Work Text:
“This…is an incredibly terrible idea, Shay.” she stated, resisting the urge to direct him away from the doors of the mansion. The music and laughter could be heard all the way outside, and each step only heightened her nerves.
He chuckled. “Relax, (Y/N).” he smiled at the couple passing them. “No one’s gonna know.”
“Someone is,” she couldn’t help but retort, heart pounding out of her chest as they walked up to the British officer at the door.
The man smiled politely at them, but she knew it was a smile that screamed, ‘I hate my life and I certainly hate you as well’.
“Invitation, please.” He said, and Shay dug inside the coat he wore.
He handed it over, watching with slight concern as the man looked it over. (Y/N) could feel the sweat drip down her spine, feeling like the man was reading it with suspicion.
Finally, he looked at them. “Lord and Lady Sheamus O’Kieran?”
They grinned and Shay murmured, “That’s us.” He rubbed the back of her hand. “It’s been a while since me and the Lady attended a ball. We’ve been traveling.”
“I understand, sir.” He nodded, handing back the invitation. “A pleasure to have you here tonight.” Turning, the Redcoat gestured inside. “Please enjoy yourselves.”
(Y/N) and Shay tipped their heads politely and stepped inside, immediately breathing heavy sighs of relief.
“Oh my god, I was sure we were going to get in trouble there.” She remarked, a hand massaging her chest.
“I told you we’d be fine.” His coffee eyes scanned the ballroom, taking in the sight of at least a hundred or so people all laughing and drinking. “Is this what upper-class parties are like?”
She huffed. “This place is boring compared to Callaghan’s on a Friday night.”
Shay snorted. “Agreed. It seems the people who govern us little ones don’t know how to party.”
He spied a servant walking past with a tray and grinned, snatching two champagne shoots. “Here you are, Lady O’Kieran.”
She took the drink. “Thank you, Lord O’Kieran.” Raising her glass to his, she warned, “Now remember, the whole point of tonight isn’t to get piss drunk. We’re here to—”
She narrowed her gaze as he started drinking. “You’re not even listening to me, are you?”
Shay eyed her. “I heard, ‘get piss drunk’, and decided to follow the instructions.”
“You’re a dipshit, Shay.” (Y/N) griped, taking a sip of her own. Her face scrunched up and she inconspicuously spat the champagne back into the glass. A shiver ran through her and she gagged. “Ugh.”
He chuckled. “It’s surprising that you don’t like that, considering the fact that you drink whiskey.”
She smacked her lips awkwardly, trying to get the taste out of her mouth. “Yeah, but whiskey actually tastes good.” (Y/N) glared into the shoot. “In the wise words of your dearly departed father, this tastes like horse piss.”
Shay had to fake a cough to hide his bark of laughter. “He’d be proud of you.”
They lapsed into silence, simply strolling around, and observing the party and décor. Stopping near one of the giant glass windows, she took to scrutinizing the gentlemen of the party.
A nudge to her side, followed by a whisper caught her attention. “Lady O’Kieran, you’re supposed to be a married woman. Are you searching for a lover?”
(Y/N) rolled her eyes and looked at him. “Well, someone has to satisfy a woman’s needs and you’re not.”
Shay actually seemed offended by that one, placing a hand to his chest. “That hurt.”
“You’ll live,” she retorted, eyes following the men until she landed on one talking to an older woman. He was handsome, strong facial features, broad shoulders, definitely fit under all those layers, and his eyes. Oh, his eyes were drop dead striking, like gunmetal. And she wanted to know them. Badly.
She tapped repeatedly at his arm. “That one. I want that one.”
Shay shoved his face against hers, his facial hair scratching her cheek as he asked, “Which one?”
(Y/N) nodded at the dark-haired man, taking in the crimson ribbon that neatly tied his hair back. “The one with the tricorn.”
His face pinched. “You mean the one that screams, ‘I’m a pretentious asshole that has a stick shoved up my arse’? That one.”
