destinyfell | » Connor & Evie 1.0 «

» Connor & Evie 1.0 «

To say that Mr. Faulkner had been unreasonably unhappy about Connor bringing a woman aboard was an understatement. Unhappy didn't even begin to describe the old man's reaction when it had first been suggested. It was bad luck, wishing doom upon them, asking for trouble and all manner of other ill tidings which they didn't need. They could find them very well all on their own thank you very much. Fellow assassin or not, inviting Evie to come along on their journey to Oak Island in search of Captain Kidd's fabled treasure was too much.

Connor had listened, ever patient with his crew, before waving off each and every concern as nothing more than silly superstition. After all, there had been women on board before and nothing so terrible had ever happened. His own grandfather had even been lucky enough to have the services of a female quartermaster once upon a time. It would be fine.

Somehow, he hadn't pictured the trip going quite like this.

Almost from the moment they had maneuvered out of the bay where the Aquila remained docked during his stays at the homestead, the problems had begun. The wind was still and the water was slow moving, leaving them crawling along at barely a snail's pace. Then, despite the calm peacefulness of the ocean, Evie had suddenly developed what appeared to be some unexpected case of seasickness, retiring early on the second day to the captains quarters.

Paired with the fact that what should have been a relatively easy and quick journey had suddenly turned into a slow-moving slog, and everyone was in a rather foul mood. Connor had yelled himself horse giving various orders, trying to lift the spirits of his crew through the use of shanties and finally, alcohol.

He would have believed that perhaps Mr. Faulkner had been correct and having a woman on board really was bad luck, if he wasn't so worried about this particular one. Every time he saw her, she looked a little more green, and they were too far into the journey to turn around.

Thankfully, he had taken to keeping a small supply of peppermint tea for those times when the water was particularly rough and those who were still green had a difficult time handling it. Leaving the wheel in Mr. Faulkner's capable hands, knowing full well that he would be found and called back should he be needed, he had headed into the galley, preparing a steaming cup of the strong tea. Carrying it onto the deck, he descended the stairs, knocking once at the door leading to his quarters before entering quietly, not wanting to disturb her if she should be resting.

"I made some peppermint tea. It should help to ease your stomach."

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At first, Connor had mistakenly (foolishly) believed that it was nothing more serious than her struggling to regain her sea legs. The Aquila was a unique vessel unlike any other, perhaps it was simply taking time for her to grow accustom to it.

But then a day had passed, and then another, and she still hadn't emerged from the dark quiet of the Captains qaurters, and when he left her each morning she looked worse off than the one before.

Fainting damsel in distress were never words that could be used to describe Evie Frye, but the part had certainly seemed to take a hold over her now.

Carefully placing the mug in the nearest flat surface, he moved quickly towards her, large hand coming to rest upon her back, offering comfort and assistance, helping her into a more upright position. Settling into the now open space behind her, in case she felt too weak and needed something to lean on.

"How are you feeling?" Concern heavily laced his words, because she looked utterly terrible - not that he would ever actually speak those words out loud.

"Frustrated, in truth," she admitted. There were very few people around whom she'd let her guard down enough to admit how she genuinely felt about something, and Connor was rapidly becoming one of them. She hated being this weak in front of him, but she also knew he could be trusted to keep it to himself. She just wished the whole crew hadn't witnessed her graceless loss of lunch over the side of the ship, at least twice in those first couple of days.

"I don't know what's wrong with me, I've never been this bad on a ship before, and it's hardly a turbulent journey... I may have taken ill with something..." it seems a far more likely explanation than sea sickness, given the circumstances.

She reaches for the mug of peppermint tea, bringing it to her face to inhale the soothing vapours,only to find they're not so soothing after all. She pulls a face, pushing the mug away.

"I'm so sorry, that smells awful..." and she normally liked peppermint tea...

"It is understandable." This was not what he had envisioned for them on this journey; he had pictured them together, standing upon the upper deck and enjoying the setting sun. Had seen them taking in the cool, crisp ocean air and the clear blue waters and everything that could be found both above and below.

