#actual effects by the trauma the gang went through my beloved

[darrycurtisss]

i feel like every so often, (occuring more post-book), Darry just dissociates. It doesn’t last long, and it happens almost randomly. He’d be washing dishes than suddenly staring off into space and his ears are ringing up a storm. I feel like it’s mostly when he thinks about his parents or Johnny/Dally, and then slowly starts to overthink and spiral.

Sodapop and Ponyboy both recognize this and have to wake him up from his trance, but I’d like to imagine the first time it happens in front of anyone in the gang they’d freak out and have to call for one of the other curtis brothers to help. After sometime though I feel like they’d have their own unqiue ways of waking him up.

Pony would ground Darry and try to keep him occupied with questions or trivia, whileas Soda would probably gently shake him and do breathing exercises with him.

Two-Bit would probably put ice in his hands to wake him up (which probably ended up with ice being lodged at him on multiple occasions), and I feel like Steve would snap or wave in Darry’s face ‘till he woke up 😭😭 he’s trying his best but otherwise leaves it to Soda or Ponyboy.

If Johnny and Dally were alive, Johnny would be super gentle and try to sit Darry down so he doesn’t fall over or something. He probably also takes care of whatever Darry was doing before he started to dissociate.

Dally would take a while to get comfortable with doing it himself, like I’d imagine with Steve, but I feel like he’d shake him and or (softly) slap his face with a cocky remark like “wakey wakey, Superman!”. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing but he’s trying, and he’d be too afraid to do anything too caring I fear </3

I like to imagine all of the gang all have their own quirks and troubles (pre-book and post-book) that the others learn to help them out with. maybe I’ll talk about everyone else’s if yall want to hear about any

[acesydneysage]

18 and 30 for the va asks?

All the questions

18. What character would you want a spin off of?

I think the POV character would be Jill, and the rest of the Palm Springs gang could have some roles, so I can have more of my beloved Melrose family. She grew a lot during Bloodlines but her character got really sidelined and I think there's still a lot to explore with her. She went through a lot of trauma, and she was just coming into her own and accepting her new role.

Her relationship with Lissa could be fascinating, they definitely have a lot to work through. Lissa sees her as symbol of her idolized father's imperfection. Jill resents being used as a political pawn. They both will have a hell of a lot going on and won't be able to go on bonding trips or anything like that, since Lissa is queen and Jill is the Dragomir princess and will have a vote on the council once she turns 18. Jill wasn't raised as a royal, so she has a very different perspective even to royals who are sympathetic to non-royals' plight.

I really love Eddie and I want to see him happy. Being the main love interest could give him more of a spotlight. I didn't care much about Jeddie in canon (the age gap is a bit uncomfortable and we didn't get any deep insight into their relationship), but I think they have a lot of potential as grown ups. Their knight and princess dynamic could be very sweet, but it could also cause a lot of trouble.

Eddie has his thing about not even knowing who his dad is, while Jill is a princess, so above him. But Jill actually never knew her biological dad either, she was a bastard hidden like a shameful secret, and as I mentioned she's resentful of her worth being determined by her lineage, and her importance to other people's political schemes. And she got killed over it, she has every right to.

Eddie genuinely does see Jill's worth outside of her bloodline, he admires her will to fight and her grace, and how she learns to handle difficult situations. But he still internalized their society's hierarchy enough to let it fuel his inferiority complex. That could be an interesting conflict, he needs to consider himself her equal, and she needs to know he sees her as a person not a princess. Besides all the angst coming from the fact that he feels like he failed her twice before.

Jill and Eddie could have stayed together all this time, but I can easily see them breaking up and then meeting again. Eddie is living far alway form her, and he's dedicated to Sydney, Adrian and Declan. Then they would eventually have to actually decide to get together again when they're not hidden in a human school far away from their society's prejudices and expectations, but smack in the middle of them. Young dhampirs and Moroi, even royals, dating in school is seen as normal. The adult, politically active crown princess is a whole different story.

Thematically, it would be very good to have the Dragomir princess say that royal blood is not actually more important than anybody else's, including dhampirs, and she wants to be with a guardian and maybe eventually have little dhampirs thank you very much. Lissa was raised from birth to belive in her duty to carry on the Dragomir bloodline and pop out royal babies, but Jill wasn't and she's more likely to be able to see that that's messed up.

I understand that it's important in-world, but expecting me to actually find it important to continue a royal line is too much for me, sorry. It's a surname, congrats, I do not care. And if Eddie actually confronted what's wrong with guardian idology and that "they come first" nonsense I'd be so grateful. I don't think that was sufficiently taken down in canon, Rose kind of goes back to believing it in the end.

Jill also has shadowkissed problems to deal with. She's interested in self defense. If she had to put that into practice and ended up killing someone she'd have to deal with ghosts like Rose did. And Jill has a connection to Declan, through Adrian and Sydney, and she knows his secret, which could come in handy plotwise.

Declan and his super special spirit magic blood are probably gonna be very important, both because it could be the key in mass producing the Strigoi vaccine, and because the possibility of dhampirs having children with each other undermines their society's excuses for its Moroi supremacist structure.

If Adrian stops taking his meds for some reason, or even changes to a medication that has a similar effect to Lissa's and doesn't completely block the bond Jill could see into his head. So she can see what's going on with Declan and also cute sydrian moments and Eddie being an adorable uncle.

Maybe we'd even get Eddie's POV like we did with Adrian?

I think Angeline could be interesting. She'd start out hunting Strigoi with Trey like they said they would do. I'd really love if eventually she became an ambassador for the Keepers, just because I think it would take a lot of character development for her to become a diplomat.

I'm really into the idea of an Alchemist Revolution, and Zoe might actually be a good point of view character for that.

