It isn't until the next morning that Connor is able to visit the Templars. The King had insisted on having a 'romantic' afternoon and evening, which had in reality consisted of Connor pretending to listen to the King rambling at length about various things as they strolled through the grounds of the palace. They'd taken a late supper in Connor's room, though the King had thankfully gotten bored of talking and kissing his queen by the time the meal was over.
Haytham, now unscarfed, gives him only the minutest of glances from the cramped cell as Connor walks past, to the guard's table. There are about ten in this corridor, each not more than two metres square; just enough room for a pallet, a privy bucket and a little space to pace in. At least this place is new, so the blankets are not yet infested with lice, nor the pathetic bed too filthy to sleep on. William is
"When does your shift end?" Connor asks. The guard looks nervous despite the Apple's hold on him, and does not look directly at his mask.
"Got an hour and a half left, your highness. Eight hour shifts, you see, your highness."
"You are dismissed," Connor says, decisively. "You have worked hard, and the nights have been so very cold lately. I am sure you deserve an early breakfast and some extra time to sleep."
"Not meaning any disrespect, your highness, but I ain't supposed to leave the prisoners unattended, especially not with someone as important as yourself, your highness," the guard stammers.
"I shall be fine. I am a skilled warrior and accomplished hunter. There are weapons here, and these men will not harm me."
"The King--" the guard tries again.
"--Is my spouse. I have his permission to be here," Connor interrupts. He pauses, looking at the nervousness evident on the man's face. He sighs, and lays a hand on the man's shoulder, and speaks in his kindest tone. "I did not request that you leave, I ordered it. I am second only to the King himself. Remember that."
The guard nods, calmed by the implication: "you will be protected from the King's wrath, if he becomes irate because of this".
"My deepest apologies, your highness." The guard bows to him.
"It is all right," Connor says, and he does not speak again until he hears the door to this area shut behind the guard. He walks over, bolts it, and pulls the chair from the guard's table, positioning it so he can see into the three cells his father, Johnson and André are currently locked in. Haytham lounges on his pallet, facing the wall, apparently daydreaming but almost certainly carefully observing everything Connor is doing. Johnson simply sits on the floor, head in his arms, knees drawn up to his chest. André is curled up on his pallet, facing away from Connor.
Connor sits down, untying the mask, setting it carefully down beside him. None of the three make any effort to acknowledge his existence.
"I was surprised to hear of your attempt on General Lee's life," Connor says, conversationally. "I was under the impression that Templars were not in the habit of attempting to murder each other."
Haytham's eyes flicker to him for a moment, and Johnson raises his head just a little.
"Was it because you believe death is preferable to being under the power of the Apple?" Connor pressed. "You would probably be right in that assumption, to be honest. I cannot help but feel that it would have been kinder to attempt to free him from the Apple first."
"The things I said yesterday, about showing you the righteousness of the King, they were false. I simply did not want you to die. You are part of the rebellion, I assume. And I want the King dead and gone just as much as you do." Connor tries a different tack. André uncurls slightly, propping himself up a little. Johnson glances at Connor. Haytham's brow furrows just a tad.
"Very well," Connor says. He needs them to understand, to trust him. He picks up the keys next to him, and starts trying them on Haytham's door. There are only twelve keys: one for the main door to the corridor, one for the arms cupboard, and one for each cell, he presumes. They are not labelled, so it takes a few tries to unlock the cell. Haytham looks up at him with shock, mouth agape for a whole second or so before he remembers his gentlemanly manners and closes it. Connor ignores him, and sets to work unlocking Johnson's cell.
It takes about five minutes for each cell to be opened, and Connor takes his seat again.
"I am just as much a prisoner as you," he says. "It is simply that mine is a more comfortable cell."
Gilded Cages 10/?
It isn't until the next morning that Connor is able to visit the Templars. The King had insisted on having a 'romantic' afternoon and evening, which had in reality consisted of Connor pretending to listen to the King rambling at length about various things as they strolled through the grounds of the palace. They'd taken a late supper in Connor's room, though the King had thankfully gotten bored of talking and kissing his queen by the time the meal was over.
Haytham, now unscarfed, gives him only the minutest of glances from the cramped cell as Connor walks past, to the guard's table. There are about ten in this corridor, each not more than two metres square; just enough room for a pallet, a privy bucket and a little space to pace in. At least this place is new, so the blankets are not yet infested with lice, nor the pathetic bed too filthy to sleep on. William is
"When does your shift end?" Connor asks. The guard looks nervous despite the Apple's hold on him, and does not look directly at his mask.
"Got an hour and a half left, your highness. Eight hour shifts, you see, your highness."
"You are dismissed," Connor says, decisively. "You have worked hard, and the nights have been so very cold lately. I am sure you deserve an early breakfast and some extra time to sleep."
"Not meaning any disrespect, your highness, but I ain't supposed to leave the prisoners unattended, especially not with someone as important as yourself, your highness," the guard stammers.
"I shall be fine. I am a skilled warrior and accomplished hunter. There are weapons here, and these men will not harm me."
"The King--" the guard tries again.
"--Is my spouse. I have his permission to be here," Connor interrupts. He pauses, looking at the nervousness evident on the man's face. He sighs, and lays a hand on the man's shoulder, and speaks in his kindest tone. "I did not request that you leave, I ordered it. I am second only to the King himself. Remember that."
The guard nods, calmed by the implication: "you will be protected from the King's wrath, if he becomes irate because of this".
"My deepest apologies, your highness." The guard bows to him.
"It is all right," Connor says, and he does not speak again until he hears the door to this area shut behind the guard. He walks over, bolts it, and pulls the chair from the guard's table, positioning it so he can see into the three cells his father, Johnson and André are currently locked in. Haytham lounges on his pallet, facing the wall, apparently daydreaming but almost certainly carefully observing everything Connor is doing. Johnson simply sits on the floor, head in his arms, knees drawn up to his chest. André is curled up on his pallet, facing away from Connor.
Connor sits down, untying the mask, setting it carefully down beside him. None of the three make any effort to acknowledge his existence.
"I was surprised to hear of your attempt on General Lee's life," Connor says, conversationally. "I was under the impression that Templars were not in the habit of attempting to murder each other."
Haytham's eyes flicker to him for a moment, and Johnson raises his head just a little.
"Was it because you believe death is preferable to being under the power of the Apple?" Connor pressed. "You would probably be right in that assumption, to be honest. I cannot help but feel that it would have been kinder to attempt to free him from the Apple first."
"The things I said yesterday, about showing you the righteousness of the King, they were false. I simply did not want you to die. You are part of the rebellion, I assume. And I want the King dead and gone just as much as you do." Connor tries a different tack. André uncurls slightly, propping himself up a little. Johnson glances at Connor. Haytham's brow furrows just a tad.
"Very well," Connor says. He needs them to understand, to trust him. He picks up the keys next to him, and starts trying them on Haytham's door. There are only twelve keys: one for the main door to the corridor, one for the arms cupboard, and one for each cell, he presumes. They are not labelled, so it takes a few tries to unlock the cell. Haytham looks up at him with shock, mouth agape for a whole second or so before he remembers his gentlemanly manners and closes it. Connor ignores him, and sets to work unlocking Johnson's cell.
It takes about five minutes for each cell to be opened, and Connor takes his seat again.
"I am just as much a prisoner as you," he says. "It is simply that mine is a more comfortable cell."