#templar ratonhnhaké:ton

[teecupangel]

Hello, me again! (I feel as if I'm bothering you..)

Now, this has been in my head for a bit;

But what if Ziio married Haytham and Ratonhnhaké:ton was raised as a Templar? (Feel free to give him another sibling or two, as well. ^^)

Sibling!Desmond as well, cause not. XD

Also, let's throw Mrs Davenport and Conner Davenport into this as well, say they survived typhoid fever. Would Conner Davenport be trained as an Assassin?

(I'm totally not asking because I lowkey wanna make Laura a Templar now XD)

(It’s no bother. I actually feel a bit bad since I’m like… 10ish days late on asks and 2ish months late on reblogs/replies XD)

Let’s go for the funny things first.

Charles Lee will become Ratonhnhaké:ton and his siblings’ reluctant emergency babysitter. There is no escape. This is his fate. Charles Lee is that annoying ‘uncle’ that sucks up to their father too much so they don’t like him.

Shay could be everyone’s favorite uncle but I doubt it since we’re keeping Abigail and Connor alive. One of the hints that Achilles wasn’t fit to be the mentor was the conversation Shay and Liam had about how the death of his family changed him. Also, I stand by my headcanon that Abigail acted like everyone’s mother and she helped kept Achilles grounded and reminded him to not be brash. So there’s a high possibility that Shay wouldn’t defect in this one but would probably become distant with the Brotherhood due to Lisbon, acting more like a Rogue Assassin that focuses on making sure any Isu-related devices wouldn’t be used by either faction. So Shay could be an uncle of sort but more like ‘that annoying man who keeps getting in everyone’s way’.

Connor Davenport would definitely be an Assassin and might even be trained by Shay himself (although it’s more possible that he’d be trained by his father, Hope and Liam). He would also inherit the Aquila and, if Shay doesn’t become a Templar, he’d see Adéwalé as his sailing instructor as well.

Now, Ratonhnhaké:ton and Laura would have no problem becoming Templars. Hell, they could have looked up to their father and wanted to follow his footsteps. Even if Kaniehtí:io had reservations about it, she wouldn’t stop them from following their desires, only stopping them long enough to remind them to always think about their actions and taking responsibility of the consequences of their actions. The Templars in this one would definitely side with the tribes because Haytham is not impartial anymore and none of the Templars would disagree with him.

And that’s where we will hammer in the angst. Because the youngest of the Kenway children is Desmond Kenway and he remembers his life as Desmond Miles. Becoming a Templar would feel like a betrayal not only to the memories of Altaïr and Ezio but of the Assassin Ratonhnhaké:ton. He loves his family, he truly does, but there are many times when he wondered if this life of theirs was better than the life Ratonhnhaké:ton had back in the original timeline. Sure, he had lost his mother and he was forced to kill his father but… would the world truly be better if he lets the Templar take over America?

Can he truly kill the Assassins trying to stop them? (Even if some of them were dealing with the morally dubious part of the cities?)

Honestly, this can go either way with Desmond. Either he followed the path of the Templar to change it form the inside, becoming a beacon to the moderate Templars like Monsieur de la Serre and his cohorts in Paris and pushing for peace with the Assassin (which will lead him to be in conflict with Haytham who doesn’t believe that the two faction would ever be at peace) or he leaves the family he loves and becomes an Assassin to stand against them (and maybe having some kind of “are we allies? Are we enemies? What are we???” relationship with Connor Davenport).

Either way, there’s gonna be Kenway drama and it’s definitely going to be because of Desmond Kenway.

(sidebar: even if Desmond becomes a Templar, he would definitely have a “are you my enemy or are you trying to help me???” relationship with Connor Davenport, mainly because he still remembers the sadness Ratonhnhaké:ton felt when he heard of how Achilles lost everything and because Connor Davenport is pretty much the most acceptable Assassin in America at the moment. Laura and Ratonhnhaké:ton would definitely mistake this to some kind of forbidden love, no matter what Desmond says. Haytham would stress that he isn’t mad that Desmond likes men, just disappointed that Desmond likes an Assassin. Kaniehtí:io believes Desmond doesn’t have any romantic feelings for Connor Davenport but also she enjoys seeing her family get overworked by something like this.)

[lilborealis]

Assassins Creed Headcanons because I can

-Despite denying it adamantly, Evie still does have a crush on Ezio Auditore (it’s not as much as when she was a girl, but it’s still there)

-the tips of Evie’s ears also blush when she’s embarrassed, Henry finds it adorable

-Jacob somehow hid the fact he got drunk when he and Evie were hunting for the Koh-i-noor

-Ezio’s banged at least one nun in his lifetime

-Connor has a habit of apologizing to people when his large stature startles them

-who among the assassins would listen to Jimmy Buffett and why is it absolutely Edward mf Kenway

-Haytham has fallen off a few roofs by sheer accident and Connor loves to remind him (much to his annoyance)

-Evie actually does have a tattoo, Henry is the only one who knows

-Jack the Ripper is a Sage, and the founder of the Instruments of the First Will (he had associates in Syndicate, remember?)

-Arno 👏 adopted 👏 Léon

-both Jacob and Evie have kids and those kids are the most chaotic cousins alive

-Shay actually hates the color green

-Shay’s middle name actually came from his grandfather (who was named Patrick), his father’s name was Killian

-everyone thinks Evie’s all elegant and graceful but Jacob’s seen her fall off many roofs (more than him, he’s been sworn to secrecy)

-everyone thinks Jacob is the evil twin, (he’s just impulsive) but it’s actually Evie (no one believes him and he wants to scream)

-modern day Altair went through an emo phase

-Arno can walk on his hands

[demigoddessqueens]

Happy 268th Birthday Ratonhnhaké:ton/Connor!!

[blackflash9]

How AC3 Depicted the Minority Struggle

A common theme throughout AC3 comes from its iteration of the Templars - The Colonial Rite. The narrative was a lot more charitable and sympathetic to the Templar ideology - so much to the point that you'll often get some of those in the community who have become utterly convinced by their rhetoric to the extent that they've been deceived into believing that they were noble and righteous all along despite evidence to the contrary. Do you know who isn't convinced by them? Connor. The protagonist whom some still pretend was some bubbling deer-in-the-headlights who couldn't comprehend how "right" they were. In fact, Connor didn't think any target he killed was right. He even explicitly questions and poses counterarguments. And how do they respond? They just... call him naive instead of properly answering him. Johnson was killing the Natives who opposed him acquiring their land. His argument was that he could protect the Natives when the British or the Colonists came for them. But when Natives ask him if he is really concerned about their protection then he should give them muskets. To which he replies "War is not the answer". Easy for him to say, he wasn't getting driven off of his land. Not taking up for the Patriots, mind you, because they were honestly no different when it came to Native Americans, but Pitcairn's idea of peace was "better we hold the strings than another". When Connor questions that logic, he gets told he's being naive. Hickey? He brags about how Haytham and Connor are chasing lofty goals while his only goals were tits and gold.

Church was chased down by both Haytham and Connor for stealing supplies from the Continental Army. He was a just greedy hedonist who was trying to justify his actions. Connor counters every point Haytham makes while fighting him at Fort George. Sure, he thought if they helped the patriots they'll probably be on their side (but if Juno was right, the Templars were gonna seize his village's land anyway so there was no way he'd have been able to rescue his people), when Connor asks Haytham what makes Templars so special that they know how everything should be, all Haytham offers are excuses.

And he was in no delusion as to what the Patriots are. He points out Sam Adams' hypocrisy of fighting for freedom while owning a slave, he tells off the Sons of Liberty that they mistake him for one of their own before Achilles mentions Pitcairn. He thought Washington was a good guy before he learned he burnt his village, but in Forsaken Haytham lets go of the grudge he held against Washington because he came to see him as a great leader and better tempered than Charles Lee. So it's not like Connor was completely naive as everyone portrays him to be.

Everyone dismisses Connor as this naive kid who doesn't know "how the world works", but no one seems to give a convincing answer to the questions Connor asks. Whenever he asks the people in power (or who seek power, like the Templars) what makes them so special that everyone should obey them, they don't have an answer either. What Connor goes through in the game, is what every oppressed group has gone through. They're always told to wait, always told to liberate themselves at the convenience of their oppressors, their grievances are used as bait by those who seek power but they'll forget the same oppressed people who helped them the second they attain power. But their liberation never comes. The only people who can truly liberate are themselves. That's what the deleted monologue was about. His Creed.

[ohsangwoosbat]

this totally happened cause i said so. trust me not ubishit….. (coping)😓💔

but yeah, here’s a little sketch of bebe connor and his papa (っಠ‿ಠ)っ💗

as always, DO NOT EDIT/REPOST MY ART ON ANY OTHER PLATFORMS WITHOUT PERMISSION!!🚫

[kuroganedorian]

TEMPLAR TUESDAY

“Well played!”

[goga-je-pieroga]

Template from @roddieerr on Pinterest. Enjoy!

[auroramoon-draws16]

Omw to procrastinate: 🏃🏽‍♀️💨

Desmond, my boi, my silly little guy, bartender of the AC afterlife!

Imagine him, our traumatized little Chosen One, carving out a space somewhere not in the Grey, but connected enough, to have some time wonky bullshit and end up meeting the Assassin’s Creed cast one by one.

So when they die, they meet Desmond, a reluctant sacrifice who finally gets to retire, and as soon as the first of them show up he just goes:

“Oh, I get it.” And sits them down with a good Shirley Templar, and just chats with each of them. (Even mixing drinks inspired by each person who walks in, crafted with their personal tastes in alcohol in mind)

So we just have a bunch of Assassins (and a few Templars) finally fixing things with each other and getting to know their stories. (Maybe in the form of playing their respective games on the bar’s big screen, who knows, that’s up to you-)

Oh and Clay is there too, because both of them got done so dirty. He’s just sitting on his designated stool playing Mario Cart lmao.

Geez, as much as I adore angsty fanfics with hurt no comfort, all I want is my bbies to be happy 😭

[shatinn]

AC3/Haytham and youngie Ratonhnhake:ton

2/?

[teecupangel]

Starling Desmond? Those guys are wild, especially when they start mimicking machines and people talking.

They’re super pretty too. Look at that metallic shine.

Also… here’s a video of a starling mimicking a human voice, making R2D2 sounds, making kissy-kissy noises and whistling.

Desmond would definitely use it to his advantage. He has the ability to mimic a human’s voice with the memories of multiple languages.

Which means…

He can pretend to be haunting Templars.

At that point, they wouldn’t even think that a bird was the source of all those voices.

And even if they see Desmond talk, they would assume he’s possessed.

Oh.

And I suppose he can also talk to his ancestors while he’s at it. XD

Desmond might get the ‘title’ of Devil Bird from the Templars while his ancestors just call him “Desmond, the talking bird”.

I feel like, in this case, we should give Desmond a handicap. He can’t speak long sentences, only short ones. But that’s enough to converse with his ancestors and scare the shit out of the Templars.

Desmond also only speak to his ancestors when he’s sure they’re alone or with someone they trust (ex: Malik and Kadar, the Auditores, …… Achilles later on)

There’s an inhuman quality to Desmond’s voice which he milks immediately. He tells the Templars their deepest secrets (Al Mualim) or prey upon their insecurities and weaknesses (Cesare).

To his ancestors? His voice takes a higher more birdsong tune and his ancestors actually believe the ‘Devil Bird’ is another bird altogether that has the same capability as Desmond, probably corrupted by the Apple.

It took them hearing Desmond intimidate Templars using that voice to understand that, yes, it was really their adorable companion making Templars fear the unknown.

(Leonardo absolutely loves him and sketches him a lot, adding him to his works whenever possible. In the future, the Starling would be seen as Leonardo’s favorite bird and a symbol of the arts. Florence might even try to make it the national bird because of Leonardo)

[coyoxxtl]

haytham stans want him to be a father who gives a shit so fucking badly

I'm obsessed with the idea of Haytham finding out where his son got the name 'Connor' from. I can imagine the anger, betrayal and disgust he would feel knowing Achilles, the man he foolishly left alive 20 years ago against his better judgement, not only tried to turn Connor against him but went a step further and named him after his own dead son.

I'm obsessed with the image of Haytham sneaking into Achilles' home to 'have a chat with him', absolutely fuming on the inside. Achilles scoffs at him, says it's bold of him to care about the boy when he's been absent all his life; Haytham loses his shit, pins Achilles to the nearest wall and presses the barrel of his gun against his stomach. "I let you live and this is how you repay me ? By using my son as a replacement for the one you failed to keep alive ?"

...I can't fully put my ideas into words rn but I need this in my life

[demigoddessqueens]

Hay, I read your writing about Assassin's Creed with the s/o befriending the crow population. I was wondering if you can make one with the s/o befriending the Hawk population if that's OK if you you don't have to do it if you don't want to. (Pls I'm a new subscribers to your blog). So have a good day keep up with your writing.💗

Oh hey!! Thank you so much for following and your request, and welcome 🤗 💕 im glad you’re here

Masterlist 10

A/n - I don’t remember who I wrote for the crow population one, but I’ll do the main leads for this one 😆😁

Altair

While it’s no eagle, he admires the same prowess they have as an eagle and sometimes decorates his person with their feathers as it reminds him of you

Ezio

Well he does like them better than the pesky pigeons, plus your hawks like when he strokes and pets their feathers

Ratonhnhaké:ton

Thinks it’s so cute whenever these hawks follow you around, and he sees it as a sigh of acceptance when they perch on him or nuzzle against him

Haytham

Not as noisy as a crow or pigeon, but he is sometimes indifferent to your pet birds. At least they keep you out of trouble that follows Templars

Shay

Your hawks make for great companions on The Morrigan as it can get lonesome at times when the sails are longer than normal

Edward

He also warms up to your pet hawks, mostly because they’re a lot nicer than any of the aggressive seagulls

Arno

He’s already so protective of you so it’s a small comfort that faster eyes are able to look out for you if he’s not around

Jacob

They would be perfect for his rooks (Jacob no!)

But in hindsight, yes he does warmup to your pet hawks quickly, giving them nicknames

Desmond

he welcomes them as a nice distraction, sometimes teasing he’ll adopt them for himself

[blackflash9]

While I appreciate and admire Haytham Kenway as a character, his actions have caused long-term, irreparable damage to the perception of the Assassins within the community, tainting their intentions, goals, and the overall messaging of their eternal war with the Templars.

(And I certainly intend to eventually break down how the Colonial Rite in AC3 is NOT what it appears to be...)

But back to Haytham:

It's crucial to highlight that a majority of Haytham's arguments are fundamentally fatalistic at best and utterly cynical at worst. Unlike the other paranoid and obsessive members of his order, Haytham represents another reason the Templars have endured for so long.

Just as George Washington, Sam Adams, and the rest of the Founding Fathers symbolized a prelude to America's two-faced nature in both domestic and (eventually) global affairs, Haytham and his rite also served as a precursor to a lot of the tactics and machinations that future power-seeking populists in the nation would use to prey on people's misfortunes and desires for profit or manipulation. ['Public Execution' Transcript]

Thomas Hickey: "How should I know? The Templars. Lee. The big man, Haytham. They 'as the money. They 'as the power. That's the reason I threw in with 'em. That's the ONLY reason. Sure, they 'ave some sort of vision, for the future too. I didn't give a damn about any of that. They can sing their songs about mankind and its troubles. They can make their plans and spring their traps, don't bother me none. They paid me so I said yes. Didn't bother to ask who or how or why. Didn't care." What is more: He is a complete hypocrite. Within the same rooftop scene, Haytham notably criticizes the Founding Fathers for using evasive rhetoric and "pretty words," yet are the Templars also not guilty of the same, only more effectively? He proclaims to not "feign affection," but does exactly that in a fruitless final attempt to sway Connor with the reveal of Washington burning his village.

(And that's not even getting into his other morally reprehensive acts.)

It is evidently clear that the narrative subtly indicates that Haytham is in the wrong, but due to his portrayal being that of a slightly charming figure, his authoritarian nature and fascist tendencies are swept under the surface with him being often falsely perceived as a sort of moral paragon or righteous figure in the eyes of many.

And It concerns me how people unironically fall for this rhetoric. For a brief moment, we see Haytham's "mask" slip completely when he nearly chokes Connor to death while monologuing revealing his most veritable self as this utterly sadistic and unhinged Templar like we've seen in the series up until that point. At the core: Haytham is less of a representative of Templar righteousness as he completely embodies the sheer allure and convincing nature of the Templar philosophy, highlighting its appeal to many despite its fundamental flaws.

[wyyvernn]

A/n: thought i would do these for my favourite assassins/templars since i did them for Castlevania. Maybe I'll do them for others

✧･ﾟ: Masterlist :･ﾟ✧

How they kiss you - Ratonhnhaké:ton (Connor), Haytham, Jacob, Evie, Shay

Ratonhnhaké:ton

Slow and sweet, like calm waves licking the shore or gentle spring winds flying through leaves. His arms are warm around you, heat seeping through his palms as they grip your waist. Sometimes you can feel his hesitance, how his lips barely touch yours, like you're glass and he's afraid to break you. The rough pads of his thumbs feel like a feather sweeping over your soft chin, though - tentative but endearing.

Haytham

Slow, deep and confident, each kiss from his lips feels expensive and so intoxicating like rich red wine. His palms press ever so slightly against your neck, thumbs cradling your jaw as he tilts your face up towards him. His lips curl as he feels your pulse quicken beneath his fingers, even more so as he pulls away, enjoying the hot flush he brings to your skin and the way he leaves you wanting for more.

Shay

Short, fast and a little playful, Shay takes your breath away everytime. Always quick and always eager, as if he wants to steal all of your attention before someone else does. Sometimes during calm nights on the seas, he likes to take you in his arms and slow dance at the helm of his ship beneath the stars, even as you protest and shy away. He simply laughs and presses an apologetic kiss to your forehead, asking you to suffer a silly moment with him.

Jacob

Wild and passionate, you can never get Jacob to sit down, but when he does, he's gathering you into his lap, his lips pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck, your collarbone and sometimes...much lower. Many times have his rooks walked in the midst of your...activities, and on more embarrassing occasions, his sister too. Although, not once has he let it bother him or that smug grin.

Evie

Adoring and gentle, Evie leaves you feeling protected and treasured. You take great pleasure in her affections, in the times that her elegant fingers caress your cheeks, and how her perfect lips brush over your knuckles like the softest of silks. Every act she inflicts on your body is pure and heavenly but it feels so sensual and sinful, as if her touch shouldn't feel this good. Regardless, you soak up everything she gives you.

[kiatheinsomniac]

──── 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 ˊˎ -

☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: a commission from @tired-lime who's always a darling to work with ��𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Ratonhnhaké:ton | Connor Kenway x Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 6.7k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: MDNI, NSFW content, enemies to lovers, porn with plot, fingering, handjobs, creampies, unprotected sex

You walk as calmly as you can through the narrow alley, not daring to lift your eyes from where they look straight ahead of you and glance towards the rooftops that cast darkness over you, the silvery moonlight gleaming just ahead as the streight leads to the main road. This place is out of sight of the sparse public that might wander past at this time of night, your vision is limited in the darkness it provides and there’s ample opportunity for an overhead ambush. 

All of this puts you at every disadvantage, perhaps, but that’s exactly what you want the man tailing you to think. You keep your eyes straight because Assassins like rooftops. They provide coverage and blindspots, hidden in plain sight as most people simply don’t find themselves looking up with their eyes to the sky as they go about their day and all the tasks that come with it. It’s precisely why you’ll always find an Assassin stalking you from above and never from upon your own level. 

In short, you’re baiting the Assassin above you who has gone to so much care to silence his footsteps and conceal his shadow from your sight. But you’re a Templar. You’re trained to know your enemy. You spotted him not long ago, lingering around a crowd outside an inn, trying to blend in. But your purpose for going out at all today has been to bait him, those are your orders. 

Your ears are kept vigilant for the sound of something small flying through the air and in a moment's notice, you lunge forward to dodge the rope dart that had been aimed at you. There’s a hissed curse and you draw your sword as the Assassin makes his leap down to you, using a ledge of a windowsill garden to lessen his fall. He stands tall in front of you now, white beaked hood up and hiding his face. His hidden blade shoots out as he parries your offensive blow with his gauntlet. 

You’re still not entirely sure what material it is that Assassins make their gauntlets from. Your mentor Haytham has one and he claims that it’s an alloy from a precursor civilization but when your higher-ups start talking like that, you sometimes begin to wonder if you’ve really overstepped your depth as an ex-mercenary and have accidentally joined a cult. 

Regardless, the Assassin stands tall before you now. He is Achilles’ new novice, so you’ve been told. The only member of his ranks as your mentor has told you of how a companion of his wiped out the last generation of Assassins here in the colonies, thus giving your Order ample room to plant its roots. Though you have no name nor face to put to this companion of Haytham’s as he is always very quick to change the subject or to remind you to not speak out of line whenever your curiosity gets the better of you and you start to press for details of this mysterious person’s identity if only to create an image in your mind for all of this information that you are given. 

His free hand takes out a tomahawk and you’re put on defence. You take a step back but make sure to stay in the alley and out of the public space. The last thing you want is nearby law enforcement or civilians to get involved. But the clashing of metal upon metal rings out in the otherwise quiet night. 

He fights cleanly using his sheer strength and towering figure which puts you at a disadvantage. His technique is curated to be quick and efficient but your style often depends on your agility, stamina and tiring out your enemy. You’ve already laid such a foundation by baiting him to follow you from the rooftops – a much more strenuous journey than the one you had taken upon the ground. But there was something to how he was swinging at you with his tomahawk, movements tight to not allow you to get too far, a passion to his every strike and parry. 

You know when you’re outmatched and so you’re now put on defence and wondering what could have happened between intel and being given your orders that could have possibly allowed you to go about this mission alone instead of preparing a sort of ambush in order to put an end to this lone Assassin that has been terrorising the Order once and for all. 

Had you let the higher-ups flatter you over your skills into thinking you were truly capable of this task they had set upon you? Regardless, you’re in this now and your only priority has suddenly become making it out of here alive. You take a risk and do a rescan of your surroundings, looking for anything that might be of aid to you in order to give you just a slither of an opportunity of getting away. But you remain aware of your enemy’s every move, knowing that even a momentary slip up can be the cause of your untimely demise.

But the Assassin trying to cut you down is just as trained as you are – if not more so – and this subtle scrambling of yours does not go unnoticed by his keen, dark eyes. 

“Out of your depth, Templar?” He asks in his smooth and rich tone. 

“You wish I were.” You bite back and manage to take swift steps backwards, enough for you to assess that the risk of lowering your sword in exchange for the gun at your hip is worth it in order to try and create a window for escape. You take aim but don’t fire. You should be firing. You should be killing this man. 

Why did they send you on this mission alone? 

It’s all you can think to yourself as your finger hovers over the trigger. The Assassin knows he’s done for if your finger so much as twitches now and yet he freezes, seeing your hesitation. The two of you are brought to a standstill with you aiming your gun at the Assassin’s head and yet your finger hovers over the trigger, refusing to squeeze. He has no opportunity to strike you down at this moment as in a fraction of a second, hesitation can become a killing blow. 

Your eyes narrow slightly as you repeat that question to yourself: why did they send you on this mission alone? This Assassin is clearly far more skilled than you are and even baiting him here after a journey that should have tired you out has not made a dent in his stamina. He’s been cutting down British soldiers and Templars alike, chipping away at the order for reasons not yet known to you other than the simple explanation of ‘we are Templars, he an Assassin’. Why did you believe your higher-ups when they told you that you could handle this solo mission? Have they sent you here as an execution and if so: why? 

“Why do they want you to kill me?” You murmur. The question is asked aloud and yet you’re not sure if you’re asking him or yourself. This seems to make even the Assassin pause in puzzlement. If they want you dead then what are they doing now? Are you merely a distraction? 

“That’s a good question indeed.” The toweringly tall Assassin raises his hands in a gesture of surrender and you slowly lower your gun but keep a good amount of distance between the two of you, each standing at either side of the narrow alley you had originally lured him into. You tap your toes against the ground as you ponder over questions again: is this a distraction or an execution? Either way you’re clearly expendable and it comes as a surprise to you because you were so sure you were in the Grandmaster’s good books. 

So what has changed to make Haytham use you as a sacrificial pawn in whatever game he’s playing here in the colonies? Neither of you are sure what to do now, having both arrived here late at night with intentions to kill the other. But now you see that the true plan behind all of this was for you to die all along. It’s enough to make Ratonhnhaké:ton stand down and wish to spare you. Someone is pulling the strings here and part of their plan includes your death. So what’s to happen when this plan is interrupted. 

“I won’t kill you today.” He speaks up after finally making up his mind following a few minutes of thick silence wherein you were both deep in thought, trying with your minds to uncover the obscurity of whatever the bigger picture is here. The best course of action is to disrupt the plans of whoever it is that’s painting it. “But when you fall it will be by my hand, Templar.” You shoot the man a glare where his eyes would be, concealed behind the shadow that the beak of his hood casts over his face in order to hide his identity. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Assassin.” You quip back but you hear him scoff as he puts his tomahawk away when you set your gun back into its holster. 

“You’re right. Your masters seem to be set on beating me to that.” You open your mouth to protest but he’s already making his way up the wall of one of the buildings you’re between and returning to the rooftops. You’re quick to exit the alley and get into the middle of the main street so that he doesn’t have an opportunity to assassinate you from above should he be bluffing or perhaps change his mind and deal with you now before you become a loose thread. But he doesn’t and you’re left standing in the middle of an empty street at night. 

Could you even go back to your quarters now? Perhaps they’ll use the failed mission as justification to finish you off themselves. You need somewhere to stay until you’ve figured out what’s going on and whether or not you’ve been betrayed by the Order that you had sworn your own loyalty to. But where to go? 

Your eyes rise up to the rooftops that the Assassin had disappeared over. You’ve been set up by the people who this man is set on killing. 

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend…” You murmur to yourself as you spot a nearby ladder and use it to make your way up onto the same rooftop. It’s a risk you’re taking but it seems that every path available to you now has some degree of risk to it and so you’re left with no choice but to weigh your options and gamble. 

Your foot taps anxiously against the cobble beneath you as you consider your plan. If your Order seeks to erase you, it won’t even be safe to go back to your rented room and pack a bag of your belongings. It’s the first place they’ll go to look for you and with the network of spies Haytham has been building across the city, it won’t take long for word to get back to him that you’ve failed your mission. You won’t get far hiding either. All of your tricks, you’ve learned from your mentor and to try and hide would be to put yourself at a disadvantage by playing the game of the man who had so clearly intended to use you as a pawn in whatever grand scheme he’s hatching; not so long ago, you had thought you knew his plans but tonight has changed your course of events entirely. 

Into the belly of the best it is. 

You decide. Now up on the roof, you look with your second sight. It’s your upper hand and even Haytham has admitted that it was one of his greatest factors in considering you as an advantageous candidate for a Templar. The route he’s taken lights up gold and you begin to follow all the twists and turns he took that would have thrown off anyone else who might have been tiling him. Not you though. 

°:.   *₊    ° .   ☆ ☾　 °:.   *₊  ° . ° .•

You find yourself outside a manor upon a homestead. It wasn’t an easy journey by any means and you hadn’t expected him to have covered so much ground either. In the forest, you found yourself wishing you had stopped to hire a horse – you still had some money on you after all. You took a break twice, made a camp once after scouting out the area but you admittedly slept very lightly. You weren’t a wilderness girl and the anxiety of being found by a wolf or bear had kept you from falling into a truly restful sleep. 

And so you found yourself feeling both tired from a long way’s travel and a poor night’s rest during the small hours of the morning, all while heading right into the den of your enemy who, currently and ironically enough, seems to be your only possible ally. 

The manor standing tall in the clearing above you is built in typical colonial fashion with red bricks and white embellishments. Its large size makes use of the spacious land it is upon and your mind wanders back to the stories Haytham once shared with you about the Brotherhood that once lived and trained here. Looking at the size of the place, it’s easy to imagine so many people living here once upon a time and difficult to imagine that today it only houses the old Mentor and the one and only Assassin who still lives by their Creed here in the colonies. 

Though that’s only as much as your Order is aware of. You keep your wits about you, more than aware that you don’t know what you’re walking to, nor do you know how many potential foes reside within those four walls. You may very well be running from one death straight into another. 

But your options are slim and you’ve wagered that your odds are better here. Back with the Order, you’re a pawn that should have submissively been sacrificed. Here, you’re either a target to be taken out immediately or a valuable source of information. After all, you’ve been betrayed and they may consider that you have every reason to surrender all of the Order’s secrets that you possess. 

These are all just possibilities though and death remains a very likely outcome. 

You stand from an awkward distance on the treeline for a while. Surely you can’t just knock on the front door being who you are? Then again, if you take any other route, they might see it as an ambush and you’ll be in combat or even dead before you can open your mouth to explain your intentions. Despite every other instinct within you telling you to turn tail and run to the nearest harbour, to leave the region altogether on whatever boat you can get yourself aboard, you approach the front door. 

A shadow falls over you when you raise your fist to knock upon the door. He’s good at what he does, you’ll give him that. Immediately, you feel the warm, sharp edge of a blade resting against your throat. Warm and so it’s the hidden blade that the likes of him keep tucked up their sleeves, a blade like the one your mentor possessed. You’d always found it rather ironic that Haytham always stands so tall beside his principles and yet he fights with the enemy’s weapon. 

“Did you come here thinking you could finish the job and go crawling back to your master?” His voice speaks up from behind you. You raise both of your hands in the air in a sign of surrender, keeping them far away from your hips where your weapons are kept around your belt. He doesn’t hesitate in unbuckling it and removing it from your body and moments later, you hear it hit the floor some distance away where he’s thrown it. You’re not unarmed in enemy territory and you begin wondering if this really was the best plan of action after all. 

“I actually came with a proposal…” You begin slowly. You’re not entirely sure how to present yourself, your tone. Even you’re unsure if your own plan will work but you need to sound certain or else he may well believe you’re just here to trick him in which case he’ll kill you. 

You don’t need to turn around to know that he’s looming over you. You wonder sometimes how a man of his stature can blend into crowds and hide in plain sight the way Assassins are taught to. And yet he does and it’s truly a testament to his skill. 

“And what might this proposal be?” You swallow thickly. Your life depends on being able to convince him that you’re being honest, which he has every inclination to doubt considering your current standing as enemies.

“It’s been made clear that I’m seen as expendable, so I’d much rather prove just how essential I was. I have information: contacts, travel routes, locations of higher-ranking Templars. Whatever mission you’re on, I’ll speed it up by months, maybe even years.” You tilt your head back a little more, trying to ease the pressure when the blade presses more insistently at your skin. 

“And why should I believe you?” 

“Because I came here. Because I’ve got nowhere else to go at the moment and I’m risking you slashing my throat just for a chance to try and get out of this ordeal alive after what happened last night.” The blade leaves your neck but the threat is not removed as you then feel it poke at your back, spurring you forwards at a slow pace, hands still raised. 

“Step inside.” 

°:.   *₊    ° .   ☆ ☾　 °:.   *₊  ° . ° .•

Months later, you find yourself setting up camp in a familiar cave. These meetings have become familiar to you and nowadays this little cave feels like the safest place in the world. You’ve been working as a double agent for the past few months and being in the Order feels like having death loom over your shoulder all the time now. Being a Templar had once given you such a feeling of purpose and belonging, that you had a key, unshakable place in the world, that you were guiding it in a better direction. 

But the more you’ve been reporting back to Connor and the chats you have in between, the more you have to take a step back and ask yourself if you were being told a one-sided story the entire time. You haven’t set foot on Connor’s homestead since you first arrived and he had to send you back with a split lip, gashed jaw and sprained wrist to make it seem like you really had fought him and not conspired with him. That gash now remains as a scar across the lower part of your face. Each time you look in the mirror, it reminds you of your new mission as the Assassin’s spy. 

And each time, you pray that you’re doing the right thing. 

Your attention is grabbed by the sound of feet on dirt and you look towards the mouth of the cave where he stands tall now, moving to sit on the opposite side of your little fire so that he’s facing you. His gloves come off and he rubs his hands together near the open flames. His hood comes down to reveal a face strikingly like your mentor’s and you can’t believe that this man is now your only ally in the world and you can’t even be entirely sure of his loyalty. All you know is that you need to keep yourself indispensable in order to keep breath in your lungs and a heartbeat in your chest. 

He reaches into his bag and takes out a small, wrapped package. Scaled fish. They’re skewered and set over the fire to cook.

“Thank you.” You say stiffly. Interactions like this are still so unusual to you. He nods his head in a silent ‘you’re welcome’. 

“What’s new?” 

“Lee’s on the move.” His dark eyes quickly flick up to meet yours and you can see the deep interest in them. You haven’t asked why he’s after Lee specifically though it confuses you as you would have been sure he would go after Haytham; to cut the head of the snake, so to speak. But you’ve never asked because this vendetta seems deeply personal and you’re next to certain that he won’t open up to you about it. “They’re making preparations to receive him in Boston so whatever he’s come back with must be important… or they know that you’re after him. I’ve yet to find out which it is because I don’t have direct access to such information and I can’t put myself at risk if this is a red herring and they suspect something. But the moment I find out more I’ll tell you – but take everything with a pinch of salt.” 

He nods, deep in thought and you wonder what’s going through his head. You always worry that doubt will creep into his mind and will ultimately drive him to kill you. You can only hope that he’s instead thinking about exacting whatever revenge he has planned for Charles Lee. His thirst for revenge currently is what’s keeping you afloat. Without his vendetta, you’re worthless to him. 

“How have you been?” You’re not sure if you’re asking out of politeness or loneliness. Are you trying to keep in his good graces or are you seeking out the warmth of a friend, even if what’s between you isn’t really friendship? 

“Busy…” He sighs. “Your Order’s been on the move.” 

“I’ve heard about your meetings with Washington.” You bite your lip as you ponder your next question. It’s personal but a chance not taken is an opportunity missed. “You… You’re meeting with all these generals, men of influence and yet you work in the shadows. Do you truly have no wish for the world to remember your name? You really want to just vanish?” You had been drawn to the Templars partially by glory, by the chance of making a place in the world, a change where you and your fellow members of the Order would be revered for centuries to come. 

“I do not want to be remembered, no. Our creed states that we work in the dark to serve the light. This war will be lost to memory and I will do my part to make sure that it is the Assassins who bury any record of it.” Your first reaction is to think of him as ridiculous: he’s thrown any chance at a normal life away for a battle he will never be credited for. But it’s selfless. He has nothing to gain but what he believes in: no fame, no power, no glory. 

Maybe you really have been misled. 

The Templars had always preached peace but with that peace came the Order having ultimate power over humanity, domination over free will. You had once focused so heavily on how that absolute control would stop war, would stop suffering. But at what cost? It must be a great one for this man in front of you to be throwing any semblance of a normal life away for it. 

“Tell me more about your Creed.” He turns over the fish and glances up at you once again, meeting your curious eyes. You’re sitting down with your legs curled up to your chest, arms wrapped around them with your hin propped on your knees. This isn’t smalltalk or you digging for information, it’s genuine interest. He hadn’t missed your pondering look before, that glint of unsurety in your eyes. 

“Alright…”

°:.   *₊    ° .   ☆ ☾　 °:.   *₊  ° . ° .•

Weeks later and you meet again, having shared many more meetings in the meantime. You understand Ratonhnhaké:ton better now, you understand his creed. He seems different from his mentor that Haytham had told you about, so very different. He doesn’t meddle in the first civilisation that your mentor speaks of so frequently and you wonder if it’s for the best after the stories you had heard of while in the Order. Haytham speaks of them vaguely but you still have a comprehensive enough understanding. 

The more he speaks, the more you doubt your own order who wish to use these artefacts for their plans to shepard humanity towards its best self, the more you wonder if your superiors in the Order are just set on a path to repeat history. You’ve shared with him all the information you have now. You now feel like less of a double agent and more of a spy – having to give away anything about the Assassin you’ve come to secretly think of as a friend feels like a betrayal, even if it’s only for the sake of protecting your ulterior motives for having returned to the Order at all after that night you first encountered Rathonhnhaké:ton for yourself. 

He’s been more open with you too. Haytham is his father – something which both made sense, looking at his face, and shocked you, considering he is an Assassin and his father a Templar. Charles Lee, at Haytham’s command, had burned his village to the ground as a child, killing his mother. You empathise with that deeply. You had joined the Order knowing that you had no family of your own to lose should things get messy. It seems that the two of you are in the same boat for that one. 

Now, he’s picking out the bones from your fish while you prepare some water to boil over the fire. But time has moved on and winter draws near, bringing a chill into this little cave that feels like it’s become your one and only sanctuary in the world. You hold your open palms near the fire and try to chase away the chill but it does you very little good. 

Connor watches you for a moment before he removes his gloves and hands them to you. As he holds them out silently, those well-worn gloves appear like an olive branch to you. This really is for the best, you think. More and more, you’ve come to realise that you were misled by your Order. You were promised to be a harbinger, to be one of the names that would live on forever as a part of the order who had saved humanity. But you were a pawn all along. Even despite your special abilities, Haytham had been more than willing to sacrifice you for whatever gain. You might have a little more value in his eyes now that you’ve ‘proven’ you can take on the Assassin and get away with your life but you’ve seen your old mentor, you’ve heard how he talks of the first civilisation. He’ll stop at nothing and you’re more than sure that should he see another opportunity where your sacrifice and earn great gain for him and his plans, he’ll send you walking straight into the arms of death all over again. 

You take the gloves and slide them on over your hands. 

“Thank you.” You offer a smile but you hold back just how happy this small gesture makes you. They’re far too big but they’re soft and warm. They’re clearly broken in, the fingertips especially worn down from what you can only assume is all the climbing he does in stalking around with the stealth of his kind. But it’s the fact he’s given them to you at all that touches your heart. 

The two of you eat, drink, you share intel and it becomes late enough that you wrap yourself tightly in a thick blanket and curl up on your bedroll beside the campfire. The cave provides enough shelter to keep out the bitter wind but the temperature has still dropped drastically with the change of seasons. You sit up to wrap your blanket around your feet better and you find yourself wishing you had brought another pair of socks or, better yet, a warmer pair. You then lay back down, curled in on yourself to try and gather as much insulation as possible, and close your eyes to try and sleep. But the cold instead bites at your ears and so you pull your blanket up over the back of your head like a hood and shuffle a little closer to the fire so that your nose is warmed by the flame. 

You hear shuffling around you and crack an eye open to see that Rathonhnaké:ton has moved. He’s no longer laid on his bedroll on the opposite side of the fire but has instead moved it right next to yours behind where you’re curled up on your side. 

“I thought you’d be used to camping by now.” He murmurs and you can hear him lay down beside you, so close that you can feel the heat from his body. 

“Not during the winter, I’m not.” You mumble into your blanket which you’ve pulled up by your mouth so that your breath can warm your face. You feel the weight of his arm lay over your waist and he then presses his chest to your back. You can feel the warmth of his breath over your neck, heating the blanket that’s tucked over the back of your head. You stiffen for a moment, surprised by his willingness to be close to you. 

You feel your heart flutter in your chest and you lean into his warmth. How long has it been since anyone held you like this? It’s wonderful and overwhelming and suddenly there’s no more winter, nothing outside of this little cave where you’ve been setting up camp to meet for almost a year now. 

“Thank you…” You say quietly. Whether for the warmth, or the touch, or for the new path he’s opened to you that you’ve set your life upon now, you’re unsure. 

“There’s no need to thank me.” He replies just as quietly. The two of you lay there for a long time and your heart doesn’t slow, beating like a rabbit’s. He’s so close and you hadn’t expected such a thing to be so exhilarating. Rathonhnaké:ton is a toweringly tall man and you’ve always viewed it as an advantage for when he needs to intimidate. But now, you feel safer than you’ve known since that night of your first encounter when your illusion about the Knights Templar was shattered. 

After a while, you can’t take it anymore and you turn around just enough to be able to look at him over your shoulder. Your faces are very close and you can feel his breath fan across your lips. When you look to meet his eyes, he does the same as he had previously been looking at your mouth. 

“Feeling warmer?” He asks, his voice a rumbling murmur. You give the slightest little nod and your eyes very obviously glance at his pillowy lips again. You don’t try to hide it and nor does he miss it. You’re unsure which of you leans in first – perhaps it had been the both of you, little by little, while you were both preoccupied in imagining how it might be to press your lips to the other’s – but he’s warm and the touch of his lips against yours fills you with a bubbling heat. You turn your body to face him and he pulls you closer by your waist, thumb pressing into you through your clothes and stroking over your body while your lips press and meet again and again. One of your hands goes up to cup his face, feeling his chiselled jaw and cheekbones, then your fingers slide into his silken hair and tangle gently into it when your tongue slides against his. 

You pull away for air for a moment but it’s short lived as his teeth pull gently at your bottom lip and his mouth then grazes against your chin and traces the curve of your jaw in kisses. The cold that had previously bothered you is completely forgotten about and he tugs the collar of your layers of clothing aside so that he can kiss against the pulse of your throat. Your hands find his chest and press to try and feel the contours of his body through his clothing but all the buttons and straps get in your way. Your fingers start working to undo buttons before you realise how caught up you’ve got and you pull away for a moment. 

“Is this ok?” He gives a small nod and leans in to kiss you again as you remove his clothes. You leave his shirt and jackets open, revealing scarred, bronze skin to you. His body is shaped like an ancient statue of legendary heroes. You can’t help but take the opportunity to rove your palms over each contour and feel him in his beauty. 

His large hands slide down to your hips and pull you a little closer. To accommodate him, you move to straddle one of his muscular thighs. He lifts it just enough to press against you and feels a deep stirring below his belt when your teeth sink into your bottom lip and you let out a soft moan.

You had never imagined you would find yourself in this position with Rathonhnaké:ton and yet now that you’re here together, it feels so right. It feels like you really have grown close enough to be like this, like stars in their orbit being pulled to one another. His mouth is on yours again in an instant while he presses his thigh between your legs and he starts to pull at your belt to remove the clothing on your lower half. You help him by tugging off your boots between messy kisses. Once your pants are off and your lower half is bare, you shiver as the chill begins to creep over your bare skin. Connor simply pulls you closer and wraps the blanket firmly around your body while you straddle his lap, taking care to tuck it under your legs in an attempt to keep in as much warmth as possible. 

His fingers dance their way down to your mound where he can already feel the intense heat radiating from you. 

“Do you want to keep going?” He asks as his mouth moves to press wet kisses beneath your ear, breathing over the sensitive spot and making you shiver as a result. You nod your head and unintentionally let a needy sound slip past your lips. 

Ratonhnhaké:ton’s fingers glide through your slick folds and he lets out a little breath of wonder at the feeling of touching you in such an intimate place. Experimentally, he pushes one finger inside of you and watches how your spine arches and your body then bows to lean against him. He pushes it as far as he can go and begins moving it in and out. Letting your bodies take over, allowing words to become of little importance, you begin to grind your hips against his hand so that the heel of his palm catches your clit in a sensation that feels like a delicious burn. He adds another finger and you tug at his pants until his length, thick and heavy in your hand, is freed. You gently squeeze and hear how he sucks in a hiss through his teeth. You then begin to massage up and down, matching the pace of your hips moving to meet his fingers as they draw out soft, wet squelches from your pussy. You swipe over the slit at his tip with your thumb and hear how it makes him groan lowly. You glance down to see a little pool of your arousal gathering in the dip of his palm and decide that enough is enough.

You raise your hips up until his fingers slip out of you entirely. You then remove your hands from him and loop your arms loosely around his neck instead. He understands your intentions clearly and strokes himself a few times, covering his length in the slick from your pussy. You bring your hips back down and he guides himself into you. You’re quick to press your mouth to his in another messy kiss in order to muffle the moan you let out upon feeling the stretch of him pushing into you. You pause shakily along the way, deciding you can take all of him once you’re a little more adjusted, and start to ride. 

Connor’s large hands slide beneath your ass to grab at the soft flesh that spills between his fingers and he uses his hold to support you in moving up and down, holding a lot of your weight with his strength. As you continue to move your hips rhythmically, one of his hands leaves your rear in favour of pulling at the buttons and ties that keep your chest hidden. Once it’s revealed, he lets out an appreciative groan of approval and his mouth latches onto one of your breasts as he pulls you closer and you ride him. Your head tips back to the ceiling of the cave and you pant as the wind whistles outside, joining with the crackling of the fire, the shift of the fabric of your clothing and blanket and the slick sounds of his cock filling you up over and over. 

Ratonhnhaké:ton is big and consequently manages to hit all the right spots at once as he fills you again and again, your hips angled just right for him to brush against the places that have you curling your cold toes. His mouth slathers your breasts in kisses, pausing to nip or suck at your plush flesh and he works your blood into a feverish heat. The two of you pant for breath, moans and groans echoing off the stone walls. 

After a while, his arms wrap around your waist as he lays back, bringing him with you. He kisses you firmly as he brings his knees up and you almost feel the breath get knocked from your lungs when he begins thrusting up into you. You rest your head on his shoulder as he pounds up into your sensitive pussy and your sensitive, teased nipples brush against his chest as your body shakes and wavers with his movements. 

A pressure builds in your abdomen, growing tighter and more intense until your whole body is flooded in pleasure, walls squeezing tightly around his cock as though begging him to come with you. And you’re successful in sending him over the edge, hearing him moan, the whimper in his tone as he releases into you and holds you close as the two of you catch your breaths. 

But then the cold starts to kick in again. He carefully lifts you so that his softening cock slips out of your messy pussy. You watch as he searches his pockets and takes out a handkerchief which he begins to clean your inner thighs with. He looks to you as if asking if you’re comfortable with him looking after you like this but he finds your head tilted back, eyes closed as your legs twitch at having him touch your sensitive folds to clean you up. He helps you redress and dresses himself before helping you into his coat and throwing some more wood onto the fire, wrapping the blanket around the both of you again. 

Once more, you snuggle into his chest for warmth and neither of you are quite sure what to say, hoping the words will just come to you in the morning. 

Ratonhnhaké:ton presses a kiss to your forehead and holds you a little tighter as he closes his eyes, listening to his own pounding heart, the crackle of the fire and the whining wind outside. 

He decides to make sure that the Templars won’t ever have an opportunity to sacrifice your life again. 

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Assassin's Creed scenarios. How you met.

Altaïr Ib'n La-Ahad.

You were running. Running as fast as you could, working as a double spy for the Assassins and Templars was a terrible job, and you knew it. After the Templars knew you work for the Assassins, they sended the whole troupe to find you, killing you because you were a traitor.

Because of you focusing to the Templars, showing their swords, spears, and their battle equipments, you tumbled, rolling iver to the front. Thinking that this might be your end. But Thank God, a man in white came forward, killing them.

You've seen him before, you saw him doing the leap of faith when the Templars came over to take over the castle.After all of the Templars were dead, he gave you a helping hand. As you got up from your feet to thank your saviour, he dissapeared, as if he was a ghost.

Thinking you were delusional, you just went of on your own. While said man in White was watching you from the Roofs, before dissapearing in the wind.

Ezio Auditore da Firenze.

Carnevale. A festival filled with music, food, masked people dancing to their hearts content. Fattening themselves with wine and food. Your Father brought you because of his 'business'- more like dragging you so you can find a court. Or a boyfriend. Mainly leaving you to talk to his colleauges, all alone, every time a man came to ask you to dance with him, you politely turned them off.

Prefering to be at home instead wearing a stuffy dress.Thinking that a walk would fix your loneliness, thinking that nothing'll happen. What happens next ? A group of drunkards came, eyeing you up and down as if they had seen the most precious gem in the world.

" 'Ello there poppet." The leader said, walking towards you. And those exact those manage to make your blood run cold, you ran, finding a way to escape. Left, right, middle fork, right, right,...You lost count on how many twists and turns you did. Hopping to loose them.Alas; you ran to a dead end.

You closed your eyes. Praying to God up there would listen to your prayers. Waiting for the blow to come. And when you opened your eyes, you saw all of the drunk men, falling one by one as if they were bricks.There, stood your saviour, a man in white. Wearing a peaked hood, his golden eyes shining in the moonlight.

He went up to you and gave you a tender kiss on your knuckles.

"Are you hurt, signorina ?" He asked, voice laced with worry and concern. You just nodded, not even a scratch was layed upon you.

"I am fine. Thank you." You said, smilling at his hooded figure. Before you could talk more, your father ran, hugging you.

"(Y/n), what happened ?! Who dares to do this to my daughter ?!- Who saved you ?" Your father asked.

"Oh, it was him- Huh ? Where did he go ?" You said, pointing towards the direction of the hooded man, he was gone. Like a Ghost.

"Bah, it does not matter. As long you are safe. I am content. Maybe I should arrange a marriage instead, huh ?" He rambled on and on, walking out.You turned to the same spot the man had dissapear, uttering a small 'Thank you' before you walked away.

Well, you may not have fun, didn't found a boyfriend, but it seems you had quite the interesting night.

Connor Kenway/ Ratonhnhaké:ton.

After nearly being mauled and eaten by bears and wolfs multiple times, you finaly had seek refuge in an abandoned village, deciding to camp for the night. After making a fire, you started to cook. Praying that it won't atract the same bear or wolfs. After a while, you hear some bushes rustling, sensing someone is in the area. Grabbing your bow and arrow, ready to fight.

"Who's there ?" You said, prepared to face anything. A pack of wolfs ? Bring it on, Bear ? Sure, why not. Redcoats?...er...maybe not.

Instead, it was just a man. Very tall, native you thought. Injured above his shoulders. Collapsing infront of you. Not knowing what to do, you just dragged him (because of his height. Making you small and helpless) to your sleeping bag, patched up his wound, and stared at the bonfire till you fall asleep.

The next morning, you found the man had gone, leaving nothing but an eagle feather in his stead and the soft winter wind behind.

Jacob Ethan Frye.

