Aftermaths: Final

The dishonoured protector

Corvo landed in front of the woman at the dais. He was in the void, he had to be. He had never been to the realm himself, but it was the sort of place that, once you had seen it, could never mistake for anything else. The grass fell away after just a few metres on any side into a bottomless drop. A giant, twisted, leafless tree stretched upwards to the sky. Everything was tinted with an eerie blue glow. The woman turned towards him Delilah Copperspoon. The heart pulsed in his pocket. Delilah Kaldwin, she wishes. She was once like a sister to me; but she was a bastard daughter, and thus could never have the throne. That is why she seeks it.

Delilah raised an eyebrow at him. "Corvo Attano. I was expecting Daud."

"You aren't worth his time." Corvo replied succinctly.

She laughed. "And your time has run out." She gestured behind her. The dais she stood by and the tree weren't the only landmark in the terrain. There was a canvas, and on that canvas, a painting. "My ritual is already complete. My victory is already certain." Lines drew themselves in the ground between her and the canvas, glowing a sickly green. "Within moments, I will become one with the subject of that painting. I will possess it. I will be it." A wind seemed to pick up affecting only her, intensifying every moment, pulling her towards the painting. "Through my masterpiece, I will rule the body of your precious Emily Kaldwin, and through her, rule the empire that should have been mine."

Corvo waited another moment to check she was finished, then shrugged, unfurling a canvass he had in his pocket. "You mean this masterpiece?"

Her face went white. She spun around to see the painting she was actually being pulled towards. He knew what it was, of course, he had switched out the portrait of Emily with another before she had ever seen him. "Perhaps you shouldn't leave other works of art sat around your ritual site." He added, conversationally. She lunged at him, and he gave her a hearty kick to the chest, throwing her backwards onto the grass. She got back up, but by then it was too late. The pull had become too strong. Screaming, she was sucked helplessly into the painting Corvo had switched in. One of the giant tree. He looked up at the plant, satisfied that his work was done, before looking back down at her portrait of Emily. It was an uncanny likeness. Lines of colour, royal purples, blues and reds, crisscrossed the image, giving it seemingly more emotional…depth. Well, he wasn't an artist. Perhaps he should give it to Emily as a gift when she was finally reinstated? Musing, Corvo pocketed it, and headed back to the wider canvas he had used to gain access to the realm.

The Void-Singer

The Hound Pits pub was having a party. Everyone was in good spirits; even Pierro had been persuaded to leave his workshop and come have a drink or two. Thomas was teaching some of the younger maids some silly back street dance. Sokolov was chatting with Samuel at the bar. A few city guards that could be trusted and two Overseers that knew Martin personally were also present, and thankfully keeping mostly to themselves. Emily was, naturally the centre of attention, though it had been agreed that she would be allowed to leave for bed soon. It was almost one o'clock after all, and it wouldn't do for her to be too tired tomorrow when she was reintroduced to the public. "We need a monument to mother." Emily said decisively. "Not a massive statue or anything, but a small monument, in the garden where…you know." Havelock nodded. He was, for the first time he could remember for weeks, in a good mood, and saw no reason to dampen the fires of Emily's excitement. "Of course. That would be appropriate. The fact that the lord regent never set one up himself is another sin to set against him."

"And, we need to-" She paused. "No, everyone still thinks Corvo is a traitor or something, we can't just ask for him to come home. See, I'm being mature!"

Havelock smiled, and Treavor Pendleton added. "It's good that you realise you can't just get everything you want."

Emily nodded. "Well of course. Even mother had to get through ideas parliament and things."

Havelock coughed, feeling obligated to make himself plain now. "More than that. You are still ten. People just aren't going to trust you to make mature decisions on important decisions. You'll be an important figurehead, but you will have to leave some things to me, Treavor and the others until you come of age."

He braced, worried she would take the news poorly. There was a pause where she looked a little dejected, before she came out with "Well, that's alright, I guess. After all, I trust you all!"

Havelock's heart wrenched, just a little. Martin, slightly drunk, walked over with a cry of "Long live the empress!" making her giggle. His eyes caught on her tiara. "Are you still wearing that thing? You know whalebone's supposed to be cursed, right?"

She smiled shyly, not sure what to say, and he took it as a sign to continue. "Come now, an empress with a cursed crown is a bad omen. Give that here-"

He reached out to grab it off her. She reached up to grab at it, instinctively, with her left hand, but she was just too slow and ended up grabbing his wrist while he held the tiara.

In front of them all, the Outsider's mark blazed back into visibility on her skin.

And that was that.

Aftermaths: Final

They all gaped. She snatched the veil back, not yet realising, and moved to put it back on her head. Then she saw the mark. And by then they could all speak again. "You…It was you?" Havelock stammered. "It was you the whole time?"

Slowly, it began to dawn on Emily that now that they had seen the mark on her, the illusion had worn off and now they were able to know that the void singer was her, something they would have realised immediately if the veil hadn't been doing its work. "I…I…"

There was no silence, no dramatic slowing of time. Around them, the party was still in full swing. Everything was balanced like a delicate vase teetering on the edge of its podium. All the three of them didn't seem to know what to say. Then Martin reached to the blade at his belt. The balance tipped, and the vase shattered. Emily's hand flexed and she was gone.

._.

The shouting started moments after that. Yells, orders, all blending into an incomprehensible shout punctuated only by the sound of her own name. She grappled up a staircase, ran onto a balcony, stopped for a moment, then flicked her veil down automatically. The sheer magnitude of what had just happened hadn't caught up to her yet, her brain scrambled with thoughts like It might not be over, they might still like you, they might not

might

might

might

A door slammed open and she moved, pulling herself up the roof of Pierro's laboratory, then stopped again because she still didn't know what to do-

There was the crack of a gunshot. She ran, moving towards the rooftop walkway to her room, moving in a blind panic at this point, but just as she doorway she was grabbed and thrown to the floor. There was pain in her back for a moment, and she looked up to see-

"Thomas?" She exclaimed as much as asked. He nodded, then winced. "They…they're after you. They're firing at me! I thought-"

He gasped in pain, and Emily looked at his shoulder and gasped. Blood leaked from a wound. "Thomas! You're hurt!"

"I'm fine." He bit out. He hauled her to her feet. "We need to…I don't know, we need to-"

Footsteps clanked along the walkway. "There! It's the witch! Get her!"

Guards. Ordinary ones, the ones Havelock had brought with him. She flicked a wrist and that one was grabbed about the throat by his own shadow, but the other two raised pistols. Suddenly, Thomas grabbed her about the stomach and jumped, and they were flying away. She looked forwards for their landing zone, but there wasn't one. Just...

Just the angry Wrenhaven river below her. She hit the surface with a splash.

...

*giggles insanely* You thought this was over?