Chapter 23: The Agreement
Kira had awoken the following morning with a headache and the inescapable feeling she had acted badly. That in itself was hardly unusual, but this- she had lamented, as she fixed herself a simple breakfast- was different. Worse. Dramatically worse, even by her own standards.
Now, as she stood upon the quarterdeck of The Aquila, gazing out across the open ocean, the feeling had weakened considerably. The crash of the waves upon the hull, the distant call of gulls, and the din of a busy crew ensured she was far from any quiet in which the mind would inevitably languish. Though the cacophony pressed upon the now dull ache within her head, a few deep breaths of harsh sea air counterbalanced the effect, and Kira found some semblance of peace, despite all that had occurred the previous day.
"Any sign of it?" called Connor's voice from behind her, decimating that peace like a hammer to glass.
Kira forced aside a feeling of agitation, turning over her shoulder to address the young man with a half-hearted smile. "Not yet, no."
As she trained her eyes back to the horizon, she reflected on the merits of her present task. To most, going after one of Haytham Kenway's shipments was suicide; to her, it was an opportunity to slay two birds with one stone. At the least, success in this endeavour was sure to appease Achilles of her loyalty, despite her many, many shortcomings. She had not forgiven the man, nor did she particularly desire his forgiveness, but there was one thing which she was keen to reassert: that she was a damned good Assassin, and no amount of disputes with her mentor would tarnish that.
Then there was Haytham, her connection with whom was high up on that list of aforementioned shortcomings. Though appreciative of the rather suspicious kindness he had shown her, Kira was determined to assuage any assumptions he might hold of her regard for him. Whatever the past night's unusual dealings had been, they had to be proven to be just that: unusual. Not to be read into, not to be repeated, and more than anything, not to occur without consequences. Haytham had trusted her, and it would simply be uncharacteristic not to exploit that mistake. At least a little.
The shipment that she now scoured for was one of the lesser targets she had obtained from the Templar's accounts. Inconsequential enough to not warrant outright retaliation; sizeable enough to send a message. Combined with the convenience of its timing, it was, from all angles, a perfect opportunity.
"How did you find out about this?"
Kira was stirred from her thoughts by Connor's voice once more. She straightened from where she'd been leaning against the railing of the deck, finally rewarding the man with her full attention. "I overheard some dockworkers talking at the tavern last night. They'd been making preparations for it all afternoon."
The story wasn't implausible; the Assassins gained most of their intelligence through reconnaissance, and Kira was often to be found in a tavern in the wake of troublesome days. It was a little too convenient, perhaps, but considerably more conceivable than the real course of events.
"I see," Connor returned, "and you are certain it is worth our time?"
Kira grinned, reflecting on a long list of the target vessel's contents. "Absolutely."
She had wandered over to where her friend stood at the helm, eyes following his to where the ocean stretched ceaselessly before them. The figure beside her was tense, stilled by something other than focus, and seemingly more so the closer she stepped. She couldn't blame him. Achilles had shifted their dynamic- had morphed it into something unfamiliar and uncomfortable, into something both now failed to recognise.
"Kira…" Connor's voice began, and he turned to her a little, though failing to meet her gaze. "What happened yesterday- I swear, I did not know that he would-"
"It's alright, Connor," the woman interrupted, as warmly as she could manage. She'd been as devoted to avoiding this conversation as she had her mentor whilst fetching Connor from the homestead. It had hung, unspoken but almost tangible between them, and now it seemed her companion was intent on addressing it.
"No," he said, dismissing her attempt to dodge the subject, "it is not. I never intended… I mean, it was never my intention to-"
"I know," Kira's voice cut in again. And she did, truly. Connor was a lot of things: driven, intelligent, and even ambitious. But he cared little for positions and procedures; his goal was simply to exact change, regardless of his situation. Kira tried to ignore the notion that maybe that was the point. "But this… this is a good thing. I know that you-" she corrected herself, "-we, are going to achieve much together."
Connor finally met her gaze, a relieved smile starting to form. "You think so?"
She beamed back, determined to persuade the man of her sincerity, despite the persistent twinge of resentment she felt deep within her chest. "I do. We fight for the same cause, Connor- for what we both know to be right, and nothing will change that. So long as your intentions remain true, I shall stand by you as I would Achilles."
