Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed.
When he had first woken up in this reality, he was greeted by the face of his mother.
That put him off, to say the least. And it was merely the tip of the iceberg. Washington had become a mad tyrant. His village was still in place. In this world there were so many people who were still alive: people who he remembered dying. His mother, Kanento:kon later on. People Connor knew did not know him in this reality. Events he remembered as if they were yesterday in this world never happened.
Assassins and Templars did not seem to exist in this world. The Hidden Blade left behind by his father was the only indication that there were once complicated plots and secret forces manipulating this land and its people. But now there was only one force: Washington.
Connor could only wonder. Nothing of all this was supposed to be. But there were signs everywhere. His completely native clothes instead of his usual Assassin robes, the strange looks he was getting from many of the villagers – while they were alive, at least… And there were more things later on, which Connor only noticed after he had started looking for them.
His body was not quite the same – it was stiffer. It was not a body as used to fighting as Connor was. These hands had never held a sword, a flintlock, a rope dart or the wheel of the ship. And until recently, they had never used a Hidden Blade either.
It all lead Connor to a single conclusion. It was not the world that was not supposed to be – even though he could not even begin to count all the things in here that needed to be fixed. No, the thing that was not supposed to be was himself. This was not Connor's world. It was Ratonhnhaké:ton's.
The realization left Connor with a feeling that he had done a terrible mistake. He had taken someone else's life away from him, done things to his body by drinking that tea without even knowing the consequences. What Connor had done was unforgivable. And so many things had happened while Connor was in this universe; his mother's death, the entire village murdered…
He felt like he owned an apology. Somehow. He had taken the most important things in Ratonhnhaké:ton's life away from him and left behind a mess. But how could he make up for it? Was there a way to make up for it in the first place? Those thoughts were swimming in his head every single day, and Connor felt the need to organize them somehow.
He just hoped that Ratonhnhaké:ton had no problem with a bit more advanced English.
It was something he had taken to doing after he had killed his father and read his journal. He would make a few entries in the remaining empty pages, writing down his thoughts, experiences, findings and feelings just like his father and grandfather had done before him. But Connor did not have Haytham Kenway's journal in his hands right now. All he had was a small booklet. A quill and a bit of ink he had found under some ruins. He hoped they were enough.
He wrote about everything in there. He described all the events Ratonhnhaké:ton had missed to the outmost detail. He spoke of his own life. He wrote down his most important memories. He wrote about people, Achilles, the residents of the Homestead, Mr. Faulkner, and most of all, the father he never truly got to know. He wrote about the enemies that made him leave his village – Charles Lee, most of all. He explained the ancient conflict of the Assassin's and the Templars, the beliefs of the two orders, and all the murders and Assassinations he himself had committed in the name of freedom and later peace.
But it did not feel enough. Soon Connor had filled the booklet with details which would never be necessary to Ratonhnhaké:ton – about Aveline, the little things he knew about his aunt and grandfather, about the Precursors and the Pieces of Eden. Sometimes he would write late into the night, and would not stop until his eyelids felt too heavy to be kept open.
Once Connor had run out of details about the people he knew and heard of, he moved on to different things. He described the Hidden Blade, its history and how it worked. Ratonhnhaké:ton ought to know what was the weapon that he had strapped on his arm. He described various Assassination techniques. And then, more hesitantly, he started writing of other trademark Assassin weapons, and how to use them.
From weapons he moved on to maps and sailing. Connor described all the different types of ships he knew of, guns which could be placed on deck and specific vessels he advised Ratonhnhaké:ton to keep an eye and ear out for. He even gave the location of William Kidd's treasure. The small ring which could divert all sorts of metal had saved Connor's life many times, after all.
The days went on and on like this. Eventually Connor ran out of things to write. And when he did, his final confrontation with the Mad King came. Connor only hoped that Ratonhnhaké:ton would find and read the small journal he had read and emptied himself into. And that he would understand.
Author's note: Alright, this is a pretty old one-shot here - I wrote it over two years ago (I think) and it was just sitting on my flash drive, so I finally decided to publish it. I was a bit embarrassed, because I had not hit the over 1000 wordcount that I was aiming for, but that's cool.
This fanfic here belongs in the same continuity as "Blood Red Sails" and "Red and White Waters", so be sure to check those out as well. (They're not directly connected though) I decided to name it "The Bloody Morrigan Series".