TITLE: Imprisoned in the Viewless Winds
CHAPTER: 1
AN: Greetings. I finally completed Dishonored. I know. Right? Since I lack the finesse or patience to sneak around, the Chaos Level went through the roof. You know what happened next. Rather than replay the game, I wrote a better ending to my play through. Fan fiction is so dang useful for that kind of thing.
"Woe, destruction, ruin, and decay;
The worst is death, and death will have his day."
—Shakespeare, Richard II, Act III, scene 2, line 102
With the misguided momentum born of exhaustion, Corvo Attano overestimated the distance to the narrow ledge. The Blink slammed his weary body into the scummy stonewall with enough force to knock the air from his chest. Fatigue clawed him down and forced him to his knees gasping for air. A bloody hand scraped dirty hair back from his face and revealed a fresh tear on the shoulder seam of his coat. It's nothing compared to the abrasions on his hands or the untreated the bullet wound on his left shoulder. Corvo cradled his arm against his chest. The bullet wound is a week old now. Three days ago, one of the city guards caught him with a knife and slashed his left forearm open. The wound hasn't healed and seeps blood that soaked his linen. This morning, when he tried to clean the open gash, a sweetish smell wrinkled his nose. A fever simmered under the surface of his tired body making him lightheaded. Perhaps the Rat Fever has caught up to him, at last?
At his feet lay the city of Dunwall. Dark and quiet she the scent of death that clung to the occasional breath of fresh air, choking it and sending it down to the corruption that consumed the City. The city called to him, every step dragging his feet as if he walked through thick mud. Gripping what's left of a metal railing, Corvo forced his body upright. Six months in prison taught him to ignore such things as cold, fatigue, and pain. It's the guilt and grief he cannot control. It held him in an almost constant state of hyper-awareness. Cloaked in the inky miasma of Dunwall City, Corvo clutched at the metal railing and fought his body's urging to release him into oblivion.
With a groan, he couldn't suppress Corvo raised his eyes to the Wrenhaven River, where Burrow's Lighthouse rose from the swirling mist of Kingsparrow Island, where Emily and his fate waited. He didn't expect to live through the night and giving his life to save Emily was a small price to pay. The closer he gets to the island the farther away it seems, but he's got to keep moving.
Honestly, Corvo. I never expected you to become sloppy. You almost fell. I didn't give you those gifts so that you could dash yourself across the cobblestones. Rather like bird droppings."
The mad chuckling of The Outsider faded, and Corvo allowed himself to lean against the wall while he tried to catch his breath. Each breath an agonizing effort, as pain built one upon the other. Dying on this rusted landing is out of the question. Corvo closed his eyes and searched for a happy memory from which to draw strength.
An orphaned child alone of the city streets of Karnaca, Corvo is now a man full grown. For many years, he was nothing more than one of the hundreds of feral children living on the streets with little chance of surviving into adulthood. Many of them didn't even know their own names. Corvo was different, he knew his name, and he learned how to survive. Survival meant fighting. The battle for food occurred daily and often led to the death of one of the combatants. The city guards never intervened. Instead, they wagered on which child might win the fight for the scraps of bread. Corvo always won. His fighting skills earned him a reputation and the guards began to recognize him. He also learned a valuable lesson, that to live another day meant killing. Corvo knew what it meant to kill innocents. The blood on his hands burned him with guilt.
Fighting built muscles and extra food helped him grow straight and tall. As the boy grew into a man, the local prostitutes also began to notice. To amuse themselves they allowed him inside their house. Allowed him to bathe and fed him. They taught him to read and write and conduct himself like a gentleman. He ate their food and absorbed their lessons. They told him he was handsome. If he were, as they insisted a handsome man that he would use that tool to survive. He never noticed when they secretly laughed at the determined young man while bickering about who would get the honor to teach Corvo about the mysteries of sex.
