Connor first became aware of the rain, the heavy drumming of the wind making the rain crash into the manor's roof. Then he was aware of the warm body resting beside him. As he woke more, Connor reached over and gently touched his fingers to Marcus' arm, wondering if he was awake as well. Marcus rolled over as soon as he felt the touch, then pressed his mouth to Connor's shoulder. "You're finally awake." Marcus wriggled closer to him, and through the dim light Connor saw his lover's infectious smile. Softly, Marcus kissed Connor then moved to mumble in his ear, "Would you like me to kiss your neck, Ratonhnhaké:ton?"

He said yes before he could even think. The way Marcus said his name made him weak and made his lower belly hot with lust. That was not helped by Marcus' lips on his neck and his hand traveling Connor's chest. Then that hand went down to his belly and lower still. It was not long before Marcus was sitting on Connor's hips and the two of them were moving in unison. If they had been any louder they could have drowned out the sound of the rain.

Once all was finished both of them were left breathless and hot. Marcus lay back down beside Connor, panting. Connor could feel his heart pounding in his chest and he took Marcus' hand to kiss the back of it. It had been a month since they first began having sex and it was still remarkable. Every time he was understanding more and more why Marcus had been as shocked as he was that Connor had not bedded anyone before then. "I wish you did not have to leave," he spoke honestly and suddenly.

"As do I," Marcus sighed. "But there's nothing we can do about that."

"You could live here."

"I need the money I get from the tavern, and that money's good at the moment. Even if that means only seeing you once a week." Marcus rolled onto his belly, propping himself up on his elbows.

"You could work here, at the homestead. Someone will surely have jobs that need doing."

"They are giving me more than they really should be at tavern and I need that money."

"You have said this before," Connor scowled. "Why do you need the money so much?"

Marcus pushed himself up and out of the bed. As he dressed, Connor watched him, momentarily distracted from his worries. Then Marcus returned to the bed and sat on it, and leaned down to kiss Connor.

"Why will you not tell me?" Connor was beginning to know Marcus' tricks. When Marcus tried to kiss him again, Connor turned his head so he could not.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton," Marcus murmured.

"You are keeping something from me."

"Only because it's not important."

Connor shifted onto his side and closed his eyes, choosing to ignore him. He felt Marcus kiss his shoulder again.

"Don't be like that," Marcus reminded him quietly. "We won't see each other for a whole week." When Connor neither replied nor moved a muscle, Marcus exhaled noisily. "Alright. I'll see you next Tuesday." After pressing another kiss to the side of Connor's head, Marcus got off the bed, pulled his shoes on and left the room. Connor relaxed only when he did, unable to stop wondering what Marcus would keep hidden from him.


Of course, Connor did not see Marcus again until the following Tuesday. Connor was in the stables, brushing down his gelding after having taken it out to the other side of the homestead early that morning. He had heard of a bear prowling uncomfortably close to Warren and Prudence's farm. Once having tracked down the bear, he had taken it down with moderate ease, he went immediately back to the manor. He heard Marcus and the mare before they had yet to move into the area of the stables. Listening instead of looking, Connor could hear the hooves move into the stall beside the gelding's. Not long after, out of the corner of his eye, Connor saw Marcus come into view. He refrained from smiling as Marcus tried to creep as quietly as he could, unaware that Connor's senses were sharper than that. When Marcus was behind Connor, his arms snapped around Connor's waist and hugged him tightly.

"Didn't even flinch," Marcus mumbled. "You saw me."

"It was a good thing I did. You do not know what I would have done if someone dragged me suddenly like that."

"Ah. You're not grumpy with me anymore?"

Connor turned around in Marcus' arms, keeping his lips flat and expression neutral. Marcus jutted his bottom lip out in a fake pout. "Don't give me that look. We get about a day together a week."

"Was 'grumpy' the correct word to use?" Connor asked him, still serious.

