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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
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Generally not that fond of typing while traveling, but this story’s eating up my brain. :) And apparently, writing angst while on a plane helps with motion sickness. o.O Who knew?

Warning: kinda graphic spousal rape/non-con, dehumanizing thoughts, basically Charles Lee

Master of the House

Chapter 4 - Of Considerations Lost

Despite having secured an agreement from James and James’s Omega to help him in his endeavors with Connor, Charles felt ill at ease. A slight sour, bitter taste lingered in his mouth, not unlike the one that plagued him when he had learned that Master Kenway had had a child with that...woman. It plagued him all through his ride back to his manor and lingered through a silent solitary supper.

The feeling was soon joined by another unpleasant sensation. As he began nibbling through a plateful of cheese, Charles’s gaze fell upon the empty chair assigned to his Omega at these meals and suddenly lost his appetite. He pushed away the plate and nursed his teacup, deep in contemplation.

Seeing James and his own Omega had been, as loath as he was to admit it, a revelation. That such natural enemies could live peacefully, almost happily, despite the situation that brought them together...!

Vaguely, Charles entertained the notion that James had betrayed the Order, but brushed the notion away. The man may be a pacifist at heart and a bit too sentimental, but he was absolutely devoted to the Order. It was Master Kenway himself who discovered him amongst the lower ranked members and elevated him to his current position. The very qualities that Charles himself lacked, an ability to sympathize with commoners, a willingness to learn about and adopt inferior manners and beliefs, a flexibility about his person and approach, these made him the perfect outreach to the masses that the Order needed to control, particularly if Charles was to be placed into a position of power within the new forming government.

He was, Charles mused, much as William Johnson had been, before Connor had assassinated him.

Thoughts of his wife brought his mind back to the conundrum he had been contemplating, and he stared into his teacup as if the swirling dark liquid held all the answers he sought.

It was extraordinary. James’s Omega may have been willful when James had suggested the man help Charles with Connor, but Charles had eyes. He had seen the way the man leaned into his Alpha, his willingness to be in James’s company, the way he instinctively sought James’s assurance.

That James’s natural charm with those lesser than he could allow him to master his wife without reducing him into the shell that Connor had become...

Charles glanced again at the empty chair and, for the first time, wondered if his plan might become more than what he had originally sought.

It was true that his Omega was of inferior stock on his mother’s side. Charles grimaced in distaste at the thought of the woman. But his paternal line was impeccable. And during his captivity, Charles had, despite himself, began to see more and more of Master Kenway in him. His wife, he was forced to admit, had great business acumen and had managed the Davenport estate admirably. Whether it was from pure luck or keen foresight, the boy had, if Charles’s reports were correct, single-handedly discovered the necessary talents to revive the place and negotiated its return to magnificence.

The boy was also, Charles’s interrogators had informed him after a couple of months with that French chef Assassin, well-versed in a few foreign languages from the continent. French was a given, especially with the French’s involvement with the Natives during the French-Indian War, but that the boy had a rudimentary working knowledge of German from little time he had spent with one of the other Assassins...

That was Master Kenway’s keen intelligence, no doubt. And the boy was physically desirable, of similar shape and form to Master Kenway. He was smaller and shorter than the Grandmaster, but that could be attributed to his Omega nature.

What would it be like, Charles wondered, if Connor would lean into him the way James’s Omega had sought his Alpha? What would it be like if Connor actively sought to give him pleasure during their couplings instead of lying passively on the bed? What would it be like if Connor did not resist their kisses?

For a moment, Charles allowed himself to imagine. Long lingering kisses, the lowering of that tempting body onto a soft bed, long legs wrapping about him as the lithe body arched passionately into his wider, larger frame and a light alto voice crying out... “George!”

It was as if a bucket of cold water had been tossed on him. His erection deflated, and his fists clenched in anger.

The boy was a sentimental fool who could not get over the death of his beloved Washington, Charles reminded himself. He was nothing like Master Kenway. Master Kenway would never collapse over the death of a fool. He would never let himself be in such a state where he lay insensate due to sheer sentiment. It was clear that the boy could never be Master Kenway’s equal.

Abruptly, he stood and, dabbing his lips with a napkin, signaled the servants to begin clearing the table.

With a furious stride, he made his way to the room he wife lay in.

He slammed open the door, startling the maids who had been tidying the room and, with a barked shout, ordered them out.

For a second, he stopped and stared transfixed at the boy lying on the bed, gazing at streaks of orange in the sky as the sun set behind the trees.

He was beautiful, this boy Charles had stolen, but he frustrated every single one of Charles’s designs and every last one of Charles’s plans.

And that was intolerable.

Anger mounted again, and he roughly removed his belt, tossing the leather into a corner. His waistcoat followed next, and then he turned his attention to his breeches and undergarments, stripping them from his body in brusque, perfunctory movements. When, at least, he was bare save for a thin shirt, he fell upon the boy.

Hogwash, he thought as he ripped the sheets off the lax body and spread the boys thighs.

Utter hogwash, his mind bit off bitterly as he coated his fingers with grease and fat and smeared them at the boy’s entrance.

Complete and useless hogwash, he raged as he angrily thrust in.

It was idiotic, mad, sheer lunacy! Clearly, James and James’s Omega had rattled his brain.

He gripped Connor’s thighs tightly, fingers digging into the boy’s soft, vulnerable flesh and undoubtedly leaving bruises as he set a punishing pace.

What was he going on about, thinking of Connor as if the boy was a person meriting his consideration? As if the boy would ever cooperate with him without duress?

The bed shook and groaned with the strength of his thrusts, in tune with the pulsing of his rage.

His original plan was undoubtedly the best one. He would allow James’s Omega to coax Connor out of his shell, but once the boy was back to a semblance of himself and had birthed him a healthy male Alpha, he would send Clipper back to James, and things would be as they should be.

He pulled out of the boy, flipped him about and savagely plunged back in.

What did he care if Connor never returned his advances? What would he care if the boy spent the rest of his days as a mindless spoils rather than a true wife?

He gasped as an involuntary twitch caused the constricting channel to hug him. He dug cruel fingers into the firm round buttocks and quickened his pace.

Yes, yes, yes! This was best. He would have his heir! He would have a brilliant and capable Alpha son of Master Kenway’s line to call his own and, together, they shall bring the Order to new heights! And its mother? Well, its mother would be his whore for as long as he remained breathing. A pretty thing to sate his needs and potentially birth him more worthy children.

