So I was thinking, the first time Connor would have ever seen blue eyes would be Charles Lee. Then I thought, "Wow! That's gonna give Connor a negative connotation about blue eyes!" So...I wrote this. I'm pretty happy with how it turned out.
I looked up a thousand pictures of Charles Lee and Haytham, replayed their memories, and even Googled it, but all I could discern was that their eyes were some variation of gray/blue, but if you know it to be otherwise, sorry. Just...overlook it, Mmmkay? Thanks! I don't own Assassin's Creed, but boy I wish I did.
Connor had yet to see six summers when he saw his first set of blue eyes. The strange eyes belonged to the man who pinned the young boy against a tree then ripped his life away. Connor despised his eyes, like everything else about the man. How dare he make a mockery of blue, the color of water and sky. He had no right to the life-giving color when he took so many lives away.
Charles Lee was the blue-eyed man's name. He would pay, Connor would make sure of it. He would never forget the smug look in his ugly eyes. Yes, Connor hated blue eyes.
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The mere thought of anyone having blue eyes disgusted Connor. Brown eyes were home, they were his mother's eyes, his own eyes. Everyone in his village shared the dark eyes. Even when Connor left his village as a tender boy, having fourteen summers of experience under his belt, brown was home. Achilles had brown eyes.
Connor drove a knife in between the eyes of his fathers portrait in Achilles's basement. He did not have the dark eyes that everyone he loved shared. 'Good,' Connor thought bitterly, 'He does not deserve brown eyes. He does not deserve the color of home.' His father's eyes were a darker shade of blue, the color of the sky on a stormy day. The color of destruction.
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Connor's first trip to the city was exciting. All the smells, sights and people amazed Connor. The beautiful ladies in the city were unlike any girls he had ever seen before. Connor liked the city, it was so different from what he was used to. The colors were all so new. One thing in particular fascinated Connor though; ladies eyes.
The ladies in the city had eyes the color of water and grass. They had blue eyes he did not hate. Their blue eyes did not hold the evil the Templar's eyes did. That was a change for Connor.
At home, the woman had deep brown eyes, eyes the color of fallen leaves. Only evil men bore the mark of sky in their eyes, yet these ladies' eyes held no hostility.
Connor's mind flashed back to a certain brown-eyed girl in his tribe. He liked her eyes. They matched his own, the color of earth. The color of life, the familiar color of home. The ladies in the city had bright, unfamiliar eyes. The Templars had destructive eyes. He liked the eyes of the girls at home.
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Connor had to turn away from Washington the first time they spoke. His eyes were the same blue that tainted Lee's.
Connor forced himself to calm down and talk calmly to Washington. Adams had assured Connor that Washington was on their side, but it was hard for Connor to trust the blue eyes. Blue eyes held too many lies. He wanted to trust Washington, but something deep in Connor's heart wouldn't allow it.
The assassin blew a breath through his nose and forced himself to face Washington. He attempted to converse with the man, but his mind protested in distrust for the man. Connor fell silent and listened to Washington speak. He did not have to trust Washington, but he had to respect him.
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Connor never hated his father more than in the moment he was pinned to the ground by him. Connor stared up into his father's eyes with as much hate as he could muster. He was weak, but so was his father. The assassin knew he would win, even if it meant killing his father. The stormy blue eyes held his as Connor unsheathed his blade. His father heard it too late, and Connor felt the Templar's blood run over his fingertips. The same blood he spilt ran through him, mixed with the blood of his mother.
His father stood and spoke while the life ebbed from him. His blood stained his jacket and the life in his eyes faded. The assassin watched his father, his blue eyes strong as always, embrace his death. Refusing to admit his mistake, even in death, Haytham died, not knowing love from his son.
Connor blocked out the words of sentiment said by his father and muttered a goodbye in his native tongue once he fell. His father's blue eyes fluttered shut and Connor sighed. The storm was over.
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Connor felt no remorse as he made eye contact with Lee in the dim tavern. His blue eyes were filled with so much hate, so much contempt. Connor's side burned as he placed his hand on Lee's and pulled him close. The haunting blue met Connor's brown as the assassin plunged his knife into Lee's breast.
The expected satisfaction was absent as Connor watched the life fade from the Templar's eyes. The blue glazed over as Connor watched. He reached across the table and yanked the necklace from Lee's neck, watching his eyes as the man took his last breath. When the evil blue eyes closed for the last time, such a heavy weight was lifted from Connor's shoulders that he was unable to move for a moment. Charles Lee could no longer harm anyone.
Slowly, the assassin rose from the table and left. Leaving the knife and Charles Lee behind, Connor's brow relaxed. His side ached and he was weak from blood loss, but he had won. Connor did not glance back at the bloodied Templar. Yes, Connor hated blue eyes.
There you are! There's not a lot of brown eyes loving in fiction, so hope you liked it, brown-eyed folks!