So, I have played ALL the Assassin's Creed games and NONE have ever disappointed. This one is definitely one of my favorites for numerous reasons. Haytham Kenway is one of them. This fic is about both Connor, Haytham, and now Connor's half sister Abigail. I intend to follow the game plot as a guideline for chapters and plot...so spoilers will defs happen if you have not finished or even started the game lol.
Abigail's father was always busy. In her mind she felt that he never wanted to stay home and play with her. He always had more important things to deal with. He told her that it was all for her and that he only meant well. Abigail always thought that if her father truly meant well he would stay home with her occasionally. She missed him when he went away on these long trips and left her with the servants. Fh the boredom consumed her nearly every day of her life. There was nothing to do in her home, no one to play with or talk to. The housekeepers were kind and all but they only spoke so much in her direction...they much rather preferred gossiping about her father to one another.
Abigail didn't usually pay them too much mind when they spoke of him. It was never anything positive that she found worth listening too. So that left the young girl to just stare out the window in the parlor and hope that papa's horse would come galloping towards them and then into the stable. He usually took the carriage but not tonight...and it was one of the coldest nights of the year it seemed. The windows were covered in frost and looked like snowflakes had been imprinted into the glass.
"Miss Kenway!" one of the maids hissed. "You know you are supposed to be working on your studies! Sitting at the window daydreaming will not get it done any faster young lady!"
Abigail rolled her eyes and pulled her knees up to her chest. She did not want to practice her Latin at the moment. She wanted to wait for her father. Even if that meant sitting in the window seat until the sun came back up. Abigail wasn't shy to doing such dramatic things, she had done something similar once before. Of course her father hadn't come home until three days later and when he did, Abigail had been so exhausted the only time she really saw him was when he came to her room to kiss her forehead and say goodbye.
"I heard you, nanny, you don't need to shout at me." Abigail said calmly. "I just want to wait a little bit longer for papa, then I will leave and do my homework."
Even if nanny protested Abigail intended on staying exactly where she was. She would compromise and work on her Latin translations from where she sat if that would make it a tad better. Though even with the book in her lap Abigail found that she could not focus on it. She could hear the soft pitter patter of the snow falling outside. It was so peaceful and calm...every sound resounded around her loudly...nothing could hide. Yet there was no horse coming, no sign of her father.
"Miss Kenway, I have run you a bath and your night clothes are set out for you."
Abigail's frown deepened. It was already time for bed and her father was still nowhere to be seen. He had promised that he would be back in time to tuck her in. It was a promise that he typically kept. She hoped that he was well...that this broken accord was not the result of him being injured or stranded in a foreign land.
"But...papa isn't back yet..." she whispered. "He said he would come to put me to bed."
"I'm sorry love, but the storm might have kept him away longer than he expected."
Abigail tried to hide her tears of disappointment and prevent her lips from quivering, but it was too much. She felt like her heart had sunk all the way down into her shoes. Her papa had promised that he would be home and he broke his promise...the first promise she could ever remember him breaking. Abigail supposed that it wasn't entirely his fault...the storm outside was fierce and she would have felt terrible if he got sick riding in it...but that still did not dull the stink she felt knowing that her father would not be home with her for the night.
She released a shuddering breath and bowed her head as she made her way towards the stairs. Her auburn curls hung in front of her face as she began ascending but she stopped suddenly and her head perked up. She could hear the clomping of a horse a couple miles away. Her father was home! She knew that it just had to be him! Quickly pulling away from the stairs she raced out the front door.
It was bloody freezing outside and Abigail felt the cold on her spine almost instantly. Her breath appeared in front of her in a small white cloud and her eyes searched the glistening mounds of snow for her father's horse. She had no sight of him but could hear the clomping coming closer and growing louder with each passing minute.
Straining her ears a bit she began to chase after the clomping. Clompclompclompclomp... CLOMP...CLOMP...why was he slowing down? Maybe she was running in the wrong direction? No, she was definitely going the right way...she could hear the clomping getting louder as she headed north. Her feet stung as she soon realized she had not bothered to put her shoes back on, but Abigail did not care...she continued wading through the white powder listening for the horse.
"MISS KENWAY! HAVE YOU GONE MAD!?"
Abigail continued, her knees practically coming up to her chest as she tried to ascend the hill and get a better view of the road. Her dress was the main issue however, no matter what she did it just continued to get tangled around her feet.
"Papa?" she called, hoping that he would hear her over the snow. "Papa!"
The wind whipped by and took her breath away stealing her voice in its cold embrace. Her papa would never be able to hear her in this horrible storm. Tears began to trail down her cheeks and freeze to her face. The horse was gone and her hunch about her father coming home destroyed. He was probably still with Uncle Charles. Sniffling softly, she turned around but not before smacking into the chest of a tall man.
"Abigail Elizabeth Kenway...what in God's name are you doing?"
Haytham had wanted to scold his eleven year old daughter, but before he could he found her throwing her arms around him. He chuckled, it was so hard to stay mad at her...especially when she called him papa. Haytham loved his little girl...in a world of corruption and the unjust, she was truly the light at the end of his tunnel. He held her close to him, watching as snow settled into her crimson hair.
"You are going to catch your death out here with no coat," he said sternly. "And no shoes? Abigail are you trying to make yourself sick?"
Not waiting for an answer, Haytham pulled his little girl up into his arms and began making his way back to their home. He had been riding all day, just so that he would be able to keep his promise to Abigail. It was clear that his daughter had lost faith in him briefly. He hoped she had not held onto some delusional idea that she would be able to run after him. The storm had practically made it impossible for HIM to travel...let alone an eleven year old girl.
"I missed you so much, papa." Abigail said softly. "I was afraid you had forgotten your promise."
"I will never break a promise to you, dear girl." Haytham breathed, stroking her hair down her back. "You know that."
"I know, papa," she said. "I'm sorry for doubting you."
"Shh..." he hushed. "It's quite all right...I'm here now and that's what matters."
He took a small foot into his hand which was read and cold. Gently he began rubbing warmth back into it and when he crossed the threshold to their house began barking orders. Abigail watched with her head resting on Haytham's shoulder as the servants began grabbing blankets and going off to make tea. Her father's voice was so demanding and strong...it always filled her with a great comfort...while it filled everyone else with great fear it seemed.
"Papa, will you tell me a story tonight? Please?"
"Of course, little one," he said, but Abigail was uncertain he had heard her. "Victoria, don't trouble yourself with running another bath...Abigail can take one in the morning."
"I want to hear the one about mama...please?"
Haytham's body stiffened. He really did not like talking about Abigail's mother. She was not one of his more proud exploits and he didn't have many positive stories to inform of Abigail of. Most of them he made up...hoping that Abby would not grow to resent him for what he had done or how he had not cared about Elaine until he knew that Abigail was to be brought into the world.
"Why one about mama, Abigail?" he asked carefully. "Wouldn't you rather here the one about my trip from England?"
"I've heard that one already...it's getting boring."
"It is not boring!" Haytham chuckled. "You loved that story a couple nights ago."
"Papa," Abigail whined. "I want a new story."
Haytham sighed and racked his brain as he carried his child to her room. A new story...he had plenty of stories, but he really didn't want to tell Abigail too many. Some were more suited for when she was older. At the moment talk of murder and annihilation of Assassin's seemed to be too much for her mind to soak up. Personally Haytham hoped to preserve Abby's innocence for a bit longer...before he had to thrust her into the world of the Templars.
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