Summary: What if Charles and the others arrived after George Washington set fire to the village..?
Note: Eight maids can be symbolic of eight Magpies. They are considered birds of power and are portents used in fortune-telling. In the old rhyme, eight magpies are for a wish (in some versions), a new beginning in other words. So, here in this fic we have a new spin on the story of AC3; a what if?
Gen, father-son bonding, friendship
On the Eighth Day of Christmas my true love sent to me…
…Eight Maids a Milking
A Chance
Haytham never thought he would be a father, to be truthful, he had never desired the role. The Order and its objectives had been sufficient for him. Yet now, through chance he had not only fathered a child, but through a twist of fate was left with sole authority over the boy.
Yes, a boy, a son, he had created with Ziio in the short time he had known her. It had been Charles and Thomas who discovered the existence of his son, when they had headed to Ziio's village for negotiation. However they arrived only in time to witness its burning.
As instructed they did attempt to save some of the natives to bolster good-will. In the process they stumbled across Ziio dying and her – his – son by her side. Dragging the boy away they only realised through village elders who he was.
They had returned with the boy uncertain how else to proceed and now Haytham had a son and his inner circle were in chaos.
Curious how fate fell, but the Father of Understanding surely had a plan in place.
Picking up a towel Haytham headed for the bathroom where Ratonhnhaké:ton, (and that was a name he was certainly going to have to change as he couldn't pronounce it), awaited, Haytham decided this could be promising.
A son might be useful to furthering the Templar cause and blood ties occasionally paid dividends, though it he would be hard pressed to find someone more loyal and devoted than Charles, speaking of whom…
"Charles?"
No answer. Damn. Haytham sighed and entered the bathroom to see Ratonhnhaké:ton peering into the bath suspiciously. He turned when Haytham entered and the Grandmaster could see how red his son's eyes were from crying. Not surprising really, he had just lost his mother and she had been a remarkable woman.
"Father?" the tone was sullen and unsure.
"Yes?" Haytham tried to sound comforting, but it was difficult, he did not deal with children and didn't know the boy, how he could offer true solace?
"Why am I here?"
Haytham raised an eyebrow and placed the towel on a chair and walking to Ratonhnhaké:ton, he crouched so they were eye level. "Where else should you be?"
"Revenging my mother."
Haytham smiled, amused, "All in good time. First you must rest and train. You would hardly be a match for them at four years old."
Ratonhnhaké:ton frowned and just managed to supress his sniff. Good, thought Haytham, you are strong. I can work with that.
"You'll train me?"
"Of course, I am your father. However, you will have to be tough and grow into the skills I shall teach you. I warn you that I shall expect a lot from you as my son and that laziness will not be rewarded. If you are willing and able to learn under these restrictions then you can grow in wisdom and one day perhaps have your revenge."
Ratonhnhaké:ton considered this and Haytham allowed him as he stood and ensured the water the maids had poured was still hot. He hadn't wished them to linger and clean the boy themselves as he was uncertain of how his son would react, he didn't wish the boy to embarrass him.
The soap was on a shelf. Ratonhnhaké:ton still had his head bent, but it was much for four year old to absorb so Haytham permitted him the opportunity to contemplate.
His son didn't fail him and Haytham felt the tug on his overcoat. Glancing down he saw Ratonhnhaké:ton peering up, dark brown eyes serious, cheeks stained from grief. "I will be the best Father."
Haytham smiled, pleased. "Then we shall begin your instruction once you are settled. Now, one more thing, you met some of my brethren earlier-"
"Lee and Hickey?"
"Yes, when I am not present you will listen to Mr Lee and if he is not around then either Mr Pitcairn or Mr Johnson."
"Mr Hickey?"
Haytham raised an eyebrow, "I think not. Now, let us undress."
Ratonhnhaké:ton seemed alarmed, "Why?"
"Undress and you shall discover why." Haytham could feel his patience waning and had to restrain himself not to lose his temper. He was used to his commands being obeyed instantly and in Charles' case with complete devotion; a child asking so many questions and dithering was most unusual.
"Master Kenway!"
Ah, there was Charles, thank goodness, "In the bathroom Charles!"
He heard the thud of Charles feet and then a flustered Lee appeared in the entrance. In his arms were a pile of packages.
"Please come in Charles." Haytham looked at Connor who was struggling so he crouched again to assist.
"I found some clothing Sir, but cannot guarantee they will fit."
"We must endure for the moment and concern ourselves with proper measurements later." Haytham removed Ratonhnhaké:ton's shirt and then looked up at Charles who was standing awkwardly beside them.
"Where are Pitcairn and Johnson?"
"Johnson is fetching all the necessary papers and Pitcairn is holding down the office. Hickey…" Charles trailed off.
