The Right Side

My People Come First

Connor enters a stone room, where three commanders sit tied to chairs, Haytham in front of them. There's a single window, allowing moonlight to enter.

"What are the British planning?" His father demands.

"To march from Philadelphia," the one in the middle responds. "That cities vanished. New York's the key. They'll double our numbers - push back the rebels." He must be answering because the other two men are clearly dead.

"When do they begin?" Haytham questions.

"Two days from now."

"June 18th," Connor then speaks, catching the Grand Master's attention. "I must warn Washington."

"You see? That wasn't so difficult now, was it?"

"I-I told you everything," the commander nods. "Now let me go!"

"Of course." That was a clear lie, for Haytham walks behind him to merely slit his throat. He never allows hostages to leave, they would most certainly warn the others. "Now, where is Clarke?"

"She had a few things to attend to, she says she'll be here soon."

"Is that so? What did you two speak about?"

The native hesitates. "About her family." That wasn't a complete lie.

"Right... well, the other two said the same as he. So it must be true."

"Then why did you kill all of them?"

"They'd have warned the Loyalists."

"You could've held them until the fight was done!"

"And waste precious time and money on their care?" Comes Clarke's familiar voice as she finally enters the room. "What would be the point? They clearly had given up everything they knew, we didn't need them anymore." They Kenways turn, noticing that's she was... different. And by different, her previously long hair was now cut to her shoulders. It shocked both of them, since she had clearly treasured the hair she grew.

Haytham was the first to clear his throat, glancing at the ground. "We will meet you at Valley Forge, Connor. Clarke, if you would." The blonde nods, following her lover out of the room full of death. Once outside, he man casts her a glance.

"What?" She asks.

"You've cut your hair, why? Why now?"

"I'm trying something new," she says slowly. "I... don't want to remember Rose anymore. I'm Clarke, who should know hat with long hair, it's easy to grab onto. I've had it pulled far too many times in battle. I just hope I don't look ridiculous. I can grow it back, if you'd like."

"No," he shakes his head. "I actually like it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"We should be sharing the information we know with Lee, not Washington," Clarke grumbled as they walk on a path in the woods.

"You seem to think I favor him," Connor doesn't dare glance at the girl, keeping his tone gentle. "But my enemy is a notion, not a nation. It's wrong to compel obedience - whether to the British Crown or the Templar Cross. And I hope in time the Loyalists will see this too, for they are also victims."

"You oppose tyranny," the girl also keeps her tone rather gentle. "Injustice. These are just... symptoms. Their true cause is human weakness.  Why do you keep thinking we keep on trying to show you the error of your ways?"

"The both of you only talk, you've never shown me anything." At that, it is clear he tries to keep from being angry, storming off from the Templars.

"Then we'll have to remedy that, won't we?" Haytham sighs as he takes Clarke's hand, following his son.

The three make their way to George Washington, who is bent over a table in the middle of camp, reading what seems to be a letter.

"Sir," Connor says, grabbing his attention.

"Hello Connor, what brings you here?" The man stands, head full of white hair.

"The British have recalled their men in Philadelphia. They march for New York." As they speak, both Templars slowly close in on the letter.

"Very well," Washington nods. "I'll move our forces to Monmouth. If we can rout them, we'll have finally turned the tide."

"And what's this?" Haytham holds of the letter.

"Private correspondence!" The Commander reaches for it, by the Grand Master sidesteps.

"Of course it is. Connor, would you like to hear what it says? It seems your good friend here has just ordered an attack on your village. Although attack might be putting it mildly. Come, tell him, Commander." Even Washington looks ashamed.

"We've been receiving reports of allied natives working with the British. I've asked my men to put a stop to it."

"By burning their villages and salting their lands," Haytham shook his head. "By calling for their extermination, according to this letter."

"Not the first time, either," Clarke them steps in. "Tell him what you did fourteen years ago."

"That was another time, girl. The Seven Years war."

"And now you see what happens to this 'great man' when placed under duress. He makes excuses, displaces blame. Does a great many things, in fact - except tale responsibility." This is exactly what Clarke needed; to show everyone how horrid of a man their beloved George Washington was.

"Enough," Connor snapped. "Who did what and why must wait. My people come first."

"Then let's be off," Haytham shrugs, though was quickly shy down.

"No. You and I are finished."

"Son..."

"Do you think me so soft by calling me son so I might change my mind? How long did you two sit on this information? Or am I to believe you discovered it now? My mothers blood may stain another's hands, by Charles Lee is no less a monster, and all he  does he does by your command! A warning to all of you! If you suppose to follow me or oppose me, I will kill you!" His dark eyes move to Clarke, as if debating to speak. He finally chooses to. "As for you, I know I have killed many of who you call family. But understand this. They have attacked mine. This means war."

Clarke watches him leave, sprinting to a horse to get to his village. For once, Clarke truly feared for her lovers life. Not a fear of him hypothetically dying, but of her actually losing him. Connor will not hesitate.