asscreedkinkmeme (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
Entry tags:
Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5
Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
Fill Only
Fill Only
Join or Die
✩ Comment anonymously with a character/pairing and a kink/prompt.
✩ Comment is filled by another anonymous with fanfiction/art/or any other appropriate medium.
✩ One request per post, but fill the request as much as you want.
✩ The fill/request doesn't necessarily need to be smut.
✩ Don't flame, if you have nothing good to say, don't say anything.
✩ Have a question? Feel free to PM me.
✩ Last, but not least: HAVE FUN!
List of Kinks
Kink Meme Masterlist
New Kink Meme Masterlist
(Livejorunal) Archive
(Delicious.com) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
#2 (Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Fills Only
Discussion
Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 15 / ? ]
(Anonymous) 2013-03-13 01:34 am (UTC)(link)Oh yeah, there are a few nods to AC: Forsaken here, but it's nothing huge if you've never read the novel before. Anyway, thank you all, as always, for reading! ♥
***
Day One Hundred and Seventy-One
Haytham had long considered writing to be his favorite way of unwinding.
Since boyhood, he’d confided in the pages of his journals, leaving his most private thoughts and darkest secrets between their leather bindings. As he grew older, he did wonder about the safety and security of doing so, considering that he’d never bothered to really hide the things, but by the time his journals contained more than the ramblings of a child, the habit was too ingrained into his being to stop--and the number of people he could trust, truly trust, had dwindled. There simply was no one that he could speak to anymore.
Even so, though, the words would not come easily today.
Immediately upon returning to the Kenway residence the night before, Haytham had one of his servants book passage on the next ship to leave for New York City at Connor’s insistence, but he could not fault his son’s need to depart as soon as possible--really, he’d been expecting it. Rogers had again faded into fevered delirium by the time they had come home, so there was no way to know when the execution date was.
It was raining when they left the docks, and it was still raining now, several hours into their journey. Despite the weather, though, Connor had taken his leave to wander the deck; Haytham could only assume that he’d left to gather his thoughts and try to formulate a plan--something he should be doing as well. With the city under Charles’ control, what could the two of them accomplish alone? Oh, he did not doubt their skills, but even so, ability could only counteract the weight of numbers to a certain degree when the odds were stacked so heavily against them.
He could not come up with anything though; his mind was too clouded with other thoughts. Despite that, Haytham stared at the journal opened before him, unsure of how to progress and unable to put anything to paper--unable to clear his mind. He’d written the date and his son’s name at the top of the page before stopping; he knew of the root of his problem at least. Haytham had already written extensively about his son in previous entries, but he had not touched upon the subject of father and son as a unit--or rather, together in this... this... partnership that they had.
Was it some sort of subconscious disgust? Doubtful. Considering all that he had done to the boy thus far, Haytham was of the mind that if he was going to lose sleep over it, then it would have happened long ago. Then maybe it was a fear that others would find his writings and assume things? Again, he doubted that that was the problem: Haytham was the sort of individual who took into account the opinions of others, but he would never be ruled by them.
No, he suspected that his hesitancy to write about them being them stemmed from a feeling he’d once felt in the presence of Ziio--a most unusual sensation of confusion and indecision. He’d recognized the possibility back then of having something more, something incredibly intimate, but Haytham had opted not to act on it until it was too late, until she’d slipped right out of his grasp.
That same hesitancy lingered with him to this day. Time had taught him to be all too cautious about bringing people into his inner circle and past his emotional walls; it was almost like he’d been cursed. On one too many occasions had those he cared for, cherished, loved, left his side: his father, his mother, Reginald, Ziio, Holden, Charles...
Haytham was less than eager to add one more to the list.
Connor had changed him for the better when it came to thinking about the relationship between Assassins and Templars--the things that they shared, the ways in which they differed, the possibilities that could open before him if their forces combined. For this, he was thankful, and for this, he approved of keeping the boy beside him.
When it came to a personal level, though, Haytham was again unsure of where he stood, if his gains outweighed his losses. With each supposed victory, he wondered what he had given to attain it--wondered if he had, in fact, lost to the boy instead. He had never intended to become so attached to his son; the idea had been for the clinging need to be one-sided, so as best to make use of Connor’s skills and abilities--not for the feeling to be mutual, or worse yet, to be one-sided on his part.
Haytham was supposed to be above the mess of emotions that ran between them. So where had his plans gone so wrong? When had he fallen for his own trap? He was falling madly, deeply in--
The sound of approaching footsteps had Haytham jerking his head up and instinctively shutting his journal, and a moment later, Connor stepped into their shared cabin without so much as a word of warning or greeting. The boy’s gaze swept over the notebook in front of his father and the quill in his hands before sweeping away; a faint rustle of fabric told Haytham that he was removing his soaked cloak and coat, and the slap of wet clothing against wood signaled that he’d tossed it away somewhere.
“You shouldn’t have gone out in such weather,” he said quietly, carefully stowing away his writing materials. “Are you trying to catch a cold? I hope you realize that I won’t be rescuing your men on my own.” Connor grunted behind him in answer, and Haytham sighed.
So, the awkwardness between them lingered.
He still felt rather ashamed about his own behavior, the desperation that he’d allowed to bubble to the surface, and to add to his displeasure, Haytham felt some residual anger toward Connor for having bolted like that, especially after all of the liberties that he’d granted the boy. It left a rather bitter taste in his mouth, and if he allowed himself to dwell on the matter, he would have recognized the feeling as jealousy--jealousy over the fact that, even now, his son cared for his men so much that he’d tear after anyone who would do them harm while armed with nothing but his fists.
--A matter that he had to resolve when they reached port.
