Chapter Text
The sharp scowl on Mirassan’s face was priceless as Sebastian caught another glimpse of it out of the corner of his eye, still taking his precious time stacking the coins in their usual piles on the small table next to her bed. She’d barely taken her attention off Claude from the moment the door closed behind them, silently assessing him and sourly demanding explanations without speaking. He smirked smugly, staring back from where he’d chosen to stand in the corner of the room, arms crossed over his chest and unmoving.
From the battle of wills playing out between them in the silence, Sebastian could tell that she was attempting to size him up while Claude, in his usual fashion, was giving her about as much to go on as he’d ever given the rest of them. After all they had been through, none of the Rats knew how old he was, where he’d come from, and why he only ever spoke Orlesian when it was absolutely clear that he knew the common tongue well enough to speak it back. Mirassan was just as stumped and huffed softly, cocked her head to the side, and waited.
When finished with the task as usual, Sebastian handed her the envelope containing the count, and she slid it open, barely reading Leo’s painstakingly curated count before tossing it on the piles as expected. Done with her charade, Mirassan slid her arms together, mimicking Claude’s stance, and glided toward him. He didn’t move, his eyes never wavering from hers as she approached him, and Sebastian watched on with intrigue.
“This one is especially tall,” Mirassan cooed, her charming and venomous smile spreading across her lips. “How kind of you to join us. I’ve never seen you here before, but I’d be happy to provide you with an education in our services, if you’re not shy.”
Claude’s smirk widened and he looked down at Mirassan, reminding Sebastian again just how short and slight she was by comparison. He didn’t move or flinch in any way as she reached for him, her fingertips grazing slightly over his forearm. She hummed softly, almost purring as she pressed one step closer and started to lift up on her toes to kiss him. That was when he finally broke his stance, dropping one hand to lift hers away from his arm by her middle finger as the other pressed his pointer finger to her lips to push her back down onto the flats of her feet.
The confusion stirring from her was just as palpable as Sebastian’s amusement, and he shook his head as he chuckled under his breath. Claude patted her hand patronizingly and let it drop, lifting his arms back into place over his chest and smiling down at Mirassan softly.
“No merci, Madame,” he insisted politely. “Nous sommes ici uniquement pour travailler.”
“Claude doesn’t care for company,” Sebastian sighed, turning to lift the envelope and open it, starting to read the contents, “of any kind.”
Mirassan hissed, turning around to stare daggers into his chest. It had been one of the best calls Leo had ever made to have Claude accompany him on the task, as he’d begged him to. He was perhaps the one person among them that would be wholly immune to anyone’s attempts to charm him out of his pants. One of the handful of details they did know about him was that their stoic friend had mentioned only once, and very simply in passing, that he’d never actually felt the desire or drive for any kind of romance or attachment. He was loyal to them by choice, but it was as if he had no emotions of his own at all, and he’d asked why people would willingly make fools of themselves when they could choose otherwise. Over the years, each of them had tried to explain how it was he who was the odd man out among them. He only ever hummed thoughtfully, shrugged his shoulders, and carried on with whatever he was doing as if the conversation had never happened.
Having him there was like having an anchor in the middle of a storm to hold onto, and Sebastian did his best to reflect back his nonchalant aloofness as he refused to look up from the writing to meet Mirassan’s eyes.
“It looks like Jean barely hit his quota this time,” he clicked his tongue and shook his head performatively. “One would think that he would want to take better care of Katrina and the baby.”
Claude hummed softly and nodded his head, shifting his weight between his feet.
“What are you doing?” Mirassan asked, sounding far more interested than she truly was as she circled her way back to him, resting her hand on his arm to crane over and read the letter herself.
Following Claude’s lead, he lifted her hand away from him, surprised at how easy it was to escape the trap she was clearly trying to open for him to crawl into again.
“The last time two of us were here, you insisted that we take our time so as not to appear suspicious or give away our arrangement to the other patrons,” Sebastian continued to read Leo’s neatly slanted letters scrawling over the page. “What better way to pass the time than to look over your report and make certain that everything is in order?”
“What better way, indeed, Your Highness?” Mirassan smirked icily, pulling away again.
Sebastian sighed deeply, swallowing his nerves and refusing to look up at Claude to give away his unease at the pointed stab.
“Pet names are unnecessary, Mirassan,” he huffed, feigning discontent. “I haven’t paid you anything. We can do away with the pleasantries.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Claude move, but only enough to shift his weight again and lift one hand to idly examine his fingernails. If the formal address struck anything in his mind, he gave it away as much as he ever gave anything away, and the absence of a response made any lingering tension fade out of Sebastian’s shoulders. It was like watching her try to play Wicked Grace with a statue, and he could tell by Mirassan’s reactions that it was more frustrating than she would ever show willingly.
“You did well this time, my friend,” he said, looking up, drawing Claude’s attention. “Even more so than myself. Impressive.”
“N’est pas une problème,” Claude smiled, the well-practiced geniality not quite making it into his eyes.
If he were any other man, it would seem unsettling in its disingenuous nature. Instead, all Sebastian felt was comfort, and he leaned into the feeling as he carried on with their plan. It was working, and he felt strangely elated. If this was how it was going to be from now on, he could take it. He could handle it. With the unwavering---albeit strange---support, he was more assured than ever that he’d been wise to ask for help, and the shame that he needed it melted out of him.
Finally, she grumbled, deciding that their game had gone on long enough for her to dismiss them, and she floated behind them, reaching for Sebastian’s arm before he could pass out of the door and her reach. In a single fluid movement, Claude stepped back on his heels, whipping around and stepping between the two of them with cold calculation and eerie speed. He pushed Sebastian ahead of him, gripping Mirassan’s wrist with enough force that she audibly winced, hissing as she squinted against the pain, and her face twisted as he looked up into his unsympathetic expression.
