So I got this chapter up sooner than I expected... yesssss.

Many thanks to ICan'tAlwaysBeWitty and obsessed01616 for your reviews to Chapter 2!

Orphaner Dualscar

"Breathe," Cronus instructed. "You always have to remember that. It's the most important thing. In the heat a' battle, you'd be surprised at what's instinctual an' what isn't. Okay?"

"Okay." Eridan exhaled slowly, making a point of it so his brother would know how serious he was.

"Okay." Cronus smiled. "Bring the Crosshairs up, just below eye level. You should be able to do it one-handed eventually, but you're not that strong yet, so two hands is fine." He demonstrated with Ahab's Crosshairs as Eridan mimicked him with Starbuck's Crosshairs. It was a smaller, less-impressive version of his older brother's Ahab's Crosshairs, but it suited Cronus's purpose for training him. "Right hand," Cronus added, lowering his Crosshairs to correct Eridan. "Not the left hand. That puts you at a disadvantage."

"But I'm left-handed," Eridan protested. Cronus resisted the urge to cuff him over the head for whining. Eridan was nearing eight sweeps old now—almost an adult—and though he still whined like a wiggler sometimes, Cronus had to remind himself that he wasn't a wiggler. The whining was something Cronus would have to fix, though. It wouldn't do for Orphaner Dualscar's younger brother to behave like a giant grub, even if in terms of his lifespan he still practically was a grub.

"Doesn't matter," Cronus snapped. "You wanna be comfortable or you wanna survive a fight? Right hand."

Visibly sulking, Eridan switched his firing and non-firing hands.

Cronus nearly rolled his eyes, but he told himself that at least Eridan had listened to him. "Good. I know it feels uncomfortable now, but if you do it enough, it'll come naturally," he added, more gently.

Seeing Eridan standing there with a smaller replica of Ahab's Crosshairs in his hands filled Cronus with a strange mix of pride and sadness. He couldn't believe it had already been seven and a half sweeps since his lusus had found this little wiggler, seven and a half sweeps since he'd named the annoying little sauce-stain and taken him under his proverbial fin to teach him everything he knew. Even now, while Cronus had nine sweeps on him, Eridan was just shorter than him by a few hairs. He even had a title of his own. While Cronus had become known as Orphaner Dualscar, Eridan was The Eleventh. Cronus wasn't exactly sure how his brother had come by that title, but at this point, he didn't care all that much. His little wiggler brother was practically all grown up, and if Cronus was harsh with him, it was only because he wanted Eridan to survive past ten.

But the times when Cronus could say, "Do what I say because I say so" were long past. Even before he hit six sweeps, he was refusing to do just about anything unless Cronus explicitly stated why. It was annoying, but at the same time, once Eridan knew why something was important—feeding their lusus, field-stripping their weapons, even cleaning up the hive—he didn't question it again. He supposed that was a good thing. Sometimes, though, he just wished Eridan would listen to him without asking why.

"Okay." Cronus brought Ahab's Crosshairs back up, using two hands to demonstrate proper technique although he didn't need to use both hands. This was for Eridan's benefit. "Crosshairs below eye level. Locate your target visually, without using the sights on the weapon," he said, referring to the two targets twenty yards away. One was for him, the other was for Eridan. "Got it?"

"Got it," Eridan confirmed.

"Once you've identified your target, raise the Crosshairs, use the sights to aim, an' fire. When you—"

PCHOOOOO.

Cronus slowly lowered Ahab's Crosshairs and looked at Eridan's target. He hadn't even gotten close to hitting it. He was about a half-dozen yards to the right, and three or four yards high. He let out a frustrated groan. "Damn it, Eridan, I wasn't finished!" Again, he very nearly smacked the back of Eridan's head, and again, he resisted, but barely.

"Sorry," Eridan mumbled, flushing purple in embarrassment.

Cronus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free and and sucked in several steadying, calming breaths. "Put the Crosshairs down," he said, not opening his eyes.

