Quick A/N: I hope y'all enjoy this story! It was a quick little blurb I wrote up with the help of a good friend of mine. Please enjoy!
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Snow fell, covering the ground in a beautiful, white blanket. From inside the cabin, it looked peaceful; somewhat enticing even.
If he allowed himself, he would notice how much the snow covered ground looked like his own hair. A darkened foliage that was slowly losing its ground to the edging white. Age was slowly catching up to him… But it would never win the race. His hair would remain forever like this until he was nothing more than bones in the ground.
The fire before him crackled as he poked at it; warm, comforting. The winter day was biting at him without any sort of mercy; his bones were as weary as his soul. He had managed to chase away some of the cold with the fire, but it was a never ending battle to keep comfortable.
The cabin's door whooshed open just as he had expected would happen, slamming against the wall behind it from the sheer force the air had thrown upon it.
"You've got to nail it shut."
The only answer Shay received was that of a huffed grunt.
The cold he had tried to chase away by sitting in front of the fire place forced itself back onto him with full force. A real shame, really. He had been hard at work trying to keep himself warm during his final hours.
Silence and the crackling from the fire had been his past companions. But now the silence was broken by the thunderous of a hammer forced onto a door and he found himself with a new, very much human companion.
"It is cold."
"Fine observation that is."
His back was turned to the newest arrival. He could not see the large man. But he knew him so well that Shay could feel the unimpressed glare that wanted to burn a hole into the back of his head.
With a soft chuckle, the Templar motioned for the newcomer to walk towards him, "Come along, then. Whiskey's good to warm a frozen body."
The wooden floor creaked as heavy boots thudded against it. Winter around these parts was harsh, deadly, and if one were to skimp out on clothes, they would undoubtedly die of frost bite within hours.
Shay had expected for the other man to sit down on the chair directly to his left. He had the habit of laying claim to whatever piece of furniture he deemed good enough for himself; as soon as he was in front of it, he would sit himself down and show that he now had ownership of the piece.
Connor had never really been one to do as was wholly expected of him, though. So his consequent actions shouldn't have really caught Shay by much surprise.
That didn't stop the fact that they had surprised him, though.
When the loud steps ceased, Shay released the poker he had been using to move the lumber within the fire place so he could turn towards his guest. His head's movement was halted suddenly by a hand clamping onto the back of his neck, thick fingers digging into both exposed and covered skin.
"What-?"
His chin was forced upwards by a second hand; these fingers keeping a steady yet bordering on predatory hold of him. Then, a pair of dried, extremely cold, and much too chapped lips forced themselves onto his, demanding and controlling.
Connor's kisses were always harsh. But they were passionate. And he always poured his love into every kiss; it was as if he feared every kiss would be his last.
A macabre, masochistic, little voice in the back of his head reminded Shay that this may well just be their last kiss. But the man forced that voice to silence itself for he wanted to revel in his lover's embrace for as long as he could.
It may have been selfish of him, he was aware of it, to want such a thing. It was not fair to Connor, after all. One of them would live, the other would die, and the one that lived would have to suffer with the knowledge of the other's death for the rest of his life. It was a cruel punishment when one truly thought about it… Still, he believed he had a right to be marginally selfish. He had given all of his life serving others; being selfless. Could he not take even this little?
Just as abruptly as the kiss had begun, Connor ceased it and sat himself down on the chair beside Shay. But he did not go alone.
With his large hand holding on tightly to Cormac's wrist, the younger male pulled Shay along with him and forced him to sit on top of him.
Shay allowed the rough treatment, already accustomed to Connor's unique way of handling him.
If he had been younger, the Native American lad would have been missing choice body parts because of the treatment. But time had cooled his temperament and he no longer gave into brash thoughts and thoughtless impulses… As much.
"Why did it take you so long to summon me?"
Strong arms held onto him like a child would grab onto a toy they refused to part with. And, in a way, Connor treated him like a prized toy he never wanted to release. It was rather tender and endearing, in a way. Although he could sometimes become annoying with his constant need to touch and be touched.
Shay thought about his answer. He chose his words carefully, wishing to keep Connor from worrying over him too much: "Finding my courage."
It was short and to the point. It encompassed little, yet said everything that needed to be heard.
Seconds ticked by without either man saying a single thing.
Connor's arms were wrapped tightly around his waist and Shay allowed himself to enjoy the pleasant feeling of having him around. Their relationship had been dangerous and tumultuous. At one point, they had even tried to kill one another. But Connor was one of the few men Shay could say he believed he could trust in. And he was the only man the Irishman could say would ever hold such a high standing within his life.
Only one other man had held the prestigious place of being his lover… But that had been years ago, before he had even known of the dangers of following leaders blindly.
He allowed for the lad to pick his next words. Even though Connor was Haytham's son, he did not share the deceased man's knack for always knowing what to say. He was slower on choosing his words. But, slow as he may have been, those words always rang true and managed to send his message in a rather effective manner.
As he waited for the younger male to speak, Shay busied himself by resting against his chest, listening and memorizing to the rise and fall of his chest, inhaling his scent, and passing his hand softly over the man's arms.
It was all rather domestic, really.
'Twas a shame it would have to end.
"If you were to join me…"
"Are you going to do this now? Of all the days; you wish to do this today?"
Connor didn't answer and Shay felt momentarily bad for having been rather rude with him. But they had gone through these motions quite a few times. And Shay wasn't prepared to go through with them once more. Not today. Not ever again.
