Author's Notes: I often wondered why Edward was so against training his daughter, Jennifer, in the ways of the Assassin, and this little work of fiction is my way of explaining his reasoning. As I was writing this, my thoughts were that this adventure takes place in the time before Edward goes up against Roberts and after all Edward's friends have left this world. Because my memories of the game and the Oliver Bowden book are a little sketchy at the time of this story, I apologize for any continuity errors.
With that said, I hope I have adequately captured the spirit of Assassin's Creed, Edward Kenway, and the island of Nassau during the waning days of the Golden Age of Piracy.
Disclaimer: I make no money from this fond and inspiring past-time of mine. I do not own Assassin's Creed or Edward Kenway and his kin. However, I do lay claim to the members of the Robinson household, Nathaniel Coles, and the villains who antagonize them.
Summary: Nathaniel Coles is a courier who distantly admires a merchant's daughter. Catherine Robinson holds a secret fondness for the courier in her father's employ. Edward Kenway is the Assassin who just wants to rob another courier satchel. And, an ancient artifact is the unlikely key that entangles the three together.
Assassin's Creed: Loyalty of the Heart
Chapter 1
The Courier
Paradise. That's what the merchant recruiters he talked with in London had promised him. They claimed there was a vast beauty in the Caribbean that was unmatched anywhere else. They told him that the Bahamas had all manners of temperate climates, white sand, amazing azure skies, crystal waters, and a sea breeze that carried a never-ending fresh scent across the beaches. They, apparently, forgot to mention the humidity, the mosquitoes, and the pesky ocean life that washes in with the waves, only to dry up and die on the beaches, leaving a stench that never quite fades from one's nostrils.
Taking in a breath, twenty-two year old Nathaniel Coles removed his tricorne hat from his light-brown hair and wiped his brow, his hazel eyes squinting at the mid-afternoon sun. It really was a paradise here, but just not during this current heatwave. Two months ago, spring was finishing up its cycle, and there was still a dryness to the air that convinced him to sign on for another six months in the employ of the merchant guild as one of their couriers. Little did he know at that time that the humidity would roll in and take up permanent residence in Nassau.
But, for all the private mental griping that Nathaniel did about the weather, he truly had no regrets about staying. His first mission after taking the six-month contract had brought him to the home of one of the modestly wealthy merchants on the shores of Nassau. Alexander Robinson, was a wise businessman who made his fortune trading cloth and sugar and was always certain to provide adequate wages for the work that Nathaniel did for him.
While Nathaniel was grateful for the payment he had been provided, he worked hard to maintain his employer's good graces for another reason. On one of his first visits to the Robinson home, he passed by a small parlor where his eyes had caught the briefest glimpse of the one thing that made him endure the humidity, the mosquitoes, and the rotting sea life: Catherine Robinson, the twenty-year old daughter of Alexander and Sarah. While he had seen her briefly in passing moments since then, he had never been able to forget that first happenstance when they had no more time to spare than merely catching each other's eyes.
Even to this day, it felt like a dream sequence that would never fade. Catherine had been seated on a high-backed chair, a vision in dusty pink that Nassau could only replicate in the evening sunset during the aftermath from a gentle rainstorm. Nathaniel reminisced for a moment on the way her blonde hair had been pinned up in a loose bun atop her head, and the long strands that had fallen free tickled along her shoulders, daring his eyes to roam towards the smooth skin of her bosom. If he was a lesser man, Nathaniel may have done just that and kept his attention on the curves of her breasts, but at that moment, her eyes had shifted upwards from the book she had in her hands, and whatever breath had been in him had been expelled in a rush. Their eyes caught, and all he could see in that moment was the softest brown-shaded irises he had ever encountered. Her gasp was the only thing that had broken the spell he was under, and with an embarrassed apology, he hurried on his way.
Any other moments they had in passing were even less of a moment in time. Nathaniel's eyes were always drawn towards her presence, and a spark of excitement would course through him. However, Catherine could never offer anything more than a sparing glance before turning away, as she was always in the presence of her parents or the family's servant, Martha, who played the role of Catherine's chaperone.