30. What moments do you remember laughing out loud at?

The tattoo parlor scene really killed me the first time around, and I still love it:

“Yeah? Can you draw a skeleton riding a motorcycle with flames coming out of it? And I want a pirate hat on the skeleton. And a parrot on his shoulder. A skeleton parrot. Or maybe a ninja skeleton parrot? No, that would be overkill. But it’d be cool if the biker skeleton could be shooting some ninja throwing stars. That are on fire.” [...] “Wait!” exclaimed Adrian. There was an anxious note to his voice, like he was trying to get someone’s attention. I had the uneasy feeling that the two guys who worked here were headed back behind the counter to investigate. “I need to know something else about the tattoo. Can the parrot also be wearing a pirate’s hat? Like a miniature one?”

I also loved said, “Mmm. O positive, my favorite.” Adrian scaring Keith in general is great, here's the full trilogy. And when Sydney is finally being rescued and she says "Are you wearing a suit? You didn't have to dress up for me." It was very unexpected. I love her!

And little Rose throwing a book at a teacher and calling her a fascist!

[musingdistraction]

Falling for Whiskey (Agent Whiskey x Reader)

Hello Mr. Pascal lovers :D. I recently watched The Mandalorian and fell for Pedro’s sexy voice and protective dad ways. I've been looking for Pedro content and discovered the fics tag by chance... It's so much fun and your stories are great, so I wanted to contribute too, cause I have so many ideas and my imagination is running wild about Pedro these days, haha! Agent Whiskey is one of my favorite characters from him, so here I go. English is not my first language so excuse the mistakes. Hope you enjoy it :)

Summary: (3k words) You're a young Statesman agent and are assigned to a mission with Whiskey and Champagne. The initial dislike between you and Whiskey will turn into something very different later, since you are going to fall hard for each other. He’s tough on the surface but a real cinnamon roll deep down, and you are his weakness.

Warnings: +18 content, references to violence, SMUT.

After a short but impressive record of good results since you became a Stateswoman, your superiors had assigned you to a new mission. You needed to steal some key data from a drug gang which was suspected to have connections with arm traffickers and a terrorist group. Agents Whiskey and Champagne would be teaming up with you for the operation. You were not happy with the arrangement since the take-off meeting had been tense, and these guys didn't seem to be team workers at all. The agents had been distracted and mostly contradicting your ideas, mainly that damn Whiskey. You were even on the brink of starting an argument once or twice. The situation was not ideal and you couldn't wait to wrap up the mission, and hopefully getting a new assignment with new partners.

Your boss had provided the information about the target, an accountant of the mafia. The idea was to set up a distraction and steal some key data from his laptop without him noticing, so that would give you time to collect further proof of their activities before they could react. You followed the guy around for a couple of weeks, studying his daily patterns, his connections and meetings. Working with Champagne was more or less ok, but Whiskey was making things difficult. He was getting on your nerves, being surly and sometimes plainly puzzling. You were exasperated at his attitude, wondering what was the deal with the lone ranger. 

Finally the day came when you had planned to take action. You were supposed to act while the accountant was waiting for his boss in a restaurant, surrounded by some of the mafia thugs. It was not going to be easy. Whiskey and Champagne would keep them distracted. Then you would swap the laptop and leave a fake one. You would copy the data and later you would return the original laptop without them noticing. Things went wrong, however. All thanks to agent Whiskey and his seeming excess of testosterone. Instead of fulfilling his task, apparently he couldn't resist the first opportunity to attack the thugs and caused a ruckus, while the accountant fled the scene. You were frustrated, "This guy can't control himself, how are we going to succeed here?". But mostly you were bewildered since you had found that idiot to be quite hot during the fight. He was definitely fit and holding his whip in a skillful, sexy way..., you hated to be attracted to that type of guy.

It had been an epic fail that called for a group meeting where you all were scolded. Later that night you talked privately to your superior about the mission status, since you were not happy with the course of events. "Don't be too hard on Whiskey, the guy lost his pregnant girlfriend in a shooting not so long ago, with drug dealers involved. He hates them". "Then why did you assigned him to this mission?" you complained. "We want to give him a chance, he's a great asset to us and we need to know if he can overcome his trauma or we can't use him anymore". "Great" you thought, "so they are throwing us at this mess and expecting we handle this guy's issues too". You were not happy at all but also felt guilty for judging Whiskey so quickly while knowing nothing about him. You tried to imagine the pain of losing your girlfriend and a baby on the way...surely he had suffered a lot. No wonder he was easily provoked by the thugs earlier.

Next morning the team gathered in the headquarters in order to study the situation and decide the next step. You had to find another way to get the information you needed. At the beginning you were giving Whiskey the death stare and he didn't seem to know what to do or where to hide. But the truth is, after finding out what had happened to him, you saw Whiskey in a new light and couldn't be too mean. You wanted to make things work. However agent Champagne wasn't feeling so generous. At some point he casually dropped that you had suggested next time you and Champagne would do the fieldwork, while Whiskey would support from the office so he couldn’t mess up again. It was easy to tell that Champagne was joking from his mischievous smile, but Whiskey believed everything and started complaining, angry. You were amused and followed Champagne's ruse for a bit. Grumpy Whiskey was sort of cute and brought to your face a wide smile you couldn't hide. "Do you really think I would say that? We are a team. We have to do this together." He seemed pacified by your words and stopped complaining. Then, after some discussion on the operation details, you left the room a bit embarrassed since that smile might have been unintentionally too warm. Whiskey stayed there, looking thoughtful. And Champagne was still joking and laughing, maybe because he already caught that there was something going on between you and Whiskey? You were a bit upset though. You told yourself that the rough cowboy didn't care about the team or you, and you shouldn't let your guard down because of his sad story, that you needed to keep things professional...Only that was not really how you felt about him anymore.

