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Callista was woken by a little girl’s cry.
Her eyes opened wide and in the low light she took in the familiar sight of her room at the Hound Pits Pub. Her and Lady Emily’s room. Callista quickly sat up and looked to Emily, who was muttering and writhing in the bed next to hers. Callista could barely make out what Emily was mumbling in the otherwise silent room. She heard ‘no’ repeated a few times. And ‘mother’ and... ‘father’, maybe?
It tugged at Callista’s heart. The sight of this poor girl, who had been through so much, put through more suffering as she slept. Callista knew she wasn’t meant to think like that — Emily was her Empress, the Empress of the Isles, not just some tragic little girl -- but Callista couldn’t quite help it.
She could help this though. She wasn’t going to simply sit and watch Emily suffer. She had to wake her up. “Lady Emily?” Callista asked softly.
Emily didn’t stir, she just kept mumbling, eyes shut hard.
Callista sat on the side of her bed, facing Emily. “Lady Emily?” she tried again, to no avail. Emily continued to squirm and mutter.
Callista let out a small huff and lightly put her hand on Emily’s shoulder, hoping the touch might wake her. “Emily, wake up.”
Emily woke up with a sharp breath, gasping for air, unwittingly shoving Callista’s hand and her blankets off her. She looked around with pure fear in her wide eyes and within a second or two, then paused, as if she had suddenly realised something. She began to cry, tears running down her pale cheeks, still surrounded by panic.
“Oh, Emily,” Callista reached out to lay a comforting hand on Emily, but she backed away from Callista’s hand, not quite looking at anything. She pushed herself to the end of the bed and made herself as small as possible, pulling her legs up to her chest and she put her head down on her knees.
“Emily, it was just a nightmare,” Callista said slowly and reassuringly.
Emily shook her head. “No no,” Emily whimpered quietly, shaking her head and sobbing into her creamy-white nightdress, “It wasn’t a nightmare.”
Callista frowned. She reached down to turn another lamp on, hoping that might help Emily see she was safe and not in her nightmare anymore, and suddenly registered that Emily was actually crying in front of her. Emily never cried in front of Callista.
She cried, yes, but only at night, when she thought Callista was sleeping. She knew Emily tried her best to act like the Empress she was supposed to be, despite everything. Callista had never seen the late Empress up close, but it wasn’t hard to recognise that Emily was attempting to emulate her mother. And so, Callista had never seen Emily like this. She looked nothing like a great Empress, nothing like Empress Jessamine; she simply looked like the traumatised ten-year-old she actually was.
Callista quickly turned the lamp on. She was about to try to comfort Emily with her hand again, but stopped herself, wary of Emily’s earlier reaction. “Emily, it’s alright. It was just a nightmare. It’s okay now.”
Emily shook her head, still sobbing into her knees.
Callista knew how to treat a child having a tantrum. She thought she knew how to act when a child was upset. But this seemed like something else. Perhaps the best way to deal with it would be to wait until Emily had calmed herself a little and--
Someone knocked on the door.
“Is Emily alright?” Corvo’s low rasp came through the door urgently.
Emily’s sobs lulled at the sound of Corvo’s voice, and she lifted her head off her knees to look at the door pleadingly. She didn’t seem like she’d been surprised or scared by his voice, but reassured
Callista’s eyes flicked between Emily and the door. Callista wasn’t sure how comfortable she was answering the door in her nightdress and with her hair undone, but perhaps Corvo -- who surely knew Emily far better than Callista -- could help calm the young girl. And besides, it was just Corvo; he never looked at her in that same uncomfortable way that Piero -- and sometimes the other men too -- looked at her.
Callista got up and opened the door to Corvo. He was poised to knock again, but dropped his hand at the sight of the open door. His face was as unreadable as ever, but there was an uncharacteristic look of questioning panic in his deep brown eyes.
“Lady Emily had a nightmare,” Callista spoke quietly, with a flat but sympathetic expression. She wanted to add that Emily was fine, but she knew it was a lie. Not injured might have been better--
“Corvo?” Emily whimpered behind them.
Callista glanced back at Emily, then to Corvo, then quickly stepped to the side to let him in the room.
