Sum of Memories
Chapter 14: Resolve.
"You cannot do this."
August 30, 1715.
Something was different.
The air between Edward and Rhian had changed, and some of the tension that had been so rife between them for months was gone. At first, Connor had not been able to pinpoint what it was, exactly, but as soon as Edward pressed that kiss to the back of Rhian's hand, Connor realized what had happened.
The dynamics of their relationship had shifted.
Alarm spread through Connor's chest as he watched the soft looks that his friends exchanged, the gentle words, and Connor tore into his brain to try to remember whether or not he had ever even heard of Rhian Yates prior to meeting her here, in 1715. The reason for such was this: if he had never heard of or met Rhian in his time- and her name never had been mentioned by Achilles as being an associate of Edward's- then it was very likely that she and Edward either had never met in his time, or she had died before they could be known as associates. The changing of one scenario left Connor's very existence hanging in the balance; the other meant, given their level of attachment to each other, that Edward would be devastated should Rhian die. Either one was bad news for all of them.
Connor watched as Rhian departed, looking as though she was floating as she headed belowdecks to get some well-deserved rest after the rescue she had pulled earlier that day, and then he turned to Edward, only to find that the Welshman had followed their friend with his gaze. There was a tenderness there, an affection which Connor had never before seen. It was then that Connor decided that he and his grandfather needed to talk.
"Edward," Connor called, drawing Edward's attention to him. "A word?"
Edward blinked, and then nodded, and gestured for Connor to follow him up to the helm. It was time that they were away; they could not waste another moment.
"Weigh anchor and hoist half-sail," Edward called to the rats as they passed by them. "We need to be well away from here before the jig goes up."
Amid the ensuing flurry of activity, Connor and Edward made their way up to the helm, and after Edward made sure that they would have some relative privacy, he looked over to Connor.
"Speak your mind."
Connor glanced around, and then crossed his arms over his cracked ribs, the bandages making his skin itch where they caught against the little hairs on his arms.
"Are you in love with Drystan?"
The startled look that flashed his way revealed everything before Edward's features closed off once more.
"Why do you ask?" he countered, expression guarded. "And furthermore, why's it your business, rhocyn?"
Connor took it as a good sign that Edward had not yet begun to curse at him.
"I ask, and it is my business, because Drystan is one of my best friends," Connor returned calmly, "as are you."
Edward would not look at him. Connor sighed.
"Why did you two take so long to return to the ship?" he asked.
"No reason."
"Liar." Edward glared at him for the accusation, but Connor merely tilted his head to the side, studying his grandfather with a steady gaze. "Cadell was right. Drystan smelled like you, and you smell like Drystan, more than you would had you simply walked back arm-in-arm. What happened, Edward?" Connor paused, a thought striking him. "Did you two-?"
"No!" Edward interrupted immediately, the forceful protest cutting through the air as his face flared red in what was either mortification or fury. "Cach, no. We barely know each other."
"That has never stopped you, before."
"She ain't a whore, rhocyn," Edward snapped, and a victorious smile quirked Connor's lips.
"So you do feel something for her." When Edward did not deny it, Connor nodded slowly. "What happened?"
Edward did not answer for several moments. There came the cry of, 'Weigh anchor!' and suddenly, they were moving, the wind fluttering in the sails overhead as the capstan crew chanted a shanty and hauled the anchor aboard. The Jackdaw crept forward, inch by ponderous inch. Edward spun the wheel to the right and the ship nosed to the left, and soon, they were picking up speed and heading out into the harbor. By the time that they were finally out on the open ocean, Connor was just about ready to go ask Rhian, instead. She would probably be more willing to talk.
Thus, it came as a surprise when Edward's voice met his ears again, quiet, but there.
"We kissed." Edward's shoulders hunched defensively as he spun the wheel to the left and canted the ship to the right, setting their heading towards Nassau. "We kissed, and it was one of the best things I've ever done." He shot an annoyed glare at Connor out of the corner of his eye. "There. Happy?"
Connor pondered that for a long moment. Then he nodded.
"I understand," he said. "However, I would caution you against furthering your relationship, for your own sake as well as hers."
The glance that Edward shot him was wary, this time.
"Why do you say that?" he asked, and Connor knew that Edward would not like what it was that he had to say. Connor licked his lips. His ribs throbbed painfully as he unconsciously tightened his grip on his arms. He quickly relaxed.
"I have no recollection of Drystan or Cadell Yates, by those names or by Drystan's real name," he admitted solemnly, the forefinger of his right hand tapping out an anxious beat against his left bicep. "When my mentor told me of you, he made no mention of any associates fitting Drystan's description."
He let that statement take a moment to sink in, gazing silently at Edward as the other man adjusted their course just slightly and then called for full sail. Edward's expression was unreadable when he finally looked back over to Connor.
"So, what?" he asked, and Connor saw a flash of fear in the other man's eyes. "Either your existence is in danger, or she dies?"
"That was my assumption, as well."
"Well, there's no way to know, now, is there?" Edward shook his head and turned back to the helm. His gaze was troubled. "There's no reason why she couldn't've just changed her name again later in life. Hell, maybe she'll change it to the name of one of my friends, or something so common that nobody would ever make the connection."
"It is possible," Connor conceded, "but again, neither my mentor nor my mother ever mentioned anyone fitting her description, skill set, or deeds."
It was true enough. Achilles, Connor's mentor, had told Connor stories of all of Edward's associates, and although Haytham Kenway had told Connor's mother, Kaniehtí:io, quite a bit about his family before they parted, he had never mentioned anyone fitting Rhian's description, name, or accomplishments, whether famous or infamous. Connor had been four when Ziio had died during a raid on their home village, but he had always had an impeccable memory. He could not recall any tales of Rhian Yates.
Connor knew that Caroline Scott-Kenway would die of smallpox in 1720, and that Edward would return to England with his daughter, Jenny, by 1724. While searching for a house (and base of operations, by extension), he would meet Tessa Stevenson-Oakley, and by 1725, they would be married and would soon have a son, Haytham Kenway, Connor's father. The description of Tessa Kenway was that of a dark-haired, ethereal woman who was soft-spoken and, in all other ways, the perfect image of a lady of class. In other words, she was definitely not their friend in disguise.
