A/N: I'd like to take the opportunity to thank MohawkWoman for beta reading this and being an all around nice and friendly person in general. :) The feedback helped a bunch, and I'm glad you were generous enough to take time out of your day to critique and read over my work. You're awesome. :D
The sun had set not too long ago, the sky awash with a dusty blue hue as dusk began to spread across the horizon. Birds had all but ceased their chirping, replaced by the soft hum and chatter of various insects. You groaned, stepping over a wayward fallen tree branch, watching as a fox scurried out from behind it, seeing you approach. Its paws scattered underbrush in its attempts to gain as much distance from you as possible. Sticks popped and snapped under your feet as you pushed onward. The Homestead was now in sight, and you unintentionally let out a small sight of relief. A long day of trekking through the Frontier to get back to the Homestead had taken a bit of a toll on you. Your body wasn't quite what it used to be with years of Assassin work, a husband, and two kids later. Connor had insisted that you go out and hunt for a little while so he could watch the children today. You had protested halfheartedly, knowing that you really wanted a bit of time to yourself. You promised yourself that you wouldn't be gone too long. Just enough to bring home some food for the next day or two, and then you'd head straight back home. You had done just that.
You lazily climb the steps to the Homestead, rolling your shoulders, your kill in your hand, bunched together by each of their feet. It wasn't much, but it would do. You were eager to be back home, if nothing else so that you could rest and catch up with your husband about everything you missed while you were away. You weren't gone for too awful long, but you would want to know, nonetheless. Stepping inside, you shrug off your coat and bow, quiver of arrows following suit. You pay no mind to how carelessly you set it down, arrows jostling out with the impact on the flooring.
"My dear!" You called, taking a few steps further in, stopping at the base of the stairs. The floorboards creaked under your weight, the sound of your boots thumping against the surface sounding lightly through the area. "I made it home! I'm putting my bounty in the kitchen!" You yell loud enough to where he should've heard you throughout the building, and shuffle to aforementioned room. You make sure your kill is properly tended to and bled before leaving the room, only to be stopped by the sight of a little one scampering down the hallway wearing one of your older coats.
"Oi." You smiled, crouching down to your daughter, the oldest of your children. She stops her running, coming over to greet you. She'd just turned nine years of age not long ago. "And just what do you think you're doing with your mother's coat?" You ask teasingly, lightly poking her cheek, causing her to scrunch her nose in mock annoyance.
"We're playing a game with father." She said simply, bounding on her feet with energy. The sleeves on your coat hung comically past her hands, the hem barely grazing the floor. It's a miracle she didn't trip over herself. Then again, perhaps she might've when you were out and about.
"What kind of game?" You ask, an eyebrow raised. Footsteps up on the floor above made you and your daughter raise your heads to eye the ceiling. The footsteps weren't light enough to be Connor's. They must've belonged to your boy. Your daughter scurried into the kitchen, head poking out so she could continue a small amount of conversation with you.
"Assassins and Templars." She whispered as loud as she could before another bounding of footsteps, louder this time and approaching the stairs, drew her attention to them before fully hiding behind the wall. You didn't miss the way she held the collar up above her head like a hood.
"Assassins and-" Your musings were interrupted by your boy running downstairs holding a wooden pole with a hat much too big for him on his head, having to keep it in place with one of his hands so it didn't fall by the wayside. He ran up to you, holding the pole like a sword, stopping at your feet.
"Where is the enemy?" He demands, Connor's tricorne hat falling over his eyes, his serious expression never faltering. A breath of air hisses out from behind your teeth as you held your hand in front of your face trying in vain not to laugh. Your boy was the baby of the family, turning seven very soon. He adjusts his hat, scanning the area as keenly as he could, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "She has to be here somewhere." He says more to himself than you, his back turning towards the kitchen as he continued to look. His sister moved out from behind the door, expecting to catch him off guard.
She was behind him, creeping in a way that she must've thought very sneaky. You look on with amusement as she approaches. Movement off to the side catches your attention, Connor making his way down the stairs very slowly and carefully, sneaking with the agility and grace of a cat. You marvell at how he moves despite his stature. A toothy grin spread on his lips as he nears your children. He sees you and freezes in place, smile faltering. You respond by smiling and motioning for him to continue, which he did, grin back in place. Your son turns around, staring your daughter in the face. The girl yelps in surprise and jumps back a step, fixing herself in a fighting stance.
"Fool! You cannot sneak up on me!" Your son declares triumphantly, raising his pole to attack.
"Guess again." Connor scoops him up by the waist and gently lowers him to the ground, pinning the boy down, tickling his sides. The boy erupts with a squeal before a peal of laughter follows, the child writhing to be free of his father's ruthless tickling. Connor's hat fell off of the child's head, rolling a bit before settling down on the wooden floorboards. Your daughter joined in, a victorious hoot coming from her lips.
"Assassins win! We win!" She said before she ceases helping Connor tease her brother, standing up to jump in celebration. Connor let your son sit up, an exaggerated pout on the boy's lips.
"That's not fair! You always win when father helps!" He protested, sending daggers in her direction. Your daughter responds in kind, waving her hand dismissively, a proud smile stretching her lips.
"You're just mad because you're bad at playing. And besides, you won last time." She levels with an argument of her own. Your boy was about to respond but you interrupt, directing a question at your husband.
"Dear?" He raises his attention to you, a smile still on his face, a hum of question coming from him. "What brought all of this on?" You asked, sweeping your hand over him and both of your kids. He stood, the kids following suit.
"I was telling them some stories. They became very excited and wanted to act it out themselves. You came home to our latest match." He explains simply. You cross your arms and shake your head, a serious expression taking over your features.
"Well I'm disappointed in you." You state, watching as all of their expressions began to falter, thinking they were in trouble. Connor opens his mouth to argue but you continue speaking. "It seems like a team has been short handed since you all started playing. Maybe you could use an additional player." A grin began to overtake your face. The kids' smiles return, as does your husband's.
"Come on. I'll join a team. It seems like the Templars could use a Grand Master, if I'm not mistaken." You poke your son on the tip of his nose, him shying away with a small laugh. "Let's go outside." You suggest, nodding your head to the door. "We'll play one more game before I begin preparing us some food, alright?" You rested your hand on the doorknob, waiting for Connor and the kids to follow you. Connor approached you, a large, warm, and gentle hand resting on the small of your back.
"Are you sure? You look tired. Perhaps you should rest." He suggested, eyes searching yours for any sign of wanting to stay home. You shook your head, a hand coming up to rest on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze.
"I'm sure, yes. I've had the entire day to myself. I am tired, but I would like to play a game before retiring for the day." He searched your eyes one more time before he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. A small smile was present on his face as he pulled back.
"Alright." He concedes. You open the door, you and your family heading out into the open area around the manor.
A/N: I got the idea for this after reading a review on my Hide and Seek story, actually. Got my idea mill working, thinking how Connor would be as a dad. It's short, but I thought it was a nice idea.
Thank you to my readers and reviewers. I'm grateful to you for looking at my hard work. It's keeping me going. X)
Also, if you're a fan of the Last of the Mohicans fanfiction, you should check out MohawkWoman's work. She's also done a few works for Assassin's Creed, if that's more your fancy.