~'*'~
Post Script - 1841
~'*'~
28th Day, Month of Nets, 1841
The seal of the Royal Protector stares accusingly up at him. Since its arrival the previous day Daud hasn't been able to bring himself to open it.
When he had sent the folder of information about the conspiracy to Attano with the bottle of wine, compiled and added to over the previous few months, he had not been expecting a response beyond action against the conspirators. Not a bottle of whiskey, and certainly not an ominous letter.
"You did say we were going to visit Dunwall," Amelia observes from beside him.
"I didn't mean like this," he barks, glaring at the letter as though he can make it disappear through sheer force of will.
Eventually, though, he caves and unfolds the letter with nervous hands.
Daud,
Her Majesty, Empress Emily Kaldwin, requests your presence at Dunwall Tower at your earliest convenience.
Lord Corvo Attano,
Royal Protector
However it is phrased; Daud understands. This is not a request, and there is nothing he can do but answer it.
~'*'~
17th Day, Month of Rain, 1841
Daud takes a long deep breath of the clean sea air, determined to enjoy it whilst it lasts. A week and a half out from Cullero and he fancies he can see Dunwall's smog in the distance already, though he does his best to reign in his anxiety about returning to the city of his corruption around Amelia.
Amelia, who had argued until her throat was hoarse that she should come with him, Amelia, who always manages to get her away, Amelia, who is spending every possible moment up on deck, tearing around and charming the crew.
He has no doubt that the sailors would obey every command she gave. It's a talent that he never really had a knack for.
Today, though, Amelia is particularly excited and he's woken from his daydreams by her bundling into his side and brightly announcing that there's a good chance they'll see whales today.
Void does he wish he hadn't let her read about the whales.
For the next hour or so he contents himself with watching Amelia chat to the crew and cast wistful eyes out across the ocean, keeping half an eye on making sure she doesn't get too close to the edge.
He's almost dozed off to the soothing rocking of the ship and the mid-afternoon heat when the shout goes up.
"Whale ahoy!"
Then Amelia is grabbing his hand and yanking him to his feet, her face flushed with anticipation as she pulls him towards the speaker. Together they lean against the side of the ship and look out to sea.
For a moment there is nothing and he can feel Amelia deflate beside him.
Then, with an almighty crash a whale emerges out of the water so close to the ship that Daud feels he could reach out and touch it. The giant tail blocks the sun briefly as it flips up, coating the spectators in a spray of icy ocean water.
Amelia squeals in joy.
Caught up as he is in the sheer delight in Amelia's voice at her first real glimpse of the great leviathans of the sea that it takes Daud a moment to realise that he's no longer watching a whale on the waves, but instead a whale floating through the azure mists of the Void.
"Daud, my old friend."
The familiar voice comes from just behind his right shoulder, close enough that the deity's presence is tangible. He doesn't need to glance over to know that the Outsider is watching the whale too.
"Did you foresee this?" Daud asks softly as the god comes to stand beside him, settling calmly into a relaxed pose in his peripheral vision. The Mark sings on his hand, calling to its master.
"I foresaw many things, Daud," the Outsider muses gently, "many paths, predictable ones, boring ones, but once again you have proven worthy of my attention."
"Glad to be of assistance." Daud's voice is gruff but without the bite that usually encompassed his encounters with the whale god. For a moment they stand in companionable stillness.
"Do you believe that you can ever atone for the murder of an Empress?" The Outsider's voice, usually so belittling, actually sounds intrigued. It's almost enough to make Daud turn his attention away from the singing whales.
"No," Daud answers truthfully, "I can only accept the consequences, whatever they may be."
With a whoosh of displaced air the Outsider vanishes and reforms on his other side. Used to the god flickering in and out of existence Daud doesn't react beyond a small sigh at the dramatics. Then he unexpectedly feels a ghostly cold hand encircle his wrist and jumps instinctively, eyes shooting up to stare at the deity. Never before has the Outsider made physical contact.
The Outsider, however, seems unconcerned about his response, or about the abnormality of his action, choosing instead to trace otherworldly fingers over the self-inflicted scars with a softness that belies his power, brows furrowed, black eyes focused on the evidence of Daud's brokenness. His own gaze fixed on the god's expression Daud barely contains a noise of surprise at the sorrowful look that flashes through the mask.
Abruptly the Outsider drops his hand and turns away, seemingly satisfied with his examination, wandering to the edge of their little floating island and turning his attention back to the whale. Daud feels the loss of contact keenly, a sudden and aching emptiness.
"Did you know that all departed souls pass through the Void Daud? Each creature has its time, a set length of rope. I once thought you were running out." A pause. "For what it's worth I'm glad I was wrong."
