asscreedkinkmeme (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
Entry tags:
Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5
Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
Fill Only
Fill Only
Join or Die
✩ Comment anonymously with a character/pairing and a kink/prompt.
✩ Comment is filled by another anonymous with fanfiction/art/or any other appropriate medium.
✩ One request per post, but fill the request as much as you want.
✩ The fill/request doesn't necessarily need to be smut.
✩ Don't flame, if you have nothing good to say, don't say anything.
✩ Have a question? Feel free to PM me.
✩ Last, but not least: HAVE FUN!
List of Kinks
Kink Meme Masterlist
New Kink Meme Masterlist
(Livejorunal) Archive
(Delicious.com) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
#2 (Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Fills Only
Discussion
Fill: Who Will Save You Now? [3/?]
(Anonymous) 2013-01-26 02:15 am (UTC)(link)'Escape! Seal the gate! The goods are loose!' The thwarted guard hollers at the top of his voice, presumably feeling the inevitability of his rapidly approaching death. His errant shooting will have already done enough to raise the alarm however.
True to form, within a matter of seconds there are shots sounding out from all over the fort. Chaos is remarkably quick to descend. Trained professionals indeed. He wonders if most of them even know what they are supposed to be shooting at. Relatively satisfied with the result of his impromptu attack, the young Assassin finally silences the still-yelling soldier and puts him out of his misery. Having little relish for open conflict, he plans to return to cover for the time being and goes to retrieve his knife. It slides back out of the dead man's flesh easily, at just the right moment for the reinforcements who come running through the gate to observe the act. Fortunately those sounds of battle that originate from the direction of the tents are fierce enough to draw away the majority of the new arrivals. Half a dozen decide to stick around in order to avenge their freshly fallen comrades.
It is now that he really misses his normal weapons of choice. The bayonet is a rather unwieldy thing in such close combat, a stark contrast to the fluidity achievable with the hidden blades, the tomahawk or any small weapon for that matter. Even so, Connor is not at a disadvantage. When the first man approaches him it is decidedly slowly and uncertainly, as if they are unsure as to whether they should be keeping him alive or not. He has no such indecision to contend with. Telegraphing his ill-fated lunge long before he makes it, the redcoat is easily dodged and then dispatched with a swift retaliatory plunge of steel through his back. Twisting, the Assassin whips the legs out from under the next soldier, slitting the throat of a third before he finishes off the downed man. This sort of senseless killing may not be something he particularly enjoys but he doesn't hesitate. The rest of the attacking group are soon dead.
Pulling the bayonet out of the last man's skull with a wrench, Connor takes a moment to assess the situation. Battle rages around the tents. A fair number of liberated captives have gained weapons and form the virtual centre of the fray, their muted colours standing out clearly amongst the small sea of red. Superiority of numbers does not appear to be doing the soldiers any good, the presence of the Templars no doubt creating confusion within the ranks. The smaller force know who they are fighting at least. He is sure that the infiltrators must have managed a good few silent kills at the start. A fair number of redcoats have already fallen.
More soldiers are massing at the gate. Instinctively he steps swiftly back into the shadows of the loathsome cart, in order to shake off any attention he might have already aroused. His caution is seemingly unnecessary as they show no signs whatsoever of entering the main grounds of the fort. Odd, considering that the plight of their comrades is clear even from such a distance. Frowning he watches as they mill aimlessly around. Connor hopes that Duncan and Dobby have had enough time, and that the pair of them have already managed to escape. If they haven't those troops in the quadrangle are certain to get in the way. Either way he will not be able to know for sure until later. Any signal of theirs will only be lost in the cacophony that consumes Southgate.
Straining his ears, just in case, he notices that the force blocking the gate are shifting around. It takes a few moments for him to realise what the purpose of it is, as they still show no signs of going to the aid of the quickly diminishing number of their fellows. With trained efficiency they are reorganising themselves into several successive lines, swinging down muskets from over their shoulders and loading. Firing lines. Rather than joining the chaos these troops will hold back, wait until it is over and then deal with whoever is left standing. For it is almost inevitable that it will be only Templars and captives who survive the fighting. His blood runs a little cold at the thought.
With a glance back towards the fray he picks up movement. Two redcoats are beginning to slowly peel away from the conflict, heading his way, although various soldiers keep desperately reengaging them. And promptly dying. There is no mistaking the identity of one, the Templar leader naturally draws his eyes with that distinctive air of command and poise. His sword-work is equally striking. The other, who fights with less style and a much rougher aggression, is a sour-faced man with a scarred nose. Silent and resentful, he appears to be interested in more than simple justice. However neither of them can really hope to get past the firing lines that now wait within the arch of the gateway. Aggression or skill cannot best so many waiting bullets, but determination can try.
