst the tousled blankets. "Cat," he said succinctly.

"Cat," Regis repeated.

"Mhm!"

Regis glanced at Jenet. "I think, perhaps, the prince would like to have a cat."

"Yes, Your Majesty." She curtsied.

Crea would have argued that just because Noctis wanted a cat, didn't mean it was necessarily a good idea to give him one. Doubtless she would have been right. But just now, if Noctis wanted anything at all, Regis was inclined to give it to him.

The next weeks passed with little incident and too much tension. He spoke briefly to Sylva before she returned to Tenebrae; it wasn't her fault that any of this was happening, but somehow it felt better to have someone tangible to blame it on. She only mentioned that she suspected their drive back to Insomnia had encountered far too many daemons for the number she expected to be in Lucis. Which either meant she had miscalculated and matters were worse off than anticipated, or else that those few daemons that were in Lucis had been, for one reason or another, drawn to them. With that in mind she advised him to stay inside the Wall. And she took her leave of them, promising to answer if he had need of her again.

Regis argued frequently with himself over whether it was preferable to see his son as often as possible or not. On the one hand, every moment he was apart from Noctis felt like a moment wasted. On the other hand, when he was buried waist-deep in work, Regis could just manage to forget what awaited them. If only for a little while. In the end, it proved a moot point. He could no more spend every waking moment with Noctis than he could surrender his kingdom to Niflheim. And so they were apart more often than not. And so Regis fell asleep in the chair in their room more often than not. If Crea had still been with them, she would have dragged him away and put him properly to bed. But if Jenet had any notion of Regis' odd nocturnal activities, she made no comment.

August came. The days seemed to either pass too quickly or too slowly, depending on whether or not Regis was allowed time with his children. Plans were made for their fifth birthday party, and Regis paid very little attention to any of it. Jenet had asked him—politely and apprehensively—multiple times that month if he meant to send them to school in the city or hire private tutors for them. He still had no answer for her. To send them to school would give them a chance to make friends. Much as he understood that, for a prince or princess, making friends was a delicate business fraught with more politics than were strictly necessary, he wanted to grant them the opportunity, at least. But if he sent them away, he would have no chance to see them during those school hours. Not that he usually had much chance to see them during the day, but occasionally…

He couldn't make the choice. He brushed Jenet off each time she asked and then neglected to think about it while he had the chance. While he deliberated, the world turned and life continued, with or without him. The Lucii were with him more often than not, as if they knew as well as he did: the Chosen King was coming.

The prince and princess' fifth birthday arrived. Regis hadn't slept that night, but somehow Avun managed to make him look as if he had. He was still standing in his room, undecided as to whether or not he could even bring himself to face his children when Clarus came for him. A steady rain fell over Insomnia. Suitably drab weather for the occasion. What would Aulea have said, if he had been forced to tell her their only son was sentenced to death? For once, Regis was grateful she wasn't with them anymore. At least she hadn't lived to see this. At least she had gone to her grave believing that her children would have full and happy lives—or as full and happy as the throne allowed for them.

"Will you do it now?" Clarus asked.

"I should prefer not to do it at all."

Clarus grasped his shoulder. "I know."

Regis continued to stare out the window, silent for another moment. "No. Let him have his day without interruptions. Afterward, we will…"

"You don't intend to tell him, do you?"

Regis turned to look at him, eyebrows coming together in the middle. "Of course not. He is only five."

"How much will you tell the council?"

Regis sighed, deflating, and turned back to the window. He had thought a great deal on what to tell the council, the past month. He had yet to come to a suitable conclusion.

"I do not know," he said. "I suppose it must be said that the crystal has recognized the Chosen King, but…"

Sylva's words came back to him. If Noctis was the King of Light then, in all likelihood, it was Reina who would become the next Queen of Lucis. Of course, thirty-five—if he did, indeed, live that long—was not too young to have produced an heir. It was, however, too soon to have produced an heir who would have come of age. A regent would have to rule and the regent, if not the child's mother, would have to be Reina.

Just thinking about his five year old children forced onto the throne had him glowering out across the city. He clenched his fists at his sides. It would do him not good to think of them that way. They would grow up and the future of Lucis was at stake. These considerations needed to be had now, and if not by him then by whom?

"They will wish to know why you have brought the prince to stand before the crystal," Clarus said.

And so any further delay on the issue of which child, precisely, was his rightful heir would be impossible. He would have to choose one. And when he did, that child would have the eyes of Lucis on them forever. But it was not all bad. That child would also inherit the retinue they had assembled for the heir: a Shield and an adviser. If Reina sat the throne, she would have need of those. But while Noctis walked a long road in the dark, he would, as well.

