A/N: Thank you guys so much for showing your support for this story! For being so faithful, here is the first chapter.
Also: Connor will continue to make appearances in each chapter, so we'll get some Connorline action often enough. And French dialogue will continue to be written in italics.
And I should warn you, there will be issues of immigration and race in this story, so there will be sequences of dialogue where it's not so pleasant.
Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Ubisoft, so please don't sue.
Chapter I: London's Finest
Aveline decided from the moment that Gerald ripped her away from Connor, that she would do her absolute best not to run into him while she was alone, or even in the midst of others. He unsettled her greatly with how much power he wielded in his hands and his eyes. If he wanted to, he could have broken her slender neck with just a slight movement of his arm.
"Why did you go into his room? He is nothing but trouble, like the rest of them," Gerald told her, escorting her down the hall.
"I didn't. He grabbed me and pulled me inside. He thought I was one of the women he was expecting."
"Connor Kenway is not to be trusted. He's known for flirting unashamedly with women, though he has an intended already."
"Then he's not a man at all. He's just a boy," she muttered, trying to cool the heat in her cheeks. She couldn't believe that she was almosttaken by his handsome appearance like a fresh-faced teen, and here she was on the verge of being two and twenty!
"Exactly. And the last thing I would want to happen to you is a scandal involving his name. He will go without punishment and you will be deported to France or reduced to working in a brothel."
Aveline shuddered at the thought of using her body to earn a means of living—if the wages even were hers to keep. But as was the case in Paris, when a woman was without a husband or a modest way to take care of herself, if she didn't want to starve in the streets, she had to use her only resource. "Who is his intended? Surely he doesn't care about her a great deal if he's willing to put his hands on another woman."
"Her name is Lilith Adams. When her father passed, her mother inherited all of his earnings and estate from his steel-working mills. If Connor were to marry her, they would be one of the wealthiest and influential couples in London. His father neither approved nor disapproved of their courtship, and his mother frowned on the relationship, since the girl is boring and has no substance, as she put it the day she met Lilith."Aveline wondered what this Lilith Adams looked like, since her own appearance did not strike Connor Kenway that much, if at all.
Gerald stopped in front of a door and opened it for her. There was a dimly lit candle on a nightstand, and an empty washbasin in the middle of the floor. "You can change into your uniform here. Leave your clothes folded on the stand and someone will wash them and have them ready for your departure for the evening. Madame Ziio will be expecting your assistance shortly." And with that, Gerald left her alone.
After closing the door and locking it for good measure, Aveline began loosening the back of her mint green dress, all the while thinking of how drastic her life would change now that she was living on her own.
With both of her parents inept, she had to fend for herself. The registration assistant informed her of the closest local housing developments where she would be with other women and off of the streets. She had already been assigned a room and a bed, and she was promised such every night as long as she paid the small fee for keeping it. She wondered how many of the other women serving the Kenways lived there, or if they had family in London to stay with.
Lingering no more than a few seconds, Aveline stepped into her maid's outfit, tightened the bodice, and stepped out to return to Madame Ziio.
She was still sitting in the chair when the younger woman knocked twice. "Come in." Aveline entered quietly and closed the door behind her.
"I'm sure Gerald let you know that we're throwing a small gathering of friends tonight, at my son's behest. He's the most sociable of the family. You'll have to help me up; my body is not what it used to be." She approached the older woman and carefully helped her up by her hands before holding her steady by the waist. Madame Ziio walked slowly towards her private washroom with a slight limp on her right side. For a woman who looked to be no older than forty years, she moved about like a much older woman.
Aveline wanted to ask her what happened, but it was neither her place nor her concern. "Before I knew I was pregnant with Connor, my village back home was burned down by colonists. When I was trying to escape, a wooden beam fell on my leg, and I haven't been able to walk the same since then. And Connor was a difficult child for me to carry. He caused me to bleed and bleed until he finally decided he wanted to come out. Haytham was terrified that I would not have survived the delivery. But here I am. Broken and older than I'd like, but here nonetheless." Her washroom was painted the same color as her bedroom, with a rack for fresh cloths and scented oils. Ziio began to loosen the ties of her dress, and Aveline was quick to assist in sliding the dress down her shoulders.
Her injury aside, Madame Ziio was a sturdy woman, her bone and muscle hardened by her previous life in North America. It was a strength that she not only could see in her frame, but also feel by her very presence. Though Connor had scared her to her bones, he possessed the same spirit.
