Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hugo.” Donella’s voice was sterner than usual, and Hugo felt his heart jolt in response to it. “Come here.”

His back straightened automatically. At the orphanage, the Matrons never cared about manners. They were paid to feed the kids and stop them from killing each other. They didn’t care much for raising them into well adjusted adults. As a result, mealtimes often dissolved into food fights, and Hugo himself squirrelled away his meals to sit curled up on the window seat overlooking the courtyard.

After being taken in by Donella, he’d learned quickly that young men were to sit with a straight back and use the correct knives and forks to eat their meals. If there was meat on the menu, they were not to pick it up and chew it with their hands, but to cut it into neat slices and savour it.

Donella was not rich, but she was raised herself to have impeccable manners so that she could keep polite company. She believed it was the base foundation on which she would build up Hugo’s training. She had told him this again and again. Every time Hugo asked why he had to be graceful or why he had to learn what his cutlery was used for, Donella would reply that it was crucial for his further training.

“Ma’am.” Hugo stood before Donella. He made sure his toes were parallel and his knees were straight, and he met her eyes without flinching.

Donella smiled, “Do you know how long you’ve been here now?”

“15 months.” Hugo replied immediately.

“That’s right. How have you been finding your combat training?”

His hand went to his bruised ribs automatically, protectively. They hadn’t scheduled combat training for today, but Donella liked to keep him alert at all times. His fingers trailed over his stomach, then he forced his hand back to his side, “It’s been rewarding.”

“Is that so?” Donella tapped her lip, “It’s true that you’re rather too small to be much of a threat, perhaps even when you’re fully grown, but you and I both know it is not strength that makes a great warrior. It is intelligence.”

Hugo smiled. His size had never bothered him. His mind had always been too brilliant to be concerned with strength, but since Donella had started physically training him, it had sapped his morale somewhat. “I know, Don. I don’t need strength to be a thief!”

Donella’s hand whipped out so fast that Hugo hadn’t known what happened until he felt his cheek sting. His ears rang and the sound of skin hitting skin played again and again in his head. To his embarrassment, tears sprang to his eyes. “Hugo, we are not thieves. I won’t tell you again.”

“Sorry Ma’am.” He stood rigid. He was no stranger to being hit, especially at the orphanage. The shock never went away, and never dulled. It was always as fresh as the first time. He wanted to cup his cheek in his palm and cry, but he stood up tall and swallowed. Crying would get him scolded, and it didn’t even hurt anymore. There was no point to it.

“Your intelligence is the reason I chose you. I had hoped that you of all people would understand that what I plan to do is for the good of the world.” She rested a hand on his shoulder. “My plans for you are more elegant than petty thievery. You’re better than that.”

He nodded.

“You need to be ready for this. I don’t know when she will make her move, but when she does, we’ll only have a matter of months before the world as we know it is destroyed. Do you understand that? Everything comes down to you, Hugo.”

He nodded.

“I know you don’t see it yet, but this is bigger than either of us. It doesn’t matter what happens. This is the one mission you must fulfil.”

Hugo held her gaze unflinchingly, a feat that not many fourteen year olds could attest to. Donella’s cool glare could scare even the most seasoned street thief. The day she’d visited the orphanage over a year ago, the children had gathered on the landing at the top of the stairs and peered down at the strange woman who stood in the entrance hall, none of them brave enough to be any closer to her.

Hugo had watched her as she took instant command of the room. The Matrons tripped over each other to accommodate her, bringing tea and taking her coat. Royalty, Hugo had thought. It didn’t matter that he’d been wrong. Royalty or not, Donella held his ticket out of the orphanage, though he hadn’t known it at the time.

As it turned out, Donella had been looking for a student to take on and shape into her assistant in her lab. She had given each of the children three beakers, each unlabelled and filled with unknown substances, and asked them to combine them to create something she could use. She would take in the child who created the most useful alchemical solution.

Many of the children ended up burnt or with singed off eyebrows, and those who witnessed the failed experiments refused to partake. Hugo, who had been watching each of the experiments very closely, finally received his turn. He had spent most of his childhood with his nose buried in alchemy books ever since learning of the legend of Demanitus, and combined the liquids deftly together over the open flame of the fireplace in the dining hall.

