So, I got a desperate urge to try my hand at Assassin's Creed fan fiction. I have no idea how this will turn out or if I will continue with it but let me know what you think and I'll go from there.

I own nothing, except perhaps Iris.

"Remember Kenway, no mucking about now. We don't have time for any of your nonsense. Stand by and wait for my signal should I need you. "

"Whatever you say, oh master Kidd."

"Just keep to the plan." As Kenway strutted off into the shrubbery Kidd sighed, shaking his head. The big head on that man's shoulder was gonna get him in serious trouble one day. The kind that would get him hung.

Kidd got to work, swiftly scaling the wall. The sound of the fancy party, held by the piss-pot of a governor of Fourer Island, echoed between the white walls. He sneaked past the guards, climbing up the fasade of the main building, slinking in through a window.

At about the same time, Iris was finally ushering the maids helping her dress out the door. She sighed but only got halfway before the corset stabbed at her ribs. Wincing she stepped over to the mirror, the reflective glass revealing her freckled complexion, red hair pulled up in an elegant bun. The pearls hanging from her ears lit up her long neck, the green dress accentuating the blush of her hair. A pair of hazel eyes stared back at her, obviously displeased at the elaborate get-up. What a fraud. Closing her eyes to collect herself before the inevitable meet and greet with the "esteemed" friends of her father she took a deep breath. This turned out to be a serious mistake as the corset seemed to constrict around her lungs and her eyes watered in pain. The sooner I deal with this, the sooner I can breathe. She steeled herself and stepped out into the corridor, nodding at a few maids passing by.

The sound of music and posh society came from her right and she walked reluctantly in that direction, taking a detour to step out onto the small balcony surveying the courtyard. Seeing her father she hesitated. She backed away carefully, deeper into the shadows, when he turned his gaze to the stairs to her right in hopes to see her descend. No doubt to show off his most valued possession, she thought with a sneer. The heel of her shoe suddenly collided with something other than stone, like a foot? Not a second later the sneer was wiped clean off by a rough but thin hand clamping over her lips, a lanky arm restricting her arms against her waist as the man(no woman has such rough skin on their palms) backed them both furhter into the shade.

"Keep calm, I ain't gonna hurt you none. It's not you I'm here for but I won't hesitate to change my mind if you cause trouble, so Don't Move." The accent was strange, almost lazy, but the words were calculated and precise in execution and Iris stood completely still in his arms. "Good girl. Now, I'm going to move my hand and you're gonna answer some simple questions. Alright?" Iris nodded and felt the hand slide down to rest around her throat, not contricting the delicate flow of air but just making itself known. A guarantee of a swift death should she try anything funny. Iris was sure that the young man behind her could feel the rapid flow of blood even through those weathered fingers of his.

"What do you know about the participants of this little gathering here below us?" Iris swallowed, the move accentuated by the weight against her eusphagus, and took a breath.

"Most are politicians of some kind, along with their wives. The host, the governor, usually meets with a certain few men at the end of the evening. I don't know what they discuss but I can guess it's politics, treaties and su-such. " The fingers moved over her skin, she could now feel her pulse beat against the middle- and forefinger.

"What else?" She swallowed again and the fingers echoed the move across her skin.

"I know that the governor intends to sell off his daughter in exchange for more power." The fingers stilled.

"What kind of power?"

"I-I don't know. Something about a plantation, maybe tobacco." The man seemed to contemplate the information, his finger drawing random shapes across her jugular. "I know when he'll be alone." The fingers constricted like a hangman's noose just before the drop and Iris gasped softly but made no move to stop him.

"You're a lot more clever than your position would imply, aren't ya?" She didn't answer, worried he would close off her air entirely if she did. "So tell me then lass, when and where?"

"When the guests are called in to supper he will excuse himself. He'll say it's to speak to the chef but he'll go to his office."

"Which is where?"

"In the east wing, the third door on the left." He snickered quietly, blowing puffs of air into the fine shell of her ear.

"So eager to give up our friends, are we?" Iris looked towards the edge of the balcony, hearing the pompous tones from below.

"They are not my friends." He scoffed lightly.

"I saw the guards beneath your window. You are very well guarded for a non-friend." The fingers tightened again, his suspicion obvious. Iris closed her eyes.

"They are as big a part of my imprisonment as my protection, pirate." There was no scorn in her voice, merely acknowledgement. "I understand if you must kill me now. Just...take him down as well. The governor. He should not live to draw breath." A thumb smoothed over her skin, light as a breeze.

"So willing to die for a cause you know nothing about. You won't die today, miss, not by my hand." And suddenly the bell rang for dinner and the lanky arm and think fingers slithered away, silent as a shadow. Iris stood stock still for a few moments before opening her eyes once more, determination shining in her eyes. Just one more night.

Halfway through dinner Iris, along with the other guests, heard the shrill screams of a woman and she knew. He father, as well as his repulsive plans, was no more. As soon as the inevitable panic broke out she made for her room. Her guards would surely head to the centre of the chaos to oversee the problem at hand and that's when she would slip away. But it had to be soon for they would surely return. With no time to struggle free of her dress she simply changed her shoes from an uncomfortable pair of heels to some trusty leather shoes that reached just past her ankles. As her toes seemed to sigh in relief she stuffed the last shirt and a pair of simple trousers she'd purchased in secret into the rucksack.

