Sum of Memories
Chapter 15: Shift.
"Do you have anyone you would move Heaven and Hell for, just to see her happy?"
September 23, 1715.
Crack.
"Hush!" The reaction was instantaneous, and Connor winced slightly, and shrugged in response to the exasperated glare that Edward threw his way. "Can't ye move any quieter, boy?"
"I am older than you are," Connor reminded Edward, shaking his head as he looked around them, peering through the dense foliage for anything or anyone that might have heard the sound. There was nothing; even when he used his Sight to scan the area, he saw no flashes of red or of blue, nor of white, any of which would have signified human life. There were a few monkeys in the trees overhead, and off in the distance, he caught the sound of a large cat snarling as it prowled the jungle. Save those, there were no other signs of sentience.
They had come ashore in what would be called, in Connor's time, Lantern Head Harbor. Connor and Edward were to make their way on foot across the island to the northern harbor (later to be called Rocky Harbor and Jack Bay), where Julien du Casse's plantation was located. Meanwhile, Cadell and Rhian would sail the Jackdaw around the eastern crescent of the island and, at approximately noon the next day, would sail into the bay and begin bombarding the plantation, if Edward and Connor had not yet strung up the Jolly Roger flag to let them know that they had taken the plantation.
After they had made landfall on a white-sand beach, Edward and Connor had scaled the great ruin there, all white stone and arching columns. The ruin had been littered with decades-old wooden scaffolding. For the most part, it had held up well under the weight if the two Assassins who had scaled it. There had been one or two close calls that had nearly sent one or both of them plummeting to their deaths. Still, they had made it to the cliff above in only moments. At the top had been the still-smoking remains of a watchfire; clearly, this side of the island was not uninhabited. That point had been proven not far into the jungle, where they had encountered not only the native iguanas and other fauna, but a soldier, as well.
The soldier had been disposed of with ease: Connor had lured the man over with the well-timed rustle of a branch, and Edward had come up behind the man and slit his throat with his Hidden Blade just as quickly. They had dragged him under the leaves of a nearby stand of ferns, and had continued on their way. Two more soldiers had suffered a similar fate. When the patrolling man had gone out of sight, Connor had dropped down on the sentry, killed him with a swift stab to the base of his skull, and had dragged him out of the way and hidden in the bushes until the remaining sentry had returned. Edward had killed that man quickly. Going through their pockets had yielded a few Spanish réales and a couple trinkets, which they had stashed away for later. A fourth guard had met his own untimely end not much further down the path.
This brought them to the current moment.
They were crouched on a cliff overlooking a deep gorge, into which a trio of waterfalls gushed, white and sparkling. Down below was what looked like a mangrove swamp, and more jungle. The remains of an old, rope bridge dangled from a precipice directly ahead. It seemed that the two of them were not the first to traverse this trail, and if Connor had to guess, they would not be the last.
"I do not see anyone," Connor whispered to Edward, who glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Edward's eyes flashed golden in the afternoon sunlight. Connor glanced around, slipping into his own Second Sight to see more clearly whether or not there were any enemies in the vicinity. He could see none. "Do you see anyone?"
"No," Edward admitted, and got to his feet. Bracing himself, he took a running leap, and landed safely on the precipice. Connor released the breath he had unconsciously held, and followed his grandfather (fearless, reckless, brash) to the bluff.
Edward was about to cross to the opposite cliff via a fallen tree that was stretched over the gap, but Connor stilled him for just a second.
"Drystan and Cadell will not make it to the other side of the island before tonight," he informed him softly. "Will you sit with me a moment and enjoy the view?"
Edward stared at Connor for a moment, and then, glancing around, he sighed, and followed Connor over to sit beside a palm tree that was clinging tenaciously to the very edge of the point. Edward's thigh was warm against Connor's as his grandfather sat beside him, their legs dangling into thin air. Below them, there was nothing; nothing but a sea of swaying emerald far below, and farther than that, the hard ground. Across the gap gushed the vigorous white waterfalls, sparkling in the sunlight. A broad rainbow flickered in and out of existence in the spray.
"It is beautiful, is it not?" Connor murmured softly a moment later, gazing out over the lush vista. Edward was quiet a second, and then he grunted.
"Aye, it's lovely," he agreed, and then sighed. "I can think of lovelier sights than this, but yes, it's beautiful."
"You are thinking of Drystan." It was a statement, not a question. Edward gave a noncommittal grunt. "She will be fine, Edward. You need not worry."
Edward stared into the distance for some time. When he finally spoke, it was to heave a sigh.
"It's not the taking of the island I'm worried about," he muttered at length. "It's everything that comes after you leave."
"After I-?" It took Connor a moment to realize what it was that Edward was saying. He sighed, and reached up to rest a hand on Edward's shoulder. "Edward, I have not ceased to exist yet because of your relationship with Drystan."
"You've given this some thought."
"I have." Connor fidgeted a bit, and finally leaned forward, resting his hands in his lap. "I still cannot recall ever hearing of Drystan or Cadell Yates in my time. That does not mean that they did not exist, or that you never knew them. It might simply be that they were never successfully connected as associates of the Assassins." He glanced at Edward. "Much though I wish it to be so, you will understand if I do not tell you to marry her."