Rhian Yates was essentially a ghost.
"All I am saying is that you should exercise some caution, Edward," Connor murmured, coming back to the present to find that Edward was looking positively stormy.
"She's as real as you and I are," Edward muttered, and his hands clenched, white-knuckled, on the wheel. "As I live and breathe, she's a real human being, solid enough to touch and to wound, and her lips were as soft as rose petals beneath my own." He took a shaking breath and turned his gaze on Connor, and Connor was startled by the desperation plain in his grandfather's eyes. "Tell me that that's not real, Connor."
Connor drew a steadying breath of his own and looked Edward straight in the eye. "I am not saying that she is not real, Edward. All I am saying is that she might not be in your life for much longer. One way or the other, no records of her survive to my time, and if she had been one of your known associates, I would have known of it. You become famous in your own right before all is said and done."
He finally reached out and settled a hand on Edward's shoulder. "Use caution around her, Edward. I only wish not to see you hurt if she does end up leaving you."
"Or maybe she just changes her name a few times," Edward muttered again, but Connor could see the doubt in that ocean-blue stare. The older man's heart ached at the thought that he had caused it, but there was no escaping the truth of the matter.
"Perhaps," Connor agreed. "Do not allow it to worry you."
"I'm not," Edward snapped, and Connor did not have the heart to call him on the lie, this time. "Cach, why'd you even bring it up?" He exhaled shakily.
Connor studied his grandfather for a moment, and then gently squeezed the Welshman's shoulder.
"What are you thinking?" he asked, and Edward's breath hissed out between his teeth.
"That I'm already in too deep," he admitted lowly, and a tremor ran through his frame beneath Connor's hand. "The thought that she might not be in my future…" He swallowed forcefully. "I don't like it."
Connor had the feeling that that was an understatement. Time to change the subject.
He lowered his arm back to his chest. "So, what do we do, next?"
Edward looked grateful for the distraction.
"Well, firstly, did you overhear anythin' whilst you were in the lion's den?"
Connor thought for a moment. "Not much, but that the treasure fleet is, in fact, sailing for Spain in one month instead of three, from the island of Great Inagua."
"Inagua?" Edward frowned slightly. "Well, that changes things. I wonder if it's because of you?"
Connor shook his head.
"Most likely not," he said. "At any rate, the ship should still be in harbor, there, until the end of September."
Edward licked his lips. Connor could tell that the other man was pondering the new information, giving it some serious thought.
"We don't have time to take you to Boston and still be back in time to capture the ship before the fleet takes the Piece back to Spain," Edward murmured, and cast a glance at Connor, scanning the older man's body, taking in the bandages wrapped around Connor's ribs and right bicep. "And you're injured."
"We should worry about the Piece," Connor stated, and then shook his head when Edward looked surprised. "Boston can wait, as can my time. We should assume that there is a Piece of Eden sailing to Spain in a month, and that the Templars have control of it." A thought hit him. "Who controls the island?"
"The Templar Julien du Casse operates a plantation, there."
Connor nodded, considering. "A plantation? That would mean that there will be buildings, there, and perhaps defenses, as well."
"Aye," Edward slowly replied, and when he next looked to Connor, there was a devious glint in his crystalline eyes. "Are you thinkin' what I'm thinking?
"That we should take the plantation for the Assassins?" Connor's lips curled in a wily grin. "Yes."
Edward's teeth glinted in the soft moonlight, and the Devil was in his eyes.
"A plantation would be a good base of operations," he growled, "and I've been thinking about finding myself a nice little place to settle down." He nodded decisively. "We'll take the island, and the Piece, and then we'll go to Boston once we've settled everything there."
"Aye." Connor's grin grew positively feral, and then it subsided. "Do you know where the Dagger is?"
Edward shrugged. "I think Drystan still has it, or she hid it somewhere." He sobered slightly at the mention of their friend. Then he shrugged it off again, and glanced at Connor. "We'll get it from her in the morning. You should try to get some sleep."
Connor glanced down at his chest, taking in his injuries and the bruises dotting the majority of his exposed flesh. Edward had a point. There was merit in the idea of sleeping and allowing his body to heal itself. After a moment, he nodded, and reached out to squeeze Edward's shoulder one more time before he turned to go.
"Connor?"
Connor turned back to find that Edward was gazing at him with something akin to pain in his eyes.
"Are you…" He paused, closed his mouth, opened it again, and then finally huffed and shook his head, gaze flitting away from the older man. "Never mind. Get some sleep."
Connor decided not to press the issue. When he reached his hammock belowdecks a few minutes later, he gingerly climbed into it, and glanced over to his left, where Rhian was sleeping soundly. A pair of seafoam-green eyes glinted at him through the darkness.
"Hello, Connor," Rhian whispered, her lips quirked into a smile.
Rhian was still floating on her tide of joy when Connor climbed into the hammock next to hers. She peered at him through the darkness, and gave him a smile when he realized that she was still awake.
"Hello, Connor," she greeted him. "Beautiful night, isn't it? Not too warm, not too cold, sea's calm…"
"It is," Connor acknowledged, but there was something dark in his tawny gaze that sent a tremor of doubt through Rhian's joyful mood.
"What's wrong?" she asked. For a long, long moment, Connor was quiet, simply regarding her with a steady gaze in a way that slowly diminished the smile on her face, until it vanished entirely. "Did you and Edward argue, again?"
Connor shook his head. "No, we did not argue. There has been a change of plans."
"Change?"
"The fleet is sailing in one month's time from the plantation of Julien du Casse on Great Inagua," Connor informed her. "We are sailing there as we speak. Edward intends to take the island and its plantation as an asset for the Assassins."
Rhian nodded slowly, turning over the new information in her head.
"That makes sense," she stated. "What else?"
Connor was quiet for another short eternity. Then he sighed heavily, and reached over between their hammocks to grasp her arm.
"You need to be careful around Edward," he warned her softly, and Rhian's confusion sparked into a blaze of alarm.
"What?" she demanded. "Why?"
Connor's gaze was solemn but steady as he told her how he had never heard of her or Cadell prior to his arrival in this time, and how neither his mentor nor his mother had ever mentioned her. He told her about how his father had told his mother of his family before his departure, and of how his grandmother had been described as a dark-haired woman of an almost ethereal composure.
