Note from LoquaciousQuibbler: Hello, my dearest, darling ducklings! Okay, so now I'm going to say that I'm finally back. I didn't want to give an author's note last chapter announcing I'm back because it was only a transitional chapter. At last, we are reaching the climactic battle that I so cruelly made you wait over a year for. So before we get into that, I'm going to leave you guys an extra-long author's note full of excuses and explanations and apologies, etc. You may go ahead and skip it to get to the story, and I won't blame you, but I'm guessing some of you may be vaguely curious to hear my ever-ongoing ramblings.
Okay, I'm 19 now, and I basically dropped off the face of fan fiction in the middle of my senior year of high school due to stress and being busy, all kinds of great things like that. I've had my first semester of college, and I'm getting ready for my second one after this summer. As for now, I'm working a summer job as a tutor at a summer camp, and I've finally got some semblance of free time, and I've got itchy fingers again to start working on fan fiction. I never wanted to quit writing this story. It's actually shocking to me that I managed to not update this story for a year. It's never been far from my mind, but I just never seemed to have the time. Thank you all so much who are still with me, those who have reviewed over my long absence and hoped and waited for me to come back and finish the story. I love you all so much, and I'm glad I can finally fulfill your hopes. We're literally only reviews away from reaching 500, and you guys have totally blown me away with that fact. Loki's green handkerchiefs are still being flung from your computer/phone/tablet screens to anyone who leaves a review.
Important note: I have still not seen Avengers: Infinity Wars, so, although I've already been exposed to spoilers by a monster who viciously, wickedly, maliciously, accidentally spilled it over the phone (and promptly was horrified to realize that he had spoiled the ending of Avengers: Infinity Wars to me, of all people), I am incapable of discussing said movie, and would really appreciate no further spoilers about it.
Anywho, I will just about shut my trap now. I did recently start a Twitter account for anyone who is interested in hearing further random ramblings and tidbits from me. On Twitter, I am OnlyPinfeathers (because LoquaciousQuibbler is too long and Loquasity was already taken, to my chagrin). Alright, alright, onward to the story, my dears.
Enmity
The Breaths taken by the warriors lining the hall outside the throne room were quiet and deep, tense but controlled. Fingers were wrapped around the handles of weapons, be they hammers, swords, daggers, maces, or spears. Shields, too, were borne by some. Some hands clutched tighter than others—younger warriors, nervous with anticipation, held their weapons and shields with near-white knuckles until they remembered their training and shook out their hands to loosen them. Those more seasoned had learned already to never grip a hilt too hard and stood still and cool. The only trembles were of excitement.
Amidst the waiting warriors stood two princes and two nekos. All four of them were battle-hardened in their own ways, and their hands remained relaxed on their weaponry. The brothers had trained from a young age to fight, and had adventured to other realms where blood had been spilt. The young women had only the barest formal training from their time at the palace, but had the experience of run-ins with guards and rival thieves and squatters, and did not fear for themselves. Nevertheless, the fear in their guts was undeniable. It was fear for each other that quietly coiled in their lower bellies, fear for brothers and sisters and friends and loves. . But fear nonetheless.
There was no reason to fear… the plan was foolproof. The nekos would have no idea that the Aesir knew of the secret entrances the rebels would be infiltrating. The nekos would expect to be catching the inside of the palace unawares, but would instead be met by troops of warriors, who would concentrate efforts on forcing the invaders out of the palace, so the majority of the fighting could take place outside, driving the rebels away from their goal and into the open, where they could be vanquished. Any surrenderers were to be left alive. It was doubtful that the rebels would grant the same courtesy to their enemies.
The warriors tensed at the sound of movement within the throne room, a grating as a loose slab was removed from the floor, and nekos stealthily spilled into the room. The warriors remained hidden outside, ready to spring their attack on the unsuspecting rebels. There were quiet voices, concerned and surprised by the silence and emptiness within the throne room. Then the nekos entered the hall…. And the first rings of battle exploded into the air.
If anything was to be said for the rebels, it was that they adapted quickly. They were surprised for only moments before they were fighting back readily, weaving through Aesir warriors with knives drawn and cries of war. Dozens upon dozens of black-clad nekos had arrived, and the hallway was pandemonium within moments.
The plan of the princes and the girls was unspoken: stay together as much as possible. Don't lose each other in the heat of battle. Noir and Marron automatically twisted to stand back to back with each other as they met their first attackers.
"Well," Noir said to Marron over her shoulder as she blocked the stab of a blade-wielding male neko, "This is a little different than our usual little skirmishes."
Marron dodged a fist from her own female attacker and returned it with a high kick. "Just a bit."