Edward gave a small snort of laughter. "I'm already married, or had you forgotten?"
Connor nodded his acknowledgment, but remained silent. After a time, Edward turned to him.
"Drystan won't sleep with me if we're not wed, is that what you're saying?"
Connor's cheeks darkened a bit. "I would think not, considering her background. Besides, I do not think that she is that loose of a woman."
Edward sighed. "I know, and I like her all the better for it." He reached down and plucked at a loose thread at the hem of his robes. Connor knew that his grandfather would have to make repairs, soon. That hand suddenly clenched into a fist, and Edward drew in a shaking breath. "Jaysus, I just… I want her so badly I can almost taste her, most days, but I can't do anything about it."
Connor was quiet a moment, remembering ebony curls, dusky skin, vibrant green eyes, and a sweet, shy smile on beautiful, rosy lips.
"I think that I know what you mean," he intoned. Edward's ocean-blue gaze was knowing as he met Connor's tawny one.
"Your friend?" the Welshman asked quietly, and Connor nodded.
"I think Drystan was right," he admitted, "when she told me that two friends do not need to be lovers, to be in love." When Edward quirked a curious eyebrow, Connor licked his lips, rubbing absently at the healing scar on his cheek where one of his jailor's rings had split the skin during his captivity in Havana. "Cosette… She is not my woman, but… I cannot stop thinking about her."
"Oh? Cosette's her name?"
"Cosette Delacroix." Connor glanced away, his cheeks warm. "I keep remembering the sound of her voice, and her smile." He fidgeted with a buckle on his bracer. "I keep remembering her laugh, and the way the sunlight catches in her hair and turns it the color of embers." He lowered his voice. "I keep remembering the way my heart pounded with terror when she was shot during… during a skirmish, in my time, and the warmth that was in my heart when she told me that she treasured my friendship."
Edward studied Connor for a long moment before a small smile curled his lips. He put a hand on Connor's shoulder.
"Seems to me as though you've fallen for your best friend," he observed, and Connor sighed, gazing out over the vista before them.
"It seems as though I have," he admitted, "but I am many years and a thousand miles away from her, with no guarantee that I will ever see her, again."
Edward shook Connor's shoulder, then, and rose to his feet.
"Then, come on," he told the older man as Connor got up, as well. "Let's take this gem while there's still daylight, and then we can ship up to Boston to see if there be a way to get you back to your time." He grinned, and elbowed Connor gently in the ribs as they turned away from the edge of the precipice. "Got to get you back to your woman, don't we?"
Connor's smile was small, but genuine. "I told you, she is not my woman."
"She will be," Edward laughed, and tossed his arm across Connor's broad shoulders, dragging the taller man down an inch or so, so that Connor stumbled slightly and chuckled. "If the lassie's smart, she'll snap you up the moment you ask her." Edward clapped Connor on the shoulder and let him go as they neared the start of a log that spanned the length of the gap between the precipice and the beginning of the jungle path that would hopefully lead them to their destination. "Now, come on. We've got a plantation to conquer, and not much time to conquer it in."
Connor nodded, and they were off, again. From the waterfall, it took them about two hours or so to reach the outskirts of the plantation. The patrols became more frequent the nearer they got; by the time that they halted, perched in a tree that overlooked the plantation, they had seen no less than six patrols go through the jungle. Thankfully, they had only had to kill two of the groups.
The plantation itself was composed of a main manor, which was situated high upon a hill to the east, several outbuildings, and a small village whose houses clustered like ants around the dock that stretched out into the harbor. Far off into the distance, they could see the hint of a white sail on the horizon; the Jackdaw, most likely. In short time, they were concealed behind a tree overlooking the outskirts of the village. There were guards everywhere, walking their patrol routes in groups of two and three; there were even a couple of riflemen perched on a guard tower each to the east and the west. Just to their right, there was some ground cover, but there was a stretch between that and the next-closest hiding spot that was completely bare of cover.
"All right," Edward murmured, and Connor glanced over to his grandfather as the younger man wiped his brow. The humidity was cloying, the air dense with the threat of a coming storm. "My thought is that we split up, try to find du Casse, and cause enough chaos to lure him out so that one of us can kill him."
Connor nodded, looked back out over the village and the docks, and then paused. "There is a ship docked in the harbor."
Edward followed his gaze.
"Cach," he muttered. "That's du Casse's ship, all right. He's here." He glanced around. "But where…?"
"There is a heavier concentration of guards around the ship," Connor realized. "I see more guards on the docks and the sloops than there are in the village."
Edward nodded. "Then that's probably where we'll find du Casse. How good are you at explosions?"
Connor's lips quirked. "I am a fair hand at bowls."
"Bowls?" Edward eyed Connor speculatively. "All right. First Mate Connor, your orders are to do your worst-" He pointed off their right. "-on that side of the plantation."
Connor gave him a small grin. "Aye, Captain Kenway."
He pulled his hood up over his hair and slunk off through the trees as Edward shook his head behind him.
