Assassin's Creed One Shots

Haytham X Reader (Part One)

In English, we have been reading Hamlet. So this on is inspired by one of Shakespeare's most famous plays.

Latly I've been making funny one shots so I thought I could do a serious one for a change.

Funeral's; a place of sadness and dispare. Where people mourn their dead loved one's. I look at every family member and friend who came to his funeral. My father's funeral.

Everyone is adorned in black. The color of death. A proper color for a funeral. Nearly everyone was crying, even my too-tough-to-cry cousin, Callum, my favorite and only cousin.

Callum is my mother's sister's son. Callum and my father were close. My father treated him like he was his own son. Callum didn't have a father. Auntie says that he left her before Callum was born. So my father was like a father figure to him.

Callum was like my brother. We were practically twins! We were born just days apart. We had the same (H/C) hair and the same (E/C) eyes. Lets just say we looked like we were related.

I looked up from the ground that I was looking at. You could tell that I was crying with my puffy once (E/C) eyes that were now red from the constent crying. Another tear shedded down my cheek. I wiped the stray tear from my tear stained face.

I think the most broken up person was my dear loving mother. She was clinging and crying hysterically on the casket. My aunt was trying to pull her away from it so the grave diggers could lower the casket.

I then look at my uncle Robert, father's brother. He showed no emotion whatsoever. Not even a tear stained his slightly wrinkled face. I never liked him. He always seemed...I don't know...off. Behind his charming nature was something more sinister.

It just seems so odd! Father was a healthy man! Hardly ever got sick. Hell the worst things he got were some mysterious sword cuts on his arms and chest. Father was a whole mystery by himself. He would leave some nights and never told us where he was going. But it was just busness, right?

He always wore a silver ring that had a strange red cross on it. I never asked what it met. But I always wondered.

One Month Later

A month has passed since the death of my father and alot.....alot has happened. Callum joined the British Army. He is curently in London training. Also in unfortunate news my uncle inherited my father's busness and the family home. In more unfortunate news my mother remarried. Guess who?! My uncle. Can't blame her though, she didn't want me to be homeless.

As I walk through the busy streets of Bostin I feel someone bump into me, "A thousand pardons, M'lady," the man had a plush British accent. I immediately recognized him, Haytham Kenway.

Haytham had been a family friend for as about four years now. My father invited him to every party we had during the four years that we've known him. My father used to work with Haytham, I believe theu were in the same line of work. Not the business but something else.

"Hello, Mr Kenway," I say politely.  A smile reached my lips but soon faded as quickly as it came, "Forgive me but, I have a lot on my mind," Haytham placed a hand on my shoulder. His blue-grey eyes were full of sympathy.

"I'm sorry to hear about his untimely death," Haytham says. I nod my head and a few tears roll down my face. I quickly wipe them away.

"Thank you," I simply say. He took off his tricorn and held it to his chest revealing his brown ha8t that was tied in a low ponytail with a red ribbon.

"I deeply apologize for not being at the funeral," Haytham tells me, "I had...other endeavors," I smile and nod.

"I understand, Mr Kenway," I genuinely say, "You're a busy man," I then let out a sigh, "I do wish you were there though,"

"Now, why is that," I could hear the amusment pouring out of his voice.

"My uncle.....he...uhg...he didn't seen to give a rat's arse that his brother, my father, died!" I say just loud enough for Haytham to hear. Haytham raises an eyebrow, "At the funeral, not a tear shedded down his face, he showed no emotion," Haytham sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"(Y/N) that doesn't mean anythig. People grieve diff....." Haytham starts to say but I cut him off.

"Don't give me that 'people grieve differently' shit!" I yell at him. Haytham places his hands on my shoulders.

"(Y/N), you're in mourning. You want to blame someone or something," Haytham tells me. I was on the verge of tears but I try and hold them back. Since I don't want to cry in front of him.

"My father once told me to always trust my gut. And my gut tells me that there was foul play!" I tell him, "I suspect that my uncle murdered my father," Haytham ponders my theory for a moment.

"Well....he does have his motives," Haytham says somewhat agreeing with me, "Since your father didn't have a male heir, the tea business would have gone to Robert. They each owned half so will William gone, Robert would have full control over the company," I grin slightly.

"Exactly," I say, "There is on more thing, my...my...my mother married my uncle,"

"What?! D-Do you think she may have something to do with it?"  I shake my head.

"I dout it; she was very distraught over father's death," I tell him. Haytham nods.

"Well, we need to find the evidence to know for sure your uncle killed your father," Haytham tells me. I nod my head, knowing he was right.

End of Part one

What will you and Haytham find? Did your uncle kill your father? Who was your father really?

All of these questions will be answered in Part Two.