"What's a normal skirmish for you look like?" Thor inquired as he swung his hammer at a neko—who unfortunately ducked the blow lithely and came up with his dagger in hand, swinging it towards the older prince's face. Marron reached over just in time to parry the blade with her own, and Thor took the opportunity to drive a fist into the neko's gut, doubling him over.
"Usually?" Noir replied to Thor's question as she jumped over a sweeping foot meant to take her feet out from under her. "It's a couple of guards in the street or— Thank you, Loki—" the younger prince had yanked her out of the way of a flying knife headed toward her thigh.
"Or rival thieves," Marron finished Noir's sentence for her.
"Or prison guards when you break someone out of the stockades," Loki added helpfully as he drove a rebel to his knees. "Surrender?" he asked the subdued.
"Never!" the rebel threw himself backwards into an acrobatic handspring and was back on his feet in a moment.
Loki sneered and continued the fight.
As each neko was knocked down or driven to their knees, the Aesir offered him or her surrender. None had yet. There was still too much fight in them yet. None of them had yet glimpsed Catalysseur himself—only unfamiliar nekos fighting for the cause, sheer numbers with faces of fury and determination, bared fangs.
"Traitors!" one screeched as she launched herself at Noir. Noir threw her arm up in time to block the arm flailing towards her, but the force with which she collided with her sent her stumbling back, throwing Marron off balance, and all three of them fell to the ground. "How can you fight against our own rights?"
"This fight is pointless!" Noir said firmly and she rolled out from underneath the neko who had tackled her.
Marron was scrabbling for the dagger that had been knocked from her hand during the fall, but another rebel planted his foot firmly on the weapon and glared down wrathfully at her.
"This fight is not pointless," Noir's attacker growled. She was an Oranje, and she sprang towards Noir from a crouched position, hands outstretched. Noir, still on the floor, rolled to her back and brought her knees to her chest. Her assailant's nails dug at Noir's cheeks as she landed on her before Noir kicked her over her head and out of reach. Noir leaped to her feet and touched her bleeding cheek. She realized that Oranje carried no weapon. She had sharpened her nails into claws so she could tear at people's exposed flesh.
Marron threw herself out of the way of the kick aimed at her from the neko that stood on the blade of her knife, and she launched herself to her feet hurriedly to face him.
"Traitor," he spat at her and attacked, rushing her. Marron cartwheeled, flipping out of the way and skidding back to where her dagger lay on the floor, seizing it quickly.
"I'm no traitor," Marron breathed out hard. She met the next attack by spinning out of the way of his next bum rush and tripping him. He went sprawling to the floor, and knocked into the legs of the woman Noir was fighting, knocking her over as well. Noir glanced at Marron and grinned in appreciation.
"Surrender?" Noir and Marron asked the two fallen in unison.
"Never," they both snarled and disappeared into the flurry of battle, leaving Noir and Marron alone. Thor was at their side in moments again, a savage smile on his face.
"They aren't surrendering," Noir cried bitterly.
"Knock them out, if you can," Thor advised. "If they refuse to surrender, that's what I've been doing. We're either going to have to knock them out or kill them if they won't surrender, and we know we'd prefer to end this as well as possible."
The girls nodded in agreement.
"Where's Loki?" Noir suddenly asked, looking around.
Loki was a bit further down the hall, back to employing his usual tricks. He was concealed in an alcove, luring rebels near with illusions of warriors. When the rebels happened to get near enough, Loki would reach out and slip them a sleeping spell. He, too, had quickly realized that the only way to stop most of these invaders was to knock them out or kill them. There was too much ferocity and determination in them to allow them to surrender so early on. Perhaps later, when the fight was going more poorly, they'd see that they were bound to lose and would give up the fight.
He readied himself as his illusion of an Aesir warrior backed towards the alcove, appearing to be fearful of the neko stalking towards him. Loki's hands glowed soft green, and he got ready to reach towards the woman, a black neko with a twisted grin on her lips, fixated on his illusion. But then Loki stopped dead at the sight of the woman's face, and his illusion disappeared, leaving her confused.
"Noir?" Loki asked, bewildered.
The neko's eyes snapped to his. They were steely gray eyes, a familiar shade, a familiar shape. "What?" she asked in confusion.
Loki felt stupid for thinking it was Noir—this woman was older, twice Noir's age, but she looked just like Noir… "Blast, you're Chatte Noir Voleuse's mother," he gaped at her.
The woman's eyes flashed in anger and pain. "How did you know my daughter?"
Loki's surprise at his discovery hardened into bitterness and resolve at a flash of memory—his little thief soaking and bloody, half-awake on his bed, whispering what her mother had done to her. "You stabbed her." He lunged forward and hit her with a sharp blow across the face.