"Yes?"
"Well, Hickey is swaggering about in the kitchen insisting he knows what a young boy likes to eat."
Haytham was dry in his response, "Indeed. We will have to check that later, but for the moment, take off your coat Charles and lend me a hand."
"Yes sir."
Haytham finished undressing Ratonhnhaké:ton who was now staring at Charles with a frown. Haytham kept an eye on this as he shrugged off his overcoat and with reluctance his necktie and shirt.
"Charles," Haytham nodded, he could see Charles' flush and similar reluctance to his own, but as always Charles obeyed. He quickly removed his necktie, waistcoat and shirt.
Ratonhnhaké:ton's voice blurted out, "Why do you have hair on your chest Mr Lee?"
"Son!" snapped Haytham.
Charles' mouth gaped open and he flushed even more. Haytham was slightly diverted, but mostly horrified at his son's impetuousness.
Ratonhnhaké:ton however just switched to him and whispered, "And you Father?"
Before Haytham could muster a reply, Charles stuttered, "Because we're men."
Ratonhnhaké:ton frowned and opened his mouth, Haytham tensed, "Why?"
"Into the bath!"
It was not seemly to lose his control even in this minor way, but Haytham had no desire to pursue this line of questioning and by the look of Charles, neither did he.
Of course his son couldn't clamber in so Haytham carefully picked up the boy and lowered him into the hot water. Ratonhnhaké:ton squealed then bit his lip as if remonstrating himself for a display of weakness.
"It shan't be too bad after a minute," soothed Charles who sounded awkward.
"Charles is correct, now sit still."
Reaching for the soap Haytham saw Charles kneel by the bath and pick up the washing rag. Kneeling as well, Haytham met Charles' questioning gaze. How hard could it be to wash a four year old?
"If you focus on the hair Charles, I'll give Ra…Ra…my son a rub down."
"Yes sir."
Ratonhnhaké:ton gazed curiously at them, brown eyes still haunted by sadness but also clearly wondering what they were doing.
"Move nearer," murmured Charles.
Ratonhnhaké:ton scowled, "My name is Ratonhnhaké:ton."
Charles licked his lips and struggled to repeat. Haytham shook his head. It really wouldn't do, he had to find another name for his son. Ratonhnhaké:ton pouted and admittedly looked cute as he whined, "Ratonhnhaké:ton."
To give his second-in-command credit, he did attempt the name again before surrendering to the inevitable. "Do you have any other names?"
"No."
"We will have to give an English name son, as many white people will not be able to pronounce your Native name."
Ratonhnhaké:ton howled, "My Mother gave me that name."
"Indeed, and it shall never be forgotten, but until Mr Johnson can teach us to pronounce it properly, surely another name will not hurt?" injected Charles. "And how many boys can say they have a special name from both their father and mother?"
Ratonhnhaké:ton considered, then lips tightly pressed together nodded.
Haytham reminded himself to tell Charles he was impressed, his friend's silver tongue had saved the day.
"What name?"
Haytham saw panic briefly in Charles' face ere he looked at Haytham. Haytham considered and choose the first name to fly out at him, "Connor."
Ratonhnhaké:ton repeated slowly, "Con..Connor."
"Yes, Connor Kenway."
Ratonhnhaké:ton gazed at Haytham as if debating whether this was sufficient then edged to the bath side closest to them and curled his small hand on the lip. Taking this chance Charles leaned over and scooped some water over the boy's head. Ratonhnhaké:ton yelped and stared up at him mouth open.
Haytham quickly joined in and Connor turned into a squirming mass of limbs that no matter what Haytham or Charles tried saying didn't sit still. By the giggles Ratonhnhaké:ton – Connor – was having too much fun to stop. It was worse when Connor suddenly appeared to be quiet only to have his small hands sliding over Charles' chest then his own, fingers scrabbling through their chest hair.
Charles released a most undignified yelp and Haytham barely concealed his own exclamation. Connor naturally found this hilarious and actually laughed.
"Stop son."
Connor just focused his efforts on Charles, touching Charles' hands as they slid through his longish hair.
After another frustrating five minutes of slippery boy and sloshed water, Charles asked, "Sir, I may have something that could help."
Haytham blinked water out of his eyes, "Anything Charles. And please, it's Haytham."
Nodding, Charles rose and Haytham noticed how wet Charles' trousers were, indeed his own were clinging uncomfortably to his legs and crotch. At this rate they would both require their own bath.
Charles walked over to the pile of clothing and from one package he pulled a small wooden carving. Returning Haytham saw it was a beautiful, elegant eagle: every feather was defined, its eyes a piercing gold and body a mixture of dark brown and black.
"It's splendid Charles, where did you unearth it?"
