Managed to get this out before I leave in the morning. Will try to work on next chapter during travels.
And yes, Clipper makes an appearance here. :) Also, Anon knows nothing about classic architecture so if drawing rooms were not typically at the top of staircases, Anon apologizes.
Master of the House
Chapter 3 - Unexpected Partners
Unlike many of the other newly-inducted members of the Inner Circle, James Collins was of more modest means, and it showed in his living arrangements. Rather than keeping a townhouse for work purposes and a suitable manor elsewhere, James spent all of his time in his single abode in the heart of Boston. His was a small apartment, identical to the many other little brick apartments next to it, only large enough to comfortably suit three people. There was only a single maid.
While Charles could never live like that himself, as used as he was to his little luxuries, he had to admit that Master Kenway had chosen well in James. While from a poor family and rather too self-deprecating for Charles, the man made a brilliant lawyer and was utterly devoted to the Order. Perhaps it was just as well that he was from simple roots: his worth to the Order as a lawyer working closely with the people far outweighed any worth he could have had had his family been well off and he a judge.
His character was, likewise, suited to his role and profession. He was sympathetic, knowledgeable and kind, all traits that endeared him to his clients and advanced the Templar cause. He was also shrewd, and, as Charles rapped sharply against the door, he wondered if he should be glad of that fact…or worried.
A scant few minutes later, Charles made out the sound of footsteps descending a flight of stairs and the heavy bolt being drawn open. Soon, the man himself appeared within the doorway.
“Charles!” the man smiled pleasantly upon seeing him. “You should have told me earlier you’d call. I’d have had tea ready for you. But do come in. Come in.”
Charles clasped his hands behind his back and nodded his greeting to the man. “Thank you, James.”
He stepped into the apartment, leaving the brisk Autumn air behind him. The two men began climbing the narrow staircase, and Charles briefly wondered about the stability of the creaky steps.
James must have noticed his consternation, for his next words were— “Sorry about that, Charles. I’ve been meaning to renovate, but there have been so much excitement in the past couple of months that it must have slipped my mind.”
“Not at all,” Charles smiled weakly, looking askance at the old wood beneath his fine leather gloves.
James laughed. “You don’t fool anyone with that expression…but I promise to have this fixed next time you drop by unannounced.”
Beyond the door at the top of the staircase lay the drawing room and as they settled themselves into the velvet covered chairs, James turned towards Charles.
“You don’t usually come to see me without a reason,” James inquired, mild curiosity in his brown eyes.
Charles crossed his fingers in thought. The maid entered balancing a tray of one medium-sized teapot and two cups. They were, Charles noted, of exquisite china and finely made.
He stayed silent as the maid set the two cups in front of himself and James and poured them each some tea. Quietly, she set aside the tray and departed the room. He waited until her soft footfalls faded away before he spoke.
“It concerns your Omega.”
James looked up mid-sip. “Oh?”
“I may have need of him.”
James calmly set down his cup and waited. The intensity of the brown gaze compelled Charles to continue.
“He may be the solution of a—“ Charles hesitated, aware of the delicateness of the situation, “—a small difficulty—I’ve been facing.”
James stayed silent for a moment longer, then…
“Is this about your Omega?”
Charles bristled, uncomfortable with how much the man knew. Briefly, he wondered if his marital woes were common knowledge among the Order and then promptly banished the thought. He would deal with it later if necessary.
“I merely think it would do him good to remind him of what I hold, what we,” he amended, seeing James’s eyes darken, “hold.”
James stared at him in contemplation, gaze once again mild. “And do you truly believe that more threats will give you your heir?”
A sharp crack and Charles’s hands were suddenly bleeding, sharp jagged shards of porcelain embedded into his palm and tea spilling all over his lap.
He did not notice.
“What are you implying, James?” he whispered, eyes intent on the solemn man in front of him.
Said man called for the maid, and the girl swiftly entered the room with a clean handkerchief and tweezers. The room silenced once again as she cleaned Charles’s wound and bowed out of the room, accepting James’s call of gratitude with an expert curtsy.
Sighing, James once again picked up his own cup.
“Peace, Charles, I meant no offense.”
Charles did not relax, and James began to look mildly discomfited.
Finally, “what do you know?”
James took a sip of his tea.
“Did you know that I’m visited by many of our brethren as well as the good folk of Boston? They often come to seek my advice on many matters. Of law. Of ordinary everyday affairs. Of domestic affairs.”