"There!" Marron pointed at a flash of green farther down the hall, and Noir's eyes flew to the figure in green locked in battle with another figure in black. "I'm going to fight with him," Noir announced, and she dashed off.
Thor and Marron returned to their own encounters with rebels of their own, attempting to move the battle away from the throne room and out of the palace, as planned.
"Aren't you a prince?" Loki's adversary sniffed in contempt as she backed away from Loki slightly, recovering from his merciless blow as he advanced on her, reaching for a small blade at his belt.
"That I am."
"What the blazes do you know about a little street neko?" she asked. "My daughter died on a cobblestone road, she never knew you."
"Loki!" Noir slid to a stop next to the prince, and had her dagger at the ready as she prepared to assist him as needed. Her eyes met her mother's, and she faltered.
Noir Soir froze at the sight of the young woman standing next to the prince, dressed in Aesir chain mail with bloody scratches down her cheeks.
"You," Noir whispered.
"You," Soir whispered back. She looked bewildered for a moment, the anger gone from her face and instead replaced by pure confusion, and then a hint of hope. "But you're dead."
Noir's eyes narrowed, and she shook her head.
Soir's eyes flicked between the prince and her daughter, attempting to fit together the pieces coming together in her mind. "How?"
"Those who truly care about her saved her," Loki input, sidestepping closer to his little neko so they could better fight in unison.
"Those who truly care about her? An Aesir prince?" The mother let out a quiet scoff of disbelief, but then saw the solemn look in Noir's eyes, the cool determination and the slight lean in her body towards the prince beside her. "You're actually fighting on the side of the Allfather?"
"I'm fighting on the side of my real friends and real family, the ones who saved me when the one who should have protected me stuck a knife in my side," Noir bit out. "You'd be better off surrendering while you have the chance."
Soir's confusion and hope disappeared like a flickering candle blown out by the merest swish of a cloak, replaced by contempt. "I should have merely killed you when I had the chance."
Loki tensed and backed a step away when Noir's visage morphed into a mask of fury, and she let out a feral hiss.
"You tried your bloody best last time, didn't you, Mother?" the daughter accused, stalking forward.
"That is what one does to their enemies," Soir moved into a defensive stance, wary.
"And daughters?"
"You are not my daughter."
"Then see if you have better luck killing me this time."
Loki quickly backed out of the line of fire as the two women flung themselves at each other, teeth bared in anger.
Noir flew forward, and Soir brought up her dagger, prepared to catch her daughter with it wherever she could, but Noir seized her mother's wrist in her free one and twisted viciously. Soir let out a harsh breath between her teeth, but did not drop her weapon. She hooked a foot behind one of Noir's and swept it out from under her, sending Noir rolling to the floor.
For half a breath, Noir rolled to a stop and rested in a crouch on the golden floor, glaring up at her mother. Soir hurled her dagger at Noir, but Noir dove to her belly, and the blade went over her head and skidded down the hall, lost in the mass of other skirmishing Aesir and nekos. Soir let out a sharp cry of outrage at her near-miss, and she bent to wrench at something secreted away within her boot.
"No!" Noir barked out and snapped her foot out to crack into Soir's wrist. "I've had enough of your daggers!"
Soir yelped and jerked her hand to her chest. Noir was already getting to her feet, and Soir panted as she shook out her numbed hand. Noir waited, ready for Soir's next move.
Loki hung on the perimeter, glancing up and down the hall to watch for anyone readying to interfere with the clash. He himself knew he could not interfere… Noir and her mother needed to have this out. He just hoped that Noir could hold out and come out on top of this altercation. Soir had murder in her eyes.
The two were practically prowling now, sidestepping and circling each other like dire wolves.
"How did you manage to survive, anyway?" Soir asked idly, her nonchalant voice strained over barely-hidden tension. "You should have passed out within the first hour or so."
"I did," Noir replied curtly, her eyes searching for an opening, an opportunity to continue on with this encounter.
Soir's eyes gleamed. "I thought so. Such a wound can hardly have healed in such a short amount of time."
Noir was about to open her mouth to respond when Soir darted forward, and jumped, driving both her feet hard into Noir's side—the side where just over a week ago, a gash, harsh and bloody, had been opened.
Pain exploded from the still-tender spot, and Noir staggered back, a silent scream on her lips as both her hands clutched at her side. She belatedly realized that she was on her knees. Dark spots danced in front of her eyes, and for a split second, she was terrified that she would fall into another coma, that the warm darkness was ready to envelop her again for much, much longer than a mere three days. All because of her damned mother again.
