Who: Remy LeBeau and others (Jean-Luc LeBeau, Bella Donna Boudreaux, Julien Boudreaux primarily) When: August 25, 2008 Where: An old cathedral in New Orleans What: Why he can’t go home anymore… Secret Origins!
“Jusque à la mort." Remy could sense the tension still in cathedral. He didn’t care, though, as he received permission to kiss his wife. His wife! Seventeen and married. He’d just have to do his flirting where Bella Donna couldn’t hear. She knew him, though. A pretty lady caught his eye just far too easily, and as his father was always want to point out, he had a bad habit of trying to save damsels in distress. But that was how he’d met Bella Donna, and it was a damn good thing they’d fallen in love, or this arranged marriage would just feel awkward. Remy finally pulled his lips away from the beautiful blonde girl who was now his to love forever, whom he was hers to love forever. It would help the Guilds. They were destroying each other, and neither Guild could afford that in the continued fallout from Katrina. Neither Guild had ever fully recovered.
Bella Donna smiled up at him, holding her arm out. He took it eagerly, pulling her in close. “Je t'aime, mon cherie,” he whispered in her ear, pulling a wider smile from her. The two practically beamed as they walked arm in arm up the aisle. They didn’t care about the tensions still between their Guilds. It would ease in time. They had fallen in love. That mattered to them more than anything else. They would show their Guilds that love and they could lead them out of the shadows their pasts and Katrina had left. They were young, idealistic, in love, and full of hope.
But not everyone shared that optimistic outlook. Before they made it halfway down the aisle, an angry shout came from the pews. “Je crache çi-dessus!” The yell wouldn’t have bothered Remy, but the angry shouter accented his words with a hard punch right across the young Cajun’s face. “Nng!” Remy missed part of the next words as he toppled down, catching himself on one arm, wiping his bleeding lip with the back of his other hand. “Idiot LeBeau! A curse on all of ya! I won’t allow ya t’taint mah sister!” He spit at Remy angrily. “I challenge ya! A duel!”
Remy clenched his fists, not responding. This wasn’t how he wanted the arrangement to begin. “Julien! Non! Stop it!” Bella Donna screamed, but couldn’t get around her brother to help up her husband. Julien pushed her back, where she was caught by a cousin. The fathers of the newly weds had already stepped up to face one another. “Ya’re son endangers everyt’ing we been workin’ for!” Jean-Luc LeBeau shouted, pointing an accusing finger at the leader of the Assassins Guild. Everything was deteriorating fast. And Remy was still getting his bearings back. He didn’t want a fight on his hands, but it looked less and less like he had a choice in the matter.
Julien stormed up to Remy. “Dis how it gon’ be, gustav? Êtes un lâche! Ya gon juss hide dere ‘til I’m done?!”
Remy snorted a little, getting to his feet. He gave his lip one last rub, glaring at Julien through red and black devil’s eyes that had always made him an outcast, even before he gained his powers. “Non. I accept.” He held his head high. He didn’t want a fight, but he couldn’t appear weak in front of both Guilds.
Remy didn’t like it. At all. But he was confident. To the death could always end in a yield. And while Julien wouldn’t let Remy yield, the youngest LeBeau was certain he could drive Julien to giving up. He yanked off his suit jacket, tossing it to the priest. “Hang on t’dis, Father Legrange. We get t’cuttin’ de cake soon as I’m done wid dis.”
Jean-Luc followed his adopted son as he stalked off to the private room in the church where he’d trained. Remy might not have been his son by birth, but the head of the Thieves Guild loved him just as much as he loved Henri; always had, even when he’d left the boy on the streets to train with the Fagan Mob. It was the only way he could get Remy accepted into the Thieves Guild. He didn’t always appear to have Remy’s best interests at heart, but he did. Remy had already shirked his clean white shirt, pulling on the old shirt he’d shown up in. Jean-Luc didn’t often show affection, afraid of how it’d affect his son’s reputation. To hell with that. He reached out, grabbing Remy and pulling him into a hug.
“Dun do dis, Remy. S'il te plait, fils, dun do dis.” He held Remy close. “De rules, ya can work wid ‘em, vous savez. Dey can make a ‘ception for ya.”
Remy leaned his head against Jean-Luc’s shoulder, but gave it a gentle shake. The hug he returned was brief before he pushed away, frowning. “I ain’t get a job in de city again, Pere, and ya know’t.” He sighed, taking the pack of cards from his pocket that he always kept on him. He shook the worn cards from the battered box, flustered fingers finding solace in bridging them. “I break de code in any way, and I ain’t fit t’steal for Joe-Shmo, let ‘lone run de T’ieves Guild, let alone be Bella’s husband, run bot’ Guilds wid her. Y’know I can’t run from dis.” He cut the deck and began to side shuffle in quick, rapid movements, his chest rising and falling at a similar speed. He was nervous. “Ya say a t’ief, he gotta be pragmatic, non?”
“Remy,” Jean-Luc started, paused, shook his head, then sighed. He tried again, looking away from the boy. “I say dat ‘cause ya a helpless romantic and a t’ief can’t afford t’be dat.”