Next day Whiskey dropped by your office and left you a document folder. He had been gathering intel about the drug mafia. The truth is he had been absent-minded and struggling since the beginning of the mission because he wasn’t sure about working for Statesman anymore…he was still quite depressed since his beloved girlfriend and their baby were taken from him. Then he had screwed up and that was a bit of a wake-up call, he didn’t want things to go that way. He actually liked his job and believed in the Statesman agency values. And there was a general change of mood in the team, with you suddenly smiling at him and all that, so he thought he should do something to contribute. You thanked him and devoted the afternoon to study the documents and review your action strategy. The guys you were facing were dangerous. You knew that the team needed to be solid in order to succeed, and that Whiskey needed to be fully on board. The guy was difficult to control and didn't like team work. You thought you knew what would take to make him change his attitude but it was difficult to take that step. After some internal struggle, you finally gathered enough courage to call him and ask for help. You asked him to elaborate on the documents he brought you and check the action plan together. Asking for help indeed seemed to operate some magic. His voice on the phone was soft when he said he was on his way to your office. He arrived quite fast. Then you sat together for several hours checking everything and discussing the details. It was a productive meeting. He actually helped and gave you good advice, and you gladly took it. His recommendations were quite clever. He seemed to be happy that you were noticeably impressed so he kept offering ideas, and you thought that was very cute of him. That night you stayed together until very late in the office, which you didn't mind since you were charmed by him. His masculine and honeyed voice lulled you and you found yourself once or twice checking his messy brown hair or his strong biceps showing through his shirt. When he casually touched your arm a couple of times to draw your attention, you felt the heat through your body. You wondered if he was aware of the effect his touch had in you. He wasn't, but he didn't miss how comfortable you were in his company or how you looked at him...and he definitely wanted more of it.

You worked on the plan together for a couple of weeks more, and things were looking good. The "team bonding" was going really well. So many hours spent with Whiskey had also an effect in you. You liked him more and more every day. He seemed to enjoy your newfound closeness and looked for you round the clock. He was very supportive and always helping. You felt he was being protective of you. One night you fell asleep during a stakeout, while you were spying on one of your suspects from a nearby apartment. You woke up later in one of the bedrooms, and Champagne casually said that Whiskey had carried you there, so you could get some rest. To know that he had taken such liberties with you and carried you in his arms…that made your heart race. The truth is Whiskey had awakened your female instincts in a way you never had felt before. He might seem tough at first sight but he had a soft side that just started showing, and you knew about his emotional scars. You were weak for him, maybe that strong but damaged guy in need for affection was your type after all? You wanted to take care of him, and that feeling intensified every time he was doing something nice for you. You felt the urge of giving him some love and taking care of him, and that included taking care of his needs as a man too...that very idea was enough to make your body temperature rise. You found him very manly, sexy, and suspected he was an expert and passionate lover. That made you fantasize about being with him and sometimes you were tempted to flirt, since he seemed to like you too. The circumstances were not the best for dating though, so you told yourself that you wouldn't act on your burgeoning feelings. Your determination proved to be weak though, since you couldn’t stay away from him. As for Whiskey, he found you very pretty and sweet when you didn’t had your guard up. He also thought of keeping the distance while working together, in order to not mess things up. However, what he wanted was to be around and protect you, and see your beautiful smile often.

A few days later, finally it was time to strike again and steal the files you were after. You had planned to get it from the office of one of the gang managers. Since the operation was taking place at a social club from the mafia, that gave you a perfect excuse to put on a sexy, revealing dress. You wanted Whiskey to look at you of course. When you arrived to the meeting point, he was there waiting with Champagne. He carelessly said that the group was not supposed to attract attention, while giving you a quick look from head to toe that gave you butterflies in the stomach. You were a bit embarrassed and blushing while reminding him that you were heading to a posh club so the dress was ok but the cowboy hat maybe not. Then you rushed to the car. When arriving at the club, your group stopped at the bar to check who was there, and Champagne ordered some drinks. You didn't know but apart from your sexy figure, Whiskey had noticed your red cheeks before. You were being too cute and looking too pretty for him to resist. The desire to touch you and kiss you was stronger than him. Suddenly he wanted to steal you and bring you far away, so he could keep you safe. Too bad he couldn't do anything in the middle of the operation... You were distracted watching your target -the club manager- leave towards the garden. Then, suddenly felt Whiskey's hand on your waist while he called your name and made you turn and look at him. It was for a second that he touched you, but it was firm, intimate, the kind of touch men use to sound out how welcome they are in your personal space, a warning that they are going to touch you more if you allow them. Your heart was pounding when you faced him. He approached your ear and said "Be careful, princess" in a low voice, and then winked. "We're going outside, see you later", said Champagne and they left you on the spot, distracted.

