asscreedkinkmeme | Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

Entry tags:

assassin's creed

Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
Fill Only

Join or Die

✩ Comment anonymously with a character/pairing and a kink/prompt.

✩ Comment is filled by another anonymous with fanfiction/art/or any other appropriate medium.

✩ One request per post, but fill the request as much as you want.

✩ The fill/request doesn't necessarily need to be smut.

✩ Don't flame, if you have nothing good to say, don't say anything.

✩ Have a question? Feel free to PM me.

✩ Last, but not least: HAVE FUN!

List of Kinks
Kink Meme Masterlist
New Kink Meme Masterlist
(Livejorunal) Archive
(Delicious.com) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
#2 (Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Fills Only
Discussion

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Oh absolutely Anon! :)

While Charles does admire Haytham a lot, the years spent pining over Connor has long taken precedence in his mind and heart, and he's determined to win Connor over.

...Also realized that winning the war against the crown will be easy now. Since he knows the future and stuff, so he can predict their moves as long as the continental army doesn't do something hugely different. Connor on the other hand...

Thanks anon! //glows// That's really awesome to hear. :D Always glad when someone enjoys the story!

Had Haytham not been so shocked he probably could have caught up to Connor, I do plan on giving the poor baby a break in the future installments.

Connor on the other hand...

Yeah aside from his unbelievable exploits, Charles only really knows his wife's defeated side, after caging him in his manor and raping and threatening him into submission for nearly a year.

Also, there's the matter with Washington and Connor's relationship that he somehow needs to sabotage somehow.

"I do plan on giving the poor baby a break in the future installments"

Another anon is only too happy to hear that... poor baby...

(This is my very first fill, and I have a strong feeling that this is going to be multiple parts long. But here the first part. Please forgive this virginwriter!anon for taking so very long.)

------

Felice stared gloomily down into his cup of wine. He idly listened to the typical hum of the La Volpe Addormentata. When he looked up, his grey eyes always locked onto the same thing, or rather, person. He watched the man in the brown hood over the rim of his cup. Felice was captivated by the man’s grace and prose, the way he held himself and how he spoke so kindly to those around him. He went from table to table, checking on each of his flock like a concerned mother hen.

La Volpe was truly a living legend. So many stories surrounded the mysterious man, that one had trouble separating fact from fiction. Some said that La Volpe was a demon; others say that La Volpe was an immortal. The more outlandish stories claim that the man was Mercury, the messenger god is disguise. But all Felice knew was that his obsession with the leader of the Thieves Guild was slightly unhealthy.

Who could blame him, though? He owed La Volpe his life. It was three years today that he had joined the Guild. He was but fifteen at the time, small and helpless. His parents both succumbing to the fever that had plagued Roma for many months; leaving him without home or family. It was one fateful night that Felice had been caught trying to steal a small loaf of bread, the stall owner easily caught the starved boy and called for the guards. Felice remembered the fear he had felt. The guards laughed and spoke of cutting off his right hand as the boy cried and struggled in vain.
It was then that a man spoke up, he seemed to have appeared out of thin air as he approached the small group of guards.

“Buonasera,” the man had said. His voice was like the perfect blend of velvet and leather. Felice could not see the stranger; a large guard was blocking his view. “Ah, it seems you have found my wayward apprentice. I hope he has not caused too much trouble.”

“This brat has been caught stealing. And the price of such a crime is his right hand.” One of the guards replied. Felice could hardly believe his ears; this strange man was attempting to defend him? Surely no, Felice’s luck was never that good.

“I am fully aware, but I am sure that this can be negotiated?” The man then reasoned, Felice could hear the jingle of coins.

In short time, Felice was free and the guards’ pockets were full. The small boy with jet black hair and grey eyes looked up to finally see the face of his savior. It was like looking into the face of Christ himself; so calm and ageless. The man kneeled down so that he was eye level with Felice, and the boy was shocked to see the most beautiful violet colored eyes.

“That was quite close, piccolo coniglio.”

“T-thank you sir! I thought that I was going to-“

The man cut him off with a slight wave of his hand. “That is in the past, but be sure to learn from your mistake. I may not be around next time.” With that he stood up and started to walk away.

“Wait! Signore! What is your name?” Felice had called out.
The man paused and looked over his shoulder, the light catching his eyes just-so that they seemed to glow. “I am known as La Volpe.” A noise caused Felice to turn his head for just a moment, but when he looked back La Volpe had vanished.

****

The now adult Felice smiled faintly at the memory, until he felt a firm hand grasp his shoulder. He jumped slightly until he looked up into the pair of violet eyes. “M-master” Felice gasped.

