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asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5
Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
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✩ Comment anonymously with a character/pairing and a kink/prompt.
✩ Comment is filled by another anonymous with fanfiction/art/or any other appropriate medium.
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Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Fills Only
Discussion
FILL 25/?
(Anonymous) 2012-12-30 09:43 pm (UTC)(link)He gets up early the next day, and creeps silently through the house. He can hear snores that do not belong to Achilles in some of the spare rooms, but he does not stop to investigate. He needs to be outside. He spends the cold, murky dawn hours relishing the feel of being outside, and catches some fish and rabbits because he needs something to do and eight mouths are a lot to feed.
He walks the streets of Davenport, too. An inn has been built during his absence, and a few extra cottages are around. Presumably the people he'd spoken to before his capture have decided to stay here, and he is glad of that. It is a beautiful place.
He wanders to the waterfall near the ocean, and gazes across the bay. The Aquila is docked, and he wonders whether they made any journeys while he was away.
As the sun becomes more visible, he heads back to the manor, and lights the stove. He gives the kitchen table a good scrub and sweeps the floor before fetching water to boil. He inspects the larder thoroughly, wondering what to make for breakfast. There are a lot of people who will want to eat.
He forces himself to think only of these mundane, domestic affairs. People are monsters, and he does not want to wonder what will happen to the Brotherhood if he leaves, what the Brotherhood will do to him. He does not want to think about the strained relationship between the Templars and the Assassins or what might happen if he stays here. He could lose Haytham.
He decides to collect more eggs. There are some in the pantry, but they will need more. He spends a good few minutes hunting, finding three or four more for his trouble- just enough for so many mouths. When he re-enters the kitchen, he finds Stefane cutting bread in almost impossibly perfect slices. The water has been boiled, and taken off the heat.
"Good morning," he says, putting the eggs carefully on the table. Stefane looks surprised. An anxious-but-glad surprised.
"Good morning, my friend."
"I was thinking we ought to have eggs this morning. Perhaps some fish as well."
"Fish for breakfast? I suppose the English do eat kippers..." Stefane muses. "You are, as always, unorthodox. I doubt that egg and fish would go well together."
"I caught some earlier," Connor says, by way of explanation. "We could eat them later."
"That would probably be best, my friend." Stefane is quiet for a moment, thinking hard. "If you beat those eggs, we could dip this bread into them, and fry the pieces. It's usually served with jam. The bread is past it's best, anyway. We did not eat as much of it as I thought we would."
At Connor's quizzical expression, Stefane clarifies.
"It is best when made with stale bread."
"It sounds good."
With that, Connor fetches a bowl and a fork and starts beating eggs. They work in silence for a few minutes, before Stefane speaks.
"I apologise for yesterday. I did not mean to upset you. I knew you did not like to be touched, but I did not realise quite how much it affected you. It will not happen again. Will you forgive me?"
"Of course," Connor replies. "You have no need to apologise. I was simply tired, and in need of rest."
Stefane does not look convinced, but they move onto small talk of other matters- recent events in Boston, the arrest of Adams and Revere, the battles of Lexington and Concord barely won by revolutionaries.
"There were a lot of deaths. Both sides were nearly annihalated," Stefane says, quietly. He fetches some jam and marmalade from the pantry, and Connor sets some herbal tea brewing. They cut and soak and fry the bread, the conversation turning to the recruits themselves.
"Achilles seems happier with a full house, though he doesn't act it," Stefane says. Connor nods. That does sound like Achilles.
"He is always like that."
"Always like what?" Achilles asks, from the doorway behind them. "What are you boys up to?"
"Ah..." Stefane begins.
"You always seem more ill-tempered than you are," Connor answers. "We're making breakfast."
"French toast," Achilles notes. "Interesting."
"Is that its name?" Connor asks.
"It has many names," Stefane replies.
Connor takes the first few pieces of french toast from the pan, and sets them on a plate before cooking the next pieces. Slowly, the kitchen and dining room fill with sleepy assassins. Connor knows he needs to clean his room as thoroughly as possible- dust has settled and his sheets need changing. On the other hand, he wants to visit the residents of the homestead, get to know the new innkeepers.
He can do both. He has plenty of time.
...
Prudence waves him off with a smile and a basket of goods she'd shoved into his arms and refused to accept any money for. He had taken it only reluctantly, making her promise to never ever give him gifts like this again, and she had agreed, with that look in her eyes that meant come Christmas, she would appear at the manor with presents and produce no matter how much Connor protested.
He stops by Norris' home, listens to him talk about how wonderful Myriam is. He nods along and says a few words of encouragement in the right places, and leaves when Norris starts staring into space, sighing happily. Terence and Godfrey are busy working, though they do stop for a short break and a quick chat while he is at the mill. Myriam is not at her cabin, presumably hunting.
He stops at the inn, to meet the owners. They seem kind, a good addition to the homestead. Corrine's motherly nature and Oliver's jolly disposition complement one another perfectly, and both of them are generous- almost overwhelmingly so.
"Please, I cannot accept such kindness without some form of payment in return," Connor protests.