Charles did not see what this had to with anything and opened his mouth to suggest that James get a move on.
“A month ago, Matthew of the lower order inquired after my relationship with Clipper.”
Charles snapped his mouth shut, and he stared at the man in shock.
“He seemed quite puzzled at our relationship and particularly at how healthy and content Clipper is.”
James took another sip and then set down his cup, meeting Charles’s eyes earnestly.
“Brother, you are to be our new leader, and your success is our success and the Order’s glory. None of us wish to see either your line nor that of Master Kenway’s disappear.”
He approached Charles and took one of his bandaged hands in his own.
“Please, sir, allow me to help.”
Charles gazed into the man’s eyes seeking any sign of treachery, any indication of ulterior motives and hidden designs. Silently, he lamented the fact that he did not have Master Kenway’s remarkable eyes and could only rely on his lamentably mortal skills.
And it was this that decided him. The chance to revive those eyes within the Order, the chance to hold a grandson, an Alpha of Master Kenway’s line and call him son…it was worth trusting in the sincerity of the man before him.
“Alright.”
-----
An hour later, he found himself face to face with a man he had not seen since he gave the order that the man be handed over to James. He was startled by the signs of health and, if not happiness, resigned content in the man’s face. Clipper Wilkinson may have stiffened as Charles entered his room, but he relaxed as soon as James came in after him. He gazed at James fondly as the man leaned to whisper in his ear.
Charles was mystified. Connor always remained stiff within his embrace and always endeavored to fix his eyes on anything but himself. Granted, he usually interacted with the boy when he desired to sate his lust, but it was certainly perplexing that two former enemies, an Alpha and an Omega no less, could be so easy in each other’s presence.
Clipper frowned suddenly and turned accusing eyes on him.
“You want me to help Connor heal only for you to break him again?”
Charles briefly contemplated striking the man for his impertinence but then decided that it wouldn’t do to alienate James.
“Control your Omega, James.”
James immediately grabbed the man before he could leap at him (hah, as if an Assassin recruit who could do nothing as his comrades were murdered and his mentor forced to wed against his will could do anything to him) and began placating the man with soothing murmurs.
Clearly, whatever he said seemed to have worked as the man calmed, though he looked no less disgusted by Charles.
“It wouldn’t work anyways,” he spat, daggers in his eyes as he stared at Charles. “You can only offer him more suffering. There is absolutely no reason for him to cooperate with you anymore, and I won’t convince him otherwise.”
Charles’s lips tightened in anger but, remembering James’s earlier words (and the man clearly knew what he was doing with it came to taming Assassins), swallowed his pride.
“He is dying.”
The Omega let out a choked sob and tore his gaze away from Charles. James immediately wrapped comforting arms around him and held his trembling form.
“Oh, it will take many months yet, but he has, for all intents and purposes, given up.”
The man flinches as if struck.
“He lays in bed all day, gazing into nothing and wasting away. The maids tell me they don’t even think he registers their presence anymore. He has withdrawn into his mind and doesn’t react to anything,” not even fucking. “In his belly, he holds the seed of new life, of my child. Of our child.”
The trembling stops, the man silent and listening.
“But that seed is withering. With its Omega parent in such a state, it will neither grow nor thrive. And you’re right. If he dies, he will have escaped my control. He’ll have ended his suffering and gone past my grasp. But,” he watched the Omega carefully. “But so will our child. An innocent child, gone before it even takes its first breath.”
He waited, waiting the Omega wrapped in James arms. He plowed on. “The child won’t be the only casualty. So will any chance that Connor has to see peace and happiness again. So will any chance he might have had to have what you obviously have with James.”
And if there’s a touch of bitterness in his voice, a seed of resentment, Charles would never admit it.
“James is not like you,” the Omega whispered, voice somewhat muffled against his Alpha’s chest. “He gave me a choice, as much freedom as he possibly could, actual concern for my wellbeing, a willingness to treat me as if I were worthy of respect.”
James gazed down at the mop of brown hair in his eyes fondly. “You are worthy of respect, Clipper.”
Charles frowned at the words but soldiered on. He was close, he could feel it.
“Then help me be like James.”
Confused, angry brown eyes looked up at him sharply.
“Why should I trust you? Why do you even care?”
“Because I want our child to live and,” his voice softened, “we both want Connor to live.”