It would have been easier to just return the boy’s equipment to him, but a part of him did not want to. Like his Assassin robes, those tools were reminders of things that Haytham did not like, did not approve of, so it made sense, did it not? It made sense to want to gift him with new things--things that would remind Connor of him. Oh, he knew all too well that his son was not the type to be won with trinkets, but it would make Haytham feel better at least.
“Have you thought of what you want to do upon our arrival?” he eventually asked, turning in his chair to get a better look at the boy. Connor had taken a seat on a barrel, arms folded loosely across his chest, and he calmly met his gaze, his voice steady and matter-of-fact.
“I will save my brothers. It is that simple.”
Haytham had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. “Yes, that much is obvious. I assume that you have some idea of what to do before and after as well? Or have you already forgotten that your friends are being held at Bridewell Prison?”
“You do not need to come with me, if you are finding this to be troublesome. This is not your battle, nor is it your problem,” Connor replied, biting the words out with a low growl, and Haytham wished that he could say that it wasn’t, that he could ignore the two prisoners they’d come for; they were, at worst, his sworn enemies, and at best, irritants in his side. The only reason why he cared (if this vaguely annoyed emotion could even be called that) was because the boy did, and, well, he was here to make sure that his son didn’t accidentally get himself killed during the rescue attempt.
“You have made it my problem,” he muttered under his breath. Haytham drummed his fingers against the table and sighed. “Look, even if the other Assassins appear, you’ll be outnumbered, and I doubt you’ll have much time to coordinate anything with them. Blending with the crowd can get us in, but what is your exit strategy? Where do you intend to hide them?
“And before you suggest it, we are not taking them to my residence. I’ve enough trouble with just one Assassin under my roof, thank you very much.”
“I do not think they would accept your hospitality, even if you offered,” Connor replied, the faintest hint of a wry smile pulling at his lips. “The frontier is vast. They can take refuge there for the time being, but their final destination should be the Homestead. They will be safe there.”
“They?” Haytham lifted his eyebrows. “You do not intend to go with them?”
At that, the boy gave his father a puzzled look before shaking his head. “I am staying with you. You said that we would hunt for Lee together.”
It was difficult to not cringe a little with the boy’s wording, but he nodded his head in agreement. “Yes, I... I suppose I did.”
If Connor picked up on his discomfort, he did not act upon it, instead plowing onwards, as if suddenly taken by inspiration. Perhaps his trip up to the deck had cleared his thoughts some, the rain washing away his agitation and replacing it with crisp and clear focus. Haytham’s own preoccupations continued to gnaw at him, but it helped a little that he could turn his attention to something else for the time being.
“We will need horses to reach the outskirts of the city and a means of taking out the hangman’s noose.”
“Throwing knives work better than a fired shot,” Haytham added idly, and when the boy gave him that inquisitive look of his, he merely smiled. As realization dawned upon him, Connor lifted a hand, touching it to his throat. For a moment, it looked as if his son would ask him additional questions, but Haytham cut him off before another word could slip out of his mouth. “They’re easier to conceal than a musket in any case, and they’ll no doubt be keeping a close watch on the rooftops after what happened at your execution.”
His son gave him one last curious look before nodding his head. “We have a plan.”
“The bare bones of one. I’d prefer to have something a little more detailed to go off of.”
“Then let us work.” Connor dragged his barrel over to the table and took a seat, and in that moment, Haytham knew that he wouldn’t be getting a wink of sleep that night. He’d brought it upon himself, but it was necessary to save the Assassins--necessary to make sure his self-sacrificing son didn’t get himself killed in the process.
Haytham had saved the boy at Bridewell once before; he prayed that he wouldn’t have to do it again.
Re: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 15 / ? ]
(Anonymous) 2013-03-13 04:19 am (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 15 / ? ]
(Anonymous) 2013-03-13 11:03 am (UTC)(link)And what's that? "Falling madly, deeply in -" love? ohohoho oh dear, Haytham. You're in trouble now.
Go Team Kenway! Charles is in deep shit :D
OP is incoherent with happiness!
(Anonymous) 2013-03-20 08:16 pm (UTC)(link)Grrr, Charles Lee! *shakes fist* You're in for some trouble when Haytham and Connor get ahold of you, that's for sure.
And oh my gosh, Haytham's having feels for Connor now. He's in love, even if he won't admit it to himself. ^.^ Wonder how he'll deal with that fact? He's been roped into saving the recruits now too. Hopefully this will be the start of a new, beneficial partnership that won't end in tears and death like in the game.
As always, I eagerly await the next chapter! You're a godsend WriterAnon~
Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 16 / ? ]
(Anonymous) 2013-03-24 10:45 pm (UTC)(link)***
Day One Hundred and Seventy-Eight
The remainder of their journey aboard the ship passed in a flurry of talks and discussions, plans hatched and refined. There was no time for precious sentiment, and Haytham was blessedly not given the opportunity to dwell on things like feelings and emotions. New York City would greet them with sunny skies, and after hitting the shore, all was proceeding as expected--better than expected, actually.
Really, the only missing piece was Charles, but Haytham was not exactly surprised that the general was not here. While Templar influence in Bridewell Prison was strong, they did not technically--legally--have possession of the facility, and even if they did, there was no reason for Charles to be here, disgraced as he was in the public’s eye.
No, their hunt for the man would take them elsewhere. For now, though, his attention needed to be on what was to come in a few moment’s time.
The gallows were mere feet away from them, and father and son were both armed to the teeth beneath their cloaks: pistols, knives, darts, and swords. Hoods pulled low over their eyes, they waited, attention directed toward the short train of prisoners being marched forward; around them, the crowd shouted and jeered, anticipation--excitement--filling the air around them.
It was a touch sickening, Haytham thought, to see humans delight in the death of strangers; his son likely would’ve commented on the irony of such a thought if he’d voiced it though.
