Aftermaths
The door slammed, leaving a witch stuck on the inside.
The older man in the red coat (the Dunwall equivalent of a guard-captain) clapped his hands a couple times in a 'that's that' gesture, before turning back to Bridget and Bella with a warm smile. "Aaaalrighty then! Thanks for shipping them all over. Were there any problems getting them extradited?"
"None at all, sir." Bella inclined her head. "The new Serkonan government is quite happy to give all of its magic problems to someone else."
He chuckled. "Wise enough. And there's no need for 'sir'; I think you actually outrank me. I'm Jack, or Captain Rhyme if you feel like being official."
Oh, right, I have power. That is still weird.
"Whatever you say, captain." Bella said, smiling. Bridget continued to hover behind her shoulder.
Jack turned and led them back through the corridors of Coldridge. The prison (infamous, even to those who'd never left Karnaca) was a busy place, and had been renovated after Delilah's reign more quickly than most places. Guards hurried to-and-fro, crackling speakers relayed instructions on the regular, and it seemed there was always a warning claxon going off somewhere.
Bella glanced left, and confirmed her suspicions: Bridget was freaking out. The short young woman's hands were clenched into fists by her sides, and her eyes were darting about all over the place, flinching at every loud noise. She'd always had trouble with machines and enclosed spaces, and this place was bothering her on both levels. She'd been bothered by it at Jindosh's manor too, but at least Jindosh's manor had been decorated like a rich old mansion. As opposed to, you know, a prison.
Bella swayed closer. Then, surreptitiously, snaked her hand out and curled it around Bridget's.
Bridget's eyes went wide, and her head whipped around to face Bella's.
"What are you doing?" She hissed.
"Holding your hand." Bella said, at normal volume.
"Why?"
"You looked upset, I thought it might help."
"But we're in public!"
"And?"
"People might notice!"
Bella raised an eyebrow. "So what if they do?"
Bridget stared for a moment. Then her cheeks flushed, and she looked away.
"…Do you want me to let go?" Bella checked.
"…No." Bridget's hand squeezed back tighter, and Bella grinned.
Up ahead, Jack had reached the prison exit, and exclaimed "Geoff!" as he reached the top of the stairs. He jogged up to another man in officer garb, coming across the drawbridge, and the two shared a kiss.
Bella and Bridget looked at each other.
"…I'm not doing that here."
"Oh no, yeah, totally."
Jack smiled at the other guard, saying "Missed you."
"It's been five hours." Replied (probably) Geoff.
"Yes, but I still missed you. Unloading going well?"
"We're mostly done. Prisoners no trouble?"
"Some, but without powers they're just a bunch of untrained, angry women. It's like dealing with nobles who got too drunk at a party." Jack turned, gesturing at Bridget and Bella. "These two lovely people are from Karnaca, they're helping me. Ladies, my husband Geoffrey Rhyme, Geoff…" He frowned. "Uh…I never got your names?"
"No, I entirely forgot to tell you that." Bella coughed. "Sorry. I'm lieuten—captain—Commander Belladonna, of the Grand Guard. This is Bridget, my…" she tilted her head. "Supernatural consultant?"
"Court wizard." Bridget corrected.
"Magical assistant."
"Void-based emissary."
"Pet witch."
The last made Bridget choke, and Bella smiled back at the two captains. "We don't have a role nailed down yet, but she's ex-coven and friendly."
"I see. Well, pleasure to be properly introduced." If Jack noticed that they were still holding hands, he didn't mention it.
"Bridget and Belladonna…those first or last names?" Geoff asked.
"First." Bridget supplied, once she'd stopped coughing. "We…don't have last names."
Jack and Geoff shared a significant glance.
"Parents not give you one of those?" Jack asked.
"No parents. We met when I was eleven on the streets." Bella answered.
"You've come a long way from there." Geoff said.
"Took a lot of work." Bridget agreed, looking at Bella. "And relying on each other."
"How old are you know?" said Jack.
"Eighteen." Said Bridget.
"Nineteen." Said Bella.
Jack and Geoff shared another significant look.
("Outsider's Eyes they're children." Geoff muttered, not quite loud enough for the girls to hear over the busyness of the prison.)
