A/N: I can't wait for FF15. How about you? :)

Nox

Rorudesu-chan

The last time, or rather, the first time he had met her, she was the one full of light, happiness, vibrancy and all the other things he didn't possess. He knew he would see her again. Be it at another assembly, at a party, or at some random place like a street or a shop in some city. But the least would be at war—in the middle of a battlefield where his soldiers and hers were fighting against one another, proving that one faction was better than the other. His principles had collided with hers even from the very beginning. But she took no notice of them. And neither did he. During that night, he was just a man who, out of boredom, decided to visit the building's top floor, which was informed to him by the concierge when he arrived that there was a nice view of the city. He found the party commemorating the peace treaty between Lucis and Niflheim an absolute bore. The champagne was overflowing. People—nation leaders, business officials, administration—danced to the beat of the classics, not knowing that everything was all a fraud.

And then when he met her on the battlefield, it was in a street. She was dead serious. He tried to break the ice by saying something like, "You know, you actually look better in a dress." Or, "That's not really a toy that princesses are supposed to be playing with." Perhaps he had insulted her which was why she charged on him with her rapier at full force. Or perhaps she was just supposed to. They were anything but friends.

He had encountered her several times already. Their fights seemed like it wouldn't come to an end anytime soon. There was a pattern. They would see each other at some place he didn't think he would, they would clash swords, call on the power of the light and etcetera. Then there would be a ceasefire brought about by either her subordinates calling for assistance at someplace else or a retreat. The same would happen to him. And it would happen at a time when he wanted to dance some more with her, the sound of his weapons clashing with hers as the music playing amidst the conflict.

There came a time eventually when he realized how much he desired to speak with her. Yes, they talked. About alliances, the principles of their nation, which side was correct, and which wasn't. He would be arrogant, and she would always have something to counter his opinions. All things formal aside, he simply wanted to engage in a conversation which was quite unlike that night when he first met her. Something about that moment strike a chord within him as if they had been playing the same melody in their lives all along. She was lonely just as he was.

Once he had sought the help of Prompto and Gladiolus and Ignis. They always came up with good responses, but they were answers to questions related to war and the statistics of their kingdom winning that war. When he presented the issue to them in such a formal fashion that they were all accustomed to, they found that it was a surprisingly new matter on hand. Something they wouldn't expect to come out of the blue at such a time of panic and turmoil.

"Why don't you ask her out?" Gladiolus pointed out after a series of inquiry about the identity of the mystery woman.

They all assumed it was some girl he had met before the war, perhaps the daughter of one of their allegiances or some girl he met in a pub. Ignis said it was nice for Noctis to have found something to cherish, but pressed on the importance of focus and determination. Girls could wait. (Girls would wait for Prince Noctis.) Prompto, on the other hand, had concocted a devious plan which was by nature, his way of relieving stress and channeling all negative thoughts about dying. After their meeting regarding the matters of Noctis' heart was adjourned, Prompto gave Noctis a head start. That the next time they meet, he'd make sure nothing, absolutely nothing, would disturb Noctis. Not diplomatic phone calls, not sudden strategy meetings, not even the womanizer Prompto himself.

So he asked her out on their nth encounter on the battlefield. This time it was at a clearing. Soldiers were deployed there earlier to look out for survivors of neighboring kingdoms, with Noctis taking the lead. She found Stella first disguised as one of the survivors, and even casually introduced herself as a citizen of Accordio. When a soldier was about to lead her to a truck where the other survivors were, she took out her sword and killed the man. She would've killed the entire troop had it not been for Noctis' nonchalant appearance at her side.

"Not you again," she said in a breath and tried to escape as far as she could. She was supposed to eliminate all remaining Lucis loyalists in the area. The 'survivors' were actually her own troops, and upon being discovered by the Lucis Prince, she made the bold move to have him follow her. She was sure she would kill him this time. And then his father, King Regis, would be next.

"Have coffee with me," said Noctis. He held a broad sword in his right hand.

"What?" she snapped. Outraged, she thought he was making fun of her. She was very much fit to challenge and defeat him. She was gifted by Etro as much as he was.

He persisted in wanting her to say yes to one, simple, measly date. But not once did she fall for it, not even if he asked her through playful banter—something which he found she enjoyed as well as he did. But it was not because she thought it would be an unproductive event, something that she couldn't fit between planning how to kill the Prince and fighting to kill the Prince. In fact, Stella found that she did not dislike that Noctis person at all. It just couldn't be. The thought of befriending him in secret was enough to make her blush in the middle of the night when everything was at a ceasefire. There was something thrilling in courting and being courted by danger. But as she kept repeating in her head a million times over—it just couldn't be. Noctis came to know of the reason in time.

He learned through intel that she was getting married. His flirtatious teases came to a halt. She didn't tell him anything. Not that she was obliged, but she could've at least laid him down gently as though he deserved it. He needed to know why.

