So this is officially the first part of the end anons. I’m very glad that I had such wonderful comments from all of you and had fun filling this prompt. (And yes OP it seems that Haytham cannot ever thank Connor for saving his ass lol) There will be at least two more parts after this to wrap up anything and of course a bad ending.. Enjoy the update!
***
Connor nearly collapsed when Washington punched him in the same place he had ages ago. He stumbled lightly as Haytham charged past him to meet the tyrant in a clash of steel. His stomach threatened to empty any of its remaining contents as he panted heavily to catch his breath. He had no idea exactly how long this little sword fight was taking, but it felt like hours on his already weak body. His movements were becoming agonizingly slow, barely being able to lift his dagger in response to the sudden assault from Washington’s blade. Haytham almost let him get cut to ribbons before he leapt in front to defend him from the quick movements of the other man.
“Come on, Connor.” Haytham grunted as he pushed back the older man who growled lowly in anger. Connor barely had the energy to scowl at him let alone snap back at the man that he was trying his hardest. Haytham hadn’t been even come close to the deprivation his body suffered under Washington’s imprisonment. His father still possessed the same muscular advantage and long lasting endurance, yet he was letting Connor do most of the attacking. What was he thinking? Did he want them to lose? Was he waiting until Connor fell unconscious or managed to stumble off the cliff in a tired induced haze? Maybe waiting until Washington managed to slip the Apple out of his pouch and try to grab it in the split second before he used it? Whatever his father was planning to even attempt was incredibly risky and potentially dangerous. He wasn’t about to put the homestead in danger for his father’s sure to fail plan. Washington flashed him a malicious grin as he was slapped back once more after trying desperately to have his blade meet the thick, calloused skin of the former Commander’s arm.
“Easy there Connor. I don’t wish to hurt you any more than I have.” The tyrant purred with a lust filled glint making him shudder in disgust and the nausea that had disappeared return. There was now way he would let this man take him back to the imprisonment that he had suffered silently under for years. He would die before he let this man touch him again, this was the last night he’d ever have to worry about being abused in such a torturous way for the rest of his life.
Haytham seemed to act upon that too, lashing out for a moment with a quick flurry of his feet, slicing open the cloth on the former Commander’s chest before stepping back with a glare. He side-stepped the fury fueled swing of the sword from Washington who was no doubt infuriated by his now ruined King’s uniform. A small smirk spread across Haytham’s lips as he grabbed Washington’s arm and pulled him forward, stabbing the man in the shoulder. The man howled and leapt back, gripping his shoulder with his free hand as he focused his icy, blue gaze onto Haytham.
It felt nice for once to be out of the crazed man’s glare, if even for a moment.
Connor leapt forward with newly returned vigor--nothing compared to when he had began this fight, but enough to land another possible strike onto Washington--blindly stabbing until he felt his knife clang with the man’s sword. He heard what sounded like a chuckle come from the other man and he frowned lightly, mentally throwing every insult he knew at him. He wanted to land another hit on the man if anything before he possibly died from exhaustion or even Washington cutting him down accidentally. This would be his last stand, it was either him or Washington, he would kill him or die trying.
And that was final.
Haytham looked annoyed when he came to his defensive again making him wonder for a moment if Haytham had the same plan in mind and was irritated at the idea of Connor killing the tyrant instead. Letting out a sigh in response to the absurdity of the thought he shot forward, only to once again be caught in a sudden block. The sounds of cannons continued to roar in the distance, cracking of wood and screaming men made him flinch lightly. He hoped the Aquila and her crew were all right under the attack of Washington’s forces. Although the men had, had their fair of extremely skewered naval battles with odds highly in favor of the enemy they came out as the victors, hoping those battles served as practice for this one. He believed in Faulkner’s capabilities as captain for this fight, the man had always been from what he could tell an amazing first mate, but there was literally no telling what could happen in a situation such as this. At least the Apple was not playing apart in this.
