Chapter Text
“Thomas,” Emily declares immediately, to absolutely no one’s surprise. “I want Thomas to come with us.”
“As you wish, Empress.”
Thomas, personally, would much rather swim the length of the Wrenhaven River back to the Hound Pits than endure an hour-long boat ride with Empress Emily Drexel Lela Kaldwin I. But Daud is asking him to guard the child, and he will do anything for Daud.
So he clambers into Samuel’s little boat and offers Emily his hand, which she takes with only the slightest hint of trepidation, her other hand still clutched tightly to her chest as if she’s holding on to some precious object. Maybe she is, in her mind. With how long she’s been in captivity – with how long they’ve allowed her to remain in captivity – it’s no wonder she’s turned to her imagination to find some form of escape. He knows better than most what it’s like to be trapped, his own years of living in his father’s oppressive household making him appreciate what he has now all the more. His very continued existence he owes to Daud.
The first leg of the trip isn’t all that bad. Samuel makes good on his promise to show Emily how to steer Amaranth, going over the various parts of the ship and explaining how to handle the throttle and the rudder, even allowing her to steer for a while when they’re in open waters. Thomas focusses on his duty, watching the river for other vessels and determining their level of threat. Twice he tells Samuel to alter his course so they can avoid a potentially problematic encounter, but other than that he is the epitome of the silent, watchful protector.
But Samuel can only teach the girl so much while also navigating the waters, and Emily takes to watching the river with Thomas. “Do any pirates ever sail here?” she asks.
“Not that I know of,” Samuel answers, but Thomas begs to differ.
“The Dead Eels patrol the river,” he says, even if their presence has diminished since Edgar Wakefield forcibly took control from Elizabeth Stride. “They’re based at Draper’s Ward.”
“The Dead Eels?” Emily asks, her nose wrinkling in distaste. “That’s a weird name for a group of pirates. Eels can’t swim when they’re dead.”
Thomas makes a mental note never to introduce Emily to Lizzy, lest he wants another dead Empress on his hands. “I never thought to inquire about the name, Your Majesty.”
“Have you ever fought one of them?”
“No,” Thomas says. Back when Lizzy was still in charge, she and Daud made it a point to keep their gangs away from each other out of mutual respect. He doubts Wakefield will be so kind, if push comes to shove, but Emily doesn’t need to know that. “It’s not been necessary.”
“I wanted to be a pirate when I was little,” Emily says, as if she’s not still so very young. “Pirates can go wherever they want! But Corvo says they have to kill people too, and I don’t want to do that. So I guess I’ll just be Empress.”
“A wise decision, Your Majesty,” Thomas agrees, keeping his face forcefully neutral, even though her casual mention of Corvo Attano has his stomach in knots. He’s the one who took him from her life, the one who tore away her father like Daud did her mother. Only she knows exactly what role Daud played in the death of her parents. She has no idea of his.
It’s as if she can read his thoughts, her gaze flicking briefly to her palm, formed into a claw as if holding something, before she looks back at him. “Were you there?” she asks, in that small voice that reminds him she’s only ten years old. “When…?”
Emily doesn’t need to finish the question. “Yes,” Thomas chokes out, not able to meet her eye, the accusatory glare of this child whose life he helped ruin. And then, before he can stop himself, he confesses. “I killed your father.”
He can hear Samuel gasp from his position at the helm, but his focus is on the girl beside him, the girl who regards him not with shock or fear, but with a detached calculation. “Why?”
“He went for Daud,” Thomas says. He doesn’t quite recall how everything happened, the whole mess hardly more than a blur in his mind, but he remembers Attano breaking free from Fergus’ tether, entirely unexpectedly, and lunging at Daud and Jessamine Kaldwin. Daud could have taken him – he was unarmed and emotional, showing none of the composed swordsman he’d been as he desperately ran for the woman he loved. But all Thomas could see was an exceptional warrior rushing at the man he loves, and raising his sword to catch Attano’s neck had been instinctive more than anything.
He dreams of it every night. He feels the guilt over murdering an honourable man eating at him every second. He hates himself for leaving this young girl an orphan, when the contract only called for the life of her mother.
But if it means protecting Daud, he’d do it again in a heartbeat.
Emily’s hand tightens briefly around the air. “You were protecting him.”
“Yes.”
“Daud said he was protecting you,” she says. “He said the Spymaster would have killed his family if he didn’t kill Mother.”
Thomas forces himself to look at her, taking every bit of her scorn as his rightful punishment. “He would have,” he confirms. They should have gone into hiding, or organised a pre-emptive strike on Burrows, or even warned the Empress of the contract on her head. But it was both easier and more lucrative to just follow the Spymaster’s orders. It was supposed to be just another contract, after all. Except it wasn’t.
He should have anticipated her next question, but it still catches him by surprise. “Are you sorry you killed him?”
“Yes,” Thomas breathes.
Emily looks at him for a long moment, holding his gaze intently as if she’s trying to see straight into his soul. It takes all of his willpower not to look away.
“You’re honest,” she says eventually, evenly. “I like that.”
Well, as long as he’s an honest murderer.