*Hello, everybody… wow, it's been a while huh? Sorry about that. Busy life. So, before we get into the story again, I want to update you all on the situation I was freaking out about last author's note… Thank you all for the prayers and support and well-wishes; it made me feel this lovely glow inside. I PMed everyone who reviewed the last chapter, but for anyone else reading this who didn't review, doesn't have an account, or is simply reading this in the future, my condition is still inconclusive. I feel perfectly fine, so there may not be an issue, but I'm getting another MRI in two months to re-check it out and see if there's any more changes. So… until then, I suppose we're in the clear. Sorry for being melodramatic; I was just freaking out when I wrote the last chapter's author's note, and felt really bad after posting it… anyways. Sorry again, and don't worry 'bout me; I'm good for now. Now then… onto the chapter. I had some writer's block, and so I'm not particularly happy with this chapter... But anyways, we'll see.

Despondency

Marron collapsed against the side of a building, gasping for breath. Her chest heaved, and strands of copper-amber hair stuck to her forehead with sweat. She clutched at her side, fingers digging into the scratchy black fabric of her tunic as shooting pain stabbed somewhere behind her ribcage. The sprint away from the rebel hideout had been an intense one. She felt like her legs had somehow vanished, and she would fall down. The dizziness from the fall from the side of the villa still hadn't dissipated, and the lightheadedness from the run wasn't particularly helping it. She closed her eyes and took in a slow breath, and then very slowly let it out. She had to focus. She had something to do.

Her eyes flicked open again, slit pupils expanded to take in light from the sun's struggling rays through the hazy gray clouds overhead. She was somewhere between Old Town, the Dwarven District, and the Trade District. She needed to get to the Trade District. It was closest to the palace. Closest to the princes. Closest to Thor. She needed to tell him what she knew. She desperately needed him to comfort her.

Marron swallowed, trying to wet her throat. It had gone dry after the dash. Tentatively, she reached up and flipped her hood over her cat ears. She had forgotten to do it earlier. She had been too frazzled and panicked. She had seen the desperation in Noir's eyes. But the brown neko still couldn't fathom what had happened. Why hadn't Noir been able to follow her? She must have been stopped. Someone must have come in the room, and Noir hadn't had time to climb out the window. Noir was still trapped in the rebel base. If only Marron could relay what information she knew to the royal family, she could help stage a rescue. The Aesir would be able to take care of the rebels, and Noir would be free to go. Marron hoped. Thor and Loki would help make sure of that. But first…

Marron slowly began trudging down the street, loose boot still throwing her stride off very slightly. Her breath was still a bit quicker than it should have been, and her mouth was still dry. But this was all too important. She didn't have time to rest. She had to get to the palace and somehow get to Thor and Loki.

00000

Loki lay on his bed, facing the ceiling instead of Thor, who sat on the foot of his bed. The younger prince absentmindedly tossed an empty cup into the air. He caught it. He tossed it up into the air again. He caught it. He tossed again. He didn't listen to a word Thor was saying.

"Loki, are you even listening to me?" Thor snapped irritably, snatching the cup from the air before Loki could catch it again.

Loki sat up slightly, glaring at his older brother. "Yes. I'm listening with rapt attention, Thor."

"Then what am I saying?" Thor asked testily.

Loki rolled his eyes. "Father plans once more to move against the nekos. And he was insulting me. And he's still a bloody idiot who hasn't a clue what has to be done."

Thor frowned.

Loki threw his brother a disinterested look. "It's the same thing he's been doing the last several days, Thor. Ever since the first mob protest. I don't necessarily need to listen to you to know all that. Now give me back the blasted cup."

Thor sighed and handed the cup over. "But listen, Loki. I am being quite serious, and you won't listen. What Father is saying is that the nekos will be immediately thrown in the dungeons and tortured for information on the rebels."

"And what, pray tell, is your point in telling me this?" Loki asked bitterly as he tossed the cup into the air again and caught it.

