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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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✩ Comment anonymously with a character/pairing and a kink/prompt.
✩ Comment is filled by another anonymous with fanfiction/art/or any other appropriate medium.
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Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
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Discussion
Welcome to the New Age - Part 25b/25c
(Anonymous) 2013-02-16 07:39 pm (UTC)(link)***
The bloodied snow was buried underneath heaps of fresh powder that came during the night, blanketing the countryside in a thick layer of untouched innocence, hiding the previous day’s events from view. The snow, like it always does, melted the following spring, erasing all physical evidence of anything ever having happened there. The only reminder that remained were the skeletal, wooden remnants of the Aquila, sitting empty in the water. Years past and even that disappeared into a fully repaired and battle ready vessel--Faulkner, after a few months of recovery from broken bones, boasted about her new capabilities. The homesteaders’ shock and excitement of Connor’s aliveness only lasted a few weeks before they fell back into the routine they had always been in, the Assassin’s recruits lasted for a few years however. They hadn’t come all at once, more like slowly filtering back to the homestead after what seemed like centuries. It had been a slow process, they often returned a tad dazed, wandering around the homestead like they had never seen it before, before greeting Connor with muted excitement. The recruits as it turned out had been the last members employed into Washington’s slave army--Dobby had been the first, the woman soldier that had dragged him back to his quarters had been her, he didn’t think it important to mention--after numerous attempts of breaking into the palace. They had no idea Connor had even been inside. They had been Haytham’s practice tests, Stephane had spat disgustedly, considering that nearly all of the Templars had already been forced into Washington’s service with the exception of Charles Lee. They expressed their desire at wanting to strike back at Haytham whenever Connor commanded, itching to put him under the same conditions they had suffered under Washington’s reign. They had been mildly displeased at Connor’s refusal, and that’s putting it lightly. Their anger however was completely justified and after a day of shouting in Connor’s ears they apologized in their defeat.
The day after the battle had been when Haytham disappeared, the only evidence of him even being there was a letter that had been left at Connor’s bedside when he awoke. It told him not to worry about meddling in Templar affairs any time soon as the Order had just suffered a tremendous loss and it would take time for him to relocate any of its former members. Connor had wondered if his father had realized what he had done leaving the note here, informing him of Templar plans for the next probable several years. He supposes it was the blood loss and death of Lee that prompted him to act out this way. The only reason Connor didn’t go out to try and find him was not out of respect for Lee or his father.
It was simply because he was too weak.
Too weak to make the trip to Boston or New York--where ever his father may have gone--too weak to even lift a sword, to weak to trail him across the rooftops in pursuit.
Too weak to kill him.
Connor had no doubt a fight would be waiting for him, now that Washington had been dealt with, and he was a highly skeptical that his father would let him live past the confrontation. If that is what was awaiting him the next time he saw his father he’d never let another recruit kill Haytham in his place. This was his father and he had to be the one to do it. What he hadn’t expected was to be the recipient of an unsigned letter on the first day of winter nearly three years later.
The letter had been dropped off by a large messenger who said not a word and left as soon as Connor grabbed the envelope, scurrying off the homestead as if ravenous wolves were stalking him. He later deduced it to be a Templar when he had gotten about reading the contents of the letter. It had been short, devoid of anything but a time and a location, however it had been for the utter neatness of the calligraphy, swooping letters that held a snarky undertone that revealed the writer. Connor, who now was nearly back to his old physical self with thick layers of muscles hiding his once protruding bones, left before the others could question his wellness. Under the guise of looking in on a possible new recruit he rode off to Boston harbor, nervousness clawing at his insides the whole way as he questioned his abilities in battle.
The ride had gone by faster than he would have hoped, making it there in less than a few days. He wondered if it was because the frontier had not been suffocated in heavy snowfall yet, or if it was possibly the excitement of seeing his father once more who perhaps decided against reforming the Templars. Connor arrived at the docks earlier than stated in the letter, propping himself up against the wharf wall as he regarded the rising sun over the town, bathing the houses in gold. The castle Washington had built for himself had since been destroyed, the colonists eagerly tore it down as Duncan Little informed him, destroying the stones with cannons before setting fire to anything that remained. Connor couldn’t help but feel a little more relaxed with the monster’s palace gone from view and wondered for a moment how the colonists’ regarded their former Commander now. Clipper mentioned that there were rampant rumors of Washington being a witch, using his powers to turn his army into that of those of unbeatable monsters, his body lost to everyone yet because of its disappearance fear of him returning festered inside the colonist’s hearts. And despite knowing that he was surely dead and would never come back, the same fear tore at him in the back of his mind.
