Chapter Text
The winters in Insomnia never got too cold, but Prompto's mood was still elevated by the warm breeze that greeted him as he stepped outside in the morning. He'd woken up early enough to grab a coffee before heading to work, which he double checked to confirm on his watch as he made his way down the street.
Usually, he didn't treat himself to things like coffee in the morning, because little purchases like that added up and he was already scraping by as it was, but his boss had given him more hours during the Valentines' Day rush last month, so he figured that he deserved a treat now that he had some extra cash.
The coffee shop wasn't far, and after he'd ordered a drip (and stared longingly at a cinnamon bun for a few torturous seconds), he waited by the bar for it to be poured and overheard some of the small-talk going on between the couple seated by the window.
“...It's official now. The prince is actually marrying her.”
“Awh, really!? It's kind of sweet; the prince and the oracle. They go together, right?”
“I guess. If you're into that kind of thing. I don't really care as long as it eases all the tension going on.”
“Oh come on, you barely follow politics, now you're gonna get all preachy?”
Prompto accepted his coffee with a smile and a thank-you. He lingered by the bar for a moment to splash some cream into the cup, then checked his watch once more-- it was about time to open up the shop. On the way out he grabbed a newspaper, curious about the supposed wedding announcement between the prince and the oracle.
When Prompto approached the darkened windows of Argentum's, he fished for his keys, managing to get the door unlocked while still holding onto his coffee and paper. He flicked on the lights, put down his drink and then set about his opening duties such as counting the till and checking which plants needed watering, feeding, or to be repotted. Prompto took extra care; his boss was away for a few weeks out in Altissia, sourcing a new type of fern that they wanted to start carrying in the store, travelling with a group of Horticulture enthusiasts.
It was sometimes stressful taking care of the shop duties on his own (he wanted to make a good impression), but Prompto was grateful for the extra money and hours. He'd immigrated to Lucis when he was young and lived between part-time paychecks at the flower shop and royal-issued assistance cheques that he was entitled to as a war refugee.
Some wistful part of him wished that he could have gone to Altissia too. Aside from growing up in Gralea, he'd only seen the world through the windows of a train and from the rails of a boat. He remembered passing through the green seas of grass that made up Tenebrae, the sylleblossoms bending slightly in the wind. The image was strong in his mind, an ocean of violet. He would have taken a picture had he owned a camera at the time, but now all he had was the memory, and a desire to see the rest of the world's beauty. For now, the florist would have to do; Argentum's specialized in flowers from countries outside of Lucis, and so the blond often found himself revisiting those daydreams of those places beyond the wall. If only the empire hadn't annexed almost everything beyond Insomnia. If only he had the money and means to leave...
The morning was slow, slow enough that once Prompto had set up the outdoor display (for the first time this season)! He was able to linger behind the counter and sip at his coffee while reading the newspaper. An announcement of marriage between Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum and the Oracle, Lady Lunafreya Nox Fluret dominated the headlines, photos of both the prince and the lady staring back at Prompto in muted newsprint as he read. The both of them were so... perfect. They were like a modern fairytale; a prince marrying a princess to slow the progression of war to a stop. The more he stared at Lady Luna's kind expression and Prince Noctis' deep, sharp stare, the further he fell into a state of daydreams.
What was it like up in the Citadel? How far did the gardens of Tenebrae reach? How did it feel to have magic coursing through your veins, to be born into a place where everything was provided for you?
Lazily, Prompto lift his coffee to his lips, but his blue eyes wandered from the paper to the window, from the photograph of Prince Noctis staring up at him to the real thing peering through the panes of glass at Prompto with an unsure expression. At first, the flower-boy was too far into his haze to put two-and-two together, but once he realized that Prince Noctis was inspecting a carefully arranged basket of cut, cream-coloured roses outside Prompto's modest little shop, he started and managed to spill the piping hot drink over the front of his apron.
“Fuck!” He cursed, wriggling out of the hot, wet fabric and tossing it onto the floor in a hurry, just as a big pair of black boots stepped through the already propped open door.
“Noct, C'mon,” came a deep, rough voice.
Prompto, having shed his apron now stood with the counter between himself and a hulking man dressed in black, a massive tattoo spreading across his equally massive arms. He looked almost too big to be in the quaint little shop, and stepped carefully to avoid knocking any of the breakable trinkets over while making way for this 'Noct.'
“Coming. Geeze.”
On the large man's heels was an impeccably dressed individual who looked about Prompto's age. He wore a black suit, sans jacket, which was carefully tossed over his shoulder and held in place by one slender white hand. The sun coming through the open door and window illuminated him like some kind of god and Prompto thought that maybe he answered his own question about how it felt to know magic.
Noct-- The Prince, tipped his head and closed his eyes before drawing in a deep breath. “Smells nice in here,” he remarked. “Eh, Gladio?”
“Yeah. Real nice,” the large man agreed with a nod before crossing his arms over his chest.
Still stunned by the apron, the burning sensation of hot coffee on his skin, and the presence of royalty all at once, Prompto let out a little squeak instead of a proper greeting. Still, he managed to hurry out from behind the counter and bow.
“Uhm. Your Highness?”
Fuck. He hadn't meant to pose it as a question, but his nerves were completely shot.
“Is... Is there something I can do for you?”
The prince hummed, not looking at Prompto just yet. Instead, his eyes roved the humble shop, as if searching for something. It took a moment, but finally the blond followed his gaze to the far end of the store where it seemed to have come to rest. Noctis was looking at the flowers all arranged on dark wooden shelves, protected from the elements by a thick glass door. Behind that door was where Prompto cared for the most volatile and delicate flora-- the blooms not used to Insomnia's unique climate.
“My adviser told me you specialize in Sylleblossoms. No one in Insomnia does but you.”
Still looking at the case, Prompto eyed the tempered blooms from where they were planted, growing in neat little rows on evenly spaced shelves baring wooden planters. The flowers themselves were of the deepest blue, supported on slender and elegant stems. The blossoms were rare, native only to the hills and meadows of Tenebrae and producing a sweet, dreamlike scent. Prompto had fallen in love with photographs of them as a child. He dreamed of seeing them wild in nature, nestled contently along the endless vale.
Right now, he made do with what he could grow.
“I... Y-yes. Yes. We grow them here. I grow them, too. The glass keeps the temperature and humidity at optimal levels so that they stay healthy and in bloom. Uhm. Your Highness, would you like one? I... Can cut a bouquet, too. They're ready. Or if you're looking to transplant them I can get you care instructions and--”
Prompto stopped when the prince held up his hand, his lips pulled into a bit of a crooked smile; as if he found the flower-boy's enthusiasm... charming?
“My wedding is in two months. How many arrangements can you have ready?”
“Oh. Uhm. I... just work here part-time, Highness,” Prompto hurried, but realized that he'd probably be flayed alive for turning down a royal request. “My boss. The owner. He's away on business, but let me get in touch with him. I can have an answer for you by tomorrow. Is that alright? In the meantime...”
Prompto returned to the counter and pulled a business card from the small holder by the register, giving it to the larger man, who's name must have been Gladio. “Please take this.”
The man took the card and handed it off to the prince, who's smile dazzled.
“Alright. We'll be in touch.”