The agents headed to the garden, following the club manager. Finally alone, you were able to breathe again and quickly focused on your part of the job. You had to steal the content of the manager's computer in his office. This time everything went well and your team could finish and run from the place with no one noticing, bringing some valuable info that would make your boss happy. The operation was a success and the team gathered for some drinks at the bar later that night. Pretty soon, Champagne had started flirting and left with a girl. Your heart fluttered when it suddenly downed on you, that you were alone with Whiskey. But you already had a couple of beers so none of you were so timid anymore. He blocked a guy that tried to flirt with you, totally looking like a jealous boyfriend. It was pretty obvious what was going on there. You talked about the mission for a while and complimented each other's job. Then he smiled and looked at your dress, his eyes shining. "I see you're wearing a dress again tonight, you look very pretty in it ". "Should I wear it more often, then?" you said in a flirty tone... "But only when I'm around so I can protect you from the unwanted attention". Things were heating between both of you and your cheeks were burning. Then he smiled, "Hey, I love this song, come here", he pulled and made you stand up by him. By the time you started complaining about the old-fashioned tune, he already had grabbed you by the waist and was dancing slowly. You were a bit surprised by the move, but quickly shut up and surrendered to the sway and his physical proximity, allowing him to take the lead while looking at him in the eyes. “You like it, don't you?... I can think of other things that you will like, miss". Still smiling, he leaned in for a kiss. He was soft and slow, while holding you tight. Soon the kiss turned more passionate and you needed to separate in order to catch your breath. He looked at you intently and said "Let's go to my place, baby. It's too loud here and I want to be alone with you". For a second you tried to weigh the possible cons of that idea, but you liked him too much to stop there, so you agreed. In the taxi, his hand was resting on your thigh and you felt the burning heat between your legs. You kissed throughout the cab ride. He was running his fingers through your hair and while catching breath between kisses he promised "I'm going to treat you very well, princess". "You better do", that's all you managed to respond before he took your lips again. When you arrived to his apartment, the door closing after you sounded like heaven. Curious about his personal stuff, you explored a bit the living room, apparently to Whiskey's amusement. He approached smiling and grabbed you by the waist, "Do you like this cowboy's humble place, baby? Well, get ready to see the bed, because I'm going to ride you there". Then he started kissing you and lifted you in his arms. You wrapped your legs around him and got lost in his kiss while he carried you to the bedroom. Your fingers got entangled in his hair while he was unbuttoning your dress and kissing every centimeter of your naked skin. The way he touched you and looked at you was a big turn-on, so decisive, so confident and masculine. On the bed already, his hands all over your body, later his head between your legs made you lose your head. He seemed to lose it too when you slipped your hand in his underwear and started playing with his cock, which was ready for action. You noticed his excitement and kept teasing him, playing bad girl. That made him felt the urge to give you what you deserved. "What do you think you're doing, come here", he grabbed you and placed you underneath him, kissing you again, while pressing his hips towards yours. He still had his boxers on but you could feel he was so hard against your entrance. He played around it for a while and you showed your desire, by grabbing his butt and pushing him against you. Then he teased you, introducing the tip of his finger in you. "Oh baby you are so wet, you have no idea how much I like it.” He kept playing with his finger while kissing your neck and then going down to taste your nipples. Excited, you arched your back and made him go up in order to kiss him again, your hands running through his hair, next towards his back. “I want you so much”, you wanted him to know how much you desired him. He seemed pleased to see how excited you were. He kissed your neck and went up to bite your ear, suddenly feeling the need to assert how you belonged to him.  “You know your pussy is mine, don’t you? You are mine now". Then he stood up and took off his underwear. You knew what was coming next, which made you even more excited. He leaned down on you and you hugged and kissed, this time completely naked, with no obstacles for the imminent intercourse. After some exquisitely desperate waiting and begging him to take you, he also couldn't wait anymore. He was on top of you, moving his hips so his cock would slide and position itself against your entrance. You were so wet and he was so hard that the tip entered you with no need for further guidance. Next he penetrated you slowly, taking his time, savoring your moans and the look in your face. He lied on you, holding you in his arms, one hand on your back, the other sustaining your head. He was on top of you, holding you tight and close to him, then started thrusting inside you with passion. Feeling his weight and the grip of his strong arms increased the delicious sensation of being helpless and possessed at his pleasure, his hips moving over you and the friction on your clit bringing you to unknown enjoyment heights. He certainly knew his way around a woman’s body. As you vibrated with pleasure under him, he felt more excited and wanted to be even more inside you, so he silenced your screams with a kiss, his tongue deep in your mouth. Then you completely surrendered to the feeling of being his, let go of all resistance and reached your climax. You kept making love for a while since your thirst for each other was not satisfied yet and he wanted to play with you more. When he came later, you felt so full of him and happy. Both of you were covered in sweat and exhausted. His  blissful smile filled your heart with joy. He caressed your hair and showered you with sweet kisses. But his adoring brown eyes fixed on yours was what made you feel weak and realize that you had a serious problem going on there. You were falling in love.

[souldiertotheend]

Cradlesong (Post-DH2, Corvo & Emily)

Summary: The conspirators have disappeared, Delilah has been defeated, and the throne is once again occupied by its rightful empress. So why does Emily refuse to look him in the eye?

Basically I wanted to write post game hurt/comfort. The word count is about 5k. You can also read it on ao3 if you wish.

Life in Dunwall chugged drearily along. In Delilah’s brief but tumultuous reign, she had directly and indirectly caused the death of at least a quarter of the city’s population. She had gleefully destroyed the infrastructure and let the Tower fall into incredible decay. It was a lot of work to rebuild an empire.

Amazingly enough, the empress didn't complain once. While after five hours of her imperial duties she would get fussy and escape to the rooftops, Emily now instead spent days in her office crafting decrees, or directly ordering the City Watch to help with rebuilding or chase the Hatters back into the dark corners of the city. She didn't appear to be sleeping and the dark shadows under her eyes complimented the new lines on her face. In those short months she had aged, bone tired and world weary.

When she revived Corvo, she helped him settle on the steps before her throne, his body too stiff and exhausted to be of any use. She told him how after the coup, a ship captain named Meagan Foster helped her escape the city, and that they headed to Serkonos to plan their next steps. She told him how she rescued Sokolov from the genius inventor Kirin Jindosh, and how she managed to eliminate Delilah’s allies without spilling their blood. She told him how she managed to trick Delilah and trap the witch into her own painting, oblivious to the fact that Jessamine’s child had outwitted her.

