#Corvo/daud/thomas

[void-damned]

It is that time of the year again!

My Dishonored Fugue Feast (@dishonoredgiftexchange) gift for Mead (@meadmeinthemiddle) with the combination of their prompts 'Corvo abandoning the throne and raising Emily in Serkonos after Jessamine’s death' and 'Corvo/Daud/Thomas'.

Hope you enjoy!

Also I swear there will be art one day—

you always said how you loved dogs (i don't know if i count, but i'm trying my best)

(click on title to go to the fic ;D)

Working or alternative title: every road i have been on (it leads me back to you) Rating: T+ Word Count: 25,831 Warnings: Canon-typical Violence

Pairings: Corvo Attano/Daud/Thomas, background Theodanis Abele/Aramis Stilton

On the seventh day of celebrating the restoration of the young Empress Emily to her throne, Corvo Attano snaps.

It is not a gradual onset but rather the result of months during which Corvo would bottle up his feelings. All the anger and fury, all the sadness, and all the vengeance for the unjust. The feelings of a father wrongly accused and separated from his child.

For those seven blissful days, he succeeds in holding it together. At least until another noble makes a passing comment, degrades his still too young daughter for being a child when that is all Emily should be at the age of thirteen.

She deserves a sense of normalcy in her life after witnessing the death of her mother, after being kidnapped and held prisoner, after nearly being used as a tool for puppet monarchy.

A child!

So it is on the seventh day that Corvo rises from his seat in the middle of Parliament and disappears into the streets of Dunwall.

(This year's special thank you goes to @shower-man for additional proofreading and commentary, @graedari for standing up for democracy, and the Duki Luki group chat for enacting said democracy, aka choosing the title <3)

[adozentothedawn]

The Death of the Empress, 1837

[reckoning1187]

Hear me out… all the Whalers look the same right? So how does Daud tell them apart?? Well, Billie’s obviously the only other one in a red coat, and Thomas is always lurking so he’s not horribly difficult to identify… But there’re 40+ more Whalers!

I love the idea of Daud nametagging all of them. Like the stickers in school you would put on your shirt that say “Hi, my name is:____”

🤣 And now I can’t stop imagining it. 😭

[graedari]

Indulgent doodle page of Fin-Tastic Aquarium :)

[yanara126-writing]

The Many Meetings of Death and Death (2/5) - Ghost

Daud is a wreck. Corvo is a player avatar. Neither of them is happy about it.

Well maybe the Outsider is.

-

Read here or on Ao3 (2359 words)

Have fun! Comments always welcome! :)

--

Daud is a wreck. He knows it, even without seeing the looks his Whalers give him. He knows he scares them but there is nothing he can do about it anymore. He's been cracked down the middle for a long time, and the sword he's rammed into the empress had equally rammed a wedge into that crack, ruining his careful paint job. Sitting here now at his same old desk waiting for Attano to come and get his revenge was the closest he's felt to peace in six months. Either way, whatever comes of it, today it will be over.

Thomas stands in front of him, masked and stiff, as he reports that Attano's cell has been found empty. There is no sign of the man anywhere, as if he has simply vanished into thin air. Daud is unsurprised, the man has been essentially a ghost since the empress's murder (though how much of it was really his choice in those six months?). Neither is Thomas it seems. Even without seeing his face Daud knows well what his second thinks of the plan. Knows that Thomas knows he doesn't expect to survive this. Knows that Thomas agrees and resents him for it. Attano may be a ghost, but history is full of stories of vengeful spirits, literal or otherwise. Is Daud himself not one of them?

Daud doesn't want to die. He thought about it once, but the appeal didn't hold for long. (Truly it felt strange to even think about it, as if he's already come to the conclusion but his head hadn't caught up yet.) He wants- he wants what he gave Billie. He wants to be set free from his guilt and his regrets, as much as anyone can be. But in contrast to Billie, there is no one left who could forgive him. He succeeded where Billie failed and with that cut himself off from any way out, any recourse, any possible path to redemption.

All but one.

He doesn't delude himself into thinking true redemption could lie at the end of the path, but maybe it can at least be some relief. He has paid back some of his harm to the girl by dealing with Delilah, but that was a non-repeatable coincidence. The only way he knows to pay back Attano even a tiny smidge is by letting the man get a piece of him. So no, Daud does not want to die, despite what Thomas thinks, but he is ready to face it. He will give Attano the fight he owes him. (That thought too itches strangely somewhere in his mind. As if Attano has already left his mark on him. But then, hasn't he? It was the Empress's blood that ran down his fingers, staining them forever, but it was those despairing grey eyes that made sure he can never see the colour again without drowning in his own despair. And Dunwall is very grey.)

"Understood. Deal with the sentries as you will." Under different circumstances he would be furious and every single lookout would be running the gauntlet a hundred times, but truthfully he doesn't see a point to it. Attano has proven over and over just how undetectable he is for anyone looking, punishment will not change that. And deep down he knows that he is selfish. He doesn't want his Wahlers' last memories of him to be of anger. He deserves it, and perhaps it would be better for them in the long run, being able to leave the thought of him behind with disdain rather than his own suffocating regret, but Daud is and always has been selfish. Let this be the single spark of something good in his legacy of blood.

For the same reason he is glad for Thomas' mask, hiding the young man's face. He doesn't need to see to know the way that resignation creases his brows and thins his lips, he's seen it often enough before, over the years and even more often in these days since Billie's departure, but he prefers not facing it again. It wouldn't change anything, Daud knows he is as stubborn as he is selfish, but it would hurt.

Thomas says nothing for as long as he can get away with, and Daud lets him. Eventually though the silence must end, as all things do.

"Yes sir." Nothing shines through Thomas' inflection or movement. To any observer he would seem entirely composed and neutral as he bows and turns. Daud doesn't need to touch the arcane bond to recognize it for the lie it is. For the first time in years Thomas is scared, and Daud can do nothing about it.

Thomas transverses out of the room with no more comment. For one morbid moment Daud wonders if he just wants to enjoy the last minutes of his powers, but the thought whips away as quickly as it came. Some Whalers would certainly do so, but not Thomas. Thomas simply wanted to leave.

With nothing left to do but await his inevitable reckoning, Daud sits down behind his desk, the rickety old chair creaking under his weight, and waits for a ghost.

