Chapter Text
The constant forward movement towards has kept Corvo from dwelling on a lot of things.
He doesn’t think about the last six months (it has gone and passed), doesn’t look at the scars hidden under his uniform. He does not let his mind wander about the familiar ring to the Heart’s disembodied voice. The Outsider has given him magic but that does not mean he can change the past.
Corvo doesn’t think about Daud at all.
He knows that he should hate the man. He should want to stab his clean, sharp sword through his body and leave him crumpled on the broken floor.
Daud wants to die. Corvo can tell from the way he fights, desperation in the swing of the blade. He throws taunts at him like crossbow bolts, striking true and cutting deep with each hit.
A man dead in the ruins of a dying city and an empress dead are not much different. He is not much different from Daud, but he is not an assassin (will never be an assassin no matter what they choose to call him). Corvo doesn't want his blood on his hands, doesn't want the burden of a life cut short because he couldn’t hold back.
He stays his hand, sword edge landing on bone rather than in between. In that moment, Daud disappears in a shattering of pale light and watery shadow.
*
“I ask for my life,” Daud says. His voice is steady despite the blood seeping through his fingers.
He does not resist when Corvo tilts his chin up. A quick cut here and it would be over, swift and bloody like her death. His sword is very sharp and he is efficient, if not merciful.
Daud's pulse flutters under his fingers. He wants death, takes in regret like a drowning man inhales water. Corvo will not give it to him.
“I forgive you.”
He breathes the words into his mouth, presses Daud's lips against his own. He hears a surprised hitch of breath and vanishes in a dissonant whisper before the other man can reach for him.
This is not kindness. It is merely a chance for something else.