#oh wait fuck I need a tricorn to make this really pop off

[howls-memeing-castle]

Skiving off work due entirely to a lack of fuckin’ interest in the whole endeavor

Friendly local baristas gave me a Good Grade in Outfit™️

It’s lovely and Crisp out today

The sun is shining

I feel Good

The world is a shitfire, but today I am happy, and that’s enough for now :)

[ragingbookdragon]

The Beds We’ve Made Final Part

Kurt x De Sardet

Word Count: 2,440 Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Oh look at that, I’ve finished a WIP while undergoing a midlife crisis! Enjoy! -Thorne

           It wasn’t real, he told himself. The annoying sensation of his heart fluttering in his chest when he caught sight of her. Or heard her voice. Or her laugh. It wasn’t real when he watched her explode with glee when she saw the Naut walking their way, Síora and Aphra in tow. And it certainly wasn’t real when he saw her throw her arms around the young captain’s neck, expressing her relief at his recovery.

           Oh, but it was real. That vine of thorns that slunk in his chest, curling tighter and tighter around his heart until the sight of it became too painful to watch and he had to avert his gaze for fear of making a fool of himself—and embarrassing her. That was the last thing he wanted, for De Sardet to be ashamed of herself because of him. And that seemed to knock all the air from his lungs, leaving him breathless in the face of his truth.

           What did he have to compare to Vasco? Sure, they both lowborn, excluding the whole ‘Vasco’s-Actually-A-Noble’ thing, but the Naut had status. And with his loyalty restored in his guild, it meant he had power. Kurt had no doubt that the Naut would come out a commander before his thirty-fifth year—it was only a matter of time. But what could Kurt offer De Sardet that would make even a smidge of a difference when you compared him to Vasco? Hell, he didn’t even have a childhood to possibly reminisce happily about. He spent his life fulfilling contract after contract, coin purse after coin purse. Where was his honor? Where was the life he could give her? Of happiness? Of joy? Where was—

           “Kurt!”

           An almost painful grip had settled onto his bicep and, curse himself, he startled like a doe in a clearing. His head shot up, eyes wide as he gaped at the very woman he drug himself for, her own gaze slightly worried.

           “What?” he dumbly blurted out, quickly darting his eyes to the other members of their troupe, all staring back at him with cocked brows.

           De Sardet pulled away and he missed the warmth already. “I was calling for you and you weren’t responding.” Her gaze narrowed. “Are you well?”

           He felt foolish. The type of foolish that made his skin crawl and itchy, and he cleared his throat, forcing himself not to flush.

           “I’m fine,” he nodded. “I was lost in thought.”

           Gauging her reaction, Kurt knew that she wanted to keep asking to be sure, so he offered her a smile. Or at least he thought he did. He was sure it was more of a grimace.

           “Really, your excellency,” he said, tightening his voice with, “I’m fine.”

           By the way her eyebrow arched, he knew that she didn’t believe a word that came out of is mouth, but the forceful remark made her tip her head in acknowledgement and she glanced back at Vasco.

           “Well, they were going to the tavern in celebration of Vasco’s recovery.” Meeting his steely gaze, she added, “I was going to join them after seeing Constantin, but if you’d rather go with them, I understand.”

           For a moment, he briefly considered it. Getting drunk would happen a lot faster if she weren’t there to start it. But then again, he was a jealous, envious, and greedy son of a bitch, and any moment he could soak up her presence without the threat of someone else taking her away from him was a moment he was going to covet like it was the rarest of jewels.

           He cleared his throat. “I’ll come with you.” The others chuckled and he griped, “Someone might try to hurt you.”

           De Sardet snorted as she waved the others off and started up the stairs. “Oh please. We both know I can take care of myself.”

           “Be that as it may, I’m still your bodyguard.” And before he could shut his mouth, he grunted, “And the one who pays me.”

           She didn’t turn around, and she didn’t have to for him to know that his remark upset her. The way her shoulders set, and her chin tilted up told him otherwise.

           They entered the palace and he murmured, “That was unworthy of me. I apologize.”

           De Sardet heaved a sigh and shrugged. “It is what it is.”

