Chapter 11's here! I remember someone asking if there were going to be more assassins. Well, here's your answer. ;)
Disclaimer: Although I own my OCs, AC and Disney belong to other people with A LOT more money than I have.
It had been a two months since Patrick's landing in Arendelle. Within that time, he had received multiple letters from people who had heard of his brotherhood and his skills. He was asked to take on a wide variety of tasks, from spying on merchants to simple escort missions and he had done these on an almost daily basis. He had yet been asked to kill, but he knew murder would be a necessary evil soon enough. It was good that he earned coin for services rendered, but the Templars seemed to be all too quiet for his liking. The only one he knew of was Carter Bingham, who seemed to be just as new in town as Patrick.
When he wasn't doing his odd jobs, Patrick came to the royal library to research. He found plenty of record books recalling the most minute of details of every ruler up to Elsa. He read through novels retelling the tales of the Old Norse gods. So far though, there was nothing that seemed to relate to the First Civilization.
Whilst Patrick would be studying, he would receive visits from a few patrons of the castle and even Queen Elsa herself would come around to aid his research. The only problem was talks of King Hallvor and Thor the thunder god would turn into conversations about anything else. Although the queen was shy at first, she eventually warmed up to him and the two had become quick friends. Their conversations wouldn't last for too long though, for Elsa was dutiful as both a queen and a sister. The more Patrick thought of Elsa, the more excited he would get at every research session with her. When she wasn't with him, he would anxiously wait for her arrival, trying desperately to be distracted by the books he found.
While he was bidding his time and doing research, Patrick began thinking of ways to convince Vinjar to join the ranks of the Assassins. He had grown close to the lad, and had learned very much about the boy. He, much like Elizabeth, wanted a life outside of the small kingdom of Arendelle. He wanted to see the world, especially the United States, a place where your birth didn't dictate your status in society. He also wanted to be a better man and forget about his past as a thief and a scoundrel. Patrick smiled at the prospect of introducing the boy to live and fight for a noble cause. Plus, having a local in his ranks would prove immensely helpful in learning about Arendelle in general.
He also noticed Vinjar had become much more friendly with Elizabeth, to Erik's dismay. Vinjar would flirt, but Elizabeth played hard to get which only further encouraged the boy's advances. Astrid was as adorable as could be and would help out in any way she could with both the Arneson's business and Patrick's work. By helping Patrick, she simply brought letters that were addressed to him, surprisingly never asking any questions of their contents.
The cozy family still didn't know Patrick's true affiliation and he planned to keep it that way. He didn't need or want these decent people to be involved in such a bloody and convoluted affair. It was difficult explaining his comings and goings though, and frequent run-ins with Princess Anna didn't help much either. Sometimes, Olaf, Kristoff, and the ice harvester's pet reindeer, Sven, would accompany her; at others, she would be completely by herself.
Now, he was in the tavern, wasting time away while lost in his thoughts, nursing a beer at noon. He had no requests, no jobs, and the Arnesons refused to ask for his aid. He probably would've put Vinjar to those tasks anyway. Although Patrick had grown soft toward the boy, the lad still needed to be whipped into good shape. A light tap on his forearm pulled him out of his thoughts and he looked down to see Astrid had another letter for him.
"Thank you, Astrid," he smiled and ruffled the girl's hair. She smiled back.
"What's the weird shape?" she asked. Patrick looked at her in confusion.
"What are you talking about?"
"On the back. There's a funny looking triangle on it." She flipped the envelope for him. Sure enough, the wax seal brandished a pointed triangle-like shape that was rounded at the bottom. The base was flared out in intricate flows and patterns. His brow furrowed and a pensive expression found itself upon his face at the sight of the Assassin symbol.
"Is it bad?" Astrid asked with worry.
"No," Patrick quickly changed his expression to comfort the young girl. "I just haven't received a letter like this in a long time."
"Okay," Astrid said and scurried off to see if Mary or Elizabeth needed help. Patrick took this chance to rush upstairs. Once he felt he had enough privacy, he carefully broke the wax seal and pulled the letter from the envelope.
