Water... the first thing I noticed were the sounds of waves breaking against firm wood, stiff boards creaking beneath the force. Then the birds, carried by the wind and sea, cawing as they went. I felt a groan rise from my chest, bones popping and cracking into place as I attempted to move, muscles stiff and sore. My mind was slow and heavy, sluggishly awakening from what felt like a deep slumber. I didn't recall dreaming, thankfully.
"People always look so different when they're asleep," a familiar voice spoke.
I opened my eyes, hand shooting up to block the sting of candlelight, unprepared for its brightness. It took a minute or two before my eyes adjusted, and as they did, I recognised the interior of Callista's ship, my room the same. Emily sat at my side, hands wrapped around a book, eyes focused on me. She was dressed in white, skin radiant, complemented by the light fabric. Her hair hadn't been restricted to her usual do, instead it fell down freely, framing her face. Stripped of every bit of her royalty aside from her posture.
"We've almost reached Samara. You've been out for almost a week," she added softly, returning to the book before her. I had a hunch she did so to avoid my stare. There was a weariness to her that suggested she hadn't slept much, the skin around her eyes slightly puffy, the loss of Sokolov still visible on the edges of her features.
"How-?" I croaked, voice hoarse from disuse. I noticed I was wearing white as well, a clean shirt covering my frame. All cuts and gashes I'd inflicted on myself after escaping the Abbey seemed to have healed, confirming her story.
"The whales helped us." She didn't look up as she spoke, and I noticed how her body grew increasingly tense. "You lost consciousness…" She shook her head, gaze darting towards the window.
The skies outside were dark, and if I had to guess I would say it was evening. My eyes traced the outlines of her profile, the sharp silhouette of her jaw, the rounded edges of her lips. She was being vague, but for some reason that didn't interest me as much as it should.
"You're not angry with me?" I asked, almost breathlessly, unable to stop myself.
She shrugged, tilting her head at me, gaze locking with mine again. "For what?" Her lips pulled into a straight line. "It was my fault."
The drowsiness that had clung to me was washed away by her words. I raised myself onto an elbow. "What do you mean?"
Her teeth started worrying her lip as she looked away once more, lowering the book into her lap. I tried to read her gaze, leaning closer in an attempt to draw her back in. She remained silent for a while, perhaps considering how to tell me.
"Emily?" I tipped my head in question, and her eyes flitted back to mine, those amber depths swimming with unspoken thoughts.
She reached behind her then, and I recognised the bag she'd been carrying back in the tower. Rummaging through it, she retrieved an unfamiliar package. Setting it atop of her opened book, her fingers started fumbling with the paper. "I… found these…" Her gaze dropped to the bundle in her lap, hands working on opening the wrappings. "I didn't want them to have them, I-" She paused, closing her eyes and drawing in a quick breath. "It didn't feel right… Even though I knew I shouldn't…"
I frowned, confused as to what she was talking about, gaze flicking over to the bundle in her lap.
"They had taken everything from your room, guarding it. I knew the risks of stealing it back—I knew it might alert them of my presence." She removed the outer wrappings, revealing a stack of parchments, somehow familiar in shape and size. "I took it back anyway… and they must have followed me." She sighed, clenching her eyes shut as she bit back whatever she was feeling. "She was really pretty, you know?" She turned to smile down at the stack, taking another shaky breath before looking at me. I met her gaze, noticing how her eyes appeared foggy, brows pulled into a sad frown. "You look so much like her," she whispered, lips pulled into a forlorn smile, fingers wrapping around the bundle and reaching out to offer them to me.
My stare traveled down, hesitant to see what she was holding, heart beating in my throat. I recognised the mesh of lines, dark charcoal carefully pressed onto paper. I unconsciously drew back from those familiar features, pushed away by those piercing eyes, the similar bone structure. My gaze darted between Emily and what she was offering, parting my lips to say something but unable to find the words. I started feeling dizzy, the room too small, too much like a prison. I felt the urge to leave, to allow myself more space; more room to think. Without realising I had already started to move, and Emily—quick to spot my intentions—took hold of my arm.
"Please." Her voice was soft, layered with something I felt but couldn't name. Her hand squeezed my arm, eyes tracing my features. "Stay."
I glanced down at the hand that held me into place, before meeting her pleading gaze. I stared at her, almost as if seeing her for the first time. I'd always thought her beautiful—from her warm, almond shaped eyes to the curve of her lips. She had a way of making me forget, and with that thought, everything hit me; all I had tried to deny since becoming human. It was overwhelming, frightening, exhilarating—it was everything all at once yet not a single thing at all. I had died a thousand deaths and lived a thousand lives, but I had never felt overcome with such humanity. I wanted to cry, laugh, scream, curse—I wanted… I wanted to-
I decided nothing mattered, nothing but the electrifying touch of her skin as my hand cupped her cheek, lips capturing hers, other hand slipping into the inviting warmth of her hair, fingers weaving through dark and silky strands. She tasted like the early promise of crisp morning-dew and sweet honey—of playful dares and loving whispers, and my heart swelled at the rich expanse of emotions she evoked within me. Nothing would ever compare to the maddening way my heart jolted me to keep going, to deepen the kiss and taste more of the delicious way her lips moulded against mine. Her hair tickled my skin, so soft and subtle yet so inexplicably full of life itself. She let out a small whimper, opening her mouth for me, hands letting go of what they were holding, moving up my chest, wrapping around my shoulders, traveling up the sides of my neck to cradle my jaw, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. I drank up every little sound she made, pulling her closer—as I grew bolder, hungrier—wanting to wrap her around me and-
You think this Empress of yours will be any different?