He called their bluff on the night of his fifteenth birthday when he presented himself to the new girl named Sally. She had long red-brown hair and eyes the color of a summer sky. Only a little more experienced than Corvo, which is to say, not at all, they spent the night together exploring and learning. By morning, they felt they must be in love. He rescued her from the life of a prostitute and won her heart. They dreamed and planned for a better life. Early the next day while the whorehouse slept, Corvo and Sally fled the city.
He took her to a boarding house, gave her almost half the money he earned doing odd jobs and left her with the promise that he would come back for her. But a young man has dreams and ambitions. One fight led to another until soon he began winning prizes. Corvo traveled all over the city competing for money and glory. It's not as if he meant to abandon her. He loved her, didn't he? He would keep winning, the someday soon he planned to go back for her.
Corvo never saw her again.
One evening taking a shortcut on his way to a competition Corvo found himself in an alley thick with sewage and rotten food. As the night closed in, the sound of his name drew his attention to a shadowed form. He found a woman lying in a pool of blood. When he recognized her and stopped, she grabbed his arm.
Corvo? Is it you? Such a fine man you've grown into. Don't worry yourself about me, Sweetie. I'm done for. The dirty cove didn't find me money purse. You take it."
"Nancy?" Emotion swelled in his chest. Shame reminded him that he never thanked them for what they had done for him. He had to know. "What happened to Sally?"
"She came back to us after the money ran out. She was starving...never blamed you. She was starving. I know you understand what I'm saying. You always was a good boy, Corvo. Now, go. Go, make something of yourself." Her last words came out on a stream of bloody froth, as wasted lungs rattled, and she breathed her last.
Corvo rubbed his sleeve across his eyes and set himself to retrieve the purse. Unless they were working, the whores kept their earnings in a small leather bag inside their body. The joke among them was to keep the money in the moneymaker. He never thought it was that funny. To preserve her dignity, Corvo kept her petticoats over her legs as he reached inside. By the time his fingers found the string he was crying too hard to notice what he was doing. The bag fell very quickly into his hand, and Corvo gently smoothed down her clothes and closed her eyes. Stumbling through tears and rubble Corvo Attano ran down the alley into a broad avenue and never looked back.
Those years showed him that courage and determination came naturally. A lonely life existing to eat and survive trained him well. Today he possessed those traits in abundance. It had nothing to do with pride. Pride was something he lost many years ago. They are the tools he used to live in his world for another day, another night, another winter. The facts of his background and skills gradually came to the attention of the ruling Duke. The young Corvo made such an impression, the Duke planned to send him to Dunwall as a gift to the Emperor. However, before he sent the boy to Dunwall, the Duke decided he wished to enjoy the charming young man's physical attributes himself. Desire overrode good sense, and the arrogance of his rank goaded him into planning a special evening where he could explore the young man at his leisure.
The guards escorted Corvo to the Duke's estate. The servants bathed and dressed him then brought him before the Duke. With expertly prepared food and fine wine, the Duke began his seduction. Corvo accepted the beautiful clothes stoically. The Duke lured the muscular youth into his room where he presented additional gifts of a sword and pistol. While Corvo admired the weapons, the Duke put his soft hands on Corvo's body. Torn between appreciating the gifts and promise of a better future, the young man forced himself to stillness. When the Duke opened his clothes, Corvo shuddered as the Duke's cold fingers closed over his member.
"Easy my, pet," the man had warbled in soothing tones stupidly thinking Corvo might be afraid. When Corvo could take no more of the man's stinking breath and dirty hands, he pushed the old man away. The man shouted at him. Did he realize what he was throwing away? When the Corvo declined the Duke's invitation to become his catamite. The Duke called the guards to hold him down while he beat Corvo unconscious with a jewel-encrusted belt.
Another lesson learned.
The next morning, one of the women dressed his wounds and packed his weapons and clothes. The guards escorted Corvo to the dock and put him on the first boat to Dunwall City.
Corvo, you do not have time for reminiscing. Honestly, sentimentality will be the death of you. Listen to me. I think if you dove into the water from this height, you might survive the fall. Anyway, it is the quickest way to the island. Be ready Corvo, hitting the water from this height will feel much like hitting the cobblestones. Be a good man and survive. All this waiting around is tedious. Do not forget that Emily is waiting for you. Can't you hear her screaming?
