Misguided

by Mme Curie

Connor seeks to strike a balance between managing the battle against the Templars and making room for love. Contains adult themes including violence and sexual interactions between characters. Takes place some two years after the events of ACIII.

21. Chapter 21

This chapter may contain spoilers for Assassin's Creed 4 Black Flag

This chapter has had content removed to comply with this site's policies on Mature Content. Please see my profile for the location of the unedited version.

Once the Aquila is clear of the New York harbor, Connor turns her south to begin their long journey to Aveline's meeting place. The strip of land visible on the horizon shrinks until it is only a faint, misty line and then it is gone completely, leaving nothing but a sea reflecting the fiery sunset as it blazes its way down to join the land beyond the edge of sight. Catherine and Anika spend a large portion of time watching the city recede into the distance and recounting the tales of their journeys. When they are done they sit in silence, arm in arm, watching the activities on the ship. The wind blows Connor's and Faulkner's jackets about, pressing them against their legs and billowing them out behind where they stand by the wheel of the ship. Occasionally the sound of voices, both spoken and sung, reach their ears, carrying with it the heartbeat of the ship. Unlike the Assassins who had become regular fixtures on board the Aquila, the two women and Sonehso:wa are the foreigners in this tiny, mobile country.

Catherine offers to show Anika around the ship before the light is completely gone and together they walk towards the steps that lead down from the stern. Sonehso:wa has joined Connor and Faulkner near the wheel and the three men briefly acknowledge the women as they pass. Sonehso:wa reaches his arm towards Catherine and she touches her hand to it briefly, exchanging a smile with him. They had not had a chance to speak since he had arrived and Catherine knows it is his way of telling her he is happy to see her. They leave the men to their talk and descend the steps. The deck swarms with sailors, the lifeblood of any seafaring vessel. They move as a collective, their unified skills keeping the ship travelling smoothly and any shouted commands from Connor are passed among them and carried out speedily.

Isaac is standing with all of the other Assassins, including the men from Albany. He catches sight of the women and waves them over.

"Here are my two lovely girls!" He kisses Anika on the cheek and smiles in a fatherly way at Catherine. Addressing her, his tone becomes more serious.

"They were just filling us in on what happened last night. It seems we missed out on a piece of the action."

"It all seemed to have occurred where it was least expected…" Catherine says with a frown.

"A good thing for you, too, so I'm told. All of Francisco's men were more concerned about keeping the John Street Theatre secured rather than the mansion." Isaac faces Clipper and Dobby for confirmation. Clipper nods.

"There were quite a few of them lurking around there. You might not have made it out safely if they had not been securing the theatre." Catherine touches her right ear where the hole for her earring is reddened and crusted over from when Francisco slammed her onto the desk. She hadn't noticed at the time that the impact had partially ripped her earring out of her lobe. She drops her hand to her side when Dobby looks down at the deck and tightens her already crossed arms.

"More's the pity…" she mumbles. Clipper squints at her and then steps forward to introduce himself to Anika. He takes her hand and starts to raise it to his lips as he had with Catherine.

"I don't believe we've been properly introduced… I'm Clipper Wilkinson. You must be Anika. No one told me we would have two..." he glances over at Dobby, who is frowning in his direction.

"… three lovely ladies on board." He kisses her hand and Isaac clears his throat.

"Can't a man kiss a pretty lady's hand around here without getting jumped on?"

"She's married, Clipper…"

"Oh, for the love of Christ…" He trails off for a moment to gesture with both hands at Catherine and then at Anika.

"She's with Connor and he about tore my head off my body and don't tell me you're with this one?" He jerks his head toward Joseph. Anika laughs.

"No, Mr. Wilkinson…"

"Mr…. Don't call me that! Clipper's just fine."

"Clipper, then. I'm married to Sonehso:wa." Clipper's lips form a thin line and he nods his head in understanding.

"I see. If I grow my hair out and swap my musket for a bow maybe I'll meet a nice lady some day…" he frowns when Stephane drops his hand onto his shoulder.

"I wouldn't count on it!" He roars with laughter and drags him back while the other Assassin's join in the humor at his expense. Joseph takes advantage of the moment to engage Catherine in conversation.

"I hear you stabbed your husband with Connor's knife. That's impressive." Dobby scoffs.

"If you think stabbing someone with a knife is impressive, boy, you've got a lot of learning to do yet before I'll call you an Assassin." Joseph tilts his head, his lanky blond hair falling over one side of his face, and appears confused at Dobby's flippant remark.

"But she managed to fend him off until Connor could get there. I know of no other woman who could do such a thing." Dobby's eyes open wide and she leans toward him menacingly.

"Then you don't know me… I would have just killed him myself instead of creating trouble for someone else." She turns toward Catherine and opens her mouth to elaborate.

"Leave off, Dobby." Isaac steps forward, extending an arm across the space between the three women. Dobby turns and walks toward the stairs leading to the crew deck. Joseph attempts to smooth over the rough edges of the group's conversation.

"I'm still impressed, Catherine. It was a brave thing to do." Duncan agrees with him.

"It was a brave thing, but if we'd managed to get better information, you never would have been put at risk like that. It's shameful, really. Connor's still not happy about it."

"And why should we expect him to be happy with it?" Peter finally speaks up.

"We are not men of incompetence or laziness. We're Assassins. When we do our work the way we are intended to, there is nothing that should ever be left in question. As the situation stands, we're fortunate, indeed, that we're leaving the city in our wake. No doubt there will be an uproar and an investigation into what transpired." Catherine is restless with all the talk of what had happened. None of it sits easy with her.

"Then I suppose I should be grateful that I'm not a suspect in it. A dead woman can't be hanged, after all." Anika takes Catherine's hand and squeezes it.

"Pardon me, gentlemen." Catherine raises her hand towards her face and moves away from the group with Anika quickening her steps to follow. When they reach the bow of the ship, Catherine rests her arms on the railing and leans against the base of the bowsprit, taking several deep breaths to calm herself.

"Are they watching us?" She chokes out to Anika. Anika surreptitiously looks to the side to observe the Assassins they had just left.

"Only Mr. Young. Cat… Are you alright?"

"No! I don't know! I hate being a spectacle. Everyone knows of my private affairs. Do they all know I was raped, too? And Dobby! That irascible… loathsome… harpy!" Catherine slaps her hand on the railing and turns her head into the wind. She swipes a tear from her face and Anika steps closer to her.

"Cat. You're only going to get more upset if you keep thinking about it."

"How can I not? That boy Joseph seems to think I'm a heroine for attempting to keep my own husband from breaking my neck! And then Mr. Gansevoort pointing out the uproar over the murders… an investigation… What if it's discovered that we're responsible? It's too much!"

"That won't happen. Ratonhnhake:ton doesn't leave calling cards, does he?" Anika smiles, attempting to initiate the same in Catherine. Catherine stares off towards the darkened horizon and shakes her head, shivering slightly in the coolness of the evening. A sailor approaches them with a lit lantern. Other lanterns are being lit around the ship.