Dear Mr. O'Hare,
Salutations to you, my brother. The brotherhood has heard of your arrival in Arendelle, but has yet to hear from you on your current progress. As such, they have decided to send two representatives to aid you in putting a foothold in Arendelle. I am one of these representatives. My colleague joining me is a spectacular recruiter and will be more than willing to assist you in teaching the novices not only in our philosophies, but also in our craft. I shall help in any way I can in this particular field as well.
I hope to help in establishing a foothold in the politics of Arendelle, as I have been asked to come as a foreign ambassador for the British crown. It seems rumors of the queen's powers have reached the ears of politicians, monarchs, and aristocrats alike around the world. It will be our duty to see that she is not to be used by these men for tyrannical purposes and that she does not fall under the spell of her own powers, both political and otherwise.
We will hope to arrive in Arendelle within the next week and we will get started on business right away. If you can help by working on either of the issues discussed in this letter, it will make our jobs that much easier.
Do not disappoint, Mr. O'Hare. The Mentor seems very set on influencing Arendelle, for there are sources that have led us to believe there are First Civilization sights and artifacts hidden somewhere within the lands. If we can keep away Templar forces, it should make our search for these ruins much easier.
Sincerely,
John Harrington
Patrick read the letter over and over again, still trying to decide whether to be relieved or frustrated. He was grateful to have help be sent, but he also noticed this John Harrington fellow did not seem all too pleased about this assignment. Then again, neither was Patrick when he was told to come here. The man still did seem arrogant and condescending though, not to mention he was British: a common enemy of both America and Ireland. Patrick became all the more annoyed at this discovery of his new "colleagues." He just hoped they wouldn't be too difficult. He began to wonder what they'd look like. As if God had heard his inquiries, a knock came from his door.
"Enter," he said, turning around to see Elizabeth.
"Hi, Patrick," she greeted shyly, "There's someone who wishes to see you." Patrick quirked one of his eyebrows. Was it another client? he asked himself. They usually contacted him by letter to ask for an audience. He slowly got out of his chair and walked with Elizabeth to the tavern. He descended the stairs and looked for anyone who might be possibly looking for him. He let Elizabeth lead him to a table where a young woman sat, staring out the window, her chin resting on her hand.
She was short and petite with auburn hair cut so short it barely passed her ears. She wore a white shirt under a leather corset and brown trousers with knee-high boots. Around her waist was a leather belt carrying a rapier, some throwing knives, and pouches. The buckle of her belt was shaped like the wax insignia of Patrick's letter. She also adorned a white, hooded mantle. To the unaware populace, her attire was quite odd for a woman to wear and some would've mistaken her for a boy from a distance. Patrick, however, knew exactly what her outfit's symbolic purpose was.
After Elizabeth returned to her duties, Patrick was left standing awkwardly in front of the unaware woman before him. Patrick loudly cleared his throat to get her attention. She looked at him with light, brownish green eyes.
"You must be Patrick," she said with a wide grin, shooting up from her seat and extending her hand.
"Indeed I am," he took her hand, "I assume you're John's colleague?"
"Indeed. His sister in fact. Charlotte Harrington, at your service."
"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Charlotte. So the order is actually concerned of my progress it seems?" Patrick asked.
"Indeed. Probably more than any of us want to admit," Charlotte piqued. "If you would remember from John's letter, they claimed there were rumors of precursor artifacts and ruins around here. I will say these rumors are very loose and more than likely an excuse to get us…in bed with the queen, so to speak." At the last comment, Patrick reddened to the point of it being impossible to conceal. She took notice, and audibly gasped.
"You didn't?" she asked with excited curiosity.
"No!" Patrick quickly defended, "I've merely spent time with her. I haven't courted her, much less slept with her, in the slightest. But I'll have you know she is quite the lovely woman."
"So I've heard," she replied, an impish tone rising in her voice, a playful smirk forming on her lips. "But you've met the queen?"
"Yes, I have, along with her sister and a few others associated with the royal family."
"Well it seems you are doing your job quite well already, Patrick. How close would you say you are with her?" Patrick considered the question for a moment. They had started to become closer every time he visited the library and he had noticed her slight advances towards him. His heart and body desperately wanted her, but his mind kept reminding him how terrible of a scandal it would be if he and the queen took things to the next level. The thought of it excited and scared him at the same time and he wasn't sure of what he was going to do about it.
