A/N: I'm sorry of this is no good. This is the first fic I've written for AC and the first fic I have written in a long long time. Also, if anyone can think of a better title, please tell me. I know this one is crappy ;A; Also, you dont have to have read PoH to read this, it's mostly AC stuff. All you need to know is that this Chinese guy called Count D sells people weird pets and then bad bad things happen. And I live noooo where near England or America so I apologise if I do not get the weather right. ---
Raining cats and dogs? It might as well have been raining cows and elephants. Usually, the Bostonian rain paled in comparison to the endless gloomy storms of jolly ol' England. But, in the last week or so, it had rained every day, almost without cease. Day after day after day of pouring rain. It should have been impossible for the sky to hold so much water. And it had been so sunny that morning too.
Haytham had left the Templar headquarters that morning in his usual dress, various layers of clothing with his thick blue coat, his cape, and his ever iconic tricorn hat, being overly optimistic that the morning sun had meant a day free of rain had finally arrived. But, alas, he had been wrong. Oh so very wrong. Even before noon, those terrible torrents of cows and elephants had begun. Again.
If not for the fact that his thick clothes had been soaked through, every single layer soaked till they stuck to his skin, he would not have been here. If not for the fact that his hat had acted like a three-spouted fountain atop his head, he would not have had to seek shelter. If not for the fact that he had been so utterly foolish to dress like that during the wet season, he would not have entered the strange shop. To add to Haytham's count of 'misjudged assumptions of the day', he had thought that the shop looked fairly normal. In fact, the only thing that had managed to catch his attention before he had entered the shop had been the barely readable sign through the pouring rain. 'Count D's Pet Shop'.
Upon entering the shop, the Templar had to stop for a moment after having turned around from closing the door behind him. Never had he seen such a place. The place was well decorated, albeit somewhat cluttered, to look genuinely oriental with some bamboo furniture, ornate wooden chairs, tables, and matching windows, porcelain vases, some containing plants and some merely for show, and a folding screen carved out of wood that seemed to divide the front of the shop from a more personal resting area at the back. But before he could further appreciate or make sense of the place, he was interrupted.
"Welcome. May I be of assistance? We have all sorts of pets." A lithe man with shoulder length black hair appeared from the back area of the shop, clad in an unusually embroidered silk robe. "We have animals fit for war and protection as well," he then added calmly as he noticed the sword and pistol strapped the the other's waist.
Haytham nodded in greeting and frowned as the remaining water poured out of the tip of his hat. "I apologise for that. But, no. I am simply trying to keep out of the rain." Now that the other, he assumed he was the owner of this shop, had mentioned it, there were many animals indeed. The walls were lined with cages stacked upon cages of small animals, a few larger ones, such as bigger dogs and what seemed to be a large, feral cougar, at the bottom. But with so many animals, it was strange that the place did not smell. Instead, all he could make out was a faint sweet scent.
"Oh, well, that is a shame," the man replied, his voice equally as calm as before. "But since you are already here, why not have a look around? You have to wait for the rain to stop regardless of how you spend your time. And I am sure i have the perfect pet for you." As the man finished, he turned around to walk further into the shop. "After all, it could do you no harm to have a few more recruits for you cause."
Haytham frowned again at the last statement, wondering how much this man knew. Did he truly know about the Templars, or was it just a lucky guess? Regardless, he was curious as to what the man had meant by a 'perfect pet' and followed him after a few moments of deliberation. After all, there was nothing for him to do while those cows and elephants continued to fall from the sky.
The man had led him to a wooden double sliding door with a circular pattern carved out in the middle further into the shop. "We keep most of our pets here," he had mentioned before sliding one of the doors aside and proceeding forward. What Haytham had seen next was weird and physically impossible. Long corridors. Extremely long corridors that never seemed to end. Along the corridors were different doors, single doors, double doors, sliding doors, all designed differently, yet all with the same oriental theme. He assumed pets were behind those doors, but it seemed strange to keep animals in such a place and not in cages like he had seen before. It took him a while, but he eventually noticed that the sweet smell from before had become stronger as he walked further into the depths of the shop, now becoming the only thing he could smell. It smelt like burning incense, but he could not be sure.
