Note from LoquaciousQuibbler: Okay, no excuses, just updates. I'm 20. I'm in a Short Story Writing class this semester, and it has been absolutely amazing, and I hope that at some point I will have stories from that class published (I will definitely tell you guys if this happens).

Um… wow I thought I had more to say about myself. I guess I don't. But I do have things to say about you guys. Thank you all so much for the love and support. The reviews, you guys, the reviews! So many, so lovely, so amazing! Particularly I have a note for my guest reviewer Loki who left a review on October 19 9 (now with the FF username YouMewlingQuim0602), and left a proposal for a continuation of Banditry into a post-Thanos world… it's a really wonderful snippet and the rest of you should read it if you feel so inclined, in the reviews left on Chapter 41. I don't plan on doing a sequel to Banditry, but I would not dismiss the notion of future oneshots, so perhaps, perhaps.

ANYWAYS. You aren't here for my ramblings. You are here to see what happens to our favorite nekos and princes. Now… Back into the fray.

Animosity

"Back into the fray," Thor hefted his hammer.

"Think they'll be alright?" Marron's eyes followed Noir momentarily as she dashed off to join Loki.

"We know they're both capable fighters," Thor reasoned. "There is more battle to be done."

Marron nodded determinedly, letting her mind focus back on the war raging around them. "We have to push them out of the palace."

"Indeed," Thor agreed.

They flung themselves back into the altercation, Thor swinging his mighty hammer and Marron lithely dodging in and out of the reach of adversaries until they tired and she could knock them down. Marron's cheeks flushed every time a neko shot the word "traitor" at her, but Asgardian warriors nodded at her in appreciation every time she slipped in and tripped a neko facing an Aesir, or an Aesir battered a rebel who had Marron cornered. Thor never strayed far, meeting Marron's glance periodically to check in on each other.

The battle migrated now, away from the hall of the throne room, leaving littered bodies in its wake.

Now the nekos backed away from their adversary's weapons warily, darting glances back behind them as the king's fighters drove them away from the center of the palace, driving them out. Now the group that had invaded the throne room had dropped from scores to dozens—still considerable numbers, but they slowly fell. The battle filled the halls nearer to the entrance of the palace now, in narrow hallways lined with tapestries and heavy velvet curtains and windows that looked out towards the gardens.

Eyes wandered to these windows, and outside the battle raged on. The nekos that had snuck in through the gardens continued out there, still fighting fiercely against the Aesir warriors out there. A few smiles touched the rebels' lips inside the palace as their eyes alighted on the sight, and they seemed reinvigorated by the sight of more of their own kind.

Marron staggered back as a neko launched himself at her, daggers drawn. She met each of his daggers with her own, but her boots skidded back a few inches from the force of the blow.

"I remember you," he hissed.

Marron narrowed her eyes and ducked her head as he attempted to head-butt her.

"You were one of the ones that that little sniveling Blanc Lune brought in from the palace," he accused.

Marron swung the pommel of her dagger towards his head, but he blocked her attack with his forearm.

Marron glared and slammed her boot into the rebel's stomach, sending him sprawling on the floor.

Something shattered a little ways down the hall. One of the rebels had put a shoulder through a window. The glass tinkled to the floor, leaving a person-sized hole in the pane. The neko leaped out of the palace and into the gardens, racing towards the battle out there. The one that Marron had knocked to the floor suddenly scrambled towards the window and flung himself out as well. A few others took the moment of distraction to dash off down the palace halls in all directions, scattering, while a few more others escaped out into the gardens. Without hesitating, a few Aesir warriors followed the rebels out the hole in the window to the gardens, while others divided themselves and split up to fan out and find those who ran down the palace halls.

Marron darted to the window and stared out, raking the battle out there for the one that she had been fighting. She was met with a much more startling sight.

Blanc was out there, ducked out of sight of most of the battle behind a pillar. As she watched, he left his hiding spot momentarily to knock an Aesir to the ground before slipping back to his hiding spot. The Asgardian warrior tried to get off his hands and knees and back to his feet when another neko fell on him, slashing at the back of his neck. Blanc looked on from his hiding spot without a change in his expression.

Something like pain and anger wrenched in the pit of Marron's stomach, and she could feel a growl bubbling up her throat. He had come; he still fought with the rebels after all that had happened. He still fought with them… even though, even amongst them, he stood alone. He'd betrayed Marron and Noir, and for what? To be shunned anyway. The imbecile. The traitor. The coward.

