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yanara126-writing · 3 months ago

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They Had To Die - 1

Corvo Attano enters Dunwall tower fully intending to kill the Lord Regent. It doesn't work out how he intends.

Read here or on Ao3 (3090 words)

Have fun! Comments always welcome! :)

Corvo slid the audiograph into the slot to play it for all the city to hear without much thought. He didn't quite know what was on it but whatever it was it would ruin the man. Perhaps even exonerate Corvo himself, though he wouldn't bet on it. His luck was not that good. Really he hadn't planned on doing it, hadn't even considered the possibility of proving the man's crimes, until the technician had brought it up. There was a vindictive part of him, the part that had demanded he take care of- No. That he kill the Royal Interrogator, the man who had tortured him for months on end and whose torments were the only interruption to his nightmares about Jessamine. Even as he skulked around everyone else, unwilling to kill people who had no idea about the atrocities being committed around them, that man had to die. That same part that had driven him to spill the only blood he had in the last week also demanded that he not simply kill the Lord Regent, the Spymaster, the Traitor. No, simple death was too good for the man who had Jessamine murdered and Emily held captive for months.

Whatever it was he'd been expecting when the audiograph slid out of view, it wasn't what he heard. Not a confession of plotting for the throne, not at first. The plague. The plague had been his fault as well. Corvo finds himself slumping against the machine, listening as raptly as the rest of the city surely was. There was so much more here than even he had been expecting. And yet... He thought he should call it worse. Jessamine would. And he was angry, not only for the lives pointlessly lost on accident when the plague had apparently gone out of control, but also for those intentionally extinguished, murdered for one man's idea of prosperity. Yet still, with honesty that was only possible in the corners of his own mind, he knew he wouldn't call it worse. That deep in his heart he could never consider anything worse than the murder of Jessamine and the pain inflicted on Emily. And then Burrows kept talking.

"I knew the truth would come out eventually. So there was no other way than to be rid of her, and take power myself. She had to die, you see. SHE HAD TO DIE."

The words, dry and almost desperate themselves kept reverberating in Corvo's ears as he bonelessly slid down the metal wall, his legs giving out underneath him. He'd known Burrows had been behind her murder. It was why he was here. He'd known, even before the Traitor had made it perfectly clear, that day before his scheduled execution. But hearing this now, hearing his twisted reasoning, hearing that Jessamine had been killed for being too close to uncovering a conspiracy... He should have seen it. It didn't matter that reconnaissance wasn't part of his job, he should have seen the danger to her right in front of his face, should have known that something was up when they sent him away, out of reach to protect her. He hadn't and now she was dead.

SHE HAD TO DIE

The words just kept roaring through his mind and he curled up tight, hands desperately pressed over his ears and face into his knees as if that would help, as if it could ever keep out the guilt drowning him. Suddenly the mask felt suffocating, as if it was melding into his head, weighing it down and pressing in with violence, so he yanked at the fastening and threw it across the small room, only dimly hearing it clank loudly into the wall. Distantly he could feel his nails start to dig into his scalp and something hot running running down the side of his head.

SHE HAD TO DIE

Over and over the torturous echo thundered through his mind, bouncing off every nook and cranny to be found there, louder and louder until he was sure his ears would bleed. Burrows was still talking, some distant, unreachable part of him that was still aware of the outside world supplied, but Corvo heard none of it. He vaguely registered the ping of the audiograph popping back out of the machine eventually and while it did nothing to quell noise in his head, it did make him aware of his location and his own ragged breaths. His head felt too warm, whether from tears, blood or exertion he had no way of telling or caring. But he had to get out. Now.

He stumbled his way to his feet, unsteady and clumsy and wobbled over to where he'd thrown the mask. Without any thought but the blaring need to get OUT he picked it up and put it back on. It still felt suffocating, wrong, but even that took a backseat to the all-consuming instinct to just run. One foot after the other and head filled with a cacophony of screams he stumbled his way down the stairs, past the deactivated arch pylon and out into the abandoned hallway. He blinked to a lamp and then down to the door more from muscle memory than active decision. The door surrendered to his forceful push and suddenly he was outside, surrounded by giant headlights and tallboys strutting across the yard. Cold air crept into his collar and under the mask, making him shiver for a moment, but it didn't help the earsplitting, blinding fog in his head.

Heedless of the lights and possible guards that he'd avoided before Corvo made a beeline for the Pavillon. For her grave. The stone with her name on it. He reached his goal in a haze, standing in front of the headstone and the world around him vanished.

