#I AM ABSOLUTE DAUD TRASH TOO

[of-tatooine]

honor him. | chapter 2 - red crosses

the thought of assassinating her troubles you and he needs to know.

This one would be different.

There was a reason everyone on the street fled for their dear lives at the sight of him, his blade reflecting his scar under the moonlight for all to see. They did not call him the Knife of Dunwall for nothing - his stone-cold heart and blood, dead-silent movements and ability to take lives like he was a reaper through wheat gave him the recognition. He had done this countless of times before, with and without the wretched mark on his left hand. Fulfilled contracts, asked for extra coin for his trouble without feeling an inch of remorse as he washed some noble’s blood off of his hands.

It was not common for him to hesitate, for him to reconsider any deal he made as an assassin. Ever since he came to the unforgiving streets of Dunwall, killing and taking heads for favors or some other ulterior motive had been the reason he was still alive.

She had just been a contract, after all. Kill and get paid. In and out quick, without any survivors, just the way Daud had done things all along.

Then why did his thoughts stall for a minute, every time he thought of the contract in his pocket that Burrows made him sign?  Why did the mark on his hand cease to glow as he pictured the Empress and her little heir, governing the Isles the best they could inside the Dunwall Tower?

As his darkened gray eyes looked over the damp streets and molding rooftops of the Flooded District, the whale songs echoing in his mind did not cease to remind him that the otherwise fortune of coin would never be worth Jessamine Kaldwin’s blood on his hands. He could never mute the screams of her daughter, ringing in his ears for years to come, if he were to take her life away in front of her juvenile eyes.

It was only natural for an assassin of his caliber to let go of his feeling of guilt - at this age and experience, with all types of blood coating his leather-gloved hands, Daud was not even sure if there was enough heart left in him, maybe he was not even capable of feeling it anymore. Sure, some missions had been harder to forget than others, keeping him up at the night of, knowing he was serving only to some noble bastard’s needs and wants - the next day he would be back to business as usual as he cleaned his sword.

With every step taken in the streets of the capitol of the Empire, every poster plastered on the brick walls, every bust and every painting and every monument after the Kaldwin name, he knew the memory of her death would hurt his skin like a burning fire.

“I can’t do it.”

Words he wanted to say for a long time but never could were spoken out as the feminine voice echoed through his quarters. Words he never thought he would hear from you. There were very few people who were allowed to step into his chambers unannounced and uninvited - being one of those who had the privilege, you made your way up the stairs where he usually slept.

It was Daud’s day to be surprised, it seemed, as he turned around to be faced with your bare face, sans the vapor mask you usually sported around the compound. All those years working alongside the assassin had not changed your pure and simple beauty, he would think - you had still been the girl he had taken under his wing from Karnaca, with the ever-lasting talent for sword fighting and the burning fire in your eyes.

Somehow, you had managed to keep a piece of you whole inside despite the cruelties you have indicted upon others, emotions and traits that defined who you were as a human - something Daud wished he knew how to do better.

“Sit down,” the older assassin would say in his usually gruff voice, this time etched with a slight concern as he pulled a chair out for you, as he opted to sit down on a nearby shipping crate facing you. You obliged with a silent nod - the mere gesture itself suggested he had been thinking about the same thing but did not want to admit it.

He had to look strong for his assassins, after all. Just like he had been all these years as he trained them all. He had to be undefeated for you, so you would have someone to look up to, to follow after. To kill and die for.

The assassination of an Empress to send the Empire reeling into the hands of dirty conspirators was not exactly the example you wanted to follow.

“Daud...” you started with a solemn voice as you looked up to meet his eyes, his arms folded on his chest. It was at that moment he noticed the redness in your eyes - you had trouble sleeping last night, maybe had not slept at all. “I’ve been... thinking. About what would happen to us after tomorrow. What would happen to you.”

The assassin shifted ever so slightly on his feet as he adjusted his sitting position, leaning a bit closer to your frame on the chair, your arms crossed although not in a threatening stance. “Haven’t I taught you enough to know that I will not fail a contract?”

You knew. You knew too damn well. He would go to the ends of his means to execute, capture, neutralize - whatever cruel action he was getting paid for. The huge board downstairs in his office was adorned with portraits with red crosses, if anyone needed proof of just what the man could do. “This time, I’m worried about what will happen if you don’t fail.”

Piercing orbs stared into his darker ones, able to spot the slight glimmer of doubt, of concern in them. Then they spotted the edge of the paper visible through his red leather overcoat. Daud ran a hand over his face, his mark glowing in the lightest shades of orange as he did so. A low sigh leaving his lips.

“The Empress will be dead tomorrow with the heir delivered to Burrows. Campbell and him can reap what they sow themselves - that’s none of our business. You understand me?”

Daud tried so hard, and succeeded, to not show any signs of weakness as he spoke in a stern manner, the words only aimed to make you focus on the task at hand and not distract yourself with any and all consequences that may come their way. It was not your vendetta to fulfill - you had been merely an agent to greater means in the scheme. That was what Daud had been telling himself since the day he picked up that pen and signed at the offices of the Royal Spymaster.

“You remember how I ended up in the streets of Aventa to begin with?”

Right after you uttered those words out of your lips, your tone noticeably softer yet your eyes glassy, was when he stopped. Jaw-clenched as vivid memories began roaming around his clouded mind like wolfhounds on loose. Memories that belonged to you, that you let him into a long time ago.

His usually domineering stance was slightly weakened as he took a deep breath, looking down on the rusty metal floor. This contract was proving to be one of the hardest things, if not the hardest, that he had to do during his entire life of sorrow and bloodshed - yet another decision loomed over in front of him.

Did he have the luxury to put his most-trusted protégé and killer on the sidelines for the mission of their lives?

If it had been anyone else but you, he would not.

Emotions, history and ethics did not mix well with the line of work they were in and every seasoned assassin knew so - hence why most of his Whalers kept their families, old lives and stories to themselves, if they had any.  But, you... he knew exactly where you were coming from. What you went through - he witnessed with his own bare eyes. How the fire in your eyes dimmed as you lost so much in your life. And how training with the assassins helped you win that spark of serving some purpose back in your orbs.  

He was going to stab a sword through an Empress the next day - if he indeed wanted to pursue his redemption, showing mercy and empathy to his favorite would be the start.

The man got up from his seat, determined, calmly walking over to the map of Dunwall Tower that was laid on over his bed - he must have been studying all possible strategies, playing out scenarios in his mind all night. Pointing to the furthest tower to the planned assault location, his tall frame partially turned to you. “You’re on watch duty tomorrow. No killing,” he ordered you, with a slight nod.

Even when his emotions had been willingly suppressed to prepare himself for the upcoming battle, you read through his actions and words. A man like Daud did not help you out by hugging you every single time you had doubts and telling you everything would be okay. He instead gave you a way out, some much needed leeway, however temporary it may be.

You accepted it with gratitude, sending him a faint smile accompanied by a nod as you got up from the chair.

“Thank you,” you would add in a whisper, your gloved hand gently lingering on his leather-covered arm for a moment before you took a quick glance at the map you had memorized over the past month, your boots slowly carrying you towards the double doors of his quarters.

Watching you leave with his stare softening, Daud ran his long fingers through his dark hair as your red-leather silhouette dissipated into thin air.

Tomorrow, he was going to initiate the fall of an Empire into ashes in the hands of some traitor dogs. All he could hope for was for someone to forgive him, somehow, at some point in time.