“Good evening, Mirassan,” Sebastian murmured with a dark smirk. “Until next time.”
“If you think for one second that this is over---” She hissed sharply.
“It is over,” he pressed back cooly. “If you have a problem with it, we can always change who comes to drop off your payment.”
Punctuating the sentiment, Claude squeezed her wrist a little tighter, forcing a gasp from her lips before shoving her back into the room, and she stumbled disgracefully, tripping over her own feet and landing on her ass. Seeing her stripped of her pride as she glared up at them from the floor seemed to shake something loose in Sebastian’s mind. She was pitiable, even more so than he felt he was himself. How had he been so weak as to fall under her influence to begin with? What could she possibly do with his name or title? He was stronger than she was, better connected, and more powerful. Who could she tell who would believe her? She was worthless, weak. . .
Pathetic.
Claude closed the door to the room behind him, turning again to give Sebastian a solid nod before they pressed back out of the establishment and into the winter evening outside. The cool air filled with tiny flakes of falling snow felt blessedly refreshing, and Sebastian pulled up his face cover to keep the chill from his cheeks.
There was work to do, and he finally felt clear-headed enough to do it.
* * *
Sebastian kept Remmy close to his side as they made their way through the undercity, flanked by the dead and followed closely by Claude and Harold as they pulled the cart filled with Havnel’s lyrium between them. They didn’t hit every shipment of lyrium that came in destined for the Free Marches, anymore, and Leo had been smart enough to direct that they acquire the needed amount over the span of weeks instead of all at once. Still, the guard and the Templars had started to notice trends in their activity, increasing their rotations and numbers at the worst times throughout the docks.
It had been just enough to make them all twitchy as the encounters increased, forcing them back on their footing as both sides escalated the bloodshed. Sebastian had been the one to make the plan that they would use the catacombs and sewers instead of the guard-infested streets above, but even that came with problems. As the fighting over territory worsened with the Diamants in the harbor, a new gang calling themselves the Skulls had started to muscle in on the trafficking channels underground. Luckily, they hadn’t become aggressive yet, mostly charging for passage rather than being confrontational as they hedged the way like the growing nuisance they were.
The Skulls had become enough of a nuisance that it forced them to chart deeper into the older and more treacherous sections of the catacombs in their attempts to bypass the tolls, dodge the Diamants, and keep business afloat. Still, there was a cost in the endeavor that there could easily be long-forgotten spectres and monsters lying in wait on their path down here. Hidden somewhere in the dark was the fabled entrance to the bowls of the White Spire, where the spirits and abominations of Val Royeaux’s corrupted mages had been rumored to have escaped their prisons.
The fear that they could come across something so terrifying made every noise ring louder in Sebastian’s ears, deafening and blood-chilling as he scouted the way of their caravan ahead. Every drip of the river above seeping through the cracks, every skitter of rats and nugs, and every groaning creak of the stones and bones around them made his jaw clench and his hair stand on end.
“Stop,” Harold insisted quietly, calling them all to a halt. “Wait.”
Their mage’s summoned lights hovered, the soft luminescence growing slightly to stretch further into the deep beyond. When Harold told them to stop, they always listened. His ability to reach through the thinned folds of the Veil and speak with his guide grew as they traversed deeper under the city, and they weren't stupid enough to question it.
Listening to him whispering now under his breath made Sebastian far less concerned than he had been when he’d started. The Chantry forbade the use of such magics, deeming them far too dangerous for any mage to practice, as it left them open and vulnerable to corruption and possession. But when had the Chantry ever made a rule he hadn’t broken? When had they ever been right? The spirit hadn’t led them astray yet. It had led them safely along the unknown paths over a dozen times now. So they leaned into its guidance, waiting for Harold to finish whispering his half of their strange conversation into the shadows.
“No,” he said at last, his voice lifting again. “Not this way. We need to head back to the last junction and make a left instead. That way will take us to the sea. This one goes nowhere.”
“We don’t exactly have all the time in the world, you know,” Remmy prodded with an exasperated sigh. “Perhaps you could ask your friend to tell us the right way to go before we make a wrong turn.”
Harold sighed heavily, shuffling as he turned the cart and actively trying to ignore Remmy’s jab.
“Better alive and in one piece, little brother,” Sebastian pressed. “The dwarves will understand if we’re a bit late.”
“But what if the Diamants get out of hand?” Remmy asked again, his brow creasing hard under the pale, uncanny light as he looked up at Sebastian. “They’re not above getting in the way, as usual.”
“Oh, I’m sure that the old man and Marcei would be practically giddy to get into a fight out there,” Sebastian assured him with a slight chuckle. “The Carta doesn’t back down any more than we do. Especially when it comes to business.”
Remmy hummed thoughtfully, the worried expression still settled in his face, though he said nothing further. Lifting his gaze up and back toward Claude as he pressed past him, Sebastian gave him a slow nod, receiving one in return as they set in their usual circle around the precious shipment and Harold dimmed the lights around them again, leading the way forward once more through the dark.
“Arrêtez!” A harsh voice cut out through the darkness, and they moved closer to the crates as hands itched toward weapons and the lights around them flared.
We didn’t even hear them!
Fuck.
Scowling hard, Sebastian straightened a little taller, holding himself tight and at the ready as a handful of forms crept out of the shadows just ahead of them. They ranged in age and size from Remmy's to Harold, faces painted with bright white skulls stretched over their gaunt and darkened features, and dressed in black. At their center and moving out toward the front, the tallest of them stepped forward, thumping a small club wrapped in sharp and jagged bits of metal and wire on one gloved hand. He tipped his head slightly to the side and smiled.
