In the Stars
He thinks about her a lot.
She is constantly on his mind, in his thoughts, and he wonders and hopes she is proud of him.
Would Ziio have wanted him to become a Templar like his father, Haytham Kenway? Would she have wanted him to help the white men? Connor doesn't know, and he never will.
A soft sigh leaves his mouth as he polishes his weapons, lost in thought.
Is she watching him right now, he wonders? Is she watching every move he makes, every decision he makes? If she is, he thinks, I hope she is proud.
Connor sets down his tomahawk, the blade glinting in the afternoon sun, and sighs, this time louder. How he wishes he knew.
His mind wanders to the time he had spent with her, fondly settling on one of his very last memories of her.
"Connor?" Ziio makes her way through their lodge, searching every corner and looking under every blanket.
"I will find you," she calls, a note of barely restrained amusement in her voice.
Three year old Connor quietly giggles with childish glee as his mother passes the blanket he is hidden under, unaware that he is there: or so he thinks.
Ziio's sharp ears catch the quiet noise as she passes the blanket, noticing the suspicious, Connor-shaped bump under it.
Silently grabbing the edges of the blanket, Ziio whips it off her now loudly giggling son.
"Gotcha!" she laughs, tickling his sides.
"Ista, Ista, please stop!" Connor manages to gasp through gales of laughter.
Smiling, Ziio complies, pulling Connor close in a rare show of affection.
"I love you, my son. You will grow up to be a great warrior," she tells him. "The spirits have sent me a dream, showing me that you will become great and strong. I do not know how, but I do know that it will come to pass."
Connor is snapped back to the present at the sound of a footstep beside him. Glancing up, he sees Achilles; the old man giving him a small smile.
"Ziio would have been proud of you," he says as if reading Connor's thoughts.
"Do...do you really think so?" Connor asks, feeling slightly hopeful that his mentor is correct.
"Yes, Connor, I really do," Achilles tells him gently.
Connor stands, reassured, and stretches. "Thank you, Achilles," Connor says, slipping his tomahawk back onto his weapons belt.
"Anytime, kid," Achilles gruffly replies.
Maybe she is watching me, he thinks optimistically. She was a good person and I am sure she joined the spirits.
Connor glances up at the sky where the sun is setting, and the first few stars are appearing.
I am sure she is watching me right now, he thinks. She is always with me, in the stars.