It's been so long since I last played the first episode of TOKW, for some reason I thought that Connor didn't get his wolf hood until after the first Sky World journey and wrote Haytham getting the wolf cape after his... Hopefully that's not too bad of a mistake, haha. Anyway, thank you for the interest in the first chapter and the favs and follows! It feels good to be writing AC3 again.

The Best Laid Plans

The more worrisome effects of the tea had worn off by the time Haytham returned to the village. He was feeling less tired then and more…well, powerful. He felt taller, stronger, like he could simply touch something and it would break to a thousand pieces.

He liked this feeling. Liked it a lot. But how long would it last? Was it simply one of the aftereffects, like the weakness and nausea he'd felt earlier? Would it all fade away just as quickly?

He sincerely hoped not.

Kanatahséton was quiet when he stepped past the wooden fortifications surrounding it. The sun had begun to set, and people abandoned their other duties to gather around the cook fires. The intermingled smells of smoke and burning meat hung heavy in the air; it wasn't until then that Haytham realized how hungry he was. He hadn't eaten since long before he set out for the ancient willow.

He wove between the groups, searching for Ziio among the people seated around the fires. Few stared back; they were used to his presence by then and ignored him, for the most part. Only the Clan Mother caught his eye.

She opened her mouth, like she was about to speak to him. Haytham hesitated. The woman was wise; she probably knew about the tea and didn't like that an outsider had gone to drink it.

Haytham had a retort ready, the same he had used the day he came to ask the Clan Mother and Ziio if he could briefly join them: I only want to stop the mad king. That is all. Nothing more, nothing less. We all have to work together if we want to make a difference. I have nothing and no one left. He took my order, took my men and slaughtered them all for defying him.

But the Clan Mother said nothing. She looked away from him and back into the depths of the fire. Haytham left; and he didn't realize that he'd been holding his breath until he was a few paces away.

Ziio was on the outskirts, close to her longhouse. She didn't look up until Haytham stood directly across from her, with the flames of her own cook fire dancing between them.

Her brow furrowed. "What is that on your face?" she asked. "And where did you get that wolf skin?"

Haytham put a finger to his cheek. It came away clean.

"No," she said. "Around your eyes. It looks like paint. What did you do?"

"Nothing," he said, touching the skin near his eyes again. Was it blood she saw, perhaps?

Ziio sighed and turned to the other figure – a young man, in his early teens or a bit older – seated beside her. "Bring some water," she said. He jumped to his feet and entered the longhouse nearby.

"Where were you today?" Ziio asked once the boy was gone. "There are…rumors. That you have been asking about the tea."

The answer – the same he'd prepared for the Clan Mother – slipped past his tongue before he could stop it.

"I was promised the power to stop Washington," he said. "And if some tea going to help-"

Ziio made a sound somewhere between a derisive snort and a laugh. "I thought you did not believe in our stories and myths."

"I saw its power for myself. In one of the men of your village."

"So you went to the willow yourself?"

"I did, and-"

The boy returned then, holding a bowl in both hands. He started to hand it to Ziio, but she shook her head and motioned to Haytham.

"Look at your reflection," she said as he took it. "There is paint by your eyes."

Haytham's image wavered across the surface of the water. It was difficult to make anything out when it was so dark, but – there it was. He saw thin lines extending from the bottom of his eyes to his jawline. The paint – or whatever it was, considering the fact that it didn't even smudge when he tried to wipe it away with the heel of his palm – was a deep red, the color of drying blood.

"Interesting," was all he murmured as he set the bowl aside.

"You drank it?" Ziio asked, her voice lowered again. The young man looked between them, curiosity piqued.

"I did. And these markings were not here before, so I can only assume that they appeared after the fact," Haytham said. He reached up to touch the fur cape at his shoulders again. "This as well."

Ziio lowered her gaze to the fire. "I see," was all she said.

And they fell silent – until the young man spoke up, his voice confident and loud.

"Did it make you stronger?" he asked. "Can we strike Washington?"

Ziio was speaking before he was even finished. "If you are thinking of going to the willow, you-"

"I am not," he said. But something in his voice suggested otherwise, Haytham thought.