           Nearing the throne room, he felt a shift growing between them and before he could help himself, Kurt reached out and grasped her elbow, stopping her in her tracks. She didn’t pull away, which relieved him more than he cared to admit, but the suspicious look on her face made his stomach roll uncomfortably and he realized that it would appear badly for them if someone saw them—fuck it, he didn’t care anymore.

           “I didn’t mean that Lady De Sardet. Not in the slightest.”

           She shook her head. “I told you Kurt, it is what it is.” Tipping her head to the door, she added, “We need to see Constantin. Can we talk about this lat—”

           “We’re gonna talk about it now.” He interrupted, grip tightening ever so slightly on her arm, and he watched the pride swim in her gaze, daring him to try to change her mind.

           “And if I say no?” De Sardet challenged coolly, eyes narrowing into a heatless glare.

           Kurt leaned close until they were nose to nose. “I’m afraid that’s not an option, my lady,” he murmured.

           They stared one another down for a minute, neither willing to give on their stance until she huffed and shook him off.

           “Fine,” she agreed. “Let’s go to the residence then.”

           And suddenly Kurt felt his hands start sweating as she passed him by, marching towards the doors, leaving him in the dust.

***

           It wasn’t the first time he’d been in her bedroom. And shit, saying that made him feel dirty, like some type of lecherous peeping Tom. While all of the times he’d ever been in her room had been to roll her out of bed and to practice, there’d never been any type of emotion between them—other than her absolute loathing at being woken up by the smug mercenary.

           But now? Now they’d been dancing around one another with thinly, very thinly, veiled innuendoes. And sharing tents. They’d shared a goddamn tent and Kurt didn’t sleep a wink that night because every time she brushed up against him in her sleep, his heart hammered like a blacksmith was pounding it with a mallet, and a warmth split his gut in two that made his face burn with embarrassment.

           And she didn’t even notice. Not then, and certainly not now as she busied herself with pulling off her fancy gray tricorn, setting it aside before moving on to the weapons belts. Each undoing made Kurt’s heart skip just a bit faster and when she finally pulled the armored coat off, she glanced back at him with a funny look.

           “Kurt?” she called. “Are you going to take off your armor?”

           “My—my armor?” his tongue felt heavy in his mouth and she nodded.

           “You can’t exactly sit comfortably with a great sword attached to your back,” she explained, and he watched her as she began to shift the cushions around on the floor, just against the trunk at the foot of her bed.

           “I’d also assume that clunky armor isn’t comfortable to sit in.” She shoved at him playfully as she moved around her room, grabbing a bottle of wine.

           Somehow, Kurt managed to make his hands move and his fingers to undo the belts holding his sword and armor in place. It left him in his tunic and leather pants, and he lent the gear up beside the doorway and when he turned, she was already perched on the pillows, reclining back.

           “Sit with me,” she said, waving him over and he walked on less-clumsy feet to her, taking the seat beside her. He grunted as his knees popped and she giggled. “Old much?”

           “I am not old,” he retorted indignantly, swiping the bottle from her to uncork it and take a swig. “I’m in my prime, thank you very much.”

           “Oh ho?” De Sardet countered, then took back the bottle and gestured around them. “And the silence outside that I’m hearing is obviously your suitors waiting for you to lay them, hmm?”

           A grin came across her lips at his pinched expression and she took a drink, then passed the bottle back. And a silence fell over them for a while as they simply drank with one another.

           “You know,” she started after a time. “It is surprising that you never married, Kurt.”

           He almost choked on the wine going down. Almost. Meeting her gaze, he questioned, “Why’s that?”

           De Sardet shrugged, explaining, “Well, you wer—are young and strong. I always assumed you’d find a wife in Serene.”

           “I would’ve, but I had to royal greenies to raise,” he teased, nudging her in the ribs. He wasn’t drunk enough to not control his actions, but just tipsy enough to loosen his lips and his feelings. Thank the gods, because if they’d tried to talk while he wasn’t buzzed, he’d have spluttered like a pierced hose.

           “Oh piss,” she laughed. “Constantin and I knew how to take care of ourselves even without weapons protection.” Turning, she cocked her elbow on the trunk and peered at him with amusement.