“Again we cross paths with les infâmes Rats D’egout,” he chuckled. “The Maker has a sense of humor, no? What exactly are the sewer rats without a sewer to crawl about in? The irony.”
“Maxence,” Sebastian smirked menacingly through his face wrap, stepping forward from his place at the rear of their protective cluster. “Always a pleasure.”
“Likewise, Malcolm,” Maxence dropped his club, resting it against the ground like a cane at his side. “We love it when your coin falls into our pockets. Headed toward the pier this evening?”
“Sharp as a tack,” he quipped back. “How much will it be this time?”
Maxence hummed, lifting his hand to run at his chin, stepping forward as his eyes flickered over the covered cart between them.
“We are rather deep under the river,” he mused out loud, swinging his club up onto his shoulder as he stopped at Sebastian’s side. “You’ll have to pass back through, oh what would it be? Four? Maybe five of the main passages?”
Sebastian’s eyes caught Remmy tense in his periphery, bristling at his opposite side as Maxence’s dark eyes remained focused on their ill-gotten gains and hovered uncomfortably close to him.
“That’s forty silver per road and another fifty to have your goods marked to get past the checkpoints,” Maxence grinned a little wider. “So, two sovereigns and a half-marque for the trip. We can make it four, and I’ll send a guide with you to make sure you don’t stray into any of the tributaries where you don’t belong.”
“Four sovereigns!” Remmy shouted, gritting his teeth menacingly. “Bordel de merde. . .”
“That’s a bit steep, Maxence.” Sebastian’s smirk faded into a scowl.
“What can I say, mon ami?” He chuckled a little louder. “With you all up there killing each other over centimeters of dirt and ocean, traffic is increased in the underground. We have what happens when you run into one another down here to think of, and we have to keep the peace, maintenance of the roads, marking the ways, setting up lanterns, paying our checkpoint staff. . . The costs of doing business never cease, do they?”
“Sounds like it would almost be better if you slipped back out of the trade, my friend,” Sebastian sniped back. “We could always simply relieve you of the trouble.”
“How kind of you to offer,” Maxence twisted his head again, his eyes widening and feral as he stared him down. “We could say the same of you. That is, if you can’t afford us. Perhaps it would be better to take your chances on the surface next time.”
This isn’t going well.
Maxence jeered up at him, his face paint twisting and elongating unsettlingly over his forehead, cheekbones, and jaw. He had half a mind to slap it clean off of him, but bit back the immediate call to violence in favor of waiting out the confrontation. He’d been right about the streets above them flowing with violence that none of them wanted any more of than they’d already seen. Picking fights down here was likely to ignite a second turf war they couldn’t fight properly, either. It was better to play peacemaker, report back to Leo, and try to convince him to set up a more formal arrangement for travel. It would likely mean having to come down here himself, traversing the danger on both fronts to make it happen. But that had to be worth it, right? Anything was better than this.
Leo. . .
If only you were here.
“Take it,” Maxence ordered the others, stepping back as the others pressed forward. “The ransom will pay out more anyway.”
Shit, fuck, ass!
“Harold!” Sebastian shouted, their mage immediately stretching out his arms to will the orbs around them to flare, grow, and flood the narrow corridor with brilliant light.
Every hand flew to grip and free weapons as their cluster turned their backs toward the crates, facing out to confront the assault. In the few moments of exchange, another group of the skulkers had managed to slip behind and around them and were closing in with prejudice.
Six, seven, eight. . .
Fuck!
Ten, eleven. . .
Maker!
Maxence laughed again, spinning on his heels to lower and swing the club in a direct arch toward Sebastian’s head. His crystal blue eyes widened, and he leaned away, reversing his grip on the dagger he’d pulled from the harness looping under his arms as the barbed bits of glass and metal passed dangerously close to his face. As he moved back, Remmy moved forward, redirecting the mangled club with a swift strike of his blade and stepping between them.
The sounds of the skirmish flooded the passageway, echoing against the stones in a tangled mess of shouts. Sebastian spun, lifting the dagger and bringing it down to ram it between the hollow space between one of the bandit’s collarbones and his neck as he lunged toward him from the shadows. The boy cried out, dropping his own weapons to reach up, grab Sebastian’s arm, and rip it free from his body as he pulled back, falling to his knees.
So much for avoiding a fight.
Damn!
A swell of bloody screams forced him to turn again, locking on Harold as he reached out, gripping the Fade and ripping it open to pull his magic through the Veil and into reality. Three of their attackers lit up with the familiar flare of blueish-white light and lifted onto their toes, twitching and screaming as their limbs bent into strange and painful angles. The rest of the ambushers halted, locked in horror as their comrade’s bones crunched and snapped, their flesh tore open, and a rain of gore and blood painted the walls lined with skulls around them. A spatter flicked across Maxence’s face, and he pulled back in terror.
“Créateur!” Maxence shouted as pushed back from Remmy. “Merde!”
“Maxence!” Sebastian shouted, redirecting his attention as another two of the Skulls closed in to attack. “It doesn’t---”
A flare of magic tendrils, sparking over the face of the stones and skulls like lightning, lit up the corridor around them, cutting Sebastian’s plea short and reigniting the fight as their enemies rushed in once again. The entire situation had escalated far faster than any of them could have foreseen. They would have to kill them all to get out of this. If even one of them managed to survive, word would get back to the head of the Skulls, and their days of using the underground byways would be at an end.
Fuck!
Shite!
Ass!
Maker, feck my jammy brains into the Void.