"Marron," Thor stepped up to her side, and Marron's eyes flashed up to him. "I thought we would help chase down those that escaped into the palace."

She swallowed. "Thor," she said in a voice choked with something dark. "Blanc is out there."

Thor's gaze moved to the gardens and looked over the unfamiliar faces with unknown nekos. Of course, he didn't know Blanc, but knew of him and knew his significance. "Alright," was all he said, with a nod of understanding.

That was all Marron needed. With that, she threw herself out the window and raced across the grass and cobblestone. Thor was behind her. She could feel him there, willing to follow her unquestioningly. She fought, she knew, with the people that truly mattered.

00000

Blanc's mouth was dry as he clutched the dagger he had yet to truly have courage to put to use. It was easier to simply help out his fellow rebels by merely incapacitating the Aesir and letting the others do all the distasteful job of having to look in the eyes of the Aesir as they finished them. It was harder than he thought it would be. Of course he had killed before. Aesir and nekos alike. But it had always been self- defense, always for something that had clear purpose. At this point, the only reason Blanc was here was to kill a prince. But he had yet to see the prince's smug face here, in the gardens.

He tensed as he heard quick footsteps behind him. Too quick for an Aesir warrior? But—

As he started to turn, a weight hit his side, and he stumbled, nearly falling.

"You bloody coward."

Blanc felt like he'd just fallen in cold water. He jumped back and stared. Marron, there, panting half-crouched before him in Aesir armor. Behind her, the elder prince in his red cape, directing a glare at Blanc as if he hated Blanc… personally, and not just for his being a neko. Not the prince he'd so wanted to see, but…

"Go help the rest of the Aesir, Thor. I've got this handled." Marron's eyes remained fixed on Blanc as she spoke, and Blanc slowed his breathing as he fingered the handle of the dagger in his hands, the one he hadn't had the courage to use yet. He glared back at the distrustful frown of the elder prince.

"I'll be near," the prince said, and he turned his back, running towards the main bulk of the battle in the center of the garden.

"Princes," Blanc spat. "I've had enough of Asgard's princes." He hefted the dagger he held and drew back his arm to throw towards the retreating prince's back.

"Coward!" Marron shrieked, and she threw herself at her once-friend, yanking his arm with one hand as she crashed her other elbow into his ribs. "I've had enough of the rebels."

The breath rushed out of Blanc's lungs with a grunt, and he lost his grip on his dagger. He resisted the urge to double over, knowing that if he did, the next blow would be Marron's knee to his face. "Better a rebel than an Aesir pet," he wheezed out with a weak sneer.

"Pet?" Marron scoffed. Her fists clenched, guard up as she decided how to next strike. "Yes, call me a pet if you like. But at least I'm part of a family."

"You abandoned your family when you crawled out that window like a spider and slunk off to the royals." Blanc glared. She was clearly calculating, eyes scanning him as she decided her next move. He could strike first. But this was Marron… she had been like a sister. But then… she had abandoned him and Noir… abandoned them in that villa. He feinted towards her right side, then punched at her left.

Marron twisted at the last moment, and his hand barely glanced off her. "That place was nothing but a mockery of family. The entire rebellion is." She kicked high, but Blanc grabbed her boot before it could connect with his chin, and with a quick wrench, she was on the ground.

Barely thinking, Blanc snatched his dagger up again. "A mockery of family… the only family you had was in that villa. Noir and me." He nearly choked on her name when he said it. Noir, Noir. What would she say if she could see them now?

Marron climbed to her feet as Blanc turned the dagger in his hands agitatedly. "The rebellion has torn our family apart. Even if it ended, I'm not sure we could be the family we were before. The bond between the three of us can't go back to how it was."

The three of them… Blanc, Marron, Noir. Of course it couldn't go back to how it was before. There were only the two of them here now. But…Something struck Blanc then. Marron hadn't been there when Soir stabbed Noir. She hadn't seen what had happened… "You don't even know."

Marron advanced without replying, launching an attack of flying elbows and fists as Blanc blocked each with his forearms. Her blows weren't very strong. She had always been the weakest of their group, always the follower, always the tag-along. She couldn't hope to be anything without him and Noir… and Now…

"You don't even know!" Blanc shouted.

"I know all that I need to," Marron puffed out as she slipped through Blanc's guard and landed an elbow on his collarbone. If she'd been just a little stronger, she might have broken it.

"No." Blanc shoved her shoulders roughly, and she nearly fell back. "You don't know because you've been hiding in your pretty palace with the pretty princes instead of caring."