The prison guards marched four individuals onto the platform: three men and one woman. At first, Haytham thought nothing of it; he was here for one purpose and one purpose only: to save those two men whom his son called brothers. The spares? Well, it was a shame that they got caught for whatever it was that they’d done, but this was their just reward for upsetting the peace.
The roar of the crowd increased in volume as the nooses were looped around the prisoners’ necks and burlap bags placed over their heads, the sound becoming deafening as the announcer stepped onto the platform to list their crimes. It was difficult to hear anything above the din of the crowd, and Haytham watched impassively, eyes shifting from one Assassin to the next, as their names and offenses were ticked off in a dull, droning voice.
What came next, however, caught both his attention and Connor’s.
“Zenger, Henrik. Guilty of attacking a military officer and disrupting the peace.” The boy’s elbow jabbed him in the ribs, and Haytham merely brushed him off; he needed no prompting to know what was going on here. “Zenger, Wilhemina. Aiding in the attack of a military officer and disrupting the peace.”
So Charles had found them, but instead of treating them with respect, he’d jailed them. And now? Now he would see them hanged. Beside him, Connor tensed, hands bunching into fists at his sides, and Haytham placed a calming hand on his shoulder, stopping him from bolting and putting all of their plans to waste. Leaning toward his son, he whispered, “You help your men. I’ll get the other two.”
There was a slight nod of confirmation, and then they both turned their attention to the executioner, whose fingers slowly closed around the lever that would send all four individuals to their deaths. Hands stole beneath cloaks, readying knives; bodies tensed, ready to strike at the best moment. This was it. This was their moment of action, and--
Gunshot rang out over the rooftops, and as one, all of those in the square turned to stare at the source of the noise. A woman with a white hood scampered across the rooftops, a number of militia members struggling to climb up after her. When she paused to grab the musket hefted over her shoulder, Haytham cursed beneath his breath.
Time slowing to a crawl, the Assassin pulled the trigger, her shot grazing one of the ropes, and then someone in the crowd screamed--high-pitched and filled with terror. The world erupted into chaos as another shot was fired from the rooftops, this time by a man, and Haytham twisted back toward the gallows in time to see the executioner pull the lever, shouting in pain as his free hand went to clasp at the red blossoming across his chest.
Instinct moved him, two daggers flying out of his hands before his aim was compromised by fleeing civilians jostling him about and obscuring his view. Beside him, he knew the boy had managed to loose at least one blade, but the other...
Something silver flew skywards, glinting in the sunlight, before sinking into the wooden frame of the gallows, and while three ropes were severed, one remained intact, strung taut by the weight of a body on the other end. A strangled cry erupted from somewhere to his left, and Connor burst forth from the suffocating press of civilians, rushing toward the platform.
He’d be too late.
Haytham cast one final look at the battle unfolding on the rooftops before hurrying over to the gallows, ducking under the wooden beams to check on the individuals they’d managed to rescue. That French-speaking Assassin was muttering something to his son, desperately trying to pull him away from the body of their second brother; the mother and her son were huddled in another corner, staring at him with wide, frightened eyes.
“Connor!” he shouted, and when the boy didn’t budge, Haytham came over and shook him by the shoulders. “Connor, let him go. We have to get out of here unless you want all of us to die.”
The sorrowful look his son gave him sent a chill lancing down his spine, making him suddenly hesitant. Still, he pulled himself together, and when the other Assassin tried to remove his hands from his son, Haytham gave him such a look that he stopped, fingers quickly drawing away.
“Please, son. Let us go. Now.” One hand still gripped tightly around the boy’s shoulder, he turned his attention to the other man, gesturing toward the Zengers. “You’ll find four horses tied up at the back of the building on the other side of the street. Protect them and ride for the Homestead.”
“You cannot tell me what--”
“Do as I say.” With an easy movement of the wrist, the hidden blade engaged, and he shifted to press it close against the Assassin’s throat, allowing the sharp edge to dig ever so slightly into skin. Connor had already lost one of his brothers, and while Haytham would prefer not to take the life of another--not here, not now--he would if he had to. This entire operation had been shot to hell, and he wasn’t going to allow for himself or his son to die here because of the Brotherhood’s stupidity. “Am I clear?”
Chin lifted to avoid cutting himself on the hidden blade, the man could only manage the slightest of nods, eyes betraying the anger that he did not voice. Haytham lowered his hand, and the Assassin moved away, grabbing the mother and son and hauling them off; within seconds, they’d vanished into the panicking crowd.
When he turned to look back at his son, Connor was still kneeling by the body of his fallen brother, head bent and arms tightly circling the lifeless frame. Haytham sighed and folded his hand around the boy’s wrist. His voice was quiet when he spoke, barely audible above the sounds of screams all around them. “Let it go, son. You did all that you could.”
“I cannot leave him here.”
For a moment, Haytham thought he had misheard, but then, his son was repeating it again, louder and with more conviction. “I cannot leave him here.”
He should have known something like this would happen; it was so very... Connor.
Sighing, Haytham glanced at the mess all around them and grudgingly gave thanks to the Assassins for creating such a commotion; the guards were so distracted with trying to calm the crowd or chasing after the two individuals on the rooftops that they didn’t bother to pay attention to the two people still situated beneath the gallows. “Carry him. I’ll protect you, if it becomes necessary.”
Connor gathered the body in his arms and started toward the fray, pausing briefly to give him a look over his shoulder. “Thank you.”
Two simple words should not have filled him with warmth--not when there was pandemonium all around him, not when his son was carrying a dead man from the gallows--but they did. Haytham gave the boy a fleeting smile and pressed a hand to his shoulder, a wordless gesture of sympathy.
“Later. You can thank me later.”
Re: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 16 / ? ]
(Anonymous) 2013-03-24 11:15 pm (UTC)(link)I will (guiltily) admit, though, that I thought Jacob had died and had to go back and re-read part 9 to make sure, and... well, Jamie was the recruit I interacted with the least... so I'm *almost* relieved but oh man it's still painful.