Rhian was not stupid. She could figure out the implications of this knowledge for herself, and it did not take her long to do so. Still, it did not stop the chill in her heart from spreading to the rest of her, and finally, she wordlessly turned her back to Connor and closed her eyes, unable to sleep but unwilling to face him any longer. Eventually, she heard Connor sigh, and he settled back into his hammock, his hand probably drifting back over to rest atop his belly as was his wont, and then Rhian was left to silence but for the clamor of her own thoughts.
Her eyes opened again, and she stared sightlessly into the blackness of the Jackdaw's belly.
She had only just found some hope of being loved in this world, hope that had come in the form of a golden-haired man with whom she loved to argue, and Connor had just told her, not in so many words, that she should relinquish her hold over Edward. That it was for both their sakes did not make it any easier for her to hear or to bear. It was not the first time she had experienced heartbreak, and that there was still some hope that Edward may yet requite her made it difficult to accept. The woman's heart that beat in Rhian's breast whispered traitorously that she should hang the consequences and allow their love to blossom as she knew it should.
Rhian and Edward would make a fearsome couple, she knew. They were both passionate people, and with their tempers and mutual stubbornness, things would never be truly easy, but they also tempered each other just enough that they would be able to weather any storm that came their way. All of this, she knew in her heart to be right and true.
Hang the future! her heart cried. Don't I deserve to have a love of my own?
And then, she remembered that, oh, right, Edward could never be her own. He was already married, had already given his heart and his oath to another woman, and he was bound to her for life. He would never, could never, belong to Rhian as she belonged to him. Would it be fair to Caroline if Rhian tried to claim Edward's heart for herself?
No, her mind whispered. It did not make it any easier for her to cope with the imminent loss.
Clenching her eyes shut, Rhian sighed.
No, her heart whispered, no, she has no claim to him, anymore, not after she relinquished him to the sea without a fight.
It was then that she realized it: Rhian would fight tooth and nail to keep Edward and to remain beside him, even if it meant that she would change history in the process. All she could hope for was that she would not change things so much that Connor would never be born.
I'm sorry, Connor, she thought as her thoughts began to settle and dim. Don't go dying on me, but I'll defy fate and forge a new history, if that's what it takes to keep this love we've found. I'll stay beside Edward come Hell or high water, fate be damned.
September 5, 1715.
The days had passed slowly. Rhian and Edward had never mentioned that which Connor had told them, and they never did discuss the future of their own relationship. Neither did they do anything to nurture the fledgling love that had been struggling for so long to blossom between them. When they were together, Rhian was cordial at best, and Edward, at his worst, was waspish in a way that he had not been since Connor first met him. Oftentimes, their interactions would end with Rhian slinking off with her tail between her legs in an uncharacteristically despondent manner, and Edward would end up sulking until the next time they spoke or met each other's gazes across the deck.
When not involved in the day-to-day routine of sailing, most of their time was spent in planning the upcoming raid. These planning sessions, as many of Edward and Rhian's other interactions at the moment, were charged affairs, filled with plenty of unresolved sexual tension that all but sparked through the air like the lightning that sometimes flashed from the heavens to the sea, and as a result, all three of them usually ended up snappish and short-tempered by the end of the day from dealing with each other. In all honesty, it made Connor long for the days before his friends had inadvertently pushed forward with their relationship. Things had been simpler, then, less frustrated if only because there had been an unspoken 'no touching' rule. Now that they had shared physical contact, Rhian and Edward had become almost twitchy.
Connor could see that his friends were all but aching to share another hug, another kiss- Hell, even a pat on the shoulder would have been acceptable, but neither, it seemed, was willing to take the chance of sparking something that they could not stop. Not for the first time since he had spoken with them, Connor wondered if his interference had damaged their relationship irreversibly. He supposed that it would be difficult to return to how things had been, and abstain from physical contact, if one were used to having it.
Today was promising to be as strained as the past five days had been. As Edward snarled something irritable at a passing mate, Connor found himself thinking of his best friend, Cosette, and wondering if he and she would behave like Edward and Rhian, were they ever to begin, and then be denied, a physical relationship of any type.
For just a moment, he closed his eyes and indulged his imagination.
Cosette's face flashed through his mind, more familiar than his own reflection. He saw thick, curly, black hair framing a heart-shaped face, a pert nose, and delicate, red lips, just like those of a French woman, though her cheeks were a little more rounded and her jaw just a little narrower than that of a European. Her skin was lighter than that of a Native, courtesy of her French father, but it was darker than any white man, also courtesy of her mother's Mohawk heritage. Her eyes, however, were her most striking feature, an almost-unearthly green perfectly offset by her dusky complexion. She stood a head shorter than Connor; her height would be perfect for him to simply dip his head and capture her lips with his, were he so inclined.
Connor had to fight down the heat that rushed to his cheeks at the thought of kissing Cosette. She was his best friend in his time, yes, but surely that did not mean that he wanted to kiss her… did it?
He did not know, and as Edward snapped at another undeserving sailor, Connor decided that it was time he did something to check his grandfather's temper.
"Cadell!" Connor called to the young man who was helping Gregson sort things out on deck, where an argument had erupted between two of the sailors. Cadell turned a tawny gaze up to Connor, and Connor beckoned the other man to join him. A second later, Cadell had broken up the fight, and then he was standing beside Connor.
"Can you take the helm for a little while?" Connor asked without preamble. Both Cadell and Edward looked at him, askance, and Cadell glanced nervously at the Captain as Edward's face flushed with indignation.
"I can pilot her for a while, yeah," Cadell replied, warily eying Edward as the other man's cheeks began to turn scarlet. "But I think I'd better get back to Gregson."
"You will take over for Edward," Connor announced, and walked over to his grandfather, clapped his hands on Edward's shoulders, and pulled the blond away from the helm. "The Captain and I are going to have a little chat."
Cadell grabbed the wheel before it could turn too far, and Connor felt the older man's eyes on his back for just a moment before Cadell realized what he was doing. Connor, for his part, ignored Cadell's snicker and, keeping his hand firmly on Edward's shoulder, ducked inside Edward's cabin long enough to grab his tomahawk, a dagger, and a pair of cutlasses. Then he dragged Edward back out into the bright Caribbean sunlight.