As Connor skirted around the edge of the plantation's outbuildings, he kept low to the ground, moving through the dense ferns and island grasses that grew there. He kept his eyes open for any enemies; once or twice, he spotted an iguana in his path, but the lizards always skittered out of his way before he could step on them. Soon enough, the ground cover ran out, and that was when Connor paused. He glanced back to where he had come from; Edward was still crouched behind the trees at the edge of the jungle, his face turned toward Connor. Waiting.
Connor smiled to himself and faced forward once again.
Just before him, there was an ammunition silo, protected by two guards wearing the white coats of French merchant marines. Connor glanced to his left, and then to his right. The coast was clear. Ejecting his hidden blade from its sheath, he drew his tomahawk with his right hand. His legs coiled beneath him. He prepared to spring. There was a flash of motion at the corner of his eye.
At the last second, Connor stayed his motion. There were two more guards patrolling up the hill to his left, weaving their way between the huts and outbuildings toward where he was hiding. They would pass right by him. Connor held his breath, crouched as low to the ground as he could, and peered out at them from between the fronds of the fern in which he was currently squatting. Either the men would pass them all by, or they would pause at the magazine, or they would change shifts with the guards on duty at the powder silo. It did not matter. As soon as two of them were alone, Connor would take them.
The guards paused to speak briefly with the pair at the magazine, and then they moved on, just as he had predicted. Connor counted to thirty, just to make sure that they would not double back, and then he readied himself once more.
When he burst out of the brush a second later, the guards did not have time to do more than look at him in astonishment before he buried his dagger in the throat of one and lodged the blade of his tomahawk in the other's belly. They collapsed with twin gurgles. The man on his right gave an aborted cry, but Connor strangled it before it made it out of the man's throat. He dropped them to twitch out their last seconds of life on the ground at his feet, and then he kicked down the door to the powder magazine.
The room was dark, dry, and it reeked of gunpowder. He grinned, grabbed an extra powder horn and some shot, and then he set fire to the whole thing using the flint of his pistol.
Connor made sure that it would burn, and then he high-tailed it out of there as the magazine went up behind him. The force of the explosion nearly knocked Connor off his feet. He was sure that the concussion that accompanied it was audible across the entire plantation. He dove back into the brush and scrambled away from the site as alarm bells began ringing; his next destination lay closer to the water's edge.
He was nearly there a moment later when, upon hearing a shout of alarm, he looked up in time to see a cannonball splash down into the harbor not 10 feet shy of Julien du Casse's ship. Connor's tawny eyes snapped out to the mouth of the harbor just in time to see the Jackdaw sailing in, her swivel guns trained upon the smaller ship at the dock as du Casse's men scurried about, making ready for a quick getaway. Just as du Casse's ship lifted anchor to make her way out of the harbor, the Jackdaw began to heel about, and as her flanks came parallel to the ship, she let loose a blistering broadside. Connor dove behind a hut for cover as cannonballs careened overhead with that strange, deep whoosh-thump sound that only large projectiles could make. When he peered out again, the Jackdaw was wheeling away, slowly coming around for a second shot.
She would not need it.
Julien du Casse looked up in time to see the golden-haired angel of death descend upon him with talons outstretched, and screamed betrayal and defiance as he died.
It was done.
After their master's death, the soldiers and mercenaries on the plantation did not hold out resistance long, especially under threat of another bombardment from the Jackdaw. In short order, they had given up their arms and had either joined Edward and Connor in the liberation of the island, or had been rounded up and barricaded into one of the huts near the waterfront, to be dealt with shortly. The ship in the harbor was cleared out, the best cargo either stacked in a hut on the beach, or, in the case of the slaves who had been waiting in the hold, freed. From a distance, Connor could make out the tall, broad figure of the black-skinned slave man that he and Edward had seen in the tavern in Nassau the night they had gone to find Rhian and Cadell. The man glanced up at him, and Connor felt a jolt go through him at the sight of that piercing gaze. Then, the man's eyes slid past him, and the moment was gone. The Assassin shuddered and tried not to think of it.
As Connor finally made his way back down to where the Jackdaw was docking in the bay, he was just in time to see Rhian disembark from their ship and run down the dock to where Connor could see Edward beginning to round a corner. For just a second, the two of them saw each other across the distance between them. Then Rhian met Edward, and she grabbed him and dragged him around behind a hut.
From the angle he was at, Connor could see them as Rhian pulled Edward around the corner of the hut and pressed him against the wall. He froze, staring. They were not even 20 feet away, and nobody but Connor could see them as Rhian reached up, took Edward's face between her hands, and drew him down for a thorough kiss.
Reality… shifted.
For half a second, Connor's breath and heartbeat stopped. He staggered; his vision hazed yellow, and then went black, and his entire world constricted to a tiny pinprick of light. He felt the shift happen. He felt the change occur. He felt history rewrite itself.
Connor sucked in a breath, and then it was over.
