Chapter Text
The role of Royal Protector came with many duties, some more engaging than others. This one seemed to be one of the less exciting responsibilities.
Corvo quickly lost track of the time as the voices droned on about… whatever this meeting was called for. His eyes trailed to the ornate lining of the wall, his own coat, anything his eyes could catch on.
Emily sat, poised and proper as she could be, but Corvo knew her well enough to see the apparent disinterest in her eyes as well. She was young, and meant to live the free and unassuming early life of every girl her age. Unfortunately, this could never be her life. The role of empress did not play out that way.
Corvo’s heart ached for her. His heart ached for himself, and the time he’d lost. The scars he’d gained, both from suffering and protecting. His heart ached for his lost love, for the mother his sweet daughter would never have.
Grief threatened to creep over him, heavy and familiar. He stopped his trail of thoughts before they flooded every corner of his mind. Not now, you can grieve later. Corvo has been repeating this to himself for months now, but later never seemed to come. There had been so much to do, and Corvo barely possessed enough energy to accomplish any of it. Paperwork had piled up, meetings to attend with Emily, even basic tasks like eating were a chore.
Not that he was able to eat much anyways, with the way his stomach ached as often as it did. Corvo couldn't place why it started, nor did he know why it never calmed. He blamed it on anxiety, or perhaps stress or nerves, but he feared it could be something worse.
He would manage, just as he always had. With time and rest it would hopefully fade. Time and rest he so dearly needed and missed, but felt he could never achieve. His sleep was not restful these days. It was a fleeting, wistful thought, but why couldn’t he rest peacefully, and untroubled? He had suffered his fair share.
It seems that the nobles have found some agreement, to Corvo (and Emily’s) relief. It was nearing evening, and Corvo was ready to retire to his office, see what had to be done there, and hopefully sleep as much as he could allow.
He stood slowly once their guests had left, and Emily dismissed everyone. Giving Emily a quick kiss on the head as a goodnight, Corvo withdrew to his office.
He spent the next hours till dark sat at his desk, a ruffled quill between the calloused pads of his thumb and index. His hands were rough with wear, scraped and creased. Strong arms led to similar hands. Heavy work strengthened both. Heavy grief weakens both body and mind. Corvo was not who he used to be. The face of Jessamine blurred in his mind, but he shoved the picture away so fast his mind numbed.
The quill snapped in his fingers. Corvo set it down, disconnectedly watching his own hand. He curled his fingers in towards his palm, like he was clutching something gently, something valuable or shiny. Against his own will, another thought crossed his mind. One of the more pleasant ones, although he tried not to acknowledge that. Now was not the time for him to unravel and make sense of his…. feelings.
His feelings about another pair of hands, or, more accurately, the man they belonged to. Hands the opposite of his own. Long, elegant, dexterous, pale. Black finely trimmed nails.
Corvo rests his head on his hands, sighing. This city’s Master Thief was just as alluring as he was mysterious. Garrett had sneaked his way into Corvo’s life some months ago, when Corvo was robbed in broad daylight at a gathering at Dunwall Tower. After mentally kicking himself for his stupidity, Corvo simply accepted he wouldn't get the pendant back and moved on. That wasn't what made Corvo seek out the thief. What did was that at that very same gathering, Emily had a necklace stolen from her, by the same criminal.
Now Corvo had problems with this thief, who he soon found out was the Master Thief Garrett himself. He tracked Garrett down and got the necklace back, and threatened to kill Garrett if he ever went near Emily again.
Corvo quickly found out Garrett had no intention of harming Emily, simply searching for good coin. That makes sense, looking at Garrett's thievery habits. He never killed and avoided causing injury as much as possible.
Corvo had only ever seen his mismatched eyes, no mouth, no hair. Not enough face to discern his motives, if there were any past boredom and the desire to play with the royalty.
Corvo was pulled from his thoughts when his stomach twisted. What was wrong with him?
Perhaps it is time to retire for the night, the Royal Protector mused. Sleep off the nausea and cramps. Hopefully.
Corvo corks the ink and leaves his spot, wincing at the ache in his spine. He trudges to his room, where he kicks off his boots and curls up on his bed.
Lying on his side, his dark eyes are drawn to a glimmer on his nightstand. A broken crystal bracelet.
Thin, nearly clear thread held it together once, where it had wound around the wrist of a certain thief that would stalk across his mind. It had snapped, and the ornaments slipped from their thread.
Corvo kept every bead. His plan was to give it back after he had strung the beads back through, even though a small part of him wanted to keep it for himself. Having something of Garrett's felt valuable to him. But Corvo was an honest man when he could be, and would simply give it back. Garrett had lost it the last time he came to visit Corvo.
The Royal Protector squeezed his eyes shut, forcing sleep to come as well as he felt he could. He knew sleep would not take him with gentle arms. He would fall into the dark abyss of a cell that meant pain, where he would scream till he woke, alone, loveless.
His stomach made him tuck further into himself as it twisted once more. Corvo tightened an arm around his abdomen, willing himself to calm and wait for sleep's gentle embrace. A comfort he knew would not come.
Help was something he needed, but refused to allow himself the pleasure of. For what could he deserve? Jess is dead. Emily suffered her kidnapping. Corvo didn’t stop any of it from happening.
The thoughts were irrational, clouding his already pained mind.
With his eyes still shut, he lied still. His scars ached, on both his body and heart. Ignore, ignore, ignore.
When Corvo finally drifted off, it was not peaceful.
…
Corvo dreams of that chair. He wants it destroyed. Almost as much as he wants his tormentor flayed, in the same way as what was done to Corvo himself. His wrists are bound. The gentle flesh rubs raw, staining his skin and the metal cuffs that render his arms immoble. It was dark, save for the furnace's molten glow.
Corvo trembles. The iron heats. Grey, to yellow, to orange and then red.
“How many times…” A voice droned on, thick, slimy in its tone. Corvo felt viciously nauseous with the way that voice wormed under his skin, “Will this have to go on, until you admit to your sins, Protector?”
The last word is spit like a curse. He hasn't heard his name in months.<\p>
The iron, red, steaming, crosses his vision. The air around it warps with the heat.
His tormentor steps forward, hovering it an inch from his abdomen. Corvo can feel the scalding heat coming off it in waves. It's the only thing he can feel, for several tense moments. Pain. Terror.
More threats are thrown his way. Accusations. Curses. Corvo can’t make them out. He doesn't respond.
The iron presses to his stomach.
…
Corvo thrashed awake, sweat in his eyes, heart thudding against his ribs. His breath came short and quick. He sealed his eyes shut, drawing air in and out shakily.
He gasped, tightening his arms around his middle while agony shredded his stomach. It’s just a dream, he thought, your wounds have healed. Despite the illusion cast by the dream, his stomach was nothing but a mess of pain.
His guts twisted. Now, it was like the branding iron was in the core of his belly. His stomach clenched, Corvo had no clue what to do, why this was happening. He coughed. “Oh.. void..”
If he wasn't clouded by a haze of pain, he might have heard the quick footfalls on the roof. Or the soft thud as someone hopped down, tugging at his bedroom window out of sight. They hid in the dark well. The window creaked, and a lithe figure slipped through.
After a short silence, he heard a familiar, hushed voice. “Corvo?….”