The smells of smoke and wood permeated the air around me, lingering on my clothes, skin, and hair. I watched as my mother tended to our small fire, warming our makeshift tent with its crackling flames. When she seemed satisfied, she turned to me, bright, green eyes filled with a golden flicker. Pursing her lips, a thought appeared to strike her, pale hands gesturing for me to come. My feet obeyed, gaze fixed on hers, drinking up the warmth in her eyes.

"I know we haven't anything to eat," she spoke, voice as smooth as the frozen lakes and rivers that surrounded us. "But I know something that'll help you forget your hunger." She winked, lips twisting into a smile before she righted herself, holding out one of her hands. There was only an inch left between her head and the roof of our tent, and I had to crane my neck to meet her gaze. I reached out, taking her hand, my own limb dwarfed by hers, long fingers wrapping around my palm with ease. She brought me closer, bending forward to take hold of my other hand as well. "Place your feet on top of mine," she said, continuing to smile down on me as she waited.

I did as she told, her grip on me tightening as I swayed, balancing me as I stepped onto her feet. I felt taller now, and an excited grin spread across my cheeks, expectant gaze darting back up to meet my mother's.

"Hold on tight," she giggled, eyes crinkling joyfully. I couldn't help but mirror her elation, and when she took her first step I felt myself burst into laughter, feet forced to move with hers. I imagined this was what walking on air would be like, when my feet might carry me along endless clouds, across sun-filled skies and above faraway lands. She danced with me, graciously moving through the tiny space of our tent, hands clasping mine and her feet carrying me around. My own fits of laughter left me increasingly lightheaded, cheeks flushed and face hot. When both of us were too tired to stand, she pulled me down with her, our fall cushioned by our pelts. Out of breath, she smiled, warm gaze staring into mine as she raised a hand to brush through my hair. "I love you, my precious boy, never forget that."

My muscles felt as if hewn from stone, entire body gone stiff—I feared opening my eyes, afraid I might be confronted with Billie Lurk's face, painted in the grim hues of the Void, Daud's whispering voice still lingering in my ear. But, within the Void, I had never felt the soft comfort of a pillow beneath my head, or the reassuring sensation of a blanket sheltering my form. And certainly, the Void had never smelled flowery, or carried sounds similar to the rhythmic huffs and puffs of machinery. Most jarringly was the absence of a certain sound, one which had become as familiar and constant as my own heartbeat: the singing of whales. I opened my eyes, blurry vision greeted by flickering lights and a wooden ceiling. A groan escaped my throat as I attempted to raise my head, the action interrupted by the sound of a voice.

"Don't move too suddenly," it whispered, and I recognised Corvo's familiar timbre.

I tried to speak, but my own voice had faded from disuse. I felt something stuck in my nose, and I was almost certain it went all the way down my throat. Clearing said throat, I tried my best to spot the Royal Protector from the corner of my eye, his figure looming at the side of what I presumed to be my bed. "Where's Emily?"

Corvo leaned closer, face now clearly in view, eyes darting between me and something at the other end of the unfamiliar room. "She's asleep." He nodded his head towards where he'd been glancing, after which he let out a sigh, rubbing his face with both his hands—he looked tired, and I vaguely recalled him being at the festival. I couldn't seem to remember what had happened, wondering if Emily and I had succeeded. Corvo's dark gaze returned to my face, quickly moving to speak. "You were shot."

I frowned, the words filling my mind with incomplete flashes and visuals; a roaring bonfire and the threatening glint of a gun.

"A lot has happened while you've been… recovering." He rubbed his coarse chin, gaze wandering off. "Anna worried you might not wake again, and my daughter has barely left your side despite her duties."

There was something he wasn't telling me, and I wasn't sure I wanted to find out. "Her duties?" I asked instead.

"The Citadel has agreed to hear her out, allowing her a chance to expose the Abbey's deceitful conduct, and to discuss a pardon for the both of you," he rumbled. I felt my brows pinch together, the mention of the Abbey bringing back a memory of the Void, of golden light and winged machines. "Both your father and the High Overseer are in custody—I suspect you might be happy to hear this: the Abbey of the everyman is no more."

I felt the air fill up my lungs, staying there, expanding my chest as my mind lingered on the words 'father' and 'custody'. "What do you mean, a pardon?" I quickly steered away from the subject.

Corvo's eyes flicked my way, a hint of curiosity in their warm depths. "You have Nadia to thank for that, turns out her daughter is a member of the Presidium. She's managed to convince the High Judges—don't ask me how, but you've won Tyvia's support… Especially once Emily managed to trace back your heritage; it's all she's been able to focus on these past weeks."

I had always been aware of the undying fondness the people of Tyvia felt for the princes, however, never had I expected them to be able to extend such fondness to me. I felt out of breath, eyes turning to trace along the ceiling, a sense of disbelief gnawing at my insides.

"Well, imagine my surprise," Corvo chuckled. The sound caught me off guard, causing me to turn my head at last. Corvo's expression was guarded, but I didn't miss the way the corners of his mouth twitched, itching for a smile, or the warmth in his eyes, holding mine without an obvious trace of contempt. If I didn't know any better, I would think him to be trying to hide his inexplicable fondness—and doing a rather suspiciously poor job of it. He let out a small huff of breath before speaking again, resting his elbows on top of his knees, fingers weaving through each other. "I know you and I… we've had our differences," he started, gaze darting to his joined hands. "I'm certain most fathers would be opposed to the idea of their daughter dating a former representative of the Void."

I raised a brow. "You'd be surprised."

Corvo's lips pulled into a humorous smile. "Careful," he warned, "you shouldn't get smart with your future father in-law."