Remy gave a snort, looking up at his father with affection in his devil’s eyes. “And ya ain’t?”
“Dere’s a far cry ‘tween ya and me, gustav,” Jean-Luc said, shaking his head. “Dere’s somet’ing scarin’ ya ‘bout all dis,” he said after a moment, perceptive eyes flashing. “What’s it?”
Remy couldn’t lie to his father. He settled his eyes on the cards as he shuffled them, unable to look at Jean-Luc while discussing this. “Dere’s a pressure buildin’ up in me,” he admitted. “I dunno what it means. It’s not’ing t’do wid dis. Juss a funny feelin’ in my chest.”
“Ya gotta always trust yer instincts, Remy. Dun ignore anyt’ing.”
Remy didn’t reply. There was a few moments of pause, the gentle flutter of the cards as they swished by each other filling the room.
Jean-Luc had to accept the fact. He looked down. “Le Bon Dieu te garde,” he murmured, then looked up again. He frowned and shook his head. “He learn from Kunsrich. He gon rely on his dagger, non? Watch yer right side, he gon attack dere.” Jean-Luc pulled Remy into another hug. “Godspeed, my son. Dun… dun let it be ya who loses. No matter what ya gotta do.”
Remy returned the hug with much more feeling this time. The cards fell to the floor as he pulled Jean-Luc in tight, and his father did likewise. Remy was confident. But he was still scared.
They made their way back out to the main hall several minutes later, Remy’s breathing steadied once more. Etienne, watch over me, Remy thought to himself, closing his eyes as Jean-Luc and Marius led their sons to a hall in the back. Chase Lapin, a young man moving up quickly in the ranks of the Thieves Guild, had Remy’s weapons. Jean-Luc couldn’t bear to arm his son. Remy took the saber and dagger, frowning at the weight of the weapons. Julien had much more training, he was sure, especially with the dagger. Remy had trained in all sorts of weapons, of course, but he focused on staff and projectiles. He’d never given much credence to bladed weapons. He’d have to change that if he survived this, especially now that he was so intimately connected with the Assassins Guild.
He closed his hands around the cold metal and warm leather that made up the hilts, looking to Julien coldly. The assassin stepped forward, giving his saber a slash in the air in front of him. “I say we skip formalities. I ain’t gon bow t’ya.”
Remy regarded him as calmly as he could. He couldn’t find this joke in this. “Fine by me.”
The two boys lunged at the same moment, the blades flashing as they hit against one another. Anyone could tell in a moment the duel wouldn’t last long. Julien had much more experience. Remy hissed as he parried Julien’s first thrust, more from reflex than from training. His arm went out too wide with the motion, giving Julien plenty of space to lean in, slashing Remy across the chest with his dagger. Remy shouted, pulling back, ducking a slash from the saber. “Merde!” he hissed. He could hear the gasps from the Thieves, and the silence of smug satisfaction from the Assassins. He couldn’t let himself focus on Bella Donna to know how she reacted, afraid of losing any more focus.
Remy narrowed his eyes and brought his saber down on another slash from Julien’s dagger, then slashed wide with his own, lightning fast, causing Julien to jump back. Remy thought he’d gained the offensive, and lunged forward, stabbing at Julien’s stomach, pulling his dagger back in again close to him. His confidence ebbed again, however, when Julian’s saber smacked his own away, and his dagger snaked up the blade, catching in the hilt and wrenching Remy’s sword from him. His mind worked in overtime to find a way to get the advantage.
The duel had progressed with no banter thus far, filled with only the grating sound of metal on metal. At his advantage, however, Julien smirked, breaking that metallic silence. “Ya a poor excuse t’take de T’ieves Guild, gustav. No t’ief dat get stolen from should lead dose wretches,” he taunted as Remy’s sword flew far to the side.
Remy’s hand clenched his dagger. “Ya can’t call it a proper t’eft when ya don get de whole set, homme,” he hissed, looking up from the crouch he’d landed in while trying to get his balance back from his arm jerking with the sword. Faster than the eye could follow, his hand shot out and forward, and the dagger went flying, burying itself in Julien’s shoulder. The Boudreaux boy yelled out, hand going up to his shoulder. Remy had to keep going, chisel away at his confidence, get him to yield. More insults to start, then he’d find a way to get his sword again.
Before Remy could finish his taunt, he caught a look of fear in Julien’s eyes, mouth going agape with no smart-ass words coming out. “What ya do t’me, lâche?!” A familiar purple glow built up around the dagger. “GET IT OUT!” Remy yelled, stumbling to his feet and starting to move forward.
He was too late. The glow build up, the charge couldn’t be undone, and Julien couldn’t pull it out in time. An explosion filled the room, blowing off part of Julien’s chest and shoulder, Remy close enough to get singed and flung backward. “NON!!” he screamed, mingling with Julien’s dying yell.
And mingling with Bella Donna’s screech. “JULIEN!”
Remy couldn’t stand, legs shaking. Chase and two other Thieves Guild members were at his side immediately, pulling him up to his feet, steadying him. Chase glanced over at Jean-Luc and Marius. Remy didn’t need to be there while they discussed his future. And no other conversation could come from that, not after that kind of kill. Chase nodded to his peers, and they helped Remy limp from the room. They sat him down on a pew, Chase running off to get some bandages.
