onewhoturns

A/N Nov 2018: This fae au just keeps growing, I guess. If you’re enjoying it I’d love to see some love for it over on AO3 where it’s going up under the title Iron and Gold. Elsewhere: AO3, FFnet, and the next preview on ko-fi.

Story Title: Iron & Gold
Chapter Title: 5 (I can't fuckin title stuff to save my life)
Chapter Part: 2/3
Story Part: 16/?
Pairing: Emily/Outsider (emsider)
Word count: 2179
Rating: T
Summary: Ever since she was a child Emily had been cautioned: beware the fae. She’d heard the typical warnings – faerie rings, wishing wells, mysterious lights in the darkness. But they were just cautionary tales... [A Dishonored fae AU]
start here (prelude), previously (5-1), next part (5-3)

They went about their business separately, silently, and Emily realized they were getting a much later start than she’d expected. When she’d tucked in for the night she thought she would be lucky to get a few hours of sleep and wake at dawn, but by the time they mounted up it was nearly noon. The realization hit her with a quick jolt of panic as they worked their way deeper into the woods, the horses seemingly briefed on their route beforehand, and she chided herself for not thinking of it sooner. Then again, she’d never been on the run before. If she’d been in Delilah’s place there would’ve been scouts out all night with dogs, seeking out the escaped captive. By noon the next day they would’ve searched well past the point in the forest where the queen now rode.

Was the usurper just that over-confident? Had the witches been too inebriated to make the search the night before? All of her questions rose like a tide in her, and she was trying to decide what to ask and how when she felt her companion’s intent look from where he rode - almost silently - beside her. “What?” She turned her attention to the Outsider in a quick shift, growing familiar with the tight ping that shocked through her as she caught his gaze.

“I don’t understand.” He watched her with detached fascination bordering on disappointment.

Brown eyes narrowed as her lips pursed. “This is about the contract again?”

“You’re dying, Emily.” He said it so matter-of-factly. Immediately she looked away, glaring ahead, behind, down to the forest floor - anywhere but at him. “Every minute you wither away.”

“Why does my life matter so much to you?” Her tone was snippish as she tightened her hands on reins she had barely needed to touch all morning, but the question was legitimate. Based on the story he’d told her, he’d gotten her into this to begin with - or, at least, back into it. He knew what he was doing when he’d offered her a bargain. When he’d kissed her. So why help her escape? Surely there were better people out there to serve as his assassin. Why her?

“It’s… complicated.”

Really? That was all he had to say? She turned her irritated gaze on him, voice flat. “Tough.”

“If you were sworn to my service I could tell you.” He was staring straight ahead, only shooting her the occasional half-glance out the corner of his eye. “As it is I can only—” He cut himself off suddenly, then shook his head, that pitch black hair rustling with the slight breeze.

“Can only what?” He had her full and far-too-focused attention now, and as she slowed her mount his slowed as well.

“…I only have so much time I can invest in you, Your Majesty.”

“What does that mean?” He’d picked up the pace, taking up the lead, and made no move to answer her demand. Well, perhaps she wasn’t part-animal, but she knew the palace horses well enough. In another instant she was at his side, stopping herself from grabbing at his tack or his sleeve. “What does that mean - you can’t just say something like that!” She tried to catch his eye, though he stared ahead seemingly unbothered. “Are you saying you’re dying too?”

“‘Too’ — so at least now you acknowledge it.” There was an edge to his voice, a bitterness she hadn’t expected.

“I wasn’t not acknowledging it,” she insisted, stubbornly. Almost immediately she had to steady herself as her mount pulled up short, the Outsider crossing in front and turning to come face to face alongside her again. Again, that ping through her, like a string freshly plucked. She straightened her back, lifting her chin like a challenge. The longer he took to speak, staring at her with that slightly furrowed brow, the warmer she felt her skin grow. It increased exponentially, flooding her cheeks pink, as he lifted a hand to cup her face. For a moment she watched, pulse thudding, caught somewhere between excitement and anxiety.

Then a firm tap of fingers to her temple, and as he drew his hand away she winced. “Ow!” It was like a needle stabbing straight through her skull from where his fingers had touched. “Why—” Like a vacuum, everything she thought had subsided rushed back into her - dizziness, nausea-- her head spun and vision swam and flickered. Her body felt like jelly, limbs trembling with sudden weakness, and the words came out a whisper. “...Oh- oh no…” She swayed in her seat, finally giving up on staying upright and letting herself collapse forward as she blinked black spots from her eyes. Just don’t fall. It was like every symptom of the curse hit her at once, a barrage of fever and nausea and exhaustion.

“There are no strings.” She heard his voice through the haze and the sudden ringing in her ears. “Kill the witch. End the curse.”

Swallowing back bile, Emily forced herself to still. She wondered if the Outsider played any part in keeping her mount calm - it couldn’t have been easy for the creature with her shaking violently, thin pained noises at a distressingly high pitch. She grit her teeth and took several deep breaths, exerting all the willpower she had to force her body to comply. Keeping her eyes closed, head as level as she could manage, she slid from the saddle onto shaky feet and stumbled until she leaned against a tree. Something so wonderfully stable. As her world stopped spinning, she put her back to it and slid down to sit on its roots, eyes still closed, swallowing repetitively as she held off the urge to retch.

“I didn’t want to put you through this.”

