One would think that three small words meant very little, in the grand scheme of things. The Kingsglaive had all sorts of fancy pledges and vows, had bowed and politely obeyed orders around him for as long as he could remember. Growing up in the Citadel, he got used to being bowed to, and though it irritated him, that was the sort of "normal" he could expect, as the prince of Lucis. Being set up on a pedestal like that meant no real friendships could be forged, both inside and outside of the Citadel, aside from Ignis and Gladio. No family, besides the close-knit circle of his father and his Shield's relatives. (That made him think of Iris- he hoped Gladio managed to contact her somehow, and that she got out of the city safely.) He'd had too many lonely or miserable days surrounded by people who only viewed him as a royal or the Chosen of the Six not to recognize when someone was different.
Most people would find the informality appalling. Prompto would have been scolded for calling him anything but 'Highness', had he gone through the formal guard training, would have written him up for failing to bow or kneel when appropriate. Instead there was barely an ounce of respect in him, talking to Noctis like he wasn't a prince more often than not. Treating him like... an actual person. It stood out to Noctis immediately, though the nickname annoyed him a little. Most people didn't get away with that; not even his father or Luna called him Noct. It was pretty much just Ignis and Gladio, though it occurred to him that it was weird he hadn't corrected Prompto's assumption, either. Huh.
Against all odds, Noctis found himself smiling a little, finding Prompto's enthusiasm infectuous. He stretched a hand out, fingers closed into an offered fist. "In that case... welcome to the Crownsguard, Prompto Argentum." He intentionally picked that name- not because it was a convenient and safer alias, though it was. Not because he didn't want to think of Prompto as someone associated with the MTs, though he didn't. It was the name Prompto offered first, and the one he'd chosen for himself. That was good enough for Noctis, and better than whatever the world thought of as "real".
Ignis and Gladio were so going to yell at him later, but screw it. He had a good feeling about this, and after the hellish day they'd all had, he wanted to hold on to that positivity as long as he could. If this bit him in the ass later, he'd deal with the consequences, but somehow he doubted it'd be the kind of problem the others might expect.
no subject
One would think that three small words meant very little, in the grand scheme of things. The Kingsglaive had all sorts of fancy pledges and vows, had bowed and politely obeyed orders around him for as long as he could remember. Growing up in the Citadel, he got used to being bowed to, and though it irritated him, that was the sort of "normal" he could expect, as the prince of Lucis. Being set up on a pedestal like that meant no real friendships could be forged, both inside and outside of the Citadel, aside from Ignis and Gladio. No family, besides the close-knit circle of his father and his Shield's relatives. (That made him think of Iris- he hoped Gladio managed to contact her somehow, and that she got out of the city safely.) He'd had too many lonely or miserable days surrounded by people who only viewed him as a royal or the Chosen of the Six not to recognize when someone was different.
Most people would find the informality appalling. Prompto would have been scolded for calling him anything but 'Highness', had he gone through the formal guard training, would have written him up for failing to bow or kneel when appropriate. Instead there was barely an ounce of respect in him, talking to Noctis like he wasn't a prince more often than not. Treating him like... an actual person. It stood out to Noctis immediately, though the nickname annoyed him a little. Most people didn't get away with that; not even his father or Luna called him Noct. It was pretty much just Ignis and Gladio, though it occurred to him that it was weird he hadn't corrected Prompto's assumption, either. Huh.
Against all odds, Noctis found himself smiling a little, finding Prompto's enthusiasm infectuous. He stretched a hand out, fingers closed into an offered fist. "In that case... welcome to the Crownsguard, Prompto Argentum." He intentionally picked that name- not because it was a convenient and safer alias, though it was. Not because he didn't want to think of Prompto as someone associated with the MTs, though he didn't. It was the name Prompto offered first, and the one he'd chosen for himself. That was good enough for Noctis, and better than whatever the world thought of as "real".
Ignis and Gladio were so going to yell at him later, but screw it. He had a good feeling about this, and after the hellish day they'd all had, he wanted to hold on to that positivity as long as he could. If this bit him in the ass later, he'd deal with the consequences, but somehow he doubted it'd be the kind of problem the others might expect.