The words hit me with their chill, whipping at me until the hurt forced me to pull away. "I'm sorry!" My back hit the wall behind me as I futilely tried to undo what mistakes I'd just made. I tried to breathe, but the air wouldn't enter my lungs, instead there was water, oceans of it—crashing and churning and filling my intestines until I was certain they might explode. All I wanted was air, all I needed was to breathe, but the longer I stayed the more I felt like I was about to choke. It all happened too fast, too sudden, and before Emily could react I had stumbled out of the room, the surrounding walls my only support to keep me upright and going as my knees turned to jelly.
What had I done?
My run slowed to a walk, gaze unfocused as my mind replayed the events over and over again; the warm touch of her skin, the intoxicating feel of her lips-
What had I done?
I was headed for the deck, eager to feel the wind against my skin instead of the lingering memory of her touch, aching to forget just how incredibly good she had made me feel. It hurt, everything hurt. It had been the missing piece to my humanity, the only thing to keep me from being like everybody else. I desperately wished I could take it all back, revert everything to how things had been before. I reached the door, slamming my hand against it, closing my eyes as I pushed it open, desperate for release.
The cold that hit me was staggering, causing me to pause in the doorway. Opening my eyes, I realised the sight that greeted me was shockingly familiar; white snowy mountains surrounded by icy waters. The sea of pine trees covering the land swallowed what little light there was within their bristly branches, hiding whatever roamed inside their depths. All worries momentarily melted away as I stared at the passing landscape, breath stuck in my throat. Pushing open the door even further, I took my first step out onto the deck. Snow had already covered the wood, bare feet sinking into the firm blanket, soaking up the cold. It was the first time my skin touched real snow again, reminded of the crunch as I pressed down on it. It stung, but I didn't mind, overcome by nostalgia as I watched the familiar mountains roll by.
"I see someone's awake." Callista stood near the edge of the deck, engulfed by the surrounding darkness and dressed in a thick winter coat.
I was shaken by her presence, whipping towards her before I could mask it.
"Don't act so surprised," she chaffed, "it's my boat." She shook her head before turning back towards the waters, to my relief. I wondered what she was doing, noticing the familiar splash of whales, realising they were still with us. Callista watched them as they swam alongside the boat, creating waves as their large bodies cut through the waters—they were making us go faster.
I remained frozen to the spot, caught between a rock and a hard place. I knew that if I turned back, my chances of running into Emily… alone, would be very high. But then again, if I stayed, chances of Callista knowing something happened as soon as Emily joined us would also be very high. But, at least then I could count on the fact that Emily wouldn't want Callista to know, because if Callista knew… then Corvo would know. We wouldn't want that, right? Surely Emily wouldn't want that...
"Matvey!" Just then Emily decided to show up, seemingly unaware of Callista's presence around the corner. She was out of breath, gasping for air.
My back stiffened, skin inexplicably cold yet sweaty. I raised a hand, hoping she'd understand that as a cue for 'don't talk about it', but instead she took a quick breath, bombarding me with her thoughts.
"Listen, I just want to talk, I'm really sorry if I gave you the wrong impression or-"
"Is that Lady Emily?" Callista turned towards me again, eyes trying to glance past.
The girl behind me swallowed whatever she was about to say. I let out a sigh of relief, grateful Callista had spoken up. I watched as she started her approach, boots crunching across the snow-covered deck, my gaze ignoring the waiting girl behind me.
"Oh, you're not wearing any shoes!" Emily blurted, catching me off-guard, causing me to forget I shouldn't look at her—regretting it once I did. The cold had already embraced her, causing a soft pink to dust her cheeks, lips still slightly swollen. "Come on, it's not healthy, you could get sick again," she protested, pulling my sleeve to urge me to move.
I was starting to feel lightheaded, all of my nerves working together to drive my heart into insanity. I didn't recall deciding to move, but found myself back in the interior of the ship, feet relieved of the sting. Before me stood the former Empress, cheeks still unusually rosy—causing me to wonder if it had anything to do with the cold at all. She parted her lips, about to speak when Callista entered the small space as well.
"There you are!" she spoke, eyes darting between the both of us. "We're about to hit port." She rubbed her hands together, trying to warm her skin. "We should discuss our plans now that we can."
I averted my gaze, staring at a nearby wall instead of them. My hands were balled into fists, clenching and unclenching to try and ease my nerves.