"…Say." Jack said, turning back to them. "It's about dinnertime. We're grabbing a meal at a pub we know, down main street. Want to tag along? Strategize, share some stories?"
Bella frowned. "I'm…still not actually sure I have any money—"
"We're paying." Geoff insisted.
"Oh. I mean, I wouldn't want to—"
Bridget elbowed Bella in the gut before she finished, and interceded with "Yes we would like free food please."
"Great!" Jack started walking, and Geoff and the two girls started following. "We can tell you about all the times Emily attacked us when we first met her!"
"That happened to you too?"
"It's a standard greeting for her, I think."
Bella laughed, and (fuck it) wrapped an arm around Bridget's shoulders.
Bridget tensed for a moment, but then relaxed, leaned into it.
"You're still freakishly tall." She muttered, a smile cracking through her pout.
"You're freakishly short." Bella replied. "But that's fine. It just means I can do this." She leaned down, and pressed a kiss onto Bridget's head.
They walked outside together, into a Dunwall whose sky—in a rare moment of leniency—had chosen to let some sun shine through.
Breanna Ashworth wasn't in handcuffs, and she didn't know whether to be glad or insulted.
It did irk her, that she was considered that much of a non-threat. But then again, she hadn't handcuffed Thomas or Billie when she'd caught them for similar reasons. Either Breanna was powerful enough to render handcuffs useless, or the power she wielded was more in her words than in her arms…or she had nothing. Now, it was the latter.
I should have just had both shot the moment I captured them. Though, if I had, Emily would probably have killed me.
Thomas Moray opened a door ahead of her, leading her into a room in Dunwall Tower. Much of the building was still in utter shambles, but this had been restored to some level of aesthetic and comfort, and set up like a meeting chamber for foreign dignitaries. There was a crackling fire, plush armchairs, and a table with some snacks on it. There was a small (but seemingly sharp) knife on the table.
"Take a seat." Thomas gestured to one of them.
"I'd rather stand." She replied, curtly.
"Suit yourself." He went to lean against one wall. "Emily should be along—"
The door clicked open.
"…Now. Your Majesty."
Emily Kaldwin stepped through, looking as hideously elegant as Breanna remembered. A once-beautiful woman, scarred and ruined, and then stuffed back into noble clothes.
And then she said "Thank you, Thomas. Hello Breanna." in the most beautiful voice Breanna had ever heard, and she was suddenly very glad her arms were free because she was definitely going to at least try to hit Emily at some point.
"You dare to steal her voice?" She hissed, fists tightening. "Delilah's words do not belong to you!"
"Oh they totally do." Emily said, taking an armchair and sitting down. "And I find it highly amusing that you suddenly find the act of stealing voices to be unacceptable. Where was this rule a few months ago? I would have appreciated it."
"Oh, how droll." Breanna was almost laughing. "Delilah was the greatest person to ever grace this planet. And here you are, tearing down everything she ever valued and waving around her remnants like a trophy. She was going to fix this Empire. And now it will continue to wallow in its own squalor."
"She was going to destroy the world, but I can understand why you feel the way you do." Emily tilted her head. "You don't like me."
"Well done."
"Drat. See I'm actually quite fond of you, you've been very nice to me in the past. Or, another you, in another world. She was downright decent, truth be told."
"If you speak the truth, then I know nothing of that woman." Breanna turned her nose up. "I would throw myself from this tower before doing you the slightest favour."
"Hmph." Emily licked her lips. The tongue was a mockery too, some overly pointed, discoloured thing. "So I suppose you'd be disinclined to helping me work on the secrets of the Void then? See with the Outsider gone the entire plane's in turmoil; I need to get a handle on things before uncontrolled witchcraft starts plaguing the Empire, and you're one of the most talented—"
Billie scoffed, and turned to leave.
"Wait, Breanna." Emily said. And, because this might be the last she got to hear of Delilah's voice, Breanna did. She turned, and saw Emily sighing with her hand on her forehead. "I had hoped to do this more elegantly, but I've never been great at that. Let's rip off the bandage." She raised her voice.
"Bitch! Get in here!"
The door Emily had come through opened again.
And Delilah walked in.
"What the fuck—" Thomas muttered, and Breanna inhaled so fast she almost went into a choking fit.
