*Okay, this will likely be my last update for two months, since I'm going to summer camp soon. However, I have given you a very extra-long chapter today, so I'm hoping that will help…
Savagery
"We're taking the war council's informant to her new quarters," Loki explained to a passing guard who lifted a brow at the sight of the two princes walking alongside a neko girl. "Nothing to see here."
They had been walking for a minute or two, and had already gotten some odd stares.
"Maybe we should have gotten some guards to accompany us," Thor murmured under his breath so nobody else could hear.
"Maybe," Loki agreed. "We'll get some guards to be stationed outside your door when we leave, though," he added to Marron. "Just… nothing against you, of course, but everyone else thinks you're liable to be double-crossing the Aesir and all that nonsense."
Marron offered a wan smile. "I know nobody else is going to trust me. I'm… used to it." She had her hands deep in the pockets of her black pants. A thought struck her. "Say, Prince Loki, do you still have the clothes I… left… in your room…?" she looked up at him awkwardly.
Loki shrugged slightly. "…Yes. Your and Noir's clothes both."
"Ooh, my little brother has ladies' clothes in his room! Positively scandalous," Thor snickered under his breath, causing Loki to merely sigh and shake his head, decidedly not making a response.
Little else was said until they stopped in front of a pair of wooden doors, gilded with golden patterns.
"This is where you shall be staying," Thor announced, gesturing with an exaggerated grand wave of his arms.
Marron threw him a smile when he opened the door, and she stepped inside. Unmistakably, this room wasn't as glorious as the prince's chambers. But there was no arguing that it was far more comfortable than the thieves' old hideout or the safe room, and far exceeded the dingy villa she had been in just this morning. To one side, there was a large bed draped with blue sheets and covers, rich with embroidery. The floor was carpeted with royal blue, and curtains of the same color framed the view of the city, though gray clouds roiled in the sky and wind buffeted the land. A dresser stood opposite the bed, and there was also an armchair and small table. A door to the side led to a bathing and dressing room.
"Does it suit you?" Thor asked anxiously.
Marron threw him a small smile. "It's perfect, Thor. Though I think I like the color red better, it's suits me perfectly fine to have this room."
Loki suppressed a chuckle at Thor's slightly-surprised expression at this statement. "If you'll excuse me… I think I'm going to just go and get your clothes, Marron, so you can change." He backed out of the room and back down the hall.
It didn't take very long, and soon he was walking back down the corridors to the guest chambers Marron was to take residence in, a satchel slung over his shoulder with the neko girl's clothes tucked inside. He paused and slowed his pace when he glanced out of a window lining the hall. Down in the courtyard, there seemed to be quite a bit of hustle and bustle, soldiers scurrying to and from their barracks in the windy gloom under the rainclouds that were yet to shed their burden. Nagging worry at the back of his mind tugged at some connection at the back of his consciousness, and he tried to call upon it and make sense of it. Right now, though, he couldn't make the connection. Soldiers in the courtyard… What was it?
He shook his head to clear his mind of the thoughts. It would come to him when it came to him. He continued walking, throwing surreptitious glances out the windows as he passed them, but no enlightenment presented itself. So he merely pushed open the door of Marron's guest chambers and announced. "I've got your clothes…"
He trailed off at the sight of Thor and Marron abruptly scooting away from each other, where they had been sitting next to each other on the bed.
Loki blinked in surprise. Thor and Marron were both turning a little pink, and Loki thought his cheeks might be turning a similar shade. Suddenly he felt like he might know what it was like to be Thor that day in the hall, when Thor had interrupted Loki and Noir when he stepped out of the safe room. Loki cleared his throat. "…If I'm interrupting something…" he said slowly, and he felt a sly smirk creeping along his lips unbidden. "…I can go…"
"No, no," Thor and Marron both protested.
"We were just talking—" Thor started to fumble for an excuse.
"—about Noir and the rebellion—" Marron agreed. "—and—and how… what happened…" she fell silent. Loki's smirk had diminished at the mention of Noir and what had happened. She bit her lip and took a deep breath. "…Sorry," she muttered. "…Could I have my clothes?"
Mutely, Loki stepped forward and offered the satchel, which Marron took gratefully before she disappeared into the dressing room.
The brothers watched the gilded door close, and then they exchanged a look.
"…I swear, Loki, we honestly were just talking about Noir and the rebellion—" Thor started to say defensively.
