The woman’s expression softened slightly. She looked satisfied and gracious.
Charles thought she never looked more dangerous.
“You have done what I had desired you to do. My descendant is now separated from that commander of men who cannot give him viable children, and you yourself are unable to bring about the situation that would cause the death of my line.”
An incredulous and self-mocking laugh burst out of Charles.
“So the first time I made Connor my wife, that was you trying to separate Connor from Washington. And you didn’t care what it would do to Connor until he killed himself and set in motion the eventual ending of your line.”
Charles shook his head and felt himself shake. Whether it was with fury or disbelief or fear, he did not know.
“And now you have spun events so that both the obstacles in your way are gone.”
Tears stung his eyes. He put a shaking fist against his eyes and laughed out loud.
Ridiculous. It was all ridiculous.
“I was being generous to you.” Her voice was sharp, irritated.
“Generous? You planned this entire debacle, this torture of a second chance and now warn me away from my wife—“
“I gave you a legitimate second chance. I had thought you strong enough to sire children on my descendant and help him continue my line, but you proved incapable of escaping from your mistakes.”
Charles lowered his fist and stared at the woman in disbelief.
“Incapable? I may well have separated Connor from Washington as you so clearly desired!”
“But I did not desire that you do so in a way likely to affect my descendant’s ability to ever trust again. And trust is a very necessary part of courtship.”
Perhaps it was Charles’s imagination, but the woman looked strangely wistful then, as if her mind was anywhere but here.
“If all you wanted,” Charles fumed, “was that the child grow up well, then why did you not just send me back to when I first thought to kill Washington?”
“It would not have made a difference.”
“Bollocks. I would not have planned to kill Washington. I would have simply kept him under house arrest, and—”
“It would not have made a difference.”
Charles started to grow frustrated.
“Connor wouldn’t have felt the need to protect Washington then! He wouldn’t have gutted himself with a steak knife—“
And Charles would not have had to see his beautiful wife so. Of all ways to die, it was the most painful and the most reliable.
“It would not have made a difference.”
Charles felt like sobbing.
“You would have pulled his son away from him to remove all traces of influence my descendant may exert on the boy, for fear that he would turn to my descendant’s Brotherhood, and it would have driven him mad.”
The world shifted again. They were outside, near the edge of the woods, and Charles looked at the woman in confusion.
She pointed towards one of the trees.
Charles followed her gaze and...
His knees buckled. He felt to the ground in shock.
“How—?”
“You would have gotten my descendant with child again, and he would realize that his fate would be to keep giving you children and keep having those children taken away. He would have been four months pregnant when he snuck out of the room you kept him locked in and hung himself on a tree.”
Charles stared vacantly at the bedsheet wrapped securely around Connor’s throat. He still looked so young.
“He would die at 22.”
Charles held a trembling hand to his mouth to hold back his nausea.
“Why here?” he asked. “Why escape only to—?”
“I believe he never felt quite at peace unless he was amongst the trees he loved. In your attempts to keep him secured as the prize you saw him as, you would have never let him leave the security of your home.”
Somehow, that sounded even worse.
“Not once?” Charles whispered.
It seemed so unthinkable that someone quite as spirited and free as the Connor he’d seen over the past several days be locked away so.
“You would have come to fear losing him too much.”
Shouts in the distance.
Charles looked up to see himself, white-faced and with a look of fear, dash towards the body of his wife, still hanging limply from that makeshift noose. He saw Master Kenway on his heels, the calm strength so natural to him completely and utterly gone.
“My descendant would have left you a note, asking that you spare the commander of men as his last dying wish. It was the only promise you ever kept to him.”
She fell silent, and Charles did not fill in that silence.
There was too much to think about. There was too much to not think about.
“I do not mean to be cruel.”
A snort.
“Indeed, I care very little for your fleeting lives either one way or the other.”
“All you care about is having that final descendant of you and your enemy make that choice.”
She looked away, and Charles saw a flicker of emotion cross her face.
“Yes. My husband worked very hard to help me in my goals, and I now owe it to both him and myself to do my best to reach those goals.”
“Your husband?”
Charles was not sure he could think of this woman married. She seemed wholly devoid of almost all feeling.
“One of your kind. Perhaps the only one of your kind that I have ever respected. He gave himself for my goals and withered away despite everything I did.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“He is the only one I care for, the only one worth my care.”
Charles looked to Connor again. He still hung from that tree.
“You and I are much alike. We would both sacrifice those we love the most for other goals and other ambitions.”
That’s not true, Charles wanted to say. That’s a lie!
“Had you been able to let him go, had you been able to accept my descendant’s for who he is, for what his own thoughts and feelings are, then you would never have come to this pass. To any of these passes.”
Charles stayed silent as the magnitude of that statement sunk in. Letting Connor go...
“I can’t give up on him,” he whispered. “I can’t—“
The woman’s golden eyes flashed. “You must! This last part of your task is for you to leave my descendant be. Let him go. And do not darken his life again.”
“No,” Charles shook his head stubbornly. “I cannot. I—“
“You have no choice.”
And Charles woke up to Connor staring coldly at him.