To most, the promise would seem empty- its virtue diminished by the current, tattered state of Kira's relationship with her mentor- but Connor knew better. He knew the pair bore an infallible bond, a fidelity shaped through years of closeness, and cemented through a lifetime of shared experiences. Though weathered by the unerring pride of both parties, there was a fondness there that could never quite be extinguished, and could certainly never be replaced.
"I appreciate that, truly," the young man spoke softly.
Kira tried to warm at the words, though struggled to stifle the chill of mounting guilt. It was too easy. Too easy to lie, and to so quickly convince Connor of feelings she did not have. She had spent her life envisaging a future where she could enact her visions, where she would have the authority to effect change- real change- and restore the brotherhood's capacity to assist those in need. How could she be content, with that future now so tauntingly beyond her control?
"Ship off the starboard bow!"
The call rung above the roar of the ocean, dragging Kira from the crowd of thoughts and questions she had so desperately been trying to evade. Her eyes panned back to the horizon, guided by the new information, and she relaxed as she spied the shape of their target in the distance.
"Are you ready?" Connor asked, already turning the ship's wheel resolutely.
"Yes," Kira enthused, returning to her place against the railing. As she leant forwards in anticipation- the weight of the previous conversation already dissipating- she began to entertain herself with images of Haytham receiving news of what they were about to do. For the first time that day, she found herself fighting a truly genuine smile.
…
This wouldn't do at all.
Kira sighed, dragging a finger along the shelf mounted above her fireplace and watching with growing despair the pile of dust that accumulated at her fingertip.
It was a mere day since she'd stolen the shipment with Connor, and a mere day away from when she'd arranged to host a dinner party for her fellow Assassin, along with a small group of friends from the homestead. It was to be a celebration of sorts- a sure way to assure Connor of her good faith towards him, and to at least find some small amount of joy in her lack of fortune. It had seemed a good idea at the time, but now, as she scouted rigorously for any new and interesting places dust had settled, she regretted it immensely.
It was getting ridiculous. She kept a clean house- or at least, liked to think so- so how on earth had she managed to miss this shelf for so long? It was a question she asked herself despairingly as she started to shift objects to one side of the surface: a few books, a vase, a candlestick. Each left behind a faint but distinct imprint, and begrudgingly, she set about sweeping them away. There shouldn't have even been books on the shelf. That was what the bookshelves were-
"You missed a spot."
Kira reacted, hand shooting out for the nearby vase and sending it hurtling towards the voice in a matter of seconds.
Haytham ducked instinctively, narrowly dodging the object, and turning just in time to see it strike the wall behind him with a piercing crash. He raised himself to his full height with a frown, turning his gaze from the litter of now-shattered ceramic to the person who had condemned it to such a state.
"A little dramatic, don't you think?"
"How did you get in here?" Kira huffed, still recovering from the initial shock she had received.
"I-"
"Picked the lock?"
The man looked back at her, unimpressed by the interruption. "Yes."
Kira nodded in acknowledgement, stepping steadily down from the chair that she had been using to reach the shelf. She took a moment to compose herself, dusting herself down before regarding the broken vase across the room with a sigh. Her eyes trailed up to meet Haytham's, resentfully, before she moved, intent on clearing the mess.
"Why are you here?" she spat as she passed him. "You should not be here."
"I am quite certain you can imagine why," he answered, stepping aside. He watched as she crouched, already picking out a few of the larger shards of ceramic, and placing them delicately into one hand.
She looked up at him for a moment, clearly confused, before a brief flash of realisation crossed her face. Hiding her amusement, she stood to place what she'd gathered on a side table. "I haven't the faintest idea," she mumbled as she did so.
Haytham folded his arms across his chest. "No?"
"No."
Kira had returned to her task, diligently plucking fragments of vase from the floor, and the man joined her with a sigh. "I trusted you," he murmured, reaching for the nearest pieces he could see. "And this is how you repay me? Stealing one of my shipments?"
She had paused briefly, watching him assist her with a curious interest. Shaking her head, she forced herself to look back at the floor. "One of your shipments was stolen? I am sorry to hear that."
She sensed him stop- felt his gaze on her, and reluctantly looked up to meet it. He wore an expression of exasperation, and she studied it for a moment before rolling her eyes and standing up once more.
