#aridette

Haytham slunk into the infirmary, while keeping pressure on the makeshift bandage that he was using to keep himself from bleeding too much. He stuck to the shadows, as the teenage Templar recruit had no desire to be caught in such a state by the medical staff… As while he would be treated, the young man had absolutely no desire whatsoever to be scolded for fighting. It wasn’t his fault that the fight had started, anyways. All he, Charles, William, Thomas and John had been trying to do was to practice their defense techniques, since they had all finished their study early, and wanted to get out some extra energy.

The five of them had been practicing in one of the work out rooms, in the area that that was designated for defensive training, when eight other recruits suddenly came in and started trying to throw their weight around. Each of those eight were in their early twenties and were about to leave the training camp and become full fledged Templars - if they successfully completed their first mission. The eight older recruits had ordered the five of them to leave the training room, despite the fact that the five of them had been there longer.

The eight of them didn’t even want to use the fighting mats, as they had headed to the weights area and started exercising. The other four had been kind of nervous - given that all eight of them were at least a foot taller than the group of fifteen year olds, and were quite obviously stronger.  Haytham on the other hand, didn’t see why the five of them had to leave - to bow to their smug wishes just because they wanted the five of them to leave and told the eight of them so.

The eight of them sneered at that and their thuggish, moronic leader threw the first punch, directly at Haytham’s face. He easily dodged the blows and tried to talk the bastards down, but one of them pulled a pocket knife from somewhere and threw it at Charles - and Haytham just reacted instinctively to protect his friend. Besides - he healed much faster than Charles did. the knife caught him in the side and the eight howled with laughter at what had happened, mocking him for getting hit. Haytham pulled the pocket knife from his side and growled lowly, chasing after each of them and threw them around the room, dodging most of their reciprocating blows and doing his best to keep his friends safe. Unfortunately the eight thugs yelled for help and more large morons filled the room.

Things would have escalated from there, but as the newcomers weren’t entirely sure who was fighting who, they were just punching everybody and Haytham and his friends had taken that as a sign to leave. He had promised them that he’d get his side looked at, but he didn’t want the medical staff to write to… Him and telling the… His strict guardian what he had gotten himself into this time. He made it all the way over to the cabinet where they kept the medical supplies needed for stitching someone up, having just washed his hands and sterilized a needle, when a distressingly familiar voice admonished “You’re not nearly as smart as you think you are.”

Haytham startled, suppressing the urge to curse as he realized that Birch was leaning against the wall, twenty feet from where he was currently standing. “L-Lord Birch!” He stuttered, bright blue eyes widening in nervousness. “I… W-when… H-how long…?”

“I’ve been in the camp for the better part of the day, and I have been observing how my recruits have been doing. I have to say that you handled the situation with those eight older recruits badly.” Birch admonished, voice strict and eyes hard as he stalked closer to the distinctly nervous teenager “And you’ve even managed to get yourself bloody. Then again, patching yourself up like that is a punishment in and of itself… although whether or not it’s enough is another matter.”

Haytham couldn’t help but flinch, despite desperately trying not to, unable to look his guardian in the eyes. “I… If you must punish me, sir, then do so. The others wanted to leave and it was my actions that caused us to get into that fight.”

Birch hummed a little, looking as if he was thinking on his words “Oh, but it’s become quite clear to me that you won’t listen if I just punish you. You still get into trouble. Perhaps if I punished your friends as well, I might get it through that thick, stubborn head of yours to behave, Haytham.”

The teenager’s eyes widened in fear and concern at that. He really didn’t want his friends to suffer because of his own stupidity, and threw himself forwards, landing with a painful thump in front of the other’s feet, and begged quietly “Mater Birch… P-Please! D-don’t hurt my friends. I-I mean punish.” He hated calling the other master, but it was one way to get the harsh grandmaster to consider his words.

Birch hummed again, looking down at the trembling young man, and Haytham could hear the smirk in the other’s voice “Very well - since you ask so nicely, I will spare your friends - on the condition that you will not get into, cause or instigate any trouble for the next six months. Is this understood?”

“Y-Yes sir.” Haytham stuttered anxiously, relief starting to flood through him.

