The woman’s face never changed. She was still as severe in that dispassionate way she had been before. That did not stop the tremor that made its way up Charles’s spine.
“I see.”
The world around Charles flashed, and he suddenly found himself surrounded by many people. There was a woman sitting on the bench next to him, pretty and brown-haired and elegant in the way female Omegas often were. She looked ecstatic. On his other side was a burly Alpha man, obviously a metalworker of some sort. He looked boisterous and happy and glowed with anticipation and pride. And up in front, standing in the aisle was...
Washington.
Charles growled at the sight of the man, finely dressed and fidgeting nervously. He kept looking towards the door, as if he was expecting someone.
The sights meshed together in Charles’s brain and clicked into a coherent image. And all the blood drained out of his face as he realized where he was.
The chapel. Where he had...
As if on cue, those large doors that Washington had been watching so anxiously opened, and Charles’s Omega walked in.
Despite himself, Charles felt his heart thud painfully at how beautiful Connor looked. He was absolutely radiant, a content and happy look on his face and dressed impeccably in his white uniform.
His beautiful Omega, who was only his due to brutality and humiliation.
Charles swallowed and felt bile rise in his throat.
He didn’t want to watch this. He didn’t want to watch what he had done—
“So afraid of your own handiwork?”
The woman. Face calm as ever, and eyes watching that beautiful white-clad form so disinterestedly. Not a single trace of emotion for what was about to happen.
“Stop this,” Charles whispered.
“I see no reason to.”
Charles bit his lip as Connor began walking down the aisle.
No.
He didn’t want to see his Connor so broken and humiliated. He didn’t want to see the suffering that he knew would be on his wife’s face.
That he put there.
“Please stop this,” he begged again. “Showing this—what does it accomplish?”
The woman looked unconcerned and continued staring at the wedding procession with empty eyes.
“You do not understand what you truly feel. You do not understand what kind of person you truly are. It is time that you see.”
“No!” Charles shouted. “I do! I do understand what I did. I—“
A sudden movement caught his eye. Charles looked only to see himself darting into the room.
Eyes frantic and wide, he quickly looked around and spotted all of the lower ranked Templars he had brought with him that day. Edwards slid silently behind Israel Putnam, well out of sight of all the Assassins, and aimed a pistol at one of them.
Charles turned back to the woman.
“Stop. Just stop before—“
A gasp, a scream.
Out of the corner of his eye, that beautiful white-clad form collapsed to the ground even as Washington shouted out.
Charles turned just in time to see himself, blade to Washington’s throat, pistol to the Alpha’s temple.
“I am not here for you,” his other self taunted the commander.
Charles marched forward, determined to stop this. He would stop this. He would stop this travesty before—
He grabbed at Washington, grabbed at his past self. To his frustration, his hands passed right through the forms.
“You fiend,” Washington murmured in horror as he looked through Charles.
Charles followed the man’s eyes and turned to see the dead cooling body of Achilles Davenport right behind him. The man’s eyes seemed to stare accusingly at him, and Charles took a horrified step backwards as he noticed that he was standing right in a pool of the man’s blood.
“Long ago we warned the old man not to get involved in our affairs ever again,” his other self stated. “He did not listen.”
Charles turned wide eyes on him.
Had he really sounded so uncaring then? Had he truly been so unaffected?
“Please,” Washington begged. “I will step down as Commander-in-Chief. You can have my title and position in the Continental Army. Just let us go. I will take Connor away. We will never interfere with you and yours again. Please...”
Charles closed his eyes at the Alpha’s painfully raw pleas.
Behind him, he heard the shifting of cloth, and he turned to see his beloved wife open dazed and confused amber-brown eyes.
He turned back to the woman, still dispassionately watching them all.
“Please don’t do this,” he whispered. “I’m begging you. Please stop this.”
The woman tilted her head curiously at him. Those alien eyes, so golden and yellow and empty, stared at him.
“Do you not want this to continue? Do you not want to have my descendant as your own?”
