AN: You wanna feel more awesome than an awesome possum about this? Click on the "theme song", The Sharpest Lives by My Chemical Romance, when you start reading this chapter. It's gonna make sense.
Beta read and heart-bleed by Elillierose
Noctis' breath caught in surprise at the sound coming through the speakers. On instinct he went for the source, and his eyes widened as what he saw sunk.
The satisfied smirk on Ardyn Izunia's lips never wavered as he bent in closer, to whisper into the older man's ear, "Don't think I would ever allow you to disgrace the Crystal with those unworthy hands of yours." As if to accentuate his words, he gave a firm thrust of his arm, the blade tearing deeper into flesh. In his arms, the stiffening body of Aldercapt jerked and stifled gurgling sounds were let out as he was slowly drowning in his own blood. Mumbled grunts were let out, attempts of speech never to be distinguished again. "Goodbye, Your Grace."
For a moment, the world seemed to stand still in horrified stupor. The members of the government were getting up from their seats slowly, eyeing the scene in disbelief. Accompanying soldiers exchanged glances. Verstael was the first to come to, "Y-Your Grace!" He went to lunge closer, pulling his sword to train it at the mauve-hair man. "You! Wha-What do you think you're doing?!"
The Chancellor gave the knife one last twist before pulling the blade out; the Emperor let out a long, strangled whine at the motion. He slumped against the railing, a spurt of blood spilling over the seats and ground. Rivulets were trailing from his half-slack mouth. Verstael's eyes bounced from his fallen liege to the languid-looking man casually cleaning his knife, before he dashed to check on the stabbed man's condition. "Your Grace?!" Hollow eyes were half-lidded, looking at nothing.
"Freeze!" There were the sounds of guns drawn, armors shuffling. Ardyn Izunia's smile took an amused edge as he eyed the gun barrels pointed at him; he chuckled lightly, the reverberations reaching over the audience through the speakers.
"Your Highness!" Ardyn hollered, tilting his hat as if in greeting, his eyes fixed on the stage and the dumbfound people on it. "It appears there's been a change of schedule." He smirked openly. "Looks like we need to do this another time." In one fluid motion, the man flung the knife out of his hand. There was a slicing sound, and Noctis felt the pressure around his neck go slack. A reflex sucked in a breath. A disbelieving, hungry breath.
"Off you go, then," Ardyn smirked pleasantly, making a little shooing gesture. "I'm sure you're a busy man, Highness. Places to be. People to meet." The man's smirk spread as realization dawned on the prince's face. "Oh, almost forgot! I think you could use this…" The man brought a hand up, and snapped his fingers.
The effect was instantaneous. With a surge like electricity, Noctis felt the Crystal's power returning to him. It was like a wash of warmth, spreading from his chest, running down the arms, the legs, leaving pleasant tingling sensations in its wake.
The only visible clue received by the Imperial soldiers, human and magitek alike, was the sudden stiffening of their captive, then falling completely slack, an absent look on his face. They had perhaps a couple of seconds to brace themselves. And they wasted them.
The troopers hadn't anticipated his movement. Noctis was already in mid-thrust when the dagger materialized, and with a disturbing crushing sound, the point sunk almost five inches through the optic sensors of the trooper holding his right arm. Sparks ignited against the blade, spilling over the prince's arms and face, perhaps burning, but he was oblivious to the pain. The foul machine had relented its grip of him, not much, but enough. Twisting his entire body to pull the blade out, he created the momentum to tear his arm free. "Ha!"
Not bothering with the other trooper, now seemingly figuring out everything wasn't alright, the prince let the dagger fly, and moving faster than a human eye could see, landed on his cast weapon, about eighteen feet from the stage. He heaved in heavy, adrenaline-infused huffs, gathering his bearings for an instant. What brought him back was a cold, hard touch on his leg; with a quick glance down, his breath hitched in disgust, and the thought had barely time to formulate before the gun came from the aether.
The first shot sent sparks flying at his feet as the bullet merely graced the chain spread against the ground. It snapped with the second shot, a hollow metallic jingle as the broken chain pieces flew a few feet. Noctis gave a soft laugh as he tested his whole reach again; the ends of the chains jingled almost accusingly as they hung from the handcuffs, but he'd worry about them later.
All around him, the chaos was spreading. The noise of the audience had become panicked; people were rushing to flee from the scene, they were pushing each other over. Some fell from the grandstand as people shoved into them. His heart nearly skipped a beat at the sound of a gunshot. As if it hadn't been alarming enough as it was; the magnified volume of it left an eerie echo to travel around the arena, adding into the frenzy. His eye flew to the direction of the VIP box, and he felt his throat run dry.