"Pardon me, ladies. I thought ye might want a light." Catherine looks down at the railing, keeping her face hidden in shadow while Anika takes the lantern from him.

"We're grateful for your consideration. Thank you." The sailor touches his hat with a nod and hesitates.

"Yes?" Anika prompts. The sailor touches his hat again nervously.

"The Captain says yer to stay with yer lady friend in 'is cabin an' 'e'll sleep belowdecks."

"Thank you." Once the sailor leaves, Anika takes Catherine by the hand.

"Maybe we should go there now." Catherine nods and together they walk to the cabin.

Connor watches as Catherine and Anika make their way along the deck towards his cabin. Accommodating them there will keep them separate from the rowdy and rather salacious crowd below decks. Dobby is more than capable of handling herself among men but Catherine and Anika would not be as proficient at defending themselves from a sailor's wandering eyes or hands. The offending man would be dealt with harshly but the possibility of punishment could be outweighed by a little too much strong drink and too many days at sea without a woman to ease his lust. Catherine and Anika are not disposed to intentionally giving men a peek at their assets the way Dobby is known to do. Connor is aware of the way she enjoys being provocative only to pull a knife from her person and in a matter of moments have a once bold man begging her to spare his manhood. Everyone who knows her is used to her habits and gives her a wide berth when she is in any state of undress.

The evening wears on into night and Connor has the sails furled and the ship anchored. Faulkner, Sonehso:wa and Connor join the others below deck. True to what Connor is expecting after witnessing the interaction between Catherine and Dobby earlier, Dobby makes certain she readies herself for the night within his view, even being so audacious as to make eye contact with him as she unbuttons her shirt. Connor turns his back and ignores her, choosing to catch up with the Albany Assassins and some of his closer crewmen. Joseph is having a difficult time keeping his attention fixed on their conversations. His eyes repeatedly wander past Connor's shoulder and finally Connor starts to rise to his feet. Jacob, who had joined in the discussion, stands up as well.

"Don't, Connor. I'll handle this." He leaves the group and though the conversation continues, Connor isn't listening to it. Jacob and Dobby can be heard arguing behind him and he can't help but listen since it concerns him.

"Cover yourself. This is a new low, even for you."

"And who are you to tell me what to do? What would your wife think of you right now- so close to another woman?" Dobby smirks and touches the opened portion of her shirt with her finger while raising her hand toward Jacob's chest. He swats her hand away.

"She would be happy I was stopping you from making a further fool of yourself."

"Is that so?" she raises her chin defiantly.

"It is. Or she would have come over here herself to spare me the hassle."

"Maybe I like when men half my age look at me."

"Everyone here knows you're not doing this for the new recruit. You're bitter." Dobby's voice becomes slightly shrill at being called out for her behavior.

"I'll do what I please."

"And so will he. It's his ship and it's his choice. Stop clinging to the past and let him live his life. God knows you've moved on from him several times over…"

"Fuck you, Jacob!" She turns away and starts unlacing her boots.

"Oh, much obliged, Dobby." Jacob grumbles, making his way back to the group. Connor is leaning on his elbows with his forehead resting on his fingertips and his thumbs pressing into the sides of his jaw. Jacob sits down where he had been lounging earlier.

"Well, hopefully that's done with." Connor shakes his head slowly at Jacob's positivity, knowing it is far from over.

Anika and Catherine are also discussing Dobby in Connor's cabin. They sit on the edge of the bunk and tuck their feet up under themselves. Both of the women have changed into their shifts to sleep.

"She hates me; I can see it in her eyes."

"She's just jealous. Ratonhnhake:ton won't leave you for her."

"I know that! But this will be a long voyage in such close quarters unless I can make peace with her somehow." Anika laughs.

"What happened to 'Who cares what anyone else thinks?'? Don't you remember that speech of yours the night before my wedding?" Catherine nods but her expression makes it clear she is unconvinced.

"She acts like I'm some simpering little girl, always in need of rescuing… God, she makes me feel like I'm worthless and nothing but a bother."

"Cat… You aren't worthless."

"I'm no Assassin. I really do try hard to be good enough for him. I don't want him to think he needs to protect me all the time. He didn't need to protect her!"

"Stop this talk! He's not with her anymore; he's with you. He likes that you need him."

"Maybe." Catherine bows her head and Anika rubs her arms.

"My husband has taught me much about the ways of his people… our people. It's a man's responsibility to protect and provide for the women of the tribe. His mother, his wife, any sisters she has, her children and family… It's how they show respect for their authority and what they give in provisions and creating life. How can he show respect in that way for a woman who scorns his protection? Your reliance on him is an honor... to you and to him. Don't take that away from him by fighting it."

"I suppose it would hurt him if I didn't appreciate his concern for me. I just can't help feeling like a burden to everyone here." Anika shakes her head.

"I guarantee that every Assassin on this ship, excluding Dobby, would agree that you're far from a burden. Isaac and Jacob would surely set any dissenter straight on that." Catherine nods at her friend and sister, considering her words. She can't help but fear for the remainder of the trip. Locked in such close quarters with Dobby, there are bound to be times when they will need to communicate or be in each other's presence. Dobby may have lost Connor's affection but she retains a strange, fierce possessiveness of him. Catherine ponders whether she would be like this no matter who Connor chose to be with, as long as it isn't her. Maybe she wants to fight just to reassure herself that she is a better woman for him but Anika has a point. If Connor wants a woman he can care for and protect then Dobby is most definitely not a good match for him and never would be. A smile creeps onto Catherine's lips when she imagines him intervening in a fight to spare Dobby the effort. Anika leans in close and takes Catherine's hands.

"What are you thinking of?"

"Can you imagine what would happen if Ratonhnhake:ton tried to rescue Dobby from a fight? She'd fly into a rage."

"Oh, my God, you're right! What if he gave her flowers?"

"She'd fling them overboard and tell him he's a fool. 'What good could flowers ever do me, Connor? Do you think I'm a princess? A pistol is the way to a real woman's heart!'" They laugh together until Catherine has tears running down her face.

"He gave me a bow at the village."

"It was too early in the season for flowers, Cat!"

The Aquila sails steadily on the winds that cross the ocean, cutting through the water and leaving a long trail of churning foam in her wake. On all sides and as far as can be seen is a vast, scintillating and ever changing stratus of white capped waves. The skies are fair and the warmth in the wind only increases as each day passes on their trip south. At times, the ocean seems to heave with disquiet, tossing the Aquila from the top of one turquoise wave only to send it down into a dark trough and soaring back up again. The crew moves with alacrity among the rigging, seemingly oblivious to the dip and sway of the masts, tightening or loosening sails and ropes according to Connor's commands. On most days, the sea is compliant and the winds are steady enough to speed the Aquila along at a satisfying clip with minimal heaving. Sometimes the spout of a whale can be seen in the distance and the further south they sail, the more often a group of dolphins can be seen playing in the creamy, frothing wake or alongside the ship, leaping above the water and darting beneath only to reappear on the other side.