Jean-Luc frowned as he looked over to Marius. “Yer son made de call for a fight t’de deat’,” he insisted, doing everything in his power not to look at the dead body on the floor. He couldn’t let it show just how relieved he was that it wasn’t Remy laying there. “It was a fair kill.”
Marius couldn’t look away from the body, fists clenching. “Up t’debate,” he said angrily, shaking his head. “My son dun have devil-given powers,” he hissed. “Our allegiance is gon’ be in shambles after dis. I can’t t’ink of another way t—“
“Non, Poppa!” Bella Donna cried, finally unfrozen. She had to tear her gaze away from the body on the floor. She ran to her father, putting her hands on his chest, tears in her eyes. “Ya can’t kill Remy!”
Marius pulled his daughter into a close hug. “He killed yer brot’er.”
“Ya know he didn’t mean it, Poppa. Please! I beg ya. Ya can’t kill mah husband.” Her pleading pulled at every heartstring in the room. “Julien… Bon Dieu, Poppa! Ain’t it bad ‘nough Julien’s gone?! Ya take Remy from me, too, and it gon explode mah heart! I can’t do it, Poppa! PLEASE!”
Marius flinched at Bella Donna’s words. He lifted one hand up, resting it on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “He must still be punished from de crime.”
“Den have it be banishment,” Father Legrange said softly, stepping forward. He moved quietly toward Julien’s body, a thin waft of smoke still curling up from the fatal injury.
Jean-Luc closed his eyes tight. They had no choice, did they? The two punishments were death or banishment, and the Assassins would surely pursue at least one. Marius had no choice in front of the other Assassins, no matter his daughter’s pleas. “Very well,” Marius said. “Expatriation.” The word came firmly, even as it drew more cries from the newly wed girl. Jean-Luc had to deliver the news. They wouldn’t give Remy long.
He walked into the main hall. Chase had cleaned and wrapped Remy’s wound already, and Remy looked restless – and filled with guilt. Jean-Luc clenched his fists. There was no way to make this easy. “Remy… Dey come t’a decision.”
Remy winced at the weight of the words, the solemn tone in his voice. He pushed Chase off, standing slowly. “I… I’m ready t’pay for what I did.” He bowed his head forward, closing his eyes. “Even wid my life. But-“
Jean-Luc cut him off. “Ya ain’t gon pay wid yer life.” Remy looked up, startled. “Yer wife, she spoke for ya. Dey decided on exile.”
Remy recoiled – reacting more strongly to this than when he had believed his life forfeit. “Exile?! Banishment from N’Awlins?!” His eyes burned and his chest ached. He brought a hand up, pressing it over the bandage. “Dat… Non! I can’t leave here! It’s home!”
Jean-Luc took in a deep breath, turning away. “Remy, I can’t do anyt’ing. De Council, de Assassins, dey already spoke. Je suis désolé. I’m… so sorry, son…”
Before Jean-Luc could move forward and hug his son, Bella Donna came tearing into the room, dress hitched up. “Remy, Ah-!”
Remy pushed her away before she could hug him. “Ya did dis? Bella… I dun understand. I dunno how t’live outside of N’Awlins, away from home.”
Bella Donna forced her way forward, throwing her arms around him. “Take me wid ya. Take me wid ya, and we’ll find a way t’make it work. Je t'aime, Remy. Ah need t’be wid ya.”
Remy put his hands on her shoulders, gentle but cold. “It ain’t gon work, Bella. Ya can’t give up yer home, yer family, any better den I could, given de choice. And ya have de choice, one I dun have. Ya can’t give up dat, or yer seat on de Council, and someone gotta lead de Assassins Guild outta de dark. Dat’s ya, Bella.”
“But Remy, Ah… Ah need ya.”
Remy sighed and shook his head, pushing her back. “Ya gon hate me t’fast for dis t’work. A year. Two tops. Stay here, Bella. Everyone need ya here.” He leaned in, kissed her passionately, but wouldn’t change his stance. Oh good Lord, he wanted to, as she returned the kiss. But he placed his hands firmly on her shoulders. “I’ll always love ya. But ya gotta bury yer brot’er. Do right by him, mon cherie.”
He couldn’t bear to see her crying any more. He pulled away, turning. He stalked back to the dressing room, Jean-Luc hot on his heels. It was all either could do to keep their eyes dry. Jean-Luc pulled him into another embrace the moment Remy picked up his trench coat. “I got contacts, we can figure somet’ing out.”
But Remy shook his head, pulling away long enough to yank on his coat. “Non. Pere, y’know I already got… somet’ing I can do.”
Jean-Luc sighed. “Ya gon’ call dat brute?”
Remy smirked faintly, putting his hands in his pockets, looking up at his father. “Dat brute, he helped us all durin’ cleanup wid Katrina. He can help. Dat school can help.” He closed his eyes, looking down. “What I did t’Julien… I gotta learn. I can’t let my powers leave my control ‘gain. And dat’s de place t’do it.” He looked up, then finally made the first move in one of their increasingly common father-son hugs.