Hello my dear and wonderful readers! I just realized I have over 40 reviews already. For 4 chapters. This is unheard of for me. I wasn't expecting my story to be so well received. Every time I see a new comment, it makes me so happy... Anyways, sorry I haven't updated in so long. First there was the holidays and then I had to get my wisdom teeth out. I tried writing a chapter while loopy on Percocet. At the time I thought it was really good. How wrong I was. I looked at it later and was like, "when did this story become smut?" and "since when was Connor a sensitive and outspoken person?". Yeah, completely unusable. But it was damn funny and unusable. AC3 does not belong to me^_^
The Manor
There was warmth as I arose from my heavy sleep. It felt as if I hadn't been warm in ages. I dug my head into my soft pillow, wishing to return to the comfort of my dreams. The sheets smelled of leather and pine wood, something I was unused to. My room usually carried the scent of the lavender potpourri I had on my bedside table and in bags under my mattress. Had I changed my sheets recently? I couldn't remember.
I rolled to the left, expecting to feel the comfort of the wall my bed was placed against as I usually did in the mornings, to curl up against it and perhaps steal a few more minutes of sleep, but it was not there. Perhaps I had been sleeping at the edge of my bed? I felt around for the wall, but found none, only more bed. My bed was certainly not that large.
I shot up, squeaking in the realization that I was not in my bedroom at all. I was in what seemed to be a large old room, with no furniture save for a small vanity and mirror in the corner, and the king sized bed I was now sleeping in. There was also a small fire place on the wall nearest to me that looked like it hadn't been lit in years. It was a nice enough room, and looked like it had been recently cleaned, though for the life of me, I couldn't remember how I'd gotten there.
My head and cheek throbbed painfully, the aching obviously having impaired my memory as I slept. I ran my hands through the soft furs that lay across the bedding, most likely that of a bear judging from its color and texture.
Furs were a luxury, items that were often traded at a high price, especially the pelts of a bear, which many don't have the courage to take on. Whoever owned this house must either have a decent amount of money at their disposal, or was a very good shot.
I prodded my pounding brain for more information on my whereabouts, but all I could remember was running through the forest. I was being chased by soldiers, when a sudden bolt of lightening had startled me out of a tree. After that it became blurred. There was sick laughter, and fear. James's voice in the darkness...
Was that it then? Had I been captured by that bastard? Had I been...spoiled? Tears built in my eyes at the thought. I clutched the furs, no doubt bought at the highest bidder, to my chest, thinking in horror that my purity had been sullied by that hell-spawned Red Devil. How well the title suited him. I tried my hardest to choke back my sobs but didn't manage it completely.
Loud creaking footsteps resounded outside my door, and muffled voices whispered incomprehensibly. I panicked at the sound, thinking it was James come to see if his prize had awoken yet. I hopped out of the bed and ran to the fireplace, claiming the ash shovel that hung on a rack beside it as my weapon. I would not be caught a second time.
I placed myself by the door, pressing myself against the wall and drawing my makeshift club over my left shoulder, ready to use it on the first person that walked through that door. The voices grew louder and I squeezed my eyes closed, for fear of what I might see.
I heard the handle creak as it was turned and the hinges squeak open. With a loud girlish squeal, I swung the ash shovel horizontally, the way one would the club in stick-ball, at the man I had assumed meant me harm. But instead of a shout of pain from the man I hated, I was met with a loud grunt in a voice much too deep for James as I made contact. It took me a moment too long to realize I had the wrong target.
"Connor?!" I exclaimed as I took in his hunched form, clutching his stomach. His hood was not in it's usual place over his face, so I had full view of his scrunched up features. I was horrified at what I'd just done. My missing memory fragments from last night came flooding back into place. He had saved me, murdered a large group of guards and then taken me to the safety of his homestead. And I'd just attacked him with a shovel. Oh lord.
I ran over to help him stand back up, "Oh my god are you okay? I am so sorry, I-I thought you were James! I was so sure he'd caught me and..." I was interrupted by loud rasping laughs coming from the door. I looked over to find an old dark skinned man with a brown plantation hat and well tailored red and white clothes, holding a black wooden cane and laughing in the door way. He pointed at me with his cane as he limped forward. I took a step back, not entirely trusting the stranger.
