Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

[asscreedkinkmeme]

Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
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

Comments

FILL 41/41 (part 2 of actual ending)

[(Anonymous)]

I am so sorry for how late this is! The first half especially just refused to be written :'( But, hey, you get an interlude/epilogue too, to tie up the loose ends!

No but seriously I'm really really sorry. The alternate ending will be posted hopefully very shortly. Get your kleenex ready...

Clipper is the one who speaks.

"We've been trying to get a hold of you, actually. What brings you here?"

"I simply came to check up on those I directed here," Connor replies. "As friends do. I am rejoining the Aquila here first thing in the morning. What is wrong?"

Clipper and Duncan exchange glances.

"Achilles," Duncan says. "He's getting old. He doesn't have a lot of time left."

"He took a turn for the worse a few weeks ago. He doesn't say it, but he wants to see you again. Make things right between you," Clipper explains. "If you could stay a couple days, I'm sure it would help him a lot. He's been very sad recently."

"I am sure my crew would appreciate a few days' leave," Connor replies. Before he can enquire about the new assassins, Lance taps him on the shoulder, and gives him an estimate for Ellen's door. He thanks the man, and pays him. By the time he turns back around, only Clipper remains.

"The others went back to the manor?" he asks.

"Yes. Did you bring any luggage?"

"I left a satchel on my horse."

Clipper leads Connor back to the inn, even though he already knows the way. Their pace is slow, meandering, and it's painfully obvious that they are giving Duncan and the new recruits time to get back to the manor, to give the others the news of his arrival.

Despite that, it's rather nice to be able to talk for so long with a man he still considers a brother. Their conversation lingers on the mundane, the goings-on of the Homestead, the unimportant developments in the lives of his ex-comrades.

"Myriam and Norris might be getting married soon. It'd be nice if you came back for the ceremony."

"If I have enough forewarning, I am sure I shall be there," Connor says, kindly.

Clipper smiles.

"Good. It's good to have you back, even if it is just a few days. I got scared, you know. That I'd never see you again, and we'd be enemies. The others were scared of that, too, they never admitted it, but it was obvious. Achilles is going to be--"

"I am a Templar," Connor interrupts. He doesn't like the look of shock and sadness upon Clipper's face, but he must not allow for any misunderstandings, not again.

"What?" Clipper looks utterly betrayed, and he is in a way. Connor is quick to explain, however.

"I am not here to cause trouble. You are still my brothers and sisters. I have simply chosen a different path."

Clipper does not look convinced, and his face is still flushed with shock and rage. However, he still listens, clearly wanting to believe the best of the man he had admired so fervently.

"I don't understand," Clipper says. "After everything, you're one of them?"

Connor hesitates before replying.

"I shall explain later. Since I am here, I have something to ask of the Brotherhood."

Clipper seems unhappy, but agrees. As soon as they enter the manor, Connor goes to Achilles' room, ignoring the stares of the people gathered in the hall and the adjoining rooms. He takes a deep breath before knocking.

"Achilles?" he asks.

There's a scuffling sound, and Jamie opens the door.

"Connor," he says, obviously surprised despite the forewarning Duncan and the new recruits had given the Brotherhood.

"How is he?" Connor asks, and he can feel the growing panic welling in him. What if he's too late? What if he can't reconcile with his mentor?

"Fading," Jamie says, and steps aside to let him in. "We've been trying to contact you, but you moved and the Aquila's been away for a long time. Didn't think it was possible for us to lose a person like that, not again, but…"

"I understand," Connor replies, and crouches beside the bed, trying to assess just how much Achilles has changed in the past few years (had it really been that long?).

Achilles is asleep, and he looks so much frailer than Connor ever remembers him being. His hair is whiter, his skin more wrinkled, his limbs thinner.

He looks old.

…

In the cellar, Connor is interrogated rather politely by his ex-brothers and sisters. He has been well, thank you. Yes, it has been a rather long time since last they spoke- three years or four? It is good to see everybody in good health. The new recruits seem nice, aren't they?

Eventually, the conversation turns to less joyful topics.