It was her. It was fucking Her. Delilah Kaldwin, her skin if anything less pale than usual, her eyes less shadowed. She was dressed in, unless Breanna was very much mistaken, a traditional Dunwall maid uniform, and her arms were clasped together meekly behind her back.
When she saw Breanna however, she gasped, and then rushed forwards.
Breanna beat her to it, throwing herself at Delilah, wrapping her arms around her and burying her head into her shoulder.
"Please be real." She said, sobbing. "Please don't be—some trick, I can't, I couldn't cope if—please be real."
Delilah held her tighter, and didn't respond.
("She's still alive?" Thomas whispered in the background.
"She is." Emily whispered back.
"You could have mentioned that."
"I wanted it to be a surprise."
"Is she safe?"
"Yes."
"Why is she in a maid uniform?"
"Because I enjoy demeaning her. Looks good on her, right? She's not wearing underwear."
"Emily, what the Actual Shit?")
Breanna pulled back, grabbing Delilah's shoulders. She wanted to kiss her, but didn't dare. "Are you alright? Did she hurt you? What happened, did—why are you dressed—what do I do?"
Delilah's face flickered in expression between joyous, worried, and hopeless. She opened her mouth, closed it again. Gulped.
"Okay, that was cute, now to ruin everything." Emily pointed a finger downwards, next to her chair. "Delilah, sit."
Without a moment of hesitation, Delilah stepped away from Breanna and knelt beside Emily's chair, folding her hands in her lap.
Breanna stared.
Thomas also stared.
"…What." Breanna croaked.
"Oh, right, she can't talk." Emily clarified. "A fairly obvious consequence of me taking her voice. I was way more elegant than she was, by the way, because I'm better than her. I could give it back, but I don't wanna."
"What did you do." Breanna said, looking at Delilah (who was had her lips pursed in an expression of guilt more than anything else) and then back up at Emily. "What did you DO?"
"I made a few attitude improvements." Emily smiled. There wasn't any mirth to it. "There was this powerful magical device for enslaving people's hearts just lying around, so I took that and—"
Breanna lunged, snatching the knife from the table and going for Emily's throat, Thomas surged forwards but Emily gave him a warning look and—
And Delilah jumped to her feet, planting herself in Breanna's way and catching her arm mid-swing.
Breanna stared at her in growing, all-consuming horror. "No. No, no…"
"So by 'attitude improvements', I mean I rewrote her." Emily said, casually, as if she was discussing the weather. She stretched out with her shadow-arm and picked up an apple from the table. "Changed what she wants. Now her prime directive is, well, me. She wants what I want. Doesn't care much for her own wellbeing anymore, just wants to help me achieve my every desire."
Emily smiled. "She loves me with all her heart. She'd slit her own throat in a heartbeat if I asked."
"Delilah." Breanna said, grabbing Delilah's cheek with the hand that wasn't holding a knife. "Delilah, snap out of it. It's me, its Breanna, remember? She's not your friend, she's your enemy, you need to—"
"Not going to work." Emily bit into the apple. "Mmph. That's good. I've not done anything to her memory. She knows exactly who she is and what she's done and why she did it. She just doesn't care anymore. Like, if your tastes changed and you figured out you liked apples, you wouldn't keep not eating apples and make yourself sad just to serve your past self."
She briefly frowned. "Or maybe you would, if you were proud enough. But there isn't much room for pride when your life's purpose is to serve someone else."
"What the FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?" Breanna screamed, trying to lunge for Emily again, because maybe if she died, things would go back to normal, and Delilah would—
But Delilah didn't let go of her, holding on no matter how much she struggled, looking into her eyes with such desperation—
"A lot of things are wrong with me." Emily admitted, staring at the apple. "Like a lot. Oh and by the way, if you kill me, I expect she'll commit suicide unless I give her orders to the contrary. I haven't."
"You fucking MONSTER!" Breanna yanked backwards, and this time Delilah let her go. "This is evil, this is a violation! You sick, twisted, sadistic, perverted, freak!"
Something in Emily's eyes snapped.