“Yes, I want him!” Charles cried. “But I never want him like this again. I never want to put him through this again!”
And it was true. He had hated Connor back then, wanted nothing more than to humiliate and torture and break him. And he had succeeded admirably. But during all that time, watching and having and being near the young man, he’d slowly come to hate him less. And then he’d grown fond of him. And at the end, he’d fallen in love with him.
“I care for him,” Charles whispered.
He let out a shaky breath. “You’re right in that I don’t know as much of him as I would like. You and Master Kenway both are right that there is so much I do not know, so much that I wasn’t privy to. But that doesn’t stop me from caring about him and loving the parts that I have seen. And that doesn’t stop me from loving the parts that I’m just learning about now.”
The woman remained silent.
Charles plowed on. “I saw him recently commanding his ship. He was imposing, strong, a natural leader. I never thought I would seek that in a wife, but I can’t help admiring it in him. I would be proud to have such a wife, such a unique and capable individual. And when we landed on the island in search of Church, it was him that discovered where Church was, him that thought of the plan to draw our enemies out, and him who took on most of the task of engaging Church’s men and taking them out.”
“You rescued him then,” the woman pointed out.
“Yes,” Charles responded, “but I was amazed at his abilities and inspired by his cleverness and strategic mind. To learn this about him, to learn that he is a leader and a fighter and a tactician and a wonderful captain, I...”
His voice softened.
“I know he frustrates me sometimes. His devotion to Washington, his slowness to trust me and the thought that he would be perfectly fine without me. He challenges me when I least expect it and has annoying first mates who enjoy sticking their noses where they don’t belong. But his greater self is mesmerizing and even if I didn’t love him then, I am falling in love with him right now. So please don’t—“
“It’s your wedding day, isn’t it? I would hate to keep a bride from his wedding rites,” his past self smirked from behind Charles.
No.
“Well Father? Will you begin the rites?”
“Stop,” Charles whispered, whirling around to face the chaplain.
“This is travesty, this is—“
A gunshot burst through the protests, and Washington grunted in pain.
Charles’s other self shrugged. “Are you sure about that?”
“No!” Charles rushed at his other self.
He ran right through the phantom and hit the ground on the other side.
“D-do you, Charles Lee, t-take t-this—” the chaplain began.
“No, I don’t!” Charles screamed. “Not like this.”
“Yes, yes, get on with it,” his other self smirked.
“D-do you, Connor Kenway, t-take this—man—to be your l-lawfully w-wedded h-h-husband?”
Charles turned anguished eyes onto Connor, pale-faced and trembling. He looked as if he could not fully believe what was happening.
Charles could not believe this was happening. Not again. Never again.
His other self cocked the pistol at Washington again.
“Yes,” Connor whispered, softly. Weakly. “Yes, I do.”
Charles had never heard him sound so defeated.
Except once. When this had actually happened.
Oh God, it had happened in his past. In Charles’s past.
It had actually happened.
Charles slid to the ground in horror.
He, he was a monster.
“T-then by t-the p-powers vested w-within me, I n-now p-pronounce y-you h-h-husband and w-w-wife,” the chaplain stuttered from behind him.
His other self smirked. “Aren’t you going to say and now you may kiss the bride?”
Charles clenched his hands into fists.
He was so cruel that day. So very, very cruel.
“What—?“
“Why don’t we get started on our nuptial duties immediately…honey.”
Charles closed his eyes. Around him, he could hear the motions of a body being forced to the ground and cloth being ripped.
To know that he did this, that he had been so hateful...
"Just enjoy the show, Commander," Edwards whispered from behind him, no doubt at the still-restrained Washington.
For the first time in his life, Charles felt sympathy for the other Alpha. He knew what was coming, what would happen at any moment. And it was horrifying. To be forced to watch as one of the people most dear to him was brutalized in such a way...
A scream. Rough laughter from his men around him. A litany of “no’s” and “stop’s” harshly jarred into a terrible and familiar rhythm. The sound of futile struggling.