           “Tell me honestly, Kurt. Why didn’t you ever marry and settle down? Haven’t you always wanted a family? Or at least some semblance of it that wasn’t the guard?”

           Her questions dug deep, deeper than he wanted to go into his own heart. Of course, he wanted that. He wanted that more than anything now that his worst nightmare was burned away…but only if it was with her. His mouth was moving before he could shut it.

           “Only if you’re the one I do it with,” he confessed and his mouth snapped shut when her eyes widened, shock splattering across her face.

           “What?” De Sardet whispered, and he wasn’t sure if she wanted him to repeat it because she hadn’t heard or if she did and she wanted him to say it again.

           “I—” he started, then shook his head. This was a bad idea. “It was nothing. A slip of the tongue.” Kurt turned away, but stopped when her hand caught his chin, turning him back towards her.

           “My lady, I—”

           “Do you mean that Kurt?” she asked quietly and one look into her unfathomable gaze had him sinking deeper and deeper.

           “Yes,” he breathed, trying to ignore the way her touch burned him alive, all in the best way. “I…I know that I was your Master-At-Arms all this time, and you were young then, and I didn’t think anything of you.”

           De Sardet huffed slightly. “Ouch.”

           Kurt chuckled, then his smile fell as he admitted, “But now, Lady De Sardet…you have become a beautiful and wonderful woman. A woman that any man would be lucky to even be in the presence of.”

           His icy gaze searched hers. “Everything that I want, everything that you said…a wife…a family…I want that, but only if it means that you’re the one beside me.” He reached up and cupped her cheek. “I—I love you, Lady De Sardet.”

           For a moment, she didn’t speak, and for a brief moment, Kurt wondered if he’d spilled his guts only for her to hand them back in disgust. Until of course her hand covered the one at her cheek and her eyes crinkled with mirth in the way that set his soul aflame.

           “See, that wasn’t so hard now was it, Kurt?” she grinned, pulling away to rise to her feet. De Sardet spun and held out a hand, and when he took it, she hauled him to his feet, enjoying the way his arms automatically wound around her.

           “Was this a test, my lady?” he mused, and she shrugged.

           “I don’t know, maybe?” her nonchalance made him chuckle and he bent down to capture her lips, only to be stopped by a pointer finger and a cocked brow.

           “Uh…”

           “Magic phrase?” she whispered sweetly, and Kurt smirked.

           “May I get into your knickers, please?”

           De Sardet swatted at his chest in anger, though laughter peeled from her all the same.

           “Oh you—you—you!”

           “You what?” he retorted, twirling them around to near the bed.

           “You are such a ma--AN!” De Sardet cried when her knees hit the bed and she tumbled back onto the sheets, landing with an ‘oof’. Suddenly a weight was on her and she looked up, seeing Kurt smiling down at her.

           “You didn’t say the magic phrase,” she pouted, and he leaned down, pressing his lips to her forehead.

           “I love you,” he murmured, pulling back to meet her eyes once more.

           De Sardet felt a flush crawl under her skin and she grumbled, “Well, it was ‘may I please kiss you?’, but this works too.”

           Kurt chuckled. “Good to know…but I have to ask…do you love me too?”

           She stared at him. “Do you think I’d’ve let you into my bedroom if I didn’t?”

           He shook his head. “I wanna hear you say it.”

           “Is that a command, Captain Kurt?” she purred, sliding her thigh up between his legs in a way that made him let out a throat growl.

           “It’s going to be if you keep that up,” he countered lowly and she grinned wickedly.

           “In that case…” he barely got a word in before she shoved him over and straddled his hips, enjoying the crimson that spread across his cheeks when he gaped up at her.

           She placed her hands on his chest and stared at him for a moment, innocently murmuring, “I do love you, Kurt. Very much so.” Her eyes took on a sad tone. “Which is why when you didn’t tell me about the coup…I was so hurt.”

           His face fell and he sighed. “If I could go back in time, I would tell you everything, my lady.”

           De Sardet shifted slightly and motioned for him to sit up. When he did, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

           “Promise me that you’ll never hide another secret from me.” Tilting her head, she added, “And I will promise the same to you. Every inch of my soul will be exposed to you.”