“And stop trying to hide your true abilities, Haytham. I expect you to be the head of your class by the end of the month, and you will maintain the best possible score in all of your classes. Thick as you are, you are the most intelligent of the group of recruits in your classes. I want you to act like it.” Birch hissed, reprimanding and unamused.

“Y-Yes sir.” the teenage Templar recruit responded, quietly but clearly.

“Good, now patch yourself up and clean the blood off of the floor. They do try to keep it tidy in here and you’re making a mess.” The Templar grandmaster remarked before heading off, accidentally stepping on one of Haytham’s hands as he did so.

Connor yawned a little as he stretched before settling comfortably next to Haytham, a sleepy smile appearing on his face as he leaned into his father's warmth. "M-morning..." the younger man mumbled as he closed his eyes, not particularly wanting to get up. He didn't have anything pressing that he needed to do today... And he was doing what he wanted to do today- spend time with his beloved.

Good morning to you as well, Connor. Are you planning on falling asleep on me... or are you planning on getting up soon?" Haytham asked, voice warm and full of amusement.

"I haven't decided yet. Though if you move, I will get up. This bed isn't as comfortable without you." Connor responded, opening one of his eyes a little before pressing a kiss to the other's cheek. 

"I wouldn't mind lazing about in bed with you for a time this morning. We will eventually need to get up and eat... I did not realize that you have freckles on your cheeks, Connor." Haytham responded, his eyes widening a little in surprise and delight. "Not, that I am complaining. The freckles are attractive." He almost said cute, but Haytham knew that Connor would pout and grumble at him for calling the other cute... and it might fluster the other a little as he knew that some people who had freckles hated it when someone commented about their spots. Uncomfortable about the attention they were getting about the attention that they were getting about them. Connor's freckles were fairly subtle, but Haytham still hoped that he hadn't flustered his son too much. 

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. I do have freckles. They get darker when I'm out in the sun- in winter they almost disappear. If I wear shot sleeves, l will have freckles appear on my arms during the summer... and I always have freckled legs, too." Connor answered back, noticing the widening grin on his father's face. "What?" 

"I... that's delightful." The older man responded, unable to hide the grin that tugged at his lips. Haytham pressed several light kisses. On Connor's face. "do you mind if I count them? I'd also live to see the freckles on your arms and legs... and then count them after summer has passed." 

"..." Connor squinted at Haytham for a couple moments before nodding, content to indulge Haytham's request. It was a bit odd, but he didn't mind. "Alright... Don't you get freckled in sunshine?" 

"No, I burn easily. That is why I never go anywhere without my hat. Although your grandfather freckled intensely in the light of the Caribbean sun, if his stories are to be believed." Haytham responded with a soft sigh, pressing a chaste kiss to the other's lips. 

Connor responded back enthusiastically, drawing Haytham's lower lip between his teeth and lightly nibbling it the way that his father really liked. They pulled apart for air a little bit later, both of them just a little bit breathless. 

A few moments later found Connor trying not to laugh as Haytham kept kissing him all over his cheeks- the gentle gestures of affection tickled and Connor wasn't sure of laughing would cause his father to stop. "Rake:ni, why are you doing that? Not that I want you to stop."

 "I am counting your freckles and kissing each one I have counted." Haytham responded in a matter of fact tone of voice. "Unless you would rather I count them another way?" The older man responded, bright blue grey eyes full of mischief and love.

 "I have no objections- I was just a little surprised. I love being showered in kisses like this... If I start laughing, it's because it tickles- those light kisses of yours." Connor answered earnestly as he happily let the other continue to kiss his freckles, enjoying the attention immensely. "Don't stop if I do though, unless I ask you to."

 Haytham paused in kissing Connor long enough to say, "very well, I will keep that in mind. Relax and let me kiss you, love." His lips lightly brushed against Connor's skin as he spoke, a small smirk appearing on his face as he saw Connor shiver with anticipation beneath him. 

Connor nodded happily as he let himself fully relax under his father's gently attentions, humming a little from time to time. He was happily in love and happily loved, and there was nothing else that he wanted, enjoying the easy affection. It hadn't always been this way, but Connor had no wish to dwell on their awkward stumbling towards the relationship that they now had. "I love you..." 

"And I love you... If you fall asleep on me, I will stop kiss counting your freckles Connor." Haytham murmured, noting how relaxed they both were and happy for it. This had not been easy to achieve, but Haytham was glad that they had been able to find it. 