"Don't you see what this means?" Thor demanded annoyedly. "This means that if Noir or Marron comes back, they'll be thrown in the dungeons!" he exclaimed, angrily knocking the empty cup from Loki's hands. "Loki, just because they are not here does not mean that they do not exist! Stop pretending that you don't care about what happens to the girls! If you truly didn't care about Noir, then you wouldn't be acting so bloody down and despondent! Just because she is not here does not mean that we cannot do anything for them!" Thor finally stood, a smoldering glare fixed on his younger brother, who made no reply. "I can take no more of this," Thor growled, storming away.

Loki watched him go, not showing any reaction to his brother's dramatic outburst. But inside, it stung. He was good at not showing that it hurt, but the words stung. Because Thor was right, on some level. Loki was despondent because Noir wasn't here. But there was nothing he could do about that.

And so he hid behind the bored, haughty, disinterested façade. But something about what Thor had said… there were things that had to be done. Thor was right. If Marron or Noir tried to come back, they would be thrown in the dungeons. Tortured. And the idea made Loki's chest tighten.

Slowly, he crossed the room and picked up the cup from where it had landed in the corner. He tossed it into the air once more, his eyes still on the door that Thor had slammed shut moments ago. The cup landed in his hand with a solid plop of metal bluntly hitting skin. He tossed the cup. He caught it. He tossed it. He watched it fall to the ground with a metallic clatter. He stared down at it for a moment. Then he kicked it roughly, and it ended up in the corner again. And he left the bedroom, knowing he could no longer remain apathetic.

00000

Marron stood in an alleyway, peering out at the Trade District from under her dark hood. She lifted her hand to her lips and nervously chewed her nails. "Blast it, blast it, blast it," she whispered almost inaudibly to herself. The street was filled with people… but it was the people themselves that made Marron so nervous. There were far more soldiers than usual, stationed up and down the street. And the shoppers had a wary look about them, eyes darting worriedly around the street. The girl saw not one cloaked figure, not one pickpocket daring to enter the tense crowd.

How was she supposed to get to the palace? This was the main street. The one that led directly to the palace gates. But even if she managed to get to the gates, how was she supposed to get into the palace? There was still a line of guards posted across the threshold. And Marron still didn't know the way from the palace entrance to either Thor or Loki's room. How in Helheim was she supposed to get to Thor and Loki? Would she possibly be able to simply approach a guard, informing them that she was, in fact, not on the rebels' side?

No, that was too idiotic. She couldn't do that. That was a sure-fire way to end up in the dungeons. She would have to find a different way in. Oh, if only she knew one…

She started to back away from the entrance to the alleyway, backing into the shadows.

Suddenly there was a scuffling of feet, and giggling. Someone else dashed into the space between the two buildings, almost running smack into Marron.

"Oh! Sorry!" a small voice squeaked shrilly. "Shh! I'm hiding!" It was a child, barely up to Marron's chest. The young boy looked up at her with bright eyes. "Promise to keep quiet and not tell my mother I'm hiding here?"

Marron blinked, surprised. "Er… y-yes, I—"

But now the little boy was looking up at her curiously. His bright blue eyes scanned her face. "Hmm. My lady, I think there's something wrong with your eyes," he informed her knowingly.

Marron's breath hitched in her throat at the observation, and she backed further into the alley. "No, little boy. There's not. Go hide somewhere else," she muttered soothingly, trying not to start any trouble.

But the boy was staring after her with perceptive eyes, taking in her black clothing, the hood, and thinking over her eyes that weren't-quite-right. He tilted his head to one side, an idea forming in his mind. It hit him. His eyes widened. "Are you one of those cat-fighters?" he asked in fascination.

Marron took another step backwards. "W- no, no, no."

He gave her a suspicious look. "My mother said… she said there are filthy cat people fighting against the king." He paused. "Are you one of them? Is that why you have weird eyes?"

Marron was silent, frozen and scared of the perceptiveness of this child.

"Sauklauss!" a voice called from the entrance to the alley, and a woman peeked around the corner. "There you are, boy! What are you doing? Do stop running and hiding from me! This is a dangerous time in our kingdom!" she exclaimed irately, carefully picking her way to the young boy and grabbing his arm, dragging him back into the busy marketplace.

"But Mother!" the young boy said brightly. "I've just met one of the cat-fighters you told me about!"

The mother turned sharply. "Sauklauss, don't be silly."