"Oh would you RATHER I KILLED HER?" She surged to her feet, grabbed Delilah's shoulder with her human arm and manifest an obsidian blade in the other, holding it to her throat. "Is that what you want? Well I fucking considered that, Ashworth. But Delilah's already come back from that once. And guess what, she asked for this. Isn't that right?"
Emily glanced at Delilah, who nodded, seeming far more concerned with Breanna than with the blade at her throat.
"She what?" Breanna had gone very still the moment she'd seen the blade.
"Oh, I asked her if she'd rather die. But no. Delilah is a lonely, frightened coward, and she'd do anything to stay alive. Or, she would have. Now she's less concerned about it." Emily let the sword vanish, putting her arm in the small of Delilah's back and giving her a shove. Delilah took the hint, stumbling briefly before rushing forwards to take hold of Breanna.
Breanna…had no idea what to do. Just like the times she'd thought Delilah was dead, she simply had no clue what to do with herself. Delilah wrapped her arms around Breanna's back, and continued to say nothing.
"…Of course, I didn't touch you." Emily said, reaching down and picking up her dropped apple.
She didn't extrapolate, forcing Breanna to bite down on her fury and ask "What do you mean?"
"What she thinks of you. I didn't touch it. Didn't look, didn't interfere. Nothing there's strong enough to overwhelm her devotion to me, I made sure of that, but it's all authentic."
Emily sat back down, gesturing to the door. "You know, she's mostly been smiling at me in awe and adoration for the last five weeks, but she'd get all sad and wistful when I brought your name up. That reaction, when she came in and saw you? That was what she genuinely felt. She wasn't sure you were alive until just now."
"I…" Breanna stared at Emily, then back at Delilah.
It couldn't be real. Couldn't be. This was some new trick, Emily was playing a game, and the moment Breanna let her guard down Delilah would smile at her and stab herself in the gut, because…
But there was the look on Delilah's face, as she stared back at Breanna. Grief, and sorrow, and joy, and guilt, and hope, and…and…
"You're right. I'm a sick, twisted, sadistic, perverted, vindictive bitch." Emily took a moment to bite, chew, and swallow a piece of apple. "But I could have been worse. I could have wiped out all memory of who she was. I could have reworked her so she was in constant, excruciating pain, but still forced to serve me anyways. I could have done what you're terrified of, and made her kill you and then herself. But I didn't."
She looked up at Breanna. "I took her voice, and I took her freedom. But she is happy, in her subservience. And she gets to live in the palace where she grew up, and she gets time off to sculpt and paint, and she gets to continue to love you. If she ever did. That, Breanna Ashworth, is the gift I offer you for the kindness another Breanna once showed me. That is the sum total of what remains of my mercy."
Breanna bit back a choked sob. Reached up and cupped Delilah's cheek.
Delilah placed her own hand atop Breanna's, and smiled.
"…What now." Breanna whimpered.
"You're my prisoner." Emily said. "The base conditions of that are that you live in Coldridge and Delilah gets to visit you once a month. But depending on how you behave, conditions can improve from there. If you're working for me, of course, you'll be spending more time in Dunwall Tower. It might be easier for you to have a room here. Maybe you can bunk with Delilah, assuming I'm not making her sleep at the foot of my bed."
The corner of Emily's mouth twitched up. "Who knows. I don't need my voice all the time. Maybe after a while, I'll even let her talk to you."
Breanna leaned forwards, her forehead pressing gently against Delilah's.
"Fine." She said, voice fluttering. "You win. You get whatever you want, just…just don't take her away from me."
"Good girl." Emily smirked. "And just like that, we get the best ending! Everyone wins!"
She stood, casually rubbing the top of Delilah's head as she passed. It didn't escape Breanna's notice how Delilah shivered and smiled at the touch.
"Well, I must be off, things to do. I'll have instructions for you tomorrow. Your sign-on bonus is the chance to spend this next hour catching up." Emily walked to the door, pulling it open, and Thomas (who was visibly uncomfortable) fell in behind her.
"Have fun, ladies. Oh, and, Breanna?" The Empress of the Isles gave one last look back. "Just a tip. You might want to start learning sign language."
And they left.
The moment the door closed, Breanna collapsed to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.
Delilah sat down with her, and held her tightly. Pressed a slow kiss to her temple, and was silent.
