Title: The Consequences of Heresy
Rating: M for non-explicit descriptions of sexual situations.
Summary: What makes a heretic? Is it merely that they've gone astray, or do they actively seek to destroy religion? Does a person of faith need to believe in their ideals to move forward? Are they still a person of faith if they believe things other than what is taught?
What is a leader, then, when this leader does not follow the rules that govern? Is a leader exempt from their rules in some sort of twisted hypocrisy?
And then what does that make her? A great leader like many claim she is, or the heretic that others will declare she is as they send her screaming into the fire?
A/N: You may have noticed that this fic had existed previously. This is because I realized that I had made some very large and glaring mistakes that hopefully have been fixed.
This fic is also posted on archiveofourown, where it is illustrated. There is a link to the illustrated version on my author page.
goodnight to the peaceful, quiet city, goodbye to the warm bed, goodbye to warm heart
good riddance to your lies
It started not too long after the plague became nothing but a rare, curable malady, when the Pandyssian bull rats were a distant nightmare, when people started to get accustomed to walking the streets again, no longer fearing the chance of being attacked, or robbed, or mugged, or eaten alive. The heavy machinery of Lord Regent Burrow's short reign became useless artifacts; the only creations of Sokolov and Piero that mattered were the cures that washed away the plague.
Political tensions barely existed after the bloodbath caused by the ambitions of the wayward Loyalists and even by Burrows himself; everyone was pleased to finally have a stable monarch on the throne, a blessed and beloved Kaldwin. Emily repeatedly proved herself a competent and fair ruler, and everyone could smell the approaching golden age on the fresh smell of the Wrenhaven River, no longer so polluted with bodies of the dead.
The second Feast of Painted Kettles in that year that Emily rose to the throne ended with a rare occurrence, the rise of another young woman. The sight of a woman as an Overseer caused some suspicious glares, and the fact that the new High Overseer was not only that, but of Tyvian origin as well… well, most people seemed in denial, convincing their own minds that the new High Overseer merely held an empty position, that other, more 'experienced' Overseers ruled from the shadows. Such people couldn't be more wrong, because despite High Overseer Yelena Lagunov's delicate and spindly stature, she was not weak of mind, and held every ounce of authority her predecessors did, if not more. For once, a High Overseer that actually followed the Seven Strictures, and the common citizen rejoiced.
As always, the throne's relationship with the Abbey was amicable, and the High Overseer often visited state-sanctioned events. Most expected to see the woman exploiting her wealth or stumbling over manners and polite talk, considering she'd grown up around men. To their surprise, she was a very well-mannered woman, eager to discuss matters of frivolities just as she was matters of more importance. She visited Emily often, teaching the budding Empresses not only the Strictures, but different interpretations of them and how to implement them into her life. Corvo thought that admirable, that a woman of the cloth like that would be so willing to show ways to deviate from the path without losing sight of it.
While High Overseer Lagunov was unofficially among Emily's tutors, the young empress did not consider the High Overseer to be a teacher, but more of a friend. Emily would often invite the High Overseer to tea, or on an outing, which High Overseer Lagunov rejected more often than not, saying that a person of her rank shouldn't have time for such things. However, there was one get-together that even Lagunov attended.
The year Emily Kaldwin turned sixteen years of age brought a grand celebration. Aristocrats donned their best clothes and boarded their yachts and came to Dunwall Tower to dance and drink the evening away, while the more common citizens took to their boats and crowded around the Tower to light lanterns and view the fireworks. The sight was stunning from atop the Tower, the glowing lanterns rising into the sky to join the intricate fireworks in a glorious and almost otherworldly spectacle. Some attendees would claim that they even heard the whales singing praise for the great Empress Emily Kaldwin, but no one would be able to agree on if it had really happened or if it was just the effects of the wine.
That evening, Emily dressed in her best suit, her hair done up the same way Jessamine had styled hers. She danced with many aristocrats that evening, but somehow she always managed to make her way back to Corvo. The whispered rumors of Emily's parentage, who her father was, whom Jessamine Kaldwin had been close enough to have a child with, had never died down, and after that party, the rumors flared again. Emily Kaldwin did indeed look astoundingly like her mother, but somewhere, in the shape of her nose, in the curve of her maturing face, people seemed to find some resemblance to her bodyguard.
Of course, it was all fine. The people loved their rumors, their gossip. Nothing would ever come of it.
Dancing through the night, Emily made her way back to Corvo for what could easily be the seventh time, a big smile on her face as they began dancing, joining into the surrounding dancers seamlessly.