Instead she had spent most of their travels locked away and miserable and it was impossible to stop the surge of guilt he felt for having brought her at all, especially if she had been unwell before they had even set off.

Should they turn back? If she were ill she may very well be in need of a doctor's hand. At the very least there might be something that could be done for her symptoms until the sickness had passed. There would be nothing and no one once they arrived at their destination, and despite only being a day out, perhaps it would be best to simply keep that adventure for another time.

But her words and actions bring him out of his contemplations, watching in mild surprise and confusion as she pushed the mug away, face scruched up as if she had just smelled something terrible. He was completely certain he had brewed it correctly, had added a few drops of honey for sweetness until it was perfect. Lifting the cup to his face, he inhaled deeply, the aroma soothing and pleasant.

It was rather odd, he had never seen someone react to the remedy in such a manner. Normally it was more than welcomed and drank quickly. And she had always seemed so fond of it in the past.

"What a strange illneas. I did not think I would see the day when you would turn away tea." It's slightly teasing, an attempt to lighten the mood and perhaps make her feel a little better. "There may be some ginger on board. Or I can have some soup prepared. Perhaps you will feel better for eating something."

"Nor did I," Evie agreed with a weak smile, refusing the peppermint tea was quite out of character and even she knew it. "It must just be the nausea, I'm so sorry. It's normally such a good thing to have when I'm under the weather, my mother used to swear by it, in fact she said the only time she-" she stopped, suddenly paling even further, and this time it had absolutely nothing to do with the illness. Not that she thought it was an illness, now.

"Oh dear." she said softly, as the pieces slowly clicked together in her mind, little hints that she'd brushed aside before but made perfect sense now. She forced a smile and turned to Connor "Soup, now soup sounds like a very good idea, could you please?" she needed a moment alone to process this new revelation, and while it felt awful to try and shoo Connor away (he was, after all, somewhat involved), she wasn't even sure how to share this with him until she'd come to terms with it herself. After all, perhaps she was wrong... but she wasn't, she knew it, she'd heard tell from some women that sometimes you just knew, and now that the idea was in her mind it had taken hold so firmly that she was quite certain she was correct.

Part of him wants to press, wants to inquire further about the sudden and aburpt end to her story, wishing to know exactly how it would have finished. Obvioualy there had been a time when Evie's own mother had suffered a similar experience and perhaps it could shed some light on what was afflicting her now.

It's made all the more difficult by the soft words that fall and only cause his worry to increase, before she hurriedly asking for soup. The rwuqest seems strange and rushed, and he almost questions it, before pushing down his curiouaity in favor of fulfilling what she had tasked him with.

"Of course." Offering her a soft smile, he leans forward, placing a gentle kiss against her temple before standing, taking the discarded tea with him. "I will be back soon."

Last words still rolling over within his mind, he makes the trip down into the bowels of the ship, returning the mug to the galley and taking a moment to speak to the chef, asking that some soup that might be suitable be prepared. Some time later he returned to her, two steaming bowls of hot cabbage soup balanced carefully a small tray, along with some of the dry crackers they often kept abaord for the longer journey's.

"I have been told this may help." It would certainly be bland enough that it couldn't possibly offend her.

Evie took a moment, once he'd left, to try and convince herself she was wrong. The problem is, the more she thinks about it, the more it makes absolute sense - it had been longer than it should have been for her monthly visitor, the unexplained nausea, the changing appetite, the tiredness, a number of other tiny little things that she'd heard about but never quite believed - only now they were piling on and there really wasn't any way to deny what was happening.

If she hadn't already become quite certain, the fact that the cabbage soup - not her first choice of dishes, it had to be said - smelled absolutely delicious was the nail in the coffin. Or the... well, there wasn't a polite euphemism for the opposite, but nevertheless.

"Thank you," she told him, a little distractedly, taking the soup and practically inhaling it - after emptying her stomach so much she was ravenous, and the soup seemed to hit the spot even more than usual.

Connor hadn't expected much, had thought she might pick at the soup or drink some of the thin broth. Only to watch her absolutely devour it as if it were somehow the most delicious thing she had ever tasted after days of having no appetite and constant emptying of her stomach.

