asscreedkinkmeme | Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
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✩ Comment anonymously with a character/pairing and a kink/prompt.

✩ Comment is filled by another anonymous with fanfiction/art/or any other appropriate medium.

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Poor amnesiac!Haytham, at least he's only missing a little more than two years and not twenty. I wonder how his 'first' meeting with Connor will go. So it's only 1773, which means all of the Colonial Templar inner circle are still alive (I love those guys). So the Templars know it was Washington who burned Connor's village, and with the truce it seems Connor must know as well if he's willing to work alongside the men who attacked him as a child.

It's supposed to be about a year and a third he's missing.... maths is not my strong point, I will admit... :S

Anyway, all will be explained shortly! (ACIII is the only game I love the bad guys as much as I love the good guys, so you'll see lots of Templars in this! :3)

Oops I meant to type less than 2 years ^^;

ACIII is the only game I love the bad guys as much as I love the good guys, so you'll see lots of Templars in this!

Ditto! Really wished there would be a DLC for them, with just six men they took down an entire Fort (eh... Connor can actually take down one by himself)

Oh, me too! So much! I have so many Templar feels, and it's all Haytham's fault. :( I have high hopes for a Templar reunion and a happy Kenway family ending in the Washington DLC. I mean, Ziio's alive in it, so...

oh my god op you're too nice >////<

I literally don't know what to say... I'm torn between rolling on the floor squeeing at your lovely words and hiding under a blanket, relishing all the FEELS you're giving me...

As we all know, Clipper and Charles idolise and adore their respective mentors. Everybody can see their totally obvious, visible from space crushes... that is, everybody except said mentors. One day they switch bodies. (How? Er... apple shenanigans, maybe? We haven't had an apple shenanigans fic in a while...)

So Charles or Clipper is initially delighted and has tons of fun in his new body, until it sinks in that this might be permanent, and his mentor isn't exactly happy with this turn of events, for whatever reason. (Ziio? The Homesteaders and Achilles? Connor's village? IDK) Their research into how to switch back isn't really getting anywhere. So he tries to make his mentor happy, eventually resorting to more ~romantic~ and ~sexual~ means, and ends up eventually having sex with said mentor, possibly due to a lot of alcohol.

Bonus: The method of switching back is so cliched or obvious it was overlooked immediately and both men are just like "holy shit why did we not think of that".

Super mega ultra bonus: If somehow you can fit both pairings in. Maybe Connor finds a super obscure Piece of Eden, and Haytham is all "DOn'T TOUCH THAT YOU WILL REGrET IT THE DAMN THiNG CAUSED THE ~~BEST~~ ~~STRANGEST~~ ~~TRIPPIEST~~ WORST SIX MoNTHS OF MY LIFe!!" but Connor ignores him and takes it anyway, only to have to come running to daddy dearest when things go awry?

Apologies like crazy, if anybody is still around on this post it is the same anon as above that said I would be filling. We have had several family emergencies within a couple of weeks of each other so I have not had any time to finish this fill, and I found it while deleting some things off my computer. Since things have quieted down at home now I am starting to write this again. If it goes according to plan I should finish in a couple of weeks. Apologies again for a huge delay and if the OP is still here I have not abandoned this prompt!

I was actually undecided whether to make Haytham Lee 20 or 15. At first, I was going with 15, but then as I thought about the kind of responsibility he gets, I figured 15 was way too young...

Really, anything between 15-20 is fine. Haytham would have grown up in a very...shall we say...interesting household and I can conceivably see him being aged considerably by those experiences than his youthful features would display.

I'll start planning out a Charles POV for some of the intervening years after Honeymoon is written. :) Mortal enemies are so fun to ship...you get all the angst potential! :D

awesome! can't wait!

Basically William Johnson, Charles Lee, and Haytham all going to town on Thomas. And Thomas lovong it, of course.

(And if a foursome is too daunting then I wouldn't mind them separate? Or at least William/Thomas! Please and thank you.)

I would love to see this!

A/N: Angst-a-hoy!

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Connor knows exactly where he is upon waking up. The cruel dreams of the would be future would not let him forget. As he slowly sits up, wincing as a dull pain shoots down his back in the process, he bitterly realizes that he has slipped from one nightmare into another.

The only relief he feels at the moment, is the fact that Lee is not in the room. Quietly, he shifts and swings his legs over the side of the bed to face the ornate windows in front of him. Ignoring the dull ache in his backside, Connor slowly approached the transparent barrier that separated him from the outside world.

It had briefly stopped raining outside. The leafy treetops and lush green hills were covered with dew drops. Connor frowned, not recognizing the area, and wondered just how far he was away from the nearest city. Pressing his palm against the cool glass, he leaned forward and activated his second sight... then cursed in Kanien'kehá:ka.

Red figures were scattered among the perimeter of the manor, some were on moving in patrols with hounds. He did not have his weapons. Could not rely on anyone for help. These were probably the same men Lee had brought with him at the Homestead. The same men who had been there at the church when he had been...

"Lovely view."

Connor froze completely. He could not move, could not even breathe, as the sound of approaching boot steps drew closer. A chill run down his spine when he caught the sight of those cruel blue-gray eyes reflected in the glass. It only occurred to the Assassin that he was completely naked when cool fingers trailed down his spine, causing him to shiver involuntary.

