madimpossibledreamer

For this one, you can blame ninian with Doggone Days (https://archiveofourown.org/works/14842476) and tap_rat’s second chapter of Unfinished Fic Ideas inspired by that (https://archiveofourown.org/works/21598351/chapters/51521491). And then my own brain. And my previous semi-fix-it fics on the game. Because Jacob is a disaster bi that is very satisfying to write and given how his previous canon love interests went in Syndicate he absolutely would start flirting with the reincarnation of Ezio Auditore.

( actual conversations with real results, what, is this actually the Frye twins? )

( feeling but a pawn )

         When Evie hears swearing, she decides to glance inside the carriage and finds her brother writing.  The sight is so odd that she finds herself staring.
         Eventually, he feels her gaze and turns to look, frustration apparent.
         He sighs.  “I decided that it would be a good thing to teach the children to read and write—you’d be good at that part, but speaking from experience, if there’s nothing you’re motivated to read…”
         She finds herself smiling.  “So, what, you decided to provide the material?”
         “I would’ve just given them some of my penny dreadfuls, before Greenie pointed out that even if people die the amount of blood is perhaps not suited.  So I decided to adapt them, perhaps add a few of my own, but you know I’ve never liked writing…”  His expression is miserable as he rests his head gently against the stack of books.
         She laughs.  “I’ll help—and you know the children will greatly appreciate it.”
         That brings a smile and some of his enthusiasm back.

( and make amends )

          “You weren’t wrong.  I mucked up and nearly brought London to its knees.”  He pauses briefly, before bursting out, “I fell in love with two Templars, of all things.”
          Evie’s heart aches.  “Oh, Jacob, who?  Miss Attaway, yes…”  They’d had that conversation at the time, she remembers, but they hadn’t had another.  It had probably happened while they were fighting, of course, but even so, she would’ve noticed—
          “Maxwell Roth,” he intones gravely, eyes far away, and oh, yes, she did remember how silent he’d been at her sniping as to whether he’d been attempting to bring London entertainment down after the theatre burning down.  At the time, she’d taken it as a victory.  Now?  “I stabbed him, and he kissed me, blood on his lips.”
          Oh, poor Jacob.  “And here I am, with Henry…”  No wonder he’d been out of sorts and cross.  She’d thought it was simple jealousy, because he is jealous of anyone else stealing her time, afraid that it will lead to her abandoning him.  “I’m sorry; if I’d realized—”
          Her brother waves that off.  “Yes, with Greenie.  I wouldn’t have you deny yourself a chance at happiness solely on my account.”  He sighs and rearranges himself to dangle his legs over the side of the train.  “And I am alone.  It’s probably my lack of good taste.”
          Evie casts about for an answer to cheer her brother up, for she doesn’t think he will be alone forever, and lights upon one that will do so fairly effectively.  “You’re not alone.”
          He glances at her and raises the scarred eyebrow, questioning and curious.  “You have me, and will always have me, but more importantly, you have your Rooks.”
         He throws his head back in a guffaw, and the mood that had been hanging around him like a cloud quickly evaporates.  “Yes, I have my Rooks,” he agrees, pleased as Punch.  She had finally acknowledged his obsession and their usefulness, and on her part she had managed to ease some of the pain from their adventures in London.

         It takes her a little while to realize how Jacob acts when he’s in love.  He falls in love easily, a trait that causes her no small amount of worry (and, shockingly, is a sentiment Ethan Frye shared and might have been a sign that Father did care about Jacob a little, in his own way, though she would never suggest it to her brother).
         He becomes even more trusting than usual, which could quite easily go awry.  He shows off even more like a proud peacock.  His gaze is attentive, his mind focused to the exclusion of all else.  He flirts, but simultaneously, he’s a lot more careful, keeping firm reins on what he says and does.  He gravitates toward other free spirits, true, but he gets attached very easily, and it seems there’s little pattern otherwise.  He does respond well to flattery, possibly because it’s something he doesn’t hear often.
         It’s even more of a shock when she realizes his attention is directed at one of their, very male, Assassin fellows.  She leans over to his ear.  “He would not be amenable to the suggestion, Jacob.”
         Her brother jumps a little, adjusting his gloves nervously, and whispers back, “Dear sister, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  He’s flustered, a rare occasion, but perhaps he thought she hadn’t noticed.
         She does not judge, as others might, but doesn’t want him hurt.  “There are others who follow the Creed’s tenant of ‘everything is permitted’ more fervently.  He is not one of them.  Please be careful and try to use your head in this, at least.”  She ruffles his hair, unprotected by one of his hats (which now number two), and he shies away, glancing over at his beloved hat, but he nods quietly, so at least he’s listening.

(I’m going with the UK meanings of ‘disappointment and rejection’ for the flower I found, because Jacob does reject his father’s mere existence, and yet he’s still disappointed he’s dead.  Jacob is a very complex ball of feelings concealed beneath a devil-may-care attitude.
I also HC that’s he’s ADHD.  He’s not unintelligent, just a little…distractable.
I included the food thing with no evidence, but many of the other types of child abuse—beating, for example—were perfectly acceptable at the time.  I’m not sure how many people would even care about the starvation, but it’s something Evie wouldn’t dismiss, so it’s what I decided to go with.)
~Dreamer~