It was all so very strange, and he wracked his brain trying to come up with some sort of answer. Her explanation never even crossed his mind, considering the only woman he'd never know who had been through similar was Prudence.

Discarding the heavy captains coat, carefully hanging it on the back of the chair located at the desk, hat coming to rest atop a corner, he moved in closer, watching her curiously as she finished her bowl. "Of course. I am at your service. Always. It is good to see you eating again. Although I did not know you liked cabbage soup so much."

"I don't." She replied, sitting back from the empty bowl with a satisfied with "or rather, I didn't.. though I imagine this new found taste will only last for so long."

She paused then, marshalling her thoughts and trying to come up with the best way to explain the situation. He deserved to know, it would become difficult to hide before long and he was rather involved. She felt she knew him well enough to know he would stay that way, he wasn't so dishonourable that he'd consider any other option. She hoped.

"I'm afraid I have some... news. I'm tolerable certain I know what the problem is."

It's impossible to stop the confusion that passes over his feautres at her words, unsure of what they could possibly mean. Would this new found likeness fade once she was well, taking the sudden aversions along with it?

But then she's speaking again, saying that she has news and that she's rwlavtively certain she knows what is ailing her. Perhaps if they at least know, they will be able to find some way to treat it, or at the very least make things more tolerable for her.

"Go on." He steps in closer, all of his attention being paid entirely to her. "Do you think it the flu? You said it would not last long."

"No, it's not the flu... and I was perhaps incorrect, the sickness may not last long, I hope, but the cause of it... that should last around nine months.. well, it should last rather longer than that I imagine, but-" she stopped "I digress. I'm sorry this isn't how I wanted to tell you, I didn't know how I wanted to tell you in fact, since I did not exactly plan this. It wasn't until I recalled my mother's tale of the peppermint tea that I connected the dots."

She took a deep breath, fairly certain her rambling had gotten the point across but not wanting to trust him to put it together, and knowing that vague hints were an unfair way to tell someone they were going to be a father.

"I think I'm with child."

It was all so very strange and confusing, none of it rightly made any sense or aligned with any sort of illness he had ever encountered. What sort of sickness had a cause that lasted so long, even after the symptoms had faded? Her words don't help matters much at all, only making his confusion grow exponentially, brain not managing to properly process it at all.

Then, suddenly, a light bulb metaphorically turns on and his mind starts working and finally it all begins to click into place. The fondness for the soup where there had been none before, the aversion to something she had once loved. He gets it a moment before she actually speaks the words, although he's thankful for the confirmation.

Everything about his face lights up as if it's shining from within, dark eyes dancing with excitement and happiness. Ling had he wanted a family of his own, and he could think of no one better to form one with. She would be the absolute best mother, of that he was certain.

"That is wonderful news." Moving forward, he reaches out for her, taking both of her hands in his, squeezing them softly before using the hold to pull her upright. "Nothing could make me happier."

As reactions go, the sheer joy that broke out over his face when things clicked was basically the best thing Evie could have hoped for, and she couldn't help but smile in return at his enthusiasm.

She allowed herself to be manoeuvred, the soup having managed to settle her stomach at least a little, enough to keep her nausea from immediately returning anyway, and laughed.

"I know we haven't exactly done things the proper way... but you don't seem to mind so much." It wasn't as though she was part enough of London society to earn whispers of impropriety, so she didn't particularly mind the lack of a ring on her finger either. It wasn't what she had planned, but his happiness was infectious, and it was difficult to keep the smile from her face.

Perhaps they hadn't. They certainly hadn't followed the predetermined societal norms that were likely expected of them, hadn't followed what would have been considered the right and proper path. But they hadn't simply just crossed that line, they had run over it headlong and had never once stopped or bothered to look back. Everything had blossomed and come to life so quickly, rising up with the dawning of spring and burning brighter than all of the stars in the sky, almost as if this were somehow their destiny.

