Title: A Shallow Promise
Fandom: Assassin's Creed (more specifically Assassin's Creed III)
Pairing: George Washington + Connor Kenway
Author's Note: Hello! It is good to see everyone in for more of my personal favourite pairing, ConWash. I will make this a multi-chapter (and this is the first time I am making a multi-chapter fan fiction so be patient with me) compared to my other works. I am not that great of a writer so my story could be lacking and have a lack of detail. Other than that, have fun and let's see how this goes. Even I do not know how the story will end yet so it will be a team effort, no? Have fun! (:
Connor requested that Washington would never summon him again after the mission to assassinate Benedict Arnold for treason, learning that Washington was the man that requested that Connor's village would be burned down during the French and Indian war. Everything that he worked and thought was completely out of his reach as he was in shock that he was held responsible. Sure he respected him dearly, but there was no way he was going to accept him after hearing that he was the man who changed his life for the better or for the worse. George kept his promise very well, not sending a single word, not a call, not a message giving concern about how Connor was. For months there was no hint of communication. It was hard to believe that the promise was kept so easily; to easily for comfort. Having him retrieve his communication actually gave the doubt that Washington, commander, ever cared. How sad. The seasons passed, good days went short, bad days carried themselves heavily forward, but the quiet years did go by, and still not a word.
The land was much different as it is now "civilized", my village is still struggling a battle knowing we are still going to lose no matter what we do; even if it seems right. The outsiders coming into our land is now becoming a daily event, no matter how much we warn. Still, when I have my moments of silence I think about what I had done years ago: my alliance, my confusion, my judgments, and my immaturity to what life was. Washington, a man who I looked up to, a man I went through hell to protect, looking after him always even though he was oblivious to the plan that Thomas Hickey and Charles Lee had for utter death. How stupid I was back then for believing Washington was someone that would bring true freedom. Never would I guess that he would be the one that burned my village, killed my people, and killed my mother. Foolish I was to think he would care about me as he kept his word as easily as he did, not sending anything. This only made me think he was never truly on my side.
Frustration only over takes me the more I try to settle my feeling, but they only collapse in vain. Thinking about it would only make things worse for me and the clarity of my mind. Fall air was starting to return to the land again and the breezy chills sweep me by to give me the thoughts again of Washington. Every time I think of him I only think of winter as it was always around him, his cloak collecting the remnants of snow as he walked a steady pace and as it fell on his broad shoulders on occasion. His face always looked into the long stretch of land that was tainted white, matching his very faded looking eyes that always had something mysterious in mind, as he was always impossible to read.
More time only passed and not much of anything was worth telling other than the outsiders were stretching further West in a claim that they had the divine right to come across on a land that is not theirs. My opinion will never be listened to no matter how hard and how much I tell people, it will happen regardless. Only through sometime later that something made my skin jump; a letter. It was a single letter, nice and pristine; having only a few set of words written across the back of the envelope, containing the things I hadn't think would be possible:
"For Connor, George Washington."
It seemed he had not kept his promise. My eyes widened at the handwriting, knowing fully that it was his handwriting and no one else's, just in the simple phrase, a foolish invitation I wanted the throw away and hope never to see another of its kind. Somehow I couldn't discard the writing and even wanted to read the words it had to offer. Maybe it was an apology from him, wanting his best wishes. It was only typical.
I open the envelope somehow delicately (even though I am not sure why), nervous of what it has to say even though I probably know what will be in it. I only widened my eyes to its simple contents; an invitation:
"Connor, it had been long, and I am very aware of the conditions you rightfully spoke of in our last meeting. Please meet me in the tavern, *****, on *****"
It wasn't an apology letter like I expected to be, and somewhere in my mind, I hoped it would be him pleading on his knees for my forgiveness as he made a fatal mistake. Revenge, stubbornness, selfishness was my mind but in my heart I felt even somewhat sorry for him and wanted to see what he had to say when he sees me, if I go.
"If?" I start to speak my thoughts out loud as I gave the former commander the remote chance of me actually showing up to this private meeting. I only grunt at myself in disappointed as I seriously considered going to it, but there is no problem in going I finally convince my mind of this, telling my mind that it will be okay. After all, according to my conscience, everyone, even him, deserved a second chance.
It came time to come to the tavern I was requested to meet, looking up at the dawning building, wondering if it was a good idea to in or not, or whether it was even a good idea to show up at all. I swallow my thoughts and go by a concerning thought that sounded foreign, and not myself. The tavern itself was actually quite nice in appearance and a smell of foods welcomed me in, full of people laughing about themselves drunk as it was quite late in the evening. I search about the room for any sight of Washington but only saw nothing. Great, he is not keeping his promises and made me come out here for nothing. I turn back after surveying the room again (which I do not see why I even waste my energy doing so), about to put my hand near the door with a sigh of exasperation. Coming to town takes so much out of me and I actually thought he was going to show up and talk to me. I guess he finds me coming funny and hilarious. I am just going to go home and forget about it.
The door opened with me not opening it, a cold chill making me open my eyes to see what it is and who it was that opened it. The man asked for my pardon without looking up at me as he was removing his hat. His outfit looked very extravagant in comparison to the common person here in this tavern to everyday civilian. We both looked up and we both knew who the other was in the matter of a split second. I couldn't believe my eyes; it was George Washington himself.