She had to-

She had t-

His breath quickened and yet there was not enough air in his lungs. He gasped desperately trying to breathe past whatever was pressing down on his throat. Something was suffocating him slowly but surely and he couldn't- Where- he was in Coldridge strung up to a table and the torturer was slowly tightening the metal bands around his chest and throat. He couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't breathe because SHE WAS DEAD-

Excruciating pain exploded through his back and he was thrown forward into the balustrade of the pavilion, slamming his head into the stone railing. Everything burnt and he was pretty sure he was bleeding from multiple open wounds but the fog had receded somewhat. He was at Dunwall Tower, and he had to not be here. Survival instinct took over, pushing past the suffocating feelings and Burrow's words still playing over and over in his head as Corvo realized a tallboy must have spotted him. He heard it charge up yet another electrical blast behind him and from one moment to the next he registered the blaring alarm.

Fuck.

With no moment to think, to focus and remember himself, Corvo simply threw himself over the railing, off the cliff and down to the walkways a good few metres below right as the charge hit the stone where he was just laying, blasting off part of the railing with a thunderous crack. The impact of his body onto the ground rattled something loose in him, both in his head and probably his chest considering the stabbing pain shooting from his ribs, and he remembered that he could have just blinked down, saving himself the probably broken ribs. Well, too late now.

The alarm was still loudly ringing through the complex and there were footsteps coming closer, as well as, more alarmingly, dog barking. Hissing through his teeth at the pain Corvo struggled to his feet and started running into the direction of the water-lock. No time for stealth, he'd already been spotted and deep in bones he knew that if he stayed still too long and let the adrenaline dip he would never get out of here again.

He only made it a few steps up the stairs to the gate when the dogs got him, the guards thankfully still a ways behind. One dog got him in the lower leg, sinking its teeth into his already bruised and burt flesh. A second one leapt onto his back as he stumbled, ripping into his right shoulder. He couldn't help the scream as he tripped, pushed over by the momentum and slipping on his own blood, only just managing to bring up his arms and not slam his head into the stairs. Desperately Corvo reached for his sword and stabbed blindly behind himself, catching one dog with the blade and irritating the other into letting go. Before it could latch on again he kicked his still somewhat whole leg out with as much force as he could muster. Something cracked but he didn't stay to check if he'd killed the cur. He scrambled back up and ran, forcing the doors open with his shoulder and nearly screaming again from the pain as the bloodied mass collided with steel, but the door gave.

Then the guards started firing at his back, loud cracks of pistol shots adding to the cacophony sounding through his ears. Finally at the edge of the water-lock Corvo made out a ledge further down where the bullets couldn't reach him, at least until the guards caught up, and forced all his remaining focus into a blink, but his concentration was too far gone. He threw himself through the void, the tell-tale tingle in his fingertips insignificant next to the burning agony, and reappeared a split second later, a hair's breath away from the ledge. He'd misjudged the distance. His eyes widened and he desperately threw his arm out, trying to catch himself on the ledge, but the stone was smooth and his strength fast fading. The ledge slipped out from under his helpless fingers and he plummeted down to the water below.

When he hit the surface his vision went white with pain and then everything felt suddenly very far removed. He could feel his body go limp and sink further down, detached, as if he was simply an uninvolved observer, and for that moment it was almost peaceful. Then the pesky need to breathe reared its head and from one second the next the agony returned, as well the raw, uncontrolled urge to survive. Without thought of anything he started struggling against the force dragging him down, kicking and throwing his arms to get up, Up, UP again until he finally broke the surface and gasped for air.

But he couldn't stay there, eventually the guards he could still hear shouting above him would think to look down. Dredging up the last bit of adrenaline he could still reach Corvo started swimming, ignoring the burning of open wounds and broken bones and the bloodtrail he was certainly spilling into the water. By the time he had left the lock behind himself and was in eyesight of Samuel and his boat his limbs were giving out. He dragged himself through the water as far as he could but it wasn't enough and just outside the boat's reach he started to sink again, body heavy as his arms and legs refused any further movement. He tried to get back up for air, to get into the boat, he tried, he tried so hard, *Emily, forgive me, I swear I tried*-

Water started pouring into his mouth, down his throat and into his lungs the same second as hands grabbed him under his arms and pulled him upwards. He broke the surface and started coughing, barely more than a limp, useless fish as his saviour yanked him over the side of the boat where Corvo stayed down only just so managing to undo the mask before he continued coughing and vomiting up water, lacking even the strength to claw into the wooden surface from the pain. After a moment of shuffling a blanket was gently draped over him which did little to really help the bonechilling cold settling into his limbs but it was appreciated anyway. The boat started moving as Samuel - it must have been Samuel, who'd fished him out of the water and given him the blanket, bless his soul - turned on the motor and started steering them away from the chaos that was Dunwall tower.

They stayed in relative silence for a while, Samuel keeping his hands on the rudder while Corvo was hacking out his lungs and shivering at the bottom of the boat, desperately clinging to the blanket. Only when they were a good distance away from the Tower where it was unlikely anyone would still be looking for them did Samuel speak up.

