Hey there! This is just a short I wrote upon finishing Assassin's Creed II, it may have spoilers but I don't think it does so just read it and stuff. Hope y'all like it!

My other fic will update! I promise!

Anywho! Enjoy!

Allons-y!

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Unto the Future

The night was cool on his skin and the moon shone full and bright casting shadows across the deserted city. The sky was oddly clear in Acre that night, the stars twinkled in the sky and there was no real breeze. Almost a calm before the storm.

He skulked through the shadows deftly, running his hands across the cold stone of the walls to guide himself in the dark. He was so close. This particular operation had been weeks in the making, days of scouting and observing. Hours of planning in Marik's stuffy office. The nights and days had been long and he was so tired now.

It had been difficult when Al Mualim died, or rather when he killed him. In one single action their entire clan had almost fallen apart. Centuries of bonds and work lay in scattered fetters at his feet and he'd had no idea how to put them back together again. Masyaf was in ruins and it's people were terrified in the wake of the collapse. They came to him, of course. They asked him to guide them, him to lead them over and over. What was he to do?

They'd rebuilt and it had taken a good decade, it had been hard. But he'd been younger then, twenty five years old and full of life. His youth had given him enthusiasm to finish the task and now, once more, his clan stood tall. Their offices were once more established in every major city and their work resumed. The fortress was different now, of course, with him in charge. There was a room devoted to a giant map of the world he'd seen inside the sphere. Across its yellowing surface lines stretched, markers of locations on the map of other orbs. There were also words and designs that were integral to their very way of life. It was through this map that Altair planned all their manoeuvres and actions. He'd stare at it for hours, carefully thinking through his next move and preserving it.

The assassins of the clan were no longer only assassins either. To him it had seemed foolhardy to keep killing as their sole profession. Under his encouragement they'd moved into the army, into the nobility and even into commerce. Masyaf had eyes and ears everywhere. They would need them. The war had barely begun after all.

That was what had led up to him hiding in the dark on a roof overhang in Acre, waiting for his target to pass innocently below him. There would be no guards, or rather there would be no guards to care seen he'd replaced the small contingent with his own men. The man he was aiming for was seemingly unimportant in the grand scheme of things, his cartel smuggled human slaves across borders and were causers of great suffering. Without the head the snake would die so Altair waiting for him to slither into his grasp.

It was quick when it did happen. The only sound was that of him leaping into the air and a muffled thump as he landed on his target's back. The blade slid in and retracted silently. His guards kept a patient look out nearby. Wouldn't want witnesses after all.

With that simplicity the deed was done and the world was a little bit cleaner. He was just giving directions to his men when the sound of rushing steps met his ears. He turned to see an apprentice of the clan, very young, sprinting towards him. The boy skidded to a stop, breathless before him, near shaking with exhaustion. "You have to come quickly, Master," he finally got got, his high tenor wobbling.

"Slow down, young one," he replied with a smile and placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. "What is the trouble?"

"Master Marik sent me," the boy panted. "He says to tell you it's time, Master, and if you don't hurry you're going to miss it."

Altair's face went very pale and he gestured to his men. "Clear this up," he told them briskly, "and make sure the cartel is in pieces for definite before returning to your posts. I trust you can manage without me?" He looked to each of them quickly.

The man closest to him smiled, "of course, Master, you can count on us," he told him with a bow.

Altair nodded gratefully and darted off into the night. The rooftops were a blur under his feet and he barely even heard the occasional cry of a guard in protest to his haste. He flew down the street to a seemingly insignificant little house, it had simple walls and canvas covered windows with wooden shutter. In actuality it was the assassin central office for Acre. Appearances were deceiving after all.

He crashed through the door, stumbling slightly, and was met with the sight of his best friend leaning against a nearby wall, hand on his hip and smiling. "There you are," the one armed man laughed. Malik had been good to him and Altair wondered how he'd survived with his sarcastic advisor for so long.

"Has it happened? Have I missed it?" he managed, gripping his ribs.

Malik smiled, "too late I'm afraid. Come," he beckoned and together they vanished into the back room.

There, on a pallet in the centre of the room covered in blankets, lay his wife. She smiled sleepily up at him and his eyes fell upon a small bundle in her arms. He knelt beside her and kissed her forehead. She leant against his shoulder for a moment as he gently took the baby from her.

Altair felt strange as he gazed down into those young eyes. His son. "What's his name?" he asked without looking up.

"We thought we'd wait for you," Marik replied from just behind him.

Altair nodded distractedly, he didn't know if he was ready for a child yet. Didn't know if he was ready to be a father. Dozens of members of the clan managed it every day and yet he was worried. Just then the boy reached a hand up to his father's cheek and traced small scar there. As those small hands brushed stubble the baby laughed and Altair was forever lost in the sound.

"What're you going to call him?" Marik asked, leaning over his shoulder to look.

"His name will be Saqr, the falcon," Altair replied, stroking his son's forehead with one hand. "May your skies be endless and the wind beneath your feet, my son," he told the small boy. He smiled gently beneath his hood and, sleepily, his son smiled back.

-----

Further down the ancestral line Ezio Auditore di Firenze was not faring much better. He had been pacing for near seven hours and still there was no baby to show for all Rosa's efforts. His uncle watched him with an amused smile on his face in the corner. Leonardo sat behind his desk examining parts of the codex and glanced up at the agitated man every now and again. "You are making me stressed, Ezio," he complained eventually. "All this pacing is distracting me from my work."

"Well I maybe I have a good reason to pace, Leonardo," Ezio growled, glancing up from the floor. "It's been hours, what is taking so long?" He ran a hand down his face tiredly.

"Because that is the way of it," Mario laughed and stood. He clapped a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "Now do you see why your father was so anxious when your brother and sister were born?"

"Yes, but I'm sure they didn't take so long," Ezio retorted, rubbing the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes.

"I think I shall be the judge of that," a serene voice called from the door.

Ezio whirled and beheld the form of his mother in the doorway. She was older now and her once ripe beauty had warmed with age. She smiled softly at him as she glided into the room. His sister followed in her wake the picture of radiant young beauty. Her own stomach was beginning to swell with pregnancy that was just about hidden by her dress. She'd married not long after Altair had been properly inducted into the clan and couldn't have been happier. Mario's villa was a lot more crowded these days. "Mother," Ezio called, going to her and hugging her close. He also embraced his sister, "you're getting large, Claudia," he told her with a grin.

She smiled back and swatted at his head. He used all of his manly assassin abilities to deftly step out of the way.

"Where's Niccolo?" he asked her, resuming his pacing.

"He's overseeing a shipment into the stables," she replied. "He said someone tried to double cross us so he will probably be late." She tucked her dark hair behind her ear and moved to sit in a nearby chair.

"Ezio," his mother sighed, "will you stop that pacing." She reached out a hand to forcefully stop him by gently placing her forehand on his arm.

"We've already tried, madame," Leonardo told her, setting down his quill and standing. He approached the two, "but Ezio will be Ezio and paces regardless."

"I'm just nervous," he told them, shifting from foot to foot.

"What about, my son?" his mother asked, setting a hand on his shoulder and forcing him to look at her.

"What if I don't make a good father? I'm an assassin and always out at night, what if I'm not there for them? What if-"

His mother hushed with a finger over his scarred lips. "You do well to remember, Ezio, that your father was also an assassin. Yes, it is a hard job to maintain alongside a family but it is not impossible. Your father managed it, after all," she reminded him.

"Father was a great man. I am no such person," he protested.

"You tell that to Rosa screaming in the next room," his mother laughed. "Ezio you are better than you know and I know that if your father-" her breath hitched slightly. "If your father and brothers were still alive that would be so proud of you and all that you have done. You are a good man, Ezio Auditore di Firenze. Do not forget that."

He was about to open his mouth to utter another protest when the sudden opening of the bedroom door took his attention. Their maid looked out and around the door, "Master Ezio," she greeted with a nod. "The mistress bades you come at once."

Ezio bolted through the door and was met with the site of Rosa on their bed. Her dark hair was matted with sweat and there was a relieved smile upon her delicate features. "'Bout time," she managed to whisper out.

"Ssh," he hushed her going at once to her side. His eyes fell to the bundle in her arms.

Her smile widened, "your son," she told him and handed the struggling baby boy over to him.