To Catherine's surprise, she manages to avoid Dobby for the most part in the first week of sailing and when they are forced to be near each other, Catherine makes sure to ignore her disapproving looks and mumbled barbs. Usually, Connor, Sonehso:wa, Anika or at least one of the other Assassins are present but she fears a time when Dobby will get her alone and tear into her. An icy fire is always burning in her light blue eyes and it makes Catherine very nervous.

Connor and Faulkner spend most of their time at the wheel of the Aquila, though they rotate shifts with the other sailors often. Every man is expected to know how to navigate the ship and they are frequently checking their bearing, sounding the depths and recording the weather. Faulkner declines taking any trips up into the rigging but Connor often does, choosing to take on many of the same duties as his crewmen. He has shown Catherine how to hold the wheel and feel for the subtle ways the currents affect the rudder, sending silent indications of change up to the wheel and her hands. Sometimes he encourages her to stand and pilot the Aquila under his supervision and she is beginning to understand how changes in the water and wind can be compensated for or used by the sails to move faster or change direction. Anika tried it once or twice but it was not something that held her interest. Sonehso:wa, on the other hand, finds it all very fascinating and has taken to sailing with enthusiasm. He is eager to learn all that there is to it and his zeal is the cause of Anika's distress. When he isn't at the wheel with Connor or Faulkner, he is high in the rigging with the other sailors, tying off ropes and working as a lookout.

On calm days, when the wind dies down to almost nothing and the sea is as smooth as glass, the Aquila makes little to no progress. So as not to waste any time, Connor runs drills on the ship, practicing manning and loading the cannons and the swivel gun, making quick changes to the sails or encouraging climbing races between the crew and Assassins from the deck to the top of the main mast. Often, Connor will race the winner. Catherine hasn't seen anyone beat him yet though Sonehso:wa and the young Joseph come close.

Catherine and Anika spend much of their time together walking around the deck of the ship, exploring the hold below the crew's quarters or talking with the others onboard when they aren't giving the sailors a break by working on repairing sails. Usually they are translating Sergio's logbooks aloud for one or two of the Assassins taking notes. Isaac is frequently the Assassin taking notes with Anika as she reads from the logbooks. Catherine has noticed that Anika and Isaac have developed an endearing relationship and they frequently spend time chatting together. Isaac and Jacob treat them both like daughters and Faulkner goes out of his way to make sure they are comfortable and happy, calling them both "love."

Near the end of their second full week at sea, Catherine finds herself wandering the ship. She is restless and the last thing she wants to do is spend time on deck. Clouds had rolled in over the ocean like some otherworldly creature, enveloping the sky in a thick cloak of darkness. A steady rain had picked up, battering the Aquila's decks and soaking everything not under a roof or enclosed by four walls. It sweeps in long lines across the surface of the waves, carried by the wind and streaking the darkened, opaque water with a myriad of dimples and splashes which are quickly consumed by the salty peaks and replenished from the glutted skies. The horizon is a muted grey, making the edges where the sky and ocean meet indistinguishable from each other. Anika had disappeared somewhere with Sonehso:wa and Catherine suspects they may have retreated to the captain's cabin for some time alone. Most of the Assassins are in the crew's quarters, engaged in board games with each other or the crew not on duty. The vessel rolls and pitches with the higher than normal seas and the deeper into the ship Catherine goes, the less she feels it.

There are two levels of gundecks below the crew's quarters and the lower one has only one occupant, a sailor who is busily checking the moving parts of the cannons and inspecting the shot and powder supplies for any signs of dampness. He barely acknowledges Catherine as she continues down to the cargo hold below with her lantern. There, she crosses to where a few of her, Anika's and Sonehso:wa's unused items had been stowed. Her bow is there and she picks it up to check the string. She is about to tuck it back into its place but pauses. The long, center aisle of the cargo hold stretches from one end of the ship to the other. Catherine paces along it and estimates the distance from end to end. At the far wall is a row of crates that reach to the ceiling. They are labeled as steel hull reinforcements. The wood of these crates is thicker and sturdier than the others, most likely to support the weight of such bulky items.

Tying her lantern to a section of rope secured to a rafter with one of the many knots she had been taught, Catherine walks back to the stairs near the center of the cargo area. She takes her quiver and loops it over her body. She has missed the feel of her bow in her hands and as soon as she has it strung, she stretches the string in her grip. When she releases it, the satisfying twang makes her smile. Reaching behind, she takes an arrow. The lantern sways in the air with the ship, casting moving shadows on the walls. Catherine selects the diagonal cross support on one of the crates and aims for it. The sound of the arrow head sinking into the wood is loud in the enclosed space and Catherine freezes, listening for any signs of someone coming to investigate. She hears nothing but the shuffling of the man on the gundeck over her head and when he doesn't come down the stairs to look in on her, she places another arrow onto her bow. She aims and hits the cross piece right beside the first arrow.

Catherine walks to the very farthest point she can reach in the darkened fore of the cargo hold and moves until she has an unobstructed sightline beneath the stairs to the hull plating crates. Her third arrow flies satisfyingly true and she smiles happily. A flash of inspiration strikes her and she uses her remaining arrows to skewer several of the letters marking the crate. Walking forward with her bow held by her side, she reaches the crates to examine her handiwork. A quiet laugh of satisfaction comes from her as she pulls out each of her arrows in turn. After expending her arrow supply twice more, Catherine feels better so she puts her things away and retrieves her lantern. At the top of the stairs, Catherine smiles innocently at the sailor and he nods at her from where he is busily rubbing grease on one of the wheels of a cannon. Two levels up, on the crew deck, everyone is still keeping themselves entertained, though the players and conversers have switched around a bit. A familiar pair of fringed boots is descending from the ship's deck and Catherine waits at the side of the stairs for Connor.

Water drips from his jacket and when he takes of his hat a small river of collected rain water falls to the floor. Though the temperature had steadily gotten warmer and more agreeable, any length of time spent in wet clothing is chilling so Catherine smiles at him and helps him out of his jacket as soon as he rounds the bottom of the stairs.

"I expected you to be upstairs in my cabin."

"I found other things to do." Her eyes sparkle with happiness and she takes his jacket to drape over a nearby chair at one of the few tables to dry. She touches the back of the chair next to it.

"Sit down. I'll be right back!" Planting a quick kiss on his wet cheek when he obeys, she disappears toward the galley. Connor wonders what has gotten her so excited and he smiles after her as he drops his tricorne on the table and extends his legs out in front of him. Owen is sitting across the table and he nods in the direction Catherine had gone.