None of his peers had thought to use fire. It had been the main reason most of their experiments had failed, and Hugo had felt smug when the liquids bubbled together without exploding. The result was a hardened orange crystal-like substance, which he’d placed before Donella.

She’d leaned back in her chair, steepled her fingers, and said, “Show me.”

Hugo took the teapot the Matrons had left for Donella to top up her cup and poured tea onto the orange crystal. Instantly, it started to glow yellow, impossibly bright. It emitted a high pitched bubbling sound, then the crystal shattered, pieces shooting out across the room, spreading the unnatural glow until Hugo himself couldn’t see anything but light.

Once the reaction had stopped and the glowing died down, Donella had quirked an eyebrow. It was the first time he’d seen the woman express an emotion, and it made him warm to her a little.

“Tell me, boy. What use do you propose for this little invention of yours?” She had not been impressed, but perhaps she’d been a little interested.

“It’s a flash bomb. It’s used to stun or distract enemies.” Hugo had explained, shifting between feet nervously.

“Why would you think I’d have enemies, boy?” Donella had asked sternly, almost dismissively.

Hugo had stared back at her, refusing to look away, “I know you do.”

Donella had held his gaze for a moment, then chuckled softly. She’d left soon after that. She hadn’t said a word to anyone as she departed with her cases of alchemical equipment and she didn’t look back. Hugo had felt so jealous of her ability to leave the wretched place that had been his prison his entire life, but he needn’t have. Hugo found himself packing his bags a week later, and when he finally left, he made sure that he didn’t look back either. There was nothing for him there. He hadn’t been back to the orphanage since.

Now, he almost wished he’d reconsidered following her from that place. He still wasn’t free yet. Donella’s rigorous training and drills made sure of that. Perhaps he was never meant to be free.

“I have a job for you.” Donella said, rousing him from his thoughts of the orphanage.

Hugo brightened up. A job meant he could leave. A job meant he could grasp at open air, and imagine what it would be like to live untethered.

“I have a contact in Kalamir who informs me that there might be a trial there. If there’s a trial, there’s a totem, and that’s one step closer to foiling her plans.” Donella reached into her pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. “We’ll go together, but consider this your initiation exam. I expect you to do well.”

At that, Hugo’s heart soared. A journey? A new kingdom? An opportunity to leave Starksilber at last, even if it was just for a few weeks? He’d take it, temporary as it was.

The days he spent with Donella on the road were peaceful, far removed from the choking atmosphere of the Industrial Kingdom. Even travelling beside Donella had been refreshing; she’d finally loosened up and become an actual human being. They’d cooked together, laughed together, and he’d even heard stories from her childhood, though whenever he broached the subject of Ulla, all conversation died a hasty death.

Still, those were days Hugo would look back on and remember with fondness and nostalgic longing. He would miss them for the rest of his life. He felt like a boy with his mother, and he pretended they were simply travellers on the road, perhaps farmers or merchants with no place to go.

This illusion was shattered often by Donella’s meticulous mapping and plotting, but Hugo built it up again every morning, grasping at those moments of normalcy.

When they arrived at Kalamir, Donella lead him to a dark recess of the city. Much of the city was underground. Tunnels lead like rat-ways under the streets, where most of the houses and shops were squirrelled away, sunken half under the surface. Underground blacksmiths with burning lava forges had chimneys that poked out of the cobblestone streets and glowed like fiery eyes across the city.

It was such a densely populated city that Hugo was sure they wouldn’t find a place to stay, but Donella lead him to a tavern that brimmed with dusty miners and gruff looking forge-masters. Hugo felt small amongst the musclebound men and women, but he didn’t forget Donella’s lessons; he kept his back straight and his gaze high.

He would not be intimidated.

Chapter Text

Donella spoke in low voices with a tall woman who leaned against the bar. The woman peered past Donella’s shoulder at Hugo and winked.

“Don, you gonna introduce me or not?” The woman barked. Her voice reminded him of the crackle of a low fire.