Connor held back the sharp yelp of pain that had threatened to spill from his lips when a harsh blow was delivered to his gut with such pain-filled intensity his vision flashed white for a moment. His body screamed at him as he once again picked himself up, lifting the small knife that weighed akin to that of the cannon balls being fired in the bay. They needed to end this fight now, somehow, he didn’t care, he was going to run out of energy in a moment and when that happened would Haytham be able to hold his own? His father hadn’t seemed to be losing energy as quickly as he, despite his advantage in endurance, but his swordsmanship since he entered the fight had been extremely sloppy. He wonders if it is due to the fact one of his hands is permanently mangled from being shot earlier as well as the pain in his shoulder from the same kind of wound. Haytham however had been able to fight amazingly well in the past despite possessing more grievous wounds than he had now. Perhaps this was another ploy to lure Washington into a false sense of security? Connor could only wonder what his father’s intentions may prove in the future because as of that moment there was no plan and had never been one. He wishes that Haytham, rather than trying to sleep, had tried to come up with a plan with him should a situation like this arisen. It was too late for that kind of thinking now however, what’s done is done. All they had to do now was work together in keeping Washington from winning this fight, perhaps if they killed him here the battle in the bay would be theirs as well, considering Washington’s men were just a bunch of puppets on strings for their wicked master. To get rid of Washington now meant a secure victory for them and the promise of the homesteaders safety from a terrible death that the tyrant had no doubt planned for all of them by keeping Connor here in secrecy. He could not let his innocent friends’ blood be shed for a fight that they played no part in, over an artifact they knew nothing of, over war that they owned no knowledge of.
Connor grunted in pain as he fell to the ground once more, wanting to do nothing but curl up into a ball and plead for the pain to go away and the fight to be over. The labored breathing of his father and Washington was silenced over the loud cannons in the distance, making him wonder if the two men were even fighting in the first place. How did they have the strength to even continue battling each other after all this time? The strength had completely left him, leaving him a panting sack of skin upon the ground, barely having the energy to get his stolen breath back.
“Get up Connor.” His father demanded with a light voice, lacking its usual snapping tone. Well at least he wasn’t being yelled at for having his strength gone. He looked away from them and back towards the hill that lead down to the bay. He had to warn Achilles to get out of there, help the homestead residents flee, he couldn’t let them go down with him now that his endurance was stolen from him. He reached forward, digging his fingers into the ground attempting to pull himself along the dirt and half-melting snow. A dagger suddenly found its way into his hand, lacking the power to even cry out in pain all he could do was stare at it in shock.
“Don’t even think about it.” Washington snarled before he was cut off by Haytham pushing him back. Slowly reaching forward he gripped the leather hilt of the small but possibly deadly weapon, easing it up inch by inch. His arm trembled violently as it pulled the knife from his skin, the hand feeling as if it had caught fire from the slicing of skin and muscle the blade left in its wake. The dagger felt like lead in his hand as he finally pulled in free and dropped it beside him, impaling itself into the now blood soaked ground by his hand. He panted heavily, carefully pulling his hand back to himself and cradling it, locking his eyes ahead at the hill. He knew that if he fainted a fate uglier than death awaited him but he simply lacked the power to push forward, his will was intact but there was only so much his mind could do when his body was left in shambles. He called out to Achilles in his mind, begging him to go somewhere safe, then to Kanen'tó:kon if he was even still alive to take their people away, go as far as they could away from here and never return, to finally be safe from Washington’s sadistic anger. He felt his eye lids grow heavy and fought to keep them open, not yet willing to grow unaware to the world and awake back in chains as he did those many years ago.