A smirk grew on her lips. “Oh yeah.” She sighed. “I want to climb that man like a tree.”
He gagged. “Gross.”
“Are you kidding me, Shay?” she questioned, nodding at the man who’d begun to look around. “Look at his hands. And his thighs. And his really…firm…body. That is a man who knows what a woman wants and how to give it to her.”
“I’m really glad you’ve finally found someone to break your celibacy vow, but please, please, please, understand that I am not as interested in men as you are.”
“From what I’ve seen in Portugal, you’re a damn liar,” she countered.
Shay scowled at her. “I thought we agreed to not bring that up.”
(Y/N) turned to him. “No, you said, ‘don’t bring this up’ and I nodded.”
“That means you agreed.”
“No, I would have to verbally express understanding to agree. I never did.”
Shay leaned forward, but before he could say anything, someone cleared their throat, making them slap smiles on their faces and turn.
(Y/N) felt her cheeks warm at the sight of the man they’d been talking about, suddenly standing in front of her.
His steely gaze was focused on her. “Good evening.”
The two of them bowed politely. “Good evening, sir.” She replied, Shay following in suit.
He held out his hand to Shay. “I don’t believe you and I have ever met. Haytham Kenway.”
She watched Shay take Haytham’s hand, firmly shaking it. “Shay—” (Y/N) elbowed him in the side with a cheery smile and he corrected. “Sheamus. Sheamus O’Kieran.”
He let go and gestured to (Y/N). “This is my wife—”
Holding her hand out, she said, “Temperance O’Kieran. A pleasure to meet you.” She giggled as Haytham pressed a kiss to her hand.
“The pleasure is all mine, Lady O’Kieran.” He murmured, and she could palpably feel Shay rolling his eyes at them.
Haytham freed her hand and eyed them. “I’ve made a habit of knowing the guests of this party, and while I know the regulars, I’ve never seen the two of you.” His gaze was kind, but she could see the suspicion brewing within. “What do the two of you do?”
Shay’s mouth opened, but nothing came out and (Y/N) quickly intervened. “We work for a businessman over in New York. He usually attends the parties, but he came down with a cold and asked us to fill in for him.”
“Rather unusual,” Haytham remarked, but left it alone. “Is this your first time?”
“It is,” Shay said. “First in a while, that is. We’ve been traveling.”
“Oh?” It seemed the man’s interest had been piqued. “Where to?” The question was directed at Shay, but his eyes were on (Y/N).
Her friend rolled his eyes. “My drink is empty. I’m going to get another one.” He looked at (Y/N). “You should stay and talk.”
Her brows pulled together as she eyed the drink in his hand. “What are you talking about? You have a glass full—”
She pulled an unimpressed look as Shay tipped his head back and downed the whole thing, before handing her the glass.
“Look at that, my drink is empty.” He remarked with a smart tone.
(Y/N) let out an unladylike snort, and though a grin came across her lips, she wheezed, “I hate you, so much.” Shay winked and stalked off, leaving her to turn back to Haytham who wore an amused expression.
“I take it that Sheamus knows when to have a moment to himself?” he inquired.
She huffed, fumbling with the two champagne shoots. “Only when I tell him off.”
Haytham laughed, taking the two glasses from her, though hers was full.
“Oh wait, I wasn’t—” she started, but he cut her off.
“You didn’t like it anyways.” He said and she felt her cheeks heat up.
“You…saw that?”
He chuckled. “Only the ones who were watching.”
(Y/N) felt a smirk cross her lips. “Oh? Were you watching me, Haytham?” she tutted at him. “Shame on you for eyeing a married woman.
He pulled a coy smile, holding out a hand. “May I have this dance?”
Her heart dropped. “I can’t dance.” She blurted out, and when he cocked a brow, she added, “Well. I can’t dance well.” (Y/N) motioned to his boots. “I’ll step on toes.”
