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The Marilith Attack - Noctis POV
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Marilith, Noct recognized, and wished he didn't.
It started when the car full of crownsguard in front of them exploded. One second, he was half-asleep, wrapped up in his dad's coat, extra-bright headlights sweeping out of the windows. The next there was a brief, terrible screech of metal against metal, and the headlights winked out.
There was a murmur from the front seat, and then shouting as the car in front went boom.
There wasn't any other sound but that screech, seconds later, and then the car behind them went dark too.
Noct was fully awake as the driver slammed down on the gas.
The part of him that was taught that even in Insomnia he wasn't completely safe, that it would fall to him to uphold the wall and protect his people, that he should stand tall, always, saw the attack for what it was.
Niflheim, the Prince in him thought. It's them.
And then a daemon slinked out of the dark and the terrified child in Noct resumed control.
He pushed back against his nanny instinctively, disturbing Arc. The front passenger-side crownsguard had a phone to one ear and a hand over the other as he spoke rapidly.
Noct didn't see the daemon, didn't watch it slipping easily after them. If he had, he might've closed his eyes, might not have looked as the front passenger window shattered, and his nanny screamed as glass was thrown at them.
Noct almost hit the floor as the car was forced to stop. He barely noticed the stinging cut as the man who took the brunt of the hit slumped, the tip of a sword poking through the back of his seat. The driver disappeared as the swords twisted to demolish the front of the car.
Unarmed, he thought, hand clenching around an imaginary practice sword.
Too scared to hold it straight, was his second thought.
He wasn't trained for this, not yet, but he knew that he'd have to fight them eventually. It didn't stop him from ducking down, trying to make himself small, teeth chattering.
"Prince Noctis! Prince Arcturus! Come quick!"
Some distant part of him reacted to the title. Yes, that was him, wasn't it? He was Prince Noctis, heir to the Insomnian throne and Lucis.
What good does that do me now?
The car door was open. He looked at the suddenly open space instead of the daemon as the car shook (the swords were stuck and it was too impatient to pull them out properly).
Her hand reached back in and grabbed his hand. Noct hissed as he was yanked, and he dimly realized that she had only grabbed him.
Crown Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum, was how he was announced everywhere he went, one-hundred and fourteenth heir apparent to the throne.
Time slowed down as he stared at her back, mouth opening to tell her she forgot Arc.
Prince Arcturus Lucis Caelum, was how his brother was most often announced.
One-hundred and fifteenth ruler, but no one called him that. As if not being the heir made him less important, somehow.
He matters, Noct thought angrily. He was almost out of the car and Arc was sitting behind him, staring out the window.
His hand shot back, barely snagging Arc's sleeve and hauling him out, slowing them all down. He didn't think about it.
You carried him to the car, he thought at her. And you left him.
It was only by being angry that he could stop himself from being terrified.
His grip on his brother was loose. He couldn't do anything about it as they ran, dirt pounding under his feet and his heart in his throat.
"This way," his nanny gasped. "They can't be far."
Noct tried to hold onto him, suddenly desperate as the fabric of his jacket started to slip, and he dared look back. At his brother first, who he promised to cherish, always, and then up at the daemon looming behind them, tossing aside the remains of their car.
The arms pulled back, swords blotting out the sky and the clouds, and he knew they hadn't run far enough to be out of their reach.
He looked down at his brother again. He could see Arc being sliced apart, clear as day. They'd all probably take hits, but Arc was the farthest back.
He'd jerked once, like the passenger, and then he'd fall, and Noct would have to watch his lime eyes dim, and then part of him would die, too.
He glanced forward. Noct was angry with their nanny, but he didn't want her to die. He didn't want anyone to die.
But how could he save them both?
A King must make hard choices, and live with the consequences. If you regret, you will never stop.
I can't, he thought as the lesson echoed.
Arc's sleeves slipped through his fingers, and he made a choice.
He jerked his hand away. He watched the blades cut through the air as he leapt at Arc and wrapped his arms around him.
I'll protect you, and I'll never stop.
He twisted his body, trying to push him down, cover him, or both, and Noct squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the white-hot burn of agony below his waist (it hit me—where—it hurts—) and then they were rolling across the grass.
He kept Arc tucked tight against him even as his legs seared, unsure of what was up or down as he blacked out and came back to a sound tearing itself free from his throat (what happened, why are we, agony, agony, agony).
He wanted it to stop so badly he whimpered a prayer to any astral that would listen to make it stop.
Be calm, he heard, a whisper in the back of his mind.
A light appeared behind his eyes, so bright it made him numb, and he thought he saw wings like blades covering him as he passed out.