...hello? Is anyone still there? Haha hi people! Very long time no see, and for that I am so so so sorry. Its been nearly a year, as my last update was last August. The only excuse I can say is that my life this last year was well...(for lack of a better term) life-altering. Change of location, situations, and people in my life made it impossible for me to sit down and write things. However! Now I'm good to go and can carry on with this :) Which I'm so excited for! Thank you for your patience during this entire span of time, I hope not to do that again. Thanks to those who gave this story a chance to begin with, and to those who have stuck with it since! Its been forever so I understand if you've let it go, but I shall continue anyways (xD) because I really want to do this for myself as well :) Honest.

Anywho! This is a shorter update, but good things ahead I promise! Thanks again! :))))

Glimmer

Boston, Massachusetts; March 1774

Dusk on the Massachusetts horizon caped over the sea-wary town of Boston. The periwinkle twilight crept upon the tangerine sky, welcoming the first stars beneath lingering clouds. The crisp evening air blew mightily atop the Atlantic's white caps, and would cross onto creaking docks of the old city. Gulls hovered above and cried with open wings, gliding around the great masts of resting galleys. All was drawing to a quiet, as the approaching serenity of the night calmed the busied tone of the day. Yet, nothing would appear more haunting to the man on the southernmost docks.

Peter Maywood looked upon the grey sea with heavy eyes. Feeling the wind brush through his aging hair and days-old clothes, he couldn't help but let the cold set his sinking heart deeper within his chest. Goosebumps dancing across his skin and water brimming unto the bags of his green-eyed gaze, he stood motionless by the ship Virginia Dare, and wondered where exactly he went wrong.

"Where are you, my girl?" he whispered out softly. "Where have you gone?"

Soon the sound of approaching hooves came from behind him. A company of three mounted horses halted urgently at the edge of the dock. The leader of the small posse was a man of much gusto and presence, and nearly fell off his horse at the sight of his life-long friend.

"Peter!" The heavier set captain cried as he scrambled off his saddle. "Where the blazes you been?! I was starting to think that we gone off and lost you too!"

Peter Maywood remained unmoved. He listened as his friend approached with hurried steps and heavy breaths.

"I remember last seeing you with us along the North edge, back in that godforsaken frontier a few hours ago." Eliakim Swayde heaved as he stood by Peter's side. "We weren't sure what to think; if it was a bear or Kingsman that had gone on and taken ye."

The saddened man stayed silent.

"Pete?" Eliakim searched for a response in his friend. "You alright?"

Maywood said nothing for many moments. He would let the tears fall as he gazed eerily upon the tossing waves. "Do you think she's dead?"

The old sea captain shared remorse for his dear friend by placing a large gloved hand upon Peter's shoulder. "My friend, she is far from."

"How do you know?" he shot quickly. "How can you be so sure?"

"She was taken," Swayde answered sternly. "The bastard couldn't be hiding her far from here, we began searching too soon after she ran off from that tavern. Julian saw the whole thing. He can identify him as soon as he turns up here."

"Its been four months, Eliakim," Peter finally swung his head to his friend's direction. "Four months of endless searching-we haven't found a single clue."

"Aye," the captain agreed. "but the time is not yet to end this hope, friend. We'll take our search deeper, maybe even rebound to a few places. We have yet to cover the shoreside caves, hell, even finish the North edge."

Peter exhaled hopelessly.

"We're not going to give up, Pete," Eliakim assured genuinely. "All our boys, our families, friends, everyone is doing what they can."

"I know."

"I got your boy Eli with me every morning." The captain nudged to one of the mounted horses behind them. "As Emma's brother he has done her a fair service in searching heartily for her."

"I expect so." Peter paused with thought. "and Julian?"

Eliakim guffawed. "My boy, my son. Emma's greatest friend." He looked back to the third horse behind them. "This search has turned him mad, it has. Day and night he is looking, never sleeping. Even going into strange men's ships. If anything, I believe he's proved his love for her."

Maywood gave a faint grin.

