Injury
Nekos and Aesir exchanged blows in the streets, hissing, shouting, yelling, lunging, leaping, falling… some rising, some not. It had begun with a group of nekos marching through the street up to the place the gates to the palace had once stood. Across the gaping emptiness where the gates had been, ranks of Aesir stood ready. There hadn't been a single word of peace said, no attempts at surrender or compromise.
The red neko at the forefront of the band of nekos had said one word. "Attack."
And they did, both sides not wasting a single moment before weapons flashed in the air.
Saklauss crouched in a cluster of thick bushes against a building on the main street, watching with quiet, hitching breaths. Both fascination and fear gripped him as he watched events unfold before him as he hid. His father had been there in the ranks of warriors guarding the entrance to the palace, and Saklauss had grinned with pride to see him there. The beginning of the battle had been exciting. He'd had to struggle to not cheer encouragements to the Aesir and boo the nekos who attacked them. But he knew he had to stay quiet. He couldn't be caught. His father would be so upset with him if he found out he had snuck out of the house to watch. But he couldn't help it. It was so exciting.
But then, he had seen how unfair it seemed to be. At one point, he'd seen three of the king's men corner a neko against a building, and she had had no chance to defend herself. She was outmatched, and Saklauss had seen the fury in her eyes change to panic as three blades swung at her from all directions. Saklauss closed his eyes and turned away from that particular match to see another… an Aesir warrior fighting a neko one on one, man to man as a fight should be. It was something amazing to see, the power of the Asgardian warrior against the street thief's lithe speed. But then two more nekos had fallen upon the gold-armored figure from a rooftop, tackling him to the ground, and the man disappeared under a mass of black cloaks and daggers. Saklauss swallowed.
His father had disappeared somewhere in the battle, out of sight of his son. Saklauss shifted in his bush, trying not to rustle it. The look in the eyes of the nekos was frightening… and he had seen the way that warrior had gone down under the onslaught of their rage. He did not want to be found. He would wait here until the battle ended, when it was safe, and he'd go home.
But the battle did not end quickly, as Saklauss had thought it would. More fighting spilled out of the entrance of the palace. Nekos being pushed back, chased as they battled the guards. His interest piqued again when he saw Prince Loki and a neko emerge, fighting side by side. The neko lady wore chain mail, not the same kind of cloth and leather the rest of the nekos wore. And she launched her attacks at the other nekos, not at the Aesir, and she stayed by Prince Loki's side.
He bit his lip, recalling. The prince had said he had a lady friend, not Lady Marron, but some other lady, but that Prince Loki did not court her. Perhaps this neko lady was her. Yes, it must be, for they did not part from each other's side as they waded into the battle.
But even that did not keep Saklauss's attention on the glory of battle, because soon the fighting dispersed out into side streets, spreading out instead of one bunch before the gates. The battle must be covering whole blocks of the city by now, and still more figures trickled out of the palace entrance. So many. It did not seem it would end.
The scent of blood wafted through the air, making Saklauss's dry mouth taste like a clot. He couldn't swallow, and his legs burned from his crouching position. He wanted to go home, he didn't want to hear any more of the clanging of metal and the cursing of the angry and injured. But he could not be discovered.
Suddenly, there was a crashing, crunching sound as something rattle his bush. Saklauss startled and leaped to his feet, eyes wide. "Don't-!"
A figure in black dashed past, with white hair and anguished blue eyes. He didn't even glance at Saklauss, but Saklauss's heart had already thrown itself into a gallop, and before he knew what he was doing, his feet flew over the cobblestones. He wanted so badly to be away from this war zone, away, away, away from the scent of blood and the sight of the hatred spilling from wounds to run between the cracks in the street.
There was suddenly a shout behind him, and the sound of quick footsteps. No! He'd been seen, and someone was after him. He barely managed to avoid running into anyone as he dashed away, hoping nobody else could hear the whimpers he let out with each breath. Twisting, turning, running farther and farther. There were fewer people around him now, then no people, no fighting, nobody, only the occasional unconscious or dead. Perhaps this wasn't a good idea, there was nobody around him who could help if his pursuer still chased him. He couldn't hear any footsteps over the pounding of his heart. His breath had vanished.
He started to glance back, desperate for some hope that he was actually alone. He ran into something—someone—and the next moment, someone had tossed him to the ground roughly. His breath had not come back yet. He wished he could breathe. He looked up into the face of a neko, a grown-up neko lady, with black hair and gray eyes and an expression that made Saklauss's throat nearly close.