"I like this one. First girl you bring home and she already knows how to put you in your place!" He laughed again as he patted Connor on the back. I blushed at the old man's comment as Connor straightened up and snatched the shovel away from me, as if he was afraid I'd hit him with it again. I pouted at the loss of my weapon. "Oh, don't worry young lady, the shovel will be placed back on the rack should you ever need another impromptu weapon again. Though I highly doubt you'll need it, with such a fine blade at your side. It is very unique, I've never seen its equal." He held out my dagger and placed it in my hands. I smiled at the complement and looked fondly down at my knife. Such powerful memories were imbedded in its metallic luster, both good and bad. I felt safe with it in my hands, as if nothing could touch me, like I could take on an army.
"I thought so too, that's why I wield it." I grasped the double bladed weapon tightly around the hilt and stroked the shiny metal, my reflection gleaming up at me like a mirror. The cold metal was comforting, and I lightly touched my index finger to the point of its longest blade, pricking it just enough to draw a single bead of blood. Still sharp as ever.
"Sounds like an interesting story, care to share it with me over a cup of tea? There is a box I have been saving for an occasion such as this." He placed both hands over the cane as he waited for the answer. His eyes were wizened and respectable, so dark I could barely make out the pupils. Yet in them I could sense an awareness and sharpness that most men at his age had already lost. Still, he seemed a man that could be trusted. I looked to the side at Connor, who was apparently trying to communicate something to the old man without speaking, but was being ignored. Connor seemed to trust this man so why shouldn't I?
I nodded hesitantly. It had been too long since I'd had tea, what with the boycott and all, and if it wasn't taxed I'd love to have some. Plus, tea sounded like the best cure for my wired nerves. I'd been so jumpy for a while, with good reason, and it'd be nice to settle down over a warm drink. The old man nodded and turned to the door.
"I'd suggest you change out of those clothes, though, before you cause that poor boy any more discomfort." He said offhandedly as he made his way towards the door. I looked down to see that I was miraculously clean and wearing a generic white nightgown. I wondered briefly where it came from before brushing it off. I would find out soon enough, though I dearly hoped there was a woman here who had washed the mud away and dressed me. That would be awkward.
I looked over to see that Connor was indeed looking away. Was he truly so unpracticed with women? I would have thought that with such a handsome face as his he would have had plenty of women flocking to him. Though now that I thought about it, I had never even seen him speaking with another woman, let alone courting one. It was strange to think that Connor would be a novice at anything. Perhaps I had found a weak spot.
I giggled and smiled at that. I hadn't been awake more than a few minutes and already I had discovered something new about my mysterious savior. Granted I wasn't any kind of expert on dating myself, but for some reason, Connor exuded a confidence that advertised a proficiency in everything. Silly as it was, I expected him to be good at anything he did.
I played with the hem of my night gown. Connor had already seen me in my night wear before, so surely it wouldn't cause him too much discomfort? To my eyes, he seemed almost painfully uninterested in me, what with that persistent mask he always wears. For all I knew, he could find me repulsive. After all, he was one of the few people I did not brandish my "lady" persona at. Any other man would have been completely turned off at the idea of a woman with anything but a complacent and gentle personality, something I most certainly did not have. I sighed. I was totally psyching myself out.
I put on a smile. It didn't really matter to me that Connor saw me now. After all, why would it bother him to see something he's already seen before?
"That's alright. Connor's already seen me in my nightgown." I stated matter-of-factly. Connor looked up sharply and the old man raised one eye brow.
"Has he now?" The old man inquired with a slight smile in his voice. Me being the oblivious person I was, didn't notice the implication his voice held.
"Sure. It was when he-" My mouth was suddenly muffled by a very large hand. When had Connor gotten over to me? I tried to pry his hand off my face but it didn't work, he was as strong as an ox, it seemed, and I had no chance against him.
"It is nothing master." He said in a slightly hurried but hard voice. He was trying to cover himself. Had he not told the man what had happened? That seemed strange considering how close the two seemed to be. But it also seemed that the older man's manner was one of ridicule, so I could understand why Connor may have wanted to keep my having to help him a secret. The dark skinned man just nodded with a small chuckle and headed for the door.