           Kurt couldn’t agree fast enough. “I promise. I promise my loyalty and truth to you. For all of time,” he vowed, and she smiled, pressing her forehead to his.

           “And I you, my love.”

[otdderamin]

Transcript Ep96 0:22:16 Grog's Whitestone Tour Hat

I collect vintage and ostentatious hats, elaborate headpieces, and fascinators. I'm the sort of person who can (and frequently does) put absolutely ridiculous things on her head and manages to make it look good. So, my first two thoughts after this scene were: "I want that hat," and "I think I can make that hat." And then I looked over at my Renaissance Faire hat. It was made on sight in much the same fashion of grabbing random things and sticking them on the hat. I'm a volunteer that needs to be flagged down and I made that hat specifically to make seeing me easier. So I guess I have my own Grand Poobah hat already.

If you like this transcript, please consider donating time or money to Critical Role Transcripts, @CRTranscript, to help them provide closed captioning to Critical Role. Help share this wonderful show with as many people as possible, regardless of hearing ability or English language skills.

 Transcript method notes: http://otdderamin.tumblr.com/post/153539301510/a-note-on-my-transcription-method

  Hat Description

Percy finds "a wide brimmed captain's hat. It comes to a tricorner point at the front and curves upward. It's mostly used for costuming purposes. It's reminiscent of masquerade balls." Vex adds a purple "bombastic bow of varying layers that kind of plumes out three times. It resembles ribbon candy almost in the way it billows out multiple ways. But it is pinned to the top, so it kind of poofs as it cascades down the sides of the hat." Vex suggests, "A big feather? Like a white plumy feather?" Percy decides he'll "just take a quill basically and stick it in there." Percy suggests two bells. Vex gets "jingle bells" from the "royal stable" used as "parade accoutrement for the various horses." She makes them "hang from either side around his ears" to about chin level. "This magnificent mess of a hat that you guys have created is on par, if not slightly beyond the previous helmet that he had acquired while in" Vasselheim. It is not well balanced. "[I]t was designed for a much smaller head, so even for [Grog] to get it on, it's like squeezing a tiny rubber thimble over your thumb."

  Transcript

Scene runs: 0:22:16 to 0:37:06 https://youtu.be/ZWkicUhQ7yE?t=1336

 0:22:16 Grog: "By the way, since I'm the tour guide, do you have any plumy hats? You know, 'cause if you take a campus tour they have a flag and they're like, 'Over here! Over here!' in case you get lost. Or when tourists walk around, and they're like, 'Don't get left! Mm!' Do you have anything like that?"

Percy: "Let me check, I'll be right back."

Grog: "Good."

Vex: "I'll go with him."

Tary: "How many campus tours have you been on?"

…

0:23:48 Matt, to Taliesin: "You are searching for what?"

Taliesin: "Oh, well I've gone into my sister's bedroom and've begun to raid the spring clothing to find the most ostentatious hat I can find, and start shoving as many things into it as I possibly can."

Matt: "Make an investigation check."

Taliesin: "Antlers! Absolutely."

Laura: "I was going with you."

Taliesin: "Oh!"

Laura: "I had said I went with you. Mostly to get away from the Gnomes."

Taliesin: "Yes."

Matt: "So you're both searching?"

Taliesin: "Yes."

Matt: "Make an investigation check with advantage."

Taliesin: He rolls. "Huh! 15."

Matt: "Okay. It takes you a little bit, and you're being careful not to be too loud, 'cause the last thing you want is Cassandra to come in and watch you tearing through her outfits."

Taliesin: "No."

0:24:30 Matt: "But you do find what essentially amounts to a wide brimmed captain's hat. It comes to almost a tricorner point at the front and curves upward. It's mostly used for costuming purposes. It's reminiscent of masquerade balls. You actually recall when she was younger that it was part of masquerade ball wear. There was a mask with a long nose--"

Taliesin: "Sure. It'll be very ill-fitting now, won't it?"

Matt: "Oh, yeah."

Laura: "Ooo! Are there any ribbons around?"

Matt: "Yeah, you find ribbons easily enough."