"Do not touch me!" Connor hissed softly, wishing he could sound more commanding.

Not that it would have done any good. The Templar had never been intimidated by him when they were just enemies; and now that they were bonded, Lee no longer worried that the Assassin would attempt to take his life. The smack on the arse proved that much, after Connor yelped and threw the smirking older man a murderous glare over his shoulder.

"I should have known a few rounds of fucking would not crush all of that stubborn rebellion out of you. It seems I have quite a bit of work to do before bringing you to heel," Charles mused to himself.

Connor intended to snap back in defiance, only to gasp loudly as rough calloused hands grabbed hold of his arse. He stumbled forward a bit, catching hold of a nearby table before his face had a chance to collide with a wall. The hands tightened their grip, kneading his quivering flesh. Connor kept his head lowered, face burning with humiliation and anger.

"S-Stop..." he half demanded, half pleaded. The tone of his voice was unfamiliar to his own ears. So strange. So wrong.

Surprisingly though, the Alpha listened and the fondling hands withdrew. Swallowing hard, Connor waited a long moment for reprisal and when none came, he cautiously glanced over his shoulder. Charles had his hands folded behind his back and was... smiling, which meant something unpleasant was about to happen.

"My servants have you drawn you a bath; because quite frankly, you need one." Connor felt his stomach churn. He did not need to be reminded of the dried bodily fluids on skin. "They have also set aside some decent attire for you wear. Afterwards, you will give you a tour of your new home. I expect you to be on your best behavior. If you require anything further, I will be in my study."

The Assassin blinked, not trusting his mortal enemy's sudden change in attitude. Connor merely nodded his head in compliance if got his mate out of the bedroom faster. Instead, Charles closed the distance between them, pulling his Omega into a possessive kiss.

Anger at the man's audacity and his own helplessness, bubbled hotly to the surface. He was tired. Tired of Charles Lee constantly stealing from him. Without thinking, he bit down on his Alpha's lower lip, hard enough to draw blood.

He only heard a snarl as his only warning before receiving a devastating backhand that sent him crashing to the ground. His vision flared white as his head knocked against the floor boards, and he lay there in a daze, not even noticing the hand on his throat until it began to squeezed harshly. Suddenly, he was four years old again, gasping for breath as Charles sneered at him with disdain.

"Listen to me and listen well, you ungrateful savage," Lee spat, as a small stream of blood ran down his chin. "You will not deny me ever again. Understood? You are mine, remember that!"

Connor coughed, taking in deep lung-fulls of air upon being released, and curled up on his side. His narrowed eyes followed his assailant who walked towards the doorway, but turned to face just before leaving.

"Dinner is at twelve-thirty," Charles informed him with a bright smile upon his face after dabbing the blood off with a handkerchief, "skipping it would late be... unadvisable."

With that, the Templar was finally gone and Connor sighed quietly in relief. He sat up, and rubbed the side of his face gingerly. No bruising from what he could tell, but his cheek still stung. Growling, he yanked one of the sheets off the bed and quickly draped it around himself as the light foot steps of a maid drew close.

"Mister Lee?"

He stiffened, looking around for any sight of Charles, only to come to the horrible realization that the servant was addressing him. It was painful reminder that he was now the spouse of his mortal enemy. He was no longer an Assassin. He was no longer able to kill Charles Lee, and avenge his mother or all those who were murdered, injured, and traumatized the other day. He could no longer be able to be with George, and support him and their fight for freedom.

The Templars had won.

"Sir?" the elderly maid pressed gently, looking concerned as he failed to respond to her calls. "Your bath is ready."

Swallowing hard, Connor climbed to his feet while keep the sheet draped tightly around him. "Th-thank you..." he stuttered quietly and followed her out, head lowered in defeat.

-----------

A/N: Not sure if this is true, but I read that there was no 'lunch time' during this time period. Lunch was refereed to as 'dinner' which was a large meal with many courses (well, if you were rich I guess) and supper was a light meal before bed time.

Question for the OP: In this omegaverse, do married couples have wedding rings or some sort of trinket or marking that symbolizes their union?

Words can not discribe how much I want this!

Oh boy, give me a bit, but I am totally game for this.

A part of me reckons I should not have started this... so sorry for the incredibly long wait! Here, have some writing stuffs of Connor being molested! >.< Warning: non-con and rape scene ahead, but you probably already expected that.

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Their unrelenting eyes never ceased as they bore into my own, full of mirth and ill intent. Their hands, calloused and rough, never grew slack or gentle as they touched and grabbed at my body. Was this a method of torture? Because if it was, I was never taught on how to defend myself against it. Achilles taught me many things in the ways of the mind and combat, but not this... this act of violation, I am at a loss on what to do.

I suddenly flinched as the man behind me sat on my hands, most likely so he could feel and touch too. And he did, his thick fingers ran down my chest and over my abdomen, leaving red marks in their wake. I heaved and uttered a curse which I knew they would not understand, and this in a way comforted me. I could speak anything in the language of my people and they would not be able to understand a word.

Without the use of my clothes, the cold bite of the atmosphere had taken hold, and it seemed that even under their ministrations, it wasn't enough to keep me warm, I started to shiver.

Small wonder that they noticed this, and probably saw the trace of goose-bumps along my skin. "Looks like he's getting cold, boys. Better get a move-on and warm him up."