My breath found itself stuck in my throat, mouth running dry—Corvo seemed to find my reaction surprisingly amusing, a satisfied grin splitting his cheeks as I tried to squash the fluttering in my chest.

"That is, of course, if you still intend to marry my daughter?" He raised his brows, peering into my eyes, features unreadable. I felt a fresh wave of nauseating anxiety wash over me. He reached out to touch my shoulder, and I flinched, his hand now lingering in the air above.

"I'd like to see Emily," I spoke instead of answering, rasping voice scratching along the dry walls of my throat. I swallowed as I fought the irregular rush of my pulse.

Corvo's frown returned, resignation settling over him. His eyes left mine, and he quietly rose from his seat. Walking around my bed, my gaze followed his every step, noting the pristine, white sheets that covered my body. I had to turn my head to keep him in view, and I caught sight of a sleeping Emily; her body curled on a couch, covered by a thin blanket. Her hair was back to her usual style, regal and composed. I saw the blanket move with every steady breath she took. Corvo knelt before her, glancing my way before cupping her cheek, thumb stroking her awake.

"Emily, darling, wake up," he whispered, rumbling voice bringing her to stir, heavy lashes fluttering as her lips parted, allowing a soft breath of air to leave her. Her eyes narrowed against the surrounding light, brows pulling into a gentle frown.

"Father?" she asked, squinting up at him. Corvo sent her a brief smile, before turning to look at me, gaze followed by Emily's. I watched as her stare found mine, eyes widening and lips parting in silent shock. All remnants of sleep were gone, replaced by a mixture of emotions I couldn't quite tell apart. My body moved on its own, elbows supporting my weight as I fought to prop myself up, feeling a sharp pain shoot through me. I winced, but didn't have any time to linger as Emily shot up from her place, arms enveloping me in a bone-crushing hug. I felt her fingers rake through my hair, hand wrapping around the back of my head, pulling herself as close as she could, burying her face in the crook of my neck as her other hand travelled across my back.

Everything returned to me then; from the revelation of Corvo's planned attempt to drug and take Emily away, to the late night plunge that had sent us straight into the Void. I recalled the reawakening of the Great Leviathan, the way an invisible sun had risen and painted the Void's vast expanse in a golden light. I remembered whispering my father's name in his ear, the unexpected appearance of the High Overseer. I could still feel the bonfire's heat upon my skin as we crashed back into this world, bringing my father and the High Overseer with us—and most of all, I could still feel the overwhelming surge of desperation that had gripped my heart as I heard the gunshot, watching the High Overseer as he attempted to kill the woman I loved. I had been shot, Corvo told me, and I instantly knew I had jumped in front of the bullet, my final moments of consciousness a complete and utter blur.

I felt Emily's breath fan across my neck, fingers clutching the fabric of my shirt. "Never, ever, leave me again," she whispered, lips moving against my skin, voice vibrating through me. It was then I realised I couldn't hear her heartbeat anymore, or Corvo's for that matter—instead, there was only the soft sound of her breath in my ear.

My eyes found Corvo where he still kneeled before the couch, a small, encouraging smile warming his features, causing my jittery pulse to pick up again. My own heart: still beating, still alive. It was then that everything came crashing down on me—because I was still breathing, and Emily was too. We had survived, somehow, and for the first time in my lifetime I felt truly, genuinely welcomed. I let out a relieved breath of my own, eyes closing as I returned her embrace, surrendering myself to the overwhelming emotions that washed over me. It hurt—it hurt so, so much—but it was pain in all the right ways. I kept my eyes clenched shut, tightening my grip and pulling Emily even closer. I hadn't noticed the tears until one of them hit my arm, a single drop falling down, followed by a dozen more as my mind continued to try to make sense of it all, attempting to wrap around what Corvo had said—because in that moment I realised what he'd meant, what he'd offered me without an ounce of hesitation. I released another shuddery breath, feeling my chest deflate, the heaviness that had gripped my heart replaced with a new kind of lightness that brought a teary grin to my face.

"As you wish," I croaked, feeling her grip tighten at the words, my own heart swelling at her familiar touch.

"By the Void, I've missed your voice so much," she sighed, nuzzling into me. "I've dreamt so many dreams, imagining the sound of it, recalling your exact cadence—now I realise nothing ever came close."

I pulled back, lowering my head to meet her gaze, watching how her eyes glittered with joy. Her features seemed set aglow, bright and full of love, the mere sight of her bathing me in her affection. I felt a smile pull at my lips, the corners of my mouth lifting as I raised a hand, tracing the tips of my fingers along the warm skin of her cheek, wiping away her tears.

"I'll have Anna remove the feeding tube." I heard Corvo say in the background, causing Emily to turn away from me. Her gaze followed her father as he left, and he sent us a quick nod before closing the door behind him. I sucked in a mouthful of air, closing my eyes, collecting my thoughts. I hadn't prepared myself for any of this; the prospect of me surviving too inconceivable. Instead, here I was, standing at the precipice of something entirely out of my control.

"Emily..." I knew I wanted to say something, anything, but as soon as I opened my eyes none of the words felt right.

She released my shirt, pressing a finger against my lips, eyes darting between them and my gaze. "Rest with me," she smiled, a slight frown pulling at her brow, hand sliding down my chest and pushing me back against the bed. I allowed her to guide me, her own body soon following as she slipped beneath the sheets. She curled a leg around mine, pressing herself up against me. She looked at me, and I had to turn my head to meet her gaze. She sent me another fleeting smile, eyes traveling my face, glittering with the sterile brightness of the overhead lighting. "We'll have plenty of time to talk, indulge me a final moment where I get to have you all to myself."