"Clear the deck!" yelled Cadell, and it was echoed by Gregson.
Connor shoved Edward away from him. "En garde!"
That was the only warning that Connor gave to Edward before he tossed the cutlasses at the younger man and charged.
Edward gasped in surprise. His block was weak, as he had not gotten a great grip on his swords, but he still managed to fend off Connor's downward chop as well as the dagger that snaked in towards his ribs a second later. Then, he managed to affirm his grip on his swords.
The counterattack was brutal. Every strike, every chop, every sweep and stab was filled with all of the frustration and tension that Edward had endured for the past five days. It turned him vicious and vindictive, and he hardly gave Connor a chance to breathe between attacks. Connor parried an underhanded sweep with his axe, deflected a side slash with his dagger, and then crossed them together in front of himself to block a double chop that would have sunk into each shoulder had he allowed it to connect.
They were true, then, the stories that Achilles had told him about Edward. Connor could tell that his grandfather was holding back. Still, it was difficult to defend against Edward's dual cutlasses. Just when Connor blocked one strike, another would flash in from the other side or, if Connor was not paying attention, it would streak in from the same side as the first, or from above or below, as well. There was no way of telling from where the next strike would come. Edward's fighting style was utterly unpredictable, and Connor's blood sang with the heady thrill that only came from fighting a truly skilled opponent.
The clank, thud, and clatter of metal on metal clashed through the humid September air; Connor and Edward's breath began to come heavy, and perspiration slowly soaked through their shirts at their chests, shoulder blades, bellies, and from under their arms. They would reek after this was done, but as Connor watched Edward snarl out a grin, he knew that a little bit of stink would be well worth the effort of cutting through some of the tension.
Connor scowled in concentration as Edward suddenly upped the ante. The already vicious flurry of attacks became blindingly quick. Edward's arms were blurs all around Connor, and Connor could barely keep track of them. He resorted to simply trying to fend off the barrage.
"This. Is. All. Your. Fault!" Edward grunted, each word punctuated by another hit with one of his swords. Connor, busy as he was with trying to keep up, could not concentrate enough to formulate a reply. "All. Of this. Is your. Doing!"
He slammed his cutlasses down against Connor's crossed tomahawk and dagger, and Connor was quick to trap the swords by flipping the blade of his tomahawk and catching the steel against the flat of his dagger.
"All of- unh!- all of what?" Connor managed, grunting as Edward bore down against him.
"All of it!" Edward hissed, and pressed down again. "We could've been just fine- we would've been just fine, and then you had to go and stick yer goddamn nose where it didn' fucking belong!" His Welsh accent had thickened with exertion and fury, and the fact that he was actually cursing at Connor in English told Connor exactly how incensed his grandfather really was. "We'd'a been happy, but ye jus' ha' ta go 'n' open yer scurvy gob an' fuck it all up!"
Even had Connor been so inclined as to answer that accusation, there was no way he would have been able to do so, as a second later, he was fighting again.
All around them rang jeers and hollers from the crew as they cheered on their favorite; some rooted for Connor, and others were betting on Edward. Either way, Connor knew that he would have to disappoint the ones who were supporting him. He was almost finished. He simply could not keep up with the flurry of Edward's attacks: the younger man was just too quick. Connor had always been built for power rather than speed, and Connor did not have the edge that Edward's anger had lent him; Edward, on the other hand, was wiry, quick, and angry, and had absolutely no trouble weaving in and under Connor's defenses.
In the end, the older man only managed to get in one good hit, which knocked Edward far off-kilter and sent him lurching to one side. Then, before Connor could capitalize on the opening, Edward had recovered. He slashed at Connor's side. Connor blocked with his tomahawk. The other sword flashed in toward Connor's left thigh. Connor managed to deflect that hit with the dagger in his left hand, but then Edward suddenly reversed his grip on his sword and struck.
Connor's world exploded in stars and pain, and he crumpled bonelessly to the deck, wheezing.
A ripple of sympathetic hissing and 'Ooh's and 'Ouch'es ran through the gathered pirates. Connor's world had narrowed to the nauseating, crippling pain that had turned his vision yellow and folded him to the planks. For several long moments, he could hear nothing, see nothing, and he fought not to gag as the nausea sent bile skittering up into his throat only to be swallowed back down again and suppressed. Eventually, he became aware of a pair of knees hitting the planks beside him, and a pair of hands were bracing him as he rocked back and forth, cheeks damp with sweat and what might have been tears. He was still wheezing and gasping, and his hands were cupped around that which Edward had so brutally injured.
"How could ye?" a voice was demanding, high with anger and worry. Rhian. Her Welsh accent had thickened with her emotions, as well. "Ye don' go fer a crotch-shot durin' a spar, you ruddy-faced, yellow-livered cuckold!"
"Don' ye bring me wife inta this, ya base whoreson!"
Connor's eyes snapped open just in time to see Rhian's face go bone-white.
Uh-oh.
"Ye got somethin' to say to me, Kenway?" Rhian demanded, her gravelly boy-voice made even rougher by the force of her hurt and fury. "Somethin' ta say 'bout me mam, perhaps?" She rose, and put her hand on the hilt of her own cutlass and picked up Connor's dagger from where it had fallen beside them. "Choose yer words carefully a'fore ye speak."
Edward, too, had gone pale as soon as he realized what he had said, but Connor knew that Edward was just worked up enough not to apologize.
"Edward," Connor hissed, managing to unfold himself from his ball in order to brace himself on the deck and laboriously push himself to his feet. He could not yet straighten up, but he managed to put his arms at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching spasmodically as pain shot through him from his injury with every little twitch. "Edward, apologize to Drystan, now."
Stubbornness creased Edward's brow, and he held out one of his swords, the tip pointing at Rhian's breast.
"I'll not," Edward stated. "If he can't stand hearin' the truth, he shouldn't've come aboard."
"Take it back!"
The shout was punctuated by a furious clash of metal as Rhian launched herself at Edward. The Welshman barely managed to catch the first strike on his left sword, and Connor was left to watch helplessly on the sidelines as the fury of Rhian's assault drove Edward clear across the deck.
