Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Daud had run her mother through.

She curled herself small in the back of the spare room she had found. She was running a fever, but the medic had looked her over and pronounced it stress. He gave her a prescription of good soup and rest.

Her soup was untouched.

This room was behind the infirmary, away from the hubbub of the Whalers base, but she could watch it and hear it from both the doorway and window.

From the window, she watched the kids her age practice falling onto prey, laughing; and watching them appear and disappear made her dizzy and sick. Daud had done that when he killed her mother. The older kids were fighting and wrestling on the ground with knives, their teachers calling out corrections and praise. 

In the next building across the boardwalk, through the great open walls, she could see a loom move and weave like a creature crawling. Whalers with no masks and hair pulled back, passed a huge shuttle back and forth through the machine. While others untied, and tied new threads to the top. The great rhythmic ku-chunks make the beat of a song being sung about cloth, the spinning of wool, and the counting of threads. 

From the door she could hear them in the infirmary, the shifting of glass and the clattering of scalpels. Many low voices joined with the moans of the pained and sick to make a dull roar, like the ocean.

She missed the ocean from her window in the tower.

This one stunk.

“Your soup is cold now Miss Em.” The man Daud had called “Hem” said from the doorway. His voice was rough like he had gargled marbles and yelled right after to propel them out. She turned to him. He looked like a ragamuffin. He had long scraggly hair that rolled over his shoulders no matter how much he pushed it off, and his clothes no longer fit him. He had three wooden teeth and one silver. He had pressed his forehead to Daud’s when they saw each other. She didn’t give him the effort of a response.

“Come now, I have to check your temperature,” his accent made him say it like “yer” and “temp-per-atch-her.” That was reasonable, she stood and walked over to him. He placed the mercury stick in her mouth, and his fingers on her wrist to count her heart beats.

“It’s comin’ down. I’ll reheat your soup, but cha better eat it this time or I’ll be cross.” He wags his finger at her, trying to hide a smile at her. More seriously he says, “We don’t like to waste food.” She nods in response. She waits for the soup to come back and rests her arms on the window, and her head on her arms. A boy waves at her cheerfully before jumping and disappearing. He reappears further down and his instructor snatches him up before he hits the ground. All the kids whoop and cheer and laugh.

The soup was really good. She didn’t know if it was because she had not eaten in a day, or if she was just really sad. The Whaler named “Tom” was in the room with her, working on getting supplies, and generally just checking on her.

“Are you feeling a little better?” He asked, but her eyes were focused on the raven sitting outside. It cawed to her with a bob, and waddled closer. Another landed a bit further away.

“There’s no way to make this better, and I am sorry. Many of us know what you are going through. I’m sorry we captured you, but it was better than killing you as well,” he paused in his rummaging and turned.

“Try not to worry too much, Da-,”he stopped and corrected. “We will figure things out soon,” The raven hopped up on the window right next to her head and cawed directly into her ear. Surely as loud as he could. She yelped and fell back. The raven laughed at his joke. Three others landed and laughed as well.

She felt Tom lean over her and shoo, him off.

“Dravin, knock that off.”

The corvids laughed at him too, jeering and hopping and flapping. She watched in amazement as he suddenly appeared on the balcony, waving his arms to try to chase them off. But they stayed and played with him. It looked more like a dance.

“Are you a witch?” Emily asked. It was the first thing she had said since she got here.

Tom turned to her surprised, and that surprise turned to happiness.

“In a way, sure,” the ravens landed on his shoulders and outstretched arms. “We Whalers are blessed by the Outsider and the Void. We all have different talents, and some talents we can’t do. I’ve been saddled with birds,” his explanation was peppy. Emily decided she liked this bird man.

“Can you have them sing a song, like a quartet?”

Sure enough, he could. They sang their little hearts out for her to smile.

And smile, she did.

Tom visited often, bringing ravens and crows, and his own voice, and NEWS. News that Corvo was not dead, just in jail. She told him her secret, that he was her father, not just by love but by blood too. He nodded gravely and thoughtfully.

“Do you like your dad? Has he ever hurt you?” He sat cross legged on the floor in front of her.

