I've always felt very disappointed Assassin's Creed Syndicate did little to no social commentary on the Victorian Era. There's a transexual character in the story that isn't explored (Ned Wynert), Evie doesn't face any sort of repercussions for being a woman, Henry isn't shown having much trouble being Indian, and Jacob's bisexuality is completely ignored in what could have been epic character development, of which there was none in the course of the game.
I still like the game, I just think they missed a lot of opportunities to explore the time period they decided to set it in.
Now, bear in mind I'm trying to portray Jacob's thought process at a very confusing moment, and despite his open-minded tendencies, he is still Victorian, and there's bound to be some friction between what he wants, what society wants and what the Creed allows. So I'll say many of the opinions and thoughts reflected on this story don't reflect my own.
A quick warning: English is not my first language, and I finished writing this at 5 in the morning and my mind is somewhat foggy right now. If you read anything that doesn't make much sense grammatically, feel free to tell me. I'll probably pulish the fic in the morning.
Thus said, enjoy and let me know what you think in the comments!
For the first time in his life, Jacob was speechless.
Well, not the first time. Actually, it was the second. The first time had been right after… right after Roth had…
He just had to go out with a bang, didn't he? Roth hadn't messed up his life enough already.
He could still smell the smoke on his clothes, could almost taste it on his lips… Jacob sighed, feeling numb and on edge, all at once. How long had it been, an hour, maybe less? Time seemed to stop after he left the Alhambra, as if he was existing in mind only, his body merely reacting automatically without paying attention to its surroundings and leading him back to the hideout.
Something snapped inside of him and he stopped dead on his tracks, staring at his reflection on a dirty storefront, and no witty remark would escape his lips.
Roth had kissed him.
Roth had kissed him. And Jacob had killed him.
Why did he have to kiss him? And why wouldn't it leave his mind?
It wasn't as if he had enjoyed it. Roth had turned out to be nothing more than a maniac willing to annihilate anyone or anything that stood in his way. He had disappointed Jacob, badly. He cursed out loud. Why did he have to trust him? Why didn't he stop and think about what they were doing sooner? In the end, it had come down to the only way out Jacob knew, the Assassin way. And just when he thought they were done, Roth just had to go and kiss him, unlocking all sorts of feelings and thoughts Jacob had buried deep within himself.
All of them seemed to fight for dominance in Jacob's heart. Confusion. Repulse. Fear. Shame.
The moment would play over and over in his mind, refusing to leave his head and let Jacob carry on with his life as if nothing had happened, as if Roth had just been another uninteresting target.
But he hadn't, had he? Jacob and him had bonded far more than what he had been willing to admit. He had felt a connection towards this eccentric man he had helped for far too long.
Maybe it was the way he spoke of him. How highly he seemed to regard him. No one had favoured him like that before. All of his life, he had always been second to Evie. Not even when he grew stronger and deadlier than her, she had been the one to take all the praise. Jacob knew his sister, and how her competitive nature had made her their father's favourite and had strained the relationship between Jacob and him. Even now, in the aftermath of his death, she had taken up their father's mantle and had to remind him of his failures and inability to stick to the rules, constantly. So Jacob had accepted the first one to point out his virtues and strengths and feed his ego, and had latched onto him, making their predictable falling out all the more painful. But that didn't explain why he felt so agitated about that kiss.
Maybe he knew, though. Maybe he knew and he just didn't want to see it.
Nonsense. It wasn't as if he hadn't kissed anyone before. He had kissed plenty of girls, since he was a teenager back in Crawley. Had gone far beyond kisses. In a small town like Crawley, he had even had a bit of a reputation among young girls, much to his twin's dismay.
But this time, it was a man. He had kissed a man.
Well, actually, said man had kissed him. But that wasn't important.
Why didn't he feel different about it? It wasn't normal. It wasn't natural. He was supposed to feel disgusted, to want to vomit and kick Roth straight to Hell. But he only felt numb. Why didn't he feel different, dammit!?
He remembered what people did to those men who were found in… intimate acts with each other, back in Crawley. Once, on his way to play with some friends when he was a kid, Jacob had come across a mob beating a man nearly to death. They had locked eyes for a moment, and for the first time Jacob felt afraid and remorseful about his future as an Assassin, seeing a victim of violence and not knowing whether he deserved it or not.
"All their kind deserve it" had said Jonah, when his friend told him what happened. "At least that's what my mum says."