Nathaniel sometimes wondered if pursuing Catherine was a fruitless attempt, as her father had an adequate suitor prepared for her months ago, but the man fell prey to a tavern fight. While her father had not brought forth any other suitors since then, it was foolish of Nathaniel to think otherwise, as a woman of Catherine's status could not possibly be permitted to share in a relationship below her wealth and especially not with one of her father's employees. Still, the thought of seeing Catherine – if only for a brief and distant moment – was motivation to remain dutiful to his employer's tasks and keep the correspondence moving between merchants.
Setting the tricorne hat back upon his head, Nathaniel adjusted his side-slung messenger bag on his shoulder. He prayed that the ocean breeze would do its job and send a wave of relief across the island soon. It had been three days now of this constant stifling humidity, and the mosquitoes could not possibly grow any larger with the amount of blood they had eaten from the islanders and visitors in that time. In fact, he was wondering how those buzzing pests had managed to stay afloat in the thick air, considering how heavy they must be with their over-stuffed stomachs.
Bloody parasites, he thought, meaning it in the derogatory way but couldn't help the smirk that crawled over his lips at the ironic truth of his unspoken words.
Then, his eyes caught sight of Catherine in the distance as she walked, and he could not help but stop his mental complaining. Her hair was up in its usual loose bun, her neck exposed to the air in the hope she could keep herself cool. The sleeves on the dress she was wearing stopped mid-way down her forearms, and Nathaniel briefly wondered if she was coping with the heat better than he had been. However, that thought was cut short as his eyes were drawn to her white dress that was patterned in burgundy trim, tailored from a material that he imagined would have become a set of curtains in someone else's hands. Yet, on Catherine, the patterns gave her dress an air of aristocracy, and it reminded him just how far down the status ladder his existence hung.
Unable to stop himself, he watched as Catherine moved throughout the vendor stands with her mother. They paused at some of the stands that sold trinkets, smiling and talking for brief moments with the owners of those shops, seeming interested in the goods on display. Then, the two of them made a deliberate pause in their wanderings when they reached a particular fruit stand, and the owner began to ramble quickly through his deals and specials, hoping to make a sale to a rich customer.
Nathaniel found himself captivated as he watched Catherine suddenly laugh at the jokes the vendor was putting into his sales pitch, and a flush of embarrassed heat passed over his cheeks when he realized he was staring like a lost schoolboy. However, that moment was short-lived as he caught sight of a thin man dressed in a torn and faded green-colored, long overcoat with a matching hat that hid the wearer's hair, obscuring the face in shadows. Suddenly, it seemed that time had stopped – but not in the way Nathaniel would have wanted. Moving as quickly as he could, he was just not fast enough to catch the pickpocket from taking Catherine's purse. In an instant, the green coat blended into the crowd, and he heard Catherine shout in anger. She spun as though to give chase, but her mother's hand strongly clasped the young woman's arm, and she was imprisoned to her place at the vendor's stand.
Running past Catherine and her mother, Nathaniel spared one quick glance at the pair. Catherine locked her eyes onto his with the softest look of gratitude in them, and a sensation of warmth exploded in his chest. Fueled by the hope that he could retrieve Catherine's stolen belongings and bathe again in her kind expression of thanks, Nathaniel sped through the blur of the crowd, his focus narrowed down to a long coat of faded green.
The Assassin
Moving about the rooftops, the Assassin paused in a crouch and let his eyes take in the streets of Nassau below him. The heavy, brown leather of his robes that hung towards the back of his legs had settled onto the tiles of the roof, making a slight clacking sound that could not be heard over the din of the busy marketplace. However, he had heard it, and he mentally scolded himself to be more careful next time, especially if he didn't want to get into another scuffle. While there were no guards along this perimeter, he couldn't guarantee that he would have this kind of freedom in the next vicinity of roofs, and he was hoping to avoid a conflict while he was lost in his ruminations.
