Chapter Text
In the parrish of New Orleans, deep in the heart of the Louisiana Bayou, a hidden war was taking place. Thieves and Assassins fought each other day in and day out, each one wanting to end up as the victor. Neither group imagined that in a little over twenty years, their two hundred year feud would be over. For now, it was still going - strikes and counterattacks, the two groups fighting in a way that could never be traced back to either of them. It was a cold war, with neither side ever actually gaining the upper hand. Each side had their own contracts, their own deals to be made. And while there was technically a peace treaty in place between the leaders of the two Guilds, that did nothing to stop those lower in the ranks from spiting each other as much as they could. Nothing outright lethal - not yet. But if things were left to continue the way they were going, it would turn that way.
In the heart of the French Quarter, Mattie Baptiste opened her eyes, waking up from her trance as a small smile curved across her lips. A strange thing was coming to her city - she had Seen it. L'ange noir and le diable blanc - destined for great things as long as their paths stayed true. They would either end up as best friends or bitter enemies, there was no middle ground. One path would lead to destruction and ruin, the other peace and salvation.
It all depended on the hands they were dealt, and the cards that they played. Luckily, Mattie had always been good at arranging a deck to suit her needs. It was a particular skill that she had worked hard to hone, and one that had become invaluable to her over time.
The King of the Thieves’ Guild had his home in the French Quarter, a beautiful old southern home that had been in his family for generations. It was nearly as old as the city itself. It took a lot to be allowed inside - but Mattie just waltzed right in.
She made her way through the house, her footsteps silent on the plush carpeting, determined to nudge the future in the right direction. Normally she wouldn't have done anything - playing with the future was tricky, and could often do more harm than good. But this time she needed to intervene, at least enough to set things in motion. Ignoring the guards in front of Jean-Luc’s office, she simply walked inside like she owned the place. Of course, the guards didn’t exactly try and stop her, either - to do so would mean certain death, or at least a demotion.
There was a meeting going on, but Jean-Luc stopped everything when he saw the look on her face, much to the annoyance of his clients. He gestured to his guards to escort them out, the men immediately moving to do as he asked.
“Now hang on just a minute!” The man who had come to ask him for help said. He was a big, broad New Yorker, with the attitude and accent to match. His clothes were perfectly tailored to his body, easily costing a few thousand dollars. Jean-Luc narrowed his eyes, getting up from his seat - this was the kind of man who had money and wanted everyone to know it. His wife sat by his side, her overly teased hair hiding her grays but not how much she hated him. “We came here ta do business, and that's what we're gonna do!”
“My apologies, monsieur.” Jean-Luc said. While his voice was completely earnest and honest, his face spoke words about his true feelings. “But more pertinent information has just come in, an’ so I must bid y’ adieu. Someone will be in touch with y’ shortly to reschedule.” As soon as they were out of the room, he turned his attention to the tiny woman in front of him.
“What have y’ got for me dis time?” He asked, sitting himself behind the desk and folding his hands in his lap. His sharp eyes trained on her face, already planning different scenarios for what she might possibly tell him. “An’ make it somet'in good, sil tu plait. Dat was gonna be a bon job.”
“Y'r gonna go into de Quarter t'morrow,” Mattie instructed simply. She didn't need to say much more than that to know that her demands would be followed. “And set de wheels of destiny into play.” With that said, she walked out of the room, leaving a quietly confused Jean-Luc behind. But he knew that he would do what Mattie Baptiste had decreed - he always did, in the end. The woman had saved his life too many times over the years for him to not trust her now.
The next day, a young orphan on the streets tried to pickpocket the King of Thieves, and he took him in. And Mattie smiled as she watched from the shadows, knowing that things were on their way to playing out perfectly. She had led them to the path they needed - now it was up to le diable Blanc and l'ange noir to continue it.
8888
When Remy Etienne - not yet LeBeau - was born, he opened his eyes for the first time and the nurses screamed, nearly dropping the baby in their terror. His eyes shone as black as brimstone, his irises as red as hellfire. His parents were horrified and called a priest, asking him to come to the hospital in the dead of night and save their child's soul.
But the priest took one look at the baby and ran, screaming about the devil-child to anyone who would listen. Horrified and ashamed, the baby’s parents left him on the steps of the nearest church… where the priests, in turn, abandoned him in the nearest emergency room.