La Volpe chuckled as he sat down next to the young man. Felice was struck silent; he kept his eyes down at his cup of wine. But he could see La Volpe’s knowing grin from the corner of his eye, and it only served to make his face redder.

“Did you get enough to eat, piccolo coniglio?” The older man asked. Felice nodded silently. La Volpe leaned in closer and lifted the young man’s face to examine a fresh cut along his cheek. Felice had forgotten all about it until now. “How did you manage this?”

Felice gulped as his eyes met La Volpe’s. “‘Tis nothing. A stray tree branch caught me as I was running-“

“-from guards.” La Volpe finished with a smile teasing the corner of his lips. Dio mio… That knowing smirk, it flashed just a hint of his white teeth. It made him look almost like his namesake.

Felice knew that he could not lie to this man, so he nodded shyly. The Master Thief chuckled and ran his fingers through Felice’s raven black hair. It took all of is self-control to not tremble and swoon like a love sick girl. But the look that La Volpe gave Felice was a knowing one, his violet eyes shimmering in the dim candle light of the inn. “You have grown much since you joined our familia, three years ago today, Si?"

Felice nodded once more, secretly thrilled that La Volpe remembered. “Si, Maestro.” He replied in a meek tone.

La Volpe sighed in mock irritation. “So formal. Haven’t told you before that such titles were unnecessary?” Before Felice could apologize La Volpe silenced him with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It doesn’t matter. But what matters now is that I have a special mission for you. A test, so to speak.”

Felice perked up at this. He was always yearning to prove himself to the Fox. “I need something procured from a wealthy merchant. It’s a small thing, a simple silver necklace with a heart shaped pendant. I have a client who wishes very much to have this. The Merchant is well guarded, and I need this mission to be carried out with the utmost caution. Can you do this, piccolo coniglio? You are one of the best I have for this type of task.” La Volpe handed the young man a map that marked where the Merchant was.

Felice didn’t even wait for La Volpe to finish as he nodded eagerly and started to stand. “One more thing, my dear Coniglio” La Volpe said, also standing.

“Si?”

“When you acquire the necklace, I wish for you to bring it to me at the highest point of the Colosseo.”

Felice nodded and gave a slight bow before he quickly left La Volpe Addormentata.

Why hello there, long time no see! No excuses, but I'm working on the rest of it right now.

The world had stumbled to its knees before William returned to the Black Hills. Not alone mind, but with Rebecca unconscious with pain and Shaun dead on his feet with exhaustion he was likely the only one who desperately didn't want to go back to the Temple.

Not that they really had a choice in the matter. One by one they ran out of safe houses and hideouts as Juno and her slaves hounded them across the globe. The Temple was such an obvious choice (and such a desperate gambit) that the Assassins prayed it would throw the goddess off their scent for a while.

The doors were still opened from their last visit, and some of the extension cords were still in place. Set up should be a helluva lot faster this time. The place is damp from the rain water that pooled in during their absence and William has to fend off a couple of disgruntled raccoons, but everyone sleeps for hours once their head hits the ground.

He and Shaun are stuck with the heavy lifting while Rebecca surveys them, nursing a nasty concussion and a few broken bones. They still have the Animus, their ace in the hole, and as soon as they get power up and running again William launches himself into the chair. Shaun looks like he wants to argue but the Master Assassin shoots him a hard glare and his vision fades to white.

"He's going to bloody kill himself at this rate," Shaun mumbles as his computer boots up. "I mean we don't have a bloody clue what we're looking for..."

"Shaun," Rebecca sighs and turns away from the Animus loading screen to fix him a tired stare. "We've lost everything. Lucy, Desmond, the other Assassins." She turns back to her Baby with a sniff and Shaun pretends he didn't see how shiny her eyes were. "We owe it to them to try."

They work together in silence while William works on increasing his synchronization.

"I miss them too." Shaun refreshes his inbox for the fourth time in ten minutes, praying for some form of communication from the outside world. He's about to open a new tab for research when he sees that the envelope icon is highlighted.

1 new message(s)

Subject: 01001000 01000101 01001100 01001100 01001111 00111111

"Rebecca!" He opens the message with shaking hands. "You'd better come see this."

Yupyup. Gaining Connor's trust and sabotaging George and Connor's burgeoning relationship is top priority for Charles. :)

//cuddles baby Connor// I bet Haytham's probably frantic now, having just realized he has a little child and now that child is alone in a snowstorm. :)

Altair's actually not hiding it, but I doubt either of them have actually had birds (besides the messenger pigeons that the Order have HAHA), so at this point Malik probably thinks it's just normal shedding. Anyway, here's a new part!

