Perfidy

Hunger. It was gnawing insistently at Blanc's belly, whining and growling impatiently and sinking its teeth into his abdomen. He had ignored it the past two days—he hadn't taken any of the rebel's food with him when he stormed out of the villa two days ago, and he hadn't left the hideout at all yesterday. He had hoped he would be able to ride out the next four days down here and come out once the rebellion had been cleared up.

But his stomach was passionately disagreeing with that decision. He knew that the odds of being caught by guards of the city were high when everyone was so on edge, tense as a drawn bowstring. How was he to find some form of sustenance when there was such a large risk of being caught?

His stomach had no answer to that quandary, except for more yowling about its emptiness. Groaning quietly in hunger and pain, Blanc left the hideout in search of food.

There was no use trying to steal from the Trade District. That was the quickest way to get caught and thrown in prison. A few streets down, perhaps… behind the inns and pubs, in rubbish heaps and discarded debris. Not for a long time had Blanc been reduced to this level of scavenging, but he certainly had had his fair share of rubbish rummaging in his childhood.

Blanc glanced around himself warily as he slipped around a corner behind a building. It felt like something was burning the back of his neck… he felt like someone was watching him. Like he was being followed. He shuddered slightly at the thought and cast another glance around, scanning nearby alleys and rooftops for anything suspicious. But he discerned nothing out of the ordinary and hesitantly went to the large bin at the back and sighed softly to himself. He plunged his hand in and felt the items inside, identifying each quickly and efficiently as he searched for something of value to him. he winced as broken shards of plate left tiny stinging cuts on his fingers, and gritted his teeth at apple cores and picked-clean bones. The feeling of being watched had not left him. The tingle on the back of his neck had thus far refused to leave.

The bin finally yielded a full loaf of burnt bread—it would be alright if he just picked off the crust on the outside and ate the unburnt innards—and a trio of apples with the skin slightly wrinkled—they weren't exactly pretty, but it wasn't as if they were wholly inedible. With another uneasy glance at his silent surroundings, Blanc sank down onto his haunches and started to eat, cringing slightly at the taste and the quality before bitterly remembering Prince Loki cringing at the food Noir and Marron had brought him the night he stayed with the group. Immediately, Blanc forced himself to be grateful for the food and began eating it with more relish.

He had only one little shriveled apple left when he thought he heard quiet footsteps from around the corner. His muscles tightened in anxiety, and he readied himself to leap to his feet and sprint if anyone came into this alley.

His blue eyes fixed towards the seemingly-deserted street, he didn't hear the hushed noises above him, on the roof of the building his back leaned against. That was, until two figures dropped lithely and quietly just in front of him, sending him staggering upright in shock and panic.

"There you are," Chatte Noir Soir grinned sweetly. "I was wondering where my favorite flea-brain had gotten offf to."

Next to Soir stood one of the other rebels that Blanc recognized, Chatte Gris Tourterelle, and both of the women were looking at him patronizingly.

"Had a nice little holiday?" Tourterelle asked lightly, an edge in her tone.

Blanc's jaw clenched, but he didn't answer.

"Catalysseur missed you," Tourterelle added. "And he thinks you should come back home to us. All of us know how lonely it can be trying to survive on your own." Her eyes flicked down to the burnt bits of bread and discarded apple cores at Blanc's feet.

"Or don't come back," Soir smirked helpfully.

Blanc narrowed his eyes. A retrieval? Catalysseur had sent his second-in-command and another rebel out to find him and bring him back? "Why did Catalysseur send you?" he asked suspiciously. He had thought he would be able to leave the rebellion—a clean break, a termination by mutual agreement, so to speak. Yet here were Soir and Tourterelle inviting him back with not-quite-genuine smiles… at least, Soir's seemed downright sarcastic while Tourterelle's just seemed forced.

"Because we miss you," Soir answered flippantly.

"That's likely," Blanc quipped back.

Soir turned to Tourterelle, beaming. "He doesn't want to come back. You know what Catalysseur said to do if Lune didn't want to come back."

The gray neko pursed her lips and looked to the boy with something akin to indulging patience. "Lune, it really would be better if you simply returned to the base with us. Remember why you joined us, what we are going to do. Your little friend may have died—"

Soir flinched and quickly looked away, and Blanc closed his eyes.

"—but there is still a bright future for us and for all of our kind."

