Chapter Text
The Drunken Dragon tavern was loud with chattering voices when they entered. Though it was just past midday by now, there were a good number of patrons filling the many wooden tables laid out in the large space that made up the main area of the tavern. A bar was situated against one wall to the right of the entrance, an oven pushed up against a wall behind it and an assortment of spices, dried meats, vegetables, and alcohol stored on shelves.
A girl with choppy sandy blonde hair was standing behind the bar, serving up a meager meal to a man sitting at a barstool. Her dark brown dress and cream apron were well worn and plain, the most colorful thing on her person being her bright blue eyes. The eyes of a Thenardier.
Grantaire surmised that the girl was Azelma, all grown up. He grinned, immediately breaking off from Enjolras and approaching the bar. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the princess. Growing up into a fiercesome queen, I see!” He boomed, slipping onto one of the barstools and leaning forward, chin in his hands.
“Grantaire!” Azelma’s whole demeanor lit up like a candle. The girl smiled and hurried around the bar to wrap her arms around him in a big hug. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh you know, the usual, getting myself into trouble.” He pointed over at Enjolras, who had begun to walk over. “We’re on a super secret important mission and need to talk to Ep.”
Enjolras was done no favors in the travellers clothes he wore now and simple leather and chainmail armor. Even with his face dirty and hair a mess, with his jaw covered in week old stubble, he seemed unreal in Grantaire’s eyes.
Azelma stared at him for a moment before smiling.
“Azelma, this is Enjolras, a... friend of mine.” Grantaire introduced the two, slipping off of the barstool as Azelma let go of him to shake Enjolras’ hand.
The teenager seemed a bit starstruck for a full second before being called off by a patron. “Ah- I need to get back to my shift! It was nice meeting you, Enjolras!” She said hurridly, before scurrying off to collect empty mugs and refill them.
Grantaire clapped Enjolras on the shoulder and tugged him towards a table that put them a good distance away from the rest of the patrons. Azelma swung by and dropped off two drinks once she had a second to spare, getting back to work immediately afterwards. Grantaire just about inhaled his while Enjolras sipped at the honey and juniper ale politely if not slowly.
Given a few minutes, a short if not muscular young woman with dark brown hair pulled back into a bun walked into the room from a flight of stairs off to the side near the bar. She wore a deep forest green dress, and had an amulet Enjolras could recognize as a witch artifact when he saw it. He caught the eyes of the woman, blue against blue, as she walked up. She seemed to judge him silently, only breaking eye contact when she was in reach of Grantaire. With one quick movement she hauled him out of the chair and into a crushing hug.
“What the hell are you getting yourself into now, R?” Her first words were sharp but not harsh. Enjolras could have sworn they were fond.
“Oh you know me, taking in strays, harboring a fugitive. Same old same old.” Grantaire grinned with such ease, wrapping his larger arms around her. “We need some help. Not here, though. Can we talk upstairs?” His voice dropped a few pitches and grew quiet, the man looking around instinctively.
The woman, who Enjolras guessed was the famous Eponine, nodded. She led them up a narrow staircase and to the second floor. In the main room was a modest living and kitchen set up. She took a seat at one rickety looking chair at the dining table and crossed her arms.
Grantaire took one seat perpendicular to her and Enjolras took the one parallel. A silence fell over the room.
“Okay so here’s the deal. I saved his ass. He’s an Atrivais freedom fighter and a wanted criminal, we’ve been being tailed by Tiryrium soldiers for over a week. No idea why they’re so bent outta shape over a nobody low ranking officer, though. You got any idea why they’re after you, aside from the obvious, princeling?”
Enjolras shook his head immediately. “I’m close to Calixte, and I knew Lamarque. I’m only a captain, though. I’m not the only captain leading a squad in the army. I’m hardly next in line to be major general. It just seemed like a typical ambush when they attacked but I figured they’d have given up by now. Combeferre and I weren’t part of anything they might be interested in.” He furrowed his brow.
“What about your other friend?”
“Courfeyrac? He’s a mage, but I can’t imagine he’s done anything. Besides, he’s been in the Nornlands for a month and out of the country for longer than that. He’s making an appeal to the Council of Magi, like I said.” Enjolras explained, clutching his amulet tightly in his right hand as he spoke of Courfeyrac. He could feel its magic surge through his fingers as he did, pulsating softly.
“What the fuck, R. Okay. Captain…” Eponine looked at him.
“Enjolras.”
“Right. I’ll go with Cap.” Eponine started, leaning against the table. “You two are in some deep shit. Did they have tracking mages?”
Both of them nodded.
“Shit. Okay. We don’t have a lot of time then. They’ll be on your tail fast again. You got magic?”