The figures that appeared almost came from nowhere--he supposes he must have blinked very slowly to miss their sudden appearance as they crept up upon them. Well more like limped he realized as they grew closer, one of the figures was drenched with red and practically being dragged by the other for support. Connor immediately recognized the figure in the white robes as they drew closer, panting for breath as he trudged through the snow. Kanen'tó:kon looked to be relived, if for only a moment, when he saw Connor laying their on the ground--alive--before he turned his attention to the two fighting men. They were too focused in their fight to notice the men, who were still a few meters away as they approached, silently moving to join Connor. That was when he discovered the identity of bloodied man, a sickly looking Charles Lee. If this had been any other time Connor would have loathed the fact that it was that man coming to his rescue, however as he looked over the man his anger fizzled out quicker than it ignited. The man was as white as the snow around him, black mustache standing out as black as night against his skin, his eyes were droopy and clouding, wincing ever so slightly as Kanen'tó:kon adjusted himself with each move up the hill. They paused for a moment only for his friend to lay Lee’s body against a nearby rock, barely able to catch a few whispered voices before the younger man stood up and started creeping over to him, much faster now without the dead weight of a man upon his shoulder. He put a finger to his lips when Connor began to open his mouth, to try and question just what exactly he was doing before the man drew his tomahawk and dove at Washington who’s back was turned, blade raised.
The instant before the blade hit his throat the tyrant had grabbed Haytham and snapped around towards Kanen'tó:kon, throwing his father into him causing them both to stumble back. Connor felt his heart seize up as Washington reached for the pouch holding the artifact at his side, scrambling to get up despite being assaulted by a wave of vertigo and lead-filled limbs he shakily got to his feet and charged the man. It wasn’t like he didn’t expect to be punched out of the way again, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less when the man slammed him against a nearby tree. The next thing he knew was that the sword Washington had been using was stabbed into the wood a hair away from his neck, sticking through his bunched up hood behind him.
“Don’t move.” Washington said lowly with a furious glare. “You’ve been disobeying enough today Connor.” With that he turned away from him and back to the tangled mess of limbs upon the ground of Haytham and Kanen'tó:kon. The snow around them was splattered with blood, the tomahawk that had been raised to strike down Washington now resided in his father’s arm. Haytham grunted and pulled out the wound with a hiss as Kanen'tó:kon struggled to get out from under him to defend them from Washington. His heart stuttered at seeing the tomahawk stuck in Haytham’s arm, but the wound looked shallow enough to prevent him from completely losing his arm, Kanen'tó:kon must have tried to pull the weapon away a second too late. Washington was on them before they could get back up, kicking Haytham over and pinning Kanen'tó:kon down with his boot to his throat.
“I have had enough of all of your antics you worthless savage.” Washington snarled before glancing over at Haytham who gripped his shoulder arm tightly. “You’re the first to go, Haytham.”
Connor struggled as the man gripped Haytham’s collar and pulled him up before reaching for the Apple upon his side. The artifact flashed gold, before Washington put Haytham down who now stood on his own accord before he was joined by Kanen'tó:kon. Both of their faces contorted in fury, struggling against the invisible ropes that Washington now had in his grip. He smiled and started walking, the other two followed him with a matched pace as they approached the cliff. Connor reached over to the blade and gripped its cool metal as he tugged, slicing open his already wounded hand in the process. He had to stop him, he couldn’t let Washington take any more lives! But he was stuck, trapped, the sword was immovable for his weak body. He kicked his feet as he struggled, trying to instead tear the cloth to free himself when he spotted his blade at his feet. It was his only chance. Carefully angling his feet forward he pushed the blade over with his other foot as he attempted to lift up to his waiting hands. Come one, come on! He glanced up in horror as the tyrant prepared to push them over.
He hadn’t expected Charles to leap forward.
The man must have crawled over during the chaos, completely unknown to all of them let alone Washington as he shoved Kanen'tó:kon’s tomahawk into Washington’s back making the man howl. He whipped around eyes ablaze as he raised the Apple to control Charles too, until the man gave him a powerful shove that sent him back over the cliff face. Washington let go of the Apple in shock as he fell back, reaching forward to grab onto something to catch him, that nearest thing being Lee. Charles instead offered no sturdiness and gave a feral smirk to the panicked face of Washington before the two fell backwards, Haytham shooting forward and just missing the tail of Charles’ coat, now free from Washington’s control. Kanen'tó:kon shouted what was probably the falling man’s name, but no sound reached Connor’s ears as his world quickly faded to back, leaving him with the lasting image of his father and friend staring down at the sea in shock.
