Work Text:
The night was quiet, save for the flowing of waves and the whistling of wind. The stars had managed to poke through the seemingly ever-present cloud cover, reflecting off the water's surface. It was almost peaceful. And for the first time since Jessamine died, Corvo was beginning to feel something like hope.
Emily's body was tucked up against him, asleep. It hadn't taken long for her to drift off once Samuel had started to steer them into open water. Corvo wasn't surprised. As energetic and full of life as she'd seemed when they left the Golden Cat, months of captivity took a toll on a person. He would know. Her situation was a far cry from his had been, to be sure, but a cage was a cage. And Emily was a child, one who'd had no idea what was happening to her or why. The more he thought about it, about what she'd endured these past months, the more his blood began roil and burn in his veins.
Corvo turned his head up into the night air to try and calm himself. He'd removed his mask, so for once he could really feel the cool breeze on his face. That probably wasn't wise, but he couldn't bear for Emily to see him wear it any more than necessary, no more than he wanted her to see the burns on his arms and legs from the interrogator's brand. The look of fear in her eyes when she'd seen an armed, masked figure break into her bedroom had been bad enough, and that was without her knowing it was him behind the mask.
At least she was safe now, or as safe as it was possible to be in Dunwall these days. He'd make sure of it.
"She's a remarkable little girl," Corvo heard Samuel say. He nearly jumped at the voice. He hadn't realized how lost he'd become in his own thoughts. At the other end of the boat, the boatman was looking at him.
Corvo nodded. "She is." He wasn't sure he could trust himself to say any more than that.
"She's been through an awful lot," Samuel continued. "And in such a short time, too. But she seems to have weathered it well. She's got spirit in her, that one."
Corvo couldn't help but smile. Emily's tutors had described her as precocious, willful, easily distracted. They weren't entirely incorrect, but he preferred Samuel's description. Spirited. Bright, intelligent, kind.
"She's like her mother in that way," he said. He wouldn't normally speak of her this casually, but Jessamine was dead. Even the most insufferable of bureaucrats could hardly call it innappropriate to compare a dead woman to her daughter. He chose his words carefully, though. "The Empress was always resilient, even in the face of great adversity."
Beside Corvo, Emily shivered. He'd already given her his coat, so he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in to his body heat. She relaxed a bit, turning into him and pressing her face into his side as she mumbled something in her sleep. He had to look away then. If he didn't, he risked the welling emotion in his chest spilling over into something else.
Samuel smiled a bit at the sight of Emily's face buried in Corvo's shirt. "She means a great deal to you." It wasn't a question, nor an accusation. Just an observation. A very, very dangerous one.
More than you'll ever know. Corvo swallowed. "She's been my charge since the day of her birth."
Samuel nodded. "I remember that day. They sent messages all throughout the city. People were shouting and cheering all over, celebrating that the Empire had an heir." He smiled again. "It was good to see. Even folks who normally wouldn't care a bit about the Empress could be seen smiling. The Hope of the Isles, they called her."
Corvo remembered that day as well. He remembered the proclamations, the celebration, the ceremony. But more than anything, he remembered standing outside Jessamine's bedroom door with his back ramrod straight, hand on the hilt of his sword as he listened to her strangled cries. It was the Lord Protector's duty to guard the bedchamber. But it should have been Corvo Attano's duty to be at the bedside, holding Jessamine's hand, stroking her hair, reassuring her.
The worst had been when the screams stopped. For one terrible moment, there was silence. He had been just about to smash through the door and rush inside when the silence had been broken by Emily's hiccuping cries. His entire body had relaxed then, nearly slumping against the wall in relief.
Samuel fixed him with a curious look. Then it passed, as if nothing had happened. "You know, I'm not sure I ever saw a sketch of Lady Emily," the boatman continued. "Not before she was kidnapped. But when they started putting up those posters, I was struck with just how much she looks like the Empress."
Corvo could only nod. On the night Emily was born, after the commotion had settled and the masses dispersed, he'd slipped into the bedchamber. Jessamine had been waiting for him with the baby in her arms. He'd been utterly terrified, for a multitude of reasons. But one that he could never admit, even to her, was the fear that had haunted him throughout the entire pregnancy: That the baby would come out looking like him.