The one in charge that had spoke leaned and closed in on me, his face growing closer to mine. I swallowed, clearly showing my confusion and anxiety as a gloved hand rested against my cheek. He licked his lips, and I could feel and smell his vile breath as I realised his intention. So I drew my head back...

...and smashed it into his. Hard.

With a burst of red he was flung back by the force and I smirked in triumph, a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. It was short lived however as the three guards who remained conscious turned their heated glares towards me. "You're gonna pay for that, you mongrel!"

In a fit of rage, one of them swung a fist and I had no choice but to accept it. I must have hit him rather hard, for all I saw as I recovered from the blow were the muddied tips of his boots. "Not a smart move, Connor." Thomas inquired, "You've really done it now..." with mock sympathy he pulled a face and I merely stared back with a look of defiance.

Our connection was broken, "Quick, flip 'im over, we'll teach this savage a lesson."

I couldn't stop as I exhaled sharply when those vicious hands grabbed and turned me onto my stomach, the man in front pulling my bounded wrists forward and shoving my head into the cold, tiled ground. A small whimper escaped my lips as I froze up at the severity of how freezing the stones were against my skin. The hand crushing my head into the floor soon grabbed a large hand-full of hair as my vision was suddenly jerked upwards. "Now listen here," a gruff voice spoke into my ear, his breath being too hot, I kept my gaze straight ahead. "You are going to apologise, and it had best sound believable."

I managed to swallow down the tightness pounding in my throat, "And if I don't?" Good, it had sounded steady.

He let out a chortle, his lips slightly pressing against my ear as he sharply inhaled through his nose. "Then I will screw you senseless, boy. Now let's hear it." Out of the corner of my eye I could see Hickey watching intently, I would admit that among other things, his dark gaze burning into me was inescapable, it vexed me greatly.

Although, perhaps I DID have a choice, if I made an honest sounding apology, these men would leave me alone, and take their cruel acts with them to another, as bad as it sounded. That was a plan for now, lacking detail but I really need to leave this place, as soon as possible.

The tightness in my chest never faltered as it proved near impossible to lay my guard down, and submit to this... monster.

"I'm sorry." the words sounded strange to my ears, though I had still said them, and it made my heart sink. There was silence for a time, until Hickey's inglourious laughter cut through it like a knife. "You really place too much faith in the hearts of men, just get on with it will ya? I wanted to see a show!"

"Well, you heard the man." The guard next to my head let out a harsh laugh and immediately took my ear into his mouth and I writhed, the beginning of a plea threatening to spill, but I held fast, I wouldn't be defeated so easily, I couldn't.

Damn him, damn him and his cruel ways, where was the honour in abusing a man who was already beaten and at the mercy of others?

I bristled at my own thoughts, there was still time, and I still had a chance to fight back, didn't I...?

Teeth bit and a slimy tongue licked my ear until it felt sore, my teeth remained tightly shut and my eyes eventually closed as my forehead came to rest upon the prison floor. This was all unique and alien to me, in my culture it was considered rude and offensive to touch another stranger as intimately such as now. It filled my gut with disgust and a burning sense of rage, that these men had no regard for that, they were simply running on one base desire.

My head whipped back over my shoulder as best it could as I felt a finger slip under my remaining piece of clothing, and began to tug it down. I let out a growl as I twisted and turned, trying to loosen the tight grip the rope had on my wrists. "Ah, stop your squirming! We're getting what we want one way or another!" The leather undergarment was pulled down my legs and off completely and I couldn't help but release a pitiful groan. Slowly, as time crawled by, my resistance was failing, growing more pliant to these men.

Perhaps I thought since one of the guards were resting in the corner that I might have been able to overcome the rest, that was not the case.

My eyes shot open as hands raked down my rump, I couldn't move, my heart was pounding, surely he would not...

A wet finger wormed it's way between my cheeks and I jerked, my muscles tightening but my efforts were fruitless. I finally felt my eyes grow wet as I felt another finger being forced in. The burn was hot and unbearable, and I started to tremble, I had never been touched there-

The guards all shifted, and I noticed to my horror that they had all pushed their trousers down, all hiding nothing. One that was pushing me down by the shoulders had started pleasuring himself right beside my head, so I could not block out the wet sounds he made. I shuddered at the crude remarks and leers they threw at me, as I tried to clamp my thighs together, to force out this intrusion. I soon realised this made the man get even more determined, as he managed to part and settle in-between them. "You're lucky that I'm even thinking of preparing ya." he shot at me, diving his face into my neck and biting down, at the same time he had drove his fingers deeper inside of me. I tried to pull my head out of reach, but to no avail, the other two had placed their holds on my hands and shoulders, relentlessly forcing me into the ground, it only drained my energy if I attempted to get up.

My lower body jerked as those intrusive digits were removed, beginning to be replaced with something even more intimidating. "Please, please don't." I couldn't stop it. My face twisted in anguish as I was brought to remember myself as a child, small and helpless, and once again I find myself in the hands of ruthless men.

"Connor, the brave Assassin resorted to begging? Never thought I'd see the day."

Hickey's voice stabbed right into my heart that I couldn't reply, with a low moan of agony I lowered my head to the ground again, falling limp as I felt all of the unbearable pain as the man forced himself into me. His hands came to grasp tightly at my hips, his breaths resounding harshly into my ear as he started to rock, ever so slowly. With each movement it seemed a part of me was flitting away, I could not imagine myself escaping this situation. It made me feel even more sick as I felt my unwanted, growing arousal dragging across the ground with each thrust.