Corvo didn’t spare Callista so much as a glance and went straight to kneeling next to Emily’s bedside, gently looking up at her. Emily’s lip was still trembling a little. She was staring at Corvo like she was trying to memorise every inch of his face, but the simple sight of him seemed to calm her somewhat.
“Hey Em,” his voice was quiet and soothing.
Emily continued to look at him with bloodshot brown eyes, and Callista had the strangest feeling that Emily’s look meant something, that it held some secret and silent message only Corvo could read.
Corvo raised himself up and sat on the side of Emily’s bed, a little way from her, keeping eye contact with her the whole time. He was moving slowly, making sure to telegraph his actions so Emily knew exactly what he was doing.
Once he had sat, Emily looked at him for a short second before shuffling along and shoving herself under Corvo’s arm. She was quick, acting like he might be gone if she took too long. She leaned on his side and grabbed a fistful of his coat, clinging onto it with a tight, white-knuckled grip.
Callista hadn’t noticed that Corvo was wearing his coat before. He was completely dressed for the day, as if he’d had time to get ready, not as if he’d just been abruptly woken up by Emily’s cry. Callista wondered if perhaps Corvo was sleeping just as badly as Emily.
Corvo didn’t seem at all surprised by Emily nestling into him like that. He put his arm around Emily properly, giving her half a hug, and began gently smoothing her messy black hair with his other hand. Neither said anything for a short while, simply holding each other tight.
Emily shut her eyes hard. “It was- it was the men in the masks. Except they killed mother and you. And- and—“ her shoulders wracked as she broke into a fresh cry.
Corvo continued to gently stroke Emily’s hair. “I’m here, okay?” he said tenderly. Callista knew she wasn’t imagining the pained look on his face. “You’re safe, I’m here.”
Emily gave a small nod, her head still resting on his chest. She kept her iron grip on the fabric of his coat and shut her tearful eyes.
Callista was hit by the sudden feeling that she was watching a private moment, not meant for her eyes. But she wasn’t quite sure where else she was meant to go; she could hardly go for a walk in the middle of a winter night in just her nightgown. Emily was her charge -- it was her duty to stay.
Still, the moment felt far too kind for the Hound Pits Pub and the conspiracy tightly woven in its walls.
Callista couldn’t quite believe that the man quietly holding Emily was the same man who the Loyalists were using as their assassin. The two images didn’t seem to fit together in her mind. Corvo was so gentle with Emily, so tender. Callista could hardly imagine Emily’s Corvo being the most dangerous man in the city. And yet…
Emily’s sobs were quiet, and Corvo’s hold was protective and delicate. The pair certainly didn’t look like the disgraced Lord Protector and Empress-to-be. Just two very broken people, in dire need of one another.
Or a father comforting his daughter , a voice in Callista’s head piped up.
She wanted to ignore the idea -- a rude and very much uninvited idea -- but found that she couldn’t. Emily was muttering ‘father’ , Callista thought, and she said that Corvo died in the nightmare ... No, that would be… that was just…
Of course Callista had never asked Emily who her father was. Out of simple courtesy and knowing it wasn’t her place to know. Still... she couldn’t help but be inwardly curious, the same way everyone was.
That being said, some at the Hound Pits were far more outwardly curious than Callista. Lydia had made a rather inappropriate comment about the Empress and Corvo not long after he first arrived at the Pits, when Callista and Lydia were taking a break outside. But Lydia was a gossip, so Callista dismissed it as just another rumour.
To both of their great misfortunes, Wallace had overheard Lydia and immediately taken it upon himself to correct her. He said that what she was suggesting was quite frankly impossible, because the Empress would never have been with someone of Corvo’s lowborn status like that.
“Wasn’t he a lord though?” Lydia had asked with narrowed eyes.
Wallace looked at her as if she had just said that hagfish could fly . The same shocked and demeaning way he usually looked at Cecelia. “He wasn’t born a lord,” Wallace had said, with that I-know-everything tone he usually spoke with when talking to anyone that wasn’t Lord Pendleton, “He was made one when Empress Kaldwin was crowned, as all Royal Protectors are when their charge becomes the monarch.”