"I don't care, Thor," Loki waved his hand in dismissal. "Really, I don't care what's going on with…" he paused and found himself smiling very slightly again. "You and Marron. So are you two together, or-?"
"Shut up, Loki," Thor huffed. "Are you and Noir together?"
Loki's smile faded again, and he found himself glancing away, not sure if he should answer. "What did Marron say about what happened?" he asked, not willing to further discuss the subject.
"She just corroborated our idea of their being kidnapped," Thor shrugged. "Assuring me that she had never intended to leave, and neither did Noir. They were forced into leaving the ball by unfortunate circumstance… something about Noir's mother and A neko named Catalysseur, and another named Blanc that betrayed them—"
"Blanc?" Loki repeated. "…Bloody git," he muttered under his breath, feeling his fists clench at the thought of Blanc having some part in the kidnapping. He certainly wouldn't put it past the white neko to kidnap Marron and Noir from the palace for the sake of his precious stupid rebellion. He paused. "Did you say something about Noir's mother?"
Thor shrugged. "I suppose. Marron said Noir's mother was there, and they were shocked…" He shrugged and shook his head. "…She didn't say all that much else before you, ah… walked in."
Loki nodded, not sure if he should be smiling at Thor's attempt to skirt around the subject, or troubled by the information Thor had just given him. He didn't have time to ponder it, because the door to the dressing room opened again, and he and Thor looked up to see Marron emerging, once again garbed in her brown pants, tunic, boots, cloak, and fingerless gloves.
"This is so much better," she smiled sheepishly as she rose on tiptoe and dropped back down on her heels, flexing her feet in her own boots. "Missed my clothes. Thank you, Prince Loki."
Loki nodded absentmindedly. "Thor told me about what happened with you and Noir—at least, the parts you told him. So we were right that you were kidnapped?"
Marron's face darkened slightly at the memory, and she nodded. "Yes. Blanc told the rebels that we would be willing to join them, and so the little stunt at the ball counted, for them, as both a distraction and a rescue initiative." She shook her head. "I can't believe Blanc would do that. I mean, I… I had gathered that he was at least interested in the rebellion, if not actually involved… But the idea that he would be recruited, and then try to convince us to join him. It's absolute insanity."
"Erm…" Thor cleared his throat. "…Who is this Blanc? And how do you know him, Loki?"
Marron and Loki exchanged a wry look. "Blanc was a friend," the girl explained. "He… was one of our group. Noir and Blanc and I were a bit of a little gang, sharing a home and food and money."
"And I've told you before," Loki added. "I became more closely acquainted with Noir and Marron several days ago, before you were introduced to them. Blanc was with them then, so I, to my regret, met that bloody idiot as well."
"He split off from the group when Loki brought us here to the palace," Marron finished.
"And he's a prat," Loki said significantly.
"Utterly," Marron nodded determinedly.
"Entirely," Loki sighed.
"Noir called him a mewling quim," Marron mused.
Loki and Thor paused and stared at her. And then Loki snickered.
"Also, she punched him," Marron continued with a faint smile. "Really rather amazing. You should have seen it."
"I'd pay to see it," Loki nodded loftily.
Thor smiled unsurely, still not quite understanding the relationship dynamics at play between Blanc, Noir, Marron, and Loki.
After Loki's and Marron's smiles faded, the girl sobered and retold the story of her and Noir's plan, and of her own escape and Noir's lack thereof.
"So… I believe that, unless she's managed to escape on her own," Marron murmured. "She's probably still at their headquarters."
Loki bit his lip and thought this over for a moment. Noir… still stuck with Blanc and her mad mother and a number of other rebels… she was where she didn't belong. He fought back a groan of frustration and stood up, crossing over to the window. Down in the courtyard, soldiers were still walking to and fro, seemingly shouting orders and gathering supplies. His gaze moved back out to the city. Noir, out there somewhere. His eyes roved over the landscape. In the far distance, it looked like rain might be starting to fall on the burned plantation ruins. The rain hadn't reached the city just yet, but it would probably reach it within the hour.
"We'll find her," Thor assured at the same time that Marron stated, "We'll get her back."
"Maybe we can stage a covert rescue operation," Marron smiled faintly at the idea. Noir would absolutely love it if her friends appeared to rescue her.
"We just have to start making a plan and…" Thor smiled at Marron and then returned his gaze to Loki. "All will be well. It's two weeks until the nekos' attack. We have plenty of time to get Lady Noir out of the evil clutches of the neko rebels." He paused at the sharp look from Marron. "Er… the misguided and delusional nekos?" Marron nodded. Thor smiled sheepishly and cleared his throat. "…All will be well, Loki."
