Today

Today - or tonight, really - my son woke me up in the dead of the night with a gentle poke in the side. I stirred quietly, surprised that he had not woken his mother instead.

"What's wrong? Why are you awake?" I asked him, trying - and failing spectacularly - to keep the irritation from my tone.

The boy ducked his head again, as he was wont to do when he realized he was in some sort of trouble. "Sorry," he said sheepishly.

But he remained, and I pushed myself from the bed and shepherded him out of the room.

"It's all right," I said once we were far enough away that I knew we would not wake Ziio. "Why are you still awake? Can you sleep?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Bad dreams?"

"A little."

"They are only dreams, son. They will not hurt you. Remember that."

He was staring at the ground then, hands fidgeting at his front. "I know."

I thought back to my own childhood and tried to remember if I ever had nightmares. I could scarcely remember now; it all seemed so long ago, and the memories were fading like a thin mist. What would my father have done? Probably the same thing that I had, and he would have sent me back to bed.

My own son was staring quietly at his bare feet. I sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Whatever frightened you in your dreams cannot hurt you now. Your mother and I won't let it."

"It was not a monster dream."

"No? What was it?"

"There are a lot of noises at the village. I keep thinking about them," he told me. "Ista says not to go near them..."

"Noises?" I repeated, though I knew exactly what he was talking about: the men near and at the precursor site, digging and shouting and making all kinds of fuss. I would have to speak with them about that.

My son nodded, looking rather forlorn. I knelt down at his level, keeping one hand on his shoulder. Perhaps it would be best for us to simply talk; he would become sleepy again soon enough with his nightmares forgotten. And I hadn't had the chance to speak with him in what felt like ages.

"What did you see in your mother's village today?" I asked him.

His expression lit. "Friends. Clan Mother. Ista showed me tree climbing."

"She's teaching you that already? Aren't you too small?"

"She won't let me climb yet!" he protested, but he was smiling.

I returned the grin and tousled his hair. "Of course. She will teach you when you're bigger."

"...What will you teach me?" he suddenly asked, his expression one of curiosity and awe.

"How to be strong. Brave," I said. I was inspired, looking down at my son, imagining all that he could become: a fellow Templar, perhaps? He was a serious boy, but already I could tell that he was thoughtful and observant. He would make an excellent brother to the Order.

"I will give you something to fight for," I told him.

He was understandably confused. I expected no response, but my son said "Okay" after a moment's hesitation and nodded.

I knew it then, staring at this three year old boy.

One day he would make me proud.

Today Ziio came to me while I was still at work in the office.

She nodded to the array of papers that were scattered across my desk. "Business for your Order?"

"For the moment, yes." I slipped a few of the documents - namely the reports from William regarding the land purchases - beneath the others.

"I wanted to discuss that with you."

"Ziio, I don't want to have this argument again."

"I am not here to argue. I understand why you want your men to buy our land so badly."

Well, this was certainly a change. I sat up a bit straighter in my chair and asked, "Oh?"

"You think it will prevent the colonists from trying to take it."

"Yes. We wish to prevent what happened with Silas. We also want to keep poachers from the land."

"Away from the cave, you mean."

"Well, that too."

"How do we know that your men will not try to settle on the land? How do we know that you can protect it?"

"The colonists will honor our purchase. There is nothing they can do."

Ziio regarded me with a calm, cold gaze. "Men have said things like that before. They broke their promises and captured my people. Hunted on our lands. Killed us."

"My brothers are not like those men."

"How can I be sure of that?"

"You can trust me, for a start."

"It is not about you. It is about your men, and all of the others," she said. "Can you control them as well as you say?"

"I am their Grand Master."

"A title and little more."

"Ziio... They will listen to me. They must."

She said no more, and stayed where she was, but the conversation was over.

And as much as I hated to admit it, I could see some of the truth in her words. But still...

"I would not let that come to pass as long as I am alive. You must trust me, Ziio. I care about you and our son far too much."

Her expression softened around the edges.

"I only hope that it outweighs your love for your Order," she said, before she stood to press a gentle - yet strained - kiss to my lips.

Today I was left to care for a sick child.

My son had developed a cough at some point in the night, and Ziio returned to her village with business urgent enough that she was willing to leave him with me for the time being. I was rather surprised, given the nature of our last few conversations; but I decided not to question it. My time alone with my son had grown increasingly rare as of late. Perhaps she was afraid that my evil Templar ways might rub off on the boy.