"Why did you do it?" Haytham asked, rising to meet her. "I thought we'd- here," he held out what he'd collected of the vase before continuing. "I thought we'd agreed to be civil with one another."
"I've made no such agreement," Kira rebuffed, taking the shards from him with a grateful nod and setting them carefully down. She scanned the floor around her feet for more; they'd picked up the worst of the wreckage between them. Vaguely satisfied, she made her way back to the fireplace, stepping again onto the chair. "If- hypothetically speaking- I did have something to do with your missing shipment, I imagine it would be to reiterate a sort of point."
"And what point would that be, exactly?"
"That we are adversaries, naturally."
Haytham had taken to leaning against the settee in the centre of the room, and he glanced nonchalantly up at the woman as he settled. "Oh, that. Forgive me- I did not realise it needed reiterating."
The Assassin said nothing, evidently absorbed in the tidying of her shelf.
"Of course," Haytham continued, "there are simpler ways to do so. I could try to kill you, if you'd like."
Kira paused, looking over her shoulder at him with a frown. She contemplated the offer- with all seriousness- for a moment, knowing it would at least afford her the opportunity to strike that self-assured grin from his face.
"No, thank you," she declined curtly, deciding against it.
"Afraid?"
She clenched her jaw, hands stilling, and made herself take a breath. "Not at all," she smiled well-naturedly, as she turned from the shelf, books in hand. "But I have spent the entire day making this place presentable. I do not care to spend the rest of it washing your blood from my floorboards."
Haytham raised an eyebrow, visibly impressed, though not in the least threatened. "So, not afraid," he confirmed, "just terribly overconfident, and adorably naïve."
"Terribly overconfident and adorably naïve," Kira repeated, staring out into space as though she were visualising the phrase. "I like that," she added finally, "it suits me wonderfully."
Her guest laughed softly at the comment, and Kira pushed the sound from her mind as she regarded the books she now clutched. She looked between them and the bookshelves across the room, considering the impracticality of the distance for a moment, before tucking them under one arm decidedly. She would return them when she had finished with-
"Allow me."
Haytham's voice startled her with its sudden nearness. He had approached her whilst she'd been preoccupied, and now stood, hand extended towards her expectantly.
"Thank you," she said quietly, handing him the volumes.
He hummed in acknowledgement, already turning to reunite them with the rest of their kind.
As he made his way to the bookshelves and began to deduce where exactly the books he carried belonged, Haytham recited his motivations for assisting the woman, and contemplated his overall purpose. He had little else to do, he assured himself, and besides, the gesture could go a small way into restoring her opinion of him. It was pragmatic- that was all. A means to an end.
His eyes trailed along the different shelves, and one by one, he slotted each book into an appropriate place. He had vaguely determined Kira's system- a combination of both alphabetised and thematic order- and he kept to it as best he could. Once he was satisfied with his efforts, he took a step back, returning his focus to the Assassin once more.
Kira had finished with her work around the fireplace and had since located a broom, which she now used to sweep whatever small fragments remained of the vase to one side. She was silent- eyes trained on the floor, brow furrowed ever so slightly in concentration.
"Expecting guests?" Haytham tried, amused by her resolve.
She looked up at him, pausing to run a hand briefly through her hair and resettling a few stray wisps that had fallen out of place. "That is no concern of yours."
"Yes, well, my curiosity remains piqued, all the same."
The man returned to the settee, though this time set about making himself comfortable on it, despite the ever-hardening glare of his host. She watched, practically seething, as he shrugged his coat from his shoulders and draped it leisurely across one arm of the seat, as though he had all the time in the world.
"I am hosting a small gathering tomorrow evening," she began, resuming her work in an attempt to distract herself. "For Connor. To celebrate his recent success."
"How noble of you."
"I wish to demonstrate my support," Kira continued, trying to ignore his tone. "I am happy for him, truly. He is already a skilled Assassin, I am certain that he will accomplish-"
Haytham had begun to chuckle deeply, strangling her words and turning her optimism to dread. "You told him all of this," he marvelled, "and he believed you?"
She threw him a particularly withering glance.
"The poor boy," Haytham jeered, unperturbed, "he still has so much to learn."
Kira fell eerily silent at the remark, which was alarmingly out of character. Haytham's laughter faded- replaced by a slight frown- as he looked over the woman with quiet intrigue. She had stilled, her eyes trained forward in pensive focus, as though her mind were in a different place entirely.
