Chapter 3 - Le roi est mort, vive le roi - Rated G
"The King is dead, long live the King"
Finding the heart of the battle was really no trouble. No trouble at all.
Dust and screams spilled from every threshold as Ailith coughed her way through the labyrinthine halls of the upper quarter. Broken glass and broken bodies blended together into a mosaic of tiled carnage and she could do little more than nimbly pick her way from side to side as she followed the worst of the sounds. If she was being honest with herself, Ailith would have been grateful for the choking miasma of smoke and particulates because it constricted her vision to a singular point tunneling through the gloom before her and cloaked the pools of blood and gaping wounds in an obscuring grayness that spared her the shock of slaughter.
A group of agents dropped to their knees up ahead and opened fire with a variety of weapons meant to target the most well-known weaknesses of Fae kind. Some of them shot iron bullets, others blessed silver, and one particularly large and gruesome blunderbuss took ammunition made of phosphorus and magnesium meant to ignite into a ball of unquenchable fire on contact with the target. It was usually kept for trolls, who otherwise possessed few known vulnerabilities. The agents made out with several rounds before the first of them fell; a bloody gash torn through his right leg. The second fared even worse, dropping to the ground with a scream as four small arrows landed squarely in his chest. The third and fourth leapt to their feet and began to retreat into the smoke, vainly attempting to use it for cover as a wave of Nuada's army began to advance. It didn't save them. An angry troll with a burning shoulder made quick work of men, weapons, and most of the opposite wall.
Ailith dodged rightwards and made for the doorway. It was then that she noticed their position. The fight seemed to have begun near the side entrance-way and had raged for some time down the main hallway. But it had not turned west to continue on towards the vaults that kept the spear nor had it continued north towards the library. Rather, she was now standing at the threshold of the foyer that led into the main lifts. Lifts which accessed only one part of the complex: the "dungeons."
The Dungeon was the name that many of B.R.P.D.'s supernatural residents had given to the institution's prison system. Below this floor lay the worst of the worst. Demons. Hags. Hellhounds. Wights and the Undead. And more than a few of the infamous Unseelie: the Fae who preyed upon Mankind with malice aforethought and often in some of the most horrific ways imaginable. Ailith paused at the entrance. Was this what the Prince wanted? What abominations could those vaults contain that would be more valuable to him than his own Claidheamh Soluis. She shuddered to even consider it.
And then she saw him; Prince Nuada. He was down but not felled; fighting from a prone position between Hellboy, who had him nearly pinned with the use of his large, brimstone, arm, and two agents wielding iron Shards; two of the last twisted remnants of Caladbolg, the Great Sword of Fergus mac Róich shattered into three pieces after the Cattle Raid of Cooley (unsurprisingly, she knew the Names of these and every weapon and object held in the B.R.P.D's considerable treasury). Strangely, Nuada himself appeared to be unarmed and was taking to combat entirely through hand-to-hand techniques. In one particularly dexterous move, he managed to roll through a series of ill-timed blows and get to his feet before dodging a secondary attack by a Shard. In the following moment, Hellboy overcompensated and Nuada took the opportunity to land a heavy strike to the demon's torso, forcing him back several steps. The Prince smiled, but not maliciously, and engaged again, knocking both agents into the far wall with a solid kick to the nearest one's midsection. He then turned to taunt the demon for a second time.
"Come to me." He called, teasingly. "Unless you wish to yield now."
Hellboy growled something incoherent and the crash of stone on metal recommenced.
As she watched, Ailith thought the Prince handsome but in a vexing way. Elven features obvious enough; a high brow scowling across an aquiline nose and a sharp profile widening at the mid-point and tapering to a broad chin. Long white hair darkening to the ends with tints of gold and red. Fair white skin complemented with black pigmentation charcoaling his eyes and mouth to highlight both the burning within his golden irises and the licking flames of his words. He was catching fire from the inside out. She imagined him consumed by hatred but beautiful in grief.
More blows were exchanged and it quickly became clear to Ailith that both Hellboy and the agents were caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. They needed to fully defend themselves against the Prince's considerable talent in battle, as well as attempt to subdue him, but at the same time they clearly intended to accomplish this considerable task with as little injury to Nuada as possible; pulling blows or angling a jab when a fuller strike might have ended him. It was also obvious that their elven opponent had already sustained several serious injuries and had been bleeding heavily for many minutes. Furthermore, the fatigue and strain were beginning to show in the weight of his movements and the weakening of his defenses. However, Nuada did not appear to be suicidal and certainly didn't seem to be attempting to get himself killed even though he and his companions were vastly outnumbered if only potentially outmatched. It was all so much more like a gruesomely coordinated dance than an actual fight, with neither side especially willing to put the full force of their capabilities into play against the other. But then, the Prince suffered a misstep. Choosing to avoid a wide swing of Hellboy's arm resulted in Nuada being forced to evade the demon's bulk but as he did so, one of the Shards found its mark, sinking into his back before he'd even noticed it was there.
Banal iron met magical skin and the Prince screamed in pain, finally falling to his knees as the startled agent (who had not at all expected to land the hit) reflexively pulled the weapon back. Hellboy angrily glowered over Nuada, shouting at him to stay down, all the while imperceptibly fretting at the thick stream of blood that slid from the corner of the Prince's mouth and began to flow down his neck. Ailith almost leapt free of her own skin at the sight and, no longer content to watch the tragedy unfold from the sidelines, darted forward.
