Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It doesn’t take very long for Daud to realise that Corvo likes the lavender plant.

Daud has seen the man go out to the backyard on more than one occasion to just stare at the little pot, a light smile gracing his face, with fingers gently brushing against the small buds of flowers.

Planting those had been a good idea then, Daud decides, just as he watches Corvo return from his latest flower-visiting trip through the backyard door.

Corvo’s holding a watering can, and Daud barely holds in a snort at that, eyes quickly flicking back to the pages of his book (on exotic meats).

Corvo’s usually more subtle about the things he likes; it’s difficult to discern if he actually likes something or not, but Daud has learnt – over many years - to pick up the little signs in his eyes and posture that suggest so. Void knows when he unconsciously started to take notice of such things.

Ever since the night Daud finally confessed – half-confessed - to Corvo, he had expected some sort of reaction from him.

Maybe Corvo would become more distant, withdrawn. Maybe he would have laughed and mocked Daud. Or maybe he would have immediately packed up and fled from Serkonos, disappearing from Daud’s life forever.

In any case, Daud expected something to change.

But nothing did. Corvo’s demeanour to him remained as it had always been. The man doesn’t show any signs of disgust or hatred, he’s just…neutral. Daud can’t tell if that’s a good or bad sign.

Corvo needs time, he still loves Jessamine with all his heart, Daud knows and accepts that (he could never ask Corvo to throw away that part of him), and Daud can barely imagine how hard it must be to try opening up to somebody else again after all he’s been through.

Even if Daud gets rejected – something uneasy rises up at the thought – he tells himself that he’ll be content. Corvo’s already given him so much, Daud couldn’t possibly ask for anything else.

But-

Just the thought of having the privilege, the honour of being the one to care for Corvo, make him smile, make him happy...it is something that Daud longs for more than anything else.

Corvo has been plagued by too many bad memories, even his good ones have been tainted by the dark, and Daud – forget how inexperienced and inept he is at doing so - wants to give him fresh new ones to cherish and hold onto.

And then a sound makes Daud look up from his book.

The hound is a blur of white as it paws up all over Corvo, tail wagging frantically as it tries to lick every inch of skin on Corvo. Slobber is dribbling to the ground in a thick cascade, and a scowl immediately makes its way up Daud’s face as he thinks of the amount of work it’ll take to get rid of every trace of gooey saliva.

Utterly disgusting.

As if Corvo heard Daud’s very thought, the man looks up, meeting Daud’s gaze from across the room.

The smile plastered on Corvo’s face slowly changes into a smirk, and a challenging glint flashes across his eyes.

Daud’s eyes narrow, turning into a glare when Corvo’s smirk widens.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop.” Daud instantly snaps at him.

Corvo – of course – only becomes even more amused.

He returns to playing with the hound, loudly teaching the despicable animal how to fetch, and Daud resumes reading, flipping the pages with more conviction.

He’s most definitely not letting that creature stay. He won’t let Corvo bully his way through this. This is his inn, and he is allowed to decide who stays and who goes. This hound is no exception.

But even as he thinks that, Daud’s eyes get drawn up, over the pages of his book and the old scratched up table in the centre, inching up across the room, past the hideous patch of white and up some more-

The sight of Corvo’s soft smile as the hound assaults him with the next onslaught of licking is like a switch, making something inside Daud unfurl like a rare flower blossoming under the moonlight. Corvo starts to laugh, softly, and the sound, coupled by the sight of Corvo smiling, makes an intoxicating warmth sweep across Daud’s body.

When had he ever come to care for Corvo this much? When did Corvo’s happiness suddenly become his?

Daud lets his eyes linger for a second more, and another, and another, until Corvo catches him looking and Daud has to duck away back behind his book, trying to mask the stupid expression that must be on his face right now.

He knows it doesn’t work.

The morning passes quickly, and in the afternoon, Corvo finds himself alone in the inn, with only the cat and the hound to act as company.

Daud had left the inn shortly after lunch – without even telling Corvo where he was going – and Corvo has been left with nothing to do. Nothing to read, nobody to play chess with, and nobody to annoy.

He’s bored - it suddenly strikes him – and Corvo blinks at the realisation. He’s so used to doing too much work all at once as the Royal Protector and unofficial Royal Spymaster that even boredom has become some sort of indulgence to him.

It’s not a wholly unpleasant feeling, he decides, and Corvo sinks deeper into the couch, thoughts starting to wander.

Where did Daud even go? He usually doesn’t even go out at all, especially if it’s this hot. He isn’t a very materialistic person either; Corvo has noticed that he hardly buys things, and the only logical reason he can think of is that Daud has gone to the bookshop to add to his ever-growing collection of books. But even so, he tends to head out only during rest days, in the morning, certainly not a hot, boiling afternoon like today.

So where has he gone?

Corvo ponders over it for a while more, but comes up with nothing new, and he watches the clock in the corner tick a full circle before finally getting up on his feet.

Initially thinking of going back to his room to find something to do or even take a short nap, Corvo abandons all his ideas when he passes by Daud’s room.

Corvo stops and stares at the locked door for a moment, considering.

He’s been inside a few times, but had never stayed long enough to take a good look at the room.

And the more he stares, the more he starts to get curious as to what exactly Daud keeps in his room, and the more curious he gets, the more tempting it is to take the key (that Corvo had gotten duplicated) and go in.

Corvo continues to stare at the door.

Daud is out after all, and there’s no one to stop him from doing some light snooping, he rationalises.

His lips quirk upwards slightly.

It’s a chance Corvo finds hard to pass by.

Quickly heading back to his room, he picks out the key from his bag, going back to Daud’s room.

He briefly wonders why Daud hasn’t gotten the lock changed after so long – the man clearly knows that Corvo has a duplicate key – but Corvo just shrugs it off, and inserts the key into the keyhole.

Corvo feels a prod at his calf right then, and he looks down.

The cat is staring up expectantly at him, tail swishing back and forth as she stares at him and the door. Mischief is evident in her bright eyes.

Corvo chuckles, and kneels down to pet her.

“Not today.” He says while stroking her. The cat purrs at the attention, but leaves readily when Corvo gently pushes her aside.

And Corvo turns his attention back to Daud’s room, opening the door fully.

The first thing to hit him is the smell, a fresh papery scent with faint traces of ink, as if Corvo just entered a bookshop.

He shuts the door behind him, breathing in deeply and letting the woody scent settle in his lungs before moving closer to examine Daud’s bookshelf.

Once again, the book ‘Serkonan Delicacies’ is nowhere to be found.

Corvo frowns, glancing over at Daud’s table instead.

A few books lie open on the table, but they are all books on gardening.

It’s not what Corvo’s looking for.

Corvo’s frown deepens. Where exactly has Daud hid the book?

He checks Daud’s drawers, but doesn’t find anything apart from an old audiograph machine.

Did Daud throw it away?

Corvo sighs, closing the drawer. It gets jammed on a stray audiograph card, and Corvo is just about to tuck it back in when something catches his eye.