Eventually, the man stopped at a dead end with a noticeably larger set of double doors at the end. "He came in just last week, caught from deep in the forests of the Frontier," the man commented as he opened the doors and motioned for Haytham to step in. "This wild animal would make a great fighter. He does not have a family either and I am sure he would appreciate one. I am sure you would too." He then stepped into the room after the Templar and stood behind him. "Meet Ratonhnhaké:ton."
The room was dark and somewhat hard to see in, but there was no mistaking the fact that what Haytham saw sitting on a large, throne-like chair at the far end of the room was a boy. Not an animal, but a teenaged boy dressed in native clothing. Shock had appeared on the Templar's face for a moment, but was gone as quickly as it came.
"You told me this was a pet shop, not a bloody slave traders." Every word that left the man's lips was sharp, but he did not raise his voice nor yell. "Unless you mean to tell me that you view these men as no more than pets."
Despite the Templar's cold glare that was shot at him as he walked forward towards the boy, the shopkeeper's calm half-smile did not falter. "Oh no no no," he simply responded. "I assure you, all we have here are pets. This is a wolf." To prove his point, the man lifted one of the boy's hands, drawing the other's attention to the sharp and sturdy claws that tipped the boy's fingers instead of nails. The man then asked the boy to open his mouth, revealing a set of razor sharp fangs and noticeably larger canines.
Haytham had remained skeptical and unimpressed, assuming that this man had somehow managed to file and condition the boy's teeth and nails into such forms. That was until his attention had been brought to the boy's ears and tail. Tail. The man had reached down, lifting what seemed to be a dark brown lump of fur from behind the boy. It was only when that made the boy turn to glare at him, his pointy ears, which poked out of his black just-short-of-shoulder-length hair, flaring forward, that he realised that that lump of fur belonged to, and was part of, the boy. Just how had he not noticed that the boy had dark brown wolf-like ears atop his head and a matching tail?
"Just- What have you done to this boy?" Haytham breathed, taking a few steps closer to the other two. There was no way this boy was a wolf. He just could not believe it. But, if he was not, what atrocities had this man done to this boy to make him have such features?
"Nothing. As I have said before, Ratonhnhaké:ton is a wolf, not a human child. I have not done anything," the man replied calmly.
Unconvinced, Haytham took a few more steps closer to inspect the boy. Judging by the way the boy's ears moved in response to his movements, they were very real indeed. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that the boy's skin seemed a little lighter than those of the natives he usually saw. In fact, it almost looked as if he had been born of both a native and a white man, which was strange. What was even stranger was that as his mind wandered in that direction, he began to notice the similarity in the boy's features to his own. The way his face was angled, his nose, his mouth... But those eyes, those eyes were unmistakably Ziio's. That realisation made something in his chest clench slightly. If he and Ziio had had a child, maybe he would have looked something like that... But it was impossible. Ziio had left more than ten years ago. If only Ziio had stayed, had supported his cause, had joined the Order, maybe then they would have-
"I think you should take this one. He really seems to like you." The man's words pulled Haytham out of his thoughts, making him look at the boy once more. If anything, it looked more like the boy had something against him. The boy looked constantly on high alert, his ears erect and forward facing, staring at him with cold eyes as if he was glaring.
"Oh yes, I am sure," he had replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He was no fool. This man was just trying to get him to buy this 'pet'.
"But he does," came the man's reply. "If he did not, you would be in pieces by now. And, if you bring him home, it would be your enemies who will be in pieces. Wolves can be extremely loyal creatures of you treat them well."
Haytham frowned slightly, running the thought through his mind. Normally, he would never, not in a thousand years, entertain the thought of purchasing someone, wolf or not. But, for some reason, something compelled him to bring this boy home. He tried to tell himself it was not because he looked like Ziio, or because he missed her, or even because he would have loved to have had a family with her if he had had the time... No. This boy would be an asset to the Order, and nothing else. If what the man had said was true, this boy would be an invaluable tool for getting rid of the Assassins, should they ever come back, and disposing of those who proved to be a nuisance.
"How much for...?" the Templar asked, pausing before the boy's name, knowing that he would not be able to pronounce it.
"Ratonhnhaké:ton," the man quickly supplemented, "but you may call him whatever you like. And, nothing. All you need to do is sign this contract."
Despite the fact that Haytham stared at him like he was a madman, he calmly turned to retrieve a sheet of paper from a small decorative drawer beside him. How could someone run a pet shop and not charge their customers? How did this man afford this place? It must have been a joke. No man would give his wares away for free.
