Chapter Text
His first lover was a soldier from Tyvia. He killed to keep the secret.
Ironic how everyone thought of him as incorruptible, when in fact Geoff had merely buried his secrets deeper than most.
No, despite what his dear niece might think when she looked at him with bright eyes, Geoff knew that the closest thing Dunwall had to an incorruptible man was the man whose face was currently plastered all over Holger Square.
They had said the Royal Protector was a traitor, a foreign-born bastard who had just been looking for the first chance to stab the fair empress in the back, but that wasn't the man Geoff had traveled with for six months, had longer still seen standing silent and steady behind the throne. Geoff had envied him once, for his unwavering, unquestioning devotion to a singular cause, for never seeming to doubt, never even dreaming of doubt.
(And yes, admired him as well. Geoff was old enough not to be so easily swayed by a handsome face, but Corvo cut a rather striking figure and he would be lying if he didn't admit that his eyes tended to wander to the man in the shadows behind the throne during uneventful posts at court.)
If only the City Watch was worthy of commanding such loyalty from Geoff, if only serving in the guard could inspire him to root out the darkness and sin within himself and uphold some noble ideal. But this was Dunwall, and Geoff Curnow, who had once smothered his superior officer in his sleep for threatening to expose him to the Overseers, was now the lone beacon of integrity upholding the good name of the City Watch.
And now he was to lecture the High Overseer himself about righteousness and justice.
It would be hilarious if it weren't so damned sad.
"It must be quite a change for you, being away from the Empress so long." Geoff gives Corvo a sidelong glance as they stand behind the ship's railing, Tyvia shrinking away in the distance. After a few months together on the sea, he has finally managed to get over his awe (and intimidation) of the stoic Royal Protector.
Corvo laughs under his breath, corners of his dark eyes crinkling in either mirth or pain - it's hard to tell which when the latter is everywhere these days. "That's quite the understatement. I've been by her side since I was twelve years old."
Despite over twenty years in Dunwall, there's still a trace of Serkonos in Corvo's speech. Geoff's grandfather had spoken with the same musical lilt, and they still give Geoff hell for it. They were always destined to be men apart from the rest, it seems.
"You must miss her terribly."
"How to describe?" Corvo sighs deeply and leans over the railing. "It's like my body has been cast adrift of my soul. Like a boat without a boatman, trawling the sea alone."
Surprisingly poetic coming from the bodyguard.
"How does everyone else live with this kind of loneliness? Without a clear purpose, a very reason for being to guide them?"
Geoff rests his elbows on the railing next to Corvo's. Their shoulders brush. Their eyes meet. "We have our ways of coping."