He had forgotten that memory up until now. A childlike fear sprang within him as he wondered whether that meant he was one of them. If he could have been the one being beaten for being caught in a situation that eludes a mob's understanding…
He had never treated people with different… tastes badly. He had always judged character before a person's likeness to stick to society's rules. Hell, he had always been one not to hold any particular respect towards rules in general. He didn't judge Ned. He wouldn't have judged Roth because he felt attracted to him. He did judge him for his despicable acts and love for everything melodramatic that had pushed him to murder and be murdered in retaliation. And he did judge him for creating a chaos out of Jacob's life and planting the seed of doubt in his mind.
It wasn't as if he thought Roth was handsome. His scarred face and crazy eyes gave him an uneasy aura. But Roth had… something. Something Jacob couldn't explain. A passion, a determination he had rarely seen, and he had been willing to indulge Jacob instead of try to bring him down. Would he even call it attraction?
Jacob shook his head, disturbed about his string of thought. He was not… he could not possibly be…
And yet, when kissed by another man, Jacob had felt the tiniest bit of something he had never imagined possible: he had felt longing.
A chill went up his spine as he wondered what he was supposed to do now. He wanted nothing more than to scream and release all the tension building up inside of him, to curse at fate for putting Roth in his way and making him commit all sorts of mistakes and leaving him in confused desperation to understand.
That longing… it had not even been for Roth. Maybe for another Roth, for someone less maniacal, someone like him who would be there for Jacob whenever he needed him to. But not just that. That longing was for something in him that wanted to be awakened.
He thought of his parents. Would his mother understand? He had always wanted to meet her. Sometimes he felt part of the reason why his father would never accept him completely was because he blamed him for his mother's death. Evie had weakened her enough, and Jacob had been the one to make her meet her end. He felt like a child wanting to be comforted between his mother's arms, in the way his father had denied him. But what if his mother had been like Jonah's? He shuddered at the thought. A mother should protect her child from suffering, and not turn a blind eye at him being punished for feeling something he had no control over.
And his father? Always one to stick to the code. The Assassins fought for personal freedom and free will, and on that aspect he should, at least, support Jacob in his times of doubt. On the other hand, his father adhered to the rules but was not unbiased to the times they lived in. This new revelation, along with his contempt for his own son would make him roll on his grave.
And what about Evie? He loved his sister. A pain in the arse as she was, he loved her. And she… did she love him? He thought so. He hoped so. Would she love him if he were…? If he really…? She was their father's spiritual successor, after all. He wondered what she would say. How she would react. What he knew for certain was that she would be waiting to tell him off the moment he set foot on the hideout. And he wouldn't deal with that. Not now. Not today.
Thinking of Evie brought forth the memory he least wanted to relive. Damn everything that lead to this moment. Damn his father. Damn Roth. Damn himself.
They had been children, no older than ten. He had heard his sister talking excitedly to a friend about the new recruit their father was training, Adam. He had spied on them gushing on and on about his long dark hair and piercing black eyes and impressive strength and knowledge. He had heard about enough when he made his presence known and mocked his sister for having a crush, to her embarrassment. He had later shared this information with Adam himself, who had laughed along and told Jacob to ignore what his sister had said, because he already had a girl he intended to court.
Jacob had brushed off the little pinch in his heart after Adam had said those words.
Jacob had grown to care for Adam, regarding him as an older brother. Despite being several years his senior, he had treated him like his equal, and had praised his jumps and climbing skills, something his father never did. Jacob loved spending time with him and showing off new tricks he had learned, often doing cartwheels on the grass until the world spun around him too quickly for his young body. He enjoyed the admiration and the warm feeling on his chest while being around Adam. Sometimes he felt as though something was tickling him inside when they were together.
He stared harder into his own reflection, trying to discern a shed of hope that it would all go away in the morning, finding none. He was now truly seeing himself, who he was, even in those aspects he didn't even know he had.
His heart was racing while a thousand thoughts invaded his mind. He needed to calm down. He had to go back to the hideout. He groaned thinking about his sister's inevitable speech he would have to listen through and pretend to care about while she pointed out his every mistake. He had learned his lesson, though.
Man, had he learned a few things tonight.
A sudden thought irrupted in his mind. If he were to go to the pub and… test himself…
This was London, not little Crawley where everyone knew each other. No one had to know. No one would ever know.
It was insane, and it was wrong. Possibly in more ways than one. Jacob had ignored what he had to do long enough. He had to go back and face his sister and do the right thing. To end the Templar rule over the city at last.
He resumed his walking towards the hideout, trying to keep his more urgent thoughts at bay, at least for now.
But if he were to go to the pub tomorrow… if he were to…
No one would ever know.