"You say 'no' to a date with me, but you say 'yes' to marry someone else?" said Noctis. This time, their encounter took place inside the city of Solheim. The skyscrapers and roads were in ruins. The citizens had vacated the place in time though some casualties could not be helped before the ruthlessness of the Niflheim invaders.

He was sure to emphasize the phrase, someone else,when he surprised her by his knowledge of the engagement. In addition to that news, he also found that it was a union borne out of necessity and formality—as if they both didn't have enough of those already in their high societal lives. Stella Nox Fleuret of Tenebrae was to be wedded of to some noble lord of a noble house of some noble kingdom. Exact details were not needed for Noctis. It was enough to know that the only woman he cared so much about in this world was about to become someone else's wife.

He didn't ask anything further. He didn't want to go down on his knees and beg her to give him a chance. He didn't want her to remember him a sad, little boy. The last time she sees him, he would be the one walking away, alive and pretending to be strong. He would make sure that this would be their last.

But then again, he couldn't let that happen just yet.

As she was about to strike, he took her weapon and held her hand tightly. He kissed her. She pulled away, but he kissed her again until she found herself kissing him too. They ran to an abandoned lot. The brick roof still intact and covering half of the building. It used to be a house or a grocery store, they were not sure. Their senses were muddled in the heat of passion.

She jumped out of her skirt after he pulled it down for her. She took off his jacket and shirt and planted kisses at the base of his neck. With trembling fingers, she unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants. His hands ran up and down her back; breathing heavily, he whispered her name. She heard a soft snapping sound and the next thing she knew her breasts were free of the underwire and were pushing up against his chest.

Noctis laid her down. But she pushed him on his back. Locking her torso between her legs, she secured herself on top of him. He felt his manhood thrusting through her core. She screamed. There was a sharp, searing pain.

"Stella," he breathed. "Are you alright?"

She didn't answer him. She brought a fist against his chest and a drop of tear ran down her left cheek.

"Stella, I should—" He was interrupted by the sound of laughter coming out of her mouth. And then she moaned again in pain.

"I was excited," she said.

"Stella, let me—"

"No. Sssh!" She licked his bottom lip. "Nothing but this."

She was kissing him fervently. He stroke her thighs gently and let the woman on top of him adjust herself to his size. She was reckless. But it only made him want her more.

From that encounter onwards, their nights would be end, spent in each other's presence. When dawn would come, one of them would leave the other first, remembering the meeting they were supposed to have with their superiors regarding the progress of their battles. They wouldn't speak and would quietly leave the premises of their secret, unplanned rendezvous. Both carrying the weight of guilt. But both being equally satisfied. Restless as to when and where they shall have their fill again.

But one of them soon realized a pattern. A sort of detail which should just be brushed aside, but that which couldn't be helped but be noticed. They wouldn't talk. They would only have sex. Their conversations reserved on the battlefield where they would initially meet. And wherever they would end up, wherever it was convenient and unknown except for themselves, she would always take charge, if not take the lead. She would be on top of him. Once he tried overpowering her. If she didn't fight against it, she would refuse by pushing him away and bringing her legs together. He eventually would have to find a way to let himself in, like a visitor asking if could come into the house. The thing was that there was no other way, except to let her have hers with him.

Like any man desperate enough to prove his worth to a woman, Noctis succumbed to the company of his most trusted allies.

"How do you overpower someone… in bed?"

"Woah!" Gladiolus nearly choked as he took a swig of his beer. "You finally got the girl?"

"My, congratulations," said Ignis who gave the Prince a pat on the back. His mind was running at a hundred miles trying to calculate when, where, and how Noctis managed to squeeze flirting and sex life into their rather hectic schedule.

Meanwhile the person responsible for covering Noctis' nightly absences tried to appear less enthusiastic. But his eagerness had given him away.

"You, my friend, are very much welcome." Prompto nearly spilled beer as he knocked his mug against Noctis'. Gladiolus shook his head at the blonde sly.

"So?" Noctis was in dire want of knowledge. "How do I do just that?"

"Take control, Noct."

All three heads turned to Ignis. They didn't doubt whether he had experience in that field. They just didn't think it would be a topic to come out of his mouth considering that most that did were about tactics, alliances, or the latest ploy of the Niflheim Kingdom.

Ignis downed his mug. "Take control," he repeated. "But don't let her fight against it. Make her want to be under you. Make her feel how good it is to be taken over and to lose herself completely—and only to you."

Noctis filled his mug to the rim and urged him to continue. Gladiolus hesitated from applauding. Prompto secretly took mental notes for improvement.

"Do you like fighting?" she asked. Her big, violet eyes stared at him. He could drown in them. He found it hard to take her question seriously. But he was afraid she might leave, so he had no choice but to give her the response she wanted. But it wasn't as if he wouldn't give that. He'd give anything he could to her.

"Yes. Why?"