Enjolras nodded. Eponine sighed.
“Even worse. They’ll be tracing your magical signature, which means you two need to get the hell out of dodge, or get some damn good concealment spells. Lucky for you two poor sods, I can help with both.”
Grantaire grinned. “Ep, I knew you’d come through for us-”
“Only because it’s you, R. I don’t give a damn about pretty boy but Gav and ‘zelma would be sad if you died trying to help this idiot.”
Eponine zeroed in on Grantaire with a look that Enjolras couldn’t identify.
‘Are you sure about this? You could leave him. It doesn’t have to be your problem. It isn’t your problem.’ Telepathic magic was a little specialty of Eponine’s, along with the various other tricks up her sleeves.
‘Yeah. I don’t know, I’m in deep, Ep. I don’t wanna just leave him to die.’
That was all Eponine needed. She nodded. Enjolras raised a brow.
“There’s a place, I’ll have Gav show you. You stay there until I can get you some supplies. I’ll send Musi’s Muses there later to drop off necessities and do some basic warding that should hold for a day or two. And get Cap’s old wounds checked out.”
Enjolras opened his mouth to say something when Eponine beat him to it. “You walk favoring your right side, your breathing sounds like a broken rib or two, and the stairs nearly winded you. Probably more a thief’s eye can’t tell. Those Tiryrium bastards sure fucked you up.” Enjolras shut his mouth.
“Now get the hell out of my tavern before you draw those snake bastards here.”
Grantaire stood and kissed Eponine’s cheek, grinning. “Thanks, Ep. Love you.”
She snorted and shooed them away and out of the tavern. Before they could leave though, she grabbed Grantaire and slipped something into his hand. “This is a one shot protection spell item. Don’t waste it.” She whispered into his ear before patting his shoulder.
Grantaire grinned at her retreating figure as she headed back into the tavern then turned to Enjolras.
“Great, isn’t she? Love her.”
“She’s..something,” Enjolras shook his head “I can’t tell if she wanted to kill me or not.”
“Don’t worry, she likes you.”
“She does?”
“Well, maybe not like yet. But she’s close to me and you’re with me so that’s that.” Grantaire shrugged and looked around.
Out of nowhere popped up a young boy with shaggy blond hair, who immedaitely tackled the man. Grantaire was ready for it, sweeping the boy up into his arms. “Gavroche!”
When Gavroche let go he was juggling Grantaire’s coin purse. “Oi, nice ta see ya, R.” He grinned and then looked at Enjolras. “Who’s the fella?”
“Gav, this is Enjolras. He’s a friend. Ep said you could show us to a safehouse?”
“Ooh okay. Right, she let me know. Let’s go, gents. That’ll cost ya one gold, thank you very much.” Gav fished, in fact, two gold out of Grantaire’s coin purse then tossed it back to him. Grantaire just laughed and shook his head.
“He just-”
“Shh, Princling.”
“Still not a prince.”
“How do you know? Maybe you have amnesia.” Grantaire prodded him before turning to follow after Gav, who had started down the street. He could feel Enjolras rolling his eyes behind him and for a second thought the blond might not follow. A moment later he was walking at his side, though.
Gavroche clearly knew the streets, weaving through crowds and taking them down side streets that Enjolras wouldn’t have thought of. “Keep up, I’ll leave you behind.” Piped the kid as he rounded a sharp right corner.
Enjolras huffed and picked up the pace, much to the disdain of his side and leg, following the boy through the alleyway. Gavroche stopped abruptly at a small door that led into a building through the back way.
“Here we are, gents.” The boy climbed up onto a crate and grabbed a key from a crack at the top of the door frame. He tossed it to Grantaire.
Barely catching the key, the half-elf grinned at the boy. “Thanks, Gav. Send Ep my love.” The boy smiled, nodded, and scurried away down the alley, leaving the two men alone.
Grantaire unlocked the little house without ceremony, ushering Enjolras in and locking the door behind them.
“Home sweet home, for now.” He sighed heavily, dropping his bag to the ground and setting his lute down gently. He began to rummage through the cupboards and look around the small two roomed house. “Nothing here, except the rats.” He plopped down on an old chair and kicked his feet up on the even older table. The sounds of scurrying feet against wood were notable, though Enjolras couldn’t pinpoint exactly where the rat was. He’d stayed in worse places, really. He sat in the other chair and dropped his bag on the ground.
Enjolras sighed heavily, leaning forward and putting his head in his hands. Grantaire eyed the amulet around his neck. Noting the soft glow in the dark interior of the old house. Minutes ticked by before they spoke.
“Is that ruby?”