The first thing Daud becomes aware of is that his head hurts. The second thing he becomes aware of is that the rest of his body isn't much better. Void blast it, he feels as if a whale was dropped on him with the way every muscle in his body aches. The third thing he becomes aware of is that he should be dead. Probably. His head is resting on something cracked and woody, presumably his desk since that is the last place he remembers being. His limbs aren't tied to anything, both legs and arms hanging limp and aching, and he cannot hear anyone else in the room. Slowly and carefully he drags himself up from where he is slumped over his desk, not able to suppress the pained groan forcing itself from his throat. The room seems to tilt before his eyes and he is forced to press his eyes shut for a moment, waiting for the dizziness to subside. Eventually he blinks and looks over the empty room.

No one is here. No ghost, no human, not even a rat. He checks with his void gaze, the world becoming tinted in the same old dull blue, looks through the surrounding walls and sees nothing before he is forced to return to his normal vision or empty his stomach from the nausea muddling his head. He feels- well he feels like shit, but that is still remarkably better than he expected to feel when he sat down here... However long ago. He squints through the hole in the wall he calls a window and tries to judge how much time has passed. He dimly remembers it being around noon, but now the sun is almost setting beyond the ruins of the Flooded District.

Another careful rolling of all his limbs reveals that everything is where it's supposed to be and as far as he can tell he isn't injured. Beyond the hammering in his head and the pervasive aching he is perfectly fine. Another, more careful glance around does however reveal that he has been robbed very thoroughly. His keys are gone, as is the pouch he uses for coin, as are his audiographs and bone charms. Had he left out the paperwork for prior contracts Attano probably would have nabbed that too. The only thing the man left behind is a sheet of paper that wasn’t on his desk before.

Hesitantly Daud reaches for the paper precariously balanced on the edge of his desk in front of him. (It's angled in a way that makes him suspect it might have been balanced on his head before and he hadn't noticed it falling.) The texture identifies it as one of the wanted posters he has hung on his wall, as reminders both of past contracts and future possibilities. This one in particular is of Lizzie Stride (a keepsake more as a joke than for any useful reason), but the important part is the back of the poster, scribbled full with tight curved writing in his own ink. The pen is still lying next to the open inkwell, dripping excess fluid into the wood of the desk. The hollow feeling of frustration is easier to focus on than the terrible confusion and trepidition. Bastard could have at least closed the inkwell, that shit isn't cheap these days.

But the writing doesn't vanish and neither does his headache, no ghost appears and everything stays quiet but for the gentle rushing of water that permeates the entirety of the Flooded District, so eventually Daud has to face the facts. Attano came through. The man had him at his mercy, despite his best attempt to stay vigilant, and let him live. Whatever revenge he enacted is barely worse than an unpleasent hangover. And he left a letter.

'To Daudshit Dipshit,' Already the first line makes Daud want to rip his eyes out, but through decades of vigorous training of staring down misbehaving brats he keeps his reaction to a twitch of an eye. The paper in his hands crinkles in his grip but doesn't rip.

'How come you get so many non-lethal weapons? I have to make do with just a maximum of ten sleep-darts and my own damn arms. I have shot too many people point blank in the chest with a dart because they surprised me, why the fuck do I not get stun mines? Chokedust? A bonecharm to make choking faster?' ...What? He- What?? (Something about his baffling confusion feels familiar, in that strange way that thinking of Attano always does these days. As if he's done it before. He's sure somehow the black-eyed bastard is responsible and so he decides to ignore it.)

'You should know that despite this, I still wasted a whole three sleep darts on you. I hope you wake up with the world's worst hangover. Don't bother looking for your keys or purse, I robbed you blind and we both know you deserve it.

Sincerely,

Corvo'

For a few moments Daud simply sits and stares. Is he still asleep? Did Attano knock him out hard enough to cause hallucinations? Is the black-eyed bastard torturing him? No, he knows well the Void feels different. As he sits in his chair he can feel the dampness in the wood under his hands, can hear the creaking of the floorboards and the occasional hiss of the river krusts at the edge of the building that they never got rid of to keep the fresh recruits on their toes. The Void always feels empty, no matter how many things it shows him. There is always the underlying hollowness gaping there whenever the black-eyed bastard decides to hold him a disappointed speech. This here, this place that he has spent years in now, raising a whole generation of Whalers, is real, with its reeking, screeching, terrible and familiar presence. So is the letter in his hands. Somehow. Before he can put down the paper, perhaps to scream, perhaps to calmly light a smoke, perhaps to throw himself out of a window and see if that sets the universe right again, he sees a narrowly scrawled post script at the bottom of the sheet.

Despite his better knowledge he doesn't hesitate to read it.

'Ps. Teach your Whalers some fucking workplace safety, I had to save one from drowning because they fell off a ledge when I knocked them out.'

He still sits at his desk, blankly staring at the page when Thomas comes bursting in through the door, sword in hand, mask askew and gasping for breath. He freezes in the doorway at seeing Daud just sitting at his desk. Barely a second passes until he's pushed stumbling into the room, nearly falling over his own feet as three, four, five Whalers try to force themselves through the doorway at the same time, all in similarly disheveled state with weapons drawn. Running footsteps are sounding in the middle distance and he's starting to feel the sharp tug at the bond of frantic transversals from Whalers further off.

Faced with the absolute absurdity of the moment, his baffling confusion at the letter, the strange feelings of déjà vû haunting him, the utter lack of closure Attano granted him, Daud starts to laugh. He laughs loud and long, his head thrown back, until there are tears in his eyes and his laughs turn silent from lack of air. He's not quite sure what he's laughing about really, it's not like anything is really funny. Attano is clearly insane, either has always been or has lost his mind to the torture of Coldrige, Daud has been denied the one thing he has lived for the last few months, and his Whalers are behaving like the untrained street-rats he's trained out of them. Really he should be livid, and perhaps he is, but in that moment all he can do is sit at his desk and laugh until the tears stream down his face and his shoulders shake as if he's sobbing. Damn both Attano and the black-eyed bastard. Whatever comes now comes after.

(The group of Whalers watching in a strange mixture of horror and relief grows for about two minutes, until Thomas regains his own senses and starts shooing them out again. Rinaldo and Rulfio take up post outside of the door, unbidden but appreciated, and keep out the younger members who don't quite understand what is happening. Fisher and Montgomery only throw one glance through the window before setting up in the kitchen and trying to throw a meal together from what has survived their recent prisoner's escape. Daud's adrenaline crash after the months-long tension will not be pretty and it does not come in the way they've been expecting, but at the end of the day every Whaler gives the Outsider their thanks for it.)

