*Assassin's Creed 3 and its characters belong to Ubisoft, and I make no profit from their use in this story. I have written this purely for fun.

A Son's Wish

Davenport Homestead, summer 1786

'I realize now that it will take time, that the road ahead is long and shrouded with darkness. It is a road that will not always take me where I wish to go—and I doubt I will live to see it end. But I will travel down it nonetheless.' Ratonhnhaké:ton, 1783

Three years had passed since Ratonhnhaké:ton, or Connor as he was more commonly called, had uttered those words. Charles Lee was dead, stabbed in the chest in a tavern four years prior. And his own father, Haytham Kenway was also dead, a blade to the neck ending his life the year before Lee. Both men had been killed by Connor's own hand. Lee, he had no regrets about.

His father was another story entirely.

Now thirty years of age, Connor sat on a tree stump next to the woodpile. Beside him was a neat stack of freshly chopped firewood, waiting to be brought inside the manor house. As often happened lately, he found himself thinking about Haytham Kenway, and what might have been between them had things been different. Often he wondered what his life would have been like if his father had been just an ordinary man, and not the first Grand Master of the Templar Order's Colonial Rite. Haytham had cared for his mother, or so Connor had been told. Perhaps the man even loved her. Had he not been a Templar, would he have made a life together with his woman and their child? Would Connor have grown up with a loving father?

Perhaps.

During the short time that he and his father had formed a truce, and worked alongside each other to find Church, Connor had occasionally caught a glimpse of emotion in the Templar's eyes. But the look quickly vanished when Haytham realized he'd been observed. Still, it was there. Even if only for a moment. Achilles would have said the look meant nothing coming from Kenway. And that Connor meant nothing to him. But Connor wasn't so sure. Achilles hadn't felt the way Haytham occasionally touched his shoulder during their mission. It always happened during quiet times, and Connor had bristled at the physical contact. Not liking to be touched without his permission, it was an unwelcomed intrusion upon his personal space. But Haytham's touch always had a warmth to it, and after holding his hand in place for several seconds, he would give his son's shoulder a gentle squeeze, then pat it three times before removing his hand and clasping it with his other behind his back. That is when Connor would see the look in Haytham's eyes. And he wished with all his heart that he could see that look and feel that hand on his shoulder one more time.

The years that followed Haytham Kenway's death had been long for Connor. And the nights were even longer. Plagued by horrific dreams, in which he would repeatedly relive his father's death, he would awaken in a cold sweat, sitting bolt upright while screaming Raké:ni at the top of his lungs. Once the haziness of sleep dissipated and reality set in once again, Connor would fall back down onto his bed, his body shaking as tears of grief poured out of him. Over and over again, he would cry out to Haytham, begging his father's forgiveness. Always he would try to convince himself afterward that it had to be done, that his father had left him no choice. It had been a life and death struggle between them that night, a fight that only one of them was destined to survive. And only one of them did.

Sometimes Connor wished it hadn't been him.

When his father's death occurred, there had been no time to grieve. He was too consumed with finding Charles Lee. But after Lee's death, all that changed. Badly injured after his battle with the Templar, Connor was too weak to do anything but rest at the manor house while his wounds healed. That's when the nightmares about his father began. And that's when life began to lose its meaning for Connor.

What point was there to living now?

Yes, the battle against the Templars continued, and probably would for generations yet to come. But Connor felt his part in that battle was over. He had succeeded in bringing down Lee, but at a terrible price. It had cost him what little family he had. It had cost him friends. And now he was alone. What purpose did he have left? What reason did he have to wake up to a new day? A day he would spend alone, with no one to share it with. With no one to love, or love him in return.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton!"

Turning at the sound of his Mohawk name, Connor's face lit up with a warm smile as his young wife walked down from the manor house to where he was sitting. She was the one who had changed all that. The one who brought meaning back into his life. The one who gave him a reason to wake up in the morning. Bending over as she stepped in front of her beloved husband, the pretty young woman handed him the bundle she was holding before taking a seat beside him on the tree stump. Slipping her arms around his waist, she leaned against him and rested her head on his chest as he unwrapped the blanket and gazed at its contents.

"Hello little one!" Connor said. "How is my son today, hmm? How is my little Haytham?"

Gently holding the baby in his arms, Connor lovingly caressed his son's cheek, then tickled the child's stomach, which resulted in a fit of giggles from the babe each time the act was repeated after a brief pause. After a few moments, Connor picked his son up and held him in the air over his head, then lowered him down and kissed his forehead before setting the boy on his knee. Supporting the child's back, he gently bounced his still giggling son until he felt a hand touch his shoulder. Casually glancing at his shoulder, he expected to see his wife's hand resting there.

But the hand that was there was not hers.

Rapidly turning his head, Connor saw the image of his father, Haytham Kenway, standing behind him. Smiling warmly with that all too familiar look in his eye that Connor remembered so well and so dearly missed, his father then turned slightly as a smiling Ziio stepped into view from behind him. Standing side by side, his parents continued to smile lovingly at Connor until his Ista nodded her head to him and his father winked at him. Then, in less than an instant they were gone, and Connor would have thought he'd hallucinated the whole thing were it not for the lingering feel of his father's hand on his shoulder. A hand that gently squeezed him and patted him three times before going away.

"Are you alright?" the soft voice of his wife inquired.

"What? Oh. Yes. Yes, I am fine. In fact, I have never been better, or happier!" Connor replied with a reassuring smile.

In life, Haytham and Connor Kenway had been enemies. Templar and Assassin instead of father and son. But Connor knew as he sat there on the tree stump with his wife and child that he had been right about the look he saw in his father's eyes, and felt in the man's touch back when they were hunting Church together. Despite being on opposite sides, Haytham Kenway had cared for him. And Connor knew something else as well.

His wish for a father who loved him had come true.

~The End~

Author note:

I feel that Connor deserves a happy ending, and I decided to give him one. I also left his wife nameless so that you, the reader, can imagine her as being who you wish. Thank you for reading my little tale. I hope you enjoyed it. MohawkWoman :)