Re: In Pursuit of Happiness 34
In Pursuit of Happiness
Chapter 35 - Futile
The woman’s expression softened slightly. She looked satisfied and gracious.
Charles thought she never looked more dangerous.
“You have done what I had desired you to do. My descendant is now separated from that commander of men who cannot give him viable children, and you yourself are unable to bring about the situation that would cause the death of my line.”
An incredulous and self-mocking laugh burst out of Charles.
“So the first time I made Connor my wife, that was you trying to separate Connor from Washington. And you didn’t care what it would do to Connor until he killed himself and set in motion the eventual ending of your line.”
Charles shook his head and felt himself shake. Whether it was with fury or disbelief or fear, he did not know.
“And now you have spun events so that both the obstacles in your way are gone.”
Tears stung his eyes. He put a shaking fist against his eyes and laughed out loud.
Ridiculous. It was all ridiculous.
“I was being generous to you.” Her voice was sharp, irritated.
“Generous? You planned this entire debacle, this torture of a second chance and now warn me away from my wife—“
“I gave you a legitimate second chance. I had thought you strong enough to sire children on my descendant and help him continue my line, but you proved incapable of escaping from your mistakes.”
Charles lowered his fist and stared at the woman in disbelief.
“Incapable? I may well have separated Connor from Washington as you so clearly desired!”
“But I did not desire that you do so in a way likely to affect my descendant’s ability to ever trust again. And trust is a very necessary part of courtship.”
Perhaps it was Charles’s imagination, but the woman looked strangely wistful then, as if her mind was anywhere but here.
“If all you wanted,” Charles fumed, “was that the child grow up well, then why did you not just send me back to when I first thought to kill Washington?”
“It would not have made a difference.”
“Bollocks. I would not have planned to kill Washington. I would have simply kept him under house arrest, and—”
“It would not have made a difference.”
Charles started to grow frustrated.
“Connor wouldn’t have felt the need to protect Washington then! He wouldn’t have gutted himself with a steak knife—“
And Charles would not have had to see his beautiful wife so. Of all ways to die, it was the most painful and the most reliable.
“It would not have made a difference.”
Charles felt like sobbing.
“You would have pulled his son away from him to remove all traces of influence my descendant may exert on the boy, for fear that he would turn to my descendant’s Brotherhood, and it would have driven him mad.”
The world shifted again. They were outside, near the edge of the woods, and Charles looked at the woman in confusion.
She pointed towards one of the trees.
Charles followed her gaze and...
His knees buckled. He felt to the ground in shock.
“How—?”
“You would have gotten my descendant with child again, and he would realize that his fate would be to keep giving you children and keep having those children taken away. He would have been four months pregnant when he snuck out of the room you kept him locked in and hung himself on a tree.”
Charles stared vacantly at the bedsheet wrapped securely around Connor’s throat. He still looked so young.
“He would die at 22.”
Charles held a trembling hand to his mouth to hold back his nausea.
“Why here?” he asked. “Why escape only to—?”
“I believe he never felt quite at peace unless he was amongst the trees he loved. In your attempts to keep him secured as the prize you saw him as, you would have never let him leave the security of your home.”
Somehow, that sounded even worse.
“Not once?” Charles whispered.
It seemed so unthinkable that someone quite as spirited and free as the Connor he’d seen over the past several days be locked away so.
“You would have come to fear losing him too much.”
Shouts in the distance.
Charles looked up to see himself, white-faced and with a look of fear, dash towards the body of his wife, still hanging limply from that makeshift noose. He saw Master Kenway on his heels, the calm strength so natural to him completely and utterly gone.
“My descendant would have left you a note, asking that you spare the commander of men as his last dying wish. It was the only promise you ever kept to him.”
She fell silent, and Charles did not fill in that silence.
There was too much to think about. There was too much to not think about.
“I do not mean to be cruel.”
A snort.
“Indeed, I care very little for your fleeting lives either one way or the other.”
“All you care about is having that final descendant of you and your enemy make that choice.”
She looked away, and Charles saw a flicker of emotion cross her face.
“Yes. My husband worked very hard to help me in my goals, and I now owe it to both him and myself to do my best to reach those goals.”
“Your husband?”
Charles was not sure he could think of this woman married. She seemed wholly devoid of almost all feeling.
“One of your kind. Perhaps the only one of your kind that I have ever respected. He gave himself for my goals and withered away despite everything I did.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“He is the only one I care for, the only one worth my care.”
Charles looked to Connor again. He still hung from that tree.
“You and I are much alike. We would both sacrifice those we love the most for other goals and other ambitions.”
That’s not true, Charles wanted to say. That’s a lie!
“Had you been able to let him go, had you been able to accept my descendant’s for who he is, for what his own thoughts and feelings are, then you would never have come to this pass. To any of these passes.”
Charles stayed silent as the magnitude of that statement sunk in. Letting Connor go...
“I can’t give up on him,” he whispered. “I can’t—“
The woman’s golden eyes flashed. “You must! This last part of your task is for you to leave my descendant be. Let him go. And do not darken his life again.”
“No,” Charles shook his head stubbornly. “I cannot. I—“
“You have no choice.”
And Charles woke up to Connor staring coldly at him.