Sebastian redirected one of his attackers wide, the second’s machete managing to snag at his side and draw blood as it ripped through his leather cuirass. His eyes snapped wide, and he brought his blade around to bear, slicing deep across the back of his attacker’s neck before turning, following through the blow with a deep gash across the other attacker’s face. He was barely aware of the others in his periphery, moving through attacks and weaving to dodge the worst of it as their outnumbering enemies lashed out.
Another round of terrified screams echoed in the deep, and Sebastian moved to dodge another flurry of strikes meant to rend his chest apart. He spun, coming to Harold’s side as his magic lit up his form and his mage lights danced around them. The handful of enemies he’d taken a hold of for the next round of his brutal assault called out in agony, shredding into a second burst of bloody entrails and carnage. Through the rain of bloodshed and rent flesh, a form smaller than the rest of them lunged through, shouting as she launched herself at Harold.
Sebastian turned again, reaching out with his dagger and finding his mark in her side a heartbeat too late as she plunged both of her jagged knives deep into the soft hollow just below Harold’s sternum.
“Harold!” He shouted, panic rising to flood out everything else in his mind. “NO!”
Harold bent forward, a messy rush of blood and spit flying from his mouth as one hand gripped the girl’s thin and frail forearms, the other clamping hard around her head. His huge palm covered everything of her face except her terror-stricken eyes, and she let out a muffled yelp into his fingers. The three of them were locked like that for what felt like forever, and no longer than a single breath at the same time.
How had things gotten out of hand so quickly? How had he failed so spectacularly? He should have just given Maxence the toll and carried on instead of trying to be clever. He should have---
Harold’s face twisted from shock into anger, his rage painting itself across his rounded features as his eyes focused entirely on the nameless girl who’d run him through. The hand around her face warped, the air around him heating up as his fingers cracked and stretched, somehow impossibly growing longer and thinner than they should be. His skin grew taut, the change melting up through his wrist to his arm as he both shrank and grew at the same time. The grip he held on the girl’s face tightened, and she screamed again, her deep and primal cry for help cut off into a deathly silence as her skull crunched, crushed in his hand, and her body went limp.
“Harold, what---?” Sebastian murmured, his own fear creeping into the back of his throat.
Harold snapped up his head, his snarling face growing gaunt as it distorted like the rest of his body. His eyes flare,d and the mage lights around them in the corridor flared brighter as they turned a dark and menacing shade of crimson, throwing eerie shadows and light over the ground, the stones, and the skulls plastered into the walls to either side of them.
“Run,” he whispered, his expression of anger contorting into an uncanny grin.
A warped thread of a second voice overtook the tiny word and the dark chuckle that followed it, and Sebastian’s eyes snapped wide as Harold turned away again, throwing the dead body of the girl violently away from them both. She slammed into the wall, taking Sebastian’s dagger with her as it was ripped from his hand. He gasped sharply, following the corpse with his vision, locked and frozen in horror not at the way her already broken body twisted unnaturally from the force of the blow, but from the outlines of the skulls in the wall she’d slammed into starting to shift and change.
Dear Andraste, save us all!
A dark figure started to melt out from the rows of plastered skulls, stretching its skeletal arms out first to pull itself free.
Feck!
Shite!
ASS!
A second skeleton reached out into the passageway, trailing the first, and was quickly followed by another further down the corridor.
We need to go!
More of the skulls moved, an entire flood of them starting to emerge along the wall as they worked themselves loose from the stones and crumbling plaster. Sebastian snapped around at the sound of a deep and terrified scream to see that the same was happening behind him. They were being surrounded on all sides, the creaking and low groans of the cursed undead echoing from everywhere all at once.
We need to go NOW!
“Run!” Harold’s corrupted voice rang out in a guttural roar in the deep, his form lifting up from the ground to hover menacingly. “RUN!”
The air around him flooded with an impossible magic heat as the floating creature---no longer his friend---radiated a sickly red and sparked yellow light. Sebastian turned, searching for the others in the chaos breaking out as the skeletons started to snarl and throw themselves at any of the humans they could reach in the catacomb passage. He felt like everything in the world around him erupted into bloody shrieks and chaotic screaming as everyone burst into a panicked retreat.
“Claude!” Sebastian shouted through the madness. “Remmy!”
“Malcolm!” Claude yelled back from behind him, letting out a low grunt as he lashed out at one of the undead lunging toward him. “Ce qui s'est passé?”
“I don't know what happened!” Sebastian called out over the din. “One minute, he was just fine, and then---”
A shout from Remmy further ahead as he engaged the skeletons pressing in on him called Sebastian’s attention, and he whipped around, gasping sharply as another dashed toward him. He lifted his hands, suddenly very aware that his dagger was now lost somewhere in the fray and well beyond his reach as he locked his hands around the bony forearms of the skeleton. It snapped and growled at him, its blood red eyes nothing more than small orbs of red light boring into him from the black gaps in its vacant skull.
“Maker! Feck!” Sebastian grunted, gritting his teeth and pressing all of his strength through his arms to shove the skeleton away.
The creature stumbled back, its head instantly rent from the rest of its body as it smashed into a thousand scattered bony fragments that sprayed over his face. As its body dropped, the bones rattling on the ground at his feet, the air cleared enough for Sebastian to see that it had been a wide swing from Maxence’s spike-studded club that had taken it down. Their eyes locked in shared understanding. Whatever had happened to start the insanity, it was clear to them now that they could all die down here together, and the unspoken alliance against the demons settled uneasily into place. The rest would have to wait.