His heart lurched in his breast and started thumping again. He sucked in a breath. Memories were slotting themselves into place in his mind, memories of two different lives: one where his mother had died when he was four, the other, where his father had arrived just in time to save her life, but had not been able to save her legs. He saw himself as a lanky 14-year-old, leaving his grandmother in the longhouse as he went to join the Assassins, because he had nothing left but his tribe and his drive for justice; he saw himself at the same age, leaving to join the Assassins, but not without sending word to his mother in England about what he was doing. He saw himself at 17, standing in an alleyway by himself, comforting and supporting a beautiful girl with stunning green eyes as she coughed and retched out the tobacco smoke in her lungs. He saw himself standing beside the same girl at 17, with a younger child beside them, with the same dark brown hair and nut-brown skin as his, but with blue-grey eyes and a smile that lit up the entire city. He could see his life how it always had been, and could see his life how it now could be.
While he had never lived the life of the Connor whose mother had survived, he now had those memories. He would carry them with him when he returned to his time, and maybe, just maybe, things could be different.
Connor glanced one more time at Rhian and Edward as Edward wrapped his arms around Rhian's waist and turned her so that his entire body was pressing her against the wall. Rhian reached up and twined her arms around Edward's neck, and Connor saw the tension melt out of both of them. Even from this distance, he could feel the peace that each of them brought the other. He could see the love that was blossoming between them, and now that he had given them his blessing, he knew that they would never again leave each other's side.
Rhian might never allow things to progress physically past this point- Connor had a feeling that she would not go that far with a man unless they were married- but in their souls, he could see, they were joined more solidly than Edward and his wife ever had been.
Connor smiled softly, and turned away.
Rhian's back was to the wall of the hut, Edward's heat pressed all along her front, his wind-chapped lips softening as they parted hers so that the tip of his tongue could flick against hers. Her breath was coming short as her heart pounded against her ribs. She could feel every plane of his body through his clothing where he was sealed against her. After a moment, Rhian reached up and brushed her fingers across his cheeks, rough with the day's stubble, and she moved her head back a little to break their kiss. Both of them were breathless as Edward followed her for a second, and then he pulled back a bit, his breath floating across her lips as he leaned his forehead against hers. He was hard against her hip.
"A little worked up, are you, rhocyn?" she whispered, and he gave a breathless laugh. He moved his hips against her once, playfully, and then nudged her nose with his.
"A little," he admitted, and feathered his lips across hers. "It's the rush of a good fight, and the kiss of a beautiful woman."
Rhian gave a surprisingly throaty chuckle, shook her head, and tilted her head up to capture his lips once more, briefly. Then, she pulled away.
"Do you need to go take care of it?" she asked. Edward sighed, and eyed her. For a second, his gaze lingered upon her breasts, and Rhian fought the urge to do something about it, herself. "Edward."
He gazed upon her for a moment longer, perhaps appreciating her form. Rhian allowed it until his hand skimmed up her side, and then she planted her hands on his hips and pushed him away. Edward's ocean-blue eyes flicked up to meet her gaze, and she lifted an auburn eyebrow.
"We have a galleon to raid," she reminded him, "and a Piece to find."
Edward's gaze was heavy for just a second longer. Then, he leaned in, brushed his lips over hers one last time, and turned and led the way.
"One of these days," he murmured in her ear as she drew abreast of him, "I'm going to bend you over a gunwale, and you're going to scream my name."
Rhian snorted. "Good luck, Mister Kenway, the married man."
Edward pulled back to give her a long-suffering look. "You're turnin' my balls blue, feinir."
"You're married. I'm not budging on this." She glanced up at him. Her cheeks were pink, and she knew it, because she could feel the warmth there. "Kisses are one thing. It's a whole different thing to lay with a man when you know that he has a wife and daughter half a world away." She drew a shaking breath, and looked away from him. "If your balls are turnin' blue, go find a different whore to fuck."
She heard Edward's gasp a split second before he grabbed her arm and pushed her against the nearest wall. Rhian winced as her back hit the wood; they were in full view of the harbor, now, and anyone could see them if they just looked up the lane between the huts. His grip was crushing. Grimacing, she turned flashing eyes up, her mouth opening as she prepared to tell him to fuck off, but the look on his face stilled her.
He looked tortured, and his expression was set into a scowl, but there was a tenderness in his eyes which she had never before seen from anyone.
"Ye're no whore, feinir," he murmured, low enough that he would not be overheard. He loosened his grip on her arm. His thumb rubbed the place where he had grabbed her. "An' I'll not be treatin' you like one. Don't mean ye aren't turnin' my balls blue, but I'll live with that, and anyone who says you're other than a saint for refusin' to forsake your principles can kiss my Welsh arse and to Hell with them, understand?" His gaze flicked down toward her lips. "An' I'll not be visitin' any brothels, either. I respect you too much to go behind your back like that."
Rhian's eyes stung with tears. She sucked her lips into her mouth, trying not to let the water escape. It touched her, to know that he would go to such lengths for her. She turned her face away, blinking rapidly, and drew in a shaking breath.
She licked her lips. "Thank you, Edward, but you don't-"
"I'll. Not. Be. Visiting. Any. Brothels," he deadpanned, and reached up to turn her face toward his. It was a tender gesture, and Rhian's gaze automatically flicked around to make sure that they were not being observed. There was a swarthy man watching them from across the way, and a blond man was watching them with lifted brows from the tavern two doors down. He saw her watching him, and turned away. Edward turned her chin back to him, and she fixed her gaze upon his. "I may be takin' a lot of swims in the sea, but I'll not be visitin' any brothels."