One day, there would be a ring on her finger. The news that she was carrying his child had only cemented that idea into his mind that she was the one he wished to marry, the one who he wished to share the rest of his life with. But it would come later, not now when she might think that it had only been asked because of the child. No, she deserved to know that it was because of her, deserved to have it be special and not some spur of the moment proposition quickly asked in the heat od a different moment.

"Such things do not matter." Long fingers gently squeezed her slender ones, holding them as if they were the most precious things in the entire world to him. And she was, truly. "I love you, Evie. And this child was made from that love." Releasing one of her hands, his own reached out, cupping her chin and tipping it upwards. "So long as you are happy, that is all I care about."

"I love you too," she replied, her smile softening into something more fond, tone gentle but firm and resolute. She should have expected something like this to happen eventually, she wasn't as bad as Jacob by any stretch of the imagination, but she was hardly a nun either. She was delighted it had happened with him, however, because she honestly couldn't have hoped for anyone better.

"I am happy, I'm very happy." she confirmed, her own hand straying to rest lightly on her stomach, hardly believing there was a life beginning to grow there. There would be so much to prepare, decisions to make, people to tell (and wasn't that a daunting thought), but for now... for now they could just enjoy this. As much as she could enjoy it with the nausea threatening to steal over her again.

"Let's not tell anyone else, just yet," she asked "These things can be uncertain, it's bad luck to tell people too soon." It was a superstition she was glad to fall back on, because honestly she had no idea how Jacob would take this news but he would probably find some way to be insufferable about it.

The thought of telling everyone and dealing with each of their reactions was incredibly daunting, and he wondered for a moment if they couldn't simply find some way to hide it and then allow the sudden appearance of a child to tell them. But with their luck, Jacob would end up having some strange twin sense about the whole thing and would end up knowing long before either of them even spoke a word about it.

"Yes." There's a nod in agreement, spoken almost too quickly. "You and the little one are most important now. We will tell them when you are ready." His grandfather was likely going to be over dramatic and faint or something of the sort, and he would really rather save that particular incident for some other, far off in the future day.

There's a sense of hesitation that almost stays his hand, that almost keeps it from joining her own upon her stomach, hovering over it for an indecisive moment before finally covering it gently. It's amazing to think of what's blossoming there, still unseen. "Will you be alright? The sea does not seem the best place for you right now."

She doesn't comment on the hesitation, waiting patiently for him to make his mind up and glancing up at him with a brilliant smile once he does. Their two hands together on top of her stomach is a sort of reflection of what's happening inside, the two of them coming together to make a child.

"I doubt any place is the best for me right now," she reassures him with a smile "Sea or land I'm going to be sick on both, though I have heard carrying a child affects a woman's tastes quite considerably, we've already seen that to be the case, so I think your cook is going to hate me by the time this voyage is over."

For a moment he contemplates simply speaking with his chef and explaining the entire situation in hopes of easing whatever irritation her changing appetite might cause. But nothing was ever kept a secret among the crew, and once one found out, they were all bound to find out. And he could already hear the coronary that Mr. Faulkner was likely to experience at finding out he had not only brought a woman aboard but a pregnant one at that.

"I am sorry that the child is making you so ill." There was nothing that could be done about it at present, and it was hardly his fault, but seeing her like this made his heart ache. "I will ensure that you get everything you want. All you need do is ask." And then, a little more teasingly. "Even if I will have to pay my poor cook more for his troubles."

"I understand it's to be expected," Evie waves away his apology with a smile. She doesn't know a lot about pregnancy but she's picked up enough information to have a rough understanding of how it went, and she was only going to do more reading when she was back on land.

She leaned up to kiss him, touched by how attentive he was - he had this wonderful way of constantly reminding her she'd made the right choice by being with him, just through his sweetness and care.

A soft smile flittered over his features at her kiss, returning it in kind, once, twice in quick succession. A deep exhale finally releases from his lungs, as if he's been unknowingly holding onto the breath the entire time. As relieving as it was to know what was making her ill, the answer brought no actual comfort, only a boiling pit of nerves and excitement.

"I am still sorry." He was the one who had the bright idea to drag her out into the middle of the ocean on some wild goose chase, despite the fact that he couldn't possibly have known. "Although I am not surprised it is giving you such trouble. Kenways are known to be difficult."