Regis shook his head. "A choice must be made."

Clarus squeezed his shoulder. "Then let us go and appreciate what little of the day we have."

Appreciate what little uncertainty was left to them. For now, the path ahead was unclear. There remained a sliver of a possibility that all this worry was for not. Even so, Regis wasn't certain he didn't prefer the uncertainty. As soon as they crossed that threshold there would be no turning back. No more denial. No more hiding.

The prince and princess' fifth birthday was, by all accounts, a joyous affair. Regis couldn't have said, one way or another, because he didn't stay to attend. So many people gathered around to celebrate two little lives that were doomed to be cut short, in one way or another. The injustice of it plucked at him whenever he stood in their midst. So he fled. He took refuge in his study and buried himself in work—or tried to. Nothing could take his mind off of what must be done that evening. Several times, he nearly went back upstairs to sit with them. If it had been only his children waiting for him, he would have. But how could he sit in the midst of a party and pretend for everyone involved that he was happy? Happy to bring his son to his death.

In the end, Regis wasted away the afternoon pacing in his study. Avun brought him lunch, which he ignored. Reports from the Outlands, from Altissia, from Galahd, and even intelligence from Niflheim sat untouched on his desk. He had tried to read through one of them and found his eyes flicking back and forth over the same line over and over while he thought of carrying his five year old son to his doom.

Evening came. And with it, Clarus.

He stood by the door for a few moments while Regis stared out the window. The rains had not let up.

"It's time, Regis," he said.

Regis shut his eyes and lowered his head. No longer could he hide from this. No longer could he delay the inevitable. Every decision would have to be made as soon as he stepped out of the crystal chamber with the knowledge of Noctis' fate heavy in his heart. But the crystal was calling. The Lucii were whispering in his ears, urging him forward. For Lucis. For duty. For the light.

"Very well." Regis turned from the window and passed Clarus on his way out the door. Clarus fell into step to his right and behind him.

They passed an array of servants clearing away the remnants of the twins' birthday party from the main hall. It should have been done in the gardens, but the weather had eliminated that possibility. Compared to Regis' last birthday celebration, theirs had been small and quiet. A blessing for them, he hoped. Still more than he had been equipped to deal with, today.

Upstairs in the royal quarters, they found Reina and Noctis worn out by the day's activities. Amidst a pile of new toys, the pair of them dozed while young Ignis tidied the room around them. They were so peaceful. Regis was loath to disturb them. It was just another excuse, but he stood watching them sleep until Clarus urged him forward. He took one step, then another, and finally lowered to his knees beside them. If he was gentle, he might just manage to extract Noctis without waking either of them.

He detangled Noctis' arms from around Reina and Reina's arms from around Noctis. He pried the toy car from Noct's fingers, because he didn't much want to be hit in the head with it on accident. Then he eased his hands under Noct and scooped the sleeping child up into his arms. Clarus watched, silent throughout, saying not a word as they left the room together.

The crystal was in the innermost chamber of the Citadel; though it was on the ground floor it could only be accessed from above. Few people could gain access to the halls surrounding it and fewer still could enter the crystal's own chamber: the latter list numbered one and only one. It wasn't that he didn't trust, for instance, Clarus or Cor inside the crystal's chamber, simply that no one but himself had any business going there. This evening, Regis wished he had no business going there, himself.

But the crystal called, and the Caelums answered, as they had ever done. The legend of it was passed down from father to son to daughter for hundreds of years: the Founding King had pushed back against the Starscourge and, in so doing, gained the recognition of the Gods. They had gifted him the crystal and the Ring of the Lucii, so that every Lucian monarch might protect his people from the encroaching darkness. In time, the power of the ring would swell alongside that of their bloodline and they would become strong enough to eradicate the Starscourge. All they need do was protect the crystal until that day. For the crystal, while not sentient, could weigh a man's worth and determine his destiny. It was the link between the natural power of Eos and the Caelum family.

It wasn't a legend that Regis had given much active thought to, before. That the generation foretold two thousand years ago would be his son's had never crossed his mind before the Lucii had suggested as much. And here they were, standing in the twilight before the great plunge into darkness, preparing to find out if the dawn would have to be bought with Noctis' life. Regis might have stood outside the crystal chamber doors indefinitely. He would never be ready to know.