He nearly jumped when someone leaned against the wall beside him, never having to look to know just who it was.
“What have you been doing the whole time on the homestead exactly? I could have just jumped down and silenced you forever and you would have been none the wiser.” Haytham stated with an amused little tone that made Connor’s lip curl.
“I assumed you wanted to meet me by giving me a place and time, not an invitation to my execution.” He heard a light chuckle that took all his strength to keep from punching him.
“If I had known this would work perhaps I will do that next time.” He glanced out of the corner of his eye to catch Haytham’s hands deep in his pockets. At least, he thought, I don’t yet have to worry about him drawing a weapon with out my notice. He kept flicking his gaze there as he continued with the conversation.
“Is there a reason you called me out here?” Haytham shifted his weight as he leaned further back against the structure.
“I just wanted to see how you were doing with recovery. Besides intelligence you seem to be back to your old prowess.” Connor bit back a harsh retort and only nodded. “Perhaps the old man can do just about anything, just look at how he’s helped you.” Connor felt his throat tighten at the mention of Achilles and looked down, afraid of Haytham seeing any more weakness than he already had, he didn’t need the man having one more thing against him up his sleeve. Haytham took notice immediately however.
“Ah. . . . . . .I see. I should have remembered just how old he was. I suppose an apology is in order.” Connor cut him off quickly with a shaky voice.
“No, I do not need your forgiveness for this.” He was surprised how much it stung still to be reminded that Achilles was dead. The old man had died two months after the battle, being torn away from him as time would not allow the old man to continue any longer. Despite being left an encouraging and heartfelt letter that was supposed to aid him in his recovery, it did more harm to him than good. He wonders if its Achilles’ sudden death that made him a little hesitant when it came to ending Haytham’s life. He had lost a man that had been like a father to him, but the idea of losing his real father--even though they would never have the same relationship Achilles and he shared--was a little much.
“Still I am sorry. I came to make peace with you, not to upset you.” Connor snapped his head up in surprise as the words left Haytham’s mouth. The man gave him a confused glance and cut him off before he could ask why. “No, not that kind of peace boy, the Assassins and Templars as far as I am concerned will never have that kind of arrangement.” Connor felt his heart sink into his stomach, sighing softly he should have realized that his father would never be willing to work as partners again--he didn’t care for the idea much either after being lied to.
“I know that you hold a grudge against me after what was done during our partnership and for keeping Charles away from you.” Haytham’s eyes seem to cloud for a moment at the mention of Charles’ name before he continued. “Now that he is gone I wanted to know if you are now satisfied in your raging desire to ruin Templar plans now that the source of your vow has been taken care of.” Connor blinked in surprise at the question thinking for a moment at just what his father meant before he snapped back.
“I will not stopping fighting you because of Charles Lee’s death. I will continue to make sure that my people remain safe from anyone’s hands, and just because you may never go after them does not mean the rest of the Templars will follow you.” Haytham sighed and rubbed his temples before muttering.
“It was foolish to try and reason with you anyway. Is your friend Kanen-blah here with you as protection?” Connor stuttered at the sudden change in subject and shook his head in response.
“No, Kanen'tó:kon is back in our valley with our people, ridding our camp of Washington’s activities.” It had taken years for Norris to safely find away to destroy the mines that Washington had created on their land in his absence, he wonders if they were searching for another Apple buried beneath the ground. Achilles had shook his head at the news and said Washington could have conquered the world with the artifacts of Eden at his disposal, it was either a great shame or triumph that the man hadn’t possessed the knowledge on how to discover them.
“I see, well,” Haytham suddenly drew a tomahawk from his belt, making Connor stumbled back in surprise and into a defensive stance. Haytham rolled his eyes and held the weapon out to him, waiting for him to take it. He took it carefully, eying Haytham curiously. “ Your friend had stabbed it into the top of the staircase at the tavern, they wanted it gone so I took it down. I don’t want this so I can assume you’ll take it back to him, yes?” The irritation in his voice nearly drowned him as he placed the tomahawk on his side. With that Haytham suddenly pushed himself off from the wall, causing Connor to chase after him, utterly swamped with confusion.