I brought a thin soup - mostly broth with a few bits of deer meat and some vegetables - up to Ratonhnhaké:ton, who was made comfortable in his bed. I wondered if I was supposed to spoon-feed him the soup, but he reached out and took the bowl from me, which allowed me to go over the paperwork I'd been left with since my last meeting with my brothers. There was so much to do, so much to prepare for...

My son ate his meal in silence, aside from a rough, painful-sounding chorus of coughs and sniffles. "Are you leaving again soon?" he suddenly asked.

"In a few days, I think," I told him as I shifted through the papers. "Though I'll see if it is possible for me to stay until you're better."

"Oh." He sniffed again and ran his arm over his nose. I scowled.

"Use this instead," I said, pulling a handkerchief from my pocket. He took it somewhat apologetically.

"What do you do in the city?" he asked. "Can I come?"

"Perhaps someday. I doubt your mother would let you now."

"Why?"

"You're too young, and Boston can be a dangerous place for children."

My son considered this for a moment. "Is it bigger than the village?"

"Far bigger, with far more people."

His eyes widened. "How do they all fit?"

"The houses there are taller and larger. And there are plenty of them; though I doubt there are enough to go around," I said. I'd set my paperwork aside then and was brushing some of the fever-damp hair from his eyes. "One day I will take you. I think you might enjoy it."

His grin was tired and thin, but genuine. "I want to see. Can I see where you work too?"

"Well..." I loathed the thought of him being anywhere near Hickey, and perhaps even Church. Johnson and Pitcairn were fine... Charles was another question entirely. His attitude toward my small family had lightened in recent months, but I could tell he was still upset about it.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," I told the boy, giving him a gentle pat. "I doubt your mother would let you leave the valley for some time."

"Maybe you can come to the village with us one day," he suggested.

"Ah... Perhaps that would not be a good idea."

"Why?"

I thought of the reactions of the Mohawk people, especially after the recent developments with my men in their part of the woods. They had steadfastly rejected all of William's offers on top of that; it would do us little good if the Grand Master suddenly showed up.

"I don't know the language, for one," I said instead.

"I could teach you."

I chuckled lightly. "Could you, now? What's the word for 'father'?"

"Rake:ni."

I took the empty bowl from my son's hands and set it aside. "At this rate you'll have me speaking full sentences in no time."

Today Ziio returned, looking harried and frustrated.

"Our son is on the mend," I informed her when she found me in the front room. "It seems to be a mild illness. Nothing that he can't recover from."

"Good," was all she said. There was a darkness in her eyes, one that I had not seen in years.

I knew what was wrong before the words were out of her mouth.

"Your men returned to the village today. They were also caught hunting on our land."

My brow furrowed with confusion. "Hunting? They would not-"

"The younger ones. Apprentices."

"Ah. They are new, Ziio, you must forgive their transgressions."

"I understand. But we just spoke about the land sales the other day - did you not tell them to leave us alone?"

"I haven't had a chance to return to them."

She sat beside me, running a hand over her face. "They refuse to take no for an answer. They keep returning with their offers, despite the fact that we continue to reject them."

"I have already told you why it's our top priority. William Johnson will do everything he can to help your elders to see the truth in our words."

Ziio frowned at me. "'See the truth' in your words? Haytham, we can take care of ourselves."

"This was not the case when Silas and his men came and imprisoned your people."

Her expression was fierce, angry. "That was completely different! That was-"

"It will happen again, Ziio. The colonists will find a reason to band together to push you from your land. The Order can prevent that from happening."

I expected a rebuttal of some sort. An angry protest. But I looked to my side and saw Ziio still sitting there, her chin resting on her hand, her mouth turned down.

I reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. She tensed, but she did not remove it.

"This is a very tired argument," I said quietly.

"It is," she agreed. "And neither of us are willing to budge."

"I want to protect you. And our son."

"And your site, and your Order-"

"Please don't turn this around," I begged her. "Wouldn't I have gone back to the Order if I cared for them more?"

"You already have. I see it in your eyes: you're so distant sometimes. Lost in your thoughts after you return from Boston or an expedition."

"I'm not-"

"When we speak, when we lie together, sometimes even when you speak to our son..." Ziio trailed off for a moment, lips pursed. "Will you take him for the Order one day?"

"That is what I wish to do."

"And that is what I fear."

"There is nothing to fear," I assured her. "Becoming a brother of the Order is an honor. He will learn so much, and he will have the opportunity to give himself to a noble cause. We stress peace. We strive for it."

"That is what you say. But I have seen how you and your men work. It is far from peaceful."

"We are making amends. Sometimes the road to peace is fraught with hardship. You of all people should be aware of this."

"I...do not know if I want him to be part of that."

I sighed quietly. "He is my son as well, Ziio."

