#that random cut from the chase sequence to the wedding bothers me so fucking much

[thou-babbling-brook]

Cold Feet

AO3

Rating: G

Word Count: 2216

Tags: Davenport Homestead, Assassin's Creed III, American Revolution, Canon Compliant, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, "The Wedding" Mission

Summary: Connor convinces Myriam to start her new life with Norris. Set during "The Wedding" Homestead mission between the chase sequence and the wedding scene. Hope you guys enjoy!

Connor would be the first to admit that he knew little to nothing about colonial wedding customs. Aside from a few comprehensive history and culture lessons from his teen years when he first traveled to Achilles, Connor knew nothing about the complexities of colonial weddings. Father Timothy had been kind enough to explain a few key details, such as “giving” Myriam away at the altar (which Connor was more than happy to do for his old friend), but details slipped Connor’s mind from time to time over the next several days of intense planning and preparation.

But there was one thing that Connor was sure they did not include: chasing the bride in question through the snow-covered trees minutes before her wedding.

The day began with as much chaos as one would expect. Before the roosters began to crow, nearly every member of the Homestead bustled about preparing for the joyous celebration. Oliver and Corrine worked hard preparing their finest wines for the occasion while preparing the livestock meat and crops gathered by Warren and Prudence – and of course, little baby Hunter, who cooed excitedly against his mother’s back. Once finished organizing the food, Prudence and Corrine joined the ladies in adorning Myriam in fine, comfortable fabrics suitable for the huntress. Ellen poked needles into the sides to ensure the stitching was up to par, while Diana and Catherine squawked at Connor and Norris for accidentally stepping near the bride’s suite (which Connor did not dare remind the ladies was his home). 

In the meantime, Big Dave and Lance worked tirelessly to adorn both the inn and the church with banners and decor fit for the Homestead’s very first wedding. Big Dave lifted the chubby woodworker up to pin the wooden posts on the side of the inn, waving to Terry and Godfrey as the lumberers warned Norris of the horrors of marriage to come.

“You’ll ne’er be right ‘bout anythin’ again, ya hear me, boy?” Godfrey teased as he slapped his palm against Norris’s back.

“Aye, and forget about havin’ the covers to yerself! You’ll be shiverin’ like a leaf!” Terry explained. Norris merely laughed and shook his head.

In the church, Dr. White and Achilles aided Father Timothy in preparing his short sermon, arranging the pews, and finishing the final touches hours before the wedding. Even the Assassin recruits were more than happy to help with the preparations. Stephane set to work in the kitchen alongside Oliver to cater the large meal ahead. Duncan, ever the Catholic, assisted Father Timothy in rehearsing his sermon. Jacob offered his wisdom for marriage while he straightened Norris’s hair, while Dobby stood guard outside Myriam’s dressing room in case of wandering eyes from stray men. Clipper and Jamie helped Mr. Faulkner and the crew of the Aquila find their drunken ways to the church, all while Connor wandered about and assisted where he could.

So, given the day’s chaotic events, it was not surprising to Connor as he announced happily to the pacing Norris that all was in order that Myriam was “missing.” After all, the ladies had only just left her room. How much trouble could the huntress find herself in?

Apparently, thought Connor as he raced through the trees and leapt through the branches, quite a lot. 

“Leave me be!” Myriam shouted as she jumped to the next branch, a stray branch slowing her down as it caught on her white dress. It was not enough to stop her, but it was enough for Connor to come within speaking distance.

“Why do you run?!” Connor replied, his voice echoing through the forest with concern lacing his tone. He swung to the next branch, careful not to slip and even more careful to ensure Myriam did not.

“Leave me be!” Myriam exclaimed. She crossed over to the next tree in an attempt to throw Connor off her trail. “I’m no housewife!”

Connor’s brow furrowed. While he could not necessarily speak for the entire Homestead, “housewife” would be one of the last descriptors attributed to Myriam. She was a huntress, and a respectable one at that. Through his confusion, Connor quickly ducked through another tree and sprinted across the large, sturdy branch. “No one thinks you are one!”