"Mm... Noo..." Connor protested. He tried to wake up a bit more but, the bed was warm and his father close. His eyes fluttered shut after a couple dozen more kisses. He drifted back off to sleep with a smile on his face. 

“Father, please listen to me! You cannot be everywhereat once. You need to rest otherwiseyou are going to collapse.” Connor pleaded as he kept up pace with theolder man, a stubborn expression appearing on the young Templar’s face.

“I am fine, Connor. While your concern for me istouching, there are many things that need to be done and I will rest. Later once certain things are dealtwith.” Haytham responded with a sigh, shaking his head a little as hecontinued towards his study. His son had been fussing at him for the pastseveral weeks about that, but the younger man did not realize that he had to keep a handle on things,otherwise it might all fall apart. The Order was at a very delicate stage atthe moment as certain tensions that had been rising between two factions werecoming to a head. There were one of a few ways things could go, and no matterwhat the idiots in Europe did, Haytham was determined to keep his chapter ofthe order cohesive and able to function the way it should.

“… Isn’t there anythingI can do to help you? Even if it’s just to fetch things. Anything to ease theburden somewhat from your shoulders.” the younger Kenway tried again,going for a different method of attack. He already was making sure to bring upfood and tea for his father to consume every meal of the day and had been sincehis father had been frantically writing and sending letters three weeks ago,but there had to be more that he could be doing, other than worrying aboutHaytham’s health.

The older Kenway stopped moving for a moment, looking at hisson and realized how anxious and worried Connor was over this. A small smileappeared on the grandmaster’s face as he moved closer to the younger man,gently resting a hand on one of the other’s shoulders “There are a fewthings that I would be grateful that you did to help me. I will have finishedanother set of letters that need to be sent out, and I would be grateful if youbrought them to the couriers… In addition if you could get the two of ussomething sweet to share for after dinner, I would be grateful. I will havemore tasks for you to complete when you get done with those.”

“… You promise? And if I get all of the tasks thatyou assign me done today will youpromise me a small favor that I could use whenever I wanted? Nothing onerous ofcourse, father. Just… Just a small favor?” The darker haired maninstantly responded, cheering up a little at the prospect of actually beingable to do something.

“Of course - although some of the things I have in mindfor you will take some time to do, and I do not wish you to rush through them,in an attempt to claim that prize.” The older Templar responded, a sternexpression on his face.

“I understand, and I will do my best to complete thetasks that you give me swiftly, but to the best of my ability as well.” Connorresponded earnestly, nodding a little as he spoke.

“Very well then.” Haytham responded as he openedthe door to his study, going over to his desk and grabbing the stack ofcarefully folded and sealed letters. He handed them and a small pouch of moneyover, for the sweet desert that Connor would pick out. “Off you go.”

“Yes father.” Connor responded, still lookingquite worried as he grabbed the letters and money. His father hadn’t slept inseveral days, and he was worrying that the other’s mind was fraying at theedges… Connor knew that he certainly did not make the best decisions whilethat tired, and he couldn’t imagine many other people capable of doing thesame. He rushed out of their home, letters clutched firmly in hand.

~

Three hours later found Connor back in Haytham’s house, andhe found his father sleeping, slumped over a partially written letter. Connorcarefully took the quill the other had been using and cleaned it carefully. Healso replaced the cap on the ink bottle so that it wouldn’t dry out. Connorsoundlessly left the study, returning with a pillow that he slid under hisfather’s arms, switching it with the partially completed letter. Connor alsodraped the blanket that he had grabbed over his father’s sleeping form, andleaned over the other’s desk, pressing a gentle kiss to the other’s forehead.

He silently crept out of the other’s office, closing thedoor. While his father slept, a couple of Templars visited. Connor answeredtheir questions as best as he could and informed them - when one of theminsisted on trying to talk only to his father - glaring accusingly at him as ifConnor was to blame for something - that Haytham was asleep, and that wakingtheir Grand Master would be the fastest way to be reassigned to somewhere unpleasant.That stubborn Templar left a missive for his father and scurried off as quicklyand as silently as they could manage after that.