In Pursuit of Happiness 33
Chapter 33 - Open Eyes
The woman’s face never changed. She was still as severe in that dispassionate way she had been before. That did not stop the tremor that made its way up Charles’s spine.
“I see.”
The world around Charles flashed, and he suddenly found himself surrounded by many people. There was a woman sitting on the bench next to him, pretty and brown-haired and elegant in the way female Omegas often were. She looked ecstatic. On his other side was a burly Alpha man, obviously a metalworker of some sort. He looked boisterous and happy and glowed with anticipation and pride. And up in front, standing in the aisle was...
Washington.
Charles growled at the sight of the man, finely dressed and fidgeting nervously. He kept looking towards the door, as if he was expecting someone.
The sights meshed together in Charles’s brain and clicked into a coherent image. And all the blood drained out of his face as he realized where he was.
The chapel. Where he had...
As if on cue, those large doors that Washington had been watching so anxiously opened, and Charles’s Omega walked in.
Despite himself, Charles felt his heart thud painfully at how beautiful Connor looked. He was absolutely radiant, a content and happy look on his face and dressed impeccably in his white uniform.
His beautiful Omega, who was only his due to brutality and humiliation.
Charles swallowed and felt bile rise in his throat.
He didn’t want to watch this. He didn’t want to watch what he had done—
“So afraid of your own handiwork?”
The woman. Face calm as ever, and eyes watching that beautiful white-clad form so disinterestedly. Not a single trace of emotion for what was about to happen.
“Stop this,” Charles whispered.
“I see no reason to.”
Charles bit his lip as Connor began walking down the aisle.
No.
He didn’t want to see his Connor so broken and humiliated. He didn’t want to see the suffering that he knew would be on his wife’s face.
That he put there.
“Please stop this,” he begged again. “Showing this—what does it accomplish?”
The woman looked unconcerned and continued staring at the wedding procession with empty eyes.
“You do not understand what you truly feel. You do not understand what kind of person you truly are. It is time that you see.”
“No!” Charles shouted. “I do! I do understand what I did. I—“
A sudden movement caught his eye. Charles looked only to see himself darting into the room.
Eyes frantic and wide, he quickly looked around and spotted all of the lower ranked Templars he had brought with him that day. Edwards slid silently behind Israel Putnam, well out of sight of all the Assassins, and aimed a pistol at one of them.
Charles turned back to the woman.
“Stop. Just stop before—“
A gasp, a scream.
Out of the corner of his eye, that beautiful white-clad form collapsed to the ground even as Washington shouted out.
Charles turned just in time to see himself, blade to Washington’s throat, pistol to the Alpha’s temple.
“I am not here for you,” his other self taunted the commander.
Charles marched forward, determined to stop this. He would stop this. He would stop this travesty before—
He grabbed at Washington, grabbed at his past self. To his frustration, his hands passed right through the forms.
“You fiend,” Washington murmured in horror as he looked through Charles.
Charles followed the man’s eyes and turned to see the dead cooling body of Achilles Davenport right behind him. The man’s eyes seemed to stare accusingly at him, and Charles took a horrified step backwards as he noticed that he was standing right in a pool of the man’s blood.
“Long ago we warned the old man not to get involved in our affairs ever again,” his other self stated. “He did not listen.”
Charles turned wide eyes on him.
Had he really sounded so uncaring then? Had he truly been so unaffected?
“Please,” Washington begged. “I will step down as Commander-in-Chief. You can have my title and position in the Continental Army. Just let us go. I will take Connor away. We will never interfere with you and yours again. Please...”
Charles closed his eyes at the Alpha’s painfully raw pleas.
Behind him, he heard the shifting of cloth, and he turned to see his beloved wife open dazed and confused amber-brown eyes.
He turned back to the woman, still dispassionately watching them all.
“Please don’t do this,” he whispered. “I’m begging you. Please stop this.”
The woman tilted her head curiously at him. Those alien eyes, so golden and yellow and empty, stared at him.
“Do you not want this to continue? Do you not want to have my descendant as your own?”
