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She’d come across it in a book she’d found one day in the community library they’d set up. Terrible, she wanted to admit, that she spent more and more days holed up in a pile of books than she did actually working. She was learning, so there was an upside to it. Still, someone somewhere had to have a problem with her sitting in the library all day. She drew her fingers gently across the page, eyes scanning the words, taking in the information.
Hair in the indigenous tribes is a major part of their culture. Though each tribe differs in their styles, the significance of their hair is seen to be found in all tribes. Not only is it important to the individual, but it is important to family and culture, promoting belonging, respect, and pride. Grooming is considered significant too, many tribes use braids to signify unity with life. A lesson has been also heard that single strands of hair are weak by themselves, but when braided together, the hair is strong, signifying strength. Most natives never cut their hair unless they have lost someone they cared for deeply, or they have had a major life change. As hair is seen as important to them, there are also rules that need to be followed, especially by outsiders. Touching someone’s hair without their permission is disrespectful; some find that even asking to touch is considered disrespectful as well. It is important—
Her eyes went wide, and she snapped the book shut, bringing a hand to her mouth as she breathed, “Oh…I’ve been so rude to him and I wasn’t even aware of it.” She scrambled to her feet, setting the book on the table before she sprinted out the doors, heading for the manor. By the time she’d arrived, sweat was dripping down her face and she fanned herself with her hand. “Why is it so hot in August?” She muttered, free hand reaching up to knock at the door. It opened a few moment later, and she expected the man she was looking for, but instead, was greeted by the lord of the manor; she smiled abashedly. “Mister Davenport! Good afternoon!”
Achilles simply cocked an eyebrow at her flustered appearance and reached in his coat pocket, tossing her the handkerchief he carried. He turned on his heel. “You look like a woman of the night on the front pew of a morning service, (Y/N).”
She blinked in a stunned silence, then stepped inside the manor, closing the door behind her. “Well…I’ve heard worse.”
He chuckled before disappearing into the study, leaving her with, “He’s upstairs in his room.”
(Y/N) grinned and hurried up the stairs, turning the corner to his bedroom, halting when she caught sight of his naked chest. She spun around, hand going to her eyes. “Oh my god! I’m sorry, Ratonhnhaké:ton!” She fumbled for the doorknob, pulling it shut. “I’ll wait until you’re done!”
The door shut behind her and she waited, warmth spreading across her cheeks at her actions, then a moment later, the doorknob twisted in her grip and she let go, turning around as he opened the door for her.
Evidently, he was as flustered as she was, because a faint red dusted his cheeks and he mumbled, “I am dressed.” Connor stood to the side, allowing her to enter and she did, standing awkwardly in the middle of his room. “Is something wrong, (Y/N)?”
She shook her head, gesturing to the bed. “Do you mind if we sit? I ran all the way here from the library.”
His brows furrowed. “Why did you run here?”
Her mouth opened and snapped shut, and she opted to wait until they were sitting on the bed facing one another to give her reply. (Y/N) stared at her hands, too embarrassed to look him in the eye as she admitted, “I…I need to apologize to you.”
Connor frowned, reaching to hold her hand. “Whatever is weighing on you (Y/N), I will listen.”
She felt the corners of her lips turn up and taking a deep breath, she gathered the courage to look him in the eye and say, “I never realized that your hair was so important to you and your tribe, and I’m now realizing all the times I touched it without your permission and how disrespectful to you that was and is. But then I read that you’re not even supposed to ask, because asking can be considered rude, and I had no idea, but I’m really sorry, Ratonhnhaké:ton. I promise I’ll be more mindful in the future.” As she finished, she bowed her head slightly, waiting for him to admonish her, but when it didn’t come, she glanced up, seeing him wear a small smile. She felt her brows furrow. “Ratonhnhaké:ton?”
Connor reached out, taking both her hands in his as he explained, “It is true that most tribes consider it disrespectful for outsiders to touch our hair without permission, or to even ask.” (Y/N) felt the shame creep up her neck and she tried to look away, but he softly took hold of her chin, turning her face to meet his gaze. “But you are not an outsider to me, (Y/N). And any of the times you have touched my hair, you have never been rough or disrespectful. Only kind and respectful.” She blinked, pursing her lips to keep herself from saying anything ridiculous, opting to silently nod. “Is that all you came here to say?”
She nodded. “I was reading a book that someone had written about the things they’d learned when meeting the various tribes across the colonies.” She pursed her lips, murmuring, “When I read the part about the hair…I just felt like I had to apologize for being ignorant.”
Connor nodded with understanding, gently taking her hands back in his, thumbs rubbing across the back of them. “Then the fault also lies with me as I did not teach you about my tribe’s beliefs as well.” (Y/N) opened her mouth to counter him, but he raised a hand, palm up to stay her words. “(Y/N), I have not been offended by you touching my hair.”
A relieved smile crossed her lips and a warm feeling rose in her chest as she inquired, “Can I ask you a really dumb question that I probably shouldn’t?” Connor huffed a laugh, but nodded. “May I touch your hair?”
The smile that crossed his lips reached his honeyed eyes and he shifted on the bed, resting his head in her lap. “You always have my permission.” He expressed warmly.
(Y/N) reached up, fingers resting against the tie that held it all behind his head. “May I take this out?” He nodded and she gently unwound the band before tenderly brushing her fingers through his hair. Connor turned his head to the side, burying his face in her stomach before closing his eyes, relaxing as she smoothly combed his hair. After a few moments of silence, she questioned, “What type of hairstyles do the men and women in your tribe wear, Ratonhnhaké:ton?”
He hummed turning his head a bit to explain, “Many women braid their hair in two’s or three’s and adorn them with wraps or beads. My mother was one who did so. Others let their hair free. Men usually wear the same style, but the warriors who protect the tribe shave and pluck the parts of their hair.”
(Y/N) cocked an eyebrow, toying with a strand. “How come?”
A frown crossed his lips. “There are settlers who paid bounty hunters for native scalps. It was a way to deter them from attacking the women and children, in favor of ‘rarer’ scalps.”
Shock dwelled inside her and she breathed, “That’s horrible—I—I’m so sorry, Ratonhnhaké:ton.”
He shook his head, responding, “It has become a sense of pride for our tribe. Almost a dare to the hunters to try and take our scalps. We shave and pluck our hair in different ways, some on the sides, some on the front.”
“Oh, like your friend Kanen'tó:kon?” she asked.
He nodded. “He is a strong warrior.”
She couldn’t help but smile, countering, “I think you’re stronger.” Connor let out a huff and turned, looking up at her; (Y/N) met his eyes and she shifted her other hand, caressing his cheek. “I love you, Ratonhnhaké:ton.”
He tilted his chin up a little, signaling her to bend down, and she did, albeit giggling, pressing her lips to his. As she pulled away, he murmured, “Konnorónhkwa, (Y/N).”