Haytham took her hand anyway, pulling her to the floor. “Step on them anyway, Temperance.”
“Ho boy.” She muttered, then upon seeing other couples coming their way, she asked, “What dance are we doing? Please be a Riverdance. Please be a Riverdance.”
He glanced to the orchestra. “I believe it’s a La Bonne Amité.” Haytham smiled at the anxiety on her face. “Follow my lead.”
“I’ll try,” (Y/N) ground out.
Haytham turned sideways, her following and took his hat off, bowing low. She quickly curtsied, then faced him, giving him one as well.
They tapped opposite hands, and when they came together, he murmured, “Remember to smile.”
***
By the time they were finished, her feet were killing her, and Haytham knew it, leading her away.
“Tired you out already?” he teased, causing her to huff.
“Oh please, dancing is a different type of game than se—running!” she corrected herself, a warmth spreading across her cheeks as she internally cursed herself.
Haytham chuckled at her. “You’re a curious woman, Temperance.”
(Y/N) couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “And how many women have you twisted that line to?”
His steel eyes narrowed. “Just the ones who intrigue me.”
“Haytham, I hate to make you unhappy, but I’m a marr—”
“You’re not married,” he abruptly stated, making her go silent, jaw slack. “And your reaction proves it.”
Before she could say anything, her eyes caught sight of the Redcoat from the door pointing at her and muttering something to the guard next to him.
Her eyes went wide, and she gulped. “Uh oh.”
Haytham’s eyes followed hers. “What is it?”
She didn’t respond, quickly bypassing him. “Time to go.”
(Y/N) hurried off, searching wildly for Shay, but he was nowhere to be found. “Motherfucker, where is he?” she cursed to herself.
Darting into the hallway, she was met with a row of doors and she groaned, hurriedly opening them. After the fifth one, she swung open the door and saw Shay bent over a desk, a woman on top of him.
She blinked at them, then spat, “Hey!” Their heads snapped to him. “You’re supposed to be married, you dumb fucker.”
Shay scoffed, sitting up as the woman turned her face away. “Way to ruin the moment, (Y/N).”
She shook her head, running over to him. “Doesn’t matter, we have to go. Now.”
“Why?” he questioned, and she reached over, snatching him by the ear.
“Because they know! We have to go now!”
He batted her hand away, gently lowering the woman to her feet. “I promise if you come to the pub downtown called Callaghan’s, I’ll be there.”
The woman smiled and (Y/N) leaned over, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Sis, this man is a damn fool, do not trust a word that comes out of his mouth.”
“HEY!” Shay shouted, but she was too busy, yanking him off.
“Come on! I do not wanna hang because we impersonated lords and ladies!”
They stuck their head out the door and saw a pair of Redcoats down the hallway. The woman walked out of the room, ignoring the guards and (Y/N) shut the door.
“Okay, we need to leave.”
“Out the window?!” Shay yelped and she nodded.
“That’s our only option!” She started towards the window but stopped and yanked at her dress. “Shit! I can’t climb in this thing.”
(Y/N) looked at him. “Do you have a knife on you? I need to get out of this now.”
Shay shook his head. “No, I don’t have one on me.”
“Why not?!” she hissed, then shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, I have one.”
“Where?” he asked, and she fell silent. “(Y/N), where’s the knife?”
She swallowed thickly, starting to bunch up her dress. “Strapped to my thigh.” Her eyes met his and she waited.
His face streaked crimson. “I am not crawling under your dress.”
“Shay Cormac get this knife from my leg or we’re fucked!” she ordered.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he groaned, kneeling in front of her to feel up her thigh. She felt an uncomfortable feeling welling in her and she looked down at him.
“Hurry!” she spat. “And don’t stick your hand up my drawers or I’ll bloody your nose.”
“Not like I haven’t seen anything up there before,” he retorted, then his hand stopped. “I think I’ve got it.”
However, before he could remove it, the door opened and they turned their gazes to the man entering, afraid it was a Regular. It wasn’t.
