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asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5
Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
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Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
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Discussion
Cuddle-time with Connor and Haytham
(Anonymous) 2013-01-12 08:10 pm (UTC)(link)Connor: Cuddle? <(-^.^-)>
Haytham: No. ಠ_ಠ
Connor: (T^T)
Haytham: ... Fine. ¬_¬;
Connor: \(^_^)/
How this happens is up to annon; is this an AU with toddler/little boy!Connor? Is this what happens when Haytham accidentally gets Connor drunk? However you want to make it happen, just so long as its fluffier than a blanket of baby bunnies.
Bonus points if:
-Haytham is trying to maintain his snarky-grumpiness, but is inwardly melting into a puddle of goo
-Connor ends up falling asleep in Haytham's arms
Re: Cuddle-time with Connor and Haytham
(Anonymous) 2013-01-12 08:16 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Cuddle-time with Connor and Haytham
(Anonymous) 2013-01-12 10:54 pm (UTC)(link)Embrace 1/1
(Anonymous) 2013-01-14 07:35 am (UTC)(link)He had received the letter a week earlier, brought by a half-dead courier and a ruined horse. Charles was not beyond threats to make things run smoothly, especially when it came to serving Haytham. The letter had brought three things he had been entirely unprepared for.
The first was the least serious. If it weren't for the drastic other two it would have rated much higher on Haytham's priorities, but sometimes even a duty-bound man such as himself was shocked out of the mindset of obligation. Charles Lee and his other high-ranking Templar brethren had disobeyed his orders directly, returning to Kanien'keha:ka to seek more information on the precursor site to which Haytham held the key.
Only when they had found the village, it had been in flames, attacked and set aflame by the local militia. The tone of the letter had turned almost hesitant, when Charles informed him that Ziio had been killed in the attack... and that she had left behind a son. A son who was undoubtedly Haytham's, and who Charles had decided to bring back to Haytham. The letter didn't say if this was willing on the boy's part or not.
Ziio had turned her back on him as soon as she had found out his mission in the colonies, accusing him of using her to get closer to the precursor sight, of pretending to care about her people, of being a soulless monster of ambition, who wanted only to obtain the artifacts that would allow control. He hadn't gotten the chance to explain to her how he had ordered the search abandoned, how he had come to think of the colonies as his home, and wanted only peace for them and for the native tribes as well.
He could only imagine what Ziio had told her... their... son about him.
Her death however... he had never wanted such an outcome. Haytham never lost sight of the goal of the Templars, but he admitted to occasionally letting his thoughts stray down paths best left to the past. What if he had been able to reconcile with Ziio? Now he realized he had taken a measure of quiet comfort in the fact she had been able to hang on to what she held so dear, protect her people and their secrets. It wasn't why he had called off the search for the precursor sight, he told himself. It was because that fool's errand was draining their resources, when they should have been focusing on maintaining the order and stability of these fast-growing colonies, and making sure they stayed in Templar hands.
This information had compelled him to set out for the frontier as soon as he could, going to meet Charles, Johnson, Hickey, and Church halfway back. It was perhaps a useless gesture, but he wanted to remind them of his authority, and... perhaps he did not fully trust them with his son. Charles was his most trusted friend in the colonies, but he did not hold a high view of natives. The others would not care for such a burden, and might not see the point in bringing him back to Haytham.
That had brought him to where he was now. The other Templars had departed on the missions Haytham had given them when he joined them in the frontier, missions that were beneath them, but mild punishments for the serious offense of disobeying their grandmaster. He would give them harsher punishments later, if he deemed it worthy. This left him time to try to coax the boy out of his shell before they reached New York.
Truthfully he had little clue what to do with the child. Though he had always had hopes of having children, he hadn't been prepared for one to so suddenly be given to him.
"You are my father," the boy said, startling Haytham out of his thoughts. He spoke remarkably good English.
"Yes," Haytham said, though it hadn't been stated as a question. "What's your name, boy?" Charles had managed to extract none of this information from the child.
"My mother did not like talking about you," the boy said, ignoring Haytham's question. "But I found your writings."
His diary. Ziio still had it.
Had had it.
"You are a Templar?" the boy's eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"Yes," Haytham replied again.
"Why did you take me away?" the boy's tone was demanding.
"You have no mother now. It is my responsibility to see you are raised properly," Haytham replied.
It was the wrong thing to say. The boy's eyes clouded with hatred, and sorrow, and he seemed to pull into himself again, glaring at the Templar grandmaster. When he shifted his shirt slipped down, and Haytham noticed a ring of purple bruises around his neck. "Who did that?" he asked, surprised at the heat to his words. He had known this sullen, traumatized little boy for all of five hours, and already he felt a measure of... concern with his wellbeing. Perhaps that was natural.
It didn't look like the boy would respond for a moment, but then he said, with the careful pronunciation of someone who had practiced and branded something into their mind to not be forgotten, "Charles Lee."
Haytham blinked. "Charles?" He wanted to say he must be mistaken, but the conviction in the boy's voice stopped him. That had been something Charles had left out of his report. But it was not difficult to imagine, if the boy had gotten in his way...
"I can assure you, I won't allow it to happen again," Haytham said.
"When I am strong enough I will find Charles Lee and kill him," the little boy replied.
The statement ended conversation for several minutes. It was clear if trained this child could make an effective Templar, but that wasn't what was on Haytham's mind. No child should have to suffer what his son had. No child should have so much hatred and sadness forced upon them.
It was the fault of the Assassins, and their support of chaos, and Haytham feared that there would be no cure in his lifetime, as long as there were Assassins to throw away their lives for their destructive cause.
Haytham was considering this when his son spoke up again.
"Who killed my mother?"
Haytham weighed his answer carefully before he answered. "The Virginian militia attacked your village, and this..." he swallowed the inconvenient tightness in his throat, dismissing it as a side effect of the smoke from the campfire. "This resulted in your mother's death."
"Why did they do that?" the boy's tone was almost pleading. "Who told them to?"
"I... I don't know," Haytham said. "I believe they saw your people as a threat. I don't know who ordered it. A man called George Washington commands the Virginia militia."
"George Washington," the boy said carefully, considering the name. Through this whole conversation he had been defiantly composed, but somehow this name seemed to break that down. He blinked, but couldn't stop the tears that started to roll down his freckled cheeks. He bent his head, as if trying to hide them from Haytham.
Haytham stood up, coming around the fire to sit down beside his son. He put a hand on the boy's back. He had little experience with children, but he could remember his own father, and how he had acted.
The boy tensed, but then relaxed, turning to stare up at Haytham with brimming eyes. Haytham only looked back, not knowing what to say. "I promise, what happened today will not happen again so long as I control the Templars," Haytham said at last. George Washington was favored by the Davenports and the other Assassins, which was reason enough to be wary of him. Haytham could ruin his career, or perhaps just have the man killed.
Abruptly the boy leaned against Haytham, wrapping his arms around him. Haytham froze, not knowing how to react. Then, tentatively, he returned the embrace, holding his son as he sobbed into Haytham's coat.
Morning would find the fear long burnt out, with the two huddled together under a blanket, Ratonhnhake:ton safe in his father's arms.
Re: Embrace 1/1
(Anonymous) 2013-01-14 07:57 am (UTC)(link)Re: Embrace 1/1
(Anonymous) 2013-01-15 02:51 am (UTC)(link)Re: Embrace 1/1
(Anonymous) 2013-01-16 11:10 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Embrace 1/1
(Anonymous) 2013-01-19 09:38 am (UTC)(link)Re: Embrace 1/1
(Anonymous) 2013-02-18 09:13 pm (UTC)(link)