Corvo shook the image of The Outsider away and peered over the edge. The river roiled and swirled itself into white tipped waves below. His stomach churning Corvo tried to empty his mind and fought back a wave of nausea.
Dunwall City had welcomed the teenage Corvo, and he thrived, honed his skills as a warrior, and soaked up knowledge like one of those sponges the fisherman pulled from the sea. Wholesome food and predictable surroundings gave him the chance to become more than just a survivor. Much more, he laughed his notoriety when he heard the ladies swooned at the sight of him and the men envied his skill with a sword.
In another stroke of luck, the Emperor took a liking to Corvo, lifted him from the rank of file of his soldiers and gave him a place at court. As the Emperor's bodyguard, Corvo traveled with the Emperor, entertained him with tales of his childhood, and played cards with him when he was bored.
Three years went by, until on an evening when the Emperor had one glass of wine too many he began to talk. He poured Corvo a glass of good brandy and sat him down in front of the fire.
"You're a good boy, Corvo. A man I trust."
Those words began a conversation that led to changes in Corvo's life. Changes that lifted him from the role of bodyguard and soldier to a member of the court. Two days later he stood on the marble steps of the gazebo outside the Tower. A girl, with a tousled head of golden brown hair and scuffed knees stood quietly next to the Emperor. When the Emperor beckoned, Corvo found himself gazing down at a blushing girl. He bowed to her, hoping to ease her shyness. She fixed her eyes on him, and he realized she wasn't shy. Far from it, she was plainly angry.
He still remembered the scent of roses and the salty tang of the ocean breeze. Although protocol demanded she speak first, they remained silent, regarding each other in the morning light. While he gawked at the sight of this angel, standing in a shaft of golden light with a tumble of brown curls shining like a halo, a pair of curious blue eyes studied him in return. Finally, he managed to avert his eyes and kept them on the ground between his feet.
"I don't require a bodyguard. But my father says I must have one. I can fight so you'd better behave. Do you enjoy playing hide and seek, Mister Attano?"
"I'm afraid I do not know how, My Lady."
"How is that possible?" She asked the assorted courtiers and ignored her father's frown.
The nineteen-year-old Corvo had never seen such a beauty. The women in his world lived in the filthy underbelly of the city far below the enchanted worlds of the Duke and Dunwall Tower. Weakened from endless childbirth, disfigured by illness, and scarred by the brutality of daily life they quickly lost what youth they had.
A gust from the ocean whipped his legs and brought him around. Corvo shivered and put his back against the grimy stones. He closed his eyes against the dirty stars, while his thoughts wandered back again to that day when he'd wisely dropped to one knee and kept his eyes downcast.
"Perhaps, Jessie. If I am to become your Protector, then you could teach me?" He murmured in a tone meant for her ears only.
"What did you call me?"
A pair of scuffed leather shoes appeared at his feet. He knew he was taking a chance with such familiarity.
"Why did you call me, Jessie? My name is Jessamine Kaldwin. And when I become the empress I shall be called Jessamine Kaldwin the First. Such impertinence should be punished." The small foot just under his nose stamped sending a cloud of dust into the air.
"A slip of a girl like you needs to earn a name as grand as Jessamine, My Lady." Although he wisely chose to stay on one knee, he glanced up again. "And I cannot learn to play hide and seek if you toss me in prison. Do you know how to swim, My Lady?"
She sighed and shifted her gaze to the ocean. "I do not. I'm not allowed."
"If I promise to keep you safe and you promise to teach me how to play, hide-and-seek, I'll teach you to swim."
She had clapped her hands with delight. "You may rise."
"To be imprison'd in the viewless winds,
And blown with restless violence roundabout
The pendent world; or to be worse than worst
Of those, that lawless and incertain thought
Imagine howling; 'tis too horrible!"
—Shakespeare, Measure For Measure, Act III, scene 1, line 124