But Emily couldn't exactly meet his eyes and even now, with the danger gone, she avoided him. Maybe it was the trauma of losing everyone at once all over again. Maybe it was the fear that she nearly lost another parent. If Corvo was anyone else, he might have accepted that. But he was the Royal Spymaster, and her Royal Protector. He knew she was hiding something from him.

Corvo wondered where his daughter went.

At the empress’s request he led a group of City Watch into the Rudshore Financial District, to get rid of Hatter remnants and document the damage suffered. They imprisoned gang members with ease and searched condemned buildings.

In an abandoned apartment of a deceased book merchant, he found a shrine hidden in a broom closet. He leaned back and folded his arms, glaring at the Mark painted on the wall. "What? You won't speak to me anymore?" He grumbled. "You used to never shut up."

The Outsider materialized before him with a deadpan expression, although a hint of smirk tugged at his lips. "My dear Corvo, I did not know you missed the sound of my voice."

"Delilah took my Mark."

"I saw." He paused deliberately and tilted his head towards him. "Do you want it back?"

Corvo considered it. While he had never been very fond of the Outsider and the Void, the powers he had been gifted were damn useful. They allowed him to protect Emily countless times. And while Emily was grown and clearly capable of taking care of herself, it never hurt to have an edge.

He nodded.

The familiar burning sensation started on his left hand and the Mark burst into view. He flexed his hand, feeling the power of the Void in his fingertips.

"Suppose you had an interesting show those past few months," he said. "Watching Delilah sweep in and command everything. Doing her best to destroy an Empire." He glanced back up at the Outsider in time to see him narrow his black eyes at him.

"I do not enjoy seeing Delilah take over my realm and steal my power from me, if that's what you're asking."

"She did what?" Corvo stared at him in disbelief, and only then noticed the surliness in the Outsider's countenance. "I thought she wanted to rule over the Empire."

"Not only that," the Outsider corrected. "She wanted unlimited power, and a world tailored to her desires." Then the hint of a smirk morphed into a real one, sly and amused. "Do you mean that your beloved Empress didn't tell you? How fascinating. Your sweet little girl doesn't tell you everything anymore."

Before Corvo could press for more, the Outsider disappeared, faint echoes of black laughter settling in the air. Corvo grimaced before grabbing the rune and pocketing it.

In all these years he had never told Emily of his true power. He had figured it did not matter after the Loyalist conspiracy, since she was safe from Hiram Burrows and Admiral Havelock. Besides, it was a conflict of interest. She couldn't effectively work with the Abbey, knowing her father was a practitioner of the Outsider's magic. Now, he wondered how to bring up the subject of Delilah's true goal, without giving away his source of information. He knew that by now Emily must be aware of the fact that the Outsider and the Void were real, since Delilah beheld real, forbidden magic. Though in all honesty, he had hoped Emily would be ignorant of such things. Not just because she could be accused of heresy, but because she shouldn't have to worry about dark forces beyond their control.

It was foolish. She wasn't a child anymore. She proved that when she saved her own Empire. She didn't really need him anymore.

That was a troubling thought. He should be proud that all the training paid off. But Corvo was most content when he was needed.

A week after he regained his Mark, he appeared in her quarters. Feeling like he was intruding, he asked a servant to let Her Majesty know that the Royal Protector was awaiting her in the sitting room.

Instead Wyman appeared. "Lord Protector! It is good to see you are well!"

"Wyman." Corvo stared at them in confusion. He did not hear that the noble had come back. A failing for the Royal Spymaster. "When did you arrive?"

"A few days ago." Wyman's grin quirked to the side. "The Morley government held me hostage—not literally!" they quickly added at the darkening of Corvo's facial expression. "I was worried sick for Lady Emily. If not for her reassuring letter I would have gone mad."

"You... two kept correspondence during the coup?"

"Of course." Wyman frowned. "I was one of the few who knew what the Empress was up to."

"What did she tell you?" Corvo demanded.

"Nothing, really. Just to stay in Morley and that she had a plan to fix it. That was it."

It was easy enough to examine Wyman's face for any trace of deception. They were always too open, too sincere in what they truly thought. Corvo always thought Emily chose them intentionally for that. It was exhausting to be constantly surrounded by those who curried favor through any means.

Corvo nodded curtly. "Where is she?"

"Ah, working, my lord. I'm afraid she sent me here to get rid of you. She wishes to not be disturbed." Wyman gave him an apologetic look.

Corvo merely raised an eyebrow. "Don't take this the wrong way, Wyman, but I doubt you can stop the Royal Protector from seeing his Empress." With that he neatly sidestepped the noble and walked through the doorway Wyman was blocking, hearing a meek "Yes, my lord," from behind.

At the door to Emily's office, he sharply knocked twice before letting himself in.

From behind a large, ornately decorated desk, the Empress gave him a shrewd look before returning to her work, dismissing him before he even spoke. Corvo refused to entertain the thought of how much that surprisingly hurt.

"Emily—"

"You're overstepping boundaries, Lord Protector. I said I wish to not be disturbed and instead you choose to disobey an order."

"Emily, please. You disappear for months, and when you've finally returned you push me away? I don't see you anymore. And everytime I try to ask you about it, you tell me not to worry? That the details don't matter? Clearly they do, since you've changed so drastically!"

She didn't take the bait and for some time the only sound in the room were the scratches of her pen against parchment. She had raised an impenetrable fortress around her, and seemingly had not noticed any of his attempts to break through.

"Wyman's worried about you too."

"They're always worried," she said dismissively, never tearing her eyes away from her paperwork. "Now leave me be."