His name, on the audiograph card.

Interest piqued, Corvo pulls it out.

It looks like any ordinary audiograph card. The date recorded on it is way before the plague, when Emily was a mere toddler, perhaps two or three years old, and it’s unmistakeably his own handwriting.

Why does Daud have this?

He carefully digs up the audiograph machine he found earlier and slides the card in, pressing the play button.

Static fills the room, before Corvo’s own voice rings out, but not of him talking like he expected, but singing.

Singing.

Singing a traditional Serkonan song.

Corvo’s face warms involuntarily, and he immediately smashes the stop button, grimacing out loud.

What? How in the Void did Daud get this?!

This was supposed to be-

Corvo groans.

Void.

He remembers this audiograph. He had recorded it for Emily, so many years ago.

Emily had been a difficult child at the start, often crying throughout the night, unable to sleep. Jessamine did everything to soothe her, but Emily just wouldn’t be appeased, wailing even louder instead.

It was usually up to Corvo to calm her down, often by talking to her, but most especially, by singing.

Emily calmed down near instantly when Corvo sung to her, and Corvo would have gladly sung her to sleep everyday if not for his horrible workload and unpredictable working hours.

To solve that, he recorded this audiograph for Jessamine to play if Emily was being…difficult. It made things so much easier, and Jessamine stopped losing sleep during the long nights.

Gradually, as Emily grew up, she stopped having this problem, and the audiograph was discarded…or so he thought.

Where did Daud get this?!

Corvo immediately goes back to the same drawer to ransack it.

There are other audiograph cards inside, and thankfully, all have Daud’s name on it, which means he only has this one audiograph card of Corvo’s.

And then Corvo suddenly realises: the one with his singing had been right at the top of the stack, and it’s clearly the one most frequently played judging from the amount of scratches on it.

Corvo’s face becomes even hotter.

He immediately thinks of the certain nights in Dunwall when he’s frayed and far too alert to go to sleep. He’d often sought refuge in his secret room, going through the audiograph cards to help him relax.

More often than not, he found himself playing Daud’s audiograph. He had no idea why, Daud’s voice is rougher than most, almost like a rock against grinding against smooth metal, but somehow, Corvo found comfort in his voice. It helped him calm down and relax, and he could enjoy a short moment of peace away from his busy, hectic life.

Just thinking that Daud does the same-

Corvo’s face burns.

He pulls out the audiograph card from the machine and tosses it back into the drawer, basically slamming it shut.

He knew Daud cared for him, but-

An odd concoction of emotions burst to life within him like an exploding grenade, too overwhelming to fully comprehend all at once.

He didn’t know. He didn’t know that Daud-

Corvo curses, trying to even his breath and compose himself.

He briefly considers burning the audiograph card, but dismisses the idea immediately when he thinks of somebody burning Daud’s audiograph back in Dunwall. Corvo wouldn’t have liked that. This audiograph card is evidently precious to Daud, and who is Corvo to take that away?

No, he can’t burn it, Corvo finally decides, and after a very long minute, he gets back up, resuming his search for Daud’s book.

He still has no idea what to think.

There is a glaze of sweat over Daud’s skin, singed under the Serkonan sun.

Even the gravel beneath his feet feels scorching, like stepping on hot, burning pieces of coals, and Daud briefly wonders what in the Void made him want to come out from the inn on this very day with this hideous weather.

He makes his way down the street, mentally cursing, and sidesteps to the left to avoid a couple – clearly drunk even though it’s barely past midday.

He wipes the latest layer of sweat from his forehead, grimacing, and takes a left turn at the next crossroad.

Another left, and he finally reaches his destination.

A small shop tucked in the corner of the street, easily missed by most, with a flimsy faded wooden sign hung up at the top to show its name.

Daud approaches near, and the shopkeeper – a young lady – smiles.

“Ah, good sir, you’re back again.”

Daud nods in return, eyes scanning the rows of pots lining the shop, each nestling clusters of bright flowers. Some are dull, some vibrant, with petals of a myriad of shapes and colours. They look stunning put together in a shop like this, like treasure trove full of sparkling gemstones.

“Are you back to purchase more?”

Daud’s eyes flicker back to the young lady, watching her wipe some soil dust off her clothes.

“I’m…considering it.”

She doesn’t flinch at Daud’s rough tone.

“Well, would you need any recommendations?”

Daud blinks, before shaking his head.

“…I’ll just take a look around.”

The lady nods, and Daud turns his attention to the variety of flowers around him.

He immediately ignores the roses at the front (they remind him too much of Delilah), and goes to scrutinise the other plants offered.

He rejects the first five he sees, the petals are too large, too vibrant, not what he’s looking for at all. He continues down the row, looking at every stalk, every leaf, every petal.

Daud’s knowledge of flowers – like most things related to beauty – is very limited, he always considered them as weeds, worthless and temporary, eventually wilting away into nothingness.

But perspective matters, as Corvo taught him, and as time passed, he started to grow a new appreciation for the things he once thought pointless. Stars, flowers, beauty. The world has so much to offer, and one day, Daud realised that he wanted to see them all.

He can only recognise a few flowers – common ones like carnations, tulips and lilies – but he looks at every flower nonetheless, even the exotic ones imported from Pandyssia that are probably a nightmare to grow.

“Are you looking for a…gift, perhaps?” The lady suddenly breaks in after a few minutes.

“I…” Daud pauses. “Something like that. And something that can be grown.”

“Nothing catches your eye?”

Daud takes a cursory glance around the whole shop, and shakes his head. They’re all too bright, too big. It’s not the right fit.

“…I see.” The lady chews her lip, thoughtful for a second. “Hm, I think I know what you might like. Wait here for a moment.”

The lady goes into the back of the shop, and comes back out after a minute holding a small pot.

“How about this? It’s not as impressive or flashy as a rose, but I figure it might suit your taste.”

Daud looks at it.

The plant is moderately large, thick green leaves protruding out from the sides like sword blades, with a long stalk right in the centre. Small flowers of a pale lilac line the length of the stalk, a string of colour to brighten up the overall look of the plant.

“…I’ll take it.” Daud declares after a full minute.

The lady beams, as if she just won a lottery.

“Of course.” She exclaims, about to get parchment paper to wrap up the plant.

She then pauses.

“Well, actually, if you don’t mind, I would like to add something extra to that too.”

“I don’t-”

“You don’t have to pay a thing. It’s free of charge.” The lady presses.

“That’s unnecessary-”

“It’s free!” The lady waves his protests off, already going around the shop and grabbing seemingly random flower stalks. “Just treat it as…a gift.”

Daud just sighs, and gives up.

The day for Kent passes rather quickly with Ralph by his side. He stitches a few wounds, treats a couple infections, and spends any down time listening to Ralph gushing non-stop about the hound (who he’s nicknamed affectionately as ‘Snowy’).

According to Ralph, ‘Snowy’ is a very bright hound, having learnt many new tricks within a few short days no thanks to Corvo. He’s currently learning how to fetch, and Ralph is already so excited to head back and play with the hound.

