Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

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Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
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Gilded Cages 8/?

[(Anonymous)]

"Your majesty, we captured some high-ranking rebels!"

The King glances up from the reports he is leisurely perusing, and nods.

"Bring them in."

The men are dirtied and bruised, clearly injured. They are dragged in by bluecoats, and pushed down into something resembling kneeling positions before the thrones. One in particular catches Connor's eye, a man with silver hair cut short and a scarf tied around his face. His eyes are familiar, a dark blue-grey that's almost black.

"They were in New York," the bluecoat officer says, and Connor realises with a jolt of horror that this man is none other than Clipper Wilkinson. "They tried to kill General Lee when he returned there after the Queen's coronation, your majesty."

"Lee, is he well?" the King asks. Today he is relatively sane, in a good mood.

"Yes, sir. A little shocked, but he's been able to return to duty with no further trouble, sir."

"Send him my regards," the King murmurs. Clipper nods, and bows deeply.

Connor recognises the other men in front of him (they glance at him wearily. His pale, featureless mask must be terrifying from where they are). They have changed a lot, but even aged twenty years William Johnson is recognisable. The soldier who helped Arnold… Andre, or something like that. There are a few young men he doesn't know, and it's only at the last moment- when the King calls for their deaths- that he recognises the scarfed man.

"Kill them," the King says. "Display their bodies around the city."

"Wait," Connor says. "Please."

The King turns to glare at him. Clipper stands still, unsure which man to obey. The King has been known to change his mind on occasion. Johnson and the scarfed man do not look up, though the others have hope written all over their faces.

"The one with the scarf, he is my father. And a few of the others I recognise as well. They are good men, but terribly misguided," Connor babbles. "They don't understand that this is all for the best. They're very skilled, very clever men- we could do with some as highly trained as they, an--"

"Shut up," the King says, irritated. "Are you trying to ask me to spare their lives? After what they've done?"

"Not without good reason, my lor-- my love," Connor puts a hand on the King's arm. "And they only tried to kill General Lee, really. You know I only have our- and this nation's- best interests at heart. If nobody else, please spare my father."

The King's gaze is hungry, undecided. He needs something more. Connor lets his head fall forward slightly and his fingers twist in the fabric of the King's coat.

"I beg of you," Connor whispers, putting as much desperation into his voice as possible. He needs allies in this place, else he'll never fix this mess. He can see the King's lips twitch into a sadistic smile at the broken sound of his voice.

"All right, the older three can live. Take them to the cosy cells. Kill the young ones," the King orders. All the men are taken from the room, kicking and screaming as best they can in their injured states. He glances back at Connor. "How do you propose we teach the rebels, my dear?"

"Let me speak with them and reason. You know I have a way with words. If that fails, then we will do as we must. But please let me try reason first. This will be far more useful than accounting or French in the long term, my lord."

The King looks slightly irritated, disliking the thought of his possession spending time with men who are not himself. He gives a small nod, regardless.