(c/n) : Country name

The Foggy atmosphere of London town washed over you after stepping out of the train. Smelling the smoky scent in the air. Being an Assassin from (c/n) really is tiresome. You were requested by the Assassin Henry Green, saying that you'll be working with two people named : The Frye twins.Though you've never met them, you heard rumors of them being really skilled. Especially hijacking cargo, Assassinating high ranked Templars such like Lucy Thorne, you also heard that they even made a group called 'The Rooks'.

After walking for quite some time, someone bumped into you."Ah, a thousand apologies." The man said politely, before walking away. You noticed that he was holding a wallet. A wallet exactly like yours.. After rummagging through your bag, finding out that your wallet was missing, you chased after the thief with lightning speed.

"Hey, Wait !" You yelled, chassing him down an alley. Before you could do anything, you were surrounded by men in red. Blighters.

"Guess I'll just kick you arses then." (Y/n) sighed, preparing to fight. After a few Blighters tumbling down, she didn't saw one sneaking up behind her. As the Blighter took out a dagger, ready to kill her, a man killed him. As (Y/n) saw a glimps of him, the mysterious man tipped up the top of his hat, as if giving her a salute and walked out of the alleyway.

"What the fuck just happened ?" (Y/n) mumbled to herself as she continued to chase down the one who stole her wallet.

Arno Victor Dorian.

(I'm making this an AU, He 'dissapeared' when he was a child after his dad died. He knew his Assassin bloodline. So basicaly, he had an ultimate comeback and saved his childhood friend, (Y/n). Èlise and Arno are NOT childhood friends in this one)

Ah, yes. Paris, also known as the city of love. Sadly, its condition has been in a..liberative state these days. Being born into noble, or your friend Èlise call it : The lucky ones. Sometimes, you don't feel lucky at all. You missed your childhood friend Arno, since he dissapeared years ago.The same concept like your parents.

Thousands had died in the wrath of Madame Guillotine, as so your parents did too a few months ago. And you remembered it like it was yesterday...

"Mom ! Dad ! Let them Go you Bastards !" a (h/c) woman can be heard, screaming and kicking. It happened in the dead of the night, where they were sleeping. Turns out, your parents had been stealing the people's money and using them. Making you involved to be Guillotined immediately.

Crying, seeing your parents' dead bodies, you could do nothing but cry. Just at the exact moment before you were guillotined, a blue hooded man slashed of the head of the guard who is carrying you, saving you, while he gave you a key to your shackles.

"This should open them. Now, let's go." He said, picking you up in bridal style and ran, a few guards chassing after you. After a few minutes of running, he puts you down in a mansion, the one that seems very familliar to you, the Dorian mansion.

"This should be a safe place to hide. Like to chat, but I need to go." He says, kissing your hand and walks away.

"Wait-" You said, making his steps falter.

"Thank you." You muttered, making him smile lightly under the hood.

"It's nothing." The hooded man said as he walks away, dissapearing. But why does he seem..famillar ?

Edward James Kenway.

(S/n) = Ship name

(Y/n) (L/n). Famous of being a pirate Captain of (S/n). With her looks, skill, and of course, being a pirate. A hefty sum of a Bounty was placed on her head. Because of that, the crew started to celebrate.

"Cheers for captain (Y/n) for having a new bounty !" One of the crew yelled.

"Next time, we should aim higher, maybe fight against El Impoluto !" Another joked. Hearing that, you just chuckled and laughed, sipping your drink. Being a pirate wasn't so bad after all. When you were a child, you live in an orphanage. Sadly, that same orphanage was burnt down to the ground by pirates. Because of that, you swear to hate pirates. But yet here you are, being one of the most nuttorious pirates in History.

After that said party lasted till night, and the crew went to bed. You stayed up awake on top of the mast. Enjoying the salty scent of the ocean. But then, you saw a ship. Thinking that it was just a merchants ship, you ignored it. After a few couple of times, you glanced back at the same ship. Turns out, it was El Impoluto. Panicked, you woke the whole crew up, preparing for battle.

"Look alive, lads ! Man the canons! Get ready, El Impoluto twelve o' clock !" You yelled. Hopping that your ship would survive her attack.-Time skip-After a while of fighting, turns out, half of your crew got killed, the others were injured. You on the other hand, were on the verge of death. (S/n) is destroyed to pieces, you wished just a clean and quick death at least.

Hopping for this to be over, you closed your eyes, embracing the darkness. But what you see before darkness consumes you, is a shadow of a man. And those words are enough to make you calmed down.

"Don't worry, lass. You'll be alright."

Shay Patrick Cormac.

(C/n) : Country Name.

You were the Templar Grandmaster of the (C/n) Rite. Famous in the both Templars and Assassins. The Templars highly respect you, the Assassins fear you. One day, you were invited to a meeting by the Grandmaster Haytham. You heard of him, said his father was the Pirate Assassin Edward Kenway.

After landing at the port, you were greeted by your escort. A man your age, his hair is tied into a pony tail, with a scar on his eyebrow, completing his already perfect looks. To be honest, his irish accent added the perfect zest to it.

"Are you my escort ?" You asked with curiosity, making him smirk and take a bow.

"Aye, it's me." He said, extending his elbow.

"Care for a walk ?" He asked.With no hesitation, you hooked your arm around him,

"Indeed I do."After sometime walking, you finally had reached the headquarters, Haytham, an old friend of yours, was standing with his usual hand-clasps-behind-his-back pose.

"(Y/n)." Haytham started, kissing your knuckles. You just laughed at this.

"Thank you for escorting me, Mr." When (Y/n) turned around, the man that escorted her was gone.

"Where did he go ?" You asked, curiosity filling you.

"Don't worry, he'll be back in a week or two." Haytham shrugged as he leads you inside.

Desmond Miles.

(f/d) : Favorite Drink.An Assassin. That's what you were. And you were tasked to find a man named Desmond Miles, you never knew what he looked like, since you didn't hear the lecture. Saying that he contains the genetic memories of great Assassins such as Ezio Auditore, Altaïr Ib'n La-Ahad, Connor Kenway, and Edward Kenway.

Though you didn't believe it, you just think that is full of bullshit.Since Desmond can be anywhere, you were tasked to find him in New York city, finding a bar where you usually go to during freshamn years, the Bad Weather. There, you see the usual Bartender, John (A/n: Idk what Desmond's fake name is (never mentioned), so I'll use John.).

"John, the usual would you ?" You said, slumping on top of one of the chairs. Sighing, you just stared at the ceiling for a couple of minutes, while John just poured in a glass of (f/d).

"Tough day ?" He asked, handing you the drink while he wiped the table clean.

"Tell me about it." You said, sipping lightly. Chatting with him is nothing but a breeze. The guy understands you, and you understand him. As if like you guys were besties ever since you came. You hanged for a few couple of hours indtead of doing what you were tasked. Sadly, clossing time came by and you had to leave.

"Chat later ?" John asked while he started to close the bar.

"Yeah." You said, leaving the place. Little did you know, that would be the last time chatting with the man named John, meeting him again as a man named Desmond Miles.

A/n : Should I add Kim Noa from AC : Forgotten Temple ? Also, I haven't seen the playthrough of Valhalla, Mirage, Odyssey, and Origins. So I don't know what Eivor, Basim, Alexios, nor Bayek act like. I also apologise if I made the characters too OOC. Been a while since I've write :')