“Of course not!” Her voice echoed too loud from her shout. She reigned herself in, calm and controlled just like an empress should be. “I miss him.”

“Then… that is a good option,” He had his chin on his fist, thinking hard.

“What do you mean?”

“You see, Da- Dau- uh, Master,” It took him three times to correct himself. “Has been trying to decide what to do with you. We have a safe house at the Golden Cat, but the new owner? She seems off. We don’t like her much,” he leaned back and she leaned in.

“And?”

“Well if Corvo’s still around and a good dad? We might be able to get you back to him. There’s a lot of compromises there that would have to be made. Like he would have to promise to take you far from here and you could never be Empress.”

“Why?”

“Because we were told to kill you. And we didn’t. We broke part of our contract. But the employer doesn’t know yet.”

“Employer?”

“Yes, we… didn’t kill your mother just for fun.”

“Just money,” she spat. He smiled sadly. 

“Yes.” The hate in her heart urged her to reach out to him with spread fingers. She put her hands behind her back instead.

“Leave me.”

“All right,” as he stood she leaned back so he couldn’t touch her head.

She stood and held her head high, pretended she was as tall and elegant and perfect as her mother. She did not cry, but her throat burned hot.

There was a boy at the window.

“Hi! I’m Jonah!” He smiled wide. He was missing his second two teeth on either side, and had a big bruise on his face, giving him a rat effect. “Come play with us. You can’t traverse, but we will go easy on you!” He’s halfway in the window and holds his arms out to her.

She slowly stands, and lets him help her out of the window. Her shoes were not the best to play in, they rub and give blisters, but she felt a need to just do something.

The other kids looked at her with wide eyes when she met their group. Some bowed, some scoffed, some pressed a kiss on her hand and pretended they were charming princes or dashing princesses. She tried not to be upset, this would be the only time they got to play like this and have it be almost real.

“Let’s play tag, no blinking allowed.” Jonah said. A chorus of moans happened at that.

“That’s horseshit,” one lisped out; S elongated through a whistle in her teeth.

The older Whaler who watched over them spoke up in Emily’s defense and scolded them. “This is not a mission, this is playing. And today we will be fair and not fight dirty.”

Jonah volunteered for being “it”, and the older Whaler would be the “Snatcher”, whatever that was. She took off running when Jonah hit ten, across dirty and rickety boards, dodging grown Whalers milling about their daily chores. Some took to her in a good mood and some sourly. 

She discovered what a snatcher was when one of the other kids suddenly appeared in front of her in a whip of ash and burnt papers with bared teeth. She was snatched off the edge by the older Whaler as if they were a freakish hawk ripping their prey out of the ocean. She was placed on the ground and removed from the game.

When Jonah finally came for her, she climbed. She climbed up and up and up. Boardwalk to wooden wall built for cover, to broken house wall, to balcony, to stairs, out a window and up the side of the building. Jonah struggled to climb without his blink, and the fear of making the same jumps that Corvo had showed her how to do. He taught her things, secret things; how to hold a knife, how to stab someone, how to sneak out of her room and eavesdrop on other parts of the Dunwall Tower. She had enough of a lead on him that she hid between the wings and hair of her great-grandmother’s statue, and she couldn’t be seen.

Her mother looked nothing like her great-grandmother, but she still found comfort there, nestled in the crook of her neck, tiny and small and safe. She waited for Jonah to leave, and she relaxed here, even if it was freezing cold, and a little wet.

“If you’re still around, I need your help,” Emily prayed to her.

And maybe even a little to the Outsider.

“Emily! The game is over, it is time for dinner.” She heard the snatcher call to her. She peeked her head out and saw all of them looking for her. A couple other adult Whalers had joined the search, traversing here and there, some of them scratching their heads.

She hid again, wanting a little more time for herself with what family she had.

It wasn’t till she was awoken by a pecking on her hand that she crawled out. The sun was almost done setting, and she could hear the Whalers had grown frantic looking for her. The raven cawed and swooped off to alert Tom of where she was.