When the sun starts to set, Kent and Ralph pack up, locking the door and throwing away the waste bag, and then starting the usual walk back home.

Ralph’s energy is still not depleted even though it’s been such a long day, and he continues chattering throughout the whole journey back.

“I wish Master Daud will allow Snowy to stay. I’m sure if he sees how cute he is, he’ll change his mind.”

Kent nods in response.

“I mean, Master Daud’s keeping plants now, so a hound is basically no different, right?”

Kent’s lips twist into a smile.

Indeed, Daud has recently started a new hobby of gardening with that pot of lavender he brought back yesterday. It’s a hobby Kent is all too happy to encourage, and in fact, he’ll approve of anything else other than Daud’s insane habit of breaking plates and cutlery in the kitchen. He’ll let Daud grow plants and flowers in the backyard any day rather than stepping foot into the kitchen.

How strange to think that there would a day that the Knife of Dunwall himself would put away the knife in favour of a shovel, exchanging a forceful touch for a gentle one tending to flowers instead.

He’s changed so much over the years, and Kent’s heart swells at the thought. He would have never imagined this being possible just a few years ago, but right now, Kent can’t imagine Daud being any other person.

And it wasn’t just Daud that changed too.

Corvo has also changed a lot since the first time Kent met him.

He remains a very gentle person, that would always remain a core part of Corvo’s personality, but back then, he always seemed so exhausted, like he was holding on to the last thread of life he had, devoid of any purpose.

Corvo’s doing a lot better now, he smiles a lot more, laughs sometimes, and is generally more relaxed than Kent’s ever seen him be. He actually seems happy, which is more than Kent could ever hope for him.

Both of them have changed so much, and it’s heart-warming to know that they only did so because of each other.

It’s ironic in some ways, considering their uneasy history together.

Jessamine was the catalyst, but they broke each other, tore each other to bits and pieces, and yet, they were also the reason that the other was put back together. Even without words, they supported each other and helped each other heal, until finally, they got past all that animosity and settled into a brand new relationship as friends.

Except-

Daud’s pancakes suddenly come to mind, and Kent bites his lip to smother a laugh.

Daud’s interest in Corvo has always been very apparent, that isn’t new to anyone, but now pancakes have also gotten involved.

Daud, making pancakes.

Wholly unexpected, and to Kent, that signals something very…surprising. He knows Daud well enough to notice when he’s acting out of the ordinary, and making pancakes is definitely out of the ordinary.

It didn’t take long for Kent to realise that Daud’s interest in Corvo just crossed a very delicate barrier, and when the thought first popped up in his mind, he’d scoffed and swept it aside, because it just seemed too ridiculous to even consider.

But the thought was already there, and it remained in his mind like a pesky raccoon in the attic, unable to be removed. So Kent started to consider it, and the more he did, more of Daud’s actions – that Kent originally assumed were just another set of Daud’s unexplainable quirks - started to make sense.

It had clicked immediately, and he realised he’d accidentally stumbled upon something he wasn’t meant to discover.

He still keeps it a secret of course, Daud would probably flay him alive if he dared to tell anyone (especially Feodor), so Kent feigns ignorance, acting as the casual bystander in their little interactions.

It’s been enlightening to watch, amusing sometimes, and frustrating other times, but so far, nothing has progressed.

Daud’s still the one initiating everything, while Corvo remains passive, almost apathetic.

He often wonders when Corvo will give a response, and what it might be. Surely the man knows that Daud is trying to cour-

“Kent!” Ralph suddenly tugs on his shirt, jolting Kent from his thoughts.

“What?”

“Isn’t that Master Daud?”

Ralph points to the street junction in the distance.

There’s only two people walking down that street, and true enough, the one in front is a man of a similar stature to Daud, with an unmistakeable scar running down his face.

There is a bright patch of colour near his arm, and Kent squints. Why is he-

“Is he carrying flowers..?” Ralph cocks his head to the side.

Yes, those are indeed flowers. But why is he carrying a bouquet of-

Oh.

Oh.

Kent can’t fight back the laugh this time, and he bursts out giggling like a child, bending over and clutching his stomach to try stop the uncontrollable spasms of his stomach.

“He’s carrying flowers!” Ralph continues to exclaim, over and over, and Kent’s only response is to laugh even harder.

“I want to see. Let’s go!”

Kent doesn’t stop Ralph from dragging him down the street and towards Daud, who’s long noticed them from far away.

He’s carrying a pot of flowers in one arm and the bouquet in the other, fixing a scowl at them both.

“Master Daud! Are those flo-”

“I didn’t buy them.” Daud snaps immediately.

“…But you’re carrying them.”

“I didn’t buy them.” Daud repeats. “The shopkeeper gave them to me, insisted I take it off her hands rather.”

Kent struggles to calm down and keep a straight face, but he knows that it’s hardly working from the way Daud openly glares at him, daring him to say something.

Ralph goes to examine the flowers, and then he gasps.

“The flowers are so purple! They’re so pretty!”

Daud doesn’t say a thing, standing there with the same scowl on his face, and Kent curiously glances down at the bouquet.

It’s certainly a very purple bouquet, with dashes of pink and blue at the sides and in the center. An odd choice of colour, but they blend together nicely enough that Kent can’t complain. The florist clearly knows her work well.

And he looks even closer, trying to determine exactly what kind of flowers there are.

He recognises lavender of course, bellflower, and…gladiolus?

Gladiolus? Kent hardly sees them here in Serkonos, they aren’t the popular variety, but he recognises the distinct shape of the leaves and flowers, jutting out like spikes in the bouquet.

He alternates his gaze between the bellflower, the gladiolus, and the lavender, and has to fight very very hard to keep a straight face.

That sneaky florist…

He knows exactly what does flowers mean, and judging from Daud’s impassive face, the man is absolutely clueless.

There is a pause.

“…They’re uh…pretty.” Kent starts, as an idea starts to form in his mind.

Daud raises an eyebrow.

“…I suppose.”

“Are you going to give them away?”

“Why? You want them?”

“Wh- No. No. I don’t.” Kent quickly says, before cooling his expression into a neutral one.

Ralph looks between them curiously.

“…Maybe you could give them to Corvo.” Kent continues, saying each syllable very carefully.

“What.”

Kent shrugs, doing his best to appear dismissive.

“Well he seems to like these kind of things.”

“Hm.” Is Daud’s only response before he starts walking again, clearly eager to put an end to the conversation and get back to the inn.

Kent allows himself precisely one second of gleeful smiling before falling into step behind Daud.

When Daud first opens the inn door, he is greeted by a waft of something baked, like he’d just stepped into the bakery.

He sniffs the air, puzzled. None of the whalers apart from Kent bake, so the only person Daud would deem responsible for this smell is-

And Corvo steps out of the kitchen, a light layer of flour covering his arm. He’s faintly smiling, about to say something snarky perhaps, but everything instantly vanishes when his eyes fall on the bouquet of flowers Daud’s still carrying.