"Come now," Eliakim released his grasp. "She's your daughter, Pete. She's hardy. Born of a spirit of both the wilderness and the sea, by the hands of us both might I add."

Peter huffed quietly through his nose.

"You taught her to live in this land, I taught her to survive the sea. She is strong." He scratched his mangy beard. "She is able. I guarantee she is alright and we will find her."

Tears ran down the estranged father's scruffy face. How he clung onto his friend's words.

"Yes, we will find her," Eliakim looked out to the sea. "By hell and highwater, if it means."

By the time Connor returned back from the deep woods, the day was coming to a slow. The late afternoon sun was setting lazily in the west and the warm air grew to a chill. Hues of faded gold rested pensively upon the face of the valley, and gave a reminiscent glow to the community wedged in the deep forest.

He walked back home slowly, carrying Emma's coat in his hands. Though it was more than clear that he had lost the race she had challenged him to about a half hour ago, he didn't care. Contentment gleamed in his soul from the evening spent in her company and that was all that mattered to him. The cares and responsibilities of the world were faded in the haze of enchantment of her affection, and he only longed to be reunited with her once again. Hopefully that would occur after his trek home.

He began to approach the main road. Coming from the mass of trees behind Kale's home, he anticipated a bustling community preparing for the night's reign. However, as he came closer, he would find quite the opposite.

The houses near Kale's were dark. Doors were closed shut and the main road was left utterly empty. Soon the native's happiness was exchanged for worry, and he searched the wide premise for anyone's presence. As he looked around, the smell of smoke greeted his nose. He then looked alarmingly ahead, and found a distant trail arising above the trees near the Manor.

He darted off to it. Afraid for the devastation of the smoke's source, he ran with great earnestness, clutching Emma's coat tightly amidst his sprint. His concern ultimately went to her well being, and dreaded finding a particular sight.

Such fears fueled his race. He wondered of what had happened in his absence, and if it was too late to help. His boots pounded on the ground beneath him and his robes flew back behind him. Nothing would cause more urgency to him than the threat of flame.

As he came closer to the Manor, the scent of ash became thicker, but also the unexpected sound of laughter. An array of voices flooded the air, strangely cheery and perhaps filled with retreat. It overall brought confusion to the concerned native, and he would furrow his brows onto the scene he would meet ahead of him.

Much to his puzzlement but stricken relief, he found a bonfire before him. Not far off from the Manor's own front yard, stood a large wood pit roasting with a hearty flame. People from all around the Homestead were standing sporadically, chatting with each other and enjoying the heat.

Connor looked around warily with heavy panting. Familiar faces quickly came into view as he found Miriam, Diana, Catherine, Terry, and Godfrey, all enjoying the recreation of the night. Many more came across, but none of them paid any attention to the native's bafflement or approach. He however dismissed their obliviousness and searched for the girl whose coat he carried. His eyes switched over to the left hand side of the road, to where the forest faintly began. Once settled on what lingered there, he allowed himself to finally breathe and walked over.

"Ow."

"Hold still."

The boy whined."Why?"

"I want to finish this," Emma replied. "I think you might like it in the end."

The two friends were standing beneath a fir canopy on the edge of the road. Amidst the mild tinge of fading sunlight and merry community about a fire, they rested peacefully in the quiet of the evening. Both of their focuses were bent on the activity upon them, causing them to not take notice of the oncoming approach of the native.

"What are you doing anyway?"

Emma placed steady eyes as her fingers weaved through his hair. "Your hair is getting long, almost past your chin. A side braid doesn't hurt."

"A braid?" Kale cried. "That's for girls!"

"Not always," Emma looked to his side glance. "Quite a few men like to have them. It's a unique style and keeps the hair out of their faces."

The boy began to purse his lips "It hurts."

"Well maybe you should try combing your hair once in a while," she fought a tangle. "This mess of brown is due for a good one."

Kale remained disgruntled but quiet. Emma tugged at his strands and tied them together into a small braid along the left side of his head. She concentrated in her activity, secretly enjoying in the discomfort of the small boy.