For a moment, I managed to close my eyes and block out all the comments and excited breaths. My hands weren't tied with rope or covered with scratches. And I was not naked, but dressed in my former clothes made mostly out of deerskin and animal hides. Most of all, I was not trapped in Bridewell Prison, but running through the forest besides my dear friend, Kanen'tó:kon. Although running 'beside' him was not very accurate, he would throw curses at me from behind as he attempted to catch up with me, but it would all be in jest, I was happy-

My calming thoughts were taken away as I was forced forward by a hard thrust, my rear contained the most distinct amount of pain as I felt a hot rod enter and pull back at an alarming rate. My stomach, knees and thighs scraped across the ground causing a harsh friction to occur.

It was only then when the man had eventually finished in me with a piercing groan I would never forget, that the tears that had welled up eventually spilled down my heated cheeks. He pulled out quickly, forcing a pathetic whimper to leak from my lips. To my surprise, the guard who had been touching himself wove his fingers into my hair and held my face towards him. I couldn't explain to any human being what happened next, only that I had barely enough warning to close my eyes and mouth as warm ropes of liquid slapped onto my face. I weakly tried to tug my head away but the animal wasn't done yet. Half of my face was covered by the time he had finished, I felt like throwing up just to spite them, but thought against it. I didn't dare open my eyes, I knew that they were all staring at me, taking in my current state. My heart clenched at the thought of my enemy scrutinising me, I wanted nothing more at that very moment to snatch a guard's pistol and end him.

"I see you already went through without me, thanks a lot." the ring leader uttered as he rose from the corner, hand pressed to his forehead. "Sorry boss, you were out so we decided to soften him up for you."

While they were talking, I attempted to rise, feeling something unwelcome spilling out and running down my thighs, followed with a significant stretch of pain, I fell limp again.

"Yeah well, let's see if that worked, shall we?" he leaned down and turned me over, I merely stared at the wall with indifference. He must have liked seeing the white fluid on my face, he casually licked up my cheek, I quickly inhaled, not being able to do much else. He pulled back slightly before humming with satisfaction and pressing his lips to mine. I only stared with wide eyes at the ceiling, his tight grip in my hair keeping me in place. His stubble was itchy as it moved against my chin, his warm weight as it settled on my chest did not feel as bad as before. He managed to worm his tongue inside and I was afraid of what he might do if I rejected it. Fear, I had not felt it in a while, my resolve is breaking, I need to get out of here.

Suddenly his grip slid down to my neck and blocked my airway, "Nice little stunt you pulled before," he spat in anger, saliva hitting me, "I'm going to punish you thrice-fold for that!" he pulled my upwards by the neck and slammed me down again. I grunted as my head cracked against stone, I was not given much time to recover as I was picked up and shoved face-first into the wall opposite Hickey's cell. "If you want to fight like a brute, then I'll take you like one!" My vision remained blurred from the blows as it made it difficult to see. There was a small opening besides me, it was dark inside but... was there someone there? I could have sworn that I saw someone, a dark figure...

I wasn't given much time to dwell over this as multiple punched were thrown to my sides and I landed on the floor once again as they all gathered around me. I groaned as I was mounted, my body protesting and literally feeling new bruises blossoming on my skin.

The leader sat on my legs and I managed to pull myself onto my elbows, my eyes slightly widened at the large body part poised in front of me, I stared up at the man with blatant fear slashed upon my features.

"Please, no more..."

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:'( Ah sorry if this may be too much, I had to pause when writing this a couple of times... aha... there's no way I'm proof-reading this >.>

Ah I posted it wrong *o*

Connor sprints after Haytham when he leaps onto Church's ship. What on earth is he thinking, ramming the Aquila into the Providence like that? He must be more upset over the betrayal than Connor had previously thought. He dispatches the officers onboard with his usual deadly efficiency, the crew are more than well-trained enough to handle Church's crooks.

So caught up is he in his whirlwind of worry, he only notices the broken floorboard when it is too late and he is already falling over. He manages to break his fall somewhat, but he is still winded, and his breath comes back far too slowly. He staggers to his feet, and makes his way to the lower deck, where Haytham's angry howls reverberate through the thick, wooden walls.

He gets there just in time to wrench Haytham away from Church, and nearly gets his arms shredded in the process. Whatever Church said or did to Haytham had clearly pushed him over the edge- the man has lost all control over his rage, and Connor is quite honestly scared of Haytham right now.

"Haytham!" Connor shouts, trying to get Haytham's attention, to bring him back and stop this madness. "End his suffering cleanly!"

Church is going to be dead in mere minutes, painful minutes at that. Nobody should have so many bloody gashes and stab wounds. This is not a death. This is torture.

Haytham shuts his eyes, and drops his sword. Relieved, Connor puts Church out of his misery himself, with a well-aimed shot with his flintlock.

"What was all that about?" he asks, reloading. Haytham glances up at him, something that looks like fear (but can't be, Haytham does not get scared) in his eyes.

"What?" Haytham's voice is barely a croak. He must have wrecked his throat with all that inarticulate screaming. Connor wonders if there's any honey in the ship's kitchen. They always have lemon, to stave off scurvy.

