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Outsider's Honor	By : HakaTsuru Category: +A through F > Dishonored Views: 3146 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dishonored, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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In which Corvo arrives in the Void and seeks out his benefactor.
A/N: The first chapter of this story was intended to be a one-shot. It has however, become something more, and my brain just keeps adding to it. There will be sex in the next chapter, and I'll update content codes to change that when I post it. At this point, I can't tell you how long the story will be. If you want to be on the front-line of updates, so to speak, you can follow my Tumblr at kestrel-sama.tumblr.com
_~_
Corvo floated in nothingness. It was a peaceful sort of nothingness, but far more quiet than he was comfortable with.
The last thing he remembered was feeling a painful tightness in his chest, and clutching at the dinner table, fingers still strong in spite of the pain. Emily was at his side in moments, and she had snapped at one of the guards to fetch the royal physician.
He remembered patting her hand comfortingly before weakness overtook him, and everything went dark. There had been a light after that, blindingly bright that reached for him, drawing him in, but something....someone held onto him. Arms wrapped around his torso, and a chin rested on his shoulder, holding him back. The ghost of lips brushed his ear.
"Not that way, Corvo."
He nodded like he'd known that, and soon the light dimmed, and the presence behind faded into mist, and he was alone.
He was alone for far longer than he cared to be, when he felt an odd tugging sensation just behind his navel. The pressure increased, and he curled in on himself, panting. He lurched within the nothingness, lungs feeling thick and burdened, his whole body distorting.
Nausea made him weak, and his minds stretched needle-thin, on the verge of snapping and casting him into madness. His very being felt pulled and compressed and squashed through something that seemed far too small to house the entirety of his essence.
Then, he saw a pinprick of light - a violet-blue light that managed to exude malevolence and benevolence in equal measure. He strove toward that light, craving heat and calm, chill and calamity, and needing everything that light offered with its seductive, pulsing glow.
He collapsed suddenly onto rough-hewn cobblestones, form and being returned to him in the span of a blink. He convulsed, body heaving in an attempt to expel the drowning thickness that filled his lungs and throat.
The Outsider was there, watching him with mild interest, seemingly unfazed by his distress. He stood with arms crossed carelessly over his chest, one foot tapping in front of Corvo, who again hadn't really taken notice of him until he spoke.
"I told you that you were mine." the Outsider said idly, lifting one hand to inspect his nails. "You still tried to go elsewhere when you died though." The tone of voice was chastising, but Corvo was too busy hacking and sputtering up the liquid that was clogging his lungs to apologize.
After he could breathe, he watched the black ichor he'd coughed up evaporate into wisps of smoke, and reached to wipe at his mouth. He paused then, in shock upon realizing that his hands were no longer wrinkled, or trembling with age.
He looked to his right and found a mirror that seemed placed for just such a purpose. He peered into it and saw that he was young - in his early thirties at the most - and dressed in the leathers and assassin gear he had worn while avenging Jessamine and making Dunwall safe for Emily. Even Piero's mask was hung securely on his belt. He brushed fingers over it gently, then finally dared to turn his gaze to his...benefactor.
When he finally looked, the Outsider was staring at him, seemingly bored. "Nothing to say, Corvo? I did just drag your spirit from the ether. Some small gesture of appreciation would be...appropriate."
Corvo shivered, and nodded faintly, daring to reach up and take the Outsider's hand, brushing lips across his knuckles in a brief kiss. "Thank you, my lord." he murmured, throat feeling raw, still. It seemed enough to placate the dark-eyed one though, and the other smiled, if ever so faintly.
The Outsider finally helped him to his feet, one hand stroking through Corvo's hair briefly. "Well enough, for the time being. Rest. Your spirit is in tatters from the journey here. Come find me when you wake."
Corvo blinked, and found himself in a bedroom, well-furnished, yet blessedly practical. It glowed gold from the warm flame of a lantern lit at his bedside.
A bookcase full of old books with strange writing called to him, but he only had the energy to brush fingers across their spines in quiet promise before kicking off his boots and shedding most of his clothes. Habit saw him leaving knives in strategic places nearby, and tucking one under his pillow. Old habits die hard, he mused as he crawled into bed.
He tried to think over what had just occurred - the fact that he was dead was only the least of his thoughts - but willpower was in short-order, and sleep sounded so...so good.