"So, Clipper says you are a Templar now," Stephane says, tiredly. There is disappointment in his eyes. In all their eyes.

"Yes," Connor replies. "Actually, while I am here, I need to ask something of you all."

The others look uncomfortable, worried even. Glances are exchanged, the air is thick and tense, and Connor continues, quickly.

"Currently, I am working on two things: firstly, improving relations between Unionist and Native Americans. Secondly, changing the public opinion of the slave trade. It is on this second matter I would like your help. I strive for equality, while you strive for freedom. Our interests are aligned."

"What're you planning?" Dobby asks. Her eyes are narrowed, and her arms crossed. Like the rest of the Brotherhood, her body language is radiating tension and distrust.

"Sabotage," Connor says. "The Aquila is targeting ships which carry men who profit from slavery. To attack slave ships themselves would cause a great loss of life, so this is the next best option we have. In addition, we have been infiltrating various slaver camps, and setting free their victims. Lee is slipping bills through Congress which are slowly but surely restricting the trade. If all goes well, it shall be abolished in the next decade or so."

"It sounds as though you do not need us," Jacob replies, clearly somewhat confused. Connor wonders if perhaps the recruit sitting next to him is his son.

"Our resources are not limitless. While I do have a number of Templar agents working under me, they are ill-suited to the kind of work I need to do. They are mostly the wealthy upper-class, using their influence on others to assist me. However, it is more important that slavers gain a reputation for being unlucky, for the trade itself to be seen as failing. Preferably, this failure should be attributed to supernatural causes."

"You need misfits and outcasts," Clipper says, realisation dawning. "People skilled at working in the night, using fear as a weapon."

Connor nods.

"Indeed I do. I do not expect an answer from you just yet. There are plans in my satchel, and I shall leave them in the dining room. The rest of this evening I will spend with Achilles, if that is all right."

There are no objections, or if there are, Connor is already upstairs by the time they are voiced.

…

Achilles sleeps fitfully, and though it is unimaginably painful to see the man who had guided him through his teenage years in such a weak state, he cannot bear to leave his side. Jamie bustles about, sorting medication for tomorrow, putting the room in a slightly more ordered state. Every so often, an assassin will stand in the doorway, and there will be murmurings from the hall.

Connor does not remember falling asleep in the armchair next to the bed, but in the morning his back hurts and he is awakened by Achilles' shaky breathing.

"Good morning," he says, forcing his eyes open. He yawns and stretches, trying to relieve the cramp in his back. Achilles' expression is one of disbelief and joy, mingles with sadness. His eyes are wet.

"You returned," Achilles croaks. "I knew you would."

Connor feels a slight stab of guilt. He is here, yes, but not for the reasons Achilles thinks. Regardless, he forces a tired smile onto his face, and nods. He cannot allow Achilles to pass away without closure. He cannot let the man who had done so much for him die with sorrow in his heart. He can do nothing for the man's other regrets, but he is lie to ease Achilles' passing.

"Things did not work out with Haytham," he says. "He cared more for his work than for me. He was more ruthless than I had believed. We began arguing a lot. You said, in Philadelphia, there was always a room for me here. And so I came back, after breaking things off. I am sorry I took so long."

Achilles' relieved smile is weak, but Connor is happy to see it. It's been far too long since he last saw him smile. He wonders, briefly, as to whether he'd smiled at all in the past few years. The thought is sobering.

"I will get some tea. You must be thirsty."

He gets up, and leaves the room with a smile. He sends one of the recruits down to the Aquila, to give the message that the sailors have a week's paid leave, which may be extended. When he returns, steaming teapot and cups in hand, Achilles has propped himself up against the headboard, and they play fanorona.

It is nice. Painful, but nice all the same.

…

Achilles sleeps a lot. Connor talks until his voice starts cracking, about many things. Cultural differences between the Iroquois tribes. Hunting. Sailing. But mostly, he speaks about the things Achilles taught him, and reminisces about the happier days when he was growing up in this house.