Rhian, for her part, had withdrawn deep inside herself, pushing down any and all emotions but for the icy fury that guided her strikes. She was not blinded by it, no. In fact, her rage lent her a clarity that she rarely experienced, a strength and a level of martial skill that she could rarely summon otherwise. There was a reason why she usually kept a tight lid on her anger, after all, and it was not because she was afraid of saying hurtful things. No, whenever her wrath manifested itself like this, someone usually ended up injured or dead. It had not happened in a long, long time, but the last time someone had made the mistake of calling her a 'whoreson', it had been during a battle. She had disemboweled him and then put a bullet between his eyes.
Edward, of course, could not have known this, and Rhian would never seriously injure him, physically. However, she could, and would, humiliate him by defeating him in a fair fight. She had no qualms about that.
For his part, Edward was working furiously to fend off her onslaught, but Rhian did not allow him much room to maneuver. She kept up her assault, pushing him back towards the gunwale with the intent of kicking him overboard. However, at the last second, Edward disengaged from her and made a dash for the mainmast. Crewmembers shouted and scattered as Rhian pursued him, jeering as Edward turned to face her once more, one hand rising to grab one of the running lines, and then a collective cheer rose up from the gathered sailors as Edward sliced clean through the rope with one of his cutlasses and rocketed up into the rigging.
Rhian snarled.
Edward, when he landed on the yardarm a second later, turned around to gape down at Rhian in astonished disbelief, his chest heaving. The woman in question quickly glanced around for a way to follow him; her eyes landed upon a line that was thrown over the opposite end of the yardarm. It was attached on one end to a heavy crate, which held canvas, pitch, and other materials which the crew had been using to repair a tear in the sail, and probably weighed quite a bit more than Rhian did. It was anchored to the gunwale by the other end of the rope.
That would do.
Rhian raced over to the anchor-point and, after shoving her dagger through her belt, grabbed it firmly in her left hand. She quickly cut the line below where she was holding it. The resulting jerk nearly pulled her arm from its socket as it launched her into the air. Her eyes watered; the yardarm rushed closer, closer, she was going to crash into it-
At the last second, Rhian released her grip, and her momentum carried her harmlessly into the air above the yardarm. Her feet hit the wooden beam a heartbeat later; she wobbled dangerously for several seconds, arms windmilling as she careened side to side and struggled not to plummet to either the deck or the water below. Down on the poop deck, another cheer of approval roared through the crew even as the crate she had loosed smashed onto the deck and splintered, scattering materials all across the wooden surface. It took a second for Rhian to get her balance. When she did, she palmed the dagger once more and turned to her right, meeting Edward's wide-eyed gaze as the younger man flushed quickly, and then paled.
Within the space of half a moment, she had engaged him once more. Edward frantically parried and blocked; his features were as white as Rhian's had gone just five minutes before, and as she glowered at him, she realized that he was both intimidated and aroused by her anger. She could have smacked him for it. Instead, she simply smashed her cutlass down against his and snaked the pommel of her dagger in towards his ribs. There was a dull thud as metal collided with flesh.
Edward yelped.
He staggered away from her for a second, hunching over his injured side, before he was forced to deflect yet another barrage. Rhian did not give him time to regroup; she drove him out along the yardarm, the narrow beam limiting both her room to strike and his room to block. More than once, they wobbled dangerously, until finally, Edward gasped. His eyes widened, and he flailed for just a second. He tossed his cutlasses out to his sides.
"Swords away!" he shouted, and then, flailing wildly, he grabbed onto Rhian's shirt, trying to keep from falling overboard.
It was to no avail.
With a shriek of surprise, Rhian found herself freefalling, plummeting towards the blue-green Caribbean waters below them, Edward's form tumbling beside her. A spike of true terror shredded her rage and buried itself deep in her heart. She could not swim! Still, she managed to keep her mind enough to shove the dagger through her belt and toss her cutlass in the general direction of the Jackdaw so that neither of them would land on it.
Her back smacked into something semisolid, and with a great roar, icy water closed over her head.
Rhian screamed in pain and terror, only just barely remembering to choke it off before she inhaled any of the water. It still rushed up her nose, stinging painfully. Cracking open her burning eyes, she frantically glanced around herself; there was light off her right foot, so she flailed her arms around until she managed to flip herself in that direction. Then, she struck off, clawing frantically for the light and the air that would come with it. She was further down than she had thought. In seconds, her lungs were burning, seizing, and still the surface was well out of reach. For the first time in years, Rhian knew what her future was going to be.
She was going to die.
The world began to go dark; her arms were leaden, her legs just dragged her further down into the depths. Her lungs were on fire: she could hold her breath no longer. Her heart began to skip its beats. Things grew fuzzy.
Just as she began to fade out of consciousness, something solid wrapped around her middle, and then she was ascending quickly. The sunlight faded to black.
Her face broke the surface, and she sucked in a greedy breath, and then she was coughing, choking, gasping, and she was alive. God be praised, she was alive.
"…ystan, Drystan! Drystan! Open your eyes, goddamn them!"
Rhian cracked open her eyes, blinking furiously against the onrush of sunlight, and she finally managed to calm her breathing and regain her bearings. She was floating. Well, more or less. She was reclining on her back in the cool water, arms and legs splayed wide, and Edward's face was inches away from her own. Slowly, she became aware of his solid form at her back, his arm wrapped tight around her waist, his leg thrust between hers as he fought to keep them afloat. His brow was creased, and the fear in his gaze was plain for her to see.
Rhian's heart thawed towards him for the first time since Connor had spoken to them.
"Edward," she croaked, not bothering to disguise her voice. She turned her face away as she coughed again, and then she turned back to him. "You…"
"Couldn't let you drown," he murmured in return. In a matter of seconds, his gaze had grown shuttered once again, though she caught him looking at her lips a few times. She knew that he desperately wanted to kiss her; she wanted to kiss him, as well, especially after this most recent near-death experience. Still, she would have to content herself with their current closeness and hope that it would be able to carry her through whatever may come in the next few days.
"I'm sorry."