And now Stephane knows that Connor and Haytham are working together and Connor's still alive after all... shit's about to hit the fan, huh? Oh man, I thought this update would relieve some of the tension but you are a master of keeping us on the edge of our seats! Eagerly awaiting the next instalment, as always! <3
Re: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 16 / ? ]
(Anonymous) 2013-03-31 01:50 am (UTC)(link)I mean: really, the story and, all. Especially your way of writting it, clear, smooth, great balance between dialogues and narrative part. And all the background you includes in, from the serie and it's universe. And, jesus, those nosebleedin' parts, and so are those cliffhangers, wtf.
Gosh, I can't wait for more and more ahahah! Longin' for more connor/haytham sweety things lol
Let me love you writer!anon *u*
Just, Good job, keep it on!!
Re: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 16 / ? ]
(Anonymous) 2013-04-03 09:11 am (UTC)(link)Anon, words fail me. This is fucking astounding, the way you turned about a simple kink into an intricate story; I'm absolutely hooked. I'm looking forward not merely to the smuty parts, but to the rest of the story as well. The public execution scene had me breathless. Please do continue -- I can assure you, there are a lot more people reading this fill than the comments suggest. Keep up the excellent work.
Re: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 16 / ? ]
(Anonymous) 2013-04-03 06:46 pm (UTC)(link)Writer anon I love u don't ever stop being amazing
Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 17 / ? ]
(Anonymous) 2013-04-06 05:26 am (UTC)(link)And last but not least, to the first anon who commented, it was hard killing off Jamie. I've actually shied away from character death several times already for this story, but it just... had to be done this time. :( But um, yes, I hope I don't disappoint with the rest of the fic. Thank you, thank you, thank you for your lovely comment!
So now that I've rambled enough... The next part, from your slow writer!anon to you lovely, lovely reader!anons. ♥
***
Day One Hundred and Eighty-Seven
Escaping Bridewell Prison turned out to be easier than escaping the city proper. The confusion surrounding the gallows gave both men enough cover to slip out unnoticed, but once they were out on the open streets, there wasn’t really any good way to hide the fact that they were carrying around a dead man.
Walking the horses gave too many individuals the opportunity to gawk and draw attention to them, while galloping their rides through the streets was hardly any better, snarled with people as they were. By the time they’d managed to get halfway down the block, they had no choice but to trample all in their path in the hopes of escaping the droves of militia that were now on their tail. The frontier was their only hope of escape, and it was toward that destination that they rode.
Time and time again, Haytham was tempted to tell the boy to leave the Assassin’s body behind. It hampered his riding, which slowed him down, and it also meant that traveling by foot and escaping to the rooftops were not really viable options either. It irritated him to no end, but to see the determination on his son’s face made him swallow whatever words of protest that sat at the tip of his tongue; Haytham had done enough damage in the boy’s life, and for once, he would not try to do more harm.
It was only when the soft embrace of twilight enveloped them that they were able to shake off their pursuers after many hours of looping, circling, and backtracking through the forest. They had ridden largely in silence, what few words they shared were terse and to the point; this was, Haytham felt, more than just because they were being chased. The expression Connor wore was frozen in a mask, and he seemed a touch too focused on the task at hand, like he was trying to mask another emotion behind his concentration.
He would not pry though, would not do anything aside from press a hand to the boy’s shoulder when they at last stopped for the night. Haytham assumed that he was still mourning the loss of his brother, even if he had put up a brave front while they had still been in the city; the woods did, in a way, have a way of making a man feel sentimental.
He, too, could feel its effects upon him, and he hated it. Haytham could think of nothing but bronzed skin beneath his fingertips, proud eyes, and soft lips beneath his own. It did not matter how much he tried to work on their next plan of action; his thoughts would continue to turn toward his son until at last he gave up, allowing himself to wallow in his feelings.
They would eventually bury Colley at the base of the tallest tree in the area, and they did so in near silence, with Connor murmuring something in his native tongue as they settled the earth over the freshly dug grave. Haytham was not a religious man and had no idea if the Assassin was, but he hoped that the individual had found peace, somewhere and somehow.
When the task was completed, Connor thanked him again for allowing him the time to do this--to give his brother a proper burial despite the risk that it put the both of them at--and Haytham had merely smiled, bittersweet. Pain was still etched in the features of the boy’s face, but there was nothing he could do to erase it. For too long, he was not the father that he should have been, and while their relationship was patched now, he was still not the father he should be and never would be, given all that had transpired between them.
What comfort he could give would be found in gentle caresses and soft kisses, but it felt... wrong at this moment. So, he did nothing.
By the time they arrived back in Philadelphia, Haytham felt as if he had gone mute, seeing as he’d hardly spoken for days now. The sounds of the city were loud and grating upon his nerves after the quiet of the woods, but his mood lightened a little when he saw Mrs. Langley waiting for them in the open doorway of the Kenway home.
--Even Connor managed to crack a smile when the woman came over and pulled them both into a fierce embrace.
The joy, however, was short-lived. No more than a few hours had passed since their return that his son came to seek his company in the privacy of his bedchambers, his expression serious and his gaze revealing a sorrow he still would not voice. “I must return to the Homestead,” he said quietly. “Lee will not be satisfied with the results from Bridewell Prison.”
The words, “And he will want to finish the job,” hung unsaid in the air.
“And?” Haytham turned away from his dresser, hands automatically moving to fold behind his back; he had been expecting this. To be quite honest, he was surprised that Connor had not taken them straight there. Perhaps he had needed time for his grief to stew, for the anger he felt to rekindle his need for action. Well, it didn’t matter; the time had finally come. “What will you do?”
