⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ Emily still held the last letter she received from Wyman. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
"𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬. 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨." ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ Reading those words almost brought her to tears. How could she be so clueless about how much she was loved by them? All those years, she questioned how much Wyman cared for her, if their intentions were for the crown, if she herself could even be loved after all she lost; after losing her crown a second time. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀
The Empress could remember her and Wyman's first interaction clear as day. She had made some remark about another nobleman's pathetic issue - probably something to do with laborers not laboring enough - and she was unaware of Wyman being near. She was startled hearing them laugh under their breath, glancing at them for a moment, praying they wouldn't bring more attention to it, and then back to the nobleman sheepishly. Soon enough, they ranted regularly to each other about the other noblemen, even mocking their voices with their own terrible
Or when the Whalers broke into the Boyle Masquerade and she had drugged Wyman so she could run off to help her father. He had already been promoted to leader of the League of Protectors (created to protect the empress) and been told by Corvo to stay by her side when he suspected she would hurt herself going after the revived Whalers. When she did return, so injured she had to stay in bed for days on end, Wyman stayed beside her for every second and Emily despised him for it. If she wasn't completely ignoring him, she would complain about not having enough space. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
"I do like being your protector. I'm happy it's you I'm protecting, I mean ."
"You don't even know me," Emily lied. She had even gone as far to consider Wyman a friend in the Imperial Court. She was just upset she lost so badly to Zhukov.
"I want to, though."
Dammit, she missed her Wyman. She missed how much fun they had making up stupid rhymes about the Imperial Court, fantasizing about visiting the Royal Conservatory, thinking up plans to escape Dunwall. They would never be able to do any of these things, of course, since the noble gossip would kill them both eventually. But the ideas brought massive weights off Emily's shoulders. Perhaps it was his crooked smile and stupid, infectious laugh that helped in reality.
And the other time, when they were so god awfully bored that they decided how long they could go without pants. Surprisingly, Emily won that one, but just barely. As a Watch Officer was giving her a report of some altercation or another, Emily saw Wyman outside, looking in and snickering as she held her coat closer to her (never had she been so grateful that her coat was so long).
How strange it was that she yearned so badly for him now. After telling him for years he didn't need to worry about her, she would be fine; she would give anything to hear his voice again, even if it was just a lecture about Zhukov.