Myriam slid down a fallen tree, stumbling into the snow before whirling around to face Connor. “That’s what all of this means!”

A silence passed between the two as flurries of snow cascaded around them. Myriam sighed, grabbing her crown of flowers and tossing it to the ground. She sunk to the snowy ground and hid her face in her knees.

Quietly, Connor knelt beside Myriam. Lifting the flower crown into his hands, he joined her in the blanket of snow. He said nothing, only silently thumbing the daffodils adorning her crown. The two sat for a moment while gazing over the rushing river, watching as it cascaded over weathered rocks. Myriam reached forward and threw one into the water. When it sank to the bottom of the river, she huffed angrily through her nose.

“I don’t want to be some housewife that sits around waiting for her husband to come home,” she explained, tossing her hands into the air in frustration. “That’s not who I am. I’m not… I’m not some lady wanting to be kept pregnant and barefoot!”

“No one thinks you are one,” Connor repeated gently. Myriam shot a glare at the hulking man, Connor shrinking in on himself in response despite his size. 

“That’s what this means! This whole wedding! Shoving me into this stuffy dress, preparing me to take vows, giving me away!” She stood, pacing by the riverside. She gave Connor an apologetic look. “No offense. If I want anyone to give me away, it would be you.”

Connor rose and nodded his head. “None taken. But what is it that causes you to believe that you will become a housewife?”

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Myriam groaned before settling her hands on her hips and staring out into the river. “I… I don’t know!” She tossed her hands in the air again, rustling her hair and pacing back and forth. “I don’t belong inside a house cooking and cleaning and caring for a husband and an entire brood of children. I belong in the open air, in my hunting blinds, with my rifle in my hands!” Her hands formed the gesture of her weapon in question. Then, they fell to her sides. “If I marry Norris… I’ll be leaving behind all of my freedom that I worked so hard to gain.”

Stepping closer, Connor laid a hand on Myriam’s back. “That is not true,” he murmured quietly. “You know that better than I. Norris wants only for you to be happy.”

“Do I?” Myriam asked. Her voice faltered and she turned her nose to the rushing river. “What if, when we get married, all he wants is for me to sit at home and… I don’t know, wash his feet?”

Connor unintentionally wrinkled his nose. At the very least, the gesture provided a quick laugh for the two hunters. The uncomfortable silence returned soon after, broken only by the sounds of quiet chirping and rustling bushes.

“Norris did not fall in love with a housewife,” Connor finally spoke up. He met Myriam’s gaze with his own, gentle eyes. “Why would he expect such?”

“All men do,” Myriam sighed. 

“I do not.”

“You are not all men.”

Connor glanced down at the flower crown in his hands, thumbing over the white petals. “Perhaps I am not.”

Myriam pinched her nose again. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to offend–”

“No, it is alright,” Connor assured her. His brows furrowed in thought while Myriam squinted into the horizon. Then, a candle sparked in his mind. “How much do you know of my people, Myriam?”

“I don’t see the point of your question,” Myriam remarked tersely. When Connor gave a serious expression, she sighed. “But to answer it, not much.”

He moved in front of Myriam. “I think you would like it very much. For my people, it is the women who lead. We may have chiefs and war councils, but these men are voted upon by our women. Clan Mothers lead the village. We trace our ancestry through our mothers. For women, marriage is not just a union of the husband and wife, but of the village to the couple.”

Myriam raised a brow. “Your point?”

Placing the flower crown upon her head, Connor continued. “You are not a housewife, but even if you were, it would not change who you are. You are a skillful leader and hunter. Norris knows this. He marries you because of it, not in spite of it. He admires you for who you are. You need be nothing else. And by marrying Norris, you unite our friends as a whole, too.”

Silently, Myriam adjusted the crown and tucked stray strands of hair behind her ears. “Do you really think so?”