She looked like she was filled with wrath and had just found the perfect target for it. A smile split her lips, and Saklauss thought for the first time that nekos did look scary, with those long canines and those slit pupil eyes. "Hello, little boy. Were you trying to go home? Shall I help you?"
"Saklauss!" A girl carrying a sword flew forward, finally catching up with her quarry.
"Lady Marron?" he gaped from the familiar face to the unfamiliar one.
The angry one laughed and took a step towards Saklauss. "Arable, so nice to see you. You know this boy? So much the better."
A dagger seemed to materialize in her hand, and she drew back her arm slightly. Saklauss barely registered what she planned to do before her dagger was coming towards him. No, no, his father would be so upset—his mother—this would hurt-
A ringing sound resonated through the air, and the dagger fell to the ground as the flat of Lady Marron's sword hit the other woman's wrist before it got too far.
"Saklauss, run." Lady Marron met his eyes only for a moment before she faced the other lady again.
Saklauss slowly started to back away, his feet feeling numb. This entire thing… it was so different from just watching the prison from afar, different even from sneaking into the prison with Prince Loki. This was real, real danger, and Lady Marron had rescued him from it. "Th-thank you, Lady Marron."
"Go now," Lady Marron repeated as the other woman snatched up her dagger again. Both their eyes narrowed at each other.
Saklauss had just enough time to recognize that the one with the dagger was about to take aim and throw the dagger at him this time, but then Lady Marron was lunging forward, sword singing through the air to preempt the move.
"Thank you, Lady Marron!" he repeated breathlessly as he turned and zigzagged away, finally going home, lost in the shock of what had almost happened.
He hardly noticed as he passed the mouth of an alleyway where a boy in a black cloak leaned, barely breathing for fear.
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Blanc closed his eyes as the little boy ran past. He ground his teeth, hissing out a puff of air as he cursed himself.
Marron fought Soir only around the corner, their voices and gasps of effort audible to him even though he hid out of sight. Why had she chased him? She couldn't have just left well enough alone? She couldn't have just stayed with the rest of the battle? No, now she had gotten herself into this damn situation… fighting Soir one on one…
Blanc knew better… Soir was mad. You couldn't fight a madwoman. She just didn't care. She'd stop at nothing.
"No—no!" Marron's voice came as a shriek. There came the sound of a loud, choked gasp, and then a body falling.
Soir chuckled darkly.
Blanc bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. His fingers twisted in his hair, pulling hard as he dared to listen. Footsteps walked away, fading from the altercation. Blanc recognized the confident walk of Chatte Noir Soir. He waited. Marron did not walk away. His hands drifted down to cover his mouth, and he screamed into his palms.
First Noir… now Marron…
Prince Loki. This was all that bastard Loki's fault. By the Norns, if it was the last thing he'd do…
Blanc strode off, back towards the battle.
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Marron lay collapsed against the pillar of a building, her hand pressed to the spreading dark stain of red on her chest.
It hurt, gods, it hurt… She didn't know where Blanc had gone… she'd lost track of him when she'd seen Saklauss running through the battle… Soir had disappeared, but at least she wouldn't be able to catch Saklauss… at least Saklauss had gotten away.
There was blood, and so much pain. She didn't want to be alone.
She'd saved Saklauss… She could comfort herself with the life of that little boy, the little inquisitive boy who had gotten her thrown into the person and helped her get out again. Maybe this was alright if she had done at least this much… but she didn't want to be alone.
She wanted Noir here, Thor here, even Loki here. She needed someone here with her when… when… well, she just wanted someone here. The stones pressed cold through her thin cotton shirt, and blood dripped hot through her fingers. She shivered, cursing her stupidity in throwing off her chain mail so carelessly. She hoped that someone would be here soon.
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So many of the nekos had surrendered by now. Only the most desperate, the most determined and angry still stood. Chatte Rouge Catalysseur refused to fall, facing Loki and Noir without a hint of hesitation, a dagger in each hand.
Even two against one, they could hardly touch him. The scratches down Noir's cheeks still bled sluggishly, and her side still ached from the kick Soir had landed earlier. Loki had suffered a cut on one of his legs, and a bruise on one side of his jaw where he'd hit it after being slammed against a pillar by a berserking neko before he'd managed to put his sleeping spell on her—moments before she would have stuck a dagger in his throat.
