“Why?” Harry’s hand gripped the two blades of the twin-bladed knife. He felt the edges cut into his palms. The pain was sharper here, not the dull ache of the hole in his chest.

“Because we always die. Because this world always dies. Because we make our own fate. Choose one.” His killer cocked his head to the side. “I watched them all, you know: the final battle, the paths that diverge from it; a martyr, a hero — and an ignoble, mediocre end no matter the road, Harry Potter. I weighted them all, measured their worth and found them insufferably boring. Then, I made a different choice.” His killer paused, then grinned his own grin back at Harry and twisted the knife. “You’re welcome.”

Harry blinked, glanced down. Blood oozed out, dripping onto the floor.

“Happy Birthday, Harry.”

Harry snorted, coughed and spat the blood onto the floor. His lips twisted into a red mimicry of a smile.

“You’re a bastard, Harry,” Harry said — and died.

“Takes one to know one.” Harry Potter stepped over his own body and vanished.

____________________________


The outcast opened his eyes — and survived. For a time.

The wheel of the world had turned. The people scrambled for the last few scrapes of a golden age; starving for food, for water, for life and for hope. Hope had always been a terrifying, terrible thing. Especially for Harry.

They came for him as he slept in a ruined building in that always dying world.

The rings felt heavy on his fingers, the new clothes deceptively soft on his skin, even as the ropes cut into his wrists. The twin-bladed knife glinted with promise while they spoke their prayers, spoke their prophecies and portents. An order formed to save the world and he their savior. Oh, how familiar indeed.

It was always prophecies with him.

Happy Birthday, Harry, he thought as they painted over his eyes and his world turned black.

_____________________________________________

The outsider opened his eyes — and dreamed. For aeons.

As the world rose and grew and ended — because the world always dies — he watched. As title became name and those who used it placed their hopes upon it and him, he watched and saw them end. It tasted like satisfaction upon his tongue, their despair as they turned to their created god and did not find succor. After all, they were not interesting nor was it ever said that he had to be a benevolent god. And if somewhere, in the back of his mind, this echoed with the sweetness of vengeance or forgotten familiarity and distaste for prophecies, well then…the Void was empty of those who would dare chastise him.

It was, perhaps then, inevitable, that they turned away from him, laying their faults at his feet to claim as his own. This, too, was familiar and human nature both. The Outsider found himself utterly unsurprised and too cynical to be disappointed. He turned to other, interesting, things instead.

Upon the flowing waves of the Void, he drifted and dreamed. As first decades, then centuries passed, he bore witness to atrocities and splendor both. Lips twisting in agony or voices calling out in rapture; all of it returned to the same few paths, as did his interest. And if sometimes he stumbled upon potential? Well, a touch here, a mark placed upon the back of an orphan’s hand there; it was a welcome diversion in this magicless world.

It was his dream, after all, and even the best dreams turn stale.

All dreams end.

He didn’t dare call it a nightmare.

_________________________________________________________


“Empress Emily Kaldwin,” he savored the taste of her paths, suddenly unknown to him; Emily the Wise or Emily the Black no longer. How fascinating. “I’m a friend of your father’s from the bad old days.”

Outsider, her thought echoed in the Void, whispering of the choice already made. As his mark burned into her hand and soul, the magic crept into her veins. Even her father, more than a decade in the past, had not taken so swiftly, so naturally to his powers. She was Karnaca’s new, benevolent ghost and he ghosted in her shadow, watching, wondering, even more unsure of the ending that would follow.

“Not once have you let that blade taste blood,” he commented to her idly, watching her fold and unfold the blade, the movement resonating strangely in the Void. “Is it mercy that stays your hand, I wonder?”

One of her eyebrows rose and her dark eyes narrowed, the corner of her lips twitching into an almost-smile.

“Nothing so gracious, I’m afraid,” she answered, as he knew she would. This dance of theirs, as her magic blossomed and his interest persisted, seemed to have its own steps; ones he did not know but still took. Why was she different? He couldn’t say. “It’s vengeance.”

“Emily the Vengeful…” But no, it would not come to that. He shook his head.

“You don’t believe me? To take a man’s mind but leave him alive, to return a woman to her powerless state, her freedom gone… how curious that you would call that mercy, Outsider.”

“Perhaps it is Emily the Just, then.” She didn’t flinch when he appeared next to her, his face scant inches from hers. “What would your justice do to me? Would you condemn me? Or plunge your blade into my chest? What would it be like, to kill a god? The god who gave your mother’s assassin his magic and the woman who stole your throne her mark? Well, Your Imperial Majesty? What is my fate? What shall it be?”

Her lips tasted of magic and the Void.

“Ask me again later.”

___________________________________

Strangely enough, “later” did come and it came right before the end. The mourning song of whales flowed across the Void in melancholy waves, foretelling of things yet to happen. She stepped through the empty spaces and walked upon the rocky isles with the nonchalance of someone at home. An empress again.

He eyed the twin-bladed knife at her side. Somewhere, far away and yet so near, Billie Lurk had a choice to make.

“Mercy or vengeance, Your Imperial Majesty? What does your justice look like?”

Her hand took his, fingers entwined. He felt the cold metal of the hilt in his palm. His eyes had closed. Her breath whispered across his cheek.

“Not mercy or vengeance. Choice, Outsider. The choice to make our own fate.”

Simply choice. A privilege he always gave others; a courtesy never yet returned.

Then: a whispered name in his ear from far away; Emily’s soft lips ghosting over his skin; memories returned.

His eyes opened.

__________________________________


He thrust the blade into Harry Potter’s chest, watched it turn red and smiled.

“Why?”

There were so, so many answers. But to the man who was Harry Potter, who was the outcast, who was the Outsider, there could only be one: to choose his own fate.

__________________________________


They met again on one of Dunwall’s rooftops. Magic, he could see, had blossomed in truth; rare flowers straining to reach the sun, soon to be as numerous as the waters of the oceans. And here he was, returned as the world had returned, free from prophecy or fate, choosing to continue their dance.

Dark eyes lit up as she saw him and, with a blink of magic, she was against him once more. Her lips tasted of the Void, tingling with magic.

“Your Imperial Majesty, a fine welcome indeed.”

“Outsider.” She grinned, but then her brow furrowed. “Your eyes are green.”

“I was born anew.” He paused, smiled at the irony of it all. “Once upon a time, those green eyes you admire so much were a mark of one Harry Potter, wizard.”

Emily smiled.

“Well, then. Happy Birthday, Harry Potter. And welcome to Dunwall.”

 

1309 words

 

Dishonored crossover?

Spoiler

I was very fond of your first scene. Really 'hooked' me with that one, but then I tend to like various Harry's interacting.

I had trouble following events afterwards a bit though. After failing to find anything more concrete to sink my teeth into I accepted that we were in an AU dealing with issues on a dimension-wide scale (?) and rolled with it.

After glancing through some other comments I google'd Emily Kaldwin and found that this was a crossover. I played a bit of Dishonored years ago, I think, but it wanted a bit too much stealth from me iirc.

The writing here is pretty good. The prose is good and the dialogue works. But ultimately I didn't feel like I knew what was going on, even if you tried to make it as clear as possible in 1500 words.