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

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assassin's creed

Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

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

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

✩ One request per post, but fill the request as much as you want.

✩ The fill/request doesn't necessarily need to be smut.

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Ziio is naturally kickass, so Anon thought...what if it was Connor who died in that fire (or maybe Charles did kill him that day out in the woods) and Ziio became the Assassin?

Yes, yes, Connor gets his Eagle Vision abilities from Haytham, but it always struck me as interesting that Connor's Mohawk clan had such close ties to Juno. It seems very likely that other members in the tribe might also be descended from TWCB one way or another.

She'd do the missions differently. TO THE LEFT, ZIIO, TO THE *shoved off horse*

I laughed out loud at that comment, like you wouldn't believe!

Is THAT how Haytham ended up in the haystack? :)

Ziio had never truly felt helpless today, or felt the all-encompassing rage and sorrow that drove people to kill out of hatred and revenge rather than necessity. Now she stands in front of her ruined home as her tribe shuffles back to the burnt remnants of their village and looking for missing family members, and dimly thinks she might understand the madness borne of grief. The longhouses that were meant to shelter and protect her and her people will have to serve as a trap and a grave for their dead until the wounded are attended to. Her duty to her people demands that she go and tend to the wounded and comfort those who, like her, have lost something (everything) in the fire. But for once her duty is ignored-her legs will not move, her stinging eyes drawn not to her people but the ruins that will later reveal a too-small body, brittle and burnt. There is an emptiness in Ziio now, a desperately confused denial that threatens to bubble out of her frozen lips or a scream of rage and sorrow and loss.
She cannot move the wreck to hold her son’s brittle body, unable to move the same way she had been unable to move when she had been pinned by Charles Lee, spitting vitriolic demands and threats of death. Ziio wonders briefly if things would have changed if she had died-would Ratohnhake:ton be dead still, or would the world have taken her life in exchange for his.
Ziio tries to recall the last words he had spoken to her, but can only recall her son’s screams as her cousin had pried her away from the beam pinning Ratohnhake:ton. If only she had been stronger or faster, perhaps then her only child would not have died in pain and alone, burnt alive by his father’s subordinates. If only she had not been knocked unconscious by Charles Lee, she would have spotted the smoke sooner, gone back and saved her son. Is this the order and justice Haytham had preached about? Peace built on the burnt bodies of children? Ziio stands surrounded by the ashes of all she had loved and lived for, and something dies within her, leaving a hole that feels like her son’s smile. In the ruins and wreckage something precious (the only precious thing) leaves both her and the world, and something else is born, as hot and deadly as the flames.
Ziio will find the murderers, burn the Templars as the houses had burnt, as her baby had burnt, as she is burning. It is not a promise or a vow she makes, but a truth, as inevitable as the rising and setting of the sun. Charles Lee, Ziio thinks and her nails dig into her palms until her knuckles turn white and blood wells to drip and mix with the mud. Nobody will stop her vengeance, not the laws and “justice” of the white man or Haytham, should he ever show his lying face to her again.
When she had woken this morning, with Ratohnhake:ton snuffling sleepy sighs into her side, she had been at peace, happy and loved. Ziio had been a mother. She had helped another child be born into her tribe, had helped build a longhouse.
Tomorrow, when Ziio wakes, she will wake up alone. She will collect the bodies of her dead, conduct last rites for her son and the other members of her tribe. She will help rebuild houses, comfort a shattered community, and pick up the pieces of a once peaceful life.
In a few months, Ziio will leave her tribe to seek out an old friend with skin darker than hers and learn the ways of an Assassin. In a few years, she will begin her vengeance and hunt down those who attacked her people, meet Haytham again. Now, as the sun sets, Ziio lies her exhausted body down to sleep an uneasy, painful sleep. And she hates.

---
Whoops that was… not quite what the OP asked for huh (sorry). I was going to continue, but it seemed like it was better to just stop there… As for why Ziio met Charles instead of Connor, I just made it so she went out to look for Connor and stumbled across the Templar party, who were preoccupied with her and hence didn’t find Connor, who went home after they were finished playing games.

Late kudos but god, Anon, I love this fill. The way Ziio talks about murder for reasons other than necessity or self-defence- tear-jerker definitely and I couldn't help but think how similar the words were to another fanfic I read a year or so back (Embers by Vathara on FF.Net if you wanted to know).

This is also on AO3 under the username Dragonfire13
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She had been out hunting, that was what saved her, but not her son. Him and the other children had returned to the village from playing saying they had seen strangers in the woods. She would later be told that Ratonhnhaké:ton had been attacked by a man called Charles Lee, and she knows that name. Haytham worked with him, and she curses their names at night, curses that she had ever met him, but then she stops. Is she had never met him, she would never have had Ratonhnhaké:ton for the short time that she had.