Connor and his father had been working together forseveral years. Haytham had come to him months ago, with a letter in hand and athunderous expression on his face. The Templar Grandmaster had stolen a pieceof correspondence from General Washington – which would have infuriated Connorhad not the information on it caused the anger that had been coursing throughhis veins at the time to turn from his father to the rebel leader himself.There was horror in equal amounts as well – for according to the letter writtenin Washington’s own hand - the other had been culpable for the burning ofseveral native villages, including his own, towards the end of the seven yearswar. His father had warned him that Washington might do the same thing again,as some of the native tribes had sided with the British against the Patriots ina desperate gamble, hoping that they would enforce the treaty boundaries thatthe colonists not only ignored but blatantly disregarded and violated on aregular basis.

There were tribes who had sided with the Patriots,and more still who had decided to remain neutral during this conflict, but allWashington could do, if he was found out to have ordered such a thing was toclaim ignorance as to whether or not the village was friendly or enemy, andunable to stop his men in time, if they had been an allied or neutral villageor not. That information had brought the two of them together. That sharing ofinformation from his father – who could have just as easily hidden thisinformation until he, Washington and Haytham were all conversing with oneanother to reveal that bit of information – prompted Connor to confess why hehated Lee so much. Some of his anger had faded when he knew for a fact that Leehad not been the one to set fire to his village. He still wanted justice forbeing screamed at and choked as a small child but… His desire to actually killLee had diminished. Particularly when he found out that the Templar also had awife and twin children to whom he was devoted to and fought both wars toprotect them. As for Washington… The man was a symbol of the rebellion and oneof the most visible Patriot leaders, and killing him would cause a great dealof chaos.

The two of them had grown closer as they had workedtogether. Much closer. Connor remembered the long, tiring ride from a smallfrontier village that the two of them had stayed in overnight on their way fromaiding the Patriots to Boston with a warm fondness. It had been a couple ofyears ago, and Haytham had brought him to the other’s Bostonian home, pressinga kiss to his lips as soon as the door had closed behind the two of them andtheir horses had been stabled. That had been the first of many kisses. Some hadlead to sex and others had lead to the two of them being wrapped up in one another,off to sleep before they could do much more than kiss.

Connor knew that his recruits were understandablyhesitant about working with the Templars, but as the war against the Britishcontinued and the Colonial Templars proved themselves to be trustworthy andhelpful allies, the divide between the Brotherhood and Rite – at least in theEnglish Colonies – began to heal. More than that, it was interesting just howwell some of his recruits and his lover’s people. Connor was currently inBoston, checking on Duncan, Stephane and Clipper. A small frown appeared on hisface as he realized that none of them were at their usual haunts – and none ofthem were on missions. Connor asked of them to friends and acquaintances oftheirs, and not a one of them could say where any one of the three of themwere. Connor had come from Homestead, and they would have sent a messengerpigeon if they had reach the (small) stronghold that would have reached him onthe road.

However the longer he wandered the streets,searching for his recruits, he heard of a public hanging. The city wascurrently under control of the British, and several supposed Patriot traitorshad been caught and were to be executed in less than an hour at fortIndependence. Connor ran as fast as he could to the fort, intending to see ifthis was a trap, or if actual patriots had been captured. If the latter wastrue, Connor needed to find and rescue them before they were killed. It wouldbe easier if his recruits were with him, but that was likely what they weretrying to do – rescue the Patriots before they were killed.

Connor could not get into the fort as the guardswere on high alert – and from their sharply polished accents, had just arrivedone of the recently arrived supply ships straight from the heart of the BritishEmpire. He would not be deterred, so he hid behind a stack of boxes andwhistled lowly, waiting patiently for one of the guards on patrol to come overand examine the source of the sound. Once one of the guards did come over,Connor killed him swiftly. He knew that the sound would attract the attentionof the other guards and dispatched them just as quickly.

He scrambled up the side of the fort, keeping lowon the wall as he moved from one spot of cover to the next, searching for theentrance to the cellblock, where the prisoners would be kept just until theywere dragged out to be executed (and Connor knew this from miserableexperience). Unfortunately, there was a crowd of only half-willing (from themuttering he heard around him. Connor had pulled his hood up so that his facewould not be seen) citizens, waiting for the prisoners to be dragged forwardsand executed. Connor counted six nooses hanging and a terrible premonitionflashed before his eyes.