"Ah, yes, of course..." Emily responded, letting go of my sleeve, appearing at a loss for words after that, an awkward silence turning the air thick and stuffy.
"Are you alright?"
"No—no, I'm fine." Emily assured her, and I felt Callista's gaze burn into my skin.
I remained silent, noticing how the waves outside seemed unusually loud.
"O… kay," Callista muttered. "Let's go then, I'm sure you're hungry."
A hand was placed on one of my shoulders, forcing me to walk along, gaze finding it was Callista who pushed me forward. Emily fell into step behind us, not saying a word, eyes burning holes into my back. As we moved along the narrow hallways of the ship, I was grappling for ways to prevent Callista from finding out—and for a way to act without looking like a fool. My bare feet patted along the floorboards, the touch of wood calming me. But too soon we reached the small cabin, where I was pushed into a chair. Emily made herself comfortable next to me, legs inches from mine—as if her presence alone wasn't torturous enough.
"Did you already get him up to speed?" Callista inquired, placing herself opposite from us, one of her hands retrieving a notebook cluttered with small writings and other incoherent ramblings.
"Uhm…" Emily started, clearing her throat before continuing. "No, I did not."
Callista sent her a strange look, raising one of her brows.
"I mean—there was so much else… to talk about," she hastily added, and I fought the urge to groan.
Callista hummed dismissively, scanning through her unreadable notes, one of her fingers ticking against the book. "If you could get him something to eat?" she requested, eyes flicking across the page.
Emily nodded, handing me some tinned food and cutlery from a nearby cabinet. I grimaced at the small can, not eager to be chewing up seafood again.
"So, here's the plan," Callista started dryly, licking her lips as she frowned down at a word not even she could decode. "Tyvia, for a long time, used to be a monarchy. Even though it is now ruled by the Presidium, the princes of Tyvia are still universally adored, which is why it's highly unlikely for the people of Samara to recognise a foreign Empress by face alone. We reckon a different hairstyle and a new name should be enough of a cover for Emily, especially since she's never visited Tyvia in the first place." Callista sent me a look for confirmation, eyes staring at me almost expectantly.
I hesitated, knowing full-well the independent people of Tyvia wouldn't pay too much attention to other countries' leaders… I glanced at Emily, only to find her gazing straight at me, lips slightly parted and- I turned away again, instead focusing on Callista in hopes of calming. "Yes… that should work," I mumbled, stiffly, trying my best to sound casual as I fumbled with the can.
My own lips still tingled from the memory of our kiss, laced by the lingering taste of something sweet. It wasn't as if it had come out of nowhere—there'd been multiple occasions where it had almost happened. My mind replayed everything that had led to my slip-up, my ruinous moment of poor impulse control. The fact that she hadn't pushed me away only made it worse—to think that maybe she didn't mind... This was all wrong.
"Good..." Callista didn't continue straight away, wary gaze drawn to my hands instead, noticing my unusual clumsiness.
I nearly jumped when Emily took the can away from me. "Allow me," she spoke, softly, opening it with ease before offering it back. I accepted, mumbling a quick 'thanks' without looking her in the eye, ducking my head to escape the stares, aware I'd just been caught absorbed in my own thoughts.
"At any rate," Callista cut in again, attention back to her notes, "Emily thought of an alias: Violet Taylor. She's to be called this at all times." The last words were emphasised by a raised brow and a quick glance in my direction.
I nodded in understanding, thoughtlessly stirring my food with a fork. This had to end—this strange thing we had. It was all spiralling out of control. If what Callista had said was true and I loved Emily...
"I'll be Nora Edwards, and you," she rubbed her temple as she shifted her attention from her notes to me, "you'll just be Matvey. Did you have a last name?"
I shook my head as I dared another bite of the preserved fish, disgusted at the taste—or perhaps it had been the thought of pushing Emily away that had tasted bitter. But then again, maybe she had already changed her mind herself... She had apologised for giving me the wrong impression after all. What if she hadn't meant to kiss me back? What if she was sorry for having me believe she did?
"Then you'll be my son, Matvey Edwards. Sadly, my Tyvian husband passed many years ago. We'll be visiting his home to witness the Tyvian lights, experience the culture." Callista sat back in her chair, regarding the both of us with an expectant look. I reminded myself to nod, earning a satisfied look as she continued. "Violet is a friend of the family. Her father, Corvo, had some unfinished business at home, deciding to allow her to travel with us instead..."
Her voice faded from my mind as I convinced myself Emily regretted everything; she hadn't wanted to share a bed with me, she'd only done so because she'd been about to die, after that because she'd felt lonely. She'd used me; I'd been the next best thing in the absence of proper company—that had to be it. I'd been a fool for falling in love, at any rate it meant I had no choice but to let her go. I glanced at Callista, who was still talking.
"Emily was smart enough to bring some of her funds from the Safe Room, which means we'll be able to stay at a local inn. We also have clothes suited for the climate, you'll find them in your room. I've already packed a bag for you. The objective is to discover what the Abbey is working on, how your return to humanity has affected the whale oil, and to wait for Corvo to find us."