Blanc said nothing, faltering for a moment as he tried to think of what to do. Were they implying that Catalysseur wanted him…. killed… if he didn't rejoin the rebellion? Blast… he should have thought of that before he got so deeply involved… he did know quite a bit of the plans… and besides, perhaps Tourterelle had a point… the rebellion was fighting for something worthwhile, even if Blanc himself would never be able to enjoy it as he once dreamed he would: with Noir and Marron happily at his side. But his life was in danger right now, at this moment. He didn't want to stop the rebellion… he just didn't particularly want to be a part of it. But what other choice did he have right now? Slowly, he gave a nod and relaxed. "Alright," he whispered hoarsely.

His eyes opened, and a touch of irritation swam in his heart at the look of slight disappointment on Soir's face.

"Come, then," she muttered, and she turned to lead the way. Blanc followed, and Tourterelle brought up the rear.

00000

Two guards stood by the corner of a building, straining their ears to hear the footsteps fade down the alley.

"They were rebels," one man whispered to the other. "And they're going back to the base. We shall follow them, will we not?"

The second one nodded solemnly. "Of course, Diederik. We must hurry, but we must be stealthy."

Diederik smiled broadly. "Well, that goes without saying, does it not?" He swiftly but quietly turned the corner and began stalking down the alley in pursuit of the three neko rebels the pair had just been spying on.

His partner glanced over his shoulder before following, drawing up to his friend's side with equal soundlessness.

00000

"You don't have to hold onto my arm," Blanc sighed irritably.

"I was making sure you weren't lagging behind too much," Soir explained coolly, a tight grip on Blanc's arm.

"I wasn't lagging."

"One can never be too sure."

Tourterelle said nothing, but Blanc was certain that she was either finding this amusing or she was rolling her eyes. He just supposed that he should be thankful that she had not been of the same temperament as Soir… it had been obvious that Soir was hoping he would not want to return to the base, and she would much rather silence him forever than bring him back to the villa. At least Tourterelle had tried being reasonable. Still, though, Blanc wasn't sure that Tourterelle's reasoning would be enough in the long run. After all that the rebels had done, he wasn't sure he could trust them… that he could stay with them for another four days and then fight on their side. Then again, he had four days left to make a decision. Four days was plenty enough time to decide and devise a plan of escape if he decided to leave again, and this time he would be more careful not to be found by them again. Maybe he could get arrested, if that was his last resort, if he felt such drastic measures were necessary…

Would being arrested really be better than being forced to participate in the rebellion though? It seemed so wrong that his only options were to fight for the rebels, starve alone in the streets, or be arrested. And living in the streets would likely end quickly in one of the other two options. Truly, was the only sanctuary he had from fighting for the rebellion prison? And if he were arrested, what would become of him if the rebellion were to be quashed? Things could never go back to normal… perhaps he would be either enslaved or hanged, just as all prisoners were.

Could it be that fighting was the better alternative? Then, at least, there was the chance that the rebellion would win, and he could continue his own life. After all, he was going to be alone and unhappy either way. Should he at least do some little part and fight for freedom for the future, fight against cruel fates like Gris's and Noir's?

There didn't seem to be any clear answer. Everything seemed so wrong. Like the corner they were turning now, bringing the rebel base into view. Blanc hung his head slightly and was led inside, neither of the cloaked lookouts by the doors speaking a word to him.

00000

"I can't wait until these neko rubbish get their due," Diederik sneered softly as he and his partner tailed the nekos through the alleys.

The partner fought back the urge to roll his eyes. He peered back over his shoulder, scanning the alleys quickly. Diederik had always been just a bit boastful and more than a bit stubborn and overconfident, but he had become near-insufferable once the problems with the nekos had started. He liked to show off the scar on his wrist where a "huge brown neko warrior, nine feet tall with the muscles of a bilgesnipe and eyes like Surtur himself" had "viciously tried to bite off his hand with razor sharp teeth to rival a vampire's." Everyone knew that it had been a little brown neko girl who had been caught thieving in the Trade District, and some even said it was actually that little neko Thor had brought into the war counsel as a rebel informant, with a quiet disposition and wide innocent eyes over a sweet smile. But still Diederik insisted on his own story, and his partner listened to it without complaint.

"Finally we'll be able to stamp them out like the cockroaches they are," Diederik continued in an undertone.

"Naturally," his partner agreed easily.

"Do you suppose we'll get some kind of award?" Diederik wondered.

The other man looked back over his shoulder with a soft breath of amusement.

"Halr, what do you keep looking back for?" Diederik queried.

"My son Saklauss," Halr explained.

"I know the boy," Diederik nodded.