Unfortunately, it seemed that getting into physical altercations was just his way, and he had a feeling today would be no different. He was growing restless again, despite the need he had for his own respite. It seemed that the longer he stayed with his own thoughts, the more he wanted to keep moving from them.
Rubbing his hand along his chin to give him something to do, the Assassin realized that the white hood upon his head had been a saving grace, reflecting off the heat of the sun. He was still unable to avoid squinting against the reflection it produced from the waters in the distance, but he could definitely see a dark cloud line hovering a number of miles out in the ocean.
Trying to forget about the humidity that had been suffocating Nassau these past few days, the Assassin had considered leaving his leather-bound protection on the Jackdaw in his captain's quarters more than once. Unfortunately, he knew that with the dangers he encountered, to do so would end in either painful injuries or death. And, right now, Edward Kenway preferred to be counted amongst the living.
His thoughts began encroaching again during this rooftop isolation, and he allowed them to enter while he was in a lull from the life he had come to know. The past few years had been hard-lived, and while there were some amusing moments in them, he wasn't sure he wanted to go through those kinds of experiences again. He had lost comrades and friends, and he still had his promise to Mary that he had made upon her death. He had decided that he had to see this through to the end and rectify whatever transgressions he had committed. He just hoped he would not see it through to his end. He still had a lot to atone for with his mistakes at Tulum, and he still felt he needed to prove to the Assassins that he had finally chosen to accept his place amongst them with the utmost sincerity.
In the meantime, his crew had needed a break from the hard pace of the last few months. While his island of Great Iguana could provide his men with all the women and rum they could desire, Edward was drawn back to Nassau, as it was a bustling hub of activity that was better suited for providing the most current communication.
Logical arguments aside, Edward could only hope that Nassau was the key to resolving the Templar problems sooner rather than later. He tightly held onto the hope that he would return to Caroline soon, and the faster this Templar business was righted, the faster he would be in her arms once more. It was through sheer willpower at the thought of seeing his wife again that he had distracted himself from the courtesans who were eager to part him from his hard-earned fortune. He wanted that money to go towards a future with his beloved Caroline, after what he hoped would be a happy reconciliation. He still had the dream that they would live in a fine home and raise children to bear her intelligence and his recklessness.
Edward smirked silently at the thought of children taking after the two of them. He tried to imagine young boys and girls outsmarting Caroline and himself while free-running over staircases and banisters. Unfortunately, the image was short-lived, as Edward knew he still had a long way to go before he could return to Caroline. He had promises to keep and Assassins who depended on him to right the wrongs of his own reckless youth.
With that thought, Edward felt the weary restlessness course through him once more. He was not an idle man, and while he could quench his annoyances and desolation with ale and rum, he just had no desire at this current time to waste away his day and night at the bottom of a lonely mug.
Standing up to stretch his legs, his eyes caught sight of purposeful movements through the streets below. A flash of pale green pushed through the crowd and following behind him was a man in a white shirt with brown pants and boots, a light tan jacket, and a dark brown tricorne hat.
Edward recognized the uniform of a merchant's courier, and as he watched the satchel bounce along the man's hip while he ran, the Assassin smiled beneath his white cowl. The restless youngster he was that still resided within the lonely man he had become finally had something to think about other than his own sorrows. And, right now, he liked the idea of pirating a courier's satchel. It was more than just the Reales that the courier carried. It was the secrets of the merchants and captains, and with such documents, Edward might finally get the lead that he had so desperately wanted on something related to the Templars in order to finish his work here and return to Caroline.
Skimming along the rooftops, Edward Kenway plotted a course parallel to his prey below, keeping his attention on the courier moving along the streets. His boots flew him from one rooftop to another, and the robes of his long coat floated behind him, catching the breeze that had finally picked up. Evening would be coming in a few hours, and with it Edward could smell the salt of that storm he saw out over the sea. The humidity was finally going to break, and it would be the perfect time to use a few stolen courier Reales to enjoy a much-delayed drink while he was reading through the secrets that the courier had been carrying.