Loki sighed and shook his head. "I know," he muttered curtly. He felt lost, in a room alone with Thor and Marron. It was wrong to be with the two of them without having Noir here, too. Already it seemed that the four of them together were a group. Only three wasn't right.
His eyes dropped to the courtyard again. Something suddenly slid into place as the soldiers began arranging themselves into a formation, preparing to march out toward the palace gates and into the city. "Blast," he breathed. "…Thor, come here," he said slowly, straightening and narrowing his eyes at the spectacle.
Thor threw his younger brother a curious look and crossed over to the window, shortly followed by Marron so all three of them looked past the pane of glass.
"What's going on?" Marron asked, not quite sure if she was merely wondering or asking the princes.
"…All those men," Thor said, voice filled with uncertainty. "They're soldiers. How many of them, do you think?"
"At least a hundred. Two hundred at most," Loki estimated, eyes scanning the men rallying themselves in front of the palace gates, streaming from the barracks.
"Training exercise?" Marron wagered a guess. "It's not the whole army."
"It's not the whole army," Thor agreed. "But far too many for just an exercise. They're heading somewhere. They've weapons and armor, and they're forming ranks… I would think they're heading into battle."
The scores of soldiers marched out of the gates in formation into the city.
"Don't you understand?" Loki whispered hoarsely, watching with a sense of absolute doom at the marching men that were disappearing beyond the buildings and out of sight. "Do the math. A hundred to two hundred men, equipped for battle heading out into the city. Who is the only force they could possibly be heading to attack? The only thing on open terms of hostility with the Aesir?"
A look of understanding came over Thor's features, and one of horror over Marron's.
"They can't—" Marron hissed. "Not—now? Right now?"
"Loki, we must go approach Father about this," Thor said quickly, seizing Loki's forearm. "Marron, we'll come back with news—we have to—" Thor just threw an apologetic look to the frightened Marron, who just nodded wordlessly at the crown prince.
Loki allowed himself to be dragged out of the room, feeling vaguely numb. Noir was still at the base. And it was about to be under attack.
00000
Boom.
"Father!"
Odin looked up from his conversation with Frigga when the door to the throne room was thrown open, and he saw his sons striding purposefully in, Thor looking pale and Loki looking shell-shocked.
"Yes?" Odin asked mildly as he observed the princes.
"Did you just order an attack on the neko rebel base?" Thor asked desperately. "Tell us you didn't just order an attack on the rebel base…"
Frigga and Odin exchanged a sidelong glance with each other, both a bit surprised that this was an issue.
"I did," Odin said slowly, his eye flicking between Loki and Thor. "Is this something you disagree with?"
"Why didn't you wait longer?" Thor pleaded. "Is it too late to call off the attack?" He looked at Loki, who merely looked like he was resisting the urge to get sick. Why couldn't he at least say something? He was so much better at convincing and logic and… and now he was just silent, not helping to back Thor up, even though it was really Thor backing the wordless Loki up. "You should have waited—it would have given us longer to prepare and plan and…" he looked to Loki for help again. "Loki, tell him," he muttered.
Loki forced himself to swallow and steady his trembling hands. But she was still at the base. She wasn't about to be rescued. There was no time. Even if Thor and Loki were to leave now, by the time they arrived at the villa serving as the neko headquarters, the raid and battle would be underway. Something might have already happened. There was nothing he could do to get there fast enough, nothing he could do to ensure she made it out alright, nothing he could do—
"Loki?" Thor muttered, nudging his brother gently and giving him a concerned look. "Are you alright?" Loki looked paler than usual, he looked sick, he was shaking slightly.
Loki just nodded wordlessly. Then he reconsidered and shook his head. His eyes lifted from the floor to land on his parents, Odin on the throne and Frigga standing by his side. Both his parents had creased brows, looking on anxiously at their fretful sons. Loki's eyes finally locked on Odin's one. "Father," he said in a cracked voice, finally finding it in himself to utter his words. "…You should have waited. If things go wrong… it will be because of you." He turned on his heel and strode out. But, of course, he wasn't thinking about the rebellion. He wasn't thinking about the raid itself. He was thinking of what might happen if Noir was hurt, if Noir didn't make it out of the attack. It would be Odin's fault.
00000
"Etoile!"