But suddenly Kale's demeanor softened. As a few moments passed, he began to speak again. "My Ma wears braids sometimes."

"I bet she does."

"And my Pa does it for her. I think she likes it when he does it."

"Your parents love each other."

"Will I have to braid my wife's hair?"

Emma switched curious grey eyes to his expression. "Getting married soon?"

"No, that involves kissing!" He shuddered in momentary disgust. "But Pa says I will, and when I do, do I have to braid her hair?"

Emma smiled. "I think she might like it. When you love someone, you usually dote on them."

The boy's green eyes looked up to her in their corners. "When you're done, can I do yours?"

"You know how?"

"Sometimes I'm the one that helps Ma out."

She was surprised."Alright then."

After Emma finished his braid, she walked over to a nearby boulder. The raised stone served as a great stool for the small boy, and there he would happily clamor upon to achieve his task. She faced away from him, looking towards the Manor, past the great fire. She then further helped him by freeing her hair from her current ponytail. Kale only then gazed in wonder at the dark flowing waves that tumbled down on her back, and grasped long pieces in his tiny hands.

Emma looked downward as he worked. She could feel his tiny fingers try to gather strands that nearly overwhelmed his clutches. He then attempted to swing those pieces across one another, and Emma could further conclude that he was braiding all of her hair. His tugs were tight and inconsistent, reflecting of the underdeveloped concentration and his stumbling memory on the method itself. She felt appreciative nonetheless, grinning at the action of fondness the boy wished to give to her.

A series of shuffling was heard from behind. Nothing urgent, the sounds of moving feet didn't necessarily bring Emma to alarm, but she wondered of the boy's doing.

"Is everything okay?"

The boy took a moment to respond. "Yep."

"You sure?"

"Yep."

She furrowed at the ground. Shortly after the boy's assurance, she began to detect a change of feeling in her grooming. The boy had let go of all her hair, and then seemed to run stronger and more capable fingers through it casually. When he finished, a sturdier hold had come over his grasp, as it seemed that he was able to collect more in his hands. Not only that, he began to work in great consistency; weaving her hair together in a single fluid motion and in gentle caress.

"You're really good at this," Emma commented with pleasant surprise. "I think you might be better than me."

"Would you admit such inferiority of yourself?"

Emma's eyes widened and body stiffened. Kale's voice had gotten tremendously deeper.

In gathering realization, Emma seized her groomed hair behind her, and spun around. Before her stood Connor, hands open and broad-set arms extended slightly from his task upon her.

"You're back," She smiled.

His amber gaze locked on her endearingly."I am."

"But what took you so long?" her eyes searched with concern. "You were right behind me."

"I thought you would be in wanting of this."

She watched as he reached a hand across his chest. He would grasp a dark blue material that rested on his shoulder. Looking to it, she found that it was her own coat, from when she discarded it during their sword fight.

"Oh," she received it with genuine surprise. "Thank you. It didn't even occur to me."

"The night is unkind with coldness," he responded modestly. "I would not deny you your warmth."

She flashed a bashful smile to the ground. "Right. Well thank you for thinking of me, as always. I guess I would've noticed sooner or later, with the fire going out."

Connor then looked to the heat source before them. "What is the occasion?"

"I don't know," Emma admitted honestly. "When Kale and I got back, Terry informed us that they wanted our help to set one up. We just did as he asked."

"Hm."

"I think its great," she smiled at the crowd around them. "There's really a strong community here."

Connor joined in her enthusiasm. He admired the joyous scene around them, seeing his friends stand around conversing and laughing into the night. The fire brought tremendous warmth and comfort to the ambiance, and fulfilled its promise to bring everyone together.

His observation would wane however. He then looked back to Emma, who held her coat in her arms while staring ahead. Connor then stepped forward, gingerly took the article out of her grasp, and let it fall out of it's fold. He then placed it around her shoulders, where she received it with surprise but ongoing appreciation of his doting on her.