I smiled, raising a heavy hand to tuck a stray hair behind her ear, realising it had been her perfume I had smelled upon waking.

She appeared to notice my small revelation, ever so observant gaze flashing as a mischievous grin spread across her face. "You seemed so rattled by the scent, I'd hoped it might bring you back to me—if only for a brief rant."

A soft, rumbling chuckle escaped me at her admission. Taking a deep breath, I brought my face closer, pausing to search her gaze for a moment. She parted her lips as if to speak, and I knew exactly what she would say. My smile widened, and I slowly moved my lips to hers, relishing the feel of them before pulling back, enjoying the way she tried to prevent me from parting.

"I'd be loathe to admit I find its smell pleasant, as it would be a rather inappropriate sentiment on my heretical part."

She raised a brow, eyes crinkling with laughter. "Are you saying evil Void entities aren't allowed to enjoy the smell of flowers?"

I shook my head. "I'm not saying I wouldn't be allowed, just that acknowledging such a thing wouldn't be beneficial to the status quo."

She let out a snort at my words, one of her hands taking hold of my shoulder. "Stop talking and kiss me," she whispered as she pulled me closer, capturing my lips with hers once more.

I was sorely reminded of the value of privacy once my assassin-turned-saviour had gotten wind of my awakening—I couldn't have been more grateful for the short hour Emily and I had shared together.

"Well, well!" Billie's voice burst into the room, the door she had barged through slamming against the wall with harrowing force. "Look who's finally awake!"

I cringed at the noise, a soft hiss escaping me as my eyes took in Emily's reaction. She seemed just as disturbed by the intrusion, brows pulled into an irritated frown. Gritting my teeth as I turned around to face the boisterous woman, I was reminded of my sensitive body, pain shooting through my stiff muscles. My throat ran dry at the first sight of Petrova, who followed closely behind an excited looking Billie and a calm Callista.

"Good evening," the doctor greeted me, gaze shooting up from the papers she was holding, darting to the woman behind me. "Miss Kaldwin," she nodded in acknowledgement, an amused glint in her eyes.

Emily cleared her throat before she raised herself, carefully removing her leg from where it had been resting between mine. "Good evening, doctor," she replied, sliding off the bed, bereaving me of her warmth.

"If all of you don't mind, I'll need to do a quick check up with the patient," Petrova spoke. "You can all wait over there if you'd like." She nodded towards the couch, free hand extracting a pen from her pocket.

Everyone moved in muted silence. My eyes lingered on Emily, trailing her as she sat down. She dared another quick glance my way, eyes betraying the mirth she was trying to hide, teeth worrying her lip in an attempt to keep from grinning—I felt an answering smile pull at the corners of mine. The expression was wiped when Petrova cleared her throat. I turned to her, hands folded against my chest, heart beating beneath my palms.

"I'll need you to answer a few questions first, starting with your name." She raised an inquiring brow, pen hovering above her stack of papers.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, reminding myself that this woman had been the one to save my life. "Matvey," I answered, watching her eyes shoot up from her paper as if to encourage me to continue. "Just, Matvey," I quickly clarified.

She nodded. "Do you know what year it is?"

"1853," I replied without second thought.

"Very well." Petrova nodded again. "And do you know where you are?"

My fingers fidgeted with the blanket. "I'm assuming we're still in Samara?"

"That's correct," she confirmed, writing several things down before putting the pen back into her pocket, moving to stretch out her arm. "If you could squeeze my hand?"

I eyed the doctor before obeying, feeling my hand tremble as I forced sore muscles into motion, reaching out to carefully squeeze the awaiting limb. She hummed a small approval, retrieving her hand before writing down her findings. She moved to the end of the bed then, pulling back the blankets to reveal my feet.

"Could you wiggle your toes?" she inquired, and I did as told, moving them without issue. "Alright," she spoke, pen scratching along the paper. When she appeared satisfied, she reached for the stethoscope around her neck, asking me to lift my shirt before placing it against my chest. Listening to my heart before moving to my back, she asked me to take several deep breaths. My three visitors watched it all in patient silence, even Billie—and it served to demonstrate how close to death I must have come. Petrova wrote down her final findings before turning back to me. She reached for my face, and I realised she was about to remove the tube from my nose. It didn't hurt, but it had to be one of the more unpleasant things I had gotten to experience. Then she focused on me again, gaze sharp and unreadable. "It would seem you've recovered quite well," she said, tipping her head. "You're a lucky man."

"Luck ain't got nothing to do with it, doctor," Billie commented from her chair, to which Petrova responded with a small smile of her own, nodding her head.

"Will he be able to travel?" Emily asked, drawing my gaze to her schooled features. "I'll want to set sail back to Dunwall as soon as possible."

"How soon might that be, your Majesty?" Petrova asked, a small frown creasing her forehead.

"Tomorrow."

I raised my brows in surprise. I knew the trip would take us a while, especially since the whales likely wouldn't be there to help us along this time, but still; I was in poor shape.

"It should be fine, but I'd need at least until tomorrow morning to prepare your supplies, treatment plans, and do a final checkup..." Petrova counted off her fingers, cocking her head.

"Then until morning you will have," Emily nodded. "I hope you'll understand a swift leave is of the utmost importance."

"I understand, your Majesty."

"Why?" I found myself asking, unaware of what had been happening around me.

"Why do you think, old-timer?" Lurk quipped, and it was enough to make me understand.

"You fear the Operators," I observed, noticing how Emily's diplomatic mask revealed just the slightest crack at the words.

"Bargaining your pardon was challenging enough, never mind insisting your rehabilitation be back in Gristol; The High Judges were very clear as to where your loyalties should lie."

"My loyalties?" I snorted incredulously.