"Our Captain and Master Assassin… at the mercy of a little woman's commands!" He chuckles softly as Connor's smile falters at his words. Connor is tired from standing in the rain and fighting the capricious wind and waves but he knows Owen's words are only meant in kindness. It is known by all that they are together so why should he pretend innocence? They hadn't been as successful as he would have hoped at hiding their few moments together to hug, kiss or speak clandestinely. On an overcrowded vessel, finding any place private is a challenge, especially as the Captain. At first, the glances they got and the ribbing Connor received afterwards would make him uncomfortable but it had become so routine that he had learned to brush it off. Even Catherine seems to take it in stride now.

"Her orders are not burdensome, Mr. Black, so I do not mind following them." He looks down at the table and another smile threatens to take over his features.

"I'm happy for you, Connor. You deserve a woman like her. She's a sweet thing." The smile that Connor had been holding back escapes him and shows itself when he raises his head to look at Owen. In a sudden moment of openness, Connor shares his agreement and a portion of his inner thoughts with the man; an unusual break from his characteristic restraint.

"She is. I do not know if I deserve her but she seems to be happy with what little I can give."

"You deserve it." Owen nods in the direction of the galley.

"Here she comes. I do believe I'd like to stretch my legs a bit." He smiles at Connor and then gets to his feet just as Catherine reaches the table with a large mug of something hot in her hand.

"Mr. Black, won't you stay with us?"

"No, Cat, I believe I've been sitting too much. Another time?"

"Of course." Catherine sets the mug of tea down in front of Connor beside his hat and hands him a small towel. He takes it gratefully from her to dry his face and neck. Catherine steps behind him and unwinds the soft, white scarf, which is just as sodden as the rest of him, from around his neck and places it over Connor's tricorne. His shoulders are damp, as well as much of his upper back, chest and the tops of his arms. His hair is dripping and Catherine takes the towel from his hands and squeezes sections of his hair in it until she has gotten as much water out as she can. She gives him a quick kiss on the top of his head where his hair is still dry. He smells good; the combination of his wet skin and hair and the subtle addition of sweat from a long day is a comforting experience all its own. She loves his scent and she has missed being able to breathe him in when they would lie together at night. It seems like such a long time ago that they last spent a night in each other's arms. Connor reaches back and takes her warm hand in his to bring her around towards the table. She sits on the edge of the chair that holds his wet jacket, pulling her braid over her shoulder so it won't get wet.

"You did not make yourself any tea." He says as he leans back in the chair. Catherine smiles and squeezes his hand.

"I don't want any. I wasn't outside in the rain all day." Connor reaches for the mug with his unoccupied hand and brings the steaming tea to his mouth for a sip. It warms him and the flavor is soothing. It tastes like she added some mint, one of the herbs they used frequently in their tea at the cabin. Her thoughtfulness means everything to him.

"Are you keeping busy?" He asks her.

"You could say that, yes. Nothing so important as holding the ship on course in a storm, though." Connor smiles at her and takes another sip of his tea. He places the mug on the table, rests his hand on his thigh and closes his eyes for a moment with a sigh. Despite the dampness of his clothes, he finds himself content to enjoy both the company of the woman who cares for him and a warm drink to chase away the chill. Her small fingers stroke the back of his hand and he turns it to return the favor against the soft skin of her wrist. Catherine tips her face down to look at his hand in hers where they rest on her knees and Connor finds her secret smile to be most endearing. He longs to hold her in his arms and feel her soft curls under his fingers. At night he misses her quiet breathing and the little noises she makes in her sleep. The simple, understated things about Catherine had become the facets of her that he loves the greatest: her subtle, sassy rebukes and "Captain" nicknames, the way she looks at him out of the corner of her eye or over her shoulder, the way her hair always has wildness to it no matter how she wears it, their ability to speak to each other with only their eyes… he could go on. For now, he cherishes these few minutes they can share while relatively alone. They will not last long, for someone always finds him, looking for direction or instruction. He frees his hand from hers and grips the seat of her chair, dragging her closer so they can converse quietly and hold hands with ease.

"Who's at the wheel now?"

"Faulkner."

"Will he never rest? He's worse than you are."

"You know he is not an easy man to convince. He is superstitious; he will allow no one else to steer the ship in a storm aside from myself. Having three women on board makes him nervous at times like these."

"He never indicated displeasure at seeing me! Quite the contrary, actually. He's very kind."

"Because he is not rude. He makes concession because you are with me, Anika came with the Albany Assassins and Dobby is an Assassin. He would prefer there to not be women on the ship at all but he has no choice in the matter. If having more control makes him feel better I will allow it."

"There seems to be no end to your duties… Not only are you a Captain, a Kanien'keha:ka warrior, an Assassin, and a leader of men, you're also a peacekeeper. It's very impressive."

"Did you forget about what I am to you?"

"Do you consider that a duty?" Catherine's eyebrows raise in sarcastic alarm.

"It comes with a level of responsibility… but I do not love you out of duty, no." Catherine smiles at Connor's refusal to rise to her prodding.

"Good answer!" she whispers with a laugh.

The next day, when Catherine retreats to the cargo hold to practice her archery, she discovers several handmade targets tacked up around the place. She hits every one, enjoying the challenge and thoroughly entertained by the crew's humor. The sailor she had seen the day before on the gundeck catches her eye when she returns to the crew's quarters and winks at her with a crooked smile before turning to his fellow crewmen. Catherine makes daily use of her new range, occasionally finding an additional target to challenge her, no doubt cooked up by the growing number of sailors who seem to be in on her secret. The newest one she discovers hangs from a rope tied to a support beam and can be set aswing to make it more difficult to hit.

While collecting her arrows on a relatively calm day at sea, a sound makes Catherine turn toward the staircase. Dobby is sitting on the second to last step with her legs stretched out across it and a smug look on her face as she twirls one of Catherine's arrows in her fingers.

"So this is where you scurry off to all the time. Hiding?" she calls out.

"I'm not hiding from anyone, Dobby. I'm simply practicing."

"It seems I was wrong about you. You're not just a young, pretty bedwarmer for our good Captain." Catherine sucks in her breath from where she stands at the far wall. Her throat constricts as her heart begins to race. She has nothing to say to Dobby and all she wants is to be left alone. Dobby stands to start walking up the stairs but she pauses just before her head disappears and crouches down.

"With your silly braids, clothing and little toy bow…you must be his entertainment as well." She snaps the arrow she has in two and drops the pieces from her fingers, letting them fall off the side of the staircase onto some crates below. Catherine grits her teeth and does her best to meet Dobby's eyes without flinching but ends up looking away to stare at the floor. Dobby barks out a short, cynical laugh.