"We have spoken to each other often when I visit the royal library to do research," he said. A satisfied smile came across the young woman's face at this new information.
"So you have gotten to know her quite well then? Perfect! That should make John's part of this much easier."
"What exactly is his part anyway?" Patrick asked with curiosity replacing his caution.
"As you know, he is an ambassador for parliament to the queen. If he proves successful in allying Arendelle with the British Empire, he might have a permanent residence here. Having eyes and ears in the politics of the kingdom will prove very useful for us."
"He doesn't seem all too excited to be here, though," Patrick countered.
"Although the air here is much…fresher than home, it is nowhere near as sophisticated for him." She huffed and looked out the window. Her expression became one of total surprise. Her mouth fell completely agape and her eyes almost burst from their sockets.
"Charlotte?" Patrick asked with concern. He followed her gaze and outside the window was Olaf approaching the inn with Anna in tow. The animated snowman burst through the door.
"Hi Erik!" Charlotte continued to be fixated on the living snowman that just entered the inn. Feeling like he was being watched, Olaf turned to see Patrick as Charlotte stared in dumbfounded disbelief. He smiled and wobbled over to Patrick's new companion.
"Hi, I'm Olaf and I like warm hugs!" he greeted, opening his stick-arms wide in invitation. The girl kept staring at him, lost for words. Patrick chuckled at his colleague's state of shock.
"Hello, Olaf," Patrick began, "This is a colleague of mine from London. Charlotte Harrington, this is Olaf."
"Hi!" he repeated, but confused worry came to his face, "Does she know how to talk?"
Patrick laughed, "She does. She's just not used to snowmen walking and talking about." Olaf gave a sheepish smile and giggle. His face then lit up and he dragged Anna to the table.
"This is Princess Anna of Arendelle, my aunt!"
"Your aunt?" Charlotte asked incredulously, the first thing she said since she saw Olaf.
"Well, Elsa created me, therefore making her my mom, which therefore makes Anna my aunt, right?" Olaf looked at Patrick, who gave a nod to answer the question. The Englander looked suddenly stunned at the logic the snowman presented them.
"So, the queen created you?" Charlotte slowly asked.
"Yeah," the snowman slowly replied.
"With what?"
"Her powers," Olaf said even slower, unintentionally sounding condescending. This revelation shocked Patrick's new colleague even further and he just looked on, a satisfied smile on his face. He looked up to see Anna quite entertained at the scene as well. His wink at her made the princess giggle in knowing playfulness. Elizabeth came by with a cup of tea for the newcomer, who seemed to not notice her at all. She still just kept staring at Olaf, trying to process the living snowman before her.
"Are you sure she's okay, Patrick?" he asked worriedly.
"Sure as rain," Patrick replied happily. "But alas, we have some business to attend to, so if the both of you would excuse us, please." Waving, Anna and Olaf left to converse with Erik at the bar. Charlotte held her gaze at the snowman. When she finally seemed to break out of her trance, she was tiredly overwhelmed.
"So the stories are true then?" she mumbled, staring at the table.
"They are indeed," Patrick confirmed, staring at the speechless girl.
"Are you to be alright, Charlotte?" Patrick asked, growing concerned for his colleague. Charlotte looked at him with an offended expression.
"I just saw a living snowman, and you ask if I'm alright?" she said in a flustered tone.
"Calm down," Patrick replied, grabbing her hand for comfort. "I was just as bewildered as you were. And if I were you, I'd get used to it."
"Okay," she said, then took a few deep breaths to relax her nerves.
"I do believe you're here for reasons that don't include staring at a snowman all day?" he asked.
"Oh, yes, of course," she stammered. "Our sources within the Templars have told us they are indeed in Arendelle as well. Have you had the chance of running into one?"
"Indeed, I have," Patrick scowled. "A cotton plantation owner by the name of Carter Bingham. I assume his cover up is to help establish trade with Arendelle, but we know he's here for other reasons."
"And what of any partners or colleagues?"