He moaned and gasped and groaned as the friction became unbearable, as heat gathered low in his loins and built with fiery heat.

With a cry, he emptied himself into the boy, sweet relief rushing over him as he collapsed onto a cool, smooth back.

He grasped the boy and rolled to the side, spooning the smaller body with his larger one. One hand snaked around the lithe waist, splaying itself possessively across Connor’s belly, rubbing it softly, gently in contrast to the hard fucking he had just given its owner.

Charles sighed. Contentedly or perhaps with just a bit of bitterness, he did not know. He did not think he cared.

Charles fell asleep still deeply embedded within his wife.

Wow, anon, you've read my head-cannon. I always thought that Connor would be multilingual since America is a diverse population, and he would be the one gathering information even if it was spoken / written in different languages. Wouldn't be surprised if he also picked up Spanish or Italian, since Achilles mentioned that with his fairer skin he could pass off as either one (nevermind the Native Clothes he was wearing) before the Boston Massacre that Haytham and Lee had started.

Moving on. Almost feel for Charles who has nothing but one-sided relationships between father and son. And of course poor Connor - not sure if he feels the pain from the violation, with his mind so far gone - but taken advantage of in his helpless state /pets Connor/

BTW Had some questions about the Omegaverse and current timeline:

1. Since Charles and Connor are now mates, does Connor still see Charles as red when switching to Eagle Vision? Probably not blue, maybe gold or white?

2. Does Church still betray the Templars even after Charles becomes the Commander and Chief?

Church betrayed the Templars in original timeline for his own gain, so he would probably have betrayed the Templars here too and been taken out by Haytham.

I imagine that Connor stills sees Charles as red since, for all intents and purposes, Charles is still his enemy. He can't do anything about it, but the relationship is neither a willing nor wanted one on Connor's part and their goals are very, very different.

Glad it works with head-canon. :D I always thought that, given the amount of trading + relationships with the French, it'd make sense for Connor to know that language extremely well. And since one of the recruits is German, it also made sense that Connor was attempting to learn a bit of German.

Good idea about the Italian/Spanish. :)

Okay, Charles remaining red makes sense since eagle vision is based on the perceptions of the person using it.

The reason why I asked about Church, was because I was wondering if Charles would be the one who had team up with Haytham and maybe even Biddle to track the traitor down, giving Clipper and Connor some alone time.

Forgot to add - I'm actually intrigued by the idea of willing bottom!Connor... I'm a horrible, horrible person.

Er...well it doesn't stay complete rape or even noncon, if it helps? Wouldn't go quite as far as completely enthusiastic and willing (may feel slightly bad for Charles, but the man really dug his own grave here so...), but perhaps willing to give on issues not so important in order to influence issues very important.

Clearly, traveling means you get even more fic writing done b/c you have nothing to do while in a plane other than wish you were anywhere but in the plane…

Well, that and write fic. ;D

Unfortunately, this chapter is relatively short and boring and eventless. Just a breather from all that angst and rape and noncon. ...Okay, maybe not the angst, but it's more of the subtle variety and less hitting over the head this time.

Master of the House

Chapter 5 - Of Joyless Victories

It was clear to Charles that all this commotion on behalf of his Omega was affecting him for the worse. For, instead of his comfortable bed in his own room, he woke in Connor’s quarters, still inside of the boy. It was grossly inconvenient for the warm constricting channel had encouraged him to harden.

It would not be such a problem save for two facts.

One, he had overslept, and it was now mid-morning. The second, which resulted in part from the first, is that there was a knocking at the front door.

A knocking.

At the front door.

Charles’s mind was still somewhat asleep, but he knew there was something important about there being someone knocking at his door at this hour...

Oh.

James had agreed to escort his Omega to Charles to aid in Connor’s recovery. They had agreed on mid-morning.

Bugger.

Charles thought about it, but decided against it. It wouldn’t do to keep James waiting. Despite his recent mental upheaval at the epiphany of James’s affectionate relationship, James was still a valuable ally, and it would reflect poorly on Charles.

With a sigh, he pulled out of his wife’s warm body and called for the servants to help him dress.

Absentmindedly, he reached for a long and thick jacket. Its length would hopefully help hide his rather uncomfortable erection.

A quarter of an hour later, he greeted James and his Omega in the foyer. James blinked at his appearance.

“Pardon me for mentioning this, Charles, but, you look like shit.”

Charles glared halfheartedly at the man. It was true, after all. He did look, as James so quaintly put it, ‘like shit.’

“Rough night,” he muttered.

Clipper, standing next to James, stiffened at this. As Charles’s irritated eyes glanced at the Omega, Clipper quickly looked him up and down, pausing ever so slightly at his groin.

He first turned red, then, clearly realizing what Charles meant, pale.

“You—“ the man sputtered, nearly white with fury.

James quickly laid a soothing hand upon his Omega’s shoulders, and Charles watched the young man visibly deflate.

Perhaps it was uncalled for, but Charles felt a spike of loathing for them both at that moment.

Oblivious to Charles’s sudden anger, James turned to him.

“It’s been a tiring journey for Clipper. Why don’t we let him drop off his things for his stay and reacquaint himself with his friend? I have some sensitive news that should be discussed in the privacy of your office.”

Charles blinked, but, seeing the sense of such a suggestion, quickly called the servants to help Clipper and his belongings to the guestroom. The news must be important to warrant his immediate attention.

----

Charles stared at the scroll in shock.

So.

He was King.

His eyes sought James’s seeking confirmation. The man nodded.

“And, after all that trouble to declare ourselves independent and break free from England’s grasp, we are to be modeled after that very nation and her government system.”

James nodded again. “It would seem that Lady Irony has a sense of humor,” he said without mirth.

“Quite.”

Charles rolled up the scroll and pressed it to his lips in thought. So he was to be King of these quarreling, squabbling states with their own frightfully independent governing bodies, and there was to be a Congress underfoot, much like Parliament in England.

Well.

A thought came to him.

“How did you come by this, James?”

Brown eyes suddenly looked away, as if in...shame?

“Master Kenway is representing New York, and, upon discovering the news, delivered it to me three days ago knowing that I often call upon you.”

“Three days ago, he had business closer to my place than yours. Why wouldn’t he call upon me personally? Surely, he knows he is always welcome.”

Brown eyes refused to look at him.

Charles grew angry.

“You are implying something. What?”

James licked his lips in the nervous fashion he had had since Charles first met him.

“Master Kenway is a complex man...”

“Yes, yes,” Charles interrupted. “I know. What about it?”

