As they finally arrived at the homestead, Haytham was overcome with a number of feelings that sent his nerves on edge. First of all, Connor was bringing him straight into Assasin territory. How the boy could be so naive was beyond the ex-Templar.
The second thought that occurred to Haytham was thus; this was Achilles's homestead. The one man who'd Haytham spared, believing the old, crippled man couldn't be of any more threat to his order.
Oh, how he was wrong.
The blasted old man just happened to mentor Haytham's own son into being an Assassin. The Assassin that resurrected the brotherhood and had managed to cut off all the vitals of the Templars' system. The Assassin that drove him into exile.
Now he was being brought back into their midst by that same Assassin, for who-knows-what reason or plan Connor had in mind. The boy probably thought Haytham would finally cave to his cause now that he was exiled. That being helped by the Assassins would make him more sympathetic, would make them join their petty brotherhood. Perhaps Connor just thought they might possibly be a family now. Connor would not have his way!
Haytham was to set out with a horse and ample provisions the following morning. There was no way he would allow himself be indebted to a damned Assassin who cost him everything and sent his work to ruins, his effort to mean nothing.
At least Connor had revealed their location.
The pair arrived at the stables and just as they were dismounting, they were greeted then by Connor's recruits who immediately drew their hidden blades.
"Connor! Why is he here?" Dobby glared at the elder man.
"Calm down. My Father is no longer a threat and has been exiled."
Dobby and the other recruit exchanged odd looks, "Alright Connor, but we will be keeping a close eye on him. This could be a ruse." The recruits would've continued their protest, but the middle of a thunderstorm was not the most preferable place for it.
Haytham rolled his eyes. These were trainees with very little experience to draw from, maybe a few months of fighting at most; Haytham, however, had a lifetime's worth. They were ignorant to believe they had any sort of power over him. Naïve just like their mentor.
Connor lead him from the stables to a large, well-maintained manor.
Achilles's manor.
It had been quite a while since Haytham had last seen the man. The memory was still clear in his mind; he could see Achilles, crippled before him, blood spreading over the ice. The pure hatred on the man's face would never be forgotten.
Haytham tensed, then turned to Connor, "Achilles? He still lives here, doesn't he?"
Connor halted in his tracks. He didn't bother to turn around and face his father, only stared at the floor as he forced out the words, "No… Achilles is… no longer here."
Haytham couldn't fight the relief spreading through his chest at avoiding such an awkward reunion with the old man. Yet he also cringed inside at the strong emotion in Connor's voice. They must've been close. With that said, how much had Achilles revealed about the events of just 20 years prior?
"How ever did you end up meeting Achilles anyways, Connor?"
Connor sighed heavily, "It was several years after Mother passed. I knew they would come to take our land again. My people would not fight, so I felt it was my duty to protect them myself. I had a sort of… vision that brought me to the homestead. Achilles was very… reluctant at first. I stayed a couple of days in the barn, and I ended up protecting him from a bunch of redcoats. I finally convinced him to train me. That was the first time I'd ever heard of Assassins or Templars."
So the old man had originally intended to keep his word. His son's stubbornness was to blame.
"You were given the story from a pointedly biased perspective."
Connor quickly cut him off, "I asked you about the Templars before. Even if I was given a choice, I would choose the Assassins over the Templars any day."
Haytham, although soured by the events of the day, didn't wish to argue further, nor was he in any position to do so. He'd been exiled by his own order and was currently in the middle of his enemy's home. The irony of the entire situation was downright sickening.
"Father." Connor faced him, gesturing for him to follow as he made his way upstairs. He led Haytham to his own bedroom, "You may stay here. I will sleep downstairs in Achilles' old room."
As much as Haytham despised the thought of sleeping in the old man's room himself, sleeping downstairs would have made leaving much easier for him without Connor noticing and attempting to stop him. Now this would be a tad difficult.
Haytham was given a spare change of clothing while his were hung to dry. Upon being offered food, he simply waved it off. As hungry as he might be, he wished to avoid any more unnecessary interaction with Connor.
Finally alone in the room, he took a look around. The walls were adorned with weapons and various items from Connor's tribe. Ziio's tribe. Did the others still remember him? Did they hate him for leaving her behind to raise a child on her own? It's not like it was his choice anyways and perhaps it had been for the best.
There was that familiar twinge of pain at the memory of Ziio on their final day together. She was wearing that cold, emotionless mask, but her eyes betrayed her pain. It seemed that mask was a common trait the three of them shared.
Sitting on the bed, Haytham imagined the two together; his son and Ziio. Running swiftly through the trees as if they'd been made for just that. Hunting animals with relentless determination and precision. Haytham had no doubt she was the one to teach Connor; his hunting style mirrored hers almost perfectly.