Noir reluctantly lifted her head from the pillow of her uncomfortable bed. She lay across her pallet, practically counting down the hours until nightfall and then morning and then afternoon, when she was scheduled to leave. She had been laying here for at least fifteen minutes, uninterestedly listening to the sounds of nekos in the rooms across the hall or next door, the friendly conversations of comrades and friends and colleagues. And now Noir watched as her mother sped into the room.
What gave the daughter pause was the look in her mother's eyes, her black slit pupils dilated with something like fear.
"What?" Noir asked worriedly, swinging her legs over the side of her bed and sitting up.
Soir stepped forward and grabbed Noir by her upper arm, dragging her to her feet roughly. "It's—Catalysseur just got word from a lookout," she hissed, pulling her towards the door. "There's… Aesir soldiers. They're only a few streets away. They'll be here in a matter of minutes. We're evacuating the villa and relocating to our other, smaller base on the outskirts of the city."
By now Soir had dragged her daughter out into the hall. Nekos were dashing from room to room, spreading the news and ordering each other to get their belongings and get downstairs. Noir dug her heels into the ground, making her mother stop pulling her forward.
"Etoile, we have to go—" Soir started to scold, but Noir interrupted.
"Aesir soldiers?" Noir repeated, feeling her breath hitch in her throat.
"Yes," Soir snapped. "We have to go—"
"You don't want to stand and fight?" Noir asked. "I thought that was what your plan was: fighting the Aesir head-on?"
Her mother threw her a sharp look before continuing to drag her down the hall and then the stairs. "We're not prepared yet. We need more time to prepare, and we need our strategic entrance. We're not planning to confront them in open combat like this, in the streets, in this villa…"
And now they were standing in the common area, and nekos were dashing from place to place around the room. News had already spread through the base like the fire that had consumed the plantations just last night. The rebels were suppressing their panic, and Catalysseur was in the middle of the room calling firm orders.
"Everyone with the food supply, leave first and head to the other base. Head out the back door," he said over the sound of footsteps running around and the worried voices. "I need some volunteers to head to the meeting room and gather all the maps and plans. And someone needs to get the weapons stash and distribute them, just in case the soldiers catch up with us. We are retreating! Avoid confrontation if you can! We don't need any casualties today! Leave anything you don't need! We need to get moving!"
"Noir," Blanc dashed up to the mother and daughter, who both turned their eyes on him. He swallowed and hesitantly held out a dagger. "I was talking to Vo—" he caught himself and corrected. "Etoile. I was talking to Etoile, Soir," he clarified significantly.
Noir felt her fingers shaking as she took the dagger Blanc offered her. "Thanks," she whispered, and he offered her a terse nod. But obviously he didn't quite know what to do, either. If the base was being evacuated right now… then that meant that they wouldn't be here tomorrow. Which threw every plan of escape into skew. What was their plan now? They didn't know. Neither of them. And now there were bigger problems to worry about. Like the fact that there was an impending crisis, a trek across the city to make, a fight to evade.
"Is everything in order?" Catalysseur's voice cut through the air as he turned to a group of nekos with large bundles in their arms.
"We've gotten the food," a brown male neko said nervously. "And the maps that were in the meeting room. But it seems something was missing: the map of the entrances to the palace. Did someone have it in their pocket? You or Soir, perhaps?"
Catalysseur exchanged confused looks, and they both shook their heads again.
"Check the room again," the rebel leader ordered, his red tail flicking with nerves under his cloak. He gestured to the others with the full bundles in their arms. "You. Start heading out. I and others will follow shortly."
The nekos bobbed their heads, flicked their hoods up over their ears, and disappeared into the next room and out the door that led to the back alleyways.
"Everyone is ordered to leave when they are ready!" Catalysseur called over the footsteps and worried murmurs that filled the rest of the house. "I want this villa empty. However the so-called king found out the whereabouts of our base, he will find that he is wrong."
More and more nekos began slipping out the back door in small groups, clutching daggers and small satchels of personal belongings.
"Are we leaving?" Noir asked worriedly, her eyes flicking between Soir and Blanc.
"You're not leaving my sight. I'm not leaving until Catalysseur does. He's not leaving until he finds that map. It's the key to our plans in moving against the palace," her mother spat through clenched teeth. "Come on." She tugged her daughter towards the stairs again, and before Noir knew it, she was back in the rebels' meeting room.