“What is all of this-”
“At first I thought of having your friend take the place of Charles’ in the order, however he had expressed such distaste of ever returning to Boston I decided against it. Besides his irrationality would have been a disaster for the Order.” Haytham was walking along the docks at a quick pace, looking out to a ship being boarded in the harbor with an impatient expression.
“What are you talking about?” Connor snapped angrily, infuriated by Haytham’s sudden comments. “Making Kanen'tó:kon become a Templar? Why?” Haytham stopped besides the ship that looked ready to set sail and stopped, looking back at him with a stoic expression and tone to match.
“I’m leaving. I have been called back to England to discuss important matters and I will, in any event, never return to America.” Connor felt his jaw threaten to drop in surprise as he tried to find the voice to ask why. “Be rest assured that the Templar Order will remain and function here without me, so don’t think you’ll be ending this fight just yet.”
“Why? Why are you leaving? Why are you telling me all of this?” The question came out barely louder than a whisper , muffled amongst the dock workers as he stared at Haytham for answers. His father sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before answering.
“Because this will probably be the last time that we ever see each other, unless you came to England on Assassin matters, which I highly doubt, I thought it be best to tell you myself instead of you finding out by letter. Think of it as retribution for lying to you when we were partners, I realize that perhaps if I hadn’t lied things would be quite different right now. But past matters should not be something to dwell on, and I truly do not care about it anymore.” Haytham looked bored, but there was a flash of regret in his eyes. Perhaps he truly didn’t care that Templars or Assassins couldn’t work together, however maybe if he hadn’t lied Washington would have never gotten the Apple in the first place.
“I. . .” Connor really didn’t know what to say, forgiving or not forgiving Haytham would not affect his father’s conscious any more than deciding what to eat for breakfast did. He was doing this more for Connor’s sake, even if wasn’t what he would have picked as an apology. “So this is really good-bye then?” Haytham nodded and looked towards the ship at the annoyed sailors who stared the man down.
“Yes.” He said hurriedly, wanting to get aboard before the it left with out him. “I suppose you want a hug or something?” Connor shook his head and offered a hand instead. Haytham looked at it suspiciously for a moment before giving it a firm shake.
“Thank you, for telling me. I know you do not think of it as much, but it means a lot to me.” Connor watched as Haytham shrugged before heading up and onto the ship.
“Don’t go and kill yourself too early, you’ll undo all the work I’ve put into you.” Haytham disappeared onto the deck before Connor could snap back a retort. He sighed softly and ran a hand through his hair, sitting back on a nearby barrel as watched the ship leave the port. He felt his heart ache, if only for a moment, at the departure of Haytham and knowing that it couldn’t be helped. Their ‘father and son’ relationship would never be anything close to the word, either they parted ways here begrudgingly as equals, letting the other live out the end of their days the way they saw fit, dying from some other forces that came into their lives and not from each other’s hands. Letting his father walk away was a little distressing, firmly setting in stone his vow he took as a young boy as a failed mission by letting a man he set out to kill live, but then he supposed Haytham failed too. The Assassins his father had worked years to stomp out in the colonies had once again arisen with Connor leading the effort, if he had killed him the Assassins would no doubt fall once more as they had done when they believed him to be dead. Perhaps it was just that small amount of sacrifice on his father’s part he needed to make it possible for him to forgive the man for his deception. He wonders what changed in his father to make him able to give out such apologies, after all it seemed like Connor had done nothing to make him feel that way in return. Maybe it was his torture under Washington that haunted him, he wondered if that was the reason Haytham agreed to leave the colonies in the first place. Perhaps the knowledge of the key role he played in securing Washington the Apple is what tore at him, keeping him awake at night more than it did Connor. It may be true for if Washington had never gotten the Apple, Charles Lee could still be alive today. Connor wondered for a moment what might have happened if Washington had never gotten the Apple in the first place before he shook his head with a sigh, returning his gaze to the ship that now began to fade over the horizon. Haytham had been right, musing about the past would do anyone no favors in the present and would do little to change what was now written in the future.