---

His sleep is fitful and interrupted by half-remembered dreams; Altair wakes and sleeps and wakes and sleeps through the whole night before giving up around sunrise and rising to practice once again. His arms and back are sore, but he refuses to let the tremor under his skin betray him, limit him, shackle him, and starts off with stretches before moving to swordplay.

When the sun rises and Malik emerges from his room, hair tousled and eyes sleep-bleary, he visibly stops at the doorway to the courtyard, staring at Altair for a moment before shaking his head and moving around him to wash his hands, face, rinse his mouth with the water from one of the fountains; Altair ignores him to the best of his (granted, vast) ability, the same way he chooses to ignore the shake in his arms as he swings.

He doesn't think any more of the Dai until Malik reappears in his line of sight once again, scowling this time and fully dressed, with a bundle of cloth in one hand. Altair stops, lets the point of his sword fall (he tells himself it's because Malik will not leave him in peace until he pays him mind and less because of the way everything is moving from sore to hurting), fixes him with a questioning look.

In silent reply, Malik shoves the bundle of cloth at him, letting go so that Altair's only option is to catch it or let it all fall onto the floor; he scowls at the Dai for that, who only smirks back at him.

"Go to the market. You're not doing anything useful here and are being a distraction; get out of the Bureau for a bit." Altair untangles the cloth as Malik speaks, eventually deciphering the clothes out as an open-backed shirt and white robes, vast and resembling gear for the desert. He looks up in confusion in time for Malik to shove a coin purse and folded piece of parchment at him. "Get dressed and fetch the items on that list. I don't want to see you here for another hour. Practice climbing if you must."

And with that, he disappears back into the inner room, leaving Altair with a bundle of clothes, a coin purse, a shopping list, a naked blade, and a furrowed brow.

...

Fine. Malik wins that round.

--

Altair has to admit that it is some sort of relief to be outside of the Bureau again; even if he's sent off to do menial errands, Malik has also provided him with an opportunity to get out into the fresh air (which, Altair admits to himself, is probably what he'd actually intended for him; not that he'd ever tell the Dai that this strategy worked).

The white robes are something he's not used to, though, and it takes a moment for Altair to adjust to the way they fall and hamper some movements, the way it's harder to draw his sword from underneath, a second or two that could be fatal if he wasn't just going to the market. (There's nothing more dangerous at the market than a merchant willing to rip him off.)

Malik's list is small groceries and another pot of ink, things that Altair likely shouldn't take climbing, so he aims for the nearest tower first, avoiding guards by circling around them and timing his jumps; today is not the day to garner their attention.

Altair stands at the base of the tower for a long heartbeat, staring up at its walls and the sky above it, before jumping for his first handhold; the pull and burn of climbing, the moments of weightlessness, are like coming home. This, this is familiar to him, learned almost as soon as he'd started walking, running, he was climbing, walls, ropes, the occasional tree, small buildings; when he'd arrived at Masyaf, the instructors only built upon what was already there. Pulling himself up is easier now, being lighter as he is, the jumps have the added float of gravity's loosened hold, and, as Altair stands at the top of the tower, he revels in the urge to jump. There's no cart of hay below this tower, so he shouldn't, won't, but the urge is still there.

He still wants to jump and, underneath his robes, his wings flex and surge, flutter and twitch, and the fantastic thought that maybe he can now crosses his mind, he can actually jump off and live and fly....

Altair shakes his head. No; he can't just yet. Maybe if his wings turn out to not be liabilities, if he can get their strength up, if, if, if.

He shakes his head and begins his descent.

--

Altair returns to the Bureau with supplies in tow, spirit lighter inside his chest; Malik looks him up and down when he hands him his supplies and smiles to himself. Altair doesn't give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it, instead retreating back to the courtyard to strip off the robes and unlace the back of his shirt so he can wriggle out of it.

His arms and back still hurt, but he's had a taste of the sky, and for the first time in the past days, he feels like there's hope, that he can still belong, that this will work out. He can still fight.

He can do this.

In Pursuit of Happiness

Chapter 15 - The First Offensive

Charles sat in his undergarments in his cabin and sulked on the 10th day at sea.

True to his word, Faulkner stuck by Connor almost every waking moment and managed to foil every single attempt Charles made to be close to his bride.

His attempts to take the seat next to Connor at the dining table was thwarted when a posse of sailors, including Faulkner himself, grabbed all the seats around their captain before Charles was even halfway to the table. His request that they spend some time preparing for the mission was disrupted when Faulkner promptly inserted himself into the conversation and insisted on being there to “help plan the ship’s movements while they were preoccupied.”