"Once again, it's a budgeting issue." Paolo said, raising his arms. "In case it bears repeating: We're broke. Violent coups aren't great for the economy."
He sat at a wide, circular table of polished wood. Aramis Stilton, Liam Byrne, Ivan Jacobi, and Charon were all sat with him. None of them were very fond of the Grand Palace where this meeting was taking place, but the alternative was tearing it down again and building something humbler, and that definitely wasn't in the budget.
"Everywhere's broke." Charon pointed out. "Gristol and Serkonos face the biggest economic depression since the rat plague. Morley and Tyvia are being caught in the knock-on effects due to their reliance on trade. It will take years to climb out of the rut Delilah has dug for us."
"Then we just have to acknowledge that and keep moving." Said Stilton. "The restructuring of the mines and mining infrastructure is mostly complete, and we should be able to resume operations soon. That will bring some much needed money into the system."
"And then there's the clockworks." Charon said. "Jindosh claims he'll soon be able to construct them faster and more cheaply. Abele wanted soldiers, but we should consider the possibility of using them for dangerous or impractical labour. Or selling them to other nations, once they can be mass-produced."
Jacobi spoke up, adding, "And at least we have enough wind to reliably use turbines to power our cities. It lets us mostly avoid the ramifications of the Empress' whale oil sanctions."
"Not that we technically have to obey those…" Paolo muttered.
There were a few seconds of quiet, and flickering eyes.
"Let's get to the elephant in the room, then." Stilton said. "Do we want to be a part of the Empire, or not?"
"Gristol took control of the Isles with conquest." Paolo prodded the table with one finger. "They have no right to us. Emily even admitted that."
"Which doesn't mean its not for the best to join." Said Charon. "The benefits in trade and organisation of all countries existing under the same umbrella—"
"Benefits for Dunwall." Jacobi rolled his eyes.
"Emily isn't like that, and you know it." Stilton declared. "Gristol may be where the throne lies, but she doesn't particularly favour it. The Imperial laws are fair, and the taxes we pay the Empress go into works that help everyone."
"Oh, how idealistic. And what about when the next Emperor or Empress comes along? What if they're not so magnanimous?"
"Then we deal with them the same way we dealt with Abele and Delilah." Said Paolo, picking at his teeth. "I don't think it's a good idea to stay, but even if we don't, the next ruler might try to conquer us anyway."
For the first time that meeting, Byrne spoke up. "The unity of the Empire allowed the Abbey of the Everyman to organise properly, and end the self-destructive sectionalism of the age before. You're right that times are hard. Unity is what we need."
"Ah, yes, and how go your political prospects?" Jacobi asked, steepling his fingers.
"Emily Kaldwin has offered me the position of High Overseer, following the death of Teague Martin." Byrne scowled. "I would have liked to insist it is not her who gets to dictate the head of the religion that opposes her…but given the crippling the Abbey has received, it essentially is up to her. Without her assistance, it will fall apart."
"Will you accept?" Asked Stilton.
"That depends on what we decide here." Byrne looked around the table. "Shall we put it to a vote?"
"I think we already have." Stilton said, wryly. "All in favour of re-joining the Empire of the Isles?"
Byrne, Charon, and Stilton himself raised their hands.
"All opposed?"
Paolo raised his own.
"Three ayes, one nay, one abstain. The motion passes." Stilton shrugged. "Democracy at work, gentlemen."
"How long it works for, we've yet to see." Paolo sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I suppose it at least saves us some hassle. Void knows how much trouble 'Serkexit' would have caused us…"
Jindosh sat at his desk in his workshop. Listened to the ticking of the clockworks.
Sighed.
"Alright fine, I'll try and get laid, see what that's like."
The funeral was a quiet, muted affair, given its scope.
The rain poured with gusto from a dark, clouded sky. It was a day of mourning. An event to commemorate all those who had died under Delilah's rule.
Emily had said, when she'd delivered a speech earlier that day, that this was unfair. That if she could, she would dedicate a day to every single soul that had been lost, every victim of the usurper and the damage she had wrought. But that, sad as it was, they could only spare so much time for the dead if they wished to continue living.
Now, some time after that, was a more private ceremony. Emily and Corvo stood before a circle of marble plaques, arrayed around the gazebo in Dunwall Tower's gardens.