As much of a fiasco as the execution had been for them, Charles had fared no better. One of the Assassins was now gone from this world, but he’d failed to kill the rest whom he flushed out, and now? Now the general had no more cards to play, no more victims to put out on display and draw the Brotherhood to him. No, if he wanted access to them, Charles would have to go to the Assassins--to the Homestead, which was, logically speaking, their last stronghold.
“I will kill him,” Connor replied simply, arms folding across his chest as if daring Haytham to challenge him.
He rolled his eyes and made a soft, irritated noise. “Do you think he will march there alone, boy? Do you think that he’s that much of a fool?
“He has many men of the Order at his disposal. He has led armies. What will you do against such odds?”
“My brothers--”
“--Are battered and lost. Will you still send them into battle when their best hope is for a quick and painless death?”
“We have won against greater odds before,” Connor countered, the volume of his voice growing with his irritation now. “Do not try to stop me, father.” Those words came out as a snarl. “Lee will die by my hands.”
Anger welled up within him, flaring like it had when he’d stopped Connor from riding for New York. Again and again, the boy insisted on doing everything on his own, and Haytham could not help but feel a touch offended that he did not think to ask him for assistance, especially given all that he’d done for that worthless Brotherhood of his thus far.
“Your memory is poor. Must I remind you again that we share a common enemy?” he muttered, giving his son an irritated look. “He will come at you with as many men as he can muster, so I ask you this: why do you not do the same?”
“I cannot ask the Homesteaders to fight. There are only the seven--” Connor froze for a moment, gaze dropping toward the ground. “There are only the six of us. Who else is there?”
“You forget the men I have at my beck and call.”
The boy lifted his eyes, brow creased and lips curled into a frown. “I do not understand.”
“It’s quite simple,” Haytham answered, taking a step closer to his son. “You need men to help you protect the Homestead, and I--” He pressed a hand to his chest and forced a smirk to his lips. “--command the other half of the Order. Surely you don’t need me to explain the rest.”
“Your men would never fight for an Assassin cause.”
No, they wouldn’t. On this matter, Haytham had to agree wholeheartedly with his son, but the difference was that he already had a plan in mind. True, he’d be gambling a little here, relying entirely on his son’s fiercely loyal heart and unfailing desire to protect those he cared for, but it was because of those very things that he could not help but feel surer of this plan than many others he’d put together over the years.
“But they’ll fight for a Templar one.”
When Connor said nothing, Haytham looked down at his hand, fingers toying with the silver ring he found there. With a quiet sigh, he removed it and then grabbed the boy’s wrist, turning his palm upwards before depositing the item there.
“An Assassin takes on many guises to accomplish his goals,” he said, slowly curling Connor’s hand into a fist for him. “Think of this as one of them.”
He didn’t want to help the Brotherhood, not really, but to save them was to earn his son’s unswerving aid in finding and disposing of Charles. To have the boy be a Templar--a real Templar--would have filled him with an unspeakable warmth and happiness, but right now, Haytham would have to be satisfied with this lie that he himself suggested.
Pressing his hands against the boy’s arms, he pat them gently before moving away, pausing briefly to glance over his shoulder. “May the Father of Understanding guide us, hm?”
Re: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 17 / ? ]
(Anonymous) 2013-04-06 01:00 pm (UTC)(link)Writer anon I am so excited to read the next chapter<3 this is getting so goooood oh gosh
Re: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 17 / ? ]
(Anonymous) 2013-04-07 09:29 am (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 17 / ? ]
(Anonymous) 2013-04-12 12:25 pm (UTC)(link)Don't give up on this, anon, you have our support and love. There appears to be a small number of us, but we're like the Assassins, it seems: a handful of people fervent with enthusiasm.
Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 18 / ? ]
(Anonymous) 2013-04-19 05:12 am (UTC)(link)Anyway, uh. Many, many thanks to everyone for your continued support! I'll admit that I tend to work a lot better with one-shots, so thank you so much for cheering me on this entire time! It keeps my spirits buoyed and helps me through any rough patches or writer's block I may run into. :) Haha, I just wish I could write a bit faster for you all. So yes! Enjoy! ♥ Hopefully my headache with the latter part of this chapter isn't too evident. ;)
Day Two Hundred
Having the boy around the Kenway residence for so long had made his son’s inclusion in the Order easier than he could have ever imagined. The men he counted as his aides accepted Connor as a Templar with little to no fuss, and while part of it might have been the severity of his words and expression, Haytham had no doubt that some of them had come to trust his son, had come to see his presence at their meetings as a sign of good will.
Using Gilbert Rogers was a good idea, too.
Now that the man was, at last, well enough to speak without overexerting himself, Haytham had gone on to regale Rogers with tales of how Connor had stood watch over him, lest anyone came to try and finish Charles’ good work. Oh, his story had not been entirely true, but it was enough for Rogers and, with his enthusiasm, good enough for the rest of the Templars. As for the boy...
Connor played his part well, accepting his role with open arms--after all, this was to protect his blasted Brotherhood and Homestead. He had spent enough time destroying Haytham’s personal library and mingling with his men--had spent enough time around him--to understand the Templar mentality to flawlessly pretend to be one of them, and in the few, quiet moments he had to himself, Haytham could not help but wonder if it really was an act, such was the perfection of his son’s performance.
He would not allow himself to dwell on hopes and dreams though; there were other matters to be taken care of, more lies to be woven.
The most pressing of these was, of course, making sure that those at the Homestead would go along with the ruse. After all, what good would it be if the Templars arrived, only to have to slaughter the very individuals that they were supposed to be assisting? Not only would this tarnish his own reputation as Grand Master, but Connor would never forgive him either, not when Haytham’s hands were soaked red with the blood of the boy’s friends and allies.
Needless to say, it was with no small amount of trepidation that Haytham wound his horse down the path that would lead him to the manor. Connor had left a few days prior to help pave the way for this Templar and Assassin collaboration, but for all of the love and adoration the Brotherhood seemed to have for their leader, he could not help but worry that his plan would still fail. What if this was too much for the Assassins to swallow?