Taliesin: "Yeah."

0:24:59 Laura: "I want to tie a big, purple giant bow around the top."

Taliesin: "Get a feather in there, the whole thing really, so it's very hard to lose him."

Matt: "Make a dexterity check."

Laura: "Just to see if I can tie a bow." She rolls. "Okay."

Sam: "Bow master."

Laura: "Oh, that's a saving throw… This is low, but that's a… 12?"

Matt: "Okay."

Laura: "But it's a bow."

0:25:26 Matt, laughing: "Oh no, you successfully create what is a bombastic bow of varying layers that kind of plumes out three times. It resembles ribbon candy almost in the way it billows out multiple ways. But it is pinned to the top, so it kind of poofs as it cascades down the sides of the hat."

Vex: "It's glorious."

Percy: "Are we missing something? I don't know, is it finished?"

0:25:53 Vex: "A big feather? Like a white plumy feather?"

Percy: "I think we probably have a white plumy feather. Oh wait!"

Vex: "Or any color feather, really."

0:26:02 Taliesin: "Wait! I'm going to look to see if I can find some bells."

Matt: "Okay. Not in Cassandra's room."

Taliesin: "Not in Cassandra's room."

0:26:10 Matt: "But there is the royal stable not far away."

Taliesin, gleefully: "Yes!"

Matt: "Which does have bells available in case they want to have parade accoutrement for the various horses and other boarded (forted?) creatures."

Laura: "Are these like jingle bells, or like big—"

Marisha: "Cowbells."

Laura: "Cowbells.

0:26:24 Matt: "No, they're like jingle bells."

Laura: "Okay. Yes!"

Percy: "It's like jingle bells! Alright. I'm going to—I'm actually going to send you on that one since you have the broom."

Vex: "Alright, I'll go."

0:26:31 Percy: "We'll need two."

Vex: "Of course."

Percy: "I'll find a feather!"

0:26:36 Taliesin: "Alright. I'm going to just take a quill basically and stick it in there. I don't even care."

Marisha: "You're making a Derby hat. It's appropriate."

Taliesin: "I know. It's wonderful."

0:26:43 Matt: "So yeah, over the next ten minutes or so, between your journey and your finding the proper feather plume, you guys manage to cobble together a delightfully ostentatious hat for Grogs presentery tour of Whitestone."

0:26:57 Laura: "I want the bells to hang from either side around his ears. Like right here." [Chin line.]

Matt: "Okay. Cool. There we go. He has a couple of dangly bells."

Taliesin: "I needed this."

Travis: "It'll be good. It'll be like the Karate Kid with the toy when he starts spinning."

Group, shaking their heads from side to side as if to swing the bells: "Duba duba duba duba du!"

Matt: "Perfect. Alrighty."

Travis: "Old bells in m'face."

0:27:19 Matt: "This magnificent mess of a hat that you guys have created is on par, if not slightly beyond the previous helmet that he had acquired while in Singorn." [Vasselheim.]

Travis: "Yeah, my horn helmet."

0:27:33 Taliesin: "The horn helmet's pretty spectacular, but I feel like we may have topped it."

…

0:36:27 Vax: "Geez, that hat is busier than Kvarn's whole fucking—"

Vex: "I know, right?"

Travis: "Is it well balanced?"

Matt: "No… Not at all."

Travis: "Do I kind of have to hold it?"

Matt: "No. Here's the thing, it was designed for a much smaller head, so even for you to get it on, it's like squeezing a tiny rubber thimble over your thumb." He mimics pulling it down and it poping back up. "And it kind of pops up to the very, very tip. So it holds itself, but it only really covers the very, very top of your head."

Travis: "I'd be worried about circulation up there, but it's not really a concern."

Matt: "And you feel like it might fall off, but eventually you find a little strap inside." He mimics pulling it under his chin."

0:37:06

[ragingbookdragon]

Fistfights On Tavern Nights

A Connor Kenway x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 1,570 Warnings: Explicit Language

Author’s Note: I kept thinking about this scene and I had to write it out. Hey, two stories in one day, who am I! Enjoy! -Thorne

“We could always climb the wall?” He hummed as she suggested it, eyes shifting between the doors and the side wall. “C’mon Ratonhnhaké:ton, it’d be easier than barging in through the front doors.” Again, he hummed, still deciding and she let out a groan, propping her chin on his bicep. “Fine…take forever.” Connor snorted, glancing down at her.