Even his beginning a conversation about their mutual love of dogs somehow devolved into Charles yelling at Faulkner that there was nothing mangy or questionable about his Spado when the man barged in and made an insulting comment about Charles’s choice of companions.

Protecting his captain was one thing, but insulting poor Spado like that...it was abominable. His Spado did not deserve such slander.

Charles glared at the door and imagined himself punching Faulkner. While he was not a proponent of violence towards one’s elders, Charles was willing to make an exception in this case. The man was absolutely infuriating.

A knock on his door woke him from his reverie.

“What?” he called out. It might have come out a little more testily than he would have cared for, but at this point, he just wanted some peace and quiet to lick his wounds in peace.

“It is Connor.”

Charles sat up straight, eyes wide.

Connor.

His wife.

At the door.

Now?

“One moment,” he called, hurriedly glancing around.

Where did he put his—

Ah!

He reached towards the small reading table and grabbed his trousers from where he had thrown them. While he quickly tugged them up, he looked around for his shirt.

Where was it?

“If this is a bad time, I will leave you in peace.”

“No!” Charles cried out in a hurried panic.

No shirt.

He’ll have to make do.

“No,” he repeated, more calm.

He walked over to the cabin door and unlocked it.

“Please, come in.”

The door opened, and Charles’s Omega walked in.

“What brings you here?” Charles asked, hoping that Connor did not see how his hands shook in his presence.

The Omega looked around, distinctly uncomfortable.

“May I have a seat?” he asked instead.

Charles nodded. “It is your ship.”

“It would not be polite to take over someone else’s space, regardless.”

Charles smiled.

Manners, unlike his first mate.

He watched as the Omega gingerly seated himself on the only surface available: the bed.

He blinked.

Privately, he wondered what it would feel like to take Connor to the gentle sways of his ship, the Omega’s crew not 100 feet away as he muffled the boy’s moans with his mouth. That blasted Faulkner only two cabins away.

It was such a dirty and wrong image. Wholly ungentlemanlike. Hardly civilized behavior at all.

Charles gulped as his trousers suddenly tightened, and he discretely moved draped his undershirt over his bulge.

It wouldn’t do much to hide anything if anyone was specifically looking at it, but it was the best he could do on short notice.

Silently, he damned Hickey for having corrupted him with the other Alpha’s dissolute ways.

How was he to court the lovely Omega before him if he sported an erection whenever he neared him?

“I wanted to thank you for your patience today.”

Charles was confused.

“What patience?”

Those fine hands twisted in nervousness in the Omega’s lap.

“I realize that Faulkner was deliberately antagonizing you, today. I must apologize for his behavior. I really do not know why he is doing so. He never held quite the enmity towards the Templars that the Brotherhood holds—“

“—Held,” Charles interrupted.

Connor looked up at him, startled.

“We have an alliance now. You cannot mean to say that you despise us still.”

Not with the slow move towards reconciliation between father and son. Now with the truce between the Omega and Charles himself.

Connor looked away.

“Not everyone is altogether pleased with the alliance, even though he agreed to it,” Connor muttered.

Charles narrowed his eyes.

“But he listened to our reasoning eventually and does support our alliance.”

Achilles, then. No one else could have such power within the new Brotherhood, higher than even Connor himself.

Charles wondered if he should kill the old man.

“Nonetheless, I wish to make my apologies for my first mate. His actions towards you today were unwarranted, and I thank you sincerely for not retaliating.”

Especially when it was Spado who was most insulted. It would have been one thing to mock Charles himself, but his poor Spado...Charles would be the first to admit that he decked more than one Alpha for slurs against his beloved dog.

Just like he decked the people who insulted his choice in brides, both before and after Connor’s...

Quickly, he turned his thoughts away.

“It is of no concern. It would be unseemly for me to retaliate against someone advanced in years,” Charles murmured.

It was the most he could think of without sounding maudlin, but he immediately brightened upon seeing the grateful look on his bride’s face.

“Thank you. I truly do not understand why he has acted so. He has no grudge against your Order, and it truly baffles me.”

Oh Charles was absolutely clear as to why Faulkner antagonized him daily.

Absolutely.

And he would love to kill the man for it.

“I suppose that he was a good friend of your mentor, and he must have heard a very partial tale about my doings. I can no more blame him for his dislike of me than I can blame you for your earlier contempt.”

Connor looked startled at this.

“I,” he began, a shamed blush blooming on his cheek.

“We were enemies, and now we are allies. I hold you no ill will and can only think about how brutish I must have come across all those years ago in shame.”

The Omega’s eyes grew wider. His lashes framed those striking amber-brown eyes.