I took a final bite, turning my nose at the empty tin.
"We'll discuss a more detailed plan of action once we've settled at an inn, I'm sure this is enough to process for now." Callista finished, storing her notes. "Check your bag to see if we've packed whatever you need, I expect we arrive in 30 minutes. Any questions?"
Only 30 minutes… I knew whales were fast swimmers, but had they really been able to speed up our travels that much? And more importantly, why did they want us to be here? I remembered the light I'd seen underwater, how it had called to me. I was certain they had tried to take me there—why had they taken me here instead? Unless the two were connected, but the chances of any light reaching Dunwall from Samara were exactly zero. But then again, stranger things had happened.
Callista stood, pausing to turn to us a final time. "I'll be at the wheel if you need me." Her gaze darted between me and Emily, stare a little too intrusive.
I nodded in understanding, glad to be free of her, but also dreading to be alone with Emily. Maybe if I got up to follow after Callista, I could avoid having to look at her, or more importantly: speaking to her. The longer I could put off confronting her, the better. Perhaps, in a few days, this would all blow over and she'd forget it'd ever happened and-
"Hey." Tentative fingers touched my sleeve, raising my blood pressure to the point where my skull pounded with every heartbeat. "Could we talk?"
No. l really didn't want to. My hands turned clammy in an instant, my lungs' ability to function suddenly gone. "I'd rather not," I confessed, refusing to look at her, staring at the door Callista had just exited through.
"Listen, I know this must all be very confusing for you, and-"
"Please, just forget about it." I stood, pulling away from her, trying to insert more distance between us—trying to fight that sickening twist of my stomach.
"Matvey, I-"
"Stop." I took another step towards the door, scowling down at the floorboards, yearning to leave, knowing she'd intervene if I tried, fully aware she wouldn't leave me alone until I gave in.
"No!" she countered, flying from her chair and towards me, circling around my frame and stopping between me and the door. I didn't need to look up to read her expression, her glare bright enough to scald my skin, further twisting up my insides. "You kissed me!" She poked an accusatory finger against my chest at every word. "You don't get to do that and then just run away!"
"I said I was sorry!" I growled, feeling that first familiar flicker of anger. There was so much hurt that clung to her presence.
"Why?" she spat, the question surprising me enough to make me look at her, heart plummeting as I did. Her features were contorted, amber eyes flashing. "You're okay with feeling me up, but a stupid kiss is too much?"
"I-"
"You don't get to decide what does or does not pass for the both of us!" she interrupted, heatedly gesturing between us, hair dancing and bouncing with every movement.
"What are you even-"
"What if I wanted you to kiss me?" she continued yelling, scowl deepening and hands balling to fists.
Lies, all lies. I was stunned into silence, heart beating in my throat. I was starting to feel sick, head spinning and body shivering. "Well—you shouldn't!" I rebutted, but even I knew it was a meaningless argument to be made.
"Why not?" She took a step towards me, forcing me to move back. "All you do is make up excuses!" She pointed another finger at me as her other arm continued to gesture, cheeks reddening. "You push me away every damn chance you get, but draw me back in right when it suits you!"
She had to be lying, I was certain she was. "I do not!"
"First you blame it on my supposed naivity, then it's because you think you're not human, then it's that you can't give me the bullshit you tell me I need—well guess what, I know you're not dying!"
"W-" I cut myself off, the temperature of the room dropping down to a cruel chill.
"That's right! I overheard you and Anton!" she sneered, narrowing her eyes at me. "So what's the problem this time?" Another step, and I bumped into the table behind me.
She was chipping away all of my defences, robbing me of my ammunition. "Please, I don't want to hurt you," I warned, trapped between her and Callista's cursed furniture.
"Well you are hurting me! Your empty promises hurt me! Your never-ending mood swings hurt me! Your inability to face up to your own actions hurts me!" She was ranting, affronted tone transforming into something shrill and uncontrolled. "You always choosing to run away from every confrontation hurts me!"
Her words tore at me, laying bare every bitter flare of hurt she'd ignited. It was my turn to take a step forward, our noses inches from touching as I glared down at her, ready to aim my final shot, desperate to stop her from unraveling me further. "Okay. Let me make it clear then: I. Don't. Want. this," I seethed, narrowing my eyes right back at her.
She just scowled at me in muted silence, eyes the most vibrant colour I had ever witnessed, before she finally cocked her head. "Fine," she hissed, raising her chin, amber stare burning into mine. "We'll see about that." There was a challenge hidden in her tone, lips pulled into the mockery of a smile.
I remained silent, reeling from the argument, my pulse a deafening drum. I didn't move to stop her as she turned away from me, leaving me behind in the now eerily silent cabin, the echoes of our shouts still buzzing through me. I had finally done it, hadn't I? I had finally stepped up and ended this sure-fire road towards condemnation. I had let her go—no, forced her away—because I loved her.