But, true to his word, the man said nothing about a price and simply handed the sheet of paper to Haytham. It was a contract, but with only three simple clauses:
1. Do not feed the pet chocolate 2. Allow the pet hunt for food in the Frontier 3. Never betray the pet
Seeing that they all seemed fairly simple and easy to follow, and seeing that there was nothing the shopkeeper could use against him, Haytham took the quill the man had offered and signed. The contract was returned to the man, and after he had looked it over, was returned to the drawer it came from.
"You must remember never to break any part of the contract," the man then warned, the half-smile disappearing for a moment to reveal a more serious expression. "Now," his smile had returned, "let us bring your wolf outside. I am sure the rain has stopped." Haytham did not believe the rain would ever end, not to mention anytime soon, but said nothing in return. Instead, he directed his attention to his new 'pet'.
"From now on, your name shall be Connor," he began in a stern voice. "You shall address me as Master Kenway, as the rest of the recruits do, and serve the Order. Now come." As he finished, Haytham turned around to follow the other man out, thus beginning the seemingly endless journey back to the front of the shop. Connor's slight frown had deepened a little at the man's words, but got off the throne-like chair nonetheless and followed the two men out wordlessly.
Eventually, they came to a set of sliding doors Haytham recognised as the entrance to the endless corridors and made it back to the shop front. To his surprise, the rain had indeed stopped. Unfortunately, he was still wet. His clothes had dried off a little, but there was no way such a thick coat could dry completely in such a short period of time. Deciding not to ask in case there was a price to pay for his 'pet', but the man had simply forgotten, he made his way to the door without another word.
However, as he opened the front door and was about to leave, he stopped and craned his head to look at the man as he spoke once more, "Thank you for coming. Please remember take care of Connor and keep to the contract."
Haytham simply nodded and stepped out of the shop. But just before the door had shut, he heard one last thing from the man.
"If you treat a wolf well, he will give you his heart. Betray him, and he will take yours." ---
A/N: I hope this is not too bad ;A; And, if anyone is wondering, I am setting this chapter in 1769, the year in which Connor went off to look for Achilles.
FILL: A Wolf's Heart [1/?]
A/N: I'm sorry of this is no good. This is the first fic I've written for AC and the first fic I have written in a long long time. Also, if anyone can think of a better title, please tell me. I know this one is crappy ;A; Also, you dont have to have read PoH to read this, it's mostly AC stuff. All you need to know is that this Chinese guy called Count D sells people weird pets and then bad bad things happen. And I live noooo where near England or America so I apologise if I do not get the weather right.
---
Raining cats and dogs? It might as well have been raining cows and elephants. Usually, the Bostonian rain paled in comparison to the endless gloomy storms of jolly ol' England. But, in the last week or so, it had rained every day, almost without cease. Day after day after day of pouring rain. It should have been impossible for the sky to hold so much water. And it had been so sunny that morning too.
Haytham had left the Templar headquarters that morning in his usual dress, various layers of clothing with his thick blue coat, his cape, and his ever iconic tricorn hat, being overly optimistic that the morning sun had meant a day free of rain had finally arrived. But, alas, he had been wrong. Oh so very wrong. Even before noon, those terrible torrents of cows and elephants had begun. Again.
If not for the fact that his thick clothes had been soaked through, every single layer soaked till they stuck to his skin, he would not have been here. If not for the fact that his hat had acted like a three-spouted fountain atop his head, he would not have had to seek shelter. If not for the fact that he had been so utterly foolish to dress like that during the wet season, he would not have entered the strange shop. To add to Haytham's count of 'misjudged assumptions of the day', he had thought that the shop looked fairly normal. In fact, the only thing that had managed to catch his attention before he had entered the shop had been the barely readable sign through the pouring rain. 'Count D's Pet Shop'.
Upon entering the shop, the Templar had to stop for a moment after having turned around from closing the door behind him. Never had he seen such a place. The place was well decorated, albeit somewhat cluttered, to look genuinely oriental with some bamboo furniture, ornate wooden chairs, tables, and matching windows, porcelain vases, some containing plants and some merely for show, and a folding screen carved out of wood that seemed to divide the front of the shop from a more personal resting area at the back. But before he could further appreciate or make sense of the place, he was interrupted.