(Daud eventually finds their shrine. He categorically refuses to give the black-eyed bastard the satisfaction of taking the rune.)

[no-light-left-on]

moment of silence for my corvo/daud/thomas fic that I started writing on a business trip last spring where corvo and thomas start fucking because daud isn't interested in sex and encourages his boyfriend in pursuing thomas and then thomas caught feelings and everything fell apart

[screwtheprinceimtakingthehorse]

BING BONG

yooooo if you'd like a preview of the Daud/Thomas/Corvo uuuh ~consummation epilogue ✨ (part 3 following Oh well, the Devil makes us sin and the monster whispers 'you haven't changed'), then head over to dreamwidth and make your dreams come truuueeeee

note: preview does not feature actual consummation, but mention thereof, so discretion is advised

A Long Day In Dunwall (heh)

also, the playlist is here

[rosedragonblast]

Voidtober, Part 3

Theme: Bones. Characters: Thomas, Billie. Mentions of Daud/Corvo. Thomas sits on the edge of the roof. He isn't afraid. He doesn't even think about dangers of his position. He just hangs hit feet to the gap below, swinging his boots in the air. Thomas smiles, continuing to squeeze his whale bone amulet in his hand. It rings slightly now and then, from time to time, like it's sending messages to the void. And it seems like it's getting an answer. — Years pass by, and you don't really change, Tommy. Billie sits right next to her former ally, getting an expected look from him. Thomas turns his head, looking at her with slight wonder and hatred in his eyes. — Why did you have to leave like this, Billie? You could have left silently. Possibly, you could have still had this position. As Daud's right hand. Yet. You threw it all away for a coo that didn't even succeed. — Seems like Delilah succeeded after all. — She didn't really. At least, she didn't hold the crown for too long, apparently.

— What did they do to her anyway? — Lord Corvo doesn't tell me, but i suspect he did something that didn't kill her. But she got her own prison to enjoy now. Even tho it sounds strange, seems like a good way out. Billie smirks, knowing all too well about the connection between Outsider, young empress and Corvo Attano. Even tho she managed to free the god of the other realm, it's power still lurks inbetween the borders. She can feel it. — You must be his fan. — Nothing more than a student really. Daud seems to be much closer to him.

— And what exactly does that mean? Thomas laughs at Billie's confused face. — He and Corvo seemed off for a bit. Until they revealed to a small protion of us that they became close acquaintances quite a long time ago, — And this old prick didn't tell me. Thomas laughs again, as he flips the amulet in his hand. He passes it to Billie. She doesn't consider this item valuable anymore, but it brings nostalgia. How they used to scavenge old ruins for bones and metal, crafting those hideous symbols of heresy. Just like any of these bones, people tend to turn to dust. Go back to nothing. But, as much as any of these amulets, they also hold secrets, whispers of the old times, good, bad memories of those periods. Their teenage years, when their bone carving skills sucked, and their amulets barely worked. How they became adults, making sure all those practises were put to good use. Remembering how Daud praised them for every single one.

— Good old times, ay? — Good old times, Tommy.

[liarliaronapyre]

Thomas: so… do we do anything???

Rulfio: idk I kinda want to see what happens

…

In case you’re wondering what the rest of the whalers are up to while Daud obsesses over Corvo in my DH1 Alternate ending fic (NEW CHAPTER OUT NOW!! THIS TIME WITH REAL SMUT ALSO VIOLENCE NOT CLICKBAIT????) Thomas and Rulfio are judging Daud’s slow spiral while Daud is watching Corvo’s very fast very violent constant train wreck.

Read part 1 about Corvo and Daud’s duel here.

Bonus Lara and Thistle <3

[reggie-hedgie]

Being into dishonored is so lonely, there’s no fics and I’m so sad about it. Why aren’t there any soft fluffy fics with our greasy rat eater Corvo or Whaler Father Daud??? I don’t wanna do it all myself, it takes forever to write hcs and my goofy half assed oneshot fics 😭

Also Thomas is underrated as hell, I love him. I love all the dishonored characters, it’s such a good series 😭

[shower-man]

@no-light-left-on what happened to cause this madness

It's 2am and I should be sleeping but I had a vision,

@no-light-left-on is to blame; and the rest of you get no context.

[adozentothedawn]

Hey so remember how I'm writing chapter five of my Dishonored fic? Yeah I need more insults for Daud to call the Outsider aside from just bastard, so I'm open to suggestions if you have some.

[fatamatryoshka]

serkonan au masterpost

finally posting a dishonored au that's been bouncing around my head for a while now. it's been buried in the Emsider cult discord till today and i haven't really worked on it all that much for the last few years but still wanted this post to serve as like a masterpost to link back to when I commission/write something set in it.

it’s basically just a no-rat-plague, nobody-dies-everybody-lives, childhood friends to lovers emsider au lol. based on the premise that a few minor choices made differently many decades ago results in a lot less angst. more under the cut

Jessamine discovers Euhorn's secret—that of her playmate being her sister and helps her on a path to inheriting the throne, because it's only the right thing to do.

Corvo is sent to Dunwall a few weeks late due to some uncertainty as to who he was to serve as Royal Protector for, because of spats about lines of succession and performative debates in Parliament about whether Euhorn should be ousted or not for siring an illegitimate heir with a commoner.

Paloma Attano is actually able to spend her final days on this earth with her son before passing away peacefully in her sleep one morning.

Corvo and Jess still meet as protector and charge but as someone who no longer has any obligation to keep up with what's expected of her on account of her not really being the empress apparent anymore, Jessamine abducates and moves to Karnaca with Corvo and their daughter and takes a local administrative job. The rest is history.

Deirdre doesn't die after the encounter with the crazed noble but instead she's nursed back to health by Billie after Daud and Thomas who happened to be in the area at the time in the rooftops for reconnaissance intervened and saved her life

Spared the immense grief and desperation that Deirdre's death would've begotten, Billie doesn't get sucked up into Daud's fold and in her place, Thomas becomes Daud's right hand.

Instead everything is as it once was: Billie and Deirdre against the world, always and together.