James hesitated.

Charles lost his patience.

“Out with it! Either speak or leave, but I have neither patience nor desire to waste my time dawdling—“

“He is a father.”

Charles snapped his mouth shut. For a second, neither man said anything, one too stunned, the other too uneasy.

Finally, Charles managed to gather his wits about him. But when he spoke, there was a lost tremor in his voice, a tone of disbelief and betrayal hinted within.

“He agreed to it.”

James said nothing.

“He agreed to the wedding, agreed to my bedding the boy, agreed to my begetting a child upon him!”

James still said nothing.

Charles swallowed bitterly. “Why?”

James shook his head. “The miscarriage, the boy nearly dying because of it, the loss of his first and only grandchild...”

“He blames me?” the cry was anguished, devastated, unbelieving. It did not sound like Charles.

“He...” James paused. “He had believed you would convert the boy, tame his temperament and turn him into a respectable wife.”

“You make it sound as if he feels for the boy,” Charles snorted. “But he cannot. He is Haytham Kenway, not a man to be swayed by mere sentiment.”

To this, James had nothing to say but… “Despite all that remains between them, despite their last and only confrontation, Connor is still Master Kenway’s son. Master Kenway will love him for that if nothing else.”

“They are enemies. They hate each other.”

“But that does not mean there cannot also be love. Even a thin, barely noticeable one such as this.”

The words fell heavily in the air and weighed between them. Oppressive.

Charles forced himself to speak and to inquire, feeling as lost as he had when he had realized he lost his son.

“Does he support me still? Does he still...” he could not go on.

In this, James took pity on him.

“Yes, for he respects you as a comrade still.”

It was a weight taken off his shoulders, but not the entirety of it. That he still had Master Kenway’s respect...

James continued. “He mourns in his own way, Charles. And so he avoids you, his friend, for you are important to the Order and important to the country.”

But not, Charles noted, important to him.

Still, he supposed it could be worse.

The sentiment did not make him feel any better.

“Thank you,” Charles said abruptly. “Thank you for delivering the news. I owe you, my friend.”

James shook his head. “Think nothing of—“

“We both are very busy today, and I must see to my guest’s needs.”

James frowned. “Ch—“

“The servants will see you out.”

With that, Charles strode out of his office and did not look back.

Wow, Charles is really getting kicked in the teeth with his botched handling with Connor. Haytham has every right to blame Charles, but I'm sure he blames himself the most; and Charles has to redouble his efforts if he wants to salvage his relationship with Haytham.

Once again, I love James and Clipper. Can't wait for Connor's reaction to their bond once he recovers.

Hehehe. :)

Oh Haytham shares pretty equal blame in this (it was a pretty asinine plan). It's probably why he's avoiding Charles.

Connor's...well, he's actually in an interesting situation, as we'll come to find out. George's death was the straw that broke the camel's back but, even more than that, it was a paradigm shift.

That being said, his recovery will have to come in a different form (though I doubt he'll ever go back to the person he was...Connor at end of Bloody But Unbowed is far different than Connor at beginning), and Clipper and James's relationship will be integral to that.

Glad you like James. :) I'm basically resurrecting William Johnson as I see him. Road to hell is paved in good intentions type except that James hasn't faced those situations.

Hm...I've been meaning to add in some fluff, but I must be incapable of it. All that comes out is angst. But at least it's Clipper time? :)

Master of the House

Chapter 6 - Clipper

As Clipper followed one of the maids to his temporary quarters, he found himself both excited and anxious at the prospect of seeing his old mentor and friend again. His last glance of Connor was when he, Stephane and Deborah had been marched out at gunpoint by Templar agents.

He had been struggling, they had all been struggling, shouting and straining to get back inside, to not leave their dear mentor behind. He remembered the look of shock painting Connor’s face. He remembered Templars seizing Connor and holding him to the ground. He remembered Charles Lee undoing his trousers with too-clear intentions on his face before the butt of a rifle met his temple, and his vision blurred and darkened as he was thrown over a Templar’s shoulder and carried away from his beloved mentor...

He remembered when Connor screamed.

Shakily, he held a hand to his mouth and tried to hold back his nausea. One year since he had seen him. One entire year of wondering. Of trying to catch snippets of news no matter how small, of not knowing even when Lee ordered him dragged from his cell and gifted him to James, of pleading with James (who valued him and gave him much more freedom and choice than he had ever dreamed of a Templar but would still not speak of Connor’s fate). Of finally believing his beloved mentor to be dead, only to overhear the Templar Matthew speaking with James about Connor’s miscarriage (miscarriage!).

One year since he had seen Connor, and now he was to see him on Charles Lee’s orders, on Charles Lee’s behalf, to save Charles Lee’s child and keep Connor alive so that Charles Lee could continue using him.

Charles Lee’s child that was also Connor’s child. The second child that Lee had forced onto his beloved mentor.

He felt ill.

Clipper hurriedly bolted past the surprised maid, grabbed the nearest bedpan and began heaving over it.

The worst thing was that he couldn’t even claim Charles Lee had tricked him into helping. He was selfish. He was too selfish to let Connor die, he was too selfish to let Connor go now that he finally had the chance to see him again.

He wished he was strong enough to free Connor the way Connor had been strong enough to free the young boys from service three years ago.

-----

Half an hour later, Clipper was feeling only marginally better, but resolved to ready himself for the long-awaited meeting. James and that—that Charles Lee were still closeted away discussing ‘business,’ no doubt something Templar related.

He turned towards the maid (a different one as the one who had accompanied him before was now preoccupied with cleaning the bedpan).

“May I see Mr. Connor Kenway, please?”

The maid blinked.

“Master Lee has given explicit instructions that Mr. Lee,” Clipper felt like gagging at the name, “is not to see anyone without him.”

Clipper stared at her, uncomprehending.

“But Mr. Lee asked for me to accompany Mr. Kenway.” He was not going to refer to his friend and mentor by the name of his rapist.

“Master Lee never gave us updated instructions for Mr. Lee,” the maid stressed.

Clipper ignored her hint.

“Surely your master would not want you to keep the man he personally requested to help with Mr. Kenway away from him?” he reasoned.

The maid frowned.

“I am not in the business of second-guessing my master. If he wishes for you to see Mr. Lee without him, he would have informed us so.”

“Mr. Lee seems to be a busy man.” Clipper was getting just a bit irritated. “Perhaps recent events kept him so busy it slipped from his mind that I am to be allowed access to Mr. Kenway.”