"You know exactly what I mean," Connor says, in his most serious tone. "You ram my ship into the Providence, putting my crew in danger, and you do not kill Church, instead you butcher him and let him drown in his own blood. Was his betrayal honestly that bad?"

Haytham's gaze is faraway, but he eventually nods. Connor drags him upright.

"We can talk more on the Aquila. The Providence is taking on water, and I do not wish to drown on any ship but my own."

Haytham nods, and follows him diligently back to the Aquila's deck. He helps the Aquila crew salvage Lee's supplies on the docked ship, in near complete silence.

"I apologise," Connor says later, when Haytham still has spoken hardly a word. "You do not have to explain your behaviour. Church was once almost as family to you. I understand. However, I must insist you never try to steer the Aquila again. You could have killed us all."

Haytham mumbles a tired apology, and retires to bed. In the morning, though, he seems happier, and his apology is more heartfelt and more sincere.

…

Things happen quite quickly after that. Haytham moves house while Connor is away on a journey to Newfoundland- that house, as much as they both like it, is not safe any more. The Brotherhood know the address, and the truce is over.

The war is ends faster, more painlessly than expected. Lee becomes head of the new nation, and Connor does not attend the ceremony. Johnson negotiates affairs with the Iroquois Confederation, and is given some sort of official government position. Hickey… is Hickey. He carries on with his dodgy business dealings. Pitcairn goes back to Britain temporarily, to sort out his family's affairs. Upon his return with his family, Lee 'uncovers' letters 'proving' Pitcairn was actually a spy for the Colo-- no, Unionists, and grants him permission to stay in this new country.

Connor sails, for the most part. Occasionally, he takes Haytham on short voyages, but most of his time is spent either at sea, visiting his village and exploring the Frontier, or at their new home in central Philadelphia.

He keeps himself busy, and soon settles into a life of contentment and peace. There are meetings, in which he mostly listens to the plans made by the others, and offers the occasional suggestion as to how they might bring about equality for the citizens who are not wealthy white men. He directs people in need to Davenport, visiting every now and again, but staying far from the manor.

"Connor! Lucky you're here! It's Ellen's husband! He's back, with friends, trying to knock down her door!" Big Dave calls, as Connor hitches his horse outside the inn. Dave sprints down the road, to fetch more men, and Connor takes care of the intruders in mere moments. He has not been lax in his training regime.

Ellen's husband is the worst kind of person, always blaming everybody but himself for his own mistakes and failures, seeing honest, hard-working women as tools and things to fuck and beat. The look in his eyes as Connor lifts his tomahawk is that of fear, of being certain of impending death, and the urine dripping through the man's breeches is proof that he will never ever forget this moment.

Connor has already killed too many men. He will not use his hands to kill another, even if this… this scum does deserve it. He settles for burying his tomahawk in the gap between the man's index and middle fingers, in the wooden door.

"Should you ever return," he warns, voice low. "I will hurt you."

The man's eyes grow wide, and water, and he nods, frantically.

"In one hour, I will begin hunting you down. If you start running now, you might make it to Boston before nightfall."

Connor isn't really going to hunt the man, but Davenport must stay safe. And, as much as he hates to admit it, tricking the man like that is actually rather fun, and in all honesty, he does deserve it.

Ellen's husband is barely within eyeshot by the time Big Dave returns, with residents he recognises, and some he doesn't. A few members of the Brotherhood are with him- Clipper and Duncan and a couple of young men and women with white hoods. Connor knocks on Ellen's door casually, as they start up the path to the house, obviously surprised at the unconscious men on the lawn. He takes the tomahawk from the wood with no small amount of difficulty- it is buried quite deep.

"It is all right, Ellen. He will not bother you again. It is safe to come out, if you wish."

A long moment passes, before Ellen answers, her voice still shaky from fear and tears.

"Thank you."

"I seem to have damaged your door. I will pay for repairs to be made," he promises, and steps away to speak with the others. They do not look afraid, so much as confused.

"There were… there were seven of 'em," Dave says, evidently somewhat befuddled. Connor is not surprised. Most men do not brawl as often as Connor does, and most men would have trouble defeating even one opponent with their bare hands.

"They were weaker than they looked. In any case, Ellen's husband is not coming back. You can all sleep safe with that knowledge." He turns to Lance. "I am afraid that i have damaged Ellen's front door somewhat. Would you take a look at it, and tell me how much repairs might cost?"

Lance nods, and goes to inspect the door, and Connor turns to the men he once called brothers.

"How have things been in my absence?" he asks. It is a long moment before either of them deign to answer.

op here -- I'm so excited, omg.

Wow... I can't believe Haytham's plan worked, converting Connor was all he needed and the Templars now control the new world :O

Now that Connor is a Templar... I wonder how the Brotherhood will react - they can't really hate him because he's a pawn, but he's still on the side of the enemy. And who are these new members with white hoods? New recruits or Assassins from other countries? Also, will Haytham try to help repair the damage ties between Connor and the other Templars? Eventually he'll need them all working together at some point.

"Welcome to the Animus."