"Aww. Are you going to cry now? Poor princess." Her laughter fades away as she leaves Catherine standing, clutching her remaining arrows and bow in her hands. A growing sense of nausea makes her want to vomit but she swallows hard until the feeling passes. She walks stiffly to the crates under the stairs and reaches up to feel for the broken arrow. After she finds the two halves, she stows her other arrows carefully away with her bow and holds the broken one against her stomach for the trip to the Captain's cabin. On the deck she hides the arrow behind her body and briefly exchanges a glance with Connor as she nears the entrance to his cabin below where he stands at the wheel. She attempts to give him a smile but she knows it must appear forced and fake. He knows her too well for any kind of pretense. Only when she has closed the door does she silently give in to her tears, covering her mouth lest she alert Connor to her distress. The two pieces of the arrow fit perfectly together but they cannot be mended. Connor must have spent hours making each of her fifteen arrows. They are so precious it is as if Dobby had cut off one of her fingers and tossed it overboard to become a snack for a passing fish.

Catherine places the two halves carefully beside each other on top of one of the translated logbooks and lies down on the bed. She stares at the ceiling and wills herself to become calm and unaffected, reminding herself that this is what Dobby wants and she cannot give in to her. With her hands on her stomach, she takes long, deep breaths to slow her heart and mind. The door bursts open and Catherine jumps to her feet with a shriek. Anika kicks the door shut behind her and walks rapidly toward her. Her face is flushed with anger.

"What did she do? The Harpy just came to me and said I might want to go 'comfort the princess like a good little handmaiden.'" Anika indignantly waves her hands in the air in her mockery of Dobby. Catherine slumps down to sit on the edge of the bunk, gesturing to the arrow on the desk.

"She found me practicing." Anika gasps and touches the broken ends of the arrow. She turns her face toward Catherine, her green eyes sparking with anger.

"That's it! I'm telling Ratonhnhake:ton if you don't!"

"No! He has enough to worry about. Ani, don't." A quiet knock sounds on the door and the two women look at each other.

"What if it's him?" Anika whispers. She snatches the broken arrow and slides the pieces under one of the pillows on the bed.

"Come in!" She calls out cheerily. Catherine stands beside Anika with a smile plastered on her face and her hands clasped in front of her. The door opens just enough to admit Sonehso:wa's head.

"Is there a problem? I saw you rush here." Anika and Catherine walk towards him, waving frantically for him to come inside and shut the door.

"What are you two plotting?"

"The death of The Harpy…" Anika mutters. Catherine frowns and shakes her head slightly.

"Nothing quite so drastic. She's finally succeeded in hurting me with more than words." It is Sonehso:wa's turn to frown and he looks carefully at Catherine and then at his wife for an explanation. Anika sighs and faces Catherine.

"Show him, Cat."

"Promise me you won't tell Ratonhnhake:ton. Or anyone." Sonehso:wa's face twists further into a concerned grimace and he leans forward slightly as he waits for his answer.

"I cannot promise such a thing. If you are harmed…" Catherine shakes her head and retrieves the arrow from its hiding place. She holds it out to Sonehso:wa and he takes the pieces in his hands. His dark eyes narrow in anger as he fits the halves together.

"Dobby did this?" His voice is low.

"Indeed she did. Quite the charmer, isn't she? It gets better. She essentially called me his whore and referred to my braids and clan clothing as silly and my bow as a toy." Sonehso:wa shakes his head gravely.

"How is that better? That is much worse." Anika laughs and takes the arrow halves from his hands.

"It was sarcasm, husband. Sometimes the only way to feel better is to make light of a horrible situation. You should know that; you do it all the time!"

"Please keep this between us for now. He doesn't need to know about this." Catherine emphasizes her words with a hand over her heart.

"I will not say anything if that is what you wish but I want to know if it gets worse. It is very disrespectful to destroy the weapon of another man… or woman. You are the sister of my wife and it is my responsibility, more than Ratonhnhake:ton, to protect you." Catherine smiles at him and steps close to give him a light kiss on his cheek.

"Alright." Sonehso:wa nods his head seriously before his usual smirk crosses his face and he turns his other cheek toward Anika, pointing to it expectantly. Anika scoffs and kisses him as well. Sonehso:wa's frown makes it obvious he is disappointed it is just as quick as the one Catherine had given him.

"Get out of here, you greedy flirt!" Anika cries, shooing him towards the door as he laughs and blocks her swats to his backside with his hands.

The Aquila sails onward and the sun bakes down on the deck. The heat is growing steadily in intensity the further south they travel. The air is humid and saturated with a richer briny scent than ever before. Birds dot the sky from time to time and occasionally, an island or two can be seen near the horizon. A blue more vivid and beautiful than Catherine has ever seen spreads around them on all sides. The water is teeming with brightly colored fish of more varieties than she could dream of and the once unusual sight of a triangular shark fin has become commonplace and no longer a cause for exclamation. They are entering the third week of June and have been confined on the ship for two and a half weeks with some distance left to travel. The days of no wind and then the storms had delayed their progress so Catherine isn't the only one to be feeling restless. The crew has been up in the rigging far more than usual and Catherine finds herself drawn to the railings of the Aquila more and more when she can find time away from the labors of the Assassins in attempting to pinpoint Sergio's fort's exact location.

Connor sits at his desk in his cabin, pouring over the notes in the margins that Catherine and Anika have made and comparing them to the notes of the Assassins and places marked on the maps of Cuba and the fort. His blue captain's jacket is hanging over the back of the chair and his tricorne sits on one side of the desk. He has the loose sleeves of his white shirt rolled half way up his forearms and the soft tie hangs from the back of his neck. Anika is translating a section of a logbook aloud to Peter and Catherine is leaning over Connor's right shoulder pointing to a place on the map that she is certain Sergio is referencing in one of his books.

"I assure you, when he writes 'castillo' even though it means castle, he's referring to the fort. It has to be here. You said yourself you weren't aware of anyone mentioning the San Pedro de la Roca fort for years." She taps her finger on the southern coast near the eastern end of the island. Connor sighs and sits back in his chair. He rubs his forehead with his fingers and sighs again. Sitting forward, he analyzes the location and speaks quietly, almost to himself.

"It would be a strategic position for incoming slave ships. It has a bay with an access channel deep enough to accommodate vessels of that size…" Catherine rests her hand on the back of the chair and looks down at Connor.

"We've been at this for hours. You could probably benefit from a break." Connor picks up his quill to mark the spot on the map, along with a short notation in his neat hand. When he continues to hold the quill, staring at the map silently and rubbing his eyebrows with the fingers of his left hand, Catherine leans over and rests her hand over his for a moment before deftly stealing the writing implement from between his fingers. He looks up at her and blinks, somewhat surprised, and she can't help smiling at his expression as she taps the ink off the quill into the open well and places it down on the edge of the map.

Anika had trailed off with her reading and she and Peter are watching Connor and Catherine's interactions carefully. She looks up at Peter and raises her eyebrow as she closes the book. Peter nods and takes the book from her, places it on a nearby shelf and gestures to the open door of Connor's cabin. When they start walking out, Catherine looks up from her place next to Connor.

"Where are you going?" she asks. Anika smiles at her and Catherine knows the answer without her having to say anything. Once again, she finds herself incredibly grateful to her sister's compassionate insight and empathy.