But he did not have the luxury to linger forever. By the time he and Clarus reached the inner chambers of the Citadel, word had spread of their destination. The surrounding hallways were full of too many people merely for happenstance. Some were merely curious servants or Crownsguards. Others were court officials and nobles. By the time they returned, doubtless the whole of the council would have assembled on short notice. He would have to think of something to tell them.

The entrance to the crystal chamber was through a control room, behind a blast door fit for a bank vault. Protect the crystal: the first tenet of the Caelum family. So they had put it under lock and key and constant watch. It had always seemed insufficient, if the whole of Eos' future depended on it.

The blast doors opened for Regis and Noctis. He left Clarus behind in the control room; he didn't have enough strength even to share one last glance with him. It was time to face the inevitable. The doors sealed behind them; the resounding clang echoed through the crystal chamber and then there was silence. Somehow, Noctis slept on.

The crystal was housed in a circular room at the very center of the three Citadel towers. A line of columns supported arches just inside from the walls, forming a room within a room. Past the arches, the ceiling sloped up in a dome, culminating in a glass center, where the light of the crystal could escape the Citadel and power the Wall. The crystal itself sat in the center of the room, encased in a hexagonal prism of rotating mirrors. The Caelum who had designed it was a genius among pigeons: that the light itself held the properties of the crystal's magic had been well-known throughout the long Lucis-Caelum history, but that the magic might be concentrated and amplified by the right configuration of mirrors had taken a spark of brilliance that Regis certainly did not possess.

The tile floor surrounding the crystal was lit up with the glow of the crystal; even with the mirrors shut, some power bled out the bottom, so that just walking across the floor felt like wading through knee-deep water. And that was nothing to the power contained within. Regis reached out with his magic and felt it thrumming within him. He threw wide the mirrors and violet light poured over him, filling the chamber with the crystal's magic. This was pure, untamed power. This was the blood of Eos.

He shut his eyes and let it wash over him. It soaked into his skin and bones, refilling reserves that had been low ever since Niflheim's attack on Insomnia. But it was wild energy, raging and boiling in his veins. Just to use it would cost him. Nothing came free, from the crystal.

Noctis shifted in his arms. Regis extracted one hand to smooth his hair back. He kissed Noct's forehead and held him a little tighter. They had come all this way. Much as Regis still wished to turn back, he knew it was too late. It had always been too late. He did not walk a path so much as he rode a train car, which took him down rails he had always wished to avoid. He might throw on the brakes, now and then, but it would only delay the inevitable.

Regis stepped forward. Within the broken prism of mirrors, the massive geode pulsed with unearthly light; it called to him without a voice, sang to him without a melody.

"We have come," Regis said.

The light in the crystal flared so bright that Regis was forced to shut his eyes. He shielded Noctis, though Noct's eyes were already closed. If Regis had, indeed, been brought before the crystal as a child, he had no recollection of this—this piercing light, which shone through everything that he was. It laid bare all his faults, shining in the darkest corners of his soul. It brought to light everything he was and ever had been: his fears, his fantasies, and his deepest regrets. It knew his dormant desire to flee and leave behind all that a Caelum was meant to be; it knew the great ache of loneliness in his soul that no one could fill; it knew the hatred he felt for it and the Astrals and every power of fate that would take his son away from him. Nothing was hidden. Nothing was safe.

He knew not for how long they stood there while the crystal weighed and tested every ounce of their mettle. When the light finally subsided, Regis' cheeks were wet with tears. And the worst was yet to come.

:This child holds the amassed strength of thy bloodline. The age of the prophecy has arrived; he is Chosen.:

The voice did not belong to the crystal, nor to Regis' father or any other Lucii. It sounded in his mind and rumbled in his chest until his head ached from the pressure of it. Only a few times in his life had he heard that voice. The voice of the Draconian.

Yet, even at his confirmation, Regis felt none of the dread he had expected. While the light drained away from the crystal, cold resignation settled into Regis' soul. The inevitability of Noctis' fate had finally been laid bare before him. He would mourn—quietly, on his own, for he had no one to share this grief with—but to resist would have been futile. The Lord Bahamut had spoken. Noctis would die for Eos and the light.

He lingered in the crystal chamber long enough to dry his eyes and then he turned away. The council would need to know. An official statement would have to be made. For his part, Regis had already made the decisions he had so long deliberated over.

Everything would go to Noctis. Every concession Regis could make, every benefit he could give, he would. The rest didn't matter. If Noctis was to die for his destiny, then he would have a life to remember before then. He would live sixty years in twenty. He would have everything. And Gods damn any who tried to stand in the way.