"Hmm…" She turned away. Her arms left his chest and covered her naked bosom shyly, and turned her back to him. He sat upright and took hold of her arm.

"Do you?" he asked.

"Is there any other choice?" she replied. Her clothes, like always, were strewn all over the ground. She wore her skirt

And she left.

He found that she laughed at the smallest things, and he found endearing. He realized that in spite of it all, she was just this girl who was looking for a shard of happiness in the midst of this broken world. She was slowly opening up to him, letting him into her world.

"Guess what."

"Do I want to?" There was not a hint of panic in his voice.

"I'm married."

"Are you now?" he asked. He stroke her hair gently.

"Yes," she insisted.

He took her right hand. A gold band was missing on the ring finger.

"Where is it?"

"Doesn't matter." She pulled her hand away, but he snatched it back. "I'm married, dear prince. I am. Believe me."

He still found it impossible. But maybe she was, as a matter of fact. And he was only delusional, desperate, and above all, selfish. He always felt like she was his. Even marriage to another didn't seem to change anything between them.

Stella sat upright. "A private ceremony. Very private."

"I see."

"The cake was too sweet for my taste." She let out a little laugh. "And did I look horrible in that dress!"

She gazed at him, searching for a sign that would push her over the edge. She would run away with him. But how dare she jump to that conclusion? He wasn't even asking.

She traced the contours of his abdomen. "Are you… angry?"

"Why would I be?"

"Nothing… I just thought that—"

"I love you?"

"No," she huffed. "Not at all."

"Well what do you love about him, Stella?" her friend asked, a confidant.

"Love? I do not love him."

"I didn't say you did. I asked what."

"The way he fights. in the battlefield. The way he tries to act tough and scary. The way he holds the handle of his sword at the tip. I love the way he talks to me when he'd raise one eyebrow to make a point. The way he tickles me like—"

"I don't think I want to hear anymore of this."

"No. He tickles me like a child is tickled—he'd literally tickle secrets out of me when I refused to tell him." She paused and then continued. "I love how he puts his arms around me after we have sex. I always shy away from his embrace because I know I'd indulge in it—but I like it when he does that. He makes me feel secure, safe, like no one could harm me. Even though he should. Because he's supposed to be my enemy."

She never told him once that she had never slept with her husband. Her husband suspected that there was someone else. But he refrained from making a huge fuss about it. Their nations' allegiance was at stake if he ever thought of creating a scandal.

"He's been very kind to me, Noct."

"If you want to be with me," he paused. Was he guilty of wanting to provoke her?

Yes. He was.

"You know what you should do, Stella," he said.

"I cannot leave him."

He turned to his side. He wanted to run outside and vent out his frustration on the nearest infrastructure by blowing it to bits. But he couldn't escape. Not because he was butt-naked and he'd find it hard to look for his clothes in the dim moonlight. Stella wouldn't let him. And she made sure of that by securing her arms and legs around him from behind.

"You will always have to make sacrifices," he said.

"Too many consequences, Noct," she said, breathing in the scent of his skin. "But I can defy each and every one of them."

"So do it."

"I won't," she replied.

"Oh of course!"

"I can't bring myself to break their trust."

"Oh yes."

I am a Fleuret."

"Yes, you are," he remarked again.

"You're not angry. You're jealous because I choose him over you. I didn't choose him. I chose my kingdom and my family. But you will always be something I can never let go of. You know that."

Stella looked at him in silence.

"What?" he asked. She was smiling at him.

"Could you lie on your back? I want to be on top of you."

"You'd want to—again?" It had been awhile when it was her who had taken control.

She shook her head. He adjusted their bodies so that they were in the way she liked.

"Could you run your fingers through my hair?"

He did as he was told.

"Push the hair out of my eyes. Touch my face, and then pull me in for a—" His lips brushed against hers. She smiled. "I wanted that on the forehead. But thank you."

"Are you alright?" he asked. He'd still do those things to her without being told to.

She looked away and rested her head on his chest. "Never been better." He listened to his heart. It wasn't too long ago when she'd wanted to pierce her rapier through it. When she would've done anything, anything at all, to see him dead. She even thought of incorporating her plan to kill the prince into their secret sexual activities. But now she had seen she failed as if she were destined to. Oh, Etro—she loved him!

She started sobbing. She pulled away from his touch and felt the tears stream down her cheeks.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I love you."

"What?"

"I love you."

"I don't understand, Ste—"

"I love you," she said louder. The words were a murmur at first because she found them very difficult to say. But once she had gotten them out, she couldn't stop saying them again and again. Her mantra was interrupted by a pair of lips crashing against hers.

Tomorrow, he'd meet her at dusk again. Somewhere. Weapons in hand. She was the air he'd kill to breathe.

A/N: Too fast-paced? How's my writing? I'm a little rusty. So let me know what you think! I wouldn't say this is the best I've written. But I felt like I just had to get something out here.