"On a stall, I thought it might keep…Connor," Charles reminded himself, "entertained if necessary."
Haytham smiled, "Well Connor? What do you think?"
His blinked water out of his eyes, rubbing them and focused on the little craving Charles was holding. Excitement crossed his face and he reached out, slopping more water over the bath. Charles looked woebegone and Haytham felt his limited patience fading. However, Charles knelt again, water squelching around him and handed the toy to Connor who happily examined it.
"What do you say?" prompted Haytham, determined to instil good manners into his son. Connor seemed confused then said warily, "Thank you?" It would have to do.
Charles said graciously, "Your welcome."
Haytham rubbed more soap into the rag and putting a couple of fingers underneath a rather wet chin, ensured Connor was looking him directly in the eye, said sternly, "I expect you to behave, otherwise you can't play with your gift."
Connor clutched his eagle and whispered, "Yes Father."
With caution Charles resumed scrubbing the boy's longish hair and Haytham cleaning the dirt from his son's skin, all the while Connor gripped his eagle and stroked the outstretched wings. Miraculously, the toy held Connor's attention and with only a few more issues, mostly due to unfamiliarity with small boys, the two of them had Connor washed and dried.
Realising the uselessness of dressing Connor when both of them were still sopping wet Haytham hesitated then ordered, "Connor, you may play in the bedroom with your eagle, but do not leave and stay close to the bathroom door. Call if you need anything. Charles and I are going to get dressed. Here," Haytham selected a shirt and pulled it on Connor hurriedly. It would have to do.
Connor stayed still then bolted; his eagle swooping through the air. Haytham sensed a headache coming. Charles appeared ready to drop, his black hair was soaked and had soap in it, his beard and moustache were wet and also had soap bubbles from where Connor had curiously touched.
Haytham mused he didn't look much better. His normally neat hair was pulled from its ponytail and was equally wet to Charles' own and his chest like Charles was one slick mess. He hadn't thought Connor would be so intrigued by their chest hair.
Sighing Haytham scooped up a spare towel and looking ruefully at Charles nodded to the bath, "I shall call the maids to clean this mess up. I fear we cannot have a proper bath now, not until Johnson or Pitcairn arrive. Then we can leave Connor suitably attended to."
Haytham feared what trouble Connor could cause if left alone too long if this was the disaster during a bath. Charles nodded in relief, "Shall I fetch another towel?"
"I think there is another on the bed, I did not believe we would require more than one."
Charles quickly entered the bedroom and Haytham heard his son cry, "Look at my eagle Mr Lee! It's flying over the mountains." A thud followed and Charles' alarmed voice, "Don't scramble over the chair so, please stay on the bed."
"Uh huh."
Charles ran back into the bathroom, distressed, "I think you are correct in not wishing Connor to be left alone Haytham."
Why, yes that was a headache. "Then let us dress with haste."
No mission had yet made Haytham or Charles change so quickly, but within barely five minutes they were both dried and attired, sans overcoats and jackets. In Charles case a quick run to his room had offered him dry clothing and Haytham had merely opened his closet.
Connor merely watched their antics in-between 'flying like an eagle'.
Easing into a chair and nodding for Charles to do the same Haytham promised to find a nurse as quickly as possible. As Connor flung himself at Charles to peer at his frilly necktie, Haytham rubbed his temples and then steeling his resolve seized the reminder of Connor's clothes.
"Connor, stop bothering Charles and come here so we can finish dressing you."
Connor twisted and almost fell off Charles' lap. Swiftly Charles caught Connor and at Haytham's urgent gesture stood with the boy clasped in his arms.
Ten minutes later and a slew of questions Haytham was ready to hand his son to the cook for some peace, not Thomas because he wasn't desperate enough plus who knows what Hickey would teach his son.
Meeting Charles' dazed expression Haytham raised an eyebrow, "Fancy a drink Charles?"
"Oh yes please sir…Haytham."
Eying his son who was plucking at his clothes with a frown Haytham debated the rationality in permitting his son to walk versus being carried. Instantly the horror of the bathroom rose in his mind and so, bending down he picked up his son and carried him from the room, Charles beside him.
The entire way to the living room was spent with Connor turning his head this way and that and swooping his eagle and not stopping for a moment to take breath. It was therefore with incredible welcome relief that he and Charles reached the drinks cabinet.
Swallowing burning whiskey which usually Haytham avoided Haytham met Charles' gaze, his blue eyes showing his weariness. Charles weakly smiled at him and Haytham just raised his glass to show his appreciation. The more genuine smile he received was pleasing.
Sipping the glass Haytham watched as Connor searched the room. He may have never considered having a son, but he did now and with friends like Charles he was certain he could raise the boy right.
"To new beginnings, Charles."
"New beginnings."