Regis closed the mirrors and left the crystal chamber once more. Clarus was the only one, aside from the Crownsguards, waiting in the control room. The hopeful look on his face died with one glance at Regis. He bowed his head, not daring to speak any words where they might be overheard and repeated, then drew himself up to stand beside Regis, the perfect picture of Shield and Royal Adviser once more. If Regis could manage such a face as that while they faced the council, it would be an accomplishment indeed.

Outside the control room doors, a small crowd awaited them. The full council, as Regis had suspected, had assembled. Cor was among them. So, too, were some few of the others who could gain access to these halls: General Drautos and even Avun—though whether Avunculus had come simply because he followed Regis everywhere or not was uncertain.

Silence fell when Regis and Clarus stepped out into the hall. He let it stretch while he gathered his words and prepared himself to say them without a quiver in his voice or a catch in his throat.

"The crystal has measured my son's worth and judgement has been passed." Somehow, he managed a voice fit for a king, rather than a broken man who sentenced his son to death. "The King of Light has come. The time of the prophecy is at hand. I hearby declare my son the Crown Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum, and recognize him as my heir. When darkness veils the world, he will deliver dawn unto us."

A murmur went through the assembled group. Councillors exchanged excited looks and fevered words, whispering amongst themselves. Cor alone continued to stare at Regis with a searching gaze. Perhaps he knew or guessed there was more to this, and that the announcement was hardly cause for celebration. Even so, he remained stoic and silent. If he had questions he would ask them later. Clarus could answer them.

"This is grand news, indeed, Your Majesty," Hamon said at last. "If Prince Noctis is the Chosen King, then we must arrange for the ceremony posthaste."

"Indeed," Regis said. "For now, I leave all considerations for the crowning of the heir in the hands of this council. The prince wants for sleep, and I must return him to his nannies."

There were murmurs of ascent as he passed through the ranks of the council, down the winding hallway, and into the corridors beyond, with Clarus, Cor, and Avun trailing after him. More people were assembled without. Regis spared them only a passing glance of acknowledgement. They would know, soon enough, what had passed. He did not think he could hold together for more than one announcement. Not now.

"So he is to be heir, after all," Clarus said, once they were free of the crowds. "With Gladiolus as his shield and Ignis as his adviser."

"Yes," Regis said.

"And Princess Reina?" Clarus asked.

"What of her?"

"Well, previously, Gladio and Ignis were declared to both of them. In so choosing Noctis, you deprive her of a retinue."

"She will be fine," Regis said. Perhaps she would have need of one, eventually. Perhaps she would inherit Noctis'. Either way, Noctis would have greater need of friends at his side, in the path he walked through life. "They will hardly be split apart. I expect the four of them to become friends, regardless of who serves whom."

Clarus bowed his head to that and let the subject go. When they reached the upper levels of the Citadel, Regis turned to look at his own retinue, still trailing after him. Whatever he asked of them, they would have given; if he had wished to return to his rooms and drown his sorrows in a bottle of whiskey, they would have accompanied him; they would have listened to his woes and refilled his glass and made certain he made it to his own bed alive when the alcohol rendered him senseless.

But what he wanted, just then, had nothing to do with companionship or a stiff drink. Nothing could touch the ache in his soul, nothing could drown out the wailing within his heart.

"Leave me," he said. And they went.

Regis did not return Noctis to his room. He retired to his own room, sleeping child still in his arms, and sat them both down in an armchair by the windows. Outside, rain fell thick and heavy over Insomnia, lit only by the glow of the city and the light of the Wall.

This.

This was what he would give everything to protect.

The promise of fealty and service had not seemed so costly a thing when it was only his own life he was sworn to give up. Now the crystal demanded the life of his son, as well. Was there nothing the Gods could ask for that he would not give?

Tears fell thick and silent down his face. He held Noctis closer, pressing his lips to Noct's hair, and Noctis stirred just enough to push him away.

He made up his mind that no word of this should reach Noctis. Eventually he would know of his fate, but not until he was old enough. Perhaps, for the secrets kept from him, he would grow to hate Regis in those last moments. Or perhaps he would understand. Regardless, Regis meant to protect him until the very last.

They both slept through the night in Regis' bed, with Regis still in his suit. In the morning he would ask Jenet to enroll them in a school in the city. Noctis would have a life beyond the walls of the Citadel, as well as he was able. He would make friends and experience the world outside the realm of royalty. And he would be happy.

For as long as he was able to be.

AN: That's it for this story, everyone! Thanks for reading. I actually got ahead and started part 3 before this one finished, this time. You can find Of Decision on my page, now, so head over and continue the story!