"Is it that obvious?" she faltered, finally. "My true feelings on the matter?"
"Yes," Haytham replied, straightening slightly in earnest. "But then again, my experience far outweighs that of my son."
"Experience? With liars, you mean?"
"With women," he corrected, with a taunting grin. "So yes, one and the same."
Kira narrowed her eyes at him, but there was a playfulness to his tone she couldn't help but be infected by. The dread that had gripped at her lifted slightly, and she set aside her broom with a soft sigh.
"Why are you here, truly?" she asked, circling the settee and coming to perch against the armchair opposite it. "I refuse to believe it is only to lament your mysteriously vanished supplies."
She wasn't wrong. Haytham leaned forward, his hands clasping together in something she would have attributed to nerves, if she didn't know any better. "I have a proposition for you," he stated, and it was there again: an apprehension so slight she could barely distinguish it.
Kira couldn't recall a time where she had ever seen Haytham nervous. She was painfully familiar with certain sides of him: the cold, detached demeanour he was always so quick to assume, and the furious, unrelenting fire that came from shattering it. What she saw now- if indeed, she was not imagining things- was something she struggled to place to either extreme.
"No," she declared, refusing herself any more time to overthink.
"You will not even hear of it?" the man retorted, any signs of concern melting instantly away.
"Why should I?" she cut back. "Mr Kenway, your 'propositions' have been historically one-sided. You will excuse me if I circumvent whatever veiled manipulation this is, and save myself the trouble it is so certain to inflict."
Haytham sighed in concession, unable to refute the point she was making, but determined to try, nevertheless. "That is not what this is."
"Why should I believe you?"
"It is the truth."
"Oh, and I suppose this is different from all the other times you insisted-"
"Enough!" the Templar exclaimed, resolve finally breaking. "Look, I am not asking you to trust me. Simply hear what I have to say. Should you decide afterwards you want no part in it, I will respect that, you have my word."
Kira wasn't sure of what Haytham's word was actually worth, yet still found herself rendered obediently quiet by his short outburst and her ensuing deliberations of it. The obvious answer was to refuse the man- it should be an instant decision, the simple exercising of a procedure she had devoted her life to practising. Instead, she was at war with herself- caught in the crossfire between her obligations and another side she could not even identify. Turning back to Haytham, she found herself surrendering to the latter.
"Fine," she granted, gritting her teeth as though speaking the word pained her. "What exactly do you propose?"
Haytham wasn't prepared for the swell of relief that confronted him at the question, and he leant casually against the closest arm of the settee, determined to appear unmoved as he watched the woman slump into her own seat. "When I first came to this country, I was tasked with finding a Precursor site. It will come as no surprise to you, I am sure, that this endeavour is one I have recently become reinvested in. Given your late change of circumstance and the fact that your assistance so far- however unwilling- has been invaluable, I believe that an alliance on this front could prove advantageous to us both."
The Assassin across from him listened attentively, squinting sceptically as he drew to a close. "To you, certainly," she consented, "on that, we can agree. I fail to see, however, what exactly it is you could do for me."
"You wish to restore Achilles' opinion of you, no?"
"Yes, and leading a Templar Grand Master to an ancient Precursor site, thus spelling the inevitable destruction of the brotherhood- and indeed, the world- is not a part of my plan to do so."
Haytham's fingers had moved to pinch the bridge of his nose as he frowned, taxed by the woman's incessant need to provoke him. "Believe it or not, my intentions are not so entirely sinister," he insisted. "I simply wish to study the site. Find information, answers-"
"Weapons of unimaginable power…" Kira finished animatedly, matching his tone.
He sighed. "Could you take this seriously? For just one single moment?"
She could. She was taking the whole thing incredibly seriously, in fact, but couldn't see why she shouldn't have a little fun whilst doing so. Still, as the man's eyes glowered at her with increasing intensity, she decided not to push her luck. "Say I chose to believe you," she started, "which- I hasten to add- I do not. Even then, there are countless other reasons I should be inclined to refuse you."
"Name them."
Kira crossed her arms, relaxing into her chair with the air of someone about to engage in a friendly game of chess. "I have never particularly cared for finding what remains of the Precursors."
"Yet your mentor cares immensely, I seem to recall."
"I am not even certain I believe the stories I have heard of them."