Wallace shook his head and tutted, before reminding that they had jobs to do -- despite being on break -- and walking off to continue whatever task he was actually supposed to be doing. Lydia rolled her eyes as he went, before taking another drag of her cigarette and making another inappropriate comment about Corvo’s looks.
Callista had decided to ignore it all, and not make assumptions. Her job was to look after and teach Lady Emily, not speculate on who her father was or what the late Empress did in her spare time.
But watching Corvo and Emily hadn’t exactly made it easy. Corvo was completely different around Emily. Whenever he was near her, the Corvo who had first come to the Hound Pits -- the man she could believe was a cold-hearted assassin, hardened by six months in the worst prison in Gristol -- completely melted away, and was replaced by a gentle man, who cared deeply for the young princess. The man who saved Callista’s uncle.
She was reminded of what Lydia had said more than once as she saw the two of them. But she convinced herself again that it was gossip. Of course the Lord Protector would be close with his Empress’ daughter, Callista had thought, and again easily dismissed the idea.
But now it felt like the idea was screaming in her face and didn’t plan on going away. Corvo was certainly closer with Emily than almost all of the noble parents whose children she had been governess for. And going off what little Emily said about her mother, the Empress had too been close to her daughter.
What was most annoying to the part of Callista that wanted to respectfully deny it all, was that it made sense . It made sense that the Empress never married if she was in a relationship with her Royal Protector whom she couldn’t marry. It made sense that the Empress didn’t reveal who the father of her daughter was if he was a lowborn Serkonan. And it made sense that they could hide such a relationship, given how close they would have been every day.
And Callista couldn’t deny that there were similarities between Corvo and Emily. They have the same eyes. Or was that her imagination?
Callista shook her head slightly. She shouldn’t even be thinking about it. It wasn’t her business. She owed the man that saved her uncle and her Empress-to-be not to be letting her mind wander to gossip.
Callista noticed that Emily had stopped crying, her sobs giving way to small whimpers every so often. She was still clinging on to Corvo, albeit with less visible desperation. Corvo’s hand rested on her head now, but he continued to stroke her head with his thumb, a small and calm movement.
Emily moved her face from Corvo’s chest and looked up at him. “Corvo, can I sleep in your room?”
There was a short moment of silence before Corvo's gaze flicked from Emily to Callista. After her previous line of thought, it took her a moment to realise Corvo was asking Callista’s permission. The idea of a father asking a governess if his daughter was allowed to come sleep in his room seemed rather absurd to her.
You don’t know he’s her father , she reminded herself.
Callista wasn’t sure how Emily was meant to fit in bed with Corvo — she wasn’t sure how Corvo alone managed to fit in that bed, given his height — but if Corvo was alright with it, then Callista didn’t see any reason to disagree. Besides, as far as she knew his mission tomorrow wasn’t until late; Corvo could catch up on any sleep lost from having Emily with him during the day. Perhaps he would sleep easier knowing she was safe.
Callista gave the Royal Protector a smile and nod.
Corvo half-smiled back and turned down to Emily, “Of course.” He picked Emily up with a practiced ease, and stood up. She was getting too big to be carried in Callista’s opinion, but Corvo didn’t seem to mind. In fact, Emily’s small frame didn’t seem to weigh anything to him -- yet he carried her so softly and delicately.
Emily buried her face right in Corvo’s collar, clinging to the edges of his coat with the same tight grip as before -- a tight grip Corvo didn’t seem to mind one bit. She huddled into him so naturally, it was as if that was the way they were both meant to be.
Callista opened the door for them, and Corvo gave her another smile and a curt nod as he walked through. “Thank you,” he mouthed.
Callista smiled back, and watched them walk away. Emily’s face was buried in his coat’s collar, and she held onto him tightly. And despite holding them both, Corvo’s quiet steps barely made a noise on the metal bridge as his silhouette grew more distant and disappeared into the night.
The soft smile remained on Callista’s lips as she headed back inside the small tower. Because she knew that even if Corvo wasn’t Lady Emily’s father by blood, Callista could easily believe he was her father in every other way. In every way that mattered.