"Where the bloody blazes is it?!" a gray female was crying in frustration, sweeping her hands into nooks and crannies. "It's got to be somewhere—"
"Please, let's leave," Noir whimpered to her mother, feeling so much fear and tension roiling in her gut at the thought of armed and trained Aesir soldiers heading to their location. Only minutes… the villa was practically empty now. There were only Noir, her mother, Blanc, Catalysseur, and four others, all congregated in the meeting room. "Let's go," she pleaded.
"I'm not leaving until Catalysseur does," Soir repeated stubbornly. "He's not leaving until the map is found. Help look if you want to leave, Etoile." With that, Soir joined the others, ducking under the table to check if it had somehow fallen.
Noir felt her heart quicken. The map was still in her pocket, where she had tucked it after finishing planning with Blanc. The two younger nekos exchanged panicked glances. "Blanc," she breathed. "You go. My mother won't let me leave. You go ahead. I don't want you to—"
"I'm not leaving without you," Blanc stated unbendingly, giving Noir a determined look. "I'm not leaving you."
"Don't be daft," Noir let out a breath of almost-laughter, her hysteria starting to build up in her every muscle. "They'll be here soon, and you don't want to get—"
Blanc stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders, adamantly holding her in place so he could look into her eyes. Noir felt a surprised gasp escape her lips when he so suddenly came closer to her, an expression of decided determination in his blue eyes. "I said," he declared before dropping his voice to a meaningful whisper and leaning in just a little closer. "I'm not leaving you, Noir."
Noir felt her heart start to thud somewhere at the top of her sternum, as if it were trying to jump its way up into her throat. Everything seemed to stutter to a stop for just a second as he continued to give her that obstinate, willful look, trying to convey his true meaning. Noir wanted to shake her head, to say something, to tell him no, to stop. But all she could do was breathe out a stammered, "B-Blanc, I—"
And then everything was back in motion when footsteps, marching footsteps, became audible further down the street. All eight of them turned to stare at the window facing the outward paved road below, as if they were deer who had just realized the hunter had caught up to them. Six of them ceased their frantic pawing through every drawer and over every surface, and two of them tore their eyes from each other.
"What do we do?" someone asked in a hushed, distressed voice.
Catalysseur's umber eyes swept over the room one more time desperately. The sound of the marching only drew closer. "We can't succeed in our mission without that map," Catalysseur growled. "We haven't had time to properly examine it and memorize the routes—"
Noir felt her head start to pound in time with the thump-thump-thump of the soldier's footfalls outside. They had to get out of here. She had to get out of here. "I have it!" she shouted. "Please, let's go!" she spun on her heels and stumbled out into the hall.
She heard surprised exclamations and confused inquiries behind her, but the younger neko was already flying down the stairs. She only stopped when she was already standing in the common area—empty for the first time since she had set foot in this place—and glanced uncertainly from left to right, not sure which way to go. She had a fleeting moment of inspiration—she could maybe go out to meet the soldiers and explain she was friend and not foe, and then once she explained the situation, they might take her to the palace, and—
-And then there were hands on her arms, holding tight and spinning her around. And she was staring into the uncomprehending face of her mother, and there were others behind her, and all of them looking at her with bemused shock…except Blanc, who just looked vaguely pained.
"Etoile, what do you mean, you have it?" Soir demanded.
"It's in my pocket," Noir gasped out, backing away.
"Why-?"
"There's no time, Soir," Catalysseur snapped, his eyes fixed on the front door of the villa. "We have to go. Now."
All of them tripped towards the back door, Noir feeling like she was being suffocated by everything about this situation, from the soldiers to the fleeing the villa to the telling her mother she had the map. And now she was being half-dragged, half-shoved out the back door with the seven rebels and onto the paved cobblestones of the alleys.
"We have to go now; they'll be circling around to surround the whole villa," an orange male hissed, taking off into another alley. Without a moment of hesitation, the others followed, Noir being pulled along by her mother.
"There! A group of them!" a voice behind them yelled.
"A dozen of you, follow them. The rest of us will surround the house and search it for others!"
Heavy footfalls behind the eight nekos as they ducked into yet another alley and tried to lose their pursuers.
"We're not losing them," Catalysseur snarled after they had made several twists and turns, and yet could still hear the group of soldiers shouting to each other and clanking along in their armor.
"Then let's fix that problem," a gray female neko hissed, stopping dead and whipping around.
Suddenly the rest of the group stopped and whipped around, nobody quite sure exactly what she meant.