“Sepania, this is Hugo. He’s my student.” Donella said, and shot Hugo a stern look that said Don’t say anything incriminating.

“How many times, Don? Call me Sep! Most folks do around here, cause none a’ them can pronounce Sepania like you.” Sepania grinned; she was missing a few teeth, though they had been replaced by what looked like smooth grey stones that sat cradled in her gums like tombstones in her mouth. Despite this, her grin was infectious, and Hugo smiled back, a little shy.

“Nice to meet you, Sep.” Hugo said.

Sep threw an amicable arm around his shoulders, bringing him further into the crowded tavern, “Don tells me ya looking for totems? I might be able to help ya. The wife and I work the mine down in old-town, and lemme tell ya… Well, that’s for later. For now, I bet ya’ll are tired!” She laughed jubilantly, “Don’t worry none, pipsqueak, I also gotta place you can hole up for a few days.”

“Oh! You’re the contact!” Hugo had expected someone like Donella to have dealings with mysterious dark figures in mysterious dark alleyways, not…people like Sep. Kind people, people who had lives and families.

“Yup! Don and me go back…well, I don’t rightly know just how long, but—“

“It’s not important.” Donella said, impatience creeping into her voice, “Hugo, Sepania will take you to the safe house. I’ll join you once I have some affairs in order.”

Hugo twisted the hem of his shirt nervously between his fingers. He’d been with Donella for so long now that it felt strange leaving her for some stranger he’d just met in a tavern in a strange city. He only knew what Starksilber was like. Even the kindest stranger would leave his knife in your gut if it meant coin.

“C’mon pipsqueak! It’s not far.” Sep steered him by the shoulder onto the cold street, which was partially under the cover of a carved rock corridor. He could not see the moon, but its blue light cast the entire city in marble rather than the grey stone he knew it was from when he’d walked the city in daylight.

The smoke from the forge-chimneys choked Hugo, and he coughed as he followed Sep through the weaving tunnels and corridors. The smoke didn’t faze Sep, who trundled along spilling stories of her wife and daughter, and how they’d love to cook for him and Donella, and how they’d been waiting for her to visit for years now. Hugo tried asking about what Donella had been like, before, but Sep shot him a confused look.

“Whaddaya mean different?” Sep said, “Don’s always been her happy-go-lucky self. Though, come to think of it, I haven’t seen that nice lady who used to come visit for years. Her and Don were inseparable back in the day… Ulla, I think it was. She used to love my wife’s apple rock casserole. Always brought along gifts for my daughter.”

Caught up as Hugo was in dreading what apple rock casserole could hold in store for him, he was more interested in Ulla. He knew it was a sore subject for Donella, who had to be forced to even utter the woman’s name, but he couldn’t help but be curious about what had happened between them. From what little Donella had told him, Ulla was an evil scientist, hellbent on ending the world. Evil scientists didn’t usually enjoy home cooking and gift giving.

“So what was Ulla like? Donella mentions her sometimes, but I don’t know what happened between them.” Hugo said.

Sep tapped her lip in thought, “Ulla was a smart lady, just like our Don. I think they had some kinda deal on, where they’d share research and whatnot, but they were always comin’ round here cause they thought there was one a’ them trials Don’s so obsessed with. We never found it, but boy did we have good times. Ulla was always smilin’, even when they failed, and she got Don to loosen up once in a while.” Sep shrugged suddenly, like she was shirking the memory from her shoulders, “But that was years ago.”

“Years ago? And they never found any of the trials? No hints at all?” Hugo frowned.

“They found signs but could never get pinpoint the exact trial grounds, or get to any of the totems. Then, Don turned up without Ulla one day, and none of us could question it. Only said something about her leavin’ on account of havin’ a kid, and takin’ all the research with her. I reckon Ulla knew more than she was lettin’ on, but we’ll never know.” Sep pointed suddenly, down into a dimly lit tunnel. “We’re here!”

The tunnel was a tight fit, even for Hugo, and was lit by a few torches on sconces that were almost burnt down to the handle.

“It’s a…hole in the ground?” Hugo shifted nervously at the mouth of the tunnel.