Daud moves to stand by the Outsider's side, looking out over the vastly of the Void, finding his eyes filling with unexpected tears.
"It's worth more than you think." For a moment god and man share a look, even as his surrounding begin to melt away.
"And yet you decide to the end up to Corvo and Emily."
The next words are but a reverent whisper, awed even, fading with the floating islands.
"That's courage."
~'*'~
9th Day, Month of Wind, 1841
Emily Kaldwin was ten years old when he killed her mother. She's fourteen now. And by the Void does she look like Jessamine. It's so startling that when Daud first lays his eyes on the Empress of the Isles his hand clenches around the ball in his pocket involuntarily, the burning of his muscles distracting him from the sudden urge to hurt.
The guard that warily escorted them inside backs away slowly, the door swinging shut behind them sounds deafening in the sudden silence.
Daud is not worried about the guards. Daud is worried about a much greater threat, one that is standing two steps behind and one to the right of the Empress, one who brought down a coup without a drop of blood on his hands. He finds himself stepping in front of Amelia protectively.
It is clear that neither Emily Kaldwin nor Corvo Attano were expecting him to have company.
No one speaks. Daud waits respectfully. In this, it is only right that Emily have the first say.
The young Empress turns to her Royal Protector but she does not say anything, it turns out she doesn't need to because suddenly Attano's hands are a flurry of movement that Daud vaguely recognises as sign language.
"Daud," Emily's voice is older now, cultured, it resounds with a hint of command, "it has been brought to my attention that you were instrumental in preventing an attempt on my life. Is this true?"
"It is, your Majesty," Daud replies, wrong-footed by her choice of words where he had expected anger and condemnation.
"And who," Emily continues addressing the elephant in the room and a promptness that Daud admires, "might I ask, is your companion?"
Daud hesitates, hopes, prays.
"Amelia Costella, your Majesty, my daughter."
"Daughter?" Emily breaks composure in surprise at his response. Thankfully Amelia has heeded his earlier advice and remains silent.
"Yes, your Majesty." There is another hurried moving of hands as Empress and Protector converse. Then Emily calms and draws herself up once more to playing an Empress much older and wiser than she should have to be.
"We extend our welcome to Amelia Costella," Emily announces and Daud sags in relief as Amelia bows her head respectfully to her Empress, "but, whilst we are grateful for your intervention in this case we must also address your crimes."
Daud's heart stops, his breath freezes and the temperature of the room seems to drop several degrees. Emily's pronouncement is what he both feared and expected when he opened the letter just over a month ago.
Up on the dais Emily and Corvo share a meaningful look.
"You are accused of murder and treason, the sentence for which is death." Daud lets his gaze drop, trembling.
"No, please no!" Amelia, it turns out, can no longer stand by and watch and she turns her impassioned gaze to the Empress. "Your Majesty, whatever my father has done, he has spent the last four years atoning for it. He has worked hard to build a new life away from violence and corruption and has punished himself more than ten years in prison could." There are tears in her voice now. "Please, I beg you, spare his life. He's all I have left."
Emily is staring at Amelia in shock, perhaps that someone would dare speak back to her, perhaps because she never expected someone to plea so passionately for the life of the Knife of Dunwall. Daud fears that Amelia has just endangered herself and he will do anything to prevent that. Just as he prepares to make a plea of his own Emily's silent conference with Attano ends and she speaks before he can draw the breath.
"What do you say to this Daud?"
"My life is yours, to do with as you will. I ask only that you spare my daughter, she is innocent of my crimes and does not deserve to be punished for them," Daud responds more honestly than he has about anything in his life.
The silence stretches in a way that suggests Emily is once again seeking Attano's advice. He does not dare look up, does not want to see which emotion is filling the eyes of the Empress.
"You shall be taken to Coldridge Prison whilst we consider your case further," Emily finally proclaims, "Amelia Costella shall remain in the Tower as my guest."
It is more than he hoped for and certainly more than he deserves.
As the guards take him away he keeps his eyes fixed on Amelia's distraught face and wishes only that he would have the chance to say everything he needs to say to his daughter before the end.
~'*'~
1st Day, Month of Darkness, 1841
Coldridge Prison is about as pleasant as Daud remembers from his break in four years ago, though thankfully Attano keeps a tighter leash on the guards and the food provided is actually an improvement on the gruel he anticipated so despite the chains and the heavy black thoughts that frequent accost him Daud has actually been treated well. He's even been allowed to keep his own clothes, including the wrap around his hand covering his Mark, though he suspect's Attano's work in that judging by the matching wrap on the hand of the Lord Protector.
Amelia has even been allowed to visit and every other day without fail she is escorted in by guards she seems to have managed to charm just as easily as she did the sailors and they sit and talk.
