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

Instead of hunting the Templar inner circle after he became an Assassin, Connor also becomes a Templar with the hopes of sabotaging them from the inside. For years, he earns their trust and camaraderie while ruining their plans and hunting down their agents as his Assassin alter ego. Until one day, he's finally caught and his assassins ties are revealed, the Templar inner circle believe death is too good for the traitor among them.

Would love to see:

* Devastated, pissed off Haytham. He was absolutely murderous when Church betrayed the Order, how would he react to the traitor being his own son?

* NonCon - would love either HaythCon, LeeCon, HickCon, or all three, or even if they give Connor over to sadistic lower tier Templar grunts while they sit back and observe

this seconded so so hard!

It'll take a few days, but I'm working on something! ^.^

OP <3 s YOU!!!!

OH MY GOD YESSS :'D awaiting eagerly!

This is a quite short beginning, I'm afraid, but there will be more soon!

Shock does strange things to people. I promise we will see more fury and sadism from Haytham and the others very soon.

The hands that dragged Connor to the Inner Circle were rough and cruel. He could not blame them- right now, he was their hated enemy. He knew the men these hands belonged to, and they were good men, if misguided. But despite their good intentions, they were ruthless. And he was a target.

They had beaten him, of course, before taking him before his father, not bothering to take off his hood or the scarf tied around his nose and mouth.

"Well, well," his father said, in that cold tone of voice that meant he knew the answer to his questions already. "What have we here?"

"An assassin, it seems, sir," Charles drawled.

"An assassin?" Haytham's tone was one of mock horror. "Didn't we kill them all?"

"We musta missed one. Damn fings is like cockroaches," Hickey snarled. Their footsteps echoed throughout the hall, as they encircled him like vultures.

"I wonder how this one survived?" Charles mused aloud. "A pity John and William didn't."

"It doesn't matter, as long as we rectify the situation," Haytham said.

Despite himself, Connor did feel a little afraid. His father was, after all, ruthless in the pursuit of his goals. What would his father would do to punish him? He could not be seen to show favouritism even to his own son, after all. Execution after a few weeks of interrogation and torture seemed likely. The Brotherhood were well prepared to rescue him if that were the case.

"Shall we 'ave a look, see wot's under 'at 'ood?"

"A capital idea, Hickey," Charles said, and Connor braced himself.

Haytham stepped forward, and diug his hidden blade under his scarf, slicing it as he yanked the hood down. He stepped back, and Connor tried to keep his gaze impassive.

The look on Haytham's face was one of pure, unadulterated shock and horror. His mouth fell open, his eyes were wide. It took a few moments for him to compose himself.

"There's been a mistake," Haytham said, eventually. His voice wavered slightly, something Connor had heard only once before in his life.

"You're one o' us," Hickey said, disbelievingly. "'Ow can you be one o' 'em?"

"A mole…" Charles' voice was deceptively soft.

"No," Haytham said, assertively, still unable to believe this betrayal. "This isn't funny, Connor. Take off that filthy coat."

Briefly Connor wondered if it would be worth trying to take advantage of Haytham's disbelief. No, Charles had worked it out, and Haytham was not a stupid man, merely one who adored his only child. To lie further would only make things worse. He raised his eyes toward his father, meeting his eyes.

"It is not a joke," he said, after a moment.

"Bastard," Hickey muttered.

"I thought you liked William and John," Charles hissed. "Murderer!"

"They were Templars," Connor said, simply. "They had to be stopped."

Haytham was silent, mouth pressed into a thin line, hat pulled down over his eyes. Hickey kicked Connor in the ribs, savagely, then gripped his hair and wrenched his head back, exposing his throat.

"We oughta kill you," Hickey hissed.

"Slowly and painfully," Charles agreed.

"No," Haytham said, and all was silent for a moment.

"Haytham, you can't ignore what he's done," Charles said.

"'E's an Assassin," Hickey added.

"I know that," Haytham said, sounding absolutely torn. "I know. But death is not enough of a punishment for this kind of-- for what's happened. Even if we drag it out over days or weeks, it isn't enough. He's not afraid of dying. We need…"

"A scapegoat," Charles murmured, finishing the sentence Haytham could not. "An example to all."