But then… why did I feel so empty?
I stormed into my room, slamming the door in petty anger, cursing the damn bed for all it had come to represent. My eyes found the stack of drawings and my hands reached for them, not thinking twice about tearing up every single cursed image, eyes watching my mother's face as I ripped her apart piece by piece. I scattered the fragments, threw away those useless memories, kicked at their existence.
Why?
My gaze locked onto the book Emily had been reading, deciding to pick that up as well and toss it at the wall, its pages sent flying around the room. Nothing relieved me of the suffocating weight that pushed down on me, the rage and frustration I felt too unmanageable to be contained within my useless skin. All of my senses were fried from the emotional overload she had caused me.
Why?
I dropped down into the mess I'd created, knees grinding against the rough floor-boards, sharp wood cutting into my skin. The physical pain was almost euphoric, the only distraction the world offered me from my mind. My gaze traced every snippet of paper, following them until it landed on something I hadn't expected to see again; my old boots. She must have found them, too. I longed to be angry so desperately, to hate her and to cast her aside as easily as I had everyone else. But…
Why me?
"My father never could stop himself from talking about Tyvia. He'd always insisted I go and taste its rich pears and wines for myself—not the imported garbage we dared call 'Tyvian'." Callista walked in front of us, large bag slung across her shoulder, warm boots plowing through the heavy layers of snow. "Its darkness however… that was something he never seemed too eager to talk about—do you remember what I taught you about Tyvian darkness, Violet?"
Emily walked behind me, gaze burning holes into my back. "It lasts 5 months," she offered, detached voice betraying her disinterest in the topic.
"6," I corrected on impulse, earning myself a look from Callista, causing me to shift the bag I carried, feeling self-conscious.
Samara was wrapped in darkness, its streets lighted only by strategically placed lanterns, small flames flickering in their glass containers. I had discovered it'd been early in the morning when we arrived, the townsfolk still in the process of waking up. As the Outsider, I had never paid close attention to this town in particular. But now that I walked the cobblestone streets, each and every building designed with exceptional care and decorated in an ornately fashion, I couldn't help but be impressed. The people all looked the same; dark hair, pale skin and thick coats, most heads covered in fur-lined hats. Passing through the morning-crowd, I realised I recognised none of them. For the first time, not a single memory of a life lived popped into my mind at the sight of a person. They were just that: a person—someone I had never met and didn't know a thing about. It was refreshing. For once, I felt truly alone in my own mind.
"According to the signs there should be an inn around here…" Callista squinted, the darkness making it hard to spot what we were looking for.
I honestly didn't know, allowing myself to drift away from our little group, eyes drinking up every detail of our foreign surroundings. The city smelled of smoke and freshly baked bread, its scent wafting around every snow-covered corner. The candlelight illuminated rows of icicles that clung to the high roofs, causing them to glow like pointed crystals. The houses were mostly constructed of wood, unlike Dunwall. The eaves and window-frames carefully decorated by openwork tracery, every single building entirely unique.
"Can I help you, ma'am?" A man stepped up, having noticed Callista's searching looks. He was covered from head to toe, a scarf and hat concealing everything but his bright, blue eyes.
Callista's first instinct was to glance around, checking to see if both me and Emily were still around. Tucking some stray hairs behind her ear, she turned towards the stranger. "Yes, please, if you could." She was gracious as ever, accepting politely. "We're looking for the nearest inn, if you could help us find our way?"
Emily joined the two, observing the stranger curiously, casual hairstyle and simple jacket making her appear like someone else entirely. I watched them from the corner of my eye, feigning disinterest as I kicked the snow around, covering my boot in white powder.
"Yes, of course! Why don't I take you there? It's just around the corner," the man offered with a shrug, eyes crinkling with what was mostly likely a smile.
"Thank you." Callista bowed her head, before turning to me with a slight frown, eyes drawn to my snow-covered boots. "Are you coming?" she asked, tone pressing enough to let me in on her annoyance.
I let out a huff of breath, smoky tendrils passing my cheeks as I caught up to them, avoiding walking too close to Emily. It seemed she paid no more attention to me, instead focused on our guide. I narrowed my eyes at him, annoyed at his cheery attitude.
"I'm Artur, by the way." He turned his head, eyes darting between the three of us.
"My name is Nora, and these are my son Matvey and our friend Violet," Callista introduced each of us.
"Nice to meet you." Artur offered us all a handshake, which I blankly refused, causing him to pause awkwardly before turning back to Callista. "So what brings you here?"
"My late-husband… he was Tyvian," Callista breathed, staring off into the distance as we walked. We passed several buildings, small panelled windows reflecting our little group, my gaze drawn to my own unsettling image. "I've been wanting to show my son the lights of Samara, my husband had always recalled them with such fondness."
"I'm sorry for your loss…" Artur consoled her, her act convincing enough. "You still appear young, it's good to see you're not bound by your grief," he complimented, earning a quick 'thank you' from Callista. "And the two of you…?" His eyes darted between Emily and I.
