Chapter Text
You weren't certain how much time had passed. The room was in softer colors, ambers of a sunset that cast gentle shadows along the walls, the wall of windows at Haytham's back which put much of his expression in darkness. He sat in a wooden chair, his shoulders slumped around him as he leaned forward. Fingers pinched the bridge of his nose and you stared at him for a long moment, watching him as he glared.
"When was the last time you slept?"
He jolted, half expecting you to be awake. "I will sleep tonight after the meeting."
"Is that what you're brooding over?"
"You think me so weak that I would brood?" He stood up, his attention elsewhere as he strolled across the room, stopping at the foot of the bed. He sighed, finally resting his eyes on you. "You have come to know me too well. A great weakness that others are eager to exploit."
"You're that worried about the meeting tonight?" You looked to the windows, noting how close 'tonight' actually was. "You're the Grand Master. Surely, that counts for something."
He lowered his head and leaned forward into his hands, grasping tightly onto the footboard. "Does it? I am not so certain any of this matters anymore."
"Order. Peace. Those were things that you spoke for, fought for." You examined how worn he looked, how his palms rubbed over the smooth wooden surface. "What's happened to change them so suddenly?"
"I am doubtful of the Order. My ideals remain but..." His shoulders hunched up around him and you couldn't see his face clearly anymore. "The thought of losing you to them. The thought of--"
"I'm not dead."
"You nearly were." He finally shot his heated gaze to you, his brows pinched together and his anger suddenly flaring. "You nearly died!" He shoved away from the bed and paced towards the window. "There were nights that even the doctor..." His voice cracked, you were certain of it, and his breathing staggered in his lungs.
It was suddenly hard to breathe, your thoughts returning to that dark room where Nathan had whispered harshly, blood staining his teeth, "After I've killed you, I will hang your carcass before the Grand Master himself. And then I will kill him in his hours of grief." You gripped your chest, fingers clawing at the sharp pain in your heart.
Haytham looked across the floor behind him, unable to look directly at you. "My purpose... It is not as clear anymore."
You took down a deep breath and gathered yourself. You had to focus for his sake. You had to focus for your own sake. "Right now, it's going to that meeting and making sure they remember who is in charge."
He gripped his hands onto his hips then dropped them as he turned around. "Shall I post someone in the room with you? In case you require something?"
"I'm going with you. Some cold New York air will do me some good." You forced yourself up, your elbows hoisting most of your weight.
"Absolutely not." He marched forward, determination in each step.
You tried not to cringe, tried not to let any of the pain register on your face. "Take me to the meeting with you."
"No, that would be inadvisable." He pressed you onto the bed, ensuring the covers were pulled up over your naked skin. "You aren't even a Templar yet."
'Yet'. You almost chuckled. But your ribs ached and every organ felt as if it had been bruisingly squeezed. "Oh, very well. Leave me here then. And if the Templars kidnap me while you're away--"
"Are you using my own fears against me?" Haytham pressed his lips thin.
You grinned all too pleased with yourself. "No. Unless it's working, then, yes."
He shook his head ever so lightly. "You truly do know me too well." He swept his gaze to you all the same, something soft and loving there. "I will fetch your attire. I had a set tailored for you while you were mending." He moved across the room towards a vanity set where a small pile of folded clothes rested.
You hoisted yourself up, forced yourself to swallow any groans of pain that threatened. You put every ounce of effort into smoothing out your expression, to ease your brows and draw out a slight smile. Calm, you reminded yourself as you raised up onto your feet.
Haytham hurried towards you with the clothes, wrapping an arm around your waist when he thought you might stumble. "Do not pretend you're not in agony."
"I'm alright," you said it with a deep breath. "My very first Templar meeting. We better hurry up or we'll miss all the juicy secrets."
He lifted a shirt into view and pulled it over your head. "Shall you join the Order then?" He gently guided your arms through before turning his attention towards the thickly, woven pants.
You sighed, not even sure what your answer was. "Shall I?"
"That is... a matter only you can decide." He tugged and tied down the remainder of your garments, buttoned up the waistcoat, and straightened out the intricate frock coat. "What reason do you have not to join?" He eased you to sit down, turning to work the boots onto your feet.
"In all honesty..." You took down a few steady breaths. "I'm not sure I want anything to do with either Orders."
"After everything you would simply prefer blissful ignorance?" Haytham stood up and let his eyes roam across your figure until finally settling on your face.
You slowly lowered your gaze. "Are you going to kill me if I don't join?"
He seemed to gasp, his body frozen still. And when he made no efforts to reply, you looked at him. His face was stern, brows fallen flatly over his eyes and his lips pressed hard into a frown, his jaw jutting outwards with disdain. "Is that what you think of me? That I would be capable of throwing away everything I felt for you?"