They make plans to leave Dunwall for southern shores

Absent Billie's keen eye and skills, something somewhere goes wrong during his contract to kill Empress Delilah and he fails his mission.

A bloody and magical duel later both Witch and Knife strike up an accord.

Daud and his Whalers switch sides and gets revenge on the conspiracy against her.

The rat plague is avoided, and Dunwall doesn't sink into chaos - much.

Billie and Deirdre Lurk have a small ceremony aboard the ship they stow away in to travel to Karnaca.

Deirdre, a curious soul, hears rumours of preternatural happenings near Shindaerey North Quarry and takes a trip there with her wife.

There they rescue an orphan boy from a group of cultists - Matvey. Billie gives him the Lurk name and they take him in as their son.

Shindaerey Peak being what it is, the rescue end ups happening 4000 years ago and they come back out of the Cultists' den back in the future, effectively transplanting Matvey into present day

The experience gives them nightmares to this day, though Matvey is too young to remember much other than dancing on his peasant mother's feet, his absentee nobleman father showing up one day after she died wanting to take him to a "pretty place" and putting him to sleep atop a slab of stone.

The land that his adopted mothers take him to and the languages they speak are alien to him

However with Deirdre and Billie's knowledge of some modern Tyvian and his having picked up a primitive version of the language they speak back during his time, from foreigners or neighbors' distant family members he'd occasionally talk to whilst they'd visit his village, they're able to meet halfway and relearning tongues becomes ever so slightly easier

Other changes like technology and culture are a bit harder to get used to.

Emily and Matvey grow up next door to each other. Emily is instantly captivated by him long before she ever knows about how separated they almost were in time and space.

Matvey loves that she, and by extension her family, doesn't give a single shit about social status unlike so many around them who have continued to do since his time.

Each also happen to think the other's eyes are the most beautiful thing in the world.

They help each other learn the other's languages

Emily, Matvey, Alexi and Wyman are thick as thieves growing up. Sometimes literally—wealth redistribution is in their nature ;).

Wyman is a family friend whom Emily has met at a ball or two back in Dunwall but reconnects with in Serkonos as they had moved there for their education with a goal towards working at the Royal Conservatory in the future. 

Alexi follows her friend down to Serkonos and eventually joins the Grand Guard, since she was being groomed as a City Watch captain anyway back in Dunwall

Emily follows in her father's footsteps and starts dating her (albeit informal now that she’s not royalty anymore) protector and friend.

Wyman's first partner is Matvey, though at the time they think that 1) they're a boy and 2) they're only into boys

Matvey dreams of attending the Academy of Natural Philosophy, to study the stars and its movements, this world, all of its corners and what lies beneath the surface in his dreams. This common interest in natural philosophy is what connects him and Wyman from the outset.

He shadows Hypatia and Vasco's work at the Addermire Institute, who'd been working on finding a cure to the miners' respiratory ailments (though their incidence is thankfully much lesser than in canon because of Aramis Stilton's continued efforts).

He has vague recollections of a woman that might be his mother, bedridden.

When he asks his mothers about his origins all he's met with are convincing lies that he's learned to recognize. They’ve read the Eyeless’ records. They know how close he was to an eternal state of torture and want to spare him the pain

Emily promises to help him search for his roots by themselves once they're older.

Emily starts participating in the Blade Verbena like her father before her and reigns supreme as the undefeated champion for 6 years. The fiercest fighter in all of Serkonos, she wishes in part to live up to her father's name in the arena, and for people to stop thinking of her as the rich royal brat.

Falling in love with swordplay through her father's lessons also helps.

also she totally becomes a class traitor and starts working with Lucia Pastor, stands up for workers' rights and uses her position of relative influence to advocate for good causes.

Matvey always patches her up after every tournament she wins and every scuffle she gets into, though there isn't much to do since like her father, she's quick and efficient. That is until in 1852, the first prototype Jindosh Clockwork Soldier participates in the tournament.

The fight is long and dirty and she gets scratched up pretty bad but still wins.

As the sun sets, atop a rooftop in the Batista Mining District after being patched up yet again she kisses him for the first time.

It's been a long time coming, even before just a few weeks ago when they'd both broken up with their previous partners

Cue relationship montage: sparring, ballroom dancing at diplomatic functions that Jess drags them to at Stilton Manor, throwing an absolute banger of a stag party for the Mayhew-Wyman wedding, solving the Clockwork Mansion and running away from angry Clockwork Soldiers, protesting Luca Abele's deregulations etc. etc. together.

Empress Delilah Copperspoon Kaldwin visits them during a diplomatic trip and Jessamine introduces her to her colleague Ashworth. They start a courtship.

Emily and Matvey go to a Shan Yun show together but gets separated.

Matvey is kidnapped by his father who survived the Lurks' visit to Shindaerey all those years ago by sheer luck—he wasn't there at the time—but out for preparations for the ritual that'd turn his bastard son to a god.

He takes him to Shindaerey. Em and Billie do slightly modded versions of the DOTO missions together and they save him right before the knife falls (ever since Daud helped her out, Bille had started learning her way around a sword, just in case. Corvo had even trained her along with Alexi at one point)

The remaining few cultists and Matvey's father are sentenced. The rich ones like Yun and Michaels weasel their way out of the firing line.

For the Copperspoon-Ashworth royal wedding Emily and Matvey Kaldwin take a trip aboard the Dreadful Wale with Deirdre, Billie and corvojess to Dunwall.

In perhaps the only controversial ruling Empress Copperspoon orders the Abbey of the Everyman be dissolved. Despite firm objection from the Overseers, misdeeds of the institution over centuries are brought to light with the help of a group of witch-mercenaries under the empress' employ, and a case is made for individual freedom in all forms.

Even though it's a process that is met with resistance and lasts decades, it eventually succeeds as public opinion turns on the Abbey. In its place, the Academy of Natural Philosophy lays down guidelines based on scientific rigor for research that involves the supernatural

ok so this is kinda an au of the amazing fic Waste by hirvitank (absolutely fabulous read, highly recommend)—hence the Matvey name and origins for Outtie as well as Wyman's gender trouble—with some elements inspired by noun's awesome fic unsuspected turns in the path. the bits in blue were contributed by the incomparable @lunadiane

[graedari]

what if i went to the aquarium with @radjerda a lot and then made an entire Dishonored AU around an aquarium that then became an entire modern AU? :)

[yanara126-writing]

The Many Meetings of Death and Death (5/5) - System Error

Daud is a wreck. Corvo is a player avatar. Neither of them is happy about it.