Halr nodded. Diederik had met Halr's family—his wife, Hylli and his son, Saklauss—in brief passing before. "You know how he likes to follow me when I do street patrols."

"Ah, yes," Diederik murmured in understanding.

"I simply wouldn't want him to be in danger anytime," Halr went on quietly. "Come, we must not lose those nekos."

A small number of minutes later, Halr and Diederik held their breath and watched as a black neko and a white neko stepped through the door of the villa. Meanwhile, three other figures stood by the outside of the door, striking up a conversation in quiet tones that the two Asgardian warriors could not hear. The two men remained concealed between two other buildings further down the street opposite the villa, watching intently for any further action, but it appeared nothing much was happening except for the three nekos standing in a small huddle, talking.

Halr felt grim resolve in his heart, knowing what must come next. Now they knew where the rebel base was, he and Diederik must share the news with the king so that the whole rebellion business could finally be sorted out with a quick raid of the place to get rid of the revolutionaries.

"We should get closer," Diederik whispered.

Halr's eyebrows shot up. "Why in the nine would we want to do that? We have the location! We must go back and report to the Allfather."

Diederik's face of determination did not change, though. "We can gather more information if we creep a bit nearer—look, all the windows are drawn, but one can see shadows behind them. Obviously, there are a great number of nekos in there. We might be able to estimate their numbers, or overhear some important conversations if we only… Halr, the Allfather will be grateful if he gets more information than simply the location. The more intelligence we give him, the better."

Halr shook his head and looked back over his shoulder. "There's too many of them—what if we were to be spotted? We'd be slaughtered, and then the Allfather would never learn the location of the base."

Diederik gave Halr a pitying look. "There are only three of them outside," he gestured to the indicated three figures, "and all their backs are turned away from us. We can sneak around the side and listen at the windows for any plans they are discussing." With this final declaration, Diederik slowly and quietly edged away.

Halr jumped forward to pull him back, but Diederik stepped out of reach, continuing to stalk through the shadows towards the nekos' hideout. Halr had no choice but to watch with bated breath and hope to the Norns that his partner wasn't seen by the savage nekos.

It seemed as if all was proceeding well at first. The three by the door were still talking amongst themselves, and clearly weren't paying any mind to their surroundings—and not at all to the single man darting from shadow to shadow and ducking behind rubbish heaps as he drew closer. There seemed to be a drummer pounding rapidly on the inside of Halr's ribcage. This just might work, so long as Diederik managed to get around the side of the villa before the three noticed the spy in their midst. Halr would be willing to put up with any amount of gloating from Diederik after this if any new and important reconnaissance was gathered from this foray without any harm coming to the pair of them.

Diederik had just started to ease into the space between the villa and the next building when there was a sudden shout.

"Asgardian spy!" The cry did not come from any of the three nekos Halr had been keeping his eye on. It came instead from the unobserved rooftop of the villa, where a figure was jumping to its feet from a stealthy crouch, sounding the alarm at the sight of Diederik.

In a flash, Diederik was making a run for it back towards Halr and his hiding place.

The three nekos whipped around immediately and leaped after the guard, daggers drawn.

Diederik's panicked eyes met Halr's for a fleeting second, and then he fell as a neko flung a blade, which hit the back of Halr's partner's armor, not piercing the protection but hitting him hard enough to send him stumbling.

Halr knew from experience that Diederik was a fast runner, and he was able to recover quickly from a fall and regain ground quickly. But then again, there had never been a trio of nekos that pounced the very moment he started to tip forward. His helmet was torn off, his hair grabbed and his head yanked back to expose his throat to a knife that a neko hand held.

Halr had to fight himself to not launch himself forward and stop this deadly outcome… but he was the only one who could tell the Allfather where the rebel base was, the only one who could make sure there was a foreseeable end to this madness. He began to turn away to get back to the palace without being seen.

"Halr, help m-!" Diederik's horror-struck voice was cut off before he could finish.

Halr cursed to himself and began running.

"He called for help! There's another one!" a voice snarled.

"There! The alley!"

"Someone tell Catalysseur what's happened! I'll stop him!"

And then there were fast, light footsteps dashing after Halr, and Halr knew only one thing: he had to be the one to survive this. Could he outrun this neko? The relentless steps behind him suggested that he couldn't.

He pushed harder, but still he thought that the neko was drawing closer with every moment. They had run several streets by now, but still his pursuer was showing no signs of stopping. He just began to think to himself that there was only one way for this to end, and that wasn't in flight. It was in fight.

