Chapter Text
The life of an Assassin was complicated, far more than one could ever imagine. Being apart from her husband was bearable; Rose could endure the distance. This time was different though, she carried something special within her, her child…their child. She was not sure if it would be as easy.
For ten years, Rose had devoted herself to the Brotherhood, following her brother Liam wherever he led. She understood the sacrifices required of an Assassin, the duty that always came before personal desires. And yet, sending Shay across the sea to retrieve an unknown artifact while she carried his child left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Her mind lingered on his warm brown eyes, eyes she had loved from the moment they first met.
Shay took her hand in his, his calloused fingers brushing against her softer ones. With a quiet reverence, he lifted her knuckles to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss there.
“I’ll be back from Lisbon soon, I promise,” he murmured, his thick Irish brogue laced with tenderness.
Rose’s hand instinctively rested on the growing swell of her stomach. The baby was still months away, but she already felt the burden of motherhood pressing down on her.
"In time to see this one," Shay continued, cupping her belly with a protective touch. “Then it will be just you and me for a long time.” With the same tenderness, he reached up, tucking a stray red curl behind her ear.
It was a promise.
So why hadn’t he kept it?
Liam burst into the cabin, dragging in a struggling Shay, who clawed at his hands in a desperate attempt to break free from his brother-in-law’s grip.
“Cool off, Shay!” Liam barked, shoving the captain to the floor. “Rose, keep him here before he gets himself into any more trouble.”
Rose covered her mouth in shock. “What is going on?!” She quickly knelt beside her husband, reaching out to help him up.
Liam ignored her question; his eyes fixed on Shay. “Keep him out of trouble. I’ve got damage control to do.” Without another word to either of them, he turned and left the cabin.
“Shay, what happened?!” Rose pleaded. She could see the rage trembling through him, but in an instant, it broke. Shay clung to her, the fight draining from his body. Rose wrapped her arms around him as he buried his face in her chest, the only place he could truly fall apart.
"Achilles is going to get us all killed!" Shay barked, voice raw. "He had me kill all those people!"
Rose held a broken man in her arms.
Never in all her days had she seen Shay so utterly unraveled, so hollowed out by grief and guilt. His breath trembled against her skin, his body locked as if bracing against the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders.
“Love,” she whispered, fingers gently combing through his dark hair, hoping her touch might tether him. “What happened?”
Shay lifted his eyes to hers, haunted, red-rimmed, and carrying something she couldn’t name. It took a long, shuddering moment before he could find his voice, dragging the words from the wreckage inside him.
With visible effort, he began to speak.
He told her about Lisbon.
How, on All Saints’ Day, he had followed a trail to an ancient temple buried beneath a church, sacred ground hiding secrets older than Adam and Eve themselves. And how, within its stone heart, he had found the artifact. Glimmering. Powerful. Unassuming.
And deadly.
The moment he took it, everything shattered.
A quake ripped through the earth like divine wrath. Buildings crumbled. Streets split open. Smoke and fire devoured the skyline. Shay described it all, the screams, the falling spires, the chaos swallowing the whole city. Thousands gone in the blink of an eye.
And he had caused it.
The words cracked from his mouth like broken glass; each syllable weighed with sorrow. He had seen true horror. He had caused it. And it was tearing him apart.
All she could do was hold him tighter, her heart breaking for the man unraveling in her arms.
Rose was silent during the duration of his story; she had only one thing to say after he finished. "It's not your fault." She held is face in her hands pleading with him to understand.
"Yes, it is Rose." Shay glanced back at the door, "Achilles can't continue on blindly playing with these temples. He will tilt the axis of the world."
"What are you going to do to convince him to stop." Rose full heartily believed him, how could the assassins not listen to him?
"I need to think." Shay’s voice came quieter now, the edge dulled but not gone. His gaze dropped to her stomach, noticing how much it had grown since he’d been away. He placed a gloved hand gently against it, feeling the soft kick of their unborn child.
"Papa will make things right," he murmured.
Rose laid her hand over his. "We will support you. I don’t care if hellfire consumes me, I will follow you, Shay Patrick Cormac, to the ends of the earth."
He lingered there for a moment, pressing a soft kiss on her lips before pulling away to be alone with his thoughts.
Later that night, Rose couldn’t sleep. Shay was still outside in the cold, no doubt brooding over the weight he carried. She sat by the fire, her hands busy with needlework, stitching a small gown for the child they awaited.
A sudden pounding on the door startled her. Rose carefully set the tiny garment aside as Hope Jensen burst into the cabin, breathless.
"Rose! You must come quickly!"
Her heart jumped. "What is it?"
"It’s Shay! He’s going to get himself killed if you don’t talk him down."
Rose didn’t waste another word. She followed Hope into the biting cold, snow crunching underfoot. Fear prickled at the back of her neck. She had urged Shay to do what he believed was right, but how far had he gone?
They trudged through drifts nearly a foot deep, the homestead in chaos as they drew closer to the manor. Hope led her along the riverbank to a cliff far from the harbor. From there, the ocean churned in the distance, black under the winter sky.
A small crowd had gathered at the edge. Shay stood apart, facing the entire Brotherhood alone.
"Give back the manuscript, Shay!" Hope called, her voice carrying over the wind. "I’m sure Achilles will forgive you!"
Liam was the first to raise his pistol. Rose’s breath caught as she saw Shay take a step backward, toward the cliff’s edge.
