Insomnia pulsed with life.
From morning, the Crown City had been brimming with motion. Streets were swept, banners of blue and silver hung high from the avenues, and the scent of roasting meat drifted through every quarter. Vendors shouted their wares—sweet breads glazed with honey, skewers sizzling over enchanted coals, candied fruit that glittered with sugar. Children darted through the crowds with paper lanterns, their laughter ringing against the marble and steel of the city walls.
The Crownsguard parade was more than tradition. It was reassurance. A promise to the people of Lucis that the Crystal's light still held, that soldiers still stood watch against the dark.
Sirius Blake walked between his parents, his small hand curled tight in his mother's pale fingers. Lyla's smile glowed in the lanternlight, her white hair catching the sun as if woven from silver. Dominic strode on her other side, his posture unmistakable even without armor—broad-shouldered, straight-backed, the bearing of a man sworn to guard the kingdom.
"Stay close," Dominic said, his voice steady but firm.
"I will," Sirius murmured, though his red eyes were already wide, drinking in every sight.
---
The drums began, low and steady. Their rhythm rolled down the avenue, heavy enough to make Sirius' chest vibrate. Crownsguard soldiers marched in flawless formation, armor polished until it gleamed like mirrors. Their swords rose as one, catching the sunlight in dazzling flashes.
The crowd roared. Flags whipped through the air, cheers thundered, and for a moment Insomnia was united as one.
Then came the chocobos.
Rows of the great birds strutted proudly, their golden feathers gleaming beneath the sun. Each chocobo bore a rider in polished Crownsguard armor, lances raised high, banners fluttering from their saddles. The birds cooed and chirped, talons striking against the cobbles in time with the drums. Children in the crowd squealed with delight, reaching out as if to touch them, while Sirius' breath caught.
They look like knights out of legend…
And then, at the end of the procession, the royal carriage rolled into view.
It was simple in design—armored, dignified—but every eye followed it. Four knightly chocobos flanked the carriage, their barding forged of silver-steel, engraved with the sigil of Lucis. Their plumes were dyed royal blue, their armored riders holding their spears upright in silent salute. The chocobos moved in perfect formation, every step measured, every movement precise.
Between them, through the carriage's window, Sirius saw who sat within.
King Regis.
The monarch of Lucis sat with dignity despite his years, his beard trimmed neatly, his eyes weary but resolute. Power clung to him like a mantle, the weight of the Crystal etched into the lines of his face.
Beside him sat a boy—dark-haired, shoulders slouched, gaze lowered despite the cheers of the people.
Noctis Lucis Caelum.
The Crown Prince of Lucis.
Sirius' breath caught. So small…
He had seen Regis countless times in his old life, commanding respect with every word. He had seen Noctis too—through menus, banter, final cutscenes. But this was different. This was no cinematic. This was real. A weary king who still bore the weight of his people, and a boy destined to bear more than any should.
For the briefest instant, Sirius thought Noctis' eyes flicked upward, meeting his through the glass. His heart hammered. Then the carriage moved on, swallowed by the march, the armored chocobos pacing like silent guardians.
Dominic's jaw tightened as the carriage passed. Pride shone in his eyes at the Crownsguard's march—but when they lingered on Regis and the prince, a shadow passed through his gaze. Sirius noticed. His father knew the cost of loyalty too well.
---
That evening, the festival spilled into the plazas. Lanterns floated above the streets, their glow mirrored in the cobbles wet from the morning rain. The smell of roasted food thickened the air, laughter rolled in waves, and the crowd swelled beneath the Citadel's shadow.
Dominic guided his family to a quiet rise where the fireworks would be clear. From their vantage, Sirius could see the Citadel towering above, its windows glowing faintly like stars of stone.
The first firework burst with a crack, scattering gold across the barrier overhead. The Crystal shimmered in response, the barrier rippling faintly as if catching the sparks in its protective dome. The crowd gasped, then erupted in cheers as more followed—blue streaks, crimson blossoms, silver sparks falling like rain.
Sirius sat between his parents, his eyes wide, reflecting every explosion. Lyla leaned against Dominic's shoulder, her pale face soft in the lanternlight.
Down in the plaza, he spotted Sandra—the braided girl from days before—holding a lantern and laughing with other children. For a moment, Sirius smiled faintly. The world still had places where children could be children.
But his thoughts weren't on her.
They were on Noctis—the quiet boy in the carriage. The prince destined for sacrifice. And Regis—the king who knew more than he showed, who had already chosen a path of sorrow for his son.
Sirius' fists clenched in his lap.
"I'll stand with him one day," he whispered beneath the roar of fireworks. "Even if he never knows it. I'll be his shield, from the shadows."
Above him, the sky bloomed with fire. But in his chest, his vow burned brighter.
---
When they returned home, Lyla tucked Sirius into bed. She brushed his hair gently from his forehead.
"Did you enjoy the day?" she asked.
Sirius hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. The fireworks… I'll remember them."
Her smile was tender. "Good. Hold on to happy memories. They'll keep you warm when the world feels cold."
He closed his eyes, her words etching deep into him.
Later, when the house was still, Sirius slid his notebook from beneath his pillow and lit a candle.
Notes – Fireworks of Resolve
Crownsguard parade: strong, proud.
Chocobos—armored, knightly. Beautiful.
Saw Uncle Cor. Immortal, unyielding.
Saw King Regis. Worn, but resolute.
Saw Noctis. Just a boy. So small.
His shoulders already heavy. He doesn't know.
Beneath, he pressed harder, the pencil nearly tearing the paper:
My vow: I will stand beside him. I will change the ending. Even if I remain unseen.
He closed the notebook, slid it back beneath his pillow, and blew out the flame.
The echo of fireworks lingered in his ears as sleep pulled him under. But hotter than sparks, louder than cheers, it was the vow that remained.