"No-" I quickly denied the assumption, only to be interrupted by Emily.
"Don't mind him, he's a bit shy around strangers," she giggled, turning to me, the hint of a smirk twisting her lips. "Aren't you, honey?" One of her arms looped around mine, a hand resting atop my elbow, hip digging into my side.
Blood rushed towards my face, the tips of my ears burning as I shot her a spiteful glare, daring her to say another word.
"It's alright," Artur laughed, sending another eye-crinkle at the both of us, "I'd be shy too if a beauty such as yourself were on my arm."
Emily flushed at the words, a demure smile curling her lips, eyes darting to the ground. I scowled at the two of them, catching the disapproving look Callista shot Emily. We rounded the corner, revealing another row of wooden homes and other buildings. We passed several more before Artur stopped, turning towards us.
"Well, here it is." He gestured at the nearest building, detailed woodwork covering every inch. "A bit old-fashioned, but cosy—I promise." He playfully raised his hands.
"Thank you kindly for your help." Callista smiled at him. "If there's any way we can repay you…"
He waved a hand at her as he let out an amused laugh. "No, that won't be necessary, it's been my pleasure."
"It's nice meeting you," Emily added, smiling at the man she had known for how long now? Five minutes?
He dared a glance at me, quickly averting his eyes again. I was more than happy to see him go, but when he was about to leave he changed his mind, turning back to Callista. "Oh, now that I think of it," he started, gloved hand darting into one of his pockets, rummaging through his puffy coat until he pulled out a stack of pamphlets. "I'm in the organisation of Samara's Winter festival, I'd love it if the three of you were willing to join the festivities." He handed each of us a piece of paper filled with illustrated words and pictures, accompanied by another eye-crinkling smile. "It's definitely not the same now that we no longer have electricity, but here in Tyvia we're used to worse."
"Thank you, we'll think about it." Callista smiled politely, storing away the pamphlet.
"Great!" He rocked on his heels, gaze darting between the three of us. "Well, see you around, then!" He waved a final time, retreating at last, gaze drawn to us a few more times as he walked away. I watched him go, his coat and hat making him blend in with the crowd of people, until he soon became indistinguishable from the rest.
"People are so nice here," Emily noted as her gaze remained fixed on the direction Artur had gone, arm still looped in mine.
I took the opportunity to retrieve my limb, pulling away from her as soon as the coast was clear. "They won't be so nice once they find out who you are," I grumbled, annoyed as I dusted off my sleeve.
Callista stepped in, resting a hand on Emily's shoulder, an urgent look on her face as she leaned closer. "No more improvising, Lady Emily, it's dangerous to stray away from the plan," she whispered, eyes darting between me and her former pupil.
"Lighten up, Nora." Emily passed the concerned woman, headed for the door of the inn, throwing a mischievous smirk over her shoulder. "If anything, I did us a favour, what with all the blatantly jealous stares going around." Her pointed gaze found me as she pushed the door, ducking inside.
"Hey! I-" The door closed on us before I could finish, leaving me in a slightly disgruntled mood. I glared at the door, balling my fists and-
"I don't know what the Void is going on between the two of you, but you better get your act together if you plan on surviving here," Callista scolded me, hands firmly planted on her hips, lips pulled into a disapproving frown.
I turned to scowl at my feet, feeling the blood rush to my face again. I had hoped pushing her away would make her want nothing to do with me, but instead it had only served to make her more persistent.
Stubborn, like she'd always been.
"Well, come on." Callista held open the door for me, gesturing for me to enter. Her eyes followed me as I passed, nice enough not to comment any further.
The warmth of the inn hit me as soon as I stepped inside, washing away the cold that had soaked into my skin. The interior was old-fashioned, like Artur had mentioned, carved out of rich mahogany and decorated with both pelts and detailed plaids. Ornaments were scattered all around the space, from wooden objects decorated with paint to framed illustrations and intricate clocks. A large fireplace heated the room, its crackling flames casting a warm light across rich multi-coloured carpets. There were several chairs and a single couch set up around it, a basket full of newspapers and books nearby. There was a large staircase right ahead, its steps covered by a worn-down rug.
I spotted Emily at a wooden desk at the back of the room, bag at her feet. "There you are!" she called, "I was just telling this wonderful lady all about you!"
I directed my gaze past her, spotting an old woman that looked well in her seventies, shoulders wrapped in a shawl and eyes framed by a pair of half moon glasses.
"My, he's quite the catch, isn't he?" The old lady smiled at me, wrinkled skin surrounding her eyes creasing further at the expression.
I walked up to the both of them, followed by a silent Callista. I eyed the two smiling women suspiciously, distrustful of the amused look on Emily's face.
"I was telling her about the first time we met," she grinned, casually leaning an elbow on the desk. "Do you still remember? I was 10, you were 15." She fluttered her lashes at me, raising her brows in question.