The two young adults forgot of the young boy in their company. Kale continued to stand before them, observing tensely at their fond behavior. He was starting to fume at Connor's chivalry, and suddenly blurted, "I could've done that!"

The two, in kind, faced the boy's outburst. "Done what?"

"That! The coat." He pouted in a near envy. "I could'a gave mine to her."

Emma kept honest eyes to him. "I believe you would. Except Connor happened to have my own jacket and decided to give it to me. That way, you could keep your own coat."

"Hmph."

"There is no need to be upset, Kale." Connor intervened. "I apologize for taking your opportunity, but I promise to let you next time."

The boy sent glaring green eyes to the native. With folded arms, he stared with contempt beneath his greatly oversized coat and head of shaggy hair. "You're no better than Norris."

Before anyone could respond, Kale walked off. He marched away in his annoyance, heading for his mother and father across the way. Emma and Connor merely blinked after him, wondering of his comment.

"What was that about?"

"I do not know," Connor replied. "Perhaps my interruption was unwanted."

"No," Emma giggled. "I think Kale is just a little protective of me, is all."

"Seems more than that."

"Oh don't worry about it. I'm glad you're here."

She then reached her hand for his. Her fingers gently intertwined with his callous ones, and there she squeezed tightly. Connor returned her gesture with reluctance at first, but once realized her inclination, the corner of his mouth lifted upright.

"Speaking of Norris," Emma looked off into the scene. "I think Kale might have a point."

"What do you mean?"

"He and Miriam were pretty cozy tonight." Her grey eyes found them to her immediate left. "And still are."

Connor followed her gaze. Before them a few yards stood the couple, Norris hugging a smiling Miram from behind.

"Apparently so."

"Yeah," Emma nearly laughed. "But I think we have yet to do that kind of stuff before Kale is entirely right."

"His mind speaks jealousy." Connor pointed out. "Every interaction he sees between us is akin in value to what we see there."

"Hm."

Then out of happenstance, the happy couple being observed in the distance changed their position. They released each other of their arms and began walking towards the fire. Their hands were locked and smiles were stretched wide.

"What's happening here?" Emma whispered behind her shoulder.

"Let us find out."

"Hey everyone!" Norris cupped his hands over his mouth at the face of the bonfire. "We have an important announcement to make!"

People standing around turned heads to the projecting voice, but various chatting still hung in the air.

"Everyone please be quiet!" Miriam joined in. "We want to tell you something exciting!"

Perhaps it was the word, "exciting" or maybe because Miriam shouted louder and with more glee, people listened. The talking and laughing ceased, and all attention fell on the young couple before the fire.

"Thank you," Norris nodded to everyone. "What we want to say here is very intimate to us, and we would like to announce to you, our dear friends, of what that is."

Ears were keen.

"As many of you know, I have been courting Miriam here for some time now," he looked fondly to her. "That is, by her own willing of course. For weeks, I've tried to get her attention, let alone woo her. Sending flowers, making knives."

Some laughter responded.

"And somehow," he went on. "She caught on. And we grew very close since those days and that relationship has grown tremendously. Therefore, I would most honorably proclaim, that despite rough beginnings and various misunderstandings-"

Miriam squeezed his hand tighter and squealed out, "We're getting married!"

At the outburst, the crowd responded in joy. Triumphant cries and surprise induced gasps shattered the still mountain air. People whistled and clapped for the union of their dear friends.

Likewise, Emma received the news in pleasantry. She gasped for the monumental news and smiled in her stead. Her head turned back to Connor, who hovered behind her right shoulder, and looked to him with keen eyes.

"I knew this would happen! The signs were all there."

He looked coolly back to her. "They make each other happy."

"That they do," she returned to observe them. "It was only a matter of time until they would get together."

Connor slipped a thoughtful glance to her comment. How much time was of his own essence?