It was the last he heard, white fog engulfing him as he made his way through the mists and the world came tumbling down, breaking apart only to be re-built within the blink of an eye. He stood in the middle of a courtyard, the sound of steel hitting steel piercing his ear, men shouting and goats bleating. It was cold and the ground wet as he set one foot in front of the other. Altair looked down on his hands, his nails dirty. It was early in the morning and the sun was slowly crawling up the sky but today it was covered by thick gray clouds almost touching the ground and swallowing the earth. He made his way towards the stables and beyond them, walking down a small hill with grass covered by first frost. He kept walking until he reached an old abandoned field, a small stable underneath a large oak tree in the far distance which had once been used to hold sheep. Behind the stable was a small creek which had been a river but as the last few summers had been hot with hardly any rain at all it was almost completely dried out by now. Altair stepped into the stable, the wood musty and old and the smell of sheep and hay still lingered in the air.

He could sense him approaching before he felt the hand on his shoulder, a hard push to his back sent him stumbling forwards – it wasn't much to make him lose his balance, it needed a lot more than that so Altair moved with the push, rolling his shoulder and turning slightly to the side, changing the position of his feet on the ground and leashing at him with his arm. He saw it coming and Altair's hand met empty air as he put one foot between his legs and Altair tripped over it and for a moment, lost his focus. Hands placed on his chest, pushing him back until he met the stable's wall and he snarled, angry at himself for falling for such an easy trick trying to wedge his own foot behind his knee and pressing back against him, trying to send him to the ground. But he was pushing back, his chest like a wall he couldn't break through and then, just like that, he gave away and stepped back but there was still Altair's foot and he lost his balance. For a moment, a smirk caressed Altair's lips but it only lasted for maybe half a second as his fingers curled in the front of Altair's robes, pulling Altair with him to the ground. They landed in a tangled heap of limbs and chaos, clawing at each other as each one of them tried to keep the upper hand, rolling over the dirty cold floor, forgotten pieces of hay sticking to their clothes and mud rubbing into the fabric. It was Altair who was on his back and he knocked him over, his elbow meeting his ribs and it changed everything once more with Altair straddling his hips, reaching for his wrist to pin it against the ground next to his head. They were both panting now, their breaths gathering in small white clouds in front of their mouthes and for a few seconds, nothing happened as they glared at each other. Altair was leaning down as a pair of eyes roamed over his face and he smirked, pushing his hand back to the ground forcefully as he made another attempt to get free. Their lips were almost touching now and he saw the movement out of the corner of his eye but it was too late to react. The knee hit him in the back and he slumped forwards, loosening his grip of his wrist for just half a second but it was enough for him to free himself. The tables were once more turned, only now he found himself on his stomach, his arm pinned painfully behind his back.

"Enough of that", he growled into Altair's ear, his breath splashing like small waves against his skin and it send a small shiver down his spine. He didn't answer but gritted his teeth and he only pushed his hand higher up between his shoulder blades, sending a new bolt of pain through his body. Altair groaned and he tried to hit him but he just changed his position, pressing his knee down onto his backside to keep him perfectly pinned to the ground. His body bucked underneath his hold as he tried to shake him off before he laid still, breathing heavily and the silence was too loud. A few seconds later Altair tried it again and once more it was no use. In the end he kept laying there, a thin sheet of cold sweat covering his brow. He waited for Altair to calm down, leaning down to his ear. "Do you behave now?"

When he said nothing and after several minutes had passed without him trying to get free again, he let go of Altair's arm and slowly got up. Altair turned around and on his back, looking up at him and eyed the hand in front of him, grabbing it to get up. Their clothes were dirty, the both of them panting, glaring at each other. He didn't know who moved at first, maybe they both did but it didn't matter in the end as he closed his arms round him, their lips meeting in a kiss. Altair framed his face with both hands as he didn't want him to go, their tongues meeting in a slow dance, whirling around each other, invading each other's mouths in small waves. He almost melted underneath those lips, warmth spreading through his body and chasing away the cold. His heart was beating wildly and not just because of the adrenaline shooting through his veins because of the previous fight but of a whole different reason. He'd waited too long for this and now that the moment was there, he didn't want it to end, not ever. But they had to part eventually, both gasping for air as they had stolen each other's breath.

Malik was the first to move, taking a step back and bringing some distance between their bodies, Altair's hands falling from his face. Malik shook his head, "No." Altair held his breath and slowly released the air between his lips as he tried to close the gasp between them but Malik held him at arm's length. "This has to stop", he hissed and his fingers closed above the fabric of Altair's robes and his arm slowly sunk down before he pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply. "You're right", Altair nodded, lips pressed to a thin fine line. "I'm getting tired of letting you win all the time."

Malik groaned, then scoffed and resisted the urge to just roll his eyes at the younger man. "Don't turn this into some joke Altair."

"I'm not", he insisted and tried again to get close to him but Malik turned away. "What is this today?", he pondered with a hint of worry and he went pale as he finally realized. Malik couldn't meet his eyes, not this time and his shoulders were stiff. "Why?", Altair asked him, voice thin.

"And here I thought you're not a novice anymore. Are you that ignorant to not see it?" Malik wiped his face, turning around to face him, their eyes meeting and the look he saw in them hurt Altair probably more than he would ever be able to admit. "This", Malik gestured between the two of them, "is wrong. It's forbidden."

"You're telling me I'm ignorant and yet you use the same foul lies the Templars would tell us?"

"Are you calling me a Templar?"