"Well, you'll find some clothes in that vanity over there, not your size but they'll do. They're some of Connor's old ones. You can wear them until we find you something else. Then we can move you out of Connor's room and into the spare down the hall. My name is Achilles by the way." And with that he left the room.
I blushed at the idea that I had been sleeping in Connor's bed until a moment ago. This did seem the type of room he would have, what with the furs and the austere decor. I remembered the strong scent of the sheets and blushed brighter. The room even smelled of him. I shook my head, trying to remove the embarrassment from my face.
Connor removed his hand from my mouth and I looked up at his gargantuan form. Well, maybe gargantuan was a bit exaggerated but it seemed that way to my measly stature. I only came up to his bicep.
As his hood was down, I could actually see his face. It was just as handsome as before, maybe even more so in the daylight. I could see all of the wear it had taken over the years, though he couldn't have been much older than my 16 years. But there was still that light, that determination in his eyes, burning just behind the entrancing amber color. And right now as he looked down at me, they were swimming with some kind of emotion I couldn't place.
He coughed suddenly and looked away. His face reconfigured into its usual stone facade.
"I'll leave you to change then." He said, pulling me from my day dreams. I nodded and he held out a familiar brown bag.
"My pack!" I exclaimed happily. I'd thought I'd lost it in the forest last night. I snatched it from his hands and set it on the ground, pulling out all the items. To my surprise, I found all of my apothecary tools and some of the tinctures I'd made previously, as well as the pants and animal hide boots I'd been wearing the night I'd escaped. I pulled out the slightly dirty pants, a bit blood stained but not unwearable, and smiled at Connor, who had just started to leave the room. I scrambled for a way to show my gratitude. His back was turned and walking out the door so I just decided to go for it. I jumped up and gave him a quick hug from behind. My arms barely wrapped around his broad chest. He stopped, surprised at the sudden embrace.
"Thank you Connor!" I exclaimed as I let the bewildered man go. He nodded, still a little shocked, and left the room. I quickly pulled on the pants and boots, resolving to clean them later, and went over to the vanity. I opened the top drawer and gaped.
I didn't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't an animal skin shirt, though I supposed I shouldn't have been surprised, seeing as Connor was a Native. I smiled at the worn clothing, fingering the exquisite beading and fringe that only a Native could produce. The material was softer than I'd expected, and sturdily put together. I wondered briefly how they managed such fine work.
From all the stories I'd heard, no doubt biased and prejudiced, the natives were savage beasts. No more human than dogs. The men in town had always told of horrible things that Natives supposedly did; killing innocent men, burning down forts, stealing from supply caravans, kidnapping women and forcing them to be their wives, and more. But of course that wasn't true. I had Connor as living proof of that. If anyone was savage it was those filthy Redcoats. Though I had my suspicions that Connor was not all Native, it still did not damage my good opinion of them. I'd seen nothing to support those false claims of savagery yet. In fact, I found the Natives rather fascinating.
I slipped on the soft material, surprised though I shouldn't have been at how big they were. Apparently Connor had been tall as a teenager as well, though not as bulky as he is now. The large shirt was more like a dress on me, reaching all the way down to my knees. The scent that I specifically distinguished as Connor, one of pine just after it rains and leather, still clung to the fabric. I took the faded red sash that came along with it and tied it around my middle, hoping that I fastened it right. It looked a little sloppy but it would have to do.
Next I applied some salve to the cut on my cheek. I knew it would scar but the salve would help it fade and keep infection from getting to it. I was grateful that my apothecary supplies had been brought with me, they would be useful later. If I needed to, I could start a business, trading my remedies for money or other necessities. I couldn't very well live for free off of Connor's kindness.
Lastly I tied my long curly blonde hair into a loose braid over my shoulder. I looked at my face in the mirror over the vanity, ignoring the knew cut lining my cheekbone. Many people have complimented me on how handsome I was but I could never see it. I had a pale heart shaped face, with full lips, a small nose and large yellow green eyes, similar to those you would find on a cat. A great number of people, including my father, said I looked like my mother, though I'd always thought her to be much prettier than myself. I could never find the beauty others saw when they looked at my face, all I saw was the lie I had fabricated to please them. I saw someone else.
But now, as I saw myself dressed in animal skins with braided hair, no make up, and my wild eyes filled with a life I hadn't seen at home in many years, I truly felt I saw myself instead of my image. I smiled. It was a welcome sight.