Corvo stares at the flowers for a moment, and then completely freezes, making a long silence befall upon them.

Daud swallows, somehow completely forgetting about Kent and Ralph behind him.

His heart starts to race at an alarming rate, and somehow, looking up at Corvo becomes nearly impossible. Why does he suddenly feel so suffocated?

But before he can change his mind, he thrusts out the bouquet, deliberately avoiding Corvo’s gaze.

“Here.” Daud’s throat feels so sticky, and the words almost refuse to come out.

Corvo is still speechless.

“The shopkeeper gave them to me for free. You can have them if you like.” Daud quickly explains.

It takes a few seconds for Corvo to break out from his frozen state, blinking a few times.

“Really?”

“Yes. Take them.”

“I- Uhm…Thank you.”

It is rare to hear Corvo stumble over his words, and that flustered reaction somehow gives Daud enough courage to peek up.

Corvo’s smiling, just barely, and his head is tilted downwards. His fringe falls over his face like a veil, covering his eyes, but it does nothing to hide the fact that his face is a few degrees redder than usual.

Daud feels the air thicken around him as Corvo reaches out to accept the bouquet, his flour-covered fingers brushing against Daud’s for a split second.

His fingers are so warm.

Corvo thanks him once more, and then ducks away to go upstairs. Daud goes to put his new pot of flowers in the backyard.

When Corvo comes back down from his room, his face has returned back to its usual shade.

Daud asks him,

“What are you making?”

“It’s a surprise.” Corvo replies smoothly and retreats back into the kitchen, mixing and stirring things together with a certain skill that makes Daud vaguely jealous.

Well, whatever he’s making, it smells nice.

And Daud suddenly spots an open book on the kitchen counter, one that looks all too familiar with its rugged cover and dog-eared pages. He doesn’t even need to go closer to confirm what it is.

Serkonan Delicacies.

His mind splutters to a stop, and a cold chill goes down his spine. When and how did Corvo find it??

Daud thought he had hidden it very well, away from all prying eyes.

But in all honesty, it’s probably his own fault that Corvo managed to get it. He just knew he should have gotten that damned lock changed. In fact, he should have done it from the very first time he knew that Corvo had snuck into his room.

All that effort hiding the book for nothing now, Daud mentally curses.

Corvo’s still mixing, eyes concentrating on the bowl, and Daud shuffles over to the counter as unobtrusively as he can to take a look at which recipe Corvo’s using when-

The book gets slammed shut by a flour-covered hand.

“No peeking.”

Daud scowls.

What is Corvo making?

He hates a mystery.

Corvo just shoots him a knowing smirk.

Daud doesn’t even get to stay in the kitchen to watch after that, Kent chases him out with a stern warning not to touch anything, and Daud grumbles a few curse words, going to the couch to read a book instead.

Gone were the days when the whalers would listen to his every word. Now he can’t even step into his own kitchen without Kent yelling at him to get out.

Daud can hardly concentrate on his book with that burning mystery in mind, and it takes a long painful hour or so for Corvo to finally finish making whatever he had been trying to make.

When he comes out with a full tray of baked goods, all the whalers coo in amazement.

Daud recognises the dessert.

It’s eclairs, recently made popular after Duke Theodanis declared it his favourite dessert in a public interview.

Daud had no idea Corvo could bake, and bake well too. The éclair looks good, a crisp shell pastry with cream oozing out from the sides, topped with a shining glaze of cocoa icing, and the whalers start to help themselves to it.

“It’s delicious.” Kent says, after taking a bite.

Corvo smiles at him and nods.

Daud just stares at it, watching the pile slowly decrease in size. Just looking at the icing and the cream makes him feel vaguely nauseous, and judging from the way Feodor gobbles it down one after another, it’s probably extremely sweet too.

But still…it was Corvo who made it, and even though Daud knows he won’t like the éclair, he still wants to try one.

And so he reaches out, fingers just about to take one.

“That’s not for you.” Corvo suddenly says, surprisingly firm.

It’s just a single line, barely even a sentence, and it shouldn’t affect Daud the way it does, but he very nearly flinches, withdrawing his hand without a question.

What? Why?

Daud’s throat closes, and confusion sets in.

He watches, quite dumbfounded, as the whalers continue to deplete the pile. Corvo doesn’t disallow anyone else to take the éclair.

Why is it just him?

What did he do? Did he offend Corvo somehow? Was it the flowers? He should have known those flowers were too much. Why did he even listen to Kent? But Corvo didn’t seem strictly offended to receive them. He seemed…neutral, like he always does.

So what did he do?

Daud tries to quell all those insufferable thoughts, but they continue erupting up, quickly consuming his mind and turning it into a jumbled mess. He picks up his book, trying to focus on reading instead, but all the words on the page are blending together, and nothing makes sense.

The whalers are gushing about the eclairs, about Corvo’s surprising talent at baking, while all Daud can feel is a growing tightness in his chest that almost hurts.

What did he do wrong?

Was it because of his…confession the other night..? Is this a sign that Corvo doesn’t want-

Daud turns ice-cold immediately.

Suddenly, the mindless chatter around him becomes too much to bear, and Daud closes his book to go upstairs into the safety of his room, struggling to recollect his thoughts.

The tightness in his chest just simply refuses to go away.

This is absolutely ridiculous. He knows he’s overreacting. He knows he’s acting like a Void damned child. What happened is something small, something insignificant. He’s a grown man, and he should just brush it aside because it doesn’t mean a thing, it doesn’t matter, and-

Everything hits him like a slap in the face.

No, Daud’s wrong.

He’s grown too complacent over the year, thought himself actually deserving of something more when he should have known better. He should know his place by now.

All the experiences that had shaped him into who he was, who he is, he’s thrown them aside once again in favour for this…foolishness.

How many times must he learn?

From the very beginning, when his own mother raised her hand on him and taught young Daud the true meaning of hate, to getting abducted by a faceless man with rough hands who laughed at Daud’s tears, and then to be brutally trained by another faceless man, being beaten and punished if he didn’t perform up to expectations, even Billie…

He’s been broken from the start. Somehow, somewhere, the world deemed it necessary for him to be hurt by everyone else, and as revenge, he had hurt everyone else back in return, but that ultimately got him nowhere except down a never-ending spiral of guilt and pain.

He's just so unlike Corvo. Daud hasn’t the faintest idea of what it’s like to be touched by somebody and not feel pain, or what it feels like to actually be cared for, and he’s still struggling to understand the concept of family and friendship.

Meanwhile, Corvo’s bright, shining, radiant, so well-loved by all (and Daud is everything but). What can Daud even offer him that others cannot? Corvo deserves so much more, Daud desperately tries to reason with himself, trying anything to help ease that tightness in his chest.

Corvo has taught him so much, given him so much. He’s good, pure, honourable, and Daud can fool himself all he wants, but deep down, he knows that Corvo is on a different plane of existence from the one Daud belongs in.

Actually courting him, what is Daud even thinking? Having the audacity to do so, he must seem like a complete, hopeless fool.

Daud sighs.