"But she's there!" the boy's finger rose to point towards the shadows, where Marron had pressed herself against the stone wall.

The woman turned sharply, and her eyes fell on the black-cloaked figure. There was a moment of pure stillness as Marron waited with bated breath, and the Aesir woman stared. And then the silence was shattered.

"Guards! Neko!" the woman shrieked, clutching Sauklauss to her chest like Marron might swoop in and strike him down where he stood. "Someone help!"

Terror struck into Marron's heart, and she started to back away down the alley, to the low brick wall at the back. She could easily jump it... but the little boy's eyes were fixed on her, and Marron couldn't look away. He had given her away. He had gotten her in trouble. And he had no idea what he had done wrong.

Suddenly a group of guards rushed past the boy and his mother, heading straight for Marron. Knocking herself out of her frozen daze, she turned and nimbly scaled the wall. But she had waited too long, and something grabbed her ankle, yanking her back down, and she landed heavily on the dirty cobblestones. She looked up blankly at the five men in golden armor surrounding her, pointing daggers at her.

"Oi! I know you!" one spat. "You're that one that bit me the other day!" he snarled, reaching down and hauling her to her feet.

Marron started to struggle. "No!" she shrieked. "No, you've got to let me go!" she begged. She thrashed her arms, but by now two other guards had joined in, and were restraining her with a firm grip on each arm as another man tried to slip a pair of handcuffs onto her wrists. Marron wriggled desperately. "No! You don't understand! It's urgent that I get to the palace and-!"

Something hit her head, slamming into it forcefully. She staggered, and she couldn't finish her sentence.

"What, spy?" a guard sneered.

Marron sobbed, knowing they would never listen to her. "No! I have to tell the princes-!"

"So she's a messenger," someone spat. "Well, the king had a message for the rebels. He said to tell the nekos they would feel the full wrath of Asgard's warriors… that your rebellion doesn't stand a chance," the voice snarled very close to her ear.

"He said there would be no peace meetings," another guard added. "That if there were any envoys from the nekos, that they would not be heard."

Marron bowed her head and shook with another sob as the soldiers tied something around the lower half of her face to act as a gag, and they began dragging her out of the alley and into the street. Her eyes caught some movement off to one side, and she lifted her eyes to see the mother tugging her boy away, muttering something about filth and getting what she deserved. The boy's eyes, though, were troubled and wondering, as if he were watching a bug slowly die and still not understanding exactly why it was happening.

And then Marron was yanked forward again, unable to protest and unable to escape.

00000

Blanc watched with narrowed eyes as Noir explained to Rouge her tale of how Marron had escaped. The white neko's eyes flicked around the room at the other rebels listening in on the story. They all seemed to believe it. Noir Soir seemed to be believing it. Rouge seemed to be believing it.

Was Blanc honestly the only one who realized that Noir had been planning to escape with Marron? Was he the only one that could see how Noir didn't want to be here? Because he could see it so clearly, etched into the hard line of her pursed lips and in her creased brow and slightly-shaking hands. He almost wished he couldn't see it. Seeing it stung. Everyone else's ignorance of Noir's true feelings was bliss. They didn't have to wonder what they had done wrong to make her feel afraid and unwelcome. None of them had to wonder why she so desperately wanted to go running back to the Prince Loki. But Blanc did. He wondered about it all and more.

He was snapped out of his reverie when Rouge said, "Very well. I believe we must just let her go. It's too late to go after her now, and the loss of only one rebel isn't too vast." He waved a hand, dismissing the younger neko. "You may return to yourself."

Noir bowed her head and nodded, turning away. "Thank you, Chatte Rouge Catalysseur," she spoke respectfully, despite her dislike of the situation. She had had to play it off like she disapproved of Marron's escape, like she was angry at Marron for leaving. But she wasn't. Not in the least. She just wished she could have gone with her. She started to head off to the bedroom, hoping maybe she would be able to escape at some later time.

A hand caught her arm, and her gray eyes flashed up to see Blanc.

"You leave me the-!"

"Shh!" Blanc hissed, cutting her off. "Come with me," he muttered, pulling her down the hall. "I need to talk to you."

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say to me!" Noir spat.