I stopped next to her, leaning against the desk as well, attempting to assess her intentions as my gaze roamed her. "I do," I admitted. "You walked into my home without invitation and wouldn't stop crying." The smugness had started to fade from her smile, chin inching higher in challenge, but I continued before she could speak. "Did you book any rooms yet?" I glanced at the old lady who's welcoming grin had been replaced by a look of mild confusion.
"I did," Emily smiled sweetly, "the honeymoon suite."
No way she had—she couldn't possibly be serious. "Really now?" I cocked my head, clenching my jaw. "Last I checked we weren't married yet, sweetie," I spoke through gritted teeth, the words dripping with venom, eliciting an amused smirk from the girl next to me. Two could play that game, if she thought I'd let her win that easily she'd be sorely mistaken. I directed a smile towards the elderly woman, hoping she was as old-fashioned as she appeared, leaning in to make sure her old ears would hear. "Don't worry," I assured her, voice low, "we haven't fucked before the sacred matrimony if that's what you're worrying about." The woman's eyes widened, face visibly blanching. "We live by the strictures." I raised my hand in a sign of faith, before turning back to a stunned Emily, the former Empress narrowing her eyes at me as I spoke the last part to her; "May the Abbey bless our souls."
"Oh," the old woman exclaimed, mouth slightly agape, "well..." she paused, rubbing her cheek with one hand before shaking her head, the colour slowly returning to her features. "Who am I to judge the lives of ones so young?" she laughed, reaching for Emily's hand and placing a set of keys in her palm. "Here you go, dear." She smiled, winking at her. "He's a feisty one, that fiancé of yours."
I sourly watched as the smugness returned to Emily's features, that infuriating grin back in its place. "Why thank you, Nadia." She squeezed the woman's hand. "I know he's still a little rough around the edges, but it's nothing a good woman cannot fix."
"Oh, I'm sure about that!" Nadia giggled, cheery eyes almost disappearing between folds of wrinkled skin.
Callista stepped in between us, bringing an end to the theatrics. "I'd also like a room. Single, please," she requested, not turning to look at either of us.
"Ah, yes, of course!" Nadia reached for another key, handing it over. "What name may I write down?" she asked, that same welcoming smile she'd first offered me back in place.
"Nora Edwards."
"Oh, family, I see—sister?"
Callista raised a brow, accepting the key from the elder. "Mother," she corrected, adjusting her bag before turning towards the nearby staircase. "I assume the rooms are up here?"
"Yes!" Nadia nodded, "numbers are on the keys."
Callista continued up the stairs after a quick 'thank you', leaving us behind without a word.
Emily's gaze darted between the older woman and Callista, excusing herself, lifting her bag off the floor and hurrying after her former teacher. I didn't spare the elder another glance, following behind the others, trying to think of ways to regain the upper-hand in our situation.
"Nora?" Emily called after Callista, bag slinging from one side to the other.
Callista slowed, throwing her old student a short glance. "Whatever the two of you are doing, I want nothing to do with it," she clarified, obviously annoyed. "I will be seeing the both of you in my room in an hour. Number 201." She didn't wait for Emily or I to respond.
Emily stilled, eyes trailing after her former teacher. I stopped beside her, shooting her a curious glance, noticing she showed barely any reaction to Callista's words. Instead, she parted her lips, clicking her tongue before commenting. "Your mother seems upset."
I frowned.
"Well, let's go," she turned, wrapping her hand around mine and intertwining our fingers, "I can't wait to see our room."
She dragged me up the stairs before I could comment, overwhelmed by the way she held onto my hand. As soon as we rounded the corner, the both of us out of sight, I pulled free, distancing myself from her once more. I wanted to tell her to stop, to quit this nonsense. If people found out about our act, especially in Tyvia, we'd be in the sort of trouble not even I could get us out of. She read the numbers on the door, silently mouthing along as she searched for ours, other hand holding up the key she'd been given. I knew I'd have to wait, there was no way I was going to draw unnecessary attention to the both of us. A couple passed us, their arms linked and their shoulders connected. They greeted us, earning themselves a happy smile from the former Empress. I narrowed my eyes at her.
"Here it is!" she exclaimed, shooting me a self-satisfied smile that further fuelled my chagrin. She inserted the key into the lock, turning it until it clicked, other hand pushing against the wood. It creaked in its hinges, swinging open to reveal a cosy room full of decorative pleads and wooden trinkets. Emily stepped inside, eyes wide with wonder, the hints of a genuine smile on her lips. "This looks like a fairytale..." she breathed, circling around to get a view of every little detail; from hand-carved wood to sewn curtains and carpets. There was a bed directly next to the door, flanked by two wooden cabinets topped with a set of candles. Tyvia had adjusted better to the lack of electricity than Dunwall had, but in a way that made sense for a country that had dealt with long periods of darkness for centuries.
"If a fairytale means not updating your furniture for a 100 years, then yes, it does," I deadpanned, following her inside.