Teague Martin, read one. Farley Havelock, read another. Treavor Pendleton. Alexi Mayhew. Cameron 'Slackjaw' Mayhew.
"It's a shame we never retrieved anything of the bodies." Corvo muttered. "I would have liked to bury them properly."
"We could always have statues constructed." Emily replied. "Or, would that be a little insensitive?"
"I see your sense of humour's still as black as ever."
"Again, that'll be the trauma." Emily looked across the plaques. Sighed. "They died fighting for me. Gave their own lives to protect my legacy, my reign, while I was out chasing answers in another country."
"They knew what they were doing." Corvo said. "They adored you, Emily."
"They shouldn't have."
"That's hardly your choice to make."
"Hm." Emily focused on one plaque in particular. "They say Slackjaw defected."
"But you still want him commemorated?"
"He had every right to turn on me, after what I let happen. And Delilah killed him the same as everyone else." Emily turned, and walked away.
This private ceremony was open only to those close to her, which meant very few people indeed. Billie, Sokolov, and Dr Hypatia were standing together, and Emily made her way over to them.
"You know it's a lot warmer and a lot drier inside." She said, mostly to Sokolov.
"Bah." Sokolov waved a dismissive hand. "What's the rain going to do? Kill me faster than I'm already dying?"
"Yes." Billie and Hypatia said, simultaneously.
"Well, good for the rain then." Sokolov looked out across the garden. "That's the trouble, you see. Everything always ends eventually. And it's always sad."
"Well we've had enough endings for now, thank you very much." Billie put an arm on his shoulder. "You're not allowed to shuffle into the Void for at least a year, so let's get you inside."
"Ugh, the nerve on people nowadays." Sokolov looked at Emily, his expression softening. "They were good people, Emily. You should be proud, that they name you friend."
With that, he turned and let Billie lead him into the tower.
That left Emily with Hypatia, who looked down rather than meeting her gaze.
"…I went to all their graves." Hypatia said. "The victims of the Crown Killer. Not sure what I was looking for, in truth. Forgiveness? Absolution?"
"The dead rarely forgive." Emily replied. "I'd tell you not to feel responsible, but…I know that wouldn't work. I can't forgive myself either."
"With all the suffering you've been through, I could forgive you anything." Hypatia said. "I don't have that excuse. I was just insane."
"Insanity is a valid defence in Dunwall's courts. But I suppose it's not about excuses." Emily looked out across at the city's skyline. "We've hurt people. And we have to live with that. I killed my father to stop Delilah. And he's back, and it's a miracle, and I am more grateful than I can ever possibly say, but…I was still willing to do it. I can never pretend again that I'm not a woman who will make that choice."
She turned back to Hypatia. "But we've helped people too. And if we keep helping people…maybe we'll never be okay. But it might be worth it, in the end."
Hypatia finally met Emily's eyes. "Worth it to who? To us? Or to them?"
Emily didn't have a reply to that.
Hypatia sighed, looked away again. "I'll return to Karnaca soon. The Addermire institute has need of my expertise. And I miss Bart."
"I hope he makes you happy." Emily said, putting a hand on Hypatia's shoulder.
She chuckled. "And who'll make you happy, Emily Kaldwin?"
Billie wiped her hair dry on a curtain that was probably worth more than the (now burned and sunk) Dreadful Wale. Sokolov was warming his hands by the fire.
"Do you think you'll stay here?" Billie asked.
"My dear, I have absolutely no idea. I'm getting too old for adventures. Wherever I go next, I'll probably stay until I die. Is it bad that spending the rest of my life in any of these wretched countries sounds horrible?"
Billie chuckled, walking up next to him. Glanced down.
"I killed Abele." She said.
"Did it make you feel any better?" Sokolov asked.
"No. It didn't make me feel anything."
"No lessons about revenge to be had, then?"
"Killing is just work, for me. It always has been. Killing Luca Abele didn't avenge Dierdre, it didn't damn my soul, it doesn't haunt me and it doesn't feel good, it just…happened. It was necessary."
Billie reached into her coat and pulled out Dierdre's talisman. Stared at it. "Putting a bullet in his head was just more of the same. But…when I convinced Daud to save the Outsider…that felt like it did something. Like it meant something. So, I suppose, I'm going to try and do more of that."