He pulled her into the rebel meeting room, where maps and papers were pinned up on the walls and scattered on the table.

Noir snorted. "And what do you want me to say?"

"What the bloody blazes is in your head?" he demanded. "Why don't you want to be here, and why do you want to leave?!" he struggled to keep his voice from raising to a shout, barely managing to hold it in a lower tone.

Noir's brow creased again. "That's none of your business, Blanc. All you have to know… no, you know what? You don't even have to know anything."

"But you don't want to be here," he accused.

"What does that matter?" Noir cried. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Not by choice," he pointed out.

"why do you care so much that I be here?" Noir shook her head. "By choice, by force, why do you want me here?"

Blanc gave her a hard look, feeling his heart plummet into his stomach. Did she really not understand? Surely she did. Maybe he had never been open about it, but didn't she know? Her gray eyes bore into him angrily, and her tail lashed in an obvious display of furious irritation. He didn't know what to say. Didn't she know why he so desperately wanted her here?

Noir scoffed when he didn't respond, and she just turned away, letting her eyes travel over the room simply to avoid looking at the boy she had once thought of as a close friend.

Her eyes landed on something—one of the papers pinned up on the wall. She frowned at it, pursing her lips. She stepped a little closer. And her eyes widened in surprise.

Blanc still stared at Noir, trying to think of how to phrase what he wanted to say. "Noir, I—"

"Shh," she interrupted sharply, eyes still fixed on the paper on the wall.

Blanc blinked. "No, Noir, I need to tell you—"

"Shh," she broke in again. "Come here. Look at this. Is this…? Is this what I think it is?" she asked, sounding intrigued.

Blanc blinked again in disbelief. "…What?"

"Blanc, come look!" Noir ordered, jabbing a finger at the paper. "Do you see what this is?"

Blanc let out a huff and slowly stepped forward, feeling rage boil through him as he did. "What, Noir?" he snapped irately.

"This…" Noir peered at the paper. "This looks like a map of the city, doesn't it?"

Blanc fought back the urge to just ignore what she was getting at and just say what he wanted to tell her. But he fought that urge. He wouldn't. Not now. "Yes, Noir, it's a map. Observant of you to notice. In case you hadn't noticed, we have plenty of maps of the city."

"No, this is different," Noir murmured. She barely even noticed or cared who she was talking to anymore. This map… this might be… useful. "Yes, Blanc, there's plenty of maps of the city. But this…" she traced a few of the lines on the drawing. "Is this a map showing secret passages in and out of the palace?" she breathed in amazement.

Blanc frowned. "…Is it? I've never really been in here to look—"

"Look now!" Noir said bitterly. "This shows secret ways to get into and out of the palace. Does that mean that the rebels are planning on sneaking in when they attack?"

"I don't know," Blanc murmured. "The plans haven't been quite decided on yet." "

Yes, but, look," Noir breathed. She traced her finger along a few lines. "This one goes underground and it says it leads into the kitchens…. This one leads into the gardens… this one is an escape from the dungeons, if you're in a particular cell… this one leads you to the throne room… there's so many hidden passages!" she said in amazement. "Look, it even has details about where the royal family's rooms are, and where the war room is, and how to get to each of them from the various entrances and exits, and…" she trailed off, looking excited. "I don't even think the royal family knows about these. If we could tell them…" she trailed off and looked brightly up at Blanc. When she met his eyes though, her bright expression darkened back into a glare.

Blanc felt his heart ache when he saw Noir's bright, excited face as she glanced from the map to him again. She hadn't given him that determined, happy look since… maybe since the day Marron was arrested. Every day since then had been pure chaos, with their group being torn apart again and again. He had seen Noir give that look to Loki, but she had never directed it towards Blanc in what felt like far too long. And he felt his heart sink further when the excitement fell away to be replaced by a glare again. Why, why, why? He swallowed.

"I won't tell Soir," he mumbled, glancing away from Noir's resentful look. "I.. I won't tell her you want to leave, and I won't tell her… about…" he gestured vaguely at the map. "Your plans to betray the revolution."

Noir didn't say anything for a long moment as she stared at him. "You… you won't? You won't tell them?"

Blanc slowly shook his head. "No."

