Summary: Ziio starts to regret from splitting with Haytham and hopes to find him again, but finds herself a little too deep in the Templar and Assassin conflict than she planned to. Very AU! (Sorry, I'm very bad at summaries! :P)

A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for checking out my story, and by the way this is my first Assassin's Creed Fanfic, so I hope everyone likes it. Reviews are greatly appreciated! Enjoy!

P.S. Sorry for the cheesy title, I will probably change it later on.

Chapter One: Dwelling on the Past

My mind keeps going back to the days when it was only me and Haytham in the forest camping together. There were no worries, only our love. We spent three weeks together and I had never felt the way I did about anyone else in my life.

We learned lots from each other; maybe that's why we were so drawn to each other. I taught him how to climb trees and hunt; and in exchange, he taught me how to use a sword and told me about the Templars. He'd even tell me in exact detail what life was like in Europe, especially London, which I found most intriguing.

Everything seemed to be perfect. The two of us had the best of times, acting like children. We would chase each other in the trees and I'd push him into the river then he'd pull me in too. At night, he held me in his arms underneath the shining stars and told me stories about his travels in Europe. I had no idea he had such a rough childhood, losing his father, sister, and later his mother. Most of the stories were of him chasing down the point-eared man, the one who killed his father. I told him about my childhood too, but there wasn't much to tell, instead I told him of my people and even taught him so words in my language. I think the most important thing I taught Haytham was how to have fun.

I remember our last day together vividly. I had awoken early to go hunting for our morning meal and left without a sound, letting Haytham sleep until the sun had risen. I was joyful as ever, just thinking of Haytham and how in love I seemed to be. The only thing I managed to obtain was a rabbit and some bird eggs. It seemed to me that my mind wasn't on hunting, which it wasn't; it seemed only to be fixed on Haytham.

On my way back to camp, the sun was now above the horizon, I noticed a tiny fire Haytham had started to cook the meat I had brought back, however, someone unexpected was there: Charles Lee. He was standing next to his horse talking to Haytham. I dropped the meat and skins and stealthily climbed up the nearby tree to hear what Lee had to say. Haytham had been concerned about the Templars over the past couple days and worried one of them might show up, and he turned out to be right. I crouched near the trunk of the tree and listened.

It had only sounded like Lee wanted him to return to Boston, but then I heard Lee say, "Braddock died of his wounds this morning." My jaw dropped slightly as his words continued to spin around my head. "This morning"? Did Haytham lie to me? I didn't want to believe it. Why would he lie to me? I trusted him completely after we worked so hard together to bring the Bulldog down. I then remembered my mother's words, "All white men lie." My heart shattered. I thought Haytham was different.

Charles Lee then handed Haytham a letter and mounted his horse and robe back towards Lexington. When Lee was out of sight, Haytham turned around and said, "You can come out now, Ziio." He must've heard me approach the camp.

I jumped out of the tree and marched over to Haytham; my face grew hot and my fists balled up. "This morning?" I shouted a little too loudly, I noticed the birds flew from their nests in the trees because of my startling voice.

Haytham took a step back and looked confused, "I'm sorry, but what do you mean by 'this morning'?"

"Braddock! He died this morning!" I cried out, trying to hold back a laugh of disbelief and of disgust. Haytham bit his lip and looked apologetic when he finally got what I had meant. "You told me you killed him!" There was a moment of silence, and I noticed I was breathing loudly.

"Look," he sighed, finally looking me in the eyes, "I wanted to morally wound him so that he could suffer for what he had down."

Immediately after he stopped speaking, I ranted on, "That's not the point! You lied! You lied, Haytham." I could feel my eyes watering up, but I quickly blinked it away, I wasn't going to let him see me cry. "You lied to me so you could get your Templar hands on my people's sacred land!"

"Ziio, please, I'm sorry." Haytham reached out an arm to touch my shoulder, or perhaps to pull me close to him, which I may have secretly wanted, but I was too angry.

"Don't!" I slapped his arm. I took a couple steps back, and in a faint whisper, I said, "Go away, and don't return to me people's land." I wasn't sure if he had heard me, because I spoke so softly, but after a moment, Haytham nodded and backed away.

He grabbed his hat and coat, along with his satchel. "Ziio, I'm truly sorry, I didn't want to hurt you. I do love you." I turned my head away and listened as he walked off in the same direction Charles Lee had.

Now, two months later, I sit back in Kanathaséton, dwelling on the past. Should I have let Haytham go so easily? The more I tell myself that I did the right thing, the less I believe it. My mother had always taught me to forgive and forget, which I tried to do with anyone who I argued with, shouldn't he deserve the same?

People have begun to notice I wasn't the same, and they'd be right. I was depressed, and I would stay inside my hut to hide it. However, my people knew me better, they knew I didn't hide. I think when I would say that, I was only making excuses. The real reason I was becoming so secretive was because I was beginning to think I was pregnant. The entire village would hate me if they found out I was carrying a white man's child. However, the Clan Mother, who was also my mother, eventually found out I was pregnant. She didn't ask who the father was, but I knew she knew it was Haytham. The word did spread, and rumors were made of who the father was. None directly asked me who the father was; I assumed that they knew it was Haytham. I began to realize that maybe our relationship wasn't so secretive like I thought it was, or tried to make it.

I continued with my life, trying to push the memories of Haytham aside, but I just couldn't. One night, I found myself walking in the direction of Lexington while looking for eagle feathers. Just out of curiosity, I continued on the same path, all the way to the Wright Tavern. Maybe, just maybe, Haytham would be sitting there and I could tell him I was sorry for yelling at him and sending him off. I walked in and grabbed a seat in the corner, observing the pub. There were lots of drunken men, and some women too, but none were Haytham. I let my mind slip into the time when we both came here together for the first time, and how he'd gotten into that fight and got that ugly gash in his face. I looked over to the same barstools where we sat as I addressed his wound. I smiled to myself, and figured I best be moving on.

It wasn't the last time I visited the Wright Tavern, hoping to see Haytham, or for a clue that he had been there. I seemed to visiting the pub three days out of the week. Sometimes I even traveled to Boston, looking into the crowds for Haytham. I was careful not to travel too far into the city, since I didn't want to cause any trouble, especially with the nasty men who despise my people. However, as I became more pregnant, the less I traveled. And the more I missed Haytham.