“Master Lee is a brilliant and organized man. He would not have forgotten,” the maid glared at him, “such a thing. If you want to see Mr. Lee, you will wait for Master Lee to accompany you.”

Clipper opened his mouth to argue with her, but then closed it in thought. From the mulish cast of her face, he could see that he would never convince her otherwise. And could he blame her? If she went against Lee’s orders, and Lee was displeased, she could lose her position within the household, the income that no doubt supported her family and loved ones, the measure of respectability from having a master quite as famous as Charles Lee was after the war with England.

He’d have to try a different tactic.

“I understand, madam,” he looked contrite. “And I am sorry to have caused you trouble.”

She looked suspiciously at him, but, seeing his sincerity, softened her expression. She patted his hand.

“I am sure the Master will be here soon to escort you. And you can ask him for permission to see Mr. Lee as you will when he comes.”

The maid paused, but, as Clipper still looked rather unhappy, she began again.

“Would it help if I described my knowledge of Mr. Lee and his experiences here?”

Clipper turned to her, yearning etched onto his face.

“Are you sure? Will Mr. Lee be angry with you? Will you get into trouble—“

The maid grinned at him suddenly and held a finger up to her lips. She leaned into him to whisper conspiratorially in his ear, “Master Lee never forbade us from sharing information about Mr. Lee from concerned friends.”

Then, straightening back up and with a more kindly, seriously air, “You seem like a nice young man, and Mr. Collins seems so taken with you. I know you won’t do anything to harm this household. And...“

She grew more serious, almost solemn. “Mr. Lee has been in a bad way for a couple of months now. I admit that we did not get along with him in the beginning, seeing as how he was so rude and disobedient to Master Lee, his own husband, but he did not deserve what has happened. He wanes now, and it causes the Master grief, particularly if the child were to be lost again.”

She turned toward him suddenly, earnestly.

“I know it is not my place, but, promise me. Promise me that you will do all that is in your power to help restore this household.”

Clipper found himself struck speechless, and, as he was struggling to come up with an answer, the door to his room opened and Charles Lee entered.

//GLOMPS CLIPPER// I'm so glad you brought him into the story, Connor desperately needs the support of one of his closest friends more than ever. The flashback was heartbreaking, and I love the fact that he's still willful and argues over Connor's surname with the maid. Also glad that the servants aren't totally heartless, but most likely worried for their master.

And you're killing me anon, ending off with a confrontation like that. I wonder how the interactions between Charles and Clipper will go without James to interfere.

Yay! :)

//glomps Clipper too//

I totally hearted him in the game and was definitely trying to go for still polite but with enough of a backbone to be assertive.

Also glad you like the servants. :) Debated making them heartless, but just didn't seem realistic to me. Charles is very much their master, but he strikes me as a courteous, by the book, pays them well and treats them decently type. So he would definitely have earned their admiration.

Charles and Clipper interactions are...interesting. Still a power differential simply because Charles is in control, but Clipper, by virtue of his bond with Connor, has a different type of power. :D

Charles Lee is paranoid. And possibly reads fanfic.

Master of the House

Chapter 7 - the First Battle

“Master Lee,” the maid bowed to the man respectfully.

Charles Lee stared at Clipper, a dark, suspicious look in his eyes. Carefully, he gestured a dismissal to the maid.

“Mary, please see to the cook. James has left a list of foods that our guest is allergic to, and it would be unfortunate if any of them appear at our dinner.” His eyes never left Clipper’s form as he spoke.

Mary curtsied gracefully, “At once, Master Lee,” and then swiftly exited.

Clipper was left alone with the man he abhorred.

For a moment, neither man said anything, merely stared at each other in mutual suspicion and dislike.

Finally, Lee broke the silence.

“You are my guest here, and James seems to trust you to some degree. However,” he paused. “However, it would be unwise to conduct any affairs against me or mine while you stay in this house.”

Clipper felt a rush of anger at the words, but wisely swallowed the words that came to mind. Connor was locked behind the walls of this house somewhere, and Charles Lee held the key. For his dear, dear mentor, he could ignore his disgust for Lee.

“I want to see him now.” Then, grudgingly, “please.”

Lee almost looked disappointed that he had not baited Clipper into an argument.

“Very well. I will take you to him—”

Clipper interrupted him. “I want to see him alone.”

Lee glanced sharply at him, temper clearly rising at his words.

“No! Absolutely not! Do you think me a fool that I will allow you access to him unsupervised? That you may spirit him off and—“

“With all due respect,” Clipper omitted the ‘sir’, “there is nowhere for me to go, nowhere for him to disappear. Not with your current popularity amongst the people.”

Lee ground his teeth, unclearly uncomfortable with the prospect but recognizing the truth behind the words.

“There is still no reason for you to visit Connor unsupervised. You may not make off with him as you say, but I’ve seen the way you looked at him at our wedding. You and those blasted brothers of yours.”

Clipped blinked and, for a moment, was stunned into shock by the wild accusation. He found his voice scant seconds later.

“We are friends! Colleagues, comrades, brothers-in-arms, friends, mentor and students!” he cried.

“Really?” Lee sounded doubtful. “You have never dreamt about him? About his smooth tan skin, about his fine features and long limbs. About holding him down as you enter his tight heat...”

“No!” Clipper was scandalized. Lee was—Lee was crazy! No wonder Mary the maid was so worried.

“No,” he repeated. “We never—he’s our respected mentor!. And I am an Omega.”

Lee snorted. “Mentorship is not a barrier,” (and did Clipper hear a vague bitter quality to his voice?). “And Omegas have been known to pair off with Omegas in the past, provided an offspring is viable.”

Crazy...

“I am not interested in him in that way. I am bonded to James,” he stressed his mate’s name, hoping that this, at least, would lend some logic to the man in front of him.

“Ah, but you are away from James right now.”

The attempt had clearly failed. And Clipper was out of arguments.

“Then have one of your servants supervise, if you cannot trust the chasteness of the feelings I have for my friend.”

Lee shook his head. “There is no need to waste my servants time on this task when they have many chores to perform.”

Clipper felt himself shake at the description.

“Is that all he is to you? A waste?

Lee stayed silent, eyes bitter and mouth curled into a sneer.

Poor Connor, Clipper thought. He had known that Lee was a vile, vile man, but that he would tear Clipper’s mentor away from his loved one, force a marriage on him and then declare it all a ‘waste’...