He paused, and then he smiled. "Any questions, feinir?"
She shook her head, mute. Her throat worked as she swallowed forcefully, and at the mention of swimming, her thoughts flicked to their recent dunk in the sea, and to the promise they had made to each other.
"You still have to teach me to swim," she murmured, dazed. Edward laughed and, letting her go, he reached up and ruffled her hair, as he would do to a younger sailor, or to a younger brother. She ducked away from him with a squawk, and loped down the street for a few paces before she turned back to face Edward, and changed the subject. "Race you to the galleon!"
The ferocity of his grin preceded his abrupt burst of motion as he dashed past her. Rhian yelped and darted off down towards the quay, arms pumping, chest heaving with both exertion and laughter as she strove to stay ahead of her lover. Edward visibly held back until they were 10 paces from the end of the dock. Then, he overtook her with ease, jumped the gangplank, and landed triumphantly on the deck of the ship. She scowled playfully at him when she joined him not a second later, and stuck her tongue out at him when he bowed formally to her.
"To the victor?" he questioned, grinning. She sniffed, and turned away.
"I think not," she retorted, and then lowered her voice. "At least, not in public."
A second later, he had grabbed her by the elbow, and was pulling her towards the captain's cabin. She scowled her displeasure at being manhandled like this, but she did not fight him. His good mood was contagious. In the space of a moment, they were ensconced within the cabin, and after a cursory glance around the area to determine that they were alone, Edward closed and locked the door, and Rhian found herself pressed up against it in short order, his lips on hers, and his heat was all along her body, warming her through their clothing and making her heart race.
"Edward," she breathed after a moment, when she felt his hands on her bottom. She reached up and pressed her hands against his chest. He gasped and pulled back enough to rest his forehead against hers.
"I'm sorry," he groaned, and the look on his face was one of sweet, sweet torture. "I'm... I'm sorry, Drystan."
He ground his teeth for a second, and then he pushed himself away from her with enough force that the door shuddered behind her. He stalked over to the desk in the middle of the cabin and braced his hands on its surface. Rhian could not help but stare at his broad shoulders, the tension in his back, the way his arms trembled as he clenched his hands into fists.
After a moment, he chuckled faintly.
"D'you know... I haven't so much as abused myself since that day on the Jackdaw?" he asked her softly. Rhian's cheeks heated, but she did not say anything. Edward was baring himself to her in a way that he never had, before, and she knew better than to cut it off and ruin the chance to prove his trust in her to be well-placed. "The things ye do to me, feinir... Ye've no idea. I see your smile in my dreams, I taste your lips on mine, and I'm constantly thinking of you, wonderin' what ye'd think of this or that, that ye'd find this amusing, or that ye'd abhor that, and..."
The breath he took shook his whole frame.
"I don't think I ever felt like this with Caroline," he admitted, "and it terrifies me, that I could feel so strongly for you when I stood up before God and man and promised to love and care for her 'til death do us part." When he turned towards her, his ocean-blue gaze was stormy and dark. "It terrifies me, because I'm beginning to think that you might be the love of my life, and I've already wasted my chance to marry you proper."
Rhian's eyes burned. She licked her lips, but said nothing.
"You've invaded my thoughts so thoroughly that I can't even bring myself to touch myself, because I know that I'd think of you," he confided in her, his voice little more than a whisper. "I'd think of you, of what ye'd look like, spread out beneath me, and..." He groaned and turned away. "And I need to stop thinking about that. Now. Because I know it's disrespectful to you, and..."
He was faltering, now, his breathing heavy, and that was when Rhian crossed to him and slipped her arms around his waist from behind. Edward was shaking, but it eased as she gently ran her palm up his belly and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. He released a long sigh and covered her hands with his. His palms were warm.
"Ye can't change the past," she whispered, and he stilled, and she knew that he was listening. "You can't change the fact that ye're wed to Caroline, and I know that you love her despite the bad blood between the two of you. You have a daughter with her. That is evidence enough of that fact." Rhian sighed, and pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck. Edward shivered. "Don't despair, Edward. I believe that God has a plan for all of this, whether you see it or not."
He was quiet for a second. Then, he shuddered, and pulled her hands away from his belly.
"Ye need to step back, cariad," he murmured, and his voice was husky. "Please."
Rhian was shocked by the endearment as much as the plea, but she did as he had asked. Edward leaned heavily on the desk and released a controlled breath. After a moment, he seemed to master himself. When he looked back at her, his eyes were dark.
"Sorry, feinir," he rasped. "I think... I think I'm goin' to need a moment, after all."
She nodded slowly, and took a half-step back toward the door. "I'll go begin searching the hold for anything that might look like a Piece." She paused. "Will you join me, when you've composed yourself?"
He nodded mutely, and she saw his hands clench into fists around the edge of the desk.
"Aye," he murmured, and she saw that his cheeks were burning as he turned away from her. "Aye, I'll join ye in a few minutes."