He heard the light clatter of Eridan setting Starbuck's Crosshairs on the ground.

"Okay. Now you are gonna listen to me until I'm finished talkin', got it?"

"Got it."

"First, go an' retrieve that harpoon you just lost."

Eridan dashed off immediately, and Cronus finally opened his eyes, heaving another sigh. He was really trying not to be angry with his brother, but Eridan had a habit of getting excited about things and jumping the proverbial harpoon gun. It was an assured way of fucking everything up. There was so much Cronus had already taught him, and so much he had left to teach him.

Eridan returned almost ten minutes later with the harpoon in hand. His shirt was torn in two places—down the shoulder and across the middle—and he looked even more flustered than he did when he'd left. Still, he'd found the harpoon.

"Any damage to it?" Cronus was perfectly fine if a harpoon was ruined in battle or in target practice if it actually hit the right target, but if Eridan had wrecked it in a foolish mistake, he would be angry.

"No." Eridan held it out for his brother's inspection. Cronus only gave it a cursory glance—he'd be able to tell right away if the harpoon had been damaged, and it clearly hadn't.

"Good. Reseat it."

Eridan scrambled to pick up his Starbuck's Crosshairs and load the harpoon into the chamber. Once he'd closed it with a loud click, he looked at Cronus expectantly.

"Alright. Let's take it from the top. Watch me, but don't do anythin' until I say so. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Okay. Breathin'—make sure you're always breathin'. Do not hold your breath—your hand will shake an' it'll throw off your aim. Bring the Crosshairs up to just below eye level." He brought Ahab's Crosshairs up smoothly to demonstrate. "Eyes on target. Sights on target." He closed his left eye, centered the horned hoofbeastseye in the sights, and exhaled. "Once you have the target in sight, squeeze the trigger while you exhale." He let out another slow, deliberate breath, wrapping his index finger around the trigger, and squeezed. There wasn't much recoil on the Crosshairs to compensate for, and the harpoon shot out the end with another PCHOOOOO sound. A split second later, the harpoon was embedded in the dead center of the target. Cronus released the trigger, lowered the Crosshairs, and looked at Eridan. "It's a lot to remember, I know, but it's all gonna be instinct if you do it enough. You gotta keep on practicing. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Good. Now listen very carefully. I want you to do exactly what I did, an' I want you to say the steps as you go along. Got it?"

"Got it." Eridan gave him a searching look, waiting for the order to actually do it.

"Alright. Go ahead."

"Okay. Breathe." Eridan let out a breath that could have almost been a sigh. "Bring the Crosshairs up to just below eye level." He drew up Starbuck's Crosshairs. The weapon trembled slightly; Eridan's arms strained under the weight. Cronus made a note of it. They'd have to work on Eridan's arm strength if he was going to get better at this. "Eyes on target." Eridan stared down the target. "Sights on target." He raised the Crosshairs a couple of inches to stare down the bore. Eridan's right eye closed, and again, Cronus was forcibly reminded that Eridan was left-handed. Lefties typically had strong left eyes when aiming. It was far less common for a right-handed shooter to have a strong left eye—it would certainly complicate things for Eridan, but one thing Cronus couldn't do was make Eridan aim with his right eye. Weak-eye aiming was sure to fail. "Exhale. Squeeze trigger." Eridan let out another slow, deliberate breath and fired.

PCHOOOOO.

This time, the harpoon found its way to Eridan's target. Admittedly, it was now stuck in one of the outer rings, but at least it had hit the target this time. It was still pretty far to the right, but that could be fixed.

Eridan lowered the Crosshairs, grinning triumphantly, and looked at his brother expectantly.

Cronus couldn't help smiling—Eridan's was infectious. "That was much better. Good job. Do it again. An' this time, when you're usin' your sights to aim, drag to the left."