She bit her lip, hands fumbling in her lap. "I assured them you would return—once you had gotten the chance to fully heal and recuperate."

"Return for what, exactly?" I narrowed my eyes, not liking where this was going.

"I was offered a deal, and I accepted..."

"You mean you decided for me," I sneered. "What kind of deal are we talking about?"

Emily released a tense breath, wringing her hands together and averting her eyes. "You will join the Presidium, for five years. You'll receive a full citizenship, including protection from any form of harm."

"No," I bristled, crossing my arms.

She looked up again, amber eyes meeting mine. "It's not a matter of choice-"

"Emily, I won't—don't you understand? I refuse to be a tool."

"Matvey," she pleaded, shaking her head as her unspoken words hung in the air between us: remember our visions.

My eyes flitted across our company, heart pounding at the memory of all I'd seen, glimpses of a life together, of the little girl Emily had always wanted—a future I'd considered impossible. Neither Billie nor Callista spoke up as I was forced to make a choice. "What happens if I refuse?"

"You'll be deemed a threat to Tyvia. In short, it'll end in either execution, or war." She leaned forward, bringing herself closer to me and resting her elbows on her knees. "Listen, we cannot win a war with Tyvia—especially during the current economic crisis Gristol faces. Besides, we also can't afford risking the loss of our largest ally should Morley rise for another war—our ties have been turbulent as is. Chances are they want you to appease the rebels and revolutionaries; the return of a true Tyvian prince. You'll be a figurehead, working with the Operators to root out corruption. In five years time, you'll be a free man, honoured for your service."

I shook my head, releasing a weary sigh. "I don't think I can do this, Emily—besides, I'm a bastard anyway." I was well-aware my loyalty to Tyvia paired with our marriage would further cement the alliance between the Isles, however, the Empire might suffer a complete shift in power for it.

"I'll just... go and start preparing the supplies," Petrova spoke up, peering at us from the other side of the room.

Emily simply nodded, not taking her eyes off of me, lips set in a tight line.

"Listen kid, I know politics ain't your thing," Billie spoke, tilting her head, "but this is your opportunity to redeem yourself in the public eye. Prove the Abbey wrong, earn your place with Emily…" She paused, frown deepening. "It's a fair chance for both of you."

"Billie's right," Callista offered me a small smile. "You already have people in Samara, and dare I say even Dunwall, rooting for you—all you've had to do is be yourself."

I looked away from them, gaze drawn to my hands where they rested in my lap, feeling a sense of defeat start to eat at me. "We'll be separated for five years."

Emily had risen from her place, wrapping a hand around one of mine. "What's another five years compared to forever, right?" She smiled, but I caught the sadness leaking into the expression.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it, kid, most relationships don't even last that long."

"Billie!" Callista hissed.

Emily ignored the former assassin. "We'll both be kept busy, five years will pass in the blink of an eye with all the issues we'll be needing to fix—I mean, solving our energy crisis will probably drive me up the wall, so it's best you're not around to suffer my imminent meltdown."

I bit the inside of my cheek, eyes straying down to my hands again, tracing along the insides of my palms, traveling across scarred skin. I took a deep breath, feeling a tightness in my chest. I knew they were right, I was aware sacrifices would have to be made if we were to be together. Returning my gaze to meet Emily's, I reluctantly swallowed my pride. "For her," I told the woman I loved more than anything, knowing she'd understand, "I'll do it."

"I don't think I'm allowed out of here."

"Nonsense," Emily spoke from around the corner, voice drowned out by her rummaging through whatever Petrova had stored back there. "I am Empress, remember? And I demand you be brought to my room at once."

"By spiriting me away?" I asked, unable to keep my amusement from seeping into my tone. Billie and Callista had left only minutes ago, after both of them had gotten a chance to lecture me on almost getting myself killed, which had been followed by their mutually shared gratitude for what I'd done for Emily.

"No," she corrected me. "I'm moving you unannounced, that's not the same, mind you." The rummaging stopped, and Emily reappeared from behind the corner, proudly pushing a wheelchair my way. "Besides," she continued, "I'll leave a note."

"How considerate, Your Majesty." I arched a brow her way, watching as she prepared the chair.

She rose to meet my gaze, placing her hands on her hips in a show of defiance. "I simply refuse to spend yet another night alone," she asserted before ushering me to sit up.

I reluctantly obeyed, dreading the pain I knew would follow. Wincing, I managed to gather enough strength to sit, albeit helped by a doting Emily. "On that note," I started, clenching my teeth against the stabbing pain in my back. "What month is it?"

Emily removed the blanket, freeing my legs before hooking her arms around my torso. It took me only a single try to find moving my legs to be a near impossibility, whatever muscle I'd gained would have surely deteriorated from lack of use—a realisation that saddened me more than I had expected. She lifted me with more ease than I was comfortable with, and I almost hoped for her to drop me as she lowered me into the chair—she didn't, of course.

"It's the month of Hearths." She rushed the words, almost as if she didn't want to say them. Meanwhile, her body moved around the chair, making sure I was well-seated, hands tinkering with the mechanics.

"Month of Hearths?" The words slipped off my tongue before I could restrain it, disbelief flooding my tone. Had I been asleep for nearly three months?

"Yes," she confirmed, rising to her feet in front of me. I stared into her eyes, attempting to come to terms with the fact that, not only had I been missing out, I'd most likely been keeping Emily here, stuck in a city without sun. A voice within me reasoned fear probably wasn't the only motivation behind her haste in returning home. "The High Judges have been... kind enough to lend us their protection during our stay, though I refused their doctors. Anna has proven herself not only knowledgeable, but also trustworthy."