"I'm glad you're having fun," Corvo chuckled, looking around the ballroom for someone he could set her on, "But Geoff Curnow is looking a little lonely over there, no one to dance with."
Emily's nose scrunched up. "I've seen him dance at other parties. He's got two left feet and he'll step on my toes," she complained, adjusting her jacket.
He'd seen her adjust her jacket several times that evening, but how she did it was so peculiar, and when she messed with it just then, he thought he'd seen a familiar aura. It had been years since he'd listened for the sound, but if he concentrated, he could hear the twinkling song with which he'd become all too familiar.
Corvo looked around, making sure none of the Overseers happened to be close by before leaning down to hiss, "Emily, are you carrying a bone charm?" How could she be so stupid? Of all evenings to carry around Outsider artifacts… In fact, she shouldn't be touching any Outsider anything if he had anything to say about it.
Her eyes widened and her eyebrows rose and he knew he'd guessed it correctly. "But you do it all the time! I just borrowed it from the box in your room…" she whined.
Not only was she carrying around a bone charm, but one of his, as well. Corvo sighed. "I keep that box locked for a reason, Emily, and I don't carry them around as often as I used to. You need to be careful. Keep it concealed and we'll talk about this more later."
Emily nodded, averting her gaze and they danced in silence until the music changed and Emily went stalking off in the direction of Geoff Curnow. At least Corvo knew he could trust her with the man, considering his tastes.
Corvo turned his attention back to the crowd, just about to go off and check his belongings when a hand took his elbow. "Greetings, Lord Protector," High Overseer Yelena Lagunov greeted, "May I have this dance? As long as I'm not intruding, of course," she asked, the thick Tyvian accent on her thin voice always strikingly incongruent.
She dressed in simple Overseer colors, the uniform tailored for a woman, with her unruly, curled black hair tied tightly back in a bun that failed to restrict every strand and made her already thin face seem more narrow. She wore large round spectacles that disguised her sharp, Tyvian cheekbones and brow. The woman looked harmless, frail, even. One could tell that she came from poor stock, sickly and gaunt and aging far too fast for her age.
Corvo turned, feeling the sweat building beneath his collar. The High Overseer had not danced the entire evening, he'd noticed, choosing instead to occupy the wine bowl. Perhaps the bit of redness in her face was a blessing, indicating drunkenness and not anger. The Lord Protector bowed. "Of course, High Overseer," he said.
Lagunov had indeed reached a level of intoxication that he'd never seen before in a woman and with her stumbling to get into the waltz position, it was obvious the woman probably hadn't seen or heard a thing. As they danced, she stepped on his toes copious times, but the woman was so thin and light, he barely noticed when she did.
She insisted on dancing with him through several songs, and eventually she seemed to get some of her mind back and stopped stepping on his toes so much, getting steadier in her motions. It was a good thing, because Corvo didn't want the High Overseer passing out on him.
Then she started mumbling about heretics.
Normally, he wouldn't be particularly bothered by this, considering that members of the Abbey practically based their existence on hunting down heretics, and there was no reason an intoxicated Overseer wouldn't be deliriously reciting the Strictures. However, the contents of her mutterings were awkward and revealing at best, and unsettling at worst. She talked about how she occasionally broke a stricture or two, and drunkenly asked him to guess which one she broke the most ("Yes, Corvo, I know what you're thinking, naughty you, it is the sixth."), tried to tell him that the Outsider liked cute men and would lure them into his realm to do naughty things ("You should watch out, Lord Protector, he might get his eyes on you!"), and then declared that on average, there were about four heretics in the aristocracy at all times and that she was pretty sure who ("Lydia Boyle, for one, is the biggest witch I've ever seen but you've bewitched me more than she ever could her suitors, Lord Protector~!").
And thus, by the end of the evening, Corvo was holding the High Overseer at arm's length.
Apparently, she wasn't nearly as drunk as she could've been, because she somehow managed to get him to down more than a few glasses of wine every once in a while, through the light haze of drunkenness, he could see her grin. She looked insane when she smiled with her eyes wide and teeth barred; it was a frightening sight for just about anyone.
If anyone told him earlier that he'd end up in bed with the High Overseer on the night of Emily's sixteenth birthday, he would've choked on something and then had the speaker sent for psychiatric evaluation.
When she saw that he wouldn't remove his gloves, she giggled and declared that she wouldn't take off hers, either.