But he needn't have worried. As he'd taken Emily carefully into his arms, he'd thanked the stars, the Outsider, anything he could think of that she was the spitting image of her mother. She was perfect. He'd said as much to Jessamine when she'd asked him what he thought, a playful smile on her face. Then he'd lifted Emily close to his face and whispered a vow into her ear, the very same vow he'd made to her mother. He promised her his service, his blade, his life. The only thing he had to give her, and yet the greatest thing he could.
And in the end he'd failed them both. Jessamine had bled out in his arms and Emily had been torn away from him. He could never undo that. For the rest of his life, it would be his greatest shame.
Emily shifted again, reminding him that he'd managed to get one thing right, at least. He'd rescued her. They had friends, or at least allies. He would see her seated safely in her rightful place at Dunwall Tower. He tightened his hold on her, just for a moment, long enough to make himself believe that she was really there. But unlike before, Emily didn't settle into him. She continued to squirm, muttering something over and over as she became increasingly agitated.
Finally, her head turned enough that Corvo could hear her. "Mother," she breathed, her voice close to a whimper.
A lump formed in Corvo's throat. He tried to run his hand soothingly up and down Emily's arm, but it didn't seem to make any difference. She kept twitching, flinching away from his attempts to still her.
He wrapped his arm tightly around her. "Emily," he murmured. She whimpered again, and he had to tighten his grip to keep her from twisting away. "Emmy." He turned and placed his hand gingerly on the back of her head, painfully aware of Samuel's eyes on them.
"Emily," he said again, softly. He didn't want to wake her, but he didn't want her to keep having this nightmare, either. "It's alright. You're safe."
Her eyes fluttered open. "Corvo?"
He smoothed his hand over the back of her head. "I'm here."
Emily looked up at him, her lower lip trembling. "I—I had a bad dream. I thought—"
"I know." Corvo wasn't sure he knew how to truly smile anymore, but he did his best to give her a reassuring one. "I know, Emily. But you're safe now."
"We're not far from the Hound Pits, now," Samuel said. He gave Emily a friendly wink. "You just go back to sleep and we'll be there before you know it."
Emily looked at him with wide, glassy eyes. Then she nodded slowly and leaned back into Corvo, closing her eyes. After a few minutes, her breathing slowed as she fell peacefully back to sleep.
Corvo let out a long, slow breath. Across the boat, Samuel fixed him with another look.
"You know, Corvo," the boatman said carefully. "I mentioned how much Lady Emily here looks like her mother. But looking at her now, I'd say she takes quite a bit after her father as well."
Corvo's breath caught in his throat. There were rumors about Emily's parenthood. There had always been rumors. He'd done what he could to quash them, but there was only so much to be done. Fight too hard and his protests would be taken as admissions of guilt. So he'd had to be careful. But he never thought word could have spread this far.
Samuel seemed to sense his alarm. "I don't know that most folks would see it. But when you've been around as long as I have, you get an eye for these things." He looked out across the water. "I doubt most of the Loyalists would notice. Except Lydia. She's a chatty one, normally, but she knows that some things shouldn't be shared."
Lydia was a gossip, he meant. But she was also fiercely loyal. If she figured it out, which Corvo was certain she would, she wouldn't say anything. And neither would Samuel.
"Thank you, Samuel," Corvo said quietly.
Samuel gave him a nod. "I don't just mean in the face, by the way. You mentioned her having her mother's resilience. I think she gets that from you, too." His voice quieted. "You're a strong man, Corvo. And a good one, at that."
Corvo looked down at Emily's sleeping form. She was snoring now, just barely loud enough to hear. He smiled. For just this moment, she didn't look like Emily Kaldwin, the next Empress of the Isles. She looked like a normal child who'd fallen asleep on her father's shoulder.
"How much longer, Samuel?" He wasn't sure if he really wanted the answer.
"Not long." Samuel looked over his shoulder at the water behind them. "But long enough that we should let our little empress sleep, I think."
Corvo nodded. He put his arm around Emily's shoulders and drew her in close. Now that her dreams seemed to have turned pleasant, he could let her have her moment of peace. They could both have this, for now.