All that could be done now was to forgive and forget.
OP LOVES YOU!
(Anonymous) 2013-02-17 01:31 am (UTC)(link)I love how you didn't have Connor and Haytham killing each other in the end, and Haytham returning to London is probably the most realistic way to do it. BTW Is this one of the two endings?
Writer Anon
(Anonymous) 2013-02-17 07:26 pm (UTC)(link)Welcome to the New Age - Part 25c/25c
(Anonymous) 2013-02-19 03:57 am (UTC)(link)***
It had been surprising to see Charles Lee strike forward after looking like he was halfway through Death’s door when Kanen'tó:kon had laid him down upon the snow. The effort had been great for a man who shouldn’t have been concerned with whether Connor was lost to Washington or not. Perhaps Haytham had been the one to adamantly pursue releasing him from the tyrant’s grip, and like his numerous beloved hounds, Charles followed him like a dog eager to please. With the probable death of Haytham looming over him as Washington took control of the man more than likely prompted Charles to charge forward and strike. He wondered if Charles had even the mental ability with the loss of so much blood to realize just what he had done as Washington amazingly sidestepped Charles’ assassination attempt. The man had too much energy and too little strength to pull his body to a stop as he flung himself over the edge and to the sea down below. That was the last thing Connor remembered with clarity before his mind tore him from the scene into darkness as the shouts of his father and friend rang in his ears.
As he lays there in bed he guesses that it must be a good day.
There’s silence except for the distant sounds of waves lapping at the shore along with people completing their daily chores for the evening. He thinks for a moment whether or not Faulkner is caring for Achilles or if he is too busy drinking himself into a stupor at the loss of the Aquila today. He didn’t hear anything that sounded like arguing echo from the bay so he supposes that he is indeed helping the old man or dead, but he doubts the latter. There was also a loss of screams from the Assassin training space hidden beneath the house where Haytham and Kanen'tó:kon were residing for the time being, he guesses that Washington has truly in a great mood today. What a kind man he was, letting his father and friend have a day off from their beatings and letting the homestead residents continue to live off the land--all under the threat of his few trusted guards of course. He can’t help the little smile that spreads across his face for a moment as he appreciates the former Commander’s kindness. He had allowed the two men to live along with the homestead residents in return for his compliance, but it wasn’t like Connor even needed to struggle with himself to comply anyway, the Apple did all the work for him. He supposes that is the reason why he stayed in his room day and night without leaving, fear for his friends coming under harm. He didn’t want to give Washington a reason to hurt them or even the bother since the man never left the house any way, too paranoid about Connor being stolen away once more.
The creaking open of the door was loud against the silence that had been hanging in the room not a moment before. Connor didn’t need to glance over to know the man was pulling out the Apple as the familiar twinge in the back of his mind seized him and made him sit up to regard the man who was now carefully peeling off his layers of clothing. The blue eyes watched him lustily, eagerly pulling off the objects that restricted him from joining Connor intimately. The moment he pulled his breeches off he tore away the covers that hid the younger’s body from view before crawling up onto the bed and over him. Connor didn’t need to feel the mental pull as he wrapped his arms around the tyrant’s neck and pulled him into a deep kiss, making sure not to gag this time on the tongue that thrusted into his mouth. He let out a little breathless gasp, the same as the numerous days before--just like the man wanted--as Washington ran a hand down his side as light as a feather before giving his backside a firm squeeze. He tilted his head back as had been rehearsed to allow just enough room for Washington to nip at the bruised skin beneath his lips, making sure that never once the color faded. His body let out a little controlled tremble as a rough hand took ahold of his cock and began pumping, the man knowing full well the younger had been at a full state of arousal as soon as the silent command was given. Perhaps he did it unconsciously or to make sure that he couldn’t avoid it.
Letting out a light symphony of moans and mewls at the exact pitch the tyrant wanted Connor started pleading, in perfect English--despite his mind not exactly knowing what he was saying--as Washington purred with a grin.