"And she just accepted?" I asked as Emily rounded the chair, grabbing the handles before pushing me forward.

"Well, yes," she said, rolling me around the bed.

"And you've been staying here?"

"Of course," she was quick in her response, as if anything else would have been an offence. "I insisted I stay near you—my room is next to yours."

I finally allowed my eyes to take in my surroundings, noticing the room's similarity to Petrova's office. "I'm sorry for keeping you here..."

"Nonsense!" she immediately confuted. "You almost died for me, Matvey, staying here hardly compares to what you've done."

"Still..." My eyes travelled along the space, intrigued by the amount of medical tools and machinery. "I'm sure your presence and subsequent rule have been sorely missed."

"There's nothing I haven't been able to do from here, save for my meetings in Dabokva—trust me when I tell you: I've kept myself perfectly occupied."

"I'll take your word on that." I sighed, glancing down at my lap for the first time, noticing the way my were legs drowned by the pants I was wearing. Emily halted the chair, slipping out from behind me to open the door. I wondered how long it would take before I could walk again, or run for that matter. We entered a dimly lit hallway, walls lined with only a few burning lanterns. The buzz of electricity ebbed away, and in its absence I felt the disorienting lack of magic that used to sizzle within my blood—like the whales, all there was left was silence.

There were several doors, and as Emily had said, she picked the neighbouring one. We entered, and I noted the sole lantern that rested upon a cluttered mess of a desk. Looking around the space, I also spotted a large cot that had most likely served as Emily's bed. I realised this room hadn't been intended for sleeping, the surrounding cabinets full of books, medical instruments and other various tools confirming that suspicion. I was surprised to find the floor to be as cluttered as the desk, with paperwork and several either opened or closed books littering its surface. Emily closed the door behind her, and as she rolled me towards the cot, I caught sight of a mirror. I was confronted by my reflection, my appearance making me hold my breath. Emily seemed to notice, glancing between me and the object of my attention.

I continued to stare, throat gone dry and tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I hadn't even noticed when Emily had pushed us forward—closer to the image of me. Green eyes stared back at me, set in a face that reminded me too much of his. One of my hands traveled to touch my cheek, surprised by the texture of my skin—filled with life. "Emily?" I started, but I lost my voice before I could finish my question, hit by the reality.

She circled the chair, kneeling down at my side, hand wrapping around mine. She hesitated, mouth opening and closing several times. "As you continued to lose more and more blood..." She paused, licking her lips. "You deteriorated." She tipped her head, pulling my hand away from my face and into her lap, fingers caressing my palm. "We tried Sokolov's whale oil, but it did nothing. There was no more magic, and as time passed I watched you..." Her voice cracked, and when I chanced a look in her eyes, I noticed the anguish she fought to hide. "Wither away." I turned to gaze down at my lap, feeling her hand squeeze mine tightly. "Anna told me you had lost too much, that you would die unless we did a transfusion—risky as they are, we had no other choices left."

"Whose?" I managed to ask, glancing down at our hands.

She didn't answer right away, the air around us feeling heavy. "Mine," she answered, "we gave you my blood."

I shook my head, not daring to look myself in the eye, heart racing in my chest. "How is this possible?"

Emily reached out, turning me to face her as her thumb caressed my cheek. "It doesn't matter how." She smiled. "All that matters is that you're healthy. You're young. You get to have a life."

I took a deep breath, turning back to the mirror, eyes traveling across my face. I noticed that, despite the lack of muscle on my body, I looked well-fed rather than starved.

"The good news is, you haven't shown signs of dying since; so far you appear perfectly normal." Normal... human... no more tricks up my sleeve. "You've continued to heal on your own, Anna says all traces of magic are out of your system."

I glanced in Emily's direction, not quite able to meet her gaze. "So, you don't mind?" I regretted the question as soon as I'd asked it.

"Mind what?"

My eyes darted between her and my fidgeting hands again. "This..." I attempted to explain something I couldn't, releasing a breath of frustration, "I..."

She wrapped a hand around my arm, bringing my focus back to her. "What do you mean?"

I didn't even know why I felt uncomfortable. I shrugged, uncertain what else to do, brain trying its hardest to rationalise what I was experiencing. "I'm weak..." I returned my hands to the armrests, fingers digging into the material. "Helpless."

"You are not," she asserted, leaning forward and capturing my face between her hands, forcing me to look her in the eye. "This," she raised her brows, gaze sweeping over me, "this is only temporary. You will heal, and trust me when I tell you: you'll never be helpless." Her expression softened, tone taking on a soothing edge. "You've already shown me the phenomenal power you possess when it comes to protecting those you love—channel that, only this time, use it for yourself for a change."

I continued to stare into her eyes, recognising the spark that flared up whenever she talked of something she was passionate about. She was right, they had all been right—so why was I making this more difficult than it needed to be? Petrova had helped save my life, and Emily had given me an opportunity to live said life—but not only that, Corvo had all but encouraged me to marry his daughter. Hadn't this been all I'd wanted? To get to be human? To be accepted? To have a family?

"You're still afraid," Emily interrupted my thoughts, amber eyes narrowed.

"I-"

"Listen to me," she interrupted, "I cannot guarantee your happiness won't someday be taken away." She shook her head as she spoke, brows pinched together. "But there is one thing I can promise you: you'll never experience it if you won't risk trying."

I took a deep breath, allowing her words to settle in as I fought off my nerves. "Is this what marriage is going to be like?" I quipped half-heartedly, raising a brow. "You always being right?"

Emily let out a laugh, releasing my face, and I noticed her relief. "Father used to tell me I got that from my mother." She smirked, eyes shining, until the expression faltered and she grew tense again. "Did my…" She paused, biting her lip. "Did father tell you?"