"All right," she affirmed, and then she left him, slipping out the door and closing it behind her. She was not quick enough to miss his soft oath.
Her cheeks flamed as she made a beeline for the ladder that would take her belowdecks. She slipped down it, quick as a shadow, and then she took the next ladder down, and found herself in the hold. It was pitch-dark, and the air was thick with the lingering stink of human bodies, the aroma of expensive spices, and the pervading odor of mildew and tar. She grabbed a lantern from the post by the ladder, lit it, and then carried it into the depths of the hold, vanishing behind a stack of crates.
Now that she was alone, breathing in the reeking air of the hold, Rhian realized that she was trembling, and that her nether-regions were damp. She had never felt like this, before, but she recognized the signs. She was aroused. It was not dire, but it was noticeable, especially after she had seen Edward's plight.
She crouched, bowed her head, pressed her forehead against her knees, and just breathed.
For all his talk of what she did to him... Rhian shook her head. Sometimes, she just wanted to grab him and shake him; other times, she just wanted to throw him to the ground, kiss him, and make love to him all through the night. Lord, how she wanted him... She shook herself again, and hefted herself to her feet. She needed to distract herself. It was time to do some hunting.
Rhian closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then released it slowly. With some difficulty, she cleared her mind.
Where would Julien du Casse have hidden an ancient, priceless artifact, if he did not want it to be found by the crew or by raiders?
The obvious answer was that he would have kept it on his person, but that only made sense as the most obvious answer, and besides, Julien du Casse had not been carrying anything on him when Edward had assassinated him. Edward had even gone through the Templar's pockets after the deed, and had found nothing. A cursory search of the captain's cabin had similarly revealed that what they sought was not there. It could be anywhere...
There was something warm tugging at the back of Rhian's mind.
She frowned, and brushed against the sensation. It withdrew from her, and then it probed her once more. Rhian prodded it gently. It was foreign, almost sentient, but the thoughts were... not human. At least, not that she could tell. Rhian reached out to the sensation once again, and it responded to her almost eagerly, like a shy puppy coming up to lick its master's hand.
She opened her eyes to go search for it, only to find that she was not where she had been.
Alarmed, she glanced around herself. She was in a pitch-black chamber. The air was close, dense, humid, and warm, and she got the impression that there were objects in the space with her. The floor rocked beneath her feet. She was still on the ship, then, probably on one of the lower decks, but she had no memory of going there. Swallowing, she turned her gaze forward once more...
There was a glowing, golden sphere resting in her cupped hands.
Rhian also had no recollection of picking it up. The hair stood up on the back of her neck. Shaking, she dropped it. It landed on the deck boards with a thunk, and rolled a few feet away, where it hit a crate and came to a halt. Rhian stared at it. Had it hypnotized her? Had it taken over her mind? How was that even possible? The hair stood up on her arms and her tremors worsened. She could not remember coming to get it. She could not remember how she had gotten here. Staring at it, Rhian realized that she could not move. She was frozen.
Her blood turned to ice in her veins.
She was still standing there, motionless and shaking, when a golden light began to grow on the walls and a voice called her name. She could. Not. Move. Why could she not move? Her heart pounded in her throat, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not move, could not look away from the softly-glowing orb sitting beside the crate.
"Drystan?"
mate with him
The voice seemed to come from within her, but it was not hers. A shudder wracked her frame. Her body began to warm of its own volition; the center of her grew damp, despite the chill grip of the fear that had clamped around her belly and refused to release her.
She could not move.
mate with him
It was a command, and a powerful one, at that. Her body flooded with arousal; her nipples constricted, and beneath their bindings, her breasts became heavy and sensitive and tender. She could feel her pulse in the damp heat between her legs.
"No," she whispered, not knowing to whom she was talking, but unwilling to give in to the compulsion. "No, I will not."
A hand landed on her shoulder.
"Drystan?"
MATE WITH HIM
"No!" she choked out. She tried to turn, to flee, to run as far as her legs could take her, but she was utterly powerless in the face of that unfathomable voice. Her muscles locked up tight. She could not breathe, could not speak, could do nothing under her own power. Her body was not her own.
No, no, no, no, no-!
"Drystan!" Suddenly, there was a pair of ocean-blue eyes before her, framed by molten gold, and his hands were on her cheeks, petting gently, trying to soothe her. His gaze was wild with worry, and as she choked on the words that she was trying to say, she felt her body move of its own volition. Her hands landed on Edward's chest, her head tilted up to press her lips to his, and her hands pulled him close enough to press their hips together through their clothing. She heard Edward's gasp of shock, heard his muffled protest as her body pulled him down to the floor and rolled him on top of her, spreading her legs and pressing her damp crotch to his half-hard member through their clothing. It did not matter that Rhian was screaming in her own mind. Whatever force it was that had taken over her body, it was too powerful.
She could not stop it.
"No!" Edward's rejection was accompanied by a bite that stung her lips and the iron tang of blood that flooded her mouth. Clarity came to Rhian in an instant, but that instant was all she had.
"Edward, please!" she gasped even as her hands clawed at their belts. "Stop me! Stop it! The Piece- I can't-!"