“I know so.” He cracked a rare smile. “Besides, you are a better shot than Norris. If anyone will be the housewife, it will be him.”

Myriam snorted. “The bad part is that I think he would enjoy being a housewife.” Her shoulders shook as she began to laugh. “Could you imagine? Me, coming home with a pipe of tobacco sticking out of my mouth, my rifle on my back, and hares in my hands while Norris cooks and cleans?”

Connor chuckled, then gently led Myriam towards the path leading to the church. “But you cannot imagine such a fate until you are wed.”

“No,” Myriam smiled, “I suppose I can’t.” As they reached the church, Myriam turned to Connor with a mixture of fear and excitement.

“I’m scared.”

Connor nodded. “I know.”

“What do I do?”

“What do you do when you face a cougar?”

“I shoot it. Are you suggesting I shoot Norris?”

“No, but I am suggesting that you face him like you would any animal.” He laid his hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently. “You are a strong, cunning woman, Myriam. He loves you deeply. He would not be marrying you if he had no intention of respecting you.”

Myriam inhaled sharply. “How do I get over it?”

“The fear?”

“No, the weather – what else would there be?”

“You won’t,” chimed a gentle, soft voice. Prudence and Ellen emerged from behind the church. Ellen offered Myriam her bouquet of flowers while Prudence wrapped a white shawl around her shivering shoulders. Prudence patted her cheek. “When I married Warren years ago, I was terrified of our future. But you learn, in marriage, that you are both equally frightened.” She giggled along with Ellen and Myriam.

Ellen took Myriam’s hands in her own. “My marriage was an unhappy one,” she confessed. Connor looked on solemnly, catching Ellen’s somber gaze for a mere second before Ellen mustered a smile. “But I can offer this wisdom: a good husband will cherish his wife for her talents, her wit, her love, her devotion, and her faith. Norris practically worships the ground you walk on. He will make a fine husband.”

Myriam sniffled. “Fuck,” she cursed. “I can’t believe I’m crying like some… some old hag!” Prudence and Ellen laughed, rubbing Myriam’s shoulders before holding her tightly.

“Besides,” Prudence cooed, staring over Myriam’s shoulder into Connor’s watchful gaze, “once we have you and Norris married, we can finally focus our attention on finding Connor a wife.”

Cheeks flushing, Connor brought his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. “That will not be necessary.”

“Oh, hush, Prudence,” Ellen giggled. “We mustn't scare him from the prospect yet.” She turned back to Myriam, kissing her cheek. “We have to go back inside, but we will support you no matter what.” Prudence nodded in agreement before waving goodbye, giggling alongside Ellen as they hurried into the church.

Myriam rubbed her arms and faced Connor, walking with him up the steps. “You will be there every step of the way?”

“Every step,” Connor assured.

“Okay.”

“How do you feel?”

“Terrified. Like I want to run away again,” Myriam chuckled breathlessly. Connor hummed and looped his arm with hers.

“I will be there regardless. I am sure Norris will be as well.”

Myriam smiled. “Thank you, Connor.”

“You do not need to thank me. You are my friend.”

She stood on her tiptoes, pressing her frigid lips to Connor’s freckled cheek. “No, but I will. Thank you.”

Blushing, Connor cleared his throat and led Myriam to the entrance of the church, where the guests began to rise as they spotted the bridge.

“Prudence and Ellen are right, though. We must find you a bride,” she whispered, doing her best to ignore the endless amount of eyes upon her and Connor. 

Connor chuckled, patting her hand. “I can only hope she is not as fast nor agile as you.”

“Ha, ha. Who knew you had such a sense of humor?”

Years later, when Connor would find himself fidgeting in front of his betrothed’s longhouse, Myriam would loop her arm with his, kiss his flustered cheek, and walk him into the longhouse with the same kindness he had shown her before.

Luckily for Connor, his wife did not run into the trees. How fortunate he was indeed.