"But--”

“Please, Corvo. Just go.”

He inhaled sharply. "Very well then, Your Majesty."

"And take Wyman with you. They would only distract me."

He sighed morosely and nodded, taking his leave.

Corvo spent the rest of the afternoon with Wyman, seeing that they were both kicked out of the empress's chambers. They sat at a table on a balcony overlooking the gardens, watching the workers clearing out the dead plants. Normally the view would be pleasant and charming, but now its visage helped fuel his dark mood.

Wyman was fiddling around with the teacup in their hands. "Well," they said in a purposely cheerful tone, "I'll admit this wasn't what I was expecting." They smiled sadly. "She promised she would have lunch with me."

"She's acting oddly," Corvo grumbled. "Beyond what these circumstances would justify. Keeping me at a distance."

"Her embraces feel different," Wyman lamented. At Corvo's bemused expression, they hurried to explain, "Hugs, not-not that you're thinking of! Actual hugs!"

"Right," Corvo accepted easily, before attempting to change the subject. "You can't recall anything important she's said to you? Anything of note?"

"I'm sorry, my lord, but I can't think of anything that's helpful. Unless you find the status of her diet and sleeping habits helpful."

"Is she not eating as well?"

"When we had dinner a few nights ago, she refused to eat any pastries, saying it was too sweet. And she couldn't manage more than a few bites of goose. It seems she's gotten accustomed to small meals."

A side effect of being on the run, one he used to know too well. "As for her sleeping?"

"She avoids it as much as she can. And when she can't, it's always nightmares. She," Wyman hesitated, looking away. "She calls out for her mother, in her dreams. She won't talk to me when I try to ask about it."

Again, a reasonable reaction. Stress that caused her to revisit a painful memory.

"Oh! I almost forgot. One time, when she was caught between consciousness and slumber, she started to moan about a boy with black eyes. I couldn't figure anything else, she woke before she could elaborate." Wyman's self-satisfied smile wavered when they noticed the Lord Protector's sudden pallor. "Lord Corvo? Is something the matter?"

Corvo shook his head. "I'm just wondering what that's supposed to mean," he lied.

"It is strange, isn't it? I’ve spent many days pondering over its meaning.” They sighed. “I wish she would only talk to me about it.”

When Corvo bade farewell to the noble, he retired early to his rooms for the evening. It took far too long to drift off into nothingness, but his wish was granted when he next found himself in the Void.

It was different now. Harsher, bleaker, colder, even though the Void had always been merciless. He briefly wondered why, before pushing the thought away. That wasn't why he was here.

"Dear Corvo." He turned to see the Outsider leaning against a twisted sculpture that vaguely resembled a tree. The god was never exceptionally expressive, but Corvo could see that he was curious and amused at the unexpected visit. "You've missed me so soon!"

"You've been visiting Emily," Corvo said, straight to the matter.

The Outsider tilted his head. "Why so surprised? I've visited her as a child as well."

"And I told you then to leave her alone. And I'm telling you now to stop."

The Outsider was silent for a long while. For once he didn't seem to be mocking Corvo. "As you wish. I'll stop seeking her out. Would that make everything as it was before, Lord Protector?"

No, Corvo realized as the weeks passed. Emily kept her distance and would only converse with him as formally as possible if she was required to interact with him at all. And in that time he had finally started to accept the fact that, this time, he really did lose his daughter.

On the first day of the Month of Darkness, a grand celebration was held to commemorate the rebuilding of Dunwall. Though there was still much work to be done, such as developing oversight for the other isles’ governments and rooting out dissenters, the court decided an event would be good to uplift the citizens’ spirits. During the day, a procession ran through the streets, banners bearing Empress Emily I’s sharp gaze, commoners shouting and proclaiming their loyalty to Her Highness.

It was a rather frantic affair within the Tower’s walls, servants hustling to and fro. Banquet tables were being set and adorned in the Great Hall, with baked rabbits and grilled fish arranged in a visually appealing manner. The doors leading out to the adjacent garden were thrown open, the weather being an only pleasant chill this time of the year. Patio tables were wiped down and decorated with fresh flowers, and the court musicians were playing a calming tune.

For his part Corvo was taking note of every available entrance into the Tower, conjuring possible scenarios of how exactly the evening could go badly. He had the City Watch and his own spies posted at various key posts, outside and inside, and several guests planned to be his informants. It was the first major event since the coup, as Emily had declined to have a birthday celebration this year. While he wasn’t currently speaking to her, Corvo knew his daughter enough that she wasn’t too keen on having a party, but acquiesced in order to keep Dunwall nobility content. They wanted to feel as though they’ve made progress, that a political disruption wouldn’t happen, at least for a little while.

“Everyone’s ready,” Jameson said, striding up to Corvo who stood in the middle of the garden, surveying the area. Unlike High Overseer Khulan and other associates, Jameson avoided Delilah’s wrath as he was originally away on business in Tyvia, and decided to stay and lay low there as the Abbey launched their offensive. As soon as he heard the witch’s demise, he returned immediately to continue serving the crown. “The Guard’s about to allow guests in.”

“What have you heard?”

“Nothing. Silence. As far as we know, Delilah has no remaining allies. The ones who advocated her reign have all been quietly disposed of as well.”

It was curious how all of Delilah’s notable proponents have either disappeared or suddenly lost interest in politics. Besides Ramsey, who was currently serving a lifelong prison sentence in Coldridge, Jindosh had become utterly uninterested in his previous aspirations, Abele took a sudden interest in helping Stilton improve conditions for miners, and no one had heard anything from Curator Ashworth. And while Corvo knew better, and he knew Jameson certainly knew better, there had been no leads in the intelligence community of what really happened.

