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“Mama, mama!” A joyful cry rang out as the boy ran forwards towards Aulea, small arms outstretched. Hair like obsidian bounced with the excited movement, and sapphire eyes glittered with sunlight and unadulterated joy at the sight of his grinning mother.
“Yes, my little star, what is it? What has you so excited?” She teased as she picked up the giggling boy, swinging him in a circle. He’s getting so big, she mused, only five years old and I struggle to pick him up like I used to. Gently tapping his nose with her finger, she smiled and relished in the delighted laugh that burst forth from her boy. “Sweet little Noct, how’s your day been?”
As the boy prattled on about his day, switching topics like his footsteps -- one after another, rapid succession, occasional fumbling and diversion and all the bubbling youth a six-year-old should have -- Aulea listened fondly, holding his hand now that he’s decided to walk on his own. Peace bloomed in her chest like a breath of spring air, quelling the quiet storms in her mind that would have otherwise turned her dreams to that dreadful night little more than half a decade ago. She listened intently as he complained and bragged and looked for praise and acknowledgement that he was being heard, and by the time they made it to his bed, he was nearly out as soon as he touched his pillow.
Planting a soft kiss to her dear son’s forehead, she looked at his sleepy grin and played his mumbled, “Nighty night, mama,” until it was burned into her mind, branded to the insides of her eyelids with all the love in the world she felt for him.
Returning his sleepy look with a gentle smile of her own, she murmured her own goodnight against his forehead with another tender press of her lips, and watched fondly as he drifted to sleep, small fingers holding her braids and idly toying with the beads woven in with the strands.
“Goodnight, little Noct.” Content, she untangled the plaits from his hands -- small, so, so small -- and retired to her own room with her husband, heart light and mind at ease.
“Mama! Come look, come look!” Noctis drew her attention from her husband with a delighted cry, crouched over something in the garden. Huffing a small laugh of her own, she made her way over, kneeling beside him to see what had sparked his joy so wholly.
“Mm, what is it, little Noct? What have you got here?” The question came before her gaze moved from her son to his cupped hands, and she let out a soft gasp at the sight of a small sparrow nestled snugly in the tiny palms of her soon-to-be eight-year-old son.
“I made a friend, mama, look!” Noct’s voice was dialed down to an excited whisper, “Papa!” He said a little louder, beckoning Regis to come look as well. A gleeful smile was curled on his lips as he gently held the bird closer, a small finger softly stroking the top of its head.
“You’ve made a friend?” Came the amused voice of her husband, crouching with their son to peer at the small animal in the boy’s palms.
“I did, I did!” Noctis sounded so happy, like nothing made him happier than the little sparrow in his hands.
Smiling amusedly at each other over the top of their son’s head, Regis and Aulea pressed tender kisses to his soft black hair and rosy cheeks. Noctis giggled again, practically glowing with joy, and Aulea found herself unsure if there would ever be a better place to be than this. She didn’t think there would be, and the thought only made her feel lighter. Nothing made her feel more like she was sitting on clouds than spending time with her two boys in a rare bit of time off of their respective schedules, their burdens lifted even if only for an hour or so.
Content, Aulea sat back and watched and listened to Noctis talk animatedly to them about how he’d come to make such a friend, and how he really wished his friend would stick around, and she felt a wave of serenity overtake her. What a truly good life she had for herself, now, even so far off from her home.
“Mama! Mama! Mama, please! ” The pained cry barely registered as she felt agony tear through her chest, pinning her in place.
At least, until her own cobalt eyes found the source of that cry, watching as her boy cowered in fear before the daemon before them, his blue eyes flickering between looking in terror upon the monstrosity before them, and in anguished concern towards his mother, coughing blood onto the ground beneath them, forced to watch as the daemon made its way towards the boy. Her boy. Her small, kind, fearless, gentle boy at the tender age of just eight, cowering in fear and worrying for his mother and heartbreakingly unaware of the monster creeping ever closer towards him.
No. No, no, no, no, no, no-
“Noct!” A strangled yell, wet with blood and choked with tears and raw with horror and alarm. Any pain Aulea felt was numbed as she sprinted to her boy, her Noct, her sweet, sweet Noctis. Pushing her body to just work, dammit , as she watched that thing slash his back, sending him sprawling, going in for the kill.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! Noct, Noctis, my darling, sweet Noctis, no, no -
“No!” Pain bloomed through her torso like spider lilies, red and murderous and so, so slow - but Noct, where’s Noct?
Aulea pushes through the blinding darkness that overtook her vision, shoves the dancing spots like faeries to the side and sweeps her eyes desperately to find blue sapphires, black hair like raven’s down, anything - and sees slicked back, black hair, meets forest green eyes wide with fear and distress. She’s about to go feral with anxiety over what that must mean for Noctis, before her eyes slip lower and spot a mop of black hair, matted with blood and tangled with trauma, sees black lashes fluttering over too-pale cheeks, sees a tiny chest moving rapidly with shallow breaths, but breaths nonetheless. She feels a sense of calm fill her. Noctis is okay. He’ll live. He’ll see the next dawn, and the dawn after that, and he’ll be okay.
Her last thoughts are of Regis, of Noctis, of the braid she knows is hidden in her husband’s hair and tucked away within her own, of the braids she always wanted to plait in her son’s hair, woven carefully with ribbon and beads and love. Aulea sees eyes green like the forests of her home, gentle like seafoam and warm like the summer sun, and feels peace blossom in her bosom like the breath of rain after a drought before she slips, missing the flash of lively white hair flickering at the edge of her sight.
I’ll see you again soon, my sky, but don’t be impatient. It’ll happen in its own time, but we’ll meet again. We always have.
- and on this night, began to wonder why.