- THE LEVIATHAN -

-shit.
Vargas gripped V-Chaos-One by the back of its neck, a snarl of irritation on his face. He pressed it hard into the rock, and--how was he going to do this? Its stupid little jaws were latched around his other hand; he had no way to free it.

With an abrupt, loud growl--an enraged sort of roar, but subdued--he lifted his bitten arm and brought it abruptly downward. Chaos-One's jaws snapped free, Vargas' return movement backhanding it across the face. Not hard, but enough to send it careening back.

"ENOUGH," he bellowed: "I am here to talk." The hit had been strong enough that Chaos-One seemed unwilling to bite again, at least immediately, and so Vargas began to advance on it, towering over it--intimidating as he could be--as he spoke. "You are old enough now to serve the Forge. To speak, and take orders, and obey. To contribute, as your siblings do!" Well, not all of them--they weren't old enough, yet, really. But they could certainly speak, and listen. "You are too old to be a half-feral beast. We have a task to fulfill!" he growled.

The serpent was thrown back, tumbling across the rock. When he came up it was with pure hatred in his toxic-green eyes.

Black skin writhed, twitching as if with flies here and there, as he coiled back up onto his feet. Tongue flicked out, lips peeled back, and a hiss whispered through bared teeth.

"I haaaatee youuuuu," came words, on the tail end of that hiss, still hissed themselves. Nidhogg did hate Vargas. The giant purple fuck had only ever tried to suppress it--never given it anything.

Except food.

And water.

And protection.

But those didn't count, not when every time it tried to rush for freedom it was hauled back. Not when every attempt to explore was met with it being dragged across the rock. And Vargas didn't even let it bite anyone!

So the venom in its voice--and heart--were very real. There was reluctant fear in it, fear of Vargas' size and power--abilities that so very outstripped its own--but even that fear only made it more angry, more upset, a frustration building in it and a miserable hate welling up in venomous fermentation.

Magicka sparked and lashed--and did nothing--and it let out a keening wail, short and angry and high-pitched. It tensed--as if considering springing for Vargas' throat--and its eyes narrowed, but for now at least, it waited.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

"GOOD!" he barked, uncaring. "Hate me. I don't care if you hate me. OBEY me, and that is enough." A grunt, his eyes narrowed, as he considered the snarling, hateful serpent here before him. "Those who obey are rewarded. So let us try something. Tell me this, V-Chaos-One--what rewards do you wish? What is it that you want? What do you aim for?"

Vargas tried not to despair. The answer, he was almost certain, would be "biting." Someone, anyone; it didn't matter. That's all Chaos-One ever did.

It was in the name, he supposed; but this one was like some sort of throwback, a nod to the primitive monsters of old. Creatures without reason, without conversation; beasts that would turn on those they'd allied with as easily as they breathed.

Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:

strong language

It listened, right up until the moment Vargas again called it that hateful name. 'V-Chaos-One.' That wasn't its name. "NIDHOGG!" it spat, jolting forward in a braced threat posture, almost a bluff-lunge at the Master.

Its eyes burned with fury.

Again magicka sparked; again it did nothing. Frustration welled up in the little serpent. (Little... comparatively.) And, abruptly, it began to speak. "I WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH YOUR CAVE. FUCK." The word was spat, to one side, like what it was: a curse. "FUCK the Oversssseer. FUCK TASSSKS. Fuck TUNNEL P. Fuck HOT PLACCCES. FUCK RULES. FUCK THE CREATOR. FUCK YOU!" it railed, exposing, suddenly, two things: first, that it had picked up a lot more language than it had previously let on (it had simply had little reason to use it, when biting would suffice) and two, it had managed, somewhere, somehow, to pick up the word 'fuck.'

And, apparently, it liked it.

Fear broiled up in it as it realized what it had said, and it coiled back, jaws agape, hissing at Master Vargas.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

He listened in silence, each of Chaos-One's words sparking deeper hilarity, deeper horror, inside him. He was glad Lord Dhracia wasn't here for this; he imagined it would have been a repeat of Scout's ignoble fate. Six toxic eyes widened fractionally with each spat 'fuck,' and by the end, Vargas was slow, glacially slowly, rising from his place on his haunches.

