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onewhoturns) wrote2018-11-07 01:13 pm
[Dishonored: fae AU] Iron & Gold: 5. (emsider) 1/3*
A/N Nov 2018: Just another quick reminder that this is a WIP in the truest sense of the word. I am by no means an expert on... well, anything. So some bits and pieces are lacking in research, and I may one day (one distant day) go through and edit for accuracy. Only letting you know this because in case you notice stuff like 'huh that's a bit weird' about things I have no idea about, I can assure you that I am probably wrong and one day I'll figure that out (hopefully).
A/N Nov 2018: In case you missed it, this whole project is being posted un-serialized (in full chapters) over on AO3 under the title Iron and Gold. But it takes me longer to write full chapters than the little sections, and I like sharing the bits I am done with. If you want to check out my other work: AO3, FFnet, and a preview for the next section on ko-fi.
Story Title: Iron & Gold
Chapter Title: 5 (I can't fuckin title stuff to save my life)
Chapter Part: 1/3
Story Part: 15/?
Pairing: Emily/Outsider (emsider)
Word count: 1937
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 (4-3), next part (5-2)
Emily woke to aching limbs, a burn in her chest and throat, and a gnawing hollowness in her stomach that nauseated her the second she tried to move. She barely got her chest over the crest of the log she slept beside before she was sick. If Delilah truly was draining her, she didn’t find it hard to believe. Hands splayed and trembling she let her chin rest on the mossy bark, eyes closed but leaking tears for all her exertion. If she’d had the energy, she might be embarrassed at her retching, but she simply didn’t.
She was so tired. It would hardly surprise her to fall back asleep even while draped over her current support. It was unusually soft as it was, thick with moss that most certainly had not been there when they’d arrived the night before. And she was grateful for it. She turned her cheek to press against the cushioned bark, her head feeling full of cotton and shot through with a sharp throbbing all at once.
“Your Majesty.”
She ignored the voice, willing herself toward unconsciousness again. It seemed to work, the chirp of birds fading and blending into a serene soundscape that quickly swaddled her in sleep once more. She was vaguely aware of a change of atmosphere - or perhaps it was air pressure - within the camp behind her, though the feeling was lost in her disconnected awareness of the crackle of a fire at her back as well. That had probably been going for a while though, she reasoned, letting the sound mesh in with the rest of the noises that had become a lullaby.
A soft prodding at her shoulder made her stir, but she turned away from the touch, ducking her head and shifting her legs a bit to curl against a cushion far too firm, her blanket unusually thin for the monarch. In sleep she didn’t feel like she was dying, so that was where she’d stay. Once she had to be up and working her father would check in. She’d explain she was sick, he’d get her favorite soup from the kitchens, and it would be a day of rest.
Again, something nudged her shoulder - and stayed there, hesitating and then nudging again. Reaching back to push whatever it was away, her hand met fur. Reflexively she pet the creature - a dog, she thought, though its head seemed unusually large - her fingers quickly finding that spot behind the ears that would make the castle hounds thump their feet on the ground. She felt the skin of the beast tighten, fur bristling, and it turned from her hold just as she’d turned from it. Fair enough. Back to sleep then. Warmth radiated off of the creature as it settled down beside her, the weight of it pulling her blanket snug around her legs, almost tucking her in.
She wasn’t sure how much later it was that she woke again, shoulders far too sore from their awkward positioning, though the stiffness at least distracted her from the rest of her aches and pains. This time there was no nausea as she turned to sit up, using the log as a rest for her back instead of her front. The beast still lay beside her, watching calmly from where its head rested on crossed paws. Emily stilled as she remembered the night before. And then just perhaps half an hour ago…
Clearing her throat, her cheeks went pink. “Ah- um. Sorry. I didn’t mean… I mean- I don’t mean to treat you as a- a pet, or anything.” Though she had to admit he was very soft. Emily looked into golden eyes and fidgeted slightly, but he didn’t even lift his head, let alone speak. Could he speak in that form? He hadn’t tried the night before. And his silence had been thoroughly appreciated. Now, though…
She glanced down at her hands, flexing her fingers to keep from reaching to pet the creature again - an automatic reflex given the number of animals that were kept in the castle. “...It is a bit odd,” she admitted.
After a moment of silence, the creature - a dog? A wolf? Something of both? - lifted its head.
Did he mean for her to continue? “Not the not touching part. That makes-” she faltered, finding her skin crawling all of a sudden with a memory she thought she’d pushed away. “-That makes a- a lot of sense, actually.” She was wringing her hands even as she looked away from him, glancing across the low fire at their grazing horses. “What with everything… I’m not particularly fond, myse-” She made no attempt to hide her surprise at the soft butting of its - no, his - nose against her palm. Hesitating, she found herself frozen, unsure. “I…” The heavy head rested across her lap, eyes closing. When she still made no move, he shifted to nudge against her hands again.