She knows everything now. Who he was, what he did, and still she looks at with without a trace of disgust or horror. That alone gives him the strength to face each day. So when he hears the door to the block clanging open he sits up and glances over, expecting to see his daughter through the bars of his cell.
He is faced with Corvo Attano instead.
The Royal Protector doesn't speak, Daud doesn't expect him to. Instead he passes an official letter through the bars bearing the seal of the Empress.
So, his fate has been decided. He doesn't want to die. He's not ready to die.
No point delaying the inevitable.. With shaking hands he breaks the seal and unfolds the letter.
In punishment for his crimes and in recognition of his efforts to atone for his actions, Her Majesty Empress Emily Kaldwin, in her great mercy, commutes the sentence of death in this case and instead decrees the prisoner receive twenty lashes, to be carried out immediately.
It takes a moment to sink in and then Daud is overcome with a bone shaking relief, his knees give out and he slides down the wall, shaking and clutching his redemption.
He's not going to die.
He's not going to die.
Attano is polite enough to allow him time to recompose himself before knocking lightly on the bars to get his attention. Two guards stand nervously behind him, one bears handcuffs, the other a whip.
Daud goes quietly out with them to the yard. It is empty, which surprises him slightly, he had expected the Empress to make a spectacle of this but it appears he underestimated the mercy of Emily Kaldwin. Stripped of his shirt and handcuffed to the post Daud hears the two guards retreat.
It's just him and Corvo now.
For a man of Corvo's strength the strokes are light, and the Lord Protector, who has every right to want to hurt him, keeps the hits regular and fair. Daud takes them all without a single noise of complaint.
~'*'~
4th Day, Month of Darkness, 1841
Daud wakes slowly.
He doesn't remember much of the time since blackness enveloped him in the yard of Coldridge Prison, though what snatches he can recall are confusing and disorientating.
He remembers being carried, being laid gently down on his front, calloused hands cleaning his wounds and soothing the fiery pain with ice.
He remembers Amelia's gentle voice comforting him, her hands encompassing his.
He remembers soft pillows, the sound of turning pages, the smell of gunpowder and coffee.
He opens his eyes and finds it was not a dream.
Laid on his side in soft covers, Daud immediately recognises the room as one of the guest chambers in the Tower and Corvo Attano is indeed sat in a chair beside the bed, reading, though he looks up as Daud sits up with a wince and a shuffle.
"Attano, what?" Nothing makes sense. Corvo puts the book down and raises his hands.
You understand sign?
It takes Daud a moment to dig through his memory.
"Yes, what…" Corvo's raised hand cuts off his confused questioning.
How do you feel?
Is that worry in Attano's eyes? It can't be.
"Fine," surprisingly he does, the wounds on his back protest at movement but it is nothing more than a harsh ache as they have been tended to with care. Attano runs appraising eyes over him briefly then:
Good. Get dressed. The Empress wants to see you.
Still caught up in shocked confusion Daud obeys without question and follows as Corvo leads him back to the throne room. As they pass through the doors Daud sees Amelia move away from where she was apparently conversing with the young Kaldwin and Emily immediately straightens and puts on an expression suitable for an Empress.
Corvo moves to stand in his customary position behind Emily, Amelia comes down to stand by his side.
There is a long silence. Daud's back itches but he doesn't dare shift.
Then the Empress begins to speak and her words are the last thing Daud expected to hear.
"The position of Royal Spymaster has been empty since the arrest of the traitor, Burrows," Emily begins, "we believe you are the person most suited to fill this role."
Daud cannot contain his shock and he breaks protocol to look up at the Empress. Two sets of identical eyes meet his, one cool and calculating, the other determined. There is no resentment. No anger. He doesn't understand.
Beside him Amelia is smiling as though she knew this was the plan all along. A glance back at the Royal Protector shows a smile beginning to form on Attano's face too, clearly amused at his continued bemusement.
Calming Daud realises he has a decision to make. One that will shape his future, Amelia's future. Though really, it's not a decision at all. This is a chance to redeem himself, to prove that he is capable of change, to accept mercy and forgiveness he doesn't deserve and to work to earn it every day for the rest of his life.
What better way to atone for killing an Empress than by spending each and every day saving another?
Bowing low, ignoring the ache across his back Daud addresses the daughter of the women he murdered for a handful of coin.
"It would be my honour, Your Majesty."
~'*'~
Who is the third who walks always beside you? / When I count, there are only you and I together / But when I look ahead up the white road / There is always another one walking beside you / Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded / I do not know whether a man or a woman / But who is that on the other side of you?
Is it a spirit not yet laid to rest?
If I looked hard enough, would I see the old Empress in a blood-stained dress?