"It's more correct than you'll willingly hear me say."

Connor looked up, finally unable to keep his smile suppressed. Marcus, pleased with himself, pulled Connor back into an embrace. Arms around Marcus' shoulders, Connor returned it. After a moment, he could no longer restrain himself from saying anything. "I do not appreciate that you hide something from me."

"Don't concern yourself over it," Marcus pulled back and placed his hands gently on where Connor's shoulders joined to his neck. "Honestly, it's unimportant."

"Then why do you not tell me?"

Marcus seemed to make a swift decision. "You can't say you tell me everything. Most of your past I have no idea about."

"That may change your view of me."

Connor knew he had said the wrong thing when Marcus gave one huge nod. "Exactly!"

Letting out a deep sigh, Connor shook his head. "I cannot win with you."

"No," Marcus gave him a quick kiss. "You can't."

They lingered for a while longer around the stables as Connor finished tending to the horses. Marcus said he intended to aid him but instead sat on the ground in the sun, enjoying the warmth. "You should join me," Marcus suggested. "It will be too cold to do this soon."

Connor had a better idea than sitting in the dust. He left Marcus sitting there and went to the second story of the manor where he grabbed the old blanket draped over the end of his bed. Returning to Marcus, he smiled at the frown creasing his lover's brow. "What's that for?"

"You wanted me to join you," Extending his hand, Connor pulled Marcus to his feet. "Behind the stables are more private."

Marcus grinned at him, catching on, and began to walk that way. Connor chuckled as he saw Marcus had been sitting in dirt and proceeded to rub it from his ass, getting a grin shot back at him by Marcus. "Did you plan that?" Connor asked, his hand giving Marcus a squeeze before letting go.

"Perhaps. I'm quite devious when I want to be."

Connor rolled his eyes and hurried Marcus around to the back of the stables. Once there, Connor laid down the blanket on the grass and the two were soon enjoying the sun. Connor was on his stomach, propping himself up on his elbow to look over Marcus' face. Gently, with his finger underneath Marcus' chin, Connor tilted his head to face him. His thumb glided over Marcus' bottom lip as he smiled, then Connor leaned to kiss him. When they parted, Marcus' smile only lingered for a moment. "Do you think anyone will find us like this?" He asked the question as barely more than a mumble.

"If they do, what does it matter?"

Marcus closed his eyes. "You have no idea, Ratonhnhaké:ton. This sort of thing is half the reason I left England."

"No one can see us, and it is unlikely anyone will wander through here," Connor kiss him again. "Do not worry."

"Can you be a little more convincing than that?"

Connor grinned and as he kissed him again, more heatedly, moved to be on top of him. "I will show you how certain I am no one will interrupt us."

If anyone was in the near vicinity, they would have come to investigate. Since they were not interrupted once it was safe to say their secluded spot was exactly that. Afterward, sweaty and very naked, Connor lay back down beside Marcus with a grunt. "If I hadn't left England, at least," Marcus muttered breathlessly. "I would never have experienced that." Connor couldn't not laugh.

From where they lay, they could see the Aquila's masts and bunched sails. And when Marcus rolled onto his belly and lay his head on Connor's chest, Connor began telling Marcus about his adventures on the ship. Immediately Marcus was captivated. He listened intently as Connor spoke, not minding that Connor idly braided a lock of Marcus' hair as he did so. Eventually, when Connor began to run out of the most exciting of his tales, Marcus propped himself up and met Connor's eyes. "How have you done all of this?"

"You may not want to know."

Marcus held Connor's hand between the two of his and kissed his fingertips. "I want to know everything I possibly can about you."

"Do not be…" Connor closed his eyes, knowing that this time would come eventually. "Just do not be angry." Marcus had known that Achilles was Connor's mentor, but know he explained exactly what the old man taught him over the years. He explained what the Assassins were and what they stood for. He told Marcus of how he had killed people, too many people in some cases. Marcus was sitting up now, staring at his hands. When they slipped into silence, Connor felt deep and familiar remorse low in his stomach. He then pushed himself upright, bringing himself very close to Marcus. "Tell me what you are thinking," Connor then softened his voice. "Please, Marcus."