"I just believe you would not have to die."
"Aye. I would not. But then I would be chased down by the Templars. Connor, I made my choice years ago. It was my decision and I stand by it. If I were to turn against it now-"
"You would not lose your life." Connor hissed, causing Shay to glare down at him.
"But I would lose what semblance of honor I have left."
He was sick and tired of this kind of conversation. Connor, young and inexperienced, found it difficult to understand Shay's accepting mood towards things he believed he should be able to control.
Shay knew that if he put up a fight, he would be able to live longer. If he cut all ties with Connor or accepted the lad's proposition, he would be allowed to live farther than just this day.
But he didn't want that. And he couldn't have it.
"Everyone must die, lad." Shay whispered as he breathed out, trying to calm himself from continuing a fight he had never even wanted to begin. "Everyone's time comes… It is only natural that I must go."
He didn't have to look at the younger man's face to know that he was frowning heavily; edging towards a glower that would chill a lesser man to his very bones. Connor was easy to read, unlike his father, and it broke Shay's heart to have to be doing this to him now. But it was his turn now… There was no need for him to try and fight something that could not really be beaten. It had simply fallen to his lot to say goodbye to the plane of the living.
"I do not want you to go."
With a soft, touched sigh, Shay raised his right hand to bring it up to Connor's jaw. He kept his gloved hand on the male's cheek, relishing in the heat that came from him.
This was not the worst way to spend his final day in the land of the living.
Connor refused to move. And Shay indulged him one final time. Both men remained seated for hours, simply taking comfort in one another's presence.
When midnight came, Shay's small smile became pained.
It was time.
"Connor."
The Native American grunted as his arms tightened impossibly further around Shay's waist.
"Please…"
Shay sighed and hung his head, allowing tears to begin to pool at the corners of his eyes.
Connor had experienced much abandonment and heartache in his lifetime. He had his mother snatched from him, lost his village, and killed a father. Getting him to open his heart when they had first met had been an almost impossible task. But Shay had relished in the warmth that he had found encompassed by the lad's harsh and frigid exterior.
Sometimes, he had regretted ever having made himself important to Connor. He regretted ever having allowed the lad to burrow himself into his own heart.
But now was not a time to regret.
Shay looked over the mostly barren room as he allowed Connor to hug him for a couple of seconds longer. His tired eyes fell on the bottle of whiskey he had brought along with him; the very one he had offered Connor to drink from when he had arrived so it could help in warming his body.
"Fill me one last glass?"
Connor refused to say a single thing. But Shay knew that the silence was not one of pigheaded reluctance, but, instead, one of reluctant admission.
The lad finally understood that this was a matter neither of them could try and solve. There was no defeating what had to happen; no major battle to fight that might give them a chance at victory.
Connor would want more than just these final hours they had spent together. Shay himself wanted another day; another month; another year; another lifetime… But that was not up to them. The lots had been cast. And this was what they had been given.
The larger man's grip around him loosened enough for Shay to stand up without too much trouble. So he stood up and offered Connor his own hand, pulling him up once their hands clasped together.
Without saying a single thing, Connor moved towards the small table with the glasses.
Shay turned his back on the Assassin, allowing his eyes to stray towards the window that allowed him to see the state of the forest around them.
He had always found himself paradoxically attracted yet repulsed by the cold. Possibly, he felt attracted to it because of the sheer beauty of nature in its purest state. Ever since he was nothing more than a small child, scrambling to run after his father as the man rushed into cold wilderness to find sustenance for their small family, he had found himself amazed by nature.
He must have been repulsed by the cold because of the state he had found his father in one of those times he rushed into the wild without a single hesitation; only to never be able to rush into anything ever again.
Shay could hear Connor serving up their drinks behind him. Once he had finished serving both glasses; there was a pregnant pause that he considered to be odd. But he just assumed that the silence came from Connor steeling himself for their inevitable goodbye; he thought nothing of it.
When heavy footsteps began to thunder around the cabin, Shay turned back around to face the younger male.
Wordlessly, he was offered a glass of whiskey.
Shay took it with a soft smile.
Before he drank from it, though, he took one step towards his younger lover and placed a hand over his heavily layered chest; right above his heart.
"I am not a man of many words. You are of one of even lesser. But I believe it is only fair I give my own final words before I must leave you for good." His words were whispered out in a breath; he was worried that he might ruin the peace that had fallen over them if he spoke any louder. "There are things I would change in my past. There are things that eat at me now- I am sure that even in death they will continue to haunt me. But having you in my life is something I will never come to regret. No matter the circumstances we met; you are one of the greatest things to happen in my life, Connor Kenway."
He raised his glass now, offering one final toast to his beloved.
Connor's eyes were brimmed with tears and Shay knew he wanted to speak against his decision.
Seconds ticked by in which his glass hung suspended in the air, waiting to be clinked by Connor's own.
When it did, it was with a burdened exhale from the younger male.
"Cheers, love."
He drained his glass quickly, Connor mimicking him even though it wasn't necessarily his smartest move.
Even after years of trying to hone his drinking, the lad still could not hold his liquor. Especially when he was under duress.
"May I hold you? Just one last time?"
Shay found it hard to tell him no.
So he drifted off in his lover's arms, none the wiser when his mind slipped from the realm of unconsciousness into the long accepted embrace of death.
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Sad little thing, wasn't it? But please remember to review and tell me what y'all thought!