This turn of events wasn't entirely unexpected, but it also did not bode well for Connor. He had hoped that he would be executed publicly, after a few weeks of torture- that was what he had planned for, and had seemed most likely- but the way they were talking… the Brotherhood might not be able to help him escape whatever torments lay before him.

"Get him out of my sight," Haytham said, to one of the men who had brought Connor in.

If it hadn't been for the trembling of his father's hands and the hesitation in his voice, Connor would have thought Haytham had taken the revelation in stride. No, the man was barely keeping up appearances in front of his men, and would only allow his anguish to surface in private, as he had after learning that Mother had died.

Connor did not fight as a sack was placed over his head, tightened a little too much at the neck. He was dragged to his feet, and did his best to keep his posture proud and regal, his footsteps calmly confident.

He would not break easily.

OMG. Thank you so much for filling this... Wonder what Haytham has in store

I wonder how long the before the shock wears off? And while I'm worried for Connor, I also love these kinds of fics...

I can't wait to see the next part!

oh god Haytham's reaction, and Connor's acceptance of what happens... :'( Although admittedly I am looking forward to the pain and angst...

Thanks for filling, anon! I already can't wait for the next part!

Wonder how Connor was caught?...Either way, there's definitely nothing good in store for him. (And because I'm a terrible person, and this is a kink meme, I quite liked one of OP's suggestions in which he's handed over to the guards.)

Forgive any mistakes, it's half past 1 AM. Again, this is something of a prelude to the story proper.

After several minutes of being pushed and dragged and lead in circles, the sack was pulled off Connor's head as a heavy door was unlocked and pulled open.

Connor was tossed into a tiny room, one without windows. It was hardly furnished- a narrow cot, a wooden chair, a small table, and nothing else, save a scratchy blanket, a tall candle and a commode. It was a far cry from his usual quarters here, which consisted of a small but comfortable annexe, including a lavish bedroom and a personal study. Not that he really used his accommodation here, with his room at Davenport and house in Boston.

The door was slammed shut as soon as he landed on the cold stone floor, and he could hear the lock clicking shut. The guards had at least been sensible enough to strip him of his visible weapons and his equipment.

Connor sighed, and sat in the chair. He had made plans of the headquarters and distributed them amongst the Brotherhood, so there was a small possibility that he might be rescued. That, however, was unlikely. His father would have, at the very least, changed all guard routines and posted extra sentries. The Brotherhood was still small, they would have little chance of getting in the building, let alone getting out with him and they alive.

No, for now he was alone. Best to simply try to survive whatever punishments his father threw his way, pretend to break further than he actually would. They would certainly attempt to execute him at some point, and the Brotherhood's spies and contacts would probably catch wind of it. Either he would be rescued, or he would die without having betrayed the Brotherhood. He and they had long been prepared for such an eventuality. It was inevitable, really. He had simply been hoping that his betrayal would not be discovered so soon.

Whatever was going to happen to him would not be pleasant, but he would endure. He had to.

…

Without a clock, the hours trickled by slowly, if they were hours at all. Connor paced the cell, lay on the bed, tried to sleep, failed.

It took an eternity, but eventually someone came to his door. A heavy sigh. The door was unlocked, then unlatched. Connor kept his eyes shut, and his breathing even. The door creaked open, and somebody entered. The footsteps sounded like Haytham, and his suspicions were confirmed when his father spoke, voice icy with pain and rage.

His father had always been like that. Cold and calm, at least on the outside, and his ire had always followed suit.

"Why?"

Connor opened his eyes, met his father's frosty glare in the dim candlelight.

"Because you are wrong," he answered, and Haytham's eyes narrowed. The corner of his mouth twitched in the way that meant he was beyond furious, barely restraining his rage.

"How long?"

"Since before I first laid eyes on you. This was always our plan. Sabotage."

Haytham was very, very still for a moment, and very, very quiet.

"I'm your father," he said. He did not say it, but Connor knew what had been left unspoken: surely you didn't plan on killing me? Does our relationship even exist to you, my son?

"You are a Templar first and foremost."