===
When Corvo woke, it wasn't due to any sound or errant beam of light. There was no sudden wakefulness, as he'd trained himself to, but instead, a luxurious, slow waking that he'd not been afforded since he was very young.
It was glorious.
He stretched languidly, mind muddled, and for a moment, he couldn't remember where he was. He jerked upright at that, trying to decide if he'd been poisoned when it all came back to him...dying, and being brought here by the Outsider.
He marveled at the memories as he slid out of bed and dressed. He wondered, not for the first time, what the Outsider wanted with him.
He'd said that Corvo was interesting, and that he wanted to watch him a while longer…whatever that meant. He’d also alluded to desiring Corvo in a more carnal way too…but surely that wasn’t just it? There must be other motives that he hadn’t yet disclosed.
Corvo couldn’t imagine that he could be terribly entertaining for long with nothing to do here in the Void, and regardless of his prowess in bed, even that didn’t seem like it was worth the effort the Outsider must have expended to bring him here.
Though…the thought of sex with the Outsider was plenty to keep his own mind occupied, that was for damned sure. He didn’t know what to expect…but he knew that he wanted every damn thing he could think of to do with the dark-eyed deity. He’d obsessed over the Outsider for years after he put Emily on the throne, and every pale-skinned, dark-haired youth that came into court caught his eye, though none of them could compare to the otherworldliness and sheer dangerous allure of the Outsider.
Emily had seemed to think him heartbroken over Jessamine – he had loved her deeply, it was true – but Corvo didn’t keep to himself out of longing for his deceased Empress. He kept to himself out of longing for the Outsider. He’d mourned Jessamine properly, and let her go, once she’d been avenged – he wasn’t really the type to wallow in grief – but he wondered if he would have kept her memory closer if the Outsider hadn’t wormed his way into Corvo’s psyche, his dreams, his nightmares, and somewhere along the way, his foolish heart.
He stepped out the door of his room, and halted abruptly, toes peeking over the edge of an island that drifted peacefully in fogged nothingness. He looked around, and frowned. There was nowhere to Blink to, and nothing he could climb.
Turning, he headed back inside his room, and paced for a few moments, thinking. A book on his bedside table caught his eye. Had that been there before? Curiously, he picked it up, examining the cover. It read: The Void: Lair of the Dark-eyes, or Holy Afterlife? by S. Shorecost.
A wry smile twisted his lips, as Corvo mused that for him, it was certainly both. He opened the book to a random page, quite certain that nothing here was an accident, and read the first paragraph on the page.
Theory: The Void as an extension of Will;
While some adhere to the notion that the Void is a physical creation of the Outsider – in the same way that a house is the creation of a builder – it is my belief that the Void is nothing less than a dimension of existence influenced purely by will.
By the rare accounts of those who have claimed to have visited the Void, (through either nightmares, or by the strange workings of His Runes, which are said to still be found on altars made by madmen) the physical appearance of the Void is ever-changing, and seems to rely solely on what the Outsider has brought his visitors to see.
It is this author’s opinion then, that if another were to enter the Void free from the Outsider’s will, he or she could have some small influence on their immediate surroundings. This is of course, based on the assumption that the Void is used to accommodating the will of whosoever occupies it – with the Outsider having the strongest will that exists in the Void.
Corvo shut the book slowly, mind working over the theory. Could he simply…will himself to be elsewhere? Eyes pinned to the brass handle of the bedroom door, and taking the thing in hand, he closed his eyes, thinking of the Outsider. He wanted to be wherever he was.
His left hand clenched, and he felt a rush of power, akin to what he felt when he used the Outsider’s gifts. He clicked the handle down, and pressed outwards. Opening his eyes, he found himself…elsewhere. Certainly not on the impassive ledge down into nothing that he’d first found when he tried to leave his room.
A cobblestone pathway wound its way through broken space, and grassy knolls, the blue-black night of the Void lit dimly by yellow lamps. He could see that the path spiraled down, down, past the feeble light of lamps, and even beyond the still, unwinking stars that lingered overhead. There was darkness down there, and he knew that he would find the Outsider at its heart.
He followed the cobblestones carefully, and called on his dark-vision to keep him from taking a wrong step and falling into a black abyss. Eventually, the cobblestones petered out, and wooden steps took their place. They creaked and groaned at his weight, yet some unspoken promise made him believe that they wouldn’t give out.
And they didn’t.