“One wonders why you went to so much trouble to acquire him, then, if he is a waste. One wonders why you desire help in treating him, in helping him, if he is a waste.”

Lee looked away at that. Clipper had the sense that he was seeing something that wasn’t there.

Clipper gritted his teeth. He would not let Connor’s first sight of him again be of him and Lee, of all people. He would do his utmost to protect his mentor from his tormentor.

“You must not come with me to see to Connor.”

“Out of the question—“

“I cannot do anything if you are there.”

Lee snapped his mouth shut and turned upon Clipper again, glaring at him.

“Do you mean to renege on your promise to me? To James?” Lee’s nostrils flared with anger.

Clipper shook his head.

“I mean that recovery will not be possible.”

“I fail to see how—“

Clipper interrupted him again. “Do you agree that it is you who have caused him to be in such a state?”

Lee looked sullen at this, but did not deny it.

“Then you must see that your presence would be detrimental to Connor. And to the child he carries.”

Lee swallowed thickly, and Clipper began to hope that the man who leave him alone, would allow him to be by Connor in peace.

To see Connor again. To be by his beloved mentor and make the man whole and well again...

“Do you give your word?” Lee began softly. “Do you give your word that you will not try anything to cause him to lose the child? That you will do whatever it is in your power to bring him back, to make him well enough to birth the child?”

Clipper didn’t want to. He would not hurt the child, but if Connor was whole and sound of mind and truly did not want to give birth to his hated enemy’s child, then Clipper did not want to be the one to stop him.

But Clipper wanted to see him again so very, very much. Wanted him healthy and whole and utterly unlike that stunned man who had been forced upon in that church one year ago...

“Yes,” he whispered. Then, when Lee made no move, when he gave no indication of having been heard, he repeated himself with a stronger voice. “Yes. I promise. Please let me see to him.”

Lee looked away. “I will give instructions to my servants that you be allowed to see him for one hour unsupervised every day.”

Then, when Clipper opened his mouth to protest, he added, “You will spend the rest of your time with him accompanied by Mary or Matthew, who has been Connor’s doctor since we discovered his first pregnancy.”

Clipper slowly closed his mouth. It was not a great offer, but it was acceptable.

Mutely, he watched as Lee called for his maids and gave them their new instructions. He doubted that all such struggles against the man would go as smoothly as this one did.

Wow, two updates in one day - I feel spoiled, anon. Heh, you're right - Charles must have read that Clipper/Connor fill on the kinkmeme, cause he's all suspicious of Clipper's motives. I do love paranoid-perverted-bastard!Charles.

Finally Clipper is going to get to see his mentor, but it's hardly going to be a reunion since Connor is out of it. BTW, does Clipper know what became of Stephane, Deborah, or the Homesteaders? Or has he been kept in isolation? Also, was there a reason why Charles gave Clipper to James? Did Connor do something to upset him?

Clipper has a slightly better idea of what happened to Stephane and Deborah than Connor but not by much. It would have proven too dangerous to allow the Assassins to know of each other in case they manage to contact each other or cause difficulties for the Templars again.

James would've told Clipper that Stephane and Deborah are alive, but then begged off on any details. He is very loyal to the Templars.

Clipper actually does know what happened to the homesteaders. They are watched now and then, but the Templars don't really care too much about them. They're mostly harmless, true innocents that just happen to be Connor's friends but have nothing to do with the struggle between the Assassins and the Templars.

Charles gave Clipper to James mostly consolidate the Templar's power. When he captured the three Assassin recruits, there were only a few things he could do to make sure they could not cause future trouble. The first is to kill them. But since Connor would probably fight against him a lot more if he killed them, that was removed from consideration. The second is to leave them imprisoned indefinitely. That seemed like an inefficient method to Charles (you have to feed them, etc).

The second is to have them neutralized. That's effectively what he tried to do. He gave Clipper to James because he thought that James would be able to control Clipper and keep him from interfering with Templar business. He very probably had something done to both Deborah and Stephane so that they are not able to fight anymore, and then let them go.

In a way, I think he thought he was being merciful. His relationship with Connor is complex, full of lust and disgust at Connor's maternal heritage with a great deal of frustration/anger that Connor killed his brothers. But Stephane, Clipper and Deborah are more abstract concepts to him. Dangerous in theory because they're Assassins, but otherwise, he doesn't care too much about them except as Connor's recruits and friends.

Makes sense, I'm glad Charles didn't kill them off. I'm guessing, the other three recruits met their fate simply because they reacted faster to the attack. Well, I'm glad the Homestead residents are okay.

Anyway, can't read the next chapter. I'm nearly finished with part 12, and finally on day 2.

Ooo, can't wait to read part 12. And hurrah for finally being on a second day, lol.

Methinks I may love angst and drama a bit much. Just a bit.

Master of the House

Chapter 8 - Hope and Despair

Despite overhearing James and Davies that one time, despite listening raptly to Lee himself when he cajoled with him for his aid and despite his own, unfortunately vivid, imagination, nothing prepared Clipper for his first sight of his mentor.

Connor, normally so strong, so vibrant and full of life, always moving whether it was running or leaping or climbing walls and trees...He laid there, almost engulfed in the too-large bed. So pale and still that if it were not for the soft rise and fall of his chest, Clipper would have thought him dead.

“Oh, sir,” he whispered in horror.

He knelt by Connor’s bedside and carefully took one of his hands (too thin, far too thin) in his own. Those brown eyes stared vacantly at the window, blank and unseeing.

For a moment, Clipper was worried that he had lost his sight, but recalled that neither Lee nor Davies had said anything about blindness.

He felt inexplicably relieved by that. For a man with such special vision as Connor, the loss of sight would be devastating.

But what had happened to him? What had happened to the man he so admired?

What had Lee done to him?

Clipper swallowed painfully, staring at the man before him. He waited for...for something. For a movement perhaps. Any movement. A twitch of the fingers, a shifting of the eyes, a rustling of bed-sheets, anything. He needed to know that the man he looked up to, the man he had followed—that they had all followed—was still there. He needed to know that Connor was still there.

A minute passed, then five, then ten.

Nothing.

Connor laid there, like a marionette with its strings cut, glassy eyes staring out the window as clouds slowly hid the sun away.

It was as if Clipper were not there at all.

Clipper had thought he had felt true helplessness before. When he had been dragged away from the church, when he had been separated from Stephane and Deborah in their jail cells, when he had first learned of Connor’s miscarriage.