Eridan nodded quickly and brought Starbuck's Crosshairs back up. His eyes locked on the target, he raised the Crosshairs a little more, his right eye closed, and then the barrel of the Crosshairs swung a few inches to the left. Cronus heard Eridan exhale slowly, and then he fired again.

PCHOOOOO.

"Wow," Cronus said, eyeing the target. "I call that a cull-shot."

This time, Eridan had managed to seat the harpoon in almost the dead center of the target. It certainly wasn't as perfect a shot as Cronus had demonstrated, but it was a pretty big improvement considering that fifteen minutes before, he'd shot the harpoon yards clear of the target. Besides, if the target had been a troll, they would be dead or close to it right about now.

Eridan looked so pleased with himself that Cronus couldn't resist ruffling his hair a bit. He shouldered Ahab's Crosshairs and opened his mouth to tell Eridan to fire again when, off in the distance, they both heard a low rumbling. They turned and stared in the direction of the sound.

Cronus's collapsing and expanding bladder-based aquatic vascular system began pounding harder. Those were engines—he could hear the low throb of motors and the high shriek of gears—and they were getting closer. Still staring up at the sky, he grabbed Eridan by the sleeve and yanked him bodily toward the edge of the clearing.

"Starbuck's Cross—" Eridan started, protesting loudly to be heard over the engines, but Cronus cut him off.

"Forget the damn Crosshairs! I don't know who the fuck that is, comin' up here like that, but I don't wanna be out here in the fuckin' open in case they're not friendly!" he shouted back, finally shoving Eridan against the nearest tree. Less than thirty seconds later, a huge ship passed overhead, her engines running so loudly that he had to drop Ahab's Crosshairs to the ground to cover his ears. He glanced at Eridan and was relieved to see that his brother was covering his ears, too. He looked back up and stared—now he recognized that red-hulled monstrosity with the huge trident painted on her.

The Condesce. That was Her Imperious Condescension's flagship, Battleship Condescension. Cronus didn't realize it was possible for his collapsing and expanding bladder-based aquatic vascular system to work any harder than it already was, but upon realizing who was floating above him this very second, it began to race.

He was stupidly flushed for The Condesce, although, he supposed, so was half of Alternia. The other half probably harbored some strong caliginous feelings for her, so she no doubt had her share of suitors. Still, it was his goal to one day join her crew, and then, possibly, he could win her flushed affections that way. He just had to figure out how.

"Cro? You okay?" Eridan asked.

Cronus blinked. He realized he couldn't see The Condesce's ship anymore and the sound of her engines were fading. He dropped his hands from his ears. "Yeah. Just fine." He picked up Ahab's Crosshairs and brushed it off. "I'm... I'm goin' back to the hive to get more harpoons. You keep practicin', got it?"

"Got it."

They split up, Eridan trudging back to where he'd left Starbuck's Crosshairs on the ground and Cronus heading back to their hive. The walk served to clear his think-pan—it wasn't every day that The Condesce passed by, and having her so close had upset his think-pan. He wasn't used to feeling this vulnerable, but he knew he had to find some way to get close to her.

The walk back to the clearing where Eridan was doing target practice seemed to take longer than the walk from it. He had two quivers of harpoons, one slung over each shoulder, and he decided that they wouldn't be going back to the hive until every harpoon had found their way to Eridan's target. So far, his brother was two for three—he just hoped his little brother hadn't shot himself while he was gone. That would just figure.

He's not a wiggler, he reminded himself. Eridan was almost grown, and he certainly wasn't an idiot. Sure, he could act stupid sometimes, but he had a fair amount of common sense. He could take care of himself.

Cronus arrived at the clearing just in time to see Eridan loose three harpoons in quick succession. Every single one of them hit the center circle of the target, and Cronus almost bounded over to Eridan to congratulate him until he saw how his younger brother was standing.

Eridan had switched to firing with his left hand.

Cronus sighed and rubbed his temples. He had more work ahead of him than he thought.