“I am not a bad man. I love my land, honor my mentor, serve my Order with loyalty and adore my dog. And I hope that you will include me in future cooperative missions. I would make up for the way I’ve behaved to you and yours. And I would seek to cement this alliance between our two factions, so that we may both help bring peace, order and freedom to this land we love.”

Connor opened his mouth to reply.

Charles boldly put a single finger to his bride’s lips.

“We are not so different, the Order and the Brotherhood, and I have come to recognize that order is no order without freedom. I hope to work with you to bring this understanding to all our brothers and sisters.”

With that, Charles removed his fingers and waited.

Ohhh, yes, Charles, work your charm, baby. Work it and someone might soften up a little... Damn, this is so exciting, my feels are all over this fill.

Hehe. :D As Haytham said, Charles can be very persuasive.

On the other hand, I swear my fills are getting dirtier and dirtier...

Oh yes, he can, especially when a certain someone is involved, haha.

On the other hand, I swear my fills are getting dirtier and dirtier...

I don't see anyone complaining. I'm certainly not *coughcough*

I'm sorry for the irregularity of the fill so far. Hopefully I'll be able to update much more regularly in future.

"What do I do with him?" Haytham asks, mournfully. He stares sadly at his pint of bitter. He's at a loss already, and he's only known Connor for a week. The boy is nice enough, dropping round to the office every other day or so, putting his cell number into Haytham's mobile phone for him, but Haytham hasn't got a clue where to start with this 'building familial bonds' thing.

"You could try talking to him," John suggests, possibly sarcastically. Haytham glares at him over the foam of his drink.

"Thank you for your valuable insight," Haytham snaps. "I've tried that. I was thinking on a less generic scale."

"Slowly try making him a part of your life," William says. "Introduce him to your friends and family. Have a dad's night in with movies and a takeaway and whatnot. Get to know the lad."

"That doesn't sound like a terrible idea," Haytham muses aloud. "Have you still got that odd fetish for Native American culture?"

"It's not a fetish, it's my job," William replies, slightly sourly. "I work at a bloody museum."

"I could take him there," Haytham murmurs, drumming his fingers on the table. "He'd probably quite like you, actually. You're almost cool, for a man your age."

"Thank you for that backhanded compliment," William says, but Haytham can tell he's not particularly upset. It takes a lot to rile William up. He's always been the most level-headed of them all, probably something to do with being the eldest.

"Why the fuck did you kill him?" William screamed, clawing at Charles' face. "We're done for, you piece of shit!"

"Anytime, my friend," Haytham grins. "Oh! I could take him drinking. That's a traditional bonding thing, isn't it?"

"I fink 'e'd rather be in the clubs with the pretty girls than downin' pints wiv you," Thomas says, sipping at his coke. "I know I would. Damn AA."

"You mean there's no pretty girls at your Alcoholics Anonymous group?" Charles gasps, in mock horror. "You'd think there'd be quite a few, given that this is Essex."

"Girls, yeah. Pretty, no." Thomas mutters, glaring at his drink as though it had wounded him.

"Cheer up, Thomas. I'm sure you'll meet someone eventually," Haytham says, reassuringly.

"You said that about Charlie twenty years ago and 'e's still a single Pringle-- ow!" Thomas rubs his arm, glaring at Charles. "You din't 'ave to elbow me so 'ard."

"You didn't have to open your mouth," Charles gives Thomas a forced smile. "Haytham, might I suggest going on a day trip somewhere? London or one of the historic cities, perhaps? I'd suggest Salisbury, but it's rather far away."

"Mm," Haytham makes a noncommittal noise. "That's near Stonehenge, isn't it? I suppose that's an option…"

"He's studying veterinary medicine, isn't he?" William asks. "You could take him to an animal shelter, adopt a puppy for him!"

"His dorm doesn't allow pets," Haytham says. "When he graduates, perhaps."

"Look up 'is Facebook," Thomas suggests. "Find out what 'e does and don't like."

"I don't think he has it," Haytham replies. "He can barely work Twitter. He's always texting, though. If I borrowed his phone…"

"I like that idea," John says. "Pretend you have to text someone and you've run out of credit or lost your phone, and play up the 'help I'm from the past and can't work modern technology' aspect of your personality."

"I don't have a 'help I'm from the past and can't work modern technology' aspect of my personality," Haytham says, stiffly.

"Wot about that time--" Thomas begins.

"Shut up, Thomas," Haytham snaps. "It's not my fault if the damned computer wouldn't work properly."

"You probably should've plugged it in first," Charles murmurs. He swirls the wine around his glass.

"I remember that," William says, smiling. "That was a wonderful day."

"That was a terrible day!" Haytham exclaims.

"For you," John says. "For us, it's comedy gold."

