Ratonhnhaké:ton (Connor Kenway)
Things were getting messy. You acknowledge that now. There were too few Patriots in a sea of red and that meant only one thing: you were as good as dead.
When the Redcoat made you throw the musket and put your hands up and then kneel on the ground and tie your hands on your back and then put your fellow Patriots beside you because you were at mere seconds from touching death's fingers, you understood.
You understood a lot of things.
That you were screwed, that you were fucked up, that you weren't gonna return home, that you weren't gonna see your momma again, that you weren't gonna play with your younger siblings again, that you weren't gonna be available to see the sunrise from that hill that was close to home, that you weren't gonna see important cities like New York, that you weren't gonna breathe after that Redcoat that was screaming at you, put a bullet through your head.
Such a mess. Your momma was going to be heartbroken, and you were probably gonna be forgotten like so many other Patriots, like so many other fools like you.
But on the other hand, if you died today, you could greet your old man. He went away almost a year ago. He was a soldier back in his day but when he refused to be part of it again, to fight to maintain the colonies, they killed him.
And what does his stupid older child do?
Join the Patriots.
Because it was what he will want. Because you wanted to make him proud. To feel that you didn't simply stay there, with your arms crossed, seeing like the crown kept abusing the people. You weren't gonna pardon me that ever.
Even if the idea of seeing your papa again sounded hopeful and made you happy, your heart felt like you weren't ready for that. Not yet.
But then, the Redcoat hit you with the musket and screamed at you some insults and you looked at him with such a rage...you did want to hit him back, but you restrained yourself. Didn't want to make it worse.
Someone shouted for the soldiers to get in line and your heart started beating even faster. You were going to die. You were going to see your old man and all those fellow soldiers you have seen dying in front of you for the past months.
They all pointed at you and the others with their muskets. Your body started to shake; your heart wanted to explode.
The Redcoats were ready to fire, but before they could, an arrow suddenly hit the one who was gonna give the order.
Everyone and everything went still for a few seconds.
Where the fuck did that arrow come from?
But then, while the body of the Redcoat fell and everyone started to react again, something white and fucking big came out of the bushes and started attacking the Redcoats. And then, like a rush, like you were available to breathe again, everything around you started to move and make sense again.
While the mysterious white hooded figure moved with such speed and grace around the place, killing people with his tomahawk and a knife, some of your fellow Patriots joined the fight as they could.
You were still kind of lost and surprised by the current change of events when one of the Patriots got close to you to get off the ropes that bonded you. That's when you snapped and returned to reality.
That's when you got a hold on a musket and started fighting again.
This time red sea parted and was eliminated by a white patch and the help of a few blue strings.
When you finished, you drop the musket and looked around. Some Patriots had fallen, but there wasn't Redcoats in sight. The reminding Patriots started to move around you but you stayed there, contemplating the idea that you were still alive, that you had the chance of returning home after all this and seeing your family again.
Then you spot the hooded man looting some Redcoats' bodies and you couldn't stop yourself from approaching.
"Hey", you said, and he turns to you, standing and making you feel a little bit small and intimidated by his sudden tall and muscled form.
You can't see his eyes, but you do see his mouth and the thin line that it forms. He looks, waiting.
"Who are you?"
And that wasn't what you were going to say, not at all. You were curious to know who your savior was, but you were actually gonna thank him for saving your fucking ass.
"An ally", he responds.
And you know that. You're sure that he is the hooded man they are always talking about in the camp. They are always talking about how he had fought at least thirty men alone, how he had infiltrated in places where it was actually impossible, how he was like a flash of lightning and a god of war himself with the way he moves and simply ends every enemy.
You had heard about him, but you have never seen him in action. Never thought that the rumors were true neither. How could he do those incredible things alone? Rubbish you say.
But you have seen it and you have been saved by him.
"Don't you have a name?"
"You won't be available to pronounce it".
That's when you realize that he is a Native and that he of course will have an elaborated name that your mouth will probably not be available to pronounce. Or so he thinks. Because you have always believed that practice makes everyone an expert.
You were going to say this point when he spoke first.
"You can call me Connor".
And you stared at him.
So, your savior was called Connor.
Or at least, that was the name the colonizers gave him.
Connor.
You think that it suited him, but not as much as maybe his real name. Which you still wanted to learn.
"Connor, I will like to–", but your words are harshly interrupted by one of the Patriots who is hushing to join the group and continue your way.
Because people were depending on you, and you couldn't let them down.
You took a step back and then another, but your eyes were on Connor.
He stood there, simply observing you.
You had another chance to see your family again.
"Thanks for giving me another chance".
You keep stepping back until you turn around and run to your fellow Patriot who passes you a musket.
You don't look back.
But when the war is over, when you get to be in your momma's arms again, when you get to see the sunrise from that hill again...you thank him over and over and over again, like you will thank a god for your existence.
YOU ARE READING
eagles and crosses
Fanfiction"Nothing is true, everything is permitted". "Let the Father of Understanding guide us". Assassins and Templars' one-shots. These works can also be find on my account in AO3. Note: This book contains violence, blood, explicit language and be aware...