After all that the Templars had done to them--what he had done to them--Haytham could not blame them in the slightest for being resistant to receiving aid from the Order.
The cold and hostile looks he got from the residents did not bode well for what he was to find at the Davenport home, and while he did not fear for his safety amongst these individuals, it was still uncomfortable to be stared at with such hate and disgust. Haytham was thankful that he’d chosen not to bring any men with him, what with so much open animosity lingering in the air; he just hoped that these problems would be smoothed over by the time his men arrived in a few days.
The sound of shouting greeted him at the doorway, and even before his knuckles could rap against the door, someone pulled it open: the man he’d seen on the rooftops at the execution--Wilkinson, was it? The look and the muttered greeting he gave him were not especially welcoming, but they were civil, which was more than what Haytham could say about the argument going on in another part of the house.
One voice he immediately recognized as his son’s, and the other had a French accent to it--ah yes, the individual they’d saved from the gallows. Eyebrows lifting in a silent question, he looked to Wilkinson for answers, but the Assassin said nothing, his lips merely pressing into a thin line. A crash had the man rushing upstairs to find the source, and while he momentarily thought of following, Haytham stayed put, ears pricked for any information he might glean from the argument happening up above.
“Sir, is everything alright?”
“We are fine, Clipper. It was an accident.” A string of colorful French quickly followed, and then Haytham heard the distinct sound of glass shattering. “Stephane!”
“I refuse! I refuse! We do not need those filthy Templars here!”
“Stephane--” That was Wilkinson this time, and there was a note of warning in his voice.
“Look at what they have done to Jacob. To Duncan. To Jamie.” A frightening silence settled over the house before Chapeau continued. “And you would trust them now to protect us? They are the cause behind all of our problems, Connor.”
“And what choice do we have now? Would you have us throw down our arms and surrender?”
“We fight! We fight as we have always--”
“We would lose! We will need their assistance to fight off Lee, if we are to have any hope of keeping the Homestead safe.”
“And how do you know that this is not a trap? What if your father’s plan is to strangle us from the inside out? To have us primed for slaughter when Lee comes--if he comes?”
“I trust my father.”
Stephane scoffed. “He speaks nothing but lies, and you... You have fallen for them. How can you believe the words of that bastard--”
There was a crunch, a sound Haytham recognized as a fist connecting with flesh. Stephane cursed loudly, but that was the only sound heard before Connor spoke, his voice cold and hard--a lethal edge to his words. “You may criticize me, Stephane, but do not say a word about my father.”
Haytham turned his gaze toward his feet, just a little pleased to hear that, but when he heard Chapheau speak once more, angry and bitter, what joy he felt left him.
“Achilles would be disappointed.”
Again, silence fell over the manor, and this time, it stuck, hanging heavy in the air. Angry footfalls heralded the Assassin storming down the stairs, and the man’s eyes flashed as he saw Haytham standing there. Wiping the blood from his nose off on his sleeve, Chapheau paused a few feet away to give him a good, long stare before brusquely moving past him and toward the exit.
The house shook when he slammed the door shut. Up above, the sound was mirrored.
Wilkinson rapped tentatively at the door to no avail, and Haytham took that as his cue to at last approach his son. The Assassin greeted him with a frosty look before moving between him and the door, as if trying to shield the individual inside the room.
“I’d just like to have a quick chat with Connor,” Haytham said, doing his best to keep his voice light and devoid of any threats, intentional or not. “I am his father after all.”
“A father would not have done put his son in this situation.”
He forced a thin-lipped smile to his face and took a few steps closer to the Assassin. It was with a dark sense of glee that he watched as Wilkinson back away from him, fully understanding who, exactly, was stronger than who. “And I have sought to make amends for my failings. However, if you’d like for me to undo all of my work by slitting your throat, be my guest.
“Now then, if you have no other complaints, step aside.”
Wilkinson looked like he was about to open his mouth to protest when the door behind him suddenly opened, causing both men to look at Connor. The boy was wearing a most displeased expression on his face as he assessed the situation before grabbing Haytham by the arm, yanking him inside the room, and shutting the door again.
In a blink of an eye, Connor had him shoved up against the wall, hands clenched around the fabric of his coat. The boy snarled, and Haytham chuckled breathlessly, having had the air knocked out of his lungs; an easy, infuriating smile curled his lips. His voice was like cold steel: unyielding and unforgiving. “Temper got the best of you?”
“Clipper is the only one who has agreed to our plan, and you threaten to kill him?” Connor hissed, anger and desperation painfully apparent in the wild look in his eyes. Oh, Haytham had never expected this exchange to go well, but judging from the boy’s response, even he had been too optimistic, which was saying something. “Stephane, Duncan, and Jacob want nothing to do with you, and Dobby is wary enough to avoid wanting to join in a Templar plot.”
“And the Homesteaders?”
His son removed his hands from him and simply shook his head, the anger he’d seen slowly but surely shifting into resignation. Haytham sighed and smoothed his hands over his coat; they’d both be in trouble if they couldn’t find some sort of arrangement--and soon. If it weren’t his men arriving soon, it would be Charles’, and at this point, neither group was going to be greeted with anything but musket fire.
“Should I assume that anyone from the Order will be shot on sight upon arrival?”
Connor had taken to slowly pacing the room, fiddling with his hands. “I do not know,” he answered after a moment, briefly lifting his gaze from the floor to look at Haytham. “They are angry with me for accepting your aid.”
“Very well. What other options do we have?”
It was too late to tell his men to turn back, and while the easiest path would have been to abandon the Homestead, that was not an option either. Killing the dissenting Assassins would only add to the friction and ruin what he had now with his son, so--
“Can you hold the pass?”