The last whips of smoke trailed into nothing; the guard held the gun still trained on the man he just shot. Even from afar Noctis could see the shaking of his hands. Ardyn Izunia regarded his chest with a blank look as he observed the spreading of crimson. Faint trances of chuckle carried over via speakers. "My, my. You've ruined my favorite coat."
"Wha-?! How?! W-what are you?!" Verstael Besithia's voice trailed quieter as he backed away from the microphone, from the scene playing in front of him. The Chancellor didn't reply, simply brushed his fingers over the bloodstain. Then, as if he'd forgotten about those others around him, those amber eyes flicked over to Noctis, and his lips tugged upwards. It was a look that said, 'Are you still here?'
Noctis gulped; it was something about the way the man was looking at him. Or maybe it was that he had just witnessed the man being shot, and yet he seemed like it was nothing but an inconvenience. He felt cold. His instincts, the ones he had always been prone to listen to, mind, screamed red alert. Something… something about that man made his skin crawl. This man was bad news.
'Shouldn't you be somewhere, Your Highness?'
He gasped at the voice in the back of his mind. It was like a fleeting thought, but he could tell it wasn't his own. It was gone like the wind, leaving Noctis shaken. Skeptical eyes met the amber, and the glint he saw in the man's expression was enough of an answer. The grin on those dangerous lips took a sharper edge, and Noctis took that as his cue. Without another glance, he dashed towards the doors he had been brought in through, turning his back to the escalating chaos and trying to block out the screams and the distancing sounds of gunshots.
The ungloved arm pressed against the throat of the now unarmed guard pinned against the wall in a manner that meant business. The soldier swallowed, the small movement of the throat causing it to tighten uncomfortably against the pressure. A droplet of sweat slid onto stubbled cheek.
"The three Lucian Crownsguards. Where are they being held?!" Noctis hissed. He was seriously violating the other's personal space.
"Ha-! F-fuck you, jackass!" the man spat back, trying to wiggle from the grip.
The man screamed at the pain as a dagger impaled his palm, pinning it to the wall like a butterfly. Noctis leaned himself closer. "Where are they?!"
The man was snarling in agony. "North… the northern… postern. Pri-prison levels," he grunted from behind clenched teeth.
The night sky eyes glared for a moment, weighing his words. "Thank you." Then he stepped back, pulling the blade out forcefully. Blood splattered onto the floor in a corresponding arc.
As soon as the trapping weight disappeared, the guard slumped against the wall, cradling his ruined hand. "Son of a bitch…" he grunted, glaring at the young man. "You're crazy-!"
His body jerked at the pain as the blade was pulled across his throat. Noctis didn't spare the dying man a glance as he flung the blood, he was already walking. Taking a few steps first, letting them speed up, grow more urgent until he was dashing along the brick aisle.
'Northern postern,' the urgent thought raced, 'prison levels.' Prison. That didn't sit well with him. How were they? Noctis gulped in between pants; based on his experience of the Niflheimean hospitality so far, there was no telling what could have been done to them. He grimaced as the worst came to his mind, and called his spear to fling it along the aisle, flashing blue.
He came to an abrupt halt at a crossroads when he saw a figure approaching down the aisle. The clacks of the soles of boots against concrete echoed around the archway; the cold light of the bulbs reflected ominously on the length of the rapier held at the side. The white fabric danced gracefully around his legs at each determined, predatory step. A deceptively casual stroll that concealed the underlying bloodlust.
"Ravus…" The sound was an odd lovechild of a gasp and a snort, incredulous and harsh, and yet containing the wish not to have to go through with this. Not with him.
High Commander Nox Fleuret's face was stony. His intense gaze was fixed on the younger man like that of a hunting hawk. "Prince Noctis! I was under the impression you had a hot date with the gallows?" He didn't sound surprised. Yet there was a degree of hunger Noctis found less to his liking.
"Outta my way, Ravus!" he shouted, summoning the engine blade and holding it in the offence. "I don't have time to deal with you!"
"Was that supposed to be begging?" the other snorted in slight amusement. "Because it surely wasn't a threat." He had come closer, his hold of his weapon tightening slightly. He never stopped walking as he brought the blade in front of his face as if in greeting, then, "Now, die!" Without a warning, he lunged to pierce the raven's upper chest.