“Of course!” Sep said, “Most a’ the homes round here are. Now, make yourself at home. I’ll bring ya food round once it’s ready, but…Well, Don told me you have to stay here by ya lonesome on account of ya…training? Sounds strange, but that’s our Don for ya!”

“Figures.” Hugo muttered. He’d almost been looking forward to the prospect of some home-cooking and the company of a normal family. Looks like he was relegated to a cave.

“Now, don’t fret none. It’s perfectly pleasant in there. It’s one a’ the disused grain stores for the farm down the way, but my daughter Tella made it into a hideout when she was a kid. There’s beds in there, and some books and whatnot.” Sep spoke as if she was justifying to herself leaving a fourteen year old alone in a cave at night, rather than assuring Hugo.

Hugo stared into the tunnel, at the part where the torches stopped and it got dark. Too dark to see what lay beyond. He turned to Sep and gave her his best winning grin, “I’ll be fine. It’s just for a few hours, right? Donella said she’ll meet me here soon enough.”

Sep smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes, “Yeah, just a few hours…Anyway, I’ll be sure to have your food down to ya in no time. It was nice speakin’ to ya, Hugo.”

“And you, Sep.” Hugo smiled until she’d continued walking down the long corridor and out of sight, then he faced the tunnel again with apprehension.

He helped himself to a torch from the wall sconce and walked into the tunnel, slow and cautious. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but something about it made him feel queasy. As he kept walking, then tunnel got tighter and tighter around him, and darkened with every step. Soon enough, though, he stepped into a well-lit central chamber.

It was a large enough space. The walls curved into the ceiling, giving Hugo the impression that it was less of a room and more of a cave. The room was full of stone grain containers, piled one on top of the other, all empty. It was reassuring to know that a random citizen wouldn’t walk in to retrieve their grain and wonder why there was a skinny boy in Starksilber thieves garb was camping there.

Still, there was much evidence of the original purpose of the room. The floor was powdery with the remains of what looked like barley. There were even full stalks and leaves left, scattered around and drying into dust.

There were two bedrolls laid out, and stacks upon stacks of books piled across the room. Tella must’ve been an avid reader as a kid. Hugo traced covers and read titles, but none of them caught his eye. He was only interested in books that taught him alchemical equations and the history of the people who made the alchemical equations.

Hugo pulled one of the bedrolls over the the pile of stone grain stores and sat down, settling back so that he could lean against the stores. He flicked absently through some of the books, briefly skim reading a Flynn Rider novel, but he couldn’t get into it. He never did care for escapism and Rider was such a stupid hero.

Soon enough, Sep shouted down the tunnel, and Hugo hastily retrieved his supper.

It was a casserole of some sort, ladled generously into a chipped china bowl. He hadn’t known how hungry he was until he’d demolished the bowl in a matter of minutes. It was spicy and hearty, exactly what he needed to stay warm in the cold cave. He would make sure to thank Sep and her wife in the morning, though he felt a little put out that he hadn’t been allowed to stay with them. He’d been looking forward to seeing Sep’s family, imagining that he was a part of it.

It was fine. He had Donellla.

He curled up on his bedroll and wondered why they were really in Kalamir. Donella seemed to believe there was a trial here, but in all the years she’d been searching, she hadn’t found even a sniff of a trial before. He wondered why she’d found one now. Hugo yawned and laid back. It was another question for the morning, for when Donella returned. He drifted quickly into a deep, bone-tired sleep.

Hugo woke with a ball of panic in his chest. He was confused where it had come from, until he heard a loud crack. He sat up and looked around.

Fire.

One of the torches had fallen somehow. He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that there was fire, spreading quickly on the flammable remains of the barley that covered the entire room in a fine white powder.

It was excruciatingly hot. It was so hot that Hugo couldn’t think, couldn’t even begin to parse the situation he was in. He’d been asleep with a bellyful of homemade food and content a few minuted ago, and now he was going to die. It was a lot to come to terms with.

He jumped up onto one of the stone containers that had once stored grain, and stood above the fire, taking in his options. The flames were dancing wildly at the entrance to the cave, so the traditional escape route was ruled out. He twisted to see if there was another way out, and realised his mistake. His head felt like it was floating. The smoke was much worse up here, and he hadn’t realised how quickly it could effect him.