The news of the demon-child spread through the hospital like wild-fire, causing enough of a disturbance that one particular person picked up on it as he scoured the city for children. The Antiquary was someone to be wary of at the best of times - a greedy sorcerer with a habit of stealing people away only to sell them the very next day. So when he heard stories of an abandoned child with glowing red eyes and nobody to miss it, he struck. He took the baby, intending to sell it to the highest bidder… only to have the baby stolen away and hidden on the streets of New Orleans by the very thief he had hired to take the boy in the first place.
Of course, the baby didn’t remember any of that. All he knew was that he was alone in the world - too strange to fit in with normal people and too tricky for the other outcasts. Once he was old enough to do so, he ran from alley to alley, avoiding everything to do with any church - a place that could have provided him a safe haven - after the third time they tried to exorcise him. He grew up on the streets, quickly learning that there was no one that he could trust but himself. Even the other street kids didn’t want anything to do with him.
By the time Remy was five years old, he had taught himself most of what he needed to survive, using trial and error as he needed to. Soon he was being chased out of every territory for stealing from other thieves, for being too different. But that was okay. He was fine - lonely, but fine.
He made just enough to get by on the streets, and occasionally some of the nicer police officers would take him home with them for a hot meal instead of taking him to jail like they were supposed to. Until the day that he tried to pickpocket the King of Thieves, and found himself a home instead of a wallet. He became Remy LeBeau. He had a brother and a father and an aunt that cared about him, and nothing was ever the same.
8888
When Darcy Lerisse was born, her mama and papa couldn't have been happier. Tears of joy were shed as the nurses handed her over to her parents. Ten little fingers and ten little toes, with big blue eyes and a button nose, their fille couldn't have been any more perfect. They brought her home at two days old, with a red cord tied around her neck, amber beads strung on it to help protect her from any bad ju-ju. Mattie Baptiste had presided over her birth, and as soon as the child was born she had a secretive grin plastered to her face that wouldn’t go away. Even Jean-Luc had noticed it the next time they met - and while he didn’t know what had caused it, he knew that something was coming.
The only thing that her parents didn't understand was the thick streak of blonde in her hair - so bright, it almost seemed to glow. It was about an inch thick - never dulling or changing color even as the rest of her hair darkened with age.
By the time that Darcy was three years old, she was running around the house on chubby little legs with her brown curls flying behind her, sneaking up behind her parents on silent feet to steal back a toy that they had taken as punishment. Her Papa laughed every time, sweeping her into his arms and saying that someday she would be an excellent Thief, and one day lead jobs with ease. Those were her favorite stories to hear at bedtime - edited tales of her Papa’s job.
She grew up and went through her lessons to be a Thief, learning them to the best of her abilities. She knew that she would need the skills if she wanted to make her family proud, and she enjoyed learning them anyway. It was something for her and her Papa to do together - while her Mama was technically a part of the Guild, she married into it and as such, didn’t have much of a role in things. She was more of a den mother, providing alibis and guarding valuables before they were fenced. But Darcy was a natural at it, pick-pocketing with ease. She played cons and long games, working the streets until she knew every alleyway in the French Quarter.
She got better and better with age, until she became one of the most promising candidates for the next generation of Thieves. But at ten years old, her mutation kicked in. With the ability to heal even the largest injuries, to the point of bringing someone back from the brink of death, it was obvious what would happen. Once the King of Thieves learned what she was capable of, he decreed that she would no longer be a Thief, but a healer. Darcy argued as best she could - she had the skills to be a Thief, she could be both. But her protests fell on deaf ears. She was pulled out of her lessons the very next day, and began learning bandages and herbs instead of cons and safecracking. She learned how to cut and suture, and which herbs healed and which ones killed.
Mattie Baptiste took her under her wing - the unofficial voodoo queen of the Bayou. Mattie was a descendent of Marie Leveau herself, and it showed. It was in her flowing skirts and the colorful turbans she kept her hair wrapped in. It was in the shop that she ran and took Darcy as an apprentice in. And it was in the voodoo that she practiced on the regular, communing with the spirits to see the future and teaching Darcy everything she needed to know about healing. She taught the girl everything that she knew - herbs and stars, poultices and tinctures. Potions and creams, and which antidotes went with which poisons. She taught her everything that she could think of, and if there was ever anything that they hadn’t covered, then her mutation was enough to take care of healing it in the moment.
She was mastering her powers, but she was miserable. In her opinion, there was nothing better than the thrill of a con or the adrenaline rush that came with cracking a safe. Her lessons were none of those things - to her ten-year-old mind, this was nothing but torture.