Chapter 1:Blackmail
"Lady Abigail. Do you know why I have summoned you here?" Empress Jessamine Kaldwin paced in front of Abigail. She was graceful, but each step made the china on the table clink together, spilling its contents. Her hair was tied up as always unlike Abigail's whose red locks tumbled carelessly down her back.
"I'm sure it's of great importance, Cousin. After all, you sent not two, not three but five watchmen after me," Abigail replied. "It was quite a shock to have my carriage stopped like that. I feared it was highwaymen." Abigail looked down at her mud-splattered boots, dollops of sludge had splashed against her petticoat too. She took a small sip of the exotic Serkonan tea. It had an odd spicy taste that she found intriguing. She couldn't decide if she liked it or not.
Jessamine stopped her pacing and turned away from Abigail. She kept her back straight and pushed out her chest with her hands behind her.
"I'm sure you've heard the rumours?" Jessamine asked over her shoulder.
"About a certain bodyguard frequenting an empress' bed chambers. No, not at all." Abigail smirked into her cup, her barbs matching the spice of the tea.
"I wonder," Empress said, stalking in a circle around Abigail. The room was filled with the soft hymns of violins and the gentle crackling of the log fire.
Abigail knew the Empress had something important to say. And not just because she'd sent so many Watchmen to fetch her, but because she had sent them away the moment Abigail had sat down.
"What is a woman of your status and stature doing slumming it with a marauding band of thugs? Murderers I hear."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Abigail's stomach dropped to her feet, and she had to put the tea down, save her hands from shaking. She looked into Jessamine's eyes, to force earnestness and shield herself in false honesty.
Jessamine wasn't buying it. She reached into her masculine jacket and produced three cards with holes punched into them.
"These audiographs are very enlightening. You should be more careful with who you call friend." She threw them across the table. Abigail touched her fingertips to the cards' edges but didn't pick them up. They were a little worn around the corners, and they had black smudges across the bottom.
"And where did you get these?" She asked through a shaking breath.
"The royal spymaster, no less. Fortunately for you, he heeded my instructions and turned a blind eye."
The Royal Spymaster was a snake. A cuckoo in the nest. Abigail knew that it was a handful of coin that kept his lips sealed. And how much until they opened once more?
"Perhaps you should be careful who you call friend." Abigail said, not looking away from the cards, "I fear a blade is at your own back, Empress."
"There is always a blade at my back. His name is Corvo," she said.
Clever. Abigail thought but she couldn't help but feel that Jessamine was being a little arrogant, overconfident and perhaps a little naive. She trusted Corvo too much.
"You're an affluent lady, with an inheritance to rival the Boyles." Jessamine leant against the mantel, a glass of Tyvian wine in her hand. She swirled it as she spoke. "What does a woman like you get, I wonder? Certainly not money. Is it power? Glory? … Sex?"
Abigail clenched her jaw.
"Let's say I'm not the only being visited in my bedchamber." The flames lit the Empress' face, exposing the smugness as she drove home her point. "The heiress and the thief. What? He came in to steal your crystal but stole your heart instead? Or maybe you're just a woman stuck in her teens rebelling to piss off daddy?"
"What do you want?" Abigail huffed.
"Now that we understand each other, allow me to explain," she turned away again, her hands behind her back. "Rumours of Emily's parentage are spreading and if I allowed them to continue…well, people may start digging for proof, And if they dig…"
"They may find it."
"Or demand it," she said. "I need these rumours quashed or at least distracted."
"I fail to see how this is my issue." Abigail leant back on her chair, smoothing out her dress.
Jessamine spun to face Abigail, leaning on the arms of the chair to put her face into Abigail's, "I own you. If I say it's your issue, it's your issue." Jessamine's breath stunk of liquor with a hint of malice. She sat down in the brown leather chair beside Abigail. "There are some who would use this knowledge to question Emily's right to ascend to the throne, and some may even challenge my leadership. This cannot happen."
"What do you propose?"
"Exactly that," said the Empress.
"I don't understand."
A cough from behind. Corvo was at the door. He passed through it like a shadow, closing it behind him and strutting towards the two. He wasted no time dipping onto one knee and producing a ring box from his pocket. He smiled broadly but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Instead, there was resentment.
"And if I say no…" Abigail muttered.
Abigail didn't even see the Empress move; she was behind her now. Jessamine leant over her shoulder and traced Abigail's jawline down to her neck, causing her to shiver. She tightened her grip on Abigail's neck and spoke into her ear, "Do you know what happens to pretty little girls like you in prison…Or maybe I should throw you into the Golden Cat."
Jessamine's hands on her throat forced her to look up at the huge portrait over the fireplace. A recent Sokolov portrait of the Empress herself. Abigail felt pinned, with the painted Jessamine staring hauntingly down at her, and the real Jessamine's breath in her ear.
"I don't like being the bad guy, but I will if I have to you."
"Only when it comes to family. The scoundrels of the slums have to see you as a fucking angel."
Jessamine lunged forward to grab Abigail's hands, "You know, maybe the Overseers would be interested in what you hide beneath those gloves?"
Abigail pushed through Jessamine's arms and stood, keeping her back to the fire. Corvo sat in the leather chair, still having said nothing, and watching the scene in front of him. His eyes flickered in the light of the fire, and a glimmer of amusement flashed within them.
"Do you think people are that stupid? They will see right through this facade." Abigail returned her gaze to the Empress, who sauntered over to stand beside Corvo.
"The people can't see through glass.," the Empress snapped.
"They see enough to force you to desperation," Abigail observed. "How long do you think this little distraction is going to last? Especially with the disease spreading through the slums."
"Sokolov assures me the sickness is under control. It is not our major concern right now." Jessamine waved her hand dismissively, "We are on the brink of civil war amongst the isles. We must focus our attention on dealing with the troubling politics. I will not have my legitimacy to the throne questioned. Not now, when the Empire is under so much unrest. I need to be strong."
Abigail knew the struggles of the aristocracy. Sure it wasn't as pressing as starvation or disease but the effects of a crumbling rule could still be devastating.
"Will you be able?" Abigail's shoulders dropped, her hands held limp at her side. "With all the gravity this deserves, will your heart take it?"
Jessamine didn't answer at first. She gazed into her lover's eyes as Corvo took her hands in his. The energy between them was palpable.
"It is for the best."
"You are so sure this is going to work."
Jessamine jumped to her feet and jabbed her fingers towards Abigail. "I know it is because you are going to be a very good actress and convince everyone you've been madly in love for years. Or you will be taken to the Abbey. And we know what they do to witches in there."
Abigail still refused to give a definitive answer. She ran through the plan in her head; the prospect of being m arried and to someone who's not even from the ruling elite. Abigail pushed the window open to allow a breeze on her flushed face.
"You would cast us both into misery for the sake of putting Emily on the throne?"
"Yes."
"I must discuss this with Thane."
Abigail flicked her hair over her shoulders and stalked towards the doors. But before her hands could fold around the cold metal, the crackling speakers outside burst into life.
"Attention Dunwall citizens, this is a formal announcement from our fair Empress. The Lord Protector, Corvo Attano, will be married to the honourable Lady Abigail Windsor. May they be blessed with eternal happiness and prosperity."
Abigail's mouth tightened into a thin line as she glowered at Jessamine.
"My timing was a bit off, it seems."