“Haytham?” (Y/N) exclaimed, and his eyes drug over the two. “I swear to God this isn’t what it looks like.” He cocked a brow and she sighed. “I have a knife strapped to my leg and I need it to get the dress off.”
He hummed. “It seems to me that two Regulars are chasing after a supposed lord and lady.” Crossing over to them, he extended some blade from his wrist and cut the ties on the back of her dress, shirking them down. The skirt fell with it, leaving her in her drawers and bodice.
If she hadn’t been terrified of being caught, she would’ve been embarrassed. Haytham helped her step out of the fabric and Shay hurried to the window, propping it open.
“Come on!” he commanded and (Y/N) hesitated, drawing her eyes from Haytham to him.
“Why aren’t you turning us in?” she questioned, staring him down.
His eyes narrowed. “Because I’m curious.”
Before she could say anything, Shay complained, “Hey, Cecilia Celibate, are you done trying to get into his pants yet?”
She whirled around on him. “As a matter of fact, no! I’m not done yet!” (Y/N) spun and grabbed Haytham by the lapels of his cloak and yanked him forward into a searing kiss.
Pulling away, she breathed, “God, if you and I ever meet again, I want to bang you like a door in a hurricane.” Haytham choked on his spit and she let him go, chasing after Shay, who’d already descended into the garden.
(Y/N) winked as she climbed the railing and vaulted over the side.
***
“So, Shay, tell me about your friend who’s been running with you for some time now.” Haytham’s question was barely audible over the howling of the snowstorm, and Shay had to crane his neck to hear.
“(Y/N). She’s my best friend sir. The unofficial-official first mate of the Morrigan.”
“Oh?” The Grandmaster hummed. “I thought Gist was.”
Shay shrugged his shoulders and grabbed the tavern door handle. “Well, he is, but the crew knows to take her orders as if they were mine.”
“You trust her quite a lot then.” Haytham surmised.
“Aye, I do. Especially now that she’s joined me with the Templars.” The Assassin-Hunter held the door for him, following inside after.
The warmth of the fireplace reached them, a stark contrast from the absolutely frigid temperature outside and Shay nodded to a woman at the counter.
“That’s her,” he murmured and Haytham looked over, seeing a familiar woman.
***
(Y/N) tapped the counter, eyes following the old man behind it. “Callaghan, can I get three shots of whiskey? Irish, please.”
The silver bearded man turned to her, placing the shot glasses down. “Is someone joining you and Shay?”
She watched as he poured the amber liquid. “Yeah, our boss.”
“Ah,” Callaghan remembered. “The one Shay’s been under.”
(Y/N) nodded. “For a while. He’s been running it and working on getting me in. He said that the boss would meet me tonight and decide if I was material for the outfit.”
“Of course you are lassie. Look at you.” His calloused hands waved at her. “You and the lad would be dead if it wasn’t for you.”
She smiled and looked down. “Yeah…tell me about it.”
“(Y/N)!” She glanced over her shoulder, eyes meeting Shay’s, then to the man beside him, and her heart stutter, eyes going wide.
She blinked, then turned to the bartender, deadpanning, “Callaghan, I’d like to change my order to a large glass of whiskey. Actually, just give me the bottle, because I’m gonna to go dive off a cliff and I don’t want it to hurt so bad.”
“Recognize him?” the bartender whispered.
“More than you know.” She replied, immediately grabbing the first shot glass. She downed it, then the other two went with it.
(Y/N) shuddered, then spun on her seat, grinning at the man. “Haytham. Fancy meeting you again.”
He smiled knowingly at her. “Merry Christmas…Temperance O’Kieran.”
She coughed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Actually, me and the feller,” her eyes darted to Shay who wore a shit-eating grin, “divorced.”
Sticking out her hand, she introduced herself. “(Y/N) (L/N). A pleasure.”
Haytham took her hand, kissing the back of it. “Pleasure’s all mine.”