None of those compared to the gaping hole that made its home in his chest and sought to drag him in. Nothing compared to how small and useless he felt at that moment, faced with the impossible task of bringing back a man who may already be dead.

-----

Back in his office, Charles paced relentlessly, driven by manic energy and hounded by demons in his heart. He wanted to burst into the room where Connor and James’s Omega was, he wanted to tear out of the house and drag Matthew back, appointments be damned, he wanted to ride to New York and find Master Kenway and rage that it wasn’t fair to put this on him, and how could he reward his unending loyalty with this, he wanted to fall on his knees in front of Master Kenway and beg forgiveness...

He—he was coming undone. Everything was coming undone. That Clipper would have unsupervised access to his Omega...

(oh God, he was mad, he was going mad, the boy was driving him mad)

...and Master Kenway blamed him for the miscarriage...

(but it wasn’t, he hadn’t thought Washington would die, he hadn’t known that grief would kill the man, he’d been taken by surprise and didn’t see Connor there until one of the maids—was it Mary? Was it Amelia—had screamed and there was Connor and blood, so much blood soaking the seat of his trousers)

...and he was going to be King, but they would all see how crazy he was becoming and that would be taken away too...

Charles collapsed in his leather chair and stared at the portrait of Master Kenway hanging on the wall.

It used to give him comfort. It used to make him feel proud and valued...

(but never loved)

...and useful, but...

A welling of rage rose within him. Swiftly he grabbed one of the inkwells laying about his desk and hurled the bottle against the portrait.

With a sharp tinkling crack, the bottle broke and released inky black fluid against the man Charles so admired and...

(yearned for)

...looked up to.

As the dark ink ran over the dark blues and tans and pale browns of the oil painting, Charles seemed to wake from his anger and despair.

And he was horrified.

“Mary! Ronald!” he called for his head maid and man-servant, hurriedly grabbing spare bits of cloth and dabbing frantically at the portrait.

No. No, no. He wasn’t going to lose this too. They could still save it. Oils were resilient and a bit of cleaning, a bit of maintenance, and it would be fine.

He would not lose this too!

Ronald burst into the office, Mary swift on his heels. They took one look at the ruined painting, at their desperate, frenzied movements of their master and the crazed look in his eyes and moved as one.

Grimly, Ronald grabbed a hold of his master, the old man soothing him, petting him as he had when Charles had been a boy and he newly entered into the Lee’s service. Mary carefully took the painting and handed it off to her helpers to be cleaned and preserved.

Charles grasped after the disappearing painting, unwilling to let it go, unwilling to...

“Sir!”

He turned wild eyes upon Ronald, upon one of the few people who had served him and been by him near his entire life.

“Sir,” Mary repeated and laid a gentle hand upon her master’s.

“It can be restored.”

It? Charles wasn’t sure what she was talking about anymore. The painting? His Omega? His relationship with Haytham? His child?

But Mary was patting his hand, gently, confidently.

“What’s been broken,” Ronald began, “can oftentimes be fixed. Have patience, sir.”

But Charles wasn’t sure he had any more patience.

-----

Back in Connor’s quarters, Clipper came to a decision.

It would do no good to stand petrified by the enormity of the task he had set himself. Altair didn’t retake Masyaf by avoiding Abbas. Ezio didn’t avenge his family by mourning his life away. They both faced their difficulties, their sorrows and their regrets.

As an Assassin, Clipper could do no less.

And so Clipper raised the hand he had been cradling, laid a gentle, chaste kiss on it and set it back on the sheets.

He took a look around the room, paying attention to the double-lock on the door, to the heavy, almost stifling air within, to the light gathering of dust that had gathered on Connor’s shoes, something the servants had missed as no one thinks to dust shoes.

Connor hadn’t been out of the room in a while and, from the sickly pale cast of Connor’s skin, Clipper wasn’t sure he’d ever been let out of the house.

He turned to the admired and beloved form on the bed.

“I’ve missed you, sir. I’m not sure where Deborah and Stephane are, but I’m sure they miss you too. And I just want you to know...I’m not giving up on you.”

He closed his eyes, imagining Connor as he was, with Achilles, Stephane, Deborah, Jamie, Jacob, Duncan...

“I am not ever giving up on you. So please, sir, when you’re ready. Wake for me.”

Wow anon... you really know how to play my heartstrings like an instrument. Poor Clipper. Poor Connor... and Poor Charles - I actually feel for him in this, even though he dug his own grave. As badly as he treated his Omega, he cares for his mate though he's reluctant to admit it... and then there's disappointing Haytham, his unrequited love and idol. I do hope you bring him in the story... maybe even to see Connor in his current state, and let Clipper kick him his in the FEELS to.

Lol, will do. Not sure when (Haytham is...difficult...to write. Only guy worse is Hickey and his...interesting...turns of phrase).

Actually, Charles might confront him at some point, possibly at his coronation...and then the guilt might bring Haytham to actually call upon them...

Ooooh I can't wait to see that confrontation, and maybe see how the new Templar inner circle members interacts with one another (assuming Haytham has replaced Hickey, Pitcairn, and Church)

Yeah, I know what you mean about Hickey. Haytham would be difficult to considering his mix feelings for his son - whom I'm guessing he learned had learned about either from Charles or just put 2 and 2 together. It is pretty obvious in this verse since Connor uses the Kenway name and has eagle vision.

Re: Master of the House - part 9

(Anonymous) - 2013-02-16 04:36 (UTC) - Expand

Not quite fluff, but at least it’s not angst! Yay! And hopefully semi-amusing. And there will be Pomeranians next chapter. :)

Master of the House

Chapter 9 – Dinner Conversation

By the time it was time for dinner, Charles had managed to compose himself again. The ink stains were cleaned, though the servants were still working on recovering the painting (Charles made a mental note to give Mary and her best helpers a bonus come Christmas), and he had much benefited from a splash of cold water against his face and a cup of calming hot tea in his hand.

Upon thinking the matter over, he could even laugh at himself a bit. What an absurdity his passions had led to! What insanity he had wrought!

And it was all due to his Omega, of all things.

Charles sighed and made ready to join the dining room table. Hopefully, one of Mary’s girls will have found James’s Omega and requested his presence at dinner.

Before exiting his office, though, Charles stopped and quickly glanced at the empty wall where Master Kenway’s portrait had been. He raised a hand and caressed the open space.

His temper was too quick. Oh, he had always known that his passions ran high, but he had thought he had them under control.

He snorted. How disgraceful. How inelegant. How ungentleman-like.