"Leave the tea's powers to me," Haytham told the boy. "And…no. Alone, I would not be enough to-"

"Then more of us should drink the tea. We can work together to stop the king."

Ziio sighed. "Are you listening to me? You are too young for the tea, Ratonhnhaké:ton."

The boy didn't pout, but he leaned away in a sort of sulk, with his arms crossed over his chest. Haytham did his best not to smirk.

"I may not be strong enough to fight Washington, but the tea has given me a certain…advantage," Haytham said, more to Ziio than to Ratonhnhaké:ton. He thought of the power of invisibility that the tea had given him; what better chance to test it again? To prove its power to Ziio and the others of her village?

"His forces have a small fort nearby," Haytham said. "I can open the gates and allow your men to enter and destroy it."

Ziio was thoughtful for a moment. "You are sure?" she asked after a pause. "Attacking that fort would be too risky if you are wrong. And we cannot afford to lose any more than we already have."

"You know that I know that better than anyone here, Ziio."

She looked up at him then. Her gaze was difficult to read – always had been, really, even in the months when they were in love and Haytham believed that he knew everything about her, believed that he could read her like an open book – but she gave him the smallest of nods.

"I will trust you for now, Haytham," she said. "But you will enter the fort alone. My men will follow only when the gates are open."

"Agreed."

And so it was settled. Excitement bubbled up in Haytham's chest, replacing whatever misgivings he might have had earlier. He wanted to test his new power again, wanted to see it in action, wanted to-

"I want to go," Ratonhnhaké:ton said, suddenly.

Haytham spoke up before Ziio could protest. "Let him," he said. "I will keep a close eye on the boy. And it would do him good to be in a real fight."

"He is needed here. What if Washington uses your ambush as an excuse to attack the village? We will need all the strength we can muster."

"All the more reason for me to go," Ratonhnhaké:ton said eagerly. "I can fight. I can defend myself and others. I want to go and pay Washington back for what he's done."

Ziio was quiet. She stared after her only son, the boy – no, he was nearly a man now, Haytham thought – she had worked so hard to raise on her own. He was strong, though – Haytham had seen Ratonhnhaké:ton wield a tomahawk with deadly precision, had seen him use it to cut through skin and muscle and bone. But he needed more finesse and polish; things that only a good skirmish could help to teach him.

"I will personally watch out for him," Haytham promised, much to Ratonhnhaké:ton's chagrin.

"Oh, and that makes me feel so much better," Ziio said – though the quirk of her lip betrayed her smile. "But. Fine. He may go."

The boy brightened at that. "When will we go?" he asked, turning to face Haytham.

"A few days from now. We need to make plans."

"Fine." Ratonhnhaké:ton stood then and brushed the dust from his front. "I want to practice for a while."

"Just for a while. You need rest, too," Ziio said, her tone softer than it was before. "Do not leave the valley."

Ratonhnhaké:ton gave his mother a nod before he turned and left. Haytham watched as the boy left the light of the surrounding fires and disappeared into the darkness.

Ziio never told him who had fathered Ratonhnhaké:ton, but he was sure he knew; had known since he first laid eyes on the boy several weeks ago, really (and what a surprise that had been, to return to Kanatahséton and find that his former lover had a nearly grown son!). There was a hint of Kenway in the boy's jaw and nose, though he most definitely had his mother's sharp eyes and smattering of freckles across his cheeks. If he was the father – and Haytham was quite sure that he was – then Ziio would never in a century tell him.

And Haytham was, much to his own surprise, all right with that. For the time being, at least. Ziio let him speak to and work with the boy. That was enough. Perhaps after this was all done – once Washington was dead and his threat gone forever – Haytham could ask her more about Ratonhnhaké:ton. Maybe he could even take a more active role in the boy's life. He had no other friends or family in the colonies, after all.

"We should speak with the others tomorrow," Ziio said, bringing an abrupt end to his idle daydreams. "The sooner we strike, the better."

"Agreed."

"You should rest as well. I have heard that the tea's… gifts can be tiring."

Haytham nodded. He felt fine then – well enough to attack the fort on his own – but he decided to keep that to himself. Ziio already seemed wary of the tea and its supposed powers. He would have to show them to her himself in the coming days.

For now, though, he retired to his tent outside the village.