Halr stopped to turn to confront his adversary, but before he had even come to a full stop, a weight rammed into him, tackling him to the cobblestones.

Halr was half-stunned for a second, surprised by the sparks that had ignited when his gauntlets skidded against the stones beneath him. He was on his stomach. Blast. The weight was still on his back, and there was heavy breathing from his attacker. Halr felt his helmet yanked off of his head.

In a single instant, several thoughts travelled through Halr's mind. If he did not react right now, he would die. That meant that the Allfather would never be told of the location of the rebel base. Then the rebels would be able to launch their attack at their leisure, killing and harming Asgardian citizens as they pleased. Then an image of his wife, Hylli, and his son, Saklauss, filled his mind, and he spun into motion.

He rolled and ducked his head. There was a metallic sound as the dagger that been headed for his throat instead hit the cobblestones.

The neko—Halr got an impression of gray hair and steel-colored eyes—had been thrown off Halr's back when he rolled, but the neko jumped to his feet quickly, not wasting any time as he lunged towards Halr's throat again.

Halr, now on his back, brought his hand up just in time, catching the blade on his metal gauntlet and batting the sharp edge away from his neck. A stinging sensation ignited on the underside of his chin, where a small gash had opened up in the moment when Halr's gauntlet was able to save his throat and push the knife away, but the edge had still caught him. He ignored the pain and tightened his other hand into a fist, swinging it into the nekos' chest as Halr jumped to his feet. The neko stumbled back, pain written on his feline features and the hand not holding his knife pressing against his chest.

Halr took the moment of weakness to draw his short sword from its sheath and advanced to slice the weapon down over the rebel's abdomen. He managed to skip out of the way before the sword made contact, though, and Halr reevaluated the enemy—much faster than him—he had to catch him off guard.

The neko darted forward before Halr was prepared, stabbing towards his neck once more. More as pure panicked reflex than anything else, Halr flung up his sword to block the knife, and he felt it dig into something. There was a brief pain on his cheek, but then the knife fell.

The neko drew back, looking down at his hand in what seemed revulsion, horror, and fascination. Halr saw that his sword had not blocked the nekos' blade. Instead it had made contact with the handle, and had cut offf three of the neko's fingers. The rebel and the soldier's eyes met. The neko looked shocked, as if he were about to accuse Halr of cutting off his fingers, more like a friend would look at another who had done something shockingly offensive. In fact, his eyes didn't look as cold and steely as before, either. Instead, they looked like the soft cool gray of a dove's wing.

Suddenly Halr realized that the neko wasn't male. She was female. Her lips still looked as if they were poised to scold him for shearing off her fingers and making her drop her dagger. Halr didn't want to hear her voice, whatever it sounded like, and he stabbed her through the heart, feeling sick as the body dropped.

00000

Inside the villa, Blanc sat across from Chatte Rouge Catalysseur, both of them looking at each other with their arms crossed. Already, the rebel leader had asked Blanc if he had had a nice holiday, just as Tourterelle had done. It had probably been a little joke around here since he had been gone, calling his disappearance "taking a holiday." Blanc had curtly replied that he had just needed a little break to get his mind straight so he would be ready for the upcoming battle.

"And are you ready now?" Catalysseur inquired smoothly.

Blanc nodded mutely.

"You know what this rebellion means, don't you?" Catalysseur continued. "It means freedom from oppression after generations of slavery and poverty and unfair persecution. Don't you want to be part of that?"

Another nod." Of course. I will fight." In his mind, he wasn't certain if that was entirely true, but he did know for certain that he could never say that aloud to anyone here. If Noir were still here, he could say it to here. But the reason he was so uncertain was because of her to begin with. And she had not wanted to fight, and she had declared as much. And then she had been killed for speaking out and rebelling against the rebellion. Blanc shivered in fear of meeting such a fate as Noir's.

And then another shiver of shame slid down him at the knowledge that he was far more coward than Noir ever was.

He jumped slightly as the door was flung open by two more rebels, looking panicked and stricken. Catalysseur had not jumped when the door burst open, but he did look surprised and anxious at the expressions on the newcomers' faces.

"What is it?" Catalysseur demanded.

"Asgardian guards-!"

"Killed by the alley-!"

"Another-!"

"Tourterelle went-!"

"Spies-!"

"Quiet!" Catalysseur shouted over the two stuttering informers talking over each other, and immediately they stopped talking. "You," Catalysseur pointed at one of them. "Explain what happened."