"No. But nothing is true and-"

"-and everything is permitted. Don't hide behind those words. This has gotten over our heads. If nothing is true then-"

"Don't." Altair interrupted him, a sick ugly feeling of boiling anger rising within him, the bitter taste of bile burning his throat. "Don't you dare to say it."

"Then how do you know this", and again he nodded at Altair, then looked down his own body, "isn't just another lie?"

He blinked at him, dumbfounded. "I just do", he said quietly and he reached for Malik's hand, their fingertips touching but the other man pulled away. "But you don't trust me", he added a moment later, Malik's rejection feeling like a stab to his heart. Malik said nothing and while flames of betrayal and hurt licked across his skin, threatening to eat him alive he didn't move at all, wasn't even flinching. Instead Altair's eyes just grew cold. "No you don't", he voiced what Malik couldn't say. "And I thought you weren't one of them."

At that Malik looked up. "One of them?", he pondered, his fingers curling into a tight fist and Altair knew they were just at the brink of another fight.

"A fucking sheep", he spat and lost his control for just a small moment but it was enough for Malik to know what he just did to him. "A mindless, little sheep following the shepherd without questions as long as they're well fed. Look at you, you're almost choking on all those lies they feed you."

"Be careful of your next choice of words They might be your last before I rip your tongue out." Malik was practically fuming with rage and Altair knew he was pushing the older man. He just wanted him to hurt as much as he did at the moment, wanted to punish him, to make him suffer. He wouldn't step back, he wouldn't lose his ground in front of Malik. "Then prove me wrong", he hissed and he closed the distance between them with one large step, curling his fingers around Malik's shoulder and shoving him backwards. "Tell me this isn't true", he snarled, his body pressing up against Malik as he pushed him back still until Malik couldn't move any further, the wall blocking his escape route.

"It isn't true."

"You're a liar", Altair whispered, their faces so close they were breathing the same air, lips almost touching once more. Malik didn't move for a long time, just kept breathing heavily through his nose, his face pulled into an ugly angry mask.

"You're an ignorant", he said eventually and Altair's fist twitched but he didn't punch him. He let go of Malik's collar, his hands slowly sinking and he simply stared at him for the longest of times.

"So that's your decision?", he asked in a small voice, the words hoarse and heavy and in fact it did feel like as if they pulled him towards the ground as his legs grew weak. Altair stepped away, his voice thin and worn out, "I'm leaving tomorrow in two weeks. Master sends me on a mission to France. He told me this morning."

Malik simply nodded and Altair waited for him to say something, anything but the man pressed his lips tightly together and he knew getting Malik to talk was mostly an impossible task. "Is that how it is?", he asked him as he couldn't stand his silence any longer. Malik closed his eyes, sighing deeply and when he looked back up, he stared right over Altair's left shoulder at the opposite wall.

Altair nodded. "So be it", and he turned around, leaving the stable and the man inside behind him.

Such delicious angst. //basks in delicious angst//

And poor Connor. Faced with the casual violence of his 'husband' and expected to play submissive...I don't envy his situation one bit. And, thank you anon, for characterizing the struggle between them so wonderfully.

Hm...about the rings...while the diamond engagement ring is an engenius marketing ploy by deBeers to sell expensive diamonds and, simultaneously, control the resell market, I do believe that wedding rings have historically been in use for a long period of time. While not the best of sources, this wikipedia entry (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wedding_ring) has an entry with a wedding vow from the Book of Common Prayer (1662) that references a ring used to wed.

So I imagine that Charles might want to rectify that in case Connor escapes and tries to argue that the marriage was not valid.

Connor winced as a crack echoed around the underground training room. The dummy fell backwards, straining against the white shirt that held it up. Connor sat down and drew his knees to his chin, his eyes watching it as it swayed slightly. He sighed, his eyes going to the other poles in the room.

Achilles was angry with him, angry that he had not killed William Johnson. Connor took a deep breath, thinking back over what he had done, if he had done anything wrong. Johnson was not dead, but what he had hoped to accomplish had been stopped. To kill him would have achieved nothing. The Templar’s agenda had been stopped, but Achilles was still convinced that death was the only solution.

He got back to his feet and began to disassemble the training dummy. Connor grasped the broken pole and lifted it out of its hole. It fell to the floor with a thump, and he wiped his brow.

Achilles had called him an assassin, but Connor was beginning to doubt him. If he was truly an assassin, would he not have done like Achilles had said, and killed Johnson? It would not have been the first time he had killed, but the situation had not been like the others. When he had killed before, his life had been in danger. To kill Johnson when there was a chance to end the conflict without bloodshed was not right.

Connor grunted as he heaved another pole into the hole. Achilles did not see the world in the same way that he did. How would killing one man change anything? The Templars could just as easily put another man in his place. Their numbers were greater, and populated with men of the English ideal. The Brotherhood was no more than an old Mentor, himself, and Stephane.
Three men were not enough to take down the entire Templar order. The Brotherhood he had entered was not like the one in the stories Achilles had told him. Of Altair and his restructuring of the order, and of Ezio, who re-established the Brotherhood in Italy. Connor shook his head and dressed the dummy in the hay stuffed shirt.

Achilles expected something similar from him, Connor feared. And he would not be able to do it, not when he could barely command respect from the men who sought his help. They used him for their purposes, and he in turn utilized them for his own. He spared no thought that they would help him if their interests ran opposite from his.