He had always resented the name Connor’s village gave him when he sent them word of his nuptials with the boy, but, ruefully, he began wondering if perhaps they hadn’t been on to something.

‘Boiling Water’ wasn’t particularly original, but it seemed those savage Natives had seen what he had not. And now he may have ruined one of the few things he had to remind him of Master Kenway.

Particularly if the man never acknowledged or called on him again.

His heart squeezed painfully at that, but he forced the feeling down and away.

He would not let it be. He would fix this...problem...with Connor and prove himself to Master Kenway again.

He relaxed minutely.

Master Kenway was a reasonable man, dignified in his bearings, cautious in his passions. He would forgive him.

He must forgive him.

Charles pushed open the door to the dining room and waited for his ‘guest’ to arrive.

-----

When one of the maids (not Mary, Clipper noted), arrived to fetch him for dinner, Clipper had already begun to plan his time with Connor.

Sadly, he was no doctor and knew very little about ailments of the body or of the mind. But if he could gain access to Connor’s doctor (though he shuddered at the thought of being anywhere near the greedy, ambitious Davies), then they might potentially puzzle out how to bring Connor back.

And in the meantime, when he was not allowed near Connor, he could study medical books on his own! Surely the Templar Order’s private collection of books must be enviable. All he would need to do would be to convince Lee to lend them to him. Or perhaps he could write to James...

But his first action must be to move Connor to a less...oppressive...room. His quarters felt like decay and death, and Lee really thought Connor could recover in here? Where Connor was, no doubt, forced upon nightly?

Clipper shuddered at the image and once more forced down the anger he felt for Lee. Lee would undoubtedly resist any attempt to move Connor, and his anger would not help him win the odious man over.

And, perhaps, Clipper remembered the way Connor’s eyes fixed on that window, perhaps it would do him good to breathe some fresh air. The window, he had already checked, were bolted tight, but if he could convince Lee to let them spend some time outside, against one of the trees that Connor used to love climbing or perhaps rest his head against a comforting pile of leaves...

The maid pushed open the grand doors before him, and Clipper spied Lee sitting at the head of the table. The man’s face was carefully blank, the insanity Clipper had seen in his eyes before when he had been accused of wanting his mentor gone.

Well good.

Swiftly, Clipper seated himself in the chair the maid pulled out for him. Immediately, man-servants entered bearing food, breads and meat and fresh vegetables and sauces.

Clipper made sure his face was as polite and his manner as non-threatening and relaxed as possible.

It was time for him to do battle.

-----

“I would like to request access to Connor’s doctor.”

Charles paused, a bite of mutton (imported from England, he wasn’t going to touch that lobster business) halfway to his mouth.

“Oh?” Feigned disinterest.

“Yes. I believe that, if we pool our knowledge, we can better help Connor.”

It wasn’t an unreasonable request, and Charles saw no reason not to grant it.

“I shall pen a missive to Matthew requesting his presence tomorrow, if possible.”

The Omega nodded. Then, “does your library contain any medical journals?”

Charles raised an eyebrow, slightly discomfited. He chewed for a moment, thinking and suspicious. Finally he swallowed.

“James seems to have confided a great deal in you,” he prodded, carefully.

The Omega only smiled at this.

“Oh no,” he replied. “James cares for me, and he is wise enough to know that were I to know too much, you or the Grandmaster would have me dealt with.”

Smart man. Accurate, very accurate.

The Omega continued. “Since the Assassins have tales of an exquisite library full of knowledge, it made sense that the Templars would have a similar library. And you yourself seem to be of a background to be able to collect books.”

Again, all true. Charles was fortunate that his father and his father’s father had known the value of books, and Charles himself had expanded the collection immensely...some of them from Connor’s old manor.

He nodded again, not seeing any harm in the request.

“I have no medical ones within my collection, but I will add a request for Matthew to lend you his.”

He returned his attention to the mutton stew. It was quite lovely today, all tender morsels of meat and rich broth. He shall have to ask that it be served more often in this style.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the Omega fidgeting nervously.

He narrowed his eyes and set his spoon aside. He had the feeling he would need his full attention soon.

“You clearly have something you wish to say. Say it,” he ordered.

The man fidgeted for one more minute.

“I want to move Connor to my room.”

Charles saw red.

Trembling in fury, he abruptly stood and shouted, “So you admit you have intentions towards him!”

The man had the gall to shake his head in disagreement!

Briefly, Charles pondered the benefits of stabbing him with the cutlery.

“No, I do not! I only want him to get better and for your child to survive safely.”

Oh, but that was a low blow.

“Explain yourself.”

Clipper nodded.

“He’s stayed in that room for as long as he’s been with you, no?” While that was true, Charles didn’t see what it had to do with anything.

As if reading his mind, the next thing that came out of the Omega’s mouth was, “that means most of the times he’s been upset or—or intimate with you has been in that room.”

Ah, Charles was beginning to see where the Omega was going with this. Still, he would not abide his Omega staying with the man. Not when Clipper’s affection for his mentor was clear for all to see.

He thought for a moment, but could see no way around it.

Damn them both. He needed his Omega to get better and birth him that child too much, and it was forcing his hand.

He didn’t like it one bit.

“Connor will stay in a different room if you believe the change in atmosphere will help. But not yours.” Because he couldn’t give him that. His Omega was his.

James’s Omega looked as if he wanted to argue, but one look at the resolute expression on Charles’s face made him reconsider. Reluctantly, he closed his mouth.

Charles once again turned his attention to his stew, but found that the flavors were not as enticing as they had been. Somehow, it seemed bland on his tongue.

Pity, he had been so looking forward to mutton too.

“I hear,” he heard the Omega begin again.

Blasted! Would the man never leave him to eat in peace? Charles sorely regretted inviting the Omega to table with him. Even Connor knew better than to interrupt his meal!

“I hear you normally spend time with your dogs outside after dinner.”

What an inane statement.

“Yes,” he confirmed, wondering where the Omega was going with this.

“James always spoke admiringly about your dog Spado. He’s very loyal and affectionate and a great companion.”

Well.

Charles felt his cheeks redden. It was true that Spado was his favorite. A better dog had never lived.

“Do you think,” the Omega’s voice was soft, wondering, almost...innocent. “Do you think that being around Spado would help Connor?”

Charles immediately opened his mouth, ready to refute the ridiculous idea but...

He stopped. And he thought about it.

Connor had seemed fond of Spado those few times they had met, one of the few things Charles gave him credit for (it was certainly in better taste than many of the boy’s former companions). He supposed that it couldn’t hurt to see if Spado could help with the situation.