"Are you- are you alright, Corvo?" The question was certainly driven by honest concern, but Corvo nearly started laughing hysterically. Even drawing another breath had him coughing and spitting again however, his throat burning from the abuse along with the rest of him. "No, that was a stupid question, I'm sorry," Samuel muttered and the boat stopped moving as the quiet hum of the motor fell silent. Corvo was too tired to even wonder why. He found out regardless as Samuel crouched down beside him and started gently rummaging through Corvo's pockets, careful not to jostle him. Perhaps it should have concerned him to have someone else fumble with his stash that includes quite a few weapons while he was incapacitated like this, but it was Samuel who'd been nothing been kind to him and more importantly Emily, and Corvo was so, so very tired. It didn't take Samuel long to find whatever he was looking for and Corvo found himself pulled up into a halfway sitting position, leaning against the other man and unsure of how he'd gotten there. A bottle was pressed to his lips, tipping its cool contents into his mouth and he reflexively swallowed. The elixir ran smoothly down his throat, calming the itching burn that came from too much coughing and alleviating the pain throughout his body. Even his mangled leg stopped bleeding quite as badly and his ribs set somewhat. He still felt sore all over but at least it wasn't quite as agonizing anymore.

For a moment Corvo simply closed his eyes and breathed, leaning against Samuel who patiently sat still and waited. He was so, so cold and desperate for a change of clothes as well as a towel to dry his hair that was sticking to his head in a horrible mop.

"I can see it wasn't quite smooth this time, but you did a good job Corvo, you should know that. Even from the boat I could hear the announcements that they arrested the High Regent." Corvo went completely still, eyes suddenly wide, staring into the night sky above them. He'd- he'd forgotten about the mission. About killing the Traitor. The recording- it had shaken him so much he hadn't been able to think about anything else. He'd simply run. He hadn't killed the High Regent. He'd failed.

His breath started coming more quickly again as his chest felt too tight. The darkness of the night sky, blacker than the void, came closer and was about to swallow him whole. He couldn't- He didn't-

A hand started hesitantly rubbing circles on his back, the warmth pressing through his clothes in a startling contrast to the freezing wet cold. "It's alright, Corvo, it's over. We're almost back and I'm sure everyone- I'm sure Lady Emily will be happy to have you back. Everyone will shower you in praise and you can get something dry to change into. I'm sure they'll even get out the good stuff from the back cabinet. It's a big occasion and all with how you saved Dunwall. The High Regent is gonna rot in Coldridge forever with the confession you played for everyone. No getting out of that one without causing a riot." The words were halting, stumbling every new sentence as if unsure if they were the right ones. Rambling designed to distract with their amount rather than intended to truly communicate anything.

It did help a bit, grounded his thoughts back in reality. No, he hadn't killed Burrows. Maybe he should have. Maybe it was the right thing to do, but what was done was done. Burrows wouldn't get out of Coldridge, he had no allies that would risk their neck to get him out. And if it came to it, if heeded to be put down (if he needed to die)... Well, as Royal Protector to- to the new Empress. Emily would be empress. As Royal Protector to the new Empress he would have more than enough authority to have the man executed. Do it himself even. He could- he could fix this. His breathing evened out and the hand slowly receded though the older man made no move to leave completely, only looked at him with open concern.

Corvo wanted to thank him, assure him it was fine (it wasn't, would never be again, but that wasn't Samuel's fault), but the words wouldn't come. It happened sometimes, more since Coldridge. Instead he lifted a hand to his chin, the left one, as his right shoulder still protested painfully, and signed the thank you. Samuel, well meaning as he was, just seemed confused though assured that at least he was lucid again, and Corvo sighed, wiping away a drop of water that had run down into his eye. In the end he settled for simply nodding to the boatsman, an easy enough gesture to interpret, and Corvo sighed, wiping away a drop of water that had run down into his eye. In the end he settled for simply nodding to the boatsman, an easy enough gesture to interpret, and Samuel relaxed, a relieved smile on his face. He gave Corvo one more clap on the shoulder and got up with a grunt to bring them back the rest of the way, leaving Corvo to lie back down and try to rest, if only for a few minutes. He mercifully did not ask anything about the mission and Corvo offered nothing in return. They remained silent the rest of the ride back to the pub, only accompanied the splashing of the fans in the water, the quiet hum from the motor and their own thoughts.

She didn't have to die. Corvo didn't know if that was a comfort or not.

#dishonored #writing #fanfiction #corvo attano #samuel beechworth #angst #low chaos corvo #hallucinations #panic attacks #grief #referenced torture #selectively mute corvo #corvo/jessamine #he is just having a wretched time honestly #guys this is my third fic since i started playing 10 days ago #i have no idea what is happening #this will be a two parter btw

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