Traitor Ch6

Haytham Kenway x Reader

You're an Assassin, betrayed by an ally and finding yourself in the service of the Templars. Thankfully, they lack any knowledge of who your truly are. To them, you're just a thief supporting their cause for a few coins.

After donning the new set of clothes and finding that they fit just as comfortably, you stepped out of the bedroom. "Gents," you greeted cheerfully. The boys were gathered around the table, none of them turning to look at you, not even Charles with his usual snide remarks.
Haytham finally took a step back and held out a small piece of parchment. "Mister Douglas dropped it off with me. He forgot about it during the chaos, earlier."
Your brows knitted together, confusion gripping your expression. You recognized the handwriting immediately, snatching the letter from his hand. It was Sophie's, you were certain of it. She scribbled that she had information about the necklace. It was being sold through the madam at the brothel by a man who frequented the establishment. Jack Davis. The name was unfamiliar but Sophie, that sweet and clever girl, wrote down his residence.
You finally lifted your eyes, snapping up the chance to have a purpose again. "We will need to act quickly. If the Assassins are on the hunt," you pushed passed Haytham, taking the steps two or three at a time, "they could already be there."
Haytham was at your heels, you could feel his presence and heard his feet pounding behind you. "There is a chance that we are already too late."
You crumpled the paper, stuffing it into your jacket pocket. "I'm willing to try."
Outside, mist kissed your skin, the rains letting up ever so slightly. Haytham took your hand in his, abruptly halting your steps. "I do not intend on letting you die. Do nothing irrational while we're there."
You chuckled, peering over your shoulder. "I'm always careful. I won't let my emotions interfere." It was mostly the truth. You wouldn't have lashed out at the Assassins, not in front of him. You would seek answers after this whole mess was over. For now, you would focus on receiving the necklace. It was easier, ignoring your emotions, than thinking about Sophie. You always were good at ignoring things, pretending that situations weren’t getting worse.
Jack Davis lived in a two story home made of shambles and squalor. You were just approaching the building when your eyes caught the ever so subtle movements of an Assassin. It was a mere shadow, a darkened stain against the side of the building, but your training had alerted you to the presence.
"I will distract them," Haytham arrogantly ordered. "Find my necklace as promised."
Your steps wavered but you let the job take precedent knowing that Haytham was just as equally trained as you, if not better. You didn't bother knocking. There was little time for such decorum. You kicked down the door, easier since it was already rotted at the hinges. There was heavy scurrying upstairs, Jack startled into making a run for it. You leapt up the stairs, a cat light on her feet, catching sight of the man as he stuck his head out of the slightly opened window.
You snagged his shirt just as he squeezed his shoulders through. With all of your trained skills, you knew how to throw a body heavier than you, to use their own weight against them. You swept him off his feet, tumbling his across the floor onto his back. The wind was knocked from his lungs. He gasped down a breath as you sashayed over, a smirk splayed across your lips. It was hard not to get cocky about your work.
"Mister Davis," you greeted, kneeling down next to him, words tender as a mother to her child. "Darling, let's make this quick and easy. You stole something that belongs to a dear friend of mine and he wants it back. Hand everything over and I'll let you live."
His face distorted with rage, furious no doubt that he had been bested. "You'd have to pry it from my fucking fingers."
“Very well.” You shrugged a shoulder, tossing your head to the side. "I did warn you."
He threw his first punch, awkward and reckless, easily dodged. He took too long trying to get his weight off of the floor which gave you ample amounts of time to unsheath your daggers and rest their blades gingerly across his throat. He swallowed, Adam's apple scraping across the metal.
"Is it worth it, Mister Davis? A necklace and some parchment?"
He licked his lips, rolling his eyes to the dusty table by the door. "Stuffed it under the drawer. It's all in there, I swear it.”
You grinned, letting it reach your eyes, but felt none of it. "Thank you, darling. You've been a great help." You stood, withdrawing your weapons before making your way over to the small desk. You looked back at Jack, catching him as he moved to his knees, as he glared with hatred. You jerked out the drawer, allowed it to hit the floor, before gathering the brittle notes and the cold circle of evergreen stone.