           “You do not want to fight (Y/N)?” She glared up at him, countering,

           “Considering the fact that the last time I got involved in a head-on fight, I got shot? No. No I don’t want to fight.” Connor crossed his arms over his chest, asking,

           “What if we get inside and then we have to fight?”

           “What if we get inside and we don’t have to fight?”

           “What if we get inside and there are more soldiers than we realize are inside?”

           “What if we get inside and there aren’t more soldiers inside?”

           “What if-” An annoyed voice cut them off, scoffing,

           “Oh, dear god! Save the lover’s miff for another time! We’re on a mission that requires your full attentions!” The two assassins tipped their heads, catching sight of the older templar standing behind them, a look of irritation on his face. (Y/N) narrowed her gaze, ordering,

           “Hey, old man, shut it, or I’ll shut it for you. If we want your opinion, we’ll ask for it.” Haytham’s eyes went wide at her words, and for a moment, he seemed to be stunned silent. This prompted Connor to bark a laugh, quipping,

           “Well, well, Mister-Smart-Mouth is rendered speechless?” He glanced down at (Y/N), acknowledging, “Well done otsi'tsa.” She furrowed her brows, thrusting a thumb back at Haytham, who had a mixture of anger and hurt crossing his face.

           “What like it’s hard? He’s old. All you gotta do to make men feel bad about themselves is point out things they try to ignore. His knees pop when he tries to sneak.”

           “That is not true.” (Y/N) cocked an eyebrow, taunting,

           “You sure this is the game you wanna play old man?” She smirked, sweetly adding, “I really don’t wanna hurt your feelings.” Haytham took a step towards her, ignoring how Connor turned fully to him, soldiers squared and ready to defend her if the situation arose.

           “Try me.” She shrugged then pressed the back of her hand to Connor’s chest, directing,

           “Go fight without me, this’ll take a while.” He frowned, looking at her.

           “I do not want to leave you alone with him.” (Y/N) scoffed, meeting Haytham’s gaze.

           “Haytham’s not gonna kill me, are you Haytham?” The templar shook his head and she looked back at Connor. “We might get into a fistfight, but nothing serious.” She nodded to the fort. “Go.” The other assassin stayed a moment, before staring at his father, hissing,

           “If you start anything serious with her, I will finish it.” Haytham merely rolled his eyes but nodded and Connor placed a hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder, whispering something in her ear before taking off. Once he’d made it to the fort, she reached her weapons belt, undoing it before tossing it aside. After, she undid the hidden blades at her wrists, adding them to the pile. She raised her fists, challenging,

           “Alright, let’s go old man.” An eyebrow arched on his face and he inquired,

           “You’re serious about fighting me?” (Y/N) dropped her fists, deadpanning,

           “No, I’ve just got my weapons belt thrown aside and my arms raised because I enjoy looking like an absolute fucking idiot.” Haytham chuckled as he undid his hidden blade, stowing it in his tricorn before placing it on the ground.

           “You said it, not me.” She huffed, grinning as he pulled off his sword and pistol belts.

           “Okay, now I’m really gonna kick your ass.” He matched her grin, and she could see the seething anger stirring in his steel eyes. Stepping forward, she dared, “May the best fighter win.”

An Hour Later:

           Holding his arm, he trekked back up the hill. Clearing the fort had given the patriots new supplies, but he’d taken a few wounds of his own, meaning he’d be out of the fight for a week or two. He’d managed to stop the bleeding in his arm, but the cut still stung, and he bit the inside of his cheek at the pain. As he neared the top, he caught sight of (Y/N) and his father sitting side by side, passing a bottle back and forth. He’d never been one to eavesdrop unless necessary, but the way they laughed made him wonder what had occurred in the mere hour he’d been gone, and before he could stop himself, he started creeping behind them, silently listening.

           “Do you ever think Connor’s hard to understand at times?” (Y/N) hummed as she took a sip from the bottle.