"We're taking a break." Peter shrugs his shoulders and follows Anika out the door, shutting it behind him. The latch catches with a metallic click and Connor frowns at his ink-stained fingertip and then looks up at Catherine. She smiles and runs her fingers into Connor's hair. With another sigh, Connor's shoulders slump slightly and Catherine draws him close so he is resting the side of his head against her stomach. He brings his right arm around her hips and Catherine slowly strokes his hair and the side of his face. She undoes his ponytail and places the tie on top of the map so she can really delve her fingers into his hair and along his scalp. Knowing he always finds her ministrations relaxing, she uses her fingernails to enhance the sensations and gets a deep, satisfying groan from Connor. He turns in the chair to enclose her with both of his arms and his head tilts downward against her stomach.

"We haven't been able to do this in such a long time. I love your hair and I've missed touching it so..." She whispers to him. Connor looks up at her and his forehead creases slightly as his eyebrows raise.

"We have not been able to do many things that we enjoy. It is the way it has to be for now." Catherine slides her hand down a section of Connor's shiny hair, letting the ends slip from her fingers before resting her palm on his cheek.

"Does it have to be? Right now?" Connor's eyes flick to the door and then he moves his left hand to Catherine's hip. He scrapes the chair back and pulls Catherine closer so she is standing between his knees. A lock of his hair is hanging over his face when he looks up and she smoothes it back. His eyes change right in front of her, their honeyed amber depths becoming darker with affection and longing. He pulls her closer and kisses her just below her breasts. Looking up, he whispers to her.

"It can be however you want it to be." Without a word, Catherine climbs onto him, straddling his lap and the chair. Her fingers slip into Connor's hair again and she leans close to kiss his forehead, keeping her lips against his skin afterwards. He slides his hands slowly up and down her back, following the curves of her spine and shoulders with his fingertips. Catherine takes a deep breath and pulls Connor's head tightly to her chest, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and ducking her face down beside his ear. She tightens her fingers in his hair and on the edge of his waistcoat armhole. Her craving for his touch is intense and she slips deeper into her emotional need, drawing her knees upwards in an attempt to squeeze her body closer to him. Their time apart during their days and weeks at sea had worn her down more than she had realized. With Dobby's cruelty and the constant confinement to only the ship, Catherine had allowed too many dark thoughts to color her view. Watching Connor working so tirelessly both to glean as much information as he can from Sergio's logbooks and to carry his crew, the Assassins and her and Anika safely over the sea, she had begun to see the cracks in his stoic façade widening. His eyes are tired all the time and betray his profound exhaustion but he refuses to rest. Catherine's nights are long without him beside her and, lacking the mutual love and comfort they can give each other, her heart aches for him. After coming through a near collapse of their relationship at the beginning of their journey, not being able to express their affection freely had become a difficult trial. Now that they are together, alone and unafraid of interruption, their overlong, enforced separation is crushing. A small sound escapes her throat as she holds in the tears that threaten to fall. Her body shakes from the effort of clinging to Connor so tightly.

"WildCat…" Connor whispers against her shoulder, and all of Catherine's pent up emotions are pulled from her by his voice. With a broken exhale, she kisses his neck and cheek until Connor turns his face to hers. Their lips meet hungrily. He tightens his hands on her back and returns her embrace with equal strength. It is what she needs. If she can somehow sift into him maybe, just maybe she will feel whole again.

Connor gently eases Catherine back from his body and she makes a distressed noise. Her eyes are huge, shining and beautifully emotive and he brings his right hand up to her face, sliding the backs of his fingers down her cheek lightly. Her love and need for him are like nothing he has ever experienced. The closest thing he can compare it to is the now sadly vague memory of the love his mother had had for him but though the fundamental power behind it is similar, the form Catherine's love takes is altogether different. It is compelling and deep, as blinding as the sun and as black and bottomless as midnight. Catherine covers his hand in both of hers, raising it to her mouth. She kisses the tops of his scarred knuckles with her soft lips and then opens his hand flat. Pressing his palm over her heart, she closes her eyes as he pulls her near to kiss her again. This time their kisses are passionate and drawn out; they savor every moment and sensation as if it will be their last.

Connor lets his hand slide to the side incrementally, gently cupping Catherine's breast. She subtly presses into the contact, telling him she wants his touch everywhere. Her fingers move through his hair and along his necklace, slipping beneath it slightly before matching her other hand as she slides it down the front of his shoulders. Her fingers work at the buttons of his waistcoat while they kiss. The last and lowest button won't cooperate and she makes a frustrated sound against Connor's mouth. She leans back from their kiss to tug on it impatiently and the heavy, brass button breaks free of the thread holding it on the fabric and rolls onto the floor. Catherine's eyebrows shift together with concern.

"Oh…" she murmurs as she tries to lean over and catch it. Connor stops her with a gentle pressure to her side.

"It does not matter." Catherine opens her mouth to protest and Connor shakes his head, quieting her with a look. He leans forward slightly in the chair with an expectant expression on his face.

"Are you going to continue what you have begun?" Catherine is captured by his eyes, so full of everything she cherishes about him. His intensity, compassion, determination and perception draw her toward him but it is his love that both breaks her apart and holds her together. She rests her hands on his opened vest, hooking her thumbs under the thick fabric. It slides off his shoulders easily with a little help from him and he takes it from her hand and lets it drop to the floor. Catherine slowly untucks his loose fitting shirt from his pants and gathers it up the sides of his body and over his head when he raises his arms up. Connor's hair tumbles forward over his face when it falls free of the shirt and Catherine brushes it back with the fingers of her left hand. Her right hand traces over the contours of his face, neck, chest and stomach as she lightly kisses him. In answer to her need to unclothe him, Connor slides his hands down the sides of her waist and over her hips to work up under the edge of her tunic. It bunches over his wrists as he raises his hands up her body. He gives her a little nudge backwards and she sits up to let him pull it over her head.

Connor is looking up at Catherine when he discards her tunic on the floor and cups both of her breasts in his hands. The resulting sensations are fluid yet electrifyingly powerful and Catherine lets her head fall backwards. She can't help the small noises she makes at the soft way he drags his fingers over her skin. Sliding his hands down and around to her back, he kisses his way up to her neck, leaning her closer and closer until their upper bodies are pressed together. Connor abruptly grasps Catherine around her waist and stands. He only has to carry her a few steps to the bed and he lays her down diagonally across it, kneeling over her. His hands follow the lines of her body, flitting over every bit of it as he makes his way down from her shoulders, over her chest and stomach to her waist. Without hesitating for a moment, he bends to kiss her stomach as he unties her pants and slides them down her legs, backing up and standing to throw them on the floor somewhere in the cabin. He quickly divests himself of his pants and boots, never taking his eyes off of her, and crawls onto the bed over Catherine, administering warm kisses and trailing his fingers over her sensitive skin.