A confident grin. "Then I shall have to convince you."
"The risk," Kira began, leaning forward intently, "is far greater on my side than on yours. Whilst as Grand Master you are free to act as you please, I endanger losing everything should my comrades discover I have aided you." The playfulness in her voice had dulled, hardening into something far more sombre. "My actions have already cost me much. Even by talking to you now, I gamble the little that remains. I cannot lose any more, Mr Kenway, you-" she looked to him rather mournfully- "you ask too much of me."
The moments where Kira was sincere- truly, unapologetically sincere- were few and far between, and though Haytham could not deny a certain fondness for them, they were the moments he felt least equipped to tackle. He took a shallow breath as he listened to her final statement, forcing himself to remain neutral despite the sharp tug of guilt that accompanied the words. "You are right," he conceded, rewarding her honesty with one of his own. "I appreciate the substantiality of the risk you would be taking, and of the one you take in indulging me now. It is selfish of me to ask for your help- I know this. Nevertheless, if you would permit me, I should like to balance the precarity of our situations, just a little."
Kira narrowed her eyes, unsure of his meaning. "How?" she granted hesitantly.
The man flashed her a knowing smile. "Wait here," he said, standing and then disappearing into the hallway through which he'd entered.
Not particularly compelled to be anywhere else, Kira acquiesced, curiosity overruling her better judgement as it so often did. She tightened her arms around herself slightly, somewhat in reassurance, and somewhat to defy the chill that had begun to creep through the room. Her eyes moved to the window. It was not yet late enough for darkness to set in, but whatever light remained had been smothered by a veil of dark clouds. It looked positively foreboding, and Kira amused herself with the idea that it was a portent of sorts.
Haytham soon re-emerged, having retrieved a small chest he had left in the other room, and Kira's gaze fell on it at once. She watched, entranced, as it was set down upon the low table that stood between her and the seat the Templar was now settling back into.
"Your curiosity is almost palpable," Haytham chuckled as he reclined slightly, earning a sharp glare from his host that only served to deepen his amusement. "Be my guest," he added, gesturing towards the chest.
Kira didn't need to be told twice. She shuffled forwards in her chair, leaning over to drag the chest a little more towards her side of the table. After fiddling with the latch for a moment, she pushed the lid backwards, at a loss for what she might find inside.
It was a great many things, though Kira's attention was seized by one item in particular, and she reached for it now, careful to handle it gently.
"You still have this?" she asked, showing Haytham the orb she had stolen from Connor's people.
He smiled tauntingly, unaffected by the severity of her tone. "The sooner it is proved to be of no use to me, the sooner it can be returned."
Kira contemplated briefly how Connor would react to learning she had hurled his village's beloved artefact at Haytham's head. Begrudgingly accepting that this was something she could enact only in her fantasies, she continued to rifle through the contents of the chest. It was research: a collection that reflected years of study into the Precursors, though she lacked the time or patience to reward any of it with more than a passing glance.
"Why are you showing me this?" she wondered out loud, turning to Haytham with a frown.
"Because it is yours. Well, ours, if you do decide to assist me."
Kira was too puzzled to express any particular joy at this revelation.
"Look," Haytham explained, "this has been a passion of mine for a long time. This research is the product of years of work and dedication- it is not something I would part with lightly. Nevertheless, I acknowledge you have the most to lose in this venture, and so, I am willing to make sacrifices of my own."
"You wish to give me your research?"
"I would most like to share it with you, but yes, it is yours. Should you use it to seek out the Precursor site by yourself, well…" he shrugged in resignation. "I will not stop you."
Kira had been prepared to defend against many things: blackmail, threats, or even a physical attack. Each outcome had been deemed reasonable in her mind, and she had assured herself that no matter which arose, she was capable of resisting it. Now, faced by the previously inconceivable fact that Haytham had discarded intimidation in favour of reason, she found his proposal disconcertingly realistic, even… enticing. She paused, examining the idea within the light of her experiences so far, as one would inspect a fine piece of jewellery before purchasing it. Everything was in place; everything made sense, except- something was missing.
"Your men do not know about this, do they?" she spoke, looking to Haytham with sudden understanding.
The man was impressed by her intuition, though not particularly surprised. "William knows," he said, with a slight smile. "And Shay will naturally find out when he returns. But no, the others do not know. They cannot know."