"Catalysseur and Soir should go on ahead, and the rest of us, shake guards off our trail," the woman explained sharply.
"Tourterelle, it's madness," Blanc hissed, glancing to Catalysseur for backup. But Catalysseur was already turning away, willing to let the others do what they must to ensure the leader of the rebellion made it to properly rebel at a later date.
Soir yanked Noir's arm, and the younger neko glanced wildly back to see the five nekos pulling daggers out of their sleeves or boots as the guards rounded the corner and drew their swords, charging ahead at the beings blocking their path.
But then Noir was pulled around another corner, into another alley, and she lost sight of them. "You're going to let them die?" she demanded. "You're not going to fight with them?"
"They won't die if they are careful," Catalysseur dismissed. "And dying willingly is their contribution to our cause if that is their final act—allowing me to get away so that I may further the cause they die for."
"But—"
"Soir, shut her up."
Noir gasped when her mother's grip on her upper arm tightened considerably, sending spikes of pain through her limb.
For a moment, there was only the sound of their footsteps and the distant shouting of soldiers, growing fainter by the second, and their panting breath. A cramp was beginning to make Noir limp as she ran, dragged along by her mother even though she desperately wanted to yank her arm out of her mother's grip… but she hadn't the breath or energy to resist or do anything but be forced to continue.
"Stop here," Catalysseur finally said, drawing to a stop. "We wait here for them, if they come."
Soir's hand let go of her daughter's upper arm, and Noir felt her knees wobble. The girl staggered back and slumped against a stone building, breathing hard and closing her eyes. This was all wrong… she wasn't supposed to be here. She was supposed to be back at the villa, and she had her plan in place, and… and now it was ruined, and she'd have to find another way.
"You had the map all along?"
Noir's eyes flicked open again, and she met the stoic expression of her mother. Noir bit her lip and swallowed, still short of breath. "…Yes," she whispered.
"Why?" Soir snapped sharply, cold gray eyes searching her daughter's face for something, wanting to find solace.
She opened her mouth to answer, but no words came. How was she supposed to explain this? How to possibly tell her mother she had been planning to run away, to leave… how was she to tell her mother she didn't want any part of this?
"You still have it?" Soir pressed.
Noir's hand automatically slipped into her cloak, touching the pocket where the map was still held. The folded paper was still within. Noir's fingers tightened on the map. If she gave it, then it meant that the rebellion would be able to move forward with only minor setbacks. She couldn't give it to them. Doing so would be a betrayal to herself.
Catalysseur's dark russet eyes and Soir's cold steel eyes were both fixed on Noir, and the hand that had disappeared into her cloak. She still had the map. That much was obvious. And they needed it back. They looked at the younger neko with ravenous attentiveness, waiting.
"Why did you take it?" Soir asked, deliberate wariness in her voice.
Noir shook her head reluctantly, glancing between the two as her mind raced to find a plan of action.
"…Why?" Soir repeated.
Noir shook her head again.
Soir narrowed her eyes coldly and stepped forward, holding out her hand for the paper. "Give it to me. Now." Noir made no move to oblige, and Soir's demeanor hardened even further into a mask of cutting bitterness. "Etoile—"
"Voleuse," Noir interrupted.
Soir paused. "What?"
Noir stood up straighter. "My name… is not Etoile. I'm Chatte Noir Voleuse, and I'm not giving you this map, and I am not joining your rebellion, and I am not a rebel." Noir's face had now become clear and confident, and she stood straight, shoulders back and square. "And I think it's best if we part ways now."
Only silence greeted her words. Soir stared uncomprehendingly, and Catalysseur's expression was unreadable.
A kind of lightheadedness overcame Noir suddenly, like a great weight had just been lifted off of her. There it was. She had done it—let it out that she wasn't one of them. But… they weren't reacting. Now what? At first, there was a touch of uncertainty, but then she turned away and took a few steps, passing her mother and Catalysseur as she headed to the mouth of the alley that would lead her into the streets of Old Town.
Sharp pain erupted at the back of her head, and she stumbled backwards. A cry of pain escaped her throat as she was pulled backwards by her hair. Soir lunged forward when Catalysseur yanked Noir Voleuse into the alley again, and the mother seized her cloak.
Noir fumbled for her dagger, unsheathed it, and lashed out at the hand gripping her hair. Catalysseur cursed when the blade nicked his fingers and the pain at the back of Noir's head subsided when he drew his hand back, cradling it against his body. Then Noir twisted sharply, ripping her cloak out of her mother's grasp.