It’s just –

He’s never felt like this for anyone before, this all-consuming want - need - to see to their well-being, make them happy. Corvo is the first person he feels such overwhelming admiration for, devotion even, and somewhere deep inside Daud, he had wanted this to work. He wanted…something more, something to prove that maybe change is possible, that somehow, he isn’t as broken as he thinks he is.

He wanted to be proven wrong, but in the end, the cruelty in the world Daud has long learnt to expect once again emerged victorious, perpetuating that cycle of lonesome existence that he wants so desperately to break out of.

Corvo may have taught him hope, and Daud can hope all he wants, but even hope cannot fix what is already broken. Nothing can fix him, and he doesn’t deserve anything better than this after all he’s done to the world.

It’s more than enough to have Corvo as a friend.

Daud loses track of time as he spends the minutes - or perhaps hours – moping in that familiar dark corner of his mind, and he’s very nearly regained his composure when a knock on the door interrupts him.

It’s probably Kent, or maybe Thomas, to come check on him, because he doesn’t usually retire to his room this early, and he’s just about to let loose a sarcastic remark when he sees Corvo instead, brown hair and even softer brown eyes, standing sideways and leaning against the doorway.

Daud freezes, and whatever semblance of composure he has built breaks away.

“Are you alright?” Corvo asks, and it’s so easy to think that there’s concern in his voice, but Daud knows it can’t be.

“I’m fine. Just-” Daud takes a breath. “-tired.”

“Oh.”

A short silence follows, before Corvo stands back upright.

And that’s when Daud realises that he’s holding something in his hand, previously hidden behind the doorway.

It comes into view, and Daud’s throat tightens, momentarily forgetting how to breathe.

It’s a plate.

More accurately, it’s a plate with a tall stack of glistening eclairs, noticeably different from the ones Daud had seen just now. These particular eclairs have a darker cream and an even darker icing on top, almost black.

It’s as if his mind got frozen into solid ice, and no thought can even pierce through. Daud’s voice is completely stuck, all he can do is stare wide-eyed at the plate, at the eclairs.

“…What?” He chokes out after a long, bewildered moment.

Corvo’s eyes are trained on him, no doubt analysing his every reaction.

“They’re for you.”

“…What?” He dumbly repeats.

Corvo pushes the plate over, and Daud’s hands automatically reach out to take it, but his mind remains jammed.

“They’re eclairs.” Corvo explains patiently, before continuing when he realises Daud isn’t responding. “I put a lot less sugar into these ones. And the cream is coffee cream.”

Daud’s eyes lock with Corvo’s at that, still so very confused.

How, why, no…what..?

He thought-

…What?

Corvo made this specially for him?

“I-” Daud gets submerged in a pool of intoxicating warmth, and he finally feels his throat unlock. “…Thank you.”

He can’t remember the last time somebody had given him a gift. It had been too long ago, and none were even close to being as…thoughtful as this.

Corvo smiles, and if he notices that Daud’s eyes are redder than usual, he makes no comment of it.

Pleasant tingles are riding down Daud’s body, as if his skin itself is singing, and as he stares at the plate, already so precious, he gets choked up once again.

Corvo starts to turn, about to walk off.

“I...” Daud starts, overtaken by all that warmth in his body. He suddenly becomes hasty, and impulsive, and oh so foolishly hopeful.

Corvo stops to turn around, almost expectant.

“Do you…want to share?” Daud blurts out, before quickly adding, “I can’t finish it all.”

In truth, he’ll probably eat the whole damn plate even if he ends up sick for the rest of the week.

“Sure.”

The smile that Corvo flashes at him immediately chases away every single shred of doubt and insecurity left in Daud, and in that exact moment for the first time in his life, he doesn’t think he’s very broken anymore.

So far, every day since Corvo brought in the hound has started with Ralph asking - no begging - Daud to keep the hound, the only difference being the number of ‘please’ he adds each time.

And this particular morning, there’s four.

“Can we please, please, please, please keep the hound?” Ralph pleads.

Daud groans out loud, absolutely hating this. It’s even worse that Corvo is always so amused to watch the daily discussion unfold.

“How many times have I told you ‘no’?”

“But Snowy is very well behaved!”

Daud nearly chokes on the coffee.

“Who the fuck is Snowy.”

“Language!”

“Look, Snowy’s a smart hound. He even knows how to fetch now.” Ralph continues, ignoring everything Daud is saying.

He gets off the chair and trots over to a corner in the room, picking up some small chewed up toy and presenting it to Sno- the hound.

The hound starts to wag its tail, watching Ralph closely.

Ralph grins, throws the toy across the room.

And the hound is off, sprinting to catch the toy mid-air. It leaps, jaws wide, and clamps down hard, the toy giving off an indignant squeak as it gets trapped between sharp teeth.

The whalers all coo in unison, some even clapping, while Daud just glares at the floor, eyes already twitching at the strands of white fur he can see as clear as day.

When he looks back up, Corvo is staring at him, clearly very amused. Daud turns his glare on him, and Corvo smirks in response, while Ralph resumes trying to persuade him into keeping the hound. Daud glares at him too.

Thankfully, breakfast is over before they know it, and everyone starts to get on with their usual business.

It’s rest day today, and even Corvo has gone out with some of the whalers, while Daud is the only one who remains in the inn, quietly reading and passing time.

The book he’s currently reading is about gardening.

It’s actually quite interesting.

Daud had no idea that there were so many facets involved in taking care of a single plant. Weeding, pruning…and so much more. He’d always thought those things were low maintenance, requiring nothing but water and sunlight. Well, clearly he’s wrong, and if he wants those plants to bloom nicely and grow for the next few years, he’s going to have to put in much more time and effort than he’d initially estimated it would need.

He’s reading the chapter about different soil types when all of a sudden, he feels soft nudge against his shin.

Daud jerks and immediately stares downwards.

The hound flinches and skitters back like some kind of prey animal, and Daud glares at the patch of white, before inspecting his pants to check for any fur.

He angrily brushes a few strands off, before resuming his glare at the animal.

“What the fuck do you want.” Daud barks out, and the hound’s ears droop at his tone, a soft, nearly inaudible whine escaping.

When the hound doesn’t move, Daud just curses and returns back to reading. He still keeps the hound in his periphery however, he has no intention of dirtying his pants any further with disgusting fur.

The hound continues to whine, and whine, and whine, until Daud’s patience hits its limit and he slams the book shut.

The hound jumps at the sound.

“Will you stop that. Leave me alone. And go find somebody else to annoy.”

He knows the hound doesn’t understand a thing he’s saying, but animals have very keen senses, and it’s likely that it knows what Daud is feeling based on his body language and tone of voice.

The hound gets up on its haunches, still looking at Daud. It has stopped whining at least, and Daud gives it a long, stern look before returning back to his book.

He gets past exactly one paragraph before he glances back up.

The hound is just…sitting there, with that stupidly expectant expression on its face.

Daud goes back to his book, reads the next paragraph, and looks up.

Still sitting. Staring.