"Welcome. May I be of assistance? We have all sorts of pets." A lithe man with shoulder length black hair appeared from the back area of the shop, clad in an unusually embroidered silk robe. "We have animals fit for war and protection as well," he then added calmly as he noticed the sword and pistol strapped the the other's waist.
Haytham nodded in greeting and frowned as the remaining water poured out of the tip of his hat. "I apologise for that. But, no. I am simply trying to keep out of the rain." Now that the other, he assumed he was the owner of this shop, had mentioned it, there were many animals indeed. The walls were lined with cages stacked upon cages of small animals, a few larger ones, such as bigger dogs and what seemed to be a large, feral cougar, at the bottom. But with so many animals, it was strange that the place did not smell. Instead, all he could make out was a faint sweet scent.
"Oh, well, that is a shame," the man replied, his voice equally as calm as before. "But since you are already here, why not have a look around? You have to wait for the rain to stop regardless of how you spend your time. And I am sure i have the perfect pet for you." As the man finished, he turned around to walk further into the shop. "After all, it could do you no harm to have a few more recruits for you cause."
Haytham frowned again at the last statement, wondering how much this man knew. Did he truly know about the Templars, or was it just a lucky guess? Regardless, he was curious as to what the man had meant by a 'perfect pet' and followed him after a few moments of deliberation. After all, there was nothing for him to do while those cows and elephants continued to fall from the sky.
The man had led him to a wooden double sliding door with a circular pattern carved out in the middle further into the shop. "We keep most of our pets here," he had mentioned before sliding one of the doors aside and proceeding forward. What Haytham had seen next was weird and physically impossible. Long corridors. Extremely long corridors that never seemed to end. Along the corridors were different doors, single doors, double doors, sliding doors, all designed differently, yet all with the same oriental theme. He assumed pets were behind those doors, but it seemed strange to keep animals in such a place and not in cages like he had seen before. It took him a while, but he eventually noticed that the sweet smell from before had become stronger as he walked further into the depths of the shop, now becoming the only thing he could smell. It smelt like burning incense, but he could not be sure.
Eventually, the man stopped at a dead end with a noticeably larger set of double doors at the end. "He came in just last week, caught from deep in the forests of the Frontier," the man commented as he opened the doors and motioned for Haytham to step in. "This wild animal would make a great fighter. He does not have a family either and I am sure he would appreciate one. I am sure you would too." He then stepped into the room after the Templar and stood behind him. "Meet Ratonhnhaké:ton."
The room was dark and somewhat hard to see in, but there was no mistaking the fact that what Haytham saw sitting on a large, throne-like chair at the far end of the room was a boy. Not an animal, but a teenaged boy dressed in native clothing. Shock had appeared on the Templar's face for a moment, but was gone as quickly as it came.
"You told me this was a pet shop, not a bloody slave traders." Every word that left the man's lips was sharp, but he did not raise his voice nor yell. "Unless you mean to tell me that you view these men as no more than pets."
Despite the Templar's cold glare that was shot at him as he walked forward towards the boy, the shopkeeper's calm half-smile did not falter. "Oh no no no," he simply responded. "I assure you, all we have here are pets. This is a wolf." To prove his point, the man lifted one of the boy's hands, drawing the other's attention to the sharp and sturdy claws that tipped the boy's fingers instead of nails. The man then asked the boy to open his mouth, revealing a set of razor sharp fangs and noticeably larger canines.
Haytham had remained skeptical and unimpressed, assuming that this man had somehow managed to file and condition the boy's teeth and nails into such forms. That was until his attention had been brought to the boy's ears and tail. Tail. The man had reached down, lifting what seemed to be a dark brown lump of fur from behind the boy. It was only when that made the boy turn to glare at him, his pointy ears, which poked out of his black just-short-of-shoulder-length hair, flaring forward, that he realised that that lump of fur belonged to, and was part of, the boy. Just how had he not noticed that the boy had dark brown wolf-like ears atop his head and a matching tail?
"Just- What have you done to this boy?" Haytham breathed, taking a few steps closer to the other two. There was no way this boy was a wolf. He just could not believe it. But, if he was not, what atrocities had this man done to this boy to make him have such features?
"Nothing. As I have said before, Ratonhnhaké:ton is a wolf, not a human child. I have not done anything," the man replied calmly.