She sighs and shifts her body under his touch when he arrives at her mouth. He gently moves her arms up over her head and ghosts his fingers up and down the soft skin on the underside of them, kissing her so slowly she writhes from time to time. Connor lifts his face from Catherine and watches her breathless, restless movements from his barely there contact. Taking her left wrist in his hand, he brings it to his mouth, kisses it and rubs his thumb lightly over the translucent skin. With her eyes only barely open, she reaches to his face and caresses the side of his jaw down to his chin as he strokes the back of her hand with his fingertips.

Connor's touch is maddeningly erotic and though she wants him more than anything, the slow, methodic dance of his fingers on her skin is a spell. She can do almost nothing beyond accept it wherever he travels. It is as if every place he touches becomes magnetized to his fingers and she raises that portion of her body toward him, tipping her chin back to give him more of her neck and chest, raising her hips to offer him her stomach and leg. Catherine catches glimpses of him when her eyes aren't closed in ecstasy and he is consuming the sight of her every time. His right hand traces over the upper portion of her inner thigh and makes its way toward her sensitive center of arousal. Catherine raises her hips to him, silently begging him. Connor kisses her and acquiesces, sending bursts of exquisite warmth powering its way upward through her body, making the palms of her hands and the soles of her feet tingle. With a cry limited by Connor's mouth, Catherine grips his shoulder and grinds her hips further into his hand.

He continues his unhurried, magnificent torture of her body, kissing her neck, shoulders and breasts and leaving her writhing and mewling into his neck and shoulder. The building tension spills over into a climax that makes her tremble and turn her face into the pillow to muffle her near-scream of release. Connor doesn't give her any time to recover. He kisses her and moves until he is positioned between her legs. He pauses and Catherine becomes nearly frantic.

"Ratonhnhake:ton, please! I need you!" Catherine cries in a whisper through clenched teeth as she grasps at his shoulders and presses her feet and toes to the backs of his calves in an attempt to bring him closer. Connor's self control wavers. He wants to keep things at a slow pace and draw out her pleasure but he gives in to her need. Catherine throws her head back and tightens her legs around him until her hips lift from the bed. Everything she does heightens his arousal further so does what he can to make their shared pleasure last.

Catherine is in an agony of bliss. She has already peaked once and is well into a second, slower burn. It is as if these weeks spent apart had been building up her desire incrementally until this moment when it is emanating from her with no way of stopping it. Her fingers dig into Connor's skin and it isn't enough. She pulls him into their kisses until his teeth scrape her lips but she wants more.

"I want this to last…" Connor whispers when he lifts his face from where she had been holding him by two fistfuls of his disheveled hair. Catherine realizes she had been murmuring garbled pleas. She answers him with a shaky nod and Connor is overwhelmed by the force behind her eyes and the tension in her body as she clings to him. Her need is intensely arousing and he lets go of a little more restraint. He gives of himself and Connor watches her face, enraptured. With his other hand under her hip, he holds her steady.

Finally, finally, it is at last the satisfying unity Catherine had been craving. As the tide of her body's pleasure ebbs, her arms fall to the mattress and only the rush of their heavy breathing fills the air. Connor collapses to the side and then onto his back, taking Catherine with him. They slowly recover their senses together. Connor strokes Catherine's arm with one hand and the side of her head with the other, smoothing back the stray curls that had loosened themselves from her braid.

"I don't want to go back out there." She whispers, when they have lain in silence for some time. Connor rests his hand on her arm just beneath her shoulder and squeezes it reassuringly.

"It will not be for much longer. We are among the islands now and once we arrive at Heneagua you can get off the ship."

"Is it safe?" Connor runs his hand down Catherine's braid, letting the end slip from his fingers to fall against her side. He repetitively performs the motion as he speaks.

"My grandfather used to use the island as his base of operations because of the secrecy of its location and the difficulty of navigating into the harbor. The island is an Assassin outpost and there is a small village there. I have only been there once before but I am certain you will find it comfortable. It is a safe, defensible location and it will suit our purposes well."

"I look forward to it then." Catherine sighs and turns her face into a comfortable place beneath Connor's chin.

"And I look forward to seeing you like this more often." Catherine laughs against Connor's chest, tightening her arms and legs against his sides in a hug.

"Unclothed and in your bed?"

"No. Well, yes. But I meant happy… at ease." He sounds flustered, as if he had not just spent a considerable amount of time being intimate with her. He strokes his finger on the side of her face and Catherine kisses it when he reaches her lips.

"I knew what you meant. You're just easy to tease, Captain Ingenuous!" Connor merely makes a humorously indignant sound. Catherine's giggles turn into relentless laughing at his perturbed expression. She sits up on top of him to cup his face in her hands and kiss his nose. When she doesn't get a reaction from him she slaps his chest just hard enough to make a loud noise.

"Stop being such a killjoy!" Only then does Connor smile and take Catherine by her hips to roll her over onto the bed. Before she can hold it in she screams with laughter and kicks her feet as he tickles her stomach. She is so happy she doesn't care who hears.

The sound of men shouting and Connor's voice right over their heads wakes Catherine and Anika only two days later. It is early and the sun is only just breaking the horizon and coloring the sky. Catherine vaguely recalls the anchor being raised while it was still black outside. Often, when Connor had been unable to sleep he had sailed the ship with only a small crew at low speeds just to continue making progress in the night. This time, the sound of feet pounding on deck and Faulkner cursing at the sailors must mean the island, their destination, has been spotted. Anika leaps out of bed first, followed quickly by Catherine and they scramble to dress and rebraid their hair. Like excited children, they rush to the door of the cabin and hurry through it. The Assassins are gathered near the cabin door and almost every sailor on the ship is on deck, in the rigging or leaning over the railings. Two men are up on the platform that tops the main mast. They both hold spyglasses as they look to the island ahead. Connor's voice carries from his place at the wheel.

"Leadsman, what is the depth?"

"By the mark, seventeen fathoms, Captain." A sailor standing outside the railing on a small ridge shouts from where he holds a thin rope with markings tied to it at intervals. Connor raises his head to shout out towards all his sailors who wait in their places for his orders.

"Slow her down, men! Carefully, now!" Sailors quickly tie down sails and coil ropes, slowing the Aquila's speed drastically.

This is the first time they have travelled so close to an island and Catherine and Anika are swept up in excitement as the Aquila continues to voyage closer to it. Waves crash against reef and rock alike in boiling blue turbulence streaked with the white of foam and leaping spray. The rocky hazards are scattered copiously around the island and submerge their dangerous reaches far into the surrounding waters, waiting for unwary ships to wreck upon their rugged surfaces. The island appears to be an unbroken, rocky landscape, densely covered in waving palm trees and green, low growing brush.

"Leadsman!" Connor calls out toward the man with the rope.