Grantaire’s question caught Enjolras off guard, making him snap his head up. He stared for a moment, then followed Grantaire’s gaze to the amulet around his neck. He touched two fingers to it and nodded. “Yes.”
“Your friend must be a skilled enchanter.” Enjolras nodded.
“The best I knew, anyway. Aurelien always had a lot of skill with the arcane, though. Compared to Bastien or I, at least. My spells are combat magic, mainly. Bastien is adept at healing and buffs.”
“The most I can do is basic healing.” Grantaire clicked his tongue, “And a few minor illusions.”
“Aurelien says there’s at least some inherent magic in almost everybody.”
“Ha! Most people I know are terrified of the stuff.”
“Maybe so. But that doesn’t change it.”
“People are afraid of anything that they don’t know. I think just the idea that they could have magic would incite a panic. I’ve known some villages where they burn people who have the talent alive.”
“That’s barbaric!”
“It’s the way that it is.”
“How could they think-”
A rap on the door cut Enjolras off, and Grantaire rose to check who it was. He shifted a board on a window and glanced out, straining to see who was at the door.
“Who is it..?” Enjolras gripped his chair, slowly rising to his feet.
Grantiare unlocked the door, and a tall brunette man and shorter bald man entered carrying a few crates. Once the door was locked behind them and the two had set down their loads, Grantaire got a better look at them. He’d only heard of them via letter, before, but Musichetta’s boys were quite recognizable. The tall, wiry man known as Joly smiled politely at him while the shorter, dark-skinned Bossuet grinned and held out a hand.
“You must be Grantaire! I’m Bossuet, this is Joly. Pleasant to meet you.” The man had a number of bandages along both arms, a cut that wasn’t quite healed yet on his cheek, and a purple bruise on his jaw. At first impression, this struck Grantaire, until he remembered Bossuet being described as a world class klutz. There had been a few angry bits of letters concerning him wrecking inventory and a few rituals.
“That’s me.” Grantaire took his hand politely, and Bossuet clasped his other hand atop his and shook enthusiastically before turning his attention on Enjolras.
“You’re the friend. Captain..Enjolras? Right?” Bossuet shook Enjolras’ hand in a similar fashion and as soon as he pulled away, Joly was in front of the blond and checking him over, gold tinted magic glowing from his fingertips.
“Yes- er nice to meet the both of you.” Enjolras’ smile was strained, and he took a half step back when Joly prodded at his side. The healer ushered him to sit.
“Not as bad as I thought, thank the goddess.” The tall man was an elf, Grantaire noted, by his almost comically large ears. It was common for Elves to have a natural tendency towards magic, and it didn’t surprise him knowing Joly was a healer. “There’s some magical signature here, was some healing done before?”
“You can tell?” Grantaire was surprised, but nodded. “Yes, I healed what I could but I’m not exactly much of a healer.”
“It’s basic but you obviously saved his life. I’ll fix what else I can.” Joly smiled and got to work, fretting over his patient and weaving golden threads of magic from his fingers.
Bossuet hung back, beginning to unpack the crates. Food stuffs, mostly travelling rations, were the first things he pulled out, as well as a small package of what smelled like fresh baked bread. Grantaire felt his mouth water and heard his stomach growl in response. Bossuet, hearing, laughed and handed him the loaf.
“I’m apprenticed to a baker, right now. This one didn’t make the cut to sell but it’s still warm and good.”
“Gods bless.” Grantaire muttered. He wasn’t particularly religious, but it seemed appropriate. Bossuet laughed heartily and kept unpacking while Grantiare split the loaf in two. He pulled out some waterskins next, and a set of travelling gear. Sleeping rolls, a tinderbox, a change of clothes, a length of rope, and a few other small tools to aid them on a journey.
“Have you two done this before?” Enjolras asked.
Joly’s knowing smile was enough of an answer. “What? Help out a few fugitives? Occasionally. Usually it’s witches Eponine and Musichetta know, but we’ve gotten our fair share of traffic from the war, too.”
“It’s good of you to do this for us, thank you.”
Bossuet and Joly glanced at each other and grinned. Finished and satisfied with his work, the tall elf stood and stepped away from the captain. Grantaire handed Enjolras the other half of the loaf of bread.
“We’re happy to help in any way we can.” It was Bossuet who replied when Joly froze in his place, going rigid and pale. “..Joly? What’s wrong..?”
“We need to get back, now. There’s something here, in the city.” His voice wavered, shaky with fear. The elf could feel the magical signature of dark, ancient forces wrapped in malinent.
“What is it?” Enjolras rose to his feet, immediately raring to go.
“I don’t know, but it’s dark.”
Only a moment after Joly first felt this darkness, bells rang throughout the city, signifying that it was under attack.