It was evening, but it wasn't an ordinary evening for Haytham Kenway. Not much time had passed from his first meeting with his own son –known to him as Connor- and so now he was curious to see how the boy was going to behave.
The Templar Grandmaster had to admit that he was feeling rather nervous and anxious, and this didn't please him. He arrived an hour before dawn at the place of the meeting and he had spent his time strolling around and trying to recognize his son in every stranger he met. It was not just an appointment to spend some time with his offspring: on the contrary, father and son were enemies in their war, but this time they were working together to localise a common enemy. None of them knew how long the peace would last or if they were satisfied with each other, but work was work. So even though the man had swore to himself that he would not grow attached to his boy, he felt curiosity when he finally saw him.
'Let's see what he can do'.
The man, to most just an ordinary, middle-aged person, was very agile for his age and, of course, he was not prosaic at all. He was a Templar.
He followed his son for fifteen minutes and then he decided to jump down of the rooftops in the marketplace.
"Good evening, Connor" he said without wasting time, and then their work begun.
It was raining cats and dogs when they finished the inquiry with the redcoats. With such an awful weather, it was impossible for Connor to come back to his home or wherever he intended to spend the night.
"May I offer you a cup of tea?" the older man asked, looking at his horrified son.
"You have just killed a man. How can you be in the mood for a cup of tea?"
"It is getting freezing cold, Son, and you look so... delicate. We wouldn't want you to get a cold, now, would we?" he asked, a bit more sarcastic than he would have wanted.
"All right. I am curious to taste your famous 'English tea', Father" he answered sharply.
Haytham narrowed his eyes, somehow glad of his response. 'He has surely inherited his mother's dry humour. I certainly missed that during my lonely hears'. He thought.
They didn't have to walk much under the timing rain before arriving in the Grandmaster's quarters. Even though the building looked sternly elegant and well kept, Connor was surprised to find out that its inside was rather humble and plain. The Grandmaster had never really cared about his house's arrangement, that was for sure.
The place was sad in its simplicity and Connor went back with his mind to the manor where he had spent so much time working and studying. The place was surely quieter and it had been theatre of terrible tragedies years before, but while walking the hall of that big house, a shade of happiness and vivacity that had once populated that place could still be felt. In his father's house, though, all the young Assassin could feel was a depressing atmosphere and the sadness of a man who had spent a lot of time alone. Haytham noticed the boy's expression and for the first time in years admitted that the place, even if it was just a temporary lodging, was indeed in need for a maid to take care at least for the food.
"Is it here... where you live?" asked Connor with his usual polite voice, crusted now with caution.
"Yes. Might not me the Queen's lodging... but yes. Now..." he sat down in a chair and he pointed at the table, "there's the kettle"
"... I can see that myself".
"Well, what are you waiting for, then? Make some tea, boy!"
"I was expecting you to make tea for me, Father".
"Oh, well. I though making tea was part of your repertoire as well, but I can clearly see that the Old Man has been quite neglectful". He glanced at his son, expecting a reply, but all he got was a growl.
"That is not true" said Connor, and he grabbed the kettle with surprising strength.
After some time they were quietly sipping their tea. There was silence and peace in the room. Nobody could tell that those two men sitting in front of each other were enemies, but not even that they were father and son. They looked like two people who don't know each other very well, but are starting to deepen their acquaintance.
"So... is 'Connor' your true name?" the elder man asked in the end.
"No...that was not the name my mother gave me"
"Oh? And which is that?"
"... ".The young Assassin stared silently at the ceiling, doubtful, then he answered: "my mother called me Rathnhnhaké:ton"
"A Kanien'kehà:ka name, no doubt. I am afraid I'm not able to pronounce that"
"You wouldn't bother anyway" was the harsh response, and the Templar Grand Master sighed.
"Why not? You're my son. We may not have a real bond, but to learn your name... it is the least I can do".
"Are you talking seriously?" Connor asked. Even though his father's eyes were though and merciless, his voice had softened a little, and this surprised the young man. He was going to reply something sharp, something blunt so that emotions could not overtake him, but the question that he made slipped out of his lips.
"You couldn't pronounce my mother's name either, could you?"
Silence followed. Haytham lowered his eyes on the yellow liquid in his cup. His stomach had suddenly shrieked and he felt slightly giddy.
"Of course I could" he replied in the end. His voice was almost tender as he spoke the words, and his eyes were lost in memories from the past.
It didn't last long, however, and he was soon on his feet.
"Off you go, then. Last room to the left. You can sleep there, if you want. You can heat water in the kitchen if you need a bath, which I highly recommend..." he said, and his son grinned and waved his hand before heading to his lodgings. Haytham stood and looked at him until the door closed behind his back.
Enemies or not, he couldn't stop himself from feeling pride for that strong ad brave boy that was the result of the only experience of true love he had had in his whole life.
Notes: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! I would be very happy to receive critics and corrections.