"Stop!"
No one heard her in the din. She was jostled forward but could make little headway without climbing over a kobold's head.
"STOP!"
Hellboy was the first to notice her. "What the…?"
The small, fae, girl stumbled out of the skirmish and ran over, "You have to stop! You'll kill the Princess!" She yelled.
Hellboy blustered. "Hey! Get outta the way! Are you nuts?"
She held her ground, fitting her slight frame between the one she still knew as Anung Un Rama and the injured Nuada, whose shallow breathing was more an indication of his deep wounds than any kind of physical exhaustion.
"You can't kill him!" Ailith pleaded. "Please!"
Hellboy growled and dropped his arm, shoving something distinctly goblin-like off its feet and into a rope trap, where it continued to wrestle with more agents pouring in through the doorway.
"Eh, I'm not gonna kill him! See? He's down." Ailith turned to the Prince and knelt next to him as he fell back onto the metal slats of the floor. "Ya got that!?" Hellboy ignored her and simply yelled past her. "You stay there this time!"
To Ailith's surprise, Nuada actually smiled through a somewhat painful chuckle in response but he did not attempt to rise. Instead, he looked up at her thoughtfully, searching her face with an uncomfortably discerning glare before tapping his fingers thrice on the floor. Ailith pressed her hand to his chest, the flow of blood only barely slowing. His rapped his hand again and went still, observing her curiously through guarded eyes.
With the Prince defeated, the raging battle ended almost as suddenly and explosively as it had begun. Several fae combatants simply vanished into thin air while many others turned and fled out of the breaches in the walls that had heralded their initial arrival. The dead were dragged off into fissures and holes in the floor and ceiling. Shrieks of resentment and rage flitted off and creatures great and small abandoned the complex and, to the surprise of many, their sovereign. Though Hellboy and the agents stood ready, none of the soldier-fae attempted to approach the fallen Prince nor did they make any motions meant to steal him away. Within moments, the halls and rooms were eerily silent.
"Indeed, I am again defeated, Demon." Nuada finally replied. "I surrender."
His wounds were critical at first, though the many men in white coats kept him locked away for most of those early hours following the calamity. But, in short order, it was clear that Nuada would survive. When the Prince finally awoke, the medical lab had become a cell, the white lights of medicine darkened to the blue ambiance of confinement with his spear mounted to the opposite wall to taunt him there. For Ailith, they made for a rather melancholy display of wonder, both he and the Silver Hand. Each in his glass and iron prison. Another case closed, labeled, stamped, and neatly filed away. The Prince was resting now and quiet for the time being, though this did not, in any way, reduce the staggering variety of restraints and precautions laid throughout his prison. Even in repose, Nuada was about as neutralized as a king cobra.
Ailith had rushed back to Nuala as soon as she had been able and was greatly relieved to find the Princess in good spirits, if somewhat bewildered. As the hours began to drag on, Ailith also surreptitiously found Nuala to be a good measure for monitoring Nuada from afar, since no one but Hellboy, Abe, and the doctors had been allowed to see him following the battle. As Nuala recovered from the shared wounds of her twinhood, Ailith had done her best to relay her version of events leading up to Nuada's capture, detailing as much as she could remember about the army and about her brother.
"And then he just…stopped." Ailith shrugged. "I mean, he was hurt but it's more like he didn't seem to want to fight anymore. So, when the agents came and tied him up, he just kind of let them. It was weird though. He kept turning to look at me, even when they were wrapping this metal cord around his wrists which I imagine had to be awful, he didn't even flinch. Just…hmmm, I don't know. It's like he was watching me. Waiting for something to happen. Like I was going to do something."
"Did he say anything?"
"After giving up? No, not really. Just something fast. Sounded like…ummm…Ee-hah wah?"
Nuala raised an eyebrow. "What was that?"
Ailith paused and attempted the pronunciation again. "Something like, Eee-haa-waa. Sorry, I didn't really catch it."
"Oíche mhaith." The Princess repeated.
"Yeah, like that!" Ailith smiled. "Uh, what does it mean?"
"Good night."
"Good night?" The smaller girl puzzled. "Why would he say 'good night'?"
Nuala scowled and pulled the blanket of her sick-bed over her shoulders.
"If all that you say is true," She began, "then I am greatly concerned."
"Why is that?" Ailith asked as she re-wet a small linen cloth and continued to clean the angry wound on Nuala's back.
"My brother has never been one to submit willingly and what you describe sounds more like he allowed these men to take him. This is not victory."
"But why would he do that?"
"I don't know. Nuada is cunning and it may yet prove to be a dangerous deception on his part. I will speak with him in a day or two."
"Will they let you see him?"
Nuala smiled. "My brother and I cannot truly be kept apart, Ailie. Not for any length of time anyway."
Ailith nodded and looked down at her hands. She bundled up her courage and shifted around to face the Princess.
"Do you think I could meet him?"
Nuala regarded her coolly. "Why would you want to do that?"
The girl shrugged. "Curiosity, I guess."
"Hm." The Princess concluded. "We will see."