"Think of it as a gift!" Oliver booms, happily. "We've heard about the lovely things you've done for the others."
"It was also yours and Achilles' money that helped us build our inn," Corrine says, pushing a tankard of ale into his hands. "One free meal is the least we can do for you, young man."
He gives up after nearly a quarter of an hour, and settles for thanking them profusely instead.
"You are far too kind," he says, as he leaves. "I hope all goes well for you in future."
Corrine smiles and waves him off. When he gets back to the manor, Jacob is just leaving, to go back to his family.
...
The next morning, he takes one glance at the clock and rolls over, to try to sleep. Eight AM is the latest he usually allows himself to sleep in, but today he feels far too tired.
He probably wouldn't do anything useful, anyway. He can't decide whether his allegiance still belongs to the Brotherhood. He can't make himself relax or drop his guard. He can't act like a normal human being. He can't even defend himself from monsters like Lee.
Some time later, his door opens and shuts, jolting him out of the half-sleep he's been drifting in. Footsteps go back downstairs, and the clock reads half-past ten. They're probably wondering if he's sick or something.
Just as sleep claims him again, somebody knocks gently. He doesn't bother answering. They'll come in anyway.
He's right. Clipper opens the door and clears his throat.
"Are you all right? Connor?"
He hopes that if he pretends to be asleep, he'll be left alone. He doesn't want to be around people right now. He wants to be by himself, to be away from all the thoughts and memories trying to whirl around his head. He wants to sleep. To wake up at some other time, and feel better.
Clipper shakes him, gently, and he flinches away from the hand on his shoulder.
"Leave me alone," he murmurs, forgetting to talk in English. "I'm trying to sleep."
Clipper clearly has no idea what to do.
"You need to get up, it's nearly lunch time."
"Later. Did not sleep," he lies, in the right language this time, and Clipper retreats.
He drags himself out of bed at five in the afternoon because Achilles finally loses his patience and threatens him with his cane. It's the same evening Jamie leaves, because his patients in New York cannot wait any longer.
...
"What on earth is wrong with you, boy?" Achilles snaps. They're sitting in his room, playing a board game, and Connor can't remember the rules. His body is exhausted by lack of sleep, but his brain is wide awake, full of energy. He's spent the last couple of days running errands and carrying out the smallest of household tasks with meticulous care.
"What are you talking about?"
"What do you think I'm talking about, boy? You're not acting like yourself. One day, you don't talk. The next you can't stop talking. Last week you were Sleeping Beauty, and now you can't even sit down for more than five minutes at a time. You flinch from the smallest touches, and you pass it off as a bad mood, insomnia, sickness. Do you really want me to continue, child?"
Achilles' words are like a brick. He knows he's been acting strangely, but he'd thought that maybe he had a handle on things. Achilles' voice is strained with anxiety, his face twisted with worry, and Connor feels guilty for losing so much control over himself. He can't look at Achilles, his face painted with pain, so he scratches his bottom lip with his thumb and looks at the floor.
"What did they do to you?" Achilles presses, after a few long minutes.
"I cannot say," Connor finally manages, glancing up for less than a second. "It would..."
"Would what?"
"Break your heart," he says. "You would be disappointed in me."
"For what? Being tortured? How could I?"
His face is growing hot, and he can feel his face twisting and his lungs start to shudder.
"I should have been stronger," he says, hoping that Achilles will just drop it. No such luck.
"Stronger? Even the strongest man in the history of the world felt pain, boy. There is no shame in that."
He shakes his head and feels the first tear fall. Damn it! He's so weak!
"You don't understand."
He is afraid to look at Achilles', so he buries his head in his hands and tries to be silent. The others are in bed, but he doesn't want them to see him like this. He doesn't want Achilles to see him like this. He doesn't want to be like this.
"What did they do?" Achilles asks, gentler this time. "I won't be mad at you. I won't judge you. I won't tell anybody. I just want to know. I want to help you. You're the closest thing I have to family now, child. I won't desert you."
He doesn't believe Achilles for a moment, but he swallows and takes a deep breath and prepares to speak anyway, because there's not a lot else he can do.
"They violated me in the worst possible way," he says, and hopes Achilles will not ask for elaboration.
Re: FILL 25/?
(Anonymous) 2012-12-31 02:11 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL 25/?
(Anonymous) 2012-12-31 06:19 pm (UTC)(link)I adore Achilles. It's sweet how much he cares about Connor. I hope he gives Connor lots of soup, and blankets, and cookies, and lots of love and reassurance until Connor returns to his typical level of badassery. Also loved the French toast bit. I <3 French toast. :p And everyone at the Homestead loves him so much, it makes me smile.
Still hurts me to see how broken Connor is. Hope being back at the Homestead will be helpful for him... ;-;
Re: FILL 25/?
(Anonymous) 2012-12-31 07:23 pm (UTC)(link)Poor, poor Connor. If Achilles were younger and without the limp, I know he'd go and teach those Templars not to mess with HIS charge. But damn it, they all feel so helpless here.
I am seriously sniffling.
Re: FILL 25/?
(Anonymous) 2013-01-01 07:14 pm (UTC)(link)