But before much thought could pervade his mind, another overarching voiced fell in the air. Terry was standing next to Norris now, smiling with pride while crying out, "Here ye all! Congratulations to the two birds here!" He patted a heavy hand to the groom's back. "If I not be mistaken, I would think it most appropriate to celebrate this commemoration!"

The crowd cheered in agreement.

"Might I suggest a dance?" His accent continued from his red beard. "A trot with one another in recognition of your love?"

Both the newlywed couple and the mass of people before them accepted the Scotsman idea. Gleeful noises of whistles, yelling, and whoops carried out as people coupled together around the great fire. Present fiddlers immediately began scratching away on their instruments, and feet began prancing to the music beneath flowing skirts and long trousers.

Emma laughed at the eagerness of the community. The call of communal song succeeded in drawing her in, and she would turn around and take both of Connor's hands into hers. She then began to pull him into the lively scene with a playful grin, and he would notice with a returning and hesitant smile.

"I-I cannot."

"Yes you can," Emma teased with her dragging. "It's not like we haven't danced before."

"Not in an open space."

"You mean outside?"

"This is not a tavern."

"This is not a tavern." She reiterated with hinting eyes. "Time to get out of what's comfortable and take new steps. Quite literally."

He exhaled while glancing at the jubilant crowd.

"And," she caught his discomfort. "You kinda have to. If you wanna show respect to your friends and their occasion of uniting, you gotta do some moving around."

He narrowed amber eyes to her.

"And it can't be that bad with me, right?" she sent a subtle pleading gaze to him. "I mean, who else would be willing to dance with a pair of wooden legs?"

He scoffed in offense. "I am not-"

"Then show me."

Looking rather peeved to her challenge once again, the native sighed in defeat and obliged to her request. He followed her pull into the moving mass of people and felt her excitement brew in the grasp of her hands. Once there in the crowd before the roaring flame, Emma found a suitable place to begin and started bouncing lightly in place.

It was clear that Connor found no similar inclination in his motions. Emma knew this quite well, and started to help him out. With clutching fingers, she led his arms to help lead her to twirl and sway with the music. She even began guiding his steps, reminding him of the ways that his wooden man legs were supposed to lead.

Soon enough, a smile was to be had, and then another. Though Emma had always been beaming brightly at their cavorting interaction, the native began to enjoy himself, and laugh at the blunder that was his lost skill of dancing. They moved together with great inconsistency, stumbling, tripping, and finding smooth gliding infrequent. Nonetheless, they laughed at each other between the shadows of the vigorous flame, and let the rapid strings carry them into the approaching night.

Eventually the music would come to an abrupt end, and both of them stopped and panted heavily. They stared at each other in the midst of the golden light and scattered cheers while feeling their hearts pound from the spent energy and cultivated excitement. A high overcame them both, and Connor would act upon it by pulling Emma closer to him.

"How was that?"

"That was terrible," she laughed heartily up to him. "I think the slower dancing serves you better."

He snorted at her incredulously. "Must you always find a way to insult me?"

"Only if you set it up just right," she grinned while playing with the upper buttons of his shirt. "But these insults aren't jokes, as they tell the truth."

"If it is truth you want," he grasped her dwindling fingers from his chest. "Then I would state that you make me happy."

"How is that-"

"-as Miriam makes Norris happy."

Emma's demeanor changed. Seriousness became her expression as she traded her smile for curious eyes. The weight of his words was being measured by her silent thoughts, and she pieced the realization quickly together. She then lifted her head up to him and spoke soberly. "Well, if that's truth, then my claim isn't far off."

"It is not?"

" Only because I have to admit that you make me happy too. "

Connor held enamored eyes on her. He studied her tan face and the flames that bounced off of it, absorbing the sincerity her expression carried with her words. No other words could illuminate his soul more than her simple confession, and he would show it with a pleased grin. His hand reached for her face, to where he took a few dark strands of hair and placed it behind her ear.

"I am pleased to hear that."

"Good," she returned the emotion. "I'm glad you are."

"What are we to do?"

She tilted her head. "Why not keep dancing?"

"I have no objection."

"Then that's what we'll do."