Noir was surprised into speechlessness. "Oh." Silence again. "Thank you?"

Blanc nodded wordlessly. Absentmindedly, he picked at the bed of his nails. He didn't want to meet Noir's eyes. He felt like a chastised child, whose mother had just rebuked him. "I'm… sorry, you know," he muttered grudgingly.

Noir's brow furrowed in confusion. "…For what…?" she asked dilatorily.

Blanc shrugged. "I don't know. But you're mad at me. So…" he sighed and shook his head.

Noir sighed slowly and stepped over to the window of the room, covered by a black curtain. She lifted the corner of the fabric and looked outside. The street was empty. The only sight was dirty cobblestones and grubby, half-dilapidated houses made gray by the dismal overcast light filtering in through the ragged clouds. "Blanc, you kept me from my mother and kidnapped Marron and me away from a place where we were safe, assuming we would rather be partaking in idiotic danger that will only make our situation worse."

"'Where you were safe,'" Blanc repeated. "You think you were safe in the palace? You think you were safe with the prince? They would put you in more danger than being here would," he growled.

Noir glanced back. "The revolution isn't safe. It's making things worse. It's increasing the tension that's already strained, Blanc, and when things come to a head this way, it means someone's going to lose. And the odds are that it will be the revolutionaries."

Blanc frowned, hating that Noir still didn't see things the way he did. "If you say so. I don't think so, though." He turned and began to walk out of the room. He stopped when Noir spoke again.

"Are you really not going to tell anyone about… things?" she asked delicately.

He glanced back over his shoulder and nodded reluctantly.

"Why's that?"

He bit his lip. "Just… because," he muttered. "I just… don't want to see you hurt by anyone." He hesitated. "And Noir, I…" he cut himself short and shook his head. "Never mind. I know you don't care." He turned around again and left Noir alone in the room with a puzzled frown.

Note from LoquaciousQuibbler: Well, then. Got a lot of little things happening in this chapter… Poor Marron got arrested on her way to the palace… Loki and Thor's scene, with Thor exasperated with Loki for his despondency and refusal to do something… and Loki making the decision to "do something." What shall it be?! We also got a scene between Noir and Blanc… XAhMunnaEatChooX pointed out to me that I show very little of Blanc's point of view, so I put more into this chapter. ;)

So… last chapter, someone asked me if this story is going to continue into TDW. Heh, I have to say… well, I love that you love this story that you would want it to continue that long. But.. I think I've mentioned it before, but I believe I'm going to be ending it still Pre-Thor. My aim in writing this story was to create characters to play with Loki and Thor before the madness of Loki learning he's adopted and the fall from the Bridge and all that stuff… and I don't know how I'd handle Noir dealing with an evil Loki. So… no, I shall most likely not be continuing this into Thor, Avengers, or The Dark World. My heart and head start hurting at even the thought of Noir dealing with evil Loki… *flashback to Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith*

Padme: Anakin… *sobs* You're breaking my heart!

Sorry, but that's all I can picture. I really don't want to go there… so… yeah. We're not going into the cinematic Marvel universe with this story. ;p

So… also, in this chapter, all the characters are really kind of… irritating. None of them are doing anything heroic, all of them are in the middle of bad situations, and all of them are slightly unsure. I would just like to say that I am making all of my characters here like this because… they're all people, they're all flawed, and they all need a little help and a little push to make a good decision and take a stand. So, yes, all the characters are grating on our nerves. Please don't bash on me too bad for that XP it happens sometimes...

One more thing (maybe). So, I know that some of you have already discovered and read it, but I did post the oneshot I promised like seven chapters ago, wherein Loki holds a private ball for himself and Noir and Marron. I added it onto Keeping Me Up as a second chapter, and any other oneshots I post based on Banditry will be added as new chapters to Keeping Me Up. So, anyone who hasn't done it already, go and read the oneshot and let me know whatcha think of it? And thanks go out to my account stalkers who found it without needing the update from me ;P

Thank you all for the encouragement and support. I'm thinking/hoping/praying that we can reach 200 reviews? I'm at 196 reviews as of now. Pretty please let's hit 200? Thank you all again, and I'll see you next chapter.

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