“Ahoy, Emily!” He shouted after the raven whispered in his ear. He blinked out of sight, and appeared on the broken house wall, skipping part of her climb. He skipped the balcony and was on the stairs in an instant, but after that he couldn’t seem to figure out how she managed to get into her great-grandmother’s hair.

Being stumped, she laughed at him feeling more clever than him, but it would be too slippery for her to try and climb back down. He left Dravin with her, and blinked, one, two, three, four, times down in an instant.

Eventually he returned with Daud.

She wanted to scream.

He was there next to her in an instant, he looked like he had crawled out of the fireplace. There was dust and ash clinging to his skin and hair, wisps of paper wood floated and burned in the air around him. Her eyes were wide with fear, a cornered animal.

He knelt.

And held his hand to her.

And waited.

He waited a long time, and so did she. Her breath came hard.

Finally she took his hand, and he hauled her into his arms.

As he blinked down with her, traversing the spaces between existing, he rocked with her side to side. The world paused and shifted and she could see the pieces of the buildings float into the gray sky. Fish flew through the air and an echo roared in her ears.

He set her down on the boardwalk with the other children. Jonah gave her a huge hug and cried. He was saying something.

But she was busy being rocked by the Void.

Chapter Text

She’s been here almost a week. Emily has not been trapped anywhere specific; they know she cannot get far through the flooded district. She has almost free reign of the place. She’s watched Whalers come back from the sewers, burned to the bone by acid. She’s seen a girl get her hand crushed in a pumping accident. Her and Jonah sit side by side as the Weepers wail and wander the street below them. Dead bodies float up to the surface and are eaten by hagfish. Horrors she never even imagined in her life. 

On the other hand, she has seen the adults take breaks to play with children, whooping and hollering during tag, and kids take a break from playing to teach their favorite elders letters and numbers. She’s watched a woman spin her own golden hair into string, then sewing it into beautiful gifts for her squadmates. Whalers gather in small groups to smoke and chat and laugh and prank. A squad returns from a mission triumphant, carrying a boy on their shoulders, and all of them carrying bags of sugar strapped to their bodies.

She feels like she’s looking through portholes into some other time and place. She feels like a misplaced doll in a market. Here there are no purple fabrics, golden filigree, delicious lamb, or whale oil powered lights. 

But there are songs here, hundreds of them: sung in the kitchen, in the textile building, even in the infirmary. All of them sung in time to the ticking of Daud's grandfather clock, outside his office.

Emily could see that even in the horrors of this flooded place, the Whalers built love, a family.

She misses her father.

She dreams of her mother’s blood on her hands.

After dinner Tom invites her to the lounge for something called a “Cleping”. He explains it is an exciting ceremony and she goes with him. 

It might have been a mistake. The room was full of Whalers, not just the ones she had encountered, but plenty who are stronger and more angry with her presence.

There is a lady, dressed in red, who scouls at her, then returns to her work with needle and hoop, working on her cross stitching. 

She remembers her as the one that ripped her away from her mother and father. 

Worse, Daud is here. He's carving something from wood with a set of knives and hooks in an unrolled case spread in his lap. He frowns, bringing it close to his face, and then moving it further. He always puts one tool away before pulling out another one. 

Emily wonders what the witch-man is carving.

She watches Tom sit near the fire, and pull out a small graphite and paper to begin drawing. He draws machines that don’t work, with strange plant and organic parts, a whale who ate the ship designed to hunt it. 

Inspired, Emily borrows colored waxes from the one girl who insists she does not have a name, like a weirdo. She sits with Tom and colors too.

Everyone is fully relaxed. It reminds Emily of the tower. When all the maids were off work, and her mother went to join them in the kitchens, snacking on the biscuits that had burned a little too much to be served at dinner. 

A man begins to sing. His high voice is as low as he can, and then others begin to join. 

It is a song about a siren. They sing of being afraid of her and of falling overboard to join her. 

Then a beautiful red haired girl steps up to the raised part of the floor, as if it were a stage, and sings alone. Her voice is like the opera women, high and sweet and loud, traveling through the holes in the building and echoing out like a beating heart. A few of the Whalers look at her with moons in their eyes and hum out harmonies, moving to the center to follow her to stand on the stage.