No sooner than they’d made the unspoken agreement, Maxence’s eyes darted up, the painted skull on his face twisting as fear flared in his eyes. A bright flare of light lit up his features, and he gasped, lifting an arm to guard his head just as Sebastian ducked reflexively. The huge orb of magic fire impacted over the back of Maxence’s arm, forcing him back on his footing to fall on the ground with a heavy thud. He flailed and screamed, rolling over the ground to put out the flames licking over his body.
Sebastian turned again, narrowing in on the floating demon as it summoned its power with a dark and hostile cackle, and he snapped his bow from the quick-draw hook over his shoulder. He knocked one of the larger, serrated broadhead arrows into place---grateful that he’d thought to bring them in case they ran into some demon or another in the catacombs---and snapped to release it through the air. The arrow collided with the demon, plunging deep into the hollow of its chest, and it doubled over, wheeling back where it still hovered in the air from the blow. Its pained and twisted roar bent the world around them, making him wince as it echoed piercingly in his ears.
“Malcolm!” The sound of Remmy calling his name in a heated panic snapped him around again, the blood-red lights spilling over the host of skeletons rushing toward him as he fought to hold his ground.
Sebastian locked another arrow into place, aiming for the slot between one of the undead’s ribcages and letting it fly. The barbed head tore through its chest, snapping both ribs as it passed through and cracking through its spine to snap it in half. As the top half of its reanimated body toppled off and the lower half fumbled in place, two other skeletons tripped over the remnants, falling short in their rush to get to Remmy. It was enough of a distraction to allow him the time to bring his blade around to bear, the keen edge flashing with the reflection of the uncanny light as he thrust out, marking his targets with prejudice, and cutting them down.
Cycling through the familiar motions, Sebastian followed the cycle of his breath and awareness as he nocked arrow after arrow, releasing them in rapid succession. He had to try and carve a way forward through the shambling skeletons as they melted out of the dark through the passage. They had to get out. They had to get free! But each fallen corpse seemed to spawn two more in the darkness as the demon behind him reached through the Fade to pull them into their assault.
Maybe that’s it!
Maybe I need to take out---
A searing rush of pain and force slammed into his back, the leather of his cuirass singed as another of the horrific demon’s fireballs exploded hot around him. Sebastian stumbled forward from the power of the impact, lurching and falling to the ground. The blast crushed the air from his lungs, making his ears ring and his vision blur. Still, he willed himself to press up onto all fours, forcing himself to shake his head to break himself loose from the panic beginning to take hold of his senses and get back up. Every part of his body seemed to be screaming to stay down, but he couldn’t. He needed to get up---needed to keep fighting. He needed to get the fuck out of his Maker-forsaken pit. He needed to get them all out.
In his field of vision, his eyes locked onto Maxence’s face mere inches away from him. He was panting, heaving for breath and lifting his arm faintly as if to beg for Sebastian’s help. Dread flared in his eyes as he peered up, his face, chest, and arms all badly burned and still smoking from the fireball he’d been unable to dodge either.
Sebastian hovered for a moment. By all rights, this was his fault. He should leave him here to die. He should get up and worry about his own people, still fighting for their lives. If Maxence hadn’t been so entirely fucking stupid and attacked when she should’ve accepted Sebastian’s attempt to haggle down the price of passage, none of this would’ve happened. They wouldn’t be here. Harold would still be alive.
Feck me!
Against his better judgment, Sebastian clamped his hand around Maxence’s arm, ignoring the low cry of pain as he gripped his charred hand and struggled to get him onto his feet again. Maybe he would regret it later, or maybe he wouldn’t. What mattered more than anything right now was getting the fuck out of here.
Another fireball launched over Sebastian’s shoulder, missing both of them narrowly and jolting them into action. Maxence groaned, stooping to collect his burned club and turn as Sebastian moved behind him, turning back to find Claude in the fray. He jumped, grunting as he kicked off the wall to his side and spinning as he lifted into the air, launching himself at the floating corpse. His blades bit deep enough to redirect another fireball wide of striking true, sending it off ahead to blast away another of the assaulting skeletons instead. The demon lashed out, its long, clawed fingers dragging across Claude’s chest with enough force to toss him away as if he weighed nothing. His limp form collided with the crumbling plaster and stones, dropping onto the ground with a heavy thud and a dull groan.
Claude!
Shite!
Feck!
If we stay here, we’re all going to die.
Sebastian snapped back to look over his shoulder, seeing the carnage still flowing down the catacombs toward them, again to the demon as it cut down another of the Skulls charging toward it, down to Claude, back to Remmy, then locked an arrow to take another shot at the spectre.
We’re trapped.
We can’t get out.
Dear Maker!
We’re all going to die.
The demon’s vision narrowed on him, his bloody red eyes seeming to see through his very soul.
We’re all going to die.
Sebastian drew and took another shot, sending the arrow flying toward the demon’s head. For a moment, it lifted its arms as if it were going to block the attack, but it vanished entirely, and Sebastian’s arrow flew clearly through the spot it had been, pinging off one of the skulls still embedded in the wall and falling on the ground.
Maker feck!
We’re all going to die!
A bloody scream behind him made Sebastian whip around so fast that he nearly toppled over, still managing to load and shoot another arrow as the demon materialized on the other side of the cart. It snarled, thrusting one of its emaciated arms through another of the human’s heads, its bloody talons ripping it clean from their shoulders. As it turned to swipe at Remmy, Sebastian’s arrow struck its face, passing cleanly through its head. The blow pulled wide, passing just short of Remmy’s chest as he stepped back, and the demon fell from the air, crashing to the ground and out of his sight.
Yes!
Got it!