"That's good to hear." Sokolov smiled at her. "If I may say so, you are not the same distressed woman from whom I hired passage, years ago. I think Daud would be proud of you."
"Did you know Daud?"
"One time he kidnapped me for ransom, and I memorised his face and painted him and got his likeness plastered on every wanted poster in Dunwall. But no, not really."
"It's fine." Billie chuckled. "I…I think he'd be proud too."
They both stared into the fire.
1st of the Month of Darkness, 1852.
Two months later.
Emily sat at her desk, in her room in Dunwall tower. The sun had set some hours ago, she wasn't quite sure when. Rubbing at her eyes, she scanned the last piece of paper. Signed it, and put it in the pile.
"Aaand that's that." She muttered. Snapped her fingers.
Delilah hopped up from where she'd been kneeling a few metres away, and approached.
Emily picked up the sheaf, tapped it on the desk a few times to straighten it out, then handed it over. "Take these down to records. Then you're dismissed for the night. I think your lover misses you."
Delilah beamed at her, and signed 'thank you'.
Emily responded by signing 'you're welcome', which only made Delilah's smile brighten, before she curtseyed and moved to the door.
It opened just before she got to it. Thomas looked Delilah over, his face twisting into one of general discomfort. Then he jerked his head and stepped aside, letting her pass.
"Still think that's royally fucked up." He said, closing the door behind him.
"So you've said." Emily turned to him. "But I am both royalty and fucked up, so you should have expected that from me."
"Har har." Thomas crossed his arms. "It's late. You should be getting to bed."
"I am. Just had some business to sort first." Emily got up, stretching. "Election results came in this afternoon."
"Oh yeah?" Thomas raised an eyebrow. "And how'd it go?"
Emily sighed. "Sixty-odd percent of the population bothered to vote. Of those, close to three quarters voted for me to keep the job, with the rest split among a few other candidates."
"Shocking nobody."
"Shocking me." Emily gave him a look. "How in the isles did that happen? I was fully expecting to be kicked out of this tower, possibly chased out with pitchforks. Look at me, Thomas. I'm a crippled monster wearing the voice of the woman I overthrew, the woman I now keep as a pet."
"Oh, you're scary." Thomas agreed. "But you're also strong, and serious, and not actually insane. After all this, I think people just want stability. If they voted in some other random noble, they'd have a new one every few years, constantly worrying about petty political battles. You sort of feel…above all that. And if anyone can keep the isles safe, it's you."
"That your words, or theirs?" Emily asked, unbuttoning her jacket.
"I eavesdrop on the staff sometimes." Thomas shrugged. "Plenty of them are scared of you, but in a weird way. Nobody feels unsafe in Dunwall Tower."
"I suppose that's a compliment." Emily tossed her jacket onto the floor, then pulled up her shirt and did the same with that.
Thomas huffed, and averted his eyes.
"Got a letter from Wyman today, too." Emily said, pulling her trousers down.
"Oh?" Thomas' brows furrowed. "Took 'em long enough, after that incredibly awkward reunion the other day. What'd they say?"
"That they weren't comfortable continuing our relationship." Emily's voice was flat. Kicking her trousers away, she was left in her underwear. The horrific scars over her abdomen and her lower face were entirely exposed, as was the arm made of shadow and the obsidian eye. "Told me they still wanted to be friends, but weren't comfortable with 'the magic stuff'."
She smiled, wryly. "To be honest, I'm not sure if it's the deformities they don't like, or if its just that they can no longer pretend I'm not a—"
"Witch?"
"Monster."
"Emily…"
Thomas stepped forwards, wrapping his arms around her. Emily sighed, and leaned into him.
"You're not a monster." He said. "Monsters don't do everything in their power to avoid killing. They don't spare the life of the woman who took everything from them. They definitely don't fight to retake an Empire just to save the lives of its citizens, then offer to give that power up if their people don't like them. Emily, you're a fucking miracle."
"I worry about how, no matter what you see, you never change your opinion of me." Emily mumbled into his shoulder.
"Because everything I see you do just reinforces it." He replied, without hesitating.
Emily shook her head. "I don't deserve you, Thomas Moray."