But… That couldn’t possibly be true! His recruitswere skilled fighters and good at escaping guards. More than that, each of themwere local leaders of the areas of the city that they lived in and were bothwell loved and protected by the citizens around them. But his fears wereconfirmed as one by one, his recruits were dragged up to the front of crowd byguards, a noose tightened around each of their throats. Like hell was Connorgoing to allow this to happen! His body was moving before he could reallythink, a smoke bomb in his hands as he leapt onto the platform, throwing thedistraction device down so that it obscured the sight of everyone around –including the shouting guards. He knew that time was precious, so he started tocut down each of his recruits, handing one of them a knife after he cut themdown and their hands apart so that they could help him free the rest.

By the time the smoke cleared, all six of them werefree and each was moving as fast as he or she could manage, heading for arooftop. Connor leapt and scrambled up to a roof, before turning around andgrabbing Stephane, who he had heard stumble and gasp behind him. Horror filledthe young Mentor as he realized that the Frenchman was gurgling in pain as hewas stabbed through by the bayoneted rifle of a smirking redcoat, who proudlywore a Templar cross. Connor threw the dagger he had been holding at the smugbastard’s neck, hoping that if it didn’t kill him, that it would at leastdistract the other from firing for a few moments.

His eyes scanned for the others – Clipper was makingdecent time and Duncan was right behind him. Dobby had already disappeared intothe crowd. Jacob… Jacob had gotten cornered by several guards and Jamie hadturned back to help. Connor drew his pistol and shot the guard who had beenclosest to the two of them, killing him with a headshot. He reloaded his pistolswiftly and shot one of the guards who was aiming a rifle at Clipper. Just ashe killed that guard, another pistol shot rang out and… Duncan stumbled, andfell.

Clipper turned and dove after the former priest,out of Connor’s sight. The mentor ran after his recruits, determined to try tosave at least some of his recruits. By the time that he had gotten to Jamie andJacob as the two of them were closest, each had defeated a half-dozen guards, butthey just kept coming and coming. Both of them looked bedraggled and neither ofthem had any armor and were armed with the knife that Connor had given him anda sword pilfered from a dead guard each.

Jacob spotted Connor as he started to close in onthe guards, shaking his head and shouting “You need to run, Connor! They’reafter you! We’ll fight our way out of this.”

Jamie nodded and tried to get the younger man torun, able to disarm and kill the closest guard to the three of them “Go,please. We will run after you do. Duncan needs help.”

Connor was unhappy about leaving the two of themthere. He tossed Jamie – who had a hand free – a smoke bomb and ordered “Stayalive and run as soon as you can.” and did as his recruits asked, trusting themto do as they had promised him.

He reached Duncan, Clipper and Dobby fightingseveral dozen guards and just managing to dodge the bullets of severalsharp-shooters who were posted. Duncan had been hit in the gut and was bleedingheavily. The former priest was fighting like a man possessed – then again,given where he had been shot, all Duncan could do was hope for was a quickdeath. Clipper was aiming for one of the enemy sharpshooters, and managed toget off a kill shot.

Dobby called up to him “Connor, they are lookingfor you specifically, get out of here! We can handle them. You’ve trained uswell. Get out of the city if you can manage it, as fast as you can.”

Connor protested “I can help you fight, and –”

He was interrupted as he heard an officious,British accented voice call out “First rank, ready, aim and fire!”

Dobby lunged and grabbed Connor as the man spoke,twisting so that she shielded him with her body as a dozen musket shots riddledher body, spraying Connor with her blood, but protecting him from harm. Shechoked out “Run, Connor. Please! You’ve lead us, and you have the ability tolead others. Stay safe, and stay alive. For us, aye?” A small smile appeared onher face as her eyes closed.

Connor gritted his teeth as a dark glare appearedon his face as he prepared to charge the line of red-coats to kill those whohad taken the life of one of his dear friends. A hand landed on the back of hiscollar and he was yanked into one of the barracks.

When he whipped around to face who had grabbed him,it was a bloody Jamie. “Mentor, please. You need to run. Templars fresh fromEngland have arrived and they managed to track each of us down and capture usin the night. They have a strange Object in their possession – a golden baubleof strange and terrible power. You need to survive this so that our order cansurvive. We’ll be right behind you. I promise.”