So slowly that he didn’t even realize it, the space was brightening with the lambent gleam of a violet-blue light. When he looked down, the steps were no longer cracked and creaking, but a rich and sturdy ash, nearly the color of bone.
Time meant nothing here, so at some point he reached the bottom, and gazed upon a simple red curtain concealing a doorway. Ducking through, he saw an elegant room, swathed in silks and cushions of deep blues that evoked the darkest reaches of the ocean. In one corner stood a huge mirror, gilt in silver and shadow, the edges never quite seeming to solidify.
The Outsider was standing before the mirror, gazing into it. It wasn’t his reflection that the mirror showed though, it was a young man, barely into pubescence, with the strangest golden hair he’d ever seen in a person, and eyes so blue they could have been carved of sapphires. The landscape behind him was a terrifying mountain of snow and ice, the likes of which he’d never seen.
Samuel had once spoken of lands far, far North, beyond Pandyssia. Lands where grass never grew, and only ice and snow held court, and where the people there had learned to survive such hellish cold. Corvo wondered if the boy were a native of that land. He saw the lad’s lips move, but heard no sound from him. The Outsider watched impassively, only the faintest cock of his head telling Corvo that he’d found something interesting in the blonde youth.
Glancing around, Corvo took a seat on a lounge, and waited. The Outsider said something cryptic to the boy, as was his wont, and he could see the child, the Outsider’s mark on the back of his hand, clutching a Rune to his breast as though it were a lifeline.
He could sympathize, really.
Once the Outsider had finished speaking, the boy’s image, and the snow-riddled landscape faded into mist, and the mirror held only swirling gray smoke.
“I didn’t expect you to make your way all the way down here.” The Outsider observed, turning and smiling faintly at Corvo. “Was your first thought truly to come see me?”
Corvo didn’t bother to answer, but stood and bowed at the waist, feeling for the first time, a thrum of nerves and anticipation. The Outsider stepped close, and Corvo shut his eyes, feeling with a shudder, the barest brush of a thumb over his mouth. He gasped when the digit pressed between his lips, and sucked the invader in, eyes opening and staring up at the Outsider with a heat that had simmered for decades.
“Tell me, Corvo,” the Outsider purred, thrusting his thumb between Corvo’s lips a few more times in a deliberately lewd fashion before withdrawing it and smearing wetness over his lower lip “What did you think would happen, when you sought me out?”
Corvo gulped, took a shaky breath, and ignored the hunger that coiled tight in his groin. “I daren’t make such presumptions, my lord.” He breathed.
The Outsider grinned and drew Corvo upright by the chin, leaning so close their lips brushed as he spoke. “Then tell me what you had hoped would happen.”
The flutter of lips against his own, and the clear order did interesting things to Corvo’s dick, and he felt himself begin to fill and stiffen in anticipation.
“I…had hoped to serve you in some of the more…carnal ways that you implied you had been lacking of late.”
The Outsider looked amused, eyes appraising. “Well now…I’ve brought you to this place…” he made a sweeping gesture around him, indicating the whole of the Void “…where you could do anything. Learn from every book known to man, taste foods from places you’ve never even heard of, even watch over your descendants as they battle their way through life, and yet…” he licked his lips, the motion not seeming as calculated as usual.
“…and yet the first thing you sought to experience…was me.” Long, elegant fingers found the burgeoning hardness beneath Corvo’s pants, and he shuddered as the Outsider stroked over firm, yearning flesh.
“How interesting.”
The Outsider whirled, and the air around him warped and twisted faintly. It made Corvo’s head hurt to watch, so he closed his eyes against the strangeness, and when he finally dared look, the Outsider was sitting in a throne of twisting shadow, curving bone, and plush cushions the color of blood. He was now wearing simply a robe of gray silk, and black trousers with the barest sheen of blue glinting off the nap.
One long leg was slung over one arm of the chair, and his elbow rested on the opposite arm, a fist propping up his head as he gazed at Corvo with no little avarice. He was the kind of vision that Sokolov would have (and likely had) offered his soul to witness but once. He could have been a painting, but for the tentacles of inky blackness that wavered around the Outsider, stretching and leaning towards him, as if to touch and stroke and pet the deity, but fearing the result of such contact.
A slow, wicked smile crossed the Outsider’s face, and Corvo was lost in the fathomless blackness of his gaze.
“Show me then, how you would please you deity.”
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Outsider's Honor