Sebastian grinned, heaving out a deep breath. Remmy turned, clearing the ten or so paces between them and huffing for breath. Behind them, Claude stood, bracing his chest where the demon’s claws had managed to bypass his leather gambeson to draw blood, but still alive and able to stand.
“We need---” Sebastian panted, the sentence cut off as the red mage lights hovering in the space flared brighter, and a low, menacing laugh rang out against the stones.
No!
Shite!
FUCK!!!
The demon rose again, bloodied but unshaken as it reached out its arms to either side, gathered the force for another fireball, and more of the skeletons melted out of the shadows behind it. If that hadn’t killed the fuckin’ thing, what would? Could they kill it if it was technically already dead?
What should I do?
What do I DO!
“Fuck!” Sebastian pulled back, turning to break into a sprint down the unexplored arm of the catacombs they’d turned around from and gripping Remmy’s arm to drag him along. “Run!”
“But what about the lyrium?” Remmy shouted.
“Leave it!” He clipped back. “If it’s us or that---”
“No,” Remmy stopped, tugging one of his larger grenades from the bandolier circling his chest. “What about the lyrium? Do you think. . .?”
The plan clicked together in Sebastian’s mind mid-sentence, and it was just as mad as anything could possibly be. If they hit the crates, it could explode, yes. It was one of the many things the dwarves had warned them about time and time again over the years of their meetings. But he’d never seen what that could look like. How big would it be? Would it have any effect on the demons? Would it kill all of them as well? Lyrium was poisonous, even at this refined stage. Would they be infected by it? Would it be as addictive for them as it was to the Templars that took it daily? Even if this madness somehow managed to actually work out in their favor, would they all just die slowly and painfully later?
Before he had any chance to make a decision or give his reply, the demon screeched, soaring through the air toward them as if it had heard and understood what had been said and was acting with malice to stop them. Remmy spun, disconnecting the safety pin from the grenade and throwing it in a direct arc to land on the cart full of the lyrium crates. Just as the creature passed over it, the entire passage lit up with a blinding flood of blue and white light, the force of the exploding draughts blowing out in all directions with enough power to throw them off their feet.
Time seemed to slow painfully as the rush of blistering fire erupted, washing through the corridor without stopping or slowing as it grew. The edges of the stones and skulls disintegrated around them, and the terrifying demon screeched as it was overtaken by the light. The chorus of screams rose as the skeletons and whatever was left of their human cohort cried out and were silenced by the deafening roar of the explosion. Remmy turned, surprising him entirely as he threw himself at Sebastian, closing his arms around his head and chest and curling in to shield him from the blast. He clamped his grip around him to do the same, unable to roll them away in time as the light rushed over them as well.
For those few seconds, nothing existed but the light, fire, and pain, then everything fell deathly silent, and the entire world went black. Sebastian knew he wasn't dead by the shrill ringing in his ears and the dull pain throbbing in the center of his chest where Remmy had collided with him. He groaned, unable to hear his own complaints as they rumbled in his head but made no sound loud enough to make out over the hazy fog.
“Remmy,” he managed after a moment, his voice still warped but starting to clear.
Nothing.
“Remmy?” Sebastian called out again, starting to crack with panic as he shook the limp boy in his arms. “Remmy!”
No!
No, no, no, no, no. . .
A sound somewhere nearby in the dark, like the scraping of boots and the shuffling of clothing, paired with a hard and heavy panting breath that inched closer toward him.
“Malcolm?” a familiar, gravely voice asked into the darkness.
“Claude!” Sebastian called back, ecstatic and relieved that at least he hadn't been the only one to survive. “Maker, be praised. Help me! I have Remmy, but I can't. . .” he bit back and swallowed the dread. “I don't know if. . .”
The pair of hands landing on his shoulder made him start, recognizing whoever they belonged to as friendly only after they reached past him to help shift the dead weight of their friend off of him.
“Remmy,” Claude shook his body, his voice barely above a low grumble. “Se lever, petit-frere.”
Still nothing.
“Maker, fuck!” Sebastian cursed, battling back his dread from welling up into helpless tears. “Shit. Remmy ! Remmy, fuck! Say something! Say anything, dammit! Breathe, or I swear---!”
A low whine and a hiss of agony stirred up in the dark, rising to calm Sebastian's worry even as it stoked his helpless anger. Remmy was alive, but was hurt. That much was certain from the way his breathing labored and his arm moved faintly against him to find something to anchor on. But he couldn't see how bad the damage truly was. None of them could. With Harold dead, their main source of light had been extinguished. Had he even thought to bring a backup? What were they going to do now? They were trapped underground in the pitch black, all likely injured from the chaos, surrounded by the stench of death, and now without light or their guide to get them back out again.
What had he gotten them into this time? How had it come to this?
Next to him, Claude reached across them both, taking another of the grenades from Remmy’s bandolier and throwing it, the glass shattering against the smoking ruins of the cart and crates. Blessedly, one of the more intact timbers lit up with a barely living flame, casting them all in long shadows with the palest hint of light. Claude moved past them toward it, set on the task of stoking their hope for escape, and Sebastian let him go as he hefted Remmy off of him completely and rolled him onto his side.
As the pale light grew, Sebastian searched him over, looking for blood and broken bones and finding only scorched clothing and singed hair. He let out a small, relieved chuckle, but stifled it shortly with a hard gasp as he lifted his gaze and took in Remmy's face.
The left side of his head had been badly burned, the scar stretching from his scalp down and over his eye, cheek, and curling away toward the back of his jaw. He was still between waking and unconscious from the way he hissed and ground his teeth together. But it lasted for only a moment longer, then his body went slack again, and he faded in Sebastian's arms.
He's still breathing.
He's still alive.
We're still alive.
And we need to get out of here if we want it to stay that way.