Ah, but here he was again, thinking almost obsessively about Ziio. About the past. It was hard enough to move on from her as it was. His half-native son's presence was making that much more difficult.
That's why he had to leave, why he couldn't entertain their dreams of having any kind of allegiance, as strong as those might be.
Connor found it difficult to sleep that night. He couldn't keep his thoughts from roaming back to Achilles, nor his mother or Kanen'to;kon. The memory was painfully fresh; the hidden blade slicing through skin and tissue, blood splattering on to his face as the life faded from his life-long friend's eyes. Charles was now to blame for Kanen'to;kon's death as well.
What would happen next; how would the Templars change under Lee's control?
When Connor finally did find sleep, he was plagued by dreams of his mother. Her face as he was pulled away, too weak to help her, to save her. The burning wood fell down on her, the flames engulfing her, her dying screams wrought with agony. After that, there was Charles, grinning as he choked a young, weak Connor.
Connor awoke much earlier than usual. At first, he assumed it was due to his dreams.
Quickly, he realized the true cause of it. Slow, cautious footsteps were heading down the stairs. There was only one other in the manor to whom they could belong.
What was Haytham doing sneaking around the manor? Especially so early in the morning? Connor got to his feet and quietly made his way into the hall.
Haytham was dressed in his own clothes once again, though Connor was sure they couldn't be dry yet. So the man was determined to leave without anything connecting him to the Assassins. Not surprising. It wasn't until Haytham reached the bottom of the stairs when Connor finally spoke, "What are you doing, Father?"
Haytham froze and sighed, "Leaving. If you believed I had any intention of staying, that we could remain allies in any way, you were wrong."
Why did Connor always choose the worst times to show up and ruin everything?
Connor scowled and crossed his arms, "I will not stop you, but where will you go? What do you intend to do?"
"That is none of your damn business!"
Connor fought back a smirk, "You really do not have a plan, do you? I offer you a place to sleep, food, and safety. Why not take advantage of it? Merely because we are Assassins? If you go now, both the Templars and the Assassins will be after you."
Unfortunately, he was right. Haytham had little chance for survival now, with both these groups after him. There was an opportunity here; Haytham had only ask and Connor would probably do just about anything for some Fatherly affection.
"This is a temporary setback. I will be restored."
"How do you plan to do so? Lead the Templars to our doorstep? Did you really think me so ignorant I would risk the brotherhood's safety just to have you beside me? You step out that door, the recruits will know you are up to no good and will imprison if not kill you before you have any chance to escape."
Haytham glared at him. Maybe the boy wasn't so naive after all. The strategic part of his mind told him to take the offer; wait to strike when he'd gained the brotherhood's trust. A more sentimental part reminded him he'd wanted to get to know his son more anyways and there couldn't be a more perfect opportunity to do so.
No matter what way he looked at the situation, there really were no options left for him anyways. He was still torn inside about wanting to both stay beside his son but also wanting to put as much distance between them as possible. Yet now he had no choice but to remain for his own safety.
Damn.
He sighed, "What exactly do you hope to achieve from my being here, Connor?"
"All I want is peace between you and I, Father. Things do not have to be this way. What must I do to gain your trust?"
Haytham was shocked. He'd expected the boy to bring up some plan how he would take down the Templars using information gained from his Father. Yet he decided to be completely sentimental!
He could use this to his advantage.
"Connor… we will never be anything more than bickering rivals. We will never be a family. Our ideals are much too different, and our stubborn personalities clash. Why do you keep trying to change that? Why, Connor, do you always fight impossible odds?"
"I fight for freedom and equality. That is all. All I want from you is a chance, Father. You can't deny we can accomplish much more together than we can on our own."
Haytham leaned against the door, arms crossed. He had been presented with a difficult ultimatum. He could destroy the Assassins from inside out, once and for all and regain his rightful place as Templar Grand Master. Or he could use his son.
"Fine. I will stay… for now."
Connor fought a smile and relaxed against the wall.
"After all, Connor, Charles has become an enemy of mine as well."
"What do you mean?"
Connor eyed him curiously, eager to know what Charles had done to elicit the Grand Master's hate. Especially since such Grand Master had once believed in him so fully. He would never admit it excited him to be united with his Father in a common enemy once again, even if their reasons differed. However, this time it wasn't some traitor who merely stole some supplies, no, this time it was Connor's mortal enemy, the man he despised with every ounce of his being.
"Tch. That bastard found out I was working with you. He was the one to inform our higher-ups. For years his hunger for power has grown, and this was exactly the excuse he needed to have me removed, so that he could take my place."
"Then you will help me rid of him?"
Haytham met Connor's eyes, "Yes, Connor. We will kill Charles Lee… together."