It seemed even if it meant death Charles Lee still managed to take away everything from him.
Welcome to the New Age - Part 25a/25c
***
Connor nearly collapsed when Washington punched him in the same place he had ages ago. He stumbled lightly as Haytham charged past him to meet the tyrant in a clash of steel. His stomach threatened to empty any of its remaining contents as he panted heavily to catch his breath. He had no idea exactly how long this little sword fight was taking, but it felt like hours on his already weak body. His movements were becoming agonizingly slow, barely being able to lift his dagger in response to the sudden assault from Washington’s blade. Haytham almost let him get cut to ribbons before he leapt in front to defend him from the quick movements of the other man.
“Come on, Connor.” Haytham grunted as he pushed back the older man who growled lowly in anger. Connor barely had the energy to scowl at him let alone snap back at the man that he was trying his hardest. Haytham hadn’t been even come close to the deprivation his body suffered under Washington’s imprisonment. His father still possessed the same muscular advantage and long lasting endurance, yet he was letting Connor do most of the attacking. What was he thinking? Did he want them to lose? Was he waiting until Connor fell unconscious or managed to stumble off the cliff in a tired induced haze? Maybe waiting until Washington managed to slip the Apple out of his pouch and try to grab it in the split second before he used it? Whatever his father was planning to even attempt was incredibly risky and potentially dangerous. He wasn’t about to put the homestead in danger for his father’s sure to fail plan. Washington flashed him a malicious grin as he was slapped back once more after trying desperately to have his blade meet the thick, calloused skin of the former Commander’s arm.
“Easy there Connor. I don’t wish to hurt you any more than I have.” The tyrant purred with a lust filled glint making him shudder in disgust and the nausea that had disappeared return. There was now way he would let this man take him back to the imprisonment that he had suffered silently under for years. He would die before he let this man touch him again, this was the last night he’d ever have to worry about being abused in such a torturous way for the rest of his life.
Haytham seemed to act upon that too, lashing out for a moment with a quick flurry of his feet, slicing open the cloth on the former Commander’s chest before stepping back with a glare. He side-stepped the fury fueled swing of the sword from Washington who was no doubt infuriated by his now ruined King’s uniform. A small smirk spread across Haytham’s lips as he grabbed Washington’s arm and pulled him forward, stabbing the man in the shoulder. The man howled and leapt back, gripping his shoulder with his free hand as he focused his icy, blue gaze onto Haytham.
It felt nice for once to be out of the crazed man’s glare, if even for a moment.
Connor leapt forward with newly returned vigor--nothing compared to when he had began this fight, but enough to land another possible strike onto Washington--blindly stabbing until he felt his knife clang with the man’s sword. He heard what sounded like a chuckle come from the other man and he frowned lightly, mentally throwing every insult he knew at him. He wanted to land another hit on the man if anything before he possibly died from exhaustion or even Washington cutting him down accidentally. This would be his last stand, it was either him or Washington, he would kill him or die trying.
And that was final.
Haytham looked annoyed when he came to his defensive again making him wonder for a moment if Haytham had the same plan in mind and was irritated at the idea of Connor killing the tyrant instead. Letting out a sigh in response to the absurdity of the thought he shot forward, only to once again be caught in a sudden block. The sounds of cannons continued to roar in the distance, cracking of wood and screaming men made him flinch lightly. He hoped the Aquila and her crew were all right under the attack of Washington’s forces. Although the men had, had their fair of extremely skewered naval battles with odds highly in favor of the enemy they came out as the victors, hoping those battles served as practice for this one. He believed in Faulkner’s capabilities as captain for this fight, the man had always been from what he could tell an amazing first mate, but there was literally no telling what could happen in a situation such as this. At least the Apple was not playing apart in this.