You rolled your eyes closed, realizing too late what you had said. You had meant to ask if he would be forced to kill you but the question had come out garbled and unpracticed. "I only meant that..."
"I do not wish to hear it." Haytham took hold of your hand sharply. He roughly helped you onto your feet and guided you towards the door. "You won't have to travel very far. The meeting will be held here. This is our headquarters in New York."
Your lips tugged slightly into a meager smile. "And here I hoped you had seized some rich fop's home right out from under him."
Haytham was unnervingly silent. Your words had upset him earlier and that hadn't been your intention. You simply didn't want your presence to make things worse for him. He was already struggling because of you. If turning down the position made it worse then... You'd do anything for him, anything so long as he was happy.
Someone approached as you passed through the home. "Master Kenway..." His eyes trailed between you and the Grand Master. "Everyone has been called for." He motioned the two of you into the dark room, only the various candles providing enough light to see the people in the dining room. There was a long table, three chairs on each side and a chair at its head. Everyone remained standing, watching as the Grand Master led you inside.
"Sir, this is..." Another glanced about at the other members, silent expressions exchanged for outwards conversation.
Haytham helped you sit down on a chair against the wall near the end of the table, his eyes locked on yours, before standing at his place at the head of the meeting. "Continue, Mister Roberts."
The door to the room was closed and everyone but Roberts took their seats. He was standing to Haytham's left and across the table on Haytham's right was Jack Weeks. The remaining four were still unfamiliar to you.
"She is not a Templar, sir. She is an Assassin, albeit, a former one..." He ran his hands nervously down his clothes, his gaze unable to meet his master's. "It would be inappropriate for her to be here--"
"She, unlike yourself, has proved her loyalty to me. She took down a master assassin and rendered their safe house here in the city all but useless." Haytham tucked his hands behind his back and turned his attention towards the others. "Are there any other objections to the matter?"
Roberts added weakly, "She has already taken time away from your duties..."
"My duties?" Haytham began to pace, his eyes strongly on the man who questioned him. "Would you clarify what task it is I am meant to complete but have failed to? As I recall it, the vice president of this little enclave, which would be you, was supposed to attend to those matters. Is that what you were referring to, Mister Roberts?"
He began to stammer, a fine sheen of sweat upon his forehead. "Th-that is correct, sir, yes."
Haytham towered over the man inches away from him, anger emanating in the rigidness of his stance. "My greatest failure, Mister Roberts, was allowing you fools to become lazy and complacent. I shall not perform your obligations for you."
He lowered his head to stare into the grains of the table, fingertips rocking into its surface. "Y-yes, sir."
"Master Kenway, she betrayed her own people." Another slowly stood up, fingertips tapping onto the papers before him. "What is keeping her from betraying us? Other than you, sir. Perhaps your relationship with her does not go well? Could we still trust her?"
Haytham strolled back towards his chair, posting himself before it. "Fair point, Mister Tailor. Let me demonstrate how this works." Haytham rolled his gaze from him to the man across the table from him. "Stand up, Mister Alexander."
Alexander hesitated for a fraction of a second but rose to his feet all the same, his eyes on the Grand Master, eager to please.
Haytham slightly tilted his head back as a small cheeky, smile began to form. "Mister Alexander, I want you to shoot Mister Tailor."
Tailor all but gasped, his body gone tense, words stumbling from his tongue.
Alexander wasted no time drawing his gun from his belt.
"Hold a moment, Mister Alexander, I believe I've changed my mind." He rolled his eyes once more between the men before him. He leaned forward, hands placed flatly onto the table and stated bitterly, "I have power over whether or not you live or die. I give orders and you follow them. That is how this works. If I determine someone worthy of our trust, then they are worthy of our trust. Mister Daniel forgot this and now he is dead."
"May I?" You slowly got to your feet, desperate not to show any pain or any amount of weakness, not in front of this judgemental lot of Templars.
Haytham cautiously sat down, his eyes locked on you, his hands clenched around the chair's arms. "You may." It looked as if he was fighting himself, his entire body taut, his meager attempt to keep from running over and helping you.
"I didn't betray the Assassins for Haytham. I betrayed the Assassins because they were wrong. And if they committed the same crime in front me again, I would make the same choice." You looked at each of them, determined to let them see your confidence. "I will, however, stay for Haytham. Even should our 'relationship not go well'... I will stay for him. I stay because Haytham is correct and he will always be correct."
A few swallowed their pulses, their eyes lowering to anything other than the situation that was unfolding before them.
Haytham droned, "Are there any other questions or may we move forward?"
The room fell silent for another moment. The men who were standing slowly took their seats again. You followed the action, sinking stiffly against the chair and almost groaned to have it support you.
"Brilliant." Haytham stood up, straightened out his spine and turned his attention to Jack. "Mister Weeks, since you are in charge of New York now, you will preside over the proceedings tonight."