The tentative look in her eyes was telling enough. "Yes."

She nodded, gaze skirting along my form, avoiding mine. "We've kept him here for now, but once we leave, he'll be transported to Utyrka where he'll serve a life sentence."

I ignored the twisting in my guts. "Why did you keep him?"

Her gaze returned to mine, shining eyes filled with earnest concern. "I wanted to give you the opportunity to see him a final time, before he's gone."

I turned my face away from her, eyes traveling back to my reflection.

"So, will you visit him?" Her voice was soft, gentle. Looking myself in the eye, I knew there was only one way to separate my image from his.

"I'll heal, right?" I turned back to Emily, noticing how she relaxed.

"Yes," she smiled, "you will."

I'd almost forgotten what it'd been like to live without sunlight, every morning made real only by the moving hands of the clock. It was disorienting: the ever-present darkness, especially now I'd woken up after so long. Emily was still fast asleep, delicate hands wrapped around one of my arms, head resting against my chest. Her hair was down, splayed across our pillow in a dark mess of strands—I liked seeing it that way, it was personal, unguarded. I wove my fingers through, allowing them to travel from her temple to the back of her head, enjoying the silky texture I'd become familiar with. She stirred beneath my touch, releasing a contented sigh as her eyes fluttered open. She smiled, gaze beaming with warmth. I found myself smiling back, heart thudding happily at the sight.

"Have I told you how much I missed you yet?" she murmured, shutting her eyes, snuggling closer.

"Something along those lines." I felt my smile grow at the words, gaze traveling across her peaceful features.

"Hm," she hummed in agreement, grip on my arm tightening. There was a knocking on our door, cutting the moment short and turning Emily's smile into a displeased scowl.

"Emily," Corvo's voice called from the other side, "darling?"

She pouted. "Yes?"

"Have you, by any chance, seen the Ou-" there was a cough, "Matvey?"

"I took him."

"You took-!" Another cough, followed by Corvo clearing his throat. "Darling, why did you take the patient?"

Emily rolled her eyes my way, before her lips pulled into a playful smirk. "To sleep with him, father," she spoke innocently, which did absolutely nothing to hide her obvious innuendo. I opened my mouth to protest, but she covered it using her hand, scrunching up her nose.

Corvo remained dreadfully silent, and I couldn't help but glance between Emily's grinning features and the door. Then, after what felt like forever, Corvo spoke again, voice unusually hoarse. "Well, are you decent?"

"Of course," she spoke through her smile, playfully biting her lip. She then removed her hand from my face, leaning down to peck me on the lips before swinging her legs off the bed and rising to her feet. My eyes followed her in stunned silence, both my hands left to rest on top of my chest.

Corvo entered just as she pushed the wheelchair towards me, his gaze cast to the floor. "Anna needs to do some final checks before he can be released."

Emily helped me sit before she carefully lifted me—something I still wasn't used to—and lowered me into the chair. "He's ready," she spoke, moving behind me after checking if everything was in place.

"Good, good." Corvo nodded, reluctantly glancing our way. There wasn't a trace of malice or anger in his features, which felt more relieving than I would like to admit. I watched the Royal Protector closely, and- did he smile at me? I looked away, staring into my lap. Emily pushed me forward, following Corvo. We rounded the corner, and I wasn't at all surprised to catch sight of Billie, leaning against the wall, the mysterious coughing explained. She was grinning our way, a sparkle of amusement in her exposed eye. She opened her mouth to speak, but I interrupted her.

"If you're thinking of embarrassing me, then I'm sorry to let you know Emily already beat you to it."

"Good morning to you too, kid." Billie smirked.

"Any news?" Emily addressed the former assassin, who pushed herself off the wall and followed us.

"Secretary Kalin's representative has approved our leave, however they request a final meeting to ensure the agreement is to be upheld once we depart the Isle." Billie hadn't been Daud's second in command without reason, and she must have revelled in the opportunity to prove useful again.

I could hear Emily click her tongue in disapproval. "If they think me capable of risking the welfare of my people in provoking Tyvia, then they are not only fools, but they also haven't been paying attention. They'll meet with me, and only me. By the Void, Matvey has been awake for a single night, his only concern should be recovering and nothing else."

"You want me to relay those exact words?" I could spot Billie's amused smirk from the corner of my eye, and her chipper mood rubbed off on me.

Emily let out a bitter chuckle. "Don't worry, I'll tell them myself." She turned to Corvo. "We leave this afternoon, once Anna is done will you escort Matvey to the station?"

Corvo hesitated, but soon offered her a gruff, "of course."

"Billie, you'll join me, but we'll all leave together; their damn representative can wait."

We entered the room I'd originally been in, its single bed obviously vacant. Petrova sat on a small chair, eyes scanning the same stack of papers as the night before. She looked up at the sound of Emily's voice, gaze shooting between the Empress and I.

"I see the patient has been retrieved safely?" she asked, cocking a brow.

Corvo cleared his throat from behind me. "Yes," he confirmed the obvious.

"I intended to leave a note," Emily said while she pushed me.

"She did," I piped in, jarringly uncomfortable from my position—used to being tall.

Petrova waved a hand our way, a soft chuckle escaping her. "It's fine," she assured. "I suppose some time together was in order."

"It's been my first full night of sleep ever since the incident," Emily admitted, her openness surprising me—but then again, they all called the doctor by her first name as well.

Petrova nodded, wearing a sympathetic smile. "That's good." She turned to me then, lowering her papers. "And you?"

I blinked, taken aback. "I'm fine." I glanced towards Emily, who had come to stand beside me.

"Any pains or strange sensations?"

I shook my head. "No."

