A/N: I've gone and written another one but this time entirely surrounding Noctis. Inspiration was.. well you will have guessed by the end of the story. May or may not turn into a full retelling. For now, it looks like more of a prequel to Star Crossed.
Disclaimer: As always this is purely for entertainment purposes. I am just borrowing.
Noctum Will Rise
Oh, how the might have fallen. Of what good was it to be so far ahead of everyone else? What good was it to be so sophisticated when faced with death? Once so prosperous that it thought to hide itself in isolation to the outside world. Concealing all the great accomplishments and advancements and for what? To see a grand dynasty all but disappear. For there is only one now, that remains.
He sits there, upon a lone throne in an empty room. As opulent and resplendent as the room appears, it is still empty. There is no life within. It is cold and dark with only the bright rays of the moon to give forth light. The air is vast but it is not silent. It feels haunted and ill at ease.
This, is a powerful kingdom with a false sense of peace. The war does not rage in public but whispers in the dark. It is cold and black. The tendrils of its bitterness make even the strong shiver. These are dangerous times and the people are growing restless with their fear. They only have one noble prince. It was only his powers and the crystals that kept the panic at bay. Yet, the knowledge that he was the last, weighs heavily upon their hearts. When he has gone, there would be no saving them from the storm outside their barriers.
It is twilight in the sky. The lone hour before sunrise and it is most difficult to keep the inner demons at bay. The moon is still full and bright. It's a shining beacon that makes the blackness beautiful. People are awoken by the sounds of rushing metal outside in the streets. The scared remain in their beds with racing hearts and beads of sweat. The braver creep to peer beyond their drawn curtains to see armored soldiers make their way past. These are not from among them. They are outsiders and they are making their way to the castle. They are heading towards the prince.
Noctis sits upon his throne. There is no one else but him. Yet it is not exactly loneliness that he feels. He has friends. Not just friends, but companions that he can trust. Yet there is something that he can never share with them. Something that he does not want to share with anyone. A thing that keeps him awake at night when they can sleep at ease. For it is at night that the whispers are loudest and he dreams in nightmares of things frightening and terrifying. His room holds no solace for him so he stays where he feels the whispers less magnified. It's in the empty room that holds his throne and there he sits, trying to block the haunting darkness that surrounds him.
He looks as if he has dozed but he senses everything. Something is wrong. There is something wrong outside. He feels the presence of too many men and none of them familiar. It is foolish to be surprised. People always want what they do not have and he knows he possesses what they want. The war could not stay in the shadows forever. What once was cold will now burn. It's knocking outside his door now and he will answer it.
There is no fear as he walks out the great doors and into the night. For what else is there for him to fear? He blinks slowly at the scene before him. His guards lay dead at his feet and there is a large regiment in front of him. It is not a subtle display and he is displeased. A lone, talented assassin would have been more effective but this, this blatant display of disrespect upon his kingdom, upon his power is insulting. It is not wise to be this obvious. He wants to shake his head at their ignorance but decides it is not worth it. There are many, but there are not enough. Even the ones climbing down the walls above are not enough. They look at him in surprise and they hesitate as he looks at them. They did not expect him to appear alone and seemingly unharmed.
No, they are not wise, at all.
It's only a second later and Noctis has raised his foot to take the first descending step. They've recovered their wits and one opens fire. Then more open fire. Their efforts do not cause him to falter in his descent. Its with confident steps that he approaches and his powers flair. With a flourish, he grabs his favorite weapon and there is no more thought. What is left is reaction and instinct. He looks so graceful and so natural in his movements. His moves are precise and he is thorough. Soldiers fall and the remaining can use all their remaining ammo, but it will prove to be in vain.
When he tires of the ones on the ground, he begins on the ones upon the walls. One by one, swing by swing, fall by fall, they all go down until he lands on his feet in the exact spot upon which he had first entered the scene. There is blood on his sword and bodies surrounding him. But they are not finished. Bullets do not work. So they throw something bigger, something louder. That fails too and they have nothing left. He flashes them a glare of warning from over his shoulder before making his way back inside. He returns as calmly as he had departed.
Again, he sits upon his throne and thinks. This is insult. A failed attempt on his life. He knew what was to come next. An official courier would deliver a message post haste. An envoy would come. There would be denials and apologies. They cannot take him by force so they will try something else. A treaty will be offered and he may pretend to comply. But the war has already begun. They have forced his hand to action. He will leave the confines of his city and bring the war to their doorstep this time.