"Pull the lever for the warm water," she instructed and Aveline did so, watching the faucet fill the large tub, slowly but surely. "Help me inside." She linked hands with her and helped her into the white basin. The Native woman let out a relieved sigh and closed her eyes. "Not a day goes by when I'm reminded of what happened that day in my village. People were screaming in fear and anguish, there was fire everywhere; bodies littered the ground that was no longer sacred. And then my husband decides to bring me here, close to my son's birth date.
My friends and family are nothing but a bittersweet memory in my heart. I've chosen to forgive Haytham and his people for what they've done, but that doesn't mean I've forgotten."
Aveline remained speechless, having nothing to say (for even if she did, Madame Ziio wouldn't have understood). She had never really heard what had been happening in the United States when she was back in Paris, except that they were being torn in two by legal slavery, and that was some years ago. But she would have never guessed they were mistreating and killing innocent people.
Once the tub was full, Aveline stopped the water and began to loosen Ziio's braids, allowing her thick, raven-colored hair to ripple and fall down her shoulders. No doubt, when Master Haytham first caught sight of her, he was mesmerized by her dark, exotic looks.
Aveline went for the soap—which she knew to be imported from °Marseille—and dipped it in the warm water before she carefully tended to the skin on her shoulders and back. "Your sister was gentle as well. I appreciated her kind soul."
"Merci (Thank you)—uh…" she stammered, embarrassed that she didn't know the English term.
"It's alright. I've met enough French speakers in my life to know you're saying thank you. Not all English speakers are ignorant of other languages." Smiling, Aveline continued to lather the soap into Madame Ziio's hair and soon after rinsed it out.
Once she had soaked long enough, Aveline helped her out of the tub and dried her off carefully before helping her step into her undergarments. Nudity had never really been a problem for her, considering she had tended to children younger than herself back in Paris. However, they were allgirls; male nudity, whether it is just the chest or the whole body, she preferred not to ever see in her lifetime.
Hélène once inquired about this, and admitted to having seen a few nude men—and on purpose, too. Aveline immediately thought the worst of her older sibling, but her fears were quickly cast aside once she revealed that she had been passing by the window of a lumber factory and the workers were in the middle of changing clothes before returning home. When the younger Grandpré daughter said otherwise, Hélène reminded her that if she ever were to marry, male nudity would become a sight she quickly grew accustomed to.
Aveline had hoped that she could go as long as she could without being married, perhaps eight or nine and twenty. But she did not wish to look after ill-mannered children and adults her whole life to ensure her safety and future.
Sighing quietly, her mind returned to the moment at present, and began twisting the Native woman's hair into two neat plaits before wrapping them around one another and pinning them to the base of her neck with a diamond clip. The small, yet spectacular hair ornament complemented her pale blue dress beautifully in contrast with her rouge-colored skin.
"You work quickly and quietly, just like your sister," her madame reminded her. "So you must be a quick learner. I will teach you the English language every day, little by little. Hélène was able to speak it well enough in three months."
Aveline was speechless; it would have cost her more than she wished to learn it in a school or by a tutor. "Merci, madame," she said quietly.
Ziio offered her a warm smile before she inclined her ear to the activity just a level below them. "I do believe our guests are here."
xxxxx
Upon descending the stairs carefully with Madame Ziio, Aveline knew that she was being watched. A creeping feeling entered her mind the moment her booted foot hit the marble floor. There were at least a dozen guests there, not one seemed to be paying her any mind, but she wascertain someone was looking at her.
Connor was engaged in conversation with a dark-haired woman, not much older than herself, and the several other guests that were male paid her no attention as she maneuvered her way through the crowds with Madame Ziio on her arm.
As they passed by, each guest said a proper greeting before returning to conversation, until they reached Master Haytham.
He seemed neither pleased nor disgusted by the presence of his wife, but the glint in his eye spoke volumes to Aveline, though she was not the one who caused such a reaction. "Evening, Ziio." He placed a firm, chaste kiss on the back of her hand, his eyes never leaving hers. "I trust this girl is treating you with all the respect and care you deserve."
"Yes. She's exceptional at her duties. If I ever have a cause to complain, I will inform you." He nodded once, and gave a dark look to the young Frenchwoman before he resumed his conversation with one of the guests.
When it came time for Ziio to address her son, Aveline had thought nothing of it until they were just a few feet away from him. Her heart sank into the pit of her empty stomach when his intense gaze was shifted from the girl to his mother. She prayed that he ignore her, like all the other noblemen back home.
"Son," his mother addressed him.
He took her hand in his and kissed it tenderly, as his father had just done. "Mother. Your presence makes all the other women look rather pale," he said with a grin. Ziio reflected the same, and a sort of warmth enveloped them for a brief moment and was over as she turned to the young woman.
