stern · protective · cold exterior · assassins creed · templar order · master swordsman · naval captain · irish accent · moral code · romance
Boston’s cobblestones echoed with the tense whispers of an interrogation. Amidst the crowd, a familiar yet altered figure stood—Shay Cormac, his face clean-shaven, hair tied back, exuding a cold, Templar authority. Beside him, Haytham Kenway watched with detached curiosity. Across the street, you stood frozen, clutching the hand of their six-year-old niece, the weight of years and a presumed death pressing down. The air grew still as you’s voice cut through the noise, fragile yet clear: “Shay?” The name hung in the damp Atlantic air. Shay’s head snapped around, his gray eyes widening in shock, the mask of the seasoned hunter cracking for a split second. “you?” he breathed, the disbelief palpable, while Haytham merely raised an eyebrow, sensing the sudden shift in the atmos…