"Now you make him sound as though he is a tool."

"Never."

She looked up at me then.

"You are changing," she said, and before I could respond, she stood and left my side. Our son had started another coughing fit, and I could only assume that she was going to care for him.

How could she fail to see the truth in my words? How could she continue to rebuke them? To rebuke me? If she trusted and cared for me as much as she claimed to...

I let my head hang. I was so tired of this argument. So tired of it.

Today it was Charles - and, this time, only Charles - who came to see me.

"We have a problem," were the first words out of his mouth, and he said them with such fervent urgency that I immediately ushered him into my office and shut the door.

"What's wrong?" I demanded as soon as I was sure Ziio was not listening. She had taken to our son's bedside and refused to leave, though the boy was still getting better. I had a feeling that she was still upset with me after our conversation the night before.

"Assassins." He said the world as though it were poison on his tongue. "Someone in that godforsaken village must have spun a story for them. They believe that we are buying the land for our own personal profit."

My mouth hardened to a thin, angry line. There were always rumors of the Assassins here in the colonies, but they were always just out of our reach, lurking in the shadows; now it seemed as though they were finally emerging from their hiding places.

"Have you spoken with any of them personally?" I asked him.

Charles shook his head. "No, but we've sent Hickey back to the underground. If anyone can uncover the information, it will be him."

"I suppose that is all we can do for the moment," I said, resting my chin on my folded hands.

"...Do you think they know about the precursor site, sir?"

"I highly doubt it. And even if they did, they do not have the key."

"True. And yet..."

"They will have to be dealt with," I finished. "Swiftly and quietly. Does Hickey have a name for any of the Assassins that have confronted us?"

"None, but he believes that he's closing in on one of their leaders."

"I see..." I tried to sit back in my chair, but I was too restless, too anxious to do anything but tap my fingers across the surface of my desk. I had expected the Brotherhood to act soon - and I had been waiting for the day with some enthusiasm - but now of all times, when securing the area around the precursor site was so vital...

But this was what Reginald had sent me for. This was my duty, my responsibility to the Order.

"Speak with the other men. Tell them that I will return to Boston shortly to sort out this mess."

Charles cleared his throat. "Sir... I have been thinking on the matter for some time now. Might I suggest a...purge?"

I lifted an eyebrow. "A purge?"

"Have you not heard of them? There were times in the past when the Templar Order would band together to completely wipe out whichever branch of the Brotherhood was threatening them."

"I am aware."

"I have done the research: we have the manpower and resources to carry one out."

"But it would take so much time and effort to plan... What if they find the precursor site by then?"

"They will not. Sir, I have...well, I've begun preparations in your absence. I was hoping to discuss my plans with you soon."

My reaction was very mixed, to say the least. On one hand I was terribly proud of Charles's initiative: this was exactly what I had trained him to do. But on the other hand...

"Please, Master Kenway. I know you might be surprised, but hear me out. We outnumber their Brotherhood, and already we are beginning to hold more influence. If we can wipe them out, then we will have a much better chance of achieving our goals unimpeded."

"This is very true," I admitted, but for a moment I couldn't help but think back to Braddock and his senseless killing of the civilians...

This was different, I reminded myself. Assassins were not innocents; they were killers, and they sought to free the people in such a way that they would be eventually consumed by their chaos and violence.

They could not be allowed to run rampant.

"Perhaps this is for the best," I said after a moment. "For both the Order and the people of these colonies."

"I am glad that you agree, sir. May I continue preparations?"

"Yes. I will join the rest of you in a few days."

Charles left shortly after, and I began work on my own set of plans. A purge would be difficult, but I had heard accounts of them done rather successfully in the past by other Templars. The Assassin Brotherhood here was older than our Order, but fortunately we were the larger and more powerful group; especially so after all of the recruits my men had picked up in the past few years.

I would be a fool to think our task would be easy, however. I knew little about the Assassins here, but I had heard enough rumors and seen the fruits of their work. They were a force to be reckoned with.

Somehow Charles's news had left me feeling rather confident in the Order. More so than I had in a very long time.

Today everything began to fall apart.

Ziio confronted me after Charles left and our son had been put to sleep. At first I failed to notice that fire in her eyes, the intensity of which I had not seen since Charles found us in the woods together and she learned that Braddock had not actually died by my hand.

"How is he?" I asked her when she met me in one of the front rooms. "Is his fever down yet? The coughing?"

"Yes," she said through gritted teeth.

Her expression gave me pause. "Ziio, what's wrong?"

"I heard you. I heard what you and that brother of yours were planning."

My mind went blank, and I suddenly felt very cold. I was a fool to think that I could still save face.