"I am glad you kept my room as it was," he says. "Do you remember after we got back form Boston that first time? I was so sick I could hardly move. You spent four whole days nursing me back to health. Of course, you snarked and complained the whole way through, but I could tell, feverish though I was, that you were worried for me, and that you did not really mind staying at my bedside."

Achilles' breathing is shallow, quiet wheezes, an almost unnoticeable rise and fall of his chest.

"When I nearly broke my leg, that time you taught me to ride, I never wanted to so much as touch a horse again. I did, of course. Partly because I needed to learn, but mostly because I wanted to be like you."

To think that he will never hear Achilles berate him for doing something ridiculous again. To think that he will soon cease to be. To think that there will be a new stone on that little verge outside. They are very sad thoughts.

He presses forward. He wants Achilles' last moments to be something joyful, remembering good memories. Thinking of better times.

"You tried to teach me how to cook, back when I was sixteen. Well, you tried before then, but my English was still lacking, and I did not like to listen. I burnt the stew, but we ate it anyway, and you did not complain because it was the first time I made a meal that you considered edible."

He wonders if he's imagining Achilles' breathing, so shallow and slight it is.

"When you gave me that uniform, to celebrate my captaincy of the Aquila, I was so happy. It was almost as wonderful as when you gave me my assassin robes. I still wear the uniform. It is on the Aquila at the moment, but rest assured I take good care of it. It is one of my most treasured possessions."

He grasps Achilles' hand, and is surprised at how cool his skin is. He checks the artery in the old man's wrist, and is rewarded by a pulse so slow and sluggish, it may as well not exist. He isn't sure if it really is getting slower, or if he's panicking.

"Jamie?" he calls, mouth dry. "I think it is happening!"

Everything is a little blurry after that. Jamie enters, and does something that Connor doesn't pay much attention to. By the time Jamie has nodded, sadly, and puts a hand on his shoulder (and ghostly hands slide over his skin, under his clothes, like they do in his nightmares), there are others in the room, all looking solemn and speaking about something or other.

He wonders how it is that Unionists bury their dead. Do they also wait ten days? Do they give their loved ones tools for the afterlife? Who washes and dresses the body?

Someone gently takes his hand from Achilles, and he lets himself be lead to the kitchen, and a steaming cup of herbal tea is soon set in front of him. Duncan starts talking about vigils and someone is sent to fetch Father Timothy.

He isn't sure how he ends up helping carrying the body to the chapel, but he diligently sits next to the white-wrapped corpse for a whole night, candle beside him. Father Timothy and Duncan stay with him, which is nice of them.

"Nobody should be alone at a time like this," Duncan explains, kindly. "Not even a dead man."

…

The funeral is a quiet affair.

He has to dig through what feels like his entire cabin on the Aquila to find clothes that are suitable for a Unionist ceremony. The jacket is a brown so deep it is nearly black, though he does find black breeches and a necktie.

Still, the chapel is packed, and there is hardly enough room on the little grassy verge outside the manor for everybody. That, at least, is nice.

He stays by the fresh grave longer than anybody else, and lets himself cry only when he is finally alone, when he has nothing else to think about except for the fact Achilles is not here any longer.

When he has dried his tears, and feels a little better, he sings very quietly. It is difficult for him to remember the proper songs to send the deceased to the place beyond this world, but he tries his best, and offers small prayers to the spirits who have guided him this far.

He goes back inside, to pack his belongings and leave for the Aquila, but Stephane stops him on the stairs.

"Yes," Stephane says. "We decided this morning."

"Pardon?" Connor asks.

"Yes, we'll help you. With the slave trade sabotage. Simply tell us when and where you need us, and we will be there."

"I do not know what to say," Connor says, after a moment of struggling. "Thank you."

"You may be a Templar, but your heart is in the right place," Stephane says, and Connor can hear the unspoken explanation "you'll see sense soon enough".

Still, it seems to him, in this moment, that despite the loss of Achilles, everything is all right.

Everything is all right, and it will continue to be so. That, Connor is sure of.

Re: FILL 41/41 (part 2 of actual ending)

[(Anonymous)]

This was heartbreaking...Achilles ;_; I am glad the recruits are okay and willing to work with Connor, possibly help him see the truth