"Then let us."

In the midst of the jubilance, the great Manor stood in silence and darkness. It stood beyond the great fire, it's clear panes reflecting the dancing flames. All was quiet and even dead in perception, save the single candle standing in the lower story window.

Beyond the only lighted pane stood a glaring old man. Slightly bent over with a hat to crown his head, he sent his clouding brown eyes upon the cheery sight before him. The actions between Emma and Connor together induced his rough voice to scoff aloud.

"Asinine." He swore of the relationship. "He should know better."

"..than to what?"

The old man jumped at the effeminate voice from behind. "Goodness, Lillian! Must you always do that?!"

"What?" the elder lady glided with wry in her yellow gown. "Correct you, sir?"

"Gah," he waved a slight hand to her. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do, sir." She came up to his side. "You can't honestly believe the words you say."

"That would be preposterous, Lillian," he kept his gaze out the window. "I know what I speak of."

"I don't think you do." She stated boldly, meeting his gaze out the window. "I think you think too harshly."

Achilles leaned more upon his cane before turning to his head housemaid with incredulity. "Madam, do you wish to instruct me on the lessons of harshness?!"

"I'm only saying you're overthinking this." She kept her pretty hazel eyes calm. "There's nothing wrong with Connor's actions. In fact, what he's doing is normal, healthy even."

The old man scoffed. "Healthy. No. What he is doing is wrong. And he knows its wrong. No Assassin should be-"

"Sh-sh-ssshhh." Lilly placed a delicate hand on her master's arm. "The boy is young, sir. Falling in love is a part of his life and was going to be to begin with. Why take that from him?"

Achilles gave her a soft look. "Believe me it is not my desire to do so, Lillian. But it is essential for his training, his mindset, even more so his focus. As delightful as Miss Maywood may be, she is a distraction."

"Oh no doubt," Lily agreed with a sigh. "I'm sure he knows of this, sir. You gotta give him some time."

"Time is running out," Achilles returned sternly. "The Brotherhood is in need of his attention. Some powerful men need to be stopped."

"I couldn't agree more sir," Lily cocked her sliver-blonde, bun-tied head. "But in the meantime, you could give him this night."

"Hm."

"Come now, let it be so." Lilly walked over to another window on the same wall. "Let the boy have this escapade, this rich moment of life, before it all must go dark again." She pushed the curtains and doors aside. "Just one last night."

Achilles sighed in defeat. He looked upon his student with wary eyes, analyzing the true content beaming off his face. It reminded him of his younger self, of when he too clutched happiness.

"Very well," the old man looked down and turned completely to the maid. "You win, madam. I stand in your victory."

"Good," she laughed as she walked from the window she opened. "Now come on over here."

Achilles studied her space. "I beg your pardon?"

"Come here, you old fool," she smiled. "I've let the night air and music in, come have a dance with me."

The old man stood astonished. "Uh." He lost all words. "Madam, this is quite unreasonable. I-I-mean its late and I'm not properly dressed and I got this limp here-"

"None the matter," she pushed. "I shall hold you then."

Achilles looked at her with a genuine curiosity. His heartbeat quickened in nerves and happiness as he could calculate his brain to feel a sensation of being pleasantly surprised. After a few moments of awkward dawdling in his stance, he hobbled over to her and graced arms out. Before she took him, they listened to the singing fiddles outside, amused that they could hear them so well.

"That's right, now." She took his grasp gently. "I've got you, and you me."

The old man placed a hesitant hold on his head-mistress of eleven years. Beautiful in appearance and charming in personality, he always favored her company. She saved him from years of loneliness and dread, without even having to instate a certain kind of relationship. She always, just was, and that was all she needed to be.

Listening to the songs of the night, he would give his weight into her and place a resting head atop her small shoulder. And he would permit a smile.

Oh and to all my reviewers:

Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you sooooooooooo much for your feedback, support, and verbal hugs! It means the world to hear what you have to say! Its an encouragement for me when you do! I'm sorry for the time gap