“Yes, I want him!” Charles cried. “But I never want him like this again. I never want to put him through this again!”
And it was true. He had hated Connor back then, wanted nothing more than to humiliate and torture and break him. And he had succeeded admirably. But during all that time, watching and having and being near the young man, he’d slowly come to hate him less. And then he’d grown fond of him. And at the end, he’d fallen in love with him.
“I care for him,” Charles whispered.
He let out a shaky breath. “You’re right in that I don’t know as much of him as I would like. You and Master Kenway both are right that there is so much I do not know, so much that I wasn’t privy to. But that doesn’t stop me from caring about him and loving the parts that I have seen. And that doesn’t stop me from loving the parts that I’m just learning about now.”
The woman remained silent.
Charles plowed on. “I saw him recently commanding his ship. He was imposing, strong, a natural leader. I never thought I would seek that in a wife, but I can’t help admiring it in him. I would be proud to have such a wife, such a unique and capable individual. And when we landed on the island in search of Church, it was him that discovered where Church was, him that thought of the plan to draw our enemies out, and him who took on most of the task of engaging Church’s men and taking them out.”
“You rescued him then,” the woman pointed out.
“Yes,” Charles responded, “but I was amazed at his abilities and inspired by his cleverness and strategic mind. To learn this about him, to learn that he is a leader and a fighter and a tactician and a wonderful captain, I...”
His voice softened.
“I know he frustrates me sometimes. His devotion to Washington, his slowness to trust me and the thought that he would be perfectly fine without me. He challenges me when I least expect it and has annoying first mates who enjoy sticking their noses where they don’t belong. But his greater self is mesmerizing and even if I didn’t love him then, I am falling in love with him right now. So please don’t—“
“It’s your wedding day, isn’t it? I would hate to keep a bride from his wedding rites,” his past self smirked from behind Charles.
No.
“Well Father? Will you begin the rites?”
“Stop,” Charles whispered, whirling around to face the chaplain.
“This is travesty, this is—“
A gunshot burst through the protests, and Washington grunted in pain.
Charles’s other self shrugged. “Are you sure about that?”
“No!” Charles rushed at his other self.
He ran right through the phantom and hit the ground on the other side.
“D-do you, Charles Lee, t-take t-this—” the chaplain began.
“No, I don’t!” Charles screamed. “Not like this.”
“Yes, yes, get on with it,” his other self smirked.
“D-do you, Connor Kenway, t-take this—man—to be your l-lawfully w-wedded h-h-husband?”
Charles turned anguished eyes onto Connor, pale-faced and trembling. He looked as if he could not fully believe what was happening.
Charles could not believe this was happening. Not again. Never again.
His other self cocked the pistol at Washington again.
“Yes,” Connor whispered, softly. Weakly. “Yes, I do.”
Charles had never heard him sound so defeated.
Except once. When this had actually happened.
Oh God, it had happened in his past. In Charles’s past.
It had actually happened.
Charles slid to the ground in horror.
He, he was a monster.
“T-then by t-the p-powers vested w-within me, I n-now p-pronounce y-you h-h-husband and w-w-wife,” the chaplain stuttered from behind him.
His other self smirked. “Aren’t you going to say and now you may kiss the bride?”
Charles clenched his hands into fists.
He was so cruel that day. So very, very cruel.
“What—?“
“Why don’t we get started on our nuptial duties immediately…honey.”
Charles closed his eyes. Around him, he could hear the motions of a body being forced to the ground and cloth being ripped.
To know that he did this, that he had been so hateful...
"Just enjoy the show, Commander," Edwards whispered from behind him, no doubt at the still-restrained Washington.
For the first time in his life, Charles felt sympathy for the other Alpha. He knew what was coming, what would happen at any moment. And it was horrifying. To be forced to watch as one of the people most dear to him was brutalized in such a way...
A scream. Rough laughter from his men around him. A litany of “no’s” and “stop’s” harshly jarred into a terrible and familiar rhythm. The sound of futile struggling.
He was a monster.