At first he looked at the baby like one would a snake, slightly unsure what to do and a little scared. Then those eyes opened, Rosa's eyes, and stared into his soul. "He's beautiful," Ezio said at last and kissed Rosa on the forehead. "Thank you, my love."

"Look's just like you," Leonardo said, looking over Ezio's shoulder quizzically. "Probably will end up arguing like you as well: blade first."

Ezio laughed. "Don't be so harsh, Leonardo," he reprimanded.

"What will you name him," Mario asked, as he came close to examine his nephew's new baby.

"Nothing stupid I hope," Rosa muttered darkly from the bed, leaning up to watch.

Ezio gazed at his boy and, like his father had done more than thirty years ago, he lifted him over his head and into the light streaming through the roof window. "His name will be Antonio Auditore di Firenze," he said as a new generation of the clan began and the blood was handed down once more.

----

Five hundred years later found Desmond Miles sitting with his head in hands in a hospital corridor. A cup of coffee sat on the chair to his left and across from him Sean Hastings sat with a book in his hands, occasionally glancing up at him. They had been in silence for near five hours now.

Finally Sean sighed and set aside his book on ancient manuscripts. "That's it, you're driving me nuts. What is with the moping?" he growled, glaring at his friend.

"Well forgive me for being a little nervous about fatherhood alright?" Desmond snapped angrily.

"I haven't seen you this bad since we were at your wedding, I thought you were going to bolt then and there," Sean rolled his eyes and scratched the back of his neck.

"Sometimes I wonder why I haven't killed you."

"Who'd you complain to when everything went to shit then? The others would just humour you and your a glutton for sarcastic punishment," Sean sniffed in reply.

"Just shut up," Desmond growled and returned his head to hands.

"Just imagine all your ancestors went through this too," Sean continued, ignoring him. "Altair and Ezio were both fathers, we know that because you're here after all. They were probably as nervous as you, in fact more so. The medical conditions back then weren't really top notch and at least Lucy is in the best of care."

"I swear I'm going to cut you," Desmond muttered.

"All I'm saying is you're just another piece the puzzle and it's been successful thus far. Your family must have this crazy ability to survive or something," Sean grinned, enjoying the torment he was putting Desmond through.

Just then a nurse appeared at their side, she looked tired but it was the early hours of Sunday morning. "Desmond Miles?" she asked.

"That's me," he responded at once looking up at her.

"Come with me."

She led them to the fateful room where Lucy lay prone and exhausted. She managed a smile for them and Desmond went to her side immediately. "Thank you," he murmured and held her close.

"Careful," she laughed. "You'll crush him." As she said it his eyes flew down and he gazed at his newborn son. He had Desmond's skin and Lucy's eyes. He gazed up at his father curiously as Desmond gently picked him up and rocked him softly.

Sean leaned over to look at the young baby and poked him between the eyes lightly, he smiled as the baby scowled at him. "Just like his father," he commented.

"Don't abuse my kid," Desmond laughed, relieved.

"So...name?" Sean asked after a moment.

"What're you calling him, idiot," Sean sighed. "I'm trying to ask all the right questions as a good friend and you're not even replying properly. This is what I get for all my effort. Geez."

Desmond raised an eyebrow and looked back down at his son. "Oscar."

"What?"

"I'm going to call him Oscar," Desmond repeated.

"Oscar as in 'spear of the gods'?" Sean asked incredulously.

"Is something wrong with 'Oscar'?"

"Well no," Sean muttered backing away with his hands up, "just saying it's a bit plain is all."

"Like Desmond?"

"Yeah," Sean grinned happily.

"I hate you sometimes."

"And yet I'm your friend."

"And yet."

There was a stony stair but Desmond couldn't help but grin. He looked down at the small bundle in his arms as his ancestors had done before him. "Welcome to the clan, little guy," he murmured. "We're a big family long in the making, thousands of years and I don't think we're finished yet but don't worry. We're assassins and assassins look out for each other."

It was strange but nothing had changed in nearly a thousand years for that small family within a small clan. They lived and died the same, carrying forth the new blood into each generation. Once more the line of Altair continued, forging the way ahead and who knew what the new era would bring.

----

So what did you think? I hope you liked it as much as I liked writing it! Send me some feedback and feed the ego! Please?

Thanks!

Love y'all!

- D