It did not need any further explanation.
Musing over the admission, Kira tried to identify the possible intentions behind it. The reward of Haytham's proposal was all at once more than the physical gain of the research- it was power, as deadly and as tangible as a loaded gun. Though it lacked the substantiality to contest the risk she would be taking, it was… something, and something he had imparted with willingness, even trust.
"Well?" Haytham probed, feeling as though he had provided the Assassin with reasonable time to assess his words. "Do we have an agreement?"
Kira blinked back at him, insulted by how he practically radiated his usual confidence- the image infuriatingly in contrast to the onslaught of questions, thoughts, and concerns that pressed at her mind. She was envious, she realised. Tired. Tired of the noise and the pressure of the war she was waging within herself. Even more tired of knowing it was all a front: a futile effort to persuade herself she hadn't already made a decision.
She caved. "Not yet," she simpered finally, already feeling better for having dismissed her better judgement. "You have yet to meet all of my terms."
Haytham frowned, relieved by her tone but at a loss for her meaning.
Her grin deepened. "You told me you could convince me that all this Precursor nonsense was worth my time. So…" she paused to extend her leg slightly, toeing the chest of research towards him. "Convince me."
The Templar quirked an eyebrow. "Now?"
"Now."
Smiling slightly and offering a subtle shrug of resignation, Haytham set about preparing for the challenge. He began to sift through the contents of the chest, setting aside certain documents and then objects: Miller's journal, the orb- even his amulet, which he removed almost reverently. The items combined to form a visual narrative of the pair's shared history, and Kira reflected on this and the memory each piece conjured. As she switched between watching Haytham and the ever-darkening view outside her window, a feeling of content tiredness soaked through her, and she yawned, unable to resist its pull.
…
With a gentle groan and a slight stretch, Kira was awake. Her eyes flickered lazily open, struck by the broad morning light that forced its way around her curtains, and she winced, unready for the sight. Taking a moment to adjust, she straightened in her place on her armchair, already feeling her back and neck ache in retribution for the crude sleeping arrangement. With a regretful sigh, she began to recollect all that had taken place the previous night. She couldn't remember ever making a conscious decision to fall asleep.
Standing slowly, she executed a few more strategic stretches as her gaze moved over the low table before her. It was covered with various papers and books, to the point where she could hardly make out the wooden surface beneath. Equipped with the new knowledge Haytham had spent the evening relating to her, she glanced over the research with a revived perspective, able to now attribute information to every piece.
In better command of her senses, Kira looked finally to the man in question. Haytham lay, spread across the length of the settee, and by the looks of it, still very much asleep. The woman studied him for a moment, certain she should feel some sort of displeasure at the sight, though found herself too tired to evoke such passion. Besides, it made a pleasant change to see the Templar so blissfully quiet. Peaceful, even. Vulnerable.
Almost unconsciously, Kira's hand moved to touch her hidden blade. She stroked it thoughtfully, the leather of its fastenings cool against her fingertips.
"Do not even think about it."
She jumped at the sound of Haytham's voice. Though he had appeared to be sleeping whilst he'd uttered the command, he now opened an eye to peer at her cautiously, an eyebrow raised in mistrust.
"I was not-" she started in defence, though at once saw the futility of it, and bristled as she changed her approach. "As though you would not do the same."
"Think to kill you in your sleep?" Haytham asked, eye closing once more. "Never."
He settled into a more comfortable position, allowing Kira time to contemplate the confession, and savouring her thoughtful silence as he drifted back to sleep. "That would take all the joy out of it," he murmured with a smile.
Kira huffed softly, exasperated, though quietly entertained by the comment. Disinclined and without motive to disturb her guest any further, she stooped to start gathering documents from the table, sorting and placing them gently into neat stacks. She had hardly begun to gain ground on the task when a knock sounded, deep and unsettling, at her door.
Her breath caught in her throat. There was an all-too-sudden familiarity to the sound, and she found herself wondering- trying desperately to recall- if a knock had been what had woken her in the first place. She couldn't remember, though as her door now shook again with an increasingly impatient thud, the assumption seemed likely. Fighting the rising impulse to panic, Kira crept lightly to her window, moving a curtain marginally so that she could glance around it, undetected.
From this angle, she could just about make out the figure at her door.
Connor. Of course it was Connor.