"You're planning on telling Connor about it, aren't you? Don't you dare!" Haytham points an accusing finger at his friend.

"You're planning on going to the police about it, aren't you? Don't you dare!" Haytham pointed an accusing finger at his friend.

"All right," William says, soothingly. "We won't tell him. Not unless Thomas gets him drunk enough to forget the whole evening."

"That's nearly good enough," Haytham replies, sipping his bitter. "Promise me you won't get him high on any of your drugs, either."

"I promise," William says, holding his hands up as though offended by the very idea he might share his 'herbal remedies' with Connor. "And incidentally, I'm offended that you think I'd give the lad anything like that."

"Geoffrey Robinson," Haytham hisses, and it always surprises him how that one word does so much to their little group. Charles drops his glass, spilling the few drops of red wine left down his dress shirt. Thomas' hands start shaking. John's mouth presses into a thin, white line and William looks at him in the same way he did when Haytham and Ben dug the grave.

It takes a moment for William's words to come, but when they do they are shaky with anger and fear and sorrow.

"We agreed, Haytham. We all agreed we wouldn't--" William begins, and his eyes look a little damp and his face is a little flushed. "How dare you?"

"I have a chance to make things right," Haytham replies, in his most urgent, pleading tone. "I need to make things right. Please don't do anything that might--"

"We won't," Charles interrupts, dabbing at his shirt with a napkin. "You need to relax, Haytham. It's been twenty years."

"You're right," Haytham says, after a moment. "That was uncalled for. I'm sorry."

The rest of the evening is awkward, and Haytham is relieved to leave the company of his friends.

Heh, I don't blame Charles at all for the dirty day dreaming. I mean when Connor was alive he admits in Master of the House he barely interacted with his wife, unless it was sex... and of course Charles has a healthy appetite, and then he abstained for ten years (was it because he was still devoted to Connor and/or was punishing himself).

I love the detail you added of Charles decking Alphas for insulting those he loved like Spado and Connor. Thankfully he manages to rein in his anger with Faulkner - and just praying for this mission at sea to be over and done with so he doesn't have to deal with the Aquila crew (and Connor being being ridiculously attractive and untouchable).

As for the conversation, wow Charles, you smooth talker. Connor is so stunned that he doesn't even bat away the little intimate touch of Charles' finger against his lips.

/shivers/

Ratonhnhaké:ton finally stopped running when he turned another corner and was hit by the chill of a salty sea breeze. Several minutes after leaving the Green Dragon, he decided to head to the district where Noah usually resided in; but when looking up, the half-native found himself near the harbor. He mentally cursed himself for being such an emotional wreck, and running in the opposite direction.

With a sigh, he resumed walking, wrapping his arms about his small shivering frame in an attempt to keep warm. The snow burned beneath his bare feet, and left a painful prickling sensation; as if he were stepping on pine needles. Already, he missed the warmth of the crowded coffee house, the delicious aromas, and the comforting presence of furry little Spado resting in his lap. The Omega shook his head and tried to banish the thought of heading back.

Charles Lee and his associates, and... that man, might still be there.

Haytham E. Kenway

Father

Another sharp wind rippled through his hair and thin ragged clothes. His teeth started to chatter non-stop, and he was certain his lips were turning either white or blue. Ratonhnhaké:ton increased his pace. Perhaps instead of seeking out his fellow orphans; it would be best to find shelter, before he caught his death in this weather.

Turning another corner, he spotted a break in a fence and crawled through. At least now, he didn't have the icy sea breeze upon his back. While dusting off the bits of ice off his clothes before they could melt, the Omega noticed that he stood in the middle of an adjoined backyard of several homes. Perhaps he could find some shelter here. A tool shed, a cellar, anything...

Ratonhnhaké:ton paused as a rustle of cloth caught his ears. He whirled around, glancing in all directions. When he didn't see any movement - just a white bed-sheet, tangled in the lower branches of a tree - the Omega sighed in relief. Good, he wasn't being followed.

Then again, who would want to follow him? He wasn't a thief, or a notorious trouble maker. If he ever borrowed anything, he always made sure to repay his debts. That was the way mother brought him up. That was the way of his people.

With a weary sigh, the boy walked over to the tree and reached out to take hold of sheet in his hands. With a few strong tugs, it broke free of the brittle branches, and fell into his arms. The linen must have blown off a clothesline somewhere, and he only planned on borrowing it for the night, then leave it by the tree in the morning.

Gingerly, the child draped the white sheet over himself, wrapping it around his trembling frame. The extra thin layers didn't feel that much warmer, but additional cover was better than none. Holding a bunch of fabric in one hand, to avoid it from dragging across the ground Ratonhnhaké:ton began to inspect some of the cellars, tool sheds, and a couple outhouses.

