50 Shaydes of Haytham.

Chapter 8: Nightmares of the past.

With a plan set, the boys begin with preparations, while unwanted memories resurface for Haytham.

Haytham worked all night on the three fake journals, fabricating and exaggerating the details, tweaking truths into small, believable lies to throw the assassin's off. Haytham would keep a fake copy, Shay would keep a fake copy and one would be 'hidden' in Haytham's desk should they break in. The original would be locked away in Edward's secret basement room in the Kenway manor's game's room where little Haytham would practice his sword skills as a child.

Haytham rubbed his temples, he had just completed the final journal of the three. He looked towards the closed curtain and could see golden orange sunlight seeping out from between them. Haytham put his copy in his trouser pocket and stuffed the real journal in the pocket inside his waistcoat, under all those layers. He locked the second copy in his desk and picked up the third to give to Shay.

Haytham stood up and stumbled stiffly towards the curtain, drawing them back a bit to peek outside. The sun was rising, only just making an appearance into the world. I suppose I have a little bit of time to rest a few hours after I deposit the two journals. Haytham thought to himself, rubbing his tired eyes. He let go of the curtain and made his way to Shay's room.

He knocked lightly on the door, loud enough for Shay to hear if he was awake and quiet enough to not wake him up. When he got no answer, he figured the other Templar was sound asleep still. He quietly entered the room and walked over to the sleeping man. He bent down and placed the leather journal on his side table next to his bed. As he stood up straight, he turned his head to look at the Irishman.

Beautiful. He looks soo peaceful sleeping. Haytham thought to himself, a slight genuine smile crossing his face, silently admiring and adoring the man. He considered kissing the man in his sleep but decided against it as he needs to lock the real journal away, also he wouldn't know how explain it should Shay wake up. He decided he'd stared at Shay sleeping long enough and turned to leave the room.

He left the room and quietly shut the door behind him. He then began making his way to the game's room. Haytham never really liked going in that room unless he had to. Too many memories came back to him when he entered that room. Haytham's palms became clammy as he turned the handle to the room he dreaded to set foot in. He frowned as he entered the room and walked towards the bookshelf where his first sword used to lay in the secret compartment. Haytham opened the compartment and placed the journal inside and sealed it back up again. The real journal was safe.

Haytham exited the room before any more unwanted memories surfaced. He shut the door and made his way to his bedroom, opening the door and closing it behind him as he entered. He stripped down to his trousers and shirt and practically collapsed on the bed out of tiredness, it was probably about five in the morning, they would be having breakfast soon. Luckily sleep came to the Grandmaster quickly as he succumbed to sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

--- An hour or so later. ---

Haytham tossed and turned in his sleep, his shirt stuck to his back and chest from the sweat.

Haytham looked around him, he was still in the manor. he felt a lot closer to the ground, he was shorter, a child. He looked down at his hand and saw he was grasping a small cutlass.

His hand and sword were drenched in blood, a guard lay dead at his feet, a small puddle of blood slowly growing bigger as the man bled out from his eye. It was the man who tried to take his sister during the attack on the manor.

All of a sudden a girl's scream filled the quietness, he looked around for his sister but could not see her. The screams continued as he made his way through the house.