Aside from the obvious irony, the man's presence was explained by the fact that she had asked him to be here- on this morning- to bring some fresh game she could prepare for dinner. How on earth had she forgotten?
She almost tripped over her own feet in her hurry to return to the centre of the room. Frantically, she stashed what she had organised of the research into the chest, soon following it up with documents and books that lacked any order at all. Across from her, Haytham lay motionless, oblivious to her frenzied actions.
"Mr Kenway?" she spurred in a low whisper, trying to stir the man as she carried about the work.
Nothing.
She tried again, already losing her patience. "Mr Kenway?"
Still nothing, and she froze for a moment, turning to regard Haytham with furious disbelief. His coat had slunk from where he'd draped it on the settee to the floor, and seeing it was within reach, Kira snatched it up without a second thought.
"Haytham!" she hissed, throwing the garment forcefully at his head.
It struck him, and he awoke with a start. "Good God, woman," he snapped, emerging from beneath the temporary cover, "what the hell is the matter with you?"
Perturbed only by the volume of his voice, Kira hushed him urgently, gesturing vaguely towards the entrance of her house. "Connor is outside. You have to leave, now."
Haytham groaned. "He can wait."
"For heaven's sake, move!"
The man shot her an icy glare, dark with warning, before pulling on his coat with a deliberate listlessness.
Kira had meanwhile collected up the last of the research, and she closed the chest with a grateful sigh, looking about herself to be sure she had not missed anything. Glancing up, she caught Haytham's indignant gaze and narrowed her eyes in retaliation. "Do not look at me like that. If we are to be working together, you will have to be considerate of what I need of you, every once in a while."
Considering this briefly as he finished buttoning his coat, Haytham's scowl softened, and his lips played into a suggestive smile. "Fine," he said, eyeing her playfully, and the next words were practically purred: "Pray tell, what exactly do you require of me?"
The tone was maddeningly disarming.
Inclined to punish him for it, the Assassin decided to play along. She smirked lasciviously, moving to rest a hand against the end of the settee, and leaning tantalisingly close to him. "I want you…" she spoke, not missing the way the man tensed at the sound of her voice, "to get out of my house."
Haytham released a subtle breath, forcing a look of confidence as the woman distanced herself from him as quickly as she'd crept close. "As you wish."
Another knock resounded through the house, inciting action, though instigating the opposite. "Kira?" called Connor's voice this time, tinged with worry, and Kira went rigid, seized by a mixture of panic and guilt. Haytham had fallen similarly quiet, and the pair exchanged a glance in some beleaguered display of solidarity- even reassurance.
Shaking off her discomfort, Kira pushed the chest of research hastily towards her guest. "Take this."
"I told you, it's-"
"Mine, I know. Still, it is better off with you for the time being."
Haytham nodded, picking up the object and setting it firmly beneath one arm.
As he proceeded to reach for his hat and make ready to leave, Kira watched, perplexed by how strangely cooperative he was being. For all his initial complaints, he was treating the situation with the respect it warranted, which perhaps suggested-
No. She wouldn't allow herself the full thought. There was some ulterior motive here, some hidden intention. There had to be; there always was.
"Well," Haytham's voice breached her thoughts- an intrusion she wasn't ungrateful for. "Do have a wonderful time this evening."
The sarcasm was far from subtle. "Oh, I will," she replied with a bitter smile.
Sparing time for only a light chuckle and brief nod of farewell, the man departed for the back door, leaving Kira to wander reflectively in the other direction. As she made her way to the door, the hall trembled with another powerful knock, and she rolled her eyes, frustrated, as she reached for the handle. For all of Haytham and Connor's differences, interminable, exhausting persistence- it seemed- ran in the family.
Author's note:
Hi everyone! Sorry for the wait, uni work sadly had to take priority for a little while. Happy Easter! The next chapter is all planned out, but my submissions are due early May, so would expect it for slightly after then? We'll see! Anyway, just wanted to say two things:
1) Thanks so much for anyone who left a comment on the last chapter, they all really made my day! It means so much to me that there are some people still enjoying this fic, however few you are! :D
2) As a back-up I'm currently in the process of uploading this fic to AO3, under the same title and author name. So if any of you are invested at all, feel free to bookmark it on there! Am slowly getting around to uploading it all. :D
Thanks again!