It made no sense, the relief that flooded through her. Why did such a simple gesture feel like a lifeline? Fingers gently combed through fur, not quite the same way she’d treat a pet -- this was less about giving the creature a playful treat and instead a sort of respectful gratitude. She watched fingers move through fur so dark she half expected it to dye her skin. It was soothing, the repetitive motion, taming whatever had surged awake in her with the unwanted memories. Breaths became even, calm, and a slow prickle of something warm spread through her chest. Her own eyes closed as well, her stroking practically a hypnotic pattern until she let her hands sink into the deep fur around his neck, thumbs rubbing soft circles at the base of his skull.
She’d needed that. That small connection. Something to keep her present and calm and grounded. Warm brown eyes regarded the creature with a gratitude she knew she shouldn’t voice. What a stupid rule. But if words wouldn’t do, how else could she thank him?
She only hesitated a fraction of a second before leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of the beast’s massive head - and she couldn’t resist a slight nuzzling into the thick fur of its ruff. A brief pause, silently thanking him for the warmth of it all, his fur smelling a bit too green for any animal, and then she drew away entirely, waiting for him to move so she might stand at last and get ready for the day. But before he stood, his nose angled toward one of her hands and she lifted it obligingly only to have the creature’s tongue lap gently at her skin. It wasn’t until a moment later, once he’d retreated to the other side of the fire and she’d stood to straighten her clothes, that her mind flicked briefly to the maze in the moonlight and his lips pressing against her palm.
Her brow furrowed briefly, glancing over at where the beast now stood seemingly checking in with the horses - which were unsettlingly calm despite the presence of an animal somewhere between wolf and dog. It was like a disconnect in Emily’s brain, unable to compare his actions as man versus beast. Things felt easier with him in this form - she was less flustered, felt less of a necessity to fill the empty air with chatter. But if she tried to think of his actions replacing one form with the other… Her back was turned to him as she folded away her makeshift bedroll, and she was glad for it as her cheeks flushed. She would not have been quite so comfortable if the fae had been a man laying next to her, putting his head in her lap -- kissing her hand.
The sound of a sword slipping from a sheath made her turn, only to find the fae - the Outsider, she needed to start thinking of him by some kind of name - once more in a human form, hefting the blade she’d brought for him despite his reluctance, looking at it with a slight frown as he turned his grip back and forth. A shiver ran up her spine as she watched the blade shift almost imperceptibly, a silver sheen drawn from the metal as it seemed to thin and sharpen on its own. Her eyes sparked, intrigued at the effortless way he wielded magic, as natural as breathing.
“I can stay an animal, if you’d prefer.”
Her gaze snapped from the blade to his face, but he wasn’t looking at her, still adjusting the sword to his preferences.
“My intention is not to unsettle you, Your Majesty.”
Straightening her spine, trying to hide that he did just that with his very existence, she took a few slow steps toward him. “So what exactly is your intention?” Her heart leapt to her throat as he pierced her with those golden eyes, but she met his gaze head-on. “Why are you helping me?” She wished her voice was just a bit less breathless.
The longer he stared, the faster her heart sped.
“Will you swear your service?”
Her silence seemed answer enough for him, as he put his back to her once more, now adjusting the saddle onto one of the horses.
Lips pursed in mild annoyance, Emily moved to attend her own horse, unable to resist checking his tack as she passed. She faltered in her movements. “You have blood under your nails.” Not just under his nails - it scabbed around his cuticles.
The Outsider barely reacted, continuing his task. “Yes.”
Her annoyance grew and she fought to keep from rolling her eyes. Beginning her own chores, her tone was pointed: “And why, exactly, do you have blood under your nails?”
“Because I missed it when grooming my claws last night.” The words were spoken casually, if a bit on the cold side. “I can clean them before we continue, if you wish.” Once more he met her gaze, and she fidgeted at his level stare.
“You’re being purposefully difficult,” she accused, before looking back to the job at hand.
“No more than you.”
“Me?” She scoffed, sending him a skeptical glance over the saddle she was adjusting. “What, for not signing my life away?”
“You have no good reason to hesitate, Emily.” Had she heard him this clipped before? He almost sounded irritable, impatient, though that was well-hidden under a studious indifference. “Nothing aside from your own fear.”
“You tricked my father.” When her horse shifted under her too-forceful hands she quickly readjusted, this time more gently. “You knew the curse would return if I made a deal with you, and still you sought me out.” She watched him with an accusatory glare, expecting some defense. But he didn’t speak, though his mouth had gone tight. Emily looked away, back to her work. When she spoke again, there was a touch of pleading to her voice. She just wanted answers. “...What did she do to you?” Brown eyes met gold only for a moment before he looked away. “Why do you want her dead?”
It seemed the Outsider intended to ignore her, finishing his intended task and then retreating, placing one knee on the ground and his injured palm in the dirt, working some kind of magic once more.
“It’s not like I want her alive any more than you do,” Emily pointed out.
He’d somehow drawn a small pool of water into a shallow hole in the ground that hadn’t been there a moment ago, and now scrubbed at the dried blood on his hands. “Then make the deal.”
It was her turn to refuse to answer.