Haytham pressed his lips together, and bowed his head for a moment. Connor tensed, but was not prepared for the blow to his jaw, nor the vice-like grip upon his shoulders. Haytham smashed his head against the wall, dragging him from the bed and throwing him to the floor.

"I trusted you!" Haytham howled. "You're my son!"

Connor curled defensively, but Haytham still got in a sharp kick to his stomach, and tore one of the arms off his robe.

"How dare you? All this time!"

He was being dragged upright, slammed against the wall. There was the taste of iron in his mouth. His father's eyes, mere inches from his own, bored into his soul. There was silence for a few moments, as his father searched his face desperately for some shred of regret.

"I love you," his father said, and this time his voice was that of a man who was breaking. Was broken.

"And I love you, father," Connor replied, sincerely.

Haytham punched him again, and let him slide to the floor. There was a ringing in his ears. Haytham's hands shook as he stepped back, and his fingers slowly unclenched around the white fabric in his fist.

"You don't get to say that. You don't get to call me that. Not after what you did."

His father's breath hitched, and he left without another word. The cloth that had once been part of his trusty longcoat fluttered to the floor.

Connor sat against the wall for some time, until the sharp pain faded to a dull ache, and he could pull himself back onto the bed.

He hoped that sleep might claim him, and give him respite from the anxiety of what lay ahead, as well as from the pain he'd seen in his father's eyes.

This was heart wrenching! Got me right in the FEELS! Oh Haytham... and then Connor admitting despite the betrayal, he still loved his father. OP hopes for HaythCon but opened to anything.

Also wanted to add, I love how in character Haytham was in this. I always remember how he LOST it with Church., but this is his son and it's a whole new level of pain he's struggling to deal with. I'm pretty sure that in the beginning Connor had no intention of bonding with his father or feeling any sentiment for him, but eventually does; which makes betraying him all the more difficult.

Can't wait to read the next part, please update soon!

Oh God that was intense. T_T Haytham still loving Connor despite his betrayal, and yet punishing him all the same...

Can't wait see what happens next!

Please update soon! Dying to know what happens next!

Oh please anon, don't leave us hanging like this!

Don't worry, I plan on updating soon! I'm recovering from an illness and a particularly hectic month at work, which put me behind on a number of fills. Soon, my precious anons... soon...

Re: Retribution 2/? (fill anon)

(Anonymous) - 2013-03-13 18:15 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Retribution 2/? (fill anon)

(Anonymous) - 2013-03-13 19:15 (UTC) - Expand

::Clutches heart:: Got me right in the FEELS anon! I'm kind of afraid of what happens to Connor next, and what Haytham will do to him or have done to him ::bites nails::

Please update soon!

~~P.S. also hopes there will be some HaythCon action~~

It's been a month but I still constantly check this for updates! I'm dying to see where this goes!

Re: Retribution 2/?

(Anonymous) - 2013-04-06 20:07 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Retribution 2/?

(Anonymous) - 2013-05-01 21:48 (UTC) - Expand

I am so sorry for the wait! I've been rather busy with my (insanely long) list of fills and a hectic real life… It will not happen again, and I thank you all for being so patient with me, despite my slowness.

Sexy torture will happen soon, but not in this part. This is mildish physical torture.

The morning- or at least Connor assumed it was morning- came slowly. He'd hardly been able to sleep, not after speaking with his father. He didn't blame the man for being angry with him. It was natural. He had betrayed him in the worst possible way, after all.

He woke up in absolute agony, a searing pain across the left side of his face, the area around his cheek. He heard a sickening sizzling and smelt burning meat, and he howled, thrashing, trying to get away from the white-hot thing pressing his face into the rough mattress. The thing was taken away, but the pain was still there, digging deep into his bones.

A cold hand stroked his hair, and wiped away tears Connor hadn't even released he'd shed from his nose.

"Ssh," Charles's voice said, soothingly. "It's nothing you don't deserve. If you're lucky, I won't have to do that again. Or maybe I will. I'm not sure. Your screams were quite poetic."