“Please Connor, address me as George.” He instructed even though he knew full well the reason he was called Washington was because of his Apple’s command. Connor would then, always like the day before, breathlessly utter George with a hint of shyness as the man devoured his lips in another greedy kiss. He’d tear at his back, gently of course so that it could be seen as a sign of affection in passion and never hate, to leave marks Washington--no, George--could show Haytham and Kanen'tó:kon in the morning. He parted after a moment, prompting Connor to release a needy little mewl as he slid in a finger, slowly moving it in as the puppet strings tugged at him to arch his back with a gasp. Twisting and writhing amongst the sheets as, he glanced up at Washington with a flushed face and half-lidded eyes as he let out a whimper.
“P-Please, George. . . . .I-I need you.” No longer did those words sound artificial, years of practice and toying on Washington’s part made them truly sound real when uttered. George would tsk him before sucking on his neck, desperate to get a few more forced delighted moans from his throat before withdrawing his fingers, sighing at the loss. Pressing himself up against his entrance he’d still, the mental command throwing Connor into a fit of reckless grinding, trying to get whatever friction he could to make Washington fuck him. He would beg and plead until his voice felt hoarse with a hurried tone, as the man smirked down at him with white teeth, until finally before his voice went would thrust in without holding back. This would draw a true scream from his lips, pained by the sharp intrusion however Washington would always catch it halfway and turn it into a moan of pleasure.
Hot fingers would then drag down his chest as their owner would muse out loud how beautiful his skin color was or how he enjoyed the trembles that shuddered through him at his simple touch. Connor would always then mumble incoherent English--never his mother tongue--as Washington would quicken his pace, crushing their lips together forcefully, leaving no part of Connor free from his groping hands. He’d let out pleasured cries until his voice was gone, brought to climax by the mental command of an uncontrolled muscle twinge. Washington would follow soon after him, shuddering greatly as he released into him with a low, satisfied purr.
Then it would change.
Washington’s face would suddenly grow stony as he would practically leap off the bed and hurriedly scoop up his discarded clothing, not even bothering to put it on. He’d never make it out in time however--always a half-step away from freedom--the first little giggle that escaped Connor’s lips was enough to make the tyrant cringe each time. If his mind had been able to hold onto a bit more sanity he supposed he would have taken much joy in being able to scare Washington so badly. Washington would take refuge in the stables and care for his horse as the cackles tore from his lips, shaking him as they echoed throughout the house. He wondered if Haytham and Kanen'tó:kon heard him as well from the basement, maybe they also wished for some noise to muffle his own deranged laughter. He remembers when Washington had tried to silence him with the Apple after beating him to the point that only soft chuckles would escape his swollen lips. The man would shout and plead for him to stop laughing, threatening to kill the homestead residents and everyone else on the land, but it only made him laugh harder. The mere memory of the attempts now threw Connor into a louder fit of hyena-like cackling. He didn’t exactly know why he started laughing, it may have been from the loss of his sanity after being forced back into captivity or just degradation of it after staying in a room for years on end. Maybe it was because of the fact he now had to wait for the death of the tyrant to finally be free, after all Washington was so many years older than him he could die incredibly soon.
Perhaps it was actually the fact that Washington didn’t even need to use the Apple when he came into the room anymore, Connor willingly gave into everything. Moaned and mewled with out being forced, screamed in delight and begged for more without mental suggestion, became aroused and writhed in pleasure without the hazy confusion from the Apple’s power.
He didn’t need his strings to be pulled by his puppet master.
He giggled louder as tears dripped down his cheeks, watching the sunset from the window, listening to the screams of his father and friend erupt from the basement as they acted for a lullaby for him to drift off to.
Re: Welcome to the New Age - Part 25c/25c
(Anonymous) 2013-02-19 05:33 am (UTC)(link)._.
o_o
O_O
O.O
Love the horror element there at the end. Such vivid imagery, Connor's find completely broken and him laughing like a hyena, the descrption of screams as a sort of lullaby.
Anon has the shivers. Kudos.
OP LOVES YOU!
(Anonymous) 2013-02-19 05:50 am (UTC)(link)Thank you again, Writer!Anon for writing this amazing fill ::hugs::
Re: Welcome to the New Age - Part 25c/25c
(Anonymous) 2013-02-19 06:33 am (UTC)(link)Re: Welcome to the New Age - Part 25c/25c
(Anonymous) 2013-02-19 11:00 pm (UTC)(link)