"None yet. I've seen Bingham in the market from time to time, mostly dealing in what I assume to be his cotton business. Princess Anna has revealed to me though that she is not too fond of the man, though. Something about him reminds her of that prince that nearly killed her and her sister."
"Oh, when we heard we were being sent here, John told me what an affair that was," Charlotte chuckled. "Many from around the world heard of the now former Prince Hans. The magic aspect seemed too far-fetched, but the rest was very believable. The Southern Isles have been scrambling everywhere to reassure the other twelve boys are not as…ambitious as their youngest."
"So was he reprimanded?" Patrick asked.
"From what I heard from my brother, yes. His title was stripped and was thrown in the dungeon to be forgotten. However, it seems he escaped captivity not too long ago. There have been no sightings of him yet, and the Southern Isles have since considered him an escaped criminal."
"Well, I'm sure the queen and princess have heard about this then?"
"Most likely," Charlotte assured. "But it wouldn't hurt to ask, would it?"
"Ask whom what?" someone else said. Patrick and Charlotte turned to see Anna standing right over them.
"Oh. We were wondering if you heard about the disappearance of Hans." Charlotte cheerfully answered
"Hans?"
"Of the Southern Isles," Patrick clarified. "The one that manipulated and tried to kill you and your sister so he could become king?"
"I know who you're talking about," Anna chided. "And no, I guess I haven't."
"Well, it seems the now former prince has fled the Southern Isles and is in hiding. His former kingdom has branded him a fugitive."
"Oh," Anna sat and thought about the news revealed to her moments ago.
"You didn't know?" Patrick asked.
"No," Anna answered distantly, still thinking. "I don't think Elsa knows either. It's definitely something she would've mentioned to me."
"That's interesting," Charlotte observed. "You'd think the Southern Isles would tell you two, of all people, about your attempted murderer being at large."
"I think I'm going to ask Elsa about it," Anna announced. With that, she called for Olaf, said her farewells and left, still looking pensive.
"Speaking of the queen," Charlotte spoke after the princess left. "Are you attracted to her?"
"What are you talking about?" Patrick blubbered in attempt to hide his embarrassment.
"Don't play dumb with me," she started. "When I mentioned getting in bed with the queen, your face went redder than a tomato. Of course, I didn't mean literally, but I can tell you want to."
"Well, when you see her, even you will understand why."
"Whatever you say, Patrick," she stared off to her left and furrowed her brow. "Who's that boy over there?"
Patrick turned his gaze to see Vinjar at a table nearby with an untouched lunch before him. The boy desperately tried to look distracted, but Patrick could see right through him.
"His name's Vinjar. I caught the boy trying to pinch some coin from a merchant. When I brought him and his sister back here, the owners agreed to house the two of them as long as the boy worked here. He does have potential, though."
"A former thief, eh? I always had a thing for the roguish type," she quipped. Before Patrick could say anything, Charlotte bolted to Vinjar and sat next to the boy, starting a conversation. She wasn't much older than the boy, but Patrick noticed the lass could seduce like a well-seasoned harlot. After some laughs, intimate staring, and brushes of flirtatious contact, Charlotte returned with a coy smirk on her face, dark seduction clouding her eyes. She made sure to sashay back towards Patrick, who looked more concerned than confused.
"Where did you learn to do that?"
"You pick up a lot of things when your mother runs a brothel," she answered nonchalantly, picking up her cup of tea and taking another drink.
"What did your father do?" Patrick then asked hesitantly.
"He was just another customer. I told you John and I are siblings, but I wasn't completely honest. We're only half-siblings. My mother and I look very much alike, minus her wrinkles, of course."
"Two bastards under one roof, eh?"
"Yes, now let's drop that subject," Charlotte snapped, changing to a serious expression, nearly slamming her cup back onto its platter. "I told Vinjar to meet me at the harbor tomorrow night. I have plans to take him other places from there, and I'd like for you to be in those other places."
"You're sure he'll come?"
"He'll come." Patrick raised a quizzical eyebrow, casting a look of doubt upon the young assassin. "What? He will!" she reassured, irritated with Patrick's uncertainty.
So, what do you think of Charlotte? Don't worry, you'll meet her brother soon enough. As usual, R.R.F.F. and ask me any questions.
Signing off!
-rjcolo