Well maybe the Outsider is.

-

Read here or on Ao3 (6729 words)

Have fun! Comments always welcome! :)

--

Daud is a wreck. He knows it, even without seeing the looks his Whalers give him. He knows he scares them but there is nothing he can do about it anymore. He's been cracked down the middle for a long time, and the sword he's rammed into the empress had equally rammed a wedge into that crack, ruining his careful paint job. Sitting here now at his same old desk waiting for Attano to come and get his revenge is the closest he's felt to peace in six months. Either way, whatever comes of it, today it will be over.

Thomas stands in front of him, masked and stiff and reports of Attano's long expected escape. The two guards stationed on the level above his pit were found unconscious and in a rather obviously staged compromising position that neither Dash nor Betram are going to live down any time soon, but no one has seen hide nor hair of the man himself.

Thomas stares at Daud, and even through the mask he can tell that his second is not amused. By the prank or by Daud allowing it to happen. Attano's crusade through Dunwall has been surprisingly non-lethal (with, Daud suspects, the confusing exception of one Lady Boyle, though there is no concrete proof for Attano's involvement in her death) but neither Thomas nor Daud are green enough to believe it will stay this way here in Rudshore. Even if Attano decides the Whalers are simply a tool, not worth the effort of slicing his way through them for revenge, Daud is the hand that wields the tool. The hand that slew his empress. Attano will come for Daud, one way or another. Daud knows this. Thomas knows this. And Thomas resents him for just letting it happen.

Despite what Thomas thinks, Daud doesn't want to die. (Something in him shudders at the thought. It's not fear, Daud has long made his peace with the fact that death might come at any moment. It's not exactly dread either. It's something closer than that, something familiar, in the way that Burrows is familiar, the way the Overseers are familiar, the way that betrayal is familiar.) He is prepared to, knows he most likely will, but he doesn't crave it. Billie has been a slap in the face, as she so often was, in more ways than one. The knife in the back has not been entirely unexpected, he knows damn well he's been out of character since Dunwall Tower, but learning the extent of the damage to their own she was willing to cause was a punch to the gut. As was learning he was wrong when she handed him her sword and life. A two-fold revelation under the stone Empress' gaze, and how the bastard in the void must have laughed at that. His crimes do not stop at murder, he's also ruined all of them, his Whalers, people who trust him. And he has not. He cut Billie loose, sent her on her way, and she took it. So maybe... Maybe there is way to stop. If not for Daud, then maybe at least for his Whalers.

Daud only hopes Thomas will see that.

"Understood. Deal with the se-"

The door to the office crashes open and Attano struts in like he owns the place. His face is bare, the skull mask hanging from a hook on his belt. Right next to it are his weapons, folded up sword and crossbow dangling from another hook, the revolver in a holster on the other side. The mark stands out dark and fresh against his skin, but it's dull and lifeless.

Thomas freezes like a statue and while Daud would love to claim a better reaction, doing so would have the black-eyed bastard lecturing him again about untruths. His right hand drops to the sword at his waist but doesn't draw it. Something about this feels wrong. It can't be a trap, this is their base and Attano is alone. And yet this is bold to the point of idiocy, and no idiot could have completely dug up an entire regime in just two weeks. (That thought gives him a headache almost strong enough to make him wince.)

Attano comes to a stop in the middle of the room and then the bastard has the gall to lean back on his heels in a show of demonstrative casual confidence not even Billie would have dared.

"Thomas, bring us some wine, why don't you. Unopened, if you will." The thrice void damned bastard who somehow knows his Second's name smirks wryly and nods towards Daud, and Daud chokes down the impulse to throw the ink jar on his desk at his head. "I'd make him do it, but he wouldn't know good wine if it bit him in the ass."

Thomas hesitantly tugs on the bond, his question clear. Daud gives an answering shove but doesn't take his eyes off Attano and his bizarre behaviour. If this is an attempt to get Thomas out of the room for their fight it is an absurd one but Daud will take it.

Thomas still hesitates, glancing over to Attano and Daud can see his hands shaking. Daud frowns.

"Go." The growl is enough to shake Thomas out of it and he takes a step back, throwing one last look to his master, before he transverses out and leaves Daud and Attano alone in the room. Murderer and victim. Perhaps in both directions soon. Daud grips the sword, though still sheathed, tighter.

But instead of doing what would make sense, Attano simply clucks his tongue and prances over to the desk, not even looking at Daud. Instead his eyes roam through the room, as if cataloguing every single item of value in grabbable distance. (That thought doesn't make a lot of sense even while he has it, but somehow he can feel the truth of it down to his bones.) Attano grabs a chair off to the side and drags it over. He flops down in it with all the grace of someone hours off of being poisoned and slumps as if this this is a tavern. Only then does he finally look at Daud himself.

Something in Daud freezes, clamps up and shuts down at the sight of the steel grey eyes that have been haunting his nightmares for months. It-

It's some shape of-

Of that damn recognition again. Like-

Like he recognizes the man. In a way that he shouldn't. In a way that has nothing to do with the wreck he saw that day at the Tower. When he himself became a wreck. When the Empress died and-

And when Daud died.

Except no, he didn't die, clearly, no matter what the bastard in the Void rambles about, he's alive, has lived even when the world itself has been out to kill him. Attano may claim him, but he hasn't yet.

Then why does the man sitting across from him, doing nothing but looking out of hooded eyes, feel like death itself to Daud?

He doesn't like how much the question sounds like the enigmatic god he doesn't worship anymore.

Thomas steps out of the shadows and the strange feeling vanishes as suddenly as it appeared when Daud rips his eyes off of Attano. Thomas left his mask somewhere before returning, his face bare and tense, a bottle of wine in his still gloved hand. The image is absurd, almost as much as Attano's presence is.

Thomas steps closer and puts the bottle down on the desk. It's a Serkonan, hardly a vintage from the little Daud knows about wine, but the name is familiar enough to imply a certain popularity. A bottle from Thomas' personal collection no doubt, not one of the cheap cooking wines they sometimes find for the kitchen. Daud isn't sure what conclusion to draw from that. He is however sure that one way or another the bastard in the void will eventually lecture him about it, so he decides to ignore it.