Soir had already drawn her knife, and she swiped it towards Noir, who danced back reflexively, tucking her arms to her chest before springing forward in return, planning to disarm her mother of her dagger. Soir spun out of the way and then cuffed Noir over the head with the blunt handle of her blade.
Noir yelped as she landed on her side and rolled, finding herself in the street and out of the alley. Her vision blurred for just a moment before she felt a blow to her stomach—her mother had kicked her ruthlessly in the ribs. Noir reached out and seized her mother's foot, sweeping it out from under her. Gasping, Noir tried to struggle to her feet again, stunned with these last events. Soir pushed herself to her feet again, and Noir automatically took a step back.
"This would be so much easier on all of us if you just handed the map over and were on your way," Catalysseur's voice boomed out, and Noir jerked to look at him
The rebel leader stood in the mouth of the alley, looking on at the blows exchanged between mother and daughter. Behind him were the other nekos—the ones who had stayed behind to fight off the guards. There were only four of them now… it looked like the brown male neko (Noir had never learned his name) had fallen in the battle. The others had taken injuries like scrapes and cuts.
Noir's eyes suddenly flicked to just behind Catalysseur. Blanc stood there, the gray female neko holding him back from interfering on the fight while Catalysseur had one of his arms held out to his side slightly to signal that the others stay back. Blanc's blue eyes were filled with fear and desperation and… he understood what had happened. Noir had the map, and she wouldn't hand it over… leading to a battle for it.
"He's right," Soir panted, shuffling forward towards Noir. "If you would just hand over the map…" She jumped forward and grabbed a fistful of Noir's cloak, pulling her closer. "Then things would go so much smoother, Etoile. I just might be able to forget your little outburst. You don't really want to leave, do you?" she whispered, her breath washing over Noir's cheeks.
Noir stiffened and tried to pry her mother's fist off her shoulder with her free hand. "Get off!" she snarled.
"Calm down, Etoile, and we can work this—"
"My name is Voleuse!" Noir yelled, trying to shove Soir off of her.
Soir didn't let go. She gave her daughter a hard look and then glanced at Catalysseur. The rebel leader still watched imperiously, standing in the way of Blanc. Blanc looked like he was still trying to break free and run to Noir, but the hands on his arms prevented it. Catalysseur solemnly shook his head at his second-in-command, and Soir's eyes returned to her daughter, still fighting to get out of her grip.
"Noir Voleuse," she breathed, pulling the younger woman closer.
Noir went still, staring at the emotionless face of her mother.
"…You are not my daughter."
Without warning, piercing agony burst in her abdomen. Noir's eyes widened, and her breath rushed out of her in a silent scream. There was a shove on her shoulder, and she was sent sprawling on the ground, without the thought to roll back to her feet. She lay on her side on the cobblestones for a moment, trying to comprehend what had happened through the excruciation and black spots covering her vision. She blinked for a moment, feeling vaguely disconnected from her body… her stomach—so much pain there.
Somewhere she thought she heard someone shouting something in—anger? Sadness? She couldn't tell, and she couldn't hear it very well over the pounding of fearful adrenaline pumping through her, trying to prompt her to fight or flee… two things she was fairly sure weren't possible right now.
Dizzily, she looked up. Soir stood over her, and a dagger dripping with a red liquid was in her hand, held loosely. Belatedly, Noir realized it was her blood. She had been stabbed. Soir had stabbed her. And now Soir was leaning down over her, grabbing hold of her cloak, extracting a folded piece of paper from one of the pockets… the map. Now Soir was straightening up and walking back to the mouth of the alley, not glancing back at the girl on the ground.
She hadn't noticed it was raining until she lifted her hand from her side, saw the crimson blood staining it, and watched as raindrops started to wash her hand clean again.
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"How could you?!" Blanc screamed, trying to tear himself out of the hands of Tourterelle and Citrouille as they stoically held him back from dashing to Noir's side. "How could you?!"
Soir handed the folded paper to Catalysseur, doing her best to hide her shaking hands and blinking back the wetness in her eyes. She was visibly battling herself to not look back at the girl—her child—who she had just stabbed. Blanc saw it. He couldn't understand. The rebellion was important, of course—it was everything—but not at the cost of Noir's life. Not that. Never was Noir supposed to be stabbed by her own mother over something as trivial as a map.
Soir turned a glare on the white neko. "Things have to be done," she said coldly, hiding the trembling in her voice just barely.