It was strange to think these few items, these few meaningless items, had cost so many lives. You stuffed them away, checking instinctively on Jack's location as he stiffened with anticipation, before heading back down the stairs to the cold drizzle of rain. He didn’t need to die. You had what you came for and that was enough.
Haytham was pushing a few strands of his dark hair out of his composed face, resting his hat back onto his head. He straightened out his clothes, the regal pride still strong in his actions. "Well... this has certainly been exciting."
"The Assassin?" You couldn't help but inquire, curiosity and worry and bitterness.
He lifted his brows, turning his gaze to the side. "He is... indisposed."
You weren't sure how you felt. Or even how you were supposed to feel. Or really, what he meant by “indisposed”. Dead or just unconscious? Did you really want to know?
"We're you successful?" Haytham looked you over before finally resting on your face.
You were an excellent liar. You could have lied, given the items to the Assassins, handing them off to be used or hidden away whichever the Order saw fit. It would have been easy to say that Jack had already sold the items to the madam, ending the game right there. There were so many viable options.
But, you didn't.
"Have I ever given you reason to doubt me?" You reached into your jacket, lifting the pendent into view, tossing it into his hands.
He caught it with ease, looking over its surface with relief. He slipped the jade stone into his jacket before resting his gaze on you, locking onto your eyes. "My dear lady, I may just find myself trusting you."
You laughed, unable to contain it, looking away to anything but Haytham. You handed over the crumpled and folded papers. "I suppose you'll be needing these, as well."
"Ah, these would have been detrimental in the wrong hands." He held them firm, folding them and tucking them into his jacket. He gripped his hands behind his back while strolling down the street towards the Green Dragon. "The Templar Order owes you a great deal."
"Oh, I'll be sure to remember as much the next time I'm in a pinch." You walked slowly, boots splashing in the shallow puddles, uneager to leave behind the strange acquaintances you’d made within the last week.
"Shall you be joining us for dinner?" Haytham stopped, looking over at you but you didn't meet his gaze. "Or has your thieving blood called for you to return to the shadows."
You tried to smirk but your lips protested. "Something like that." You stepped away, further down the street but not towards the tavern. "Perhaps, we'll meet again, Haytham."
He didn't reply, too busy analyzing your actions or too consumed with his own actions.
You didn't bother hiding where you were going. It wouldn't have mattered now. You weren't planning on seeing the Templars again, at least not under such kind circumstances. Lying to Haytham had been too much to bear. He had been kind, his actions throughout the ordeal even kinder.
You returned to the Assassin's Bureau, tucked behind buildings away from the street. The door was through an opening in the rooftop, found by scaling its high walls. You dropped down and lifted your gaze to the only Assassin there tonight, the same you met with days ago, Nathan. He had been waiting, likely seen your approach. Likely, he had been keeping tabs.
He walked further into the building, motioning you to follow. "What news do you bring?"
You walked quietly behind, still feeling the clench of harbored resentment. "I am finished working with the Templars."
He turned on his heel, head held high and eyes narrowed. "You have information, then? What did you bring with you?"
You watched him wait patiently, waiting for you to have something to hand over. You kept your face neutral, falling back onto your training. You were a master at lying and concealment. "I didn't bring anything."
His brows drew together, his words spittingly harsh, "Then you are not finished."
"I returned the stolen items to the Templars. I am done working with them." You tried to step past him, to find a comfortable place to rest for the night before leaving Boston for good. You never wanted to look upon the city again.
He snatched hold of your arm, fingers firm in their grip. "Your objective was clear. You were to infiltrate the Templars and bring back something of value to our cause. The stolen items you speak of, what were they?"
You didn't have to reply but the words fumbled from your mouth. "A necklace of some kind. A few documents."
His face was stern, eyes darkening with irritation. "Yes and we watched plainly as you gave it to him. That necklace was a key to one of the Precursor Sites. In the hands of the Templars, it can cause great devastation."
You pressed your lips thin, your teeth hard against each other. Hadn't Haytham said something similar? Templars and Assassins... Your rage spilled over, destroying whatever composure you had left. You twisted your arm free from his tight grasp. "And the baker? Sophie? What exactly did she do to warrant your wrath?"