Thomas slots into place a step behind Daud, standing, his hands at his sides and close to his weapons. Attano casually ignores him and leans forward to grab the wine, then bites into the cork like the heathen he is and rips it out. Daud doesn't need to check the bond to feel Thomas glowering from behind him.

Attano smirks. "If you want me to do it right, bring an opener next time." He takes a long swig from the bottle and Daud can hear Thomas' jaw crack. When he's done Attano sighs and plants the bottle back on the desk, pushing it a bit towards Daud and looking expectantly.

"I don't drink," Daud snarls, contempt desperately trying to drown out the ever more all-consuming confusion about what the fuck is going on.

Attano raises a doubtful eyebrow at him and doesn't give him the satisfaction of finally making sense. "Would that even do anything to you? Alcohol is a toxin technically." It takes effort to not try and shove one of the papers on his desk into the man's mouth to either shut him up or finally provoke him into attacking as he's supposed to. It takes slightly less effort to conclude that the void bastard is apparently playing favourites far more obviously than even Daud predicted with the amount of knowledge that Attano has that he really, really shouldn't. Considering the state he arrived in it seems safe to assume he does not have the same resistances, meaning the scrawny little shit in the void talked too much. Beyond the usual cryptic babbling.

Well. No point in keeping those things secret then. Daud glares anyway.

"The whiskey does." Not a lot certainly, more than one Whaler has tried to challenge him in their drinking games, and later just tried to subtly keep up with him when he told them to fuck off. He started drinking his occasional whiskey in his office after that.

Behind him Thomas twitches, a testament to just how high-strung his second is right now. Thomas has always prided himself on his control, as has Daud, that he is slipping now is... concerning.

If Attano notices the tension he doesn't let it show, remaining slumped in the chair. "Huh. Guess the dose does make the difference." The only thing the man projects is mild curiosity, and if that isn't a deliberate choice Daud will eat his bonecharms, but that one sentence carries something else with it, an underlying bitterness. Like a rotten tyvian pear.

They lapse into a loaded silence, and for the first time since his Whalers fished his death out of the Waters of the Wrenhaven, Daud lets himself fall back into the well-used skills that forged it, and scrutinizes Attano in more detail. In the light falling from the hole pretending to be a window Attano looks like shit. He's pallid, a sickly pale that no Serkonan should be, his hair is hanging off his head in greasy, dirty clumps, and his rumpled, wet clothes stick to his skin, highlighting just how much weight he must have lost since that cloak actually fit him. All in all the former Lord Protector makes for a sorry sight. Like a drowned rat that a wolfhound dragged out of a canal.

And like a drowned rat, chances are he'll kill them all still anyway.

Though rats usually don't drink wine straight from a bottle, much less go in for a second gulp.

When Attano puts the bottle down again he somehow looks even worse than before, bedraggled, broken down, and so very, very tired. Well, that's something Daud understands at least. Can empathize with even, if his ruined soul is still capable of such a thing.

Something small crumbles in him, erodes like a pebble being ground down and into dust by the Wrenhaven and the ever-constant tension, his eternal companion, unravels, making him feel every single one of his 42 years and another 20 on top. He's not sure if it's a good or a bad thing. Regardless, there's no way but forward, and  the drowned rat of a man in front of him doesn't seem inclined to do anything but stare at the wine bottle in front of him.

"So." Attano blinks at him and doesn't look any more focused.

"So," he repeats. Daud tries to be annoyed at the complete non-answer and fails to find anything stronger than mild exasperation. At least the man isn't slurring his words, which already makes him better than his Whalers after Fugue. It still feels like trying to get Leon to explain where her pants went and why she is wearing an Overseer mask as a loin cloth. (Comparing the former Royal Protector, the man whose life he ruined, to one of his- one of his people is neauseating. Especially when Billie once again flashes through his mind.)

"What now?" He rasps, and tries to bury the unwanted memories. Attano sighs and lets his eyes wander through the room again, briefly catching on Thomas, but quickly skipping further when Daud shifts slightly to block his view.

"What now... Isn't that always the question. Every time." Something about the tone in his voice makes Daud stop short. As if it matters. As if he doesn't simply mean his crusade against the coup that toppled his Empress. As if Daud should know what he means.

"Every time?"

"Mmmh. Every time." Attano shifts in his chair, leans back and immediately grimaces when it creaks and gives a little against his weight. The petty satisfaction sparking up in Daud's chest is quickly extinguished by Attano's suddenly sharp focus. When he continues his voice feels like the icy winds of Tyvia.

"You killed Jessamine. You regret that you did it. You've spent the last 6 months wallowing over it as if it wasn't your own damn free choice to do it. You have around 60 people under your command, most of them around 20, some younger, some older. Many of them you picked out of a life of abuse or certain death." He nods towards Thomas without taking his eyes off Daud.

"Thomas here has a wine collection he keeps behind a loose brick above the sewer entrance. You gave him a bottle once. It was terrible but none of them wanted tell you." The wood behind Daud creeks almost accusingly, which is all the confirmation Daud needs. He quietly files it away under things to deal with after he finds out what the fuck Attano is playing at here.

"Quinn snores, Bertram and Dash have almost kissed three times, and Misha annotates porn novels about you." Daud keeps his face and mind carefully blank, even as Attano leans forward with the carefully weighted movements of a predator, his eyes sparking with something familiar. Something not quite human.

"And I remember having come through here four times already." Something rings in Daud's head at that, strums at the bonds of black magic making up his nervous system, reverberates through his veins with a strength he hasn't felt since the shitkicker in the void first branded him. A message with all the subtlety of a whale fin slamming into him. Truth then, no matter how little sense it makes. A mystery from his thrice damned patron yet again.

A river krust outside gurgles, the bone charms on his chest ring like laughter, and Daud chooses spite. At least for the moment.

"Four times," he rasps, and Attano nods gravely, with the look of a cat having caught its prey.

"Yes," the drowned rat agrees, and for the first time in six months something like wry amusement sparks in Daud's chest.

"No." That does finally get Attano to startle, and his damned look of self-important gravity turns into much more appropriate annoyance.

"What, no?" Even though Attano still doesn't sound nearly violent enough, should be growling and spitting and snarling rather than speaking in the same irritated tone Daud has used with particularly unhelpful clients, Daud smirks. Cynical though it may be.