"Killing your own daughter?!" Blanc cried.
"She's not my daughter," Soir said tensely.
"We don't have time for this," Catalysseur said indifferently, slipping the map into his cloak to protect it from the raindrops, which grew heavier and heavier as the moments passed. "Everyone, pull up your hoods, and we'll continue on to the other base."
"Can you handle that, Lune, or would you like to join the traitor?" Citrouille sneered.
Blanc's eyes flashed back to the figure of Noir, stirring feebly on the ground of the street, staring at her bloody hand as the rain washed it. "I can't—you can't—" he choked out.
The others had already begun walking the opposite way down the alley. I'm not leaving you. He had just told her that a few minutes ago. Blanc took a step towards Noir, but a voice stopped him.
"Lune!" Catalysseur had turned and was giving him a frosty glower.
Blanc couldn't help but notice the dagger idly turning in the leader's hand. He swallowed back a sob. Noir wouldn't have long to live. Depending on exactly where the stab wound was, she could live anywhere from one hour to several. But in either case, she wouldn't live unless someone did something drastic. Did Blanc have that conviction? He'd like to think so. He started to take another step towards Noir.
"Chatte Blanc Lune!" Catalysseur called sharply.
Blanc felt himself break inside. There wasn't anything he could do to help her, anyway. He was no healer. Nothing he could do. She was pressing her hands to her stomach again, a grimace plastered on her face. She didn't even seem to be aware of the fact that he was standing only yards away. He took a step backwards, acutely aware this was going to be the last time he saw Noir. Propping herself halfway up, on the soaked cobblestones, clothes, hair, ears and tail bedraggled and eyes closed with the pain of the blood sluggishly seeping through her fingers, pressed to her side. Blanc forced his eyes closed and turned away, running as fast as he could to catch up with the other nekos. It was too much to think about, too much to take in.
You're leaving her… you're leaving her… you're leaving her… The words repeated painfully in his head as he caught up with the others and forced himself to not look back. But with every step, the mantra repeated.
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Noir could distantly hear the footsteps and hope fading away. They weren't going to help her. They had taken the map… the only thing they wanted from her. Rather, they wanted a rebel from her. But she couldn't give them that. She was no rebel. What she was was something different, a thief with some code of honor, a thief with a loyalty to what she believed. She believed in herself, and in Marron, and in Loki and Thor—and for a little bit, she had started to believe in Blanc again. That confidence in him was fading with the footsteps and the hope.
The plan.
Her eyes slid slowly open, and through the pain-filled haze, something made itself clear. Escape was still possible. Escape was necessary now. She pressed her hand even harder to the wound in her side to staunch the bleeding, and she pressed her other hand forcefully to the ground while her feet slipped on the cobblestones.
The plan… the plan… getting to Loki's chambers… Could she do it? She wasn't confident. Getting herself to her feet was a difficult enough challenge as it was.
Her feet were under her now, and she pushed. She swayed slightly, but now she was upright. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again. The streets were empty. She was still in Old Town… a few districts away from where she would need to be to get to the secret entrance to the palace gardens. One wobbly step… then another. She could do this.
She hoped. She needed. It was her only chance.
Note from LoquaciousQuibbler: …Who was I kidding. An extra-long chapter seriously does not help at all, does it? *sigh* Well, I assured you we were getting to more action, didn't I? We got it. Noir just got freaking stabbed. And y'all don't get to find out how that goes down for… a while. I'm going to be perfectly honest, I did not intend to leave for summer break on this chapter… it just so happened that was the place I got to when summer camp drew imminent.
…So, aside from the horrific cliffhanger of doom, we got a bit of Thorron, right? *awkward chuckle*
Okay, yeah, seriously, I can't even write a coherent author's note, you guys… Million apologies. I had a really difficult time writing this chapter, and I'm not sure just how well-written it is (in fact, my keyboard was kinda messing up, so if you catch any errors, please point them out so I can fix them…I was getting irritated with my keyboard and may or may not have properly proofread). In any case, I'd very much appreciate if you let me know. And again, assurances, I am not giving up on this story anytime soon, but it is going on a hiatus for the summer due to summer camp that gives me very little free time. I love you all and look forward to the absolute hating I am going to get from you all for this. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'm a vicious demon who takes pleasure in yanking on your heartstrings.
I love you all, ducklings, and I will see you after my summer camp ends. Till then… please favorite, follow, and review.