There was a commotion outside her room and she scurried to lock the door should anyone attempt to enter. Then she grabbed her brow sunhat and the bag and rushed to the window. As she suspected, the guards were nowhere to be seen. Swinging her legs over the ledge, minding her skirt, she dropped carefully the two floors down to the grass, rolling messily upon landing but otherwise unscathed.

For the first time in her life Iris was glad that she had spent most of her childhood within these walls; she knew of the weakest spot and it was close by. Lifting her skirt she took off running into the small patch of trees that stood between her and freedom and she soon reached the trunk she knew best, one with a think branch stretching over the wall. Without hesitation she clambered up the trunk, it was considerably more difficult than she remembered due to the heavy skirt of her dress, but finally she had reached the branch. Alright. Don't look down, don't look back. She stood slowly, balancing carefully on the bough bark. One step, two steps, wobble, three steps. Slowly she advanced until the grass on the other side of the wall swayed beneath her feet. Iris was so busy smiling at it in glee that she didn't really pay attention to her next step, resulting in a graceless fall to hard mother earth.

Groaning she stood up but almost fell over again when her left knee seemed to collapse in on her when weight was put on it. The angle of her landing had clearly been unfortunate as she now hobbled her way forward. When she got to the alleys of neighboring houses and shops she used the walls as support and could travel a little faster but she knew she was too slow. The guards would look for her, probably already was. The coset wasn't helping either. Iris didn't know what kind of knots those maids had used but they seemed to draw the contraption closed more and more with every deep breath she took.

She heard the sound of hoofs in the stillness of the evening and not seconds after the shouts of men in uniforms. The hunt had begun. Iris hastened her wobble, her knee now screaming at her from the abuse. She heard them enter the alleys to her left so she veered right. The light of a torch lit up her intended escape at the next turn so she hurried around the opposite corner. They would soon have her surrounded if she didn't do something!

As if on command the breath was knocked out of her as she was pulled backwards for the seconds time that evening but this time it was harsher, as if panicked. She heard a door close and darkness enveloped her. She was about to cry out when a slim weathered hand covered her soft lips and a lithe body pinned her hips down, a simple 'shhhh' stilling her efforts. The air was still and tense as they listened. Guards ran past, shouting in spanish, and the light of torches flitted past the sliver beneath the door. It felt like hours before he removed his hand, rising to light a small candle in the corner of the room, illuminating sharp scarred featues and a red bandana.

Iris stayed on the floor, struggling to breathe and it was only now that she realized; she couldn't. She tried again, carefully, but barely any air filled her lungs and she looked panicked up at the young man who was tinkering with something by the candle.

"How many times can I pull a lass into the shadows in one evening before she screams bloody murder?" He seemed to snicker to himself. Iris smacked her hand at the sandy floor, struggling to get up, something.

"I-I -"

"I know ahm devilishly handsome lassie but you really musn't stutter, it's most un-" His eyes flitted over to her, back to his hands, and then back to her in sudden realization. Pulling a slim knife from his belt he kneeled next to her, mumbling "sorry 'bout the dress" before he grabbed the two outer layers right at her bosom and slit the fabric open as if it were butter. The effect was instantaneous and Iris nearly cut her own stomach on the knife as she breathed in the first lungful of air of the day. She could feel the old bruises on her ribs that would surely bloom into new darker ones after the day's strenous activities.

In her panic she'd grabbed the man by his upper sleeve and was still gripping it tight as the air stremed freely into her lungs, tears sliding down her cheeks in relief. Looking up into the surprisingly concerend dark eyes of her rescuer she smiled faintly.

"That's the third time you've saved me today. Thank you." He quirked a scarred brow curiously at her.

"The third? Don't they teach you to count up at the manor?" She smiled bitterly.

"The first was the taking of the governor's life. It distracted the guards by my window, enabled my escape. I owe you a dept, or rather three." He seemed to sober up at that.

"You don't want any association with me lady, it would be best if you forgot my entire existence. I'd recommend you stay here tonight, wait it out, and then leave in the morning if that's what you wish. There will be little left of your current countenance if you keep company with the likes of myself." He stood and it was only when he removed it that Iris noted that his hand had been gripping the fabric of her cleavage the entire time, his fingers sliding against her chemise and clavicle unpon removal. He stood above her prone form, knife still in his hand and face in a frown. Iris felt her stubborness spark at his condescenting and self-belittling words.

"I left because I didn't want to be married off to some posh git who only cared for money and power. Because I didn't want a life of pretty dresses, stifling corsets and wobbly shoes. I want a life where I decide over my fate. I'd sell my soul if that's what it took but I am not returning to anything similar to what I had before." His face was bathed in shadow and only his fingers moved as they danced over the knife handle as he considered her words. "I am not asking for any more of your help, you have done far more than most ever would, but I refuse to forget that so don't expect me to." That seemed to make up his mind and he crouched down next to her dishelved form, knife neatly tucked away. The light hit the scarred side of his face. He was smirking.

"What's your name?" She bit her lips, reminding herself not to use her family name. It didn't belong to her anymore.

"Iris."

"Well Iris, I'm James. James Kidd," Her eyes widened in shock at the sinister name connect to the saviour in front of her. "and I am hereby kidnapping you."

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul.