Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft

Concept (c) Sannam

He had found the toy ring — wrought from cheap metal with a cheap plastic crystal — in a crackjack box. At nine years old (he'd be ten in a week), Haytham knew exactly what to do with the ring. He found it back in October yet had been unable to work-up the courage to actually talk to Ziio. Not since their mutual confession nearly three years ago, have they ever brought up the fact that they liked each other as more than just friends. Today will be different! Haytham told himself, clutching the ring in his pocket as he scanned for Ziio after school.

He spotted her, heading towards the far end of the parking lot where her mom or dad normally waited for her. Taking a deep breath, he called out and trotted up to her. She stopped, staring at him with own brow arched. They had made it a habit of meeting near others so nobody would get absurd ideas of them being a… a couple! "What do you want Haytham?" Ziio asked, slightly annoyed that he dared break their unspoken rule.

Haytham swallowed, glancing at his feet. They were high end sneakers from London. Jenny having achieved one leg of her dream and getting into that high-tone and fancy-to-do fashion design school in London. (He had done everything to make them look old and beat up before school started. This course of action baffled Edward.) "I… I have something for you," Haytham said.

Ziio held out her hand. "Alright, hand it over," she said. Haytham froze, face going blank. "What's the matter?"

"Why have you been avoiding me lately?" he asked. She had, and it was bothering him. It wasn't normal, not that he hung out with her every day on the playground, but normally he could approach her without her scowling at him and running off.

"I haven't," Ziio hissed, indignant. "Now what do you have to give me?" she asked. Truth was, her parents were planning on moving closer to the reservation. Her grandfather was sick, and her grandmother couldn't handle everything on her own. So, her mother being the good daughter that she is, decided to relocate her family closer to the reservation. Ziio couldn't tell Haytham that. Ziio looked at Haytham, dressed in a long sleeved polo shirt, jeans, his fancy sneakers, and a good quality weather-resistant jacket. He was the second tallest boy in the class, and his once dark honey brown hair was now taking on the rich dark color of molasses. The wind had pulled a few strains lose, and they seemed to know how to fall just stylishly enough into his slate colored eyes to accent them in an alluring fashion.

Ziio could tell Haytham will be handsome when he grew older. Her grandmother was constantly asking after him, wondering when he'd come and visit. "Here," he said, pulling out a cheap costume ring. "I found this in a crackjack box," he took her delicate hand in his. Ziio loved his hands, they weren't surgeon thin or butcher thick, but that comfortable medium. Hunter's hands, her grandmother said. Hands that knew how to kill and how to heal. "I… Ziio, I…" he licked his lips, before fixing her with his piercing gaze. She remembered going with Hope and the other girls in the class to a separate room a few weeks after school started. The two other female teachers there started to talk to them about the up-coming changes to their bodies that will start happening in the next handful of years. Ziio vaguely wondered if feeling nervous around Haytham was a part of the puberty package. "I promise," Haytham said, slipping the ugly band onto her finger, "that when we're all grown up, we'll get married."

"O-Okay," Ziio whispered, wrapping her fingers around Haytham's hand that held hers. She made herself look up at him and smile at him. This would be okay. One of her mother's siblings would decide to take care of Grandfather and they wouldn't have to move. She can continue to grow up with Haytham and then once they graduated high school they can get married… no, graduate college. Haytham said he wanted to go to college.

I should tell him… just in case one of Mom's siblings don't decide to take care of Grandfather… Ziio told herself. "I'll be waiting," Ziio whispered, a damsel-shy blush on her cheeks. Haytham's smile grew wider and his cheeks were pink and it wasn't from the dry biting wind of the New England winter either. "I gotta go," she said, rose to her tiptoes and pecked Haytham's cheek. She scampered off towards her father's car.

Haytham waved by to Shay and William, noting that Uncle Ben's car was parked by the curb. He thought it was odd, normally Uncle Thatch watched him on Thursdays. He shrugged, not really thinking much of it. He entered the house. "Hello Mother," he whispered to the family picture that was taken on his first birthday. He smiled as he looked at his mother's smiling image. He pulled his shoes off. "Father, I'm home!" he shouted, walking into further into the house, dropping his backpack into the box by the door. Uncle Ben and Edward poked their heads out.

"Hey, sea urchin," Edward called. "I have to leave for work early today. That jerk called in sick… again, so I have to cover his shift and work mine."

"That sucks," Haytham said, drifting into the kitchen and getting of glass. He poured his customary post-school glass of milk. He sat down at the table. He had grown use to Jenny babysitting him, but when she left for London, his father's friends resumed their babysitting rotation, granted Jack Rackham was now on the roster. He did Saturday nights. His father locked the liquor cabinet on those nights. "Will you be able to make my fencing meet on Saturday?"

"I don't know sea urchin," Edward said with a sigh. "Hopefully, if work permits."

"Right," Haytham huffed, resting his cheek on his hand. "It's always if work permits this or if work permits that." Haytham glanced at his father as he sipped his milk. Edward groaned, running his hand through his hair. "Are you even going to be home for my birthday or is that another thing stipulated by work?"

"Jaysu, Haytham," Edward looked at his son. "I'm working two jobs and then some to keep a roof over your head, clothes on your back and food in your belly! I work my ass off so you can have nice things and so you can have fencing lessons and do things so you don't feel like a poor bugger compared to the other kids. I'm sorry I'm not there all the time lately, like how it used to be. You're just gonna have to get used to it."

Haytham didn't say anything for a long moment, he drank the rest of his milk. "You know," Haytham said after a while, eyes fixed on the glass. "Sometimes I think it would've been better if Mother and I had died that day. Then you wouldn't have to worry about anyone and just be a stupid lazy drunk all day long." Haytham looked away. "Clearly, I'm nothing but a burden to you, so I should I even be alive?"

Ben took that moment to swiftly exit the kitchen under the pretense that he needed to get something from his car. Edward stared at his son. He sighed, grabbed Haytham by both of his shoulders and leaned in real close, until their noses were barely touching and said idangerously low voice, "When I get home, you and I are going to have a very long and serious talk, man to man, about your attitude. Understand?"

"Yes Father," Haytham muttered, staring into Edward's blue eyes.

"Now, you be good for Uncle Ben," Edward said, straightening. He pulled on his jacket, zipping it up. "I'll be home by three. We'll talk in the morning, understand, Haytham."

"Yeah," Haytham said, dismissively heading to his room. Edward watched his son vanish behind the closing door.

Car horns blared abnormally loud in the post-midnight streets of Boston. There was no snow, but the air was frigid, and Edward shivered as he sat on the curb in his uniform, a bloodied rag in one hand. Blood dripped onto the freezing pavement. He got fired… for defending a woman from her bastard of a husband. His father brought him up right, teaching him to never hit a woman. Hopefully, the woman would wake up and realize her husband was a no-good fucker.

A cat yowled in an ally, a trash can fell over and a dog barked. More car horns blared and Edward heard drunken shouting somewhere down the block, but ignored it. He wiped away more of the blood. Hopefully, the man didn't remember he wanted to press charges in the morning. Not that Edward would get not trouble, he let the man beat him a bit first before punching back. "Fuck," he muttered, looking out at the lights of Boston. He heard footsteps on the pavement.

"Got fired again?" Thatch asked, cigarette dangling from his lip.

"Yeah," Edward sighed.

"What happened?"

"Some asshole was beating up his wife," Edward grumbled. "Also, he wouldn't shut up."

"So?"

"I offered to open his beer," Edward rubbed at the cut above his brow, "with his face."

"Ah."

"He wasn't too keen on that offering, so he punched me and told me to keep my nose out of his and his wife's business."

"Well, I won't be able to smooth things over with the manager, since I don't own this one, but I'll see what I can do about getting you another job," Thatch said, "how's your gig with Ádewalé?"

"Fine, for the most part," Edward sighed, then it dawned on him. "Oh god," he whispered, putting his face in his hands and running his fingers through his hair. "What am I going to tell Haytham? His birthday is almost here!"

"You're not," Thatch said.

"I have to tell him this time Thatch," Edward protested.

"No, you won't. I've told you before, I'll take care of things. We're buds. I got your back and you got mine."

"Yes, but—"

"No buts. Now, c'mon suck it up and get up. I'll drive you home, I'm sure that boy of yours is driving Hornigold up a wall."

"Heh, probably," Edward said, getting up. "Can you make a detour?"

"Too the booze store?"

"Yeah, or maybe three of them."

"Yeah, fine," Thatch agreed.

Edward got home that night, clutching a brown paper bag with a bottle of rum in it. Thatch got it for him, insisting that Edward spend the money on essential things. He found Ben and Haytham asleep on the whale couch. "Ben… Ben… Ben!" Edward said, nudging Ben with his toe. Ben jerked awake, but Haytham remained asleep.

"Ed, what are you doing home?" Ben asked, "It's… only one in the morning?"

"Got fired. Go on, get," Edward said, walking to the kitchen and setting the bottle of rum down. "I'll cook ya a steak."

"Nah, it's okay," Ben said, glancing at Haytham, "he's like a son to all of us, so I don't mind."

Edward smiled. "Thanks Ben, for helping out."

"What are friends for," Ben said, patting Edward on the back. "Call me if you need anything, see ya."

"Bye," Edward said, watching his friend leave. He sat down next to Haytham, pulling his son close. Haytham stirred, waking.

"Father?" Haytham asked, rubbing his eyes, his long hair falling around the tops of his shoulders. He stared at Edward sleepily for a few long moments before realizing that Edward had bloodied cuts on his face and a black eye. "Father, what happened!"

"Oh, nothing… nothing…" Edward said, rubbing Haytham's side. "I'm fine. I'll… I'll just be working solely at Ádewalé's for a bit. So… I'll be able to make it for your birthday and your fencing meet."

"Really… I…" Haytham hung his head. "I hope I didn't make you quit."

"Haytham," Edward said, "I love you very much… no matter what you say to me in anger, that'll never change." He kissed his son on the crown of his head. "But still. Don't think you can get away with saying something like that. You're grounded for two weeks and your bed time is now eight o'clock sharp."

"Eight o'clock, but Shay gets to stay up to nine and—"

"You aren't Shay. You are my son and I won't tolerate you disrespecting me like that, in front of my friends, even if everyone understands you said that out of frustration. So, you're grounded until your birthday. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"Crystal," Haytham sighed, a pout on his face. "I'm sorry."

"I know," Edward said, ruffling his hair. "You are a rascal, but you're mine and I love you. Now gimme a hug and head off to bed."

"Okay," Haytham said and hugged his father, hopped off the couch and headed to his room. He stopped in the doorway, hand on the doorframe. "Father," he turned to look at his father.

"Hm?"

"Don't get drunk," Haytham said, his voice soft, "I… I'm not stupid… I know what really happened."

"You do?"

Haytham nodded, a sad smile on his face. "So… please don't…"

"Go to bed son," Edward said gently. Haytham didn't protest further, heading into his room, closing the door with a soft click. Edward sighed, slumping forward. "Tessa… I wish you were here."

This part of the job she hated. She hated taking children away from overall decent homes, but the law is an amoral bitch, and doesn't care about good fathers and bad mothers or vice versa. Lucy Miles (née Stillman) hefted her purse up higher on her shoulder and flipped open her beige colored file. Inside was the smiling school picture of the now ten-year-old boy. "I have to do this on his birthday no less," Lucy muttered, feeling like the world's biggest bitch. "But… the law is the law," she told herself, but it didn't assuage her guilt.

"You ready ma'am?" one of the police officers asked. Lucy touched her bun, making sure no strains had gotten loose. No she wasn't ready, but she can't be pushing the off any longer. The man pressed the assault charges, the police investigated and dropped them, then an anonymous tip came about drug dealing and prostitution, causing the cops to open yet another investigation; and she got the file on her desk two days ago. She had another case to wrap up before starting on this one, thus the delay. So, now she was standing here, before the door of a small family that was about to have their world torn brutally apart.

She was never ready for this part. She rang the doorbell. "That's probably Ziio, she's always early!" the boy shouted from inside and Lucy felt her heart leap into her throat. The child in question was planning on hosting a birthday party. She didn't need more things compiling on her guilt.

"Alright, alright, I'll get the door," the father said. Lucy remembered him from her first meeting with this family. He was late, but overall a decent fellow, if a bit crusty around the edges. His heart was in the right place and she knew he clearly loved his child. She would have to have Desmond hold her tonight as she cried about ruining this man's life.

"It's just a job Lucy… just a job," she told herself, but again, that never fixed anything. She was destroying a family. The door opened and the man's smile morphed into a confused frown.

"Hello Miss Stillman," Edward Kenway said, "can I help you?"

"It's Mrs. Miles now," Lucy said, tugging out the paper she needed, "I'm here for Haytham."

YES! I GOT THIS CHAPTER DONE! LET THE ANGER, ANGST AND TEARS BEGIN! MUWHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAH!

I'm tired, so I'm going to go to bed after I post this. I know everyone reading this wants a sequel from Haytham's point of view of being a father to Connor. But my question is, who's interested in one with Ethan Frye as a single dad bringing up Jacob and Evie?

Save an author; leave a review!

-Nemo