He reads a full page this time.

And the hound is still there.

This continues for a while more, and then Daud absolutely can’t take it anymore that he has to close the book.

Why can’t he read in peace without this stupid fur brain staring at him like he’s done something wrong?

Daud doesn’t owe it anything.

The hound realises that it has gotten Daud’s attention, and its tail starts to wag, clearly very eager.

Daud rolls his eyes, and catches sight of that slobber-soaked toy that Ralph had used earlier in the morning.

Actually picking it up is the last thought he has, and he lets the Outsider’s mark on his left hand flare instead, igniting his unused magic for ‘pull’.

The toy floats in the air, encased by a green tendril, and it stops a few centimetres away from actually touching his skin.

The hound instantly gets excited, tail starting to wag more vigorously.

Daud rolls his eyes once more.

He just wants this hound gone, and if this is the only way to get it to stop staring at Daud creepily from the floor like that, so be it.

Daud sends the toy flying across the room, into the kitchen.

The animal jumps up and runs after it.

Such a stupid thing, chasing after a toy, and a few seconds later, Daud hears a piercing squeak that signals the animal has successfully captured the toy in its mouth.

Good. Maybe it’ll leave Daud alone now, and he’s just about to reach out for his book when the hound comes running out, dropping the toy on the ground and doing that creepy stare at Daud once more.

Daud lets out a groan. His mark shines, and he flings the toy again.

The hound comes back within seconds, eyes glittering.

And then Daud tosses it to the second floor balcony, now getting more irritated.

He gets exactly one minute of peace before the idiotic furball comes bounding back down, nearly falling off the stairs.

One minute is still better than nothing, and Daud repeats the ritual, determined to tire the creature out.

But the hound just keeps coming back, over and over.

How much energy does this thing even have??

The hound returns from its latest fetching trip, tongue out and dripping slobber everywhere.

Daud automatically ‘pulls’ the toy towards him, preparing to throw it.

And then he hears a loud gasp from the door.

“You’re…playing with Snowy.” Ralph exclaims, halfway through the door.

Daud immediately drops the toy. Fuck.

“You’re playing with Snowy!! You’re actually playing with Snowy!” Ralph’s voice is starting to rise to a shout, and Daud can only groan out loud.

“I wasn’t. He-It wouldn’t stop bothering me.”

“Don’t care. Doesn’t matter. You were playing with him!!” Ralph continues gleefully.

Daud starts to get more exasperated. Fuck no.

“Absolutely not.”

“Did too.”

“Not.”

“Yes you were!” Ralph is beaming now. “I can’t believe that actually worked. Master Corvo was right!”

That one sentence irks Daud more than getting caught by Ralph. Of course it was fucking Corvo. Him and his stupid schemes once again!

To make matters even worse, Feodor, fucking Feodor returns back at that very moment, and Ralph grins at him. Daud curses, knowing he’s royally fucked.

“Feodor! Feodor! Guess what happened?!”

“Wait, what. What? Tell me!”

Ralph grins impishly, before blurting out,

“I caught Master Daud secretly playing with Snowy! He tried to deny it, but I saw it! I saw it!!”

Feodor looks at Ralph, at Daud, at the hound, and lastly at the fallen toy on the ground before he bursts out laughing.

“That wasn’t what happened!”

Feodor continues laughing nonetheless, and Daud glares at him as hard as he can, just wishing he can chuck a few grenades at them and save himself from this horrible, terrible misunderstanding.

This is the absolute worst.

And needless to say, Feodor tells everyone about it.

Kent seems very pleased of himself, Thomas laughs, and Zachary actually seems amused – which is the first sort of emotion Daud’s ever gotten from the man.

“Fuck you.” Is Daud’s insult to them all, and they all just laugh even harder.

Then lastly, Corvo returns, and Feodor immediately reports to him what happened.

Corvo gives him exactly one amused glance, and Daud just snaps.

“All of you are fucking assholes! Especially you.” Daud points at Corvo and lets out a low growl. “I’ll drown the whole lot of you in the sea!”

Corvo suddenly turns away, starting to shake, and it takes Daud a while to realise that Corvo’s actually laughing, laughing at him.

“It’s official, Snowy can stay!” Ralph cheers in a sing-song tone, marching around to announce his victory.

“I said no!”

“Too late! Too bad! You were playing with Snowy which means he can stay!”

Daud yells another string of profanities at the boy, ignoring how childish it comes across.

And Corvo shakes even harder, losing control of himself. Daud starts to hear the soft chuckles, dipped in that rich, musical baritone, and all his anger, annoyance, and frustration get swept aside.

“Fucking asshole.” Daud throws at him weakly, even if he doesn’t really mean it.

Corvo just keeps laughing.

He’s never realised how much that sound would mean to him until he actually heard it, but now that he’s gotten a taste of it, he wants to hear it again and again.

Everyone is still laughing at him, and Daud should want to gut all of them and hang their skins up for display, but Corvo’s laughter continues to resonate within him like some kind of symphony, and he’s finding it near impossible to muster up any kind of anger in this situation.

Daud suddenly decides at that very moment, that making Corvo happy triumphs over so many other things: his hate for fur, his embarrassment, even his pride, and immediately, the decision of whether the hound can stay becomes all too easy to make.

The next morning when Corvo wakes up is a quiet one.

After all that ruckus from yesterday’s spontaneous drinking session (to celebrate Snowy’s new status as a permanent resident), most of the whalers are in bed sleeping off a hangover, and Corvo makes sure to sneak downstairs as quietly as he can to avoid waking any of them.

To his surprise, the kitchen is empty. The coffee hasn’t been made and there’s no sign of the red-cladded man Corvo has grown to expect.

He looks around, goes out into the backyard, but Daud is not there either.

Puzzled, Corvo returns back to the kitchen, leaning against his usual counter and staring into blank space.

It’s still a little too early for Kent to come down yet, so Corvo goes to play with the cat and the hound instead, stroking the both of them lovingly.

Emily will absolutely adore the animals if she ever came here. And maybe Corvo should bring her here, she’s never gone out travelling much anyway. He’s sure that she’ll love the chance to explore. Getting some exposure to the other isles will do her good anyway.

She will probably like Ralph, and Kent. Daud…not so much, but Corvo’s sure that even she will warm up to him with enough time.

And then suddenly, he hears the shuffling of footsteps at the door, belonging to somebody who wants to be heard.

Corvo looks up.

Daud stands there in his classic red, his hair a little dishevelled more than usual. He looks…normal.

“Good morning, Corvo.”

Corvo blinks at him.

“Good morning, Daud.”

A silence comes, and Daud continues to stand there awkwardly, shifting his weight between both feet.

“Corvo.” He suddenly calls out.

Corvo looks up.

“Yes?”

“…I uh…”

Daud averts his gaze, and falls into another silence.

Growing a little bemused, Corvo continues to watch him, how he’s fidgeting uncontrollably, how he doesn’t meet Corvo’s eyes, and how he’s doing everything with his hands but keeping still.

Daud’s nervous.