All of which were bolted shut.

Of course, with this kind of weather the home owners didn't want the doors to snap off or their possessions scattered about the yard. Also, to keep thieves and squatters - like him - out. Just his luck.

With a grumble, Ratonhnhaké:ton walked around a shed, and sat leaning against the side. This would have to do for the night. He was just too tired and sleepy to search around the neighborhood. He pulled his legs to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and pressing his face against his knees.

Even as the wind howled and the temperature continued to drop, Ratonhnhaké:ton sat hunched were he was for what seemed like hours. Completely motionless. Until he awoke, when his sensitive ears picked up the soft sound of boots crunch against the snow. The noise seemed to grow louder as it approaching him.

When it stopped, the Omega child slowly lifted his head. Beneath the makeshift white hood, amber-brown eyes widened as he immediately recognized that familiar charcoal gray cloak trimmed with gold.

Hesitantly he continued to raise his head, and met with concerned gray-eyes.

"How did you find me?" he whispered.

Haytham Kenway crouched down in front of him.

"Whenever I seek a person of interest, they always glow gold."

A/N: I was originally planning on letting Connor touch it out for the night, but then remembered I said I would be nicer.

Oh Haytham! That was so beautiful anon! I was so afraid that Connor was going to have to stay out alone. It's so heartwarming that Haytham found him. And the imagery of Haytham looking down on the little Haytham at the end...classic!

//pets lil Connor//

//pets Haytham//

I think he'll quite manage to forgive Faulkner since it led to Connor coming to him to apologize and Charles finally making his first move. :D The end and the means and all of that.

He's determined to seduce Connor (or at least confuse the heck out of him)! :D

In Pursuit of Happiness

Chapter 16 - Strategic Decisions

Connor was at a loss. When he had first decided to apologize to Lee, he had only one thought on his mind. That he was to keep the peace on his ship no matter what and prevent Faulkner’s incipient murder and the dissolution of the alliance.

Faulkner’s behavior had been truly baffling. Of the last couple of days, he had taken every opportunity to taunt or otherwise insult Lee. And while Connor admitted that he could be somewhat dense to the intricacies of the English language, even he was surprised by some of those insinuations.

It was most unseemly. The normal bawdiness and language of his crew was to be expected, but the exchanges between Faulkner and Lee had been getting more and more dangerous, with real intent to wound and harm.

Today’s exchange was even more charged. What his first mate had said about Lee’s dog...

It was regrettable. While it was true that rumors of Lee’s singular—attachment—to his dogs, and to one particular dog, was near legendary, he had never heard of anything untoward. And the dog, by all accounts, was friendly and level-tempered, unlike its master. It was most unkind, and Connor had chastised Faulkner for his discourtesy after Lee had left.

He thought that Faulkner might repent, but it seemed that the old Alpha was intent on being stubborn. It was certainly not helping Connor’s efforts to keep his first mate alive, and he would not even be able to fault Lee for his anger.

It was a precarious situation, and where one side would not listen to reason, Connor hoped to convince the other side not to take offense.

Too much was riding upon their agreement, and it was up to him to maintain the civility on his ship. If that meant apologizing for Faulkner’s actions and advising Lee to avoid his first mate while he tried other methods to persuade Faulkner not to antagonize the Templar...

Connor was nothing if not dutiful.

And so, immediately after they dropped anchor for the night, he made his way to Lee’s cabin.

It was not a pleasant task. Despite his knowledge of Lee’s innocence (in the burning of Connor’s village at least), he found it difficult to banish the memories of the Alpha holding him against the tree, hands choking the breath out of him.

Lee had terrified him then, and it took months before he stopped crying out at night from nightmares of the Alpha and the burning of his village. And with the unerring gaze of the Alpha always pinned on his person during this mission...

Connor supposed that the man was sizing him up, understanding his worth to their alliance. But it unsettled Connor.

If it were not for the importance of this mission, Connor would not allow such a—stripping—gaze to be laid upon his person.

But no. The mission was to bring back those necessary supplies for the commander, for dear George. And to understand whether the Templars were sincere about their offer of an alliance.

Connor hated to admit it, but no matter how much he pressed his father and listened in on the two Templars’ communication, he could find nothing suspicious. It seemed that both Templars really did want an alliance and were actively working to make sure that they continue their cooperation.

Hence the necessity of preventing Lee’s famous temper from erupting. There was Faulkner’s life at stake. And, almost as important, there was the alliance at stake.