"Madame Kenway, it's always a pleasure to see you," she said with a pleasant smile. There was a refined beauty about the Englishwoman, and no doubt with the way Connor stared at her, she was the Lilith Adams that Gerald had told her about.
She was taller than most women Aveline had seen—and many had remarked that she was a stately young woman herself. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a neat bun, making the sharp angles in her cheekbones that much more apparent, and her ocean blue eyes were still yet lacked the luster of youth and tenacity. Connor had remarked that her lips were too full for his tastes, so it was no surprise to her that his intended barely had any—narrow and thin, like a small bird.
Aveline stifled her grin, and looked away for a moment when Lilith's fair voice was directed at her, "And is this Hélène's replacement?"
"Yes. This is her younger sister, Aveline." The French girl stood tall and met Lilith's unwavering, cold stare.
"They favor a great deal, though the other girl didn't have the audacity to stare." And with that, Lilith turned her attention back to Connor, whose eyes were still focused on Aveline as Ziio began to pull her weight towards the dining area. She glanced at him quickly and returned her attention to the Native woman.
"I know you can understand everything I say, so I will inform you now that I don't favor Lilith Adams a great deal, if at all. She has a black heart, like the rest of these people," Ziio informed her just above a whisper.
Aveline had noted how quaint and formal the guests were. They barely touched, barely smiled, and barely laughed. How they could thrive in such a cold environment without warmth and laughter to enrich their lives, she couldn't fathom. Back home, though poor, everyone in her neighborhood laughed easily, loved easily, and were quick to embrace one another as if they had gone months without seeing each other.
Once Madame Ziio was seated, Gerald called her into the kitchen to wash her hands and prepare to serve a portion of the dinner party. Missus Ingalton, the eldest maidservant and apparently the utmost authority among them, was giving orders to keep the tea hot and make sure that wine and water glasses stayed full the entire night.
She was a short, squat woman with graying hair in a neat ponytail and a pair of wide, gray-blue eyes. One of the younger maidservants stuck close to her side, and sported a similar appearance, albeit more slender with dark red hair and freckles. Aveline assumed that was her daughter.
Their eyes met, and the red-haired girl frowned slightly before she busied herself in conversation with her mother. Somewhat confused, she filled the tray with the baskets of bread and returned to the dining room, which resembled a large hall with a table capable of seating sixteen. She had been given the task of serving the Kenway and the Wilmington family. While they were busy in conversation, she placed a basket in between each person, and while doing so, the feeling of being watched returned.
Slightly nervous, she stole a glance in Connor's direction; he was busy conversing with a broad, fair-haired fellow with thin lips and icy blue eyes. So as not to raise concern, she recovered from her unease and returned to the kitchen to retrieve the actual meal. Gerald looked to her expectantly, and right away, she wanted to tell him that she felt like she was being watched, but decided against it. Already, she knew he was protective of her, and she didn't want to cause any trouble.
"Easy enough, no?" he asked with a smile.
"Yes. Though I don't think Connor's intended likes me—or my sister."
"That's just English custom: to be very refined and formal. So try not to take it personally," he assured her as he placed the covered dishes on her tray. Aveline carried it with two hands, seeing that the main course was much heavier, and returned to the table.
This time, the yellow-haired man was staring directly at her, watching her every move. She hesitated to move closer to the table once their gazes met, yet she pressed on, swallowing the lump forming in her throat. His eyes were vastly cool, yet piercing, much like Connor's. She felt exposed and naked under his scrutiny as she placed the tray on the table and began setting each dish in front of the Kenway and Wilmington family members.
I should do this quickly, so that I can return to the kitchen and away from Connor's friend she thought. When it came time for her to serve his parents, they continued to ignore her as they listened to Master Kenway speak of his travels to the Far East. However, their son kept his eyes fixed on the exotic beauty making her steady approach. As she came close, he returned his focus to Connor, and she calmed immensely as she placed the tray before him, and removed the lid.
"I'd like more wine, please," he told her. His voice was surprisingly baritone, and quite pleasant on the ears, but that did not mitigate her wariness of him.
"Oui, monsieur (Yes, sir)," she said quietly, and took the bottle and began pouring it into his nearly empty cup. Just as she finished, she felt something warm skim her inner thigh, and nearly dropped the bottle in shock and embarrassment. Thankfully, no one had been paying attention—
Except Connor. His face was derived of emotion, enigmatic even. But he had seen what transpired. Hurriedly, she placed the bottle on the table and exited to the kitchen, trying to mask her shame behind indifference. Gerald hadn't noticed her change in demeanor and instead asked her to look after Madame Ziio, should she need anything.
I would rather stand in the shadows for the rest of the evening than deal with Connor's friend again. Has he no discretion or shame in touching a woman he doesn't know or claim? she asked herself, discreetly standing poised behind the Native woman, who seemed to have no problem feeding herself.
