Chapter Text
“Royal Protector, sir?”
He looks up from his paperwork to see a guard standing in the doorway to his office. “Yes, Evans?”
Evans salutes him, the severity of the gesture undermined by the grin threatening to split his face in half. “Your guest has arrived, sir.”
Oh, thank the Strictures or the Outsider or whoever is responsible for aligning the stars to make this possible. “Send her in, please.”
Evans inclines his head and ducks back out into the hallway, the words he exchanges with Warriner unintelligible over the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. He stands, paperwork forgotten, and the moment stretches, and stretches, and then –
The door to his office opens, and Callista is as beautiful as she’s ever been.
“Uncle,” she breathes, and it’s all she gets to say before Geoff pulls her against his chest, arms wrapped protectively around her too-thin frame.
“You haven’t been eating enough,” he murmurs into her hair. “You didn’t get sick, did you? Please tell me you didn’t get sick.”
“You’re supposed to ask that before you hug someone, Uncle,” Callista’s attempt to admonish falls flat as she tightens her fists into the fabric of his coat. “But no, I’m fine, I never caught the plague. It’s just… been a long year.”
He chokes out a laugh past the lump in his throat. “You could say that.”
She pulls back enough to look at him, her eyes shining with tears. “So could you,” she says, looking over the fine coat he wears, “Royal Protector Curnow.”
“Void, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” he chuckles, shaking his head. He has been Emily Kaldwin’s Royal Protector for a bit over a month now, and every time someone calls his title, he’s expecting Corvo to answer.
“I suspect it’s quite a story.”
“It is,” Geoff can only agree. “I’ll have some refreshments brought up, and then I want to know how you’ve been, first.”
Callista does not roll her eyes, but it’s a close thing – the closest thing a governess of her stature will allow herself. He is more than a little pleased to see she has not lost that, this past year.
A maid brings them tea and sandwiches, and Callista tells him the long and short of where she has been since he left on his expedition to ask for aid, what feels like decades ago now. She got stuck in quarantine when visiting the Old Port District about a potential client, and she spent a good few months at a pub called the Hound Pits with some others who were unfortunate enough to get caught behind the quarantine line. Some tensions ran high, and she stole away into the night with two other women, the three of them holing up in an abandoned apartment together until finally, finally, the cure for the plague was found.
“You should have seen Lydia’s face when they announced the appointment of Royal Protector Curnow over the speakers,” she teases, smiling over the rim of her teacup. “I should introduce you sometime.”
They’ve been apart for a good year and a half, and it takes her less than an hour to try and set him up. Void, but he has missed her. “A friend of yours is a friend of mine,” he says, diplomatically. He’s gotten rather good at diplomacy recently.
“Uncle,” Callista tuts.
“Callista,” he returns, matching her cadence.
She sighs, her smile fading into the serious expression she wears so well. “I know it’s been a rough year, Uncle, but there’s no harm in seeking out a bit of happiness for yourself.”
“I know,” he says. “I have.”
“You have,” she repeats, eyes widening. “Oh. You have! That’s wonderful news, Uncle.”
She takes his hand, squeezing softly, and Geoff smiles. “Thank you, ladybug.”
Callista snorts at the old nickname, a term of endearment from when she was younger. “Please, tell me everything.”
So Geoff tells her. He tells her about being stationed in Coldridge, about Corvo, about – after a glance at the door to make sure he will not be overheard – staging a prison break. About finding Emily Kaldwin, about hiding her and Corvo in the Curnows’ home, about his and Corvo’s budding relationship. If there is anyone who deserves to know all of it, it is Callista – though he leaves Daud and the Whalers out of the tale. The dread he felt at Daud’s casual mention of Callista’s name has not left him.
When he finishes, Callista is staring at him, her mouth agape. The tea in her hands has long since grown cold. “Void,” she curses, a rare thing for her. “Uncle, you could have gotten yourself killed so many times, you could’ve been arrested, you could have –!”
“I know,” Geoff says, because he does know. He has been damn lucky – but he refuses to ever be a coward or a fool again. “I’ve been reckless. But I had to do something. Our family is gone, I didn’t know if you were even still alive or not, and there were people I could help, if I just tried. I couldn’t justify not trying.”
Callista huffs, the way she does when she is forced to acquiesce. “You never could. It becomes you,” she says, and there is so much fondness woven into her voice. “I’d ask you to be careful, but considering you serve as Royal Protector now…”
She trails off, biting the inside of her cheek, and Geoff lays a hand on her shoulder. “I will be careful,” he promises. With Callista back in his life, with Emily and Corvo both counting on him, he’d be remiss to keep being reckless. “This job isn’t any more dangerous than serving with the Watch, and I survived almost two decades of that.”
He would have preferred to just stay with the Watch, truth be told. He’s no diplomat, and the Royal Protector is expected to be at court whenever the Empress is. But Corvo is not as capable as he used to be, the injuries he sustained in Coldridge Prison a lifelong reminder of what happened, and he doesn’t trust himself with Emily’s safety. He is better suited in his current position as Royal Spymaster, supporting Emily from behind the scenes, ensuring no one shall ever use that power against the Empress again.
“When I was younger, I thought you were the bravest man alive,” Callista says. “And I still think that. I may worry, but I know there is no one better suited to keep the Empress safe than you, Uncle.”
It is high praise, coming from her. Geoff can only hope he’ll be able to live up to it.
They talk a while longer – too much to tell, too much to catch up on, too much they have missed – until the clock sounds thrice.
“Ah, that’s the end of Lady Emily’s lessons,” Geoff says. “I need to escort her down to the throne room for her audiences – but you’ll join us for dinner afterwards, won’t you?”
“Of course,” Callista agrees swiftly. “I wouldn’t miss the chance to meet the Empress of the Isles, not to mention the man who compelled my uncle to break the law.”
What a family they’ll make, the four of them.
He sends Callista ahead with Warriner, so she can get settled in the guest room that’s been prepared for her, and he takes off down the hall, heading for the Royal Physician’s lab. Sokolov is the one responsible for Emily’s lessons on the last day of the week.
Geoff passes the throne room, the sound of soft music coming from the antechamber bringing a smile to his face. The harpsichord is a truly beautiful sound, and Irene plays it masterfully. He’s grateful she accepted the invitation to work in the Tower, even after the Golden Cat’s proprietor was arrested for misconduct and the bathhouse returned to its original purpose as a burlesque parlour. She brightens up even the darkest of days.
Though dark days are few and far between, now.
They exist, surely. The plague has yet to be fully eradicated, the city is still a mess in its wake, and Emily’s rule is not as firmly cemented as he would like. There are malcontents in Parliament, trade negotiations are a headache and a half after a year-long blockade, and the Abbey is flailing in the aftermath of Campbell’s branding and subsequent arrest. There is, in short, a plethora of problems, and dealing with them all will take a not insignificant amount of time.
And yet, Geoff cannot bring himself to complain, even on the longest, most exhausting days. Not when their work is improving the Empire, not when Emily still asks him for bedtime stories, not when he knows Callista is alive and safe and close, now.
Not when he is able to return to his chambers at night and sleep in Corvo’s loving embrace.
The road has been long, and it will be longer still, but Geoff Curnow travels it gladly.
He is neither a coward nor a fool, and he will take things one day at a time.