They were throwing punches and trying to slice each other with their hidden blades, faster than they ever had before. Under the circumstances of their health, it should have been impossible for them to even be standing at the moment. Connor already had a significant amount of blood loss, and Haythem thought he may have broken a few of his own ribs but none of that stopped them.
Haytham had a feeling that neither one would survive this, and if by a miracle that one of them did, it wouldn't be for long. Haythem dogged the blade that was aimed at his chest and kicked his son's feet out from under him. He aimed his own hidden blade at his son's throat and ended up stabbing the ground as his son rolled away just in time. There seemed to be no end to their fight. Onlookers had long since fled due to not wanting to draw the attention of the nearby patrols.
Finally, Haytham could take no more. He had been one step too slow, and Connor's blade ended up in his throat. "Don't think I have any intention of caressing your cheek and saying I was wrong." Haytham choked. "I will not weep and wonder what might have been. I'm sure you understand." Except he did wonder.
He often dreamed in his youth about having a wife and child. Maybe a home back in England where they could settle down. Perhaps he could have written books in his spare time or owned a farm. Or even a home here in the colonies, where he might continue his work as a Templar, then come home to his wife and children. That dream changed the moment he met Ziio. His idea of a family became obscured. How would he live with the native woman? Would she have been willing to live in the city? Or would Haytham abandoned everything he knew and lived among her people? All questions that used to frequent his mind. Questions he had forgotten about until his son leaped into his life.
The amulet, which he really should have given to Charles, grew hot in his pocket. He knew it was a foolish thing to do, but then again he expected to walk away from this battle alive. Now, his son would obtain it and go off to do god knows what with it, and the Templars would lose valuable time and effort trying to obtain it again.
He staggered backwards and withdrew it from his pocket. It glowed an unnatural light and Connor seemed to not take notice. Connor stared at the prize, but did not make a grab for it. Should He give it to his son? Or should he make him take it off of his corpse. Haytham could not stand anymore. He fell backwards into the snow, once perfectly white, now turned dark red.
Haytham chuckled. He prided himself on his ability to read people, but just like his mother, Haytham had no idea what his son was thinking. Was he happy that he was about to die? Was he angry? Afraid? Sorrowful? So many questions, so little time. So many things he had still had left to do, things he wanted to do but never got the chance. Haytham once again wondered what would have happened if he had stuck to his dream of his English wife and his stories and his fairy tale farm. "Or," he thought again looking up at the unreadable face of his son "maybe not."
One thing he desperately wanted, more than his dreams, was to know what was going on in his son's head. Perhaps if he knew, it wouldn't be so painful. The amulet grew to an impossible brightness. Connor, still unbothered by the strange way the amulet behaved leaded next to Haytham to take it from him. "Goodbye, Father." He spoke gently as he took it from his hands. Haytham however, gently closed his eyes and let the emptiness of death take him.
When he woke, he was surprised to find that he had not moved. The sun had long since settled and freshly fallen snow surrounded him. Wasn't he bleeding to death moments before. Haytham reached to touch his neck and… nothing. No open wound, no scratch, no scar, not even blood in the snow of his previous battle.
The area still seemed deserted, there wasn't even the sounds of a patrol nearby. Haytham stood up slowly and tried to get a better view of the area. Still nothing. He reached into his pocket and searched for the amulet, but he could not feel it. He quickly searched the area around him to see if it had fallen, and when he could not see it he desperately started digging in the snow.
"Connor," he said to himself. "He must have taken it." There was only one place that Connor would go and that is the same place that Charles was headed. He raced down to the nearest tavern as quickly as he could. The townsfolk seemed to be keeping indoors for the night. The temperature felt dangerously cold, even though the wind was still, and the snow had stopped falling.
Acquiring a horse was too easy. He rode as fast as he could to get to the Green Dragon tavern. Charles still held some sentiment over the place due to the fact that it was the location where he officially became a Templar. Charles had informed him that he would be waiting for him there when he was finished dealing with Connor. Even if he had already left, he would have to leave some type of information of his whereabouts.
Haytham tied the horse to the hitching rail near the door, and walked in. Quickly observing the area told him, that Charles had long since left. A short man at the bar was cleaning a dirty mug and took no notice when Haythem walked up to him. "Excuse me," He said kindly. "I'm looking for a friend. Charles Lee have you seem him?"
