Sorry for the absence! I know I'm focusing on other fics at the moment (most importantly my BATB one since it's kind of short), but have this for the time being. It's the end of Part 3.

Part 4 will be incredibly short; we're talking only three chapters worth of Part 4. But they'll be the longest and most intense chapters, so while I'm busy finishing off my other stuff and drafting them, have this short snippet. Until then, I am determined to finish this story, come hell or high water.

We're closer to the end than you think.

DISCLAIMER: Other than the OCs, I own nothing.

Corvo awoke to the sound of Jessamine screaming. He didn't have to check his clock, only the guard shifts outside, to note that it was sometime around eleven in the evening. The rain had begun to pour down relentlessly, even if the Month of Rain had just begun, and though on a normal night the sound of the raindrops on the roof of the Tower would lull him to a comfortable sleep, the weeks leading to that night had been anything but comfortable.

He had found himself dozing off when he heard his Empress in pain, and immediately he jumped up from the armchair he was sleeping in and rushed to her room, which was already surrounded by an armada of nurses. He barely even had the time to get his coat, he noticed, when the draft blew through the hallways and chilled him to the bone through the thin fabric of his dress shirt. Standing there by the frame of the door, he could only see slivers of her figure through the small crowd of nurses; she was sweating and holding onto Levitt's hand as the midwife standing at the foot of her bed was talking to her as she was nodding fiercely. Before he could push himself further in, a nurse had advised him to stay outside the Empress' quarters for the time being, and he would be called in once they were done.

And with that, he was shut outside her door.

The temptation to just burst inside was real. Leaning against the wall of the corridor, arms crossed, with his fingers tapping nervously on every surface he could find, he grew increasing anxious with each nurse that would come into Jessamine's room with a water basin. He could hear her screaming beyond the walls, and he would do anything to be by her side through this hard time, as he should.

In truth, however, he had already been trying to make up for his comatose absence by being by her side as much as possible through the grueling trial of her pregnancy. Soon, the truth began to leak out through rumour-high Parliamentarians and finicky maids, and people had begun to lose their already waning trust in the Empress. The situation only worsened when she began to show, with her abdomen already increasing in size, and she had begun to seclude herself in the Tower, not showing herself to the public; this was a terrible decision, according to the Privy Council, as it would mean that the people would begin to make their own judgments based on their suspicion, which was not entirely wrong. The support that she previously had from the citizens was decreasing as the resentment she garnered was increasing, and there were news clippings and gossip columns that were already beginning to question the identity of the father to her unborn child.

He remembered that particular morning, when she saw that article in The Dunwall Gazette, and she angrily threw the paper across the dining table as she shouted livid complaints to no one in particular. As he comforted her over the spilled coffee and soiled muffins, he had also read the article as she grumbled to him about how she should have shut down that propagandist, dishonest newspaper a long time ago.

There were many names enumerated in the suspect list to the father of Jessamine's child, and he could almost be enraged at the amount of people she was paired with or accused of having a relationship with. He caught some of the names of her suitors, but he also caught the name of the late Captain Avery (which must have infuriated Levitt, no doubt, to see the name of her honourable captain slandered in this way), and even Captain Curnow (who he was sure was more offended at the prospect of even laying a finger on the Empress).

But then, he didn't know what to feel when he saw his name among the suspects to the father of her child.

It wasn't that they were being obvious, no. They both made plenty of precautions as to make sure that their secret relationship stayed a secret. But there were times when he began to doubt if he was really careful in making sure he didn't mark her neck with bites that he gave her from their tryst that one night, or if the discreet touches in the hallway or under the dining table were actually discreet at all. Now, with the birth of this child, it could only solidify all of the people who began to look at him as a paramour to the Empress a solid fact. It simply gave them more evidence, and gave him less of an argument.

He could almost hate himself for being too callous and too preoccupied with himself, that tragic night nine months ago. Perhaps he was too careless or both of them forgot about actually not making her conceive. Either way, there was nothing he could do to stop him from blaming himself, no matter what Jessamine could say.

Could he blame the child? No, he answered to himself, he could never blame the child for his own faults. They were his and his alone; no other human should atone for what he had done.

"Master Attano?" a small voice peeked through the door of Jessamine, nearly startling him as he got up from the wall; it was Louisa, the midwife. "She's done, Sir. The birth was a success."

He huffed a sigh in reply as he wiped his tired face; he hadn't slept in nearly five hours, after they had timed the start of Jessamine's going into labour. The guard shifts in the hallway told him it was most likely two or three in the morning. "Great….that's great. How is she?"

"She's doing well," Louisa smiled. "She'll have to rest the following week, and we'll have to inform Master Sokolov about her condition so he can monitor her if ever she or the baby have problems."

He nodded; most of those words went right through his ear. "Jessamine's alright?"

"Oh, she's doing well," Louisa replied. "Her pulse is good and her colour is better than average, for someone who just gave birth. She'll have to rest tonight and the rest of the week, though."

"That's fine. What about the baby?"

"The baby is healthy as well," Louisa clasped her hands together as she leaned back on the door, pushing it open a little. "Would you like to see them?"