“Hm?” Haytham frowned, puzzled by the boy’s sudden question. “The pass?”
“Can your men hold the pass that leads here from the frontier?”
Ah, that pass. Haytham considered it for a moment, remembering the look of it as he’d traveled toward the Homestead. It was narrow enough to defend, but it was far from an ideal arrangement. The Templars were not quite as fond of stealth as the Assassins, but standing in the middle of a road, waiting for slaughter, was not their preferred method of combat either.
No, such open conflict was more Charles’ forte. After all, he was the general of the two of them.
“With a barricade in place, perhaps,” he responded, distracted. He understood the reasoning behind Connor’s plan, but Haytham wasn’t exactly delighted with it. If the Templars held the pass, then there’d be no need to interact with the Assassins and Homesteaders, especially if they made camp well and away from the people living there. Haytham would have to come up with a viable excuse for this sort of separation, but he’d manage somehow or another.
Haytham was already thinking of his potential losses, already wondering what the state of the Order would be after this--if his men would still consider him worthy of leading them after all was said and done. Maybe his worry showed a little on his face, in the crease of his brow and the downward curl of his lips, for Connor came over a moment later, warm hands on his shoulders and lips pressed against his own.
The gesture was surprisingly gentle and all too brief, but it was enough for now--it would have to be. There would be no thanks--no expressions of gratitude--from anyone until all of this was over, and sadly, the end was nowhere in sight.
Re: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 18 / ? ]
(Anonymous) 2013-04-19 10:50 am (UTC)(link)Heavens above! I almost keened in excitement when I saw an update!
First of all, I'm so glad and relieved and happy that this story has not been abandoned. The extent of my eagerness cannot be put into words - that's how much I love this fill. I /dread/ to call it that, for it puts this story to shame - this is not just some random 'fill' or kink, it's fucking genius. I wish this story would receive more attention, since you definitely deserve it, anon, but I'm sure there's a bunch of people (albeit probably distracted by fapping) reading and enjoying this awesome story.
To say that I'm excited for the next part would be an understatement of the year. Though I recognize Haytham's worries, I can't help but wonder if they have a fair chance after all - they do have the element of surprise on their side, do they not? Maybe I'm wrong, but perhaps Charles wouldn't expect such defiance, wouldn't expect his own brothers (speaking of the Order, not Haytham) to oppose him in such a bold manner... No idea, man, I'm just excited to see what happens next, you have a knack for putting me on edge with these cliffies.
Stay motivated, anon! You've got much love and expectant excitement backing you in your efforts.
Re: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 18 / ? ]
(Anonymous) 2013-04-30 04:00 pm (UTC)(link)But I just had to say this story is so great, omg. It's so exciting when there's an update!
I love how you write both Connor and Haytham. They're perfect and I just- /flails
I thought all of this chapter was just as good as the rest of the fill, so no worries! But I do hope any future updates don't give you too much trouble :) I'll be here cheering you on! /waves pom poms
Re: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 18 / ? ]
(Anonymous) 2013-05-03 04:19 am (UTC)(link)Anyway, I just wanted to apologize for the even slower than usual updates; I promise that I will finish this fill, though, even if it takes a long time. Many, many thanks to everyone who has been patient and understanding with me. ♥
Re: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 18 / ? ]
(Anonymous) 2013-05-03 10:33 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 18 / ? ]
(Anonymous) 2013-05-03 03:16 pm (UTC)(link)You're doing here a marvelous writing, no matter how slow you write. We can't ask more but your best <3
Keep going! d (#￣▽￣#)
Your fellow anon!readers.
Re: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 18 / ? ]
(Anonymous) 2013-05-11 07:57 am (UTC)(link)Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 19 / ? ]
(Anonymous) 2013-05-13 03:34 am (UTC)(link)I love you all, and just. Yeah. Thank you, thank you, thank you for your patience with me. Your writer!anon just wants to gather you all up and give you a giant hug. ♥
***
Day Two Hundred and Two
The scent of death filled the air, and blood soaked the ground. Their barricade stood a broken shell of itself, charred and blackened; bodies littered the path. The shouting of men sounded distant to Haytham, for it was the sound of gunfire and the clang of metal on metal that rang in his ears.
He’d long ago tuned out the screams of the dying.
Charles had not marched with an army, but he had brought enough men to heavily tip the scales in his favor. Since dawn, they had been fighting, and now, the sun threatened to sink below the horizon. Haytham’s body ached with injury and exhaustion alike, and his skin was tacky with sweat and blood; his mind was lost in a haze--attack, block, deflect, lunge, repeat.
His actions mechanical by this point, he grunted as he parried a strike and then plunged his hidden blade into the gut of the man in front of him. The battle was ebbing again, as it had several times over the course of the day. Charles would draw his men back, regroup, and then plow forward once more, slowly but surely whittling down their numbers. The general would never give Haytham’s group enough time to bolster their defenses; it was merely a moment to catch one’s breath, patch up wounds, and claim one’s dead--nothing more and nothing less.
Up above in the trees, he could hear Wilkinson shouting at the snipers to pick off any stragglers, his voice hoarse from overuse today, and ahead of him, surrounded by corpses, was his son. His hands, face, and clothes were painted red, and for a moment, it looked as if he would give chase, his hands tightening around the hilts of his blades. Connor was still ready for battle, still ready for more.
He was the only one who was, Haytham felt.
“Connor,” he called, slowly approaching the boy, and his son turned, his expression flickering to worry when he saw the blood that soaked his coat. Haytham offered him a thin-lipped smile, as if to assure him that it was not his own. “This is not working.
“Charles dares not come and face us on his own, and he will bleed us dry at this rate.“
“We must hold the pass.”