Certainly, his fine Spado was capable of many amazing things. What was one more on the list?

Slowly, he nodded his assent.

The Omega broke into a smile.

“Excellent,” he cried. Then he turned to Mary. “We shall have to make sure that Mr. Kenway,” (Charles twitched at the name), “is appropriately attired for the weather.”

Mary bowed. “I shall have him clothed in a warm cloak.”

The Omega smiled fondly. Then he turned back to him.

“I must find my own cloak. Please excuse me.” He stood, bowed slightly and left.

Charles was left sitting at the table, mostly uneaten mutton stew quickly cooling in front of him, and with the strangest feeling that he’d just been played.

OMG Clipper... you wonderful, wonderful human being. I loved how he was able to manipulate Charles like that (and loving Charles' jealous outbursts) he's going to have to pass these skills onto Connor.

BTW I am loving at how quickly you crank these chapters out, because I cannot get enough of them! //begins mashing the refresh button//

Thanks! :)

Though I may have to warn you that I am expecting a rejection letter... ): So may soon be too depressed to update.

...partly the reason I'm splurging now, I'm afraid.

...but since no one calls or sends work emails out over the weekend, that means a few more chapters before I'm in depressed zone. :)

But yes, I heart Clipper. And more to come on where Clipper learned these skills later on. :D

Re: Master of the House - part 10

(Anonymous) - 2013-02-16 07:01 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Master of the House - part 10

(Anonymous) - 2013-02-16 07:47 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Master of the House - part 10

(Anonymous) - 2013-02-16 15:04 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Master of the House - part 10

(Anonymous) - 2013-02-17 01:34 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Master of the House - part 10

(Anonymous) - 2013-02-17 04:09 (UTC) - Expand

Um…so I lied. Clipper’s flashback took complete control and ran roughshod over this chapter so… Pomeranians will be next chapter.

Master of the House

Chapter 10 – An Understanding

Clipper knew that it wasn’t a nice or proper thing to feel, but he would not lie to himself. He felt just the tiniest bit of smugness at managing to have Lee agree to all his requests. Oh, the first two was a given. They were harmless and could only advance Lee’s goal, but the third?

Clipper had truly not believed that Lee would allow Connor to be moved at his request. Granted, he had not succeeded in convincing Lee that his quarters were best. And Lee seemed oddly and intensely possessive over Clipper’s mentor. But Clipper counted it as a small success that Connor would be moved out of that awful room at all.

Hopefully, once he was somewhere a little bit different, somewhere that did not remind him of the trespasses that had undoubtedly happened against his person, Connor would improve.

Perhaps.

Clipper gnawed his lip worriedly as he hunted through his pack for his light cloak.

He wasn’t a doctor. He knew very little about the ailment that was inflicting his beloved mentor.

All he had to go on was his own experience with James.

He hadn’t always worked well with his husband. When he’d first arrived, he had closed off, certain that his life was over, certain that this Templar would inflict many horrible acts upon him in the name of marriage.

And he was prepared to fight, to do whatever was possible against the man that jailed him and kept him from his friends and his comrades.

He had not expected kindness. To be given space.

James was firm with him. At no time was he allowed his weapons or news about Connor, Deborah or Stephane. He could not contact any of Connor’s old friends in the Continental Army, and his letters to Connor’s crew had been confiscated. He was not confined to James’s apartment, but neither was he allowed to wander about alone. There had been a small bevy of Templars guarding him, trailing him at all times.

Still, it had been much better than he was expecting. And they had lived with an uneasy truce for a few months.

It wasn’t until James had heard him cry out three months in and rushed to his room that they began to thaw to each other.

Clipper had disliked the room he had been locked in since he had arrived. It was small and, locked as it was on the outside, it made him nervous. The window was small and did not open. It had steel bars on the outside to prevent would-be thieves from entering, but, to Clipper, they seemed to be holding him in.

It was altogether too much like his cell, when he had been locked away from Stephane and Deborah. The walls closed in on him, and the door would not open, and he couldn’t get to Stephane as Stephane was dragged away by jeering Templars who made jokes about ‘seeing how much pain a Frenchman can endure’ and one of them slapped Deborah to the ground when she tried to rush out of her cell and grab a hold of Stephane because they couldn’t lose anymore, they just couldn’t.

Stephane’s cries had echoed through the cells all night, and when they dropped him back in his cell, Clipper couldn’t even reach him to give help or comfort...

Lost in his memories, he had cried out, unable to get enough sleep, unable to relax. And then James burst in the room to investigate the cries.

Clipper hadn’t thought a man who associated with a monster like Charles Lee would be capable of kindness. He hadn’t ever thought that a Templar would ever care for his comfort.

He learned differently that night.

Perhaps it was because of James’s lawyer profession. His husband consulted with many individuals who had been hurt in some shape or fashion, some of them Omegas seeking shelter from their Alphas husbands who beat them sorely, past the allowed form and limit. But he understood.

And he had immediately moved Clipper to a different room, to his own room.

It was a slightly larger room that had lattice metalwork to deter thieves outside the window instead of bars. And no lock outside the door. The window opened and allowed the cool night breeze in. And, perhaps most importantly, James trusted him not to slit his throat in the night.

James had led him to the room, sat him on the bed and spoke to him frankly. He had made it clear that it would be detrimental to both their sakes if Clipper were to try to run or harm him while he slept. He had warned of the Templar guards patrolling the area and the Grandmaster’s desire to remove all his son’s old bonds.

As Clipper was still absorbing the information (and rather shocked that he had actually been let out of that unbearable room), James had made his way over to the closet. He dug out an extra set of covers and a pillow and laid them on one half of the bed. He then climbed onto the other half and, turning his back to Clipper, promptly fell asleep.

It took many more months of slowly opening up, talking and learning about each other before Clipper could truly count them husband and wife. But he would always point to that instance where James had trusted him (a guarded trust at first to be sure) as the true beginning of their relationship.

Clipper’s eyes fell upon light brown leather. Ah, his light cloak. Perfect.

He shrugged it on and made ready to meet the servants who would be carrying Connor and Lee, undoubtedly already waiting with his dogs.

Lee was not James, and Connor had clearly suffered much more than he had suffered. But he had his own memories and experiences to draw on. His own determination, his loyalty and his new understanding of their Templar foes.

And he would bring Connor back. Somehow, sometime, he would make it so that the last of the Brotherhood did not wither away.