His mouth screwed downwards. "Return to the Green Dragon. Bring us that necklace and the documents that went with it. You are young and naive. You do not understand the implications of your actions."
Your steps were hard against the ground, pounding in rapid succession as you headed back to the roof. You mindlessly found your way through the maze of Boston, stepping before the tavern that had been a home for the past few days. Haytham's room was dark and likely empty. You could sneak in there and find what you were looking for. It would have been more than easy to get in and out undetected, to grab any amount of information for the Assassins and be done with it all.
But did you even want to anymore?
You walked through the front door, taking in the lurid heat of the fireplace crackling in the far back. Haytham sat at the bar, hunched over with a drink sitting tauntingly before him. Mister Douglas stood on the other side of the bar, cleaning a tankard when he cheered, "Well, look what the cat dragged in. Hope you didn't want your room back. I already gave it away."
Haytham turned in his seat, taking in your sight before a small smirk touched the corner of his lips, something flashing in his eye. "I had not expected you to return so quickly."
You waltzed forward, making each step as lively as you felt. "I believe you promised me some whiskey, Master Kenway." You took a seat next to him, brushing your shoulder against his and rolling your gaze to peer over at him.
"Mister Douglas, bring us a bottle will you?" Haytham pushed his glass your way. "If I may inquire, what brought you back here?"
You took the cold smooth surface of the glass into your hands, swishing the amber liquid around. "Have you ever held onto an ideal... and then have someone shatter it in a single day?"
Haytham watched your expression, watched as you kicked back the drink and cringe at its taste and tingled burn. He took the bottle that Douglas placed down, filling both his glass and yours. "Are you speaking of the events that transpired today?"
You swished your next swallow, letting it coat every corner of your mouth before letting it slide down your throat. "Something like that. Tell me Haytham: do you truly believe your Templars can change this world for the better?"
He still nursed his drink, leaving it somewhat untouched.
You giggled before sloshing back another glass full. "They killed Sophie." You wanted to mention how indifferent your contact had been about her death. You wanted to mumble that you too had killed people in the name of freedom and peace. It was different now, all of it, this game that the Templars and Assassins played with the lives of civilians.
Instead you reached out and slid the bottle of whiskey closer, putting its mouth to yours and taking a long drag. You grinned, pressing your head into your hand before leering at Haytham who had been silent through the whole internalized ordeal.
"The whole of humanity has been conflict," Haytham finally spoke, his tone seemingly darker than it usually was. "Imagine that world without anyone to bring about order. We want peace and we could accomplish as much."
"If humans can't be trust... how do we decide who is best fit to bring about that order."
Haytham analyzed your expression, his eyes bobbing across your features, a twinge of worry or guilt sparking to life. “My dear, something has managed to unhinge you.”
You slowly stood up after pushing the whiskey bottle towards Haytham. You gripped his shoulder, your legs wavering in the thrall of drunkenness. You giggled uncontrollably. "Don't worry, Master Kenway, it won’t be me leading people. Not anymore." You were finished with the Templars. And the Assassins. It didn't matter which side was right.
Haytham moved quickly, held you before you staggered forward. "I believe you've drunk quite enough for one night, my dear."
You pressed your dizzied forehead into his shoulder, turning your head until you could rest it against the bend of his neck. "I should probably... get out of the city..."
"After you have slept." He got to his feet, angling your weight against him, shuffling you towards the staircase. Surprisingly, the Templars were not haunting the upstairs table. In fact, the whole tavern seemed quieter, the few patrons sulking over their flagons. You let Haytham lead you into his room and set you onto the edge of his bed.
"I'm a good person," you muttered as he slipped off your boots. "Am I? Am I a good person, Haytham?"
He lifted his gaze before setting down your boots at the foot of the bed. "You are indeed, my dear. Better than most." He peeled away your jacket and hung it on the bedpost before easing you beneath the cold covers of the bed.
"I killed people..." You clenched the covers, heart feeble and wavering. “I’m a murderer.”
"We can speak more when you are sober."
They had sent you to kill people. How many 'Sophies' had you killed? How many people out their lost a loved one because of you? They had convinced you that their death was necessary for the greater cause.
Your eyes were heavier, drooping across your vision. "Everything... is permitted…”