The man looked up at Haytham from beneath impossibly bushy eyebrows and grumbled "Yeah I seem 'im. Was here for a while, 'till another man chased him out. Big fellow. Seemed to be bleeding all over. Didn't seemed to be limping or nothing though. Had an axe or somthin' in his hand. People were too scared to call the guard. Fellow like that looked dangerous."
"Would you happen to know where they went?" Haytham said almost impatiently.
"They went that way," he nodded his head to the door on the other side of the inn. "Watch out for yourself."
Haytham gave his thanks and left through the other door. Stalls had been turned over on the street the mess left a trail clear enough for him to follow. He grabbed the nearest horse, and started down the street. Haytham might not have been as good at tracking as his son, but he definitely knew how to find his way around the city. He followed the trail all the way out of the town and to the edge of the forest.
He knew of another inn a few hours down the road and started to make his way there. If they passed by, someone would be able to give him more directions. He kicked he horse into a gallop and rode as fast as it would take him. The cold air nipped at his face, and if he wasn't still wearing his gloves, he feared they would have already been frost bitten.
The Horse slowed to a walk, and against Haythem's wishes, went over to the nearby stream for a drink. Haytham was beyond irritated. He needed to get to Charles now. But forcing a horse to continue on while it was out of breath would probably get him thrown off. He took the opportunity to take in his surroundings.
From what he remembered, the inn was still some ways off. The moon hung high in the sky and lit up the night almost as well as a lantern would. It could almost be considered romantic if he had the right companionship. He could hear small animals scurry around him in the bushes, looking for a night time meal.
If he wasn't intently listening for danger, Haytham was sure he would have missed the rustling in the trees above him. He looked up and saw a shape balancing on the branch. It was too large for a bird, and too small for a man. He pulled out his sword, and used his eagle vison to get a better look. The shaped glowed blue and seemed to look like a small child. "How in the world," he whispered to himself.
He sheathed his sword and called out. "What are you doing up there?" The child looked far too young to be out here on his own, and far too small to be able to climb the tree on his own. The child pulled the overly large coat he had closer to himself and tried to hide his face in its hood. "I can see you up there," he called again as he climbed off his horse.
His current mission was temporarily forgotten as he approached the tree. "How did you get up there," he asked the child. As he got closer, his foot knocked against something hard and metal. A sword laid forgotten in the snow.
"No go away," the child called. A boy, Haytham noticed.
"Where are your parents?" Haytham pulled his coat closer as the wind started to pick up.
The boy did the same and replied. "Dead."
"Alright then I'll ask again, how did you get up there?" Haytham tried to ask patiently.
"I climbed," the boy mumbled.
"Why did you climb up there?" Haytham sighed.
The boy peaked his head out from the coat to look at him. "I was hiding, from the bad man."
Haytham looked around suddenly back on high alert. "What man?"
"His name is Charles Lee," the boy's eyes were wide with terror. "He can't find me."
Haytham's brow raised in genuine surprise. "Why would Charles Lee be after you?"
The boy shifted uncomfortably in the tree. "Because." He mumbled and tried to hide his head again.
Haytham shivered. If he was cold, there was no telling how cold the child would be. "Come down from there," He commanded in a no nonsense voice.
"No," The child stubbornly retorted.
"You'll freeze to death," Haytham reasoned. "There is an inn a few ways from here. You can find someone to help you there."
"No!" the boy exclaimed in fright. "What if he is there?"
"He will not hurt you I assure you that." Haythem tried to reason again. Charles was many things, but Haytham did not think he would stoop to so low as to actually hurt a child.
"He can and he will," the boy sounded close to tears.
"I will keep you safe until we can find someone to take care of you. I promise, now come down from there." The boy was probably going to die out here if he didn't do something. Haytham could not have that thought on his conscious after everything that has happened.
The boy was silent for a moment, before mumbling "Okay," and lifted his head all the way out from the hood. There was something familiar about the boy that Haytham couldn't place. His eyes looked so familiar, but where had he seen them before.
"Um…" The boy looked at Haytham and then down at the ground. "I can't get down."
Haytham did not look impressed. "Well you certainly got yourself up there just fine." He sighed and held out his arms. "Jump."
The boy's small feet dangled over the edge of the branch. The large coat hanging from the other side and dwarfing the rest of him. He looked at Haytham with wide and trusting eyes, took a deep breath, and let himself fall into Haytham's outstretched arms.
Haytham noticed the boy was freezing. He was wearing nothing other than the large coat, not even shoes. "Where on earth are your clothes boy." The child had his hands holding onto Haytham as though his life depended on it.