Catalysseur looked to be in worse shape than either of them. One of his ears had been gashed, and he kept flicking blood from it. Another cut ran down his face from his forehead to his cheek, and he favored one leg as if he'd hurt the other. Despite this, his eyes still blazed and showed no sign of flagging. His gaze flicked ceaselessly between the two he faced.
They circled him, attempting to flank him, trying to disarm him.
"Surrender," Loki ordered for another countless time, the same as he'd ordered all the others. Some had listened… some hadn't. But more and more had surrendered as the battle dragged on and more of them fell. Catalysseur, though…
"Never," Catalysseur snarled, and he slashed one blade towards Loki's eyes. Loki ducked the swing, and Noir jumped forward while Catalysseur's focus remained on Loki, but he twisted faster than she could touch him, and she found herself having to bend back into a backflip to avoid his dagger.
She winced as the mail slapped against her old wound when she righted herself. This wasn't working. "Rouge," Noir said, searching for the words that would get through to him. "I remember you from the plantation. You used to be someone better than this."
Catalysseur sidestepped a kick that Loki sent at the neko's injured leg, and tried to return with a kick of his own, but the attempt landed feebly. "You were only a child, Noir. You knew nothing of what happened then, nothing of what kind of people anyone were. I am the same man I was then."
"But you protected me—my brother and me." Her dagger met his as he stabbed towards her leg. "Now you attack me?"
He scoffed and shook his head at her. "It's not personal." He hissed as the hilt of Loki's blade made contact with the back of his head, but he did not fall. He rolled forward with the blow and somersaulted back to his feet, blinking away the pain as they advanced on him again. "I do what is best for my people." He spat out a mouthful of blood and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"How is this helping your people?" Loki challenged, gesturing around. "They fall around you, injured or killed in battle as they fight for what you call your cause."
"And what do you suggest, prince?" Catalysseur snarled. "The Allfather has made it clear he will not listen. Revolution… bloody though it may be… is our only recourse."
"Your revolution is over!" Noir cried, flinging out an arm. "So many of you have surrendered. Don't you hear that?"
The three of them stood silent for a moment, weapons still ready as they stared each other down. The sounds of battle were dying slowly through the city. Catalysseur's jaw worked as he calculated.
"It can't be over," Catalysseur whispered harshly. "I can't surrender. If I do… nothing changes."
Loki licked his lips, and his glance moved between Noir and Catalysseur. "Whether you surrender or not… you've lost this fight. But," he continued, "no matter what your choice is, I will do my best to make sure that my father is fair. I will do my best to see that there is change for your rights. That I swear."
"You lie." Catalysseur attacked, ducking in low and stabbing towards Loki's side, then stabbing higher at Loki's neck when his first move was blocked. Loki blocked the second move and went back to guarding himself as Catalysseur danced back, expecting another attack. None came.
"I don't lie," Loki said calmly.
Noir said nothing, only watching.
"What makes you suddenly so understanding of the lives of nekos that you would stand up for us?" Catalysseur demanded. "That you would go against your own father?"
Loki's eyes met Noir's for a moment, and the neko leader watched the look pass between them. Loki stood straight, and let his arms hang at his sides, letting his guard down, leaving him vulnerable to any attack the revolutionary might throw at him. Catalysseur did not attack, but his eyes narrowed as he looked from the prince to the girl.
"It's because… I've seen the error in the way you've been treated," Loki explained. "I've made… friends. Connections. I've learned to care for Chatte Noir Voleuse… and Chatte Marron Arable. If you can't trust that I will do the best for you personally, trust that I will do the best for all of you because of the people I care for." Another long look between the prince and the girl.
Catalysseur let out a long breath, and closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the sounds around him. The clashing of weapons, the battle cries had faded. They were right. It was over. And perhaps… he could trust in the genuineness of the look that passed between the two. The depth of feeling. The prince spoke the truth. He'd do what it took for the nekos, if only for little Chatte Noir. He opened his eyes again, and he dropped his daggers to the ground. "I don't trust you, prince… but I do trust in the bonds between people."
Noir and Loki both let out a sigh of relief. Finally… the leader of the rebels had surrendered.