"Kenways and Fryes both," she said with a rueful smile, while she would happily say that both her and Connor were logical, sensible people, they also shared genetics with Jacob and Edward, and the very thought of a child that was even half of the two of them was a nightmare. She would love her child deeply regardless, of course she would, but she's well aware she's running the risk of them being an absolute hellion.

While picturing a miniature version of her with Jacob's personality running absolutely amuck around the homestead and London was amusing, it was also completely possible. Of course he would love his child just as firecely no matter who it took after, but he hoped being raised by sensible, logical parents would calm any wilder desires. "I fear are may be in trouble."

"If they're too much trouble, do you think handing it off to Uncle Jacob would make it better or worse..." she mused, trying to keep a straight face. Honestly she was pretty certain Jacob was going to completely dote on the child as well, but she wasn't entirely sure he should be left unsupervised with it.

"One thing's for sure... they're going to be a very good assassin."

"Evie." Her name is spoken quietly, something in his chest twisting at the suggestion. Jacob had warned him of this, had told him that she would want any child of her own to be raised as an assassin as they had been. But he didn't want that for his child, didn't want them to feel as if they had no choice, wanted them to be free to make their own decision.

"What if that is not what they want?"

For a moment she's confused at the concern in his voice, uncertain what could have caused it, after all she was only joking about just handing off the child to Ja-oh.

She frowned slightly, unsure what to say to that, she didn't know what it said about her that it hadn't crossed her mind that their child, her child, might not want to be an assassin.

"I... well. Well that's something that will come up if they decide that's not what they want."

"Will they know they have a choice?" It didn't surprise him that she seemed to have never thought of such a thing occuring, that any child of two assassin's - any child of hers - wouldn't greet and fall into this life with open arms.

But this wasn't the life he would desire for his child.

"Of course," she looks slightly offended he'd even ask "I would never force my child to be something they didn't want to be."

Admittedly, she doesn't quite realise that her plans to simply bring up her child as an assassin and only stop if they said anything was probably what he meant when he asked about knowing they had a choice, but she'll probably get it eventually. Maybe.

And that was exactly what worried him. It was difficult to know you even haf any other choice when you had only ever been presented with one.

"Of course not." His tone is instantly apologetic, one hand held in front of him as a sign of peace. This was hardly the time nor the place to argure about such things. But he knew now that it would likely be inevitable. "You will be a wonderful mother. I could not have asked for anyone better."

She gets the impression he's backing down purely because he doesn't want an argument, but that also seems sensible right now, she's still a bit nauseous and somewhat irritable and she would much rather have any kind of serious conversation like that when she's far more comfortable.

"I certainly hope so," she says with a faint smile "But I am sure you will be a wonderful father."

He's also exceptionally well aware of just how strong of a will Evie truly has. If she was dead set upon this idea, there would be absolutely no changing her mind.

And honestly, if this was the only point of contention that ever developed between them, he would consider it lucky indeed.

"That is my hope." It's enough to bring that soft smile back to his face. "I hope that I can be wonderful to you both."

"Well you're already being wonderful to me," she says, smiling back

"I love you, Connor Kenway, I hope you know that."

He knew. With all of his heart he knew. It was as if he had known that from the moment they had met.

Moving in close, he wraps one arm around her, gentle in his actions now, mindful of what she carried. The other hand splayed across her stomach, soft and barely there, forehead coming to rest against her own as he whispered in reply. "Konnorónhkhwa." I love you in his own tongue.

She may not know much of his native language but it doesn't take a genius to translate that one, and her smile was gentle and loving as she looked up at him. It was easy enough to tilt her head up that little further and bring their lips together.

There wassomething so incredibly beautiful about this moment, about holding his everything in his arms. There was something so incredibly beautiful about her and the way she smiled at him, like she was glowing from within.

Her soft kiss is answered in kind, lips gentle as they press back, but there's an underlying current of emotional spark, as if he's somehow trying to pour everything he's feeling into this one connection.

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