“… Fine. But the rest of you better survive. I willnot be able to finish this by myself.” Connor growled back, trying to get Jamieto look him directly in the eye. He wasn’t going to be the only one to survivethis, if he had to carry two of his recruits on his back while they kicked andscreamed in protest. With a steadying breath, the two colonial Assassinsrejoined the fray, with Connor reluctantly freeing as Jamie went after the seaof red-clad soldiers, helping to keep the foot soldiers at bay while Clipperdealt with the sharpshooters.

By the time that Connor had gotten back to theBoston safe house, he was near the point of collapse. It had taken him hours andhours to get back. There had been dozens of guards everywhere, and Connorpartially waited for one or more of his recruits to also escape fortIndependence, watching the walls and hoping that they would make it as well. Hehad very nearly went back into the fort, to try and rescue at least one ofthem, but their utter insistence on him escaping alive kept what were quitepossibly all of their final wishes honored.

He collapsed in the foyer of the small house,closing the door and groaning softly. He had a couple of small sword cuts froma surprisingly swift guard captain who had come upon him suddenly a little overan hour ago. He had killed the guard captain – who was shouting for assistance– and managed to hide until the guards had stopped searching for himimmediately. The injuries hurt quite a bit, but were not life-threatening. Whathurt more was the fact that his recruits had been caught and killed…Possiblyall of them… By and on the orders of Templars.

He had trusted his father and lover… And this iswhere it had gotten him – his fellow Assassins slain – he should have listenedto them when they said that it was a bad idea to try to ally with the Templars.That it could only end in pain and misery. That his piece of shit father wouldbetray him when it would hurt the most, and by the spirits, it was true. Theyhad been right and had paid for his miscalculation with their lives.

As if summoned to inflict maximum pain, Haythamappeared from the doorway on the far end, looking immaculate and untouched byeverything as always. He frowned a little at Connor’s disheveled andblood-covered state, asking with a look of mockingly false concern on his face,and voice deceptively worried “Connor, what happened?”

Connor glared daggers at his father, barely managingto stand –he was so exhausted and the rage and betrayal was causing his limbsto shake – biting out angrily “As if you don’t know. I’m useless to you now.”He would never again trust the other, and he certainly wasn’t going to beanother one of the other’s pawns.

Haytham huffed a little, coming closer and daring to put a hand on hisshoulder. “Oh please, you were always bloody useless. I love you anyways. Areyou done being strangely overdramatic and ready to tell me what happened?I just got a frantic message from John, saying that one of your recruits hadbeen captured by the new regiment that had arrived earlier this week fromEngland.”

“Do not. Give me that. LIE! The captain of theguard was a Templar, and there were more in the group of soldiers! They knewwho each of my recruits were and how to find them! How could they have knownthat, if you or one of your people hadn’t told them.” Connor hissed, eyesnarrowing to furious slits as he tried to wrench away from his lover’s grasp,swaying a little and staggering into Haytham. He was more injured and exhaustedthan he first realized. He had to get out of here, he had to get away fromHaytham before he passed out and was easy prey for the Grandmaster –not thatthere was much left of his Brotherhood – and little that Haytham did notalready know. Except…

Except the location of Davenport Homestead. He hadyet to bring the other to his – to his Brotherhood’s - oasis of safety and calmin the colonies. Part of it was that they all had to be in full agreementbefore they took any Templar there… And partially because he worried whatHaytham might do to the small, peaceful village, as the other meddled. It waswhat Templars did.

“I did not give them the names and locations ofyour recruits, Connor. I would never betray you in such a way. I have beenbetrayed at such a level, and I would never do so to another person… Especiallysomeone whom I love as dearly and care as much for as I do for you. I do notknow how they got that information but… I arrived here in Boston an hour ago,after I had gotten a message from Pitcairn, saying that one of your recruitsmight have been detained by some of the regiments who have recently arrived. Acouple of the men and commanders are Templars, but they are not under my commandand as of yet, none of them have reported to me to ask what the standing ordersare, nor how to interact with Assassins here.” Haytham answered truthfully,steadying his heavily injured son, hoping that Connor would believe him.

