He bled out on the snowy grounds of the Night’s Watch, not expecting to wake again. But he did wake, and it was not in the forlorn outreaches of the Wall, but back at Winterfell, where King Robert Baratheon was a day’s ride away… Old Nan had always warned against changing fate, but how can Jon refuse a chance to prevent the game of thrones?

Noctis wakes to the taste of something foul in his mouth, to the wet stone and hum of a haven underneath him; he wakes with a shuddering gasp, fingers grasping at the area where his father’s sword pierced his chest, only to find the soft beams of sunlight washing over him, and his deathly injuries no longer there. A boon, little king, Shiva had said, before she pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. Then, a few spaces away from him, Prompto sputters and coughs a raspy but undoubtedly heated, “WHAT THE FUCK?” Privately, Noctis echoes the sentiment. What the fuck.

Where Class 1-A finds itself in a time loop centered around their first year at UA. After getting over the usual angst, they decide that the best way to grow as heroes is by antagonizing dangerous villains for fun and amusement.