"I don't know what to think," Marcus answered, lifting his gaze again. "I really don't."

"I would never harm you."

"That didn't ever cross my mind. You mentioned that this… Templar, Haytham, was your father?"

Connor nodded. "He was British, it was my mother who was native." A few weeks ago they had already had the conversation about what happened to Kaniehtí:io, but only a few minutes ago did he reveal what happened with Charles Lee. It was bizarre to explain to someone everything that had happened; it was like Connor admitted it to himself just as much as he did Marcus.

"What happened to him?"

This was another difficult explanation. As he spoke he felt the ghosts of Haytham's calloused hands close around his throat once more and the blinding red rage which made him plunge his blade into his father's throat. Regret was not the right word for that moment, for he knew better than anyone that it had to be done, yet it still somehow felt like a loss.

Instead of speaking after Connor fell quiet, Marcus pulled Connor's head down to his chest and held him tightly. Connor could feel Marcus' chin rest on top of his head and he let himself relax, melting into Marcus' embrace.

"If I am honest," Connor mumbled against him. "I do not know how to feel. It is hard to be happy, after everything."

Marcus pressed a kiss against Connor's hair. "'And none can be called happy until the day when he carries his happiness down to the grave in peace.'"

"What is that from?"

"Oedipus the King. My father found a translation of it as soon as he could. The Ancient Greeks had the right idea; it's hard, while living, to be happy because so many things go wrong."

"That is a very sad outlook," Connor looked up, their faces only inches apart.

"It is, but that's life."

"It does not have to be."


Autumn became a bitterly cold winter. At the height of the snowfall, Marcus struggled to be able get to the manor. Somehow he still managed and Connor adored how determined he was. Marcus laughed it off but Connor saw just how much he wanted to get his once a week with him.

During these winter months they had a particularly close call with Dr. Lyle White nearly walking in on them. They were not having sex, not quite, but they were relaxed together in the sitting room. Under the blanket their hands wandered and mouths lingered over both skin and the other's lips. Marcus was kissing Connor's throat then his collar bone, then opened his shirt and kissed the skin on his chest. Soon Marcus would go down to his stomach and lower. Connor, who would usually have known someone was inside the manor immediately, was so distracted by Marcus and the heat low in his torso he did not hear. It was not until, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Doctor appear in the doorway. As soon as he did, Connor threw the remainder of the blanket over Marcus and sat up straight, staring at Lyle with as much rebuking as he could. At the angle Marcus was and how much he was hidden by the back of the divan, it was likely Lyle had been unable to see his face.

"I was dropping off the salve I borrowed," Lyle tried not to smile. "I didn't realize you had company of the female sort, apologies. I will leave the salve in the kitchens. You, Connor, you have a good evening." He winked before disappearing.

Marcus began laughing, quietly at first, and Connor kneed him softly to hush. Connor listened intently, waiting until he was certain that Lyle was gone and that the manor's front door had been closed. Connor leaned back, breathing out a sigh of relief and Marcus laughed louder now, pulling the blanket off his head. His hair was tousled and his grin wide and stunning. "Do I truly look like a woman?"

"I do not think he really saw you," Connor breathed out, "Just what you were doing."

Pushing himself up to sit with Connor fully again, Marcus glanced over his shoulder to the doorway.

"Lyle is gone," Connor reassured him. "What do you think he would have said?"

"If he knew I wasn't female? I'm not sure, I don't know him personally. If he and the others love and respect you as much as they say, who knows, they may accept it. From my experiences, though…"

Connor's hand went to Marcus' thigh and gave it a squeeze. Not long after that, they extinguished the candles downstairs and made their way up to Connor's chamber –which, truth be told, they were more likely to call 'their' bedchamber. Undressing in the freezing winter night's air, Marcus gladly crawled underneath the covers. Connor stripped more slowly, wondering aloud, "What if someone walked in now?"