Connor stared hard at him, trying to decide whetheror not he was going to believe Haytham. Achilles’ mistrustful words rattledaround in his mind. But there was the years that they had worked together,loved one another (or at least, so Connor had believed they had) to bring aboutpeace and prosperity. There had been more than a couple of times when it mighthave been to Haytham’s advantage to betray Connor’s trust… but Haytham hadn’tdone so. He had even censured Lee for what the volatile Templar had done to himas a child, and promised that once the war was over, and his usefulness as aperson of import within the Patriots waned, that he would allow Connor to seekjustice for his crimes.

“I…” He activated his second sight, and Haythamshone a bright, soothing blue. If his lover had betrayed him, then the otherwould have shone a bloody red in his vision, whether Connor knew it for certainor not. He clung to Haytham and buried his face into one of the other’sshoulders, trembling a little “I… I saw three of them fall. The… The otherswere surrounded and… They begged me to run. I wanted to stay and fight but…Jamie… Told me that one of these new Templars was in possession of a goldenobject of terrible power… and that they were after me specifically…”

“… For now, let us hope that your other threerecruits survived. You need to get cleaned up and rest. We will deal with therest of this when you have healed. I will have my people gather information. Iwill speak with them later this afternoon, if you would like. Or…” Haytham pausedas he continued to gently pet Connor’s hair. He had started to do so whenConnor had first started to cling to him tightly. Haytham’s other arm hadwrapped around Connor’s waist, trying to help the other to keep steady andclose. “Or tomorrow, if you would rather I stay close tonight. I can send acouple of pigeons to the others, as there is a coop on the roof of this house.Which would you prefer?”

“… I… I would rather you stay close tonight.” So hecould watch Haytham. So that he knew that Haytham was safe. If his father diedor was captured today as well… Connor shuddered a little at that thought. Hehad lost more people whom he cared for than he had ever wanted to again today.

“As you wish, Connor.” His beloved murmured,pressing a kiss to Connor’s forehead as the other deftly carried him up to oneof the bathrooms. “I was just about to take a bath, so the water I hot, but youneed it much more than I do. Do you know how much of that blood is yours?”

“Most… Most of it is other peoples. Mainly… MainlyDobby’s. There was a… A firing squad and she…” Connor couldn’t say it, abjectmisery and guilt flashing across his face.

“Protected you, so that you would survive?” Haythamoffered quietly as they entered the bathroom. There was a large, claw-footed tubnear the fire to help retain the water’s heat. As Connor started to stare atthe fire and tremble more, Haytham tugged his lover’s chin down so that theslightly taller man was looking him directly in the eyes. “Connor… Today hasbeen a terrible day. Losing… Losing so many people at once is a hard thing toswallow. But you need to focus. In order to avenge them, and to make certainthat their deaths were not in vain.”

Connor nodded absently, tugging off his clothes –he was covered in blood, and he desperately wanted to get clean – not that hewould ever be free of the sights of his friends deaths in such a violentfashion. “Yes, Haytham. You’re right, of course I just…” Connor hadn’t criedsince he was a small child. It was one thing that the fire seemed to haveburned from him. But he was closer than he ever had been, to breaking down intoa sobbing mess.

“Take your time, Connor. Let me help you, andtogether we will get to the bottom of this. Those responsible will be killedfor trying to disrupt what we had been able to do here.” Haytham responded,voice firm but caring as he guided Connor into the bath. “Would you likesomething to eat, or a bit of tea to drink? How long has it been since you havehad anything?”

“I have not eaten anything since… Since before Iheard about the hanging, and that was in mid-morning.” Connor answered, voicesounding to him. As if another person was speaking, rather than himself. Hewould need to contact Aveline and tell her what had happened, so that shewasn’t caught off-guard. With a shake of his head, he snapped out of thestrange mental daze he had gotten into. Haytham was right. He needed to focus.“Could British Templars be trying to interfere with the war, now that they arehere? Would their interests align more with the Empire in which they live in,rather than with you, and their fellow Templar brethren in the colonies?”

“It can happen that different sects of the TemplarOrder find themselves on opposite sides of war. Generally we try to worktogether, rather a lot like different chapters of your Brotherhood worktogether, despite differences that their country of birth have. But it wouldnot surprise me if that was the case.” Haytham responded, a small sigh escapinghim as he shook his head. “I will bring you something to change into. Wash upwell, mm? I’ll make certain that there’s something here for you to eat.”