Unconvinced, Haytham took a few more steps closer to inspect the boy. Judging by the way the boy's ears moved in response to his movements, they were very real indeed. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that the boy's skin seemed a little lighter than those of the natives he usually saw. In fact, it almost looked as if he had been born of both a native and a white man, which was strange. What was even stranger was that as his mind wandered in that direction, he began to notice the similarity in the boy's features to his own. The way his face was angled, his nose, his mouth... But those eyes, those eyes were unmistakably Ziio's. That realisation made something in his chest clench slightly. If he and Ziio had had a child, maybe he would have looked something like that... But it was impossible. Ziio had left more than ten years ago. If only Ziio had stayed, had supported his cause, had joined the Order, maybe then they would have-
"I think you should take this one. He really seems to like you." The man's words pulled Haytham out of his thoughts, making him look at the boy once more. If anything, it looked more like the boy had something against him. The boy looked constantly on high alert, his ears erect and forward facing, staring at him with cold eyes as if he was glaring.
"Oh yes, I am sure," he had replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He was no fool. This man was just trying to get him to buy this 'pet'.
"But he does," came the man's reply. "If he did not, you would be in pieces by now. And, if you bring him home, it would be your enemies who will be in pieces. Wolves can be extremely loyal creatures of you treat them well."
Haytham frowned slightly, running the thought through his mind. Normally, he would never, not in a thousand years, entertain the thought of purchasing someone, wolf or not. But, for some reason, something compelled him to bring this boy home. He tried to tell himself it was not because he looked like Ziio, or because he missed her, or even because he would have loved to have had a family with her if he had had the time... No. This boy would be an asset to the Order, and nothing else. If what the man had said was true, this boy would be an invaluable tool for getting rid of the Assassins, should they ever come back, and disposing of those who proved to be a nuisance.
"How much for...?" the Templar asked, pausing before the boy's name, knowing that he would not be able to pronounce it.
"Ratonhnhaké:ton," the man quickly supplemented, "but you may call him whatever you like. And, nothing. All you need to do is sign this contract."
Despite the fact that Haytham stared at him like he was a madman, he calmly turned to retrieve a sheet of paper from a small decorative drawer beside him. How could someone run a pet shop and not charge their customers? How did this man afford this place? It must have been a joke. No man would give his wares away for free.
But, true to his word, the man said nothing about a price and simply handed the sheet of paper to Haytham. It was a contract, but with only three simple clauses:
1. Do not feed the pet chocolate
2. Allow the pet hunt for food in the Frontier
3. Never betray the pet
Seeing that they all seemed fairly simple and easy to follow, and seeing that there was nothing the shopkeeper could use against him, Haytham took the quill the man had offered and signed. The contract was returned to the man, and after he had looked it over, was returned to the drawer it came from.
"You must remember never to break any part of the contract," the man then warned, the half-smile disappearing for a moment to reveal a more serious expression. "Now," his smile had returned, "let us bring your wolf outside. I am sure the rain has stopped." Haytham did not believe the rain would ever end, not to mention anytime soon, but said nothing in return. Instead, he directed his attention to his new 'pet'.
"From now on, your name shall be Connor," he began in a stern voice. "You shall address me as Master Kenway, as the rest of the recruits do, and serve the Order. Now come." As he finished, Haytham turned around to follow the other man out, thus beginning the seemingly endless journey back to the front of the shop. Connor's slight frown had deepened a little at the man's words, but got off the throne-like chair nonetheless and followed the two men out wordlessly.
Eventually, they came to a set of sliding doors Haytham recognised as the entrance to the endless corridors and made it back to the shop front. To his surprise, the rain had indeed stopped. Unfortunately, he was still wet. His clothes had dried off a little, but there was no way such a thick coat could dry completely in such a short period of time. Deciding not to ask in case there was a price to pay for his 'pet', but the man had simply forgotten, he made his way to the door without another word.
However, as he opened the front door and was about to leave, he stopped and craned his head to look at the man as he spoke once more, "Thank you for coming. Please remember take care of Connor and keep to the contract."
Haytham simply nodded and stepped out of the shop. But just before the door had shut, he heard one last thing from the man.
"If you treat a wolf well, he will give you his heart. Betray him, and he will take yours."
---
A/N: I hope this is not too bad ;A; And, if anyone is wondering, I am setting this chapter in 1769, the year in which Connor went off to look for Achilles.