I grabbed my dagger and ran out the door of Connor's bedroom, eager for the first time in a long time to start the day. For some reason, I felt energized, hyper even. I realized with a start that I was happy. Odd that I should suddenly feel it with such random clarity.
I ran down the hall, following the sound of conversing voices. I stopped at the top of the staircase, checking to make sure everything on my person was where it was supposed to be before flying down the creaky old steps.
This house, while large, was rather worse for wear. Its blue walls were faded and lined with cracks, what would have been an impressive staircase tarnished and scratched. But even though it was not in the best condition, it still retained the distinct feeling of home. I could see myself calling it that, though I shouldn't allow myself to be so presumptuous. They could very well kick me out tomorrow.
I gathered all of the many questions I had in my head before picking out the most important. I skidded into what appeared to be the living room, though it looked rather decrepit, with white sheets draped across every surface. How wonderful a place this would be had it been in better repair.
Achilles sat in a lone wooden chair by the fire place, conversing with Connor, who was leaning against the window pane across from him. They looked to be having a heated argument, as both men looked rather disgruntled. I felt a bit awkward intruding.
I made a move to step back but the floor creaked under my weight, alerting the two to my presence. Achilles' expression changed immediately, though I could still see some residual tension left in his brow.
"Ah, young lady, so glad you could join us. Please sit, we have much to discuss." Achilles greeted me, gesturing with his hand to one of the ragged couches. I sat down with a shy smile. He offered me a cup of tea in beautiful blue and white china, rattling it a bit as he reached out to give it to me.
"Please, call me Neela." I said, accepting the porcelain cup and inhaling the delicious aroma wafting from it. Peppermint.
"Neela, then, how do you know Connor?" He asked. I smiled. It was a fond memory for me, meeting Connor. Maybe not the most pleasant, what with him threatening to kill me, but something great had come out of it. The fact that I even knew him was something I considered a privilege.
"Well it's quite a long story, actually. The first time I met him was seven months ago, in late spring. I was out in the woods, gathering herbs for medicine..." (One long story later)
"That is quite the remarkable tale. I have to say Connor, you should really thank this girl. She's saved you from either death or capture three times in less than a single year. You must need more training." Achilles belittled Connor. I could sense he was trying to get a rise out of him and it was working. Connor looked about ready to argue. But it would only damage his dignity further if he tried to rebuke the old man, so I jumped in before he could.
"It's not like that. Really, he could have done it without me, I know he could have. I just felt that he could use help, so I gave it to him. It seemed like the right thing to do. He didn't ask for it. In fact, I kind of forced my help on him. I didn't, and still don't, expect any thanks in return for my own stubbornness. I'm just happy that Connor was there to save me before James could..." I abruptly cut off and took a deep, shaky breath, not fully having recovered from that terrifying experience, "Anyways, that is enough. If anyone should be grateful it's me."
I set down my now empty cup, not willing to look at whatever faces they were giving me for fear that I would see pity in them, my despised emotion. I've hated pity ever since my mother died, and I'd suffocated in those sympathetic looks everyone gave me whenever I walked by. I wanted to avoid those looks, whatever the cost.
Beside, I had more important things to discuss, and I didn't want to dwell on the past night's experiences for too long. Thinking about it made the fear come back, made the whole dreadful encounter seem more real than I cared to admit. So instead, I pulled out the mental list of questions I had for them. I had been fumbling around in the dark for too long. It was time I got answers.
"Before I go any further, there is something I have to know." I looked up, and straight into Connor's intense, questioning golden brown eyes. I stared into them, trying to decipher the answers for myself out of their smoldering depths. Trying to convey how serious I was about hearing the truth.
"What is an Assassin?"
Yeah, this is a really slow chapter, but unfortunately necessary. Two things Connor absolutely must learn, 1: do not scare Neela when she has just woken up after a sustaining a head injury, 2: do not give Neela a shovel. Since the plot was lacking in this chapter, I thought I might as well throw in some humor. There is also something I have to ask you all about that I have been seeing lately in other fanfic reviews. What is a Mary Sue? It doesn't sound like a good thing so I want to make sure my characters don't fall into that category. Thank you all for the outstanding responses and keep up the reviewing!