By now a small crowd of rebels had gathered around by the doorway, peering in. Soir had slipped past and was now standing by Catalysseur's side as his second-in-command.

The indicated neko—a Marron—took a deep breath to steady himself. "Two guards were prowling the street, and they found our location."

"They must have followed us back," Blanc muttered numbly, recalling the footsteps he had heard just before encountering Soir and Tourterelle.

Soir turned to glare darkly at Blanc, hissing, "Then this is your fault!"

Catalysseur held up a hand, tense, and with a stormy look on his face. "It does not matter whose fault it is." He looked back to the speaker. "Were both the guards subdued?"

Diamant, the white neko next to the Marron's side, answered "We managed to kill one of them as soon as we saw him, but the other one ran off into the alleys, and Tourterelle went after him."

"And she's not back yet," someone else from near the back of the milling crowd around the door called worriedly. "Do you think the guard got away? That Tourterelle couldn't catch him?"

Murmurs of nervousness swept through the numbers, asking if their location was given away and if soon Asgardian warriors would be bearing down upon them—they didn't have anywhere else to go, and hardly any time to get things together besides.

Catalysseur let out a low feral hiss from the back of his throat, and he said quietly, "What is done is done." He raised his voice and spoke to all the rebels gathered: "The Asgardian king may well soon know our location. We must strike whilst they are still off guard, before they can rally their forces. We make our move today. Prepare to attack."

00000

In the throne room, Odin sat with a frown on his face, deep in thought.

This morning, once again, the princes had been reportedly seen with the nekos training.

He knew the young women made his sons happy. They may have eve, he thought, brought Thor and Loki closer together as well: they certainly had not spent so much time together in the past before this whole neko business. Would the brothers remain as close as they were now once Chatte Noir and Chatte Marron were gone? Did it truly matter either way?

The doors of the throne room were suddenly flung open, and in hurried three figures, one considerably ahead of the other two. In the lead was a guard missing his helmet, and blood on one side of his head, seeming to come from a cut on his cheek, and more blood trickling down his neck from a cut on his chin. The look in the man's eyes was one of determination and, conversely, anxiety. Behind this man trailed two other guards (those that stood watch at the entrance to the throne room and let in visitors. They looked harried and slightly confused, but equally worried.

Odin straightened and looked over the situation with a critical eye, hiding the alarm he felt at the sight. "What has happened?" he asked in a clipped voice.

The panicked guard dropped to one knee and began to explain in a slightly shaking but still strong voice. "My name is Halr. My partner Diederik and I spotted a group of three nekos, and we were able to follow them back to their base. Diederik was killed, but I managed to come to relay the information I gathered."

"The location of the rebel base?" Odin repeated, taken aback.

"Yes. But I was spotted," Halr confessed.

The king quickly assembled his thoughts, processing the new knowledge. "Then their leader will have been told that their location is compromised."

Halr dipped his head somberly, apologetically.

"Chatte Rouge Catalysseur will know that we would make our move as quickly as possible… and he is not one to wait for an attack to come to him. His forces will be rallying themselves for their invasion of the palace as we speak."

"I am sorry, my king," Halr said quietly.

Odin shook his head. "You have done well in surviving to bring me this news, and in discovering their hideout. Go to the healers, and have them make sure you are fit for battle." His eye focused on the other two guards. "Tell our troops to ready themselves. Tell them to send fifty men to the rebels' base… the rest will have to remain here to guard the palace and surrounding streets. Send messengers to warn the civilians to be prepared—barricade their homes and remain inside lest they be harmed for what comes next. Prepare for attack."

Note from LoquaciousQuibbler: Whew worked really hard on this and was able to finish it tonight lol… thought I wouldn't have it done for a couple of days. Once again spell-check was acting a little weird, so let me know if you spot anything, and I'll try to fix it ;)

So… heheh… best cures for writer's block ever:

Write a poem about writer's block. I wrote one, and I'm going to post it on my fictionpress account with my other random and depressing poems lol. Check it out when you get the chance.

Force oneself to write every day. I've heard other authors do this and it works, so I tried it… and then I posted two chapters today lol. I think the facts speak for themselves.

Kill people. Seriously. Make sure they're fictional (please don't kill real people and then say LoquaciousQuibbler told you to do it…), and they don't have to be main characters… but I was like… alright we're getting into the leadup for the climax. Time for a little killing of minor characters. ^_^

So, I hope you all enjoyed. Let me know in the reviews? Love you guys! Please favorite, follow, and review!