onewhoturns | [Dishonored: fae AU] Iron & Gold: 1. The Queen (emsider) 2/3*

A/N Oct 2018: Ayyy, here’s some more of the fae AU. I still don’t have titles, but I’ve gone ahead and figured out where different chunks fit, so there’s at least an order (Prelude, 1-1, 1-2, etc). More of my work on AO3, FFnet, ko-fi (for previews). I wish there was some way for people to do mid-page notes like how people can leave comments on soundcloud; I always like to know which moments hit and which miss. Anyway, enjoy. ^^

Story Title: Iron & Gold
Chapter Title: The Queen
Chapter Part: 2/3
Story Part: 3/?
Pairing: Emily/Outsider (emsider)
Word count: 1088
Rating: PG (higher rating later chapters)
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 (1-1), next part (1-3)

At this rate, I won’t even want to sneak away.

The feast of the night was - apparently - to be held outdoors, lit by paper lanterns strung between tents, and candelabras that bordered on garish. While the common folk caroused around bonfires, the nobility would sit at tables decked in gilded ivy drinking wine, dancing, suffering through formal introductions and - for Emily - trying to ignore her father’s overprotective gaze. She supposed his worry was logical, given his obsession with fae. It was the last day of the Mummers’ Feasts, after all. The time where the veil between worlds was thin, workers rested from their harvest, and left offerings and held raucous celebrations to appease the fae and keep in their good graces. If there was ever a day for Corvo to be paranoid, this seemed appropriate. Still, his constant stare was bound to get irritating.

But she didn’t try to ignore every gaze. As the sun set, as mists filled the forest, held off by the burning lanterns, and the echo of laughter drifted over from beyond the nobles’ fête, Queen Emily Kaldwin I entered their final feast looking resplendent. Even she found herself fascinated by the shifting shadows in her golden gown (one she couldn’t bring herself to feel disgusted by, even knowing it was dyed with the poor old weaver’s blood) - subtle hints of burning pink and yellow-green and a periwinkle blue that appeared and disappeared leaving just a doubtful memory that they’d been there to begin with. It was like butterfly wings; iridescent, intricate, and just slightly otherworldly. She loved it.

An hour in, Emily’s cheeks were flush with wine and revelry, her delicate golden crown knocked slightly askew in her enthusiastic gestures and lively chatter. She squeaked and giggled as one of the noble sons in her circle looped his arm around her waist, sweeping her out onto the dance floor, and as she heard steel drawing from a sheath she glared at her father, making it clear that her protestations were entirely in good fun and will you just relax for a minute?

It was a celebration. If common people could forget about formality and custom, why couldn’t she? For someone so scared of the fae, he should be the most eager to do all he could to make them happy. And that meant three days of dancing, drinking, and indulgence. But of course the expectations were different for nobility. As villagers built massive bonfires and stayed up all hours throwing parties worthy of the fae, stirring up mischief and performing bawdy plays, the nobility only had nights off. Days were focused on calculating and arranging provisional stores for their people, preparing for the coming winter. Which, for Emily, meant sitting through lists of livestock and harvest estimations, trade briefings and proposals, and verifications of taxes. Horribly, horribly boring.

So if she wanted to spend the last night of Feasts - her birthday - enjoying herself with other young court nobles, she was damn well going to do it.

The force of her annoyance seemed to have the intended effect, as she saw how her father’s shoulders slumped in a sigh as he turned his back, shifting his attention to the rest of the room.

With not a small amount of self-satisfaction, she let herself focus on the dance, twirling and laughing as a pretty blonde soon cut in to steal her away from her former partner, the girl’s eyes bright with admiration as the queen grinned at her. The Mummers’ Feasts had the best dances; songs that would never be played in stuffy formal affairs were struck up joyfully - even in noble circles like this. Songs that made a heart beat just a bit harder, feet twirl just a bit faster, lips smile just a bit wider. None of the coarse lyrics that would be sung to the same melody in the streets, but a wild beat nonetheless.

It was as she glanced away from her next partner, taking in the rest of the party, that she spotted him. An unfamiliar young man. She may not have noticed him, had he not been staring. Dressed well, but not extravagantly, with hair blacker than any she’d seen in the whole kingdom of Gristol. He wasn’t of the local nobility, she was certain. Perhaps visiting from a neighboring kingdom? No, surely someone would have informed her of such a thing. She ignored her partner to watch the man carefully, curiously, wondering what it was about him that so intrigued her. He was beautiful, in a sharp kind of way. Like a well-crafted sword. But what was it--

She felt the glint off his eyes like a reflection on silver-- no, gold. How could she know from so far away? But she did know it, like she saw her own dress she knew his eyes were even more gold than that. Fae-touched?

As the idea popped into her head, she saw his lips lift slightly in a small smile before he turned to move through the crowd.

Quickly, she found a way to extricate herself from her partner, from the dance floor, and tried to slip away through the partygoers. It was difficult. Only once she’d pulled off her crown and wrapped herself in a borrowed cloak was she able to escape the feast, moving away from the glow of the lanterns to the shadow of a cloistered walkway, sure she’d seen the man come this way.

There. A shift in the shadows ahead, heading toward the dimly lit archway leading away from the gathering, out toward the forest. Her heart thudded loudly as she moved faster, not quite running but walking purposefully in silent slippers, skirts and crown held tight in her hands as she spotted another brief glimpse of him as passing through the exit and out into the mist-filled darkness.

By the time she made it to the archway and looked out on the dark grass lit by hazy moonlight, there was only a distant shadow rounding the other side of the building. She scanned around her, but only spotted far-off bonfires. And in the forest--

She lifted a hand to where the adder stone was tucked beneath the neckline of her gown, suddenly and begrudgingly glad for all of her father’s precautions as she watched the soft flicker and pulse of light glowing from somewhere just inside the tree line. Her curiosity tickled at her even as she knew following strange lights could only lead to folly.

She wondered who would go missing tonight.