"That's good. I'll do a quick physical check along with some bloodwork," she spoke, putting away her papers, retrieving some tools before returning to me. "We'll need to establish a revalidation schedule for your travel home. The sooner you start the better; we'll have you out of that chair in no-time." She sent me a quick smile, catching me off-guard again. It was going to take a while to get used to people who knew my identity treating me like... a person.

"Thank you." The words escaped me, seemingly surprising the doctor, who smiled and nodded. I bit the inside of my cheek as she got to work, hoping she'd known that I'd meant to thank her for more than just this. She'd saved my life, and she seemed to consider it only a minor service, nothing special. She had given me another chance at a future, and still she didn't want for anything in return. I didn't recognise the feeling that stirred within me, but what I did know, was that it was only the beginning of a life much better, and much kinder than I'd previously known.

"Father, I'll be fine, if the High Judges had truly wanted to go back on their word they would have already done so."

"Are you sure you don't want me to escort you?"

"Billie is perfectly capable of protecting me, even without her magic."

"Relax, old man," Billie quipped. "I haven't forgotten how to wield my blade just yet."

Corvo grunted, crossing his arms and glaring ahead. I watched the familiar interior of Petrova's hospice pass me by, the same hallway Corvo and I had walked months ago looming before me. I hadn't expected the building to be as large as it was, or for the area where I'd been held to be on another floor entirely. Corvo had been the one to carry me down the stairs, much to his and my chagrin. I twisted the familiar ring around my finger, the entrance of the building growing ever nearer. I hoped there wouldn't be anyone at the reception, or in the streets for that matter. Emily had assured me it would be safe, that the Operators had been stationed within Samara and that no one was about to risk a one way trip to Utyrka—I didn't share her effortless optimism.

"Good morning, Your Majesty." The receptionist smiled in Emily's direction, only then noticing the chair containing me. She straightened herself. "And good morning to all of you, too."

I was relieved to find the lobby devoid of patients, and I silently begged for the streets to be equally empty. But, as fate would have it, they weren't. Corvo loomed over me like a daunting shadow, his large, muscular figure blocking most of my view. All around me, I watched the people react to Emily's passing, before noticing me and looking away. It was what I would have expected; the soft murmur of distant whispers filling the air, followed by several wary looks. I recognised the streets we traveled, and I longed for when Emily and I had blended in like everyone else. I found myself waiting for something to happen, for a much expected stroke of bad fortune—yet nothing ever came.

"This is where Billie and I must separate from you," Emily announced as soon as we arrived at a large intersection, halting before moving to kneel down in front of me. "Father will take you from here—you'll be safe, I promise."

I nodded, unable to keep from glancing at the surrounding people, noticing how they all kept their distance. I was about to say something when a familiar voice rang out.

"Lady Emily!"

I caught movement from the corner of my eye, and as I turned I spotted an approaching Artur, arm raised and waving. He hesitated once I met his gaze, recognition flashing across his features. Emily stood, placing a hand over mine.

"Artur!" she called with a smile, inviting tone easing some of the nervousness that had showed on his face. I turned away, pointing my gaze back to my lap. I could hear Artur's footsteps grow closer, coming to a halt before us.

"Your Majesty," he acknowledged her, and from the corner of my eye I caught him respectfully bowing his head. "It has been some time."

I noticed Billie stepping forward, acknowledging Artur before speaking to Emily. "We shouldn't linger for too long," she suggested, eyeing the people passing by in the distance.

"You're right," Emily agreed, turning her attention back to the Tyvian. "I'm truly sorry, Artur, I'm afraid we're already running late for our appointment." She took in a small breath, folding her hands in front of her. "We're leaving today, actually." I noticed Corvo taking hold of my chair, preparing to push me. I was about to glance in Emily's direction when I felt one of her hands on my shoulder. "I'm sure you remember Matvey," she spoke, eyes darting between me and the young man.

"Ah, yes!" Artur laughed nervously, and I moved to meet his gaze, carefully assessing his features. He was rubbing the back of his neck, grinning down at me, and I caught the tension in his shoulders as he stood just a fraction too straight. "How, uh-" He paused in an apparent search for what to say. "I mean, how have you been?" It was obvious he was trying his best to avoid being awkward, and I had to at least appreciate the attempt. "You're looking good! I mean, for your age and all that, I-"

Tipping my head, I watched the way his eyes never met mine, gaze flicking over to look at Emily for reassurance every few seconds. I cleared my throat, composing myself as I raised a slightly trembling hand. Artur's grin faded, replaced by a puzzled look. I patiently held out my hand, waiting for him to take it, eyes not leaving his. After a few seconds of him processing the gesture, glancing from my outstretched limb to my face, he finally gathered the courage to take it.

I felt the corners of my mouth lift, satisfied with his surrender. "Goodbye, Artur," I smiled, gently shaking his hand. I released him after that, and it took him another few seconds to realise it.

"Yes! I mean, goodbye," he blurted, finally meeting my gaze, the subtle hints of dread gone from his eyes.

I cocked a brow, raising my chin as I stared him down. "I'll admit I've considered you quite the babbling idiot."

"Ah, I see, yes." He nodded, brow puckering. "Makes sense."

"But," I continued, unable to keep the amusement from my tone, "you're a good person. I'm glad I got to meet you."

"Oh." He nodded again, fumbling with his large scarf. "That's very nice of you."

"Who knows," Emily smiled, "we might all see each other again someday—though for now we must make our leave."

"Of course! I won't keep you." Artur grinned, taking a step back as if to allow us passage.