He is certain that if the Templars are here to kill Silas then they are going to make sure that they do. But surely they, well, their leader isn't foolish enough to run straight into a firing squad which is three lines deep. The man must have another idea. If not around the wall, or through, then... Beside him the cart is sturdy and of a decent enough height. A step back establishes that it is positioned near perfectly, situated below one of the wall's indentations to provide an easy route to the walkway beyond. Coincidence, or a contingency plan? Something tells him that it is the latter.
Throwing aside the musket, Connor makes a snap decision which he will probably live to regret. Once certain that both approaching Templars are sufficiently distracted he pulls himself up onto the roof of the cart and promptly dives through the gap. In front of him is the upper storey of the main building, various windows and doors with no clue as to what lies behind them. Silas' rooms are among them, that he knows. The thought sends a slight shudder down his spine. Thankfully the place is deserted, for the time being. But even as he starts to get to his feet he hears voices coming closer. For lack of a better option he darts around the corner of the building furthest from the sound, pressing himself against the brickwork in the hopes of remaining unnoticed. Heavy footsteps approach, two pairs of boots mounting the steps, somewhat sluggishly all things considered.
As the grenadiers reach the top of the stairs, coming into sight, one of them remarks: 'Surprised he's not out here shouting at us yet.'
'I know, right, the boss ain't that heavy a sleeper.' His companion nods.
As they approach their destination, doubtless the door to Silas' rooms, their feet seem to drag further. Neither of them looks like they want to be the inevitable bearers of bad news. Watching, Connor knows that even if his fellow novices are still inside they are more than capable of dealing with these men. Still for simplicity, and the sake of time, he hopes that they aren't. One of the soldiers has his fist raised to knock when the door bursts violently open, banging so hard against the wall that it shudders in its frame.
Bristling with rage, Silas bears down upon the pair. 'You incompetent buffoons! They are escaping!'
A confused look passes between them. 'That's what we came to tell you sir. The fort is being sealed-'
'Yes, yes, all good and well but they are getting away.' With an impatient gesture he waves aside their explanation. He only gets more frustrated as his words fail to generate anything more than a greater confusion in his subordinates. Pressing a hand to his face in annoyance Silas clarifies his meaning, speaking slowly and with a deceptively calm deliberation. 'The pair of louts who broke into my chambers and left out of that window not a minute ago. Get after them!'
An accusingly extended finger indicates the direction. Even though the grenadiers don't look like they entirely comprehend what their commander is going on about, his obvious anger gets them moving on the double. They probably can't believe their luck as they jog away as fast as their dignity allows, clattering back down the same set of stairs. Not only did they escape a berating for the captives being loose and causing chaos in the fort, but they ended up being ordered to go completely the opposite way to the fighting. Quite a stroke of luck for them, as it is painfully clear that nothing but death awaits them here.
There is no chance that the soldiers will ever catch up to the fleeing Assassins now, not with the lead they already have. A nice, safe wild goose chase. Connor has to admit that its a relief to know that Duncan and Dobby have managed to vanish so easily. Things are almost back on plan, in a rather messy way. So long as they've extracted the necessary, or even just useful, information the risk will have been worth it. Perhaps not entirely worth braving a group of apparently high-level Templars, but it's certainly experience.
Anger immediately dissipating once his men are out of sight, Silas visibly sags with an apparent weariness. It seems a little out of character from what the teenager has seen of the man, but perhaps he has been forewarned of his inevitable fate. The knowledge that your death is swiftly approaching can do stranger things. Passing a hand across his forehead the commander moves to the edge of the battlements, forcing himself to maintain posture as he surveys his fallen domain. Scattered gunfire can still be heard, along with the regular clash of metal, yet the sounds are rapidly quieting. Southgate is lost to him. Ready to leave the man alone with his regrets, Connor pulls back into the full cover of the wall and turns to leave.
'An hour of quiet.' Silas' voice is low, defeated but frustrated, as he addresses the air. 'Was that so much to ask?'
'Perhaps it was.' A familiar voice provides the unexpected answer. The Templars have arrived at last it would seem.
'Who are you?' It is easy to pity the man in that moment, in spite of all his obvious transgressions, as the old mixture of confusion, resignation and exasperation colour his words. His tone is that of a man about to die.
'The name's Haytham Kenway. You don't know me, but I believe the two of you are well acquainted.' His civilised manner deceives no-one.
Presumably it is the sour-faced one who speaks next. 'I made a promise to you Silas, one I intend to keep.'