Rhian startled, and she saw the surprise in Edward's eyes, as well. They had spoken at the same time. Edward tightened his grip on her slightly; they sank a bit, and Rhian gasped. She grabbed onto him frantically. He hissed, and they flailed for just a moment before he shoved his arm back under her back and pushed her away slightly.
"Arch your back!" he exclaimed. He coughed, spitting out some water, and floundered for a moment with his free arm. "Arch your back, take a deep breath, and spread out your arms and legs!"
Rhian whined fearfully, but did as he had ordered, bowing her back and arching her belly to the sky, sucking in a deep breath as she spread apart her legs and forced her free arm out to her side. Almost instantly, she found that their precarious position was steadied. It was a relief to know that she could help in some small way. Edward's breathing was a little heavier as he craned his neck towards the sky and gulped down some air. His head dipped below the surface up to his eyes; Rhian turned her head, and water rushed into her ear. Grimacing, she shook her hair out of her eyes. The curly red strands promptly plastered themselves back to her forehead. She turned her gaze back to Edward just in time to see him come back up, his hair sliding smoothly back as the water sluiced off of his skin. Rhian frowned, and then, closing her eyes, she tried it. After a second of allowing the water to swirl across her skin, she tilted her head back up; her hair still clung irritatingly to her cheeks, but it was, at least, out of her face.
Edward was staring at her when she finally managed to blink away the water from her eyes.
"Thank you," Rhian whispered, switching to Welsh and blinking at him through the bright sunlight as they crested a wave and slid down into the valley before the next. "Where did you learn this?"
Edward grinned and raised his gaze to the sky. "Where do you think?"
Rhian was quiet a second.
"Did… Did Caroline teach you?"
For a moment, Edward blinked at the sky. Then he sighed and turned his gaze back down to meet hers.
"No," he replied at length. "Actually, my da taught my brothers and sisters and me."
Rhian nodded. Her lip found its way between her teeth.
"What's… What's your family like?"
He eyed her warily. "Why do you want to know?"
Rhian whined again as she felt herself sinking, but the sensation was blessedly brief. "Just humor me, please?"
A grin spread slowly across Edward's rugged features, and he gave a soft chuckle.
"All right. My da died on my seventeenth birthday," he began slowly. "He was English. My mam's Cymry. Got their temper, too. My siblings and me, there's six of us, and I'm the youngest. Would've been nine, but after I was born, there were two miscarriages, and the last one died at five years old, when I was seven."
"I'm sorry."
Edward shrugged. His features were carefully neutral. "He fell out of a tree on our farm and broke his arm. It turned gangrene."
"Still." She looked to the sky again, and sighed. "I couldn't imagine if Cadell died."
Edward gave a soft chuckle.
"Joseff was his name," he explained quietly. "He was a hellion. Followed me around like a puppy, and got us into more scrapes than I can count." His lips twitched into a small, small smile. "The rest of them are grown, with families of their own. They're all in trade, save my brother, Aneirin, who's a clerk. He's the only one of us who ever learned to read and write."
Rhian snorted. "Makes sense that you'd be the wild one, Kenway."
He laughed.
"Well, it wasn't originally by choice," he admitted, and Rhian frowned, intrigued. When he looked back over at her, he gave her a relaxed smile. "I was pressed into service in seventeen-twelve." Rhian winced, and Edward's expression darkened a little. "My employer had just told me to fuck off after I mouthed off to him, and I'd lost my job. I went drinking. They caught me as I was coming out of the pub." A slight shiver ran through him, and his grip on her waist tightened. "Beat me senseless. Caroline came looking for me and arrived just as they were about to drag me away."
"That's horrible."
Edward was silent for a moment, studying her features. "It was. She begged and pleaded for them not to take me, but I ended up on a ship all the same." He gave her a rueful smile. "Turned out to be one of the best things that ever happened to me. I found a freedom at sea that I'd never known on land, and I learned all I could while I sailed under Captain Howe. He taught me Italian. Well, some."
"He was foreign?" Rhian was shocked. It was unheard of, foreigners captaining British sailing vessels.
"His mother was English with Italian heritage, and his father was a courtier and former ambassador to Italy, but Howe was born in England, raised English, and commissioned in the King's Navy as a young boy. His parents and siblings spoke Italian, so he learned from them," Edward explained, and Rhian nodded, her lips parting in understanding. "His first name was George, but he was Ezio to those who knew him." He chuckled. "Funny. Looking back at it, his philosophy was rather like that of the Assassins. Interesting, considering his namesake."
Rhian gave him a strange look, at that, but Edward did not comment further. Instead, he fell silent, gazing into her eyes. She swallowed.
"What happened then?" she asked, and dared to snake her left arm around his waist, curling her fingers into his belt. Edward's lips twitched when he felt the motion, and his grip on her waist tightened in response. Rhian's heart fluttered, and she fought the urge to kiss him. Instead, she just listened as he spun his story.
"I sailed under Captain Howe for a year," he continued. "Learned a trade from the ship's cooper, and seamanship from the ship's master, and then, when we made port again in Bristol, I returned to Caroline." His gaze turned wistful. "For a while, we were… content. I was able to find steady work, and our home life improved, as well. Then, things started going downhill again."
He sighed. "I grew restless. The owner of the business I worked for died, the business failed due to his successor's incompetence, and that was followed by a string of failed jobs, and things grew strained yet again."
Rhian hummed.
"You returned to the sea," she realized, musing to herself on how good a man Edward really was. He may not have known it, himself, and she would never tell him it to his face for fear of his ego growing any bigger, but he was a good man.
"I returned to the sea," he concurred, and fell silent for a moment. "Caroline's father died the summer before I joined up again. I couldn't hold a steady job despite my best efforts." His voice lowered. "You've never known helplessness or despair until you can't earn enough money to support those who depend upon you."
"So, you joined up for the signing bonus?"
"At first, yes," Edward replied. When he looked back down at her, ocean-blue meeting seafoam-green, Rhian swallowed, feeling her cheeks heat. He was so, so close. "The bonus went to paying off our debts, and I sailed on the next man o' war to leave the harbor." He paused, and then chuckled. "Interestingly enough, I served under the same captain as the last time. That was in seventeen-thirteen."
"And then the Treaties of Utrecht happened," Rhian concluded, and snorted her opinion of those. "Put a lot of honest men out of work, myself included."