“…Would you-” Daud stops, takes a breath, and starts again. “I mean…”

Daud shuts up immediately, and sighs.

“What is it?” Corvo cracks a small smile in encouragement.

“I…bought two tickets. For a ship. To Cullero.” Daud continues to avoid Corvo’s eyes.

Corvo waits.

“…If you don’t want to, that’s fine.” Daud adds weakly.

And a soft, warm feeling buzzes to life within Corvo.

Whenever Daud does things like this, it does something to Corvo.

After all that’s happened, the pancakes, the flowers, the hound, and then Daud’s choked up reaction from getting the eclairs, he’s starting to see, just a little, that Daud’s slowly opening up to him.

He’s starting to see this new side to Daud, a side that cares, a side so tremendously soft that nobody else has gotten to see before. Daud’s always hidden this part of him, sometimes ashamed to show it even, and part of Corvo wants to coax it out, to see more of it, because every time he does, Daud seems to glow. Not so much like a butterfly, but more like a gentle flame in the night. Warm, radiant, and Corvo likes that.

Jessamine was similar, not entirely the same, but similar, and Corvo used to love the shine she had that made her brighter than anyone else. Seeing her work harder than everybody else, shine brighter than everybody else, she was stunning, and absolutely mesmerising to watch. Corvo was completely taken by her, and more frequently, he’s starting to see those very same flickers in Daud.

It’s surprising, and at the same time, almost…endearing.

The man has been haunted by many traumatic experiences in the past – Corvo doesn’t need to be a mind reader to know that – and he knows how hard it must be for Daud to open up like this.

He’s afraid to get hurt, he’s probably just as insecure and frightened as Corvo himself is, but at the same time, he still has the courage to try.

Daud wants to put himself forth, to create a better future for himself, to search for something more.

Corvo’s eyes soften, looking at the man holding the tickets out, who’s still unable to look him in the eye.

He finally realises…he’s made his decision some time ago, and all he needs now is the same courage Daud is exhibiting to express it.

Corvo smiles, his fingers brushing against the lump in the inner pocket of his coat. He's gotten it at a whim yesterday while he was outside, but it seems like he didn't get it for nothing after all.

He knows exactly what he needs to do now.

Daud wishes the ground can just swallow him whole, or that he can go jump off a cliff.

What is he even thinking?!

He was supposed to do this more…discretely. More subtle. But when he saw Corvo in the kitchen, all his meticulous plans evaporated and then this happened.

The implication of what he wants is too clear, and Daud can’t even attempt to take it back.

He’s already bracing himself for the rejection, for the ‘no’ that will undeniably break his heart, and he steels himself, readying, readying.

The silence that follows is the longest one Daud’s been made to endure.

“Sure.”

One word, and it breaks through every barrier Daud has frantically tried to hide behind, until he’s completely exposed and Corvo can see him for who he really is.

“…Really?” Daud asks dumbly.

Corvo’s eyes are soft, fond maybe, and he nods.

“Yes.”

Daud’s heart jumps, and the relief that comes descends down his body like syrup. He pushes the ticket out, hoping that Corvo can’t see that his fingers are trembling.

“Here.”

Corvo’s fingers are once again warm as they brush against Daud’s own hand, lingering for a second more than necessary.

“And…uh…” Daud fumbles. “I also decided to go to Dunwall to speak with Emily. I can go right after this…trip. If that’s fine with you.”

Corvo smiles at him, and Daud can literally feel his world brighten up at that.

“She’ll appreciate that. I appreciate that. Thank you.”

“Thank you.” He whispers softly.

Daud’s mind is still reeling, his heart still thumping, and every fibre in his body is in shock, unable to process what just happened. This must be some kind of dream.

And then Corvo chuckles once, oblivious to the standstill in Daud’s mind.

“I was looking for you too, actually.”

Daud blinks. His heart is roaring in his ears, and it’s hard to hear anything.

Corvo picks out something from his coat, rolling it between his fingers. It’s something with a stalk, and leaves, and…

Daud has to take a conscious effort to remember how to breathe.

It’s some sort of flower.

“It’s for you.”

Daud’s eyes widen. Huh?

He doesn’t recognise this flower. It’s a little strange, with small, pinkish blossoms, and leaves shaped like a hand, with long thin fingers of green stretching out.

“What is it?”

“It’s called an ambrosia.” Corvo says, eyes unusually intense.

Daud blinks, puzzled, but reaches out with shaking fingers to take it.

“Uhm…Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Corvo smiles once more, while Daud stares at the small flower in wonderment.

This is the second gift he’s gotten.

His mind is barely keeping up with what’s happening, and as he continues staring at the flower, carefully memorising the exact shade of its petals and the shape of its leaves, he gets choked up all over again.

He looks up, finding Corvo’s eyes trained on him.

A switch flips in his mind, and the gates drop.

It comes like a giant flood.

Overwhelming joy, gratitude, exhilaration, so many things he can’t name, everything comes at once, and Daud drowns in it, his eyes welling up involuntarily at the intensity of it all.

He thinks of his mother, the one person who should have loved him unconditionally but didn’t, thinks of the heartless person who kidnapped him, thinks of every person that had hurt him, rejected him, told him ‘no’, and then he thinks of now, when somehow, against all logic and reason, the one person he’s hurt more than anyone else is telling him ‘yes’.

It’s all just too much to bear.

Corvo continues to watch him, not judging, but curious, and Daud feels the next wave of emotion come, nearly as strong as the first.

He’s so-

Daud takes a step forward nearer to Corvo.

Corvo doesn’t move away, even though he could. Daud expects him to.

Daud takes another step, until he’s so close to Corvo he could just reach out and touch him, hold him.

His motive can’t be any clearer, and Daud barely remembers himself, barely remembers to ask.

“Can I-”

Corvo nods before he even finishes, and doesn’t back away when Daud leans in.

The air seems to burn when Daud’s lips brush against his, tentatively at first. A small peck, once, twice, just to check, and Corvo still doesn’t move away. And then Daud finally gains enough courage to lean in fully, pressing his lips against Corvo’s.

He has no idea why he wants this, why it matters, it’s all so foreign to him, but he does. He does, and he wants this to last, wants that burning fire within him to come alive, and soak in this very moment for as long as he can.

Corvo’s lips are warm, soft, infinitely responsive, and very unlike any other time Daud has imagined this happening. This is real, this is actually happening.

But all that fire and impulse quickly wanes, and Daud realises with growing horror that he is completely and utterly lost.

He’s so bad at this.

He’s gotten what he wants and he still has no fucking clue what to do with it. Daud doesn’t realise how tense he is, or that he’s completely frozen until Corvo hums and starts to withdraw.

Daud can’t hide the disappointment from flashing across his face.

“I…”

Corvo shakes his head, smiles once, and then leans in again, their lips connecting. His lips capture Daud’s smoothly, changing pressure and movement with ease and practiced fluidity, all somehow remaining insufferably gentle.