Connor snarled and punched the dummy. The exercise, which he had thought would help clear his mind, was not working. His churning thoughts had only been riled up further. He turned to leave the basements, his mind going to a small hunting blind where he could sit and puzzle out what he thought on the matter. As he did so, his toe caught the edge of the broken pole he had set down earlier, pitching him forward. Connor threw his hands out to catch himself, but it was too late, his head hitting the stonework of the floor with a crack.

His head pounded as he opened his eyes slowly. He blinked away the fuzziness, adjusting to the bright sunlight. His forehead crinkled in confusion, his last memories of having been in the basement of the homestead. He sat up slowly and looked around, trying to catch his bearings. The area was unfamiliar to him, though he could hear farm animals nearby. A small cottage sat not far from where he was, and a small bench overlooking a cliff beside it. An older man exited the house, his eyes lighting up as he saw that Connor was awake. He dashed over and chattered something in a familiar language to him. When Connor did not respond, he frowned.

“Do you speak French?” the man asked. Connor nodded. “Marvelous. Are you hurt? Do you need a doctor?”

“I am fine,” Connor said. “Where am I?”

“The Campagna District,” the man replied. Connor shook his head. “Of Rome?”

“In Italy?”

The blonde man looked concerned at his continued confusion. “Did you hit your head?”

“I am fine,” Connor repeated, pushing to his feet. “Thank you for your concern.”

“If I am able to do one good thing, I am glad,” the man said, smiling beneath his beard. “You dress strangely for a Frenchman-“

“Connor,” he told the man.

“Connor,” the man repeated. “And I am Leonardo.” He nodded, his head tilting to the side as he looked at him. “You are not French, I take it?”

Connor shook his head. When he did not make any sign that he would reveal his nationality, Leonardo chuckled. “Do you speak any Italian, my friend?”

“Enough,” Connor replied. “I can do a conversation.”

“Indeed,” Leonardo said. “You have a strange accent.”

He paused, looking at Connor’s clothes. “You are a bit taller than I had guessed. I do not believe the trousers I was able to procure will fit you.”

“Why would I have need to change?” Connor asked.

“Your um, coat, is very similar to something a friend of mine wears,” he said. “Unfortunately, he has run afoul of many of the city guards. We wouldn’t want them attacking you by mistake.”

“Is your friend in the way of danger?” Connor asked, shrugging out of his coat.

“Perhaps,” Leonardo said, his eyes darting towards the bench. “But I fear I cannot do anything to change his mind. And he has friends who will keep him safe.”

“He is lucky to have a friend that worries over him.”

“Someone must, if he will not take care of himself,” Leonardo replied. He straightened the shoulders of Connor’s new shirt, his eyes going to the coat in Connor’s arms. He swung his pack off of his shoulders, dumping a few items in the grass before handing it to Connor. Connor smiled at him in thanks, putting the coat in the pack and putting it on his own back. Leonardo pretended not to notice the two bracers that went in with it.

“Thank you for your help, Leonardo,” Connor said. “I do not know how I can make repayment to your kindness.”

“Consider it a gift,” Leonardo told him. “Do you have a destination in mind?” Connor shook his head. “If I may make a suggestion, then? There is a small inn not far from here by the name of The Sleeping Fox.”

Connor smiled and gave him a nod before turning to walk in the direction Leonardo had pointed. Leonardo sighed and bent to pick up the poison darts that he had dropped in the grass. He went and sat on the bench, knowing that word of his being there would reach Ezio sooner than later. He debated telling him about the young man with the blades of an assassin that had fallen from the sky, but dismissed it. His friend had enough to worry about.

Oh yeah, I think you're right about the dinner and supper thing. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Supper seems to indicate that the biggest meal of the day was the midday meal and that it was called 'dinner' up until the 18th century.

Good, good, verrrrrrry good! Not OP, but I'm enjoying this immensely. Love your Leonardo and your Connor!

/Soaks up praise/ I'm glad you think I've captured the struggle, I was worried about making Connor too submissive too quickly after the first day. Charles has a week to break Connor down before he leaves using emotional blackmail, sex, but not so much physical abuse; considering Connor has taken beatings plenty of times as an Assassin. If there is anything you would like to see in particular, let me know.

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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

Re: he lives in the woods (1/?)

fill anon

Re: fill anon

fill anon

fill anon

Haytham/Charles or Clipper/Connor, body swap

Re: The Dog Park

Re: Second Fill - The Honey Moon - Part 3/?

Re: OP again

Templars/Thomas Hickey, power bottom

Re: Haytham/Charles or Clipper/Connor, body swap

Second Fill - The Honey Moon - Part 4/?

Re: Templars/Thomas Hickey, power bottom

Re: Templars/Thomas Hickey, power bottom

Fill 3/? - Bridewell Prison: Connor gets stripped

Re: Fill 3/? - Bridewell Prison: Connor gets stripped

FILL 40/41 (part 1 of the actual ending)

Re: Templars/Thomas Hickey, power bottom

Re: FILL 40/41 (part 1 of the actual ending)

Re: Down The Rabbit Hole And Back Again Part 10/?

Re: Second Fill - The Honey Moon - Part 4/?

Formation 1/?

Re: Second Fill - The Honey Moon - Part 4/?

Re: Formation 1/?

Re: Second Fill - The Honey Moon - Part 4/?