Master of the House - part 4
And yes, Clipper makes an appearance here. :) Also, Anon knows nothing about classic architecture so if drawing rooms were not typically at the top of staircases, Anon apologizes.
Master of the House
Chapter 3 - Unexpected Partners
Unlike many of the other newly-inducted members of the Inner Circle, James Collins was of more modest means, and it showed in his living arrangements. Rather than keeping a townhouse for work purposes and a suitable manor elsewhere, James spent all of his time in his single abode in the heart of Boston. His was a small apartment, identical to the many other little brick apartments next to it, only large enough to comfortably suit three people. There was only a single maid.
While Charles could never live like that himself, as used as he was to his little luxuries, he had to admit that Master Kenway had chosen well in James. While from a poor family and rather too self-deprecating for Charles, the man made a brilliant lawyer and was utterly devoted to the Order. Perhaps it was just as well that he was from simple roots: his worth to the Order as a lawyer working closely with the people far outweighed any worth he could have had had his family been well off and he a judge.
His character was, likewise, suited to his role and profession. He was sympathetic, knowledgeable and kind, all traits that endeared him to his clients and advanced the Templar cause. He was also shrewd, and, as Charles rapped sharply against the door, he wondered if he should be glad of that fact…or worried.
A scant few minutes later, Charles made out the sound of footsteps descending a flight of stairs and the heavy bolt being drawn open. Soon, the man himself appeared within the doorway.
“Charles!” the man smiled pleasantly upon seeing him. “You should have told me earlier you’d call. I’d have had tea ready for you. But do come in. Come in.”
Charles clasped his hands behind his back and nodded his greeting to the man. “Thank you, James.”
He stepped into the apartment, leaving the brisk Autumn air behind him. The two men began climbing the narrow staircase, and Charles briefly wondered about the stability of the creaky steps.
James must have noticed his consternation, for his next words were— “Sorry about that, Charles. I’ve been meaning to renovate, but there have been so much excitement in the past couple of months that it must have slipped my mind.”
“Not at all,” Charles smiled weakly, looking askance at the old wood beneath his fine leather gloves.
James laughed. “You don’t fool anyone with that expression…but I promise to have this fixed next time you drop by unannounced.”
Beyond the door at the top of the staircase lay the drawing room and as they settled themselves into the velvet covered chairs, James turned towards Charles.
“You don’t usually come to see me without a reason,” James inquired, mild curiosity in his brown eyes.
Charles crossed his fingers in thought. The maid entered balancing a tray of one medium-sized teapot and two cups. They were, Charles noted, of exquisite china and finely made.
He stayed silent as the maid set the two cups in front of himself and James and poured them each some tea. Quietly, she set aside the tray and departed the room. He waited until her soft footfalls faded away before he spoke.
“It concerns your Omega.”
James looked up mid-sip. “Oh?”
“I may have need of him.”
James calmly set down his cup and waited. The intensity of the brown gaze compelled Charles to continue.
“He may be the solution of a—“ Charles hesitated, aware of the delicateness of the situation, “—a small difficulty—I’ve been facing.”
James stayed silent for a moment longer, then…
“Is this about your Omega?”
Charles bristled, uncomfortable with how much the man knew. Briefly, he wondered if his marital woes were common knowledge among the Order and then promptly banished the thought. He would deal with it later if necessary.
“I merely think it would do him good to remind him of what I hold, what we,” he amended, seeing James’s eyes darken, “hold.”
James stared at him in contemplation, gaze once again mild. “And do you truly believe that more threats will give you your heir?”
A sharp crack and Charles’s hands were suddenly bleeding, sharp jagged shards of porcelain embedded into his palm and tea spilling all over his lap.
He did not notice.
“What are you implying, James?” he whispered, eyes intent on the solemn man in front of him.
Said man called for the maid, and the girl swiftly entered the room with a clean handkerchief and tweezers. The room silenced once again as she cleaned Charles’s wound and bowed out of the room, accepting James’s call of gratitude with an expert curtsy.
Sighing, James once again picked up his own cup.
“Peace, Charles, I meant no offense.”
Charles did not relax, and James began to look mildly discomfited.
Finally, “what do you know?”
James took a sip of his tea.
“Did you know that I’m visited by many of our brethren as well as the good folk of Boston? They often come to seek my advice on many matters. Of law. Of ordinary everyday affairs. Of domestic affairs.”