The dark spots disappeared when red streaked her vision as Chatte Noir Soir seized the hair at the back of her daughter's neck and yanked back hard, exposing her throat. With her other hand, she dug into her boot again for that knife. Tears of pain gathered at the corners of Noir's eyes, and her stab wound continued to throb mercilessly below her ribs. So this was how it ended. Just as it should have ended in the street over a week ago. Death at the hand of her mother and a poisoned dagger spilling her blood. "Blast," she choked out in a pained, hoarse whisper.
"This time…" Soir finally withdrew her knife from the sheath in her boot. "I'll cut the throat so there are no mistakes—keep back or she gets her throat cut this very second," she snarled, words directed at someone else.
"Noir!"
The haze of pain lifted minutely at the sound of her familiar name being yelled desperately. Loki. Loki's voice, filled with horror and panic. Get up, get up, get up, her mind immediately began to battle against this outcome at the sound of his voice. No, this would not be how it ended. It could not be. There were people to live for.
She could feel Soir raising her arm, getting ready to bring the dagger down point-first into her throat. A split second before the metal made contact with her neck, Noir's hand flew up, and grabbed Soir's fist clutching the dagger's handle. Soir grunted with effort as she attempted to force the blade down against her daughter's throat, but Noir was holding fast, not allowing Soir's dagger to get any nearer to her. Soir growled, and Noir dug her nails into the back of her mother's hand. Soir's grip was loosening. Noir could feel her hand growing sweaty. She dug her nails in harder, biting her lip in concentration. She was sure that there was noise around them, the clash of battle and perhaps Loki's voice, but all she could hear was her own breathing and that of her mother's, hard panting with effort and anger.
"I won't let you take away what love I've found in my life," Noir breathed out between her teeth.
Soir made a strangled sound in the back of her throat. "You shouldn't have been able to find it outside of your family and your own kind."
"That isn't what's important."
Noir could feel Soir put more pressure down, trying so hard to bury the point of the dagger into Noir's throat. Their hands had grown sweaty and slick. Soir's hand slipped. The dagger fell from Soir's grip, and Noir exploded to her feet as she seized the dagger from the floor. She spun and slammed her shoulder into her mother's stomach, knocking the wind out of her, and Soir stumbled back against a wall.
Noir shot forward, dagger in hand, and pressed the tip against Soir's abdomen, just below her ribs.
Soir gasped heavily for breath, a hand pressed to her stomach, and her eyes fixed on the dagger point resting against her body. Defeat was in the set of her mouth and hid in the shadows beneath her eyes. "Go ahead, do it," she spat. Her voice sounded ragged, as if hatred and spite had worn it away.
Noir's fingers tightened on the handle. She knew she had been a moment from burying the weapon to the hilt in her mother's flesh. But… her hand stayed where it was as she searched Soir's face. This woman had been good to her when she was young. She had raised her and given her the best that she could while Noir and her brother were on the plantation. But things had changed since then. This woman was not the one she had known as a child. But surely the fact that she had changed was not enough reason to kill her. She stiffened as she felt a presence behind her.
"Noir?" Loki murmured.
"I don't know that I can—" Noir broke off, looking into her mother's eyes. She looked back venomously, accusatorily. Soir would kill her in a heartbeat if given the chance. All she cared about was her cause, and believing in her own kind. Anything else was unacceptable to her.
"You have the right," Loki pointed out softly.
Noir took a deep breath.
"Do it," Soir ground out.
Noir slowly shook her head. "I can't sink to your level. You don't see me as family, and you're not the family that matters to me. But that's no reason to do to you what you would do to me."
"Kill me! There's no other way to get me to stop! You will not see the end of me until you kill me!" Soir snarled.
Noir pursed her lips and bitterly shook her head. She flipped the dagger and knocked the handle against Soir's temple.
Her mother's eyes rolled back, and she crumpled to the floor.
Noir let out a shaky breath and turned to look at Loki. He was looking down at the unconscious form of Noir's mother. "I couldn't do that," she confided softly. Loki's brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Noir cut him off. "It's not because she's my mother," she added. "It's just that I couldn't be one of them."
Loki slowly nodded, not sure if he could quite understand. "I might have done it," he confessed.
Noir smiled slightly. "I've seen enough unfair executions to think that I'm not qualified to judge someone's guilt."
Loki shook his head slightly. "We have more to do." The two glanced around. The battle had moved as the mother and daughter had faced each other. The sounds of battle were further off now, closer to the palace's entrance. "Is your side-?"
"I'm fine to keep fighting," Noir dismissed briskly, touching a hand to her old stab wound and inhaling deeply. The scratches on her cheeks and her side still throbbed slightly, but she knew she could push through it. She would push through it.
"Then onward we go," Loki cracked the knuckles on one hand and drew out his dagger again. "Back into the fray."