Connor hears the gunshot all too clearly. He presses himself back fully into the shadows, flattening himself against the bricks, and momentarily closes his eyes. Some men undoubtedly deserve to die. Silas, with his cruelty and disregard for the value of others' lives, was one of them. That is not what concerns him. Even in death an enemy should be respected, so the creed teaches. It seems that Templars really do not share that belief. But why should he be surprised? This is what he needs to remember. If Haytham had known that he was an Assassin he would surely have killed him at the first opportunity, helpless or not.
Time to leave, he tells himself pushing aside the feeling that thought provokes. Silas is dead, Duncan and Dobby have gotten themselves clear of the area, the captives are free, and the Templars do not have any reason to suspect that Assassins were ever here. There is no reason to doubt that the other Iroquois are now safe. For whatever reason Haytham and his men seem to have some stake in freeing them, some benefit that they hope to gain from the exercise. What that may be is a matter for later, for the Brotherhood will undoubtedly need to know. At this moment however, self-preservation can take precedence.
Casting a wary glance down the stairs, just in case any redcoats happen to still be lurking around, Connor steps away from the wall and promptly collides with somebody. It throws him somewhat off balance as he instinctively jerks back. A moment later he finds himself with his back up against the wall again and with a firm but gentle grip on one shoulder. His immediate impulse is to struggle but he already knows who it is. That doesn't mean he feels entirely comfortable though, especially not with the resultant proximity of the Templar. Wishing he could take a step back he reluctantly looks up to meet Haytham's eyes.
With a sly quick of the lips he speaks; 'I was hoping that I might run into you again, although perhaps not quite so literally.'
It takes a moment to straighten out in his head, the adjustment back from imminent enemy and threat to rescuer and... He knows that it's best to cut that train of thought short, he needs to keep his guard up. Still, as Connor gladly notes the man's lack of injury, it's clear that it'll be easier said than done. Caught between self-consciousness and uncertainty he ends up just gesturing weakly and offering a somewhat broken apology in response. 'Sorry, for that.'
'No harm done.' Haytham dismisses it, pleased enough with the result of the collision. 'Although this is not what I would consider laying low.'
Relaxing just a little, Connor pulls his wits together. 'What better place to hide than where they least expect to find you? Besides, I wanted to make sure that he did not get away.'
'You doubted me?' It's hard to tell if the tone of insult is entirely feigned or genuine.
'Forgive me if I do not make a habit of trusting people I have only just met.' He is a little more hostile than he means to be. Almost all he can do is doubt the Templar, trusting him is really not an option.
'Wise, if a little harsh.' Understanding words, but they do not prevent the short silence that follows. After several moments, he continues; 'Silas is dealt with.'
'So I heard.' Connor maintains eye contact, there is something of a challenge in his manner.
It's a challenge that is met as Haytham leans in closer. Only a small gap is left between them, faces less than an inch apart, eyes locked on each other. His voice is little more than a murmur. 'I am not your enemy.'
He doesn't know how wrong he is.
Fill: Who Will Save You Now? [3.5/?]
(Anonymous) 2013-01-26 02:17 am (UTC)(link)Instantly Haytham reverts to business, stepping back and withdrawing his hand. If there is any hesitation it is gone in a second, he does not linger as he turns his attention fully to the other Templar. 'Good, although not for very long I suspect. Word of this will be quick to reach-'
Connor doesn't stick around to find out who word of the fort's fall will be quick to reach. It is too perfect a distraction to pass up. He manages to slip away silently enough, breaking into a sprint as soon as he reaches the ground. Once he catches up to the group of former captives slowly heading for the frontier he knows that he's safe. Pausing, he glances back. Nobody is following. All of the Templars appear to have withdrawn to the rampart in order to regroup. It's hard to believe that after all that effort, all that death, they are simply letting the liberated captives walk free. There is something more that they want here, there has to be. Simple justice or even revenge do not explain this.
Looking back at the battlements he spies the watcher again, leaning on the ledge beside one of the cannons. Rather than chasing he seems content to step back and wait. Confidence. Their eyes meet, Haytham smiles and Connor understands. This will not be the last they see of each other, he will be making sure of that. Allowing himself a small smile in return, the Assassin turns away, hoping despite himself that next time they will not be meeting as enemies.
Re: Fill: Who Will Save You Now? [3.5/?]
(Anonymous) 2013-01-26 02:59 am (UTC)(link)This is beautifully written and very, very exciting. This anon can't wait for the next update! :D
Re: Fill: Who Will Save You Now? [3.5/?]
(Anonymous) 2013-02-05 01:18 am (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: Who Will Save You Now? [3.5/?]
(Anonymous) 2013-01-29 07:06 am (UTC)(link)