Connor held back the sharp yelp of pain that had threatened to spill from his lips when a harsh blow was delivered to his gut with such pain-filled intensity his vision flashed white for a moment. His body screamed at him as he once again picked himself up, lifting the small knife that weighed akin to that of the cannon balls being fired in the bay. They needed to end this fight now, somehow, he didn’t care, he was going to run out of energy in a moment and when that happened would Haytham be able to hold his own? His father hadn’t seemed to be losing energy as quickly as he, despite his advantage in endurance, but his swordsmanship since he entered the fight had been extremely sloppy. He wonders if it is due to the fact one of his hands is permanently mangled from being shot earlier as well as the pain in his shoulder from the same kind of wound. Haytham however had been able to fight amazingly well in the past despite possessing more grievous wounds than he had now. Perhaps this was another ploy to lure Washington into a false sense of security? Connor could only wonder what his father’s intentions may prove in the future because as of that moment there was no plan and had never been one. He wishes that Haytham, rather than trying to sleep, had tried to come up with a plan with him should a situation like this arisen. It was too late for that kind of thinking now however, what’s done is done. All they had to do now was work together in keeping Washington from winning this fight, perhaps if they killed him here the battle in the bay would be theirs as well, considering Washington’s men were just a bunch of puppets on strings for their wicked master. To get rid of Washington now meant a secure victory for them and the promise of the homesteaders safety from a terrible death that the tyrant had no doubt planned for all of them by keeping Connor here in secrecy. He could not let his innocent friends’ blood be shed for a fight that they played no part in, over an artifact they knew nothing of, over war that they owned no knowledge of.
Connor grunted in pain as he fell to the ground once more, wanting to do nothing but curl up into a ball and plead for the pain to go away and the fight to be over. The labored breathing of his father and Washington was silenced over the loud cannons in the distance, making him wonder if the two men were even fighting in the first place. How did they have the strength to even continue battling each other after all this time? The strength had completely left him, leaving him a panting sack of skin upon the ground, barely having the energy to get his stolen breath back.
“Get up Connor.” His father demanded with a light voice, lacking its usual snapping tone. Well at least he wasn’t being yelled at for having his strength gone. He looked away from them and back towards the hill that lead down to the bay. He had to warn Achilles to get out of there, help the homestead residents flee, he couldn’t let them go down with him now that his endurance was stolen from him. He reached forward, digging his fingers into the ground attempting to pull himself along the dirt and half-melting snow. A dagger suddenly found its way into his hand, lacking the power to even cry out in pain all he could do was stare at it in shock.
“Don’t even think about it.” Washington snarled before he was cut off by Haytham pushing him back. Slowly reaching forward he gripped the leather hilt of the small but possibly deadly weapon, easing it up inch by inch. His arm trembled violently as it pulled the knife from his skin, the hand feeling as if it had caught fire from the slicing of skin and muscle the blade left in its wake. The dagger felt like lead in his hand as he finally pulled in free and dropped it beside him, impaling itself into the now blood soaked ground by his hand. He panted heavily, carefully pulling his hand back to himself and cradling it, locking his eyes ahead at the hill. He knew that if he fainted a fate uglier than death awaited him but he simply lacked the power to push forward, his will was intact but there was only so much his mind could do when his body was left in shambles. He called out to Achilles in his mind, begging him to go somewhere safe, then to Kanen'tó:kon if he was even still alive to take their people away, go as far as they could away from here and never return, to finally be safe from Washington’s sadistic anger. He felt his eye lids grow heavy and fought to keep them open, not yet willing to grow unaware to the world and awake back in chains as he did those many years ago.