He couldn’t get this far just to faint and burn to death anyway. He steeled himself, then jumped back down. He went into a crouched run and streaked across the room, as fast as he could. The fire was everywhere, and one false move would mean a burnt arm, or leg.

“Think, stupid, think!” He hissed at himself, grinding the heel of his hand into his temple. His glassed were covered in soot, but it was still better than going without them. He cast around, looking desperately for water, for light, for anything that meant he wouldn’t die here.

The roar of the fire was all he could hear. It was ferociously loud. It made him want to curl up on one of the bedrolls and cover his ears and just sleep. He knew he couldn’t. The flames cracked and spat out a chunk of hot ash which landed on his forearm, instantly burning through the fabric of his shirt. He brushed it off just as his skin started to blister. The sting of pain bought tears to his eyes.

He couldn’t breath. He was panicking. The room was filling was acrid black smoke, and it closed in around him. Hugo was losing his grip on consciousness. He grabbed his arm, pressing his fingers onto his burn and made himself concentrate on the pain. There had to be something—

There. A sizeable cubby hole, carved into the rock wall of the cave. He couldn’t see if it actually led anywhere, and in his panic, that didn’t matter. Perhaps it had been intended to be a doorway, or an extension when the room had been constructed. All he could process right now was that it wasn’t on fire, and he could live for another few seconds there. Hugo rushed to it, tears of panic finally falling as he did. He was gasping for air.

He dropped to his knees and skidded to a halt, climbing into the hole in the rock. Then, there was an impossibly loud crack, like a giant’s femur had just broken above him. He gasped and looked up. The supporting beam of the cave had broken. It was going to fall, and when it did, it would hit the pile of stone grain stores, which would collapse on top of him.

“No no no—“ Hugo backed as far as he could into the cubby hole, pressing his body into the rock. It was refreshingly cold, which didn’t do much to distract him from his panic.

He heard it crack again, and squeezed his eyes shut. There was the sickly sound of heavy wood hitting stone, then a yawing silence in which Hugo found himself praying to whatever cruel god presided over him, wondering what he’d ever done to deserve a death so gruesome.

He heard rock hit rock, louder than a dynamite explosion. He shielded his face with his arms, and his mind went mercifully blank.

Chunks of rock scattered into the cubby hole, but none came close enough to hit him. He coughed as the hole filled with dust and rubble. The light was completely blocked out. Once the rock had stopped falling, everything fell silent. He couldn’t even hear the fire burning anymore. And, he noticed most glaringly of all the facts, he was trapped.

The rubble hadn’t crushed him, but it had blocked him into the cubby hole. He could barely stand up in it, and there was definitely no way out through it.

He slid down the wall and sat. There was nowhere else to go.

Sep had noticed the smoke coming from the mouth of the tunnel to the grain store from her kitchen window when she woke the next morning. Actually, her wife Patty had pointed it out in curiosity, and a lump of dread had solidified in Sep’s gut.

As she’d run down to reach the tunnel, she’d met a stern looking Donella standing in the entrance, arms crossed. She seemed to be waiting.

“What’s goin’ on, Don? Where’s that kid a’ yours?” Sep asked, trying to keep the desperate edge from her voice. She could only imagine her Tella in there, trapped.

Donella turned to her, calm and cold as ever, “It seems there’s been a fire. Only a small one; it’s burned itself out quite efficiently.”

“Don, where’s the kid?” Sep asked again, this time a little steely.

She looked at her like she’d asked an obvious and stupid question, “Presumably where I left him. He does follow instructions superbly.”

Sep leapt into action, setting off at full pelt into the tunnel. The fire may have been out for hours, and the tunnel wasn’t hot at all, but the smoke hung in the air, thick and cloying. She pressed her shirt to her face and forced herself to keep moving. It wasn’t any different from being down in the mines, she told herself.

When she reached the chamber, she saw what had happened. Half of the room was collapsed into one corner, a pile of rubble where the pile of grain stores had been. Tella used to climb on them when she was a kid.

