Braids
By: Sailorjj07
A/n: The second story in my set of "hair" themed fics across several fandoms. I thought it would be interesting to have Connor and Aveline discuss their unique hair differences.
Disclaimer: I do not ownm
"Talking"
'Thinking'
Actions
(Me!)
Aveline stared at the flickering flames of the lamps throughout her room, trying very hard not to get frustrated with her hair… again. Before, when she had maids that could help tame her unruly locks, the task was simple, as she and three other women could get her plaits finished in a timely manner. Now that she was no longer living such a privileged life, she was forced to do the work all on her own - which she COULD do, it just took significantly longer.
An uncertain, but firm knock on her door shook her from her more irate thoughts.
"You may enter," she said, moving forward to prop the mirror up against another pillow.
"Aveline, the old man wanted me to-" Connor began as he walked into her room, but the words died on his lips as he took in her unbound hair and the determined looked on her face.
"Oui?" She questioned, urging him to continue, but not yet looking up from the task at hand.
When Connor gave no response, she finally slowed her fingers, turning to look up into his curious brown eyes. He had his hands behind his back, but she could tell by the glint in his eye and the way he involuntarily took another step towards her that he either A. wanted to know what she was doing, or B. wanted to touch her hair.
She giggled in spited of herself - it was probably a little bit of both.
"Connor, did you only come in here to stare at me, mon ami?"
Looking a bit flustered, Connor shook his head in denial, "No, I did not. However, I cannot help but wonder how your hair goes from this-" in example, he twisted a strand of her curly, kinky hair around his finger, "To its usual appearance."
Smiling gently, Aveline pats the empty spot beside her on the bed, "Would you like to watch for a moment?"
Wordlessly, Connor nods, and sits in the spot she indicated. Aveline grins to herself, and finishes off the braid she had been working on, moving to a new section of hair.
"The key to it is starting off as neatly and tightly as possible. I start here at the very top of my head, and then work my way down. It is the manner in which my mother's people fashion their hair. It is easiest for me to have it like this, though it may take a while."
Connor nodded again, watching how quickly her fingers flew through her hair, creating a neat cornrow from her scalp and down past her shoulder. She began again, while he continued to observe her.
"It reminds me…" Connor started quietly, "Of my people."
Aveline paused in her braiding to look up into his somber eyes. She felt a tightness in her chest for him; an ache, at the mention of his home, but she nodded anyway, hoping he would say more.
"For my tribe, a braid such as my own, has meaning. It is a symbol of one's life; a story," Connor began, touching a finger to his own silky, straight hair softly. In response, Aveline reached forward and gripped Connor's single braid between her fingers. She especially loved the beautiful beads that hung on the end of it. Connor's gaze settled on her face and he found his cheeks growing warm, at Aveline's closeness.
"It is a work of art," she said simply, her smile returning. She released her grasp on his hair gingerly, returning to her own kinky hair, "Did your mother teach you?"
Connor shook his head, "My grandmother. In my tribe, both men and women must learn this art. It is taught to all the children at a young age so that by adulthood, it is easier."
"My mother taught me how to braid my hair. Of course my father wanted me to look like a proper French lady, so most times it was done up, or in curls."
"But… it… i-it is nice the way that it is now."
Aveline had the good graces to blush, "Merci beaucoup, cher. Unfortunately, I fear our enemies would use my locks to their advantage in battle."
Connor nodded, "That would certainly be a problem." Though his words were serious, he couldn't help an amused smile at the terrible image. He could just picture how Aveline would respond to her hair being yanked on in the middle of a fight. There would be hell to pay for the perpetrator, for sure.
"Connor… are you-? Why are you smiling like that?" She asked, feigning offense at the chuckle she knew he was holding back.
Connor tried his best to wipe the smile off his face, but Aveline could still see an amused twinkle in his eye, "I believe if a man dared to harm your tresses, he would lose his entire arm."
"Absolutely." Aveline said, an impish grin spreading across her face. The two settled in comfortable silence as Aveline continued to braid her hair, and Connor watched.
He never did tell her what Achilles wanted.
The End