“We can buy the Homesteaders enough time to flee--”
“There is nowhere for them to go. The cliffs surround us, and the Aquila is not at port. We must hold the pass.” The look Connor gave him offered no room for protest, but Haytham rolled his eyes all the same, grabbing the boy by his arm and dragging him off the path and into the relative seclusion of the trees.
“We have done much already, but I do not think that the men will be willing to fight much longer.” He cast a quick glance at the bodies still littering the road, a cold weight settling in his stomach as the adrenaline ebbed. “Templar cause or not, we’re sustaining too many losses. We’ve no way to call for reinforcements either.”
“We cannot--”
“Then what do you propose we do?” Haytham snapped, his patience at last broken. He glared at his son, eyes narrowed. Oh, he would not deny that Connor had led his--their--men well today, led them in a way that reminded him all too well of the generals of the Revolution, but that did not change their dire situation. “The men are exhausted and injured. The barricade has fallen, and the sun will set soon. I understand that you care for these people, but we will not survive the night at this rate.”
“You will not need to.”
Father and son turned sharply to look at the individual who had interrupted their conversation, and Haytham was hard pressed to not bristle at the sight of Chapheau, standing there as bold as brass.
“Stephane?” Connor asked, his voice mirroring the surprise in his expression. The Assassin gave Haytham a dirty look, obviously still untrusting, but to the boy, his expression was milder, as if his temper had at last subsided. Still, what was one extra man going to do for their cause? Even if Chapheau had managed to rally the remainder of the Brotherhood to stand shoulder to shoulder with the Templars, the cause was all but lost.
“I have asked Norris to come with a gift,” he said, jerking a thumb back toward the Homestead, and while this meant nothing to Haytham, his son’s mood seemed to brighten, his lips pulling into a smile that bordered on feral. “You only need the firelight of the enemy--” Chapheau glared at him before returning his attention to Connor. “--to mark their location, no?
“In the dark, they cannot march without light.”
“How soon will the goods be here?”
“A few minutes. The others are loading the carts as we speak. When they arrive, I will assist with preparations.” Again, the Assassin locked eyes with Haytham, all but spitting fire. “I suggest you get your men out of here. We do not need your help anymore.”
“Pardon me?” he replied, starting toward the other man; it was only when he felt the press of Connor’s hand against his shoulder that he settled, teeth grit. Chapheau muttered something under his breath and stalked away, still shaking his head, and when he was out of earshot, Haytham rounded on his son, unwilling to wait any longer for answers. “Well? Care to include me on your little plan, or do you intend to make a fool out of me?”
“We will be using explosives against Lee’s men,” he explained, his words coming out in a rush as he sought to soothe his father’s rising temper. “Norris is a miner and--”
Someone with a distinctly French accent was shouting for Connor, and with a quick look, the boy excused himself. Haytham sighed heavily and returned to the pass, begrudgingly ordering his men to retreat further down the path, back toward the Homestead.
Of course it wasn’t because that confounded Assassin had told him to. This was simply a matter of safety--a matter of protecting his own men. After learning about their next plan of action, Haytham could have and would have come up with the plan to evacuate on his very own, with or without snide comments from members of the Brotherhood.
Regardless of his bruised pride, the preparations began as his men drifted away from the pass, all of them warily eyeing the carts filled with small barrels that moved in the opposite direction. A small entourage of men followed the wagons, arranging their explosive cargo all along the path, and as they finished their work, the sun at last dipped below the horizon, its dying rays vanishing as lanterns and torches lit up in the distance; Charles’ men were on the move again.
He doubted that the general would be marching with them though. Not once had Haytham seen him during the day, and now that night had fallen and the danger increased, why should he expect to see Charles now?
But perhaps that was a good thing. He could postpone his friend’s death--oh, how he loathed to think of it--just a little longer.
Lost in his thoughts, the minutes ticked by peaceably enough, and gradually, the sound of marching feet could be heard. When the gentle thrum grew to include shouting and gunfire, Haytham turned around, and suddenly, the night sky lit up, a series of explosions rocking the earth beneath him. He cursed and hit the ground, staying there until silence reigned.
No victory cry followed, no sound disturbed the peace. It was quiet--the quiet of death and destruction.
Re: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 19 / ? ]
(Anonymous) 2013-05-13 09:26 am (UTC)(link)And now let me just say: holy fuck.
This chapter was intense. I had the biggest shock when I read "and ahead of him, surrounded by corpses, was his son" - you sure gave me a startle there. For a second, I thought Connor is dead, so I literally gasped. Phew. Thank you, brain, for playing tricks on me.
We love this story, and we love you, anon - we really do - so I hope this love will sustain you for a bit longer, I simply can't wait to read more. And as much as I'd love to read more, I find myself wishing for a long, long story. Kudos to you for making it so good...
Re: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 19 / ? ]
(Anonymous) 2013-05-13 10:39 am (UTC)(link)Don't worry about being late, you are brilliant and we shall be patiently awaiting the next part! <3
Re: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 19 / ? ]
(Anonymous) 2013-05-14 04:39 am (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 19 / ? ]
(Anonymous) 2013-06-26 05:03 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 19 / ? ]
(Anonymous) - 2013-06-26 17:34 (UTC) - ExpandRe: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 19 / ? ]
(Anonymous) - 2013-08-13 16:24 (UTC) - ExpandRe: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 19 / ? ]
(Anonymous) - 2013-08-21 12:27 (UTC) - ExpandRe: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 19 / ? ]
(Anonymous) - 2013-08-22 21:34 (UTC) - ExpandRe: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 19 / ? ]
(Anonymous) - 2013-08-22 21:54 (UTC) - ExpandRe: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 19 / ? ]
(Anonymous) - 2013-08-28 02:12 (UTC) - ExpandRe: Fill: The Re-Education of Connor (Kenway) [ 19 / ? ]
(Anonymous) - 2014-06-29 06:21 (UTC) - Expand