Edward laughed. "Well, I certainly wouldn't call you a man…"
"You're incorrigible." But Rhian was smiling, nonetheless. "But what happened to Caroline? I can't imagine she took it well, your decision to turn to piracy."
"She told me that I was dead to her." Edward sighed and turned his gaze back to the sky. "For her own protection, she would never see me again. Five months later, she wrote me to tell me that she'd borne us a daughter."
Rhian's eyebrows shot up towards her hairline. Edward was a father? How had she not known? Oh, right. The last time he had spoken to her and Connor of his marriage, Edward had been drunkenly slurring his words, and Rhian had been half-dead from a stab wound in her stomach and from the poison that someone had slipped into her ale in a tavern. Still, it was difficult to see Edward as a father; the man was not irresponsible, but he was also not mature enough to raise a child.
"Have you ever met your daughter?"
"No," Edward replied immediately, and the bitterness in his voice was startling for a second before Rhian realized the cause.
Edward would never be able to meet his daughter unless he somehow managed to gain a pardon from the King. As a pirate, he could not dock at any respectable port, and that meant that he could not even visit Bristol. Rhian, though she had no children of her own, could well imagine the Hell that that must be, for Edward to live every day knowing that he was missing his daughter's life and that he could do nothing about it.
"No one will fault you for wanting to know your daughter," Rhian told him softly, and then gasped again in fear as a wave swelled again beneath them. Once it had passed, she released a shaking breath. "Do you regret it? Leaving Caroline?"
Edward snorted, but it was a sad sound. "I'll always regret it, for her sake and for that of our daughter." He paused, and then sighed. "I think I regret it even more because it means that I'm a failure, as a man and as a husband."
"You're not a failure!" Rhian blushed when Edward winced at her outburst, but she would not back down from this stance. "Sorry. But you're not a failure, Edward. You're a wonderful man and an excellent captain, and I don't know a single man who has ever known you to say otherwise."
He studied her for a few heartbeats, and then sighed.
"Careful, Drystan," he groused. "You're in danger of sounding like you want me to forego the future that Connor foresaw for me."
Rhian snorted, but remained silent. For a long time, neither of them spoke, simply gazing up at the crystalline sky overhead, and listened to the distant shouts of the Jackdaws as they worked to bring the ship about in order to retrieve their captain and surgeon's mate. Connor's voice rang out among the loudest, giving orders with a startling competence to halve the sails and for the Creator's sake, do not fall overboard!
That was the heart of the issue between them, Rhian thought. Connor's warning, the one telling them not to allow their relationship to follow its natural path, had driven a wedge between all three of them. First, it had divided Rhian and Edward, and then, as they grew more and more disheartened, it had driven Connor away, as well. They had seen him as the cause of their mutual pain, and had treated him with resentment.
For Rhian, it was not just the fact that Connor had told her not to fall in love with Edward. No, she was already in trouble on that account. It was also the fact that someone was trying to dictate her fate and force her away from something that felt good, natural, and absolutely right. Connor had robbed her of the one person outside of her family who had ever made her feel welcome, who had ever made her feel as though she was wanted. She resented Connor a little bit, for robbing her of a future full of happiness at Edward's side.
But still, why must she sacrifice her happiness on the altar of another woman's destiny?
"Why can't we have today?" The question slipped softly out of her mouth before she could stop it or even process what it was that she was thinking, but when Edward met her gaze a second later, she knew that she had asked something for which he had no answer. Edward opened his mouth, and then closed it again with a soft sigh against the backdrop of the water lapping against their bodies.
"Drystan…"
"I'm serious, Edward." She licked her lips. "I know what I want. I know who I want. Why shouldn't we take the opportunity we have to take today and make it our own, and let the future come whence it may?"
Edward was silent for a long moment. The shouts from the Jackdaw were coming closer. Connor was calling for the crew to reef the sails.
"Edward! Drystan!" Connor was close enough to see them. Edward and Rhian both glanced up towards the approaching ship, and, perhaps judging that they still had a couple of moments before the Jackdaw reached them, Edward sighed and turned a serious gaze to Rhian.
"We can't have today because if I had you," he said, "it would be until death did us part." He leaned in close and pressed his lips to her forehead. "And it scares me, the thought that nobody in Connor's future ever made mention of you."
Rhian sighed and relaxed into the touch for just a moment. Then she pulled away and turned her gaze up to the blue, blue sky above them.
"I understand," she whispered, and tried to swallow her crushing disappointment. A shadow fell over them. Edward's voice was pained.
"Drystan," he murmured.
"We'll just keep our distance, then," Rhian surmised, unable to look at him any more. Something splashed into the water nearby, and Rhian pulled away enough to see that somebody had tossed down a rope to them. She swallowed. "Edward, how are we going to get over there?"
There was a second of silence. Then, Edward sighed in resignation.
"I'll tow you," he replied, and a second later, he let go of her. Rhian squeaked with alarm, and flailed for a second before his left arm slipped around her chest. His palm brushed against one bound breast on the way. At any other time, she might have blushed and then scolded him, thinking it had been purposefully done. This time, however, she just blushed and remained silent, knowing with their current situation that it was most likely accidental. No, Edward was not one to torture himself or others needlessly, and a deliberately intimate touch would, at this juncture, be torturous for both of them. Rhian wrapped her hands around his strong arm, and held on for dear life as he started to swim towards the rope.
Now, if the butterflies in her stomach would just leave off for a while, she would be fine.
When they finally reached the rope, Edward grabbed it and hung on tight, shifting her around so that she, too, could wrap her hands around the hemp line. This brought them very, very close together, closer than they were before, and for just a moment, his longing was plain on his face.
Rhian bit her lip, battling within herself, and then gave in to the temptation.
She leaned in towards him. Her lips brushed chastely against his for one heartbeat, two. He responded just briefly. Then she parted from him and looked upward in time to see Connor poking his dark head over the gunwale.
"Are you both ready?" he called, peering at them with an unreadable expression on his features. Rhian swallowed, keenly feeling every point where her body lined up with Edward's.
"Yes!" she called back up, deepening her voice. Connor looked back over his shoulder, and nodded. A second later, there was a jerk on the line. Rhian squeaked, and her hands slipped just a little, but a strong arm wrapped around her waist, and she looked back to Edward, finding that he was staring at her, something unnameable in his ocean-blue eyes.