Sep’s hand went to her mouth. There was no way that kid was alive in here. She was about to turn back around and break the news to Don, when she noticed a dim blue glow, highlighting the cracks around the pile of rubble.

Maybe…maybe there was a chance.

It took a few hours to gather up her neighbours and family for help, but soon enough, half a dozen of them were pulling rocks carefully out of the pile of rubble. Even Don was helping, seeming quiet and distant.

Sep had called out a few times to the kid, Hugo, hoping to hear him call back, scared but alive. There was nothing. They all worked in silence for hours, pulling rock by rock, careful not to crush whatever awaited them inside the rubble.

Finally, Sep pulled aside a particularly sizeable boulder, no trouble for a woman her size, and revealed a boy illuminated by a bottle of blue glowing liquid, curled up in a cubby hole in the wall. He’d thought fast in hiding there, and the collapse of grain stores had probably saved him rather than damned him. He was lucky the fire had burned itself out so quickly.

“Hey there, kid. You’re okay.” Sep said gently, holding out her hand. “It’s all over.”

The boys eyes were wide and hollow. He stared into nothing. He didn’t say thank you when she picked him up and took him out of that damned hole. He didn’t relax in her arms, not even as she took him outside and set him down in open air. He just looked around, eyes owlishly wide and panicked. 

“Well done, for makin’ that glowing potion. We wouldn’t have found ya without it.” Sep said, “Don told me you’re some kinda alchemy genius. It probably saved ya life.”

“I don’t like the dark.” Hugo explained, his voice husky and quiet. The smoke had done a number on his throat, but he didn’t seem to notice.

Sep’s heart twisted. Her Tella hated the dark too. She would die before she let her daughter fall into danger like Hugo had. She looked over at Don, who stayed distant, examining the bottle of blue glowing liquid that Hugo had left behind. Her expression hardened. She knew Don could be cold, but this seemed too much.

“Hugo, how would ya like a nice rest up and a bowl of stew, huh? After what you’ve been through, I think you could use a stew.” Sep said, helping the boy to his feet.

Hugo stood like it was his first day in the sun, blinking harshly and standing shaky on his feet. She noticed that despite everything, he stood tall and to attention, just like Don. “That would be very nice, thank you.” He mumbled.

“Not too long,” Donella called, “We still have a mission to fulfil, Hugo.”

Sep felt appalled, and was about to voice exactly how she felt about Don’s discipline, when Hugo nodded resolutely and said, “Of course.”

Sep frowned, “C’mon honey, let’s get some stew in ya, then you can worry about missions and what not.” She guided the boy up towards her house with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He allowed himself to be lead along. He didn’t seem to care where he was going, and Sep figured he was probably exhausted. She was proven right when he collapsed onto Tella’s bed and instantly fell asleep.

He was woken a few hours later by Donella entering the house and slamming the door behind her. She seemed angry, and headed straight for where Hugo still laid, his eyes staring into nothing.

“What happened, Don?” Sep asked her, surreptitiously blocking her from Hugo.

“The-The trial I was meant to find here…It was a dead-end. It was a waste.” She spat.

“I’m sure it’s not all bad. Don, you’ll find another way, I know you will. Just keep cracking away at it—”

“I don’t have time.” Sep’s placations seemed to have made her worse, and she was more venomous than she’d ever seen.

“Well, you must let the boy rest. He’s been through too much to be on the road again.”

“What is it about my lack of time do you not understand, you stupid woman.” Donella snapped, “I’m leaving. You have no right to keep my apprentice from me.”

Sep felt something within her crumble. She wasn’t an argumentative woman, especially for one of her oldest friends. Still… the boy. “Of course not, Don.” She said quietly. She stepped out of the way, trying to convey her apologies to the boy as she met his eyes.

She watched them as they left, the boy trailing wearily behind Donella as she marched down the tunnels. She did not look back.

Sep sat down for dinner and smiled at Tella, her Tella. She wouldn’t wish Hugo’s life on anyone, let alone her own child.

She only hoped Donella would visit again, and bring the boy along with her. The next time, she’d help him. She swore it on her own life.