           “When we first met, sure, but now? Nah. He’s pretty easy to read.” Haytham scoffed as she handed it over.

           “You’re joking?” She huffed a laugh, countering,

           “Pot meet kettle.”

           “I am not like him.” (Y/N) pulled a solemn face, nodding her head.

           “Yes, you are. The two of you are as stubborn as mules.”

           “That doesn’t mean I act like him, or vice versa.”

           “Haytham, you do realize you’re his father, right? Like half of that boy comes from you.” His face pinched and he raised a hand to his mouth, massaging his cheek.

           “You have a good left hook.” (Y/N) grinned as she took the bottle back.

           “Don’t change the subject.”

           “I’m not.”

           “Yes, you are.” She observed him a moment, then surmised, “You’re afraid to get closer to him because you’re scared it’ll cloud your judgment.” Haytham said nothing and she turned her attention to the street. “If it makes you feel any better, he’s scared too.” (Y/N) could feel his eyes on her, but she refused to look at him. “I can tell that he wants to know you…wants to have that connection to you…but he’s scared to put anything into the relationship because the future is uncertain.” He didn’t need to say anything, but he did anyway.

           “Uncertain? He is afraid we’ll end up facing one another.” She nodded, muttering,

           “Ratonhnhaké:ton is stronger than you. His convictions and will are too. If the two of you came to blows…I’ve no illusions that you’ll walk away from that fight alive.” She handed him the bottle and Haytham stared into the whiskey before murmuring,

           “Why are you telling me this (Y/N)?” She took a deep breath before looking at him, staring into his eyes as she declared,

           “Because you gave my father a second chance to do the right thing.” At the mention of her father, Haytham’s eyes went wide and she continued, “I’m giving you the same chance. To be a better man, a better father to your son. To change what could happen for something better.” Connor, who’d been silent up until now, decided to stop eavesdropping, stepping forward.

           “The fort has been cleared.” The two turned to look at him from their spots, and he immediately glared at Haytham, condemning, “What did you do!” Connor started towards (Y/N) who grinned as he knelt beside her, gently taking her face in his hands. He tilted her head up, examining her. “Are you alright otsi'tsa?” She nodded, reaching up to grab his hand; pressing a kiss to his palm, she replied,

           “Honestly Ratonhnhaké:ton, if you think this is bad, you should’ve seen the time I came out of the barfight back in Saint Augustine.” She tipped her head towards Haytham. “Besides, I handed your dad his ass.”

           “You did not.” (Y/N) snorted, but it dissolved into a hiss as Connor dabbed at her bloodied lip.

           “Ow.” He frowned at her then turned his attention to his father.

           “You should not have aimed for the face.” Haytham pointed to his eyebrow.

           “She hit me in the face first. I was getting even.” (Y/N) glanced at him, wondering aloud,

           “I wonder how my dad would feel about his dear old friend beating up his innocent daughter.” She chuckled. “Hey, maybe I should send the old bastard a letter and tell him!” Connor’s lips tugged down, and he whispered,

           “Do not make light of what makes your heart heavy otsi‘tsa.” She wanted to roll her eyes, but he had a good point, and she sighed,

           “Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” He pulled away, holding out his hand to her. (Y/N) took it, letting him pull her to his feet before he turned away, offering it to Haytham. His father seemed surprised, but took it and as they all stood, (Y/N) offered, “Say…since we’re all tired and hungry, why don’t we get something to eat?” Connor dropped his gaze and Haytham said,

           “It’s getting late. I should get back to file reports-” She sent him a look then looked between Connor and him, and he followed, “I suppose the reports can wait until tomorrow.” Awkwardly, he gestured to the street. “Connor, (Y/N), would you like to eat dinner with me?” She nudged Connor in the side, and he looked over at her. Smiling, she nodded, and he sighed before agreeing,

           “Dinner sounds good.” (Y/N) took Connor’s hand and they started towards the tavern. Haytham followed close behind, watching the way they joked and laughed, and, for once in many years, he felt like his heart wasn’t on the verge of breaking. Perhaps (Y/N) was right…maybe there was still a chance to change.