“Help me get him up,” Sebastian huffed, not turning to look up as Claude hovered over them with the improvised torch in hand.
Claude simply nodded, saying nothing as he stooped to help him collect their wounded friend from the ground. They shifted him carefully as they lifted him up, certain that there was no way Remmy would be walking out of this cursed place under his own power, and hefted him over Sebastian’s shoulder together. Bearing his body as steadily as he could, Sebastian let out a deep huff and nodded, saying nothing more as he followed Claude down the corridor that would take them back to the surface.
* * *
“What happened!?” Embern asked, worried and confused as Sebastian swept through the undercroft toward Remmy's room, kiting along half of the gang gathered in the space behind him.
“A whole lot of bullshit,” he bit back, his anger and frustration breaking through to the surface as he laid Remmy out on his small bed. “Dumb, royally shit-ass, unbelievable, dog-fuckin bullshit. That's what happened.”
Behind him, the others whispered and spoke, some in Orlesian and some in the common tongue. Sebastian ignored them all, only catching a phrase or two here and there as his focus wrapped entirely on the boy. He was supposed to protect him. He was supposed to protect them all. That was his duty as their Lieutenant, and he'd been kicking himself about it all the way up from the catacombs, through their other encounters with the Skulls along the way, and as they had traversed the streets of the slums to get back to the Chantry as quickly as they could. Now, he stooped over another of his great failures, something tearing at his heart and spirit that it was the young man who'd looked up at him with nothing but admiration for so many years.
He would never be the same again. Just like Leo. Just like him.
Remmy looked so much worse in the light than he had under the torches and the pale street lanterns on their path. The charred skin of his face and scalp was blistered and mangled, too deep for any salve or potion to ever restore completely. Sebastian gritted his teeth harder, his jaw tightening as he gently turned Remmy's head slightly more to the side and pressed his burnt hair from the edges of the scar now dominating his features. He wanted to scream, rage, and cry. He wanted to go to pieces right there, fall apart, kneel at Remmy's bedside, and not leave it until he knew with absolute certainty that he would survive. He wanted to stay put exactly where he was, but he couldn't. There was still work to do, and he had to see it through, no matter the personal cost it was sucking from his soul.
“What time is it?” He clipped harshly, forcing himself to step away and pull the most neutral expression he could manage to his features as he turned to exit the room. “Have the midnight bells tolled yet?”
“No,” Embern answered solemnly as he followed Sebastian out of the space.
“Good,” he sighed deeply. “How much extra lyrium do we have stored in the safe house out in the Emerald District?”
“Half a dozen crates,” he answered again, his response cold and assured. “Maybe seven, at most.”
“Damn!” Sebastian huffed deflatedly. “It'll have to be enough, I guess. Gather the lads. I need another four to come with me to gather what we have and try to get it down to the docks before the dwarves disembark. Five if they’re available. We have to move quickly, or else---”
“What’s going on here?” Leo’s insistent voice cut through the undercroft as he pressed out of their room, snapping up Sebastian’s attention. “Malcolm? Explain.”
“We lost the shipment in the underground,” he answered, his icy, neutral tone precise and flat as he strode through the space, collecting more of his arrows and switching out his gear while avoiding meeting Leo’s eyes. “Harold is dead, Claude limped the entire way back, and Remmy is injured and unconscious."
“How?” He demanded. “What happened?”
“I don’t have time for this,” Sebastian clapped back, still dodging Leo’s insistence. “You can get the story from Claude. I need to get a team together and get my ass across the entire fucking city to the gardens, pick up a replacement, and get it down to the docks before Havnel thinks we’ve bailed out of our deal and leaves.”
“I would hear it from you,” Leo pressed harder, the rest of the undercroft going deathly silent in anticipation. “Jean can---”
“Jean isn’t here. I am.” Sebastian snapped, overriding the order before Leo could finish it. “I also have the best rapport with the dwarves. If anyone is going to be able to explain why this shipment is lighter than our usual without setting our asses on fire, it's going to be me.”
“You're deflecting,” he insisted coldly. “You will tell me what happened. Now.”
“Fine!” Sebastian turned, facing Leo head-on as his rage flared. “What happened was that we were attacked down there. We were trying to navigate the tunnels and avoid the tolls when we were jumped by their highwaymen. They got to Harold, and everything went to shit. He turned on us--- all of us.”
“What?” Leo’s brow tightened as he clenched his hands harder into fists at his sides. “How---?”
“He was corrupted.” Sebastian gestured into the air at his sides. “One of their more stupid bandits rushed him, ran him through, and instead of using his healing magic like he usually does, he let that damned demon he’s been fuckin’ whispering to take him. He turned into an abomination and tried to kill everyone.”
A series of gasps and whispers rushed through the space, everyone locked into the heated exchange, murmuring inaudibly around them. Sebastian ignored the shock and outrage, pushing through the tortured flicker of disbelief flaring in Leo’s bright emerald eyes to keep going.
“Remmy hocked one of his grenades into the cart and blew up the shipment to save us, and it worked,” he carried on, his gestures growing more agitated as he spoke. “Now, he’s blasted halfway to the Void. He needs aid. Claude can take care of it for now, but I have to get the fuck out of here. I paid twenty sovereigns to get us a quick passage back through the sewers, pick up another shipment of lyrium for the dwarves from the Emerald Quarter, and haul ass out to the harbor, but we have to go now if we’re going to make it on time.”
“Twenty sovereigns?!” Leo shouted incredulously. “That’s ridiculous! You---”
“I did what I had to do!” Sebastian strode angrily toward him, closing the gap to hover over Leo even as he thrust out his chin defiantly. “Maybe, if you had been there, we could have gotten a better price. Maybe, if you had taken the time to meet with the Skulls and broker a proper deal weeks ago, none of this would’ve happened in the first place!”