Corvo took a large gulp and flexed his hands. He was about to see his own child, and whether or not he was supposed to keep it a secret, he didn't bother to hide the fact that he was nervous. With an apprehensive nod, he stepped inside, and Louisa was kind enough to close the door behind him.

The room was occupied with only two nurses who smiled as he entered; one was busy cleaning the basins of water and blood in the corner, and the other was assisting her with folding the stained nightwear of Jessamine. Corvo was a battle-hardened soldier, taught to kill and to protect all his life, but seeing this much blood could make him squeamish. On the bed, illuminated by the bedside lamp which cast warm shadows all over the room, was Jessamine, clothed in a new nightgown, with the covers pulled up to her waist. He could almost sigh in relief at the fact that she was breathing, and the look in her eyes when he turned to her made his heart melt, as it always did and always will. She smiled at him as he approached and knelt next to her bedside, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. Though she was pale, sweating, and tired, she was smiling, and whether it was because the trials or pregnancy was over, that was all that mattered to him.

But what he noticed only later was that lying on Jessamine's chest, being cradled by her arms, was a small bundle of…something moving, swathed in blankets of white. As he raised his head and she moved it a little ways into the light, he could make the figure of small hands opening and closing and a head, with bright twinkling eyes and small coos and cries that were as delicate as the sound of the rain outside.

"It's a girl," Jessamine whispered. "Would you like to hold her?"

Corvo's entire being was shaking, and with a nod, he carefully took the baby in his arms and gazed at his daughter properly for the first time.

She had fair, unblemished skin, bright eyes, and a voice as clear as it was soft-spoken and unintelligible. Her fingers, despite being little, were well-carved and angular, full of vigour as she tried to reach out and touch his face. There was a restless kind of spirit in her, tenacious and daring, and whether it manifested in her little movements and sounds, it was evident.

It was then that Corvo was conquered by a strange feeling that welled in his chest. He was suddenly aware of the fact that this baby, this small, tiny, helpless human being, was born of his own blood. Secret or not, known to many or little, this was his child. And when he looked at her, there was this sense of both trepidation and an indescribable amount of joy that overtook his bloodstream. He could be scared, that was true; this child had taken his heart at a mere glance and should anything happen to her, it would completely ruin him, but that sense of fear was immediately conquered by the oath that he swore then, that he would never let anything harm her, not a hair on her head would be touched by anything terrible in the world. The happiness that grasped him filled him with a beautiful feeling of bliss, of love. He couldn't think of anything better in the world than to give everything for this child, for his daughter. He had immediately fallen in love with her, and every sound she made, every mannerism she did with her little fingers as she reached up to grab the long strands of his messy hair, made him want to love her even more. He was willing to move mountains, to drink oceans, to die, for her.

"Corvo," Jessamine sounded like she was laughing, from the mirth of her voice. "You're tearing up."

Corvo immediately went to touch his eyes with his free hand, only to discover that the edges of his eyes were wet with tears. He let out a chuckle at his own emotional vulnerability, and didn't mind that it was a baby that brought it out, of all people that would.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" she smiled softly.

"She is," Corvo was transfixed by the lovely features of his daughter. "She gets it from you."

"But you know," she whispered, so that of all the people in the room, only he could hear her, "she has your eyes. I'm grateful for that."

He looked into her eyes more carefully, and noted suddenly that unlike Jessamine's beautiful green irises, his daughter's were brown, a light hazel, the colour of the bark of the trees back home in Karnaca, eyes like his. It made him charmed by her more.

"I love her," Corvo let the words spill. "I love her so much."

"What would you like to name her?" Jessamine asked him as she looked up.

A thousand names spun through his mind, but he thought that he could never match her loveliness, and yet he blurted the first thing that he thought struck him. "Drexel." Then it hit him. "On second thought, never mind; that's a terrible name."

Jessamine giggled. "No, that's fine. I was actually thinking about how Emily would sound."

"Emily," he tasted it on his tongue, and looked at the baby, who could only coo in affirmation. "That's beautiful."

"I've thought of her full name," Jessamine leaned back on her pillow. "Emily…yes, Emily Drexel Lela Kaldwin. She'll retain the name Kaldwin so she could inherit the throne."

It didn't offend him one bit that she didn't use the name Attano, because then it would give her away to the terrible grasp of rumour, and it meant that Dunwall had no heir. He would rather that she take her mother's name instead, give her a life of luxury and freedom, even at the price of his ownership. He was willing to let this child live her life without ever knowing the true identity of her father, and though it would pain her, it would hurt her even more if she would learn the truth. Both Corvo and Jessamine knew in that silence that she should only know when one of them was gone from the world, and hopefully, that wouldn't come soon. Until then, if it was to ever come, she would live in the sheltered life her mother felt she deserved, a life that Corvo wanted her to have as well. He wouldn't settle for anything less.

"Oh, Corvo…" she sighed, closing her eyes as the baby tried to reach out at Corvo. "I'm so happy…"

He could only listen and smile in affirmation, as the nurses shuffled in the corner, as Louisa fixed all of her materials, as the infant sounds of his daughter bubbled in his arms, the rain poured on outside, in the cold night air of Dunwall. It was on that day that the next heir to the Kaldwin line was born, and a vital catalyst in the events of the world to come came into life.