"I CANNOT!" His voice cracked with emotion. "I will not let this happen again. All those souls are lost! What’s one more?"
The man before her looked both desperate and utterly alone.
His wife could only reach for him with her voice.
"Shay… love, please, stop this. I need you. Our child needs you."
Her pleas seemed to vanish into the winter air. Shay kept his back to her, shoulders set, steps slow but steady toward the cliff’s edge.
In horror, Rose saw the distance between them closing, him toward the drop, her toward him.
"SHAY! NO!" She shoved past her brother, running as fast as the snow would let her.
"I’m sorry, Rose." His voice was barely a whisper, carried away by the wind. "I don’t want our child to grow up in a world with this kind of knowledge."
The crack of a pistol split the air, Chevalier’s shot. Shay stepped off the cliff almost in the same instant. Rose lunged, her hand outstretched, so close she could have brushed his sleeve… but she missed.
Liam’s arms locked around her just as she teetered at the edge, stopping her from following him into the icy depths below.
"SHAY! NO!" Her scream tore through the stillness, but the only answer was the crash of waves far below.
She turned on the gathered Assassins, her face streaked with hot tears. "HOW COULD YOU?!" Her voice broke, equal parts grief and fury.
"He betrayed us, spoke madness," Liam said softly, stepping toward her. "Rosie… I’m so sorry." He reached to touch her hair, but she recoiled violently.
"Don’t touch me!" Rose shoved him back, her fists striking his stomach in blind rage. "DON’T TOUCH ME!"
Liam caught her wrists before she could strike again, pulling her into a desperate hug despite her struggling. She shook in his arms, her cries muffled against the brother she no longer trusted.
Rose didn't know how to feel, she felt rage, numbness, and grief. Her body shudders with sobs as Liam led her away from sight.
Haytham glanced around the nicely decorated house that belonged to the Finnegans. "This man you found… you're saying he had the manuscript on him?" The two men stood just outside the room where the unconscious man lay.
"Yes... but it appears his brethren abandoned him," Monroe stated simply. "He was shot and clinging to life on a block of ice."
"Is he still a threat?"
"No, Haytham, not now, but the people who are taking care of him say he is still in a sorry state after all these months." Monroe slowly pushed open the door, revealing the sick man. The overly charming woman, Mrs. Cassiday Finnigan, was tending to him like a mother would. She glanced up upon seeing the two men, offering a warm smile.
"Colonel Monro, what a pleasure! Barry is out at the moment, but he would be so delighted to stop by. Would you like me to make some tea?"
"No thank you, Mrs. Finnigan. Why don't you take a break?"
The older woman said nothing more as she gathered her tray and stepped out. The man before them was clearly ill and frail. Haytham examined him closely. The wounded man would have once been considered a dark, handsome gentleman. His dark hair was unruly, with a shadow of unshaved stubble on his face. He appeared much younger than Haytham. Bandages were wrapped around his torso, covering his wounds, and his forehead was slick with sweat. Though his features are beautiful yet striking. Like a sleeping beauty. The Grand Master was sure that this man must have been quiet a charmer. There was something compelling about the sickly man to the grandmaster.
A simple bronze poesy ring was on the man’s left hand on his marriage finger. An unknown feeling grew in Haytham’s chest.
"He’s teetering between life and death, but Mrs. Finnigan is hopeful he will pull through." Monro stated, “He has been unconscious for weeks.”
“Has anyone come looking for him?” Haytham started gesturing to the wedding band that glinted in the dim room.
Monroe shook his head. “Unfortunately, no.” He noticed the wedding ring. “But I believe his wife’s name is Rose…” He glanced at Haytham.
“He’s been whispering her name in his sleep. Based on our intelligence, there is a Rose O’Brien, Liam O’Brien’s younger sister. As you know, Liam is Achilles Davenport’s right-hand man. Sources indicate Rose was married to an unknown man… which must be him.”
A flicker of curiosity passed through Haytham.
“If I recall correctly, she was the same woman who attacked Charles in Boston last year,” he remarked.
Monro nodded. “Yes.”
Haytham’s expression remained unreadable. “See to it that no one from his old life makes contact with him.” His gaze drifted back to the unconscious man. “For now, he must remain hidden until we uncover his true intentions.”
Stepping closer, Haytham studied the man before him. This man could be the key to the downfall of the Assassins. And yet… something lingered beneath the surface. Something unspoken.
“Keep me updated as much as possible,” Haytham continued, his voice steady. “While I am overseas, I expect to be informed of any developments. I shall return once my business is concluded.”
With that, he turned on his heel, but his eyes lingered just a moment longer on the man lying in the bed.
Shay, the wounded man, his eyes glazed up, in a haze almost seemed to be starting at Haytham. His deep brown eyes glue Haytham to the spot causing an hitch in his throat. The man was still in an state of delirium. Though, there was something about the man’s gaze that was striking to Haytham.
“Sir?” Monro glanced at the Grand Master. Haytham’s expression remained unchanged, but for some reason, his ears burned, like he had been caught doing something he should not have.
Haytham gave an dismissive hand, he didn’t want to feel as if he was just caught staring at the sickly man longer. There was something hopeful about this man, he couldn’t place. With a last look, he left the Finnegans to turn his attention to Europe.
Though the thoughts of this ruggish man would follow him all the way to the continent.