Connor opened his mouth, perhaps to demand an explanation of what exactly that pain had been, but only a shocked moan escaped his throat. He tried to blink the blurriness from his eyes, to roll over and look at what had been used to inflict such agony, but he found that not only was his body tightly bound with ropes, but his fingers were too clumsy from shock and pain to do more than ineffectually scrabble against the many intricate knots.

"Stop it," Thomas said, grabbing his fingers and twisting painfully (though nothing compared to the agony in his face, nothing at all). "You got to conserve yer strength. Yer goin' to need it. Today's the first day of the rest of yer life."

"What have you done?" Connor tried to demand, but his voice was smaller and weaker than he wanted it to be. It was almost as though he were a child again, trying to articulate to the Clan Mother what happened in the forest and how he failed to save Ista.

"Nothin' much," Thomas said, right into Connor's ear, and Connor could hear the grin on his face. "But everybody's goin' to know wot you really are. Assassin."

Connor closed his eyes and took a deep breath. If he concentrated hard, he could feel that his breeches were too loose, that the pain in his skin was a similar size and shape to the insignia he wore on his belt.

They's branded him. Like an animal. With the insignia Achilles had so kindly given him, as well. He'd hoped to return it after his tortures; alas, it was obviously not supposed to be. And, even supposing he did manage to go free, he would be marked for life with the scars. He could not walk the streets inconspicuously ever again.

"Do you think it'll scar more if we rub salt into it?" Charles asked.

"Nah. Things like that scar more if you leave the blisters whole," Thomas replied. "We could run salt water over it, though."

Charles chuckled, and it was not a friendly sort of laugh.

"I have a better idea," he said, and Connor heard the small sounds of buttons being undone and ties being unlaced.

"You bastard!" Thomas let out a foul giggle. "Ain't you goin' to take him off the bed first?"

"No," Charles gave a small grunt, and something hot, a liquid, splashed over Connor's burn, and ran down his skin to soak into the sheets beneath him. "We're not supposed to treat him nicely, remember? Master Kenway's orders."

The liquid stung, almost as bad as the actual burning had, and Connor cried out in pain, only to clamp his mouth shut and moan through pressed lips as some of the liquid ran into his mouth. The taste was acrid, unpleasant. Piss. How vile. He was a human being, for God's sake.

"'Master Kenway's orders,'" Thomas mimicked. "You'd do anythin' 'Aytham asked if you fort you'd get his cock up your arse in return."

Connor's stomach turned, and he hoped that Charles would finish quickly and his clothes would remain unscathed. Connor noted, with some dismay, that the shoulder pressed into the sheets was starting to feel unpleasantly damp, though Charles was surprisingly quick about finishing his business.

"You are the crudest man I've ever met," Charles said, coldly. He sighed, and there was the sound of buttons being redone. One of the men kicked Connor in the back.

"Got a message from Daddy, here," Thomas said, slipping into a parody of an upper-class accent. "Should you wish for the torment to stop, you need only sincerely apologise for your actions and dedicate your life to furthering the Templar cause so as to make amends for your Assassin treachery."

"The boy doesn't even know the meaning of the word 'apologise'," Charles said, scathingly. "Do you?"

There was another kick to his back, and the sound of footsteps. The door creaked open, then slammed shut.

"Ah, Charlie-boy's in a lovely mood again," Thomas said, patting Connor's shoulder. "Cheers fer that."

Thomas left as well, though not before slicing through one of the ropes binding Connor's hands. It took the better part of an hour for Connor to undo the remaining knots and free himself from both the ropes and the urine-soaked longcoat and shirt.

My poor, poor baby... ;___;

Damn, anon, I'll be setting up a camp here.

omg I've waited so long for this anon!! And you certainly delivered! *sets up camp with above anon

;_; OMG CONNOR ::HUGS:: Poor baby, I'm sure he knew and prepared himself for to be tortured once the Templars learned of his betrayal, but sure he wasn't expecting what they have in store for him

::drools in anticipation for sexy torture::

Poor, poor, poor Connor /hugs/ but I'm so eager for sexy torture time. Has it really been a month since the last update? Oh writer!anon please tell me you have not abandoned this wonderful fill!

Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

Traitor

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Claiming!

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Retribution 1/?

OP here

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OP <3'S U

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OP

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