"Thank you, Master Kenway." Jack gave a nod of his head as he stood. "I shall begin with introducing our new secretary, Adam Tailor."
Mister Tailor gave a meager nod of his head. "Evening."
Jack shifted where he stood, lifting a paper in hand. "Let's focus now on the repairs we need to make to the city. After what occurred with Hope Jensen, we need to begin work on rebuilding. Treasury? What's your standing?"
You stopped listening after that, your eyes on Haytham as he sat confidently in his chair, hands clasped before his mouth, his eyes burrowing into the wall across the room. His expression was unreadable, a well placed and neutral mask. There was a deep need in you, a craving, to hold him and soothe away whatever it was that plagued his thoughts. Haytham would likely never share them. He would be too well guarded for that.
Then again, he trusted you more than most.
His gaze didn't meet yours until the meeting came to an end. He stood up but before he could even leave his spot, Jack and Roberts were at his side striking up a conversation. You watched him speak calmly, watched how he had one hand behind his back as the other motioned this way and that throughout his responses.
You slowly stood up, glimpsing from the corner of your eye as one of the men from earlier approached. Tailor, you think, remembering how he had been worried about your loyalty.
"Adam Tailor, ma'am." He gently took hold of your hand and kissed your knuckles. "I apologize if I insulted you earlier. It wasn't my intention to say that you were a woman without character."
"Of course not." You laughed, falling back on social instincts that you had learned at a young age. Survival instincts. "Only accused me of being an Assassin who might steal away your Grand Master."
He gave a breathy laugh and bowed his head a little. "You will forgive me, I hope."
"I forgive you." You gave a weak smile, desperate to focus on anything but the twisting tightness in your chest. "But I think it's Haytham you should be more concerned about..."
He gave a weak nod of his head and swallowed hard. "Yes..." He swept his gaze to where the Grand Master had been speaking earlier to see that he was now making his way over. "Master Kenway, I was just making my apologies. She is sweet and full of smiles."
Haytham stood at your side, an arm delicately wrapped behind you. "Not the villain you were searching for, Mister Tailor?"
"Not at all." He gave a respectful bow and stepped back. "It was an honor, ma'am."
Haytham slowly led you from the room before anyone else had a reason to approach either of you with questions or apologies. He led you back to the bedroom, closing the door behind him, and locking it.
You chuckled, rolling your eyes to him. "Keeping me in or someone out?"
Haytham seemed to relax, the well placed walls falling away and his stance easing as he moved towards your side. His callous fingers skimmed the curve of your neck, resting just below your jaw. "Both the former and the latter."
"You don't trust them." You admired the slight curve on his mouth, feeling it reflect in your own.
"This should be no surprise to you. I trust no one...." He placed a brief kiss on your lips before another. "Except... perhaps, you."
"Perhaps?" You laughed a little, draping your arm around his neck and resting your head against his chest. You were thoroughly exhausted, eager to lean against him. "I'll become a Templar but not for them. And not for the Order."
Haytham's warmth enveloped you, his arms wrapping around you until you were pressed firmly against him. "I have no desire to make you join--"
"I know." You tilted your head back, examined the soft gray of his eyes. "I'm joining because it'll be easier for the both of us. My loyalty stands with you alone. I will not take orders from anyone else. You understand this, don't you?"
"I would have it no other way." He turned and guided you over towards the bed. "Tomorrow then. I will discuss it with some of the others."
You sat down onto the edge, allowing Haytham to help remove your jacket and boots. You laid down and slid beneath the varying layers of blankets. You watched him round the foot of the bed towards the wooden chair. "Don't you dare think about falling asleep anywhere else but beside me."
Haytham looked over at you, another one of his small smalls but you could see it better in the corner of his eyes. He was awash with different emotions from worry to relief. He removed his hat and jacket, placing them delicately into the chair, before toeing off his boots. "You are still not strong enough..." He lied down beside you, shifting until comfortable beneath the covers.
You whispered, curling up against his side, "You could always just be really gentle."
"No, my darling." His arm curled up behind you, holding your warmth with his. "There will be plenty of other nights together."
You grinned conivingly, all too pleased with yourself. "You realize once I'm healed... I'm going to have my way with you. I believe we have some unfinished business and maybe some revenge in store."
Haytham rolled his eyes to your face, a rusty and unpracticed laugh chuckling free. "What sort of revenge is this exactly?"
You rose a challenging brow, smirk all the stronger. "I recall you being unjustly jealous of Shay and thus leaving me alone in my cabin room... Alone."
He groaned, head pressing flat against his pillow and his other arm draping across your waist. "I give you full permission to do what you please with me. Only until after you are healed, that is."
You closed your eyes, humming in approval. "We shall see."