The following morning went somewhat well, with Lagunov waking after him and giving several hushed apologies that he echoed. Neither of them remembered much, but Corvo figured he remembered more than she did. Without much talk, she left and presumably tracked down the Overseers that usually accompanied her and left the Tower.
Corvo didn't hear much about it, neither from Lagunov or anyone else except a few quips from people who'd seen him go off with her. Curnow in particular joked, "I would congratulate you, but considering we have enough issues with Overseers breaking the Strictures, I can't condone helping one out."
The High Overseer did her best to avoid Dunwall Tower after that, understandably. Corvo didn't dwell on it too much. They were all adults, and such matters were trivial when there was an empire to run and an Empress to protect.
However, as the Fugue Feast approached in the coming month, their meetings became more frequent, and as always Corvo lingered behind his charge's throne as the girl cheerily swung her legs, watching as the High Overseer entered the throne room. The High Overseer gave a dramatic, sweeping bow.
When Lagunov wasn't drunk, she acted prim and proper, but perhaps still a little too friendly and a bit arrogant.
Emily giggled at the gesture, and Corvo allowed the High Overseer to approach the Empress and take her hand, however, he remained wary of the pair of Warfare Overseers that flanked her. "I do apologize, Empress Emily, but I must request an immediate private counsel. Is there a place we could speak alone?" the High Overseer requested.
The not-so-little-anymore Empress looked up at Corvo, "Yes, I think that will be doable, isn't that right, Corvo?"
The Lord Protector nodded, and gestured for the pair – plus Warfare Overseers – to follow him, sparing Lagunov a glance. As they left, the High Overseer dismissed the men in her procession that weren't in her immediate guard, leaving just three Warfare Overseers and one man that appeared to be carrying the new miniature music box, a new development brought about shortly after High Overseer Lagunov's rise. Normally, a device such as that would raise thoughts, but they'd become so common on the belts of the Overseers that there would always be one man with a music box on every major street.
Lagunov suggested the royal chambers, which was within reason, and Corvo was perfectly content with waiting outside the door with the High Overseer's personal guard. High Overseer Lagunov had been a long trusted friend to the throne, and if anyone could be trusted alone with Empress Emily Kaldwin, it was her.
Or so they all thought.
When he heard Emily cry out and the High Overseer's firm, unintelligible shouts, he immediately rammed through the two guards that had been preparing to block his path and burst into the room.
"Overseers! Restrain him and remove his gloves!" Lagunov barked, holding Emily tightly with one hand while the other grasped a bone charm above her head.
"What is the meaning of this?" Corvo demanded while throwing off an Overseer before the three of them managed to wrestle him to the ground just as his ears were assaulted with that wretched music. He twitched, twisting a bit as the mark on the back of his hand burned at the sound of the music box.
Lagunov took a long, almost frantic gulp of what smelled like whiskey from a flask attached at her belt and leaned down to tug the left glove off of Corvo's hand.
The Outsider's Mark burned with the torture of the music.
High Overseer Lagunov straightened, her face twisting into that disturbing smile he'd glimpsed at the party. "Arrest him. He has Outsider markings on the flesh, the sign of the highest devotion to The Outsider. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that Lord Protector Corvo Attano was the Masked Felon… search his chambers. I want that mask mounted on my office wall."
Corvo tried to struggle, but the weight of the men and the weakening, disorienting noise of the Music Box kept him on the floor.
"As for you, Emily Kaldwin…" High Overseer Lagunov began, making a harsh gesture for an Overseer to open the locked box on Emily vanity. Corvo knew the box; it was the one he'd kept beneath the floorboards of his room.
"No! That's mine! I swear…!" he begged.
Lagunov's eyes flickered to him but otherwise she ignored the comment as the Overseer roughly broke open the box, bone charms clattering onto the floor as he did.
"And there's the proof," Lagunov clicked her tongue. "A Heretic Empress and her dog," the High Overseer declared just as the rest of her guards arrived, and pushed the Empress away from her, towards the small group. "By decree of the Abbey of the Everyman, I hereby place Empress Emily Kaldwin under arrest for heresy."
Corvo wasn't sure this was something he could fight, and the feeling made him feel so helpless that it could break him. Yet the worst offense here was Lagunov's, the High Overseer that they'd all trusted so much, had only been close to see their sins and judge them.
Emily cried openly, scared and confused and hurt. Quiet apologies tumbled out of her mouth and half-finished promises and excuses, but this time Corvo wasn't sure he could comfort her.
The look of hatred he threw at Lagunov would make a smaller person tremble, but she merely smiled and drank another gulp of whiskey.