And then her mouth clamped shut again, and her hand was down his trousers, her other holding him by the back of his neck with a force that could not possibly have come from her own muscles. His eyes were wide with panic, and Rhian was terrified that they would be forced to-
A coat flew across the room and covered the Piece of Eden, blocking its golden light, and the insipid voice vanished. Rhian's hands flew away from Edward's body, and she collapsed onto the deck, sobbing, still so painfully aroused that every little motion sent pangs of wanton longing straight to her core. Edward threw himself off of her and gathered her into his lap, holding her tight and rocking her, pressing little kisses to her temple, to her hair. He was shaking almost as hard as she was. She clung to him. She could feel the press of his own arousal against her bottom, but though she wanted nothing more than to make love to him, she knew that she could not. Not when something so alien had shunted her to a far corner of her mind, had taken control of her body, and had clearly wanted her to share Edward's bed, for whatever reason.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed, and then said it again. "I'm sorry, Edward, I'm so sorry."
He hushed her, and pressed a firm kiss to her hair. "You've nothing to apologize for. It wasn't you."
She shivered. Her voice was barely a whisper despite the fact that she was hiccupping every other word. "Why did it-? Why did it command me to sleep with you?"
He shook his head. "I don't know, feinir. I don't know."
"I was so scared, Edward. It- I- I couldn't move my own body. It was as though I were a marionette, and…"
Edward hushed her again and pressed his lips to her temple. Rhian went quiet, still trembling.
"…I can still hear it," she whispered once she had calmed marginally. She was still shaken, but it was beginning to fade, now that she was able to recognize the brush of the Piece's command against her thoughts. "Its compulsion is still there, Edward."
She felt him press his lips to her temple once again.
"Not that I'd object to making love to you into the wee hours of the morning," he quipped, and she swatted him half-heartedly. He was quiet for a moment. Then, he took a shuddering breath and squeezed her. He was still half-hard against her bottom. "Ye scared me, cariad. I came down and you were stiff as a board, as though ye were a puppet hanging by your strings. I've never seen anyone look like that, before."
"Neither have I."
"Nor have I." The sound of Connor's voice made Rhian yelp and jump so hard that the crown of her head smacked into Edward's nose. She murmured an apology as he groaned, and turned to regard Connor. The other man was standing nearby, clutching a wadded-up coat in his hands, and she realized that he had the Piece swathed in the fabric. His dark eyes were pools of concern. "Are you all right?"
She nodded shakily. "I… I will be. It just…"
Rhian's cheeks colored as she realized that Connor had seen the entire situation play out, had seen her body nearly having sex with his grandfather, and she realized then that her arousal had not diminished at all, and neither had Edward's. It must have had something to do with the Piece's compulsion, because the tingles from her breasts and her nether-regions should have faded, by now. Instead, they had only grown stronger.
Rhian licked her lips.
"The compulsion is still there," she admitted in a whisper. Her cheeks were flaming as Connor and Edward both blinked at her without comprehension. She was unable to look at either of them as she concluded, "I don't think it'll fade until I've… you know…"
There was a moment of silence.
"Until you have climaxed, you mean." It was Connor who said it, and the only reason why Rhian did not die on the spot from the shock and the sheer mortification was because he said it so matter-of-factly. He raised an eyebrow at her and Edward when he noticed that they were gaping at him. "What? I am a virgin by choice. This does not mean that I am not well aware of what goes on between men and women in the heat of the night."
Rhian squeaked and buried her face in Edward's neck as the hysteria of the moment bubbled up to escape from her as a rush of giggles. Even Edward was chuckling with disbelief.
Rhian could almost hear it when Connor rolled his eyes.
"Maybe if you have an orgasm-" He emphasized the word, and Rhian's giggles renewed themselves with vigor. "-the compulsion will fade." He sighed heavily when Rhian's hiccupping returned and Edward began choking. "Oh, mighty Creator- would you two grow up, already? It is only sex."
Rhian was beginning to rock herself back and forth, now, and the hysteria took on a slightly frantic tinge.
"I can't believe we're talking about this," she gasped, dangerously close to sobbing, once more. "No, I don't- I won't-!" The sob stuck in her throat. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I don't want a bastard child to come from the union. I wouldn't wish that on anyone."
There was a pause, and then she felt Edward stroking her hair.
"Perhaps we should part ways for a little while," he suggested softly. Rhian stilled. "Connor and I will secure the Piece, you and I will both cool the heat in us, and perhaps the compulsion will fade with distance."
Rhian nodded weakly against his shoulder and tried to ignore the heat that coiled low in her belly as his hand brushed her hip. She did not want to move. She just wanted him to hold her for a while longer. Still, she knew that they had to part before either of them did something that they would later regret.
Reluctantly, she pulled away from him and carefully slipped off of his lap. Getting her feet under her, she rose and turned from him. Rhian wrapped her arms around herself and fought the urge to curl into a ball in the corner. Her stomach churned and her skin was crawling, and she could not help feeling worthless. Somehow, she felt as though she were failing Edward by this weakness, failing herself; her heart quailed. Surely this failure would cause him to turn from her.