Corvo supposed that it was for the best. It would only be disaster if Emily and the Crown Killer were concretely linked.

Jameson continued, “On the small chance something does happen, it’ll be independent of the coup.”

Corvo said, “Check up on the new Captain, see if he needs anything.”

Jameson nodded before walking back into the Great Hall. Corvo was poised to head back inside, when he got the peculiar feeling of being watched. His Mark, hidden under scraps of fabric, hummed, confirming his suspicions.

He turned back to contemplate the garden. From their side the musicians paid him no mind, tuning their instruments. He glanced at the columns lining the center, too high and steep for any normal person to climb up on. He looked up. And there, at the very top, was a masked figure, crouched to be less conspicuous, watching him silently.

Corvo reached for his officer’s-style sword, a shout at the tip of his tongue, before he suddenly recognized the figure.

“Emily?”

He had no idea how she got up there. She could have jumped from the roof running parallel to the columns, but the distance was too great.

He was about to shout at her to come down before a guard arrived abruptly, demanding his attention for a possible break-in. When he glanced back at the column, she had disappeared.

“I thought all entrances were covered,” Corvo said in a flat tone of voice.

“Except for one,” the guard said gravely.

The “entrance” that the guard dragged Corvo to was a vent in the bathroom.

Corvo sighed, pressing his fingertips to his temples, tuning out the guard’s ravings. “Get back to your post.”

“You misunderstand, Lord Protector. A witch could possess a rat and travel through the vents! My uncle told me he knew a guy who saw it happened years ago!”

After enduring his diatribe for another five minutes, Corvo left the guard in the bathroom, the beginnings of a migraine starting to take hold.

Besides the scandalous actions of some nobles serving as fuel for court gossip, the party went on uneventfully. No witches were possessing rats this time, as Corvo moved between the guests, wishing them a good evening, and he checked up on his informants. The empress made an appearance at the beginning of the party to greet guests before vanishing. Corvo assumed she had retreated to a private area with her lover, until he saw Wyman by the banquet table, sampling the wine.

Corvo sidled up to a lax Jameson. “And Her Majesty?”

“Retired to her chambers. Claimed she wasn’t feeling too well.”

Corvo doubted that but he nodded anyway. He was too wound up to languidly watch the musicians and the dancers like Jameson, so he excused himself with the intent of patrolling the grounds once again.

On his second loop of patrol, he was stopped outside the tower by a worried guard, except this time around the guard seemed level-headed and with an actual concern.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but I overheard some suspicious guards chatting and I thought you should know.”

“What’s going on?” Corvo said.

“I heard them in the barracks, a group of six. Said they found a hidden passage to steal the tower’s riches. I was about to go inform the captain.”

Corvo waved him off. “I’ll handle it. Go inform Jameson to guard the safe room.”

Like Jameson had said earlier, the chances of an enemy like Delilah coming to cause chaos was miniscule, but it would still be best for the Royal Protector to investigate himself.

There were no signs of any guards at the barracks, as it should be, as all guards this night were to be on high alert and at their posts. He crouched, pressing himself up against the wall of the building, and leaned around the corner.

The group of guards were standing there, semi-hidden by the shade cast by the high walls of the tower, in the alcove at the far corner of the courtyard. They seemed highly agitated and their barely contained harsh whispers were increasing in volume.

“The drain is too small for people, you lug! The information you bought was shit.”

“Listen, we’re already halfway there, we can’t just go home empty-handed.”

“How do you think--”

Hatters, Corvo realized, by their accents and body language. They were fidgeting in their uniforms, tugging at the collars, uncomfortable with its tightness. Must have scavenged the uniforms from corpses during the coup and bided their time.

Corvo clenched his left hand, his Mark humming in anticipation. Six targets all together in one cluster, not likely to be moving away from each other any time soon. He had only two sleeping darts, and he’d prefer to keep them all alive to weed out the remaining Hatters.

Before he could make his move, however, three of the Hatters stiffened at once before dropping, all landing in a giant heap on the ground. The Hatter who had been yelling leaped back with a gasp, drawing up his sword. Another one spotted Corvo and shouted at him, gesturing at him, alerting his companions to the presence of the Royal Protector.

Using the sudden confusion to his advantage, Corvo blinked behind the one Hatter who hadn’t yet moved, swinging his arm around the neck and holding on as the man struggled. The man was out just as the remaining Hatters realized he was behind them. They moved closer to him, wearing twin expressions of determination, their swords unsheathed.

Corvo took out his own and motioned for them to come closer.

One darted forward and swung down his sword; Corvo blocked it and ducked in time to avoid the other blade. He leapt out of the way every time they reached for him, parrying their attacks. When their onslaught slowed for a few precious seconds, he reached inside his coat and pulled out his crossbow, firing a dart at the one closest to him.

The remaining Hatter bellowed in rage and threw the bottle he had at his belt right at Corvo’s crossbow, knocking it out of his hand. He rushed at an unbalanced Corvo, his sword nearly right at his neck, which Corvo managed to block right in time. Their swords locked and the Hatter grinned at him, feeling victorious in the belief that he was about to best the famous Royal Protector.

Corvo saw something, inky blue and purple, in his peripheral vision, but it was moving too fast for him to react. One second the Hatter’s snarling face was right next to his, and the next he was careening backwards through the air with a shout, the darkness wrapped tightly around his middle.

The Hatter landed next to a figure engulfed in the shadows of the barracks, a figure Corvo did not notice until then. The stranger quickly wrapped an arm around the Hatter’s neck before he could retaliate. Mere moments later the criminal fell.

Corvo shifted, readying his sword.

The figure stepped out of the shadow and into the moonlight.

Emily.