"Ah!" Noctis became a fading cloud of spheres, the point of the rapier meeting nothing. He backed away a little, gathering his bearings for a moment. He huffed a little, his breath caught. "So, the hard way it is then…" he muttered.
Ravus gave a soft laugh, "Well then, Prince Noctis. Let's dance!" He raised his empty hand to his chest and gave a mock bow. "Now, by all means, hurt me. If you can."
He lunged at him again, but now it was Ravus' time to gasp. Noctis stepped sideways, out of the attack's way and struck across, knocking the incoming weapon aside. The force of it threw Ravus off balance a little, his blade collided a bit sloppily with the other's as he crashed against him. The eyes met, the intense blue urgent and serious, the heterochromatic surprised. Noctis' lips tugged up a little. "You'd be surprised." He twisted the angle of the engine blade, grinding it against the rapier, and sliced, aiming at the other's hand.
Speckles of blood flew as the engine blade scraped the skin; Ravus let out a yelp, angry rather than agonized, although it must have hurt. Flinging himself from the prince, the Imperial High Commander huffed a moment, quickly recomposing from the damage. Noctis had raked the skin over his larger knuckles. A snort of annoyance left him. "Hmph. So, the runt has learned a thing or two then."
"Shut up!" Noctis really didn't have time for this! He needed to end it quickly. He leaped forward, going for the legs; a gasp left him as Ravus suddenly grabbed a hold of his blade.
The sparks bounced from the engine blade as the manufactured fingers closed tighter around it. Then, without a warning, Ravus gave it a sharp yank, pulling the prince along with it. He stumbled for a few steps, then a sudden pain tore across his right side. "Agh!" The hollow clangs of the engine blade being discarded barely registered. Stumbling further away from the Commander, instinctively he went to inspect the wound, and found a long, clean slash just above his hip. It wasn't too deep and it greatly missed all the vitals. Meant to hurt, not to kill. Ravus was just toying with him.
His teeth clenched at the notion and his now heated gaze flew back to the blond. Noctis found him eyeing him like a prowling beast, but he hadn't moved in for the kill. 'Your loss,' the raven thought as he straightened up, ignoring the ache in his side, and called his blade back. "You know," he started, bringing his weapon across himself protectively, "You really should have taken that shot."
Ravus had the audacity to laugh. "Ha! What do you think you could possibly do, Prince? You are thousands of miles behind enemy lines. You managed to escape the gallows, but do you honestly think you would be leaving the city alive? Then again," his lips tugged up into an obnoxious smirk, "this way I'll have the pleasure of killing you myself!" He leaped forward, the point of the rapier trained on the raven.
Noctis couldn't afford to even blink as the other came at him again. He knew he had one shot at what he was going to do. If he blew it, that would be it. He would use the other's arrogance. Right now, Ravus saw him as weak. Him underestimating him was his sole chance. He took in the angle the blade was pointed in; knew where it was aimed at; forced his limbs not to panic under that realization; and waited. At the last possible moment, Noctis disappeared to slide under his sword arm, the rapier striking at nothing where the young man's heart had been a mere moment ago.
"Eh?" Before the confused sound was uttered, Noctis had already reappeared one step behind Ravus. Never stopping the movement, the prince slashed the engine blade across his unprotected, wide-open back.
The blond screamed as blood gushed from the wound; he fell onto one knee, leaning on his sword as he tried to reach to press on the wound. The movement tore pained moans, his upper body was shaking. A few steps behind him, Noctis was panting a little, his free arm pressing on his own gash. It bled, too, although not too much. In comparison to the blood that now pooled from the former prince of Tenebrae. Noctis let his blade go; he would no longer need it.
"… I told you, didn't I?" He got no reply but the other's pained moans as his consciousness was rapidly slipping from him. Ravus slumped to the floor, and slowly a small pool of blood begun to trickle from under him. Noctis hissed sharply. 'What should I do? Should I… kill him?' Looking at the amount of blood, there was no reason to delay the inevitable. The man had fallen unconscious, there would be no more pain. 'But…' Dammit! He hadn't meant to kill! Just to take him out. Biting his teeth, Noctis made his decision. Careful not to let his guard down in case the other wasn't fully out of it yet, he stepped next to the limp form, and carefully pried the weapon from his hand – and flung it across the room. Then, he rose and turned to head towards the northern postern. There was still time. Someone could still find him and help him to safety. He would give him a chance.
