Wings

32: Gather 'Round, We Can All Watch The Throne Fall

A/N: Grab some popcorn! It's time for the Nico di Angelo v. King Hermes showdown!!

NPOV

Track: Majesty, Apashe

The king didn't even have to call for guards for us to be ambushed by them—they had stood around the room at the exits as a safety precaution, and the moment Will and I move toward the king, they spring into action.

Luckily, we are becoming very good at fighting for our lives. Also, it's more than a little satisfying to finally be able to fight back—after so many years of my life spent taking the higher road, I finally get to take a swing at the newest people trying to beat me up. It's freeing—it feels like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

And so I fight like hell. They swarm the room, and swords clash, and the air fills with the metallic scent of blood and the cries of the injured as my sword finds chinks in their armor, slicing through knights like they are guarding the gates of hell and I am a vengeful man named Orpheus who is willing to fight for his love.

Not a perfect metaphor, but I'll make as many metaphors as I care to make about Will and me being in love before the treaty is reinstated. We're running low on time, anyway.

The grand hall is alive with the thunder of battle. A guard tries to lodge his sword in my wing, so I push myself off the ground and flap my wings hard to stay out of his reach, practically taunting him. There are five or so guards that gather below me, waving their swords in the air at me and shouting but not willing to throw a weapon at me and risk it coming back down on one of them.

My eyes blaze with a rage that screams divinity today. I'm trying to convince myself I'm doing this for all Guardian's sake—and for humanity's sake, as they'll suffer in this war too—but being in this castle is bringing up memories of blades against my skin and of drowning.

I want someone else to drown for once.

Ba-dum, ba-dum—

The king, robed in gold and arrogance, shouts at his guards to just kill me already.

I smile—and then I dive.

I twist to avoid their blades, and the momentum of my body knocks more than one soldier to the ground. Before the guards can react, I kick a fallen soldier's sword several meters away, and it skids to a halt near the entrance we'd come through—

I feel a whoosh of air on the back of my neck, and I dodge to the left just in time to keep from being beheaded by a knight's sword.

I swing my blade in a wide arc, catching a guard in the side. He crumples with a cry, and I spin to face the next attacker. My wings are more than just for show—they're weapons in their own right. I whip one out, catching a soldier in the face and sending him stumbling back.

Will is a whirlwind of motion beside me, his stolen sword flashing as he takes down one guard after another. We fight back to back, a seamless dance of survival and fury. I duck under a swinging sword and drive my blade into a guard's exposed flank. He goes down, and I pull my sword free, blood splattering the stone floor.

Another guard charges at me, and I meet him head-on. Our swords clash, the force of the impact jarring my arm. I grit my teeth and push back, using my wings for leverage. I shove the guard away, and he stumbles, giving me the opening I need. I slash across his chest, and he falls.

Will shouts a warning, and I turn just in time to see a guard lunging at me. I sidestep and bring my sword down on his shoulder. He collapses with a scream, and I kick him aside, my breath coming in heavy pants.