This repeats, the audience taking the role of sailors telling the redhead siren they are unaffected by her voice and cannot be swayed. Those who moved to her, sing that they have been cursed and enlightened by her song and sing with her now, to lure more in. 

Emily realizes it is a game. A game you can use to tell someone you like them, a courting song, spread like the plague is. She laughs. What a silly way to flirt. Tom smiles at her and continues to sing the unaffected part until the fifth round, then he has to abandon her. 

“WHO?” She demands in a whisper, grabbing his sleeve before he can get up. He points to a man who looks almost exactly like him. With dark hair and freckles and green eyes. Tom laughs at whatever face she makes.

Adults are weird. 

In the sixth round almost everyone ends up squishing onto the stage, trying not to laugh as they sing and pack in like sardines. 

Finally, Daud stands, his deep voice unlike anything she's ever heard. He makes his breath sound like drums. A croaking comes deep from his throat, his chest seems to echo, and his tongue clicks oddly on certain words. She sees his eyes glow, and looks to his hand. His witch-mark glows through the thick leather gloves. Thunder rumbles from far far away, and Emily watches as all the Whalers close their eyes. They seem to glow too. 

This ends the courting game. Them all singing as the happily corrupted and in love last verse together and Daud, a captain, sadly lamenting his crew. 

No one seems sad by the end, instead they feel calm. They help each other off the platform and into their original spots, some picking up books, others playing cards, sewing and knitting seem common as well. 

They all look at Daud. He sighs, a deflation and then inhales and stands tall. A mountain, a lighthouse. Everyone looks at him like he is a lighthouse. Even Tom. 

She hates that. 

“We are here in dark times to celebrate the light. If you please, Kegan, come up here and tell us today’s story.”

A boy clambered up with a “Me! Oh shit that’s me!” and blinked to the stage almost exactly on top of Daud.

“We were out hunting, in quadrant three near the Kaldwin Bridge. You know between the ruined part and still fancy part? Anyway they’ve started implementing tall boys there on top of everything else. Private pay bastards. Nothing more than foaming at the mouth mercenaries. Anyway they’re fucking scary right? Specially there, between all the wired security the richies have. and yall know Pryce here. Quiet, shy, not exactly brave. But turns out Daud was right, he was exactly what I needed. 

“I was gonna just run across and call it good, when Pryce grabs my hand. ‘I got an idea’ he says! I say ‘shoot’. and suddenly he's gone. right under the bastard's legs, then up on that small tiny bit on the stilt back and then just the tip of his toe on the foot rest, one more up and sitting on this guy's shoulders, and flips him over the edge right into the damn ocean. 

“Guy sparks and spits and jolts and dies. Then Pryce, how many more times he does it? Does it three more damn times. Like it's the easiest thing in the world, one, two, three, FOUR you know? His blinks be short, but they’re fast and four in a row like that? That's good shit. 

“Anyways, we broke in and you know what was waiting for us? Sugar! Tons of it. We reported back and Daud sent more whalers in. We been hauling sugar out of there all day, and people been finding spice too. I mean damn.” 

Kegan does some strange movements excitedly and then holds his hands out like the way clowns say “ta-dah!” at his friend. The audience cheers. Clapping wildly and laughing. 

Kegan steps back as Daud steps forward, Pryce there alone with him. The witch places his hand out, Pryce rests his on top. The room darkens and they glow.

“Step. You moved up them Tall Boys as easily as steps of a staircase. 

“You will work on demonstrating your vision and technique to others, if anyone seems promising keep practicing with them. I’d love to see your work. In all times we must adapt. Adapt to the environment, adapt to our enemy’s intelligence. They are no matter for the Void to overcome and we are just the Void’s extension into this plain. Congratulations, Step.” 

Daud walked up and pulled the boy close from the side and kissed the top of his head.

Hoots and hollers went though the building like a loudspeaker. The boy was lifted high again. 

“Step! Step! Step!” was cheered throughout the building.

Emily takes the moment to slip away.