A warm hand drags down the side of Daud’s face – the scarred one – before resting on his jaw, gently pulling and pushing, directing Daud’s face as he wants and changing the angle and force of the kiss.

Tongue, and then teeth join, and Daud struggles to keep up with the momentum, the rhythm.

Corvo’s too good at this.

Nothing about this kiss is demanding, or dominating, or even lustful. It feels…friendly, a little cautious, curious perhaps, and Daud, all too eager to return it, takes Corvo’s jaw in one hand, mirroring Corvo’s every action, all with a certain fiery energy that he knows only he can conjure up.

He feels Corvo’s lips twitch upwards into a half-smile at Daud’s clumsy attempts to reciprocate, but the man accepts it all with grace, never once making a move to withdraw.

Daud wants to tell – no, show him - exactly how much this means to him, how much he cares for Corvo, and he deepens the kiss, trying desperately to convey the sentiment.

Corvo doesn’t resist and takes it all, allowing Daud to lead the kiss as he pleases, no matter how sloppy it must be. Daud pours every bit of emotion he feels into the kiss, all that happiness and gratitude, even his fears, each and every one of them, and he feels Corvo return it, a little cautiously at first, but growing with fervour as he goes.

And when Daud finally withdraws, blinking open his eyes, it’s as if he’s just woken up from a strange dream. A good dream.

Except that the dream is real, and it’s still going on.

They just look into each other’s eyes after that, almost in wonder. Not grey meeting brown, but silver meeting gold.

Both of them pant, trying to catch their breath. Corvo’s face is flushed, not very noticeable from a distance perhaps, but quite obvious in close proximity. Daud’s sure his own face is the same.

There’s a fresh spark in Corvo’s eyes, something newly erected and sealed into place, the same spark Daud knows Corvo can see in his own eyes.

An unsaid promise, a connection, a bond.

That’s his answer then right?

A yes.

Daud’s heart swells, and there is a silence as they both take time to process this change.

“I’m surprised.” Corvo says first.

Daud raises an eyebrow.

“You’re a fast learner.”

Daud narrows his eyes but says nothing. His other arm has somehow found its way down to Corvo’s waist without him even realising during the kiss, but Corvo doesn’t seem to mind, and Daud lets his arm stay, feeling the expanse of Corvo’s muscles stretching over his frame, moving up and down with every breath.

He’s so warm.

Daud could stay there forever.

And-

“…Uhm…So if you two are done…uh…let me know. Breakfast doesn’t make itself.” Kent’s voice suddenly rings out.

Daud startles hard like a rat caught stealing food, and he lets go of Corvo immediately, backing away to the edge of the furthest counter. Meanwhile, Corvo doesn’t react at all, lips moist, still holding the ticket in between his fingers.

“Fuck.” He curses, just as Kent walks in.

Kent flashes Daud a knowing smile as he comes in, and Daud would have normally taken offence at that, except he’s a little too satisfied at the moment to do so.

Kent makes no comment however, and he starts to make breakfast. Daud goes to make the coffee as per usual, while Corvo returns to the counter, watching the two of them in silence.

Daud can’t help but notice that Corvo’s gaze lingers on him much more than usual, and he privately smiles.

It’s a yes.

Corvo’s given him a yes.

“Does he know?” Kent asks Corvo after breakfast, while watching Daud clean up the latest layer of fur on the floor with that signature scowl on his face.

“Hm?”

“The flower. Does he know what it means?”

Corvo chuckles once. He isn’t embarrassed, and doesn’t try to hide it either. He’s all honesty, unlike Daud who would probably deny it at every turn.

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Ah…I thought so.”

Corvo just shrugs, and Kent laughs too, staring fondly at the rugged man he considers as family.

It’s been such a long journey for both Corvo and Daud, and nothing makes him happier than seeing Daud finally find his own happiness.

It’s not the end, barely a new beginning for them both, and he’s very much looking forward to seeing how their relationship will develop in the future.

But first, he needs to teach Daud about flowers.

“…You never told me.” Daud says many days later, on board a ship to Cullero.

It’s nice to be away from Karnaca for a change.

Daud’s forgotten how much he likes the feel of the wind against his face, and the salt in the air. Travelling is pleasant, he decides, and he hopes he can get to do this more in the future.

Preferably not alone.

“Hm?”

Corvo is a warm presence beside him as he watches the waves rolling over the horizon.

“The flowers. You never-” Daud swallows. “You never told me what they were. What they meant.”

A slow smile inches its way up Corvo’s face. It still drives Daud crazy, no matter how often he sees it.

“Oh?”

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that? And that stupid florist. If I had known what they meant-” Daud immediately cuts himself short, and sighs. “I…I didn’t know.” He finishes lamely.

Corvo takes pity on him, and turns to face him properly.

“So you know what gladiolus means now.”

“…Yes.” Daud swallows hard.

Gladiolus, commonly known as ‘sword lilies’ for their trademark sword-shaped leaves, and as a gift, they symbolise strength, moral integrity, honour and-

Piercing the giver’s heart with passion.

When Kent first dumped the book on flowers to him, Daud had been very confused, until he actually opened it and started reading.

His next reaction was to blush even harder than a noble lady getting courted for the first time, and to throw said book at Kent’s head (who yelped in pain, and then smugly said “worth it”).

It’s still very strange though. Nothing of it is untrue, in fact, it’s all frighteningly accurate. Gladiolus is exactly the kind of flower he would choose to describe Corvo – both before and after reading the book.

“…It suits you.” Daud finds himself saying. “Everything it means, I mean it.”

Taken aback for a moment, Corvo blinks at him a few times, before smiling.

“The ambrosia means what it means too.”

It’s Daud’s turn to be surprised.

Ambrosia. When Daud started flipping through the book he got from Kent, his heart was racing when he was turning to the page on ambrosias.

It was a long, wordy page, and it went on about the flowers’ appearance, its different colours, and finally –

The meaning: reciprocated feelings.

For a long moment, Daud can’t think of a suitable response.

Everything they’ve been through comes back in a flash.

Killing Jessamine. Meeting Corvo for the first time when he was poisoned and weak. Taunting him. Getting choked out and not understanding why. Meeting him a year later, the animosity between them making even the air bleed. Fighting each other at every turn and corner. Seeing Billie. Taking down the Leviathan Children together.

And finally…this.

It hurts still, to think of all that history, but at the same time, Daud knows that no other set of experiences would have made him into who he is today. He needed to go through all that to finally find himself again, and in some ways, he can say that he’s grateful.

Daud settles for:

“…You’re a mystery, Corvo Attano.”

“And you can’t allow it?” Corvo teases back, eyes glittering.

Daud looks at him. A mystery, a riddle, an enigma, so full of secrets. It drives him mad, even though it’s been years. It always will, he suspects, but at the same time, he knows he won’t mind it. Not anymore.

He’s a mystery, but he’s also Daud’s mystery.

“I’ll allow it.” Daud hears himself saying, and he steps forward into Corvo’s space.

Corvo doesn’t pull away.

Daud’s hand slides into place at Corvo’s waist, and he leans in.