"While you are getting into bed? It's a chilly night, you could say that you're keeping me warm," Marcus patted the space beside him. "Or at least you're about to keep me warm when you actually join me."

"That is lying."

"Not exactly. I am cold and you're still standing there, not in the bed with me."

Connor's jaw clenched and he stood there still, naked and staring at nothing.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton, nobody will come into this room, let alone at night." At another urging of Marcus', Connor finally slipped into bed. The sheets were cold but Marcus was invitingly warm.

"You leave in the morning," Connor pointed out.

"I've lost count of how many times you've said that to me."

"Because it is always truth."

Marcus kissed him tenderly. "Someday, perhaps it won't be the truth."


Winter passed and it was well into spring when, one Tuesday, Marcus simply did not turn up. The first time this happened, Connor occupied himself with menial tasks and convinced himself that Marcus was being held up somewhere on the road. When it became apparent that he was not merely late, Connor told himself that he would just have to wait until the next Tuesday and ask what happened. But that next Tuesday, too, Marcus never arrived.

On the third Tuesday, Connor mounted his palomino and rode out in the direction of where Marcus would always come and go from. He had talked enough to him to know where the tavern was he was employed at. If Marcus no longer wanted to be his lover, then Connor would make him say it to his face instead of having Marcus avoid him. If Marcus was simply unable to go or was on route that Tuesday, Connor would quickly find out.

It was a small settlement, with a dozen houses and a few more neighboring farms. Amongst these houses and beside the most trodden of the roads, was the Goat's Greed, the tavern Marcus had only ever mentioned with a cringe. It was a rough place but Connor had seen, and been in, worse. Tethering his gelding to a post, Connor strode inside the tavern. It was early afternoon but a few men, mostly loners, loomed over their mugs of ale. Connor moved passed them to the bar, where a disgruntled, potbellied middle-aged man glowered at him. "What'd you want?" He sneered.

"An Englishman by the name of Marcus Holmes works here."

"Well if you know where the little sod is, I'd like to know to!"

Connor remained calm. "You do not know where he is?"

"Left a few Tuesdays back, like always, but never returned. Bet he's run off, probably stole somethin'."

"Are his possessions still here?"

The man eyed him suspiciously. "What's it to you?"

Connor knew everybody in the tavern was keeping half an eye on them. He also knew that there were four different exits for him to take if this encounter turned nastier than it was about to. Without warning Connor drabbed the front of the man's stained vest and pulled him in close, activating his hidden blade and held it to his chest where the man could still see it.

"Alright! Alright! I've a key," the man was sweating instantly and fumbled with his jangling pocket. "Upstairs, last one on the right. Has a wonky doorknob."

Connor took the key and moved away. He followed the instructions and found the door, using the old key to unlock it. It creaked as he pushed it open and stepped inside. Although it smelt of ale and sweat, it also smelt of Marcus. It was not much to look at; a small bed in the corner, a dirty fireplace and a chest of clothes with the lid propped up. All looked normal in the room. It was only when Connor turned around that he saw something on the back of the door. A note, scrawled with watery ink, was stuck to the wood with a knife. Connor yanked the note from the door and read it over many times, hot rage boiling up in his stomach. He left Marcus' chamber, slamming the door behind himself and crunching the paper in his fist. Connor would not rest until he got Marcus back; and killed whoever had written that wretched note.


Does anyone have a guess as to what's happening?

Also, Oedipus the King by Sophocles was first translated in 1759, so they would have, potentially, had access to it (I am pushing history a little here but it's fan fiction). So the translation would be different to the copy I have studied but that also doesn't really matter because the general idea is the same, and so is the theme talked about here.