Kaniehtí:io remembers running into the village the rabbits, and fox she caught dropped and forgotten as she heard the voice that will always haunt her for years to come. “ISTA!” Ratonhnhaké:ton screamed and she felt her heart stop at the desperation in his voice. She runs through the flames, pushing aside burning wood, ignoring the pain in her hands and feet as she moved closer and closer to Ratonhnhaké:ton’s screams. She sees him then, trapped between a burning wall and a large piece of wood that he couldn’t move. “Ista!” He cries again as he pushes.

“Ratonhnhaké:ton!” Kaniehtí:io calls and watches as his hands turned and saw her. The look of hope, and happiness at finding each other lasted for a few moments, as she ran closer, before a loud creaking noise could be heard over head. The roof caved in, flames burning around it and all she could do was watch and scream as her son was buried and burned alive. “Ratonhnhaké:ton!” Kaniehtí:io screamed but knew that he was already gone. She still tried to dig through the flames and only stopped when she was dragged away.

His last word “Ista!” would echo in her head for days, weeks, months, and years. Starting when she and other villagers dug through the rubble and uncovered his broken, burned, and very much dead body out days later. Ratonhnhaké:ton’s body was curled into a tiny ball, his hands holding tightly to the journal she had taken from Haytham, as if it could save him. All Kaniehtí:io could do was hold his broken body, and scream, while making the promise to kill whoever did this, whoever took her son from her.

Kaniehtí:io would later read the whole journal for any information, before burying it alongside her son. She hopes that wherever he is, his happy and not in pain.
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It takes Kaniehtí:io a few years and a journey with a spirit to find who will help her. His name is Achilles and she can see he has given up all hope, and is waiting for death. She, her understands the feeling, but she must do this before she can see her son once again. When he tells her to leave, tells her he won’t train her, and to go away. She refuses.

She is there in the trees, walking the old paths, hunting, and then fighting when a group of men come to rob the place. Finally he lets her in, agrees to listen to her story, and doesn’t say a word when she chokes and tells him about Ratonhnhaké:ton, her tears as she tells him, Ratonhnhaké:ton burned . He agrees to train her after that, without much of a problem and starts to tell her about who the Assassins are, and what they do or use to do anyways.

She will later find out after a few years of training and on the day of Ratonhnhaké:ton’s death that Achilles once had a child named Connor who died of illness. Then of the Brotherhood that came before, the Brotherhood who were like a family to him and some like his own children. He tells her of Shay and how although he had been right, he still killed them all.
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Killing her first Templar didn’t give her the satisfaction as she thought it would, but she did feel a little bit of the weight on her shoulders raise and leave as she marked a large X over the painting.
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Watching Haytham she says nothing at first, her jaw tightening slightly as he glances at her again . Finally she says “We have a son.” She can’t help but feel a little satisfaction when Haytham chokes and turns to look at her eyes wide, and not looking at all how he usually looks. “What?” He asks.

“We.” She begins slowly “Have. A. Son.”

Haytham just stares at her for a moment longer before saying “What is his name?” and she can see him doing the math in his head to figure out just how old Ratonhnhaké:ton is. Or would be if he had ever passed the age of 4. Kaniehtí:io stares at him in silence as if testing him with her eyes before finally saying “His name is Ratonhnhaké:ton.”

“Ragoonhkton?”

“Ratonhnhaké:ton.” She says again and can’t help but roll her eyes as Haytham tries again. “Ra-doon-ha-ge-doon.” After a few tries she can’t help but be a little impressed when he managed to finally say his name correctly.

“May I meet him?” Haytham asked after a few moments and wonders to himself how he would deal with a full grown son, who most likely knew nothing about him. Her eyes became hard and cold as they were when they first came face to face hours again, and she hissed “No.”

Haytham paused, not wanting to fight again, but also he had a right to see his own son. “Ziio, I know there are difference between us, I know I lied to you, but he is also my son. I have a right to at least meet him, and he can decide if he wishes to see me more or not.”

“Meeting or even seeing him is impossible.” Ziio told him and watched the confusion appear on his face, before she says “Ratonhnhaké:ton is dead.” Haytham froze and just stared at her, the plans that were already forming in his mind about his son, were destroyed. “I-I am sorry, Ziio.” His words were filled with the truth he was sorry the boy had died, and the hope of meeting him was also gone.

“He died in front of me. I watched as he burned because of Charles Lee.” She snarled now, ignoring the way Haytham froze, rage falling into her words. The look of shock on his face can be seen as she growls “On your orders, Lee came and beat my son, before he burned my village and my son. And you're sorry!”

“I did not give any order of the sort! My orders were to leave you and your people alone .” Haytham quickly tries to explain and she can’t tell if he’s lying , but she also doesn’t care. The Templar order will all die.

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