Corvo watched, stunned, as the inky darkness retreated back into Emily’s left hand before disappearing. From then it was only logical to figure out how the first three Hatters were knocked out. Emily did it, with witchcraft.

He stared at her. Her countenance had become unreadable, like it had once when she was a child, next to a destroyed porcelain statue, claiming to not know how it happened. Her eyes were much colder now.

She made a move as if to step closer to him, before pausing. “I would understand if you decide the best course of action would be to report me to the Abbey.”

His stare turned incredulous. “The Abbey. Me. Report my own empress, my own daughter , to the Abbey .”

“I’m a heretic now.” She waved her left hand towards it and he focused on it. And he felt like a fool. He had noticed her gloves earlier, of course, but he didn’t pay it much mind, even though before Emily wore them irregularly. He never entertained their possible significance.

He scoffed, shaking his head. Without much thought given to its possible implications, he pulled back the fabric covering his hand and lifted it up for her eyes. “Well I’m a heretic too.”

He wasn’t expecting her to roll her eyes. “I already know. Besides the endless rumors, I saw you using your ‘gifts’ when Duke Abele came to visit.” She tilted her head in consideration. “Thought Delilah took them from you though.”

“Our generous friend decided to regift them.”

At the mention of the god, Emily’s eyes shuttered. She looked away from him and back towards the tower. “I should return to the party.”

Before she could disappear again, Corvo said, “So that’s why you’ve been avoiding me? You’re ashamed about being Marked, so much that you refuse to tell me?”

“Listen, it really isn’t any of your concern--”

“I thought we’ve always agreed to tell the truth, to always be there for each other. We’ve made an oath--”

“When I was ten! I hardly think it to be so binding.”

“I know that being isolated in Karnaca was not easy--”

Emily glared at him. “You don’t know anything about what I went through.”

Corvo wanted to laugh at the absurdity. Instead he gave her a gentle smile. “Emily, I’m the only one who has any notion of what you went through.”

And with that the rigidity in her stance was gone, her body slumped, as if she was too weak to carry her own weight. Her eyes lowered to the earth and Corvo was struck by her sudden submissiveness. She was never one to back down so quickly, to give up so easily.

“When I revived you from stone, I lied,” she said. “I told you I managed to not spill blood when I went after Delilah. But… I did kill. More than once.” She laughed bitterly, harshly. “I even felt righteous in it at first. I… know we spent most of my life preparing for this, but…”

“But it doesn’t prepare you for death,” Corvo finished.

“No, it doesn’t.” She raised her hands up and flexed them, staring at them. “The first night he visited me. Told me that he visited you fifteen years ago, back in the ‘bad old days.’ Gave me this Mark and a Heart.” She looked up then and noticed his stillness. “You had it too, then. Had her.”

He nodded. “Only for a few weeks.”

“I had her for months. Didn’t want to give her up, but I had to, in order to stop Delilah.” She gave him a melancholic smile. “I lost my mother a second time.”

He remembered back to when she rescued him. One moment he had been panicking, trapped by creeping stone, knowing that once again he was unable to protect his empress. The next Emily was right in front of him, unkempt and exhausted, but wearing a relieved expression. After she assured herself he was safe, she would no longer look at him. Her voice was flat beyond the exhaustion. He did not notice at the moment, too bewildered by everything else.

He should have.

“I know it’s ridiculous,” Emily said. “I know it wasn’t really her.”

Corvo took a cautious step forward and then another when it looked like she wasn’t about to bolt. When he reached her, he carefully wrapped his arms around her. She let her head fall on his shoulder.

Sometimes he forgot how tall she was.

They stayed like that for some minutes, her shallow breaths turning deeper. At some point she returned the gesture, her arms squeezing him tightly, like back in the Hounds Pit pub, before he would leave for his missions. The silent “Please don’t leave me” hanging between them just like before.

Drawing a shaky breath, she pulled back and said, “I suppose we have a lot to catch up on.”

Thank you, he wanted to say. But he had a feeling if he pushed too hard, she would fly away.

“We should take care of this,” he said instead, nodding towards the bodies sprawled. “They thought they could get into the safe room.”

“Our absence made them overconfident,” she noted. “Don’t worry; they’ll learn.”

She walked back to unconscious Hatter she had taken out earlier, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him back over to the pile that was the rest of his gang.

It was at that moment that he noticed the folded sword at her hip. “You’ve had my sword this entire time?” Corvo had spent weeks scouring the tower and its grounds, interrogating guards and servants as to its whereabouts. He had been absolutely angry at the thought of a traitor keeping his sword.

She straightened back up and raised her eyebrows at him, a challenging look in her eyes. “I’m not giving it back.”

Well, better Emily than, say, Ramsey.

They caught the attention of patrolling guards and directed them to imprison the criminals for the night, until the Royal Protector and Spymaster came for a visit the next morning for a little chat. But in the meantime Corvo and Emily returned to the party together, side by side.

Remarkably, after the amount of liquor they’ve imbibed, Wyman was still mostly lucid. They perked up at the sight of the empress and her protector and hurried over to the two.

“Emily, Lord Corvo, this is fantastic, truly marvelous, to see you two together again. I’ve been so worried.” They sniffled, face turning red. “I truly feared you would never reconcile, that we would never again have breakfast together an-and laugh and gossip and--”

“Wyman, we’re in public,” Emily scolded softly. “We can talk in the morning, after you’ve slept this off.”

“But I’m just so happy,” Wyman wailed.

She shushed them.

They rubbed their eyes blearily, wiping away the moisture. “But,” they said, “we are going to have breakfast together, right?”

Corvo looked at Emily with a slight shrug.

Her smile in response was tentative, but he’d take it.

“Of course.”