1752 [S.P.C]

1778: Peace is a distant memory

Florence
"That's perfect," Haytham whispered, feeling the warmth of Haytham's presence behind me. His hands rested gently on my shoulders, guiding me as I tried to focus on the target. He was teaching me how to shoot well, I was insisting he teach me how to shoot.

"I told you all you needed was a little practice," he murmured, his voice tender as he leaned in to kiss my cheek softly.

"Stop, you'll distract me," I chided playfully, knowing fully that he understood exactly what he was doing. A mischievous smile tugged at his lips as he brushed his lips against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

"Haytham, I'm busy," I giggled, feeling his breath tickle my skin as he nibbled lightly at my ear.

"My apologies, Mrs. Kenway," he chuckled, his tone full of affection, "but I just can't help myself." He kissed my cheek again, his hand sliding down to rest on my waist as he raised my arm to help me aim. "Now, aim, breathe in, and fire," he whispered, his voice low and intimate, as I squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out, and I hit the target perfectly.

"Perfect," he breathed, his eyes filled with admiration as he bit his lip. He gently took the pistol from my hand, placing it back in its holster before tilting my head to meet his gaze. "You're one of God's most beautiful creations," he whispered, kissing the bridge of my nose. "Promise me you'll never leave me."

"I promise," I replied softly, my heart swelling with love as I reached for his hand. "Never in a million years."

We walked together through the frontier, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon as we approached the bridge between Boston and New York. "You know what, Haytham?" I started, feeling a sudden rush of warmth as he scooped me up effortlessly into his arms, carrying me over the bridge.

"Yes, Mrs Kenway?" he replied, that familiar smile playing on his lips. Every time he called me that, it filled me with a joy that seemed endless, as if I would smile at the sight of him for all eternity.

As he placed me back down on the ground, I slipped my arm through his, toying with his wedding band a simple but profound symbol of our bond. He and Papa were the only men I knew who wore their wedding bands so faithfully. "I had a dream about you and me, a few years back," I confessed, my voice soft and full of emotion. "It was the day I gave you my teddy bear, I named it after you because even then, I knew you were going to be important to me."

"You know, I still have that bear," he said, pausing to look at me with those deep, loving eyes. "It's on my desk, right beside your portrait."

"Really?" I asked, surprised and touched, as he nodded, stepping over a large log before reaching out to help me over.

"When did you have a portrait of me done?" I asked curiosity piqued as I slipped my arm back through his.

"You were eight or nine, the last time I saw you before I left for Boston," he replied, his voice full of nostalgia. "When you came of age, I had a painter come to the house to capture your likeness, or what I thought your likeness would be. You must have been seventeen when it was done. I've kept it on my desk beside your teddy bear ever since."

My heart fluttered at the thought of it, the depth of his affection for me clear in every word he spoke. "You've always been special to me, Florence Kenway," he continued, his voice soft and full of love.

Shay
"WHY ARE YOU REFUSING TO HAVE PEACE BETWEEN US?" I demanded as our swords clashed, each strike sending sparks flying into the night. My breath came in ragged gasps, not from exhaustion but from the frustration boiling within me. "I'M NOT YOUR ENEMY!" I insisted, parrying his second strike with precision, my heart aching with the futility of it all. "I JUST WANT PEACE AND SERENITY," I continued, the words almost a plea as I blocked his next blow and, with a swift kick to his abdomen, broke through his defence.