Again, the undercroft went silent, all eyes on them as Sebastian lashed out. He’d never confronted Leo like this in front of anyone, least of all the more junior members of the gang. They’d carried on, bitterly fighting in private, but never like this. He couldn’t afford to care about appearances anymore. He was tired. He was angry. He was exhausted. He had a job to do, dammit! He had to ignore the sudden twitch of anguish at the cruel stab at his pride. He needed to get on with it already!
“But what’s done is done,” he growled through his clenched teeth. “Now, if you’re satisfied, I have work to do.”
“Bullshit!” Leo sniped at him. “How dare you stand there and---”
“Look, it was you who wanted to work with the Carta. So I got you work with the Carta, and this is the way of it,” Sebastian barked back. “You wanted me to sort your shiny bits and teach you the difference between diamonds and glue, so I did. You wanted to raid a mansion in the Pearl District and steal a small fortune, and I did that as well. You wanted to smuggle lyrium, so I got you the best value for lyrium in Val Royeaux. You wanted me to help you seal the deal with a drug baroness for the deathroot trade, and I did that for you, too.”
Leo visibly winced at his recital of their work together, his brow knitting in over his beautiful, pain-filled eyes. Instead of trying to push back, he just stood there, staring up at him and stirring his wrath with his refusal to back down.
“You even wanted to play at being a freedom fighter and commit the capital crime of stealing slaves to smuggle them to the Free Marches, and I've done that for you as well---more than a dozen fucking times!” He railed on, screaming at himself to stop even as he continued to ramble through the cracks of emotion seeping into his voice. “I have done everything you have ever asked me to. Every order, every request, every small plea---I have done everything , given you everything!”
Leo swallowed hard, trying desperately to smooth over his emotions as Sebastian closed another step between them.
“But I can’t stand here and debrief you like your faithful little soldier this time,” he huffed, easing out the tension spooling up in his shoulders. “You think that I want to go back down there? After having to kill another one of our brothers turned traitor? If it were up to me, I would never go back down there again! But it isn’t up to me. It’s up to you. You wanted me to take charge and responsibility for business while you skulk in here, counting our gains and tallying the gold we bring you. You’re certainly not going to go out there and run the job yourself, right? So I will.”
Leo’s eyes widened, his woundedness seeping through to crack his fair and beautiful features.
“Then, once I’m done with that, I need to hike my ass all the way back up to the Sunburst District and scrub Remmy’s burnt skin from my clothes, cut off the burned hair on the back of my neck so no one asks any questions, and try to get some Maker-fucking sleep before I have to lead a dozen other catechumens in the Empress’ jubilee procession tomorrow morning through half the city,” Sebastian gritted his teeth again, pointing in the general direction of his hated prison in the Grand Cathedral far above and away from them. “I don’t get to shut myself in and ignore the world. That’s rather your specialty, my dear. I don’t have the luxury of cutting myself off from everything that needs to be done, all because someone who was supposed to be an ally tried to fuckin’ kill me! Again!”
“You dramatic son of a bitch!” Leo shouted back, finally breaking under the weight of his accusations. “You bark like the stubborn ass you are and carry on about my shortcomings when it was you that choked up on that rooftop!”
“CHOKED!?” Sebastian shouted, his voice echoing through the Chantry. “I almost died, Leo! You were there! You saw---”
But he hadn't been. Leo had been down on the pier. He hadn't seen anything but their enemies closing in on him without the backup he'd expected to come. The infuriating missing piece explaining all the horrible bitterness that had sprouted to life and thrived between them suddenly made sense at last. All Sebastian had told anyone was that Wells had betrayed them and that he'd executed him for his treachery. He'd never explained the details or shared what truly happened. He'd buried it, avoiding the subject despite the questions, both spoken and unspoken, that hunted him everywhere he went. He'd kept it all silent, even from Leo.
“I didn't choke,” Sebastian seethed, dropping his voice to a low growl just a hair above a whisper. “Wells shoved me off that roof as the ambush started, and I fell three stories to the road. I tried to call out to you---warn you before. . .”
Leo's eyes widened again, his expression shifting to shock. How could he ever possibly believe that he would just stand there and watch on, doing nothing to save him sooner?
“I didn't choke. I've never choked or hesitated. Never. Not once. Not even when I should have,” Sebastian insisted cruelly. “I've made a lot of stupid mistakes. I've shown off more than I should, or been an idiot in the heat of the moment, but I have never---would never. . .”
I'd never let that happen.
Not to ye.
The range of remorse and shock swelling and falling across Leo’s face felt like a sharp spear thrusting deep into Sebastian’s gut. Months. It had been months since everything in their world had been upended that night. Not once had Leo ever tried to broach the subject of actually asking him to explain himself in a way that wasn't some slap to the face that ended in a fight. He'd brooded and sulked, pulled away coldly, shuffled back for a moment now and then. Just when things would start to look good again, he yanked himself away another time, and all because he'd assumed the worst. After all their years together. . .
Didn't he know him better by now?
“Claude, stay with Remmy,” Sebastian repeated the order, pressing past Leo with his enraged and aching spirit barely concealed as he reached for the natural mask once more and pulled it back to his face. “Embern, get the others. Let's be quick about this and get it done.”
He didn't bother to look back or hesitate, keeping his eyes straight ahead of him as the gathered assembly parted the way for him to pass. Sebastian didn't have time for any more rage than he'd already spent. He didn't have it in him to do anything except focus, pull himself up, and keep his word.