"You do. And I'm going to keep helping you until you realise that." He pulled back, holding her shoulders and smiling at her.
She looked up at him. Cocked an eyebrow. "Not going to peek at my tits? This is your best chance."
"Go to sleep." He shoved her, making her squeak and fall back on her mattress. "I need to check your pet maniac is behaving, and that your guest-who-used-to-be-a-god hasn't run off again. And then check those reports from Morley about the crazy queen and her possible Void artefact."
"Oh yeah, that promises to be a fun adventure." Emily flopped back on her sheets, smiling lazily. "Let's not put this one off for fifteen years."
"Heh. By the time we're forty, Emily, you'll already be a god."
"…I hope not." Emily stared at the roof of her bed. "I've lost enough humanity as it is."
A few seconds of silence passed.
"…Do you think mother would be proud of me?" Emily asked, quietly.
"I know she would be." Thomas replied. "I know Corvo is, and I know I am."
He flicked off the lights, shrouding the room in shadow, then walked to the door and pulled it open.
Hesitated, and turned back to look at her.
"…I love you." He said, gently.
Though it was dark, Emily was just about able to meet his eyes.
"I love you too." She said.
Thomas smiled. Then said "Sweet dreams, Emily." and stepped outside, closing the door behind himself.
Emily shed the rest of her clothes, dismissed her shadow-arm, and turned off power to the Sliver. Curled up under her sheets, and closed her eyes.
The room was silent. The moon shone silver.
Emily Kaldwin slept. And for the first time in a long time, her dreams were pleasant ones.
The End
Well, well, well. Here we are.
It always interests me how the brain responds to different types of stories. In one where things go mostly right for the heroes, we're hoping the ending will be perfect, and every death or loss feels tragic. But then in some stories, the ones that have been dark and tragic from the start, we (or at least I) find ourselves desperately hoping for just one thing to be right by the end. 'Okay, the world's on fire. But maybe, just maybe, these two characters can be happy.'
Silence is Silver was a much darker story than Void Singer. Not sure what exactly that says about me, now just over six years since I published it. Suppose it makes sense, with the protagonists all grown up. The most fun part of playing with time travel was getting to confront the characters with themselves from the past. See what they might have thought of themselves. I don't think we can fault a ten year old Emily for her first response being to scream.
Emily is not okay. After everything she's been through, I think it would be absurd if she was. But she has survived, and she has the chance to be happy, with what she has left.
Delilah...well. I think the fic itself speaks as to Delilah's fate. From some angles a mercy, from others the result of pure unadulterated spite.
I kinda feel bad about Thomas, in a few ways. His character didn't get to grow or change much. If I did it again, I might add a little there, but then again it might not have been necessary.
Well, if I could change anything, I'd release Void Singer in 2012 and Silence is Silver in 2016. My numbers would be way better.
In a way it's grating, to know what I've produced here is significantly higher quality than Void Singer, but that it performed way worse. But it's also understandable. I'm the one who decided to write a fic in a fandom that is, for all intents and purposes, dead. There's no more content planned for the Kaldwin era, interest has naturally been waning since Death of the Outsider released in 2017. It's a shame, that less people saw this than could have enjoyed it. I genuinely think if it had come out in the heyday of this (very small) community, it might have topped some lists. But if I'd written it six years ago, it wouldn't have been anywhere near as good, would it?
At the end of the day, sometimes you have to do something just because it's fun. Like starting every chapter title with the letter A. I still have literally no idea why I did that...
Anyway, I'm happy with what I've created here. And I hope that the exclusive few of you who read it were happy with it too.
Heh. At least it was better than the trashy official side-along books for the franchise. I read those. Don't bother.
For those of you who're here for me more than the universe, bad news! I'm not planning on writing anything else for a while! I'm working on (audible gasp) Actual Books! So who knows, maybe one day you'll be reading something of mine from Amazon or a bookshop somewhere! Or not. I always roll my eyes when I see fic writers saying that, but maybe y'all have a little more confidence in me.
In any case, it's been a pleasure. Especially with those of you that I got to talk to along the way. Follow, Fave, and Review if you have something to say, I always respond! I've been Adamant39, and I'll see y'all when I see y'all.