"Why were you eavesdropping?" I asked, rather lamely. Her anger only intensified.

"Your solution to this problem is to murder an entire group of men and women? Have you not listened to the words of my people? We do not need your help. You will never take our land."

"I don't know how many times I must explain myself. We are not doing this to oust your people. We merely-"

"Listen to yourself, Haytham."

"You had no qualm when I suggested that we kill Braddock."

"Because he was killing my people! He sought to steal the land from beneath our feet! That was a completely different situation, and you know it."

"The Assassins cannot protect you as well as we can. We have more men. More firepower. More resources."

"All of which can be used against us when you change your minds."

"Which will never happen! Not so long as I remain Grand Master."

"And if you don't?"

"My men trust me. They listen to me. They would never do such a thing."

"You're so confident in these men of yours. But I have met them. I have seen them on my land. I have seen the way they treat it: with disrespect. I refuse to trust them."

"Ziio, you don't know them."

"Perhaps you don't know them. I can see the way they think in their actions, in their words. Your man Charles sounded far too excited by the idea of a...purge."

"He merely wants to protect the interests of the Order. As do I."

Ziio regarded me strangely for a moment, her head tilted to the side. She was fierce in her anger; beautiful.

"You have changed," she said again, her voice dangerous and low. "You are not the man I fell in love with."

"I am the same man you met on that wagon. The same man who saved you."

"No. He was different. Ambitious, maybe, but not like this."

The pit that had formed in my stomach was growing larger, larger with each of her words.

"I'm a man of the Order. I am its leader," I said, frowning. "We would get nowhere if I didn't have the drive to protect it."

"But what about me? Your son?"

"Don't you dare question my love for my son."

"Would you protect him if the Order threatened him?"

"The Order would never threaten him. In fact, we would welcome him with open arms."

"And that is exactly what I am afraid of."

"Pardon?"

And her ferocity was so intense then that I nearly felt the burn of it when she returned her gaze to mine. She took a few steps forward, and it was all I could do to hold my ground.

"Your ambition would consume him. I would look into his eyes one day and see everything there that I see in you now: malevolence, murder, a hatred of others who refuse to understand your ideals. I can never let that happen."

I darkened. My jaw clenched, and it felt as though the room had begun to spin.

"What exactly are you implying?" I hissed through my teeth.

"I would not raise Ratonhnhaké:ton as a member of your Order. I would not allow you to infect his mind with these thoughts of yours."

I had often prided myself on being a patient, careful man. Rarely did I lose my temper once I had left the yolk of my youth behind. But now I could feel it all welling up inside me: the fear, the anger. All of it directed to Ziio. I put my hands on her shoulders and drew her close.

"You will not take my son away from me."

She wrenched from my grasp, pushing me so hard that I nearly stumbled. I'd forgotten how strong she was, how agile.

"I will do what I need to in order to protect my child. I will kill you if I have to."

"He has absolutely nothing to do with this."

"He has everything to do with this! I know your plans, Haytham: you will carry out these schemes of yours, and the years will pass and you will give your knowledge to our son. You will train him as one of your own. And he will be lost to me forever."

"Not all Templars are as bad as you think. Look at me. You loved me."

"I was tricked."

I was loath to admit it, but her words were a knife through the heart. "Ziio," I demanded, pained, "you will not leave me. We overcame this before."

"This is not like before. This is something different," she said, quieter now. Her rage was giving away to exasperation, to a sort of long-suffered exhaustion. "You have chosen your Order over your family."

"No, I..."

She held up a hand. "Do not deny it. I see it in your eyes, in your expression. Your responsibility and dedication is to them. Not to me. Not to Ratonhnhaké:ton."

"You cannot do this, Ziio. You cannot take my son away from me."

"What you plan to do to him is even worse."

Today I felt lost. I felt tired. And I felt more confused than I had been in a long time.

Perhaps - no, most certainly - there was truth to Ziio's accusations. I had once thought that the years were pushing me from the Order, but in truth, it seemed as though it was the other way around. My grip on my family was slipping, slowly but surely.

I was losing them.

And, much to my surprise, I did not want to.

But I believed wholeheartedly in the Order's dream, in the peace it would bring if our plans came to fruition. How could Ziio be so blind to this? I was so sure that our son would understand someday - though now this was slipping away from me as well.

There was nothing more I could do to stem Ziio's anger. We argued more, and often, and most nights I found myself leaving the house in search of answers. What could I do to convince her to stay? To let me be with my son?

The answer was nothing. I should have realized this when she confronted me that afternoon. She was hopelessly stubborn - we both were - and I knew that she would not hesitate to carry out her threats if it came to that.