"What is going on out there?! Can you see anything?!" Ignis demanded, clenching the bars so tightly his knuckles were white. He looked like he tried to push himself through them. Across from him, Prompto wobbled precariously on the balls of his feet as he tried to pry out of the small window.
"Can't see shit! Just some sky and flagpoles!" he grunted, and slammed his fist against the wall as he lowered himself to stand properly. "Dammit!"
The sound Ignis made was a cross of frustration and desperate fear; Prompto didn't blame him. The chills brought by the experience hadn't stopped running down his own limbs, either. The experience of listening in how his best friend was walked out to be publicly executed. How the crowds had cheered. Had chanted. Had looked forward to it. He gulped. It had been horrible. To just wait for it, wait for that terrifying moment, hoping beyond hope that it was all just a bad dream. A nightmare he would wake up screaming from, and Noctis would be there to brush it off with banter. It wasn't. It was really happening. Prompto had never felt so useless. And if he thought he had it bad, chances are some of them had it even worse. The image of Ignis on his knees, slumped forward and head hung, features distorted by suffering, and just so given up… Prompto never wanted to see that image again. And yet it was forever burned on his retina. It was so unlike the man it was disturbing. It was the image of true hopelessness.
And then the chaos had come. Suddenly there had been death rattles through the speakers, and Prompto was sure it had been Izunia's voice speaking, but the voice had been partly mumbled by the noise of the public. Then a gunshot. Gunshot, and screams. A full-blown panic.
What was going on?! Was Noctis alright?! He grunted from behind clenched teeth, his fist collided with the wall again. And again. It stung, but fuck that! His emotions were a storm. A storm that threatened to overwhelm him. Desperation. Grief. Confusion. Helplessness. The rough wall scraped the skin, small droplets of blood surfacing, but Prompto didn't care. It was nothing. This pain was nothing. He would withstand any amount if only it meant that Noctis was alright! 'Please be alright, man! Please…!'
"Prompto. Stop it." The tone wasn't demanding. More like asking. Like he didn't want to see it. "That's not helping." The blond's arm went slack against the wall, where it slid down with gravity. The younger man had his back to the speaker; he leaned his forehead against the stone, taking in deep, shuddering breaths as his shoulders shook from the adrenaline.
"What are we gonna do, guys?" The blond wasn't really expecting an answer, though, not with the way the others seemed to regard him. It stung him, pierced straight through the heart. He squeezed his eyes shut against it, hoping that if he just ignored it for long enough, it would go away. Work itself out. Foolish as that hope was, he knew, he hoped anyway.
That was all he had left.
Ignis shook his head, his lips moving marginally as if he was tasting the words on his tongue like they were something foreign to him. "I don't know." The tone was bland, and it was what piqued Prompto's attention. Slowly, he turned to look at the man leaning his back against the cell bars, arms folded over his chest. As he observed the hazel hair swishing from side to side, it hit him: Ignis really didn't know. For the first time, the adviser really was clueless.
He gulped, pushing himself off the wall, took a step closer. His body was on autopilot, his mind too much of a jumble for any coherent thought. He just felt like it was the right thing to do. "C'mon, Ig! Sure you do. You always do, right?" His voice sounded artificial even to himself.
The adviser didn't face him as he sighed heavily. "Suppose, if Noct is… dead, then most likely they will soon execute us as well. It is either that, or enslavement. That is what I know," the end came out as biting. "You happy?" Prompto winced at the brutality of those words. Neither outcome sounded particularly enjoyable. But, he sighed, he knew which one he would rather take if those were the options.
"But what about–?"
"Quiet! What's that?!" came the gruff voice of the shield from a distance. Both of them fell silent, now making out the sound, too. It sounded like thuds, like steps, coming down the stairs. Light steps. Running steps.
The door was slammed open with enough force to splinter the wood a little. At the entrance, huffing and leaning onto his arm, stood Noctis. "Guys?!"
"Noct?!" Prompto shouted, a mixture of relief and astonishment.
"Noct?! Are you alright?" Ignis had jumped against the bars like he tried to push them down. Noctis panted to catch his breath, his relief audible in each exhale, and took a few jogging steps inside the cellblock. His initial excitement threatened to darken with anger, however, as he took in the grimy look of the surroundings, but he got it under control before he saw completely red. Just the darker shades of pink for now. 'There'll be a time,' he reminded himself. Later.
"Yeah, yeah, fine," he huffed, rolling his eyes a little. The prince did his best to ignore the scrutinizing gaze the adviser was throwing at his reddened neckline. He would be in for an earful about it, he knew it, but that was later. All that would have to be for later.