"By the mark, fifteen fathoms!" The Aquila slows further and when Catherine and Anika find a place by the railing that isn't in anyone's way, they can see some of the submerged rocks looming under the crystal clear waves. The depth changes rapidly beneath the water, creating a light and dark distribution of blue and turquoise that spreads off in curving and jagged patterns in all directions. Another man at the front of the vessel shouts back to Connor.

"Captain, reefs dead ahead! Turn her four points starboard." Connor makes the requisite adjustment with the wheel, bracing his body with his legs as the ship is slow to make the turn and the rudder fights his hold.

"By the deep, eight fathoms! Captain, we're coming into the shallows!"

"Slow her down, men, or we'll be swimming in from here!" Faulkner shouts at the sailors.

"By the mark, five fathoms!" The Aquila pitches briefly as a large wave surges over one of the reefs and hits her at an angle. Catherine grips the railing and turns her face away from the spray that lifts along the side of the ship.

"Captain, two points to starboard! Two points to starboard!" Slowly, the Aquila turns further until she is almost parallel to the island instead of heading straight for it, following the channel between the reefs. Only the sound of the waves and wind in the sails can be heard. Tension is high with everyone and all are holding their breath and dreading the jarring scrape of wood meeting the sharp edges of rock or coral.

"By the deep, four fathoms!"

"A turn to port coming ahead, Captain…" All are silent and waiting as the moments stretch on.

"Hard to port! Hard to port!" Catherine watches as Connor spins the wheel, his entire body moving smoothly with the motion of his arms. The Aquila pivots into the curve of the channel.

"Leadsman!" Connor shouts from his tense position at the wheel.

"By the mark, three fathoms. Three fathoms…. Holding at three." A minute grating under Catherine's feet makes her grip the rail and cast her eyes over the seamen, some of whom run to the starboard side of the ship to peer over. The underwater rocks are right up against the ship's hull. Faulkner bangs his fist on the railing with an angry growl next to Connor and Catherine could swear he glances in her and Anika's direction for just a moment. The grating stops as suddenly as it began and Catherine breathes again.

"The channel widens ahead, Captain, turn her toward the island!"

"By the deep, six fathoms… seven… We're clear, Captain." A cheer goes up from the sailors that breaks the tension for everyone on the ship.

"Give me half sail, men. Take her in and we will assess the damage when we dock." The Aquila picks up speed and Connor turns her in towards the island once more. Several sailors run below decks, no doubt to check for any water coming into the hold. The channel carries them among the palms and foliage. A multitude of brightly colored birds scatter into the greenery as the Aquila passes and some long legged pink birds with large black beaks raise their snakelike necks upward to watch them pass. Their passage narrows and winds lazily for a short time before opening up into a wide, blue bay of calm water. Catherine is surprised to see a large dock protruding from the bay's shore and another ship already tied up at it. A scattering of thatch roofed structures dot the hillside and a palatial estate caps the top of it, its windows reflecting the bright sunlight and verdant surroundings. Sprawling, pale walls and steps rise up from the paths below and draw the eye upwards towards the sky. Vines covered in fuchsia blossoms grow up the stone walls and creep onto the walls of the house.

"Reef the sails! We warp in from here." The Aquila has been noticed by the people on the island and a dinghy is paddled out toward them as they come to a slow stop. Sonehso:wa climbs down from his place where he had been assisting the sailors in their duties to join Anika and Catherine. Huge coils of ropes are thrown down to the men in the dinghy and they paddle towards the docks, letting the ropes run out behind them. The ropes are distributed to lines of men on the dock and they pull them taught. Nothing seems to happen for a moment but then the Aquila slowly starts to move sideways toward the pier. Several minutes later, they are much closer and the anchor is dropped. The men tie the ship to the dock in several places, securing her fast. A long ramp is lowered from the side of the Aquila.

Connor has his hand on Faulkner's shoulder when two of the sailors who had gone belowdecks to inspect the holds finish their report and leave them. Both men are nodding and Faulkner slaps Connor's side. Connor turns from his first mate and walks away from the wheel to quickly descend the steps towards the women. He is about to speak to them when a woman's low, rich voice, heavily accented with French overtones, carries over the sounds of the crew tightening up the ship for its stay at Heneagua.

"I was beginning to wonder if you would be late, Connor." A woman with darker skin than Sonehso:wa, dressed in a mostly black outfit with leather armor covering her shoulders and tall boots on her legs stands with her arms crossed on the ramp. Her tricorne is pulled low, partially covering her face but it doesn't hide her exotic beauty. Several long braids are tied together with a red tie and hang over one shoulder. Two sashes, one red with gold patterns and one solid red are tied around her waist and angled so they sit lower on her right hip. She wears a leather belt over them with the same unique buckle Connor wears with his Assassin garb. Connor turns toward her and dips his head in respectful acknowledgement of her.

"We had some delays. It is good to see you are well, Aveline." She uncrosses her arms and steps onto the boat. There is a graceful purpose to her gait as she walks toward them and both sailors and Assassins part before her confident bearing.

"And you. Welcome back to Inagua. It has been some time since you've been here, from what I understand. Years."

"I do not frequent these waters as I once had. This territory belonged to my grandfather and now it is yours. I do not wish to interfere in your… jurisdiction." Aveline laughs, her melodic voice making many heads turn in her direction.

"It isn't really mine, either. I leave that to the Assassins who live on their ships and call this place home. I prefer my feet to be on solid ground." She turns her attention from Connor and directs it to Catherine, Anika and Sonehso:wa. Looking at each of them in turn, she smiles and spreads her hands out.

"Welcome to Inagua. I'm Aveline de Grandpre." Connor gestures to Catherine.

"This is Catherine Parry, the woman formerly married to the son of the man we seek."

"A pleasure and an honor to meet you, Miss de Grandpre." Catherine lowers her face gracefully. Aveline laughs once more, with a shake of her head and a wave of her hand.

"Please, call me Aveline. Formality has no place here, among friends." Catherine smiles at her kindness.

"You have quite an impressive reputation, Aveline. Connor speaks highly of you."

"I'm happy to hear that, ma cherie… as he should!" Aveline says with a smile and a narrow eyed smirk. Connor ignores her sass and continues with his introductions.

"Anika Reitz and her husband Sonehso:wa of the Deer Clan." Sonehso:wa nods and stands tall behind his wife as she bows her head similarly to the way Catherine had.

"I believe I can speak for us all in saying we have looked forward to this meeting for some time. It's indeed a great pleasure to meet you."

"Thank you! I'm pleased to make your acquaintance as well. Now that introductions are over, let me show you where you will be staying and then we can get down to business." She turns to walk toward the ramp and everyone follows her. Anika turns to Connor questioningly.

"I thought you said we were going to a place called Heneagua?" Aveline laughs and looks over her shoulder briefly.

"Connor is a great one for using the words and names of the local peoples. Inagua is Heneagua, ma cherie. They are one and the same; different names for one island." Catherine smiles and takes Connor's elbow to walk beside him down the ramp. He glances down at her and she squeezes his arm.

"I should have known…" she whispers.