Then, suddenly, he was in motion: swiftly violent motion. Two steps were all it took, two steps before Nidhogg could even move and he was on it, massive arm pinning it to the rock by its neck. It wasn't a painful grip but it was firm, and Vargas glared down at it with a snarl.

"You have yet to earn that name," he growled, deeply. "You have yet to earn your freedom. I gave of myself to create you; and you will GIVE BACK. I am stronger than you are, V-Chaos-One, which leaves you with two options. First, work with me and earn what you think you're owed. Or second, whine and fight, and fail. I will kill you and remake you if I must," he added, a twinge of regret at this--he hadn't wanted to go right back to violence with his spawn, but this one was leaving him few options. (Few that he could think of, anyway, having known 'discipline' as he had.)

Thumbs tightened around its squirming neck. "Stop. Fighting me. I am not your enemy unless you would force it to be so. I have asked you once and I will ask you one more time, and one only: what is it that you wish?"

Its sudden wordiness, if not eloquent, was... enlightening; it was more intelligent, less feral, and far more hateful than it had let on.

It struggled, for a moment--fought as Vargas pinned it down. But there was something terribly primal in a hand across its neck. Something that screamed, into primitive, base instincts, into its very core, as an impossible weight gripped it by the throat. It wasn't fear--though fear was still there; it was, rather, the acknowledgment of a beast that it had been bettered. Or, perhaps, the realization of prey in the hands of a predator: caught. It was beaten, and it knew it, and it slumped beneath the grip.

A low, gurgling hiss escaped it, the fight in its body turning to tense muscles withouut movement.

"I... tooold... youuu," it managed, at last. It wriggled, once, but the grip on its neck was simply too firm. And it feared, now, even attempting to use its pathetic magic.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

"You want freedom, and your name," Vargas summarized, curtly. "Now, if I let you up, will you listen, and speak, or will you thrash and fight again?" It was harshly-asked, annoyance in his tone. He had other things to do than fight his own spawn into submission when speaking would have done just fine.

"You know that the rest--siblings and the like--you know that they have roles, yes? Spy, enforcer, assassin, guard. Do you hold interest in any of those-?" Oh, he intended for this one to fission, too--but no need to tell it that now. That wasn't a role, in any case; and a role, at least, would test it to see if its design was even fit for such a thing. Vargas suspected that it was--but it wouldn't be ready for that for some time yet, in any case. "That is how you will earn your name--and your freedom, if you wish it. You will prove that you are worthy of such a role."

It was out of spite that the wriggling little worm hissed up the word "Assassssin," a snarl on his face and hatred still burning in resentful, fearful eyes. Nidhogg did not expect Vargas to immediately relent, hand removed from its neck, and the serpent whipped back upright, coiling to face him as if on springs.

But Vargas was already speaking again, and Nidhogg, lost at this turn of events (did it attack-? No, that was dumb; did it flee-? No, Vargas was faster-) found itself just sitting there, crouched uneasily, teeth still bared at the Master. It meant him. It wanted to assassinate Vargas. Stupid Master.

It crept back, curling in on itself, tail sweeping around its body in a half-circle, until its body looked half the size that it had been before. There it waited, tense, half-listening to whatever the Master was saying at it.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

"Then I will train you." A pause, as he stared at it, burning eyes intense, as if he could see through it.

He was no mind-reader, and he was a blunt creature--smart, yes, but he took this as the reluctant snatching of a role, not an admission of planned treason. Not that it would have mattered, all that much--Vargas would probably just have backhanded the damned thing again even if it had outright declared such intentions, at this age. It was more a tantrum, yet, than any real threat.

"I will teach you how to stalk, how to kill. -Yes? And then you will earn your name." He paused, to see if it understood--given its prior foul-mouthed tirade, he assumed as much, but it was best to be certain.

Nidhogg did not answer, instead just staring, resentful and suspicious. Kill things-? Like hunting?

The older creatures had hunted for it, mostly. Bringing food back to the tunnel for it to eat. And it had never shown gratitude, really--just snagged the stuff and scurried up a wall to eat, hissing jealously at anyone who came too close.

But now Vargas was talking to it--talking at it, more like--and, hateful, it half-listened.

Fuck hunting. Fuck assassination. Fuck Vargas. Fuck you, it thought bitterly, hateful eyes fixed on the Leviathan before it.