All those that surrendered were to go to the stockades to be held until the Allfather decided what he planned to do with the rebels. Loki and Noir searched Catalysseur for any more weapons, and instructed him where he was to go. By now, guards in gold were sweeping through the streets, working their way out slowly from the palace to escort prisoners to the stockades, provide assistance to the injured, clear the dead, and subdue any stragglers who had not yet surrendered. Catalysseur would not run… after all, if Loki told the truth, a horrible fate would not await him at the Allfather's hands.
"Finally," Noir whispered to Loki.
"We both know it's not over yet," Loki shook his head. With reluctance, he sheathed his daggers at his belt and tried to give her a smile of encouragement.
She sighed. "I know, but… it's a start." Her eyes followed Catalysseur as he started away, not yet out of sight. She turned her back and surveyed the street, bowing her head. "It's a start."
The quiet air split, rent wide with an enraged yell.
Loki spun, and saw Blanc rushing out of an alleyway towards him, dagger upraised. His fingers immediately went to the hilt of his own dagger at his belt, but his brain had already done the math. he would never be able to unsheathe the blade and raise it in time to stop the one aimed directly at his heart. The downward curve of Blanc's mouth, the teeth he bared savagely, the determined slant to his eyebrows, the color high in his cheeks… somehow Loki had enough time to take it all in, even as he fumbled at his belt with numb fingers, and he understood that even if he could draw his dagger, it wouldn't be enough to protect him from Blanc. Blanc's eyes told him nothing could protect him.
A flash of silver and black, and a ring of metal that interrupted Blanc's shout.
Noir. Her dagger met Blanc's in midair, and she gritted her teeth against the force of his charge. His blade screeched as it slid down hers, and the hilts of their daggers touched as the weapons crossed, and their hands almost made contact with each other as she held him back from attacking her prince. Her heart thumped, but it felt strong in her chest, certain. Her jaw clenched tight as she locked eyes with Blanc.
The rage in his blue eyes shifted to confusion, then disbelief… the snarl on his face slackened, as did his grip on his dagger. Their weapons remained crossed, and hot breath mingled in the air between them, heavy with effort and emotion.
"Noir," he gasped out, not quite a question but uncertain nonetheless.
"Blanc," Noir confirmed. Her friend? No. Surely not any longer. But he had been once.
"I… thought you were dead." His voice was hoarse, jagged, fearful, hurt.
She shook her head. Of course he'd thought she was dead. He'd left her dying in the street, in the rain, same as her mother had. "Drop your weapon," she ordered flatly.
His fingers loosened further, and the dagger fell to the cobblestones with a sound as hollow as the look in Blanc's eyes.
Noir kicked the blade out of his reach, and then backed away from him, took her place standing next to Loki. Nobody would be able to tell from the outside how her heart still pounded in her chest, how much horror had spasmed through her body at the sight of Blanc plunging toward Loki. She dared a look at her prince. He looked back. She tried to decode the emotion she saw there. Respect, gratitude, remnants of panic, relief.
"Do you surrender?" Loki's voice did not betray the feelings she'd seen in his eyes.
Blanc stared hopelessly between the prince and Noir… Noir, alive. He nodded silently. He couldn't speak. He nodded, and surrendered.
"We're to go to the stockades, then." Catalysseur broke the spell of tension the three were trapped in. The leader of the revolution stood a dozen feet away. He'd stopped and watched when Blanc had appeared. "The fight is over. You can come with me."
Blanc started towards the red neko when another voice spoke from behind him.
"Is everyone just surrendering now?"
Chatte Noir Soir emerged from the same alley Blanc had minutes before. A bloody dagger dangled casually from her hand by her side, as if she held nothing more important than an empty sack. Her eyes glittered with contempt as she swept her gaze over them.
"Soir," Catalysseur warned. "It's over. The best we can do is hope for the Allfather's mercy. Our rebellion has failed."
Soir didn't speak for a long moment. A spot of blood dripped from the tip of her dagger to stain the stone by her feet. A hint of a smirk flickered on her lips, and she sent a malicious glance that seemed far too smug to Noir, Blanc, and Loki. "Very well." With nothing more than that, she made a show of dropping her weapon and slinking off towards the stockades after Catalysseur.
Dread curdled in Noir's belly at that look Soir had given her. Something was… wrong. Then she caught the look of pain in Blanc's face.
Blanc audibly swallowed, looked down, and met Noir's eyes again. "Marron," he whispered, and he shook his head in the negative. With that, he dashed after the others and disappeared.
Marron.
Cold crept into Noir's bones, and it wasn't from the sudden cold wind that stirred the city.