Weak. Worthless. Bastard.
"Hey. Hey." A strong hand gripped her chin and tilted her head up so that she was looking into Edward's eyes. The look he gave her was fiercely protective. "Enough of those thoughts. Ye're not worthless or weak."
Rhian stared at him, astounded.
"How did you-?"
Edward huffed, and cut her off with a searing kiss that heated her all the way down to her toes. Rhian gave a little moan of pleasure; her knees went weak, and she grabbed onto his shirt so that she would not fall to the deck in a heap.
"Ye don't need to be a mind-reader to know what ye're thinkin', feinir," he whispered against her mouth. He pulled back and pressed his lips to her forehead as he embraced her tightly. "I could see it in yer eyes."
Rhian's eyes stung again. She fought back the tears and held him close. She would not cry. She would not cry. She would not-
"I'd love ye anyway, cariad," he whispered, and the tears burst forth, unstoppable but soft as they wetted Edward's shoulder. He held her close, carded his fingers through her hair, and Rhian had never felt so treasured in her life. "Hush, hush, ye're all right."
Rhian sniffled and nodded against his neck, but she did not release him, and he did not release her. For all that her body hummed from his nearness and she could feel his arousal against her hip, she was content merely to hold and be held by the man she loved. He was a welcome comfort to her.
At length, she finally withdrew from him, and he bent to feather another soft, lingering kiss across her lips before he stroked his hand down her arm and gently pushed her away. Edward pressed his lips to her forehead. Then he was gone, escaping the hold so that he could, presumably, curb his passions. Connor stared after the other man for a moment, and then he looked to Rhian.
"Will you be all right?" he inquired. She swallowed.
"I think that I will be," she replied. He gazed evenly at her. She gulped again. "I think I just need some time to myself, to… to deal with everything." She gestured broadly to her face, her rumpled clothing, and to her messy trousers and boots. She did not mistake the flash of understanding that passed over Connor's face before he nodded. He glanced away and tied the Piece more securely in his coat, and then he glanced at her once more.
"Shall I come find you in an hour, so that you have time to compose yourself?" he prompted her, then. Rhian shook her head.
"No, I'll come find you and Edward when it's suppertime." She sighed, and turned away. "Just... Just let me be, for a while. I'll be fine."
Connor's hand landed on her shoulder. He squeezed her briefly, comfortingly, and then he was gone.
Rhian was left alone in the dark of the hold. She bit her lip, listening to the fading sounds of Edward and Connor's footsteps until they vanished from the deck above. Then, she sighed, seated herself with her back against a crate, and tried to release the tension in her shoulders. It took some doing, but finally, her shoulders and neck loosened a bit, and she was able to clear her mind.
Biting her lip, she sighed, and rested her forehead against her knees.
May God give me strength.
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
Feinir: Lassie
Cariad: Beloved, love
Author's Note:
Holy cow! I can't believe the reviewer response I've gotten from the last few chapters! Thank you all SO MUCH for reading, and for taking the time to let me know what you thought! I really appreciate it! I know FFN frowns on authors responding to reviews in their comments (and I usually do, as well), but I would like to take a few lines at least to address some of the comments that have been made.
Lawrence HB: I have hinted at a potential Connor/OC pairing throughout this story, but I will not be exploring it in-depth at this time. I do have part of a semi-sequel written to this, and it does follow Connor and his lady love in the 1770s, but it is a separate tale that is nonetheless intertwined with this one. Edward and Rhian have their own story even after Sum of Memories, and where I go from here will depend on what I decide to do about SoM's rating. Were I to continue it as part of the same story, the rating would certainly change to a hard "M". When I start posting Connor's story, I will attempt to keep it as T-rated as possible, but even it would likely end up as an M-rated story for various reasons.
Reilly.216: Thank you so much for your kind words of support! I'm so glad that you're enjoying it, and that you like the level of detail. I hope it makes it seem more authentic to you. :) And it's to be expected that Sum of Memories would get buried in FFN's archives after 3 years without an update. *sheepish smile* I'm so glad that you found it, though! Welcome aboard this adventure!
The Nomad's Companion: HEY, IT'S ME! XD And it's you, too! Welcome back to my madhouse!
The Little Things: Thank you so much for your honest feedback! I really appreciate it. In reading back through my old chapters, I realized some of the same things you mentioned. I think that the pacing of the character development (including their interpersonal relationships) is problematic because, when I wrote the early chapters, I didn't have them plotted out. I was a pantser, three years ago, and it shows. For all the research and detail I put into worldbuilding, I didn't stop to consider that they needed more "on-screen" interaction to make their relationships feel more authentic. Were I to go back and adjust everything, I would add in more scenes to flesh out the "off-screen" development that I saw in my head. I think it's a common thing for authors- knowing more about the characters' growth than we put on the page, unless we plot everything out beforehand.
Again, thank you all so much for leaving your commentary! I do read each and every one of the reviews I receive, believe it or not. For brevity's sake, I might not always reply, but I do read each comment, concern, and compliment that comes my way.
I look forward to seeing what you all think of this chapter, as well! Thanks so much!
-Scribe