She ignored me as she dumped her bag and coat onto the bed, dropping down and causing the spreads to dip beneath her weight. I looked away from her. Instead I was drawn to a small painting at the opposite side of the room, my feet carrying me there. It was a purple flower, small and fragile, its green stem sprouting from a thick layer of snow. I stared at it, feeling a shift in time as the world around me had started to bend, its colours blending and warping together. There was a ring in my ears, both my toes and fingers consumed by a terrible burn—the sting of cold, the bite of death.
"It says here the festival lasts an entire month!" I was dragged back into reality by the sound of Emily's voice. "I can't believe how free everything is here..."
I rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hands, trying to banish the wave of dizziness. "That's what they want you to think," I remarked dryly, feeling my pulse return to normal. "You haven't seen the prison camps yet." There was a small couch on the left side of the room, covered in more knitted spreads and cushions. I turned towards it, slipping my bag from my shoulders and placing it on one of the corners along with my coat, dropping myself down next to it.
"You're not going to sleep on the couch, are you?"
I allowed my head to lean back against the wall, closing my eyes as I fought the urge to get away from her, aware I had nowhere to go right now. "Was it wrong of me to assume you claimed the bed?"
The bed creaked as she moved, thick sheets rustling with every motion. "So? Sharing wasn't a problem before." She was moving closer.
"That was befo-"
"Before what?" She stood directly in front of me now, tone dripping with annoyance. "Before you kissed me?"
I opened my eyes, frowning at her as she stood with her arms crossed, angry gaze sharp and demanding. The same nerves that had plagued me in the cabin of Callista's ship returned, making me want to disappear, anything to get away from those eyes.
"Tell me, Matvey," she continued, "what was it about that kiss that scares you so much?"
My frown deepened into a scowl, fingers wrapping around the ritual rings, their touch soothing. "I'm not."
"Not what? Scared?" she questioned, raising her brows. "Then do it again," she challenged, cocking her head.
"I'm not a courtesan."
"Neither am I, yet I get pushed to the side like one."
"Stop," I hissed, straightening my back, raising myself towards her.
"Kiss me." She lowered herself, putting her hands on my legs, fingers digging into the fabric of my pants, trapping me in place.
"I'm not here to play your silly, little games," I growled, feeling my heartbeat pick up at her touch, heat spreading through my limbs, gaze darting to her lips.
"Neither was I, yet there you were." She raised her brows, eyes flitting across my face, lingering on my mouth before meeting my gaze again. "And I'm not stopping until you admit it."
"Admit what?" I felt my breath hitch, knowing exactly what she meant.
She leaned in, stopping only inches from my face, lips hovering above mine—igniting that craving inside of me that wished for her to close the distance. "That you do want this," she whispered, warm breath caressing my skin, eyes growing dark. I felt my control start to slip, mind growing hazier, hungrier, my senses overpowered by the ache she reawakened. I allowed my eyes to travel to her lips again, following their gentle curve, longing to-
I forced her to move away as I rose to my feet, distancing myself from her. I shook my head, hands pulling at my hair, trying to expel the memory of her... "Emily, you've lost your throne, your empire is in financial and industrial decay, and the Abbey is probably going to destroy whatever balance between this world and the Void remains…" I pleaded, knowing it was more to myself than her.
"I'm just hearing more excuses." She remained unwavering, hands on her hips, eyes never leaving mine, stare going straight through me.
I opened and closed my mouth several times, wanting to say something, grappling for words as my gaze darted across the room, arms wrapping around myself. She didn't try to interrupt as I wracked my brain for something, anything, a strange numbness spreading through me as I reached for the most compelling thing I could remember. "Aren't you the one who said whatever you felt was wasted in a dying world?" I accused.
Surprise took over her features as she heard the words she had once spoken to me, and I realised everything felt so different now—I felt different. She shook her head, a pitiful smile pulling at her lips as she shrugged. "Maybe I was wrong?" She took a step towards me, pleading gaze fighting to reason with me. "Maybe the true waste is to not allow yourself to feel at all…"
My reality shifted at her words, everything I had told myself to believe in, everything I had known, deconstructed by a single sentence. I drew a shuddery breath, feeling my feet move as they started to carry me away from her, back towards the door. The water had started rising again, filling my lungs and flushing away my breath, making me drown in my own thoughts. I turned, and she didn't attempt to stop me as I twisted the knob, knowing there'd be no coming back to this moment if I left. I paused in the doorway, fighting to breathe deeply as I tried to make sense of my feelings—all too soon realising feelings rarely made sense at all.
"You're a coward, do you know that?" I heard her ask, disappointment in her tone.
I didn't move, hand still holding the door. My eyes traced the veins and arteries that pulsed beneath my skin, my blood the same colour as hers, as Callista's, as Corvo's. I lifted my head, looking back at her, watching her as she stood at the center of the room, her shoulders straight and chin raised, still.
That's what happens in your presence after all, isn't it?
"To be human…" I started, my gaze drifting towards the painting behind her, tracing the delicate flower amongst a sea of white, "is to be afraid." I took another step, out into the hallway, away from her, closing the door behind me as I let out a fragile breath, closing my eyes as I shut her out… again.