"Bertram and Dash. It's been four times. And they've been fucking anyway, just the novices haven't been able to prove it." Bertram and Dash's maybe, maybe not relationship is the subject of many a bet among the younger Whalers, and though Daud could not possibly care any less about the brats' escapades, Attano's face is satisfying enough he's considering adding a few coin into the pot as a reward. If he'a still alive after this, anyway. "You won Pickford 20 coin with your stunt today."

"I-" Attano stares at him, speechless. Daud hopes a fly flies into his dumb open mouth.

Eventually Attano sighs and rubs a hand over his face in defeat. "Fine. So what about the situation?"

Daud raises an eyebrow at him. "As far as I'm concerned the situation is you should want my head, we fight, and the winner walks away. If you think it's different, convince me."

Attano stares at him like he's lost his mind. Which, while likely true considering present circumstances, is an unfair assessment from the man in front of him of all people. "Isn't that what I just did?"

"All that proves is that the brats are gossiping on the job and the twat in the void is playing favourites." It's not that Daud doesn't believe him, the constant ringing making head ache is enough reason to assume he's not lying and likely not delusional. And though the brats are definitely gossiping it's unlikely that Attano could have picked up all that information in the little time it took him to get from the Refinery to the Chambers of Commerce. Couldn't have possibly known about Daud's own... issues, since his regicide. And even if he did somehow gather six months worth of gossip on the way, if the asshat in the void tattled on him like a toddler, what would be the point in lying? In walking in and pretending when simply killing Daud would be a much easier way of revenge than trying to gaslight him with this strange story. And even if he didn't want to fight, the man was clearly practiced in stealth. Had he seriously tried he could have likely snuck in, grabbed the key and gotten out again. No, Attano is not lying, but Daud cannot let a mystery stand, and he is, perhaps above all, very petty.

Attano continues staring for a few moments before turning away from Daud towards Thomas. Daud tenses and his hand clenches around the sword on his hip, but Attano makes no move for a weapon, and instead looks at Thomas in baffled disbelief, like he expects the Whaler to commiserate with him.

"I don't know how you manage to deal with him."

"Don't talk like we're friends." Thomas sounds more like his master than ever before with the way he growls and something twinges painfully in Daud's chest at the thought, something suspiciously close to how he feels at the thought of his blade sliding into the Empress' chest.

"...No, I suppose we're not." Something shutters closed in Attano's expression, a levity Daud didn't know was there but that becomes patently obvious once missing.

Attano leans back in his chair, once again all coiled tension and power, ready to spring. Daud shifts his weight towards Thomas and tenses, ready to move. "I was hoping you'd remember something. That the Mark was doing it and you would believe me. I suppose not." A strange note of bitter disappointment suffuses Attano's words, in a tone that makes Daud's hackles rise with the way it reminds him of whale song, crumbling memories, and endlessly deep, black eyes. He grinds his teeth and reminds himself that in contrast to the void-eyed weasel Attano is vulnerable.

"I didn't say that. I said convince me." Because he does believe Attano. He hates it and would much prefer to simply fight it out, draw his sword and get the resolution that's been coming for him for six months, or 30 years. But he does. That doesn't mean he's gonna make this easy on the bastard.

Attano stares at him again, eyes tight and calculating, and cocks his head in that absolutely infuriating manner of his. In contrast to their shared eldritch headache however he seems to decide that cryptic silence is not the best way to have a conversation. His eyes drift off Daud, somewhere into the middle distance, gathering himself, though he doesn't relax even for a second.

"The first time I was here..." He starts off haltingly, slowly, not fumbling exactly but like the words don't fit quite right in his mouth. "Or at least the first time I remember. I was confused. Hurt. I'd been running around for two weeks like a puppet on strings, not quite knowing what I was doing or why. I didn't question it much. Coldridge didn't leave much of me to do the questing in the first place, and the Mark didn't make it easier. I knew some things already but it was... Abstract. Vague. Impressions more than anything. It left me somewhat... Unfocused." Daud nearly flinches when something snaps through his mind like an arc pylon, leaving the most bizarre after-image burnt into his retinas. He squints at Attano who raises an eyebrow at him. Daud valiantly ignores the expectant look on him in order to not be tempted into punching the man.

"Did you... Did you eat a rat?" Attano actually snorts, the absolute rat bastard of a man.

"Ha, yeah."

"Why?" Daud bites out. Attano shrugs.

"It helps with focus." Daud takes a deep breath. Waits a moment. Listens to the soft rushing of the Wrenhaven outside of the window. Imagines landing a good fist in the Royal Protector's face, feeling his nose crunch against his fingers and finally hearing the logical, sensible noise of steel being drawn. Then he takes one of the sheets of paper stacked on his desk, halved, paper is damn expensive these days, dips the pen into the ink bottle and makes the most nonsensicle note of his life. He carefully puts the pen down, closes the ink jug and sets out the note to be added to his board of issues to solve later.

He turns back to Attano. "Okay."

Attano has watched him the entire time and undoubtedly thinks his own thoughts behind those somehow both intense and entirely dead eyes of his but graciously keeps them to himself.

Instead he lets his gaze wander around the room for a few moments, avoiding Thomas this time, and seemingly absentmindedly drums his fingertips on the desk. Daud doesn't think for a moment he's actually inattentive. When he continues, it's with a far-off look and thin lips.

"Something happened. At some point. I don't know when, there's no clear cutoff, nothing to point to. One moment it was all over. Emily safe. I was trying to keep the Empire standing. And the next I got up in my cell in Coldridge, a key under my cell door." He glances back at Daud, eyes hard. "It couldn't have been a dream. Too precise. I knew guard rotations, the exact cache locations, the names and habits of everyone involved. I was prepared that time." Attano stares right at him and for a moment Daud feels like he missed a transversal and stepped into the abyss. "I used it to my advantage. No one ever saw me because I knew where they would look."

That... seems right, and yet at the same time does not. People have seen Attano. Not many, but some have. Daud knows this, he's had his Whalers collect every single report they could get their hands on. And of course there is the obvious issue with this story.

"I've seen it, every night for the last few weeks. I thought it was a nightmare, fears, punishment maybe. But now I know it's not. It was you." Thomas spits the word like it's acid and even without being able to see his face Daud knows his eyes are still promising murder. He holds tighter again, but Thomas makes no move to fight him.

