The Assassin Bureau: Imagines and Preferences

The Journal: Haytham Kenway x Reader

You hadn't returned to the Davenport estate in less than two decades. After the events between the Templars and Assassins, you weren't really planning on visiting at all. You dreaded meeting the familiar eyes of Achilles. But worst of all, you dreaded finding the familiar eyes of your husband in a child that wasn't your own.

A child, you thought while squeezing the leather journal in your hands. No, he was a grown man by now. If you hadn't got Hickey drunk a few months ago, you wouldn't even have been aware of his existence. Haytham hadn't been keen on telling you, worried you might be 'disgusted' or somehow 'offended' that he'd been with another woman. He nearly broke down when you confronted him about it, an anxiety you'd never seen in him before.

Ziio, he had called her and a pain splintered across your heart. A knot gathered in your throat and you swallowed a few times until it was gone. You climbed the steps with a steady gaze, knocking your knuckles against the door with as firm a resilience you could muster. You listened to your breathing and the blood pounding in your ears.

The door swung open and it was Achilles who answered, age having changed most of his features. But you would recognize him anywhere and the anger that flared across his expression. "If you're here to finish the job--"

"I'm not." You narrowed your eyes at him, the great mentor reduced to a feeble old man. "Had I wanted you dead, I'd have come here years ago."

He seemed to hiss at that, an anger stiffening his shoulder. "What is it you want, Templar."

You tried not to smirk, to goad the man. "I'm here to speak. Might I come in?"

Achilles shove the door open wider and shuffled towards the sitting room towards the right. "I've nothing I wish to hear from the likes of traitors. If you want me to stay out of your affairs then your time coming here has been wasted."

You sashayed past him, eyes looking delightfully about the furnished home. You sat down rather gingerly and placed the leather journal onto the seat next to you. "I did not come here to speak of Assassins and Templars. In fact, I did not come here to speak with you."

If you thought he was angry before you were corrected when his hands tightened into fists and his jaws clenched. "I may be older but I shall not--"

"He has a right to know the truth." You swept your gaze out across the living room towards the rest of the space. "And I'm certain you've kept most of what happened to yourself. Does he know about the sites? Does he know--"

"Enough!" Achilles took a brave step forward.

You sensed the boy before ever even looking at him. Man, you reminded yourself when your eyes met with his. He had his mother's eyes, you sighed with relief but you saw so much of Haytham in him as well. Too much, you almost cringed, but a part of you felt relief. Haytham had a child. He had another reason to find joy in life.

You stood up slowly. "I did not come here to fight."

Connor glanced warily between his mentor and you. He finally settled his gaze on, a cold and precise gaze. "Then why is it that you have come?"

You lowered your head, looking at the leather bound journal that Haytham always scribbled his thoughts into. "He doesn't know I took this. He's a proud sort of man. He'd be embarrassed to know that someone else read this other than me." You forced your shoulders down and your head to rise. "I wanted to leave this with you. Read it if you ever become curious about your father."

Connor's gave remained unwavered as you stepped forward and placed the thick book onto the table. "My 'father' should have come himself if he wanted to speak to me."