Emily nodded before turning back to me, lowering herself to my height. She tipped her head as she continued to smile, resting her hands on my legs for balance. I watched her, painfully aware of our onlooking audience. "I love you," she spoke softly, "remember that." She leaned forward, bringing her lips to mine, my heart losing its rhythm. Too soon she pulled away, smile widening. Then, she gave one of my legs a final squeeze, straightening herself and turning to Billie. "Let's go," she spoke, sending everyone a parting nod.

I watched them turn and walk away, feeling Corvo push me forward, continuing towards the man who had cast me out this very city. Artur retreated to wherever he'd come from, and the people who had stopped to watch slowly walked off, clearing the streets. We still received a lot of looks, even now that Emily had separated from us, but after our short meeting with Artur, I'd come to realise most people didn't stare warily; it was hesitant curiosity that made them turn away only to glance over their shoulder. For as long as everyone here could remember, the Abbey had told people what to think of me, and even though Samara had never bowed to them, the Outsider was still taboo.

"I was wrong about you," Corvo spoke from behind me.

I felt myself tense, the hair at the back of my neck rising. Turning my head, I met Corvo's gaze from the corner of my eye. "You're not going to knock me unconscious so you can surrender me to some twisted admirer, are you?"

Corvo spluttered for a bit, composing himself before raising a brow. "I believe Waverly has made quite the fortune for herself," he replied, expression betraying nothing of his thoughts.

"Contrary to Lydia," I retorted, still watching him.

His mouth curved into a bitter smile. "Yes," he admitted, "though that isn't what I intended to talk about."

I narrowed my eyes. "You changed your mind then?"

"Changed my..." He paused, frowning. "No," he growled. "Listen, I know the man in that cell is your father, and all I can say about that is that what he did shows he never deserved to be a parent in the first place."

I swallowed whatever possible retort had been on my tongue, hands gripping the armrests with more force than necessary.

"I was wrong for trying to take Emily away from you, because I know now you'd sooner die than let any harm befall my daughter." He sighed, and I could tell none of this was easy for him to express. "And I want you to know that, before you go in there, you'd make a true father proud to call you their son."

I took in a deep breath, feeling my heart in my throat, throbbing painfully. I lifted my hands, pressing my palms to my face and closing my eyes. My mind raced in an attempt to process the words, searching for possible reasons why he might be lying, why he would manipulate me—but I found myself unable to think of any. I felt his hand on my shoulder, squeezing me, and I then noticed we were no longer moving.

"I'm proud of you, Matvey," Corvo finished, and I could hear he had kneeled down next to me, hand still holding my shoulder. I released a shuddery breath, feeling faint. My head bowed down as my hands ran through my hair, eyes opening to stare at my lap. I could tell he was looking at me, seeing my every move. I wasn't sure what to do or say, just that I felt overwhelmed. For some reason his words seeped into my bones, filling my essence with his unexpected admission. He patted my shoulder before straightening himself, moving back and grabbing the handles. "Now then," he declared, tone much lighter than it had been. "I believe you have a prisoner waiting to hear one of your infamous monologues."

The wheelchair started to move again, and I felt my eyes sting as a small smile curved my lips.

The cell-block was small and unimpressive, lit only by a single lantern. Its stone walls dull, gray, and lacking any sort of decoration or design. It suited its single inhabitant, his form slumped on the floor, back pressed against the dirty wall. Corvo had told me to knock as soon as I was done, leaving me to be alone with the figure in front of me.

"I see fate has brought you down as it has your whore of a mother before you," he hissed, raising his head just enough to meet my gaze. "Serves you right." His voice was hollow, lacking any real vigour. Observing him, I quietly noted all our physical similarities, from his high cheekbones to his straight nose.

"Don't worry," I cocked an eyebrow, "I'll walk again." I watched his features twist into something ugly, destroying whatever resemblance we shared.

"Say what you've come to say you damn pest." He slithered closer, gripping the bars, knuckles turned white by the force. Raising my chin, I gazed down on the pathetic heap of a man, a former prince, brought to lie in his own excrement. I allowed my eyes to stray, taking in his neglected appearance; dirty fingers, nails, blackened with grime.

"For so long I blamed myself for what happened to me... blamed myself for what happened to my mother," I muttered, fascinated by his inability to control his expressions; his anger, his bitterness, all bared for me to witness. In so many ways, I had feared him, this shadow of a man—and it had led me to carry his guilt for centuries. "But now I've begun to see, none of it is my fault." I narrowed my eyes, feeling my pulse pick up as I stared down my murderer—my mother's murderer. "It was all you. You caused everything. For centuries I have watched countless men as selfish and callous as you, infecting those around them with their rot. I have watched them all fall, one by one, victims of their own deluded hubris—like you." I took a deep breath, feeling the tension in my chest start to alleviate, heart calming. "There is nothing special, or particularly fearsome about you." I smiled a bitter smile, the weight that had pressed down on me for centuries starting to lift. "No, father, I pity you; you who had the most beautiful gifts life has to offer thrown in your lap, yet you rejected them all—and here it has brought you, in a cell as insignificant as yourself."

"You blasted mongrel!" he shouted, fist pounding against the bars, bringing the iron to shake and tremble.

I tipped my head, eyes studying his final dissent, the dying cries of a fading soul. "A mongrel I may be, but still, I will always be more than you; I am loved—and if there's anything I've learned, it's that the very notion of love is wasted on entitled, self-serving men like you." I watched as he continued to spew angry words of hatred, and I turned away, raising a hand to knock against the door. A few seconds later, and Corvo walked in, sending the enraged prisoner an appalled look.

"Ready to go home?" he asked, ignoring the noise coming from the cell.

I felt a smile tug at my lips. "Yes," I looked down at my hands, eyes tracing the scars on my palms, feeling cleaner than I ever had, "I'd like that."