“Then make it stop!” She practically sobbed the demand through her clenched jaw, and it took everything in her to turn her head and glare at the faerie, pushing down another wave of sickness. He shook his head and she wasn’t sure if it was the curse or her own anger that made her vision a wash of red. “Why not?!”

“You know how to make it stop, Emily.”

It was almost a threat, but there was something in the way he said it, some barely noticeable strain on his part, that seemed to imply it wasn’t quite an ultimatum. Still. “This is coercion.”

“No,” he shook his head, voice firm, “this morning’s respite was a gift. I did not curse you, I can only halt the effects or lower their potency.”

It was odd… There was an edge to his tone, something tense beneath the facade of immortal calm. Even as he watched her with a guarded gaze only his mount shifted almost anxiously, belying the degree of his concern. She didn’t bother responding, just glared and shook her head - a motion that too quickly had her wincing and turning to kneel, hands clutching at the ground, sure she was going to be sick. Her breath was shaky and too loud as she tried to stop her head spinning.

When he spoke again, the strain was more pronounced. For all he tried to sound calm she could feel the insistent pleading buried beneath. “I want to help you.”

“Then help me.” The words came out a bitter croak, her knuckles white and jaw clenched hard. There was no response. “...Fine.” Her tone was hollow. For a long moment she simply waited, centering herself, letting that initial rush leave her system - the rush of the broken dam that soon gave way to a steady flow - until it settled to a lingering discomfort. She wasn’t sure how long it was until she felt well enough to stand once more, a grim set to her lips as she leaned against the tree for support. She turned back to the horses, refusing to look at the Outsider and instead glaring at the ground.

At long last, she raised her chin and stepped back to her horse, bracing herself for a moment before climbing back into the saddle. So be it. In a way she felt a sort of bitter gratitude toward the fae. She’d proven it to herself: she didn’t need his help. If she could suffer the effects of the curse and still function - for however long she had left - then his offer was a choice, not an imperative. Affixing her eyes forward again, she tried to ignore the presence of the Outsider.

They were only traveling a few (very tense) minutes before his words broke the silence.

“...And if you don’t take the deal?”

She shot him a harsh look and he met it evenly.

“I know my side of things, but for you? What then? You cannot expect me to believe you would run.”

Her lips thinned and she glared ahead, hands tightening on her reins.

“Emily Kaldwin, you were born a queen. They took your home, your crown, your father - they took your dignity, and you would run?”

Anger flared in her chest, the burn focusing her mind. She’d sworn to make Delilah pay. Of course she wouldn’t run. Guilt still ate at her over leaving Corvo at the witch’s mercy. She wouldn’t - she couldn’t - run from this. She was too much of a fighter.

The Outsider’s voice was quieter, as though he spoke in a dream, trying not to draw her ire. “If you would fight anyway, let it be with my aid.”

“I already have your aid,” she spat, pulling a face. And a fat lot of good it’s done. Where had he been before she’d been taken? Had he let her be taken? Just to bring her to his side? What was the connection between the fae and the witch?

Her mind was once more filling with that tide of questions as her horse slowed. She glanced back to find the Outsider had stopped. And without his magic unfolding the path they followed, she was forced to stop as well. She scowled at a face that watched her with something that now resembled distant fascination.

“...Come here.” He raised a hand, and she could see the gold light that winked at the tips of his fingers.

She bristled. “So you can make it worse?”

There was a slight lift to his lips as his face softened. “So I can make it stop.”

Scanning him over, evaluating, eyes narrowed and trying not to think of each unforgettable instance of his skin on hers, she finally seemed to make her choice. It was her turn to bring her mount alongside his, mouth an obstinate line even as she ignored the way her heart leapt to her throat when their eyes met. Her skin broke out in goosebumps, but she refused to shiver as he rested his hand against her face again, instead glaring into golden eyes like a warning. If he made it worse-

But that needling feeling was only for a fraction of a second before the relief spread through her. It took all she had to keep her eyes open, focused on his even as the anger in them cooled. Muscles that had been tense and strained relaxed, her throat no longer burned and head no longer throbbed. And now that she knew the alternative… she truly did appreciate the respite. Her mouth twitched, (perhaps illogically) irritated by her own inevitable gratitude, but she refused to look away, or to voice her thanks.

It was only as he leaned toward her that she broke eye contact, glancing aside as her pulse sped. Graceful fingers slipped through dark hair as his thumb brushed her cheekbone and she swallowed nervously just before he placed a chaste kiss on her forehead, just above her eyebrow. Her dizziness in that moment was most assuredly not due to any curse. Eyelids fluttered but she refused to let the sigh escape her, slow even breaths instead filling her lungs with that eerie scent of moss and bone. His breath broke against her skin for just a moment, and she was immediately reminded of earlier that morning as fingertips stroked through her hair. Was this how it had felt for him, when she’d run her fingers through his fur? It was so… intimate. Innocent. But intimate.

The Outsider pulled back, and the anger in Emily’s gaze was gone, replaced by a perplexed wariness. She once more found herself having to censor her gratitude, and by the small curve of his lips it was clear he knew her struggle.

“...Another gift.” It was an observation on her part, said in place of thanks.

His irises were like liquid honey, the black smoke creeping to surround them as he put on a small smile. “A futile gesture, no doubt,” he murmured wryly, pausing before pulling his hand away and straightening himself in his own saddle.

She watched his eyes for a moment, waiting for the black to drain away again, but he seemed content to let them be. And they didn’t unsettle her quite as much as they used to.