The figures that appeared almost came from nowhere--he supposes he must have blinked very slowly to miss their sudden appearance as they crept up upon them. Well more like limped he realized as they grew closer, one of the figures was drenched with red and practically being dragged by the other for support. Connor immediately recognized the figure in the white robes as they drew closer, panting for breath as he trudged through the snow. Kanen'tó:kon looked to be relived, if for only a moment, when he saw Connor laying their on the ground--alive--before he turned his attention to the two fighting men. They were too focused in their fight to notice the men, who were still a few meters away as they approached, silently moving to join Connor. That was when he discovered the identity of bloodied man, a sickly looking Charles Lee. If this had been any other time Connor would have loathed the fact that it was that man coming to his rescue, however as he looked over the man his anger fizzled out quicker than it ignited. The man was as white as the snow around him, black mustache standing out as black as night against his skin, his eyes were droopy and clouding, wincing ever so slightly as Kanen'tó:kon adjusted himself with each move up the hill. They paused for a moment only for his friend to lay Lee’s body against a nearby rock, barely able to catch a few whispered voices before the younger man stood up and started creeping over to him, much faster now without the dead weight of a man upon his shoulder. He put a finger to his lips when Connor began to open his mouth, to try and question just what exactly he was doing before the man drew his tomahawk and dove at Washington who’s back was turned, blade raised.
The instant before the blade hit his throat the tyrant had grabbed Haytham and snapped around towards Kanen'tó:kon, throwing his father into him causing them both to stumble back. Connor felt his heart seize up as Washington reached for the pouch holding the artifact at his side, scrambling to get up despite being assaulted by a wave of vertigo and lead-filled limbs he shakily got to his feet and charged the man. It wasn’t like he didn’t expect to be punched out of the way again, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less when the man slammed him against a nearby tree. The next thing he knew was that the sword Washington had been using was stabbed into the wood a hair away from his neck, sticking through his bunched up hood behind him.
“Don’t move.” Washington said lowly with a furious glare. “You’ve been disobeying enough today Connor.” With that he turned away from him and back to the tangled mess of limbs upon the ground of Haytham and Kanen'tó:kon. The snow around them was splattered with blood, the tomahawk that had been raised to strike down Washington now resided in his father’s arm. Haytham grunted and pulled out the wound with a hiss as Kanen'tó:kon struggled to get out from under him to defend them from Washington. His heart stuttered at seeing the tomahawk stuck in Haytham’s arm, but the wound looked shallow enough to prevent him from completely losing his arm, Kanen'tó:kon must have tried to pull the weapon away a second too late.
Washington was on them before they could get back up, kicking Haytham over and pinning Kanen'tó:kon down with his boot to his throat.
“I have had enough of all of your antics you worthless savage.” Washington snarled before glancing over at Haytham who gripped his shoulder arm tightly. “You’re the first to go, Haytham.”
Connor struggled as the man gripped Haytham’s collar and pulled him up before reaching for the Apple upon his side. The artifact flashed gold, before Washington put Haytham down who now stood on his own accord before he was joined by Kanen'tó:kon. Both of their faces contorted in fury, struggling against the invisible ropes that Washington now had in his grip. He smiled and started walking, the other two followed him with a matched pace as they approached the cliff. Connor reached over to the blade and gripped its cool metal as he tugged, slicing open his already wounded hand in the process. He had to stop him, he couldn’t let Washington take any more lives! But he was stuck, trapped, the sword was immovable for his weak body. He kicked his feet as he struggled, trying to instead tear the cloth to free himself when he spotted his blade at his feet. It was his only chance. Carefully angling his feet forward he pushed the blade over with his other foot as he attempted to lift up to his waiting hands. Come one, come on! He glanced up in horror as the tyrant prepared to push them over.
He hadn’t expected Charles to leap forward.
The man must have crawled over during the chaos, completely unknown to all of them let alone Washington as he shoved Kanen'tó:kon’s tomahawk into Washington’s back making the man howl. He whipped around eyes ablaze as he raised the Apple to control Charles too, until the man gave him a powerful shove that sent him back over the cliff face. Washington let go of the Apple in shock as he fell back, reaching forward to grab onto something to catch him, that nearest thing being Lee. Charles instead offered no sturdiness and gave a feral smirk to the panicked face of Washington before the two fell backwards, Haytham shooting forward and just missing the tail of Charles’ coat, now free from Washington’s control. Kanen'tó:kon shouted what was probably the falling man’s name, but no sound reached Connor’s ears as his world quickly faded to back, leaving him with the lasting image of his father and friend staring down at the sea in shock.
It seemed even if it meant death Charles Lee still managed to take away everything from him.