OneWhoTurns

Title: scandal
Chapter: 1/1
Pairing: Emily/Outsider [emsider]
Word count: 3955
Rating: T
Summary: “If I asked you to-” The confident words died on her tongue as she met his gaze again. His pale, knowing, fiery gaze. She was breathless. // “You know I would.”

“Yes, thank you, that’s - yes, that’s-” Emily found her irritation growing as the gentleman before her bobbed his bow again and again, but she kept her face placid. “Yes, Lord Durham, that’s very-” again, he bowed, “-very good. I wish you the best of luck with your endeavors, truly. Now, if you don’t mind-” She side-stepped the pinch-faced man who had been rambling on about some new projects he’d be able to move forward thanks to her most recent negotiations of trade agreements and… She sighed. It didn’t matter. Just the thought of policy meetings and paperwork made her legs heavy.

“Why do you let these people close to me?” Her voice was low as she directed the dry comment to her father, who had quickly fallen in step with her when she’d left her last conversation. “I swear, there’s some maniac pulling the strings who wishes to bore me to death. Aren’t you supposed to be Royally Protecting me?”

She just barely spotted Corvo’s crooked smile out of the corner of her eye as he ducked his head. “And I am, Your Majesty. Even if you don’t believe it.”

A/N Mar 2018: Well, I wrote my first emsider ficlet. 

I think I spent too long on it, but I like how it came out. So... enjoy, I guess. If you like it (and feel like it), I’d love a review or a ko-fi.

Title: heresy
Chapter: 1/1
Pairing: Emily/Outsider [emsider]
Word count: 1744
Rating: T? acknowledges the existence of sex
Summary/Prompt: "Playing at heresy, Your Imperial Majesty?”

She'd received the scrimshaw bracelet as part of a series of unwanted gifts from Whitecliff, supposedly meant to reinforce the bond between the Crown and the Abbey. More like a reminder that the Abbey was always watching. The bracelet was a series of six whalebone panels: four for the four isles of the Empire, one for the Abbey, one for the Crown. It was carefully and intricately crafted - she was sure whoever had made it must have spent months with fine delicate tools - each panel depicting a highly detailed scene specific to that facet of the Empire. 

Emily ran her thumb over the panel meant to represent Gristol -- a whale in a sling. A slaughterhouse, to represent her homeland. And of course next to it, on the panel representing the Crown: her face.

The juxtaposition made her ill.