Attano slowly lowers his hands, his eyes fixed on Thomas in a way that makes Daud's skin itch, but the man stays back against the wall and makes no move to pick up the sword or reach for another weapon.

"I didn't kill him that time. I didn't lie. I-" he glances over to the desk for a moment, something indefinable flitting over his face, because if it is the guilt it looks like Daud may try and stab Attano himself, and that would make a terrible example for Thomas yet again. "I did the next time."

Thomas sounds like Billie did when she first confessed to him about the death of Radanis Abele and Daud carefully does not think about that. "No, you did. You cut him open like a rat and left him to die there. I found him. And I watched him drown in his own blood. And then- and then-" He trails off, head dropping and shoulders trembling just slightly.

Attano looks vaguely sick. "...Oh."

It feels strange to be the subject of conversation, his own horrible death being the subject of conversation, when no one is looking at him or paying him any attention. Daud is not used to people daring to ignore him, and his own murder is a topic usually spouted directly at him, by clients, by the occasional Overseer, by targets, and before that by the man who stole his childhood, made him a weapon and then tried desperately to control him and keep him in chains. They all failed where Attano, apparently, succeeded.

It's not surprising. Not really. In fact it's about the only thing that's made sense in the last hour, the last six months. Thomas' reaction is however.

Daud opens his mouth to- to do something. To scold Thomas for his behaviour, to voice his disappointment at his second's complete loss of control, to congratulate Attano, draw the attention back to himself where it has been for thirty years, or maybe just stop them from looking like that, but as soon as he takes a breath Thomas flinches and snarls, ripping his head around as much as he can to try and look back.

"No! You don't get to- you let him! You let him do it to you and made me, made us pick up the pieces!" Daud thinks he makes some kind of noise, choked off and embarrassing, as he feels something freeze in his chest and the mark on his hand burn, but if he, but if he does no one is in a state to mention it. Attano still looks like a deer caught in the spotlights, and Thomas is panting shakily, his head bowed deep enough for his blonde fringe to fall over his eyes.

A second passes, two, three, and suddenly Thomas relaxes, lets his shoulders drop, lifts his head and falls into parade rest as much as he can with Daud's arms still pinning him. "You can let go now. Sir." He adds the title with a contempt that not even Billie ever dared. Daud pulls back anyway. His chest feels like its burning.

Thomas rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck once, twice, and sighs with the tired disdain of a man twice his age. He looks away from Daud. "You don't- You don't just get to leave us. You don't get to take that from us." You don't get to take yourself from us.

Daud has no answer for him. So he does what he's always done when it feels like his control is breaking away into the Void. He grips tight, puts on his meanest face and pretends anyway.

"Go and gather everyone in the common room. There'll be new orders soon." Thomas hesitates for a moment, cold, resigned eyes turning to Attano, who suddenly seems oddly soft.

Attano shrugs. "I'm not here to kill him. Clearly it didn't work when I did anyway." Perhaps Thomas sees something in his eyes that he doesn't in Daud's, perhaps he's tired of the dogged dedication to keep his master alive, perhaps he's finally thought better of whether he even wants it. Either way Thomas sighs and turns away, gone in the blink of an eye with only ashy black flakes remaining.

With him goes whatever energy Daud had left and he feels like the Whale in the Slaughterhouse. Sucked dry of what matters the most over the course of months, with only death left for him, to be cut up for parts.

He turns to Attano, not bothering to pick up his own or Thomas' left behind sword. "So, what do you want."

Attano sighs, and slides down the wall to the floor, until he's entirely sitting on the moist wooden floor, a leg stretched out and one pulled close. His head thumps back into the wall and he looks out the hole on the other side. Or under it?

When he starts speaking his words come slowly, almost wistfully. "This here... This is the furthest I've been able to deviate. I didn't know if it would work, but it has so far." He lapses then, sniffs once, and raises his hand, the right one, to his coat. Leaves it lying over his heart and closes his eyes. Daud waits. He doesn't have anything else to do anymore.

When Attano drops his hand and opens his eyes, turns to Daud and stares him right in the eyes he looks like a different man. The drowned rat is gone and left behind the Royal Protector. "I want you to come with me. Help me deal with Havelock and get Emily out of there and then we'll- We'll find something." Without any active decision Daud steps closer. He looms over Attano like this, and yet it doesn't feel like Daud's the one in power. He never has been, has he. Not for all his powers, for all the nobles killed, for all the coin or people under his command. Not in any way that matters. And his struggles to prove the universe wrong only managed to drown the city in blood.

He remembers the empress. The child. Billie kneeling in front of him, offering her blade. Thomas' desperate struggling is still lingering the warmth of his shirt and the creases of his coat. There's no question what he'll do, not really. And perhaps just this once Daud has run out of pettiness to argue with.

"Alright. Fine. We can start with the bastard, it's probably his fault anyway. Or he'll at least know something." And maybe now that they had this conversation, even if they fail, perhaps Daud will remember more the next time, more than just the short flashes he recognizes as memories now. For a brief moment he considers telling Attano about Delilah but quickly disregards the thought. The man has other problems currently, and Delilah is unlikely to be related. He can't imagine she would have let herself lose more than once to  him, and as far as he can tell his own expedition never changed. And perhaps... Perhaps if they do fail, if the world repeats again, and Daid will be allowed to remember... Perhaps he has a chance to stop the worst. Stop the Overseers. Stop Billie.

He banishes that line of thought before it can run him down to darker paths and expectations.

Attano nods, and his shoulders sag a bit, just slightly less tense, as he gazes back outside. He looks almost serene like this, time stopped in a way the Void could never hope to achieve.

Then the absolute fucking cretin starts chuckling.

"Ah, and you should send someone up to the roof with some clean pants. I caught one of yours pissing over the side and got so startled I shot them with sleep dart on reflex." It turns out Daud has not run out of pettiness and with no Whalers present to be an example for there is no power in the Void that could stop him from knocking Attano over the back of the head. Attano himself just keeps laughing, and if there is something desperate in his voice, in the way his eyes crinkle and his chuckles sound through the room, then there is more than enough to match in Daud's movements and in the way he clings to the arcane bond, that flares alive and bright, with not a single hole in its tightly woven net.

[no-light-left-on]

corvo/daud/thomas the most ot3 ever