"You alright, Noct?! What the hell happened out there?!" Gladio's disbelieving voice demanded.
"I would certainly like to know the answer to that as well."
"Later. Let's get you guys out of there!" Noctis dismissed them with a swing of his arm, his gun materializing.
Ignis' gasp was barely audible, "Ah! I see." The look on his face was impressed.
"Here…" The gunshot echoed painfully loudly in the confined space. With a signifying clinking sound, the busted padlock fell to the floor, and Ignis pushed the door open, nodding his thank you. The prince dismissed it with a wave of his hand as he was already dashing to where Gladio clung onto his bars.
"Thanks. Believe it or not, heh, the food in this hotel sucks. I say let's check out," the shield chuckled as he placed a firm hand on the prince's shoulder.
"Yeah, let's," the younger man grinned, throwing the other a quick high-five. Chuckling a little, they dashed for the exit, but Noctis halted at the notion of something out of ordinary. "Prompto?"
"Noct…?" His voice was hesitant. The gunslinger stood frozen about a foot from the bars sealing him into his confinement, scratching the back of his neck. He looked like he wanted to look at anything but the other men. Nevertheless his gaze searched for the blue eyes, fearing what he would see in them.
He gasped a little at the look of the blond. He looked frightened, about ready to bolt as he stood there timidly, eyes bouncing back and forth like he was looking for an escape. Noctis' vision caught something unfamiliar, and his eyes flew to the odd-looking tattoo on the man's wrist; his brows furrowed a little. His gaze shifting back, though, he locked eyes with the sky blue, and an instinctive gulp dove down his throat. The look on Prompto's eyes was begging. Frightened and lonely and desperate and begging!
Prompto winced inwardly as he understood what Noctis was looking at. But it didn't matter anymore. His secret was out, there was no point in hiding it anymore. It just felt like he was on trial, accused of witchcraft, the way people were now looking at him. But he had to try! He had to…!
'Yes,' Noctis understood. 'That's right.' That 'imprint' Izunia had spoken about, was that weird tattoo thing it then? He had almost forgotten about it, until it was slammed in front of him again like this. Just who was Prompto? As Noctis gazed into those eyes, he read his answer.
'Please!' the inner voice screamed, urging him to say something, but the words died on his tongue. 'Noct, please!" The sky blue eyes were filled with so much emotion they were cluttered. There was desperation, there was fear, there was fleeting hope, there was gratitude. There was urgency, admiration, asking for forgiveness. But most prominently, there was begging. Begging for Noctis to believe in him. Begging him not to leave him!
Ignis had watched the quiet exchange, taking in every motion, every gesture. "Noct?" he called from the door, peeking outside to make sure the coast was clear. "Whatever you decide, decide quick. We need to go!" Next to him, Gladio gave a disapproving grunt, and crossed his arms. His demeanor left little room for doubt about his opinion.
Prompto's lip quivered at what was being said. 'No! Please, guys–!' His mind screeched into a halt, throat ran dry as he watched how the prince raised the gun, and he braced himself for the pain. He couldn't help his eyes closing in reflex as the bang sounded, hissing. But the pain never came. He drew in a surprised breath at that, his eyes prying open at the distinctive sound of the twisted metal meeting stone.
Noctis had torn the door open, was halfway inside, a hand offered out to him. The blond blinked, a dumbfound look spreading over his features. 'Apparently the wrong thing to do,' he winced inwardly as the prince huffed in irritation and rolled his eyes, before he spat,
"'The hell are you waiting for?! C'mon!"
A million butterflies fluttered in his chest; the blond's expression brightened like the sun had risen. Forcing his emotions under control, he gave a brief sniffle, then nodded, and grabbed the offered hand. "R-right!"
"Good, then let's go!"
They were rushing out of the cellblock in a heartbeat.
AN2: Ardyn, you sweet double... triple... quadruple-crossing bastard! *heart* .3
If you wanna, listen to Blink 182's "All The Small Things" after reading this. Doesn't it make you smile now?! That's what I played practically on repeat while writing.
Some people have been looking forward to them patching up their bonds and talking it out. Well, I can tell you it's coming, in the next chapter. Also, Heart of a Tool is drawing to its end. All along I've been planning on this to be the first part of a longer story. Not a prequel, but a first part. There's gonna be a couple more chapters.
And I'm sorry about Ravus, guys. He is there literally just because I wanted another battle scene. Is that cruel?