π―ππ 13: πΈππππππ - π΅ππππ π±πππ x ππππππ
Summary:
Jacob Frye and his wife bring their daughter to flatten her fatherβs coins on the train tracks. (I used to do this as a child with my great grandfatherπ)
Rating: G (no warnings)
A/N: you can find photos of flatten coins online if you canβt envision what it would look like)
London, 1865. The city hummed with a symphony of steam and steel, of carriages clattering over cobblestones and the distant whistle of the trains. Tower Bridge was still a dream in blueprints, but the train lines pulsed through the city like arteries, carrying the lifeblood of the English empire. And on the quiet outskirts of Whitechapel, nestled between rusting rails and wild daisies, three figures stood silhouetted against the late afternoon sun.
Jacob held his partners hand tightly. (Y/n), his wife β sharp-eyed, fierce, and with a wit that could flay a man in a single sentence β stood with her arms folded, a small smirk playing on her lips.
Between them, (d/n), their four year old daughter, knelt on the stone of the embankment, her curls bouncing as she rummaged through her fatherβs coat pockets like a little thief.
βPapa, I want one of the big ones!β she insisted, pulling at the lapel of his jacket. βNot the small ones. I want the the special ones!β
Jacob chuckled and reached into his inner pocket, withdrawing a gleaming Sovereign, British gold, stamped with the profile of Queen Victoria herself.
βThis one?β Her father asked, holding the coin up.
His wife rolled her eyes. βNot again, Jacob. That coin could buy her a weekβs worth of sweets, a new doll, and feed a family in Lambeth. And youβre letting her flatten it under a train?β
Jacob grinned, unbothered. βShe loves it. And I love her. The math is simple.β
His wife shook her head, but her voice carried no real bite.
βYou spoil her rotten. I swear, if she starts demanding diamond coins next, Iβm blaming you.β
(d/n), oblivious to the exchange between her parents, plopped onto her knees beside the track and carefully placed the coin between the steel rails. She stood quickly, brushing dirt from her skirt, then stepped back with a little hop.
βReady!β she announced, as if she were signaling the train operators themselves.
In the distance, a plume of grey smoke curled into the sky β the 4:15 from Paddington, chugging along on time. The track hummed beneath their feet, growing louder, more insistent. Jacob crouched beside his daughter, wrapping an arm around her tiny shoulders.
βRemember,β he said softly, βdo not do this without papa or mama, the coin can shoot back. Also little bird, remember to not get too close to the tracks, the coin could shoot back at you.β
The little girl nodded solemnly, eyes wide. βI promise papa!β
βThatβs my girl,β Jacob smiled down at his little girl. βWeβll always keep you safe my little dove.β
βAnd youβll also squash coins with me!β The little girl added innocently, not able to contain her small, excited giggles.
(y/n) couldn't help herself β she instinctively smiled to herself, at the sight of the two most important people in her world interacting with each other.
Within moments the train roared past them in a burst of intense wind and steam. The wheels screamed against the rails, and for a heartbeat, the world blurred into noise and motion. And then β silence, save for the fading echo of the engine.
Their daughter did not hesitate. She scrambled forward, careful not to touch the still-warm rail, and reached between the tracks.
There, pressed flat and shimmering, was the Sovereign β no longer round, no longer regal, but stretched and distorted, the Queenβs face now a smudged.
She snatched it up with a gasp.
βLook! Look! Itβs thinner! And the queen lady β sheβs squished!β she exclaimed, holding it high like a trophy.
Jacob rose, brushing off his knees, and looked at his daughterβs beaming face. His wife sidled up beside him, slipping her smaller hand into his.
βYou know,β she murmured, βI still donβt understand the appeal. Itβs just a flattened disc.β
Jacob watched his daughter, who was now randomly comparing the flattened coin to itβs reflection in a puddle, chattering about making it into a charm for her teddy bear. A soft smile tugged at his lips.
βNo,β he said quietly, deep in thought. βItβs not justa coin love. Itβs proof.β
βProof of what?β
βThat something heavy can pass over us,β he said, βand we donβt break. That we change β but weβre still here. That even something as small as a childβs joy can outlast the thunder of a train.β
His wife looked at him, surprised by the depth in his voice. Then she leaned into him, her head resting gently against his shoulder.
βYouβre sentimental when you think no oneβs paying attention,β she teased.
βIβm allowed,β he said. βI didnβt grow up playing by train tracks. I grew up in the shadows. But she ββ He nodded toward their daughter, now skipping ahead, the flattened coin clutched tight in her fist β βshe gets to believe in magic. And if I have to sacrifice a few coins to give her that? Iβd do it every day. Iβd give her my whole life savings if that made her happy. Everything I do, is to provide for you, my girlsβmy family.β
(y/n) smiled lazily, squeezing his hand. βYou might be most insufferable man sometimes Jacob Frye, but you are also the best father and husband.β
βYou say Iβm insufferable, but yet,β he said, winking at her as he admired her, βyou married me.β
The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the rails. In the distance, a newsboy cried the evening edition. Somewhere in the city, gangs still ruled in the underworld, and templars schemed, and London continued to turn on its relentless axis.
But here, on this quiet stretch of track, there was only a little girl, her parents, and a flat gold coin that meant more than the actual money ever could.
Jacob watched his little girl skip ahead, inspecting the coin as it caught the last light like a tiny flame.
This, he thought, this is how we change the world. Not with blades or empires. But with moments like this β small, bright, and human.
And for the first time in a long time, the Assassin didnβt think about the growing fight ahead.
He was only thinking of home.