Once the family had finished dinner, they retired to the main library for tea and small tarts made from fresh fruit and sweet cream. The older guests grouped together and the younger ones opted to sequester themselves off in the smaller study area.
Missus Ingalton assigned Aveline (to her behest) to the room with the younger party attendants, to pour their tea upon request and make sure that the tart plate stayed full.
As she was quickly growing used to, the three affluent persons in the room ignored her as they carried on in conversation that she personally found quite dull.
However, Connor could not mask his displeasure at the static nature of their dialogue; his eyes said it all as he lingered in his own thoughts. Aveline found it interesting, only because he seemed to fit in so well with English culture. If their current line of discussion was so boring, why was he even present?
"It seems more and more immigrants pour into our country every day by the thousands. England is such a small country, we can only house so many people," Lilith droned, sipping her tea in modest amounts. The French woman rolled her eyes, attempting to drown out the conversation at hand as she stood close to the door. Connor's blond friend had already stolen a few curious glances her way, and she shifted from foot to foot each time.
Of course, they will talk about immigrants because I am in the room…pompous idiots she thought.
"I think it's refreshing to have more people from other countries settling here; it offers opportunity for economic diversity. Because of our alliance with India, we now have imported tea and spices to enrich our food. And they, in turn, receive a proper, solid education in European history," the blond man remarked, sliding the last of his tart in his mouth. The plate was nearly empty, so it was nearing her time to return to the kitchen to replenish them.
"You'll have to excuse me for a few moments, gentlemen," the tall brunette ceased the conversation immediately, gracefully striding towards the door. Aveline felt her brows nearly touch her hairline at the suddenness of her departure, and took her exit as a cue to leave the room.
Once she had departed, Connor's friend spoke, "Your new maid is quite interesting."
The Native wrinkled his nose, a glimpse of her face in his memory. "As a matter of fact, I find her appearance quite dull and uninteresting, Bernard."
"Oh, don't fib to yourself!" he scoffed, sipping his tea. "Surely, her appearance would garner the attention of any Englishman who hasn't stepped foot outside the country. Why, if she were of nobility, there'd be an entire line of suitors asking for her hand."
Connor quirked a brow, "Surely you would be one of those English gentleman in line? You fancy the unusual and... 'exotic'. No doubt that is why you've decided to take liberties with my mother's new handmaiden."
"No, I'm merely stating fact, Connor, and what does it matter what I do with her? She is merely property as long as she remains a foreign resident," he retorted. "I prefer a classic Victorian beauty: slender, regal and refined with a head full of gold curls, just like my mother."
The Native hummed quietly, determining whether or not his friend was telling the truth. He had never really paid the girl much attention after what occurred in his personal study, and he didn't intend to.
xxxxx
Once her tray was decorated with assorted desserts and a pot of tea, Aveline picked it up and headed back to the smaller study area, only to have her ears piqued by the conversation that had continued in her absence.
"….mongrels from foreign countries…"
"…European brethren lie down with barbaric people…"
"…education for the mind, not what occurs below the waist…" She heard bits and pieces of the conversation, but it was not wholesome or kind in its nature.
Frowning, she hesitated to push through the door and make her presence known. How my sister put up with this, I don't know, but she is a woman of strong will, like Maman. Wherever she's gone, I only hope she's alright, and faring in better conditions than this.
Aveline looked up the hall for a moment, then down the other way before she removed the lid for the steaming hot water.
Smiling mostly to herself, she mustered up a good amount of saliva and spit into the pot.
Surely they won't know the difference she thought as she replaced the lid, and then quietly walked inside with a more than pleasant smile on her face.
xxxxx
First of all, sorry for the late update! And there's the Aveline spunk we all know and love! I figured since she can't openly get back at them for insulting her left and right, she'd do it in subtle ways—and she'll keep doing it, because Aveline isn't a girl who takes being mistreated all that well.
We will continue to find out more about Aveline's sister with each chapter, as her disappearance has something to do with the main plot.
For the next update, I'm aiming for April 2nd. I can't make any promises, though. With just the household desktop, I don't have many liberties. Or it may come sooner than that.
Does everyone like this version of Connor? Or no? And many more ACIII characters will appear, as I stated before.
Don't forget to review and let me know what you think of this chapter! I'm always open for suggestions for the next installment.
°Marseilles: a real city located in Southeast France. They were well-known for manufacturing and exporting scented soaps in the 19th century. Wealthy families like the Kenways and Adams would have no problem acquiring such a luxury of the times.
Until next time, PM me or let me know your concerns in your reviews!