She leaned into him, feeling safe and secure and maybe, just maybe, like she was loved.
As soon as they had been hauled aboard, Rhian retrieved her cutlass, fled towards the mainmast, and quickly scaled the rigging, intent on hiding the despair that had gripped her heart. Edward watched her go, making no move to stop her as Cadell and Connor approached him with Edward's cutlasses in hand.
"Thanks," Edward mumbled, taking his swords from Cadell, who nodded and then went to follow his sister. It was as Gregson shouted for the mates to return to their duties that Edward sighed and turned to go take the helm once more.
"Damn you," Edward muttered to Connor as the other man followed him. Connor sighed softly, and Edward turned a pained glare on the older man as he took the wheel in hand. "Damn you for telling us."
"I apologize," Connor responded softly. Edward noticed that Connor was moving more slowly than usual, but at least he was no longer hunched over or limping. "I just wanted you to know so that you and Drystan could make an informed decision."
"I understand it," Edward murmured despondently, and his eyes wandered to where Drystan had taken refuge in the crow's nest high above them. "But damned if I don't fall more in love with her every day."
Connor gave Edward a contemplative look. "Perhaps things will work out."
Edward sighed and shook his head, turning his gaze forward again as he spun the wheel and set them back on their original course. His expression was guarded and morose, and he could not meet Connor's eyes.
"I don't want to talk about it, anymore."
Compulsory and Standard Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed in any of its forms, save for the copies I have of the games. Assassin's Creed belongs in its entirety to Ubisoft. I own Rhian Yates and any other original characters you encounter herein.
Welsh Translations:
Rhocyn: Lad
Cach: Shit
Author's Note:
Thank you all SOOOO MUCH for reading!
So, this Author's Note is going to be a doozy, today. Please bear with me- I have a PSA as well as some history notes to get through.
Firstly, if you had not noticed, my update schedule is going to be a little slower than it was before my hiatus- maybe once every two weeks instead of weekly. The reasons for this are varied and many, but it boils down to a couple major things:
1. Chapter 15 is the last chapter that I had written before my hiatus, so I'm writing these from scratch as I go. I know where the story is headed, and I know that there are probably only 3-4 chapters left of the main story (I know, I know, I'm sorry!), but I'm actually still in the process of writing these even as I post them.
2. About two months ago, my mother was involved in a car accident. She is doing well, but the impact broke her ankle. Two surgeries later, she still can't put weight on it, which means she has very limited mobility, and she needs a lot of help around the house. Not as much as she did when she was on the pain meds, mind you, but she's still limited. Therefore, much of my time and energy is spent helping her out, when I'm not at work (which, ironically, is where I do the majority of my writing.).
3. I actually have been having to replay through parts of the game, just to get events/locations right. Obviously, most of the events of the game will not play out, here, as this was an AU even before the game's release (evidenced by the changes to Edward's backstory, and even to Caroline Scott-Kenway's).
Secondly: This story's rating may soon change to M for mature themes. What do you think? Should I change the rating and post the mature content, or should I preserve the current rating and post the mature content separately? I really value your input and would love to read your thoughts on the matter.
Thirdly: I have a few chapters written to a sequel to this. Would you be interested in reading it? Its rating would be a hard "M" for adult situations, and it would not have Connor involved in it probably for the majority of the story- or I could start posting what I have of the story I've written that revolves around Connor and his friend, Cosette, in the 1770s, though Cosette is actually the main character.
A note about divorce in the early 1700s, and why Edward and Caroline are NOT divorced either in the game or in this story: It was actually very difficult and expensive to obtain a divorce in the early 1700s, and given Edward's relationship with Caroline and his feelings towards her, I'm not sure he would have taken that option even if it were a possibility. Firstly, divorce didn't work like it does today. A divorce weighed heavily in the husband's favor- he would get everything, and it would leave the wife destitute. He would have custody of their children, and he would also get any property, money (inheritance or dowry), or title she brought to the marriage. Even her family was usually of no help, usually siding with the husband's family because of any grandchildren or money matters. Some women became nuns, but most became prostitutes, starved, or committed suicide. In other words, not a happy solution. Secondly, the Church had a heavy hand in things, and it wasn't until the State started dealing with divorces that things started changing. After the 1600s, you could get a "divorce a mensa et thoro", or "divorce from room and board", which is what we today call "being separated". You're still married, but you're living apart, and you can't legally remarry without being a bigamist (in itself a crime). By the early 1700s, there was also "divorce a vinculo matrimonii", or a "divorce from all the bonds of matrimony", what we would say today is a true divorce, where the divorcees were single again and were able to remarry. However, this actually required an Act of Parliament to achieve. Imagine the headache THAT would be. Most of the time, true freedom from an unhappy marriage only came when one spouse died or was presumed dead. It was also ridiculously difficult for a woman to initiate the divorce process. This all would account for why Edward never remarried in-game even though he and his wife were separated. There's a reason why bigamy was such a problem until the late 1850s, after all- you couldn't really get divorced until then!
Finally: I've been writing an original story! I know, I know, "And you neglected your readers?! WTF, GIRL?!" Sorry, sorry! It was so compelling, and it came to me clear as a bell; I kid you not, it was like a bolt of divine inspiration that demanded I write it. Now, I'm working my way through Draft 2 before I move on to revising, and after some edits for content and a proofread, it's going on Amazon. I'm so excited! It's not easy, though, and recently the going has been rougher than ever. No motivation to write at all, and when I do write, it's stilted and uninspired. My hope is that getting Edward, Rhian, and Connor down on the page will get me back into the groove with The Black Chasm- whose first few chapters are live on Wattpad!
In addition to that, the past six months have seen me create a YouTube art channel (if you're interested, look up Tiny Colossus Creations. I even made a video of myself painting a portrait of Rhian!) as well as launching my own website! Check it out at TinyColossusCreations on Wordpress! (Search Wordpress for it. Or, you know, just Google TinyColossusCreations, and I'm the one whose logo is a gal sitting on the moon holding a star.)
Hope you are all doing well, and I look forward to reading what you thought of this chapter!
-Scribe