"These are my clothes." The boy shivered and looked up at Haytham. Suddenly his eyes grew wide in surprise, and a strange look came over his face. "Am I dead?"
"No, but you may be if we don't get you out of this cold soon." Haytham answered.
"But aren't you supposed to be dead." The boy asked innocently.
Haytham froze. A shiver ran up his spine that had nothing to do with the cold. The boy looked up at him like he was expecting an answer. Like Haytham had all the answers in the world. It nearly took his breath away. It had been a long time since he looked at someone who was so trusting at him.
"I…" Haytham was at a loss for words. That's when he saw it. The amulet he thought he had lost was peeking out of the child's large coat. Suddenly the familiarity of the boy's face made sense. But, no. It couldn't be, it was impossible.
"Connor?" Haytham asked.
"I thought you were dead," Tears formed at the corner of the boy's eyes and he quickly wiped them away. "I didn't want to do it. I didn't want to fight." He looked up into Haytham's eyes and suddenly looked at him with complete terror. "Are you going to kill me now?"
Haytham did not say anything. It was impossible. This boy did not look older than four years old.
"Father?" Connor whimpered. Haytham would be lying if he didn't think about killing Connor right then and there. He could stab him with his blade and be done with it. He could leave him out here in the cold, and never look back.
For a moment however, Haythem did not see the man who nearly succeeded in killing him hours before, or even a scared little boy in his arms. Haythem looked down and saw Ziio staring up at him. Her child. What would she say to him if he just abandoned the boy in the forest?
Haythem felt the Connor shiver in his arms and suddenly his mind was made up. He tucked Connor's assassins coat closely around him and pulled him closer. The horse was finished drinking let Haythem climb up on in with Connor sitting in front.
"I will take you to the inn and we will see what happens from there," Haytham explained. With one hand grabbing the reigns and the other arm around Connor, Haytham started the suborn horse back on the road.
"Thank you," Connor mumbled. "I don't…" The small boy let out a giant yawn and shivered. Haythem would almost call it cute if they didn't have their blades at each other's throats a few hours before.
"How did you get like this?" Haytham asked.
"I don't know. One moment I was chasing Lee and the next…" The boy held up the amulet. "It started glowing, and then I was like this. I hid before I thought Lee noticed, and I had been up there ever since." Connor looked up at his father. "How are you not dead? I saw all of the blood."
"It is much the same story. I saw the light and the next thing I knew, you were gone and I was healed." Haytham let go of the reins and took the amulet from Connors hands. "I thought this this was simply a key but now…"
Haytham removed the amulet with Connor quickly protesting "Hey!" But that seemed to have been the wrong move. His other hand immediately flew to his neck where sudden pain flared up as if he was stabbed all over again. With a moan of pain, he slid off the horse, and fell to the ground, Connor falling with him.
"Father!" Connor cried crawling next to him. He looked at where Haytham had his hands. One grabbing the amulet, the other pressed up against his neck which was now covered in blood.
He put his small hands over the hand Haytham had on his neck and tried to help by pressing down. There was nothing he could do and he knew it. He was not strong enough to stop the blood loss. Instead, he tried to bring Haytham's other hand to his neck to attempt to help.
Haytham's hand was still gripped tight around the amulet. Connor tried pulling his fingers off of it "Let go," Connor demanded. "You can't do both, you need to put pressure on it."
Haytham chuckled, but ended up coughing up blood. There was no returning from this wound. It was cruel that he was allowed to get his hopes up and then have it all ripped from him. His strength was quickly failing him, and Connor was able to grab the amulet from him.
As soon as Connor's skin touched the amulet, Haytham's wound lit up with a white light and was gone just as quickly. Haytham breathed deeply like a man who had just come up for water after nearly downing.
"Father?" Connor meekly asked.
Haytham touched his neck as though he could not believe the wound was truly gone. "I think," he breathed. "I think you should hold onto that." He said looking at the amulet in Connor's tiny hands.
Connor was trembling but nodded. Then, as if nothing even happened, Haytham picked Connor back up into his arms, and got them both back on the horse. Neither one of them said anything the rest of the trip. Connor eventually fell asleep with his back pressed up against Haythem's chest and a large arm wrapped around him. Haytham was pretending not to notice, that not once after getting back on the horse had Connor stopped holding onto the amulet like his life depended on it. Not even in his sleep.
I have no idea where this is going but It was inspired by A Little Problem by TheWyldeWynd on Ao3. I do not know if they have an account on fanfiction.
If you would like me to write more please review :)