Connor and Lee were hardly friends, and Connor had expected Lee to be difficult. To make the apology as unbearable for Connor as possible and put himself in a dominant position. It would not be surprising if the Alpha demanded Connor to be in-debt to him.

And Connor was prepared to counter that. He was prepared to show Lee the benefits of their current cooperation, and how the debt between them would damage that. He was prepared with many other arguments.

He wound up using none.

Lee was...receptive.

He was very receptive.

He looked at Connor with gentle, serious eyes and immediately put himself in a disadvantage.

And Connor was confused.

He was confused by the intensity of Lee’s request, almost begging to go on future cooperative missions with him.

Why him?

He was confused by the softness in Lee’s eyes when he looked at him, as if their relationship up to that point had not been hunter and hunted, contempt and hate.

It was like Lee was looking at Connor’s father or his dog.

And he was confused by Lee’s words, the mixing of peace and order and freedom.

Did the man truly think that? Did the man truly have such an epiphany?

Connor could scarcely believe it.

It was too unbelievable, too marvelous.

That the Templars, or at least this Templar had a change of heart. That the war between them could finally end...

Connor’s heart beat with hope, and he ruthlessly squashed it.

And it had to be a trap. It had to be.

Nothing so full of promise and opportunity could be real. It was just too unbelievable.

But.

But...

But Lee was still looking at him with those serious, earnest eyes. That hand that had briefly touched his lips (and if had been any other situation, Connor would never have allowed such intimacy) had fallen back to the Alpha’s lap. The man’s body was leaning forward, as if eager to hear Connor’s reply. And that face was so very, very open.

Connor was wrong. The Alpha did have a silver tongue. Apparently, he only needed to be motivated to actually use it.

Connor fidgeted.

It was not a bad idea. If anyone could keep the likes of Connor’s father and Lee in check, it would be Connor himself. And on future cooperative missions, he could assess Lee’s intentions more fully.

Achilles would not like it. He worried whenever Connor would need to be in tight quarters with an Alpha. He had wanted Stephane to join on this mission and had only backed down when Connor pointed out that Stephane got seasick often and was not at home on a ship. He would certainly not agree to future missions between Connor and Lee.

It was one of the many points of disagreement between Connor and his mentor. Connor was not 14 anymore and had learned enough of English society and behavior not to unintentionally proposition random Alphas.

Connor looked Lee in the eye.

“If this goes well and the missions are mutually beneficial, then yes. I will be your partner.”

Heh connor just has no idea what's going on with Lee, he's still suspicious but you get a sense he really wants to believe in peace and end two wars going on at the same time. Kind of wondering what Haytham is up to, maybe setting up Faulkner free missions for Charles and Connor?

Thanks anon, I'm glad you liked it. I was worried the reunion was too rushed. I'll see if I can get Pt 2 up when I get home from work

Haytham isn't too happy that Charles seems incapable of taking advantage of this golden opportunity. Here he is, putting away his own time to get to understand his erstwhile son/opponent, and it's all going to waste. :D He's got a different motivation than Charles so, worst comes to worst, he'll take matters into his own hands.

Sometimes Connor's sharp mind strikes me, and sometimes he's so oblivious it hurts, though this I do understand, given the circumstances. Who would suspect their (former) greatest enemy lusting after them... Arghh, sometimes I do wish Connor would be able to look past his puppy love for Washington, but I guess love is blind, or so the people say. Charles, you gotta think of something, pronto!

Kudos to you though, anon, you really make this fill exciting, it's such a pleasure seeing these fast updates, you're really spoiling us *showers anon with praise and love*

Ahhhhhhhhhh! You have no idea how happy this makes me to see that this hasn't been abandoned!

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 309 of 385

Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

Re: In Pursuit of Happiness 14

Re: In Pursuit of Happiness 14

Re: One-shot: Familiar Stranger 2/2

Re: In Pursuit of Happiness 14

Re: One-shot: Familiar Stranger 2/2

The Fox and the Hare 1/?

Initialize - Part II

Re: In Pursuit of Happiness 14

Re: One-shot: Familiar Stranger 2/2

you can't take the sky from me [5/?]

In Pursuit of Happiness 15

Re: In Pursuit of Happiness 15

Re: In Pursuit of Happiness 15

Re: In Pursuit of Happiness 15

Secrets Should Stay Buried 3/?

Re: In Pursuit of Happiness 15

One-shot: Blizzard 1/2

Re: One-shot: Blizzard 1/2

Re: In Pursuit of Happiness 15

In Pursuit of Happiness 16

Re: In Pursuit of Happiness 16

Re: One-shot: Blizzard 1/2

Re: In Pursuit of Happiness 16

Re: In Pursuit of Happiness 16

Re: Initialize - Part II