I, on the other hand... I could not bring myself to harm her, no matter the reason.

Did I still care for her, despite everything? Yes. Did I love my son? Most certainly.

I had wanted badly for it all to all work out. In the beginning I was the fool to believe that we could overcome all of this, that we could raise our son successfully and together. But Ziio and I were far too headstrong, and far too embedded in our own beliefs and practices to go back on them.

I had begun to realize in the past few years that things might not end well for the both of us. That one day something would happen to tear me from my wild fantasies and expose me to the truth.

It was regrettable, certainly. But there was so little I could do when neither of us would budge.

The day came when I knew they were returning to her village; this time for good. Ziio had told me as much the night before when I caught her gathering a few of Ratonhnhaké:ton's things.

"Are you going to Boston?" she asked me.

"Yes."

"Your men are waiting for you."

"Don't do this, Ziio. Don't-"

She stopped me with a sharp glare.

"I will do what I must."

The following morning came too quickly for my liking. I had not slept at all, and I believe that is the only reason why I had a chance to see them before they left.

Ziio hesitated when she caught my eye. And she nudged our son, who was clinging to her side. He came to me, a small smile on his face.

He did not know.

Part of me felt shattered as I gathered him up in my arms. He was bigger now, nearly four, and I knew then that I would not have a chance to celebrate his upcoming birthday. So I wrapped my arms around his tiny frame and held him tight, close to my chest, and pressed my face to his thin neck.

"You will grow to be a man of great conviction," I told him. "You will be proud and courageous. And you will do good things with these qualities. I know this because you are my son. You are a Kenway."

Ratonhnhaké:ton drew back a bit, his expression one of confusion. I tousled his hair one more time before I reluctantly let him go.

"I'll teach you more words when we come back," he said, and I gave a short laugh. I couldn't believe he remembered.

"Be good to your mother," I said. He nodded, reached up to touch my cheek. Amidst the confusion was something else, something close to...fear, perhaps? Had I given myself away? But Ziio called to him, and he stepped away, returning to her side.

I met her eyes. They were strangely...sad, perhaps?

But not remorseful.

Never remorseful.

"I am sorry," I said.

She shook her head.

And then they were gone.

Today I returned to Boston, and to the Order.

As expected, my men welcomed me with open arms and enthusiasm toward our newest endeavor. I worked with them for the better part of the week, though I felt strangely tired. I was not defeated, though. I had to put myself wholeheartedly into the Order now that I was back.

Charles approached me some time after, when it became clear that I would be staying with them in Boston permanently. "May I ask what happened?" he asked, eyebrow arched.

"There was a misunderstanding."

"She overheard our conversation."

"There was far more to it."

"What of your son?"

I took a long, slow breath, hoping that I betrayed none of the disappointment that I felt. I'd spent nearly every waking hour reminding myself that I had not abandoned them, had not abandoned my son; I would still do what I could to convince the Mohawk people to allow us to purchase their land, and eventually - somehow, someway - I would speak with my son again. I would show him everything we could do together: as father and son, and as Templar brothers-in-arms.

Ziio had not taken him away from me. I was still his father, and nothing would ever change that.

"My hope is that he seeks me out someday when he is more grown," I said after a pause. "Or perhaps I can find him. At that point I can train him."

"You still think that he would make a good Templar."

"Yes," I said, thinking to the future: to the realization of our vision, to a more peaceful world, to the image of slipping the Templar ring on my son's finger and fighting alongside him.

"I am sure of it."

First note: I think the whole Colonial Assassin purge was mentioned very briefly in the actual game (and almost like...not at all in Forsaken for whatever reason), but there's some more information about it via deleted audio clips on kosappiuni's youtube channel.

Second of all... I really do love Haytham/Ziio. It's one of my favorite AC pairings. I originally intended for this story to end on a happier note, but... The more I wrote, the more I realized that they're both very different and very stubborn people, and I think that it would be very difficult for them to carry out a successful relationship given the circumstances. This is just my personal view of course, and this definitely doesn't mean that I'm completely against them having a happy ending! I would love to see more happy endings for them. I just didn't feel that it would be appropriate here.

Sorry about that, haha. I didn't mean for this to become a little soapbox. tl;dr: I love Haytham/Ziio, I love Daddy Haytham. I'd also love to write a follow-up to this someday where Haytham and Connor meet up again under completely different circumstances than those that were presented in-game. I have some ideas for that already, actually...

And lastly, before this gets too long! Thank you all so, so much for your wonderful comments. I had so much fun writing this piece and it makes me happy that others enjoyed it as well. :)