Charles did not see what this had to with anything and opened his mouth to suggest that James get a move on.
“A month ago, Matthew of the lower order inquired after my relationship with Clipper.”
Charles snapped his mouth shut, and he stared at the man in shock.
“He seemed quite puzzled at our relationship and particularly at how healthy and content Clipper is.”
James took another sip and then set down his cup, meeting Charles’s eyes earnestly.
“Brother, you are to be our new leader, and your success is our success and the Order’s glory. None of us wish to see either your line nor that of Master Kenway’s disappear.”
He approached Charles and took one of his bandaged hands in his own.
“Please, sir, allow me to help.”
Charles gazed into the man’s eyes seeking any sign of treachery, any indication of ulterior motives and hidden designs. Silently, he lamented the fact that he did not have Master Kenway’s remarkable eyes and could only rely on his lamentably mortal skills.
And it was this that decided him. The chance to revive those eyes within the Order, the chance to hold a grandson, an Alpha of Master Kenway’s line and call him son…it was worth trusting in the sincerity of the man before him.
“Alright.”
-----
An hour later, he found himself face to face with a man he had not seen since he gave the order that the man be handed over to James. He was startled by the signs of health and, if not happiness, resigned content in the man’s face. Clipper Wilkinson may have stiffened as Charles entered his room, but he relaxed as soon as James came in after him. He gazed at James fondly as the man leaned to whisper in his ear.
Charles was mystified. Connor always remained stiff within his embrace and always endeavored to fix his eyes on anything but himself. Granted, he usually interacted with the boy when he desired to sate his lust, but it was certainly perplexing that two former enemies, an Alpha and an Omega no less, could be so easy in each other’s presence.
Clipper frowned suddenly and turned accusing eyes on him.
“You want me to help Connor heal only for you to break him again?”
Charles briefly contemplated striking the man for his impertinence but then decided that it wouldn’t do to alienate James.
“Control your Omega, James.”
James immediately grabbed the man before he could leap at him (hah, as if an Assassin recruit who could do nothing as his comrades were murdered and his mentor forced to wed against his will could do anything to him) and began placating the man with soothing murmurs.
Clearly, whatever he said seemed to have worked as the man calmed, though he looked no less disgusted by Charles.
“It wouldn’t work anyways,” he spat, daggers in his eyes as he stared at Charles. “You can only offer him more suffering. There is absolutely no reason for him to cooperate with you anymore, and I won’t convince him otherwise.”
Charles’s lips tightened in anger but, remembering James’s earlier words (and the man clearly knew what he was doing with it came to taming Assassins), swallowed his pride.
“He is dying.”
The Omega let out a choked sob and tore his gaze away from Charles. James immediately wrapped comforting arms around him and held his trembling form.
“Oh, it will take many months yet, but he has, for all intents and purposes, given up.”
The man flinches as if struck.
“He lays in bed all day, gazing into nothing and wasting away. The maids tell me they don’t even think he registers their presence anymore. He has withdrawn into his mind and doesn’t react to anything,” not even fucking. “In his belly, he holds the seed of new life, of my child. Of our child.”
The trembling stops, the man silent and listening.
“But that seed is withering. With its Omega parent in such a state, it will neither grow nor thrive. And you’re right. If he dies, he will have escaped my control. He’ll have ended his suffering and gone past my grasp. But,” he watched the Omega carefully. “But so will our child. An innocent child, gone before it even takes its first breath.”
He waited, waiting the Omega wrapped in James arms. He plowed on. “The child won’t be the only casualty. So will any chance that Connor has to see peace and happiness again. So will any chance he might have had to have what you obviously have with James.”
And if there’s a touch of bitterness in his voice, a seed of resentment, Charles would never admit it.
“James is not like you,” the Omega whispered, voice somewhat muffled against his Alpha’s chest. “He gave me a choice, as much freedom as he possibly could, actual concern for my wellbeing, a willingness to treat me as if I were worthy of respect.”
James gazed down at the mop of brown hair in his eyes fondly. “You are worthy of respect, Clipper.”
Charles frowned at the words but soldiered on. He was close, he could feel it.
“Then help me be like James.”
Confused, angry brown eyes looked up at him sharply.
“Why should I trust you? Why do you even care?”
“Because I want our child to live and,” his voice softened, “we both want Connor to live.”