There was a hint of confusion in Marron's eyes now, and it only made Blanc angrier. Of course she didn't know, of course she didn't care. She had run away, she had abandoned them, the little follower…

Blanc ground out the words. "Noir died. Days ago,"

Marron blinked, uncomprehending on her face. She shook her head slowly. Stupid girl, stupid girl, she didn't even understand… Her mouth opened, as if she had something to say that could change what had happened.

He was so angry now, he shook. Damn her and her lack of caring about their family. He couldn't even think, he just thought of Noir on the ground in that street in that rain, that blood pouring from between those fingers…

Blanc's hand shot out with nothing but fury in his mind, and his dagger made contact with Marron's stomach. He could see it. The blade sinking there, below her ribs, Marron falling to the ground, that same look on her face as Noir had had. She'd die. And Blanc would not help her.

The blade did not pierce her chain mail.

It slid across the mail and sliced through the leather belt around her waist, and the belt and sword fell to the grass. But Marron stepped back, unscathed. Her fingers went to her stomach, tracing the line that the dagger had almost cut across her body.

Blanc blink, and the red cleared from his vision. He breathed in sharply, as if breaking the surface of deep waters, and his eyes met Marron's. He saw his own shock reflected there in her eyes. Had he just… tried to kill her? In his mind's eye, there suddenly swam a picture of him, alone, pushing a raft with a brown cloak, aflame, out to sea. He shuddered suddenly, and felt he would be sick. "Marron—"

"Blanc…" Her voice was tainted with the sound of betrayal, but—still that confusion.

What in bloody Helheim was he doing here? This was Marron… this was not her fault… this was… not what he was here for. He had not come to face Marron, to see what had become of his life and his family. This was what had become of him. What he'd been driven to. He still felt like he was going to be sick. He still shivered with sickness at himself. He turned… he fled.

00000

"Blanc!" Marron shouted, taking a step after him. She paused, and she snatched up her sword from its sheath on the ground before chasing after him. He had already made it halfway to the garden wall by the time she had started to give chase in earnest. The blasted chain mail weighed too much, it was slowing her down.

Nobody stopped them, nobody was near. The sounds of battle were farther away. She had to catch him. He didn't even know Noir still lived. He'd tried to kill Thor, he'd tried to kill her, even… he must be half-mad. He didn't even know Noir still lived. Perhaps—if he knew—he'd stop.

"Blanc!" He had already climbed to the top of the wall and disappeared over it by the time she reached the bottom. She muttered a curse to herself and debated a moment before she began to clamber after. With the sword, it was awkward, but it could be done. "You stupid boy," she said through her teeth.

The wall had plenty of handholds between the cracks in the stones and on the vines that grew over the wall. Bloody Helheim, it was hard to climb with the mail weighing her down. She reached the top of the wall and stared over. A sigh of exasperation when she saw Blanc dashing toward the city. Marron glanced back over her shoulder. The battle was still migrating, towards the entrance of the gardens, where the Aesir warriors would try to get the rebels to the streets. Thor was nowhere in sight. Marron bit her lip. She… she had to catch up to Blanc and tell him. She'd never catch him like this.

With a muttered curse, she shrugged her hauberk over her head and tossed it back down into the garden below. She shivered slightly at the breeze atop the wall pressing her simple cotton shirt to her hot skin. There. She felt lighter… like she might have a chance. With that, she leaped down the other side after Blanc, and, sword in hand, gave chase.

00000

Soir groaned quietly as she woke. The sound echoed strangely, and she frowned to herself before she even managed to open her eyes. The palace.

Her eyes snapped open then as she came back to herself, to what had happened. She sat alone. There were abandoned daggers littering the hallway, and the occasional unconscious figure—unconscious or dead, it didn't matter. Soir was awake, Soir was alive.

That was Etoile's—no, Voleuse's mistake.

She snarled as she pushed to her feet, looking around. She wasn't far from the throne room. She had hardly gotten past the point at which the battle had started. Was it over? It couldn't be. She had come to lead their rebellion to victory. She was supposed to be at the forefront, not put down by a feeble girl before the battle had been won.

She didn't know how the battle fared… she would just have to find out, wouldn't she? She took up a blade from the ground and checked its balance.

Now to find her rebels. To rejoin the fight. To conquer. To overthrow. To win. NO matter who stood in her way.

Least of all, Chatte Noir Voleuse. Or any of her friends.